#why do they have to look so good side by side. whats the science behind this

[babylion]

[calamitys-child]

Listening to a podcast discussing conspiracy theories and deconstructing the ideas behind them and it's reminded me of the coolest practical lessons in critical thinking I ever got, both in high school, both from the same teacher. One was a month long project on who killed jfk in which we could basically present any theory as long as we cited all our reasons and it got us really excited about research and interpretation, but it was the follow up that I liked best.

Our next project she brought us into class and showed us a documentary claiming the moon landing was faked. Gave us worksheets to do that sided with that stance. And at the end of class a bunch of us were like miss wait this doesn't seem right?? and she said okay, we'll discuss that next week. The next lesson, she showed us a mythbusters episode countering all the claims of the original documentary and gave us worksheets for that, and another bunch of people went wait miss you can't teach us two opposing things, which one is right? What do we put on the exam??

So she split the class in two and told us each to present a case based on each side, and to explain why our source was or wasn't the more reliable of the two. Got us to debate each other directly and use additional sources to back us up and explain why those sources were reliable and should be believed. And because they were randomly assigned there was no guarantee you'd agree with the stance you were presenting, but you had to present it like you did. At the end of the project she asked us all which stance we found more convincing and why, and the majority of us basically said "we think that the moon landing is real because most of the arguments against it seem like someone reacted to a confusing thing without testing it, but when you test it and ask the person running the test to explain the science it makes sense once you have more information. Also, one documentary was made with the help of scientists with qualifications and experience and the other was made by people who don't have that but like to write mystery books, which looks like a less reliable way to get an answer. But we still dont understand why you showed us both if one is wrong."

And she was like excellent. You've done exactly what you should do. At high school level, we as teachers are expected to filter for the reliable sources for you, so you know to repeat that to pass an exam, but if you want to be historians on your own, I won't be your teacher any more once you graduate. Lots of people have opinions and theories and research about times in history, and it's your job to learn how to look at them and decide who you want to trust. This won't be on the exam, but I need you all to know it. You all did a great job following the school's instructions to repeat information you were given, but for some of you, that information wasn't on a reliable foundation. I know you all know how to pass an exam. You're smart and you've been trained to follow these instructions. What you deserve to be taught is how to use all this once you don't have to do exams any more.

And then as a reward for us doing a good job at figuring out the value of checking your sources' sources she let us watch Bush get hit in the face with a shoe before we had to go to maths. Shoutout to you Ms Hannah you were a good'un I hope you're doing well ten years on from that class

[miss-oranje-disco-dancer]

slipping through my fingers

pairing: ex-husband! leon x ex-wife! reader

tags/cw: hurt/comfort, smut, fluff, p-in-v (unprotected), breeding kink, chris and rose make an appearance, exes to lovers, periodic pov switch

summary: previously absent-father leon comes back into reader's life when he decides to step-up as a father to their daughter, june

a/n: this is a commission for @mikadayo !

wc: 5.3k

taglist:

@rigorwhoring

@dilfprayers

@porcelainseashore

@xoxoloveless

@admirxation

@pawrincss

@onlyasimp4-2dbitches

@pr3ttyd0llie

It was supposed to be over. It was over. You finalized your divorce with Leon and got full custody of your daughter, June. It's hard being a single mom, but making the choice to become one was an easy one. You'd do anything for your little girl, and that includes making sure she has a stable home life, which was something she'd never get with Leon.

He had his chances to see her. You were willing to let him have her on Father's Day and New Years Eve, even Spring Break once, but he never took you up on your offers. Work was always too busy.

Whenever your daughter asks about Daddy, you tell her, "he's busy working to make sure the world stays safe."

"He's gonna make sure there's no monsters under my bed ever."

"That's right, honey. No monsters can get you because your dad is gonna make them go away."

She doesn't know about Umbrella, STRATCOM, the DSO, or why he was sick for a little while and had to go to a special facility before he could come home. ‘Parasite’ is not a word in her vocabulary.

But one fateful Saturday morning, Leon - older and more sober - stands at your doorstep.

With a coffee mug in your hand and slippers on your feet, you open your front door, assuming it's a neighbor who got your mail by mistake or a kid selling girl scout cookies. But, luck isn't on your side today.

"Good morning," he says, all cheery and nonchalant.

"What the Hell are you doing here?"

June - who seems to have phenomenal hearing this morning - chimes in, "that's a bad word, ."

"I'm an adult, so I can say bad words sometimes," you say, hoping it will be enough of a response for her, but her nosiness prevails.

Peering out from behind you, she realizes who you're talking to, and pushing past you to see him, she exclaims, "Daddy!"

"Hi, sweetheart," he says, picking her up and giving her a kiss on the forehead.

Full of excitement, she talks a mile a minute. "I missed you so much. I have to show you my Barbies and my science project and - Oh! we're having pancakes for breakfast because  makes them on Saturdays with chocolate chips and-"

"Slow down, June bug," he says with a smile identical to hers. "Let's do one thing at a time. First we have to make sure that your mommy is okay with me hanging out with you today."

"Of course she is!" June says, turning to you. "Right, mommy?"

You sigh. "Of course I am." You make a face that only Leon can recognize as annoyance. Not anger, just irritation. You wanted him to make an effort, right?

Leon listens eagerly to everything about My Little Pony and the ant farm at school while you clean up breakfast and make yourself slightly more presentable. Leon looks better than you'd like to admit, and whether it's to spite him or to impress him, you decide you need to look decent in front of him too.

"Can I talk to daddy for a minute, honey?" you ask.

"Okay, but only for five minutes because we're gonna watch a movie."

You can't help but laugh at the fact that she tries to hog her father - your ex-husband. A man who was once yours, who you used to love. 

"Okay five minutes," you tell her, as you give Leon a nod in the direction of the kitchen.

From the kitchen, you drag him out the back door, onto the porch and you can see in his face that he is prepared for the talking-to that he's about to get.

"You can't just show up unannounced,” you whisper-yell at him in the way that parents do. 

"I know, but I was in the area and-"

"No. You should've called me."

"I did, but it went to voicemail."

"When?"

"A few hours ago."

"I was asleep."

"How was I supposed to know that?"

"I always sleep in on Saturdays.” It irks you how he forgets the simplest things about you, and you almost let yourself get consumed by the urge to keep arguing, but then you remember why you’re both standing here. “This isn't even about me. You can't do this to her."

"Do what? Hang out with my daughter? She's happy. Look at her."

"She's happy now, but what about when you leave? What about when I have to calm her down when she's crying because she misses you?"

"Just tell her I'll be back."

"But that's not fucking good enough, Leon! That doesn't mean anything. You've been gone for years."

"What do you want me to do? Leave now?"

You peek inside to see your baby girl smiling to herself.

"No."

"We'll figure something out, babe, I swear."

"Do not 'babe' me. We're not doing that."

"Okay, sorry."

You can't tell if his ‘sorry’ is an apology or a way to get you off his ass for the time being.

Leon knows this isn't the ideal scenario, but he prays that the old adage, 'better late than never' proves itself to be true.

He really is sorry. 

Sorry. It never comes out quite right, his mouth is still learning how to mold itself to fit that word. He hopes the look in his eyes gives way to the fact that he means it. 

Regardless, you cut your lecture short after peering in the window at June who is patiently waiting in front of the TV for him to come back.

Leon rarely ever relaxes. His job puts him constantly on edge, waiting for the industry's latest bioweapon to tear his head off. But, with June in his lap, the two of them both fall asleep while Mulan remains on the TV.

You wake June up for lunch, which stirs Leon as well - he never likes having his sleep interrupted but when he finds out you've made macaroni and cheese (and he's allowed to have some), all is forgiven.

That afternoon, Leon feels you staring him down like he's an inmate and you're a prison guard. He feels a little guilty, though he's committed no crimes. He shouldn't be here, he should be home, away from the sacred space you've created for his little girl. If he loves her, he'll let her go.

No. He said that about you, and so far, it hasn't worked.

If he loves his little June bug, he'll hold her tight.

So, Leon comes back the next weekend, announced, like you asked, though maybe he should've been a bit more specific about his intentions.

"Are you guys gonna watch a movie?" you ask. "Or are you gonna show dad your new toy?"

"Actually," Leon cuts in, "I was thinking about taking her to the fair." 

Leon’s not a man who typically walks around with a mind full of adventures - you were always the one to plan the dates you went on together. This idea came to him when he looked up 'things to do near me with children', and found an article that mentioned the county fair. 

"The fair?" You look apprehensive. 

You were never this way with him, you would go anywhere with him - at least, in the beginning, back when you were absolutely smitten with him. God, he misses those days. 

But, maybe Leon should have considered the concerns that you might have about him taking June to the fair. However, the website he consulted didn't give him any instructions on 'how to convince your ex-wife to let you bring your child here' - the only directions consisted of an address that he could type into his GPS. 

"Yeah, I heard it's this weekend and I think it would be a fun time, you know, we could ride some rides, get cotton candy…"

"Cotton candy!" A voice from behind Leon calls.

"I'm worried about June getting on those rides, I mean, they can't be entirely safe."

"I promise, I'll make sure she's safe."

"Mommy, please." It seems to be June who convinces you, though Leon does mimic her pouty puppy dog face.

"Fine, but you need sunscreen, and I don't want you eating too much junk food." Leon tries his best to keep up with all your instructions, though he misses some, in particular, he forgets your insistence that he "keeps you updated the whole time."

"Got it," Leon tells you, overconfident in his listening skills when he's got an excited little kid pulling him out the door.

"And you better not be taking her on that bike, Leon Kennedy!"

"Can I have your car keys?" he asks sheepishly.

You grab them off the counter and hand them to him. "If you crash my car so help me God-"

"I won't." Not while his girl is with him. He drives under the speed limit with her buckled in her carseat. (You had to help him with that, and honestly, you seemed grateful that he asked you, rather than doing it himself and risking messing it up.) Leon knows you think he’s a fuck-up. 

The fair is a 5 year-old's dream. (Also, a grown man's dream, though Leon would be reluctant to admit that.)

"Can we get a funnel cake, daddy?"

“Hell yeah, we can."

"Mommy says 'Hell' is a bad word."

"She's right. I'm sorry for saying it." Maybe you'll accept a funnel cake as an apology, he thinks.

June gasps, and Leon's protective arm flies out of his jacket pocket to wrap around her, stopping in its tracks when she says, "they have fried Oreos!"

"They make those?" Leon has died and gone to heaven, he's sure of it.

The fried Oreos taste 'fucking amazing', though Leon stops himself from saying that in front of his daughter. They're truly the pinnacle of American cuisine.

The fair is like a casino, both in the sense that it drains your wallet and makes you forget how long you've been there. They have the spinning teacups, the petting zoo, the carousel, everything a child's mind could dream up.

"I remember your mom and I kissed at the top of one of these once," he tells June when they're on the ferris wheel.

"Ew! You could've given her cooties!"

"Cooties? You still believe in those?"

"Yeah, if a boy touches you, you can get it."

On second thought, cooties absolutely exist. His little girl isn't having a boyfriend until she's 25.

"Oh yeah, sorry, I forgot - you can get it when you're a kid, but I was an adult when I kissed your mom, so we didn't get cooties."

He spares her the details of what really happened on that ferris wheel. His daughter will never hear that story.

That Saturday is one of the best days of Leon's life - second only to June's birth.

That is, until he drops her off at home. You are pissed like he's never seen before.

"Oh, you're alive!" You take June in your arms and kiss her on the cheek.

You do not look as happy to see him. "Leon, I was worried sick about y- her!"

He hears the almost slip of the tongue. You. You worried about them both. You worried about him.

"I'm sorry." And, he means it, really.

"Mommy, it's okay," June assures you. "Daddy won me this." She hands you a teddy bear.

"How'd he do that?"

You look at him, almost suspicious, but he gives you a proud smile, and says, "I won the game where you have to throw darts at the balloons."

"No way! Those are rigged."

"Nope. You're just not as good at them as I am." They probably are rigged but Leon's job has given him superior aim and reaction speed.

Your reluctant smile says you're impressed with his skill.

And, that smile widens when he says, "I got you something too."

"Oh yeah?" The look you give him is one he’s always treasured. He’s always dreamed about making your eyes light up like that again.

"Here." He hands you a styrofoam takeout box, and watches you as you open it.

"Funnel cake!" Though you always say June got her smile from him, he swears you smile exactly like she does.

A funnel cake? How are you supposed to stay mad at him like this?

When Leon is about to exit after saying his goodbyes to June, you stop him. "I'm gonna go put her to bed, and then we're going to have a talk."

A lecture. Not the kind of ‘talk’ he likes.

"Mommy, I want daddy to read me a story."

Leon might have a convincing face, one that works on you nine times out of ten, but June's works ten times out of ten.

You give Leon a pleading look - something you wouldn't have expected to do since your divorce - and he says, "yeah, of course."

"I expect you to be good," you tell June when you hug her goodnight. "You know the rules: brush your teeth, put on your pjs, one story, and then lights out."

She nods, though you expect her to push the envelope. And, you expect Leon to cave to her wishes. But you have a date with that funnel cake, and maybe even a beer - you never drink when June is around, but you realize, when you find one in the back of the fridge out in the garage, that you're beginning to trust Leon. If, God forbid, you ever got even the slightest bit drunk, you know he could take care of June. 

Leon finds you on the porch with a half-finished beer and an empty box where the funnel cake used to be. You smile like a child in that you're completely unashamed, or unaware even, of the ring of powdered sugar around your mouth. 

"I thought you'd save some for me," he says. 

"You thought wrong."

"It's kinda funny that you're the one with the beer in hand. It feels like it was always the other way around."

It’s not that funny at all. 

"That's 'cause it was."

He pauses - you half expect him to apologize, but he doesn't. 

"How was she?"

"Good. She fell asleep while I was reading to her."

"The first book?"

"Are there usually more books?"

"Unbelievable! She always begs me for 'one more story', and I'm such a softie. I always give in."

He laughs. A beautiful laugh. "What can I say? I'm a man of many talents."

"She was probably tired from her long day out." You give him the 'you're in trouble' look that June never gets. 

"I'm sorry. We were having a great time."

"I almost called the police, Leon. I thought you two had died."

"Died? She's safe with me. Always." He pats his hip where Matilda resides, holstered under his jacket.

"You brought a gun into my house? Into my baby's bedroom? I don't want that thing anywhere near her!"

"Chill. The safety's on, and she can't get to it without getting past me, and I've got fast reflexes."

"Oh yeah? I could just-" You reach for the gun, but he grabs your wrist. Then, you think you can catch him off-guard with the other hand, but he's one step ahead, immediately grabbing your other wrist before it gets anywhere near the gun. 

"No, you can't."

"You expected me to do it."

"I expected the second hand after the first. I'm just paying attention."

"Let go of my wrists."

"Will you behave?"

You scoff. "Yes." 

You don't want to 'behave', you want Leon's hands pinning your wrists to the bed. You shake off that thought quickly.

To 'prove that you can outsmart him', you try to grab his gun again when he lets you go. Of course, he stops you. You've never gotten past him. Not when you used to 'play-fight', not when you tried to sneak up on him, not now.

"What do you think you're doing?" He's trying so hard not to laugh, you can see his lip twitching. 

"Fine. You proved your point."

But he doesn't let go yet. "Do you wanna know what I told June earlier?" he whispers. 

"What did you tell her?"

"When we were on the ferris wheel," he enunciates every syllable in 'ferris wheel' and you already know where it's going before he says it, "I told her we kissed on one of those a long time ago."

He must see your worry because he adds, "don't worry, I didn't say anything more about what happened."

About how his hands were under your skirt, and his fingers were knuckle-deep inside you.

��You better not have told her about that."

"I've always kept it a secret. Just between us... and probably the guy operating the ride and people waiting in line who saw your shaky legs and blushing face."

"Shut up!"

"That was my line." He lets go of your wrists, and you're too stunned to do anything. 

It becomes a routine - Leon comes and sees June on the weekends. You know it's going to end one day. He'll leave you both behind. He always does. Sometimes it's work, sometimes it's other things (though you always tell June it's work). 

You wait for him the next Saturday. You've never really set a specific time for Leon to come over because that would be setting expectations, and you've learned that with him expectations just lead to being let down. But, he's later than usual. The pang of anxiety is a familiar one. 

Finally, he shows up, and when he pulls into your driveway, you nearly cry. You care because June cares. At least, that's what you tell yourself. 

"I think my little girl should come stay with me for the weekend," Leon says, and you wonder if saying it in front of June is a strategic move on his part. You can say no to him, but not to her. 

She jumps up and down with joy. You'd think she was just told she's being taken to Disney World, not her dad's apartment. 

"I don't know about this..." You try to shut the idea down. "I mean, you don't even have a carseat, Leon, how can I expect you to have a toothbrush for her? Do you even know how to comb her hair? And, what about her allergies?"

"She's allergic to peanuts and bees, I remember. Her blood type is A positive. She likes watermelon-flavored toothpaste. And Chris told me what shampoo he buys for Rose and how he does her hair."

You're impressed to say the least. "And what about-"

"If I need anything, I'll call you. Okay?"

"I expect you to call me anyway."

"June bug, will you remind me to call  if I forget?"

"Yes," she says, standing up straight like a soldier. 

Would you normally trust your five year-old to remember something crucial? No. But, you know she'll want to say goodnight to you. You're surprised she's willing to stay over at someone else's house, let alone excited about a sleepover. She's always been attached to you. You and June have existed as a duo since she was born. 

It takes you at least an hour to pack everything. You fill two suitcases - and admittedly, it is hot to watch Leon carry them both to the car with no trouble. 

But that rush of arousal lasts for two minutes maximum. You watch them drive away and realize June left without hugging you goodbye. She usually hangs onto your leg like a koala bear and you have to peel her off of you. You only got a wave from Leon. 

It's like her first day of kindergarten all over again - when you teared up at the bus stop watching her climb onto the school bus. 

The only thing that gives you peace of mind is that your baby girl is probably over the moon right now.

She is, and so is her dad. 

There's a singular moment of nervousness on June's part when Chris comes over with Rose. His giant frame and resting face can be intimidating to adults, so he's like the boogeyman to children. Ironic because he's a good father figure, one Leon looks up to. 

Leon tries to coax June out from behind him where she hides from Chris, but the one who successfully gets her to feel safe enough to do so is Rose, who is only a bit older, and a bit taller than June. 

“Don't worry. He's not scary. He fights monsters."

"My dad fights monsters."

"He also plays Barbies sometimes."

Leon stifles a laugh. 

"Let the record show that I play as Ken," Chris insists.

June comes out of hiding to announce that, "My dad is Chef Barbie."

"Is that right?" Chris says, shooting Leon a look that says, 'who's laughing now?'. 

"Well, I would've been Lifeguard Barbie but she was already taken."

The afternoon consists of Lifeguard Barbie saving Chef Barbie, who cannot swim, and ends up in the hospital where she is taken care of by Doctor Barbie - played by Rose - and with a grand finale and a costume change, Chef Barbie and Ken get married. 

Dinner is pizza, which Leon did not expect to be as much of a hit as it was. You'd think he cooked a fancy steak dinner if you saw the look on June's face. 

"Mom never orders pizza at home!"

"Really?"

"She says it's bad for you."

"Let's not tell her about it then."

They also agree not to mention the ice cream sundaes that are served for dessert. 

Both girls fall asleep in front of the TV. Chris carries Rose to the car as she sleeps soundly in his arms. He's become accustomed to that, but it's new for Leon to get to tuck his baby girl into bed like this. He can't remember the last time he carried her. 

When the heartwarming feeling subsides a bit, he realizes he forgot to call you. Shit. He's going to be in trouble. 

Leon calls you from his bedroom, so he doesn't wake June. 

You sound eager to hear from them both, and he feels awful when he hears your disappointment that you're only going to get to talk to him. 

"Do you want me to wake her up?"

"No, no. If she's asleep, don't. I'm just glad you guys had fun."

"We did. Thank you for letting me take her."

"Yeah... Goodnight, Leon."

And, he can't hear the sadness in your voice, so he doesn't understand why you end the phone call so quickly. He expected you to want a rundown of the day, but sleep comes over him and he brushes it off. 

It was a bad choice to watch Mamma Mia that night. You have to pause the TV to grab the tissues when they get to Slipping Through My Fingers. It hits a bit too close to home.

Why aren't you like Meryl Streep? Would it be better if you didn't know who June's father was and you moved to a small town in Greece? 

Realistically, no. 

But halfway through the tub of ice cream you devour, you're convinced you've done it all wrong. 

You were the strict parent but you were also the fun parent because you were the only parent. Then, Leon comes around and swoops your daughter up - and with his ever-present charm, becomes the light of her life.

It's the next weekend when your heart is truly broken- when June is supposed to go to your parents house for the weekend. She usually loves staying with them because they live by the lake and she's finally old enough to swim - with floaties of course. Often, it takes some convincing to get her out the door as she's apprehensive to leave her mom behind, but this time, she says something different. 

"I wanna go see daddy," she cries. 

"You'll see daddy next weekend. Plus, you had me yesterday."

"I don't want you, I want daddy!"

Though she's the child, you're the one who sobs like a baby. You consider calling your own mother to calm you down. 

You don't even feel like yourself anymore, you don't feel like June's mom anymore. the woman your daughter looked up to, the person she loved more than anyone. Now, you feel like you're no more than a woman who lives in the same house, a woman who drives her to soccer practice and packs her lunches. Dad takes her on adventures and lets her stay up late. Mom is an evil dictator who enforces bedtimes.

You gave Leon a key to your house the weekend before. A familiar one, one with a keychain that used to be his. He used to live here. He missed it. He missed you. 

He comes over on the weekends for you both, though it takes him time to fully accept that. Leon remembers you saying that June would be at her grandparents this weekend, but pretends that he doesn't. 

When he arrives he lets himself in, and he finds you crying in the kitchen. He's not sure whether to feel better about being here or worse. He wants to cheer you up, but he worries he'll fuck up somehow. He usually does. 

"What's wrong?" he asks, though he knows he'll need to do more than that to drag the truth out of you. 

And he's right. You respond with a simple lie. A classic. "It's nothing. I'm fine. I just had a hard week at work, that's all."

He places a hand on your shoulder, comforting but begging you to turn to him. "You know I'm here for you, right?"

"You're not here for me. You're here for her. And that's all right, Leon. That's how it's supposed to be. You two still have a special relationship, but us - we have nothing anymore."

"That's not true. We might not be married anymore, but you're still my daughter's mother, and I'm still your daughter's father. We have the best baby girl. Both of us."

He looks into your eyes when he says it.

"And, I wish I could take credit for her being the greatest child I've ever met, but you're the one who raised her - up to this point."

He can tell that the last phrase throws you off. You don't cut him off, you don't try to push him away. 

"I want to be involved. I know I fucked up. Big time. I fucked up catastrophically. But, I want to be there for my girl… and for my other girl, if she'll let me."

"I'm not your girl."

But you were, and the spark is still there. The lack of passion was not your reason for divorce. Your immense love is what kept you together for so long. You were - are - head-over-heels for him. Love - it's incurable.

Now, Leon recognizes the situation for what it is, and swears he'll step up and be a father. But people lie sometimes. Leon has a thousand times now. 

Something in the back of your mind says, one more time. Hope, delusion, optimism. 

And, June, as much as her words hurt you, you've never seen her so happy. 

You explain it all to Leon while he holds you in his arms like you're his baby girl. Because you were. Because you are. 

"She doesn't love me anymore."

"She loves you so much. Just because she loves me, doesn't mean she doesn't love you. She's got a lot of love in her heart. She's a sweet girl like her mom."

Somehow, he always manages to make you feel flustered even when you're crying. 

"You're easy to love," he whispers. 

"Are you saying that-"

"Yes, I'm saying it. I lo-."

You kiss him to cut him off before he can say it. You don't want to have to say it back - because you'd be telling the truth, and sometimes the truth is hard. 

At first, he doesn't kiss you back, and you think you've fucked up, but for once, you've caught him off-guard. 

You make out like teenagers on your living room couch until Leon insists on carrying you upstairs. "I don't care if we don't go any further than this, but I'm old - and I want to take you to bed, in one way or another."

With Leon, it never stops at just making out even though you know he'd never pressure you to do more. He makes you feel insatiable. 

"Fuck, baby," Leon groans. "I missed being inside you."

Inside you - without a condom. You love him that much. 

"I missed this too," you say between moans. "I couldn't get off without thinking about you, about what you do to me."

He lifts your legs and hooks them upon his shoulders, and the new angle makes his cock rub against the most sensitive part of you with every stroke. Your mouth falls open and your head falls back onto the pillow as you let out a gasp of pure pleasure.

"Yeah? Tell me what you've been thinking about." He doesn’t stop fucking you while he speaks, the dirty talk only spurs him on further.

You can't tell him anything. The only word you have in your mind is ‘Leon’, and even that gets stuck in your throat. He's reduced you to downright pornographic moans. 

He slows the roll of his hips. "Want you to tell me," he says. 

"Leon," you whine and reach out to grab him - but your efforts are in vain, he has you at his mercy in this position. 

"Tell me."

"Every time I touched myself, I thought about when we were trying to conceive… It was the best sex I ever had."

"We can do that again, baby. Just say the word." 

There's nothing that Leon wants more than to cum inside you, you know this. 

"Please."

"You want me to put a baby in you?"

"Mm-hmm."

He doesn't even make you beg because he can't stop running his own mouth. His filthy, beautiful mouth. "I remember how gorgeous you looked when you were pregnant. God, I wanted to fuck you the whole time."

"I told you that you could have me whenever you wanted me, however you wanted me. I told you I wanted it rough and you wouldn't give it to me."

"I had to be gentle with you, baby. Couldn't risk it."

"You're still being gentle."

"'Cause you're so precious."

"You're not gonna hurt me, Leon. I want you to be rough with me."

And that's his cue to press your legs to your chest - you know he can fuck you faster and harder in this position, but you swear he manages to bury himself deeper inside you than before, too. 

It's a good thing you're alone in the house because otherwise Leon would have to find a way to shut you up. He could easily clamp his hand over your mouth, but he lets you whine unrestrained, begging him over and over for 'more'. 

"You're gonna wake the whole goddamn neighborhood, baby."

"I don't care. I need you."

"Fuck." He snaps his hips into you with increased vigor. He must not care either, not enough to stop. 

You try to tell him how good it feels, and moreover, how close you are to the edge, but it gets lost in a sea of moans. 

It doesn't matter, though, because your walls tightening around him tell him all he needs to know.

"You're squeezin' me, baby. Not gonna be able to pull out if you don't let up."

"Don't pull out."

"Yeah? You sure? You want me to put a baby in you?" 

It's all rhetorical but you nod at every question. You wrap your legs around him, forcing him to stay inside you, and you don't let him go until well after your high has subsided. 

In the post-orgasm haze, you say the words you meant to hold back before. "I love you."

And he doesn’t hesitate to say it back.  

[uhhhh-em-draws-stuff]

So Spider-Man AU won!

Red Hearts is the daughter of the head scientist Bridget Hearts at wonderlabs, a lab specializing in genetic mutation. Her mother wants her to follow in her footsteps in the scientific world, but Red has no interest in science. She wants to pursue art but isn’t allowed to, so she sneaks out at night to use spray paints across the city. Bridget isnt an abusive mother, rather just strict and emotionally distant. Red is enrolled at a science specialized high school even though she has no interest in it. There she met her best friend. Chloe Charming. Chloe is the daughter of the NYPD captain charming and Ella charming who was friends with Bridget in high school. Red has been secretly harboring feelings for Chloe for months now and refuses to tell her, convinced they aren’t returned. As of this point Chloe feels nothing but good friendship for Red.

One night while staying late with her mom at her lab, an escaped spider bites Red on her upper left arm. Red smacks it away and doesn’t think anything of it until she gets home and immediately passes out on her bed face first. She wakes up in the morning and notices she can see without her glasses. Then she walks toward her mirror and notices something is different about her appearance. Her arms are much more muscular than before and she has definition in her abdomen. “oh that’s new” she says. She spends much of her morning trying to control her sudden strength and stickiness, weirdly enough. Red makes it to school in one piece, barely, causing Chloe to worry.

Over the next few weeks she creates a suit and starts dealing with small crimes in her area, to captain charming’s dismay. She creates a persona known as “the red spider”

Meanwhile with Bridget, she is trying to genetically engineer ways to enhance brain performance, but she tested it on herself too early and turns her mind into a Jekyll and Hyde like state with “Bridget” and “The Queen of Hearts” the queen of hearts quickly becomes the red spider’s #1 enemy.

One night the red spider saves Chloe from being mugged in an alley. Chloe starts saying how she can’t shake the feeling that she knows her. The spider refuses and says she must be confused. Chloe slowly rolls up the bottom of her mask and the spider let’s her. She stops just above her nose. She leans in and kisses her in the pouring rain. A few moments later she pulls away and stammers a goodbye and runs into the night leaving a confused Red behind.

The kiss stayed on Chloe’s mind for days, why did she do that? Who did she even kiss? Whoever it was her father despises. She also feels strangely guilty. Feeling like she betrayed Red, but she doesn’t like Red like that? Right?

Afte one particularly bad fight with the queen of hearts, Red manages to swing to Chloe’s bedroom, seeking bandaging, knowing she has to reveal her identity to Chloe. She slips in through the window, Chloe staring mouth agape from her bed. Red slowly pulls off her mask and looks up at Chloe. The two stared at each other for what felt like forever, until the moment was broken by red wincing and clutching her torn up stomach. Chloe rushes over and helps red pull down her suit to her waist and sets her down against her bed. She heads to the bathroom and comes back with a cloth, water, and bandages. She starts to clean the blood and grime off. Once a good amount was cleaned Red noticed Chloe looking at her newly there abs.

“Is THE Chloe charming checking me out?”

Chloe turns the color of Red’s hair and goes “WHAT? NO! ….those are just…new, is all”

Once red is all bandaged up, they lay in Chloe’s bed, side by side. Chloe sighs and says “so we have some things to talk about” Red turns to her and goes “okay I’m sorry i didn’t tell you but I didn’t want you to get hurt and about the kiss, I’ve liked you for like ever and I would’ve let you kiss me even if you didn’t know it was me, but you do now, so I don’t really know what that means for us but-“ the blue haired girl cuts her off with a kiss, placing her hand on the side of Red’s face.

“If you couldn’t tell, I like you, too”

“Oh, really? Couldn’t tell after you kissed me twice.”

A few weeks later the red spider and the queen of hearts have another particularly heated battle. In the last move, the queen throws her cards and the spider creates a reinforced web to bounce them back at her, hitting her square in the stomach. As she lay on the ground, her mask slipped off. The spider slowly approaches the figure and realizes the figure looks familiar. As she reaches her, the cold shiver of realization goes down her spine. Her mother is the queen of hearts. She just HURT her mother, possibly fatally. She rips her mask off and kneels next to her.

“Mom, hey, you’re gonna be okay”

“Red? Wha..what are you doing here?”

“Mom I’m the Red spider. I just hurt you, I’m so sorry please hold on I’ll get help-“

“Red, there isn’t time. I’m going, we have to face it”

“No no no no no no no mom you’re gonna make it, just let me get help”

Bridget grips onto her daughters hand with the little strength she has left.

“Red. Listen to me. I’m dying. Right here. There are some things I want you to do.”

Red nods signaling for her mother to continue.

“I’m leaving wonderlabs to Maddox, I know it was never your dream. You still have a share in the company but all of the stuff I do is left to him. I’m sorry I tried to force science on you, I just wanted you to be successful.”

Bridget takes a shakey breath.

“Keep in touch with chloe, she’s a good girl with a promising future. Maybe one day she’ll work at wonderlabs. I’d love to have her brain there.”

Red feels the tears welling up in her eyes start to fall.

“I love you, Red. I know I didn’t say it enough but I do. So please get out of here so you aren’t wanted for my murder. Go, I love you.”

And with that Bridget was gone. The queen of hearts, the head of wonderlabs, her mother. Gone.

Red flees the scene. She cleans up and prepares to face the press that night. Her funeral was the next week. She was asked to say a few words. She got to the podium and started sobbing immediately before she could say anything , she stepped down and let Maddox talk instead.

The city doesn’t see the red spider for a while after that.

After 6 months, the spider comes back, but something in her air was off, it was more reserved, less chatty, less there, but the city was glad to have her back either way.

Behind closed doors the spider cries in the arms of her girlfriend almost every night, plagued with nightmares and guilt she can never share.

[spidermans-l-o-v-e-r]

It, 1990

Pairing: Eddie Diaz x Reader

Word count: 3.2k

Notes: Someone requested a sex pollen!! So… here we go! 🤣🤣

Day 14: Sex Pollen

“Whaaat the fuck are you doing?” 

The team had been called to a fire at Astral Labs, a science facility that had been working on a number of things. Apparently, a fire had broken out, one that threatened the area due to said “number of things.” Bobby wasn’t told much more than that, and he didn’t ask. 

“I hear they’re working on some sex drug” Buck wriggles his eyebrows and you and Eddie both roll your eyes. 

“Yeah, because that’s something totally normal for scientists to be doing” You scoffed and Hen looked up from fixing her respirator. 

“Actually I heard that too. They found some weird plant and apparently, it’s giving off strong aphrodisiacs with its pollen” 

“Aha!!” Buck points at you both and it’s Eddie’s turn to scoff

“Still seems pretty made up to me” 

“Yeah, you keep saying that” Buck smiles smugly as the truck pulls up to the building “We’ll see who’s laughing after we talk to them!” 

The fire is manageable, it burns out faster than Bobby had expected. Now you’re left going from room to room, making sure everything is secure, Bobby’s given the go-ahead to take off the masks, and Buck dramatically rips his off. 

“Oh my god, I can never breathe in that thing!” 

You take yours off, putting it under your arm, and look at him 

“That’s not true” 

“Okay, but it could be.” He makes a dumb face, and you giggle, knocking into his side.

“Let’s just find Eddie and get out of here” 

You and Buck wander through the facility, calling out his name, and singing his name, Buck makes up a weird rap?? Of his name, but there’s no answer and you’re both starting to get a little worried. 

“Hey, Cap?” Buck speaks into his radio as he takes your hand, keeping you close by his side 

“What’s up?” Bobby answers “You three almost done? We wanna get out of here”

“We can’t find Eddie,” He sighs “And he’s not answering us” 

“That’s weird. You want us to come in and help?” You know he’s already turning to the others to get them ready to go

“That would probably be-“

“There he is!” You tug Buck over to a corner of one of the labs, Eddie is standing over something as you come over 

“We found him! Hey? What gives! Why weren’t you answering us?” Buck puts his hands on his hips and you wave your hand in front of Eddie’s face 

“Hello? Earth to Eddie??” 

He’s staring down at a broken glass cloche, there’s a pretty pink flower in the center of it, you’ve never seen anything like it. It glows softly as little shimmers fall from the petals. He hadn’t acknowledged either of you yet. 

You blink slowly before reaching for your respirator 

“Buck?…” 

“Yeah,” He puts his on too before moving you backward and standing in front of Eddie now.

“Hey, Ed’s? Eddie you good man?” 

Buck tilts his head up to look at him and nearly backs into you as he drops his face. 

“What?? What is it?” Your hands fly up to grip Buck’s jacket and he puts his arm back to block you before you come around him

“Cap? I think we’re gonna need those scientists” 

You peek over his shoulder and flinch back. Eddie’s already staring down at you, he tilts his head to the side and that’s when you notice he’s not really himself anymore, his pupils are fully blown wide and those little sparkles are swirling around in his eyes. 

“Oh boy” 

Eddie had been checked over a least 600 million times. The sparkles had since left his eyes and now he was just tired, his pupils were still fully blown but he seemed okay. He was tentatively released into your care and you were to call the emergency line they’d given you if anything out of the ordinary happened. 

“You seriously don’t have to stay over” Eddie rolls his eyes as he opens his front door. You put your hands on his back, pushing him through and kicking it shut behind you. 

“Bobby literally said he would punt me into next year if I didn’t keep watch over you and I believe him. Now why don’t you go change and I can start dinner? Maybe take a shower?” 

Eddie hands you his phone, the DoorDash app open “Order whatever you want for us, you’re already babysitting there’s no way in hell I’m making you cook for us too. You can borrow whatever you want from my closet and, Y/N?” 

He cups your neck, kissing your forehead and you smile 

“Yes, Roomie?” You joke and he scoffs, pulling you into his chest for a hug

“Thank you, honestly. I know this probably isn’t your idea of fun” 

You snuggle into his chest and shake your head 

“No, it’s okay Eddie! You’re my friend, I don’t mind spending time with you and I truly don’t mind watching over you. Besides, I got Buck on speed dial!” 

He’s about to give you a playful little shove when a weird spark shoots down his spine, it spreads through his veins, to the tips of his fingers, as soon as it’s there it’s gone. He shakes it off, before pulling away to go shower and leaving you to order whatever you’d like. 

As he steps into the shower he feels it again, a weird heat spreads through his body and he can feel it pooling in the pit of his stomach. He turns the water cooler ignores the feeling and starts to wash up. 

“Fuck. Fuck get it together” Eddie mutters as he drags the soapy towel over his body. He moans softly, leaning against the shower wall as he wraps the towel around his cock, stroking slowly. He’s sure he’s never been this damn hard in his entire life as he groans into his fist, biting down. He cums the fastest he’s ever cum, whimpering as he spurts across the shower wall. He leans forward, the cold water pouring over his shoulders as he looks down.

He’s still rock-hard. 

“What the fuck?” He whispers he gets off three more times, each one less satisfying than the one before it and he knows he needs something else, he’s just- not sure what. He finally manages to pull his hand away long enough to finish up his shower and step out. 

He’s lightheaded as he stares at himself in the mirror, he can't seriously be thinking about what he’s thinking about. No, no that’s crazy. But- 

“No” He grumbles firmly to himself as he pushes off the counter and goes into his room. He takes his towel off, running it through his hair and patting himself dry, even the texture of the towel feels good against his burning skin. Even if he’d just stepped out of an ice cold shower he’s no idea why his skin feels so tight and itchy. 

He tugs at the roots of his hair, his heart pounding in his chest before he sees it in the mirror, your clothes are in the corner of the room, folded neatly like you’d changed before he’d gotten out of the shower. He takes a second, not even realizing his feet are bringing him over to the little pile until he’s pulling it apart, your scent getting stronger and stronger until he finds them, the panties you’d been wearing at work all day, and the smell of the flower from earlier.

He couldn’t place it then, but he knows it now. It had been your perfume, that’s why he’d entered the room, he thought you were in there. And eventually, it morphed into something else, something sweeter something a little dirty, a little musty, and his mouth was watering as he inhaled that stupid flower. 

And now he’s on the floor, jerking off into your shirt with your panties up to his nose, his face buried in them.

He couldn’t even be bothered to feel bad about all the dirty thoughts he was having about you, he’d been pining after you for months since you’d joined the team. All he can think about is your scent filling his nostrils and swirling around his insides like a warm hug.

“Whaaat the fuck are you doing?” 

You’re standing in the bedroom doorway, with a glass of water and some painkillers. He looks up at you, but his hand doesn’t stop and he doesn’t pull them away from his face. 

“Eddie??” You set the pills and water down on the table and come over to him 

“Hey? Hey, what’s goin’ on?” You slowly approach him, your hands out in front of you as you come to sit on your knees in front of him 

“Can I have those?” You ask quietly, reaching up for them and he backs away a little and you put your hands on your lap

“Okay, okay you can keep them… um… what’s going on?” 

He groans, his body feeling hot and restless. The weird pollen has him completely under its spell, every nerve ending alight with a need that he can’t put a stop to.

"Y/N, I...I don't know what's happening to me," he rasps out, his voice low and strained."I feel so fucking hot...like I'm gonna explode..."

His hands reach for you desperately as he drops the panties, needing to feel your skin against his. He tries to pull you close, but his movements are clumsy and uncoordinated, the pollen clouding his mind with lust.

You fall onto your butt, your eyes wide as you stare at him, his skin is flushed and sweaty, and his body shakes as he starts to crawl toward you. 

“Please...I need you," he begs, his eyes dark with desire. "I need you so bad it hurts. Touch me, baby...make me feel better..."

Your mouth drops open as you start to crawl backward. You can tell by the look in his shimmery eyes he can smell your arousal almost as intensely as you feel it.

“E-Eddie I don’t know” You gulp nervously, and suddenly regret that you decided just to throw on one of his T-shirts. It wasn’t that you didn’t want this just as badly… he was just currently under the influence of that dumb flower. 

He tugs at your shirt impatiently, wanting it off, wanting to feel you bare against him. His hips stutter involuntarily, seeking friction, seeking relief from the ache that consumes him.

"I can't take it anymore," he groans, his voice rough with need. "I'm gonna lose my mind if you don't help me...please Y/N, I need you so fucking bad..."

“Eddie, m-maybe I should call the doctor” Your back hits the wall and you’re left with nowhere else to go “You don’t know what you’re saying!” 

Eddie shakes his head, his movements sluggish and uncoordinated. The pollen has him completely in its thrall, his mind consumed with thoughts of you and the desperate need to be inside you.

"No doctor," he mumbles, his words slurring together. "Don't need a doctor...just need you, baby. Need you so bad..."

He reaches for you again, his hands groping clumsily at your body through the thin fabric of your shirt. He tugs at it impatiently, wanting it off, wanting to feel your skin against his.

"Please Y/N," he begs, his voice low and raw with desire. "I can't wait anymore...I need you now. Need to be inside you, filling you up...making you mine..."

You nod slowly, scooting closer to him, the closer he gets, his sweat dripping down his toned body… plopping onto your skin… and you’re not sure what comes over you but you take the damn shirt off, letting him drink in your hot, luscious, curves. 

He grins widely as he sees the same little sparkles floating in your eyes and he knows he’s infected you next. He feels a little hesitancy as he watches you for a minute, what if you smell something different? What if you want someone different? He thinks that’s how it works at least, he’s not really sure.

And then you come forward, licking the sweat from the base of his windpipe and moaning at the salty liquid on your tongue and he knows you’re just as gone for him as he is for you. 

"Fuck, baby," he groans, his hands sliding up your sides to feel you up, “You look so good...so perfect. Gonna make you feel so fucking good..."

He leans in to capture your lips in a searing kiss, his tongue delving deep to taste you. He kisses you hungrily, desperately, like he's starving for you. He grins wickedly, feeding off of your little moans and whimpers against his lips, his cock weeping onto the floor beneath you two. 

"Need you," he pants against your mouth, his hands roaming your body possessively. "Need to be inside you...please Y/N...let me have you..."

His hands roam over your body greedily, cupping your breasts and squeezing the soft flesh. Your head is spinning, you gasp soft and breathy. You can feel just how on fire he is for you, the same flames burning hotter with each touch as he continues to grind into you. 

He captures one of your nipples between his fingers, rolling and pinching the sensitive bud. His other hand slides down between your legs, cupping your mound possessively and your body jerks underneath his at the sudden contact. 

"Gonna fill you up so good," he promises, his voice low and rough with desire. "Gonna make you scream my name...beg for more..."

He kisses a trail down your neck, his teeth grazing your skin. He sucks hard at your pulse point, leaving a mark of possession.

"Mine," he growls, his hips rocking against yours. "All mine...gonna claim every inch of you..."

His fingers tease along your slit. He whimpers at the feel of your wetness, so plain and clear that you want this just as badly.

"So fucking wet for me already," he praises, his fingers circling your clit. "Gonna make you cum so hard, baby...gonna ruin you for anyone else..."

“A-are you sure? T-that you want me?” You’re almost as delirious as he is as you pant harshly, your body feeling just as hot and needy as his as your back arches off the floor, and you open your legs wider to him, moaning lowly. 

I'm sure, baby," he rasps out, his voice low and rough with desire. "Never been more sure of anything in my life. I need you, Y/N...need to be inside you, filling you up..."

His hands slide down to grip your ass, lifting you effortlessly. He carries you towards the bedroom, never breaking the kiss.

"Bed," he mumbles, his words slurred with lust. "Need you in my bed, baby...gonna fuck you so good..."

He lays you down on the mattress, crawling over you like a predator stalking its prey. He kisses and nips at your skin as he goes, leaving a trail of marks in his wake.

You open your legs eagerly for him as he settles between them, both of you groan as he starts to grind against you once again.

The feel of your soft heat against his aching cock is almost too much to bear, the pollen making every sensation intensely pleasurable for the both of you.

"Fuck, baby," he rasps out, grinding against you desperately as his lips connect with yours again.

With a low groan, he thrusts forward, burying himself to the hilt inside your tight heat. They both moan at the sensation, your walls clenching around him like a vice.

"Fuck, baby," he pants, starting up a deep, hard rhythm. "So fucking tight...gonna ruin you for anyone else...make you mine..."

You drag your nails down his spine, feeling his hard muscles underneath your fingertips and he moans as your nails rake down his back, the sting of pain only heightening his pleasure. He grips your hips tightly, holding you in place as he pounds into you, his cock hitting deep with every powerful thrust.

He leans down to capture one of your nipples between his teeth, biting and sucking at the sensitive bud. His other hand slides between your bodies to rub at your clit, circling the swollen nub with his fingers.

He picks up the pace, his hips snapping against yours with bruising force. The bed creaks and groans beneath them, the headboard slamming against the wall with each powerful thrust.

"That's it, baby," he growls, his eyes locked on yours. "Take it...take my cock...fucking take it..."

His words slur as he feels your walls starting to flutter around him, your body tensing as you get closer to the edge. He doubles his efforts, fucking into you harder, faster, determined to push you over.

"Cum for me, Y/N," he demands, his voice rough with desire. "Cum on my cock like a good girl...let me feel you..."

His fingers rub at your clit frantically, his thumb pressing down on the sensitive bundle of nerves. He wants to feel you come undone, wants to watch you fall apart beneath him.

He changes the angle of his thrusts, hitting that spongy spot inside you that makes you see stars.

"That's it, baby," he encourages, his voice low and rough. "Cum for me...cum all over my cock...wanna feel you soak me..."

He reaches down to grab your leg, hooking it over his shoulder to open you up even more. He pounds into you harder, faster, chasing his release as his fingertips bruise into your skin.

"Fuck, sweet girl," he groans, his rhythm starting to falter. "Gonna cum...gonna fill you up so fucking good...breed this perfect pussy..."

With a final, brutal thrust, he buries himself inside you, his cock pulsing as he empties himself into your waiting womb. He moans long and low, his body shaking with the force of his orgasm as you both cum together, you sob out his name, digging your nails deeper into his skin as he fucks you through your climax.

He collapses on top of you, his cock pulsating inside you as you both pant harshly. You welcome his weight on top of you, it’s so warm and comforting as you snuggle into him. You inhale slowly, his scent flooding your senses and making you dizzy.

“I think I love you” He mutters in your ear and you giggle, your hands sliding down his solid back and cupping his ass, pushing him deeper inside of you, and his breath shudders. 

“I think I love you too” 

“Round two?” He purrs in your ear and you push his shoulders, flipping him onto his back and grinding your pussy down on his cock. 

“Round two”

Buck knocked on the door early the next morning, he hadn’t heard anything from you two and he was beginning to get worried. He knocks again after a few minutes, this time a little louder before deciding to just let himself in.

He pokes his head through the door, looking around… everything seems to be in order… he sets the cup holder down on the kitchen counter before going back to Eddie’s bedroom. 

“Guys?? Hey guys?”

He opens the door quietly and freezes in his tracks, you and Eddie are passed out in bed, his arms are tightly wrapped around you, his cock still inside you as his cum leaks out. You’re both covered in hickies all over your bodies and various bruises and what Buck’s sure is a bite mark on Eddie’s ass. 

He pulls out his phone, dials Bobby’s number, and waits for him to pick up. 

“Hey, dad?…. Yeah I’m gonna need about 6 years of therapy” 

[sardonic-the-writer]

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐈𝐧 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐋𝐚𝐛 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐋𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐏𝐢𝐧𝐟𝐢𝐞𝐥𝐝 𝐖𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐈𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞

↳ notes: lars content yay! as far as i can tell, i'm one of the few to do anything on him, so i hope there's more than ten people out there interested in him

↳ warnings: none

↳ song: she blinded me with science—thomas dolby

masterlist | commissions | carrd

• This guy is a snacker

• Take one look at him. You can't tell me that he doesn't constantly skip out on meals in favor of research, usually just pulling a granola bar or stained tupperware from his desk drawer to eat while he works

• Don't get me wrong, Lars can still devour a good bit of food. Sometimes you like to make fun of him for how much good he'll get on his face in the process

• "You're looking at me weird." He frowned at you one day from behind the rims of his glasses

• "Uh, yeah. Wonder why." You grin with mild surprise, watching as leftover rice and beans from the burrito in his hands stuck to the corners of his mouth like glue. He was quick to wipe it all off, ignoring you as you laughed at him

• Aside from that, Lars usually keeps his workplace pretty clean. It's cluttered, sure, but you don't think you've ever seen him wonder where something went. He just always knew where things were. It was like he had a system in his head, and the more you thought about it, the more you decided he definitely did

• The one time someone had even tried to clean his place up, you watched as he immediately jumped in, convincing them that they were needed elsewhere and sending them off before they could mess with his set-up

• Often times, when it's just the two of you alone in the offsight lab, you'll bounce a tennis ball off the wall while Lars types away, only ever looking up to squint at you when the ball gets to close to his head

• "You should really give that to the possesor. I'm sure it'd appreciate it." He hums to you at one point while spinning around in his chair to reach something. Behind you, you hear the unmistakable sound of a metal chair tapping excitedly on glass, and you make a tsking noise

• "Pretty sure you just want me to stop distracting you with my awesome skills." You boast, attempting to do a trickshot only to smack Lars in the back. He glares at you, and you inch backward with a nervous chuckle

• "You know what, I think I'll give it to the possesor."

• "What a brilliant idea." Lars says monotonely. You were quick to get rid of the ball

• He hums while he works!

• It's not anything discernable. In fact, most of the time he isn't even singing real songs. Just little tunes he'll make up on the spot for himself; often as a way to pass the time and make minute tasks fly by

• You notice it quite a lot, but don't really say anything. It's quite entertaining, if you're being truthful

• "Sittin' and waitin' for food. Sittin' and waitin' for food.." He'd improvised once while waiting yet again for a t.v dinner of his to finish its cycle in the labs shared microwave

• "Wow Lars. Voice of an angel, you have."

• "Stuff it."

• Lars doesn't often need help with his work, there's a reason he landed the job after all, but when he does, you're always the first person he goes to. It's a side effect of having spent so much time with you at work, and even outside of it—if you counted lunch breaks and independent experiments as a non-work environment

• He likes being able to get a fresh set of eyes on whatever's stumping him, and it usually doesn't take long for the two of you to work around whatever was holding him up

• Overall, you couldn't think of a better friend/co-worker to have, and the same applies for Lars. Your relationship will only strengthen as time goes on, even withstanding the bizzar experiences that Garraka eventually brings later that year

• But that's for much later. Right now, the two of you are content to sit in the aquarium-turned-headquarters, watching as the hours ticked by without a care in the world

[featherandferns]

I got inspired by this post and deeped it probably a bit too much lol

"I can't read cursive".

It was the sort of thing his friends laughed at, giving scoffing remarks and rolling their eyes at JJ's quirkiness. He'd laugh too, shrug it off like he was in on the joke. But underneath was an insecurity; a panic as to why. He'd look down and the letters were merely scrawl. They were swooping and swooning characters that made no sense, illegible and intelligible. If he tried to focus then they'd start to dance around the page. He experienced that too, though to a lesser extent, with print text. It was as if the words were mocking him. Taunting him.

But being the way he was with school, nobody paid it much mind. Not even JJ. He didn't care for reading. He'd rather smoke or surf. Books were dull and drab, what with growing up in an education system that force fed Shakespeare down an eleven year old's throat. JJ started to skip class the older he got. He'd sneak off to the bathroom to light one up or just ditch the day entirely. Maths was a bore and science utterly useless in his planned profession of handy-man side gigs, and so the concern with his reading got swept under the rug.

He had tried once, though. It was when he was nine and they had been reading collectively as a class, playing 'popcorn'. Someone had innocently passed over to him and JJ spent a good ten minutes stuttering over his syllables and stammering over the vowels and constantans. He was so glad when he reached the end of the page and could pass the burden off to someone else. Afterwards, he lingered behind and spoke to the teacher. The sting of embarrassment lingered like a prick from a bee. But the teacher shrugged him off. You're still learning, they'd said. For some it takes longer. He'd been too humiliated to bring it up again. Future popcorns were spent with JJ being the class clown, making lewd jokes that had the other kids laughing until the teacher banned him from popcorn altogether. That was that.

"You can't read cursive?"

"It just...It's harder for me to follow, s'all," JJ halfway lies. He looks up from the card that you gave him to meet your gaze. Your brows are tugged together in concern and JJ immediately wants to crawl under the covers like a child, embarrassed beyond belief. But instead of poking fun like the others (as well-natured as they mean by it), you take the card back and clear your throat.

"JJ, I hope you have a wonderful birthday and get everything you ever want. You deserve it. With love," you read aloud. There's a warmth to your face and a meekness to your tone as you tell him your message. It was the sort of sweet thing someone recites in their head like scripture, keeping it safe on the page and not out in the world. Smiling shyly at him, you offer the card back out to him.

"Sorry," he mumbles. "Thanks, though. That's, uh...that's sweet."

You chuckle. "Well, I mean it."

JJ takes the card back with a smile and you lean forward, pressing a kiss against his cheeks. His face feels hot like sunburn. You sit back on your haunches, perched pretty on your bed, and then your smile dwindles into something of worry.

"Do you often struggle," you wonder, nodding down to the card, "with reading and things like that? I mean, is it just cursive?"

"I can read," JJ replies, a little defensive. You thankfully laugh.

"No, I know you can read JJ," you chuckle, shaking your head. "I just mean is it easy to read? D'you think you need glasses or somethin'?"

"I don't know," JJ murmurs, shrugging. He looks down at the card and closes it. His thumb swipes across the front. A small ruby red love heart bobbing on rolling waves as if it's a boat, alongside a phrase that JJ focuses desperately hard on to read. With you, I feel like I'm floating. It's something so unexplainably you to pick out. Clearing his throat, he looks back up at you. "Never really thought about it before."

Humming, you get up and walk to the bookshelf by your closet. You ponder for a moment before retrieving a thin paperback and taking your previous spot on your bed. A random page is picked out and you hold it out to him.

"Read this to me."

It's popcorn all over again. That same dreaded panic bubbles in his throat.

"Feels like I'm in school," JJ chuckles, hoping to play off his nerves. "You're like my sexy teacher or somethin'."

"Har har, you wish," you say with a roll of your. "Read, though. Please."

Sighing, JJ relents and takes the book. He squints down at the pages and tries and tries and tries. The letters won't cooperate. They jive and jig on the lines. Shaking his head, sighing again, growing frustrated, JJ blinks and focuses. The anxiety builds in his chest like a hammering train on tracks. As his lips go to form the first word, your hand on his has him taking pause. You smile kindly at him.

"S'alright. You don't gotta read," you tell him. You take the book back and close the pages and JJ feels like he can take a breath. Ditching the flimsy paperback, you clear the small gap between the two of you and cup JJ's face in your hands. The kiss the two of you share is tender, lingering like a mist. "I love you, y'know that?"

"Even if I ain't a reader?" He means for it to sound like a joke but there's a sincerity in JJ's voice. His insecurity that has been there since childhood, that fights to come out whenever he hangs with Pope, that growls with jealousy when you lounge back on the boat with a book. His insecurity that he isn't all that smart and maybe you - someone who lives and breathes education like a bong hit - would figure that out sooner rather than later, and find someone who is.

"Even then," you hum, kissing him again. "Just gives me another excuse to spend more time with you, huh?"

And when you put it that way, maybe it ain't all bad.

[sanatomis]

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹ ᡣ𐭩 ── 𝐀 𝐅𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐇 𝐎𝐅 𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐁𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄!

a child is bound to feel neglected when they discover no one bothered to show up for their science fair, especially when all their peers have someone to dote on them. it seems fushiguro megumi is no exception.

content. female!reader with she/her pronouns, feminine nicknames (princess), established relationship with satoru, slight angst with a happy ending.

notes. nobody was there when i presented my end of the year research-project as a 14 year old, so megumi (age 7), baby, i'm gonna make sure there's someone there for you.

��taglist. | series masterlist.

Megumi never really cared about science fairs. To him, they’re just a regular afternoon at school that he’ll have to sit through until he’s finally allowed to go home. He may think of them as unnecessary—as he does not believe in a good reason for parents to come to the school and marvel at their child’s (very much mediocre) creation—but he has never had a strong opinion towards them. They were just. . .there. 

He didn’t pay them much mind, and that exact indifference turned out to be the motive behind the very serious crime of putting a flyer in the bin. 

“Look what I found!” 

There’s a sense of annoyance that bubbles up in his stomach when Satoru puts the invitation to the science fair in front of him. Megumi’s brows furrow, and he purses his lips—leave it to him to find something he doesn’t want to have found. 

“Hm?” You hum, and lean over to look. One of Satoru’s fingers taps impatiently on the flyer, as if it’s saying ‘look, I caught him hiding something!’. Megumi briefly contemplates biting the digit clean off. “Science fair. . .Is this yours, Megumi?”

While reading, you put the bowl of rice back down onto the dinner table, and Tsumiki gingerly grabs it upon return. You mouth the words as you do so, and the boy nearly gags when he watches Satoru’s lovesick gaze at your little quip. It’s so disgustingly sappy, he nearly forgets you asked him a question. Nearly, as it had induced just enough anxiety into him to make him remember. 

“Mhm,” he mumbles, and pokes a piece of chicken with his chopsticks. 

You stop reading at his confirmation. There’s a sad look in your eye, it forms quickly and is instantly directed at him. Megumi doesn’t like it. Especially since he’s most likely the cause of it. “Why didn’t you tell us?” You ask, and he finds himself at a loss of words. 

Why didn’t he tell you? In all honesty, it just didn’t occur to him to do so. He has never cared about science fairs, nor has he had people who attended them for him. Most times, they are for parents only—so try as she might, Tsumiki was never allowed inside. Megumi eventually stopped bringing them up. He felt a little sorry for all the failed attempts his sister (very lovingly) made. But now. . .well, yes, why didn’t he tell you? 

He doesn’t know the answer to that. 

“Didn’t think of it,” he says eventually, because he knows you’ve been trying to get him to talk more; verbalising his feelings, is what you called it. 

You frown at his answer, and it makes him wonder if he said the wrong thing. A quick glance between you and the man at your side is shared. Megumi thinks that can’t be good. 

“It says it’s for tomorrow evening,” you tell Satoru, and push the flyer over back to his side of the table. “Are you free, then?”

Satoru pauses. He’s not free, Megumi knows he isn’t. Not because Satoru told him so, but because he listened to the phone call he had a few hours ago. It’s bad manners, he knows—he can hear you in his head, and he shouldn’t have done it. But, Satoru talks so loudly, he should simply quiet down if he doesn’t want others to hear. 

“I sure am,” he says then, and Megumi tries to hide the surprise on his face. He’s lying. Liar. Liar. Liar. It’s all that goes through the boy’s head, but he doesn’t say it out loud. 

He does wonder why Satoru lied, but he quickly gets his answer when he sees the happy smile that breaks out on your lips. “That’s great!” You say, and place one of your hands on his. Seemingly delighted, you look at Megumi. “We’ll be there.” 

“It’s nothing special,” Megumi says. His voice is clear this time, as opposed to his previous mumbling. Once again, he hears you in his head. You’re allowed to make noise. “You really don’t have to.” 

“Nonsense,” Satoru chimes. 

You continue his sentence. “We’ll be there.” 

We’ll be there. 

We’ll be there. 

We’ll be there. 

. . .So, where are you? 

Megumi isn’t too proud to admit that he’s currently desperately looking for the blabbermouth you call your boyfriend. It’s not because he’d rather have him here than you, but his white hair makes for a stark contrast among the crowd. It’s so very easy to find, and yet it’s nowhere to be found. He’s not here, and that, by extension, means you probably aren’t here, either. The realisation hits him harder than he thought it would have. 

For some reason, there’s a deep sadness. He thinks it’s a little silly. Nobody has ever shown up before, and he was fine with that. Being alone isn’t new to him. None of the situation he’s currently in is surprising, and yet Megumi has to fight off the tears welling up in his eyes. Why is he feeling this way? This hasn’t happened before. 

Megumi doesn’t care about science fairs. But, if that were true, then why do all the children and their parents suddenly make the room feel smaller? He swallows. All his classmates are darting around the room, chattering and motioning towards their projects while their parents gawk in feigned awe. As they always did. Except now, he feels something akin to resentment boil from within. His hand balls up into a fist. 

There isn’t a good enough reason for him to feel so disappointed. The position he finds himself in isn’t unfamiliar, and he knows Satoru was initially called-in for a mission somewhere in Ginza. Something came up, that’s all there is to it. Megumi knew better than to get his hopes up, or so he thought. How pitiful.After all this time, he still hasn’t learned.

And suddenly, he’s four years old again, and crawling into the crumpled bed sheets of his father’s ever-so-empty bed. He’s holding onto the fabric as if it’ll slip through his fingers, and stifling his quiet sobs with the pillow that doesn’t carry the same comforting scent any longer. It hasn’t for months now. Megumi keeps hoping that one day, it will. Tsumiki peeks into the room, and he pretends not to notice. He’s four years old, and has no parents, and absolutely no idea why his father left without him. 

Why was he forgotten? 

There is a lump forming in his throat. Its imminent appearance lulled him out of the faded memory, and into the present—the present, where he is, once again, forgotten about. Perhaps that is simply the tale of Megumi Fushiguro. 

“Mom, look! I added the glitter to it just as you said,” a girl speaks from the booth next to him. “What do you think? It’s pretty, right? Do you think it’s pretty?”

Her mother laughs, and pets her head once the girl starts tugging on her arm. “Mhm, it’s beautiful, darling. I’m very proud of you.”

Megumi doesn’t necessarily want to cry. Though, when his eyes water momentarily, there’s very little he can do about it; he feels even more powerless when his bottom lip starts trembling. He once read that blinking rapidly will make one’s tears disappear like snow before the sun, except that article mustn’t have taken the feeling of heartbreak into consideration. It doesn’t matter how much Megumi blinks, the first tear falls down his cheek a few seconds later. 

“Huh? What’s this? You really need to work on your handwriting, Megumi, your name is barely rea. . .” 

A part of him is convinced that the universe has it out for him. There is no other reason for the constant waves of misfortune that strike him. Sniffling, he looks up at the man in front of him—and the worst thought he has ever had surfaces. He is so very happy to see Satoru Gojo. 

Satoru’s eyes widen in shock upon seeing the water staining the boy’s cheeks, but even then Megumi can’t find it within himself to feel embarrassed. Not at this moment. With teary eyes, he blinks up at the tall man that snatched him up from the street like he was some discarded piece of free furniture.

“Where’s. . .” he croaks out, but gets interrupted rather quickly. 

“She’s talking to your teacher,” Satoru says softly. It’s a new tone of voice, one Megumi vaguely remembers as the one he normally reserved for you. This is making him uncomfortable—even a blind person would see that, but Satoru still tries. “Hey, it’s alright, buddy. She’s here.” 

The pat on his head nearly feels awkward. . .No, it does feel awkward. Satoru is petting him as if he were gently pressing a buzzer. It’s not even remotely close to the soft caresses you use when soothing him back to sleep, but it still brings him some strange sense of comfort. Megumi doesn’t swat his hand away. 

“There, there,” Satoru mumbles, and crouches down to his height. It’s a little silly to see such a man all folded up, his legs too long to look normal. “There was an accident a little further down the road. It took us a little longer to get here.”

Megumi lets out a shaky sigh. The petting stops shortly after. It’s quiet for a little while after—even if the room is filled with adults and children alike. Satoru looks at him, and he briefly wonders how you’re able to withstand looking into his eyes for as long as you do sometimes; Megumi thinks the blues will blind him soon. He gulps. For as annoying he might be when speaking, it turns out that Satoru Gojo is much more unnerving when he’s silent—silent, and looking right at you. 

Adorned with white lashes, Satoru’s baby blues pick Megumi apart at the seam. The boy has the brief idea to ask what he is thinking, but then decides against it. 

“Are you okay?”

The sound of his voice startles him. He hadn’t expected him to speak any time soon. 

“Megumi,” he calls out. “Are you okay?”

Is he okay? Megumi doesn’t know for sure. There are a lot of emotions he went through these past twenty minutes, and he isn’t entirely convinced that his brain was able to process them all. But for now—for now, he at least feels okay. 

Megumi nods. It’s all he does, not confident in his ability to verbalise his thoughts at the moment. He sniffs again. He’s okay, things are okay. 

“Good, that’s good,” Satoru mumbles, and his eyes dart towards the right side of the room; towards the door. He clears his throat, and one of his fingers carefully makes its way towards Megumi’s cheek. “That’s good. She’s here now, see?”

Megumi visibly perks up, and, while still a little shaken, starts searching for you. As soon as he lifts his head up, there’s a soft brush against his skin. He wavers for a moment, confusion on his face once he realises Satoru brushed some stray tears away. The two look at each other once again. Why did he. . .

“Oh, there you are, lovie,” you say, relief apparent in your voice. It never takes you long to embrace Megumi—you once said he’d be stuck in your arms forever if you had your way. The boy moulds into you, and his anxiety dissipates as soon as your perfume hits his nose; the scent comforting him. “I’m so sorry, there was an accident, and all roads were blocked, and. . .God, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to keep you waiting for so long.” 

You cup his cheeks in his hands, and Megumi suddenly feels under scrutiny. It’s as if you’re searching for any inkling that your late arrival had caused him unease. It clicks, then, why Satoru did what he did. He’s a buffoon most of the time, but it seems there are some working cells left in his brain—when it concerns you, of course. Megumi is very thankful for him now. Though, he will deny ever feeling so. 

“Alright, princess, let him breathe,” Satoru says, the usual light lilt to his voice has made a return. There’s a small smile on his face as he watches you fuss over him. “Don’t you want to show us your project, Megumi?”

The mention of his project catches your attention. “Oh! Yes, will you show us, Gumi?” 

One might think you’re speaking about some grand architecture design rather than a small, barely functioning science project. That is, if they took the look in your eyes as anything to go by. The boy glances between you and Satoru. Megumi then decides that, yes, he would like to show it to you—he always has wanted to show them. 

You weren’t his parents, but you were at his side. And when Megumi looks at the near-giddy excitement showing up on Satoru’s face, and the unconditional support on yours. . .he thinks that may just be enough. 

He nods, and finds his words again. 

“I—I will, yes. Follow me, please.”

© MADE BY SANATOMIS — please, refrain from stealing, copying, or reposting any of my works.

taglist [based off the last fic in the series, let me know if it’s no longer wanted]: @torusdoll @sad-darksoul

[seannessy]

⚠️POLITICS⚠️

haha bet you forgot through the shitposts that i have a bachelor's degree in political science

here's a bunch of reasons why Kamala Harris is going to win the presidency because i can never find the effort to edit this into a video:👇

1. The current polls are VERY biased towards republicans. Most large polls just take the averages of other smaller polls, and right now the GOP has been dumping LOTS OF MONEY into publishing a lot of fluff polls in swing states to make themselves look better and to get more donations. Democrats don't usually publish their polls publicly. Odds are it's another red mirage.

2. The majority of people who Trump is catering to just don't vote. A lot of the latest pushes in the Aiden Ross Gamerbro communities are not reliable voters, even as loud as they are online. You cannot convince me that the twitter edgelord crowd has ever even seen a ballot in their lives.

3. In elections canvassing matters by about 300% more than advertising (my own ballpark estimate, not a specific datapoint, but still very true having worked in both canvassing and campaign marketing). The only people signing up to canvass for Trump are just stealing Elon's money, meanwhile people are flying out from all 50 states to swing states to canvass for Kamala.

4. "This is Hillary Clinton all over again." No it isn't. Hundreds of papers have been published that all agree that the reason Hillary lost (besides the Michigan debacle) was that largely a lot of people already assumed she was going to win, and so they didn't go out to vote. Sean Westwood did a really good paper on this in 2018, the more likely you are expected to win, the less of your supporters turn out. The entire narrative is that Kamala is either tied or behind, so anyone who supports her will NOT be sitting this one out.

5. Kamala just did a MASSIVE rally event in Texas. Texas. In this part of the campaign, any sane strategist would tell you to do ALL campaigning in the swing states, so this makes no sense... unless internal democrat polls are saying that Texas is now winnable for democrats. I will remind you that Texas is not NEARLY as red as the stereotype says, and Greg Abbot has himself previously said that Texas would have gone blue if not for all of the voter suppression he did. I'm not joking. This is real. The only reason Texas is still Lean Red instead of Moderate Blue is because of insane levels of voter suppression by Texas GOP.

6. When turnout is low, republicans win. When turnout is high, democrats win. Turnout is already STUPIDLY high in the early voting metrics. Even higher than 2020 (which i will remind you, we won) in some cases.

7. Voter demographics just aren't on Trump's side here. Lots of republicans have bled out of Trumpism, and in a close enough race as this one looks to be even a few thousand republicans deciding to stay home could make or break it in a lot of states. Additionally, while Trump has made a lot of progress in minority voters (daily reminder that the median voter is stupid enough for "median voter" to be used as a slur in political science communities), Kamala has the white woman vote locked down. And oh no! Look at that! Which voter demographic is orders of magnitudes both larger and more active voters than all of the minority demographics that Trump has been gaining in? Yep! Kamala's lead in the white woman demographic has entirely erased Trump's gains in other communities. Abortion was the final nail in the coffin of republican chances, they took the mask off too early. The dog caught the car and didn't know what to do with it.

8. Voter demographics are STILL not on Trump's side even ignoring all that other stuff, because keep in mind, Trump voters have largely been older people, and the waves of people who elected him previously have... well they've kind of died. Covid really didn't help with that. I mean obviously not everyone, but like, this is a close race, and a very large chunk of those voters have been reincarnated as plants or whatever now.

9. "The X Factor" is 100% on Kamala's side. By that I mean just the force of raw charisma, the Kamala campaign is just more appealing and less unnerving to the general population. I really hate to keep hammering this but oh my god dude have you SEEN JD Vance????? Even after the debate where he performed as best as he possibly could and Walz performed as bad as he possibly could, samples STILL said they supported Walz over Vance by a factor of 85 PERCENT.

10. "The Shy Trump Effect." There's a myth a lot of people believe that Trump underperforms in polls and overperforms in elections because voters are shy to admit they're fans of him. A few things. #1: This was disproved so many times, including in Sean Westwood's previously mentioned paper. #2: Even after it's disproved, many polls already factor it into their calculations, which is actually INFLATING his odds in the polls. #3: Anyone who would have been a Shy Trump Supporter either just isn't going to vote this election cycle or is going to follow the Cheney's lead and vote for Kamala instead. This is probably the one election in our entire lives where Democrats have appealed to the right and it actually fucking worked.

11. Polymarket. A lot of people point to the new Polymarket as evidence that Trump has a lot of support among the average joe crowd. These people have no idea how the Polymarket works. American citizens legally can't bet in it, and the only way to get around that is by using Crypto. How many tech illiterate boomers do you think are going to know how to use both Crypto and a VPN? All of Trump's support there is coming from techbro whales or people in other countries. Infact, I think the number was that about a whopping 30% of all bets made on the side of Trump were sourced back to this one French Billionaire.

That being said, it's not a predetermined victory. Currently I'd put the odds at anywhere between 60-40 and 70-30 in favor of Kamala, but that still leaves Trump plenty of room.

The moral of the story is that things aren't hopeless! We have a very good shot at winning--as long as we all keep pushing like hell!

Oh also, if they try another Jan 6th, reminder that Biden is now the one in control of the military and national guard at the capital. Lol, Lmao, even.

[solxamber]

Hello! I loved the absolem!reader x heartslabyul, Savanaclaw, octavinelle and pomefiore. Could you write for the rest of the dorms please?

Savanaclaw, Scarabia, Ignihyde, Diasomnia + Staff, Neige with an Absolem! reader

Part 1

Hi! thanks for the request <3 I didn't do savanaclaw the first time so I added it on here! also added stagf + neige as a bonus!

Leona Kingscholar:

Leona had seen plenty of cocky students come and go, but you? You were a different breed. With that talent of yours, you could back up your ego, which made things interesting. What wasn’t interesting, though, was your short fuse. It was amusing at first, but even Leona had his limits.

Leona glanced at you from his usual spot in the Savanaclaw lounge, reclining like he had no care in the world. The moment you started bragging about your test scores, his ear flicked, though he still didn’t open his eyes.

“You can brag all you want,” he muttered, a lazy smirk tugging at his lips. “Doesn’t change the fact that you’re too worked up over nothing.”

You crossed your arms, feeling your temper rising. “Not my fault if I’m surrounded by slackers.”

Leona yawned, finally cracking an eye open to look at you. “Keep it up, and I’ll let you burn yourself out. It’s not my problem.”

Ruggie Bucchi:

Ruggie had a knack for reading people, and he could see your arrogance from a mile away. Not that he minded—he actually found it pretty entertaining. That is, when your temper didn’t flare up like a volcano ready to explode. Still, if it meant getting something out of it, he was more than happy to fan the flames.

Ruggie looked at you, half-amused, half-nervous, as you paced around the room, clearly fuming about something trivial. He munched on a doughnut, watching you rant.

“You’re good at what you do, I’ll give ya that,” he said between bites, “but you might wanna chill a bit before you blow a gasket.”

You shot him a glare. “Easy for you to say. You’re not trying to deal with everyone else slowing you down.”

Ruggie chuckled. “You’re funny. But hey, if you need a hand ‘relaxing,’ I could always help—for a price, of course.” He winked, but the mischievous glint in his eye made you think twice about agreeing.

Jack Howl:

Jack respected strength and dedication, and while your confidence was deserved, your attitude? Not so much. He admired your academic achievements, but the way you snapped over the smallest inconvenience made him think twice about hanging around when you were angry.

Jack sighed as you ranted about your high scores and how no one else could keep up. He respected your abilities, sure, but the cockiness? Not so much.

“You’re talented, I’ll give you that,” he said, crossing his arms. “But throwing a fit because things don’t go your way? Not cool.”

Your eyes narrowed. “You say that like it’s easy to keep your temper in check when everyone’s a step behind.”

Jack gave you a stern look. “You’re strong, but strength means keeping your cool too. Don’t forget that.”

Kalim Al-Asim:

Kalim had never met someone as confident as you, and to be honest, he thought it was great! He admired your drive, even if your temper sometimes sent things spiraling. He couldn’t imagine why you got so frustrated, but he was always there with a smile.

Kalim grinned brightly, utterly oblivious to your anger as you paced the Scarabia lounge, practically vibrating with annoyance over a group project. “You’re so smart! You’ll definitely figure it out!”

“I already figured it out, Kalim!” you snapped, throwing your hands up. “It’s not rocket science. But your ‘teamwork’ is slowing me down.”

Jamil, standing quietly to the side, raised a brow. “Maybe you should learn to pace yourself. Some of us don’t have time to deal with tantrums.”

You shot him a glare, but Jamil’s smirk only deepened. He was no stranger to dealing with fiery personalities.

Jamil Viper:

Jamil always appreciated competence, and you were nothing if not competent. But your cockiness? That was something else entirely. He could handle Kalim’s endless enthusiasm, but your anger-fueled rants were another challenge altogether. He often found himself weighing whether to engage or let you burn yourself out.

Jamil, standing quietly to the side, raised a brow as Kalim praised your intelligence. “Maybe you should learn to pace yourself. Some of us don’t have time to deal with tantrums.”

You shot him a glare, feeling your temper rise. “Easy for you to say, Jamil. If you had to work with people who were holding you back, you’d be mad too.”

Jamil shrugged, unfazed. “I know how to deal with difficult situations. You could learn to do the same.”

Idia Shroud:

Idia had no idea how someone could be that confident without having a complete existential crisis. Your cocky attitude? It baffled him. He liked to stay in the shadows and avoid confrontation, but you? You barreled through everything with the force of an overpowered raid boss. It was both terrifying and, in some strange way, fascinating to him.

Idia adjusted his headphones, glancing sideways at you as you boasted about your latest top score. “Congrats, I guess,” he mumbled, not daring to make eye contact. “But... is it really worth bragging about? There’s always someone stronger out there, y’know. Probably a speedrunner who beat your score in half the time.”

You raised an eyebrow, leaning against the desk with a smug grin. “You say that like it applies to me. Newsflash, I’m the best.”

Idia grimaced, shrinking into his hoodie. “Y-Yeah, sure. Just, uh, don’t get too overconfident. RNG can mess you up when you least expect it…”

Ortho Shroud:

Ortho found your confidence intriguing, though he wasn’t quite sure what to make of your temper. He admired your talent but worried about how easily your emotions flared. Despite that, he always tried to offer a cheerful, supportive presence—after all, everyone could use a little kindness, right?

Ortho floated over, his sensors blinking brightly as you sat fuming about a project gone wrong. “Don’t be upset! You’re amazing at what you do! I’m sure you’ll figure it out!”

You sighed, trying to cool your temper. “Yeah, yeah, I know. It’s just… if people would stop slowing me down, I’d be done by now.”

Ortho blinked, tilting his head. “Maybe you just need a little more patience? I can help you if you’d like!”

Malleus Draconia:

Malleus wasn’t easily impressed, but your intelligence had caught his attention. You were confident, perhaps too much so, but he respected strength in all forms. What puzzled him was your short temper—he couldn’t quite understand why you let such trivial matters set you off.

Malleus watched as you ranted about a project, his expression calm and thoughtful. “You have great potential,” he said slowly. “But it is a shame to see such power wasted on anger.”

You scoffed. “It’s not ‘wasted.’ Maybe if people didn’t drag me down, I wouldn’t have to get mad.”

Malleus tilted his head slightly. “Perhaps. But true strength lies in mastering both power and patience.”

Lilia Vanrouge:

Lilia found your arrogance entertaining. After centuries of dealing with egos big and small, yours was just another to add to his collection of amusing personalities. Your temper, though? That was the real treat. He loved seeing how easily you could be pushed to your limit.

Lilia chuckled as he watched you fume over a small mishap. “My, my, you do have quite the temper, don’t you?”

You glared at him. “You think it’s funny?”

He grinned mischievously. “A little. But you know, there’s a certain charm to controlling that fire within you.”

Sebek Zigvolt:

Sebek respected strength and discipline, but your cockiness? That was a different matter. He found your confidence borderline insufferable, and your temper didn’t help matters. If it weren’t for your undeniable talent, he might have written you off completely.

“You’re far too arrogant for your own good!” Sebek barked, crossing his arms. “How can you expect to be taken seriously when you let your emotions control you?”

You rolled your eyes. “Says the guy who yells 24/7.”

Sebek flushed but stood firm. “My passion is not the same as your uncontrolled rage! You should learn some discipline!”

Neige LeBlanche:

Neige wasn’t used to dealing with people like you. He was all sweetness and light, while you? You came in like a thunderstorm, full of confidence and sharp edges. He admired your drive, but your brash attitude sometimes left him at a loss for words. Still, Neige being Neige, he always tried to look for the good in you.

Neige offered a tentative smile as you smirked at your latest accomplishment. “Wow, you’re really smart! I wish I could be as confident as you when it comes to classes.”

You shrugged, leaning back. “Confidence comes easy when you’re this good.”

Neige blinked, looking a bit nervous. “I’m sure it does, but… maybe you could help others? I think it would be really nice!”

Crowley

Crowley fancied himself the most charming and important person on campus, but even he was taken aback by your self-confidence. For all his dramatics, dealing with someone whose ego rivaled his own was a bit much, even for him. He often found himself making excuses to avoid your outbursts.

Crowley folded his arms, giving you a dramatic sigh. “Must you always insist on causing trouble? I have enough on my plate as it is, with running this entire school.”

You shot him a cocky grin. “Maybe if you did your job better, you wouldn���t need to worry about me showing everyone up.”

His face paled, hands waving dramatically. “I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that! But know this—you’ll regret underestimating me!”

Divus Crewel:

If anyone could keep you in line, it was Professor Crewel. Though your arrogance and temper often sparked during his lessons, he had a way of cracking down on any outbursts before they spiraled into chaos. He respected talent when it came to Alchemy, but your cockiness? That was a challenge he didn’t mind taming.

“Is it so hard to simply follow instructions?” Crewel’s sharp voice cut through the classroom, his cane tapping the floor in warning.

You grinned, shrugging nonchalantly. “Instructions are great and all, but I prefer my results to speak for themselves, Professor.”

He raised a brow, looking unimpressed. “The only thing speaking here is your ego. If you insist on doing things your way, be prepared to fix every mistake you make. Now, clean up that mess before I add more to your workload.”

Mozus Trein:

Professor Trein didn’t have the energy to deal with arrogance, much less tempers. He preferred a quiet classroom, where students respected knowledge without throwing tantrums over their intelligence. Yet, you were like a storm—loud, proud, and utterly impossible to ignore. He appreciated your academic prowess but wished you’d rein it in… at least for the sake of peace.

Trein sighed as you raised your hand for what felt like the hundredth time that day. “Yes, I’m aware you know the answer,” he droned. “Please refrain from shouting it out before I’ve even asked the question.”

You smirked. “Just wanted to save you the time, Professor. It’s not like anyone else would’ve gotten it.”

Lucius meowed in agreement, as if to say Trein’s headaches were mutual.

Sam:

Sam had seen all types of students pass through his shop, but someone as full of themselves as you? Well, that was a special breed. He wasn’t sure if he should be impressed by your boldness or simply wait for karma to do its thing. Either way, you were good for business, and he appreciated anyone who brought in the coin.

Sam grinned as you swaggered up to the counter. “Lookin’ for somethin’ to help with those top scores of yours?”

You shrugged. “I don’t need help, but I might as well see what you’ve got. Maybe I’ll find something that makes me even more unbeatable.”

Sam chuckled. “Careful, now. Pride comes before the fall. But hey, I’ve got just the thing for someone who thinks they’re on top.”

Masterlist

[ybklix]

𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐌𝐀𝐃𝐎𝐍𝐍𝐀

★ pairing: chris bahng & lee minho x popstar!femreader

✦𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: Prima donna: someone who demands to be treated in a special way and is difficult to please.

The sweet and perverse play of a life hidden behind an acclaimed character created by someone.

Minho Lee, a frustrated young writer working in one of the most important music magazines, is about to find out what’s really going on behind the scenes of the mysterious girl everyone is wondering about.

With small steps in your career, you are discovered by a famous producer under the pseudonym CB97, whose vision of work is very specific and quite peculiar… yet you succeed in becoming a rising star, who manages to spark the public's curiosity. Hiding little secrets under the image of a mysterious internet girl with an angelic voice and face.

Once Minho is challenged to come up with a really good story to keep his job, he finds your unusual videos on the internet, wondering if he could have a chance to meet you… only to find himself with no way out, immerse in a dark world, hidden and full of beauty and desire.

♡ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 - 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: smut, angst, daddy kink, soft bdsm, sex toys, sextape, est. relationship, cheating, threesomes, mention of sex workers, sugar daddy, dom!chan, toxic relationship, reader is slightly a nymphomaniac (current warnings appearing in each chapter).

♡⋆˙ FIC MASTERLIST

❀ inspired by the early career of poppy, the singer and her “weird” yt videos back in 2016, electra heart by marina and the diamonds and almost famous film.

main masterlist

current warnings: daddy kink, pet names, suggestive smut.

word count: 860

♡ PROLOGUE ♡

“Perfect, beautiful, but I feel you can do better, let’s do it again just one more time” your boyfriend said in a soft tone, focused on all his recording equipment watching once more your video, you nodded determined and quickly arranged your two pigtails back on your shoulders, “In three... two...”

You went back to your role and acted according to the script previously studied to perfection written by your boyfriend. It wasn’t rocket science, your videos were never longer than three minutes, and this was one of those that came out in one continuous take, but Chris, your boyfriend, was a total perfectionist freak.

Once you heard him say “Cut,” you felt yourself breathe again and were a little tired of the bright set lighting hitting your face.

“This is the good one, babygirl, you did excellent, I just edit it and it’s done” he said, cheering you on and still focused on his computer.

You approached him, this time he was so focused on the result of the video that he didn’t go straight to you to pamper you which seemed strange to you, like something empty, you missed his affection and compliments every time you did something well, or every time you did your job well and didn't complicate it for him too much.

You admired him, his handsome side profile, you sighed, you were dying to call him by his name, but he didn’t like when you called him that at all, according to him, it was like a lack of affection towards him.

“Daddy” you tried to catch his attention, stretching his clothes a little but he was still engrossed watching every detail of your recorded video, “Daddy” you called him again in a more needy tone.

“What’s wrong little one?” he replied without paying attention to you, deftly moving his long fingers on his computer.

“Did I do it right?” you asked.

“Of course you did, babygirl, I’m almost about to post it...”

“Then why don’t you show me how much you like it?” you whined, knowing full well that tone made every part of his body tremble.

He finally turned to look at you, your expression with a slight pout, your eyes bright, it was obvious you wanted sex to which Chris smirked as he couldn’t believe you were insatiable, you had a huge sexual appetite, you could last hours and hours, round after round until he left your body completely tired, until you cried and begged for no more. But you couldn’t help it, he had made you that way, he created you, from your dyed hair, to your feet with your socks and shoes on that he chose and dressed you in them. You were all his.

For a year now, you had this kind of relationship that was a little abnormal, but you were turned on by every part of it. It was a routine you kept, but besides the sex your favorite part was making music with your boyfriend, being able to share creative ideas, and ending up completely fascinated with the great work he did with your voice.

“That’s what you want, huh, babygirl?” Chris raised his eyebrows, running his tongue around the inside of his mouth watching you with desire, making your pussy throb under his penetrating gaze, “Wasn’t the good morning daddy gave you enough for you?”

You shook energetically, your heart racing at the thought of being touched again by him, igniting in you an inner flame that could only be extinguished by reaching your so intense orgasm that your daddy always makes sure you reach.

“I want more, daddy please, don’t I deserve a reward?”

“Mmm, the video wasn’t that hard to act...” he commented teasing you a little.

“Daddy, pleaseee” you begged, you were so wet that if he refused to touch you, you’d go to your room to lock in and give yourself an orgasm, without caring about breaking one of his rules, either way a very painful but sizzling hot punishment awaited you every time you broke one of them.

“Okay, come here” Chris turned from his chair, putting his body in front of you.

You moved closer, almost in a jump of happiness, wrapping your arms around his neck, Chris wrapped his arms around your body, squeezing it and dropping his heavy strong arms in you.

“What does my princess want?” he asked, close to your lips, brushing his big nose against yours.

“I don’t know, daddy, you decide...”

Chris moved one of his hands down to your wet center, starting to stroke your clit, making you gasp and moan.

“You’re so wet... You want daddy to play with you, don’t you?”

You bit your lip, aroused, every muscle in your pussy throbbing, so needy at his slightest touch. You loved him, you worship him.

You didn’t believe that anything or anyone could break such a bond between you. He knew absolutely everything about you, or at least you were so blinded as to believe so. But trying to figure him out was a constant game that sometimes you had to lose. And gosh, you really fucking hate to lose.

[blerb-f1]

"Documents" - Max Verstappen x NB!Reader

Max finds himself working on Documents for someone.

For more FanFiction, find my Masterlist here

A loud Yawn escaped from Max Verstappens Throat as he pushed open the doors to the Red Bull Hospitality. He was supposed to meet his race engineer Gianpiero Lambiase, Short GP to talk about some Ideas the Team had regarding the Car’s Performance.

Apparently his frequent complaints had finally gotten on everyones nerves, motivating them to finally get working. Simply Lovely.

As his Eyes passed over the long dining room, he spotted GP carrying mugs. Three specifically. ‘Why Three?’, Max wondered but not too long, as the question answered itself immediately afterwards.

The Table GP was carrying the mugs too, also seated a third person. Their head was hung low over the table, cheeks touching a stack of big folders. He approached the Table with another yawn escaping his throat.

“Good Morning Max”, GP called out cheerfully. Way too cheerfully for such an early morning. (It was 11AM). He placed the Mug on a little paper towel to prevent marks forming on the table while trying to navigate around the third person. Max just gave them a confused look before blowing at the coffee to cool down.

As if reading his mind, GP spoke:” Ah, I totally forgot to inform you, Max. That’s Y/N, our Intern. They’ll be here for a few races.” He wanted to continue speaking but a short check of his watch alarmed him. “Sorry Max, I got a meeting! Please entertain Y/N for a bit!”. If this were an Anime, a big gust of wind would be left behind, with the speed he fled in.

Y/N flipped their head to the other side, bloodshot eyes staring in his. A quiet voice escaped:” Hi Max. As GP said, I’m Y/N.”

He gave their mug a push, shoving it close to their nose. “What got you so tired, Y/N?”

“Coffee!”, they exclaimed like a Zombie, quickly drowning some of the steaming, way too hot, liquid. After trying to cool off their burned tongue for a moment, they continued speaking.

“My internship stuff, the usual. I didn’t do my reports of the last few weeks so I spent the night doing them, Ugh…”

The driver just looked them up and down while mustering the stacked folders. “Aren’t interns  younger, normally?”

Y/N sighed. “Nope, this is not a school internship. I go to university, getting my Bacherlor’s in Sport Science and Management. Just didn’t expect to get this spot so I kept lazing around. Suddenly, Boom. E-Mail from Red Bull telling me I got accepted.”

His Team was doing Internships? That was pretty new to Max. He didn’t remember ever being told about that or seeing young, overly excited people scurry behind Team members. But apparently this one was fully endorsed since GP accompanied them. Was accompanying them. Weird.

“And now? URGH”, their groan was louder than before. “Why do all these tasks need me to write endless reports. Can’t even concentrate on my shiny Internship now…”

“If you had done your work earlier, you would have been able to concentrate on it…”

“Shush, as if anyone does their work early.”

“True.” Mental images of still to be paid pills, car maintenance and appointments fluttered through his mind. “No big difference here.”

“See?”, they asked, fully sitting up now. “Who even does that?”

Max chuckled. “Definitly not GP. He’s always late with everything. Like telling someone about the new Intern.”

Y/N led out a Gasp. “That’s why nobody expected me!”

They scurried to fling open their folder of work. “What got you so tired though? I don’t expect it to be paperwork.”

A sense of guilt overcame his mind.

Max loved Racing. A lot. The strategy, the mind games, the Developmental parts. But the marketing and whatnot? He’d be glad if they weren’t a thing but was aware they were a major part. He knew how to behave unlike some other driver when faced with Media Responsibilities. At least most of the time. He knew, Angry Max wasn’t nice-to-be-around Max.

That’s what got him into SimRacing. Spending all night in front of the screen, in a Call with his Mates. And just this evening, a large competition had held him up. Maybe 3 hours of sleep were trying their best to keep him standing. 

Y/N waited for him to answer, yet no response came. They laughed. “Don’t say it was Gaming. Really?”

Max stayed silent. 

“Media keeps saying that the simulators got your ass hooked, line and sinker. Didn’t expect that to this degree. Well, you do you.” They fumbled around their pencil case. “Because i gotta finish, really now.”

As they procured a little IKEA Pencil, Max just lost it. The sleep deprivation had lowered his limits and the visual of this teeny tiny pen had gotten him belly laughing and table with fist smacking. His tablemate just pouted at that, trying their hardest to work through the loud laughs. As he finally came to stop, little tears were streaming down his face. 

Wiping them away, an Offer came: “I could help you”

That’s how GP, tired of a large meeting with major Red Bull Staff, returned to the dining room to find his new intern and his driver seated at a round table holding little Ikea pencils. Mugs upon mugs were stacked in towers next to them, akin to the neatly stacked towers of paper and folders that they had their faces planted on. Both were sleeping deeply, lips curled into smiles. He wondered, how exactly should he report that to the Intern’s supervisor? Maybe just not at all. That sounded more tiring than lying through gritted teeth.

Instead, he tried to clean up around them and pretend nothing of the sort had happened. GP was well aware that Helmut Marko would not be approving of his talent working with those lower than him, so no need to unnecessarily awake a sleeping dragon. If he could call a guy that age a dragon at all…

While trying to carry away the stack of mugs, however, the porcelain let out a loud, high pitched noise as it collided with another. GP reacted with gentil shock, causing everything to come tumbling down.

Loud shattering noises sounded out, awakening the driver and the Intern from their slumber. Max slowly laid his eyes open, blinking once, blinking twice. He would not be hurried, who even would dare to do so, knowing his temper? Taking the time of his life, he yawned loudly. Both arms stretched high, his legs low, just akin to a cat as he finally awoke, blinking at GP. The intern meanwhile, did not awake that softly. With the loud noise, they immediately jumped into the air like a scared crow. This speedy move caused the sorted papers to fly in the air, fluttering around in a manner that was sure to mix up everything as much as physically possible. As last ditch effort to even topple this, they managed to bang their knee against the table, yelping out in pain. They slowly fell to the ground, holding their brused knee in an ocean of broken mugs, mixed papers and coffee stains.

Max didn't say anything, there clearly was no need to do so. Instead, he also got on the ground, slowly helping to collect the flung about pages to sort into neat little stacks while the intern was wiggling about like a worm. Their wide sleeved shirt looked like fluffy antenna's as they managed to now smash their head against the table, holding it in pain. Max pushed the table aside, grabbing the Intern by their arm and helping them up. Gently, he placed them on their previously occupied chair, crossing his arms.

Gianpiero Lambiase stood aside, his chin just dipping lower and lower. What had he done?

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

That evening, Max Verstappen found himself seated in his hotel room, staring at the computer he'd brought with him. The monitor was flickering in it's usual blue light, slightly off colours that had him feel more at home. Yet, he didn't feel the urge to start up a game. To play another round of Asetto Corsa with his mates or to join a competition in iRacing. This confused him. His normal routine was broken, occupied by thoughts of that Intern. Their voice as they screamed out in pain, their scrunched up face while wiggling about. He sadly didn't have the time to look after them as GP, obviously too late once again, informed him that the FIA wanted to brief the driver's on something. As one would expect, the meeting was not very fruitful. It was a stark reminder by the FIA to not engage with sponsors or media accounts talking about things the FIA didn't like. The usual, therefore. Max decided to catch up on sleep during it, which is why he was so awake now. He dreamt off warnings about politics, ongoings military conflicts and people bumping their head against tables. 

…

People bumping their head against tables?

‘Maybe Y/N is awake still?’, he asked himself. He was pretty sure the Intern still had a lot of work to do, if not just sorting through the files they had filled out after the stacks fell from the table. Propably also had to read them over, to check if everything was fine. Maybe also to make sure they knew what was written, if asked about it. At least, that's what Max was told Internships were like, not that he'd have Experience with them. His future was been designated before his birth, nothing to choose on his own. Well, maybe the colour of his first racing helmet?

He reclined on the armchair, drinking some of the overpriced Hotel water.

Did Y/N have to worry about the Water's Price? Most likely, he'd heard GP complain about it. They were sure to earn much less than him. But they could pick their own lane, he realised. He absolutely loved racing to his bones but sometimes he wondered. Would Life have different directions for him? He wasn't sure if that was something he should be thinking off, at all. Racing was his life now, nothing would change that. Afterall, not everyone even had the luck to get into racing since the sport is so expensive.

He sighed again, looking through the contacts on his phone. While he was sure not to have Y/Ns Number, GP definitely must have it.

Max dialed.

GP answered, sounding very tired. He could picture the tired, red eyes staring at the phone.

“Max, it's 2AM, what do you need?”

“Y/Ns phone number, please.”

GP sighed before rattling it off. As he read out the last digit, Max could hear his blanket rustle. He was already tucked in, not even saying goodbye as the call ended.

‘Man’s pretty tired’ Max thought to himself as he typed Y/N’s number into his phone.

It rang. Once. Twice. It didn't get to the third time as a wary voice rang through the speaker.

“Who's there?”, they sounded a little drowsy and careful.

“Hi, it's me, Max Verstappen. Sorry to call you this late… Or early?”

A fragmented chuckle rang through.

“Good Evening Max, I'm still working.”

As he thought.

“The document's?”

“Pretty much. I was about to head to the Convenience Store to get some food, you want to join me?”

“Sure.” He felt a bit Hungry. What even was the last time he ate? 

Shortly after, he found himself standing in front of a Convenienve Store, fiddling with his room keys. He forgot his phone in the hotel room, so that left him with no clue of when Y/N was sure to approach.

Their arrival announced itself, however. Y/N walked in the distance, the hood of their sweater pulled onto their head. They spoke, sounding very agitated. 

Max stared at the person next to them, quite startled as he heard them scream something. The person, a man about his height, stretched their arm out as if to touch Y/N and grab their bag but did not succeed. Before he could even touch them, Y/N had somehow grabbed him and flung over his shoulder. He landed face first on the ground, Y/N pressing their knee into his back.

“Don't you dare try something like that again!”, they called out. Their line of sight swept over to Max, spotting him. “Could you call the police?”

He was startled again. “Sorry forgot my phone.”

Quickly fishing around in their pocket, Y/N produced their phone and flung it to Max, Hands holding the man’s shoulder down.

It didn't take long for the police to arrive, Siren's blaring. Max pulled the cap he quickly bought it the convenience store deeper, trying to hide his appearance from curious onlookers. Meanwhile Y/N had handed the guy over to the police. The police man was surprised as he arrived, not even questioning how they could do this. “He tried to grab my Butt on the Bus!”, they exclaimed. “Then attempted to pull off my hood. I told him, the camera's on the bus were recording and that I'd Inform the police. He followed me from there”

The Policeman nodded again, taking their identity information before looking at Max shortly, clearly recognising him. “I presume we should keep this silent?”

Max nodded, watching the car drive off with one less creep running free.

Y/N stood next to him, dusting their clothes off. Max offered them a tissue to clean their hands which they gladly took. 

“That was impressive.”, he stated. “I've never seen a guy go flying like that.”

Y/N grinned. “Thanks, I do a lot of combat sports. Never thought I'd be able to use them in public though…”

“Good you trained then”. Max chuckled. “Remind me to not anger you again. I don't want to get punched.”

Y/N shook their head. “I don't unnecessarily touch people. You don't have to be scared. Not stopping you if you want to be, though!”

They silently entered the convenience store, browsing. Max had picked some instant noodles which he prepared with the provided hot water, Y/N had gotten some sandwiches and snacks. Something green? Papery looking. 

“That's Seaweed”, Y/N mouthed before hungrily biting down.

He not-do-silently slurped the instant noodles, warmth hitting his stomach. He felt content, like a cat. He wanted to stretch himself and lay on the soft carpet that you'd find before a fireplace. The perfect life.

As Y/N finished stuffing themselves with food, they also stretched out. With their foot hitting the table, they let out a losu yelp.

Max looked downy seeing them hold their foot.

“I sprained my foot yesterday in my room.” They exclaimed, face contorned as they remembered the stinging pain.

“You keep getting hurt or hurting yourself.”, he realised. 

They let out a sad sounding laugh. “Kinda, yeah..”

“You should stop that. Have you tried not hurting yourself?”

Now they were pouting. “Thanks, Doctor. That's real helpful advice here. Anything else?”

Max pondered that. “Maybe drink some water if you're feeling thirsty?”

Y/N reclined on their chair. “WOW, Live-changing. Thank you so much!”

As they got up to chuck the food wrappers in the trash, Max blurted out his thoughts: “I brought my computer with me. Interested to play a round of Asetto Corso?”

“Is that how you invite people to your Room? You should work on your pick-up lines then.”

He scowled. “No I-”

‘He’s quite awkward’, Y/N thought.

“I get what you're trying to say. Gotta finish my work though, Sorry Max. I'll see you tomorrow?”

Max was quite breathless now. “..Yeah. Till Tomorrow!”

As Y/N left, they turned around a last time. “Nice hat you got there! Suits you, Mate!”

He quickly fumbled the hat off, staring at what the hell he'd bought. It said “I'm a saucy boy!”

What the hell did that even mean?

[rangerbarbz]

Professor Pines pt. 2

Author’s note: YALL RAHHHH I MADE THE HIGHEST GRADE IN THE CLASS ON ONE OF MY ZOOLOGY FINALS LETS GOOOOOO anyways things are slowing down for me other than i am moving into my own place!! Im so excited <3 I hope yall enjoy this!! (I just want to apologize for me nerding out over birds in this chapter) 

Summary: This is just a random day in the first week that Ford and the reader are spending in east Tennessee. They are going bird watching ayyyy 

May 21st 

You leaned over your field notebook, trying to recreate the beautiful foliage you had seen on a hike with Ford the day before. Before trying to find any mysterious creatures that lurked in the Appalachian, Ford had suggested that you both get acquainted with the area you would be studying in. This way you would be able to fully understand the habitat this cryptid called home and any adaptations it developed to flourish there. You didn’t mind it whatsoever. Wildlife had always been something you were interested in, and Ford made it so damn fun. It was a shame you never had him before as a professor. He would be one hell of a lecturer. Despite having the reputation of being an introvert, he came to life when he got to speak about his passion: science. 

You certainly weren’t as gifted in the art department as Ford was, but you were determined to finish this drawing of a flower if it was the last thing you did. You bit the end of your indigo coloring pencil as you examined your illustration. 

“Needs more purple,” you mumbled, grabbing your violet pencil and drawing streaks over the petals. You hummed contentedly. “There we go.”

“Very nice, Y/N,” Ford complimented. You didn’t know he was bent down looking over your shoulder, observing your artistic process. 

“Jesus!” you yelped, knee hitting the underside of your desk. Your colored pencils began to roll onto the floor beside you. “You scared me,” you said through laughing. 

“I seem to be good at doing that,” Ford replied jokingly. He kneeled beside you, his face now eye level with your lap. Out of your view, his eyes flickered at your plush thighs as he stood back up. He placed your pencils beside your notebook and placed a hand on the back of your swivel chair. 

He pointed to your drawing. “Is that the Bachelor’s Button we saw yesterday?” 

You smiled. “Yes, it is! How did I do?” You turned to him as he read the notes and labels that were littered around the page. 

“Looks just like it,” he answered, grinning at you. 

“Why, thank you, Ford.” You closed your notebook and turned towards him, still seated. He was now leaning against the oak drawers of the desk, his hands flat on the surface behind him. “What do you have planned today?” 

“I’m glad you asked!” He removed his journal tucked into a pocket inside his jacket and flipped through the pages. He landed on a page that had nothing on it besides the word “Birds” written in his loopy scrawl. “I thought we’d go bird watching today! I’m a little rusty on class Aves, so I thought we’d go together and see what we find.”

Yes! I would love to! Let me just-” You leaned over to the bottom drawer where Ford was standing. The drawer was shielded by his broad legs. 

“Oh, excuse me!” Ford apologized. He stepped out of the way. You pulled out a pair of binoculars and a guide for bird identifying. 

“Alright, I’m ready.” You stood up quickly from your chair. “Lead the way, Pines,” you said faux authoritatively.

He laughed. “Yes ma’am.” 

You found yourself walking down a trail where the grass had been patted down by others who had walked on it before. Trees grew on either side of you and bushes were scattered throughout the forest. It was quite peaceful. You and Ford had settled on a comfortable silence as you looked to the branches for birds. You were both trying to walk softly to avoid any twigs or leaves crunching. This came surprisingly easy to Ford despite being the tall, broad man that he is. You eventually stopped at a spot behind a shrub that had been covered in vines to gaze across an open area. 

“This should be good enough,” Ford said, placing his bag on the ground. He brought his binoculars to his eyes just as you did. “Keep an eye out for anything…unusual. You never know what you’ll find.” 

You chuckled. “Got that right.” You then turned to your left to search for any bright patches of colors that could be songbirds. After about a minute of not seeing anything, Ford brought your attention his way. 

“Look! Do you know what that is, Y/N?” he asked quietly, pointing upwards. You quickly pivoted on your feet and moved closer to him, scanning the trees with your binoculars. 

“I don’t quite see it,” you murmured, still looking for the bird in the wrong direction. 

“Here.” Ford then shifted behind you gently touching your elbows and lifting your arms into the line of sight of the bird. Your breath hitched in your throat at the contact. His fingertips were rough compared to the soft flesh of your arms. He leaned next to your ear and pointed once again, facing the sky. 

“Do you see it?” he whispered. You felt your face grow warm at the current proximity. His voice was so low and gravelly in your ear. You suddenly saw the bird he had been talking about. It was black, white, and had a bright red splotch across its chest. 

“Oh, I see it!” you exclaimed. “That’s a, uh,” you snapped your fingers, “a Rose-Breasted Grosbeak.” 

Ford smiled warmly at you. “That it is.” 

You spent an extra hour and a half taking in the scenery around you, continuing to find even more birds. It was a truly beautiful day for it. The sun was even shining just right on Ford to accentuate the silver in his hair. That’s when you remembered something. 

You then pulled a disposable camera out of your back pocket. “Ford, look at me,” you instructed, positioning the camera in front of your eye. 

“What are you doing?” he asked, quirking an eyebrow at you. 

“Taking a picture of you. Don’t think you can escape entering my scrapbook. Now smile.” He laughed in response to that, giving you a perfectly authentic grin. 

“That reminds me of my great niece. She loves scrapbooking. You’ll have to meet her one day.” He began to pick up his bag and slung it over his shoulder. “You would get along swimmingly.” 

You giggled. “I would love that,” you responded, also picking up your own bag and putting your binoculars in it. 

You began to walk back down the trail together, recapping all of what you saw today when you spotted a raspberry bush. “Hell yes,” you said, striding over to the bush. “You want a snack, Ford?” You started to pick the berries off the plant. 

“I’m alright, but thank you,” he responded, waiting for you to get done harvesting. You walked back over to him and began to bite a berry in half. Unfortunately, this was an especially juicy one. It busted and left a red streak dribbling down your chin. 

“Dammit,” you grumbled, about to wipe your mouth with your sleeve. 

Ford frowned at you. “No, don’t ruin your shirt like that. Here let me.” His hand gently cradled the back of your head as he took the bottom of his shirt and brought it to your chin. Your eyes widened at the action and the fact you could now see Ford’s midsection. He had a muscular belly with just a little bit of pudge and a graying happy trail. Oh my God. 

His cotton covered thumb swiped below your lip, removing the juice that was there. He wasn’t looking in your eyes but instead focusing on the task at hand. His hand left the back of your head as he dropped his shirt.

“There we go,” he grinned, eyes crinkling at you. “Now, I’m the dirty one.” You knew your face had to be as red as the berry you just ate, but he didn’t mention it. It was such an innocent act of kindness, but the way you were feeling was far from innocent.

[henneseyhoe]

I JUST READ THE MELO SMUT🥵🥵so good can you do another one we’re he’s obsessed with the reader like he’s always posting her and showing her love or even like him being overly obsessed and a little dark

CLOSER.

Lamelo x BLACK!FEM!reader.

WARNINGS:!!SLIGHT CNC!!, daddy kink, stalking, mentions of blood and death, k!dnapping, mentions of mental health, kn!fe play(kinda), breeding if you squint, crying(as always), reader is a tad bit delusional, no protection(wrap it before you tap it)

Ps. I feel like being a perfectionist and overthinking fucked this up for me but I can’t keep holding this damn request hostage 😩 so I hope you still enjoy this, it’s LONG lmfao.

Pss. I thought I lost this request, whole time I just had to scroll down LMFAOOO

✮✮✮✮

“Damn, girl. This like the fiftieth love note you’ve gotten this month!” Karina exclaims, looking down at the stack of notes on Y/Ns counter, the girl adding one more from today into the pile. Truthfully, Karina had been sick of seeing them, disgusted by the amount she got weekly. “Girl, stop! It’s not…maybe fortieth” Karina makes a face, side eyeing Y/N with slight scornful expression. She was more than weirded out at the creepy gestures not moving her friend even a bit. Karina on the other hand, got goosebumps even looking at the letters. They were creepy to her, and every time she read one about this mysterious person confessing their love to her bestfriend, she grew more concerned for her wellbeing. “Like that makes a difference, Y/N. You don’t find this shit kinda..weird?” Y/N shrugs, not seeing the point in looking deeper than the notes themselves. A part inside of her liked the attention she got.

“No, not really. It’s kinda sweet!”

“Sweet?! this man, woman, thing, whatever the fuck! Has been writing to you for almost five months now and has not shown their face. You don’t think that’s creepy?”

“I dunno. Maybe they shy, Karina”

“Nuh-uh. I don’t trust it, I don’t like it. What if it’s your ex?” Y/N laughs, taking her jacket off and setting it on a coat hanger in her closet before heading to her kitchen to prepare a meal, Karina following closely behind her to continue her scolding.

“You are so dramatic, you know that? Me and Jason haven’t talked in so long, I doubt it. I haven’t even seen the nigga around”

“So? Nothing about me is dramatic, I’m telling you the truth. That’s more than a secret admirer, that’s a stalker”

Y/N shrugged her off, laughing once again, and further annoying Karina with her lack of urgency to get down to the bottom of the situation at hand. “Stalker? What is this, a lifetime movie?”

“No, it’s real life. that’s why I need you to stay ready for whatever, especially with that creepy ass message your ex sent you after your breakup”

Little did she know, her friend was right all along. It wasn’t her ex, but someone who was far more demented and delusional. Lamelo had been sending eerily specific love letters to Y/N’s house for months, but had been watching her for well over a year now. Almost as soon as he saw her, his last obsession became a buried memory, Y/N now being in the forefront of his mind and sticking there like double sided tape to itself. After some time, he knew her from top to bottom, back to front, and soon, inside and out. If it was up to him, she would have always been his, but he wasn’t the best with approaching women of Y/N’s caliber. She was smart, a college student studying computer science, and none of his silly mind games that’d usually trip up other girls he was interested in would work on her. He had to up his game, and so, he set his plan in motion until he got her in the right place to sink his teeth into her.

✮✮✮✮

“Be safe, okay?”

“Yes, Karina! I won’t get murdered or chopped up over my vacation week, I promise” Y/N joked, but Karina was dead serious, finding no humor in her mess. Y/N’s smile drops, and she becomes serious, mostly so Karina would leave her alone about those ‘silly little notes’. “Okay, I’m sorry. I’ll be safe” she reassured, both the girls finally saying their goodbyes with a loving hug and wave. Closing the door, Y/N sighs. Karina was her bestest friend in the world, but sometimes she could be overbearing. Y/N felt maybe she needed a bit of attention since her recent breakup. She craved it, really. It didn’t matter if the attention was physical or something with a little less contact, Y/N wanted it. But, It wouldn’t go farther than that, she didn’t need a rebound.

Walking into her kitchen where she just finished preparing dinner, she began making herself a plate of spaghetti and freshly toasted bread. The smell of the food made her stomach growl. She knew if she didn’t give Karina a plate of her own before she left, she’d complain that Y/N hogged all that good food to herself. Satisfied with the plate she made, she grabbed her a fork from the dishwasher and sat down at the dining table. Taking a generous amount of pasta on her fork, her mouth watered just as she was about to send her tastebuds to food-heaven.

Then, the doorbell rang.

The girl pauses, praying whoever the hell that was would go away on their own so she could finish eating.

Knock, knock, knock.

Damn. Her lights were on, they knew she was home. She sighs, her fork lowering back down to her plate. Swallowing the saliva that had accumulated in her mouth, she unsticks herself from her comfortable seat, grumpily making her way towards the front door. Oddly, she saw no one through the frosted glass frame placed in the middle of the door, so she was forced to open it up and see what was going on.

“Hello??” She called, aggravated by how she had to leave her hot dinner just to answer the door and be met with silence. Stepping out on her porch a little, her eyes scan her yard, though nothing but darkness surrounded. Shaking her head, Y/N slams the door shut and locks it. “Stupid ass kids knockin’ on my door. One day imma stick my foot up one of they asses” She rants, walking back to her little set up. Feeling happiness again, she takes that lovely bite of food and does a little dance in her seat.

As her eating progresses, she couldn’t help but to notice her vision blurring, creating two of everything around her. Her head began to spin, and her heartbeat could be heard in her ears mid bite. She had lost her appetite completely by now, currently only focusing on not throwing up all over her table.

‘Where’s my phone?’

She could have sworn she had set it right next to her plate, but it was no where to be found now, even in her corrupted vision. Holding her head in her free hand, she gags at the sudden smell that fills her nose. It was a faint smell, but noticeable. sweet smelling, almost. Ironic for the bitter moment. Her brain told her to stand, and she followed suit, but she couldn’t stop the weakening of her knees or how slowed her breathing was getting.

Her body hit the floor with a ‘THUD’, her limbs feeling completely weighted down, and her consciousness slipping from her as she laid on the cold tiled floor, unable to move.

✮✮✮✮

There she was. Finally where Lamelo wanted her to be. He was so jittery and giddy about his successes that he could scream, but he held off on that till he was alone. His letters, fake pages, dms, and Instagram likes had finally paid off. He had her all to himself, and finally, no one was in his way. Not her colleagues, not Karina, not even her ‘crazy ass’ ex. He had gotten rid of him as soon as tension rose in their relationship. Jason hadn’t seen REAL crazy till he met Lamelo, and he made sure he knew that before his last breath.

The first time Lamelo and Jason interacted was when he witnessed their first relationship fight, which was fairly petty, but Melo didn’t see it that way. He had left a reeeal lengthy note on Jason’s dorm door, describing in step by step detail about how he would gut him like a fish, cut him up into tiny pieces and send every single bit of him off to his ‘helpless whore of a mother’, as Melo described her as. Of course Jason was shaken up, rightfully so. But obviously not shaken up enough to back off.

After not talking to Y/N since the argument, Jason appeared on her porch with that same note, tearing her a new one. He thought Karina was playing jokes on him for arguing with her bestfriend and making her cry. He took his anger out on her, yelled up a storm, and burned up the letter in his hand with his lighter, leaving it on the poor girls porch to stomp out as tears flowed from her glossed brown eyes.

Lamelo took the whole thing as a challenge. Did he really think Karina was on his level of literacy? That note was too well typed for it to be her. So, him being the man he was, made his threats come to fruition. He easily beckoned Jason into close arm reach by teasing him on his campuses basketball court as Jason was doing solo drills. Lucky for Lamelo, he trained at night.

Walking himself into the low lit court, Lamelo began taunting him, which stretched over three whole minutes. Knowing the hot head would react with physical anger, Lamelo kept a guard, and as soon as Jason tried him, Lamelo revealed the bat he held behind his back, swiftly taking a mighty swing at the man’s left leg, hitting right below his knee. Jason couldn’t have possibly seen it coming.

“Right out the park!” Lamelo continued to tease with a wide smile as if blood wasn’t splattered on his shoes. Red spilled from the back of Jason’s knee from his bone completely breaking and stabbing its way through his muscles and skin. You could have heard the snap of the bone and the sound of him hitting the floor echo through the gym, a sound Melo wanted to hear, but Jason’s loud screaming ruined getting the full effect. “I guess this is the part where I run to base” Grabbing the man by his destroyed, bloodied leg, Lamelo drags Jason off of the court as he screams bloody murder.

Lamelo instantly began regretting not bringing anything else to knock him out with without killing him, but every mastermind had slip ups. a shame somebody is gonna hear his screams and probably have nightmares about it now though. Not that Lamelo cared about either parties wellbeing, he just didn’t wanna hear his or anyone else’s mouth.

Then, in Lamelo’s basement face down, Jason continues to cry like a baby while Lamelo took a much needed drink break for the sake of his sanity, or what was left of it.

“How the fuck am I supposed to play ball now!?” Jason heaves suddenly with a quiet sob leaving his dry lips, his coffee colored hands holding his thigh as the blood spilling slowed. “You genuinely thought you were gonna get that far?”

Before Jason had time to attempt to answer, two bullets were already lodged into his skull, one exiting from between his eyebrows and one through his left eye socket.

✮✮✮✮

His daydreaming was cut short by Y/N mixing in her seat. Her consciousness had finally came back, but confusion quickly filled that space in her mind that was once occupied by unconsciousness. She looks around, not recognizing anything around her. “Look who’s up” Melo leans up from his seat in front of her, peeling off the ghostface mask he wore just for dramatic purposes. Y/N’s eyebrows knit together. “I know whatchu thinking. Where am I? Who are you? I’ll tell you all that later. But, for right now, we’re gonna celebrate” He smiles, and tosses the mask, standing from the couch he sat on.

Walking over to a small bar, he pours an unknown drink into a glass. Y/N had no idea what was going on, nor did she really care to find out. She was too worried about all the guns and knives that were laid out on the floor next to his seat. Fear pumped up her body with adrenaline, her entire being tingling. She wanted to jump out of her seat, but her arms were tied behind her back, and her ankles were tied to the chair’s own legs.

“I wanna make a toast. To a new life, and new love” He held up his glass and drunk some of the mystery liquor. Waking over to her, he holds the glass to her lips. “Drink” he instructed, Y/N shaking her head and looking away. “Why not? You think I poisoned it or somethin’?” He takes his hand and grabs her jaw, forcing her to look at him. “I wouldn’t do that to myself, so drink” he insists.

Looking back at him, her eyes trace his features, stretching down his long, tatted arms. Creepy shit aside, she thought he was cute, but she had to stay focused. “If you don’t drink, imma just force you” Y/N didn’t budge, but Lamelo had no problem with setting her straight early on. Gripping the sides of her face to make her open her mouth, he tilts her head back roughly and pours the drink into her mouth. The liquid went down smoothly, but burned her throat like hell. She didn’t drink, she never did because she got drunk easily, and Lamelo knew that.

She jerks her head away with a strong gag, tears welling up in her eyes. “I dunno if you realized yet, but I’m the one in charge, I’m the one who ain’t tied up, I’m the one that could end you like *snap* that” he threatens with a snap, but it holds no weight to him. He wasn’t gonna kill this one, or at least he hoped he wouldn’t have to. “I know you’re a smart girl, so I know you can listen. I didn’t go through all those letters to find out you can’t follow simple instructions, pretty”

Her eyes were drawn to him, anger now flickering within them like a flame in a dark room. “Letters?…You were the one writing those fuckin’ letters?” She spoke through clenched teeth. Lamelo smiles. “Surpriiiise~” he sings, gulping down the rest of the alcohol before slamming the glass down on the floor. The glass shattered into pieces, making Y/N jump at the sound. Her breathing was ragged, and pressure built up behind her eyes like a dam waiting to be cracked open.

“You’re a sick person” She spoke with distress, shaking her head. Melo shrugs with no sympathy. If he had a dollar for every time someone said that to him, he’d be a Rockefeller. “Everybody sick, I just have no problem showing mine, unlike the rest of society”

“Jesus Christ” she muttered, her head hanging low in regret. Karina was right all along, and she didn’t listen. If she did, she wouldn’t be in this position, her life in the hands of a man she didn’t even know. “Don’t act so sad. You’re gonna love me…or at least learn to. again, you’re smart”

“I don’t wanna love you. I wanna go home”

“You are home. Don’t be stupid” He spat, waltzing by her and picking up a blade from the floor, inspecting in. Y/N tenses up, Lamelo immediately noticing. He side eyes her with a slight smirk, mischief infesting his energy. “You think imma cut you, Y/N?” She kept quiet, but he continued to pry. “You think imma scar that pretty frame you got? What about this beautiful face?” He walks over to her, using the knife to swipe a box braid out of her vision. Y/N sniffles, taking a deep breath.

“Let. Me. Go”

“Or what?” Lamelo challenged, getting close to her as Y/N gave him a look, one he couldn’t make out or tell if it was anger. “You can’t do shit, I made sure. I tied you real good. Your friend thinks you went on vacation, so if you aren’t answering tomorrow, that just means you made it safe and you’re having fun. Maybe found yourself a fun fling that’s distracting that pretty mind. Somebody you invited up to your room” he continues, the tip of his knife swiftly making a cut into her gown with a quick swipe, making the thin fabric fall from the top of her body, pooling into her lap.She wanted to cover her naked body, but the rope restraints stuns her movements.

“Would you take me back to your hotel room, Y/N? I would have been a great candidate” the sadistic nature of him alone had her terrified, he could have done anything to her. She began shedding tears. She was exposed now, realizing the gown wasn’t even something she remembered wearing or buying, so he had to have put it on her himself when she was knocked out.

If he pulls the rest off, she was for sure fucked, no pun intended. He stares with no shame, the tip of his tongue grazing his plump bottom lip.

‘Fuck’

She attempts clenching her thighs together to stop the tingling, but it never subsided, and her brown nipples getting as hard as pebbles helped nothing. She wanted to keep a guard up so badly for her own safety, but the wetness coating the lips between her legs was telling her to do something else.

He notices how her legs were trying to move and her hips slowly circled, unintentionally trying to find a specific position to stimulate her clit. She couldn’t help it, she just wanted the tingling to stop. “Lemme help you wit’ that, ma” Melo smirks, putting his hand right under her soaked pussy. She stops immediately and lifts her butt as much as she can, feeling the warmth of his hand under her. She shakes her head ‘no’, but he nods a ‘yes’ and keeps his hand placed, kneeling on one knee in front of her. “Go ‘head” He says. The approval he gave her lingered in her head as the tingling intensified, giving her no choice but to fall into temptation.

Y/N hesitantly lowers herself down and begins to move against his hand, swirling, bouncing, and grinding down at the speed she wanted as her hips stuttered backwards every time his finger tips would swipe over her clit. She let out a stifled moan and threw her head back, rocking her hips faster as she felt herself climb closer to her end. Lamelo only fed her urges by bringing his hand up higher every time she’d raise her hips when the feeling got too strong, aiming to stimulate her clit through even the strongest parts of her orgasm. His dick was as hard as an iron pole in his pants now. It almost painfully pressing up against the material, the tip leaking precum just practically begging to be set free so he could fuck something, and soon it’d get its turn. Y/N could just see it through her eyelashes, she couldn’t help but look, it was so obvious.

Lamelo slides his fingers between her wet folds, collecting her slick to keep her clit wet while she used him as she pleased. “Speed up” he instructed.

✮✮✮✮

Fifteen minutes had passed and she had already came twice in the palm of his hands. Her seat was sticky and her thighs were wet, but Lamelo’s hand and arm were wetter. He slid his hand from under her and took a taste of what he had craved for so long. All of the timeless nights he had spent looking through her bedroom window, watching her feel, fuck, and taste herself, wishing he was there to catch every drop.

Feeling defeated, Y/N’s head lulls backwards as she rests her eyes on the ceiling above her. There was no other sound but the ringing frequency in her ear and the huffing of her breath trying to slow itself. She could hear her own heartbeat slowing too, just until the sound of wood creaking above them drowned the sound out. She pauses, her eyes shooting wide.

‘Who could possibly be here? could they help?’

Was what she began thinking as all the color from Lamelo’s face seemingly drained, his breath now still. Suddenly he reaches for the knife he held earlier, grabbing it from the floor and clutching it in his hand. Just in case someone had creeped down the stairs to the basement and witnessed what had been going on, he had no problem getting rid of whoever was responsible for ruining their moment.

The walking upstairs prologued, the hot tears that filled her eyes starting to flood her flushed cheeks as he placed a finger over her lips, signaling her to shut up. The cold blade of his knife pressed against the skin of her throat, so hard that she could practically feel her pulse and she was holding her breath purposely, scared the blade would cut her precious soft skin if she moved even an inch, and he cared less.

As the footsteps went away, distancing from them, he moves his hand. He lets out a much needed breath of relief and licks his lips, a smile growing on his face. “Roommate. Thought we were goners there for a second. You did good though, ma” He praises, standing from his crouching position. “I think you deserve a treat because of that”

Positioning his knife under the rope that held her feet in place, he looks up at her with a warning look before cutting both of her legs free. He walks around the chair and does her hands next, giving Y/N the room to rub her aching joints, feeling relief. Only one thought ran through her mind just then, and though she was tired from the recent back to back orgasms, she knew she only had one chance to get it right. So, she stood like a lamb taking its first steps, and took a run for it.

‘Please, please, please’

She pleaded in her head over and over again as she ran though the large basement, hoping to find an exit. Just as she had spotted a door at the end of a dark stairway, light of freedom shining through the cracks, her body jerked backwards and spun in the opposite direction, the miss placement of her sore feet being the reason why she hit the floor. The taste of iron filled her mouth from the gash on the inside of her lip, her teeth accidentally biting down on it as she went down.

She thanked god that carpet covered the floor or else she would have definitely knocked a tooth loose, and maybe lost one. “Run pretty fast for someone who’s been tied up for hours” He flipped her over so easily, prying her legs open so he could kneel between them. He admired her entire body as he held both her wrists down above her head with just one hand so he could capture them in a pair of cuffs, making sure she had no fighting chance this time. She couldn’t believe his hand was big enough to hold down both, and even with her struggling, he didn’t budge once.

✮✮✮✮

The take down was rough, but when he fucked, it was nothing like she expected. He slid his shaft along her clit, the pink bud erect and sticking out from her hood. He couldn’t stop himself from jumping against her pussy with excitement, the tip of his dick slapping the bottom of her belly with every bounce. He pulls his hips back, the tip of him now resting against her dripping entrance, ready to ruin her for the next, if Lamelo didn’t get to him first. “Stop..” She mutters, but deep down, she was really anticipating the contact.

Her sexual organs were completely against her once again, fogging her mind with thoughts of him she didn’t want and didn’t expect to have. She was forced to sit there, pondering on how he felt and how deep he could go inside of her, but she no longer had to wonder as he pushed his hips back forward to give her a taste of what she would be stuck with for the rest of her days.

He sunk into her slowly, her walls gripping him as a welcome upon entrance. He practically had to force himself inside with a drawn out sigh as Y/N sucks in air, both of them exchanging looks into their eyes before looking down at where they connected. Her stomach involuntarily sucks in, showing the bulge of his dick every time he thrusted forward with skill into her. The feeling deep down was so indescribable, so good that she almost cracked a smile. She hadn’t even noticed how much he was stretching her out, she was too busy feeling every inch of him.

Her eyes rolls back and her toes curled as she brought her legs back further for him, Lamelo smiling at how he didn’t even have to tell her to do so. He was just proud that she was learning, but she had much more to get down pact.

“Good girl…” he rasps.

“It’s so fucking deep” She whispers, her voice slightly hoarse from her throat being dry. As his hips tempo changed, the chains connected to her wrists made jingling sounds, making music with the clapping of their thighs joining in the harsher he got. He couldn’t tell if his bodies reaction to her was cause he hadn’t had sex in a long time or if she was just that damn tight. Meanwhile, YN was Lost in clouds of her own, feeling the repetitive push of Lamelo’s tip knocking against her g-spot, her own cream starting to slip out of her and drip down to her ass.

“This pussy grippin’” Melo compliments, one of his hands moving downwards to grip at the girls throat, making her tear up once again.

“Yeah? You like it?” She spoke breathlessly, the man above her nodding and laying a singular kiss on her lips, making her swoon momentarily before going back to her struggling whimpers.

“Mhmm, fuck” He moans. He never moaned, but he guessed she was changing him too.

“Call me daddy”

“Daddy!”

“Yeah, what’s my name?”

“Daddy! Fuck!”

“You so fuckin’ pretty, mamas” he groans out, almost whimpering as his dick pushed inside her further and further. She felt like he was trying to make her cervix a home for his dick with how deep he was going. Y/N began to think how they had gone too far for her to ignore how she was enjoying every bit of this. No matter how much she tried to tell her pussy to stop cumming for him, she continued, making the carpet under her soaked with her honey. Hours ago she wished her hands were untied to beat his ass, but now she wished they were uncuffed so she could trace his tattoos while he dug her out.

He was hitting spots that not even her ex man was hitting.

Using her thighs for leverage, he begins to fuck her in a push-up position, ramming his long dick directly into her coven, her walls squeezing him almost like she was showing thanks without words. Her juices made it easier for him to fuck her with no limit, slipping and sliding into her with no trouble apart from how tight she was gripping.

He didn’t hold off to cum either, he had already came twice, but he had more to give her and she had no choice but to take it. He was convinced he could imprint on her, and it was a bonus if his seed grew inside of her after all this hard work he put in. She was gonna stay with him, and he was gonna make sure of it.

✮✮✮✮

[annwrites]

⸻ a house in hawkins. part three.

· pairing: billy hargrove x fem!reader · type: part of a series · summary: billy helps you with homework, you realize you have a crush, & yet another man enters the fold · tw: references to past sexual abuse/grooming of a minor, mentions of drugs, infidelity, implied abortion · word count: 4,458

When Billy enters the house, he finds you to his left in the living room. Or, what is now serving as a poor excuse for one. You’re on the floor, lying on your stomach atop a light blue blanket, legs in the air behind you, waving back and forth as you work on what he assumes is homework.

You glance up to him for a moment, a pencil balanced atop your upper lip which is in a pout to keep it in-place and he smirks at the sight.

He holds up a plastic bag from a hardware store. “Brought you a new doorknob.”

You drop the writing utensil. “Does that one have a lock, too?”

“It does.”

You turn back to the textbook in front of you. “Good. Now you can replace the other one that you broke.”

His lip twitches. “Yes, ma’am.”

You roll your eyes. “Don’t call me that.”

He repeats the statement yet again before heading up.

A handful of minutes later, he comes back downstairs, seating himself on the cushion-less couch. “Done.”

You look back at him over your shoulder.

He lays an arm across the back of the couch. “What? Do you want to inspect my handiwork?”

You go back to your homework. “Not really. And you’re not getting paid, either.”

He chuckles. “I’d say that’s only fair, since it needing to be replaced at all is my fault to begin with.”

Both of you grow silent then and he leans forward, squinting, trying to get a look at whatever you’re working on. “Number four is wrong.”

He leans back again.

You don’t initially respond, telling yourself that he’s just picking on you. Or that you don’t really care if your decimal is in the wrong place, but you keep glancing back to the question. You sigh loudly then and he smiles in response. “So what’s the right answer, then?”

He shrugs. “You tell me, sweetheart.”

You don’t like him calling you that yet again. Scott is the only one who gets to call you by that term of endearment. Joe had tried it once—twice, maybe—and even if he scared the shit out of you, you made it clear that he could call you by anything else but that. He’d agreed easily, since his cock had just been buried in your warm, wet mouth—close to finishing. His mind was occupied with other things at the time than arguing over meaningless nicknames. He’d given you what you wanted—agreement—and then you’d given him the same: an orgasm, which included swallowing, before his wife came home.

You look at him over your shoulder again. “Don’t ever call me that again. Got it?”

He blinks down at you for a moment, the air in the room shifting as he wonders whether you disliked that specific pet name, or pet names in general. And much more: why? “Sure.” He clears his throat. “It’s four point six seven, by the way. Your decimal is in the wrong place.”

You turn back to your paper, erasing and then correcting. You’d known you had screwed up, but had gotten so frustrated that you’d chosen to eventually move onto the next question.

“I hate math,” you mutter.

He props his other elbow up against the arm of the couch, resting his head against his fist. “It was my favorite subject, actually.”

“Can’t imagine why,” you say, filling in number five, hoping you’ve at least gotten it right. You’re sure Billy will tell you if you haven’t.

“What’s your favorite subject? You like to read, so I assume English?”

You bob your head from side-to-side for a moment. “It’s a tie between that and science.”

Ironic, he thinks. The daughter of a meth manufacturer who loves science.

Speaking of, you’d spent last night on-edge, wondering what the hell had gone through your head to think sharing such a secret with a complete stranger to be a good idea. If any of the men found out…‘being in trouble’ wouldn’t even begin to cover it.

You didn’t want to think what Joe would do to you if he found out you’d ran your mouth off to some random that wasn’t even from here, and clearly not a customer, either.

You weren’t sure that the prospect of him never getting to use you for his own personal sexual satisfaction again would be enough to save you.

Thankfully, however, the only cruiser that had shown up last night—which had still made your heart jump into your throat when you’d glanced out the screen door as your dad went out and you saw it—was Travis’. He’d just been bringing his weekly earnings by to be divvied up.

As your dad stood there counting; ensuring that everything was in-order, he’d stared at you, eyes trailing along your body.

You’d not reacted. You hardly did anymore. They all liked to look. But only a select few were allowed to touch. And he had. Twice now. Even if he was engaged. Not that being spoken-for seemed to matter much to any of them.

Joe had been married now for twenty-five years. Longer than you’d even been alive. But whenever his wife went off to visit her sister, or was to be gone majority of the day and the urge hit him…

Travis was different than him in bed, though.

Then again, they all had their own personal…styles.

Joe really liked blowjobs and demeaning dirty-talk, or taking you from behind—honestly, so long as he was fucking you in some form, he was pleased.

Travis, in the two times you’d now been together, had been more on the gentle side, almost like he was afraid of hurting you—it often made you wonder if that was how his fiancée liked it.

Rhett—in the one time you had been together a year ago—had been tender. You tried not to think about the way he had looked at you that night too much. Or the way he looked at you literally each time he was around you after. With longing, and something else you didn’t want to think about.

He knew what it had been going into it. It wasn’t your problem if he’d hoped for more. You’d been clear from the start.

Sometimes, though, you still felt guilty, knowing that it hurt him each time you slept with one of the other men, or they shared you between them, touching you right in front of him.

And then there was Scott. With him it was just…familiarity. Your bodies simply understanding one another. Wants, needs—they no longer even needed to be talked about. Once your naked skin was pressed against each other—in bed, against the wall, on the bench seat in his pickup, in his garage—it was almost like routine. A pleasant one. Like an old habit that both of you refused to kick. Not that you had any reason to.

Even if, when you fought, it left both of you fuming for days. But the making up was the good part. So, the thought of cutting things off never occurred to either of you. Not that it would last long if you even tried.

You were the only girl he’d bothered to continue carrying on with for so long.

And he was the only man you allowed to kiss you on the mouth.

That was your only rule with the rest of them: they could do, and have you do whatever they desired, but no kissing on the lips. Period.

And then you think of you breaking that rule just yesterday for someone else. But he’d been asleep, so that instance had been different. Or, that’s what you’d told yourself, at least.

You don’t even know why you had done it. Maybe to have a secret of your very own. A new one, that is. Because this house had been that, until he’d showed up.

And now you were back to pretending to be someone else for yet one more man in your life. No more letting your walls down for a few hours and just being a teenage girl with hopes and dreams—playing pretend—even if they dwindled little-by-little as time went on, and you warmed yet one more man’s bed.

He’d ripped that away from you.

You’re broken from your thoughts by Billy speaking again. “I can check your answers once you’re done. If you want.”

“Okay.”

You glance back to him over your shoulder and he meets your gaze with a raised brow. “Need help?”

You study him for a moment, then, “No.”

You turn back around. You’d just been curious as to where his eyes were currently trained at at-present. Because this moment reminds you of a similar one from three years ago, when you’d been fourteen, lying on your stomach on the living room floor, watching TV—you couldn’t even remember what had been on now.

The thing you could recall, however, was Joe sitting on the couch behind you, watching you with hooded lids. When you had turned back to him—feeling suddenly uneasy—you’d watched as he’d adjusted himself over his jeans, making sure you’d seen.

You’d felt sickly after, and hadn’t understood why.

Out of all of them, he’d always been your least-favorite. You had many reasons for that. Perhaps because he was the worst, even if he thought he was the best.

Once you’ve finished, you stand, coming to sit beside Billy, resting back on your calves as you watch him look over your paper.

You study him for a moment, noticing a bit of oil near his brow, and you lick your thumb, then reach toward him to wipe it away.

He pulls back, staring at you. “What’re you doing?”

You don’t reply. You simply clean him up, resting your palm back against your thigh. You wonder if he likes you touching him.

They usually do.

He stares at you for just a moment longer—you can swear that he blushes—before looking back to your paper. “Nine is wrong. Like, way off, kiddo.”

He hands it back to you.

You snort at the nickname, taking it from him. “What is it, then?”

He crosses his arms. “You tell me.”

This again.

You shrug, standing, bending over to put it back in your backpack—you can feel his eyes on your rear. “I can live with one wrong answer.”

He lays his head back against the couch, rolling his eyes. “The correct answer was B, not D.”

You smirk then, pulling the paper back out, quickly correcting it, then putting it away again.

“Never going to learn if I just keep telling you all the right answers.”

You turn back to him then, shrugging. “I’m used to getting what I want.”

He shakes his head lightly.

You sit down again, back pressed against the couch’s other arm, knees bent, feet pressed together in front of you. You break the silence this time.

“So, you went to Hawkins High, too?”

He nods. “Mhm.”

“What were you like? The way you are now?” It seemed to you that most men never grew out of being boys.

He smirks. “No. I was a completely different person.” He rolls his head to the side, looking at you. “Honestly, and this is just going off of a hunch, but I think you would’ve fuckin’ hated me.”

That surprises you. “Really? Why?”

He shrugs, looking up to the ceiling. “I was King Bad-Boy-Asshole. Smoking, drinking, partying, fighting, getting laid and driving a cool car. Generally acting like I didn’t give a shit about anything. Maybe a bit too concerned with my good looks. I had one hell of an ego, too; easily bruised.”

You try to picture this version of him, and for some reason, find it quite difficult to do. You’re not entirely sure that you believe him. But he seems the honest type.

“You’re right. I would’ve.”

And you would. All the guys could get cocky at times. You were used to such behavior. But when it came down to it, especially in regards to business—in whatever capacity—they all pulled their weight; did what was needed—necessary. They looked out for one another.

He smirks again. “You would’ve definitely been my type, though.”

This statement interests you. You lean in toward him. “How so?”

“Attractive, quiet, mysterious. You don’t seem to care much about what other people think. All around hard-to-get. I loved a good chase. As long as I got to break her in like a wild horse in bed at the end of it all.”

He looks at you then.

He’s only half-right about not caring for others’ opinions. Unless they were in your immediate circle, you didn’t. But if they were? You had no choice but to. They expected that from you—you caring about what they do, say, and think. Men like to feel good about themselves, and a supportive young woman is one way to get that validation that they all seem to crave, even if they’d never admit it.

You’d learned long ago to never emasculate them. Any of them. In any form.

“You’re not breaking anything.” You only half mean it. You still think him quite attractive, if nothing else.

It pleases you to hear that he thinks the same of you. Even if you’re not surprised by it.

“Didn’t say I was,” he replies, crossing his arms.

You cock your head to the side. “So, why change?”

“Once my dad kicked me out, real-life hit, and I knew it was time to grow the hell up; the time for games was over. The attitude I had was never going to get me very far.”

There’s a beat of silence, and then he speaks again. “What do you think of me as I am now?”

You shrug. “You’re okay so far. Definitely still a pretty boy, though.”

He scoffs. “Would a pretty boy have hands like these?” He asks, holding his palms up briefly, before settling them against his thighs.

“I was referring to your face, not your hands.”

He chews the inside of his cheek. “Yeah, well, I’m not that.”

Seems like your comment, for whatever reason, has hit a nerve. “Whatever you say, pretty boy.”

He reaches over, grabbing one of your feet, like yesterday, and tugging your sock off, balling it up, and tossing it across the room before massaging the sole.

“Do you have a foot fetish or something?”

His lip twitches in amusement. “No reason why it can’t benefit you.”

You raise a questioning brow.

He shakes his head. “No, I don’t. It’s called being nice. You should try it some time.”

You slide down the couch, settling your other foot in his lap as well. “Oh, I can be very nice. To the right people. Honestly, you probably wouldn’t even recognize me if you saw me with them.”

You stare down at your hands in your lap then.

The latter-most statement had come off as a tad…sad to him. “Why?”

You look at him. “It’s a long story.”

He shrugs, taking your other foot in his rough hands. “No place else to be.”

You glance to the watch on your wrist, knowing Travis is apparently bringing by another cop today to get him dealt-in on the business. He’d asked last night if you’d be there today. You’d said maybe. Meaning that you don’t have to leave.

He looks at your watch as well, then at you. “Do you?”

Your eyes meet his. “Not technically.”

Ever the enigma to him. Never a straight-forward answer with you. You kept him on his toes and guessing, that much was for certain.

“Are you always this cryptic?”

You shrug. “Trust is earned.”

“Trusted me well enough yesterday.”

You glance to him from under your lashes. “I should’ve never told you any of that. It was a mistake. A stupid thing to do.”

His thumbs move to the ball of your foot. “You don’t need to worry. Your secret is safe with me. Besides, I already told you I don’t have any friends. So, who would I have to tell?”

It’s just a general feeling—same as it was yesterday—that he can be trusted. And that’s an unusual occurrence for you. To meet someone like that.

Like him.

He rolls his head to the side, looking at you.

The warmth in his eyes…it’s not often you see such a sight.

“So, who are ‘the right people’, then? Classmates? Boyfriend?”

You cross your arms, shifting uncomfortably. “Family friends.”

He hums, moving his hands back to your other foot. “Why aren’t you with them now?”

“Are you always this nosy?”

He smirks, moving his fingers to your ankle. “Told you yesterday that I only have a few dozen questions to ask. That I find you fascinating.”

“And what do I get for answering?”

His lip twitches. “Helped you with your homework, didn’t I? Sounds like a give-and-take to me.”

“I was doing just fine before you came along.”

He rests the crook of his neck back against the couch. “I think you needed me.”

“Sounds to me like you still have one hell of an ego.”

He chuckles. “Never said I didn’t, honey.”

You glance to your watch again and sigh.

He looks at you, moving his fingers back to your foot, which you then remove from his lap, standing.

You head across the room to retrieve your sock.

He sits up. “Are you leaving?”

You pad back over to your shoes. “Mhm.”

He’s quiet for a moment, thinking. “Want me to give you a ride home?”

You look up to him after slipping them both on. A strange man bringing you home—especially if Scott or Joe were there, or your dad was in a mood—is most certainly a bad idea.

Even at that, with Travis…things were still new and blooming. You knew he felt special—since the rest of them you’d known for years and years—and taking a new guy to bed so soon had made him believe there was something different about him for you. Seeing you with an unfamiliar, like Billy, would only give him doubt.

“No, thanks. I like walking.”

You pull your backpack on and he stands then.

“Will I see you tomorrow?”

You shrug. Normally, you didn’t come here on the weekends to begin with. But you’d procrastinated your math homework yesterday in favor of reading instead. And then had used the unfinished assignment as an excuse to come back today.

You wonder if he always works weekends as well.

He takes a step closer to you, floorboards creaking.

You stare up at him. “Will you be here tomorrow?”

He smiles. “If you want me to be.”

You don’t entirely know what to say to that. “Do you not have work?”

“I don’t work Sundays. And I only work every-other Saturday. It’s the only reason I’m out here today.”

So next weekend you’d have this place all to yourself from the sounds of it. You now had something to look forward to.

You step past him. “And here I thought you came for me.”

He laughs. “Now who has an ego?”

Once the two of you are on the front porch—you really wanted to begin trying to fix this place up, even just a little; perhaps the furniture upstairs could be put to use—you turn back to him. “What I’m doing tomorrow depends on today. Make of that what you will.”

If Travis’ fiancée was to be at work all night, you knew where you’d be this evening. And if you felt wore-out from it come tomorrow, you most likely would hold off on coming back until Monday after school.

Billy raises a brow. “Think I need more details to make anything of it.”

You stand on tiptoes then and press a soft kiss to his cheek, just like yesterday. Once you’re standing on flat feet again, you look up to him with a smile. “Bye.”

He’s blushing again now—you think it sweet that he’s still capable of doing so; the last man who you’d made blush was Rhett, and that was quite some time ago—and you turn, heading through the field to your right without another word.

Billy shakes his head. “What the fuck have I gotten myself into?”

When you come into the yard, you don’t falter in your steps when you catch sight of Travis and his friend leaned back against Travis’ cruiser—another parked behind it—as they speak to your dad.

You merely glance to them, and the new one—he’s perhaps forty, tall, with dark hair and tanned skin, his strong jawline covered in stubble—looks to you with dark eyes for just a moment. His demeanor is cold, hard, distant. Already he unsettles you.

He breaks the staring contest when he looks back to your dad as you head up the front steps, going inside.

You head to your room, softly shutting the door behind you and slipping off your backpack, setting it on the floor before flopping down face-first on your bed. You smile softly to yourself when you think of Billy’s hands on your feet—such an un-intimate part of the body that he’d made feel the very opposite—and the way he’d blushed when your lips pressed against his warm skin.

You had a crush.

The last time you’d felt such a thing was when you first set eyes upon Scott at eight-years-old. It was now a foreign feeling to you, but nevertheless felt…good. It made you giddy, warm, excited. You bury your face in your pillow and softly squeal, kicking your feet. You should’ve told him yes to tomorrow. You wanted to see him again. You wanted to see him every day.

At what was now your place. You still somewhat wish he’d never found it, but he seemed nice enough so far. Different. And he clearly likes you.

But he liked hard-to-get, had said as much out loud. Most men did.

It was always a careful, delicate balancing act upon a high tightrope you were forced to walk day-in and day-out. Glances and soft touches, giggles and flirtatious comments, precise body-language that could be easily construed one way or the other. But never so distant that it left them frustrated or wholly uncertain of your feelings toward them.

They always needed to believe they were the ones in control. That you might think you know what you’re doing, but in reality, they always have the upper-hand. That they know how to play the game far better than you ever could. Because you’re just a girl. Some pretty, empty-headed doll or sex-toy, while they rule the world. That you need them.

You’re broken from thoughts of golden curls, pretty eyes, and handsome smiles by a knock at your bedroom door.

You groan. Travis. You’re sure it’s him.

You turn onto your side, snuggling the pillow under your head. “Yes?”

When the door opens, you’re proven correct. He leans his tall, broad form against the doorway, crossing his arms. You notice his typically short dirty-blond hair is just a tad shorter today—he’d gotten a haircut. He’s wearing a gray t-shirt, which just says ‘HPD’ on the front, and jeans. At least he’d bothered taking his shoes off first—they all know how you hate them walking through the house with them on.

He gives you a small, soft smile. “Where you been all day?”

You shrug.

He hangs his head, shaking it with a smirk and a small chuckle before looking to you again. “Should come outside and meet Cyrus. I’ve told him a lot about you.”

That translated to: I tell him the things we do when Amy is away at work, and he’s interested in also getting to know you on such a level.

Honestly, you’re a bit surprised he would do so. He’d made a ‘joke’ the last time you two had had sex last week, asking ‘how to get you all to himself’. You’d told him that that’s not how things work around here. If some newbie—a cop in particular—came along and demanded you all to himself suddenly…it would not end well for him.

You sit up then, on the edge of the bed, and just stare up at him.

He glances around your room, then back to you. “She’s out tonight, pulling a double at the hospital. You could come over. I’ll even make you dinner. Spaghetti?”

Having dinner made for you was also different. It was the other way around with the rest of them. But he’s still new at this. Trying to woo you, even if it’s completely unnecessary. You don’t need presents to get you to spread your legs for him.

You doing so easily and willingly is a pivotal part in all of this—your role to play; cross to bear. It was one more thing that kept them all coming back—kept them working with your dad, even if he’s unaware of it. You think sometimes he suspects—he’d nearly caught you and Scott once on your bedroom floor—but he says nothing of it if he does indeed know anything.

If you ever stopped—decided to start telling any of them no—they wouldn’t take kindly to it. They saw you as something they were entitled to, something that belonged to them. And even if they accepted that: you wanting to stop—albeit reluctantly—the business would fall apart.

Having an attractive young woman to fuck whenever, and however they pleased for free with minimal effort put into your so-called ‘relationship’ was something they wouldn’t be getting anywhere else.

You don’t come home covered in bruises or crying, and haven’t gotten…well, as of two weeks ago you could no longer say that. That was the day you’d found the house. You’d never needed it more than in that moment after getting out of Joe’s truck a nervous wreck after leaving the clinic.

But because you always seemed fine, your dad let it go. Sometimes you wish he wouldn’t.

You cock your head to the side. “It’ll be just us?” Will your buddy be there, too? You’re asking.

He smiles again, nodding. “Yeah, baby, just us.”

“Okay.”

He grins. “I can take you home with me when I’m getting ready to leave?”

You stand, readying an overnight bag, incase you need it. “Just let me know when you’re ready to go.”

He comes closer to you, wrapping an arm around your waist, his other hand tugging gently at the hair at the nape of your neck, easing your head back, his lips coming down to settle over your pulse. He kisses, other hand squeezing your rear and he groans. You feel him pressing into your stomach then, hard and firm.

“I will,” he mutters against your skin, sucking on it for just a moment before stepping back. He winks at you before heading back outside.

You simply roll your eyes once he’s out-of-sight.

[divinesolas]

BEGGING for an ethan x chubby bimbo reader smut ☹️

i cant find any nice or chubby bimbo readers with ethan on here and its awful !! i need her to be so innocent and sweet, just making ethan sandwiches and cookies while he helps her study. and then it gets to her anatomy classes and suddenly hes into the idea of corrupting her innocence, offering to better explain if they're both naked so he can point out each part of her body and then have her guess his. her hands softly touching his thighs and stomach as she tells him exactly what organs are where and hes so hard

Summary | it's hard to be someone's tutor when you're always… well hard during your tutoring session. During one of Ethan’s tutoring sessions with you he decides a more hands on approach to anatomy would be better.

a/n | i completely agree !! i love bimbo!reader sm!!

part two

“Ethan!” He was always startled when you wrapped your arms around him as soon as you opened the door for him. He always came over to yours to study since you lived in New York and your parents paid for your apartment. He liked his alone time with you and if Chad was there it would ruin it, despite the fact he’s practically dying to see how you would look lying in his sheets. He wraps his arms around you and pushes his head into the crook of your neck, breathing in the sickly sweet smell of your perfume. His hands grip at your sides, resisting the urge to slide his hands down and up your shirt. 

You pull away from him with a sweet smile and pull him in, “come in i made cookies!” Once he is fully through the door you rush away towards the kitchen, he's immediately hit with the smell of chocolate chip cookies and rushes after you, closing and locking the door before going to fin you in the kitchen. He notices a full tray already on the counter, they look as though they were just pulled out, he looks over at you and gulps. You're bent over, an oven mitt in hand pulling out the second tray, he admires you, your shorts are ride up and he can see the lacey underwear you wear and he suppresses a groan that rises up in his throat. He wants to run his hands over your thick ass, slap in, suffocate himself between them. “Cookies!”

Ethan snaps out of his thoughts as soon as you turn around and smile as you place the cookies on the counter next to the other tray. You admire them and clap before turning back to ethan, “Don't they look good?”

He nods mindlessly, not being able to take his eyes off you. You were mesmerizing, the way your eyes shined as you looked over the cookies and he tried to ignore his more indecent thoughts when he saw you lick your lips. Fuck he was going to get hard, he needed to sit down and cover himself before you realized.

“We can't eat them yet.” You sigh and pout, you were so cute and sweet he wanted to ruin you. ``But I can offer you some brownies I made yesterday. They were really good. Do you want one? You should try one!” You grab his hand and stare up at him with an eager look, he could give you something else to be eager about. “Umm maybe after we finish studying?”

You pout for a moment before nodding, “I guess you're right, that's why you're the smart one! Come on, let's go!’

He follows quickly behind you as you lead him up the stairs like you always did, he definitely didn't just want to get a good look at your ass… definitely not. You rush to sit on the bed, criss-crossed near your pillow with your notebook and textbook. You always had your stuff prepared, he sat on the opposite side of the bed, taking his backpack off and placing it on the ground next to him.

“What do you want to work on today?”

Your sessions always changed depending on what you needed for the week, whether it be math, science, history, or anything else that you needed he was always there to help you. Anything.

“hmm….” You think it over, he watches your face as you have a thoughtful look, you puff out your cheeks slightly as you think it over. He doubts he would ever get over how cute you are. His mind is suddenly filled with the most heinous thoughts. He wants you to only be thinking of him, he wants to be the only thing on your mind, he wants to ruin you.

You face suddenly lights up and you look at him with that innocently joyful face leading him to open up his notebook to cover his very obvious problem.

“i almost forgot i have a science test tomorrow, we should review that.”

“What topic are you guys on?” He wasnt in the same classes as you as he took all the advanced courses and you were in regular classes.

“hmmmm anatomy.. i think.”

The session started off normal, he had managed to suppress his urges and thoughts for a good while until you began to struggle with naming different organs and body parts.

“ugh.” you lightly toss your notebook down and huff. “i just dont get it.”

An idea crosses his mind, an idea that had his pants feeling tighter and his head in the clouds. I mean it was for science right? you wouldn't mind.

“maybe we need to try a more.. hand on approach.”

you tilt your head curiously, “like what?”

“when i say the term you point at me and tell me where on my body it is.” 

You smile and nod, “okay!”

God he loved you. Standing up he reaches behind his back and grabs the back of his shirt, stopping at your shocked expression, “ethan what are you doing?”

He laughs, “itll be easier if i dont have any clothes on, they get in the way.”

He rips his shirt off and moves to go for his pants. All you can do is stare at him in shock.

He didn't know where this sudden rush of confidence came from, maybe it was his eagerness? or maybe his stupidity when it came to you. 

Once he's fully naked the stupidity of his actions catches up to him and his face flushes, he rushes to sit down and looks at you.

you seem to be in a daze, your eyes cloudy and your eyes pointed downward. Youre looking at his dick.

You look up at him and place your hands on his thighs leading him to whimper.

he was so painful hard, his dick throbbed with need as precum ran down to the sheets, ruining them.

With your sweet smile and eager look you livk your lips before asking, “so… where do we start?”

--

part two??? JK im already working on it