#uh... sorry? 🤕

[reggiestein]

ugggghhhhhhhhhhhhhh dies. dies. dies. dies. kisses him on the mouth. dies.

[donghoonie-3]

I love how I wanna be more dom with some people but with others it doesn't matter lmao

[solelifauna]

With Bared Teeth & Prayers (Yandere Batfam X Neglected Reader) (Dark!!! Werewolf AU) (PT. 2)

Hi guys, I’m alive. I’ve just been sick and then found out that my dog’s cancer spread and the surgery costs $3,000 which is insane. Anyways, I’ve been working irl so I completely forgot about this account. Sorry pookies🤕🙏.

If anyone wants to know I’m still taking commissions, and if my price doesn’t work for you I’m sure I can lower it!! Honestly, I’ll write for whatever price I’m lowkey desperate.😭🙏

The next morning, you wake up in panic, shit, you slept in. You rush out the manor forgoing breakfast, almost eating shit on the sidewalk in your rush. You hop onto your bike, pedaling as if death itself was chasing you, huffing and puffing. Thankfully you make it to school on time, if only just on time.

You fall into your seat just as the bell rings, letting the top half of your body crumple over the desk.

“Looks like somebody had a rough morning.” The familiar voice of one of your best friends.

“Fuck off Quinn.” You huff out tiredly.

“Fine, then I guess this extra black coffee I got at Gloria’s is going to waste then.” She said teasingly.

How is it that she always has impeccable intuition about these things?

You groaned sitting up, giving Quinn a tired look.

“Yikes, I was gonna make another smartass joke but you look like you’re about to keel over.” She said worriedly, handing over the extra coffee.

“Ha ha, yeah I feel like I'm about to keel over. Thanks for the coffee by the way.” You said dryly.

“Don’t sweat it girl, but–uh, what the hell happened.”

“Too much dude, too much. It's so much bullshit I don't even know where to start.”

“Im guessing its about–”

“Ding, ding, ding, you got it.”

“Shit…how bad? They’re not gonna… you know…” Quinn stutters off.

“Kill me? Eat me?” 

She nodded.

You massage your forehead, a headache forming between your eyebrows. “I'll be so for real right now, I don't even know.”

“Damn, I don't even know what to say to that.” Quinn grimaces.

“It’d be weird if you did.” You joked giving her a sardonic smile.“Well if they’re gonna kill me, I hope they do it before finals.”

“You’ve got issues (Y/n).”

“I’m aware.”

Just then the chatter in the class started to pipe down as your history teacher, Mr. Lechliter, made his way into the room. However, something wasn’t right; his usually neat hair was in disarray and you could smell that he was profusely sweating. He was nervous, which was completely out of character. Sure Mr. Lechliter was awkward at times but he was normally confident and loud around the class, something was going on. 

“Good morning, class,” Mr. Lechliter began, but his voice was shaky, not at all the usual booming tone he used to command the room. “I-uh, hope you’re all ready to jump into… um, well, history.” He swallowed hard, glancing around as if searching for something—or someone—outside the door.

You look at Quinn with a raised eyebrow. What the hell is happening right now?

“We, um, actually have two guests who’ll be auditing a couple of classes today so we all want you guys on your best behavior. For our sakes and yours.” He said fidgeting with his paperweight globe, however, it was what he whispered under his breath that had you worried. What the fuck did he mean by that?!

“These guest speakers are one of the school's top sponsors so I truly cannot express the need we have for you all to behave and be on task, understand?” Mr. Lechliter spoke gravely.

The class let out a scattered “Yes” whilst others nodded. Now it was the class's turn to start getting nervous, the energy in the room now becoming quite grim. Seeing the class’s cooperation, Mr. Lechliter let out a shaky smile and nodded back at the class in approval. You sipped your coffee nervously in tandem.

“Good. Now, without further adieu, please welcome the esteemed Bruce Wayne and his son, CEO of Wayne Enterprises, Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne.”

And in walked your worst nightmare as you choked on your coffee. A hesitant applause began as a couple of heads turned your way, including the scrutinizing eyes of Bruce Wayne and Tim Drake.

“Jesus Christ (Y/n), are you good?” Quinn whispered, patting your back.

“Does it look like I'm good, Quinn?” You whisper-yell back.

“Sorry, dumb question.”

“I legitimately can't do this right now.” You groan out quietly.

Tim’s sharp, calculating gaze landed on you, and for a split second, his lips twitched upward in what looked disturbingly close to satisfaction. Bruce, however, kept his gaze steady, stoic, making his way to the front of the class like he owned every square inch of the room—and maybe, in a way, he did.

Bruce stepped forward, greeting Mr. Lechliter with a firm handshake before addressing the class. “Good morning,” he said, his voice carrying a smooth authority. “It’s always a pleasure to see the next generation of Gotham’s finest minds, and today, we’re here to discuss some unique opportunities with Wayne Enterprises—partnerships, scholarships, and mentorship programs that may be of interest to you in your future studies.”

Meanwhile, Tim’s gaze remained fixed on you, a silent warning lingering behind his polite smile. You swallowed hard, avoiding eye contact, hoping that blending in might somehow make you invisible. But Tim had no intention of letting you off the hook. He leaned slightly closer to Bruce, murmuring something that made Bruce’s eyes flicker in your direction, his expression unreadable.

Quinn leaned over, her voice barely a whisper. “(Y/n), what the hell is going on? They keep looking at you.”

“Trust me, I wish I knew,” you muttered back, managing to take a sip of coffee without choking this time. “They’re just here to make my life a living nightmare, apparently.”

As Bruce and Tim began their presentation, outlining all the “wonderful opportunities” that a connection to Wayne Enterprises could bring, you couldn’t help but feel trapped. Every line, every subtle glance, seemed like a reminder that escape from their influence was impossible. They were inescapable, even here, in the one place you thought you could breathe.

When they finally wrapped up their presentation, Bruce offered to answer questions, his gaze settling on you for the briefest moment, as if daring you to speak up. You just nervously looked away, its fine, they’ve said their piece and will be leaving soon.

But of course life doesn't ever go the way that you want.

The relief that had started to settle in evaporated as Bruce and Tim made no move to leave. Instead, they took seats at the back of the classroom, settling in with that same poised, assessing presence that dominated every room they entered. Bruce folded his hands in his lap, his gaze steady and inscrutable, while Tim casually crossed his arms, his eyes tracking every student’s reaction, but always coming back to you.

You swallowed hard, glancing at Quinn, who was now just as unsettled as you were. “Are they… staying?” she whispered, her brows knitting together in worry.

“Looks like it,” you muttered, barely moving your lips.

Mr. Lechliter, visibly tense under the weight of their scrutiny, resumed his lesson with all the grace of a man on the edge of a breakdown. Every time he stumbled over his words or glanced nervously at Bruce, the room felt as if it held its breath.

“This, um, particular era in history…” Mr. Lechliter began, stammering slightly as he struggled to keep his usual confident tone. “It’s a time when alliances shifted often, and there was…constant jockeying for power…”

Bruce and Tim watched, expressions neutral, but you knew better than to believe their act. They weren’t here for any genuine interest in educational standards; they were here as a reminder, a warning that the Wayne influence extended beyond the manor walls.

You focused on your notebook, pen tapping anxiously against the paper as you tried to tune them out and take frantic notes. But it was impossible to ignore the cold prickle at the back of your neck. Every glance felt like a needle, each second stretching longer than the last.

Mr. Lechliter’s lecture painstakingly continued on for another thirty minutes before class started coming to an end.

The bell finally rang as you shot up out of your seat and practically sprinted out the door. You head to your locker, feeling the many starters of students and teachers bore into you. Another thing was that everyone kinda knew that the Wayne’s didn't like you, it was very obvious. Which meant the media had a field day, letting the entirety of Gotham know how much the famous pack hated you. So now your business was also aired out to the entire world to know. Wonderful, am I right?

You shove your unneeded books into your (tbh, very cutely) decorated locker, while grabbing the science textbook you needed for your next class, AP Biology. This class was the absolute bane of your existence. Not only was the content hard, the teacher was also absolutely nuts. You walk over to your Bio class, clutching your books like a lifeline. “Please, dont be here too.” You pray to yourself. Thankfully, this class was normal, well, as normal as it could get. The other two classes you have before lunch ended the same way, Wayneless. 

As your fourth class comes to an end your stomach starts to growl. You’d be embarrassed, but everyone else in your class was in a similar starved state. When the lunch bell goes off, you’re excitedly grabbing your things and making your way down. Fucking finally it was lunchtime. You made your way to the quickly growing lunchline

Your friends were already sitting at your usual table as you made your way over and slammed your lunch tray on the table.

“Im gonna kill myself.”

“I can't even say anything about that.” One of your other friends Daniel says.

You groaned holding your head in your hands, your headache becoming more prevalent as you turn to look at him.

“Man all I did was ask to leave, and now this shit? I can't even right now.”

“You finally asked to leave, huh? I'm guessing it didn't go well.” Daniel asks.

“Nope, but when does anything ever go right in my life.”

Just as you finish talking, the noisy cafeteria falls abruptly silent. The usual clatter of trays and chatter of students fades, replaced by an almost eerie quiet. You and your friends exchange confused glances before turning to see what—or who—could possibly have silenced a room full of teenagers. But in the pit of your stomach, you already have an idea.

Sure enough, walking through the entrance are Bruce Wayne and Tim Drake-Wayne, looking completely out of place in their immaculate suits and composed expressions. Their powerful, calculating gazes sweep across the crowd, searching for someone, before both of their eyes zero in on you and your table. Instinctively, you tense up, your shoulders hunching as if to make yourself smaller, and you feel the flush of embarrassment heat your cheeks under their scrutiny.

Their focused stares make you flinch, and you quickly look away, facing your friends once more. “See what I mean?” you mutter under your breath, trying to keep your voice steady. “It’s like the universe is out to get me.”

Daniel raises an eyebrow, glancing between you and the Waynes, a flicker of worry passing over his face. "What are they doing here? This isn’t normal, right?”

“No, it’s definitely not,” you reply, trying to keep your tone casual even as your heart races. “They’re here to make a point.”

You further slump into the table, arms cradling your head as the cafeteria slowly starts to go back to its normal noise level. Both Tim and Bruce take a seat at a table opposite to where you’re sitting, which gives them a perfect view of your table. Great.

“Guys talk to me. Anything–talk about anything please.” You beg quietly.

Quinn leans in, glancing nervously at the Waynes across the cafeteria. “Uh, did you hear about Chief Keef performing soon? Apparently, he’ll be in Gotham.”

Daniel nods, catching on to your plea for distraction. “Yeah, yeah, I heard he's gonna bring another artist on stage. Mauve Travis or something if we’re lucky?.”

You smile weakly, grateful for the distraction, even if your heart’s still pounding. You try to focus on what they’re saying, but you can feel Tim’s gaze on you like a laser, scrutinizing, watching every movement. You pretend not to notice, grabbing a fry from your tray and nodding along to whatever Daniel and Quinn are saying, forcing yourself to join in with a half-hearted laugh here and there.

Quinn suddenly brings up a story from her last weekend, trying her best to lighten the mood. “Okay, get this—I tried to impress this guy by pretending to know how to skate, but instead, I ended up flat on my face in front of, like, everyone. Mortifying, but he did buy me a smoothie as a consolation prize.”

You chuckle, letting the story pull you out of your anxious thoughts. “I mean, sounds like it kind of worked. You got a free smoothie, right?”

Quinn laughs, rolling her eyes. “Only because he felt bad, but hey, I’ll take pity smoothies.”

The laughter at your table grows, the lighthearted moment almost making you forget the ominous presence of Bruce and Tim nearby. But just as you’re starting to relax, you catch a glimpse of Tim’s amused smirk from the corner of your eye. His eyes don’t leave you, as if he knows exactly how unsettling his presence is and he’s reveling in it.

“I think he liked you,” Daniel teases Quinn, keeping the conversation going to help ease your nerves.

“Liked my bruised ego, maybe,” she snorts. “Anyway, what about you, (Y/n)? Got any secret admirers?”

You shake your head, grateful they’re keeping the focus off your current predicament. “Nope, unless you count the cadaver frog I accidentally dropped on my lab partner. He, uh-didn’t look at me the same after that.”

Your friends burst out laughing, and for a brief, blessed moment, you almost feel normal again. But when you glance back, Bruce’s eyes are still on you, cool and unyielding.

“Here’s to hoping they’re gone after lunch,” Daniel mutters, catching your uneasy glance.

“What good has hoping ever done me?” You sigh, picking at your food.

The tension in the cafeteria never fully fades. Despite the attempts from Quinn and Daniel to keep the conversation going, the presence of Bruce and Tim just continues to overwhelm you. Every so often, your eyes flit toward them, only to find them still seated, still watching, and their expressions betraying nothing of their true intent. It feels like they’re waiting for you to make a move, to react in some way that would justify their unsettling attention.

Lunch drags on in this uncomfortable limbo until, at last, the bell rings, signaling the end of the break. Your friends gather their things, offering small words of encouragement or supportive smiles, though they too look wary of the Waynes’ lingering presence.

“I’ll see you both in Chem. Hopefully Mr. Domzalski isn't still in a bad mood from what happened yesterday.” You say.

“You mean from when you and Daniel set fire to one of his textbooks?” Quinn questions sardonically.

You and Daniel offer her a sheepish, guilty smile. 

“Hey–it was an accident!” he exclaims, feigning offense.

“Yeah, what he said! We followed all the instructions to a T!” You defend as well.

“Sure, whatever you both say. I'm just surprised he didn't automatically fail you two.” Quinn says fondly.

“It’s ‘cause we’re somehow his favorites? Don't ask me how or why though.” You respond.

As you and Daniel chuckle, the lightheartedness helps lift some of the weight that had been hanging over your head. The relief is short-lived, though, as you feel a prickle on the back of your neck—a feeling that’s become all too familiar lately.

You glance back to see Bruce and Tim still watching, and for a moment, something in Bruce’s gaze changes. You can’t quite read it, but it feels sharper, like he’s calculating, considering something he hasn’t said. You swallow, gripping your bag tighter as your friends move to head toward class, unaware of the silent tension hanging around you like a cloud.

You head to your APA Algebra II class alone, without the usual buffer of Daniel or Quinn’s lighthearted banter to ease the tension. The classroom is quiet, a different atmosphere from the lively lunch period, and you’re able to slip into your seat undisturbed, hoping that the math problems ahead will give you a welcome distraction.

As the class moves on, you find yourself lost in equations, the numbers and formulas acting as a temporary refuge from everything else. You keep your head down, concentrating on the work, grateful for the momentary peace that academics bring.

When the bell rings, signaling the end of Math, you gather your things and head to APA Chemistry, where you’d finally reunite with Daniel and Quinn. When you arrive in APA Chemistry, the atmosphere is surprisingly relaxed. Mr. Domzalski hasn’t arrived yet, so everyone’s just hanging out, chatting about weekend plans, or joking around. You plop down next to Daniel, who’s already doodling on his notebook, and give Quinn a tired smile. It’s nice to have a few minutes to unwind before the usual controlled chaos of Mr. Domzalski’s class kicks in.

Then, the door swings open, and you freeze as Mr. Domzalski steps in with Tim Drake following close behind. Your stomach twists, and you have to swallow down a groan. Thankfully, Bruce is nowhere to be seen. Small blessings, you suppose; better not to question it too much. You look at your friends, trying to convey your annoyance with a single tired look as Mr. Domzalski beams with a sort of overdone excitement that sets you on edge.

“Everyone, I’d like you to welcome a special guest,” he says, practically brimming with enthusiasm. “Tim Drake-Wayne, CEO of Wayne Enterprises, is here to observe our class today.”

You sink lower in your chair, stifling a grumble. Great, just great. This whole thing was growing stale fast. You try to ignore the interested murmurs spreading through the class as everyone stares at Tim, who stands there with that same polite, professional smile he’s been flashing all day. You avoid eye contact, focusing instead on the edge of your desk as Mr. Domzalski continues.

“Now,” Mr. Domzalski goes on, shifting his focus to the lab materials, “before we dive into today’s lesson, let’s review what went wrong in yesterday’s lab.”

He shoots a pointed look in your direction, his smile still in place, but there’s a glint in his eyes that tells you he’s not exactly thrilled. “For those who might need a reminder,” he continues, not-so-subtly side-eyeing you and Daniel, “improper handling of materials led to one of my textbooks, which I cherish dearly, being set on fire.”

The class erupts into quiet snickers, and Daniel coughs into his hand, trying to disguise his laughter. You roll your eyes, but a smirk tugs at the corner of your mouth. Even Tim’s eyes change a bit, as if interested.

Mr. Domzalski clears his throat, regaining the class’s attention. “Let’s aim for a little more caution today, shall we?”

The lab for the day was going to be more complex than usual. Mr. Domzalski, with a edge of nervousness in his tone, began rattling off the new, more complicated instructions. His gaze flicked to you and Daniel more than once, lingering just long enough to make his message clear: Please don’t mess up.

You slouched slightly in your seat, already feeling the weight of the unspoken pressure. It wasn’t lost on you how much was riding on this lab going smoothly—not just for your grade, but for Mr. Domzalski himself. With Tim Drake-Wayne, CEO of Wayne Enterprises and a member of one of Gotham’s most powerful packs, observing, any mishap could very well put your teacher’s job on the line.

Next to you, Daniel caught your eye, his lips twitching into a wry smirk. He leaned in, whispering, “Feel like we’re walking on eggshells today, huh?”

“More like a minefield,” you muttered back, eyeing the lab equipment warily. The setup looked far more intricate than usual—beakers and flasks stacked alongside pipettes, Bunsen burners, and an array of unfamiliar chemicals. It was a recipe for disaster, and you had no intention of being the one to set it off.

Tim, seated at the back of the room, watched the proceedings with his usual cool detachment. His presence was like a weight pressing down on the room, amplifying every minor sound and movement. You could practically feel his gaze on you, even when you weren’t looking his way.

“Alright, everyone,” Mr. Domzalski said, clapping his hands to gather the class’s attention. “Remember to follow the instructions precisely as they’re written. This is a delicate experiment, and precision is key. Any deviation could—well, let’s just say we don’t want any surprises today.”

The pointed glance he sent your way at the word “surprises” made you cringe internally. You shot Daniel a look. He seemed to get the message, giving you a small nod before turning his focus to the materials in front of him.

With a deep breath, you adjusted your goggles and got to work, determined not to give anyone—especially Tim—a reason to criticize.

The lab was rough from the very start. No matter how tightly you adjusted your goggles, they kept fogging up, obscuring your vision at the worst possible moments. You constantly had to pause to wipe them off, and each time, you felt Tim's Gaze flicker towards you. Daniel, meanwhile, was no better. He almost tipped over a vial of some unpronounceable chemical twice, and each time, you barely managed to steady it before disaster struck.

“Bro you have to lock in.” you said under your breath.

“I'm trying–fuck. My hands are too shaky.” Daniel whispered back, nervous as he tried held out his hands for you to see. He carefully set the vial down, only for his elbow to nudge another piece of equipment. You caught it just in time, your heart leaping into your throat.

The instructions seemed to come at lightning speed, Mr. Domzalski rattling off steps faster than you could write them down. Each new instruction layered on top of the last until your head was spinning with measurements, temperatures, and reaction times. You were doing your best to keep up—you think you were doing it right—but the constant noise and movement around you made it feel like everything was closing in.

You glanced at the flask on your workstation, bubbling faintly as it was supposed to, and double-checked the temperature. It seemed fine. Probably fine. Hopefully fine. But the nagging thought that you might’ve missed a step wouldn’t go away.

Behind you, Tim’s silent observation was like a shadow, adding another layer of stress to the already chaotic atmosphere. Every time you caught sight of him out of the corner of your eye, you swore his expression was unreadable, yet somehow judgmental.

“I think this is right,” you muttered, glancing at the next step in the instructions and adjusting your setup.

“‘Think’ isn’t reassuring, (Y/n),” Daniel replied, he was nervous. “Don’t blow us up, okay?”

“Not funny,” you snapped, though your lips twitched in a half-smile despite the stress. “Just keep stirring before we mess up the timing.”

The rest of the lab dragged on in a haze of nervous energy and frantic adjustments. Your hands trembled slightly as you measured out the final chemical, careful not to let even a drop spill. When you finally completed the experiment, the mixture in the beaker turned the correct pale blue color, and you let out a shaky breath of relief.

“See?” Daniel said, flashing you a grin. “We nailed it.”

You gave him a tired look. “Barely.”

As Mr. Domzalski approached to check your work, you held your breath, praying there wasn’t some detail you’d overlooked. When he gave a curt nod of approval, you finally relaxed, though your nerves still felt frayed. Even then, you could feel Tim’s eyes on you, as if silently appraising every moment of your struggle.

The lab was over, but the stress lingered like a heavy weight on your shoulders. You packed up your materials with shaky hands, grateful to escape the pressure of both the experiment and the unrelenting scrutiny.

As the class wrapped up, Mr. Domzalski passed by your station, his sharp eyes flicking over the completed experiment. The pale blue liquid in the beaker must have been just right because, instead of his usual critical remarks, he gave a subtle nod and a quiet, “Good work.” The words weren’t overly enthusiastic, but coming from him—and especially with Tim Drake watching—it was as close to praise as you could get.

You felt a weight lift off your shoulders, and you let out a long sigh of relief. You and Daniel exchanged a look, his triumphant grin mirrored by the faintest smile you allowed yourself. You’d passed. Somehow, despite the foggy goggles, Daniel’s near-disasters, and the relentless pressure, you’d made it through the lab unscathed.

As you finished cleaning up, Mr. Domzalski gave you a brief, silent glance of thanks. It wasn’t much, but you knew what it meant: he was grateful you hadn’t turned today’s experiment into another headline-worthy incident. You nodded subtly back, grateful that the ordeal was over.

With the last of your equipment put away, you grabbed your bag and escaped the lab as quickly as possible, the weight of Tim’s lingering gaze finally lifting as you stepped into the hallway. Quinn was waiting by the door, chatting with Daniel, who was still buzzing with post-lab adrenaline.

“Well, looks like you didn’t burn down the school,” Quinn teased, grinning as she fell into step with you.

“Yeah, yeah,” you muttered, rolling your eyes but smiling despite yourself. “We’re still alive, so I guess that’s a win.”

“Hey give us more credit.” Daniel chimed in, earning a laugh from both you and Quinn.

As the three of you headed for the stairs, you said goodbye to Daniel, who was heading to a different class. “See you later, guys.” he said, waving as he turned down another hallway.

You and Quinn made your way toward the gym for your seventh period, the final class of the day. The familiar chatter and clang of lockers greeted you as you stepped into the changing area. Gym wasn’t exactly your favorite class, but after the stress of the lab, it was almost a relief to have something physical to focus on instead of the constant mental strain.

“Think they’ll leave you alone for the day?” Quinn asked as you pulled on your gym shoes.

“I hope so,” you replied, your voice weary. “I can’t handle any more of this. It’s like they can’t even wait to-to…you know.”

Quinn grimaces. “Yeah, I know.” But she smiles back at you, as if tying to make you perk up. “Well, at least we’re doing dodgeball today, you should blow off some steam.”

You huff, amused. “Mm, maybe nailing Farah in the head with a dodgeball would do me some good.”

“Straight on bitch, that girl needs to be humbled.” Quinn says.

You chuckled, shaking your head. “At this point, I’ll take any excuse to hit something.”

The two of you stepped into the gym, the sound of sneakers squeaking on polished floors and the buzz of students warming up filling the air. It wasn’t the easiest day, but at least the end was finally in sight.

The day finally winds down as you head to the locker rooms to change. The smell of sweat and disinfectant fills the air as you and the other students shuffle to your lockers, exchanging the occasional half-hearted quip about how much of a drill sergeant Coach Walker was today. You change quickly, eager to escape the lingering humidity of the gym, and sling your bag over your shoulder just as the dismissal bell rings.

Joining the tide of students heading toward the front exit, you fall into step with Quinn, chatting idly about homework and plans for the weekend. The sprawling line of cars in the pick-up area is already forming, parents eager to whisk their kids away from the chaos of the school day.

Daniel spots you both as he weaves through the crowd toward his mom’s car, parked conveniently near the front of the line. “Guess that’s my ride,” he calls, swatting your shoulder playfully. “Try not to miss me too much tomorrow, I've got a doc's appointment.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Yeah, yeah, you wish asshole.”

“Later!” he shouts, hopping into the passenger seat of his mom’s car as it pulls away. You and Quinn wave after him before continuing toward the pick-up zone.

“Alfred here today?” Quinn asks, glancing around at the cars idling nearby.

“Probably not,” you reply with a shrug. “Haven’t heard from him, so it’s probably just me and the bike today.”

Quinn nods, her attention already shifting to a car pulling up in the distance. “Looks like my dad’s almost here.”

You glance toward the pickup area and spot the familiar vehicle inching closer. “Cool. Guess I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

“Yep. Don’t get mugged on the way home,” she jokes, smirking as she adjusts her backpack.

“Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence,” you reply with a laugh. With a quick goodbye, you head toward the bike rack to unlock your trusty two-wheeler.

The quietness of the parking lot is a stark contrast to the noisy chaos of the day. You crouch down, fiddling with the combination lock on your bike, when a hulking shadow falls over you. The sudden shift in light is enough to make your instincts bristle, but you stay focused on the lock, rolling your eyes at the interruption.

“Bro, if you’re lookin’ to mug me,” you say without looking up, your tone flat and unamused, “you should know I’m skint broke. Try some other bitch.”

The air around you seems to thicken with tension, and you feel the unmistakable weight of someone’s gaze boring into you. It’s enough to make you pause mid-turn on the lock, your breath catching as a low, familiar voice responds.

“I sure hope you’re not talking to me?” Comes your father, Bruce’s, deep voice.

Your head snaps up, and your breath catches in your throat as you realize it’s not some wannabe punk standing over you.

You pale instantly, the color draining from your face as you meet his icy blue eyes. His expression is unreadable, but the weight of his gaze is suffocating. The sheer presence of him—imposing, cold, and unnervingly silent—makes your stomach churn with dread. Your heart pounds in your chest as you scramble for words, your brain tripping over itself in panic.

“Oh—uh, Mr. Wayne—I didn’t—I mean, I thought…” you stammer, trying to cobble together an explanation and an apology all at once. Your hands fumble with the lock on your bike, suddenly feeling clumsy under his scrutiny. “I—um—sorry! I thought—uh—someone else—”

He raises an eyebrow, the tiniest shift in his expression, but it’s enough to make you flinch. You straighten up, clutching your bike for dear life, feeling small and utterly exposed under his towering figure.

“I see,” he says finally, his voice calm but laced with that undercurrent of authority that makes it clear he’s not just seeing. He’s assessing.

“I didn’t realize it was you,” you blurt, trying to salvage what’s left of your dignity. “I thought it was, uh, someone else. Someone trying to—um—mug me?” The excuse sounds weak even to your own ears, and you wince inwardly at how ridiculous it must sound.

Bruce’s gaze doesn’t waver. “Do you make a habit of mouthing off to strangers you assume are threats?” he asks, his tone deceptively mild.

“N-no, sir,” you stammer, shaking your head quickly. “I just—I didn’t mean anything by it. It’s been a long day, and I wasn’t thinking—”

He holds up a hand, cutting off your rambling. “Enough,” he says, “I’m here to pick you up. Alfred’s occupied.”

Your mouth opens, then closes, as you try to process his words. You hadn’t even considered the possibility that Bruce might be the one picking you up today. Of course, the thought of him going out of his way to do so hadn’t even crossed your mind, it wasn’t like he ever went out of his way for you before.

“Oh,” you manage after an awkward pause. “Right. Thanks.”

You still have your conversation from the previous day in mind.

“Come on,” he says, turning without another word. “We’re leaving.”

You hastily shove your bike into the back of his sleek black car, your movements hurried and uncoordinated under the pressure of his presence. Sliding into the back seat, you notice Tim sitting in the front passenger seat, looking at you through the rear mirror. You avert your gaze, clasping your hands tightly in your lap, trying not to fidget as the engine purrs to life. The air inside the car is thick with silence, broken only by the occasional click of the turn signal as Bruce maneuvers through traffic.

You steal a glance at him, his expression as stoic and unreadable as ever. Despite the tension knotting your stomach, you force yourself to speak. “I—uh, thanks for picking me up,” you mumble, staring out the window.

Bruce doesn’t respond immediately, his eyes fixed on the road. When he finally speaks, his tone is even but firm. “We’ll talk when we get home.”

Your throat tightens when you see Tim's glee filled smile, as if a cat had just caught a canary. You nod mutely, knowing there’s no point in arguing. Whatever he has to say, it’s not going to be pleasant.

[Hope you guys liked the chapter!! I'm sorry for the delay and the ghosting, more fics will be updated trust!! Also thank you to all the people who were checking on me, I really appreciate it!!]

[leyavo]

Hello!! I hope you're having a nice day!! I absolutely LOVE your writing!! I was wondering if you would be able to write about a sickly!reader? I'm chronically ill and have been since birth and I can never find representation for us frail bony besties. Could you either do general headcanons (platonic pls) or like dad!price with sickly!reader?

Hey thank you (🤕 anon) for the kind words. Sorry for the long wait. (I included some chronic illnesses that I am familiar with and know people that have them, but all illnesses are different for each person and not the same) I hope you have a nice day too!! 🥹 I did your request with Dad!Price.

[Main masterlist]

TF141 x Chronically ill!reader (platonic)

John Price x Daughter!reader:

You’d over done it yesterday, pushed yourself to do all your errands in one day and you were reaping the consequences of it today. The weight of your limbs not lifting as they kept you in bed. So sore that you could feel the ache deep into your bones.

The house silent, nothing but the warm summer breeze pushing the veiled curtains at the bottom of your bed. You don't want to move, cant stomach the searing pain of sitting up, so you give in to the fact you'll be doing nothing. The remote control left beside the tv, too far for you to reach.

A soft knock taps on your closed door and you mumble for them to come in. You Dad's head creeping in through the small opening, "bad day, kiddo?"

You nod, regretting the action. You’d clenched your jaw last night to counteract the pain and now your whole face hurt this morning. He walks in, picking the remote up as he passes it and drops it into your lap, gently.

"On a scale of one to ten?" He says, large hand slipping behind your shoulders as he helps you lean against the three well positioned pillows against the headboard. His gaze locked on yours, as if telling you not to downplay the pain.

"Eight," you mumbled, trying not to focus on the aching stabs surging through your hips as you sat up. It’s better than laying down though, least your hair won’t get too greasy or knotty.

"I feel sick.”

He glances to the bedside table, the packet of medication scattered the surface, the leaflet half tucked under the bed. The glass half empty, sitting on top of a bit of water you'd spilt when you tried to put it back on the table. "That's because ya' took your meds on an empty stomach," he said, no doubt having counted the strip of pills.

"I'm in too much pain to eat." Your words slurred as you spoke, eyes heavy as you tried to fight the drowsiness of the pills. That and the sleepless night you had, not able to find a comfortable position to lay in.

"I know, I know," he says, hand pawing the hair out of your face. "Why don't I make you some honey porridge? You'll feel a bit better and the meds will kick in soon." Your favourite and something easy to eat, nothing too chewy either. Plus it was your favourite, you ate it for breakfast and lunch nearly everyday as a two year old. He leans down, kissing your forehead before he leaves you to search the tv guide as you wait.

He returns with a tray, two bowls and a few snacks scattered around them. You can smell the honey as soon as he walks in, thankful that he’d checked on you before going to work.

“You’re uh, staying?” You asked as he peels the blanket back and joins you in the bed, his large frame hanging off the edge a little but he didn’t complain.

“Yeah, paperwork I can do later here.” He shrugs, placing the tray on your lap and taking a bowl of cereal for him self, it balances in his palm as he flicks through the tv. “You wanna watch that new movie?”

Of course you do, you’ve been on at him to watch the third one of the trilogy you both like. Waiting, because you know he’ll want to see your reaction and you his. Gives you something to talk about, theories to create whilst you wait for the next instalment or spinoff.

It’s over two hours long though, the porridge warming your aching stomach. You both talk back and forth about the characters, but you can’t fight the heavy weight pulling on your eyelids. You’re gone before you realise it, head on your dad’s shoulder and sleeping.

When you wake up, your dad’s snoring beside you. The end credits still rolling, your meds have kicked in, but you’re still in for a rough few days maybe even weeks. But you’re glad your dad’s there to help. You’re sure he’ll stay home until you’re walking about the house.

Simon Riley x Childhood friend!reader with multiple sclerosis:

You don't know why you let Simon pick the pub, the dingy place reminding you to wipe your boots on the way out. The worn carpet looked like it had been excavated for fossils, lumps here and there, crosses of gaffa tape holding torn parts together.

Simon's hand hovers over the small of your back, head dipped as he mumbles for you to watch your step. One drink, obviously something soft and not alcoholic. All you wanted to do was play a few games of darts like you used to every time Simon returned home. A little tradition you'd cancelled on the last three times due to a flare up.

Not that Simon minded, no he'd spent the night at your flat and watched a whole season of a tv show with you.

You were feeling good, made sure you hadn't done much the past few days in hopes it would conserve your energy and not trigger anything.

Simon guides you to the booth in the back, right next to the dart board. He waits for you to sit back in the leather seat and set your walking stick to the side before he leaves to get the drinks in.

An ice cold vanilla and lemonade float slides on the table in front of you. "Ready to lose, mate?" he says, taking a gulp of his beer and setting it on the table.

You let the melted ice cream over flow the glass, scooping a lump into your mouth with the chunky straw. "Don't cry when I win, Si." you pat his shoulder, hand wrapping around the darts he hands you.

The evening's filled with laughter, the odd teasing and nudging when you so accidentally elbow him. "Oh you wanna play dirty eh."

It doesn't last long though as you go to grab your glass, the tremor in your hand stopping you from tightening your grip. The glass drops, shattering to the floor. Your vision blurring as you tried to focus on your twitching fingers instead of the surge of pain shooting down to your wrist.

The cool drink splashing on your trousers, but you just stare at mess. Simon's already crouching down and mopping it up, taking the brush from the bar maid and sweeping it off your boots.

"Come on," Simon said, pulling you out of your thoughts. "Lets go get a kebab on the way home." He gently guides your walking stick into your hand and walks with you out of the pub. He’s a grounding presence for you to hold on to, not just in the physical sense but in every other too. He’s quick to think, act and make you feel like you’re not at a total loss. A scrap of normality thrown in as he talks about the flickering light that still hasn’t been fixed outside the kebab shop. How many years is tha’ now?

You're quiet as he queues up to order, the plastic chair on the side of the street digging into legs. The dull tingling in your hand has now spread up your arm and its hard trying to ignore it.

Simon doesn't say much as you both eat your food, his gaze flitting to you every now and then as you drop your wrap between each bite. Brown eyes assessing you for any knowing tells. He was covered in grazes and bruises and still made time for you.

"I'm sorry."

He shakes his head, "none of tha, you ain't apologising. Don't look at me like tha," he said, voice rough as he stared you down. You'd known each other long enough to not beat around the bush and say what you thought. You used to apologise for the smallest things, even for stuff you shouldn't. Simon always the one to tell you that you didn't need to.

"It's good to see you," you say, chucking a slice of pickle at him.

"Any excuse to get out of losing," he said, dodging the pickle and it landed on his shoulder, slipping down his leather jacket. “Let’s get you home, dying for a cuppa.”

Simon’s good at taking your mind off things and reminding you not to be too hard on yourself. Always there to listen if you need to get something off your chest.

Johnny MacTavish x sister!reader with a pacemaker:

“Johnny, you really didn’t have to take leave from work,” you grumbled, huffing as he gently took the milk carton out of your hands. “I can lift a bloody…”

The skin across your collarbone tightening as you turned to shut the fridge door. You squeezed your eyes shut, teeth sinking into your bottom lip trying to muffle a sob. The incision in your chest ached, the pacemaker underneath your flesh heavy on your left.

“You want mam to be looking after ya?” He said, palm smoothing your back. “Six weeks is nothing, compared to the months of rehab you helped me through after I got shot.” He says it like he’s repaying a debt, but you don’t call him out on it. Always the one to pay it back without a reminder. Not that you’d call it in.

You shook your head, knowing your younger brother was less suffocating than your own mother. There’s dishes of homemade food filling the freezer already, no doubt Johnny will go through them in a week the amount he eats.

“Shoot me now,” you mumbled under your breath.

“Aye, don't carry weapons at home." Johnny chuckles, guiding you to the living room and nudging his head for you to sit on the sofa. You laid down, letting him drape a blanket over your lap and turn on your favourite show on the tv.

Your gaze trailed after Johnny each time he came in the house. A basket of dried clothes leaning on his hip. He dropped it to the floor and sunk into the armchair next to you, his hands diving in the basket as he plucked out a shirt and folded it. He bent, down and hesitated, brows scrunching as he pushed something aside. You leant forward and groaned, the tight pull making you fall back against the cushions.

"Don' worry, I'm not going to touch ya' underwear. Might need to burn me eyes out.." he said, elbowing the stack of clothes off his knee. "I'll take ya' washing to Mam's." He picks them up and dumps them back in the basket, straightening them out so their half folded again.

"I can do my own washing Johnny." You sighed, staring up at the ceiling. Johnny had surprisingly picked you up from the hospital after the pacemaker had been fitted, your mother neglecting to tell you that he'd offered himself up to help you and live at your house for the next six weeks.

"Ya not supposed to be lifting your arm or carrying stuff."

You lift your left arm slightly, middle finger raising. "Look at tha' I think I'm just fine."

Johnny chuckles, shaking his head. “Why don’ we go for a walk?”

You frown as he picks up your car keys from the hook on the wall, a knowing look of him scolding you for letting everyone see it. Stuff like that should be stored away.

He drives to the nearest loch, knowing that you like to walk the Munro there, but you’re capable of that yet so you walk down to the pebbly loch. He skims some rocks across the water, talking with you and asking you what he’s missed since he’s been gone.

The air is clear and you breathe it in, chest shuddering but it’s not too bad. Johnny starts to take you for daily walks, a nice way for you to both get out of the stuffy house and talk. You talk about a lot, stuff you’ve never before and you’re glad Johnny took the time to come home. To come help you.

The days turn the weeks and you’re finally walking the sloping hills with Johnny. Just like you did as kids, he’s even got his camera and taking pictures at the top. Something he used to do before he joined the military.

And when the six weeks are up, you don’t want to say a goodbye. Even Johnny lingers in the doorway, his arms wrapping around you as his chin rests on your shoulder.

You stare at your clothes and Johnny's military folding in the drawer. The scribbled mess of his handwriting telling you what’s in the lunchboxes of the freezer. He’d done so much for you and you knew he would anyways.

Kyle Garrick x brother!reader with arthritis:

You could always count on Kyle to give you a lift to the hospital. He waits in the doctors office, your jacket draped over his crossed arms in his lap.

Every three months, Kyle made sure that you’d have someone to take you and if there wasn’t anyone available he made sure he was there for you. Most times it was Kyle though, ready to take the whole day and spend it with you, even if you were pencilled in for the morning or evening.

He smiles, waiting for you to shrug your jacket back on. You regularly get steroid injections in your spine for your arthritis, the only way to ease the pain. Sure it took a couple days to really feel a difference, but it was worth the quick stab in order to feel the weight lifted off your back.

The first few hours you feel the pulsing heat at the base of your spine and it tingles up and down your back. Kyle doesn’t rush you as you walk back to the car park, he refuses your handful of change as he taps his card for the parking fees.

“Don’t worry mate,” he says, shoving his card back in his wallet. “You wanna pick up some food before we go back to yours, there’s a good Thai place I heard about,” he says, swiping his phone unlocked and showing you the saved tab of the menu. Always prepared.

You never say no to food, you’d both tried out a load of different restaurants each time and it had come sort of tradition to order a large amount of food. Eat it for lunch and dinner whilst catching up, sometimes breakfast the next day too.

“Yeah, why don’t we get one of the fixed meal options?” You say, lips tugging as Kyle slows down and falls in step beside you. He’s observant matching your energy, making sure you don’t feel too rushed.

Maybe it’s the way you lean forward slightly that gives the aches away or the sharp intake of air each time your shoes hit the uneven pavement.

“You alright mate?” Kyle always notices.

He opens your door for you and lets you settle in the seat comfortably before he gently closes it. He rounds the front of the car and slides into the drivers seat. He’s careful as he drives, making sure it’s a smooth ride and tries his best to dodge the potholes in the road for your sake and the tyres.

You’ve already ordered your food, Kyle picking it up and dropping it into your lap as he returns. The tender skin where you got the injection burns, no doubt bruised already. You're just hoping you start feeling the benefits soon and can get on with all the little things again.

Thankfully the lift up to your flat is working again, so you don’t have to drag yourself up the stairs. Your limbs start to feel heavy, but you’re close to your front door so push on.

Kyle’s one step ahead, plastic bags straining in his grasp as he twists your key in the lock. The door opening as soon as you catch up with him.

“I got it, why don’t you find a movie while I sort the food.” He’s already taking the plates out the cupboard, knives and forks clinking together.

The afternoon is spent catching up, mindlessly flicking through the streaming services for something decent, but you end watching the football once it kicks off. A crate of alcohol free beer dwindling to nothing, Kyle's good at taking your mind off the pain. Always there to make you laugh, but not too hard that your whole body shakes.

Kyle's a storyteller, so he describes his latest op, leaving out sensitive information with the word classified and his pointer and middle finger making bunny ears as he quotes it "classified." You can picture it like a movie in your head, that you miss an own goal on the tv. You're convinced he exaggerates on some parts, anything to get you questioning whatever craziness he's spewing.

"Nah, how can you fall out a helicopter and still be alive mate? You're havin me on." You shake your head, "What you were just hanging? Nah."

[neosexuals]

( pay attention ) — ₊ ⊹ ! Part 2

Synopsis : Mark is by every account the most popular teacher in your university. He was just that good, he was funny, charming, a good teacher and most of all he was drop dead gorgeous.

Warnings/pairings : smut (‼️) , english teacher! Mark , University au , reader is 20 mark is 27 , dom! Mark , sub ! Reader , mark uses fancy language cuz go figure english prof, mark is a meanie, makeshift tie gag??, pet names, reader has feelings towards mark? maybe?. use of the word slut, squirting.

A/n : 🤕 I didn't want to write big age gap tall I'm sorry 💔 maybe some other day. Also marks kind of a bitch (and I love it) not proof read :P @n4nam1i

Pt 1 pay attention

_

When it had reached the end of the day you had sprinted your way to marks office, he was sitting there. Suited up, his collar untidy along with his loose tie. "Sir?" You knocked on his wide open door you could tell it had been a rough day for him.

"yes?" His messy hair made it all the more worse, not only did you touch yourself to the thought of your English professor yesterday but it left you longing for him. "Oh y/n come in please" and so you did, closing the door behind you.

Before commenting on his fatigued look you helped yourself to the seat infront of him. "Tough day sir?" To say mark was one of those uptight teachers was a complete lie, being the youngest amongst them, he's always been one to talk casually to his students. "Sorry does it look bad?" He rushed in to fix his hair combing it down with his fingers.

"no it's okay" you pouted your lips at him, that was pretty assuring to him. "Fine uh let's get with it hm" with that you dropped your bag onto the floor before mark got up, you weren't sure what he was up to before he grabbed his chalk. Oh my god he actually started teaching you, repeating what he had taught to the class today since again you werent paying attention. Sighing once again, this was not what you signed up for.

He was confused when he turned back at you, why were you not paying attention? To him you were free of being distracted by him since it's a one on one class. But to you all you could look at was his fat ass and his crooked glasses.

"y/n I'm genuinely confused now" your eyes were already on him, just the wrong parts of him. "What happened now?" He stared at you sighing, taking his glasses off "sir... it's nothing Serious honestly-"

Cut off by his words "listen y/n I really didn't wanna do this but"a lie, blatant at that, another sigh escaped his lips "strip"

"what?"

"I said strip."

"but-"

"say no, and noone has to speak about this"

You weren't all apposed to the idea. Honestly you wanted it as much as he demanded, but it was quite embarrassing considering the situation, but it got you soaked. "Now. Are you going to strip or no darling?" That nickname. Your eyebrows furrowed as you stared him down from the chair, trying to understand the situation laid before you.

“Don't act dumb, you’ve wanted me..” he lets out a dry chuckle, your insides turning at how forward he was being. His glasses quickly being moved from resting on his face to on the desk, he moved closer to you, his breath tickling your ear “I’ve seen how you rub those pretty thighs under your desk, I’m not stupid you know" stepping back; sitting back down.

You started with your jacket, then your top. You couldn't bear him seeing you full naked "don't be so shy" he paused moving towards you "I won't look elsewhere" his eyebrows cocked at you along with a fake pout forming on his face, Pulling your arms away from your body.

God you forgot how hot the English language can be, his figure now towering over you as he tugs on the hem of your shirt before throwing it over your head. "Fuck" and other curses left him as he stares sinfully at the mere sight of your bra clad chest , borderline drooling at this point.

He snakes his hands down to your waist, finally inching towards the place you need him the most. His thumb slowly caress your hips, drawing circles atop it. "The skirt stays on pretty" the nickname combined with the stern tone causes your already weak knees to bend as you nod shakily.

He mumbled a little 'good girl' before slowly running his fingers up your thigh, his free hand moving to your nape, pushing your head closer to his. Too focused on the sensation of lips pressed against yours you miss when his singular had had slipped your panties down to your ankles. Sighing out a cracked 'sir' against his lips when two of his fingers press against your clit, His hand moving from your nape to your back, slipping down just enough to unclasp your bra.

he takes a step back as he relishes your body, eyes gleaming, his hands reach out once again cupping your cunt. "Sir.." you finally find it in you to look at hm in the eye, shooting a confused glance at him "call me mark darling" his breath hot against your ear ".....sir is...." - he mumbles- "odd" his words fish a giggle out of you, not to say you didn't find it hot but the contrast in tone makes your heart skip a beat.

Before he could earn a proper response out of you his fingers press onto your clit. "you shouldnt be laughing when your drenched down here...now should you?" you never missed the smug tone and smirk he threw at you.

"dirty girl " his lips latched onto your neck, soft and small pecks,You'd orgasm right then and there just by his words alone. His agonizingly slow strokes against your clit don't help either, letting out whimpers when he pressed the digits against your core. Small pleas leave your mouth over and over, his teasing topping you off.

"p-please sir" his eyes shoot up at you, removing his lips from your collar bone fingers still going back and forth along your slit "what did I say..? Hm Darling?" That was the final straw for him, one digit followed by another until it's a complete trio stuffed up your cunt.

“N-Not— MARK!”

that was all you could get out before going slack, dumb and cumming all over his fingers all way too quick. “That’s it….” His raspy voice fills your senses while all you can do is smile back at him, falling back down on the leather chair. You rest your head back as you feel your skirt and skin stick to each-other , you felt wet all over. “So good for me…think you could take my cock like this?” His tone sincere with a tinge of sarcasm.

“Hm? Think you could handle it darling…?” He lets out a soft chuckle watching your dumb state nodding like an idiot “yeah? You’re so dumb already” you open your eyes for a moment only to be met with a sulky pout. It’s not about weather or not you could handle anything at this point, to you, you just needed his cock. Letting out a string of pleas begging for even just the tip.

And after 2 or 3 tries he starts take of his own pants, completely naked other than the flimsy white shirt that lays atop him. “Shit i dont have a condom...” he muttered just loud enough for you to hear "I do..." He smiles at you and let's out yet another chuckle, you grab the condom out of your bag and hand it over to him. "Ofcourse you do...slut" the last word you could bearly hear but you could read his lips so clearly. It made you feel all sticky inside, the way he'd say the word so endearingly your heart had jumped right into your throat.

You had gotten into position by now, your thighs spread out sitting on his messy desk. Papers all over the floor and pens rattling around, you felt exposed. "Sir…..” you could only breath out the honorific "mark." His voice Stern once again before you could blink you heard the sound of a packet ripping. The condom, you knew it was the condom. "Now say please for me darling" you were melting right in front of him, arousal dripping onto his desk already exposed "please.....please mark" leaning in he kissed your cheek before pushing you flush against the desk legs dangling off the desk.

his cock sliding up and down your folds teasingly, his cock felt like everything you thought it would. thick just enough to have you holding onto him for dear life, begging to feel just a bit more of him.

"m-mark" his eyes bore into where you had intertwined , "yeah?" fuck his voice was so tantalizing "k-kiss..." a whine-like noise came out of you when he slapped your face as a response, cupping your flushed cheeks before kissing you silly "stay quiet now would you"

he so conveniently grabs his tie from behind you, would he tie your hands?

all thoughts fizzle out once he brought the bunched up fabric to you wide open mouth, muffling your whines and pleas as each thrust shook you right to the core, more things falling off the desk as he made you see heaven.

you tightened each time, the teacher who would always stay so pure and sweet was fucking you into oblivion, "shit- loosen up for me darling - fuck" you physically couldn't, his thrust erraticly pushing you closer and close "what is it? cock too big for your sweet lil' pussy?" you nodded slowly "yeah? you close baby" hearing him speak so casually was a dream nodding became rapid as you let out one last guttural whine, still muffled, as you came all over.

did you....it was a new feeling to say the least, leaking everywhere, you fucking squirted mark finally came riding out his and your orgasm "fuck- didn't know you were a squirter" he spoke as if he gave you the most midcore experience of your life ruffling the back of his head before removing the spit clad tie from your mouth, drool sticking to the tie "m' not..." Mark had never made someone squirt before, it was unbelievable , his eyes wide with shock "I've never.....squirted before"

"so i did that?" you nodded, still out of it. "fuck- you felt amazing darling i-" you could barely move so you'd hope you were a good experience "I'm glad, but could you help me sir?" his smile quickly faded "mark. or do i have to fuck it back into you?" he joked, as much as you would very much like that you wouldn't want it now, here. he helped you up grabbing your waist and wrapping your arm around his shoulders "there you go..." he mumbled.

you'd dress up as quickly as you could, as so did he, "y/n" he had called out as you tried to get as much of shit you'd thrown on the floor back on his desk, catching your attention you looked up at him, "i mean it, you were amazing, and i wouldn't mind doing this again" you felt as if you could burst. all you could do was smile and nod "you were amazing too....if you hadn't noticed"

after cleaning up finally, you had left his room, a dopey smile spreading across your face as it all sits in.

[dixonsstinkysock]

Hey… 😊👋🏽 1/13/25 first writing of the year…

“Good Morning, Daryl!” You wave at the archer from your garden a little down the street, covered in dirt head to toe. You’d gotten lucky recently, finding some of your favorite fruit seeds on a run, after putting it off for weeks on end you decided it was time to get the hard part over with. Putting them in the ground..🙄

Getting nothing but a short wave and twitch of lip from him you get back to work, figuring either he’ll work up the courage to come talk to you now or you’ll see him later.

“Wow. That was the most boring interaction I’ve seen in a while—and trust me I’ve seen a ton.”

Carol walks up from behind Daryl, where the hell she came from who knows, but she always pops up unexpectedly. “What?” Daryl turns to look at her, believing that short interaction was the best part of his day. “Don’t ‘What’ me, you know what I’m talking about.”

He scoffs, looking back at you, secretly hoping you won’t notice his obvious staring. “I dunno’ what you mean..”

“Ha! Sure…I don’t understand why you just won’t talk to her. She’s not going to bite your head off!” Daryl shakes his head and looks down at his feet. “No..”

“Okay, If you won’t, I will. Hey, (Y/N)!” Carol shouts and waves you over as Daryl snaps his head towards her, silently screaming at her to shut up. You look up again, not minding a distraction from all of your hard work. Standing, you make your way over to the two, wiping your hands as best you can on the old rag Daryl found you some days ago. He said he already had one and thought you could use it, Daryl code for I’ve secretly been stalking you and noticed you don’t have anything to clean your hands with after all that sweaty hard work you do in your garden, planting stuff and…like…sweating. (guys im getting off track im sorry)

“Hey guys!” You stick the now dirty rag in your back jeans pocket, greeting them. “It’s nice to see you, Carol, feels like we never see each other anymore” You and her half hug considering you are covered in dirt.

“I know..We should have some girl time soon—uh speaking of spending time together, I heard that a certain someone found a favorite movie of yours.” She glances at Daryl, expectantly, wanting him to say something.

“Uh—yeah, yeah, I kinda js grabbed something y’know..” He looks down at his feet again and clears his throat.

“Anyways…I was thinking, why don’t I take the kids for tonight? Jude’s been wanting to help me bake something and you two can spend some time together!” Carol nudges Daryl with her hip, suggesting something.

“Oh! Well, I’m free! As long as it’s okay with you, Daryl, I don’t mind.”

“Yeah—no, it’s okay, I’m down..” He’s “down”? what the hell is wrong with him?? why would he say that—

“Perfect! Well, I have to get back to the kitchen, I have things…cooking. Bye!” Carol walks off, leaving you and Daryl in this awkward conversation. “So uh…I’ll see you tonight? Around 7?”

He nods, biting his bottom lip. “Mhm..I’ll see you later.”

You smile “Okay…Well, shouldn’t keep those seeds waiting…ha…” You start to slowly walk backwards toward your garden.

“Right—yeah, I’ll see you later.” He turns, slowly walking away and turning a corner, going back to his place to make it look “nice”.

yeah whatever that place is a dump idc. okay guys uh the end.

I haven’t written in a YEAR give me some slack 🤕

love u see u later 😫😫😫

[luckycharms1701]

Ok. I wanna ask something. It’s ok you don’t have to answer this but I wanna ask how would the Turtles be like when they are in season? Like way before their s/o came into the picture? Like their emotions and how to handle it? You can make it SFW or NSFW or both.

sorry this took so long anon-chan! not gonna lie, i hadn't really thought about how they would be in mating season, so i had to think a Lot 🤕

you didn't specify, so i did bay because they were easier for me- i can try my hand at rise if you want though

i imagine that going through a mating season without a mate is very, uh, distressing. so these might be a liiiiiittle on the angsty side

i think this is pretty sfw, just mentions of jerking off and the like

Mating Season Headcanons- Bayverse Turts

Leo:

tries to meditate his way through it every time, even though it Never Works

but maybe this year he'll be good enough, enough of a ninja, to do this...

everyone in the lair knows when he gives up on the meditation because for once the banging isn't coming from Raph's room

he doesn't handle the loss of control very well, so he tends to be super cranky- constantly complains about smells and noises

he does, however, learn from his mistakes sometimes, so he uses plenty of lube when it comes to dealing with the physical aspect

Raph:

he's just kind of resigned to it- they're turtles, it is what it is

that doesn't mean that he doesn't get emotional though- man of passion right here

he isolates himself, for two reasons: because he's a little more volatile than normal and he doesn't want to take it out on his brothers and because he tends to get sad and he doesn't want them to know that

he jerks off a little roughly whenever he gets the urge to go out and beat some baddies up- he would never forgive himself if he really lost control

sometimes, when he's taking care of yet another erection, he'll imagine....... what if...... but when it's over he shuts those thoughts down harshly (dashing away tears that no one will ever see)

Donnie:

oh he's so annoyed- he has too much to do to deal with this

Everyone steers clear of the lab during the day, because he will just take care of the urge whenever it comes (no matter how visible he is) and then continue what he's doing

at night, though- he indulges at night

he's invented a number of toys, and he'll take his time at night to play with every one of them

like the only time he gets any sleep, because his body can't deal with his normal schedule and all the hormones at the same time so he just passes out all the time

Mikey:

man yearns

he's able to ignore the desire for a s/o most of the time, he's too busy having fun- but when it's thrown in his face that he doesn't have one and likely never will....

avoids jerking off until he's literally crying from the urge, because he really doesn't want to do this alone again

Donnie gives him some toys, and they help a little

near the end of it he's mostly enjoying himself- he can never coax such powerful and heady orgasms out of himself any other time

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

NEW EMOJIS!!!!!!!

🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟

🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲

⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️

🤕🤕🤕🤕🤕🤕🤕🤕🤕🤕🤕

YEAH!!!!!!!!!

30 for 🧟:

---

 “Uh, yeah. We did. She explained herself, it’s whatever.”

There’s something about his tone that gnaws at Eddie but he’s not sure why.

“Are you…” Eddie doesn’t know what he’s asking. “Are you, like, going to reconcile?”

Buck gapes at him. “Seriously?”

“Uh, I mean… I guess I’m just curious.”

Eddie is aware he sounds like an idiot. Thank you. 

Buck narrows his eyes. “I’m not getting back together with Abby. I can forgive her, but… I’m still not okay with how she just left.”

“Okay,” Eddie nods. 

“And I’ve moved on,” Buck says. “Entirely.”

“Right,” Eddie nods.

“Are you getting back with Shannon?” Buck asks.

Eddie scoffs. “I’m gay.”

“And I thought we were asking silly questions we already know the answer to,” Buck says. 

Eddie scowls at him. “Dick.”

Buck smirks. “Sorry. Just, for a second there, you sounded jealous.”

---

60 for 🌲:

---

“Why-why are you doing this, Kyle?” Adriana cries. “In front of everyone… Why are you…”

“I can’t do this,” Kyle says again. “I thought I could… But it’s just not enough.”

And Eddie hears the meaning behind his words. He’s sure everyone else in the church does, too.

She’s not enough. 

🌲

Thank god he did bring Marisol. Not to get his family off his back, but so that someone is there to watch Chris while Eddie deals with the fallout of his sister’s heartbreak. 

It’s a shit show. 

Their family has sequestered in a back room of the church, around Adriana. The guests have left, as has Kyle and his family. Eddie’s father is outraged. Swearing up and down. No mind for the fact that he’s in a church. His mother is beside herself, trying to make sense of it. She’s battering a despondent Adriana with questions. Did something happen this morning? Did you pressure him into proposing? Why would he do this Adriana? Which leads, of course, to Sophia snapping at her to leave Adriana alone. 

Eddie’s on Sophia’s side in this matter. He usually is.

Sophia is like Eddie. She got away from El Paso as soon as it was feasible for her. Though, not nearly as far away. She and her husband, Marcus, live in San Antonio. She comes home more than Eddie. Faces far less scrutiny. But especially since her daughter, Ellie, was born, their parents - notably, their mother - have been pressing Sophia to move closer to home. All of the same tactics they used on Eddie, just without all the crappy history and heartbreak to weaponize. It actually makes Eddie feel slightly better about how they treated him; it was less about his actual situation, and more about their own desires. They’re just able to hit him where it hurts more, because she doesn’t have the same string of fuck ups behind her. 

When Helena and Sophia really get into it - Sophia championing Adriana - Eddie whisks his little sister outside for air. Everyone can rightfully freak out. This is worth freaking out about. But Eddie would like to make sure Adriana doesn’t keel over from hyperventilating. 

They sit on a bench behind the church. Full view of the cemetery where Eddie’s Abuelo is buried. Adriana’s veil has long since been removed, but she’s still in her beautiful white dress. Her makeup is smudged. Eyeliner and mascara more or less obliterated. Tear tracks down her cheeks. Her hair is frizzing. Carefully pinned curls coming undone from her running stressed hands through them. Sophia had to stop her from pulling at her own hair, she was so beside herself. 

Eddie uses his paramedic voice on her. Gets her to regulate her breathing and drink careful sips from a water bottle.

“There you go,” he says, when she starts to even out. “That’s better. Just keep breathing.”

She takes a few more proper breaths before talking to him. 

“I am so humiliated,” she whispers. “This is… This is the worst thing that could ever happen, Eddie.”

Well… “He’s an ass,” Eddie says. “A childish, horrible ass. It’s him that should be humiliated right now, Adri.”

---

42 for ⚖️:

---

He confirms what the nurse already said. No one knows what the fuck is wrong with him. 

“Every single test we’ve run has come back inconclusive,” Dr. Hanson says. “Whatever was making you sick, we haven’t seen it before.”

That’s definitely not what you want to hear. 

“I-I touched a dead body,” Buck says. “Like a long dead body. I-I didn’t know. He was sold to me as a Halloween decoration.”

“We were told,” the doctor nods. “No one else who came into contact with the body is symptomatic. So we don’t believe it’s connected, at this point.”

That throws Buck. How could it not be connected? This all started after he disturbed Billy’s corpse. What else could it possibly be? Especially if they can’t diagnose it. If anything… Well, if anything, doesn’t this just prove Buck is right? That it is a curse. 

“The part that is most confusing to me,” Dr. Hanson continues. “Is that you’re seemingly fine right now? You seem completely stable.”

“Uh, isn’t that a good thing?” Buck asks.

“Of course,” Dr. Hanson replies. “But honestly, Mr. Buckley, when we couldn’t find what was wrong with you and you continued to decline… We had to prepare your loved ones for the worst.”

Buck’s stomach twists with anxiety.

“Wait, so… So they’re all out there right now thinking I’m dying and they can’t even be with me?” Buck demands. 

Dr. Hanson grimaces. “We’ve sent someone to update them.”

“Wh-when can I see them?” Buck asks. “My-my sister will be going crazy. Please.” 

“We need to run some more tests,” the doctor says. “Confirm you’re still stable… Keep you in observation in case you decline again. We’ll try to get your loved ones on the phone.”

---

33 for 🤕:

---

Buck is attaching a chain to the backhoe when it happens. They’ll use the winch on the engine to pull it away. But they can’t do that until Eddie and Chim are ready to extract George. A few minutes, and they should be out of here. 

“Alright, Cap,” Buck says to Bobby. “Backhoe is secure.”

“Thanks, Buck,” Bobby replies. “Hear that, George? We’re almost out of here.”

As soon as he says it, there’s a loud, earsplitting crack. Buck flinches, unsure what’s happening and where the noise is coming from. He looks at Bobby. Bobby’s eyes bug out with terror. He points at something behind Buck’s back. 

“BUCK! THE RETENTION WALL! IT’S-”

He doesn’t get a chance to finish his sentence. 

▨

Eddie watches from the ambulance with horror as the unfinished house collapses. Something must have happened down in the garage because it all seems to fold inwards, beams and cement and wooden framing all crumpling down. On top of Buck and Bobby. 

“Oh, shit,” Chim curses.

“BUCK!” Eddie hollers, unable to restrain himself. “BUCK!”

He starts running towards the wreckage. Chim is right behind him. He thinks he hears other first responders on the scene following, too.

“BUCK!”

“Dispatch, this is Firefighter-Paramedic Howard Han with the 118,” he hears Chim start to say into his radio. “We’ve had additional building collapse. Two firefighters and one civilian are unaccounted for. We need more help.”

[twiishaa]

HI IM HERE FOR THE SLUMBER PARTY!

i brought fluffy socks bc i cant sleep without them :(( and romcoms are my fav movies to watch! once we’re done, we can bake some cookies while singing karaoke of talk too much by coin! :D with either megumi or inumaki TYY 💞

HAPPY 100 FOLLOWERS YOU DESERVE IT AND SO MUCH MORE! KEEP DOING WHAT UR DOING AND TAKE CARE, ILYSM☝️💗💞💖💕🎀 - 💌 anon

! 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 twisha’s 100 followers slumber party ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ - affogato and a kiss

megumi x reader wc approx 800 warnings IM SO SORRY I DINT THINK I INCORPORATED THE COOKIES PROPERLY but it’s too late to change it now 🤕 i hope you still like it

check out the event!

—

the cafe a few minutes away from you was familiar to both you and him.

more often than not, when you had a spare minute, you’d find yourself at your friend’s vintage cafe to keep her company.

and most of the time, megumi fushiguro was there too.

he found it a constant in his ever changing life, a getaway from his hectic schedule. just basking in its ambience, occasionally adding to your and your friend’s energetic conversation. his stoic face didn’t convey much emotion, but inside he enjoyed it a lot.

in fact, it wasn’t just the atmosphere he enjoyed, but also your presence too. over time, megumi had grown to look forward to the time he’d spend at the cafe, when you walk in with a totally new and absurd story, or the drama about your new dodgy neighbour.

it was safe to say he started to harbour a crush on you.

—

it was a particularly busy day at the cafe. you and megumi, the cafe regulars, were sharing a table right next to the counter. while your friend, the owner of the cafe, was back in the kitchen, you decided to spark a conversation with the mysterious raven-haired regular.

“so, fu… fushiguro, right?” you started.

he looked a little surprised that you were talking directly to him. usually, you would be talking to your friend, when he would say something to add to the conversation.

“yeah. fushiguro.”

“-but megumi is fine.” he added hastily.

you smiled at him. “okay! megumi! i’m [name], by the way.”

taking a small sip from your drink, you asked him,

“so, what’s your go-to order?”

“uhh… i usually get an iced americano, but i wanted to get something new, so i tried the affogato. it looked interesting…” he replied, trailing off at the end.

“oh my gosh! we’re matching!” you squealed, gesturing to your drink.

“the affogato is the best drink on the menu. it’s my favourite!”

megumi knew that. he ordered the affogato because it was your favourite.

just as megumi said that, your friend hurriedly made her way to your table, with megumi’s aforementioned affogato.

“-and here’s one affogato!” she said animatedly.

putting your cup down next to his, you watched megumi stir in the ice cream and then try it.

“so, what do you think?” you asked while he put the mug down.

megumi made a confused expression. “it’s a bit sweet, but i like it,” your face lit up.

your friend heard your conversation from the counter.

“oh my god [name], you’ve converted another one into an affogato eccentric!” she yelled, earning a laugh from you and a small chuckle from megumi.

absentmindedly, you picked up a cup from the table and took a sip.

wait a minute.

this felt hotter than your affogato… almost as if it was just served.

you paused.

before you could process any more, megumi (very embarrassingly) began to point out,

“uh [name], i think-“

“oh my god! megumi i’m so sorry, that’s so embarrassing,” you exclaimed, hiding your face in your hands.

it finally sunk in. you had an indirect kiss with your slightly-attractive male friend.

oh god.

megumi didn’t seem fazed from the tone of his voice; however his cheeks were a bright pink. his face was as warm as the affogato in question.

“my first kiss, too…” you muttered, still hiding in your hands.

a flustered megumi was trying to calm the situation down, while your friend was just laughing hysterically while making an order.

“[name] it’s fine, honestly. i don’t think indirect kisses really count that much anyway-“

“but they do! this was my first kiss! i wanted it to be cute, but this..” you were definitely being melodramatic. with a loud screech, you got up from your chair, put your money on the table and ran out of the cafe yelling a shaky “sorry! i just remembered i left my iron on… or something…”

megumi and your friend looked at each other completely dumbfounded, before your friend broke the silence;

“i don’t think [name] owns an iron… she lives in a cramped apartment.”

—

the next day was awkward. there was no one else in the cafe; it was midday, your friend was out to run an errand, so she closed the cafe for a while. it was you and megumi sat at the counter, cafe-sitting. hesitantly, megumi turned his head to face you.

“i’m really sorry about yesterday. i really am.” he said, avoiding eye contact a little.

you chuckled nervously. “oh, no it’s okay, i think i overreacted a little too.” turning around to look at megumi, you caught his eyes staring at you with a kind of warmth you’d never seen him display before. honestly, it made you lose your breath a little, only a few inches from his face.

megumi said, with a starstruck look,

“could i… kiss you for real? you know, like, to make up for it?”

note again i’m so sorry 💌anon but i hope you like it 😭😭 it was super fun to write i think im a pro a cafe aus now HAHA sorry for not posting lately, im starting to get pace again so another one will be out soon!! make sure to req if you want and reblogs are super appreciated!! love you lots xx

[just-call-mefr1es]

cupioromantic titania

HEAR ME OUT HEAR ME OUT-

so like, im sure its obvious that solarballs wants to make titanic (titan x titania) a canoj ship, deapite their like,, four one-on-one interactions. i have nothing ahainst the shippers, adtually, most titanic shippers ive met r really chill/cool people!! i jus think the ship felt forced,, not even a little. like, really forced. but hey, this isnt a titanic slander post, this is about titania

first off, cupioromantic people are people who desire a romatntic relationship, but dont feel any romantic attraction whatsoever. how does this fit with titania? cue her and titans first interaction. barely any romantic subtext aside from deimos’ inner wattpad demons. so now, lets say deimos’ words got into titania’s head, and suddenly she’s like ‘oh, relationship with titan?’ she doesn’t feel that much of a connection to him (because agian, BARELY ANY INTERACTION) but she does think ‘maybe i could get with him? i dont really like him like that but he does seem like a good partner and could probably help me out..’ sometime later (because i dont think she would have immediately jump to the relationship thought).

and then this continues! looking at the other moons of uranus’ actions, they seem really into titanic because thw wattpad demons are contagious, apparently. usijg the power of delusion, i think they (as in other uranus moons) kinda pressured titania into wanting to be with titan after the moon revolution. this probably made titania a lil pressured, and her previous thoughts from ewrlier about thinking ‘hey, he could be a good partner’ didnt make it any better.

so what does she do? she gives in.

girlie probably forced herself to think she has feelings for this dried olive (sorry titan i actually love you💔) so that she doesn’t have to overthink anymore because her mind’s alrady pretty full of thought. she makes herself think that she’s inlove with him so that the others could be pleased, when in reality, she only likes the thought of them together. i think that sometimes shed like a little help, and she thinks that titan can be that help, i guess.

lpng story shotrt, titania thinks a relationship will help her feel less pressured at times and therefore convinces herself that shes inlove with titna.

okay, im not sure if that explained my thoughts well😭😭 reading back i do not. think it did, so if u think it didnt, just take the hc and run lmao🤕🤕 this was a hc ive been thinking about ever since moon club first dropped and only had guts to share it on the day after canada day at two in the morning (no joke), so uh yeah. please dont yell at me😜

[beckoningwinds]

honorable mentions (funny haha)

-so our first quiz taker was *drumrolls please*

-meow

-their quiz answer was "the song that reminds you that someone is always there for you", seems apt ngl

-i appreciate this! its yummy

-this happens way too often to me haha

-boop

-cinnamoroll mentioned 😮🤪😼

-oh please, they are super relevant! plus, yk u dont always have to answer the deep super duper brain explosion questions to understand urself better. tiny lil actions and words and choices make a huge difference. why would u choose that shark pic over the other one? that tells u smth about urself.

-will anyone please tell me what this means 😭

-real

-chat this is so real!!! i used to kin mikey back in the day, but now no more pizzas for me :o

-i read this in a new yorkian accent, funny

-i actually probably have audhd, so both adhd and asd cause on another quiz someone asked me if i have asd, yippee!

-we got a second meow in the chat guys!

-idk if this is wholesome or funny cause yay but i laughed so hard cause of that e, so this goes here!

-"CHEESE" we all say in unison

-sorry idk if yays are wholesome anymore, cause this yay is giving i-am-dead-on-the-inside BUT IN A FUNNY WAY

-and thats exactly what i did! it was fun finding a nice pic

-right?? 🐌🐌🐌

-yay ur intestines are working! go poop tho what the heck

-YUH UH GET CLICKBAITED OR WTV MUAHAHHA, glad u had fun tho

-this is actually the second boo i got but this makes me smile, its giving ghost going boo!

-WHAT THE SIGMA 😶😔😧🤕🫣

-hi!!!

-chat what does this mean, i initially was like oh they are telling me goodnight, then i was like maybe its from the quiz but its not and then i was like its a son, but its not so idk man

-woa hope ur brother's ppt goes well also woah woah gn

-HELL YEAH!!!

-idk if this goes in the wholesome thread so here! maybe ill put it there too :P

-my friend on roblox took this quiz, honorable mention frfr hes cool but also a fetus

-awww thank u. i do agree that i have a good collection of pics, i have an eye for it. as u can tell im very humble about it too :P kidding kidding, but i appreciate their words

okay only 30 pics allowed per post, gonna make a second one for this thread

[catgirlshauna]

holy shit guys really proud of this one hope yall enjoy 😠🗣️

warnings: smut, bad jokes, gp!reneé

words: 2100

being a composer of music was hard, especially when you composed for artists who aren't exactly huge yet. you believe in them the most, though, they're your favorite kind of people to work with. humble, kind, just trying to get to stardom. but your new client had been kept a secret from you by your managers. why? you have no idea. what could possibly freak you out so bad that they had to hide it?

fucking reneé rapp. thee regina george, which was debatable, but you don't care. she is your favorite. yours. her voice is beautiful, her face is beautiful, her personality is by far the best you've seen. she is like finding gold in a pan of gravel, diamonds amongst coal.

today is the day you meet her. you're nervous, you've applied three layers of deodorant with a nice unisex cologne to cover it up. your heart is absolutely pounding, your chest thumping to the beat of the song they sent you samples of. you sit in your studio, which happens to be in your apartment, a luxury you could afford thanks to people like reneé, and wait patiently for her to arrive.

the knock at your door is done to the tune of jingle bells, which did in fact shock you into freezing. it's june? you snort and move to open the door, revealing the happy-go-lucky blonde bouncing on her feet. adhd. or anxiety. you could relate.

“please, come in.” you step to the side, welcoming her into your apartment. she steps in, hands intertwined behind her back as she closely examines the art and posters on your walls.

“beyoncé?” reneé grins, looking over at you for a moment.

“of course.” you reply quickly, hopelessly begging her with your eyes to follow you to your studio. she just smiles, shaking her head and whispering ‘not yet’.

“i like your place.” she muses, picking up books and reading the covers out loud to herself. “like your uh, books, too..” she adds, adjusting the glasses on her nose that look just a little too dirty to actually see out of.

“um, miss rapp?”

“yeah?” you have her full attention now. horrifying.

“can we go to the studio now…? i'd like to show you some lyrics i thought of the other day.” you try not to sound too… pushy? if you did, reneé does not notice, and nods eagerly as she follows you into the closet-like room. ah. you never said your studio was big. you cramp into your chair, gesturing for her to sit as well.

“kinda romantic in here… is that the point?” reneé wiggles her eyebrows under her glasses. you sputter, grabbing the remote and changing the color to a calm blue. reneé pouts. “don't wanna feel romantic with me?”

“not really. anyway, please read.” you push the pages of heavily edited lyrics into her hands. she sighs, adjusting her glasses once again and reading your papers. you hope to god she likes them, because? you don't have an option b. you weren't given enough time, enough warning, that you'd be working with one of your favorite artists in the world.

she ‘mhm’s’ a couple times, puts the papers down, and grins this million dollar smile at you.

“i love it. i knew my people chose you for a reason.” she beams, placing her hand over yours, her thumb rubbing over the skin of your knuckles. “great job, baby.”

the second time you see reneé is unexpected, rather surprising, and had you throwing your phone at the wall with a scream. on your screen appears a picture of reneé, with very little clothes on. the lingerie hugged her curves like rivers hug canyons, the way her tits pushed up just perfectly in her lacey bra, her puffy nipples perked and played with in one hand, and the thong, that left nothing to the imagination.

you wanted to scream again, but you were pretty sure you just woke up your neighbors. the message that popped up after makes you nearly pass out.

hot blonde mommy 🤕: oopsy

you put your phone down, eyes wide and fingers pinched at your nose.

hot blonde mommy 🤕: that was 4 angourie sorry, needed her professional opinion on my nudes LMAO

you put your fucking phone down again, and hid it under a pillow this time. your hands shook, and your stomach was buzzing in excitement. were you about to masturbate? to that? the definite answer was yes, and it was the best orgasm potentially ever.

the third time you see reneé, you're sat next to each other at a big round table, her managers on the other side. it's a business meeting, a very official one, that has you so stressed out you can't seem to sit still. and reneé, being reneé, notices almost immediately. the way your leg bounces underneath the table, the way you pick at the skin of your fingers. she notices it all. and she takes initiative, grabbing your hand into her own and intertwining your fingers. she rubs her thumb over your knuckles, soft, soothing circles that have you relaxing into your chair. she leans over to whisper, “relax, baby. i'm right here.” i'm right here. you flush, your heart racing in your chest.

one thing you love about reneé is how soft she is behind closed doors, how caring and quiet she can be. you find yourself falling deeper and deeper into a rabbit hole of your own thoughts… does she like me? you think as she stares into your eyes, completely ignoring the very important men talking to her. the blue of her eyes, reminiscent of the polar ice caps, makes you shiver in your seat. they're so soft, so kind, that you couldn't imagine looking anywhere else.

that is until… one of your bosses clears his throat. “the meeting is over. did you pick up anything of importance?” he smiles knowingly, the holding of hands seems to not have gone unnoticed.

“yeah. yeah… i've picked up a lot of things.” you clear your throat, letting go of reneé’s hand and standing quite abruptly. “i gotta go but um… this was really insightful.” you give reneé what you hope is a beaming smile, before walking out of the room with a skip in your step. not only were you excited to hit your dab pen, you were excited that reneé seems to feel for you what you might feel for her!

the fifth time you meet reneé… well, she's drunk, on the phone, begging to come over. who are you to say no? of course you were going to say yes! what idiot wouldn't want reneé rapp drunk in their apartment?

she shows up at your door with a crooked grin, pushing her way in as you quickly shut the door behind her.

“haven't been here in a while… anything change while mama was gone?” reneé giggles, kicking off her heels and draping her body over your entire couch. you scoot her over, gently, and sit next to her.

“nah. i know unfamiliar things stress you out.” you say, a soft smile on your face as you stare down at her. she reaches her hand out to touch your face, caressing your cheek with her thumb.

“why do you care so much?” reneé asks suddenly, her eyes wide. her pupils are blown wide, whether it be from the alcohol or the loving stare she usually gives you, you couldn’t tell.

“cause i like you.” you say quietly, placing your hand over her own. she lets out a huff, a breath of surprise, and lets her hand tremble against your face.

“you like me?”

“more than anything.”

it's been a month since you and reneé started dating, and she's been getting extremely handsy as of late. saying sweetly dirty things over the phone while she's away for her tour, her hand settling right on your thigh with the lightest of squeezes to remind you she's there.

you two haven't gone beyond making out and palming at each other, but reneé has made it very clear that she wants more. which is why… well, she's set up a date at her apartment in LA. she promises it's going to be so romantic and perfect, then asks you to open the gift she left on her bed. the lingerie set she was wearing in that picture. in pink.

you nearly pass out when she texts you.

hot blonde mommy 🤕: wear it for me… please, baby?

you don't question it, not at all, and immediately find yourself putting it on. it's tight, hugging your curves, making you look as beautiful as it made her.

hot blonde mommy 🤕: is it on

you set yourself up in front of her full body mirror, sitting on your knees with your legs spread to reveal the parts of your body you know reneé likes best. the picture is sent, and not more than five seconds later she's typing already.

hot blonde mommy 🤕: let me in, baby, i'm outside :(

you run to the door, nearly slipping in your socks on the hardwood floors of your apartment. as soon as the lock is unlocked, the door is pushed open. standing on the other side? reneé, slowly squaring up to you, pressing her chest against your shoulder.

“you look… fucking amazing.” she breathes, embracing you softly. her lips graze the skin of your throat, and you find yourself tilting your head so she can get a better taste. “are you.. ready?” reneé whispers into your neck, inching her kisses towards your ear. she's breathing heavily, nearly panting because of how worked up she is.

you gently remove yourself from her body for a moment, a shy smile on your face. “can i..?” referring to her clothes, which reneé forgot existed for a moment. she quickly rids herself of her sweatpants and sweater, but now that she's in her panties? she makes it a goddamn show. she hooks her fingers into her panties and pullssss them down, revealing her aching dick.

you know you've soaked through your pretty panties already, but you don't care.

“can i put it in?” reneé pants, grinding her cock against your thigh as she pushes you down onto the bed, climbing over the top of you and straddling your hips. you can't speak, you can only blush and whimper out a yes.

reneé positions herself in front of your aching hole, pushing your panties to the side. she’s plunging in slow, her hips stuttering slightly at how tight and wet you are for her. she's had plenty of dates before, ones that ended in mind blowing sex, but for some reason she knew… this was going to be different.

she takes the lace off of your chest, revealing neglected nipples that begged for her full attention. reneé revels in the feeling of eye contact, so brushes her nose against yours, silently asking you to look her in the eyes. you flush, yet your eyes are opening to stare back into hers. she smiles, sickly sweet, before taking one of your nipples into her mouth. her tongue licks at you lazily, and soon her hips start to move again. she fucks you low and slow, like ribs at the barbecues she'd attend with her parents in north carolina.

“you don't mind if i bite, do you, baby?” reneé purrs, digging her teeth into the flesh by your nipple. you arch your chest forward into her mouth, while simultaneously arching your back to get her deeper inside of you.

she quickens her thrusts, her hands gripping at your hips to pull you into her cock. reneé bites her lip to stop from moaning, letting out a whimper. “can i cum in you, sweet thing?” she asks, her voice husky as she whispers it into your ear. you squirm in her grasp for a moment.

“never.. been cum in before.” you mutter, looking off to the side in embarrassment. reneé smiles, oh so sweetly, before pressing you into a more provocative position. a mating press. she whispers a soft ‘fuck’ and speeds up her thrusts.

“please let me cum in you, baby…” she begs, staring into your eyes pleadingly, almost like a lost puppy. you bite your lip and nod, then gasp as she fucks you harder, snapping her hips into yours. “feel so fuckin’ good, so good for me…” reneé nearly growls, her hips stuttering as she plunges herself as deep as she’ll go. you feel all the air leave your lungs as her cum fills you, and can barely recover before she's taking you into a deep kiss. “i can't wait to do this again, sweetheart.”

[demolitionist-of-the-terminated]

Taph please don't fall down the stairs. You're my favorite <3

"😐❓️" (Uh?)

[A convenient flight of stairs appears beneath Taph's feet.]

"💡❗️ 👇❗️" (Oh! Those ones!-)

[He tumbles down the stairs.]

"🤕😟😣..." (Ow... Oh my... I've failed you... I'm sorry anon...)

[iocles]

Johnny Cade HCs!! (⁠人⁠*⁠´⁠∀⁠｀⁠)⁠｡⁠*ﾟ⁠+

I recently got back into the outsiders since like.. forever and I forgot how much I fw johnny cade. that's my goat right there my thats twin!!

DISCLAMER: prolly not the best to read if you haven't finished the book, contains spoilers, TW for tooth gap since some1 wanted me to add that

ALSO here's an old character playlist I made a reaaally long time ago for him to listen to while reading:

okay that's enough now onto the HCs :3

• Always has his hand somewhere near his hair. Whether it be him messing with it, fixing it, whatever, it's always somewhere.

• Native American + Mexican + Italian

• While at the church, he'd tweak out by himself every time Ponyboy went to sleep, I mean this guy was straight up going crazy over the fact that he got them both into that situation.

• Sooo many sleepless nights..

• Sooo much praying at night, too.

• His favorite thing to drink is a strawberry milkshake, as girly as it seems (his favorite part is the maraschino cherry at the top).

• Worst kid to get called on during popcorn reading. And I mean THE worst

• "He um.. I mean- wrong part. Uhh, oh! The boy said, as heee... he uh, what? How do you pronounce that???"

• "Dammit Johnny, just lemme read it, you're takin' too long." - Ponyboy

• He used to be kinda mean, before he got jumped and stuff. It used to be pretty obvious who he hung out with more back then (Dallas)

• Super interested in anything historical, so he tries hard to learn how to read better to understand textbooks.

• If the events of the entire book hadn't taken place, and he would've learned how to read properly, he would've wanted to be a history teacher.

• Or he'd want to be a social worker, to help kids growing up in a similar situation not end up the way he did as a teenager.

• If he was a teenager in modern times, he'd be an avid fortnite player im so sorry💀

• His fortnite sessions w Dallas would be crazy bruh..

• HUGE doors (the band guys not the game) fan.

• One of his favorite songs from them is probably Blue Sunday

• Occasional drinker, not as much as Dally even with the habits he picked up from him.

• Wanted to be a rodeo star sooooo bad after he saw Dallas and Buck do it, still kinda does

• His room at his parent's house is just a mattress and pillow with a singular blanket. No sheets, no pillow case, this boy is a THUG

• not like he sleeps there anyway I guess🤕

• He used to steal baseball card packs from the convenience stores, until he just fell out of that phase because he realized he's never actually watched or played baseball before and was just collecting cards of people he didn't know.

• J: "And this guy.. uh," PB: "Do you know his signature move?" J: "Nah, I just have the card."

• If he was in modern times, I don't think he'd really carry his phone everywhere. If he did, then he'd probably have Ponyboy carry it in fear of losing it.

• He's got a tooth gap guys I've seen it!!!!

• And maybe a gold tooth or two... no one knows where he got it.. so mysterious..

• He wants a metal detector cuz he thinks he'll find something and get rich

• He bit Ponyboy once when they were playfighting

• Now Ponyboy has a random little mark in his arm from Johnny's sharp ass canine

• Gets sick easily, it's all that staying in the lot and all that smoking he does..

• If he could wish for one thing, he'd actually say to be a soc. He's quite tired of the way his life has gone

• He can't thug for much longer he needs to get his money up not his funny up

• Speaking of funny, he's unintentionally funny. Like, he doesn't even mean to be funny, he just does it??

• Super thick hair, he's broken like 6 different combs trying to comb through his curls

• Doesn't let anyone other than himself handle his hair, he's honestly the only one who can tame it

• Finds joy in game shows. A lot.

OKAYYY GUYS that's all I could think of tonight😣 I've starved you guys too much so sorry

I don't even remember if the outsiders is on my "what I'll write" post?? if it's not i might tweak

[rancid-zinnia-onthepatio]

HEY important question!!

What's Harvester's "black suit song," like People Get Up And Drive Your Funky Soul for Peter in Spider-Man 3?

Can be viewed as a general theme, montage, or one scene!

ough.. uh.. thinks really hard

like... a defining moment/theme? i'm sorry i think i need a uhm explanation

if i think about defining moments/themes- i'd say for now the offer for sandman to help them save people

it ties into this "helper" persona i've given them or at least i try to, someone who sees these dummies as more than spidey's enemies and as people who can be better

sorry if that's not what you asked-- the three braincells are on vacation 🤕

[scriv3lloirl]

*pulls up to your blog on a motorcycle* Hey. What is your favourite song from Little Shop of Horrors?

Hey! Nice motor! Cute design. Eye-catching. Big. Uh, n thanks for stoppin by!

I know you probably meant jus, a one song from any musicals.. but you're gettin a damn list cus my favorite song shifts dependin on which production y'ur talkin bout.

I'll do a small list for the 1982, 2003, 2015 Encore!, n 2019 productions. (Normally, I'd put down Dentist or Now (It's Just The Gas) for all of them n call it a day—but I don't wanna be bias jus cus it's me singin.)

1982: Grow For Me. I love the 82' version so much. I love how Seymour goes "ow!! damn roses🤕 damn thorns🤓 clumsy me😓..." Makes me laugh ev'ry single time. Lee Wilkof's delivery of that line is great.

2003: The Meek Shall Inherit. This one was really hard, I'll be honest. All the songs from this production are damn near perfection in my eyes so this was difficult to choose.

2015: Somewhere That's Green. Audrey deserves the damn world n for some reason, this version of the song gets me good.

2019: I hate this fuckin production so much—god um. Mushnik n Son, maybe? I really don't like this production.

Now, from the movie? Damnit. Yeah, so I'm torn between Some Fun Now n Feed Me (Git It!). Might spin a wheel n have it decide cus both songs are absolute bops. Maybe Some Fun Now with Feed Me as a very close second.

Sorry for this lengthy response, nobrain-the-silly LMFAO — I had to give some of these songs a quick listen b'fore givin a proper answer!!