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4mrplumi · 5 months ago

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ZERO (iii) : SCAVENGERY . (ms/prev/next)

-> plot synopsis - you don't think you're as odd and horrifying as the news makes you out to be. but you have never much cared for the validation of others, and certainly not theirs.

-> batfamily x serial killer reader. playlist (wip) ask 2b added to taglist

-> tw; gn reader, guns, violence, child neglect, messed up legal system, mention of death, poor living conditions, bug taxidermy, everyone's a b, paranoia, ocd, full list on master list.

> a/n; the prologues are text heavy... i'll try more dialogue for the first chapter (next upload) and onwards. in the mean time, feel free to send asks and ideas, i'd love to discuss and tie up my own lose ends too. hope this suffices for the reader's relationship with the bat family!

“family business”, you squint at the sign, “12th sector conveniences, run by a family business!” the print on the plastic sign is misspelled, and fading away completely. red into pink, orange into pale yellow, and green into cyan. a lovely place to be at for what you’re doing.

family has always been an iffy subject for you, in your mind and verbal exchanges. you never humoured your friends’ prods at you to talk, and were especially vigilant about shutting down conversations about family.

you’d already brushed over the meaning of the word in your head, on terms with the fact that you would most likely never understand it in this lifetime, but the experience with it still stung. sometimes.

at ten years old, the landlord of your apartment, who’d let you stay for free since it was so horribly kept, passed away. it meant you had effectively no place to live, since it wasn’t legally in your hands anymore. nothing much about your situation was legal, but he’d argued your case for you for years, and the neighbours were supportive of it too.

gotham is a gritty place, and even with the varied dictionary of swears they used to poke away security, it was a little show of squishy softness from the people.

after he died, your friends’ parents and your neighbours shuffled you around in their homes, month to month to keep you around. no one thought of calling fosters, or the police, since you were their kid as much as their children were. “love” was an odd word to use, people in your alley married for benefits and children were kept about for that reason too. there were exceptions, but the reason for your staying was obligation.

at eleven, you got caught directly in between a scuffle on the streets. the guys must’ve been waiting to put off steam, since it got bloody way faster than you’d ever seen. but honestly? you could’ve gone past it, it was nothing unnatural for the city, and having grown up in it on your own, you would’ve been fine.

but gotham was a city full of interruptions. buses, classes, going to the store for chips or even walking back home, you would be interrupted. by a gun, a fist, or if you were especially unlucky, the big old bat and his big old car. you wonder if you could’ve saved yourself all the trouble, the tax on your mental state and the worry you keep everyday of your life now, if you had just been a bit faster, fast enough to avoid the batman’s interruption. maybe, you would’ve been in the stairwell with your friends now, eating chips or running from old mister ford on the sixth floor.

you’d been put in the police station down the road, the same one your friend had thrown a brick through last week, while the caped weirdo, batman, told you it’d be alright. alright? you were fine. what did he mean, alright?

you’d nagged the officers to let you go, lying that people at home would be worried (maybe they were, you never got to know), but they’d sat you down and expected forced, timid compliance from you. these guys are always expecting better. one lady even had the gall to put on a show for you on the tiny tv in one of the “comfort-rooms” and you’d gone biting, screaming and struggling.

‘radicalised’ was what your landlord-uncle had called it. gotham’s people, even those not submerged in the high of crime, couldn’t help but grow up to be hard and rough at the edges, hating the people who put them here. the divide between the common people and the socialites was so jarring, so far. you didn’t want to comply with what these guys were telling you to do. all the adults hated them! why wouldn’t you?

it had taken two hours of watching a few pink-haired girls run around behind the screen, in cold, cold anger before you were let out. “a new home,” the lady officer had said, “safer.” it wasn’t until later that you got to know the reason they didn’t let you leave or shoved you in a care-home you could've run from, and instead pushed you into the manor; was because of your lack of legal documents. most noticeably, your birth certificate and the absence of your parents.

you think now, that maybe batman had expected you to be broken, ruined and lonely like his other odd children. fact of the matter is, that you were fine. you were none of those things, until he intruded in your life. why he never let you go… perhaps he feared any resentment you held. you held none, until him.

the fight never left, you’d hissed all the way home at the old guy and the other man who’d come to pick you up, swiping at a hand offered to you. a new home? a new home? you had a home! they were waiting for you, you think, what do these people mean about a new home? why would you trust a badge and cap or a suit and tie, on their judgement of safety?

you want to go home.

the house they put you in was gargantuanly huge, your room the size of your old shared apartments. it made you sick. the ceiling was too high, and the corridors too long. admitting to fear was a sure way to get snuffed on the streets, and you didn’t admit to it, spending hours hiding in a bathroom alone, still too big for your liking. you hid and hid and you still hide. all the time.

when you got used to the place, pangs of loneliness and homesickness hit you. having never talked much, it was an unusual habit to reach out to someone. the flats you lived in used to be small enough for three people to have to sleep in the same bedroom. and the other four to crash on top of each other on the couch.

it’s different here, you’re alone. there’s no situation where everybody has to be together. you could tail along with the old guy while he cleaned, or stalk the boy who came to visit every month, but you avoided the man who got you here at all costs. you hate him, it would be betrayal to yourself to want to be around him. but seeking out company was too taxing, too new a thing for you. no one else came to you on their own, never needed anything from you. you were isolated. lonely. scared.

you weren’t forbidden from going outside, but always tailed by a security guard your “father” would set on you. the place where you grew up was blocked off your mental map too, a firm hand on your soldier from the boy, richard grayson, and his voice telling you it was off limits.

when you demanded a snarled “why?” with a dark, dark scowl, he’d just shook his head. an answer never came to you on its own, but it was quite clear you’d never be able to disobey. so you scuffled around, lonely, the shadow of the manor on you making street-kids you’d get along with otherwise frown at you, everywhere.

a few months after your glorified kidnapping, another boy came into the polished picture of your family photo; jason todd. he was about the same age as you, with a noticeable and heavy gothamite-accent that you recognised immediately. though you still didn’t much enjoy seeking out the company of anyone in the house, jason’s was by far, the easiest to go to.

he was a surprisingly tender little kid, you’d expected a meaner, more similar to you type of guy, but it didn’t matter much. you’d sit in the same room as him when he studied, listen to him whisper under his breath about some composition of something, watch him run around in the garden after alfred to help him, gain the favour of the man, and wonder where he’d gone at night when you tried to stay awake with him in either of your rooms. the two of you were unalike, but the comfort of knowing rags better than rugs brought you together, just a bit.

towards the… end, he’d become more biting. more snappy, on edge. the change had come suddenly, and made you conflicted. on one end, you were delighted at his hostility, seeing a familiarity of behaviour with him. he was finally growing into the hardened shell. the other end just made you sad. what happened to the kid? to your brother? what happened to him?

it’s safe to say his death destroyed any neutrality you had for this place. when you’d seen bruce one night, he’d looked absolutely horrible, and you hadn’t understood why. you couldn’t much bother to ask, assuming it must’ve been bitchy-bad billionaire-blues, and the shock, the blunt punch that came to your gut at attending jason’s funeral the next day made you sick.

dick had stood crying, his face in his hands, alfred had put an umbrella down to his face in what you assumed was sorrow, and bruce’s expression was unintelligible under the shadows that fell on it. you only stared, and stared, and stared at the stone of his grave, as though wanting to erode it, dig him out. jason. jason. a good soldier.

soldier?

you were livid, entirely unable to express your emotions in any way possible, no outlet among your family, no friends, no social circle or activities to let out even the smallest sliver of your anger out. you hadn’t cried, mourning was never one of your customs, but you were so horribly angry. he was gone. gone.

what probably made it worse was that you never knew how he died. he disappeared one day, and came back dead the other. your only half-friend in your whole life, was gone, the sweet, helpful little boy, gone. your brother. gone. you shut off entirely, unwilling to accept dick’s offers to spend time together, snarling that his attempts at being a better brother to you would never undo anything that he’d ever done. with no knowledge on the cause of his death, you blamed everyone for jason todd’s story.

dick had pulled away his hand, expression darkening, and did very pointedly avoid you from there on. thinking back, you wonder why he couldn’t excuse your grief. you were a child too. how did he manage to excuse everyone else?

tim drake’s arrival had been a thing of great disgust to you. he’d become an outlet for your fury, shoving past him in the corridors, muttering curses at him at the smallest issues, and flashing a scowl and a glare at his direction whenever he spoke. from the very beginning, tim knew about your distrust, your hatred of him, and avoided you in return to avoid trouble.

maybe you shouldn't have, and you don’t anymore to anybody, but you’d often go at him when you were at home. snarky comments on what he did, brushing off efforts he didn’t even present to you. you could see the slight effect it had on him, reclusivity, him thinking twice over his words. that on it’s own, and grayson’s narrowed glare and muttered “lay off, (name)” had almost made you guilty.

almost.

he’d come to eventually just spit back at you, or ignore you, and you’d leave him be too. it’s just that the impact that period of time had on the both of you was irrefutable, and harsher exchanges would come out much easier from your mouth now. again, you wonder, why he couldn’t excuse you. you would take any hatred back from him, face the consequences of your actions and accept what you did was terrible. even if he never forgave you for being so unwelcoming to the little boy he was, if it meant that one day, tim drake would look your way without a scowl. but why did he never excuse you?

around this time, you took up many things. jason’s death had soured you against the crime in gotham way more than your arrival at the manor did, so you took to listening to the news and skimming through pamphlets. the common figures of the batman and robin had created a semi-permanent furrow in your brow, and you pitied the robin-boy who’d have to work along the incompetent, interrupting, annoying bat-hag. batman.

the repetition of’ saves the day’, ‘exposes the scene’ and ‘back at arkham’ formed a slight obsession in you, and you had to know who these… geeks in costume interrupting everything were. if they could so skilfully weave through the riddler’s intricate puzzles, handle the joker’s lunatic schemes and avoid the bristling thorns of poison ivy’s attacks, how could they not put their minds to the little guy? the smaller problems?

from stalking tim and watching his work methods, without his awareness, you picked up a pin and a photo, and got to work. school was never challenging, maybe initially with your lack of an uneducated pre-teens, but easy to catch up to with your abundance of time. with all the hours freed up from not having to do homework you’d already finished, you made it a personal goal to find out who batman and robin were. the man and the boy who failed you, jason, and all the kids down the road.

and you found out. in february, wearing a short sleeved shirt ‘cause the heating was always up, with a final thread of glittering blue thread, you found out. the anger that had built up over the years had started to die out, and snapped with a fizzle when you understood.

you hate them. bruce wayne, dick grayson, tim drake and even, even jason todd. you hate them all. incompetent fools. idiots.

a sense of emptiness lingered in you for days, a morose sense of nothing to do. you came across a video of a girl stuffing a hollowed spider with cotton, and gently placing it’s dangly limbs on top of pins like they were footrests. the spider’s paws were limp on her sides, but she looked alive. she looked alive, even after dying.

maybe it would’ve passed on a fleeting interest, if you had not come to the terms with the fact that rich people could do just whatever. without asking anyone, you’d gone out to buy a board and some bob-pins, signed your name off as someone else on the shop record book and left. two habits, hobbies, created on the same day. taxidermy and paranoia.

you were not paranoid.

when you were now sixteen, bruce- no, batman, had gotten home troubled, more so that usual. it had peaked your curiosity, and you couldn’t help but eavesdrop through a micro communicator tim had so considerably left out in his room when you snooped through it.

the silhouette of a red hood trailed their conversations, troubling them with drugs and guns and knives. you’d found it all very amusing, minus the fact of his crimes. anyone who troubled the batman was amusing, but crime? you never excuse.

the relevance two months down that jason todd was alive, when you left the communicator on on a sleepless night, jolted you fully awake. a similar resurgence of not knowing, and fear, and worry engulfed you, much alike the same feelings you felt coming to the manor five years ago.

you wanted to demand for answers, weasel out how, why, where he was. why he wasn’t coming home and why bruce was so incompetent at getting him back to the manor. but you couldn’t. no one could know you knew, no one could know you had that information, of their identities on them, and have that leverage over you. you bit your tongue.

you never spoke to him, or saw jason face to face after his “rebirth”, catching glimpses of his voice on the mic’s that inputted into the oracle’s connected networks at night. you caught a glimpse of a large figure, draped in a leather jacket jumping out the window from the kitchen, but too late and too awkward to call out.

he’d gotten so tall. grown up. it hurts so bad, and you’ve never hurt before. never admitted it.

how had he managed to regain just the littlest bit of ties with the rest of the family, but not with you? you knew he snuck in on some nights, and he rarely ever came to the manor to talk to anyone, but how was it so easy for him to just, forget you? did he ever wonder where you were? did he ever want to see you again? you know he couldn’t, wouldn’t, but would he want to?

the pain that comes from seeing damian enter the manor is ten folds that. another little boy, falling to the bat’s trap of glory and growing up like jason and dick and tim, trapped. you want to warn him, but his kohl-lined eyes and scowling face makes it too difficult.

he reminds you too much of yourself, and that’s just about the scariest thing you know. self-importance and snarkiness.

the worst thing? their tolerance. their excuses. dick’s grin at damian a day after the loudest scuffle, the meanest words you’d heard come from a ten year old’s mouth, him being excused. tolerated. tim excusing him, and bothered to still talk to damian even after all the insults and demeaning of his work, the tolerance he received.

bruce wayne’s hand on his shoulder, showing him around to help him adapt to the new, unfamiliar place. why had no one done that for you? why did no one excuse you, see if you were okay? why were you like this? what had damian done that you hadn’t, and what had you done that he didn’t?

“the blood son”, he had declared at you the first time the two of you spoke, “has come to show his worth to the family. remain on the sidelines from your unimportant and tarnishing stain on father’s name, or struggle against my defense.” you didn’t respond to his edwardian monologue, and left despite his appalled scoff at your indifference. the blood son. he had a family. you could never compare to the concern or the trouble they put in to be with him, because he was family.

family.

you could’ve ignored damian if he didn’t come into your business so often. poking at the posters you’d put up to cope with the large, empty walls in your room, scoffing at the music you’d put on to drown out the ring in your ears from the silence and snapping your last nerve upon stealing a cricket from your board to bury in the garden.

you’d said nothing, quietly taking it back when he was faraway, straightening the legs of the insect with a motherly tenderness. he had soiled a lifeform put in your hands over his own sense of honour and humanity, effectively disgracing the ideals you had been raised on and live on now.

you knew of his upbringing, and you knew better his horror at your practice. but nevertheless, it was yours. he didn’t excuse you, he demeaned you, he didn’t consider you family.

he was not your family.

none of them were, and none of them will be. they’re self-prestiged vigilantes with overblown egos and no semblance of shame or understanding. they know nothing, and you can’t abandon a city so unfortunate to be in their care like this. they don’t know anything, because the ceiling they live under is too high to need to crouch and hide, and the corridor is too large for them to have to squeeze through when running.

a tap on your shoulder brings you out of thought, and your reply is a gruff “you’re late” at the girl in front of you. the salty green-white lights of 12th sector conveniences buzz on as you make your way inside, and garcia’s grin is too wide for someone so inconsiderate of your carefully mapped plans.

you hate your family, and their poor work. so you’ll have to scheme in different run-down hell holes to undo their messes. but order and control is important. if you’re in hell, why should you stop here? “one day”, your ‘girlfriend’ had said, “all these places you take me-” “you all,” you had interrupted, “i take you all” “-will be as clean as your nails, (name)”

you hope that she’s not mocking. and you hope she’s right.

> a/n; nothing much left 2 say! i notice my writing habits have switched up a bit, way less unnecessary words and stuffs. this is queued for tmrw so hopefully im not spamming anything. re-added the tags i left out for zero:ii too. idk when my next upload will be since my first exam is day after tmrw, but i wanna really write for the plot soon.

thanks for reading!!

taglist: @boredselkie @shirp-collector-of-fixations @randomlyappearingartist @bat1212 @maicenitas @xjesterxjacksx @heartjwonie @lucienneb1ue @vikkus-main @adornedlace @cuntiesweet @minorlyatfall @staarflowerr @ithoughtthinks @crazycaoticsimp

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erenstitanweave · 1 month ago

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PROM NIGHT!!

synopsis: being the student council president of visions academy was a grueling job in itself, but planning prom for a bunch of teenagers with no ideas is harder. luckily for you, the boy who was seemingly always in the shadows caught you brainstorming and wants to help.

rating: sfw (obviously), eventual friends to eventual lovers, reader is overworked and underpaid, miles is a bit of a troublemaker at school (just one incident chat come on), made miles and reader juniors in high-school because it fit the plot better, miles silently pining, etc.

author's note: hey chat!! sorry for the sporadic uploads, exams have been all on my schedule for the past two weeks and i don't really have time for writing. exams are almost done so hopefully i'll have some more out. feel free to request some works you all want to see! reblogs and comments are appreciated, i hope you enjoy!

The sound of a basketball bouncing off of the concrete filled your ears, the sound somewhat calming along with everything else you heard. Faint noises of children playing in the playground a bit away, sounds of a small group of girls gossiping under a tree, and in particular, three very familiar boys playing basketball. You were also under a tree, your eyes looked ahead at the boys playing basketball, then back at the laptop in your lap. To anyone else, you’d look like a person studying or someone just doing some type of work outside. While both of those weren't exactly wrong assumptions, you were really here to just take a breath of fresh air. Life as a highschool student was suffocating, especially considering the position you had gotten yourself in two years prior. In your freshman year, due to your excellent academic performance during the duration of the entire school year, you were offered the position of student council president.

Being the student council president at Visions Academy of all places was a huge deal, considering they would pass on a full scholarship to the president at the end of their highschool years to the school of their choice. It would be that boost you needed to assure yourself that you would be able to go to the college of your dreams, not worrying about the burden of student loans was just an added bonus. However, this position came with a lot to do. Instead of leaving at the dismissal time for the students, due to your intense workload as council president and a student, you’d often leave when the teachers did, which was later in the evening if not later than them. This pretty much eliminated any sense of social life you had with anyone, the most you’d get was interacting with members of the student council or slightly scolding students when you had to. You were lonely, sometimes it hurt you a lot to know this, but you just kept telling yourself that you didn't need to have people around you.

That was, until you met him for the first time. You had known of him prior to actually meeting him, whispers in the halls and even some mentions from the principal only aided your curiosity, but that's all you were convinced it was, curiosity. Miles was an..interesting person. You’d hadn't met him prior to his father's passing like everyone else, so you couldn't attest to how he was before, but he was clearly different according to others. He was quiet, reserved, never disrespectful to anyone..not entirely at least. He had earned himself two visits to the principal’s office for fighting, and from what you heard while being in there for one of those visits, it was bad. Apparently, one of the more..non-disciplined boys had made a disrespectful comment about Miles and his father, one that you couldn't even repeat with how gross it was. Someone had told someone else, then that person told another person, until it got back to Miles via his best friend. You weren't present for the fight, but from seeing the boy in public the day after, you knew it was bad. Miles had been told that disciplinary action would be taken to more extreme measures if this happened again, meaning expulsion from the school.

He spent detention with you that day along with a few other people. His eyes kept gravitating towards you the whole time, he didn't know what it was about you, it was just..different. Detention was over before both of you knew it, then you never crossed paths again..except for right now. You saw him approaching the boys, greeting them and starting to play a game with them. You weren’t far away from them, but you honestly didn't know when you started just staring at them all play, or maybe it was just Miles you were staring at. Naturally, he'd noticed you staring at him long before you realized you were staring, but the longer he looked at you, the more familiar you seemed. Funnily enough, the way he realized it was you was because of your laptop, considering he couldn't see your face very well. Suddenly, he tossed the basketball to one of the other boys and walked out the court, approaching you quietly. His sneakers barely made any noise on the concrete, only making a hint of noise on the grass once he started walking on it.

You hadn't even noticed him, snapping out of your zoned out state once you noticed that Miles wasn't on the court anymore. Had he already left? Were you actually staring for that long? Miles circled around the tree you were sitting in front of, leaning next to the tree and silently watching as you looked around confused. He peered his eyes down at your laptop, slightly squinting his eyes and reading the text on your laptop. Before he really read anything though, a very familiar logo in the top right caught his attention almost immediately. Visions Academy. His eyes immediately went around the screen, looking for anything else that would make sense of who you were, then it clicked. Your laptop looked extremely familiar, you went to Visions, then right on the upper right corner of the screen read three words that made his eyes widen. Student Body President. He stared down at you, only to see you looking back at him.

He chuckled under his breath for a second, his eyes glazing over your face for a moment. “Didn't think you existed outside of school, you look good when you're not telling people to stop skipping class.” He spoke, a hint of sarcasm lacing his words. You rolled your eyes in response, attempting to ignore the second part of his sentence. “Didn't think you were taught to just sneak up on people, color us both surprised.” You bit back, forcing the smile that threatened to creep on your face back when he just laughed in return. He sat down next to you, eyeing your laptop screen before looking back at the basketball court. “So, do you actually do anything but work?” He asked lightly, his eyes gravitated towards yours as he spoke.

You sighed and shamefully shook your head no, keeping your eyes on your laptop screen. “Nope, no social life, hardly any friends, just..work.” You answered, turning your gaze back to the boy next to you. It took a while for you to register it, but he smelled really good. How had you never noticed it before? It was a woody scent of some kind, sort of like the rare cases of wood that smells good as it burns. “I’m trying to figure out the theme for prom this year, but themes can only be so original and I have until mid-April to make a decision.” You muttered, letting out another sigh as you leaned back, letting your head tilt until it hit the tree with an audible thump. Miles watched your movements for a moment, slightly wincing to himself as he watched your head hit the tree.

“Well, I hate to potentially sound like a broken record, but why don't you ask around? You probably would have gotten an answer months ago had you asked the juniors and seniors.” He asked, reaching his hand over and clicking a few things on your laptop. You just moved your hands off the laptop, covering your face and letting out a clearly annoyed groan into your hands. “People don't exactly like me, you know. Besides, the last thing I need right now is someone trying the little bit of patience I have and-” You covered your mouth in an instant, your eyes moving to look at him. Miles just sat before you with an concerned yet amused look on his face, he hadn't ever seen you lose even a hint of your composure before. The sight made him wonder how you really acted when you weren't in council president mode. “You heard nothing.” You spurted out, your words slightly muffled by your hands. Miles just chuckled and pulled the laptop over his thighs, leaning back against the tree with a smirk. “Heard what?” He asked, his heart beating a bit faster once he watched you pull your hands off your face, a small smile taking over your previous expression.

You rested your hands on your lap, mindlessly brushing the material of your clothes back in place. “Well, before we plan on asking anyone else, any ideas from your end?” You asked, peeking over at the laptop screen. Miles shrugged and shifted the laptop towards you, tilting the screen to make it easier for you to see. “Not really a party person, but, the only ones I really hear talking about themes are the girls.” Miles paused for a moment, seemingly thinking about something. “They mostly said they didn't want it to be a color, don't ask me what the hell that means.” He said, watching as you laughed in response. “Well, that makes sense. Most of the girls already have their dresses or what they want in mind, so choosing a color for the theme kinda defeats the purpose, no?” He nodded, turning back to look at the laptop.

“Nah, I get it. Colors being a theme sounds weird as hell anyway.” Miles stopped talking for a moment, looking back at you in his peripheral vision until a thought came into mind. “How ‘bout..I’ll ask around for you, since you're convinced no one likes you in exchange for something.” He said with a small smirk, catching your attention almost immediately. “You’ll ask around for me?” You asked, turning to look at him. You thought about it, it could be a big help, having to ask people about it with your schedule would be relatively impossible. “Fine, but what can I give you in return?” You asked with a confused expression, watching as he sat the laptop next to you on the grass and stood up, dusting himself off. He turned back to look at you, his two braids swaying with his movements. “Check your laptop. I’ll catch you later, President.” He said with a shrug, walking off before you could say another word.

You grabbed your laptop, a lot quicker than you’d like to admit, something typed in the search bar of an empty tab catching your eye.

i think asking around for you in exchange for being your prom date sounds like a fair deal, don't you, President?

#ali's writings ✮#atsv #atsv x reader #miles 42 #earth42miles #earth42miles x reader #astv miles #miles morales #miles morales x reader #dividers by cafekitsune

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zyafics · 1 year ago

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PLAY FAKE | 02

MASTERLIST (Series)

Pairing — Rafe Cameron x Female Reader .ᐟ

Summary — When Rafe needs to secure a girlfriend for his father to see him as a viable candidate for Cameron Development, he enlists the help of a bartender who wants nothing to do with him.

Content — 18+, smut, angst, depictions of jealousy + aggression, emotional turmoil, mild descriptions of violence, and usage of drugs.

You didn't want to ask Rafe for help.

You never like doing it in general. The concept is foreign to you and it makes your skin crawl with a sense of dread, but you were desperate.

He hasn't come back to your bar in a while; probably off finding a new replacement for a fake girlfriend. Before, you hadn't given it much thought. You did decline. However, now, you wish he hadn't found one yet. Now, the offer sounds appetizing given the situation you're in.

You need to get in contact with him. You knew that showing up to the Tannyhill estate would raise questions but you didn't know where he would be. An idea suddenly popped up in your head and you decided to scroll through social media and find the nearest Kook party. You found one, just uploaded fifteen minutes ago, at Topper's house.

Parking in the street, you stare at the party in full swing. It has been a while since you've been to a party—too focused on working full-time at Sailor and taking care of your siblings—and the idea of going in unnerves you. You were still in uniform, well, it's something you try to wear everyday to get tips. A simple black crop top and a mini skirt. You find it ironic that you were at least dressed for the part.

Leveling some confidence, you push open the creaky door of your old car and head inside. It is absolutely crowded with people, with girls and guys drinking and dancing outside in the yard, near the pool, on the porch. Your eyes glaze over every single one of them, trying to find the one person you hope would be here.

You find Rafe near the back porch of the mansion. He's with a couple of his buddies, Topper being among them, and a girl on his arm as he holds a beer with the same hand. You weren't surprised in the slightest. This was his plan after all. You were just surprised by the feeling in your stomach.

The lick of jealousy you didn't understand where it came from.

You step up. His friends were the first to notice you, scanning over your body that you wish you had worn a jacket over yourself. When you are just in front of him, his gaze finally focuses and meets your gaze.

"Can we talk?" You ask, sparing no attention to the girl on him.

He scoffs, "fuck off."

Of course he's going to be an asshole. You didn't bother with entertaining his comment by grabbing his arm, pulling him up. You knew you didn't have the strength to take him completely so you were pleasantly surprised when he assisted and got up. He even pushed the girl to the side as you dragged him off to somewhere quiet.

Well, as quiet as the live party can be.

"What do you want?"

His words are sharp and harsh, but you expected nothing less. You figured something happened—that's why he entertains his vices, right?—and plus, you told him that you wanted nothing to do with him. If anything, he has a bit of justification to be pissed.

But that doesn't mean you would accept it.

"I was going to talk to you about your offer, but seeing as you're being too much of an ass, I guess I should come back another time," you snap, turning around to head out because fuck him. You weren't going to take it. You had other things to do. You would be forgiving, perhaps, if he actually talked to you about his problem but to be a dick off the bat? Not a chance in hell.

"Wait," he grabs your arm before you move far and this contrasts the strength you hold. One hand and a lazy attempt to hold you in place. "What do you want?"

He said that somewhat nicer.

You turn back with a glare, contemplating what to do, before remembering what's at stake. You're already here. Might as well get it over with.

"I'll do it." You say, your voice coming out smaller than you intended. It’s so embarrassing to ask for help. It feels even more so to backtrack into something you said you couldn't—wouldn't—do. "Be your fake girlfriend, I mean."

The corner of his lips quirks into an amused smile. Even in his drunk state, where his blond hair is darkened from the humidity of the space and his eyes glossed over, you can't help but admit how attractive he is. "Couldn't stay away, could you?"

"I'm not trying to be the next Mrs. Cameron," you snap, feeling the need to clarify. "But, I do need the payout."

His eyes narrow. "Thought you didn't want it?"

"I don't," you answer. "It's something else."

He tilts his head to the side, studying you. "What?"

Sighing, you wished you could talk somewhere more private. But, this truly is the best place you can get him. "When you get your father's company and start doing all the Kook bullshit of hosting charity events, galas, and dinners, I want you to use Sailor as your drink caterer."

It sounded like a good deal when you thought of it. You didn't want the money because you don't know how long this little facade is going to last. You needed something stable. You need something that would benefit you in the long-run. Since Sailor has been slipping off the profit margins and you've been dealing with some trouble regarding its ownership, you figured the business from all the catering would boost it up. It would give you status and credit. It would benefit you long after this engagement with Rafe ends.

His eyes look thoughtful of the idea. You wonder how he's calculating, how he's weighing the options about whether to accept your negotiation or to decline—telling you he already found a replacement. You hope it wasn't the latter. You needed this.

"No."

You clench your jaw. Of course. The one time you sought out help, instead of cleaning up the mess yourself, you got shut down. It's embarrassing.

"Fine." You say, ripping your arm out of his grasp and heading straight to the exit. You want to leave as soon as possible and use the time you should've spent going here to actually come up with a solution. It was a wasted effort on your end. You make a mental note of that.

Just a few steps short of the exit, some guy nearby grabs your arm and holds you in place. "Where you going, pretty?" He slurs his words, his eyes cascading down your body that you wished you pulled down the length of your skirt. "I didn't get the chance to talk to you."

You try to rip your arm off of his but his grip is firm. "Leave me alone."

"Come on, pretty," he gets closer, his intoxication reeking from his breath that you had to turn your head to avoid the smell. "I can make you feel real good."

Your hand clenched by your side while the other places a palm directly on his chest, trying to place some distance between you and the stranger before you commit to your next move. "If you don’t leave me alone—"

It happened in a flash. One minute he's holding you, the second he's getting knocked back with a punch delivered straight on the mouth.

You look up to see Rafe, his knuckles clenched and redden while the beer he was cradling had dropped on the ground into a million broken pieces. His breathing heavy while his eyes are a little distant, lagged out.

"Rafe," you call out, but before he gets the chance to face you, the drunk stranger comes staggering back with a punch in return. The crowd gasps and quickly moves out of the way as a circle forms, Rafe and the man trading swings.

No one is helping them. No one is attempting to. Rafe is significantly more drunk than the stranger, his footing is slightly off, and the drunkard is getting in more decks on Rafe's face.

When Rafe tries to duck from a delivery, the guy does directly to his stomach and it causes him to topple over with a grunt.

Having enough, you step forward and grab the stranger's shoulder. He turns around with a look of confusion—just in time for you to deck him as hard as your hand can swing, right in the face.

"Shit!" You swear under your breath, the blow rippling back and returning straight to your fist, aching.

The stranger staggers back, his back hitting the floor while you grab Rafe. You don't know where you're going, you don't know the layout of this house, but pushing through the crowd, you find an empty bedroom and slam the door close with a lock.

Thankfully, it had a bathroom attached to it. You set Rafe on the mattress as you flick the lights on and search for the cabinets for any aid. Rafe's bottom lip is busted, there's a cut on one of his brows, and bruising forming against his jawline. You don't even want to think about the mess on his knuckles.

Finding a first aid kit, you step back to see Rafe laid out against the mattress, his eyes closed. You rush to his side, afraid he has a concussion and he's falling asleep.

"Rafe!" You shout, hitting his cheeks with the back of your hand in light taps, causing his eyes to flutter open. "You can't do that."

Willing himself back to a sitting position with your assistance, you set the first aid kit to the side as you attempt to help him. Using your hands to cradle his face, you assess the damages.

"Where'd you learn to punch like that?" He asks, the heat of his gaze follows you as you remove your touch.

You shrug. "You need to learn two things growing up in The Cut," you hold up a finger, "how to deliver a good right hook,"

You pause for a moment.

Impatiently, he prompts. "And?"

You hold up his gold signet ring and his watch. "How to take advantage of a drunk."

He scoffs, snatching his things out of your grasp as you laugh, releasing some tension in your shoulders. "Pogue." He sneers.

"Kook." You retort, but there's a lightness in your tone.

Rafe says nothing as you return to your search through the aid kit. When you find what you were looking for, you start on his face, first cleaning the cut around his brow.

He hisses at the sting, but allows you to continue. It was an awkward position to be in, sitting beside him as you try to clean the damage, and he must've noticed how irritated you were getting with his constant shifts away from the pain. Without a word, he grabs your waist and pulls you into his lap with one swoop, both legs on either side of his waist as his hands settle on the small of your back.

"Better?" He questions, raising a brow.

You don't say anything, attempting to adjust your skirt rising up to your hips, before you nod.

Cleaning the wound, you tilt your head to examine what your next step should be. It's hard to figure out because the bruise is slowly forming and while the cut may be small right now, it's going to be nasty tomorrow.

To ease some tension of the silence, you prompt with a conversation. "You got into another fight with your dad?"

He stiffens under you, clenching his jaw. "What makes you say that?"

You feel his eyes trained on your face, but you refuse to acknowledge it. "Because you're out here getting drunk instead of getting wasted at my bar."

Rafe smirks. "Miss me?"

"No, it was good for business." You say, matter-of-fact, and the look on his face dies off. You feel guilty. Adding on, you rectify, "and, you would've had someone to talk to. I don't think the people around here are offering that."

He says nothing, watching you work. You exchanged the bloodied pads for some ointment.

"It's just about Sarah again." He mutters, almost like he didn't want you to hear but knowing you would. "Same shit. Same golden child."

You nod, finally flicking your gaze down to his. His blue eyes are so prominent now, so clear, you wonder if you could get lost in them.

Rafe doesn't disclose any details like he normally does. When he goes on long tangents about the problem. It must've been bad. So, you lower your hand and cup his face, tilting his face to meet yours. "Want to talk about it?"

He swallows hard. "I don't want to talk."

"What do you want to do?"

"Fuck." He answers without a thought, the ability to shift into a fuck-mode is easier than digesting his feelings. You laugh, inappropriately, dropping your hand from his cheeks. You're about to push yourself off his lap—having bandaged him up—and let him go find his next hookup, but his grip on your waist tightens.

He doesn't say anything with that move, and you tilt your head at him.

"I thought I was below your level?" You tease.

"Yet, you're sitting on my dick right now," he says, eyes following yours. "What do you think that means?"

While you're not directly on him, you can feel his hard-on swelling under his pants, lightly grazing against your core, and causing a small ache between your legs.

"That you're horny enough to go for a Pogue."

He scoffs, lowering his hands to your ass and palms the flesh. Your eyes flutter close at the moment. "Who knew you were hiding such a nice body behind that counter?"

"You just haven't been paying attention."

"I am now."

His hands lowering to your hips, slowly pulling you down his lap, realigning your cunt until it sits directly on top of his zipper. He leans forward, his hot mouth against your ear. "If I tell you to grind on me, would you do it?"

You place a hand on his chest, trying to ease some space between the two of you, but your attempt was weak. Some part of you didn't want to leave.

"You're pushing it."

"What if I told you it would make me feel better?" He whispers, his fingers trailing up your skirt, against your bare thighs, leaving goosebumps in its wake. "That you can consider it part of your deal."

Your breath hitch in surprise. "You're saying yes?"

"I was going to," he pulls back to meet your face, "but you ran away."

"You said no to me," you remind him.

"To rile you up," he says, like an asshole, and you scoff. "Didn't think you would just leave like that."

"Maybe you should give me clear answers then."

"Fine," his breath is right in front of yours. "I want you to ride me."

Your eyes trail his face, your hands finding his shoulders. You know you shouldn't. You know if this is supposed to be fake, why do you feel a deep, carnal urge for him. If this happens, it opens the door to other things. But, something in you softens. He did get a bruise for you. He did defend you. He's in pain and you're in need.

Maybe you could use each other.

Slowly, your hips roll against his. The look on his face hints at surprise that you took the bait and causes you to smirk, gripping his shoulders harder when you find the hard cock lined against your panties. You press down.

"Fuck," he groans raspily, "just like that."

The praise lights something in you. "Like that?" You repeat, pushing yourself against his jeans, rubbing up and down, that you can feel him grow harder and harder against the seams of his pants. He nods shakily. "Is it making you feel better, baby?"

He knows you're taunting him, using his words, but he fucking loves it. You're listening. For once, you're not actively trying to spite him and knock back—but willing, to him.

"That's right," he compliments, his gaze following your body as you are starting to find a rhythm against him. Your movements are getting sloppier. "Just what I need. A Pogue who listens to whatever I fucking say."

You nod vigorously, feeling your wetness growing against your panties, drenching the material enough to leak through and rub off against the front of his pants.

"God, look at you," he muses in your ear, glancing down, and a chuckle leaves his throat. "You made such a mess."

"Feel so good," you moan, you tip your head back as the friction of his jeans feels incredibly perfect against your swollen clit.

"Come on, sweetheart," his grip around your waist tightens, afraid with the way you're moving, you're going to fall off. "Ride me."

You follow his direction, quickening your pace as low groans and rasps leaves his lips at the sensation you're making him feel. The sound is like drugs to you, fueling you, because you want to desperately help him arrive at his own climax.

You wrap both your arms around his neck, grinding ruthlessly against his lap. Leaning forward, you dip your face into the crook of his neck. "Come on, Rafe," you whisper into his ear, closing into your own orgasm. "Come for me."

As you came with a moan, your movements didn't stop. Your legs ache, begging to stop, but you want him to get there too.

"Fuck, fuck," he moans at your aggression, at how hard you're pressed against him, moving against him, it's a mesmerizing sight. "I'm coming."

You feel it against your core. The subtle twitch of his dick under the jeans. The faint wetness under you, mixed with your own cum, produces a small smile against your lips.

You slow your grind, pulling back, just to meet his eyes clearing from their post-orgasmic haze, and his grip has weakened significantly around your body. When you stop completely, you push yourself off of him, finding your feet on solid ground with wobbly legs.

"Better?" You tease, to which he nods weakly through heavy-lids. With a satisfied smile, you turn around and head for the door.

"I'll see you on our first date."

IMPORTANT INFO ABOUT TAGLIST AND UPDATES: if you want to be notified about all my fics and updates, follow @zyafics-library and turn on notifications! however, if you want to be added to this specific taglist, let me know (but to remain tagged, you must interact with the posts).

TAGLIST FOR PF: @quicksilversg1rl / @uraesthete / @maybankslover / @trshngyn / @irides-solstice / @kur0obaby / @groovycass / @emmalandry / @outlawedmando / @ditzyzombiesblog / @mattyskies / @sunshinepanic / @too-deviant / @rafesgiirl / @rivaiken / @ficluvr / @bunniii-98 / @vvvhack @babygoddam / @cami-is-reading / @peachesmilk / @whore4fictionalman / @artemiswinnick / @janediazwindsor / @pandora-rosier1 / @solanathascientst / @ditzyzombiesblog / @itshellie / @grace-sully / @loveyouok / @tayrcse / @mysteris-things / @ella131989 / @starrkissezz / @sanriobuny / @alyssax25 / @chopshopcheesecake

Navigation — Part 01 | Part 02 | Part 03

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bunny-jpeg · 10 months ago

Note

hi! i was wondering if i could order pull-apart bread, sweet pastry and hot cross buns, with a side of cider and chocolate milk, for sub!max verstappen? nobody really writes anything about the reader body worshiping him and his softer body, which would be nice to reassure him about. id love to hold his love handles 🥹

thank you so much in advance if you’re up for doing this! 💙

bakery menu

submissions to the bakery are open! i'm accepting them all the time, even if they take a little while to get uploaded, i am constantly working on 'em! so thank you! and for this anon! hello!!! this is amazing, what the hell! i feel the same way, folks don't really write about it in fan fics (i've seen posts wax poetically about it though). so yes, this was awesome to write! thank you <333

pull-apart bread ("i love you") + sweet pastry ("i'll make it all better.") + hot cross buns ("don't hide your face from me. i'd hate to have to tie you up.") + cider (body worship) + chocolate milk (tenderness) served by max verstappen (formula one)!!

cw: smut/pwp, sub!max, body worship, tender sex, cowgirl position, bondage, praise kink, dom!reader, insecurities, love & intimacy

it wasn't that you were going to fight people online over your boyfriend. it was a pointless endeavor to snap back at someone on twitter of all places! especially someone with a lando norris icon. but if you saw one more comment about your boyfriend's body online, you're going to kick something.

you loved max, that was why you were with him. but, you worried about him. underneath everything, there was soft center to him. and sometimes the wrong comment got through all the layers and right to the middle.

it just so happened the comments you hated the most were the ones about his body.

it was near the end of the off-season, you two had come back from a sunny trip to celebrate the time together. it left your poor boyfriend a little more pink than usual. especially around the shoulders, where he was shirtless most of the time.

you loved how he looked regardless. he was immensely strong in ways you couldn't fully grasp. you were always impressed by his ability to pick you up and kiss you. you believed that people had a skewed notion of what "hot" men should be built like. and you blamed it marvel movies and alpha male podcasts. max was not a dehydrated body builder. layered on top of the strength was a certain softness and made at the very least you drool at the sight of.

he was strong, but enjoyed food. he liked his sweets on weekends and a little extra at dinner. it didn't help with the constant weigh-ins and other measurements for formula one. so when you noticed his eyes on another cruel post online in response to a photo of him shirtless. you wanted to take that phone and toss it out the window.

you watched him turn off the screen and put the phone down on his chest. the room felt tense and your fingers went into his short hair. he tried to pull away, but with a tiny bit of force kept him close. you knew what he was thinking. just like everything else, max verstappen had crippling self-doubt.

"max. my love."

"yeah.." he said softly. the self-doubt that followed him like a shadow seemed to encrouch in his mind. you could tell even if you couldn't see his full expression.

you took the phone and placed it on the coffee table. you ran your fingers through his hair and looked down at him. fingers trailed down his jaw. "why don't we forget about that and go to the bedroom. "i'll make it all better."

you were in bed with him soon enough. he left his t-shirt and loose shorts on as your hands roamed his body. your lips on his neck, jaw and face. little unsaid promises of how handsome he was. "don't listen to them."

"what if they're right."

"when has a formula one fan ever been right about anything? you know some people online make ragebait. they're trying to get a rise out of other fans and cause in fighting."

"if i tried a little harder... i could look more like the others."

you made him look at you. his blue eyes seemed sad, like cloudy skies over a rocky shoreline. he couldn't meet your gaze, he was almost embarrassed. "max, look at me."

he made eye contact with you, "i could... if i tried."

you held his face a little tighter as he looked away. you said to him, "max, you are training all the time. you push yourself to limits that could kill many others. you work harder than a work horse with half the pay sometimes." you kissed the bridge of his nose, "i don't know who planted these ideas into your head." you had an idea, two names came to mind that made you frown. that was neither here nor there, "but, i love how you look."

his eyes shifted away from you. embarrassed. this entire thing felt embarrassing. he was insecure like a teenage girl at the moment because some random person online called him a stupid name.

"max. don't hide your face from me. i'd hate to have to tie you up." you said, trying to insert a joke to lighten the mood. you watched his demeanor shift and his eyes meet yours.

"would you.. tie me up? make me forget everything for a little bit?" he asked softly, his words almost tripped over one another. while most would've sought heavy therapy and an early retirement for their issues. max tried to cover them up, and sometimes that meant being your good boy.

"then tell me one thing, max."

"anything." he replied.

"say one nice thing about your appearance. anything. just one thing. and then i'll get what we need.' you promised, sealing it with a kiss on the cheek.

he swallowed, not knowing what to say. he shifted a little in his spot on the bed before he sighed. eventually he responded with, "my nose." he said, eyes on yours, "i like my nose. makes me stand out a little more."

you smiled a little bit and kissed him on the cheek, a gestured he melted into you. you replied, "and i love your nose too. i'm proud of you, max. good boy."

he said, "i love you."

and before you pulled away to get the roped needed for tonight, you said to him, "i love you too." then quickly ran your finger down his nose, "i love you, your nose, those eyes. every last inch of skin. your strength and your softness. it makes you perfect to me and those jealous bitches on twitter can't say anything about it." you broke into a further smile.

max chuckled slightly, he found you language amusing. the internet was troll heaven, but sometimes he needed his guiding light to not get himself sucked into the chaos of his doubts. he watched you pull away from him and get off the bed. he took off his shirt and shorts, he tried not too think too hard, but rather keep his eyes on you.

when you went to the dresser to find what you needed, he propped himself against the rod-iron headboard. usually he didn't like them, but when he discovered his affection for bondage early into your relationship, the headboard was perfect to keep him bound.

you returned to the bed, placing the two pieces of rope down onto the bed before you started to strip out of your clothes. once naked you got into bed with him. your hands roamed his chest and straddled his waist.

"you're so handsome, max. jesus christ. look at you." you smiled down at him. skin so soft, he was just perfect and you couldn't believe it. you rubbed up against him a little more and explored his torso with your hands, you watched him squirm a little under your touch. he shuddered a little.

“i'm not that-"

“max verstappen. shush. i don't want to hear it.” you rubbed up against the bulge in his briefs. you held onto his shoulders a little as you moved. the dry humping felt good and left excitement racing through your lover, “that's it. that's my good boy.”

he groaned a little, which only go louder when you stopped your movements to grab the ropes. he dropped his wrists to the bed and let you tie them to the bars of the headboard by the mattress. he melted a little against it while you took his cock out of his briefs. the underwear was off him in no time and you got straddled on his waist with your hands on his shoulders once more.

you eyed him with heavy lust, “i know those idiots say that you're too fat or soft. well, i think they're blind. i think they're a whole bunch of idiots. you are perfect, turn me on every chance you get.” you took his face in your hands and kissed him as you continued to rub up against him. he panted against you when you broke the kiss soon after.

words of protest hung on max's tongue, but he never said anything further. this wasn't going to be a thing he could win. no matter what he said, you have a rebuttal. it was a losing battle, so he'd simply have to put his trust into you. if you found him hot beyond words, then you'd have to listen. but the fight was fully gone when you seated yourself onto his cock, then sank down on it to the base. he yanked against the ropes a little bit and found euphoria in the knowledge that you tied the ropes just as he liked them. tightly.

“planning to fight against them, max?" you asked as you raked your fingers down his pale chest, "you wouldn't do that, would you? because you're my good boy! my handsome good boy. with those dazzling eyes and stunning laugh. when you smile i'm in heaven. especially when yo let me make both of us feel good.

he shook his head, his cheeks grew hot from your gaze on him. if he was hot, then you were gorgeous. you were an inferno made human. the most beautiful woman he had ever laid his eyes on. the kind of beauty that brought him to his knees. he breathed heavily as the pleasure started to build in the bottom of his gut. his cock twitched a little bit the more you rode him.

he loved being at your mercy, under your thumb in a sexual manner. he bad so many choices all day, sometimes with only seconds to make them. so it was nice. to be in the comfort of your shared bed and letting you take what you needed from him. to give you total control. to love him, shower him in the praise he desired.

“i love you.” you said,

“i love you too.”

you started to move faster, really working your hips, making sure you could do as much as you could. you moaned a little bit and felt the stutter in your heart from the heat of everything. you pushed hair out of your face as you continued to ride him. the feeling between you two was electric. you said to him, “you're so handsome. fuck, you're perfect.” you started to move faster.

max bit back a moan but it spilled out when you crashed your lips against him. he almost whimpered from the fast speed. how good you took him. it made him clench his fists to try to compose himself. his chest rose and fell heavily he tensed up a little bit at the throb of lust in his body. you kissed him once more as you went as fast as you could go. you bounced on his cock and your nails dug into his jaw and shoulders.

the noises between you two were erotic. it was desperate on max's end. he wanted to make you feel good while also chasing his own pleasure. he fought a little bit against constraints. he was a little jerky as he tensed up. he could feel it all crashing down on him. no longer the lingering feeling of self-doubt but rather he heat of pleasure. the need to climax. to get out of his own head with the erotic bliss.

“please, my love. please.” he swallowed as his back arched a little. he leaned up to give you more kisses and watched you melt against him while your hips still moved. you held his face with both hands and clenched your thighs. he made a sweet, high pitched, almost whine like noise when you pulled away.

you carded your fingers through his hair and admired those blue eyes clouded in lust. “you're perfect, max. every inch of you. every spot you hate, i love more. damn those fuckers on twitter, they don't get to see what i see. everything.” you went in for another kiss and clutched onto his shoulders tightly as you came around his cock. your back arched and max went in to kiss your collarbones with such tenderness.

“my good boy.” you said out of breath as you continued to move against him. your cunt clutched around him as you kept your pace steady despite the tremor in your thighs. you knew max wanted to hold onto you and work your hips up and down his cock. but, you were in control. so you examined his expressions as you continued to move.

the kisses became sloppy once more as you brought max to his own climax. as he tensed up, he really yanked at the ropes for a good few moments before he felt all the fight leave his body. his eyes almost rolled back into his head from the head rush. he relaxed against the headboard and panted heavily.

he looked erotic, but totally blissed out. so when you stopped your motions. you kissed him gently on the lips before you got off his cock and felt his cum run down your leg as you tried to find your panties. once they were on, you smothered him in kisses and praise as you got the ropes off of him. you kissed his wrists and he slipped down onto the bed. the mattress felt nice against his body. he felt on cloud nine.

you rubbed his cheek for a moment with your thumb as you said, “i'm going to go get you some water. you just stay here, i'll be right back. now before i go i have to ask one thing. say one thing you like about yourself?"

he shakily exhaled while he leaned into your touch. his eyes were somewhat closed when he answered, sounding far away, “my eyes. they intimidate people. but not you. you love them.” then leaned further.

you smiled and kissed the top of his head, “that's what i like to hear. next time i want two things before and after we have sex. got it? i'm going to make you love yourself.”

he chuckled softly, cheeks pink, “easier said than done.”

you tapped his cheek before you moved away to go get him some water. you said to him while you approached the bedroom door, “max verstappen, you know i'm as stubborn as you are. ” then left to go get him some water. you could only hope you could make a dent in healing some of his doubt issues. and while you couldn't fight people on twitter, you could kiss and love the man you called your boyfriend. <3

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ravenstargames · 25 days ago

Text

✦ LOST IN LIMBO DEVLOG #19 | 06.02.2025

Happy Pride month besties! 💜 Yes, this year too we'll have a Pride month piece, but it's in the making!

This month has been packed with concept art and getting the new update ready, so there's not that much to write about. Showing all the concept art would spoil the artbook, so apologies if this devlog looks shorter than it should. Don't worry, we are still going full-speed ahead! Let's jump into it!

World, meet your trustworthy sidekick, she who has had your back since the beginning—Evie!

You already know a bit of her; she likes everything related to the occult world, is a prime member of the Faybourne Waterpolo Club, and her favorite color is blue!

Evie's base sprite is finished, so now we gotta jump to her expressions. Those are fairly easy and quick (Raquel's words, not mine), so I expect to start coding kind of soon! ✨

Also, concept art on the MC's dear mom is done! So we've moved on to the sprite phase, and also started working on the concept art of MC's troublemaking grandmother. Kickstarter folks will have ✨juicy✨ previews on that content, so y'all will have to wait for a bit as per usual!

May has been Amon's month. I've been writing the first chapter of his route, as well as editing the prologue following our editor's guidelines. I think this month will be packed of corrections, and I'm excited to tackle them!

As y'all know, demo update 1.1.0 (now 1.1.1, as some characters were very insistent in partaking in some floating activities) went live! This month I've been working on patching stuff as well as refining the android build. I originally used two different projects for the PC version and the mobile one, but after lady and savior Feniks graced me with knowledge once more, I dipped my toes into Ren'py variants; and it's been going great! After publishing these devlogs, I'll start uploading the new android build everywhere 💜✨

Kayden has been working on more mini-CGs to enhance the ✨experience✨of the new prologue! Amongst those CGs, we have the Sovereign's hospitality in the shape of breakfast. I wonder who delivers it...?

So now that we've seen how the concept art / sprite part of it all works with Airyn's addition to the team, we're confident things will be up to speed in the upcoming months! Airyn works like a beast, has amazing ideas, and executes them flawlessly, with the addition of being a great friend of ours!

What else...I'm still working on my investigation plan (my PhD, hahaa...), Raquel is now taking driving lessons, and she's also been working on the Pride Month piece. We got a sketch yesterday but agreed to modify it a bit after some thought. Initially, Gael was going to be the one getting an illustration for Pride Month this year, but things didn't go as planned (Raquel was frustrated with not being able to come up with a good idea for him) and Amon has taken his place. Happens to the best of us!

Work this month has been good! A lot of concept and planning that we can't show (well, Kickstarter folks will see more of it) but that is vital for the development of the game. I'm not going to ramble a lot in this one—sometimes you've to go straight to the point!

Thank you everyone who played our 1.1.1 update; thank you for the comments, well-wishes, feedback, and everything else. Also, thanks for keeping our ask box lively and overflowing! 💜

Let's see each other around!

#lost in limbo #visual novel #otome #indiedev #devlog

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n0vazsq · 4 months ago

Text

Gasoline | Pablo Gavi x Reader

pairing . . . gavi x gf!reader

summary . . . When the world starts shipping him with random girls and influencers, Gavi decides to soft launch you two to shut them up. Little did he know, that only escalated things more, leading him to 'accidentaly' post a picture of you two on his social media.

request . . . yes!! based on this request!

word count . . . 1k+

warnings . . . none!

faceclaim . . . N/A

alexavia yaps . . . gang nvm the name i was gonna do angst and this is a random ass fic bc i'm not uploading smh </3 anyway it's short and not proofread so ignore any typos or mistakes ALSO ITS VERY CRINGE I DIDNT KNOW WHAT TO PROVIDE IM SORRY

. . . "Are you sure I can post this, amor?" Pablo said, eyes full of concern as he searched your face for any hint of hesitance. This morning, he had come into your shared room, huffing and sighing as he showed you what seemed like the millionth edit of someone shipping him with an influencer.

You really didn't mind those edits, in fact, you quite enjoyed seeing Gavi get mad and annoyed at them. He had always complained to you about this, and even warned you about when you two first started dating. It was hilarious to see him pace around the room in frustration.

"I am sure, carino. Post as many pictures as you want, as long as you're happy, I guess." You shot him a playful grin, as he laughed and started showing you the collection of pictures he chose to post.

One was of your hands clasped together in front of a beautiful lake, another was of him hugging you with his face buried in your hair, another was one of you two making snow angels in the snow.

Pablo, of course, had made sure your face wasn't visible in any of these pictures, not even remotely. You saw him checking the selection of pictures over and over again, as if your face would magically appear in one of them. And when you tried to take the phone from his hands to post the pictures, he gave you a vexed face and continued inspecting.

Finally, after what seemed like millenniums, the soft launch was posted. Not even a minute later, there were over a thousand notifications, with almost eighy percent of them asking who the 'mystery woman' was. You glanced at your phone, seeing a few people mentioning you in the post.

Pablo groaned, running a hand through his already messy hair as he scrolled through the comments.

"WHO IS SHE???"

"I NEED ANSWERS. ASAP"

"this has to be an influencer bc there's no way he's soft launching some normal girl."

"omggg is it (random influencer's name)??"

You bit your lip, stifling a laugh as Pablo's jaw clenched. His grip on the phone tightened, and he let out a frustrated sigh before tossing it onto the bed.

"This is worse than before," he muttered, rubbing his temples.

"I mean…" you teased, nudging his side. "You did post the pictures. Did you really think they'd just say ‘okay’ and move on?"

Pablo groaned again, flopping onto the bed dramatically. "Amor, they're literally coming up with theories already. Look at this one." He held up his phone, showing you a tweet where someone had zoomed in on your hand and was trying to match your ring to different influencers.

You couldn't help but burst into laughter. "No way, are they seriously investigating my jewelry now?"

Pablo sat up, huffing. "This was supposed to shut them up, not make them even more annoying." His brows furrowed as he swiped through more comments. "You know what?" His voice had that familiar stubborn edge, the same one he had whenever he decided to prove a point.

"What?" you asked, watching as he opened his camera roll.

"If they want a picture so bad," he muttered, tapping furiously at his phone, "I'll give them one."

Before you could even process what was happening, he had posted a picture, one that he definitely hadn’t meant to. It wasn’t just another soft launch shot; it was a full on, undeniable, exposed confirmation.

A mirror selfie. You, standing in front of him, his arm wrapped protectively around your waist, and his lips pressed against the top of your head. Your face wasn’t even hidden, just slightly turned, but clear enough for people to recognize you.

Your jaw dropped. "Pablo!"

His rubbed the back of his neck slowly as he realized what he had done. "Mierda." His phone buzzed like crazy, notifications rolling in at an unstoppable speed.

"GAVI JUST HARD LAUNCHED AND I CAN'T BREATHE"

"NO WAY DID HE POST THIS BY ACCIDENT????"

"THE MYSTERY GIRL HAS A FACE. WE HAVE A FACE"

"she's so pretty omg?? i'm obsessed"

Your eyes narrowed as you studied Pablo’s face. His lips were pressed together like he was trying way too hard to look innocent, but the slight twitch at the corner of his mouth gave him away. "Did you really just-" You smacked his arm lightly, still in shock. "Pablo." You crossed your arms. "Did you just accidentally hard launch us?"

He blinked. "Si?"

You smacked his arm again. "You so did that on purpose!"

A guilty grin finally broke through his fake confusion, and he shrugged. "Maybe."

You gasped. "Pablo!"

"What?" he said, feigning innocence. "They were annoying me, amor. I had to make it clear. I'm your boyfriend, and I wanted everyone to know it." He leaned in, tilting his head slightly. "You're mad?"

You huffed, trying to hold onto your fake outrage, but the way he was looking at you; so smug yet so utterly whipped, made it impossible. "You could've at least warned me before declaring to the entire world that I'm your girlfriend."

Pablo just grinned, completely unbothered. "Where's the fun in that?" He held up his phone again, scrolling through the chaos he had created. "Mira esto," he said, showing you a tweet.

"GAVI REALLY SAID "HERE SHE IS, NOW SHUT UP" HELPPP"

"so…when's the wedding?"

"BRO IS WHIPPED LMFAOOO"

You bit your lip, warmth creeping up your neck and cheeks as you read the endless comments. The fans were going crazy, but instead of speculating or hating, they were supporting.

Pablo wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you flush against him. "Carino, I'd do it again, you know." His voice was softer now, more serious. "I don't care what people say. I just wanted everyone to know that I'm yours, and you're mine."

Your heart melted right then and there.

With a dramatic sigh, you shook your head. "You're still an idiot."

He grinned widly. "Tu idiot." And before you could argue, he pressed a quick kiss to your lips; undeniable proof that, yeah, maybe he did know exactly what he was doing.

taglist . . . @barcapix ,, @f1lover55 ,, @ilovebarcaaaa ,, @notm4d1 ,, @httpsdana ,, @paucubarsisimp ,, @bernalswifeyy ,, @nngkay ,, @justaf1girl ,, @iamred-iamyellow (lmk if you want to join the taglist!)

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gavisfanta · 3 months ago

Text

GHOSTFACE - PEDRI

summary: its halloween and somehow you never made it to the Halloween party you were invited to with your boyfriend.

a/n: sorry guys this fic is so bad... ill upload a better one on Wednesday I promise

warnings: smut 18+, unprotected sex

October 31st, the night of Halloween

You never liked Halloween, mostly because everyone always wore those cute couple costumes while you had nobody to match with. Today was diffrent, because this year you started dating Pedri, and since Halloween is his favourite season, you two are dressing up.

"I look hilarious." Pedri stated as he came into the bathroom where you were doing your make up. You turned around so you could look at him and the view didnt disappoint. He was wearing a way too big shirt which was cut up a bit with matching baggy pants. The fabric was a bit tighter on his shoulder and neck which made him look so attractive.

"Please, you look so hot." You told him while you smiled and moved closer to him.

He grinned at you while he grabbing your waist and pulling your body against his.

"Hm, am I?" He asked while planting a soft kiss on your lips. You looked up at him with eyes full of admiration. You answered by nodding your head and he kissed you again.

"You look way better. I have to concentrate not to stare at your tits in this corset. They look so good." He mumbled as his eyes drifted off to your bare chest that was poking out of your corset.

You smiled while pulling him in for a kiss, however, that small kiss turmed into a heavy makeout session as he pushed you against the wall of the bathroom. Over some time, both of yalls clothes were on the floor and Pedri lifted you up so that you could wrap your legs around his waist while he carried you to the bedroom.

As he put you down, he sat down on the edge of the bed and looked up at you.

He smiled as you pushed him back so he would lay down in the centre of the huge bed he owned. You slowly got on the bed and lifted your right leg to get over him.

So as you were hoovering over his tall standing dick, you smiled at him, however Pedri grabbed your waist with his eft hand and with his right one, he alined his dick with your pussy.

"You want to be inside of me that bad?" You smiled, you had always loved teasing him, especially when he was this needy. He wasn't all smiles, he always was when it was the other way around and he teased you, but now you had control over the situation.

"Little Pedro wants to fuck me that bad? No baby, today I'll be the one fucking you." You smiled and leaned forward to his neck, planting kisses on the vein in his neck. At first you just kissed him, then you began to suck on his skin, until you were sure he had a clearly visible hickey.

However that wasn't enough for you, you switched the side of his neck and began to suck on his skin there too. As you were occupied, Pedri was stroking your hair while small groans escaped his lips.

When you were satisfied with your work, you sat down on his hips and his hands made his way over to your waist, slowly moving you back and forth. Your swollen pussy lips rubbed against his abdomen, making you moan lightly, you threw your head back as your stomach cramped.

Pedri grabbed your hair at the back of your head and pulled you towards himself.

"Get on my dick amor. Now." He whispered into your ear and then let go of your hair. You sat up again and began to move your hips on your own, he felt the wetness from your pussy spread on his skin.

"So needy? Can't you wait til I cum, cause it looked like you wanted me to ride your stomach?" You mumbled and flipped your hair so it would all hang down on the right side of your head. "Or do you want to see me ride your abs?" You asked and pushed yourself off of him, he watched you turn around so that he was facing your ass, you moved a bit back so that your pussy would be rubbing against his abs. You made sure to arch your back so thag he had a good view of your ass.

"Joder." Pedri whispered, he grabbed your ass and squeezed it lightly while his eyes were glued to your swollen pussy lips rubbing against his abs.

Your gaze however was fixated on his dick that was standing tall and proud. The veins clearly visible as it twitched from time to time.

You then decided on turning around again, so as you were facing him again, you saw the way he began to get red as you slowly lowered yourself onto his dick. Taking in his tip at first and then the rest of his cock, you had to moan out loud, the way he stretched you out was almost too much.

You slowly began to ride his dick while moaning his name. "fuck Pedri, youre so big." He had an obvious reaction to your words, cause he pushed himself up into you and you stopped riding for a second.

"Nuh uh," You shook your head and then kept riding his dick real fast again. The pleasure was too good, you had to hold yourself back so you wouldnt cum so soon.

After a bit of time, you began to notice that Pedri squeezed his eyes shut from time to time, at the same time he grabbed your hips.

"Fuck amor get off" Pedri mumbled as he gripped your hips even harder, his fingers burning into your skin in a good kind of way.

"No" You moaned out as you began to ride him even faster, moving your hips back and forth while he threw his head back. "Fuck get off baby, I'm gonna cum." Pedri moaned.

"No, cum inside me." You said breathlessly while looking at him, your mouth slightly open as silent moans escaped it.

"We're not using a condom." Pedri's grip tightened once again and you shook your head while your hair was getting in the way. Your hips started moving even faster as you slowly felt your high approach.

"I don't care, cum inside me, creampie me." You moaned out as his legs began to shake, loud moans escaped his lips and he began to thrust up into your pussy.

His dick twitched inside of you and you felt his cum filling your pussy up.

Both of your orgasms lasted so long, after you began to come down from your high, you leaned forward and pushed yourself further down on his dick, just to take it all it.

"Fuck that was amazing." You said, fully out of breath while Pedri closed his eyes while he tried to catch his breath.

"Youre fucking amazing baby." Pedri mumbled as he looked up at the ceiling, a small smile displayed on his lips.

"Mhm." You leaned forward and pecked his lips. "I love you."

Please use protection guys. Pregnancy is no joke 😔��🏻

#gavisfanta #barca #fc barcelona #football #futbol #fanfic #send asks #send me asks #pablo gavi #gavi #pedri gonzalez x you #pedri imagine #pedri x reader #pedri fic #pedri gonzalez #pedri #pedri smut

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phoenixyfriend · 6 months ago

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Holiday Rec List

Alright, got a couple requests on this post, and I'll toss in some holiday-ish fics as well. I'm going to keep this list to Star Wars.

Time Travel - Got its own post

Friends to lovers

The most unique concepts you’ve come across

Leaning more into the prequel tragedy vibes, even through AUs

Holiday Fics

In my cultural background, presents are given on New Year's Day due to changes that were enacted a few decades back to marry the several religions and different calendars that were in use throughout Yugoslavia. Christmas is Jan. 7th for me and mine, but Dec. 25th for the Croats, and the Bosniaks were majority Muslim, so the the gift giving was moved to the secular holiday instead, and a lot of people never switched back.

The clock just hit midnight. Happy New Year! Here's the gift!

(I've tagged what authors I could.)

Friends to Lovers

I find this prompt a bit broad, but here's a few good ones.

Rivers and Roads by PhenomenalWoman This is an Anakin Skywalker/Kitster Banai fic, with an overarching plot of Saving Tatooine.

you, or your memory by cinnamonsalt Obikin, Amnesia AU. Obi-Wan, not remembering how he half-raised Anakin, no longer has any compunctions against flirting with his best friend.

In Your Dreams! by @exonerin Mermaid Anakin! Dream invasions! Also Obikin.

To Our Halcyon Days by @krispyscreams, @lothcatthree QuinObi, and IDK if I'd call it Friends to Lovers so much as Friends to Lovers to Friends to Married to Co-Parents to Friends to--

A Smile Full of Sunshine by @jayofolympus Anidala falling for Rex, who is already dreadfully in love with them both.

24 Seconds by @c-m-li-s-fanfic-corner QuinObi, though it's mostly in hindsight? IDK I just wanted an excuse to recommend this one, it's really good.

The Creche by @blue-sunshine-mauve-morning Obikin, but they don't meet until Anakin's an adult and already considering Ahsoka for an apprentice... and Ahsoka's crechemaster is Obi-Wan! They become friends, get a little side-tracked by a bunch of drama that often takes the shape of Qui-Gon Jinn, and then resolve things to kiss.

falling up by @obiwanobi, @shatouto More of a... Enemies to Friends to Lovers then just the last two. Obikin, unsurprisingly (y'all have the best fics for some reason, I swear), in a RaisedSith!Ani universe.

He Said Yes by @threebea QuinObi, omegaverse, very qpp. Are they even lovers? Unclear. They're married, though.

Concord Dawn Bed & Breakfast by @ironhoshi Modern AU, QuinObi. Obi-Wan's family inn is haunted. Like, so haunted.

Out in the Corner of the Dark with You by @kazmirone Another Obikin! This one's omegaverse.

within and without by @maderilien Rexwalker go on a date!

Supplemental Equipment Maintenance by subtropicalStenella Time to get some Rexsoka in here! It's very, very horny, and very, very explicit. Fun!

Most Unique Concepts

Post Order 66 Exile AU by @livsy Partial O66 AU, lots of dead Jedi but not all. Everyone wants Anakin to be locked up or even executed for the Vader Stuff, but instead he's taken away by Obi-Wan for In The Field Rehabilitation. I'm not describing it well, but it's a very easy fic to get invested in.

The Dutiful Wife by Dirtymindtrick (Dancinglightsabers) X-rated, noncon bodymod, noncon sex. But damn is it unique. (Palpatine/Obi-Wan, beware the tags)

stubborn in the bones by @tideswept Anakin is a magical panther cub. Then he grows up and turns into a catboy, and it becomes Obikin.

The Care and Feeding of Our Jedi by @bitter-chocolate-stars I love a good epistolary fic, and this one is real solid. Clones POV.

Palpatine is Arrested for Fashion Crimes by @jedi-order-apologist Exactly what it says on the tin.

ForTheRepublic.mp4 by @padmestrilogy You don't need to know the YouTuber being referenced to find this funny, but it sure does help. Also, nothing can sell this one better than the official summary:

Popular HoloTuber Spacebomberguy uploads an exposé on Chancellor Palpatine, resulting in destructive results.

Skywalker Family Values by Ariel_Sojourner Did you ever want canonverse Parent Trap AU where Luke and Leia decide to sabotage an imperial propaganda event and it helps topple Sidious? It's the best.

The Warrior and the Pacifist by @threebea I'm biased but everyone should read this. Duke Kryze/Jaster Mereel.

Some Assembly Required by beasfics Seemingly on hiatus? But the premise is very fun, that Myles the Mandalorian and Obi-Wan have a bond for years before they ever met, and it has... consequences? Results. Effects. Things happen, basically.

sometimes, the feeling is right by @ossidae-passeridae Obi-Wan is intersex, in a way that's reflective of real-world forms of intersexuality. The fic is from the POV of his rather frustrated medic.

Lion Jinn by @esamastation After the events of TPM, Anakin breaks into a zoo in Theed, and steals a lion cub that is apparently Qui-Gon Jinn reincarnated.

every planet, every star, every single grain of sand by @loosingmoreletters Just gonna use the author's summary:

In which Darth Vader finds 9-year-old Luke on Tatooine, proceeds to have a breakdown, kills Palpatine and makes his preteen son Emperor, as you do. Otherwise known as the Adventures of Teeny Tiny Emperor Luke and his Royal Dad Guard Darth Vader.

Rulebreaker/Wildheart by chapstickaddict IDK if I'd call it unique as a concept (raised a Sith!Anakin, after Padme's death, falls in love with Obi-Wan), but it's uniquely good in its execution, so I'm counting it. I think about it often, and some of it has definitely influenced my own writing and AUs.

Fishhooks by @yellowocaballero Boba was quick-aged to about eight years old and then decanted to age normally, so he's about eighteen at the time of the war, and doing a Mandalorian rumspringa. Unfortunately, little sister Omega, ten years old, stows away with him, and Kamino is pissed about it.

My Dad the Purge Trooper by @nutella531 Purge Trooper Cody takes his job, "protect Luke" very seriously. So seriously that he abducts the kid to protect him from Vader.

R2-D2 Saves the Galaxy (Okay, so Obi-Wan helps a little) by @feybarn Exactly what it says on the tin. Takes place in AotC. R2 causes Obi-Wan to become an unwilling emperor, among other things. The entire fic is just comedic escalation after comedic escalation, purely accidental on Obi-Wan's part, and very much intentional on R2's.

A Star to Steer By by @dogmatix, @norcumii Okay so yes it's a crossover and thus by default much more unique. But also. It's so good, guys. I read this before I watched Stargate, and it was just as amazing then. It's like 115k so far and not yet done. Go read it, shoo.

Pitter Patter by IronCannon There are tiny versions of the Jedi that live parallel to the Jedi themselves. Sometimes multiple versions of a given Jedi!

Unmake Me (Not For Long) by Utter_Immolation Winter Soldier Ahsoka.

forge the iron in your veins by @afearsomecritter To quote the summary: "The Jedi are warships, and the clones were made for them."

Legally Blonde Jedi AU by @trixree After Melida/Daan, Obi-Wan didn't rejoin the Jedi. He went to law school. Then became a lawyer, married Maul, and adopted Anakin Skywalker. Not in that order. Also most of it is Fox POV. And it's amazing.

The Corteous Art of Correspondence During A Galactic War as Performed Aptly by Certain Sith and Jedi by @je-suis-deux Epistolary fic. Rael sends letters to Count Dooku. They're not very pleasant letters.

Be Careful What You Sith For by @11paruline44 Sithly magic reveals 'cause of death' for every individual in the galaxy! Things happen quickly after that.

Untitled Soulmate Game by @twilightofthe ObiAnidala are being harassed by magic geese into soulmate-hood. This is one of the first Star Wars fics I ever read. I still come back to it sometimes.

Prequel Tragedy Fics

in the fractions of our lives lost to peace by @loosingmoreletters Force Dyad but make it horror.

Twilight on Owl Creek Bridge by @yellowocaballero I'm also reccing this in the time travel list, but it is SUCH a good tragedy. Leans heavily into how the march of a whole government towards fascism isn't something that can be avoided with just one small change. There is no one big shift.

at the edge of the cliff by @loosingmoreletters Anakin doesn't fall during RotS, and neither does the Republic... but Padme's still dead, and Anakin's teetering at the edge of a cliff.

Well It Goes Like This by orphan_account Anakin doesn't fall during RotS, but it doesn't fix much. He saves a single creche clan on his way out of the Temple. After that, it's just a matter of surviving.

No Choir by @adiduck Obi-Wan and Cody on Tatooine after O66 (platonic). Also heavily intertwined with Owen and Beru and Luke.

between pole and tropic by Anonymous Anakin/Rex/Maul. Even without Anakin succumbing to the dark in RotS, someone must. Anakin's also very untrusted by the Jedi at large because they found out about the Tuskens right after AotC.

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duskvsdawn · 2 months ago

Note

hewoooo~ i enjoyed reading your writing and saw your open for prompt!! can i request no. 29 with kaelix or sonny (either is fineee) thank soo much

≫ A/N: Heyooo! I'll do this for both of them! Might be a tiny bit OOC for Sonny because I don't know him too well, I hope that's ok! Sorry it took me a bit to get to it, I am kinda losing my groove I suppose. I'm gonna try to finish the last bit in my inbox, and then I might give myself a break or something idk

CW: smut, female reader, dacryphilia 'cause you know that's the whole prompt heehee, reader does some lewd stuff with Sonny and Kaelix (separate), edging (Sonny), overstim (Kaelix), blowjob (Sonny), piv sex (Kaelix), mating press (Kaelix)

Art credits Kaelix. ❤ Art credits Sonny.

࿇ ══━━━━✥◈✥━━━━══ ࿇

If you like my works, please like, comment and reblog! It is much appreciated ❤ And if you really enjoyed it, please follow me so you can be kept up to date on future uploads! Please do not re-upload, translate, or use for AI training.

You look so beautiful when you cry

Sonny

You had a plan for tonight, but you weren't going to tell your boyfriend just yet. The two of you were chilling on the couch, watching some tv, when your hand landed on his thigh and you started to caress it. Your boyfriend looked at you with question marks all over his face, but when your hand moved between his thighs, the gears in his head were starting to turn, and he was picking up on what you were planning. You knelt in front of him, and your hands landed on his belt.

"Well, well, well... Now what do we have here?" your boyfriend said as he gently lifted your face up with his thumb and index finger. There was a devious smirk on your face as you took his dick out of his pants to stroke him to full hardness. Sonny's hand landed in your hair, giving it some gentle tugs. After you deemed him ready, you started giving some licks to the tip of his cock, tasting the bitter precum that was slowly starting to ooze out. You took the tip into your mouth as your hand worked the base, and Sonny let out some soft moans as you did so. "Fuck, that's good, baby. Can you take more for me?" your boyfriend asked, and you nodded as a reply since your mouth was kind of occupied right now. You started taking his cock deeper, bobbing your hand up and down. Occasionally you would take his balls into your mouth as your hand stayed busy stroking his cock or playing with the slit.

Your boyfriend was starting to let out louder noises, biting his bottom lip to try and keep quiet. He knew you loved for him to be vocal, but he would always get embarrassed about the kind of sounds he would make when he was so lost in pleasure. One hand went up towards his mouth to pull his lip out from between his teeth, halting your movements for just a few seconds to say, "Let me hear you, please. I need to hear you. I want to know if I'm doing well or not." You knew full well that you were doing well, but you were hoping this could convince your boyfriend to be a little louder with you, and he decided to let you hear it.

You started sucking again, and his grip on your hair tightened, and he was letting out some delicious mewls. You could tell he was slowly getting closer, but you wouldn't let him cum just yet. He didn't know it yet, but he was in for a long, long edging session. "Fuck, I'm close, babe..." Sonny said as his breathing was becoming uneven and the pressure in his lower stomach was slowly starting to build. When you knew his orgasm was so close, you stopped what you were doing and pulled off of him.

Sonny, obviously confused but still trying to catch his breath, looked at you with pleading eyes. "I'm not letting you cum anytime soon, baby. We both know it will only make the orgasm more intense when I eventually do let you," you said as you started moving your hand up and down his dick again when you deemed his orgasm far away enough. "No... No... I'm not sure how much of this I can take today..." your boyfriend pleaded with you. He had such a busy day behind him, and he just wanted to cum so badly, but he knew that once you made up your mind, you were going to do whatever you wanted.

So you edged him. Again, and again, and again, and then some more. Sonny was starting to turn into a whimpering and crying mess. He was crying so much at this point that he thought he was going insane. That delicious edge was coming so close every time, but you would also deny him every time. He was whimpering, pleading for you to please let him cum. "I'm not sure I can at this point. You look so beautiful when you cry," you said with a devious smirk on your face. All Sonny could reply with was more begging. Begging you to please let him cum. That it would feel so good and that he needed it so much. You knew that you had completely broken him with pleasure at this point, so you decided to give him what he wanted.

"I can't... I can't take this anymore. Please let me cum... Please... I am so close... Pleasepleasepleaseplease-" your boyfriend whimpered and squeaked, and in this moment he just looked so delicious to you. You stopped just long enough to say, "Alright then, cum. Now what do we say when we get something we want?" you said and immediately went back to it, keeping the tip in your mouth and working the base with your hand. "I'm gonna- FUCK. FUCK. Thank you, thank you, thank you!" Sonny was pretty much screaming at this point as he released into your mouth, and your hand squeezed tighter to milk him dry of all the cum he had to give you.

All the muscles in Sonny's body relaxed as he fell back onto the couch, his breath so heavy he thought he was going to pass out. You chuckled and moved to sit on his lap, gently taking his head into your hands and running your tongue over his cheeks to lick the tears from them. "Absolutely beautiful," you whispered into his ear, and then you nuzzled your face into his neck. Sonny thought he had died and gone to heaven. The relief that washed over him was so intense. He held you close as he tried to steady his breathing.

Kaelix

Your boyfriend had been following you around the house all day, leaving some heated kisses anywhere he could. He kept whispering in your ears how badly he wanted night to come already so he could shower you in love. It would leave you blushing every time, wondering if he had something special planned for tonight. He kinda did, but he wasn't going to let you in on this little secret yet.

About a week ago, he actually made you cry after he had edged you for like 10 million times. Tears were streaming down your face, so lost to pleasure, but that orgasm being ripped away from you each time made you so frustrated and that much more sensitive. It had looked so absolutely beautiful to him, and it amplified his own pleasure as well, so he was desperate to see you fall apart like this once more.

Night came, and after the two of you had gotten ready for bed, he was quick to push you onto your back and pull you into a needy French kiss. You moaned into his mouth, wrapping your arms around him to pull him closer. "Fuck, baby. I need you so bad. And I want to make you cum so many times you'll lose count. I need to see you cry again," your boyfriend admitted, and finally, it clicked into your mind why your boyfriend had been so needy for you all day. "Now all you've been doing today makes sense. I'm not complaining in the slightest, though," you replied with a giggle as you pulled him in for another kiss.

The two of you got undressed, and your boyfriend put you into a mating press, knowing full well that that was one of your favourite positions ever. He wasted no time getting inside of you, noticing you were impatient and you just wanted to get to it already. When he pushed in in one swift motion, both of you moaned in unison. Your boyfriend started moving his hips, going faster and deeper over time. You held him close, holding on for dear life as he was dicking you down like only he could do. He knew your body so well, and he knew exactly which spots to hit to get you to let out such erotic moans that he savoured every time he heard them.

You wanted to cum so bad, and luckily for you, your boyfriend would love to do nothing more than to see you apart, and he knows just how to do it. He angles his hips downwards, making his dick rub against your clit to get you closer and closer. As you bite his shoulder, you cum hard. But your boyfriend is not done with you. He keeps moving, overstimulating you to hell and back while he attempts to give you another orgasm. Kaelix kisses you in between grunts because, dear god, he wants to cum so bad too. But he was going to hold himself back for now, until he would get you to orgasm #2.

You could feel said orgasm approaching you like a freight train, and your boyfriend could tell with how hard your pussy was sucking him in, never wanting to let go of his cock. He angled his hips downwards once more and got busy leaving a hickey on your neck. After he let go of your neck and gave you such a seductive smirk, you came once more, the bouncer following soon after. You could feel his warm and sticky seed paint your walls white, and you were on cloud nine, trying to come down from your high.

But nope, you weren't allowed to. Your boyfriend, still being firm inside of you, set his own overstimulation aside to give you another mind-blowing orgasm. So that's what he did. Over and over again until you were weeping and whimpering in overstimulation, absolutely lost in pleasure. You wanted it to stop, but at the same time, you didn't. It felt so good, and you were so delirious that you didn't know up from down. All that you knew was him, and only him.

"God, look at you crying for me, baby. You look so incredibly pretty right now, fuck-" your boyfriend said as he leaned forward to lick away your tears, which just kept spilling from your eyes. "Kaelix... I can't do it anymore... I can't... I'm... So exhausted..." you sobbed in between his harsh thrusts. You felt like you were kind of zoning out at this point, the pleasure so overwhelming that you were at the same time getting kind of desensitised to it.

"C'mon, you can give me one more, can't you? Let go just one more time. I need to feel you clamp down on my cock one more time." your boyfriend whined, him being close to tears himself from overstimulation but he would never admit it. But you could tell, you knew him too well after all. A single tear left his eye, and collecting your final strength, one hand reached up to wipe that tear away and lick it from your finger. And this was so incredibly hot to your boyfriend that he released inside of you, close to screaming your name. Feeling him fill you up sent you over the edge as well, letting out such a loud moan that sounded way whinier than you ever wanted it to.

Your boyfriend collapsed next to you and put his head onto your boobs, trying to catch his breath for a solid minute as you did the same. You were both so incredibly spent. You couldn't move a muscle. So, you were just stuck there, swimming in a pool of cum and your own release. You thought it was gross, but you had no strength left to take care of it now. Oh well, there is always tomorrow. Your boyfriend had already fallen asleep, and you followed soon after.

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icrytearsofsadness · 6 days ago

Note

💍 Blind Marriage au? Sounds fun!

a more fleshed-out version of this for everyone who commented "where's the rest" and of course for you, lovely anon

Billy Hargrove always knew Neil had it out to get him. Was just waiting for the day, really. The disownment wasn't a surprise. Billy was 19. Billy had been prepared for that. Honesty he was more surprised it hadn't happened sooner. It was fine. Better, even.

But the fucking FAFSA was what was going to get his ass? Seriously?

"Christ," Billy muttered to himself, his clicking on his laptop getting faster with irritation. "What part of 'I'm disowned' don't you get?" And even before the big chop to the last thread of their relationship, Neil wasn't going to help pay for college anyway. No-way, no-how. At least not now, not anymore, not after Neil had found out what Billy's major was. He should have fucking lied and said engineering or something. He'd gotten away with siphoning one whole year of tuition off the asshole, but that well had dried the fuck up. So, like, where was Billy's government funding. Somewhere up this stupid form's ass.

Billy clicked anxiously through the options to prove that his dad wasn't going to pay for uni. Be 26... he was not waiting that long. Master's, nope - he was applying for undergrad, seriously? Orphan, veteran, parent, homeless...

Well, shit. It looked like the easiest box to check on this godforsaken list was to be married.

As of today, are you married?

Which meant he had to get married before he got his offer of financial aid for next year. Which was in... fuck, in August.

"Any chance of a whirlwind summer romance?" Billy snarked to himself, shutting the laptop a bit harder than was necessary. This fucking sucked. But since he wasn't going to start living on the streets and he didn't have nine months to suddenly become a father, this was kind of the only option.

Billy sighed, opening his phone and propping it on his desk. He immediately cringed at his reflection in the camera.

"At least look like someone you'd wanna marry," he mumbled, reaching up to fix his hair a little. Nothing he could do about the dark circles under his eyes, but oh well. He undid a few buttons on his shirt, checked his reflection again. Passable. "This is so fucking stupid."

He clicked record anyway.

"Hi. If you're seeing this and you know me in real life, just... scroll. Yeah. Okay." He sighed. "I'm Billy, and I need to get married in the next two months for Fafsa reasons. I just got disowned and I need to, like... prove it, and the easiest option is getting married unless I want to suddenly become an orphan, so. I'll make a google form or something and if you wanna get married, fill that out. Add a photo or something so I know you're not someone's mom trying to sleep with a teenager, yes, it's happened before, yes, this is necessary. Benefits include claiming financial independence, a pretty decent roommate for life, tax stuff... uh, this, if you're into that sort of thing," he adds, gesturing vaguely to himself with a half-hearted attempt at one of his signature grins. "You gotta be over 18, obviously, and in LA cause that's where my college is. Uh... follow along to see if I get married, I guess."

This was so stupid and embarrassing. No one was going to see this, let alone respond to it. Still. He was kind of out of options, so he uploaded the video anyway.

Steve Harrington had turned into one of those people Robin used to joke about. What was it - bedrotter? Doomscroller? A bit of both, for flavor?

It wasn't his fault, it was just that everyone had up and left. Steve had been here for two full years, just working stupid jobs. The first year had been good. He'd shared every job with his best friend in the whole world, and it had been so beautiful. Until Robin inevitably went off to college to study linguistics - who could have seen that coming. She'd gotten crazy scholarships, her anxious mom was proud, it was good for her to get out of Hawkins. Steve was so happy for her.

But he'd been alone here for a year now and still hadn't really done anything. And his parents had given him a grace year to get his act together, and he still didn't, which meant he got the punishment rich kids only dreamt about in their nightmares: Cut. Off.

Ouch.

Steve was fine, though. He was handling it really well, actually. He had a job (true) and an apartment (barely) and friends (singular) and a life (lie).

And he spent pretty much every free hour just rolling around in bed on his phone, but no one needed to know that.

Honestly his landlord had mostly taken pity on him. Steve was sure even this tiny dump was worth more than he was renting for, and Steve's contract was short as fuck. Even his landlord seemed to think he'd be leaving for college at the end of the summer, and had insisted on a "trial period" of a few months instead of signing him for a year.

Again. fucking. Ouch. Because Steve didn't even graduate high school. He'd gotten his GED so like, he was fine, but. He didn't have SAT scores or a beautiful essay or money. So college wasn't really in the plans.

Which left him mindlessly scrolling instagram like a loser.

Until he got caught on a video of a young man - a beautiful, clearly exhausted, ridiculously charming young man.

The first time around, Steve didn't even process what was being said, too busy staring at his pretty hair and eyes, the tired little grins he flashed the camera that made Steve's heart thump, the erratic gestures with his big hands. The second time around, he managed to actually listen.

I'm Billy, and I need to get married in the next two months.

At first, Steve kind of balked. Listened to the pitch with growing incredulity. This was crazy. This guy was going to get married to whoever fucking offered? Jesus. And Steve couldn't just relocate to LA, all the way across the country, so he was about to save the video for... reasons and then scroll along when he noticed the view count.

Three million people had seen this thing. Somehow, this Billy guy had been graced by the algorithm and he had tens of thousands of comments.

Steve couldn't help himself. He went to the guy's profile. Scrolled through a little, shamelessly checking him out. He posted kind of a lot for just a normal guy, a few times a month. Lots of pictures. God this guy looked good. He seemed to prefer to wear as little as humanly possible, and Steve sure wasn't complaining. Surfing videos... beach volleyball... damn. One kind of sweet photo of Billy with a redhead girl in a headlock. She looked to be about Dustin's age, glaring and shoving at a grinning Billy who seemed to be holding her with very little issue. Siblings, definitely, though they didn't look much alike.

And there at the top, a link to a google form.

Well, fuck, why not. Based on the view count of that video, there was no way Billy was gonna see it, anyway.

#billy hargrove #harringrove #steve harrington #stranger things #icrytearsofsadness #ask response #make me write #wip weekend #harringrove fic #harringrove ficlet

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pandora-writes-one-piece · 2 months ago

Text

The Meet-Cute - Kid's Story - 8

Source for pic

Imperfect 8

Word Count: 4802

Tags and Summary can be found here.

Special Warning: English is not my first language, I apologise for any possible spelling or grammar mistakes.

Notes: I'm so eager to share this chapter with all of you that I may be making a mistake by uploading it early! I only have half of chapter 9 written, and I was hoping to write a little bit more before posting this. But, hey, I'll do it! *singing* Besides, which you see, I have confidence in me!! Anyway, please enjoy the emotional whiplash you're about to experience with this chapter. Love you all! Small Warning: suggestive content, I don't think it warrants a specific NSFW, though.

Here's a Spotify Playlist I created for this story if you want to check it out!

Masterlist

You get a text from your dad saying he’ll be out for the day helping Makino’s niece assemble furniture at her new home in town, and that he might not return until dinnertime. He also asks if you’re alright and lets you know that morning chores are already taken care of.

Looking at the clothes you’re currently wearing - Kid’s - it’s actually a blessing he’s not home at the moment, or you’d have some explaining to do.

The rest of the day goes by in the blink of an eye, and around five o’clock you stop by Sanji’s café to buy some donuts and coffee, not wanting to show up at the garage empty-handed. You can’t contain the tingle of anticipation or stop the silly smile from curving your lips when your car comes to a full stop in front of Kid’s shop.

“Heeey, I brought sustenance!” you shout as you step into the garage. Your brow rises, and you set your stuff down on the nearest workbench before heading further inside. It’s all so quiet. No music, no curses, no tools rumbling in the background.

And then you see him.

Kid is hunched over another workbench. His prosthetic lies discarded in front of him, and he’s gripping the edge of the counter as if it’s all that’s keeping him from falling. Sweat dampens the collar of his shirt. His hair is soaked, and fat droplets of perspiration drip down his scrunched brows and heavy grimace. Everything in his posture, including the tautness of his muscles, screams pain and suffering.

And it’s one you know and understand very well: phantom pain.

“Kid,” you start, one hand raised as if you were approaching a wild animal.

“Don’t,” he growls the word, and it hits you like a slap. He doesn’t even turn or open his eyes to acknowledge you. It’s like you can physically see the walls going up and all around him. Again.

“Let me help–”

“Get the fuck out. I don’t need ya.” The poison in his words sucks all the breath out of your lungs. He’s lashing out.

“I can–”

His face snaps towards you, a feral growl shaking his lips as he grits his teeth. “No, you can’t! This ain’t a fucking novel, sweetheart. I ain’t some broken project for ye to fix! Ye can’t fix what’s irreparably broken! Get the fuck out.”

You try to swallow past the giant lump in your throat. His eyes are cold as ice, without a hint or a trace of the warmth he showed you in the morning. This is just another hurdle that you have to overcome.

You want to succumb to the prickling of tears behind your eyes, but you can’t, because weakness won’t get you anywhere with Eustass Kid. He’s trying to scare you away.

He’s not going to fucking do it.

“I’m not trying to fix you!”

“Bullshit!” Kid slams the workbench, and everything rattles with his fury. “Ye think just because we shared some nice moments, I’m suddenly fixed? That I ain’t fucked up? Broken? That we can have a fuckin’ happily ever after with birds singin’ and butterflies dancin’ kinda shit? It don’t work like that!”

“That’s not what I was–”

“Yer not the first pretty face that thinks she can fix me! And ye ain’t gonna be the last.” Kid snorts, and you bite your lower lip to stop it from trembling. “Guess what, sweetheart? Yer about to be just as disappointed as all of ‘em. Ye ain’t special!”

That blow stings like a cut in your chest. You take a trembling step back, averting his cold gaze, and shake your head. “Earlier–”

“Earlier meant nothin’!” His voice doesn’t even waver. “It was just a distraction, and yer a pretty distraction, I give ye that. But it ain’t happenin’ again. I don’t need this - I don’t need ye.”

The silence that follows is crushing.

You finally look back at him, your chest heaving and chin trembling, eyes glazed with unshed tears you’re trying so hard to push back. You’re so angry at him. Rationally, you know he’s pushing you away again, too afraid to be vulnerable, too afraid to reach for help. Irrationally, though, it feels like you’re not enough.

And like you’ll never be able to reach him.

And then you see his eyes tremble, his teeth grit, and his muscles contract in torment. He’s drowning in pain, no matter how hard he’s trying to hide it.

Raising your chin and fighting every instinct that tells you to turn around and leave, you walk past him. Then you fight another instinct telling you to throw a wrench at his stupid, stubborn head, grab the first aid kit, and take out the muscle relaxer cream, throwing it on the couch carelessly.

“Sit on that fucking couch, Kid.” Good. At least your voice still sounds steady.

“Didn’t ya listen to–”

“I don’t give a fuck. Sit. Down.” Your eyes harden like steel as you bore them into his.

“I don’t want ye here,” his throat bobs, and you can tell that’s a blatant lie. One he’s willing to lash out for, over and over again, even if it makes you both bleed.

“Tough shit!” you grit your teeth and shove him towards the couch. “I’m not leaving! You’re hurting, and I’m not going to turn my back on that. I’m not running away, Kid. You don’t scare me!” You shove him again, and he stumbles back, probably too stunned or in pain to fight back your advances. “It doesn’t mean I’m not fucking devastated by what you just said. I’m pissed and I’m hurt, but I’m not running away. Now sit the fuck down.”

He reluctantly sits, still unsure about what you’re going to do. When you sit next to him and start rolling up the sleeve of his shirt, he jerks his stump away from you.

“Don’t fuckin’ touch me!”

“Kid—” You reach again and he pulls away with more force than before.

“I said don’t! Yer not seein’ this part of me, for fuck’s sake! I ain’t yer charity case.”

God! Why is he so infuriating? Why can’t he just give you a chance? A small opening? Something!

“I never said you were! I just want to help! Let me—”

“Don’t touch me!” He’s not yelling, but it feels pretty damn close. The intensity of his words forms more lumps and clumps in your throat, and your breathing comes out in ragged, hurtful gasps.

At least your tears are still safely tucked away.

You grit your teeth and will some command into your voice. “I will fucking touch you because it will help.”

“It won’t help!”

“You don’t know that!”

“I do! It never fuckin’ goes away! It’s here to remind me of how I failed ‘em! Fuck!” Kid drops his elbow to his knee, face buried in his hand. His shoulders contract and twist in agony, his whole body coiled in grief.

Silence spreads its tendrils around you again, sinking its claws into your chest, reminding you that Kid is indeed as broken as he claims to be. And that only makes you care for him more.

“Fine. Maybe it won’t go away, but I know I can make it better. And I’ll stay with you through the worst of it. Even if you continue to be an asshole.”

You don’t wait for a reaction, don’t even allow him to reply. You just roll the rest of the sleeve up and get straight to work. Lathering your hands with the muscle relaxer, you start to massage the stump slowly, yet firmly. Your muscle memory is kicking in and reminding you how you used to do this for your dad, all those years ago.

Kid flinches when your fingers touch the scarred tissue, and he looks away, seemingly too embarrassed for eye contact. But you don’t miss the way he lets out a deep breath after a minute or two. His shoulders sag softly, and his brows relax from the everlasting scrunch he has them in.

You keep working the knots slowly, ignoring the way your feet are already becoming numb because you’re sitting on them. You’re too afraid to break this fragile moment.

Kid drops his head back to rest on the couch, and his breathing evens out. You don’t think he’s sleeping, but at least he’s relaxed enough for a small reprieve. Your fingers tremble for a small moment, your breath catching in your throat.

Before you realize or manage to stop it, tears start spilling down your cheeks. Just when you thought you’d made progress, that you managed to break down those stubborn walls of his, he pulls this stunt.

His words hurt much more than you care to admit. Of course you’re not special. Why would you be? But that’s not even the point, you don’t have to be special, you just want him to let you in. To open himself to the possibility of something else. To let someone care for him, to allow himself to be cherished.

It’s like you take one small step forward and two back. A never-ending, frustrating dance.

It’s only when you feel his calloused hand on your cheek, wiping the trail your tears left behind, that you realize Kid’s eyes are open and he’s staring at you. Trembling, you stop massaging him, waiting for another outburst of hurtful words.

It never comes.

He softens his gaze, working his throat and jaw as if he’s trying to free the unspoken words he has trapped there. His mouth finally parts, like he’s about to say something, but you beat him to it.

You don’t want to hear the wrong words now.

“Take off your shirt.”

His brow furrows, and he removes his hand from your cheek, leaving only cold and emptiness behind.

“I need to work on your back and chest muscles, or the pain won’t go away. Take it off.” You lace your words with indifference and command, and he obeys for once; doesn’t argue or grunt in disapproval, just follows your request.

As he’s busy taking the garment off, you swiftly wipe your wet cheeks on your arms, erasing any evidence of your earlier weakness.

You make him turn slightly to the side as you start working between his shoulder blades and neck. He’s stiff as a board, his muscles tight and tense from too many years of holding everything in his shoulders. No wonder the pain won’t ever go away.

After a long stretch of silence, where the only sound comes from his soft, relieved grunts, Kid speaks in a voice so quiet you have trouble believing it’s his. “How d’ya learn how to do this?”

You pause for a breath, then answer. Your eyes never leave the junction of his neck with his shoulder, applying soothing pressure with the pads of your fingers. “Shanks.” Kid hums, and you continue.

“I was just a child when he lost his arm, around ten, I think. Luffy, our neighbor, had a habit of sneaking out of his grandpa’s house, and he would get into all sorts of trouble. This time it could’ve been fatal. Except my dad was there.”

You sigh. There’s much you don’t remember about your childhood, but you clearly remember the day your father was left bleeding out in the field while the ambulance was on the way. Your tiny heart beating out of your chest, not knowing if he’d make it or not…

“The plough was working in the field, and Luffy got in the way. Dad saw it and jumped in to save him. Lost his arm in the process. He used to have phantom pain all the time back then. Mom used to do this to ease him through it, and it worked.”

Kid hums again, so you know he’s listening.

“When they started to fight like they had nothing better to do with every waking moment of their lives, Dad was too proud to ask for help, and Mom got tired of offering. I could see him trying to suffer through the pain with gritted teeth and venomous words.”

Kid stiffens, and you know he’s relating to that bit a little too much.

“So I took over Mom’s place and learned how to help. It became our own thing.”

You move a bit, leaning closer and pushing his back against the couch, focusing on the planes of his chest now, where the scarring is so visible and the scar tissue is pulled so tight, it’s a wonder he’s not in pain all the time.

You can feel Kid’s gaze burning holes into your face, and you would give anything to know what’s on his mind. If he would just let you.

Your thumbs work slowly, kneading the flesh carefully but with firm strokes. You can already feel how much less tense he is.

His question catches you by surprise. “Don’t ye find it disgustin’?”

You stop and stare at him, but he avoids your gaze like the plague, his lips twitching and frowning into an embarrassed grimace.

“Why would I? It’s part of you. It’s just flesh, muscle, and skin. It’s not disgusting.”

Kid tilts his head slowly, catching your eye for a moment before turning away again. You continue massaging his chest until he speaks again.

“Ye should. I’m a fuckin’ monster.”

Somehow, you realize he’s not just talking about his physical scars.

“Stop,” you state with finality. Reaching for his face, you force him to face you. “You’re not a monster. You’re not this ugly, unlovable creature. You’re Eustass fucking Kid.” That draws a small smirk from his lips, but it barely lasts. “You’re just… wounded.”

“I’m broken…” he rasps out, the shadows in his eyes spreading further, dimming its brightness.

“Yes, you are.” He jerks his face away, but you hold it steady, forcing your gaze into his. “And I want all of those broken pieces. The anger, the sadness, the pain, and all of the things you don’t tell me… Kid, I’ll take it all and share that burden with you. I don’t want perfect. I want you.”

He stares at you, his chest shaking with uncertain breaths, looking torn between wanting to push you away and to hold you against him.

It’s a make-or-break moment, you can feel it.

So when he presses his hand against your cheek in a mimicry of his earlier gesture, you let out a relieved breath.

“I don’t know how to be anythin’ else. I don’t know how to be… good.”

You cover his hand with your own, while you lower the other one until it presses against his heart, feeling it beat erratically, madly.

“Then we’ll learn together. You just have to let me in, Kid. That’s all.”

Kid’s gaze burns. He looks torn, restless, like he’s fighting a war he’s tired of losing. Maybe this time, though, he has too much to lose and he’s finally willing to risk it.

You know you are.

With a tentative breath, Kid’s hand finds the curve of your neck and climbs until his fingers curl in your hair. He leans forward, hesitates, and the world stops. He’s gonna pull away. He’s gonna flee again. I’m gonna lose him—

Then he exhales a trembling breath, pulls you gently and presses his lips against yours. It’s a stark contrast to all the other heated kisses you’ve shared. This one feels fragile and precious, just a whisper of a touch.

It’s everything he can’t seem to say to you.

When he breaks the kiss and pulls you gently to his lap until you’re straddling him, his hand stays on your hip, its slight tremble, reminding you how delicate this moment is. You cup his face, and he closes his eyes, your foreheads touching for a moment while the weight of everything settles between the two of you.

When his eyes meet yours again, it’s like you can see a crack in his walls. It’s slight. It’s small. But it’s there.

“I didn’t mean…” he starts, stumbling over his words, brows scrunched so tight you fear they’ll leave permanent marks. “My words, I… fuckin’ hell.”

“Kid—”

“No. Let me get this out.” Kid sighs heavily, his hand gripping your hip harder and harder, his eyes still avoiding yours. “Ye are special. Ye are!”

A choked sob dares to climb its way up your throat, so you steel your emotions, bite your lower lip to stop its trembling, and caress his cheekbones with your thumbs in a comforting gesture.

“Much more than that, I…” It’s painfully clear how much he’s struggling to share the extent of his feelings. His eyes meet yours, and there’s so much emotion in them that you understand all he wants to tell you, even without words.

He really likes you.

And it’s scary as hell.

“Fuck it,” Kid mumbles, then his mouth claims yours again, and this kiss is a far cry from the tentative one you shared before. It’s all-consuming, it’s raging, it’s fire and desire melting into something hot and unbearable.

Kid’s hand slithers below your top and up your spine, eliciting a shudder and a muffled whimper. You respond by rolling your hips against his hardened length, and my God, this just needs to happen. Your hands greedily map the planes of his pecs, scraping your nails hard across the same spot you had been massaging just moments ago.

Your top comes off, your bra comes next, and so does an unwanted thought: you’ve been here before.

Except this time, you don’t let any doubt cloud your judgment. Yes, you’ve been here before, but never has the intimacy felt so raw and vulnerable. This is it.

Your lips collide again, and as you open your mouth to gasp when Kid rolls his fingers over your nipple, he claims your tongue. Your heart and soul go next, and you don’t even fight it.

You’re his.

You’ll always be his. If he lets you.

“I want ye… fuck! I need ye,” Kid drawls between kisses and licks to your neck.

“Then take me.”

And he’s about to. Kid’s fingers trail the waistband of your pants, hover over the button, and—

“AGAIN?” Killer’s outraged scream reverberates off the wall and bounces in an endless, indignant echo. Kid pushes you flush against his chest to shield your breasts from view. “I can’t believe I have to see this again!”

Killer’s stomping footfalls thud around the garage in an angry tirade, and a bottle of pills hits Kid on the head. He growls, but Killer is on a rampage.

“Here are your fucking pills! The ones you were in too much pain to grab! Forgot to ask for condoms too? Fucking shitwipe, there are locks on—” Killer’s angry gaze lingers on the spot you’re both on as he approaches.

Why is he approaching? Has he gone mad?

“That is a fucking communal couch. I take naps there, goddamn it! I’m gonna have to bleach the whole fucking thing!” An exasperated growl escapes his lips as he stomps past you towards the office. “Maybe I should just bleach my own eyes while I’m at it!”

The office door slams shut, and you and Kid sit in silence for a beat, too stunned to say anything at all.

Then Killer opens the door again, hands pressed together as if in prayer against his bandana-covered mouth. “I’m sincerely fucking happy this—” he gestures towards you, “—is happening. But for fuck’s sake and Jesus’ balls, take it somewhere else! You fucking live upstairs, you moron!”

The door bangs shut again, only to fly open a microsecond later. Killer looks at you and tilts his head. “I ain’t mad at you, love. Just at the fucking asshole who can’t keep it in his pants. Now, if you both could kindly take that elsewhere so I can fix the car Kid towed earlier, I’d appreciate it very much.”

When the door bangs shut again, it nearly comes off its hinges. You can’t help but feel bad for Killer. He really didn’t need to see this. Still, the hilarity of the situation makes you muffle your laughs against Kid’s neck, in an almost perfect replay of what happened once before.

Even Kid’s lip quirks into a small smile. “Fuck’s sake… that FUCKIN’ HYPOCRITE should keep his fuckin’ mouth shut! HE’S MADE OUT A MILLION TIMES on this couch before, so he—”

“NEVER WITHOUT CLOTHES ON!” Killer bangs his hands on the inside of the office door, and you keep giggling. “I SWEAR TO GOD, KID! If I sit my ass on something sticky or disgusting on that couch… I SWEAR TO GOD, YOU MOTHERFUCKER!”

“CALM YER TITS, DIPSHIT! Nothin’ happened!”

“I’M GONNA BURN THAT FUCKING COUCH!”

“THEN YE BUY A NEW ONE!”

“YOU’LL JUST DEFILE IT AGAIN!”

Laughter booms from your lips as you can’t hold it in anymore. The moment is long gone, but you can’t even be mad about it. Kid stops yelling at Killer and hands you your bra and shirt. When you’re fully dressed, his hand lingers on your hip, his thumb brushing soft strokes across your skin.

“We can go upstairs… if yer still up for it.”

Hell yeah, you are.

You’re about to reply with a teasing comment, but then you notice the slight sheen of sweat on Kid’s forehead. His neck is tense with pressure, and his stump twitches now and then.

“You’re still in pain, Kid.”

You rise slowly, pick up the bottle of pills Killer brought, take two out, and place them in Kid’s hand, despite his barely-there objections.

“Take the pills. Rest. We’ve got plenty of time.”

At least, you hope you do. It’s a feeling you hate, but unfortunately, one you’ve experienced more times than you’d like to admit when it comes to Kid. That hollow feeling in the pit of your stomach, always accompanied by a massive wave of doubt.

Every time you walk away from a charged moment - whether sparked by desire or something far more vulnerable - you leave your heart in Kid’s hands. So far, you’ve come out the other end bruised, battered, but not defeated.

But this time feels different. So maybe walking away is the right step.

Kid reaches for the water bottle you retrieve from the fridge, but instead of taking it, he wraps his hand around your wrist and tugs you gently until you tumble onto his lap with a soft chuckle.

“For what it’s worth, I don’t want ye to leave.” Kid’s warm breath tingles your neck as he leans in to whisper those words to you.

It’s all the reassurance you need.

But he still gives you more. Kid presses his lips beneath your earlobe, then along your jaw, and finally at the corner of your mouth, until you sigh, and he drinks it in like oxygen to a dying man.

You’re glad his hand stays steady on your lower back, because without it, you’re sure you’d melt straight into the couch. There’s no strength left in any limb of your body.

The kiss ends abruptly when he pulls back with a groan, muscles tightening. Your gaze softens, and you massage his stump for a few minutes while he takes the pills and downs them with water.

“The pills and lotion will kick in soon. Go to bed and rest, Kid. We’ll talk tomorrow, okay?”

God, you don’t want to leave him.

But you know he needs rest. And the worst is definitely over; he’s no longer at war with himself, no longer trapped in a maze of self-loathing and doubt. He just needs time and sleep to recover.

Which won’t happen if you stay.

After a few more stolen touches, he lets you go, and you drag yourself away from him, somehow feeling lighter than when you walked in. The events took a turn you weren’t expecting, and even though they were painful and pushed both your limits, you can’t help but feel like barriers were overcome and walls were demolished.

Now it’s time to rebuild. One step at a time.

-*-

“Is it safe?” Killer opens the office door and comes out with his bandana tied over his eyes instead of just his mouth.

Kid can’t help a disgruntled, although bemused, sound escape his lips. He’s reclining on the couch, his arm draped over his eyes, muscles taut, and eyes scrunched. The pain has ebbed from fucking unbearable to moderate.

And he has you to thank for it.

You, whom he insulted, pushed, and harmed with venomous words; you who took them with a raised chin and open defiance; you who poured your kindness, your goodness, and your warmth into him - someone so undeserving it should’ve driven you away immediately.

You, whom he definitely cares more for than he should; you, who he cannot relinquish; you, who will be his downfall.

No. Lies.

He’s sure he will be your downfall.

“How are you feeling, man? You were down in the dumps when you called. I could hear the strain in your voice.” Killer sits on the couch next to him, grimaces, and gags loudly before getting up and sitting on a stool instead.

“The couch is clean, dumbass. We were just…”

“Making out like horny teenagers? Yeah, I saw. Oh, was that what happened? You were dying from pain, and she was performing CPR on your dying ass?”

Kid chuckles again. Dumbass Killer, always trying to lighten the mood and alleviate the tension.

“I fuckin’ care for her, Kill.” Kid can’t face him, not yet.

“Well, duh! Haven’t we cleared that already? Because it was pretty damn clear when you returned from the beach date—”

“Not a date!”

“—With lovey-dovey eyes, swooning like a girl—”

“The fuck, man?” Kid finally lifts his arm to stare directly into Killer’s amused expression.

“You more than care for her. And it’s alright to admit it. It’s not like your other arm’s going to fall off because of it.” Killer ducks when Kid throws him a wrench that was wedged between the couch and the arm of the couch. “Missed.”

Kid’s arm returns to act as a shield over his face as he lets out another groan.

“I’m sorry I interrupted you again. In my defense, I didn’t think you’d be stupid enough to leave the door unlocked a second time, plus I really thought I was going to find you incapacitated.”

“It’s fine,” Kid slurs. The pills are starting to kick in, finally. He was close to resorting to more booze. “I… we better slow down, anyway. I ain’t aiming to do somethin’ stupid, so I gotta do things right.”

He sighs and shakes his head. It’s so fucking hard to expose what he feels, to just get it out there. Why the fuck is it so fucking hard? With Killer, he can be truthful, he knows that, but still…

“That’s… actually wise,” Killer interjects with surprise. “Maybe my interrupting you was divine intervention.”

The bemusement in his tone is clear, but Kid can’t share the sentiment.

“I stopped believin’ in divine anythin’ a long time ago, Kill. I ain’t about to start now…”

Killer slumps in his stool, his back hitting the workbench where he supports himself with his elbows. His eyes fall to the corner where Kid keeps the army photograph. It’s already tucked behind an oil can, forgotten again, like it never saw the light to begin with.

“They wouldn’t want—”

“I know what they want, Kill. I hear ’em. Every fuckin’ second of every fuckin’ day!” Kid gets up, his head feels light from the pills, and he really should take your advice and rest. But they are always there, he’s not lying about that. And their appearances always hurt the most once he starts enjoying himself, once he starts to believe he can be happy.

“They’re always blamin’ me, they’re always laughin’ at me! I know I fuckin’ failed ’em and I need to suffer for it! FUCK!” Kid kicks the couch and grunts in agony, but he welcomes the pain again. The one in his arm is already numbing, and he doesn’t exactly deserve a reprieve.

Killer rises, too, trying to placate his anger. “Come on, Kid, you know they would never do that. They would’ve forgiven you… They have.”

Kid swallows his anger and his pain alongside the rock-sized lump that suddenly forms in his throat. He doesn’t push it further. Killer wouldn’t understand.

“Aye. Whatever. I’m gonna lie down.”

He’s already stomping up the steps to his apartment, not giving Killer a chance to add anything else to this pity party. Killer wouldn’t understand, but it’s not because he didn’t know them or wasn’t there; it’s because they’re his ghosts to bear, and Kid is the one to blame for their untimely deaths.

Tags: @rosidaze @beachaddict48 @armiliadawn @jintaka-hane @sprinkklz @baby5555 @hopelesslover06 @mars-mizuko @sleepykittycx @nerium-lil @eustasscapitankid @ren-ni @jqperi @elysian-asphodel @daydreamer-in-training @iloveyoushanks @thegalaxysedge22 @kyllium @keiva1000 @chibinasuu @my-name-is-heartache @laidenbreecatchall @moldychefboyardeecan @dazzlingstarlight23 @bearg-bia @babyboofangirl @praline357 @tremendoushorsepatrolgoth @traffys-heart @cherileecore @violetmatcha @theloserqueen @mapachito @shamblespirate @ibuch7

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|Chapter 9|

#eustass kid x reader #eustass captain kid #eustass x reader #eustass kid #reader insert #kid x you #you x kid #reader x kid #kid x reader #the meet cute #one piece #modern day world au

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queercoshon · 2 months ago

Text

Here's a new thing! It'll probably become a little series. I'll upload it to Deviantart when I think of a title🤔

Also, what tags are people using now? I don't want my blog to get nerfed:(

Anyways, enjoy!

Wuupz, I'm maybe a ljttle crossed again. I said id wait until this summsr to do it, but it just kinda happsned! I only had a few beers w dinner, but then ollie offered a joint anx i couldn't say no! They Lways have strong shit, i should knoow better by now.

Aaand them I got takeout on my way home. Goes well with the six pack I'm workijg through. I figured if i was already drunk i should jusy keep going! I took an edible too, waiting for that to kick in.

I ordered way too much food cuz im a fuckin pig when im drunk. No one needs a family combo. I already ate like half and my gut is like stretching a little. Beer chugs aren't helping. God i keep burping.

Holllly fuck im hungry. Im actually kindd of worried 2 more burgees and 2 more fries wont be enough.

I found rum! To put in the sodass, cuz 3 came with the commbo. The 4th ddink was a milkshake

Mmy pantsre getting real tight my belly feels soo swollen. The whole thingg just bobs up sn down when i hicccup, barely joggles at the bottomm. Thats harxd to do, usually theres enough fllab to bounce around. Fuck i ate a lot of food. I alwways so. Swhy i triedto stop. But thidx is way tooo good

Woonder if i can finish the 6 pax

I finnishhed.. . Sn im fickin huuhe i havero roll to ger up. I mean iff im being honest iit was alreaddy gettinggn a likl hard to gef uo sometimes, not evenn when im dbrunk. Im just gerting fattddr fhan chumbby now

Myg belly is makong big giŕgles, likè i can feel the rumbvles shifting alll of the crapp i shoved ij my facr. Its no wonder imbgetting so fat.

Uuurrrp! Ugh im so burppy. All the booxe and food is kust bloating md up.

Imm tryna walk to the bsthroom, gottta pee, bit walkings a little vit hard rn. My feet just adent helpful at all. Gooð thingi can lean against the wall. Its reallg cold against my bare belly.

Holy shif. I cant see my feet. I ate so mucĥ i cant see over my gut standin like this. Ficck

Ik now i said ið slwo down but i ant help it! This jusy feels too good. Wish i could jist stau home and bè a denk houss pig.

Itz 3am ive bðen goeging n drinkj n and smoking since 5pmm. Thays 10 straight hours. Ohh man do i feel ir noe. Irs a good think im fucking bllitzed or else mg belly would hurtt too mch to sleep. Ut im nice and floary and drunk ansx my stomaxh just feels lkke a rock.

Igh i ant lay down all the way, going to havè to sleep in my reclineŕ i think. My ut needs the spport of my thighs. It actually pushes my thighs apart noe.

Mmm i can barly keep my eues open, vut i cant stop rubbing my belly. If feels sooo good. Itd comeepletly studfded full, hard at the toucĥ even with the later of fat i put in in the passt year.

Class is gonne be jard tomoror

--------------------------------------------------

Millie could hear the snoring before she opened the door to their apartment.

Shavon's probably passed out again.

She was right. They were completely conked out in the recliner, empty cans and fast food wrappers littered around them. Their bare belly sat in their lap, clearly too stuffed to pool on their thighs like usual.

Millie had met Shavon in freshman year at the pride alliance club, and moved in together nearly two years ago. Aside from their increasing messiness, Shavon had been a pretty good roommate. They let Millie have her introvert downtime, but was always ready to chill if she wanted company. When they were sober, Shavon was also a killer cook. That was getting more and more rare. Nowadays it was mostly takeout. Luckily they (almost) always ordered enough for Millie, too. Didn't seem like that was the case tonight, though.

Millie knew better than to tiptoe around now, trying to be quiet. If Shavon was passed out like this, it would take the noise of a rapture to pull them out of their coma. She grabbed a takeout bag and chucked all the garbage inside, and threw the beer cans into a different bag. Her eyes traced along Shavon's corpulent form.

They had changed a lot since they first met. Starting college, Shavon had definitely been curvy, but nowhere near overweight. However, living alone for the first time and being able to choose their own food led to a very quick freshman 15. It didn't help that Shavon and Millie's friend group loved either getting high or going drinking and then going out for takeaway later. Those extra calories piled up fast.

By the time Millie and Shavon got their apartment, Shavon was nearly 80 pounds heavier.

That year was the final year of undergrad for both of them. They dealt with the stress in different ways. Millie liked to garden, cook, and bake. Shavon liked to get baked and eat Millie's cooking, or cook something of their own.

Millie did a quick tidy of the kitchen and took a quick look in the fridge before heading to her room.

The whole friend group kind of knew that Shavon was always looking for some sort of indulgence. They all enabled it in some way or another. Ollie always had joints ready to go, for instance.

Millie also did her part. She scheduled a few deliveries for tomorrow, set to arrive right when Shavon would be getting back from class. She knew they had a three day weekend, and despite Shavon always saying they would cut back, she would probably need to order again by the time Saturday came around.

This is what made Shavon happy. Millie would do anything to make that happen.

---------------------------

God, I have the best roommate. First, she woke me up this morning so I didn't miss class. My alarm was going off in my bedroom, and I guess it woke her up. But she didn't even complain! What's more, she had a coffee and breakfast sandwich ready for me! Which I dearly needed, because I dunno if I was hungover or still drunk, but existing this morning was rouuugh.

So I trudge through class (why tf did I go straight from undergrad into a masters??? I shoulda taken time off like Millie.) And as I get back home, there's a few bags at the door, as well as a grocery delivery guy. So I grab everything and unpack.

At first I thought she was throwing a party, cuz there was so much booze and snack foods. But then I saw her note on the coffee table beside a plate of brownies.

"Enjoy your three day weekend ;) try and save a drink or two for me after work. Xo Millie.

P.S. careful with the brownies, don't eat all of them in one go"

Tonight will be fun.

Ohhh ahit. I tech ically didnt eatvall of those brownies in one go. I ate one every hour for the past 4 hourss. And had a bowl. And drank like 6 cisers and a shot r 2.

I also ate like a metric ton of pasta. I like to cook when i m drinking, cuz i really norice when it starts to hit.

I still feell like im swelling. The pasta is stiiting in my belly like a rock, and all rhat booze has my belly has me judt getting bifger.

Shouldd i take another shoet? My belltss too rfull for another cider. Ill hust take another shot of this mickey herr.

I want chi0s. Oe cookies. Im so hungey. I dunno if u can get up tho, everythingd a lottle it spinny.

.the bioozw is hitting hard. I got up to trt more cider, cuz i wanted to deel my gut swell up ahain. I also gor chips, and ixe cream. Didd you knowcthat if you mix cidsrc and valnilla ice cresam you get an booizy ice cream float?mm heavdn

I can hear my belly slosh when i shakecit to get our moew burps. Slosh soash slosh Urrrrp! I 've been such a pig.everything tastes so goodzz even tho i can feel by gut stretchign.

Omm out of cider:(( i stìk got rum but i dunnno if i ccn grt ip to get mixxer. Ig i icould drjnk fromm the mickeryz but im pretty fuckrf up. Ill ftry.

Urrrrrrp! Uhh fuvkk. I gottta rock bakk andcforth fo grt uò now, vut mg belly id so stufffed. Ifd like, pullinf down ansn out st the same tome. Ufuh im so fulll of bubbledd. I jusy gofta drjnnk rumm straightht up i cantn fuckin movd. Urrrrrp. Pigg. Hic!

---------------------------------------

God, what a long day. Millie hated the afternoon/evening shift. She spent the whole morning anxious about work, and when she was off there wasn't much time to do anything.

Entering the apartment, she could hear the tv playing some nonsense, as well as evidence that Shavon hadn't passed out yet.

"Hic! Hic! Urrp! Uggh."

"Hey, love. How's it going?" Millie entered the living room, taking in the damage. A mixing bowl lined with what looked like pasta sauce was beside the recliner, along with wrappers for chips and a pint of ice cream. Millie didn't stop to count the cans, she knew by Shavon's hazy eyes it was at least half of the liquor order.

"Hic! Goooo-hic-od!" Shavon giggled and then burped. Their gut was once again a dome, just like last night. One of their hands was fondling their folds, probably completely without realising they were doing so. The other held the mickey of rum, which was more than half empty.

"You're drinking straight rum? Are you trying to black out before 10pm?"

"Naaaah. I wannted coke, bu- hic!- I cann get up. Mmm maybbe a bi drun -hic-k. An i feel -hic- really heavy. " Their eyes just could not focus on Millie.

Millie smirked. "Well, let me help with that. I'll get you some coke." She patted the top of her roommate's bare belly, unleashing a string of burps. Shavon hummed and smiled, sort of nodding.

As she puttered around the kitchen, Millie tried to combat the heat in her face. She started feeling...things whenever Shavon got like this. She noticed a few months ago, when she came home early to find her roommate beached on the couch, gut spherical from getting stuffed with an entire cake and a bottle of baileys. Shavon couldn't even speak, and neither could Millie. She felt a pull to them, and started tracing the bright pink stretch marks on their belly, before switching to a more meaningful belly rub. Shavon's moans switched from utter discomfort to pure satisfaction.

After that day, Millie had been enabling them more and more. Neither of them said anything about it, it just seemed to be the new way of life for them.

She mixed a drink for herself, and brought a few bottles of soda and an empty glass to Shavon.

They barely noticed Millie arrive, their head bobbing slightly with every hiccup, their several chins stopping them from leaning forward completely.

"Are you sure you need this?" Millie waved the pop bottle in front of them, their bloodshot eyes struggling to follow.

"Hmm? Yeaaa. Thhans, Millie." They managed to grab the glass, but they couldn't figure out where to put it to pour the rum in. They used to hold it between their knees, but now there was a massive belly in the way.

Millie grabbed the glass and rum, "here, let me. Tell me when." She let the rum trickle in and it continued filling. She was worried Shavon didn't understand the task, until the cup was over a quarter full with amber liquid.

"Whenn."

She topped the rest up with coke and handed Shavon the glass, who threw back several desperate gulps.

"Braaap! Thhanks, Millie. You'rr the bess-hic!"

"Let me bring you a snack to soak up that alcohol, honey."

Millie could hear their stomach gurgling as she walked away.

--------------------------------

Mmmm i can neeven lft my heßd. I thinķ im froolong. M so drunk n by vfbrlly os so fill, vit im so hungruu. Mg eyds are socheavy.

Mmmph! Wha-?? Mmmm is choco olate. Cìpcakee i think? Where did it come romm? Cns barely oenc my eeyes. Oh, irs milliem good millie

"Yeah, I'm good? You like this?"

I nodd but i didnt mean to sau that outg louss. Can she reas mg thoughts?m my mouth was full of coohoxalate.

Ohh its do rich. I onlg got onee hannd to ruv my poor belly, gofte keep holding the drink. I think i ll spoll if i try fo lift it up tho. Hic!

"Poor piggy, let me help you." Miklliee took my drink! I whine but ifts good to haveb bofh my handds to rub my fut.

Brrap! Uhh ohm y god shes rubbingng my gut too ansd it ffeeks amazing. I canr keep my head up its gonns fall nack. My eyess kro dry to keep opdnn.

"Your poor belly. No wonder you're outgrowing your recliner. You'll have to start being a hog on the couch soon."

Ffuuckk mmmmm hmm?

Myt drink it at my mouth i gofta chug? Ogh righth millie is holdnf it, she s holdinf it to my motjh, i gottta be s good pig andcdrink. Ans drink. Andx drink. Igg burns!

Urrrrap!

"That was hard work, huh? You're panting! You did so good tho, you drank it all."

"I'mm a gooo pigghy hic!" Im do fuckifn full fhat thre hiccup makes my belly od one solif bounce. No jigggle no rupples no soff flab. Ebeen my belly hsndg is like inflated. Hic!

"A good piggy who got the hiccups. Did someone drink too much?"

"Hic! Bnnno. Hic! Urrrp. I cou drinkk morr. Hic! Ugh."

I fink shes lauching at me? Shes smkling ugh shes so cute. Oooh shee rubbinggn my belly ans hm? Holdong another cup to myh mouthh.

"Then drink."

------------------------------

Millie wasn't sure if the heat in her cheeks was from her drink, or from spending the next few hours getting Shavon even more tanked. By midnight they had finished the mickey of rum, taken several more bong hits, and demolished a plate of nachos Millie made. They had ended up passing out mid bite around 12:30am, nacho still in hand. Millie cleaned them up a little, tidied the living room, and tucked them under a blanket.

Maybe it was the alcohol guiding her thoughts, but Millie fell asleep to thoughts of seeing how often they'd be able to do this.

----------------------------------

4 cypcakes was a lit of sufer, a lot of caloriws. All my burps tatse like chocolate and boozze. Itd onlyy lirk 2. I soke ip at noon andx i wasnt even hunf over!

Prily cuz i was dtill drinnk.

Keepong my head up is haed. Uh oh is sounds like millies home.

"I hope my piggy's hungry!"

Oh, i iam.

------------------------------

It'd been three weeks since that night, and Shavon got fucked up every single night that they didn't have a morning class the next day. So every Wednesday, Friday, Saturday, and Sunday night. They were starting their debauchery early on Saturdays and Sundays now, sometimes getting beached on the recliner before noon.

Millie brought home groceries and liquor after running errands on Saturday. Most of her purchases were now based on what Shavon wanted to consume. Lots of sweets, lots of fast food, and of course lots of booze.

"I hope my piggy's hungry!" She put down the groceries in the kitchen and rounded into the living room to see Shavon smiling dumbly at her, red eyes hazy and unfocused.

"Yaaa, you brought me f-hic- food?" They licked their lips as if they were starving, but their bulging gut showed they were anything but. The past few weeks of overdrive had clearly taken a toll, their stretchmarks shattering across their rapidly expanding frame.

"I did! I bet you're starving. And thirsty too! I only see seven beer cans."

Shavon picked up the one in their cup holder and chugged, belching repeatedly once it was drained.

"Ei- burrrp!- eight.." they giggled slightly and their head lolled to the side a little, and Millie felt a familiar heat trace through her body right up to her cheeks.

"Let me get you more." Let's see how much they can take before they pass out today.

-------------------------------

Ccu ck she kèeps holdinf frinls snd food to my mojtn snd i gotts eat them all . I cnt fickinf breathe. My gut is creajinf smd stretching so mich its itcht.

Mmmmm Urrrrrp!

I love when shee doee s this. In faxt, last few gimes i was drunko sje pushsd me til i blacked out. Maybe ecen more timws and i dont remember.

"Urrrrrp! Oh Millieee..."

Yes sweetie?

Moatrrre pless"

The little piggy wants more?

"Urrrrp! Yessh"

And she holdls a beer bottle to my mouth and i xhug and i chug. It riahes to mt throar and i choke a little, vut she doesn't stopp. My st0maxh is o fizzy, it all bubbles back as soon ascshe moves away.

Urrrp URRRRP! Ohhhh

Jshe btought home takeout.. i ofnt evem need to open my eyesz shes just holding the food to my mouth snd i just jeep esting. I odnt even know how mosny burgers sre in my gut. Ohhh its stretching

Hic! Hic! Each hiccup us shaking ny belly. My fat is do jigglyg now. I fdel it whenefver i moce. I thiught i wass fatf befoŕ,vut thrr pst like 2? Weeekd i purt on like 10 pounffs. If sheh keepd dfeeingb me like thið in gonnna be òvr 350 brefore septtemver. I wont fiþ in ther desks at scoool! I alrrsdy have fo squeezde into them. Vi have to osqueeze into a lfo of things now. Clotheds, boothsz, doors, sns eveɓ our shower.

Kmmm shhees squeeezing my bellt, and squeexing more into uf. Brrathjng is kinda haed..

"H-hic- how mmmuch have i had to drinn?" Wowe my tongue isc so iheacy.

"You don't know? Let me count for you."

Sheees holdin up each cañ and bottle sss she counts. I csnr keep tracj.

"...eleven, twelve, thirteen! You have such a high tolerance, most people would be passing out now."

"Yeahhh, I haf a high tolr-hic-ance." My eues are do heavy and mym bellu is too aand its kinda hardd to ke p my head ipm

"So that just means you need more, hhmm?"

Im nodding i think im nodding. Millies smilinngz so i did nodd. Oohh shesx makin me a mixdd drink i like thosde best.

"Drink up, piglet. You're far too sober."

Glug! Glug! Glug! Uhhh itcbursn. Usually shs hides the alchol flavour bt kthis is so mucĥ vodka i think.

Urrp!!! Urrrrapp! Ii cant stop pantiiing myyy belly to heacy. Ooooh...

-------------------

Millie couldn't stop tracing her nails over Shavon's swollen stomach. They had passed out maybe 15 minutes ago, but that didn't mean their body was silent. Gurgles and groans were emitting from their poor belly, which once again had barely any give.

The two hadn't spoken about this yet, but both seemed to like it. Millie loved being a little bit responsible for Shavon's state, and Shavon liked every push and prod Millie gave. It was working out well for both of them.

But what would happen in the future? Would Shavon want to stop to focus on school and later their career? Could they stop if they wanted to? If they couldn't, would Millie's salary be enough to cover everything?

Millie shook her head. These aren't problems for right now. The next problem was that Shavon would probably rouse still tanked, but starving. By now, Millie was figuring out Shavon's wants and desires, and they would want something heavy and greasy as soon as they woke up.

So she left the unconscious orb of a human to convert all those calories into more fat, and started working on a menu for the rest of the weekend.

Let's see if we can get 10lbs in 1 week this time.

#intox feedee #queer feedism #stuffed fatty #feedism story #intox wg #stuffing literature #feedee encouragement

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