#why the fuck do i talk so much? why was this so hard?

[punkshort]

Don't Give Up On Me

Pairing: Harry Castillo x f!reader (materialists)

Summary: Should you give up on the man you love when he disappoints you, or do you give him another chance?

Warnings: language, tons of angst, smut (18+ MDNI), unprotected piv sex, hurt/comfort, making men beg and cry

WC: idk I wrote it on my phone - maybe 2K?

A/N: sorry if this is premature. I can't help it. If we got his name wrong I'll just go back and fix it later okay byeeee

Tears that have been burning the backs of your eyes for the last two hours finally threaten to spill down your cheeks now that you're in the privacy of his town car.

Harry sits next to you, still talking on his phone like he has been all night while his driver takes you back to his penthouse. It's nestled in the heart of the city with a breathtaking view, but it's the very last place you want to be right now because you know what you'll have to do once you get there.

You're going to end things, once and for all.

It's been on your mind for a while, but you always talk yourself out of it. You make excuses for him, cover for him, and lie to him when you say it doesn't matter, but it does. It really fucking does.

You know he's a busy man. You've always known this. But foolishly, some part of you believed he would change. That after countless fights, he would eventually understand what's important to you, and it wasn't his money or his things — it was him.

All you ever want is for him to just be there when it counts, and he almost always lets you down. But tonight? Tonight was special. He knew it, too. You told him for weeks how excited you were to receive this award for all the hard work at your firm.

When it came time to accept it and give your speech in front of three hundred people, you excitedly climbed to the stage to take your prize. Your eyes swept around the room, searching for the only person you wanted to see, and your heart sunk when you realized he had stepped out of the room to take a work call.

Again.

It was in that moment you decided you wouldn't put up with it again.

The car stops in the usual spot outside his building. The driver opens your door and you slip out with a tight smile. Harry's right behind you, wrapping up his call, but you ignore him. You charge into the lobby and stab at the call button for the elevator. If he notices your anger, he doesn't let on. He laughs to whoever is on the other end while you adjust the strap of your dress with a huff.

Once the elevator arrives, he finally hangs up. You step inside and he presses in the code for the penthouse on the keypad, then the car smoothly lifts. You stare at the screen above the door while Harry scrolls on his phone, still completely unaware when he asks, "What's your boss's name again?"

You clench your jaw and fight back tears before you answer him. He grunts.

"Thought so. Went to Yale with him. Never liked the guy."

Your award feels so much heavier in your hand now. Like it's trying to pull you back down to the lobby and stop you from doing what you need to do. But you adjust it and lift your chin a little higher — you need to do this.

The doors slide open to Harry's massive, extravagant living room. You step out and walk right past it all — past the ornate kitchen, the priceless art, the expensive marble — through the long, perfectly decorated hallway to his bedroom.

You go right to the closet and grab an empty gym bag, tossing your award inside. You hear him somewhere in the room removing his watch, cufflinks and ring while you stuff your bag with whatever clothes you can think of. It's only when you exit the closet and storm into the bathroom that he notices something is wrong.

"What are you doing?"

You sniffle and sweep your toiletries off the counter, tossing them directly into your bag.

"I'm leaving."

Your voice is a little shaky but it sounds better than you expect. He watches you from the doorway as you move erratically around the room collecting your belongings.

"Wh— why?" he finally asks. You're grabbing your things from the shower when you hear it. He sounds sad, and maybe if it were any other day, you would have felt bad. But that day? That day, it just pisses you off.

You whirl back around and drop your bag on the floor to pin him with a glare. He's in the doorway still wearing the clothes from tonight: pressed black pants and a crisp white shirt, although now the collar is undone and his tie is abandoned somewhere in his bedroom.

"Why?" you repeat. Your tone is so icy, you hardly recognize it. "You — weren't — fucking — there!"

On the last word, you step forward and shove him. He stumbles backwards a bit, but only from shock.

"Baby—"

You shake your head and lean down grab your bag.

"Don't," is all you say when you brush past him. You throw the bag on your bed, half the contents spilling out, but you don't care. You're shaking like a leaf when you round the bed to your side and begin to grab your things from the nightstand.

"I'm sorry," he says softly from the other side of the room. You ignore him and keep working. "It was important. I told you—"

"And this was important to me!"

You snap your head up to yell at him with tears streaming down your face. His expression falls and he reaches out, but you take a step back.

"You're right. I'm — I'm sorry. I'll do better, I prom—"

"No! I'm done! I'm tired of having the same fights with you. I was so fucking stupid to think you'd ever choose me over... over all this."

You gesture broadly around his room but you mean his penthouse in general. He gets it. It's not the first time you've fought over this.

He watches you quietly while you continue to pack with shaky hands. When you're nearly done, he speaks again.

"I do want you," he says, "more than all this. I just — I want to make sure we're comfortable. I want to make sure we have enough so you never have to work again—"

"But I like working! I love what I do! I've never wanted to quit, I've never wanted anything from you... not your money or your cars or your clothes. I just..."

You sigh and pinch the bridge of your nose.

"I only ever wanted you," you mumble.

You bury your face in your hands as he crosses the room. You feel him standing in front of you and you know deep down, you're done for.

But still, you try.

"You have me," he says. His hands gently slide up and down your arms, but you keep your face hidden in your palms. "It won't always be like this. It's the busy season, that's all. It's... it's temporary. And then we can do whatever you want. We can go to Paris or Italy or Bora Bora... anywhere. It's up to you."

He takes another step closer and carefully plants a kiss to the top of your head. And you fucking let him.

"I'm so sorry, baby," he breathes. Your hands drop to your sides. "I should've been there, you're absolutely right. I'll never do something like that again, you have my word."

You sigh and finally tip your chin up to look him in the eye. It's kind of not fair how handsome he is on top of everything else: a thick head of wavy dark hair, gorgeous brown eyes, a greying beard he's self-conscious about but you find absolutely endearing. If there was one man on the planet who had it all, it's Harry Castillo.

He gives you a small smile and pinches your chin between his fingers when he sees your resolve crumbling.

"Can I make it up to you?" he asks.

You take a deep breath and try to scrape together what dignity you have left.

"No," you reply. His smile falters but otherwise he doesn't move. You take a step back but it's not far enough.

"I told you. I'm done."

Right when you go to turn and pick up your bag, he drops to his knees and wraps his arms around your waist.

"Please," he begs, gazing up at you from the floor. Your eyes widen with shock at this man who is quite literally worth billions falling to his knees, pleading with you to stay. "Don't go. I'll do anything. Please, I-I can't — I won't be —"

"Harry—"

"Please," he says again, urgently. You see his throat bob and his eyes fill with tears. "I'll do whatever you want. I-I just— I don't think I can do this—"

He swallows and presses his face against your stomach. His eyes slide closed and he breathes in deep while you're still struggling to catch up.

"I'll do anything," he whispers, but this time, his hands tighten around your waist. His jaw falls open and he mouths at your middle while a tear sneaks down his cheek.

It shouldn't affect you. You should push him away, take your bag, and go. Instead, you find yourself leaning forward into his hold.

"Harry..."

Your voice holds no conviction. His hands begin to move. They slide down your legs and push up the hem of your dress. He leaves feverish open mouthed kisses across your clothed stomach and over your hips. Your eyes fall shut and you gasp when his palms slide up your bare legs, pushing up the fabric of your dress until his fingers grab hold of your ass and he gives you a rough squeeze.

"Please," he's murmuring, over and over. Your jaw is slack and you give in. You just fucking give in when he pulls down on your panties until they drop to the floor. With shaky legs, you step out of them and crack open an eye when he tosses the lace over his shoulder.

You're weak. You know that. But you really thought this time was the last straw. Instead, he somehow has you underneath him once again. Your dress is in a sad little pile on the floor, along with his pants. His tongue is dancing hungrily with yours as you push his shirt over his shoulders.

You know you should have stood your ground, but you also know he's hurt. He's so broken and you want to fix him. You want to be the one who shows him what it's like — what it could be like. You want to prove that love can heal old wounds and can be beautiful, if you let it.

He groans when he first enters you. It's low and deep and it makes you gasp. His teeth graze your jaw and he whispers everything you want to hear: that he loves you, that he would do anything for you, that he's sorry. You let those words fill you up and mend the wounds he caused, just like all the other times before.

"Never again, okay?"

You nod and wrap your arms tightly around his shoulders. You say his name with a breathy moan and his hips flex faster, deeper.

"I can be good for you. I— I — fuck—"

He pushes your knees to your chest and you cry out. The angle is so much more intense. It has you clawing at the sheets and mumbling unintelligible curses under your breath as he splits you open, reminding you just how good it can be.

"I won't hurt you ever again," he babbles. Your chest aches. Your eyes water. He keeps fucking you so deep that it has you making noises you never heard yourself make before.

"I don't think — don't think I can d-do this without — you," he groans into your neck. Your nails scrape down his back. You throw your head backwards into the sheets and let him do what he does best: make you feel good and forget all the pain.

His mouth finds your jaw, then your cheek, and finally your lips. You moan and his tongue slips inside, licking past your teeth. He's so close. Your bodies practically melt together as one with each steady rock of his hips.

"Feels good, right?" he groans into your mouth. You nod and gasp when the muscles in your stomach begin to pull.

"Yes," you whine, all earlier anger forgotten.

"Yeah, I know," he coos. His hips snap faster, cock plunging deeper until the room is filled with your helpless moans and the sounds of your soaked pussy gushing all around him. He makes a pleased noise in the back of his throat when you clench tightly around his thick cock.

"Gonna come for me?" he asks. You whimper, cheeks blazing hot and body slick with sweat. He chuckles breathlessly and continues to drive himself into you, over and over. "Yeah, c'mon, it's alright. I wanna feel it — I need to feel it. C'mon, baby, just—"

Before he can finish his sentence, your muscles spasm and you scream out his name. A litany of curses falls from your lips as you pulse around his painfully hard length. He grinds his teeth and keeps fucking you through it until your body goes limp and you melt into the silk sheets.

His arms circle around you and he really begins to fuck you — hard. Each thrust is paired with a deep grunt until his cock swells and he comes inside you with a loud, strangled groan.

He collapses on top of you in relief. He occasionally jolts forward, giving you more of his release with each weak roll of his hips until he's spent. His head falls to your chest and he closes his eyes to catch his breath. Your fingers come up to gently rake through his hair and you lay just like that, silent and panting for air while his cock softens inside of you.

"I mean it," he rasps. You peel your eyes open and stare at the ceiling. He presses a soft kiss in the spot between your breasts when he says, "I'll be better. I won't fuck up again. Please, just — just don't give up on me."

Your arms coil around his neck and you hold him close as tears fill your eyes, now for an entirely different reason. You know he's been hurt before. Know what he went through and how badly she broke his heart.

But to his credit, he didn't give up. He kept searching for love, despite it all.

Nobody's perfect. You're far from it. But you know Harry has a good heart. He just needs a little extra care to heal it.

"Okay," you whisper.

You feel his grateful, hot tears pool silently against your chest and you hold him a little tighter.

Everyone makes mistakes, you think. Even the ones who love you the most.

It'll take time. It might hurt. But you'll keep trying. Because what happened wasn't his fault, and you both deserve to have a happy ending.

Some people just have to work a little harder for it.

[stardustquills]

thinking about husband!nanami being obsessed with the idea of getting you pregnant. 18+ mdni. wc; 1.7k

-

you’ve lost track of how many times he’d made you come - how many time he’s come in you. even now, hours later, it seems like there’s no end.

not that you were complaining anyway.

“oh, baby,” he dragged, voice an octave lower than it usually was. kento had just come in you for the nth time, marking your walls with his white ropes.

he pulled out, leaning his head down to take a glance at his art. “what a pretty pussy. my pretty pussy.” your lips were swollen and puffy, blushed as his seed escaped your cunt, trickling down onto the bed.

he tsked, taking two fingers and scooping up your combined juices before shoving it back in.

you folded with a sob, biting on his shoulder. You head moved into the crook of his neck, taking in his natural scent mixed with his earthy cologne.

“h-ha, ken,” you managed to whimper, your hands weakly clawing at his shoulders. you were overstimulated and tired, unsure of how much longer you could handle him and his insane sex drive.

“doing so good f’me, honey,” he cooed softly, giving you a moment to recover before the next round. his free hand combed through your hair, a soothing motion he knew you loved. when he spoke again, it was like he was speaking to a baby. voice all sweet and gentle, one you couldn’t find yourself saying no to. “think you can go another round?”

he wasn’t really asking - he’d make you go another round.

he slipped his fingers out, causing a soft mewl to escape your throat. your hole hopelessly clenched around nothing as he brought his fingers up to his mouth, cleaning them off. he hummed contently, his fingers moving out of his mouth with a pop!

“we taste good together,”

what a filthy, filthy man your husband was.

“k-kento,” you looked up at him, a pout on your lips with dried tear stains. you hands moved from his shoulders to his neck, your fingers fiddling thing the hairs on the nape.

he looked down at you as you called his name - his heart softened at the sight. his precious wife pouting and looking up at him with doe eyes. your body trembled and shook, goosebumps rising as he trailed a hand down your arm. “yes, darling?”

“‘m tired,” you started, voice quiet and barely audible. “can’t-“

“ah ah,” he cut you off, “yes you can. c’mon honey, just one more round, please?”

how could deny him after he asked so sweetly? but you didn’t know what had gotten into him, why he was so hellbent on getting you pregnant. having kids wasn’t a new topic in your marriage, it’s been something that’s been discussed numerous times, but now you think you’re ready for it.

ever since you told kento “let’s have some kids,” (which was earlier today), he’s been pounding into you like a bitch in heat.

it’s just that he thinks you’d look so beautiful pregnant with his kids. it’s something he’s been thinking about for ages. kento knew you’d be the mother of his kids just a few months into dating.

and now he finally gets to live it.

he can’t wait to see you all round and glowing, growing his kids in your womb. he just knows that you’d be an amazing mother, it’s something you’ve been talking about, and it fills with him so much happiness.

fuck, he’s hard again.

“mmh-“ you whine into his neck as he takes your hand and it helps it wrap around his cock. his hand is around yours, helping you pump because your hands feel that much better than his.

and the whimpers of your name that leave his lips are so delicious, so delicate and full of the love he has for you. “just one more round, baby, please?” he repeats, voice breathy as you both pumped that veiny cock. “wanna get you pregnant so bad. last round, i promise.”

his hand left yours as he helped you on top of him, your legs straddling his as you hand continued moving up and down, torturously slow. kento looked up at you, his hand swiping a strand of hair behind your ear, a soft smile adorning his lips.

“so pretty,” he pulled your face closer to his, placing a kiss on your forehead. “so beautiful,” he kissed your eyelids, “so perfect,” the tip of your nose, “all mine,” before kissing your lips.

you swallowed up his whimpers and moans, you hand still resuming that unhurried pace. his lips fell open and you continued pecking them, a girlish giggle leaving you as a particularly needy moan of your name left your husband.

“just one more round, yeah?” he pulled his face away from yours, his eyes falling to where your hand tugged on his cock. the tip was an angry red from being so used and aroused, and when you swiped your thumb over his slit he thought he’d come right then and there.

“nghh, b-baby,” his hand grabbed your wrist, stopping your movements, “fuck, gonna make me come,” his voice was deep and gravelly, and you could feel the fresh pool of arousal at your cunt. “gotta come in you, honey, gotta give you some babies,”

kento’s hands moved to your hips, lifting them with a mumble (“lift your hips for me, sweetheart. there you go.”) as he let you line him up with your cunt. your cunt that was drooling with his come, making a mess on his thighs. but he didn’t care - the sight only turned him on even more.

you let yourself lower onto him, a desperate moan ripping through your throat, one that matched your husband’s.

“kenn,” you panted, already squirming, just from him bottoming out. the pleasure was too much for you and your overstimulated pussy. your head fell into the crook of his neck once more, using his scent to ground yourself.

“shh, you’re doing so good, mrs. nanami,” and there it was, his favourite nickname for you, “last round, sweetheart, you can take it,”

you had a feeling this wouldn’t be the last round.

but oh he was being so sweet, so nurturing and careful as his hands helped you roll your hips against his. your thighs shook already, goosebumps rising all over your skin as he did all the work even though you were on top. he doesn’t even bother to rub hearts on your clit; he knows you’ll come just from the penetration alone.

his heart is full of so much love and lust, breathless gasps leaving his plump lips as he feels himself hitting your cervix. so much love for his wonderful wife - his wife that lets him use her body over and over again without any complaints.

he bucked his hips up, a moan of ecstasy leaving him as a gasp of surprise left you. his strong arms now wrapped around your waist, pinning you against him as he bucked his hips up into you again, not letting you escape.

you took it like the good girl you were and it drove him mad.

“so good to me, sweetheart,” he leans his head down to your hair, inhaling the sweet, floral scent of your shampoo. kento closed his eyes, letting himself thrust into you faster and faster. he’s so pussy drunk he can’t think straight; he’s only focused on giving his wife some babies. “mmm-aah, mrs. nanami!”

each thrust brushed against your g-spot, a breathless pant leaving you every time it happened. you couldn’t think straight. you wanted it to stop, the sensation was tiptoeing the fine line between pain and pleasure, but fuck kento’s noises were like music to your ears. you’re so cock drunk, strands of incoherent babbles leaving your lips as he dragged his cock in and out of you.

you could feel yourself clench around him, a distinct whine leaving your lips as you felt that familiar coil in your stomach.

“gonna come again, love?” kento grunted, a singular ha! leaving him as his dick kept ramming into you. “it’s only been a few minutes, darling,”

“too much, ken, ‘s too much,” you sobbed, seeing a fresh batch of tears blurring your vision.

“you’re fine,” he decided, thrusting into you with a newfound fervour. “you can take it, honey, i know you can.”

and you do. because who are you to disappoint your loving husband? if he says you can take it, you can take it.

“that’s it, such a good girl,” your head spins with how proud he sounds. you could smell the salty sweat mixed with his earthy cologne. god, everything about him drove you nuts.

“it’s okay, baby, you can come,” he encourages you, one hand petting your hair, the other still wrapped around your waist. kento could feel like way your walls have been fluttering around him, one of the signs you were close. not to mention the way your body quivered and spasmed.

a few more thrusts and you were coming undone, your noises of pleasure being muffled against his neck. your chest heaved with each deep breath, doing everything you can to try and reduce your heart rate.

kento came soon after, his arms tightening around you as an attractive moan left him. thick, white ropes of his seed shot into your womb again, and he kept thrusting until he was sure his come was in you as deep as it could go.

“i love you,” kento whispered, kissing your hair since you kept your face in his neck. he bucked his hips into you again, testing the waters, and chuckled when a high-pitched whine left you.

“love you too,” you kissed his neck, still breathing heavily.

he didn’t pull out, not wanting his waste any of his come. instead, thrusted into you again, slowly, sloppily, his pussy drunk mind taking control of his body.

“k-kento,” you pleaded, dragging your nails down his chest as his pace gained momentum. “you said that was the last round-“

“i know, sweetheart,” fuck, his voice was so needy - your overstimulated walls fluttered around him madly. “but you just feel so good, and i wanna get you pregnant so bad, and h-hahh,” he moaned, cutting himself off.

and it’ll continue, night after night after night, until he knows you’re pregnant - and even then, it might happen after that, too. because kento is so in love with his marvellous wife, he only wants to make her feel good.

[lyricwritesprose]

"Karim?" Joey says very quietly. We're both pretending to use the library computers. Neither of us are. We're here because it's fucking freezing out there and it's warm in here, and the librarians are pretty good about not throwing anyone out unless they're making noise or causing trouble. Freezing doesn't matter to me but I worry about Joey, he's got things going on that turn his self-care skills into pure shit.

"Yeah?" I say, just as quietly.

"Need a reality check."

Yeah, that's one of the things that's going on. Joey gets more or less anchored depending on the day. "Go ahead," I say.

"Thought I saw you fly off yesterday." Joey frowns. "Yesterday? Maybe Monday. Shit, what day is it?"

It's a fast struggle but a surprisingly difficult one. I don't like life on the street any more than the rest of us, but Seriously Bad Things could happen if my real name gets out. I could just lie to Joey. He'd believe me. It might not even bother him that much. He's hallucinated before. All I'd have to do…

Is lie to him about the state of his own brain.

Yeah. No. "Yeah, you saw that."

Joey thinks about this for a moment. He's scrambled at times but nobody ever said he was dumb. He's got a degree in astronomy. Planets sometimes talk to him but when he's on top of his game, he's sharp. "Shit."

"I'd like it not to get around."

"Why the hell not? You could be a star!"

"I could also be an experimental subject or a guy whose family is strapped to a big machine with a laser pointed at them. Prefer to avoid."

"Yeah, but—but why stay here?"

"Same as everyone else, I'm dead broke. Look, even if it weren't for ADHD issues it is really hard to hold down a job when you might have to disappear at any given second to save someone's life. You know? And I won't take money from my sister, she's barely scraping by already." And has mixed feelings about me ever since I terrorized her nasty piece of work ex, since she's bright enough to figure out that I couldn't have done that without some sort of power.

"I guess you can't just rob a bank," Joey muses. "I mean, I guess you could, but—"

I sigh. "The truth is, if some costume figures out how to do that without violence, I usually give 'em a lecture and let 'em go. Just because I won't do it doesn't mean I don't get it. Way I see it, I'm here to protect people, not things."

Joey nods. "Seems like there should be ways you could make life easier for yourself, though."

"Mm. Sometimes. There are some ways it is easier. I don't feel the cold and I don't feel the heat, that's something."

"Lucky motherfucker," Joey says without rancor.

"And, well, you've probably noticed. That things do tend to happen to those bullshit benches."

I see the start of a smile on his face. "The ones you can't lie down on."

"Yeah, those. The dividers get ripped out eventually and nobody knows how, you know? Honestly it's a stupid idea anyway, even if it wasn't for us, who wants a bench where you can't even sit next to your date? A bench where you can't sit next to someone is called a fuckin' chair, and what sort of bitch goes to city hall and says, "I'd like to install a park chair?" Who's ever heard of a park chair? Dumbfucks."

Joey nods in perfect understanding. Then he says, a little hesitantly, "You know the Golden Tomato?"

"I couldn't afford that kind of yuppie food even when I had a place, but yeah, I know it."

"They've put spikes out front. Like, little nubbles in the concrete so people can't sit down under their awning."

I think about this. On the one hand, I've got to be very careful about the favors I do, but this is a good cause…

"Yeah, I wouldn't be surprised if something happens to those, but, Joey? Really keep it under your hat."

"Even if I wanted to tell, nobody believes a schizophrenic," Joey pointed out. "Especially one with the twitches. Fucking bitch doctors." Tardive dyskinesia virtually always happens because some son of a bitch screws up on dosage, and—as Joey can tell you—it's also an instant ticket out of a job interview.

There are reasons I look out for Joey. Beyond, you know. Liking him. Kind of useless as fuck anyway, liking him, I'm ninety-nine percent certain he's straight, but it would take a real shitful asshole to drop a friend just because I'm never going to get in his pants. We've got each other's backs, that's what's important.

"I worry a lot about people getting scooped up and questioned," I admit. I could probably stand to talk to a psychologist about it, actually, but…who? "Don't worry about it. I trust you."

And I will probably never admit to Joey exactly how much that took to say.

You're a superhero. While in your suit, you're beloved by the city, but outside of it? You're a homeless man, unable to get a job nor pay rent because of your duties.

[on-the-clear-blue]

Danny, staring up at Tim, who currently Robin: okay...so this isn't what it looks like.

Tim, giving dead pan glare: so you arnt breaking into Drake Manor?

Danny, shoulders dropping: okay yeah it's totally what it looks like...but not because you think!

Tim, sighing slightly: so you arnt homeless and thought that since Timothy Drake was recently adopted by Bruce Wanye, and both of his parents are dead you can just move in and live here?

Danny, blinking owlishly: I mean, yeah? I mean, not homeless, and I didn't even know that dude got adopted, like good for him, hope that he is safe and shiz, sucks that he parents died and all but not here to squat dude.

Tim, raising a single eyebrow: then why pray tell are you here?

Danny, kicking at the ground a bit: so like...ugh, so I might be um like...a...fudge what's the word...ah! Psychopomp? Like I am a dude that helps like people's ghosts pass and like keeps em happy.

Tim, squinting behind his mask: the only person that died here is Jack Drake and I assure you, his soul would not be happy going to where he deserves to be.

Danny, holding up his hands: wow lot of misplaced aggression there boy wonder...no I ain't here for him, like him and his wife did like...so much tomb raiding they would make the Victorians jelly. I am here cus they stole some dudes shit and he wants it back...like yesterday.

Tim, tilting his head: so you are here to steal an artifact.

Danny, popping the P sound: Yup, something about some guys clay tablet, he liked keeping his hate mail for some reason, said this one was about how he shorted some dudes iron? Or was it copper... my Mesopotamian isn't the best.

Tim, eyes widening, because he knows *exactly* which tablet he is talking about: Oh...yeah no bro, you seem chill but I really can't let you have that so why don't you just like...walk away and I won't be forced to do something kay?

Danny, frowning: Sames dude, up until that .y guy cus like...I *really* wasn't asking...

Tim, sighing as he extends his bo staff: Try and just like, not hold a grude yeah? Don't need a new villain...

Danny, pulling out an ecto gun and turning it on: I don't know man...I feel like we have good banter.

(They fight, Tim is still training so he is a bit sloppy, and Danny isn't shooting to kill, so it's more of them playing cat and mouse throughout Drake Manor, it ends with Danny stealing the tablet but having to leave the ecto gun, which gets broken when he escapes)

Tim, panting as he watches Danny flee: Fuck...is this what B feels after fighting Catwoman?

---

Bruce, rubbing his temples as Tim explains why he was late for training: You tried to apprehend an unknown, with a weapon of an unknown source and power...in the home of your secret identity?

Tim, looking properly chastised: God...yes that happened...he wasn't that bad honestly...was pretty witty.

Bruce developing a twitch in his eye: No.

Tim: No? No what.

Bruce, glaring hard at his adopted son: No falling in love with a villain.

Tim, looking scandalized now: Oh? What is this? Hypocrisy thy name is Bruce Wayne!

Bruce's glare turns into a batglare: Ten laps around the cave and fifty bo staff katas...no villains!

---

Danny becomes Tim's rogue, but not really, most of their battles are more each other showing off their new gear/moves they learned.

Danny also is only using tech that his parents made and he upgraded since he really doesn't want to go ghost in front of *Robin*, who is totally not his crush, and the only reason why he won't is because batman would 100% be on his ass.

Danny, pulling a massive creep stick with a nail driven through it out of seemingly nowhere: The new and approved Creep Stick! This time with nail to add tetnus damage!

Tim, watching as 'The Inventor' escapes once more: I hate seeing him leave but by God do I love watching him go...Damn should have turned on the camera just so I can see it again.

Barbara chiming in: Keep the main line PG Robin.

Batman, through coms: Hn...we shall be having words when we get back to the cave

Tim, sipping a soup that The Occultist made: "So like...why were you even here?

---

When the Titans tower incident occurs, Tim could only watch in awe as the Inventor, not only comes in from the ceiling with a literal metal chair, and then continues to beat up the guy with a bad Robin cosplay.

Danny, panting as he holds up the chair again: Back I say! Back! My blorbo!

Jason, seething as he actually hisses at this random teen that appeared out of nowhere, scurrying away while cradling his broken arm: You shall rue the day! Jason Todd was here bitches!

Tim, staring up at Danny, face a bloody mess and an adoring look in his eyes: omg he stalks me, this is must what the other guys felt when I did it!

They don't really start dating, it's much more Danny breaking into Tim's house and just not leaving.

Tim, watching as his "arch enemy" is sprawled across his couch, bucket of ice cream in one hand, spoon in another, phone balanced between his ear and shoulder, pants and socks tossed haphazardly across the living room and just chilling in his boxers: Now wait a damn minute.

Danny, pausing while looking up from his ice cream (which is actually Tim's, since the boy is rich and buys the good shit), pointing his spoon accusatorily at Tim: Your fucking late Mister! Drag race started half an hour ago and we agreed to watch it together!

Tim, blushing under the Robin mask: Sorry case got good and- wait wait wait, when did we agree to watch drag race together?

Danny, rolling his eyes: when I made breakfast this morning? I even gave you extra strong coffee for your solem swearing that you would be here.

Tim, thinking back to earlier: I just...remember a bright white orb giving me a mug and a plate of food...

Danny, scoffing: this is why I need to drug you to get to sleep more often. Now take off your gear and get over here, they about to choose who shall sashay away!

Tim, nodding slowly: Hope it is that one queen from last episode, that lio sink didn't have any- wait! Ugh you keep distracting me! When did you fucking move in? I don't even know your name!

Danny with a spoon just an inch away from his mouth: Jazz? Yeah I uhh...I gotta call you back...(clicks hang up on his phone) Your joking right? For the shits and gigs?

Tim, shaking his head slowly: No shits, not a single gig my dude, 100% honest.

Danny, who had just arrived this morning since his parents are renovating because Fenton HQ is a glaring OSHA violation, but also who's middle names are "commit to the bit" and "Gaslight GateKeep Girl boss" : Babe we have been dating for like, *months*...d-do ou really not remember?

Tim, existential crisis made manifest: Oh no...I have been mind wiped.

Danny, astounded that worked: Baby I am so sorry...

They "date" for like a week before Danny starts feeling bad that he tricked Tim (who he finally got to see maskless, he had to stop his heart to not show any outward reaction to that, cus like hell he is cute) and wants to come clean but he honestly never had seen Tim more happy nor more healthy.

Danny, sitting across Bruce at the Manor: S-So um...like yeah we um...met at a science convention? My um...my parents were show casing stuff and like...we met there?

Bruce, eyes narrowing because that sounded like a lie: Hn.

Dick, happy that Tim finally felt comfortable to bring his "boyfriend" to dinner: B stop glaring! Your going to scare off Timmy's Bf! God you weren't this bad when I brought over Roy that one time.

Bruce doesn't stop glaring, and it's making Danny even more nervous: Um I uh...need to use the bathroom one sec...

Tim moves to guide him but Alfred waves him to sit down: You really must eat Master Timothy, I did make your favorite today. I shall guide Mister Fenton to the lavatory.

Alfred does indeed lead Danny from the dining room, but the second they are far enough the old butler suddenly has a shotgun in hand, skin suddenly a pale blue and objects around the parlor turning green and floating: While they do try and see the best in others, I do not Phantom, now I must ask you to kindly leave and never contact Master Timothy every again. I shall not let my charge fall for such as the likes of you.

Danny blinking at how he was addressed, a sudden ghostly blue mist escaping his mouth: Oh shit.

They have a ghost fight, all while comically popping in and out of the dining room, making excuses for whyvthe other is gone.

It ends when Tim, finally fed up with why his boyfriend is taking so long opens the door only to see him duking it out with Alfred, fully gone ghost and was loosing.

Such leads to confessions of lies, real feeling and why Alfred has been able to be a spry 60 even though he fought in WWI and it is very much the mid 2010s.

(Danny and Tim do end up together, this time with no lies about a mind wipe, and get Kon and Bart to join their polycule later on)

[puck-luck]

Trevor gives off the vibes where he’d love just being in his girl even if it’s not sexual like they’ll just be sitting there watching tv and before you know it he’s inside of her and they’re just vibing together. I also feel like he’d be so into free use with his girl like he’ll be playing video games and she’ll get off while she uses him or she’ll be laying there reading and he’s just inside of her getting off on his own

4 + 1: Free Use with BF!Trevor

I.

After talking about it, you’ve taken to wearing thongs and an oversized t-shirt around the house. Trevor needs easy access, after all, and you had made a promise. 

You’re reading a book on the couch when he gets home from some Ducks event. You’re laying along the length of the cushions on your stomach, knees bent and ankles crossed, kicking your feet in the air aimlessly. The book is propped up against a throw pillow and you’re lazily turning the pages. 

When Trevor arrives home, you look up at him. “Hi, baby,” you greet. “Good day?”

He’s the perfect picture cuddly boyfriend, which is why he’d been late getting out of bed for this event in the first place. He hadn’t even had time to change. He’s still wearing those BU sweatpants you love so much and the white hoodie he’d found at the foot of your bed. 

Trevor offers you a complacent smile. “It was fine.” He walks over to the couch and pushes your legs down until they’re flat on the cushions. He collapses on top of your back, laying with his head just between your shoulder blades.

You let out a small chuckle, barely more than a puff of breath, and return to your book. You’re being pressed into the cushions by a lot more than gravity now, but you don’t mind. It’s nice to have your boyfriend so close, especially as he’s snaking his hands up the sides of your shirt and tracing your skin.

He kisses your spine. “Can I?” Trevor asks, his voice muffled and pouty against your back. He shifts up on his knees so he can press his hips to your ass.

It’s the first time that Trevor has wanted to do this since you talked about it. Free use. Goosebumps rise on your neck. 

“You don’t have to ask,” you remind Trevor, although it’s nice that he did since it’s the first time he’s actually going to use you like this. “‘m all yours, babe.”

Trevor hums proudly at that, pecking your shoulder before pulling away from you entirely. He leans back on his heels and pushes his sweats down. 

You look again to your book. You can feel Trevor stroking himself to his full hardness and you bite your bottom lip. You’re wet thinking about how Trevor just wants to be inside of you, to treat you like no more than a hole to be filled when he wants to fill it, but you’re not particularly inclined to participate. That’s the whole point, after all, isn’t it?

He pushes your legs apart, then settles between them. The blunt tip of his cock probes your entrance and sinks into you.

The drag is harsh and it gets harder and harder to read as Trevor becomes more drunk on this feeling. You feign nonchalance. 

Trevor grips your hips and drives his cock into your heat over and over and over again. There’s no regard for you, for your pleasure. It’s only about his pleasure and, honestly, that makes you feel good. Trevor’s climax, in this state, means much more to you than your own. As long as he’s feeling good, then you’re happy to be used.

He doesn’t waste time on anything other than chasing his orgasm. You get to hear Trevor in his purest state– this is like fucking his own fist in complete privacy, but instead, he’s fucking into you. You get to hear all of his grunts and groans and puffs of breath and stifled whimpers, all of which he makes when you’re together too, but he likes to make them more manly and sexy when he’s putting on a show for you. Truth be told, you like these better. You like that Trevor can’t stop the stutter of his hips and the keen that escapes his mouth as he starts to shoot off inside of you.

You love how he moves to bracket your ribs with his arms, palms flat on the couch. His hips continue to move as he works through his orgasm, cum dribbling from his tip into your cunt. Trevor’s lips find your neck, your shoulder, your spine… he plants grateful kiss after grateful kiss to your back until his movements slow to pure stillness and Trevor lays against you.

His cock remains inside, acting like a plug to keep the cum from leaking out of you onto the couch. Trevor hooks his nose over your shoulder. “I hope I didn’t disturb your reading,” Trevor mumbles. He takes some of the fabric of your shirt in his mouth, tugging on it. “Couldn’t resist.”

II. 

“Hey, babe, c’mere,” Trevor calls from down the hall.

“What, Trev?” you reply. You scrunch your hair in a towel, having just gotten out of the shadow a few minutes prior. When he doesn’t reply, you roll your eyes and leave the bathroom, making your way into Trevor’s game room. “What, Trev,” you repeat in a more exasperated voice.

He looks over his shoulder and moves one of his headphones to the side. His face splits into a grin. “Oh, good. Take your towel off and come here.” He spreads his legs, scooting back in his wheely chair so you can fit partially beneath the desk. “I want to use your mouth.”

You stare at him blankly for a moment, then shake your head and chuckle. “Really?”

Trevor nods and lifts his hips enticingly. 

“Are you going to game while I suck you off?” you ask.

Trevor nods again and smiles wide. 

You start to laugh again, walking over to where he sits and putting your hands on his knees. You bend at the waist and peck his lips before sliding to your knees. 

Trevor grabs a hairtie from the desk and ties your hair into the world’s most hurried bun. Then, he leans back in his chair and picks up his controller. He puts his headphones back over both ears and resumes his game. He lifts his hips as you start to drag his waistband down. 

You lick Trevor’s tip slowly with the flat of your tongue, peeking up through your eyelashes as you do and catching the way the corners of his mouth turn up. His eyes stay on the screen. 

The hair on Trevor’s thighs is soft and you pet through it as you slide his cock into your throat. You scratch your nails gently over his skin, closing your eyes and starting to bob your head. Trevor’s cock is thick and tastes slightly salty as precum oozes from his tip and seeps into your warm mouth.

Trevor’s breath is deep and his expression remains mostly unaffected. You aim to change that.

You swallow him down as much as you can. Trevor’s cock flexes with your swallow, filling all the space that you give him. You gag, but force your way down until your lips are wrapped around Trevor’s base. You lift your eyes to his face and find Trevor’s gaze on you, wide smirk on his face.

“Showing off?” Trevor asks knowingly.

Stilted by the cock in your mouth, you shake your head. 

“Then fuck your mouth for me, will ya?” Trevor instructs goodnaturedly, nudging you with his foot and grinning at you. 

You choke a little bit on Trevor’s cock when you laugh at his words, but you pull off and put your mouth to work.

You lay your hand flat on Trevor’s hip and caress his abdomen with your thumb, bobbing your head up and down. His tip knocks into the back of your throat as you push yourself down, alternating between lathering your tongue over his tip and deepthroating him until you have to pull off and gasp for breath. 

Trevor plays on. You can hear the clicking of his controller and the way he’ll let out an annoyed groan whenever something goes wrong on the screen.

You lap at his tip and fit your lips around his crown, sucking softly and flicking the tip of your tongue over his slit, collecting the precum there and begging for more to come out and coat your tongue. You hum and take him down about halfway, drawing your fingers gently up and down the rest of his shaft. You’re barely touching him in this moment, just ghosting over his veins and ridges. When you take him all the way down, you cup his balls and roll them in your palm. When you give them a squeeze, Trevor’s cock jumps in your mouth.

It’s the first physical reaction, beside how hard his length is, that you’ve gotten from Trevor.

You repeat the actions over and over. Trevor’s cock is steadily leaking precum now, the taste filling your mouth, and you can feel his pulse growing more and more rapid on your tongue. You breathe through your nose, choking yourself on Trevor’s length and allowing spit to drip down his cock until he’s positively coated. 

Massaging the vein on the underside of Trevor’s cock with the flat your tongue, you swallow around his tip. His cock jerks again, bumping into the roof of your mouth a telltale three, four, five times before pearly white cum shoots down your throat in long, thick threads.

You swallow around him until Trevor is done coming and there’s nothing left in your throat but the aftertaste. 

You kneel back on your heels and use the momentum to make your way to your feet, pecking Trevor’s mouth again and heading back to the bathroom to finish your post-shower routine.

III. 

You’re wearing Trevor’s pink sweatshirt, the one with Roman numerals on the breastbone, and chopping up vegetables for a pasta sauce. You’ve already got four tomatoes halved and thrown in the blender, plus an onion that you cut into quarters. There are a few cloves of garlic thrown into the blender with those veggies and you’re about to start blending them, once you finish chopping this carrot into fine little pieces. Really, you’re just trying to blend all of your veggies that are about to go bad together so that they don’t go to waste. Even if it tastes like shit, your boyfriend is like a vaccuum when it comes to any kind of food, and he’ll eat as much as you give him.

It’s been a couple of months since you and Trevor started this free use journey and you’ve stopped wearing underwear altogether when you’re around the house. Trevor has ruined a few pairs already, by stretching them out or physically ripping them off of your body due to his lack of patience, and you’d rather not have to buy new underwear every other month. 

It’s lucky that you’re wearing nothing, given how Trevor walks in the front door after practice and drops everything where he stands before beelining to you. He presses his face into your hair and breathes in deeply, shoving his hands up the sweatshirt and kneading your boobs.

“Long day?” you ask, chuckling and chopping up the final pieces of carrot before putting the knife to the side. You pick up handful after handful of carrots and toss them in the blender, eventually wiping your hands on the teatowel you’d thrown on the counter after washing the tomatoes. 

“The longest,” Trevor replies. One of his hands leaves your chest, retreating to pull his cock out of his pants. He fists the base and rubs his tip against your folds until he’s hard and straining and you’re slick enough for him to press inside.

You’re doing your best to pour a dash of vegetable oil and a bit of heavy cream into the blender so that the vegetables blend more easily, but Trevor has started to thrust against you. The carton of heavy cream slips and you pour way more than you wanted to, but you catch your mistake before the sauce will be too creamy. You close the carton with one hand, using the other to find purchase on the counter and brace yourself for Trevor’s bucking hips.

He notices your stiffness and slips his hand back up to your boob, holding both in his hands and keeping you in place so that you don’t have to. “Sorry, baby, I’ll be quick,” Trevor murmurs with a kiss to the back of your neck. “I needed this.”

“Don’t apologize, Trev,” you say. “You feel good. Take what you need, sweet boy.” You press the button on the blender and the loud whirring fills the room, but you can feel the puffs of Trevor’s breath on your neck and his low moans next to your ear. 

He pinches your nipples beneath the sweatshirt and the feeling travels through your body to your pussy, squeezing Trevor tight. He swivels his hips against you, grinding deep before he draws back and starts to pound into you again. His forehead meets your spine. You can practically feel how close he is already, even though it’s only been a few minutes. He just needs a release after a long day and you’re more than willing to offer that to him.

You press your hips back and watch Trevor’s reaction in the glass of the blender. As he throws his head back and furrows his eyebrows, jaw dropping open, his hips drive into you in a slower, harder, more precise way. His body claps against yours and you turn off the blender just as Trevor comes, moaning out loud and flooding your cunt with his seed. 

You transfer the blended sauce into the pan on the stove and hit a few buttons, setting it on low heat as Trevor pulls his cock from your pussy and watches the cum drip from your hole. He pushes it back in with his fingers, then guides his softening cock to your entrance and fills you again. He stays behind you like that as the sauce simmers, playing with your boobs and kissing your neck as you dump the strained pasta into the sauce and mix them together. 

“That looks good,” Trevor mumbles. He kisses the space right behind your ear. “You’re so good to me.”

You giggle when his breath tickles the shell of your ear, shivering at the sensation. You turn the noodles over in the sauce. “It’s ‘cause I love you,” you tell him.

Trevor brings a hand to your clit, circling his fingers. “Gonna get you back after we eat,” Trevor says. “Make you come a couple of times.”

“I’m looking forward to it,” you reply. You reach for the teatowel and hang it over your shoulder. “Now, clean me up and put this in the laundry after, will you?”

IV.

The next time Trevor needs you like that, you’re asleep in bed. He didn’t expect you to be up waiting for him. That’s a honeymoon phase thing– you guys have been dating for a while. You’ve gotten into fights. You’ve been living together for a while now. You both have seen the best and worst parts of each other over time, and you’ve gotten comfortable enough in this relationship that you and Trevor are both perfectly okay with your not waiting up for him after every game.

But after a long east coast roadie, Trevor has been missing you. You look so pretty in his big t-shirt. When he peels back the covers, Trevor sees that it has ridden up to show off your stomach. Like you’ve been expecting him, your legs are spread apart and, as always, you’re not wearing panties. 

Trevor smiles. You’re ready for him. 

He bends down and kisses your cheek, then moves slowly to the other. He slides into bed with you, having stripped down to his boxers already, and shifts between your legs. He rolls his hips down into your core, his clothed bulge gliding against your folds.

You stir, the hand resting next to your face on the pillow coming up to blearily wipe at your eyes. “Trevor?” you rasp, confused and sleepy. 

“Hi, sweetheart, sorry for waking you,” Trevor whispers. He purses his lips and brushes them against yours. 

“S’okay,” you reply. “How was the game tonight?”

“It was fine.” Trevor kisses down your neck and brings his fingers to your slit. “I missed you.”

He can feel your cheeks shifting as your lips widen into a smile. “You are such a horny guy,” you tease.

Trevor pushes a finger into your heat, feeling the slide grow easier with each thrust. “Can’t help it when my girl is so pretty,” he says. 

“Hmm,” you hum. “Be quick. Wanna cuddle.” You close your eyes and take a deep breath, lifting one of your legs and wrapping it around his waist. 

Trevor leaves his lips in contact with your cheek as he pulls his finger from your body and fishes his cock out of his boxers, fucking into your pussy at an unhurried pace. You’re so warm and tight; Trevor hasn’t fucked you in days and he knows he won’t last an impressive amount of time. You told him to be quick anyway. Once his pelvis is flush with yours, Trevor breathes in deeply through his nose and kisses down the curve of your neck. He wraps his arms around your middle and splays his fingers across your lower back, lifting you slightly to provide a better angle for your pleasure… although he’s admittedly not aiming to get you off right now.

Trevor rocks forward in aborted movements. Your gummy inner walls hug his cock tightly, rubbing against the nerve endings along his shaft and tip in a way that has him panting in just minutes. 

Your hand comes up to the nape of his neck, pushing into his hair. He feels like he can feel your nails scratching his scalp better now that he cut his hair shorter, even though that’s nonsensical. You sigh contentedly in his ear, chest rising and brushing his. “Fill me up, T,” you croon, pulling him even closer with the leg wrapped around his waist. “Know you want to. I’ll keep your cum inside all night and you can fuck me again in the morning. I’ll ride you, hm? How’s that?”

Trevor feels his cock throb, feels his balls grow tighter just before you clench down on him and he shoots off inside of you. Trevor feels like his brain turns to mush as he comes, his limbs loosening and lips smushing against your skin. He lays atop you when his cock is done twitching and leaking, breathing in the smell of your shampoo and soap and the natural smell that is so you. He could fall asleep right here.

You push at his shoulder and insist that he sleeps on his side of the bed rather than on top of you. 

Still, Trevor pulls you into his side and falls asleep with his nose against the crown of your head.

V.

You’ve been feeling especially feral today. You’re not sure why, but every time you look at Trevor, a lightning strike travels through your body and the energy settles riiight between your legs. 

He’s not even doing anything hot. You’re actually pretty sure you saw him biting his nails earlier and that itch on his nose might have been him digging for gold. You are not sure and you’d looked away so that you could give yourself the benefit of the doubt and convince yourself that, yes, he’d just been itching his nose. Nothing more than that. He’s not that gross. He might be a boy, but he’s not that gross. Surely.

Even if he is a gross, disgusting boy who bites his nails and might pick his nose when he thinks no one is looking… you’re absolutely feral for him today. 

Trevor is sitting on the couch watching TV. His legs are spread wide, creating a nice space just for you.

You’re sitting on the other end, torn between scrolling on your phone and staring at your boyfriend. You think you’re caught staring when Trevor’s hand shifts to his lap and covers his cock, the slight bulge of which you could see in his boxer-briefs. Your eyes widen, then your gaze flies to his face. 

And Trevor is just staring at the TV. He gives his cock an absentminded squeeze and moves his fingers over his length briefly, then stretches his arm out over the back of the couch.

You suddenly blink to yourself and draw your eyebrows together. Why the fuck are you still turned on by a man who just scratched his balls right in front of you?

You need to get this out of your system or else you’re going to be distracted for the rest of the day. So, for the first time, you approach your boyfriend and straddle his lap, planting yourself on his cock and grinding down. 

Trevor is delighted by this turn of events, you can tell by the silly smile on his face. His hands come to your sides and pinch your hips. “Hey, pretty girl,” he greets, his attention now on you rather than the screen.

“Take your cock out,” you command before tugging your shirt over your head and dropping it on the coffee table. “I want you to suck my tits while I fuck myself on it.”

Trevor’s eyes light up and he lifts his hips, shuffling his briefs down until his cock springs free. You can see it reacting to your presence and you wonder, very quickly, if he’s still itchy at all. You stamp the thought down and forget it as soon as it comes, rising up on your knees and lining his cock up with your entrance. 

Since you’ve been turned on all day, your pussy has been ready to accept Trevor since the moment you clambered onto his lap. Once aligned, you sink down and take him. You move your hips in figure-eights, gyrating and finding the pleasure you enjoy. When you’re riding Trevor in an effort to make him come, you’ll bounce– but that’s never brought a climax to your body on its own. No, for you, it feels better when you rock your hips and roll your pelvis forward in a scooping motion, punctuated by a series of bounces here and there just to shake things up.

You close your eyes and lean your head back, facing the ceiling in a relaxed pose. You can feel yourself being consumed by the movement of Trevor’s cock inside of you and how it presses against sensitive spot after sensitive spot.

You’re sure if you look down right now, Trevor will be staring at you like he’s looking into the face of God. When you’d first talked about free use, he’d made it very clear that he didn’t want it to just be about him. He spoke at length about how if you wanted to use him, he’d be more than willing. In fact, over the time that you guys have been practicing this newfound kink, Trevor has had to remind you that he wants to be used. You’re finally doing it.

He fulfills your request shortly after you find your groove. His teeth encircle your nipple and tug, his hands wrapping around your back and pulling you closer like he just can’t get enough. He alternates between your breasts, licking and sucking until your nipples are wet, straining, and aching with pleasure. 

Your stomach thrums with excitement, clit swollen and making contact with Trevor’s abdomen when you swivel your hips just right. You repeat the motion over and over again until it’s just not enough, snaking a hand between your bodies so that you can rub your fingers over the bundle of nerves in rapid passes. You make a soft noise halfway between a whine and a squeal when the balloon of tension in your gut explodes and forces your eyes, closed as they are, to the back of your head. You swear that if your vision wasn’t black, you’d be able to see the back of your skull with how strong his orgasm is. 

Trevor moans against your tits, bucking up twice and spilling into your heat, adding to the mixture of warmth that is coursing through your body and making you feel like jelly. You sag against him and Trevor holds you tight, burying his face between your breasts and kissing your sternum. He stays there for only a moment before kissing a line up your neck to your lips. “Fuck, that was so sexy,” Trevor breathes out. “Let’s do it again.”

i need to write a dom trevor fic soon bc hot so we might see some free use in that too, these were all pretty soft so

[elderspawnling]

People like the original tagger are genuinely frustrating at *best* to deal with. Like yrfemmehusband said, there's physical disabilities that can get in the way. I personally deal eith a brand of adhd that simply refuses to remember anything that I could conceivably need to remember: like the fact that I have a sibling, and what their birthday is, or even where in the world they are right now.

I continually forget what day of the week it is, I barely remember not to spend unnecessarily, I can't even remember when the last time I took a shower or when I took a walk for my mental health was. I only have a job still because I've recently figured out how to manage my multitudes of tasks *there* using Trello, but trying to implement the same system for home has been the absolute opposite of helpful, because I never remember the system is there to begin with. That doesn't mean I'm not atill trying, it just means none of my efforts have worked.

I have also been subjected to all kinds of abuse about the exact same issues when I was much younger, and that now leads to an inability to ask for help that only expounds the problem. I've spent so long being told that I'm capable of doing the same as my peers that I should have zero issue with it and why are you asking for help it's just one stupid little thing to remember.

But it's not.

It never has been, and The List of Things made me the target for abuse too many times to want to bother asking for help. And that's not even talking about the myriad issues that my Best Friend has had to suffer through, hence the valleyman tag on my blog.

So, in summary.

People who are disabled AREN'T strong and CAN'T do anything, BUT that does not make them any less valuable than anyone else. If you DO make the same mistake over and over and over, no matter how many alarms on your phone, no matter how many notes on your calendar, no matter how many sticky notes on your forehead, no matter how many times youve written on your skin, accomodations should be made so that you can do the work asked of you. Asking your friends to meet 30 minutes late IS asking the world to make accomodations for you, and IT IS OKAY TO ASK.

It shouldn't be this fucking hard to understand that someone with a broken leg or no leg at all can't run a mile like someone with two legs. (A metaphor, for those that need clarification).

i’m very sorry that society has made you feel this way about your fellow disabled people. i hope you can reflect on why you believe that other people with worse symptoms than you are bringing down this community and giving us a bad name.

(especially in the context of a vent post that is not indicative of whether or not we are “actually trying” in real life.)

i am also sorry that society makes you believe that in order for disabled people to be respected we have to consistently be working toward a nebulous goal of self improvement and overcoming of disability as to not be perceived as lazy and inconsiderate by the world.

i hope you can be kinder and more patient with yourself and your disability in the future, too.

[avsarchivez]

HEARTBEAT

Choi Su-Bong x fem!reader

SUMMARY :”You start calling, you start crying. I come over, I’m inside you.”

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WARNINGS :cursing, smut, unprotected sex, oral (fem!receiving) mentions of domestic violence, mentions of beheading and murder, cigarettes/smoking, dirty talk, violent language, mentions of toxic relationship, that’s it?

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A/N: im proud of this one, hope you enjoy. im so new to writing and im also failing english right now so be easy on me😭

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The rain hammered against your window, matching the ache that had settled into your chest.

You sat on the sofa, fingers lingering over the faint bruise on your left eye. A parting gift from you now ex boyfriend, piece of shit.

You were no stranger to aggression. Your junkie ex-boyfriend had been a storm of it—shattering picture frames, smashing lamps, driving his fist through drywall. But he’d never hit you.

Sure, he’d hurl things your way or pin you against the wall, his hand grazing your throat with a careful pressure that never crossed into real harm. Not like this.

You hadn’t talked to him for 8 months, when you finally got tired of his bullshit. The drugs, the cheating, the fighting, it was all too much for you, no matter how good the sex was.

You’d been staring at your phone for minutes, thumb hovering over the call button, the wine on the coffee table sitting untouched. Finally, you swallowed your pride and pressed it.

You had no one else. Your mother would blow it out of proportion, and friends? Barely a handful. Except Se-mi, and you shuddered to think about what she’d do if she knew.

———

The phone rang three times before he picked up, his voice cutting through the line with a sharp edge. “Why the hell are you calling me?”

You clenched your jaw, already regretting this. “Can you not be an ass for once? I’m not in the mood.”

A heavy sigh crackled through the speaker. “Fine. What do you need?”

“You.” The word slipped out, fragile and small, and you hated how weak it made you sound. But the hurt was too deep to hide.

“Are you crying?” His tone shifted, still rough but tinged with something softer.

“Please, just come over.”

---

He’s knocking at your door immediately.

The knock’s more like a fist pounding the door down, and when you open it, Thanos fills the frame, rain soaked, leather jacket dripping, his purple hair glistening under the dim light, a cigarette loosely hanging from his mouth.

His dark eyes rake over you, locking on the bruise painting your left eye, and his mouth twists into a scowl.

“You look like shit, who fucked you up.”

“Thanks, just what I need to hear.” You step aside, letting him barge in. “Don’t start with me bitch.”

You scoff, “Joshua, it’s over now.”

He snorts, ripping off his jacket and chucking it on the hook like he still runs this place. “Over? Should’ve gutted him the second he looked at you wrong. Gimme an address, I’ll chop his head off and dump him in the river.”

His voice is a growl, thick with venom, and you know he’d do it, no hesitation, he’s always been serious when it comes to you.

“Don’t,” you snap, slamming the door shut. “I don’t need your psycho bullshit. Just stay here.”

He faces you, stepping in close, his figure crowding your space. You noticed he’s gotten quite bulk. His eyes flick to your wrist this time, a bruise peeking out, and his jaw clenches.

“Fuck that guy. He’s dead. You’re mine to deal with.”

“I’m not yours,” you fire back, but your voice wavers, and he catches it. His hand shoots out, grabbing your chin, not hard, but firm—tilting your face up to meet his glare.

“Keep telling yourself that,” he mutters, breath hot against your skin.

His hand cups your cheek— his thumb brushing gently over the bruise beneath your eye. Without hesitation, you reach up, plucking the cigarette from his lips and taking a slow, deliberate drag. “Fuck off.”

He chuckles, the sound low and rich, reverberating in his chest—a sound that has you pressing your thighs together beneath his grip. “Ooh, the princess has an attitude.”

His voice is all amusement, but there’s something else. Something that has you pressing your thighs together even harder, that has heat curling in your stomach. He notices, of course he does, and his smirk deepens.

“That’s cute,” he murmurs, tilting your chin up, forcing you to hold his gaze. “Go on, then. Tell me to fuck off again.”

His grip on your cheek slides down to your throat, his fingers pressing just enough to make you swallow hard. He watches the movement sharply before his hand ghosts over your collarbone, teasingly. You hate the way your breath catches, the way your body reacts to his stupid games.

Your mouth opens, but no words come out, not when his other hand is already slipping under your shirt— rough fingertips grazing against the soft skin of your torso. The touch is light, infuriatingly so, and you bite your lip, determined not to give him the satisfaction of a reaction.

He notices anyway.

His smirk deepens. “That’s what I thought.”

And then he’s on you—fast, decisive. His lips against yours, claiming, demanding. The cigarette falls from your fingers, forgotten as he pushes you back against the wall, he crushes the cigarette, ash spreading messily on the wood of the floor. His body presses against yours, firm and solid. His hands aren’t teasing anymore, they’re greedy, gripping your waist like he’s daring you to stop him.

You don’t.

Instead, you arch into him, hands tangling in his hair as he lifts you, hands firmly groping your ass as your legs wrap around his torso. He makes his way to your room, kicking the door closed before pushing you up against it.

His knee slots between your thighs, pressing just hard enough to make you shudder. You grip his shoulders, fingers digging in as you grind down, chasing the friction you need. He chuckles against your lips, the bastard, but his hands are already removing your shirt, calloused palms dragging over your bare skin, setting you on fire.

He places a kiss to your breast. “You’re already this desperate?” he taunts, breath warm against your skin. “I barely touched you.”

“Shut up,” you snap, but it comes out weaker than you mean it to, too breathy, too needy.

He grins, all sharp edges and arrogance. “Make me.”

And so you do. You tug him back in, biting at his lips, kissing him hard

Your back then meets the mattress, his mouth trailing down your throat, your collarbone, lower.

You shiver as his teeth graze your navel. He pulls ur shorts off aggressively, his hands grip your thighs and pull them apart, settling between them like he belongs there, before he moves your panties aside to the side. The first slow drag of his tongue against your clit is enough to rip a gasp from your lips, your fingers clenching tight in his hair.

“Su-bong..”

He groans against you, the vibration sending sparks through your body. “Not so pissy anymore, huh señorita?”

You want to snap something back, but then he licks you again, this time adding two fingers, and all that comes out is a broken moan. His grip tightens, holding you in place as he works you apart, his tongue and fingers moving in a perfect rhythm .

He lets out a low groan. “You drive me crazy, babygirl.” Your body tightens, heat coiling, pleasure building too fast, too sharp. He feels it and doubles down, driving you higher, pushing you over the edge with ruthless efficiency.

Your vision goes white, your body shattering around him, your cry lost in the space between you.

By the time you come down, he’s crawling back up, tongue trailing over your torso, smirking when your back arches as you let out a low moan. When he kisses you, you taste yourself on his tongue.

“Still want me to fuck off baby?” he murmurs, voice thick with amusement.

“Shut up and fuck me.”

He stands, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, his eyes burning with something feral.

“As you wish, mama.” he murmurs, reaching down to undo his belt, his jeans hitting the floor a second later.

Your breath catches as he strokes himself, thick and already leaking at the tip. The sight of him alone has another rush of heat pooling between your thighs. He notices. Of course, he fucking notices.

He crawls over you, settling between your legs, the weight of him pressing you into the mattress. He lines himself up, teasing your entrance with the head of his cock, but doesn’t push in—not yet. Instead, he leans down, lips brushing against your ear.

“Tell me how bad you want it,” he murmurs, voice dripping with amusement.

You exhale sharply, frustration curling in your gut. “I hate you.”

He grins, biting at your jaw as he pushes in just an inch before stopping. “Yeah?”

You dig your nails into his back, wrapping your legs around his waist, pulling him in until he bottoms out in one slow, deep thrust. The stretch is overwhelming, the fullness almost too much, but fuck, it feels good, before he pulls back out.

“Ah, ah.” His breath shudders against your skin. “Beg me.”

“Please, please fuck me.” For a moment, he doesn’t move, before smirking and entering you smoothly. He lets you adjust, his grip on your hips tightening like he’s barely holding himself together. Then, finally, he pulls back and thrusts into you again, hard and deep.

Your moan is loud, shameless, and he eats it up, his pace picking up, his hips snapping against yours in a ruthless rhythm. He sits up for a second to take his shirt off before leaning down to capture your lips in a quick kiss. The room is filled with the sound of skin against skin, the ragged mix of your breaths, the quiet, desperate moans you can’t hold back as he thrusts into you mercilessly.

He leans down , lips crashing over yours in another messy, bruising kiss, swallowing every sound you make, while his hands find your chest to rip your bra off. “Dude what the fuck? That was a $30 bra!”

He doesn’t answer. Instead, his mouth moves to your breasts, tongue finding your nipples, swirling in wet, fast circles that have you spiraling toward the edge again.

“I missed this pussy. Fuckkk.” He groans.

“Come for me,” he growls against your lips, his voice raw. “Let me feel you.”

You do exactly that. The pleasure crashes over you, your cunt tightening around him, pulling him deeper as you come undone. He follows right after, his rhythm stuttering, a low, guttural moan tearing from his throat as he spills inside you.

For a long moment, neither of you move, just breathing heavily, his body still pressed against yours. Then, finally, he chuckles, breathless and smug.

“Still hate me?” he murmurs, pressing a lazy kiss to your jaw.

You roll your eyes, still catching your breath. “Ask me again after round two.”

His smirk returns, wicked and full of promise. He then flips you on your stomach. “Slut.”

————

[dreamersparacosm]

under the checkered flag - epilogue blurb 3!

prompt ; in which you take a ride (literally and figuratively.)

warnings ; this is straight up you riding him in his race car. that’s all folks.

request ; linked here

part of the under the checkered flag universe

Jungkook’s racecar wasn’t made for comfort—not with its stiff leather seats and unforgiving angles—but that’s the last thing on your mind when his lips are on yours, your body slotted on top of his in the driver’s seat of his Ferrari F40. The car smells like leather and gasoline, with the lingering remnants of burnt rubber from earlier races, his cologne lingering in the upholstery, invading your nostrils and bloodstream.

It’s like something out of an elaborate Fast and Furious AO3 fanfiction (and you’re pulling some inspiration from them in this moment.)

It all started like this: Jungkook had pulled his racecar into his driveway, the low purr of the engine settling into silence as he parked, fingers still drumming against the wheel like he wasn’t ready to let go of the rush just yet. And maybe you should have let him have his moment when you stepped out of the house to welcome him, but when you had seen the bright red vehicle, the sleek body practically begging to be taken back onto the road, the words were tumbling out of your mouth.

“Can I ride in it?”

And of course, he could never say no to you.

Not when you were standing there in that damn sundress, soft fabric brushing against your thighs, looking at him with those eyes that made him weak in the knees.

He had just sighed, a little dramatically, like he had to pretend he wasn’t already unlocking the passenger side door.

“One ride,” he had muttered, but you didn’t miss the smirk playing on his lips as he added, “Don’t get any ideas.”

And yet, here you are now: straddling him in the front seat, chair reclined as far back as it can go, getting all the wrong ideas.

He’s so damn hot like this, half-lidded eyes watching you through dark lashes, tousled hair begging for your fingers, his grip flexing against your skin every time you shift. You, however, feel like a teenage girl sneaking kisses with the bad boy behind the school bleachers.

It’s laughable how desperate you are for him, how insanely good he looks in the most casual outfit yet it’s doing so much to you. Your lips trail down, moving from his mouth to his jaw, your faded lip gloss leaving shiny marks on his golden skin.

He’s close to giving in — you can tell by the way his breathing is more strained than ever, the way his tattooed hand tightens on the back of your head as your lips wander, the way your name falls from his mouth like he’s begging himself to not give into you. He cannot afford to explain to his manager why he so desperately needs to clean the inside of his car.

“What are you doing?” His voice is low, laced with amusement and disbelief, despite him knowing damn well what you are alluding to.

But you don’t hesitate, your mind already made up, voice muffled against his pulse. You are a woman on a mission. “We are fucking in this car.”

Jungkook is short-circuiting. There’s no other way to explain it. Because you, his sweet, sweet girlfriend, the one who used to trip over her own words just talking to him, who blushed if he so much as teased you, who once nearly choked on a sip of wine when he casually mentioned how good you looked in red, just looked him dead in the eye and said, “we are fucking in this car.”

Like you hadn’t just sent his brain into a full system reboot.

He blinks at you. Once. Twice. A third time for good measure.

“I—” he starts, then stops, swallows hard, shakes his head as if he’s trying to clear it. He’s trying to think of something, anything about how this car is worth more than a small house, about how many races it’s won, about how it’s been with him through every victory, every moment of his career.

But then he really looks at you. The straps of your sundress are slipping slightly off your shoulders, the fabric bunched up around your thighs, exposing more skin than should be legal, your breasts sitting perfectly, rising and falling with every heavy breath you take. Your lips are swollen, slick and pink from his kisses, your eyes glazed over.

Suddenly, Jungkook doesn’t give a shit about the car. Doesn’t care about the fine leather seats, the pristine dashboard, the million-dollar vehicle that built his career. Doesn’t care about anything but being inside you.

“Fuck it,” he breathes against your mouth, his voice hoarse. “You wanna fuck in this car? We’ll fuck in this car.”

Jungkook’s lips are hot, open-mouthed, trailing down your throat, the metal of his lip ring cool against your burning hot skin. “You look so good right now,” He moans wantonly, making no effort to hide behind his usual stone-cold appearance.

He pulls your tits free, the fabric of your dress pooling around your waist, leaving you exposed to the parking garage in his house (because, well… you two never even made it out of the driveway) and Jungkook loses his mind. See, the thing about sundresses, they’re deceivingly innocent. A little fabric, a little flowy, a whisper of fabric against the skin. But on you? On you, they’re a goddamn hazard. You don’t wear them like normal people do. No, you wear them around the house, barefoot, hair tossed up like you couldn’t be bothered, and, most egregiously, with nothing underneath. This is one of those times where he’s questioning where the fuck your underwear is.

His mouth is on you in an instant, lips closing around your nipple, tongue laving over the sensitive bud. His eyes meet yours as he shucks just hard enough to make you dig your nails into his scalp and beg for more. “Jungkook, ah—“

“You like that, baby?” He murmurs against your skin, his voice so cocky, so smug. He’s sucking his way across your chest to your other breast, making sure to devote just as much attention to it. He pulls off with a wet pop, his lips bright pink, his breath heavy.

You roll your hips slowly, dragging yourself against the throbbing bulge beneath his pants, every press of your soaked core against him. “Didn’t know my car turned you on so much,” He teases.

You have fully lost the ability to speak, no words exiting as you drag your clitoris against the rough fabric of his jeans. Anything, something, to feel some kind of stimulation and relief.

His hands fly to his belt, fumbling and pulling at the leather strap, the metal clinking loudly in the quiet of the car. His chest heaves as he yanks it free, all the while you giggle breathlessly, still rolling your hips against him, making it so much worse, but also making it so much better. “God, I cannot wait to be inside you,” He mutters, mostly to himself.

His jaw clenches as he finally manages to shove his pants down enough to free himself, his cock springing up, his tip red from how much he’s been holding back. “You’re really about to ride me in my fucking car?” He exhales, his pupils blown so dark that they swallow up every trace of color in his irises.

“What?” Your lips curve into a wicked little smile, tilting your head, mock innocence dripping from your voice. “You scared?”

That little act you have going on really does it for him. “Never, baby.” He grits out.

You lift yourself just slightly, aligning yourself with him, the tip of his cock nudging against your entrance. The stretch is so intoxicating that you need to muffle your moans into the palm of your hand, mewling from the immense burn as you bury him deep inside you. His hands move down to the curve of your ass, his large hands leaving prints on your skin.

“Fuuuck,” His head falls back against the headrest of his seat, right against the Ferrari logo. “Why are you always so fucking tight?”

“Oh my god, Jungkook,” You nearly cry out, hands flying to his clothed chest to try and stabilize yourself. You lean down, pressing your bare tits against him, the space inside the car trickling with humidity.

Jungkook is watching you like a man possessed, gripping the soft flesh at your hips so tight it borders on bruising.

But, you don’t care. You don’t care about the way your head keeps bumping against the top of the roof, don’t care about the way your thighs burn, don’t care about anything except how good he feels inside you, how every little bounce sends shocks of pleasure up your spine.

“That’s it, baby,” he pants, “Riding me so good like you always do, yeah?”

“S-so good, Kook,” You gasp, the only sound in the car being your head repeatedly slamming against the roof you’re certain there’s a concussion in your future.

“Careful, baby,” he mocks, but his tone is shaky, uneven, “Gonna break my car if you keep hitting your head like that.”

You huff, frustration bubbling, but you won’t stop, not until you get what you need. “Don’t care,” You whimper, moving quicker, the wet sound of your juices coating his cock filling the small space, drowning out everything else.

Your hands cup his face, fingers threading through his damp hair, trying to kiss him, needing to taste him, but every time your lips get close, your consistent bouncing only allows for you to brush your lips against his. “Holy shit, you look so sexy right now,” He moans against your mouth. “You’re so perfect, so so so perfect.”

Your walls tighten around him because he means it. His words aren’t just filthy whispers in the void. They’re real, honest, it’s unfiltered adoration poured into you. “Can tell you’re close, baby. God, you look so hot when you cum.”

Jungkook nearly cums right then and there with how tightly your walls are clinging around him. He can tell you’re close, eyes nearly rolled back into your pretty little head. Usually, he’s good about holding out. Really good. He can last for ages, a result of all the fucking you two have been doing ever since you began dating and he realized his girl was nothing short of a freak. But something about how you struggle to hold his gaze, hips frantically moving up, down, in figure-eights, eyes fluttering shut, tits bouncing near his throat where he’s holding back a string of curse words… well, it’s fucking hot. He realizes he might cum before you, and his hand reaches down, finding your clit with ease and rubbing the bud with the pad of his thumb.

Your whole body jolts at the added intensity, the pleasure hitting like a freight train, thighs trembling violently“I, fuck, I can’t—I’m—”

You can’t even finish the sentence, your orgasm ripping through you so hard it almost hurts, your entire body convulsing as you scream his name. And you don’t even realize he’s finishing too, caught up in your own haze, until you feel a rush of warmth inside you as he finally spills into you.

The car reeks of sex, the windows fogged up. Your body just kinda.. collapses on top of him, heartbeats slamming against their respective ribcages. His arms stay lazily wrapped around you, fingers tracing nonsense patterns along your spine, cock slowly softening inside you.

“You know,” Jungkook whispers in your ear, his voice lazy, “I’m gonna have to spend a stupid amount of money getting this car deep-cleaned now.”

You groan against his chest, swatting weakly at his arm. “Don’t ruin the moment.”

He laughs, “I’m serious, baby. This is a million dollar car. Do you know how much of a pain it is to clean the upholstery?”

You lift your head, propping your chin on his chest to glare at him, “You’re literally a millionaire. You’ll survive.”

Jungkook hums, pretending to mull it over. “Yeah, but I’d rather spend my money on spoiling my girl, not on my car.”

You groan again, hiding your face in his warmth, and he chuckles, full and satisfied.

And yeah, maybe you did just ruin his precious racecar, but if the way he’s still holding onto you is anything to go by, you’re pretty certain he doesn’t mind.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

masterlist + request

[midnightshindig]

Hey👀👀 could we get some first kiss rex hc that are just emotional as hell?? Not necessarily angsty hes just feeling feelings😞🙏

Rex Splode x Reader: First Kiss

ughhhh i'm not over rex

also what the HELL Rudy

gonna deadname him forever sorry guys, not a biggot just a hater </3

hcs under the cut!

Rex is a nervous bitch

he hasnt really had a first kiss he's cared that much about since he was fourteen with Eve

and even then he was fourteen so he didn't really know how big of a deal it was

BUT this is post-lobotomy Rex

and he really likes you

and he can't mess this up

he can't "Rex it up" as Amanda lovingly put it when he begged her for help

"Pleaaase Amanda- you're a woman- kinda- you know about this romance junk!" he pressed his palms into prayer and knelt at her, shuffling towards her comedically as she rolled her eyes

"First-!" she shoved a pointed finger into his face "Don't call romance 'junk', it's annoying."

Amanda sighed a long, heavy sigh, and pinched her temple

"And two, I'm calling in reinforcements."

two hours later Rex is in his room with Mark, Eve, William, Amanda, and Rudy all piled in

Rex isn't sure why William OR Rudy are there, but he figures more the merrier

"ooookay." William starts, leaning onto his propped up knee "You've been seeing this person for how long?"

Rex swallowed his spit nervously "uhm... we've been like talking and going on dates and shit for a few weeks- uhhh..." he starts counting on his fingers before Rudy cuts him off

"Rex and Y/n have been mutually exclusive for two months and three days."

Eve's jaw goes slack "Two months?! Rex what the hell?" her scolding is teasing yet bewildered, a playful hand gesturing from its place around Mark's shoulder "Just kiss them already, why are you being a wuss?"

Rex buries his head in his hands, overwhelmed by the overlapping conversation and criticism as the room erupts into dialogue

"I JUST-" he calls out, quieting the room

"I want to make it memorable. And... special."

His face is on fire

he's blushing so hard it hurts

Okay now they HAVE to help him figure this out

so three hours of brainstorming and meticulous planning-- some light lunch and snacking-- later, Rex has a game plan

Everyone shuffles out of his room as quietly as they can, except for Eve, who tells Mark she'll catch up in just a minute

The door closes them into the same space, alone

"Oh, uh... what's up, Eve?" Rex's shoulders tensed as he took in Eve's serious expression and folded arms

She broke out in a small smile "Do you really like this person, Rex? Like you're not going to cheat and be a dick?"

He nodded a small, but intentional nod. Intimidated as fuck by his ex-girlfriend.

She responded by rushing forward and pulling him into a bone crushing hug

"oOoooo I'm so excited for you" she pulled him closer, as he slowly wrapped his arms around her in return

"Ha- Thanks, Eve. I appreciate it."

Eve pulled back and stared into his eyes intensely "Don't freak out, just be yourself, okay? I'm so happy for you, Rex."

As they separated and Eve made her way out, Rex flopped back onto his bed

He'd just received the blessing of his only true friend, this couldn't possibly go wrong.

A few days later, and you're reading in your room

a slip of paper came under the door

"Hm?" you set your book down and went to retrieve it

It was a crude drawing of the two of you-- yourself and Rex-- in the mountains?

It was hard to tell

he was not a good artist.

Regardless, you opened the door to find another piece of paper

and another

and another

all littered with doodle of the two of you, tracing through the GotG HQ to the "back door" so to speak

"Rex?" You inquired cautiously, fearful it may be a trap

"Hey!"

you flung around and caught Rex's nose in a high kick, before realizing your mistake and covering your mouth in surprise

"Ah!! Rex!! fuck- I'm so sorry!"

Rex hit the snowy floor like a crumbled piece of paper, holding his bruised nose and trying to shake it off

"iiiii'm good! I'm fine! Wuh-uhh... fuuuuck." He steadied himself by leaning onto you a little, wrapping an arm around you

You assessed the situation, thankfully not having broken his nose

"Oh Rex, I'm so sorry... and after all your hard work with those drawings.... is there anything I can do to help?"

"You can kiss it better."

The silence was thick with romantic tension, and you stared at him wide eyed while he stared back in abject horror-- at himself, not you

"No-NO! FUck- this wasn't- Ugh! Stupid- Stupid0" he groaned, sitting in the snow and leaning against the GHQ

You looked down at him, confused

He just held his bruised face in his hands "That's not how it was supposed to go."

Carefully, you sat next to him in the thick, powdery snow.

"How what was supposed to go?" you placed a loving hand on his upper arm

Rex leaned into your touch, eventually leaning his head onto your shoulder "I wanted to say all this shit about how much you mean to me- and how much of a better person I want to be for you, and all this stuff..." he pulled out snow-soggied crumpled notecards, passing the ball of paper to you as you deciphered key phrases and bullet points

He sighed again, nuzzling into your shoulder "Iwanted our firstkiss tobe special, yknow?" he looked up at you with the saddest eyes, obviously welling with tears "You deserve that much."

Now it was your turn to blush so hard it hurt

or maybe it was the cold.

"R-Rex- I don't... I mean..."

the longer you trailed off the louder the thumping in Rex's chest got

eventually, though, you spit it out

With a warm affect "Rex, you're so perfect."

and you leaned down, kissing his lips gently

He reacted swiftly, bringing his hand to your cheek, warmth bringing solace and comfort to the bitter cold threatening to permeate your layers the longer the two of you sat in the snow.

The kiss lasted what felt like forever

but in reality it was maybe three minutes

You noticed Rex opening and closing his eyes, to check if you were still there

When you finally had to part lips, Rex sifted himself up to be level with you, allowing him to wrap an arm around your shoulder and pull your head to his chest

"I really like you, Y/n. And I want to be a good guy for you."

"You are a good guy, you're the best guy I could ask for."

"No. I'm not. But don't worry, babe." his humorous tone crept back into the serious situation, easing the tension a little

"I'm going to be."

[hmhas-00]

Ch. 26

Hit Me Hard & Soft

A/N- crying in the clubbbb 💔 like and rb and stay tuned for what comes next!

Remy’s POV

My phone buzzed, bringing my attention to my lap. The screen lit up with a text from an unknown number. I figured it was a scam and continued working.

It was finally February, and I was finally back at the office, running around, getting things done for Joe and unofficially co-writing with Rachel. For months I dove into my work and only focused on my goals, before my end of the year performance review, which Joe had postponed due to my accident.

Life was moving fast recently, not giving me much time to process the other aspects of my life. Eating and exercising were things I often forgot to do. Sleeping was also not a priority. There was so much on my plate, but oddly enough it was comforting.

It occupied my brain and took my mind off of personal life matters, such as losing my best friend, to be exact.

My mother passed away last month. I didn’t shed a tear. It was bittersweet. It was weird to think about. The funeral was beautiful, but small. There were family members giving me their condolences that I haven’t heard from since I was in school. It was odd. There were some people I didn’t recognize that swore they held me as a baby. My dad was there too. He avoided me, probably feeling just as awkward as I was.

That was the day I realized I had grown angry and resentful. All of the money I had sent her had been spent, mostly on rent, but also on unnecessary things. She had a boyfriend I didn’t know about. I wondered why he couldn’t pay for her expenses. He seemed nice. He was heartbroken. I found myself trying to mirror his emotion before my aunts’ gossip turned me into the daughter that didn’t give a fuck about her dead mother.

She passed away from a heart attack. She had a past of abusing prescription drugs. It was a habit she picked up after the divorce. She was 3 years clean.

As I said my goodbyes, I realized I hadn’t talked to her in person in almost a year, when I saw her on her birthday the year prior. Seeing her in the open casket reminded me of when I was in the hospital and she didn’t bother to show, yet I was here holding her cold, unfamiliar hand.

I gave myself a moment to mourn what could’ve been, and said a prayer in my head, only for her. She was religious, ironically enough. I was not. I hadn’t prayed in god knows how long. But, I prayed to the universe that she’d be at peace, forgiven by whoever would try to collect her debts, wherever she was now.

When I got home. I melted into my desk chair, focused solely on my work, and haven’t gotten up since.

That about sums up my life right now.

My phone buzzed again. A text from the same unknown number. I opened it, wondering who it was.

Hey I don’t think we’ve met before. I’m Ellie, Billie’s girlfriend.

I wanted to invite you to a little pre-valentines day party this Saturday at 7pm! It’s also sorta Billie’s going away party before she leaves for Australia this month. She would love to have you there.

I stopped breathing for a second, reading the messages. I hadn’t allowed myself to miss Billie in a month. I hadn’t allowed my self to think about her. All of her things and all of our pictures were stored away so I didn’t fall apart at the sight of them.

I wondered why Billie hadn’t invited me herself. It almost stung. An invite by formality. I guess I deserved that. Maybe this was her way of seeing if I’d show up.

The thought of explaining myself to her again stressed me out. Nothing was ever good enough for her. My goals didn’t matter to her. That’s how I felt.

I’ll send you the details later. Please come.🤍

She texted me again.

*******

A couple days went by before I actually replied. I thanked her for the invite and let her know I would be there.

The day of the party I took hours to get ready. I was nervous like never before. I decided on some light wash jeans and a white baby-tee. I straightened my hair, wearing it longer than ever, as I didn’t bother to trim or freshen up my curtain bangs due to my busy schedule. I did my makeup the way she liked. Tiny, smudged eyeliner wings at the corners of my eyes, blushy cheeks, lined lips with a dark mauve lip tint and gloss over top. I put on a black faux-leather jacket and drove to Billie’s house.

I decided to arrive a few hours late to avoid the awkward period of time before everyone else showed up, in case things didn’t feel right.

When I arrived, the same security team greeted me at the door. They looked surprised to see me, but let me get through without hesitation.

I walked through the entrance, walking through the halls, making my way towards the noise. In the front room I saw a group of people. Neither of them were Billie.

Finneas looked at me and did a double take. Everyone else remained in conversation. I smiled at him awkwardly and kept walking. The last thing I wanted to do was small talk. I followed the noise into the living room, towards the entertainment area. A multitude of people, but still no Billie.

A beautiful girl, wearing a red, flowy, silky dress walked towards me with a big smile on her face. I took in her presence, taken off guard by her embrace. She squeezed me tight, happy and cheery.

“I’m so glad you came!” She smelled sweet and her aura was warm and inviting. I couldn’t take my eyes off her. I guess this is Ellie.

The more she talked, the less I could manage to take my eyes off her. I couldn’t put a pin on it, it began to bother me. Then, I realized.

I couldn’t help but notice the similarities between us two. Her hair looked exactly like mine did when I had time to tend to it, her skin was tan, like mine, our smiles and the way our noses crinkled when we laughed… She was a girlier, prettier version of me. She had dainty tattoos on her arms. Not as many as I, but fuck, we were even the same height. I zoned out, feeling as if I were looking in the mirror.

“Feel free to get some food, there’s lots more in the kitchen. Please, help yourself! I’ll be right back.” She said, walking out into the back yard.

Help yourself. As if I didn’t frequent these halls, and help myself all the time. I looked around, the house the exact same way I left it. I walked into the kitchen hoping to get a moment to myself. I realized most of the people here weren’t the usuals at Billie’s parties. A lot of them, I didn’t really talk to much. I poured myself some sparkling water and tried a few bite size snacks.

I leaned back on the counter, reminiscing on the moments Billie and I shared in this kitchen. All the food we made and all the laughs we shared messing up new recipes, and having to clean up our mess.

Suddenly, I saw a shadow from the corner of my eye, causing me to turn and look. A dark haired figure stood in the doorway.

Billie stared at me, looking like she was face to face with a ghost.

I stood up straight, my brows slightly raised and my lips forming an unsure smile.

Billie looked away, her face reading discontent and disappointment, like she was disgusted that I was here. She quickly walked out, leaving me a mess in her kitchen.

I stood in the kitchen, about to cry, about to run out. I kept my composure, taking a breath and trying to understand what the hell just happened. Wondering why I’m here.

I walked out, b-lining towards the guest bathroom, wiping tears off the corners of my eyes, but heard faint arguing as I passed one of the rooms down the hall. It sounded like Billie’s voice. I got closer and eavesdropped.

“Why the fuck would you do this to me?”

Ellie tried to keep both their voices down, “I thought it would be a good thing. I thought the two of you could talk?”

“If I wanted to talk to her, I would pick up the phone and call her, Ellie. God, what the fuck!” Billie shouted.

“Shh! You’re being so loud. Calm down!”

“Don’t tell me to calm down when you invited her to my house without my permission! You know where I stand. You know that I can’t do this right now. And you bring her here two weeks before I’m supposed to leave for tour?”

The way she referred to me as her pissed me off. Like I was a stranger with no significant value to her.

“Billie, don’t be like that! She wouldn’t be here if she didn’t want to be in your life. You just need to talk, you’re best friends. I thought if I got her here, the two of you would-“

“We’re not friends anymore for a reason! I don’t want to see her Ellie! I was doing fine! I was just fine, why did you have to ruin everything I-“

“No, I wasn’t trying to ruin anything, baby! I wanted you to heal! I wanted you to get closure! If you don’t talk to me, I wanted you to at least talk to somebody!” Ellie said, whisper yelling. Billie didn’t match her volume at all. I could hear the anxiety and pain in her voice. I felt like the ex boyfriend that texts out of nowhere at 3am when you’re finally over him.

The way she tried her best to calm her down… I felt helpless hearing it. I wanted to go in and fix everything myself, the way I always did. I wanted to just go in and hug her tight, even if she tried to fight me off. I’d get on my knees, beg her to forgive me, and make a fool of myself, if it meant she’d be okay again.

At the same time, hearing her talk about finally being okay, and getting over me… it cut deep. Because I wasn’t over her. I didn’t even allow myself to process it. I haven’t had time to process anything that’s happened to me in the past few months. I guess I had me to blame for that.

I walked in, standing at the doorway, watching Billie’s eyes fixed on me, stonewalled.

“Hey, Remy, I’m sorry if you-“ Ellie started.

“I thought you knew I was coming. I thought you wanted me here.” I said, looking between the two. Ellie winced, her plan crashing and burning before her.

Billie shook her head, bringing her hands to the crown of her head and turning around, blowing air out of her mouth. She faced the wall, probably wishing she could teleport anywhere but here.

“I’ll see my way out.” I began to turn, but Ellie rushed over, grabbing my arm, pulling me, and pleading with me. Normally I’d have a problem with a random girl putting her hands on me, but I was so beside myself that I didn’t react.

“I’m obviously not welcome here.” My throat tickled. I cleared my throat, feeling that pit in your stomach that makes you want to sob uncontrollably.

Ellie stood in the doorway, blocking me from exiting. Man, she was strong. “You two need to talk. Hear each other out. Billie, fucking come on! She showed up, she clearly cares about you.”

“I didn’t mean to make you upset. I just wanted to see you and apologize.” My voice cracked. I felt like a stranger in her house. The room I had sat in so many times before felt like a cold jail cell.

What a fucking shit show.

Billie swayed, her back turned toward me, quiet as a mouse as she faced the wall.

Billie’s hair was cut differently than before. She wore a blue and white long sleeve, and a pair of wide denim jeans. She threw her little fake glasses on the couch next to her and continued to sway back and forth. I was almost afraid to be in the room with her. Her hands flexing as she opened and shut her fingers repeatedly. Her rings clinked as they hit the others. She cracked her knuckles, her triceps popping out.

Ellie sighed, “I’m sorry, but I have to do this. You need to talk.” She walked out, closing the door.

[alternate-real-ities]

Research Report: Subject J - Asian Flu

Prepared by: Dr. Amara Patel & Dr. Liam Chen

These diary entries, obtained through confidential sources, detail the personal experiences and transformations of a young man identified only as "Jake" who has been unknowingly infected with the recently emerged Asian Flu (AF). His accounts provide invaluable firsthand insights into the virus's effects on its host, spanning from early symptoms to advanced stages. Thus, with these entries, we aim to better understand the virus's effects and timeline.

Diary Entries:

Dear diary,

I woke up feeling a bit off today, but nothing major. Probably just another case of the common cold going around. I didn't let it stop me from starting my day as usual - working on my laptop at home while sipping coffee. My muscles were kinda sore too, but I thought it was just from my workout yesterday.

I did notice something strange though - when I caught my reflection in the mirror, my pecs looked a bit bigger than usual. Probably just my imagination, right? They're not exactly massive to begin with on my scrawny frame. But hey, maybe I'm finally making some progress at the gym!

Anyway, enough about me and my silly feelings. I'm going to bed early tonight. hopefully I'll feel more like myself tomorrow.

Dear diary,

Woke up today feeling even better than yesterday! I breezed through my work and couldn't wait to get back to the gym. When I stepped into the locker room, a few guys checked me out appreciatively. Normally that would make me blush, but now it just gave me this weird rush of confidence.

At first, I thought the gym machines felt a bit too easy today. Like my body was used to working at higher intensities than I realized. And why were my pecs tingling so much? Probably just a funny nerve thing, no biggie.

When I got home, I caught another glimpse of myself in the mirror and… holy shit… are my muscles bigger? Like, way bigger than they should be after one intense workout. Also, I didn't look as pale as I usually do?

This can't be real - something's going on, I just don't know what it is… Hopefully, I'll have more time to think about it tomorrow.

Dear diary,

Okay, so something is seriously wrong with me but I can't put my finger on it.

I can't stop sweating, even when I'm just sitting around doing nothing! My clothes are always soaked and I stink like a damn animal in heat... And don't even get me started on my fucking pecs - they're so sensitive right now. Like every brush of fabric against them sends a jolt straight to my dick.

I called in sick to work today, couldn't handle trying to make sense of all those spreadsheets and emails. It's like everyone's talking in a foreign language now, I just don't get it no more. I keep telling myself this is all stress-related but deep down, I know something ain't right.

At the gym today, I kept having to increase the weights because anything less felt like a joke now. There were these two Asian guys there who kept glancing over at me admiringly between sets. Normally I'd be flattered but nervous about such obvious stares. Instead, I found myself flexing subtly in their direction, feeling this bizarre urge to show off my body.

And to top it all off, I've been having these crazy horny urges nonstop. Like, I'm constantly rock hard and leaking pre-cum like a fucking faucet. It's embarrassing as hell. I ended up jerking off about three times today already but it did nothing to satisfy this insatiable hunger in my balls.

I'm scared… I don't know what's happening to me. Maybe this is all just a bad dream and I'll wake up soon. Please.

Dear diary,

Fuck… what's happening to me? I'm struggling to type this entry because my fingers feel too thick and clumsy on the keyboard.

I went back to the gym again today because I couldn't stay away, even though part of me knew something was seriously off. The Asian guys from yesterday were there again and this time… fuck… I walked up to them and started chatting like it was the most natural thing in the world. Talking about protein shakes, the best ways to sculpt chest muscles, shit I wouldn't have given a second thought to before.

They kept touching my arms admiringly as we talked, marveling at how fast I must be growing. And I fucking liked it. Craved more of their attention and praise. We ended up in the locker room together…

I'm not proud of what happened next but I couldn't control myself. I was too drunk on this new sense of power and desire coursing through my body. The next thing I knew, we were all naked, touching each other, moaning like animals…

I can't think straight anymore either. It's like all the smart stuff is leaking outta my head and being replaced with nothing bro.

And the smells… everything smells so much stronger now. My own stink, sweat and musk, it's so intense!

I'm losing control here diary… I feel like I'm turning into one of those dumb gym bro stereotypes and it scares the everloving shit outta me. I almost can't recognize myself in the mirror anymore.

Tomorrow, I'll go see my doctor to finally understand what's going on.

Yo diary, it's your boy Jake and lemme tell ya, today was fuckin' EPIC dude! Like, the most awesomest day ever since this crazy shit started happening to me.

Woke up feelin' like a million bucks, muscles all twitchy and ready to dominate. I hit the gym real quick, just a lil warm-up ya know? And oh man, did I catch some looks! All those bros were starin' at my gains, probably wishin' they had a physique like mine hehe.

After that, I decided to take my rock hard bod for a walk in the park. Felt good to let the sunshine warm up my bronzed skin and show off these sick pecs. I was strutting real confident-like, just basking in all the attention from thirsty bitches and dudes.

Then, get this diary… I bumped into this super cute lil twink at the park! He was practically drooling when he saw my massive package tentin' in my shorts. I couldn't resist, had to show him what a real man feels like down there haha.

We found a lil spot behind some bushes and I bent that boy over and gave it to him HARD, diary. Pounded his tight boyclit so good he was screaming for more. Fucked him so deep he'll be tasting my cock for days! Blew the biggest load right up in his guts too, hah!

I'm gonna hit the gym again later for some more gains, maybe see if I can find another thirsty boycunt to bust in after. Life is fuckin' great diary!

Analysis:

Based on Jake's diary entries, we can confirm the progression of AF symptoms aligns with our current understanding: rapid muscle growth, cognitive decline, personality changes, and increased sexual aggression. His accounts also highlight the virus's insidious nature, as he remains largely unaware and unconcerned about his transformations.

To better understand the virus's transmission dynamics and long-term effects on secondary hosts, it is imperative that we identify and locate the twink (hereafter referred to as "Subject TW") with whom Jake engaged in sexual activities at the park. There is a high probability that Subject TW has been infected with the Asian Flu through this encounter.

Locating and monitoring this new potential subject could provide crucial insights into the virus's sexual transmission rates, incubation periods for secondary infections, and further manifestation of symptoms in diverse hosts.

This final surveillance footage from a concealed camera in a bustling city gym captures Subject J (center frame) engaging with his newly acquired "bros". This clip represents the most current documentation of Jake's behaviours and physical state, obtained while maintaining strict contamination avoidance protocols. The timestamp indicates this recording is approximately three weeks after his initial diary entries.

Caution: Viewers are strongly advised not to approach or engage with Subject J or his associates without proper protective measures in place, as their sweat and other bodily fluids pose significant infection risks.

Please direct any inquiries or resources needed to pursue this lead to Dr. Patel or Dr. Chen.

[End Report]

[tiredhermitgirl]

Matt & Frank Castle

I think what is absolutely crazy and why I am a Fratt shipper is that Frank is one if not the ONLY person who can handle Matt in the way he needs to be handled.

Disclaimer: this is based off of their relationship in the Tv show NOT anything in the comics!

But anyway! I just feel like Matt is that special type of character where you WANT to be soft with him, swaddle him up and beat the shit out of anyone who makes him feel like shit BUT in the same vein you want to shake him and beat him over the head until he makes good choices!

Foggy is way too soft, even at his maddest and Karen is way too harsh and is very similar to Matt in that she will avoid and walk away if something becomes too much.

But Frank is the perfect mix between hard and soft. He knows when to push Matt but he is also quick to be open and soft and this interaction that we got on Episode 4 really highlights that.

He pushed and pushed Matt until he got the reaction he wanted but when he noticed Matt breaking his tone got so soft. He voluntarily shared a little bit of his grief because he UNDERSTANDS. And when he knows that Matt is being honest about something he shuts the fuck up. The way he let Matt talk about how good Foggy was and then just let him leave???

Karen wouldn’t have done that. I don’t even think Foggy would have let him or Foggy would have left first. Neither would Electra because all of them would HAVE to get the last word in. But Frank let him say what he really felt and left and I find that so important for a character like Matt.

And you know it is out of character because earlier in the conversation Frank kept on getting the last word. “What about old Foggy? Did he get life?” That was so foul! 😭 But I also think that Frank is a mirror to Matt. Frank knows EXACTLY what Matt is feeling and similarly, they both have NO ONE they can talk to to process that grief. Except where there is Frank who explodes and goes on a killing spree, Matt is suppressing SEVERELY because he is trying to honor Foggy and what he would have wanted.

It really makes me wonder if Frank did something similar. Did he try to suppress it and “do the right thing?” The kind of thing that Maria and his kids would have wanted him to do? And it also reminds me of Magneto from X-Men Apocalypse where Charles told him “would your family have wanted this?” And Magneto rebuttals with “They would have wanted to live!”

I just love Matt and Franks dynamics because I feel like Frank can actually relate to Matt in a way that no one else can. Not even Elecktra (sorry for the shippers). And I think because he relates to Matt so much, he can see where this is headed and in his own way doesn’t want Matt to fall off the deep end like he did.

Long story short the Fratt shippers ate good today!

[heevee-likes-soup]

San x Reader |1K- 1 Trope|

>> 1K- 1 Trope series: A start of me to start publishing/ Get back into writing, 1 character, 1 Trope, 1 K words <<

>> First Kiss<<

>> Summary: Joining your friend as a plus-one at this random house party sounded like a fun idea. Something different, right? Well, what you didn't expect was to be left alone, and now find yourself serving your 7 minutes in heaven with the cute hallway-boy. <<

>> Rating: Fluffy/ SFW <<

It was such a stupid game, you thought to yourself. Such a stupid game that you didn't even know why you participated in. You felt pressured, that was it. You were at a birthday party, you tagged along as a plus one and after about half an hour your friend was nowhere to be found.

They took mercy on you, and let you join their circle, you should be thankful, and yet you couldn't help but fight the lump of nervousness inside your throat. You didn't really go to such parties that often. If so, you were usually accompanying a friend. It had little to do with how extroverted or introverted you were, but the prospect of sitting around and drinking with people you didn't know just didn't thrill you the same way it did some of your friends-

And see where that got you.

The closet was smaller then it looked from the outside, and the fact that you could feel San's body heat radiating onto yourself was enough to make you blush furiously and want to leave. On top of the small closet- San wasn't a small guy. Not anymore at least. The introverted guy who chattet you up at the beginning of Highschool about your Pokemon plushy keychain was only a memory by now.

This San, was broad, went out and was part of the sports team. Yet he still smiled just as cutely, and seemed just as nervous as you imagined when the bottle landed on you and him. To say he was your crush was an overstatement- a hallway crush was a better way to described it. The two of you didn't talk much, the occasional chat in the hallway or in class, but nothing beyond that.

To you, San looked like this since only yesterday, but most people only knew him as this athletic- arguably sexy guy.

"So… what do we do?" You asked, into the dark of the closet. You only got a small chuckle as a response. A laugh that was a little too adorable for the muscle mass that was rivaling your personal space. "You mean usually, or what we do here? Because we don't have to do anything." You could hear the smile in his voice. It made you huff out a small laugh as well. "I know what people usually do with seven minutes in heaven, San." You chuckled in response.

"So, do you want to?" The question hung thick in the air and made your mouth fall dry. Something inside you was nervous about being this close to each other- but your mind didn't even take into consideration that CHOI SAN of all people, might be the one wanting to-

"what?" you asked, a little in disbelieve, gaining a small laugh from him. "What do you mean 'what'? Y/N… only things you want to are happening in here." He was being so sweet, and something inside you felt a little bad that this was what he assumed you were nervous about. "No.. I-" it was laying heavy on your tongue. Because… "Do you"want to?" The way he let out a soft chuckle, made you feel warm. "Y/N, why would't I?" It made you blush, furiously, and it made you thank the heavens that invented this bullshit to not put lights in a closet.

"I somehow just assumed you'd not want to kiss me." you spoke truthfully. It was meant very matter effect.

"That'd be so foolish of me-" he said, one of his hands carefully raising up, very gently testing the waters as he placed it onto the side of your face. "Y/N, you're one of the nicest people I've ever met."

Your breath felt like it stopped- you felt like you had to reboot yourself. In no fucking way was this how your first kiss was gonna go. You felt nervousness settle in your throat like a thick slime, making talking hard. What were you suppose to do? Tell him not to do it? Ask him to do it? Should you instigate? In movies it always looked like neither of them thought about it much- so was this even the right moment when you were so painfully hyper aware and overthinking it, even?

"Y/N, are you nervous?" San asked, voice gentle, yet laced with a smile on his lips. He always was just so carefree- "Most people only started inviting me to things after they declared me with some official popular 'hot' mark" he spoke gently. "You never treated me any different, you were always… a ray of sunshine." This made the slime in your throat cloak up even more. What was he doing talking so sweet to you, while you could feel his warm hand caressing your cheek?

"I never kissed anyone" you blurted out a little. After a second of silence, it was San's soft laughter that filled it, as he retrieved his hand. "As I said, nothing happens as long as you don't want to." he smiled, and you could feel how he subtly tried to back off into the limited space of the closet.

"No" you then said, a little quieter then you anticipated. Because who else, then the sweetest person you knew, could make for a better first kiss? Then you wouldn't have the pressure on you anymore-

"Kiss me." you said softly, your voice a bit more strained then you wanted it to. The hand gently placed itself back onto your cheek, and you could feel his breath soon brush against your face. It was hot, pleasantly so. "Just relax." he smiled, before he leaned in, crossing the remaining space.

San gently put his lips onto yours, first just resting them there, warm and soft. Then he started moving them, and you soon understood and joined the gentle and slow rhythm- before you knew he pulled back again with a smile. "Was it bad?" you finally let yourself breathe again, shoulders slumping. "No… another one."

[lucius-i-ran]

"Where's the mud, Nico?" 

Nico took a moment of silence to understand if Percy was fucking with him. When he saw the dead serious expression carved onto his friends's face he started looking around, searching for black mold or something similar that might have warranted (almost) perfectly sane Percy to get him one sandwich short of a picnic. 

"What?" 

Percy picked up on Nico's absolute bewilderment 

"When I was little I was obsessed with mud, you know? but you understand that there's is not much to be found in a condo right in the center of New York City, right?" Nico nodded. "Before my mom could understand that she could not leave me home alone, she used to go to work and like clockwork, as soon as she stepped out of the house, I would walk no- run to the kitchen sink. With at least three toilet rolls, a gallon of water, eggs and some undetected 'son of Posidon' magic I would create mud-" 

Nico imagined little Percy, tiptoeing to the kitchen skin, hands deep in his infernal poultice and forced himself to swallow a laugh.

"-Of course, I was a fucking menace but I wasn't stupid so as soon as I understood that if I was to wash that away, the sink would clog and my mom had to phone that smelly brute of the plumber to repair our sink again, I would absolutely go bananas-" 

Nico felt the side of his lips quivered as a less amused, smaller Nico tried to desperately kick a laugh down his throat. 

"-And in my paniked, eight year-old brain-"

"You were eight??" 

Percy was stone cold serious and Nico was trying really, really hard.

"I'm sorry, please keep going" 

"I'm giving you classified information di Angelo, you should be grateful" 

"I am" Oh, he was.

"Anyway," Percy gave him a sharp look "the most brilliant idea I could come up with was to hide it in a random point of the house. And somehow, my mom always knew. She says I had got this panicked, adorably guilty look on my face so she would ask: 'where's the mud, Percy?' " 

"What has this got to do with anything?" 

"I've never had the pleasure of looking myself in the mirror right after hiding the mud, but if I had to guess, I'd say you have the same guilty look in your eyes. So, where's the mud, Nico?" 

And Nico realised just how grateful, truly grateful he was Percy told him about the mud.

It was like it closed a gap between them. Like the first brick for the bridge was placed, the first thread of a connection and Nico was glad Percy had been the first one to wove it.

"If I tell you where's the mud" Nico's voice trembled and he took a moment to decide if it was from the tension or the ridiculous thing he just said "Will you promise me not to be angry at me?" 

"Do you think my mother never got angry when I hid the mud?" 

Nico lowered his head and shook it, tracing small circles in the sand with his hand.

"Exactly, but I was still her son and she still loved me" Percy turned, slightly squinting, the sun hurting his eyes "I'm 98% sure you're not my son, Nico, but you're still my friend. A good one, and I'll still love you." he turned face first into the sun again, closing his eyes, basking in the warmth. "There are worse things that you could do than hiding mud, Nico." that conversation was getting out of hand. "You already did, actually" 

Nico looked hurt "Hey.." 

"You sold me to your father for informations" 

"I was twelve"

"And I've never held that against you" 

"Oh, haven't you?" 

"Point is" Percy shook his head "I'm still here, talking to you. I went all the way to Rome to save your sorry ass, so I can confidently say that what you're about to tell me will not strike a dent in the affection I have for you" 

"Really?" 

Percy shrugged "Sure, I might get mad, but I'll get over it in a couple of days. Weeks if it's really that bad. But I can promise you I won't try to strangle you this time. Maybe" 

They looked at each other. Man, Nico was glad Percy was so.. Percy. Shiteating grin and all.

"I'm scared" Nico's voice got tiny, almost a whisper. 

"Why?" 

"Because. This-" he gestured a flat hand between them "-dynamic that we have is already as weird as it can get. What if this is the breaking point?"

"Nico" Percy's voice got firm and kind of dark all of a sudden. It made Nico feel like he was getting scolded by his father. "The only thing you could say to really get me not to talk to you for at least twenty years is that somehow you managed to wipe blue food coloring from existence" then his voice softened "Besides, I really have to go to the bathroom so you either get this over with or I'm pissing off some tree nymphs and trust me, you don't wanna see that"

In normal circumstances Nico would've rolled his eyes and laughed, but in that moment he couldn't even get something similar to a colic-induced smile to grow on his face.

He swallowed the lump forming in his throat. Or at least, he tried to. 

"The reason I acted the way I did years ago wasn't because of Bianca" Great start, Nico. "I mean- it was, for a while. But then I realised I wasn't angry anymore. Not at you or Bianca, at least, but at myself"

Percy nodded thoughtfully. 

"I didn't hate you" a pause.

"Well.. that wasn't that bad" 

"No, you don't understand, Percy. I didn't hate you"

Silence. 

"I don't get it" 

And Nico had to suppress a curse. How in the earth and heavens below did he ever get a crush on this moron. He felt his cheeks burning with anger and humiliation and Cupid laughing at him, all the way from Croatia. He mentally sent a message to him: kill yourself.

"I- I had- oh gods. I loved you!" 

"I would sure hope so! Do you know how much it takes to go from California to Italy?"

Nico had to channel all of the discipline the nuns taught him in elementary school not to rip Percy's hair out, make a wig out of it, put it on his head and start running around camp screaming  'Look at me! I'm Percy Jackson and I'm oblivious as shit '

He straightened himself up and got to his knees, almost pleading for at least two of Percy's braincells to have a conversation about something that wasn't the nautical distance between San Fran fucking cisco and Rome. 

"For the sake of all that's good and pure, Percy. I had a crush on you! I was head over heels! Smitten! I fell for you. And I carried the damn torch up until last summer!" 

Silence. Nico eased his breath, collected his thoughts and sat back down, just processing how damn stupid he had been.

"That's why I was such a brat. Always distant and- and" he sighed "That's why I kept running away. I couldn't even look at you because it reminded me that I was different. That I wasn't cut out for love. It was killing me" 

Silence.

"I'm sorry. I promise it's all over now, it has been for a while. It wasn't even love probably, just you know-" big, fat tears welled up in Nico's eyes "I'm sorry, Percy" he whispered. 

He let them fall, silently and warm, striking his cheeks. Looking straight ahead of him, all of his confidence and courage leaving his body to find someone less problematic. Someone who wouldn't tie all chances of a friendship to a boulder, put it on his shoulders and dive into the sea to drown with them. 

Percy got up but Nico didn't even dare to take a glance in his direction. He heard his steps getting closer and wished that the son of Poseidon would yell at him or beat him up rather than doing nothing at all. That would kill him.

Fortunately, Percy wasn't Nico and had a secret fourth box in his list of Nico's Coming Out reactions.

He sat. Much closer this time.

He scooted over.

He wrapped an arm around Nico's shoulders.

He held him tight. 

And Nico, that up to that point had been absolutely mangling his lower lip trying to kill his sobs, couldn't help but bury himself in the crook of his neck and cry.

All those years of anxiety ridden nights, of buried feelings and humilation. He let them slide down with his tears, swiping them away with the back of his hand, thinking about nothing but the arms that were embracing him. Welcoming, warm, shielding. Familiar, just like the ones that Bianca used to give him. The ones that now he gave to Hazel.

And it was quiet all over again, occasional sniffling and soft sobbing playing along with the leaves to break the silence. 

They stayed like that for a good ten minutes.

Percy's hold kept steady, trying not to rush him.

Nico eventually lifted his head and immediately getting embarrassed for the wet splotch he left on Percy's shirt. His mind was quick to come up with something to distract him from it. 

"You're not my type anyway"

Percy was the first to yell out his laugh and Nico galdly followed, stopping only when the nymphs nearby peeped their heads through the branches and trunks to check that whatever animals were doing those horrible screeching noises were okay, then rolling their eyes realising they were just two demigods who had officially lost the plot.

They eventually caught their breaths.

"Totally a blow below the belt" Percy 'socked' him in the arm. 

"And I'm totally using that mud story against you"

"Well I'm sorry for you but the egg is on your face. The Stolls beat you to it and found my mother's number, somehow. They got her to spill all the embarrassing details" 

"What do you mean 'got her'? Sally Jackson enjoyed every second of it and you know that"

An hysterical fit of laughter was threatening to break loose but Percy was quick to change the subject. "So who is your type?"

And in real Apollo kid style, Will Solce made his grand entrance off camera, yelling with the might of a thousand chihuahuas: 

"C'mon di Angelo! Three days in the infirmary started five hours ago! Chop Chop!" 

"Yup, definitely not you're type"

[monstersflashlight]

Yo I was talking to a friend of mine about the coexistence of aliens and humans living together in a sci fi and cyberpunk world and thought about the porn film makers industry making big money from hiring aliens and having an alien coworker to help with the scripts. Thus making aliens have human kinks like we humans do with monsters and aliens lol— just wanted to share this with you! And perhaps give you a writing idea? OwO( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) especially for like dubcon/noncon roleplays they’ll have the actors play lol

A/N: Hope you both like this, I don’t (generally) do non-con and I think this worked better without the dub-con, so here we have it. Enjoy!

Movie worth

Alien x trans!male reader || degradation (light), praise kink, exhibitionism (but not really), size kink (light)

When you signed up to the alien app, you didn’t know what to expect, definitely weren’t expecting to match instantly with a big hulking alien that was pretty much all your fantasies in a pretty green package.

You hit it off immediately, meeting for dinner and lunch and breakfast and a few snacks… And you were dying to get your hands and cunt all over him. But he wanted to wait… Until your overactive libido discovered why he was so closed off… Your alien boyfriend was a porn actor, and his movies were next level hot. You saw a few of them (and jerked off a lot) before your brain started to make it weird. The sweet alien who made you dinner and bought you popcorn at the movies clashing with the hot alien fucking monsters filthily over video. So you stopped, and planned how to tell him that you knew. But your mind (and your cunt) were trembling thinking about having that inside of you. And a bit concerned. Because he’s that big.

You invited him over to watch Spacefix and chill, and he immediately agreed. You weren’t sure how to break the news about the porn stuff to him, so you just… blurted it out when you were staring at the microwave with the popcorn.

He stared at you for what felt like a light-year. When he opened his mouth, nothing came out, and you ended up giggling at his shocked expression. The tension broke with that, and before you realized, you were being pressed against his huge body and he was claiming your mouth like he was desperate to devour you. And good goddess if you didn’t want to be devoured by him…

And that’s how you find yourself naked on your bed, your big hulk of an alien parting your legs and staring at your wetness with such hunger in his eyes that you are clenching over nothing, so empty. Fuck… But when you look down and see how fucking hard he is, you can’t do anything but whine.

“I- I don’t know if I can…” You tell him, looking at his dick hanging there. He’s just… so big. Bigger than any human you’ve been with, bigger than that minotaur you hook up with once. He’s just fucking huge.

“Of course you can, look at that boypussy… You are drenched, aren’t you?” He rubs his fingers through your wetness, making you feel a bit embarrassed. He’s right, you are dripping wet and he has barely touched you. “You are more than ready to be a good boy for me and get fucked right here.” His words make you choke a gasp, your mouth dry all of sudden, your clit tingling. You nod, your mouth firmly shut. “Words. Do you want me to fuck your tight cunt? I won’t do it if you don’t ask for it.”

You can feel your face burning hot as you mutter: “Yes.”

“Yes, what?” The jackass smirks, eyebrow raised as he keeps rubbing your wetness with his fingers.

You hate him a little for making you say it, but at the same time, the embarrassment and degradation of having to say it is turning you on like crazy. “Yes, I want you to fuck my… my…”

He kisses your sternum, his eyes still fixated on your face. “Say it,” he coaches.

“My boypussy,” the term makes your face even hotter, your whole body reacting as he chuckles over you, his weird dick pointing at your cunt, a big drop of precum already shiny on the tip.

And then he starts running his mouth as he presses the tip of his dick against your opening, not going in, just resting there and making you go insane with desire. “Now that you know… Do you like that idea? You like thinking of people watching you? Do you want to give them a show? That’s what you want? To be a good boy and be fucked in front of a camera? Everyone watching as you fall apart around my dick and moan like a slut?”

You make a lewd sound that makes your face flush harder and his smirk to get even bigger. He rubs your opening, your cunt so wet it makes a sucking sound when he pushes the tip of his dick inside of you.

“Such a good boy, already ready for me.” You preen at the compliment. “Now, now… Are you ready for me?” You nod, eagerly. “Good boy,” he says before rubbing your clit with his thumb and pushing his dick in bit by bit inside your waiting cunt.

You moan loudly, and he grunts, pushing and pushing and pushing until you feel you are about to be split in two. You try to talk, but the only thing out of your mouth is an incoherent “Ughg…” He chuckles, stopping when his hips are flushed against yours.

“Tell me when you are ready,” he whispers. You can see his pulse beating fast on his neck, and it makes your inside twist.

You are sweating, and your brain is slowly turning into goo. “Move. Move, please.”

“Good boy,” he mutters before hell breaks loose.

He starts moving, pumping his hips against yours, hitting your deepest points and rubbing against all the places that make your insides turn. You are moaning and groaning like a slut and he keeps repeating how good you are, how pretty your boypussy is and how fucking stunning you look taking his cock. And with each word you get closer and closer to release.

“Come for me sweet boy, make a mess for me.” And that does it.

You close your eyes and see white as your whole body explodes into a million pieces. You can hear the bells of heaven as he praises you, and you feel his thrusts become erratic, his dick making your orgasm last longer as he ruts into your G-spot when he explodes inside of you. It’s like a domino effect, the second he releases inside of you, you are coming again, not knowing when the first orgasm ended and the second has begun.

After a while, he sighs against your neck. “Well, good luck sweet-boy,” he mutters.

“What?” You ask, confused, your brain still not completely online.

He points down to where his dick is still nested inside you. “After that, you are stuck with me.” You smile, not really worried about that.

[omgidklolwtf]

Study Session🍎

You absolutely knew studying with Caleb would be a terrible idea and you were correct. You find yourself rereading the same sentence for the 10th time and you still can’t focus on what it says. Not when Caleb glances up at you with a flirty little smirk every 60 seconds. You’re in the library, sitting across from each other at a long study table. He’s idly twirling a pen between his fingers, flipping through a mechanical manual for something that he has already taken apart and put back together with no instructions.

“Caleb!” You scold him is a hushed tone. “Stop it!”

He has mastered the puppy eyes. “What did I do?” He says, glancing up at you with an innocent expression.

“You know what! I can’t focus with you staring at me like that!”

“Why don’t you get some fresh air? You’ve been at it for awhile. Maybe you need a break.”

He wasn’t wrong. You have been studying for your hunters examination for several hours a week. As your first day off in a while approaches, you are feeling pretty burnt out. You lean back in your chair, rolling your shoulders and stretching your neck side to side. “You’re right. I need a breather. I’m gonna stretch my legs for a few minutes. I’ll be right back.”

You push yourself back from the table and head up the stairs of the library to get a bottle of water from the vending machine. It’s already 9 PM so much of the space has been cleared of people. You decide to take advantage of the quiet and pace the rows of bookshelves, loving the smell of the library books.

You are mindlessly strolling when all of a sudden you feel a firm tug on your elbow, and before you know it, you are being whipped around and pressed up against the bookshelf. “Caught you,” Caleb says with a gleam in his purple eyes as he catches your mouth with his. Forcing your mouth open with his tongue as he tugs you against him by your waist.

“Caleb what are you doing?! Someone is going to hear us!” You shove against his chest, somewhat wobbly from the delicious sneak attack.

“Not if you’re quiet babygirl.”

Caleb begins kissing and licking your neck. You nervously scan right to left to make sure no one is around. “Caleb someone could come any minute.” You weakly try to squirm out of his grip, trying to make a show of resisting when in truth you’ve needed this all day. Needed him all day.

He uses his gravity evol to hold you in place so his hands are free to explore and pleasure your body. “Oh no no no no,” he says against your neck. Trailing kisses down to your collarbone. “I’m not going to let you go that easily.”

You can’t help but bite your lip at his gravely tone. Your nipples harden from his touch. You lean your head back against the bookshelf, watching Caleb as he brings his fingers to his mouth, licking them before gliding them down your body and into your jeans. Parting you with his fingers and sticking his middle finger deep inside you. He curls it against your gspot while he uses his palm to rub your clit.

You hiss as you suck your breath in sharply through your teeth. You try to hold back your moan, cautious to keep as quiet as possible. Caleb squeezes your breasts with his free hand, rubbing the pad of his thumb back and forth across your hard nipple before pinching. The pain causing a yelp to escape your throat.

“You’re so wet for me already.” He presses you into the bookshelf, grinning at the look of pleasure he is currently evoking from you. He increases his speed and pressure, rubbing your pussy so good that you begin to rock your hips back and forth, riding his hand.

“Mmm,” he moans against your mouth. “Be a good girl and fuck my fingers.”

When Caleb talks like that it drives you insane. Electricity shooting through your body. For a moment you forget where you are. Your breathing becomes ragged and you moan Caleb’s name. “Mmm, oh God Caleb. Yes please make me cum.”

Caleb slips another finger inside you, pumping into you, rubbing your clit and sucking on your neck. Your orgasm about to explode out of you. “Mmm, baby yes oh my god.”

Your body starts to twitch, your pussy walls clenching Caleb’s fingers like a vice. You release your orgasm then, crying out in pleasure.

Caleb covers your mouth with his hand, locking eyes with you as you bite his hand in an effort to hold back the noise of your undoing. He is so turned on by the sight of your full body shakes from the strength of your orgasm. He chuckles soft, “yes, that’s my girl.”

Caleb removes his hand slowly from your pussy and brings his fingers to his mouth, tasting your cum and cleaning his fingers. He sticks his fingers in your mouth, allowing you a taste before lowering his head and sweeping his tongue into your mouth. You are still panting from pleasure but you swirl your tongue against his, wrapping your arms around his neck. Pulling him in tight for a thank you kiss for how amazing he makes you feel.

“That felt so good. I’m hungry now.”

Caleb chuckles, moving a strand of hair off your forehead. “Enough studying for tonight. Let’s go home. I’ll play with your hair while you have a bedtime snack on the couch.”

You smile up at Caleb, it’s like he read your mind. You love laying down with your head in his lap, sharing apple slices and unwinding together.

“Sounds perfect.”