sockiess

[sockiess]

happy salt air and the rust on your door month to those who celebrate

[sockiess]

you guys, what does it mean if there’s rust all over my door that i swear wasn’t there yesterday and the air smells alarmingly salty? have i never needed anything more, or should i be concerned?

[sockiess]

you love me so hard and i still can't sleep

you and clark have loved each other as long as you've known each other-- so clark knows when something is wrong. but how do you tell a man that loves you so much that you're scared he'll realize how much better he can do?

you and clark kent have known each other since you were five-and-three-quarters and he was six -and-a-half. you’re both proud alumni of smallville’s tiny elementary school, and it’s only slightly larger counterpart: smallville high. 

you and clark have shared homework answers, first kisses, and every single secret there was to tell (including the super ones). it’s always been you and clark, a simple of fact of life. when you stopped being friends and became something more? no one batted an eye— because nobody made more sense than you and him.

but clark went to the esteemed university of metropolis, and you went to central kansas state. clark became a reporter of great renown and the incredible superman, while you became an er nurse at smallville general.

neither of you wanted to do long distance.

neither of you ever stopped loving each other, either.

so, after seven years apart, the second a job opened in metropolis, your bags were packed. because your life didn’t feel like it was worth living when your other half was across the country.

clark asked you to move in with him the second he heard you were coming back. you couldn’t think of anything to say but yes. god, and being back together? it was like college never happened, the distance, the breakup, the days spent pretending other people could mean as much to you as you meant to each other. all of that was over:

you were in love. plain and simple.

at least— you love him. so much that your chest hurts and you can’t think about anything but him half of the time. 

and yes, he’s the perfect boyfriend. caring, doting, trying his best to balance your happiness with his two amazing jobs. he completes you, wholly and truly— but it’s hard sometimes to feel like you’re good enough for him. you feel like he deserves more than the girl who comes home too exhausted to cook and thinks herself far too plain for a god like superman.

that insecurity— while entirely baseless, takes root. no, it takes over. half the time it’s all you think about, how much happier you think he’d be with someone a lot more metropolis and a lot less smallville. he should be with some high powered woman who can match him and challenge him— it makes you wonder… what does he see in you?

it doesn’t take too long for clark to notice. the way your smile stops reaching your eyes, the way  you stop waiting up for him at night when his other job keeps him busy. the way you look at yourself in pictures like you’re less than. it tells him that something is very, very wrong.

for awhile, he prays it’ll pass, whatever it is. he takes you out on extra dates and surprises you with flowers and gifts and home cooked meals as often as he can. you hug him and smile and let him hold you close and tight like you’re his whole world (you are)— but he sees it in your eyes. it’s like you’re hanging back, talking and laughing like everything’s normal while part of you, arguably the most important part, suffers in silence.

the girl he fell in love with isn’t gone. but she’s hurting, he knows that much.

he doesn’t want this for you. it kills him to see you like this, stuck knowing he has no idea what’s going on in that head of yours. so eventually, he stops dancing around it, he stops avoiding the confrontation he knows has to happen. he can’t see you living like this anymore. it just ruins him— because for a man with all the power in the world, he can’t make the woman he loves most happy. 

and what’s worse than that?

so he sits you down on the bed, putting a healthy amount of distance between you so you don’t feel too pressured or too smothered by him. he’s kind like that. he takes a deep breath and catches your gaze with his, trying to convey how seriously he’s taking this, how much he wants you to open up to him again.

“what’s going on?” you ask, tilting your head, looking up at him with this soft, tender glint in your eye that makes him want to melt back into your arms and go back to the way things were in smallville, when all there was was you and him and a couple inexplicable superpowers that cropped up every now and then.

but this is now. and you need him. so he’ll be as strong as he has to be.

he takes a deep breath. “i uh… gosh, i wanted to talk to you. make sure you’re doing okay.”

you shrug, shaking your head. “i’m fine.” you say it casually, like he can’t hear your heartbeat speed up just enough to tell him it’s a nervous, knee-jerk lie.

he sighs. “honey, i… i want you to talk to me, please. i’m worried about you.” he says quietly, leaning in. his sets his hand on your knee, rubbing his thumb back and forth, trying to coax the truth out of you.

you take a deep breath, biting on the inside of your mouth. you look down, unsure of what to say, of how to tell him that you’re so insecure you’re letting it ruin your relationship. that you love him so much you don’t think you’re enough for him anymore.

“please?” he begs, and your walls come crashing down with that gentle plea.

“sometimes… i just— i feel like....” you hesitate, looking down, fidgeting with your thumbs, pulling on the loose skin around your fingernails. 

you can feel him looking at you, deep blue eyes burning a hole into your skin. the confession doesn’t come easily for you, no, it pulls like sandpaper out of your throat. but if you don’t say it now, you never will. 

so you take a deep breath, praying you can hold off your tears just a moment more so you can get this out before you turn to a sobbing, blubbering mess. “…like you’re superman. and the equally amazing clark kent. and one day, you’re gonna realize that you can have anybody you want— and then you won’t want me anymore. and—“ the tears start coming out before you can stop them, but you persevere. “—i love you, and i want you to be with someone who deserves you, someone better than me. you’re a lot bigger now than smallville, and… and i’m not.”

silence hangs heavy in the air. you sniffle, wipe your tears on your sleeve, and take a shaky breath before you finally peer up to look at clark. 

he looks horrified. his eyes are wide and his mouth sits slightly agape, like he’s watching his worst nightmare come to fruition. 

a single tear drops from the ocean of his eye, rolling slowly down his cheek. he feels sick.

he takes a deep breath, swallowing down the frog that had jumped to his throat. “please… please don’t tell me you’ve thought this— that you’ve been thinking this… this whole time?” he asks. you elect not to speak. 

it takes half a second before clark is on top of you, knocking you back into the bed, holding onto you so tightly in a giant bear hug it knocks the air out of your lungs. 

he lets you cry. long enough for you to get it all out of your system, until the sobs that wrack your body subside into soft waves of melancholy. then he pulls back, sitting you both up on the bed, tucking a loose strand of your hair back behind your ear. his eyes captivate yours, control your gaze, make sure that you focus on him and only him until he’s ready to let you go. 

he smiles, softly. he could yell and scream and cry about how ridiculous that is, that he could never want anyone but you, that there is no one ‘better’ than you. he could fly you around the entire world and show you why you’re the only girl he wants to come home to every night. but he knows that wouldn’t do much good in convincing you, he knows you better than he knows himself these days. so his hands linger with comforting touches on your body, and he opens his mouth to speak so softly and soothingly his words could lull you to sleep if you let them.

“i can hear anything on this planet— you know this.” he starts, using his thumb to rub gentle circles into your thigh. “if i hone into it. there’s a lot of things i can listen to, when i’m tired or bored or sad. there’s a jazz club down the street, best music in town, in my opinion. i could zone into the crabjoy’s rehearsals in california, or maybe focus on justice gang small talk. but…” he says, smiling down at you like you’re made of yellow sunshine. “i spend just about all my free time listening to you.” 

you pause, tilting your head up at him. the numbness that’s been sitting in your chest slowly melts into the kind of warmth that only clark kent could make you feel.

“when you hum the songs playing in your head to yourself, i get excited, maybe a bit sappy. and when you tell stories, i get so distracted i forget where i am. just the sound of your heartbeat— steady, rhythmic, how it goes fast and then slow and then fast again, it grounds me. makes me feel like i’m home.”

you’re crying again. not in the bad way, this time. the tears just can’t help but to fall. 

“you’re my girl. i don’t think i could ever want someone else. i don’t think someone better could even exist, okay? just ‘cause i’m superman, just ‘cause i could, doesn’t mean i’d ever want to. you are my soulmate. my world revolves around you. and… gosh, i’m so sorry i’ve ever made you think otherwise.” he says, giving your thigh a gentle squeeze. “without you, i wouldn’t be superman. i’d have nothing to protect if i didn’t have the hope in the world that you give me. nobody else could ever hold a candle to you, okay?” he says, smiling. “please tell me you believe me. please?”

you nod, sniffling again, smiling back up at him with something he would describe as radiance.

“i do.”

he breathes out a soft sigh of relief. “then please, for my sanity, don’t ever think like that again. it kills me— i think i felt a part of my soul die.” 

you giggle, leaning into him. he wraps his arms around you, pulling your back into his chest, swaying you back and forth against him, tucking his head against your shoulder, blowing raspberries into the crook of your neck until all you are is smiles and laughter and you forget you were ever insecure about your relationship in the first place.

reblog if you enjoyed!<3

[sockiess]

1-800-red-hoods-gas-station-attendant-service

Your boyfriend's not fond of you pumping your own gas at night, so he insists you don't do it alone.

🩹 G/AUs: fluff, est. relt. 🩹 TW: reader (f) is called beautiful, pretty, princess, baby, doll (i love nicknames okay leave me alone 😭), mentions of blood and fighting 🩹 WC: 1.5k 🩹 A/N: Inspired by this reel (sfw). Just a little fun and easy read 💗 enjoy!

this blog is 18+. minors do not interact. plz & ty! (ageless/minors/blanks blogs will be blocked)

masterlist

Ever since Jason caught a group of people trying to rob someone at the gas station a week ago, he’s insisted you not get gas alone—especially at night.

Your arguments fall on deaf ears. He’s put his foot down and covered it in cement. There’s nothing you can say to make Jason change his mind.

“Hey, beau”—grunts—”tiful. Need somethin’?” Jason asks after the fourth ring.

You can faintly hear the sound of fists hitting skin in the background.

“You busy, handsome?” you wonder, eyes glancing at the low fuel light glaring at you. You already know his answer and the real answer before he speaks.

“Nope,” he answers followed by more grunting. “You home from your ladies' night?”

Upon seeing a gas station in the distance, you signal to take the highway's exit ramp.

“Not yet. I called because I’m low on gas and need to get some to make it home. I figured calling you while I pumped—”

“Where are you?” he asks instead, voice slightly strained.

“Near upper west side.”

“Come to the diamond district, and I’ll meet you there.”

You pull into an empty pump station.

“I’m already at a gas station, Jay. Just—”

“It’s not safe.”

“You’re tracking my location and you can hear—”

“It’s not safe to use your phone while getting gas too,” he continues to interrupt.

You heave a sigh and lean back into your seat, unable to stop your eyes from checking your locks. Although you’ve always been weary of pumping gas at night, you try not to be too paranoid. You hate being on edge all the time.

“Please, doll?” he pleads, breathing heavier.

There are curses in the background that don’t sound like Jason. His attackers must not like him much.

“Alright, but hurry. My light’s on,” you say. You sit straighter and shift gears to leave.

“I’m on my way now. Hey, Red Ro—”

The line cuts off, but you figure Jason’s recruiting Tim to take care of his loose ends. You feel bad for taking Jason away from his work, but you don’t want him to be upset with you for getting gas by yourself. He’s not fun when he’s grumpy.

Jason’s sitting comfortably on his motorcycle when you turn into the station.

When he sees your car, he stands and waves. You know there’s a grin behind his helmet.

The gas station is empty except for the convenience store worker. He looks at the vigilante suspiciously from inside.

You park at the station he’s at, turn off the car, and pull the lever that opens the gas tank. You climb out and smile at him, holding your card in one hand.

“Hi there, cutie. You come here often?” you tease.

He chuckles and swiftly pays for the gas before you can. You give him a disapproving look that he ignores.

“Only for you, princess,” he replies.

You put your card away as he takes the pump and untwists the tank’s cap.

“You don’t have to do that,” you say, feeling guilty again. You figured he’d come and watch the area, not actually pump your gas for you.

“I don’t mind,” he says. “You can sit back down and jus’ look pretty for me, baby.”

“That makes me sound like a spoiled brat,” you huff but do as you’re told, keeping the door open so you can converse.

Jason leans against your car as he fills your tank.

“Well, you’re only half right. You are spoiled, but that’s the way I like it.”

You shake your head at his reply, but there’s a smile on your face. Truthfully, it’s a little nice to not have to worry about anything—to just let Jason care for you.

Your eyes scan his tall form, taking in his armored-covered body and shiny helmet. You notice a few dark spots on his gloves and clothes that you figure are blood.

“It’s a little funny seeing the Red Hood pump my gas,” you quip as you grin at him.

“What can I say? I’m here to help the citizens of Gotham in any way,” he jokes.

“You have a busy night?” you ask, recalling the phone call from earlier.

“Nothin’ too extreme,” he replies.

When your tank is full, he returns the pump and twists the cap back on.

He moves in front of you, resting one hand on the car’s top while he leans down.

“If it weren’t for that goober watching us like a hawk, I’d give you a kiss,” he says.

“Only a kiss? I’d pull you in the back seat and have some fun,” you say with a flirty smile.

He laughs and lowers his head more. You’re so tempted to kiss him.

“We’ll have fun at home,” he says.

“You’re coming back with me?” you ask, eyes opening wider with hope.

He shakes his head. “Sorry, princess. I still need to go help Tim. I’ll be back soon though.”

“Define soon,” you reply with a slight pout.

Jason drops in a squat so he can take your hands; the act is hidden by your door.

“An hour or two?” he says. “But don’t wait up. It could be longer.”

You nod solemnly.

Jason squeezes your hands, thumbs rubbing your skin tenderly.

“Text me when you get home, ‘kay?” he asks.

“Okay,” you say.

Jason releases your hands to rub your thighs.

“Thank you for calling me,” he adds.

“Yeah, well, I didn’t want my boyfriend upset with me,” you huff halfheartedly.

Jason squeezes your legs.

“Just want ya safe, doll.”

“I know,” you sigh and place your hands over his.

“I better get going,” he says and reluctantly begins to pull away.

You grab his hands to hold him close.

“Ya know, you might as well just kiss me. I think the worker knows you’re not just here to pump a random Gothamite’s gas.”

Jason chuckles and takes a peek at the window. The worker still looks on, but now with a confused face. When he notices Jason staring, he averts his gaze. Though, Jason knows it won’t last long.

“Fine,” he relents and leans down.

You grin, reaching out to cup his helmet as you kiss the cool material. Of course, it’s not the same as feeling his lips on yours, but the sentiment is felt.

“Love you,” you murmur as you pull away and drop your hands.

Jason sighs longingly. “Love you too, beautiful. See you at home.”

“See you,” you reply.

Jason ends up following you for a while for extra precaution before heading back to his patrol shift. He doesn’t come home for another three hours.

When he does, you’re on the brink of sleep. Still, you turn in his arms so you can snuggle your face against his chest.

“Missed you,” you mumble.

His chest vibrates as he laughs. “You saw me a few hours ago.”

“And what ‘bout it, Todd?” you huff.

He pulls you even closer and rests his head against yours. His body feels so nice. You wish you could stay in his arms for days.

“Nothin’, doll. I missed ya too,” he says in a deep, tired voice.

“Hmph! Thought so,” you reply and carefully lift your head to give him a triumphant smile.

Jason releases an amused puff of air.

“Get some sleep, silly,” he says.

“Kiss first,” you demand, puckering your lips dramatically.

Jason grins and angles his face to give you a tender smooch.

Your lips spread in a grin upon feeling him directly.

When he goes to pull away, you whine in protest and chase after him. You capture his mouth again before he can get too far.

Jason laughs into the kiss, pulling you on top of him. His hands trail up your sides to cup your face. His warmth spreads from your cheeks to your heart.

There’s a dopey, sleepy smile on your face when you pull away.

“God, I love you,” Jason says with the utmost sincerity that squeezes your heart.

“Not as much as I love you,” you sing-song, leaning down to peck his lips.

“Yeah, right,” he chuckles and moves his hands back to your sides. He slides them under your shirt to feel you directly.

Instead of arguing, you lean down to kiss him once more.

“You’re comfy,” you mumble.

He can’t stop the happiness that shows on his face at your words. He gently eases you down by pressing lightly on your upper back and says, “Good. I like you like this.” 

He adjusts his head against his pillow and closes his eyes, arms holding your body to his like a teddy bear.

“I like being here,” you reply and lay your head on his chest. You love hearing the rhythm of his heart.

You feel him give your head a kiss before he gets settled. It’s not long before his breathing gets steadier, and his arms lax slightly around your body. As you join him in dreamland, you realize you’ll never feel safer than in his arms. 

A/N: I have this for my other blog, so I wanted to share it here too: For my “shy/silent” readers, I’ve created a feedback form where you can share your thoughts on my fics in a more anonymous and private way. ^-^

©️chaotic-birds // DO NOT REPOST OR MODIFY Please consider reblogging if you liked this work to show your support. Feedback/commentary is always welcomed.

[sockiess]

I don't care what anyone thinks, Jason's white bangs are so silly and cute and he should always have them. ALWAYS.

[sockiess]

CUM AND GET IT ❀ tim drake

DABBLE | CW: masterbating, improper use of bo staff, swearing

MINORS DNI

you noticed it the second you stepped back into your apartment. there, propped casually against the far wall like a forgotten umbrella was his bo staff. your eyes lingered on it. that familiar matte-black metal. you knew how it felt in your hands— how heavy it was, how balanced. youd seen it cracked against concrete, spinning in his palms like it was just a part of him. youd felt it once during a spar, pressed low to your stomach, his breath warm at your ear when he murmured, “yield.” you were never more turned on then you were in that moment. tim wasnt the most dominant— however when he had that staff it was like he held all power and you let him take the reins.

you snapped out of your thoughts. your hand drifted toward it slowly, fingers already twitching. your grin bloomed before you even touched it.

he mustve left it after your last visit. youd been curled up together, legs tangled, his breath against your shoulder, his laugh buried in your neck. and when the bat signal lit up the sky, he’d kissed you fast and slipped out the window. in the rush, he mustve forgotten his staff. left it behind in your care and the second you wrapped your hands around it, the idea hit you like lightning.

if he didnt want you to touch it, he wouldnt have left it here, right?

you bit your lip as you ran your hands down the length of it; cool, sleek, solid. the way it made you clench your thighs was almost embarrassing. your heart was already racing, your mind already wandering to all the ways he used it. how his muscles flexed when he flipped it. how focused he got. how quiet he was, until he couldnt help himself anymore. you brought it with you to the couch. sat back slowly, spreading your legs just a little wider. you pulled down your shorts, your slick walls anticipating the size of it. you lined it up, and slowly eased it in. you threw your head back, continuing to push it in as much as you could. it continued until it couldnt anymore, hitting the barrier. you felt so full. it was cold at first. then warm, warming fast as your body ground against it, little by little. your lips parted. your breath stuttered. one hand thrusted it into you while the other played with your clit. rubbing in fast circles.

you used it. let your hips move. let the pleasure curl up inside you like smoke. gliding the metal against your folds, dragging it through your slick. in and out, again and again, until you were soaking. each pass made you bite your lip harder. your clit throbbed every time it pumped in. you held the staff tighter, hips moving in slow, deliberate rolls.

you imagined him walking in right now. imagined him freezing in the doorway— just watching. jaw slack, blue eyes wide, pupils blown.

“youre using my weapon like a fucktoy?” hed say, almost breathless. “fuck, baby…”

your pace picked up, breath coming faster now, fingers trembling where they gripped the staff. your thighs were slick and trembling, your core clenching around nothing. you wanted to hear him say your name. wanted him to kneel in front of you. wanted him to shove the staff away and bury his face between your legs instead. you rubbed your clit faster, feeling yourself so close. your hips jerked as you came. you panted and moaned as you slowly pulled the staff out.

you looked at the mess youd made. a smirk tugged at your mouth and you left it just like that.

the window clicks open with barely a sound.

tim slips inside like a shadow, boots silent against the hardwood. hes done this a hundred times— more, probably. in and out of your apartment without a sound, just to check in, just to see you sleeping peacefully, just to leave little things behind like a ghost. tonight, though, hes here for something specific. his staff. he sighs softly, eyes scanning the space, and there it is— right where he remembers leaning it. right where he hoped it would still be. “thank god…” he mutters under his breath, crossing the room to grab it.

his hand wraps around it instinctively, fingers flexing. the familiar weight is grounding. he lets out a breath of relief. then he freezes, his brows pulling together. his eyes drop to his fingers. somethings off. sticky warm and clear. it clings to his glove in thin, glistening threads.

“…what the…” he blinks.

stares at the glossy smear near the bottom of the staff. tilts it toward the light. the streak is unmistakable now, and his brain short-circuits trying to make sense of it. he swipes two fingers through it cautiously— almost like he doesnt believe it. lifts them up, the string of it stretches, breaks, shimmers faintly in the low light. his breath catches.

“is that…?” his voice is barely audible, more exhale than question. his heart skips. his face starts to burn.

no no way… but then again… its you. youve been teasing him for weeks— bold touches, suggestive glances, whispers in his ear that make his stomach clench. he knows how wicked your smile gets when youre planning something. and now, staring at the sticky evidence on his weapon, the heat in his chest turns molten.

“oh my god…” he breathes, backing up a step, like the staff might explode.

his mind floods with images. your thighs, spread for him, your body grinding. your voice soft, breathy, saying his name while you— “fuckkkk” he mutters, dragging a hand down his face, ears blazing red beneath his mask. his grip tightens. he looks at the door then at the staff. then again at the door, like you might walk back in any second and catch him here, flustered and sweaty-palmed and painfully hard in his suit. he swallows thickly.

“…youre evil,” he says softly, staring down at the glistening streak again. “so fucking evil…” however the look on his face is nothing close to mad. his cock was painfully hard in his suit, his hand palming his bulge.

he was definitely gonna get you back for this.

✿ Do not repost, translate, or alter my work. — © @quackywrites

[sockiess]

Please Stay

Based off of this prompt

wc: 843

You can't even remember what the fight was about now. Something, you think, about how you were going to lose your mind if Jason didn't stop staining your carpet with blood - even if he did pay to have it professionally cleaned. It was something stupid and small but filled up pent up stress they both of you had been holding in for weeks instead of talking about like you usually did.

But between work, Jason's patrols - and how he was getting hurt more often, school pick up and drop off along with sports and practices, there was next to no time to actually sit and talk. And while you were normally so careful about not arguing in front of your daughter, this time she caught the tail end of it.

The tail end where Jason told you he needed to blow off some steam before talking to your “dramatic ass” before leaving the house for the rest of the night. And even though the two of you have since made up she was still moody, short with her responses and quick to anger.

It was a quiet morning with Jason waking up before everyone else in the house to make breakfast.

“Morning,” Jason flips a pancake without looking over his shoulder, recognizing your daughter's footsteps as she enters the kitchen. She doesn't respond.

“I'm makin’ pancakes, want any before school? I put chocolate chips in ‘em the way you like.”

“No. I'm not six anymore, Jason. I don't want chocolate chip pancakes.” Her response was short, voice tight but filled with that teenage attitude.

Jason stiffens for a split second before turning the stove off, turning to face her. He crosses his arms over his chest and stares her down as she grabs a bottle of water from the fridge.

“Alright. What's your deal?” He wasn't one to beat around the bush.

“I don't have a deal.” But she refuses to look at him.

“Obviously you do. You've been giving us attitude for days now.”

“I don't have an attitude! There's no attitude!” Her voice grows in anger. She's turning to face him now with a scowl on her face.

“Oh, bullshit.” He scoffs with a bitter laugh.

“You've been walking around the house like no one else exists. Giving your mom so much grief she's about to rip out her hair, giving me enough sass to put me back in my grave.” He's beginning to pace between the stove and the kitchen island.

“I mean - Jesus, kid, what do you want from me?” Jason's at his wits end, he's throwing his hands up in defeat, the exasperation drips in his voice.

That's her breaking point.

“I want you to stay!” Her eyes are wet and her voice cracks on that last word as her tone raises to meet Jason's.

Jason stops his pacing, his hands on his hips, and he turns to face her. His expression is still firm, guarded, but there's a softness to it now.

“Stay? What do you even mean?” He asks. The thought of leaving is so foreign, so asinine, to Jason that he doesn't even see it as a possibility.

Your daughter sniffles and Jason's heart breaks at the sight of her crying. He softens even more as the anger visibly deflates from his shoulders.

“I mean stay.” She repeats. She sounds like a little kid, the same way she did when Jason first met her. Small, innocent, fragile. Not the strong, fierce, stubborn teenager that she's grown into over the years.

“I don't-” she wipes her eyes with the sleeve of her sweater. “I don't want you to leave like my dad did.”

And then he finally understands. She's convinced herself that he's going to leave - walk away like her dad - just because the two of you had a fight and he took off for a few hours.

He understood too well.

“Kid…” his voice is so soft and gentle, like he's trying to soothe a scared animal. “You think I'm gonna leave you and Mom just ‘cause we had a fight?”

“You left-” she sniffles again.

“I left to get some air before Mom whooped my ass for staining her carpet again,” Jason tries to joke but it falls flat. “We both needed space.” He walks toward her and puts his hands on her shoulders.

“Look at me.”

She does with tears in her eyes. Jason pulls her into a firm hug, protective and warm.

“‘m not leaving you. Ever. You or Mom. Got it?” He whispers against the top of her head. She nods frantically, crying into his soft cotton shirt that she's holding onto for dear life.

“Promise?”

“I promise.” He rubs a hand over her back before pressing a kiss to the crown of her head.

The two stand in the middle of the kitchen hugging until she finally calms down enough to pull back and look up at Jason, broken and fragile and scared but full of love and trust for her dad.

“Now, how ‘bout some chocolate chip pancakes?” He asks with a soft smile.

[sockiess]

And the audience cheered

[sockiess]

STOP PUTTING OC STORIES WITH "X READER" TAGS BRO WITH ALL DUE RESPECT YOUR STORY DOES NOT BELONG THERE....listen... im sure the story is great... BUT im literally gonna combust if i keep seeing ts. Im trying to feed my delusions and yall arnt helping. Sighhhhhhh

[sockiess]

Don't Forget to S.I.N.G

wc: 3.4k

Girl step-dad!Jason Todd

warnings: underage drinking, teenage boys trying to get handsy, reader's daughter gets violent, angst with a happy ending

a/n: idk what came over me, I was a woman possessed bc I just KNOW Jason would be a good dad. Biological or not. Let me live in my fantasy world

Jason never thought he would get the approval of your daughter, Olivia. No amount of tea parties, painted nails, make overs, Disney sing alongs, help with homework and rides to practices seemed to sway Olivia into accepting Jason as her step dad. Even from a young age. Sure she accepted him as your boyfriend, tolerated him and made him play with her, but he was always just Jason to her. Mom's new boyfriend. Nothing more, nothing less.

“Ew, can you not do that?” Your fifteen year old walks out from her bedroom to find you and Jason cuddling on the couch watching a movie after dinner, acting like it wasn't an everyday occurrence. Jason smirks a little while you give a soft shake of your head amused at her adolescent reaction.

“No can do, kiddo.” Jason turns his attention back to the TV. She rolls her eyes in response.

“Mom, Aubrey and Kaylee are staying the night at Aubrey's house. Can I go over too?” She asks with her phone in her hand and a hopeful look on her face.

“Are your chores done?” You ask in response. Jason looks between the two of you with a raised brow.

“Yes.” She sighs in exaggeration.

“Homework?”

“Yes, Mom.” She drags out each syllable. She's on the verge of begging and you can see it in the way she pouts. Your lips tick upwards at her.

It's rare she gets to go to a sleepover at all if it isn't hosted at your house. But she's been doing great in school, keeping up with her chores, and you know she's an all around good kid.

So you sit up a little straighter on the couch, and give her The Look™. The one that says you're serious and you're no longer being laid back and cool about everything.

“Your location stays on, your phone stays charged, if you leave - even to go down the block - you text me,” in the middle of your “safety speech” her eyes light up and Jason can't help but smile at the contagious one Olivia now sports.

“If you need anything at all, you text me or Jason. Got it?”

She dances lightly on her feet with a squeal, socks padding softly against the carpet.

“Yes, yes, I got it!” She throws her arms around you before running back down the hall to pack her bag.

“You sure about this?” Jason asks in a low voice, pulling you back into his side.

You sigh quietly, “No. But she can't be kept in a bubble forever.” You answer.

Jason presses a reassuring kiss to the top of your head and wraps both arms around you. “She'll be alright. She's a good kid. Smart. Not like I was when I was a teenager.” He jokes with his cheek against your head. You smile and feel a fraction of your anxiety simmer down.

“Yeah, thank god she's not a crime fighting teenage vigilante.” You quip back. Jason snorts quietly at your remark.

“I dunno, I think she'd be pretty good at it. Damian said something about needing a new Robin-” Jason groans as you pinch his side.

“Not funny. I don't even want to think about that.” you shake your head as you settle back against him.

“Okay, I'm heading out!” Olivia rushes through the living room to the front door.

“Wait!” You stop her as she's already pulling the door open. She sighs and closes it before turning to face you.

“You have your charger?”

She nods.

“Pepper spray?”

She dangles her keychain to show you her set of house keys she has along with her spray and window breaker.

“Extra clothes? Toothbrush? Underwear? Brush?”

“Yes, yes, yes, and yes.” She nods once. “I also have my wallet, card and extra cash just in case. Can I go? Aubrey and Kaylee are outside waiting.”

Living in Gotham can make the average person a little paranoid. Having a teenager and living in Gotham? That makes you a lot paranoid.

“Wait, hold on,” Jason turns to face her from the couch and she rolls her eyes. “What do you do if someone tries mugging you? Or if they start getting too aggressive?”

She lets out an annoyed sigh, “Step on their foot, punch them in the stomach, nose, then the groin.” She recites. He's only ingrained it into her since she was a little girl. He smiles proudly.

“Good. Be safe.” He tells her but she's already turning her back on the both of you.

“Text me when you get there, love you!” You call out as she steps outside.

“Love you too!” You hear before the door closes behind her.

There's a few moments of silence and you stare at the front door before Jason gets your attention, pulling you out of your thoughts.

“Hey, don't worry.” He already knows your mind is thinking of every possible worst case scenario that can happen.

“What if Aubrey's dad is secretly Penguin or Scarecrow?” You mumble in response. Jason smiles at your hypothetical.

“First of all, they're long gone. Both of them. Second, we've already done background checks on both of their families - using Bruce's computer. They're safe. She's safe. And smart. She'll be okay.” He assures you. You feel yourself settling against him. You know he's right. You had Bruce, Jason, and Tim all doing extensive background checks on her friend's families.

Okay, maybe having a kid in Gotham, while you're dating one of the most notorious vigilantes in town, made you more than a lot paranoid. Maybe it made you a little crazy.

“You're right… you're right, I'm sorry.”

Jason smiles softly and leans down until he's nosing at the side of your neck.

“Lemme take your mind off things, babe. Y’need to relax a little.”

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

“Ew, he's not!” Olivia recoils in disgust in the back of her friend's car.

“He is! Your step dad is so hot!” Aubrey giggles from the driver's seat.

“He's not my step dad, he's my mom's boyfriend-”

“They've been dating since you were a kid. That's your step dad.” Kaylee rolls her eyes in amusement.

“Not the point.” Olivia says through clenched teeth. “And he's not hot! He's… Jason. He's annoying and makes bad jokes and says stupid things like “goodness gracious”.”

“Your mom is so lucky. What I wouldn't give-”

“Stop!” Olivia covers her ears as her friends laugh. “Ugh, he's old, shut up!”

The girls tease her for reaction before they pull up outside of Aubrey's house. The usually quiet street is running rampant with drunk teenagers. Olivia's eyes go wide.

“You're having a party? Where are your parents?”

“Out of town,” Aubrey shrugs with a smug smile on her face, “They don't know about it.”

“We knew if we told you that you wouldn't be able to lie to your mom about it.” Kaylee turns back in her seat to give a less than apologetic shrug to Olivia.

“Yeah, you're kind of a horrible liar.” Aubrey smirks from the front.

The three girls exit the car, Olivia leaving her bag inside, and walk up the driveway to the loud party. She can feel the bass from the music inside the house in her chest before they even make it to the front door. She's never gone out and partied, never even had a sip of alcohol in her life, but here she was now - nervous but wanting to make an impression on her friends.

The house is loud and crowded, hot and humid and full of too many bodies. She recognizes almost everyone from school, girls from her softball team acting more wild than she's ever seen before, the quiet boy from her science class is doing body shots off of a cheerleader on Aubrey's kitchen table.

But as dutiful as ever she texts you a quick “made it! :)” that goes mostly ignored back home as Jason only lets off of you long enough for you to check the notification and respond with a thumbs up emoji before he's back on you.

“We're going to have so much fun.” Kaylee giggles as she begins pouring cheap vodka into a red cup, filling the rest with juice before handing it to Olivia. The alcohol burns her throat as she takes a drink causing her to cough into her elbow.

“This is awful,” she grimaces at the offending drink. Her friends laugh before pulling her further into the house party.

“That's the fun of it!” Aubrey calls out over the loud music. Her arm hooks through Olivia’s so she feels less inclined to pull away.

The three girls sit on one of the couches in the living room, right in front of the embarrassing makeshift dance floor. Almost everyone is stumbling, bumping into each other, too drunk to even dance cohesively. It's more uncoordinated grinding than anything else and Olivia's face flushes from secondhand embarrassment, and the way the alcohol had already begun to warm her skin.

“Hey, Aubrey..” Tanner, Aubrey's ex and the annoying jock from your history class, stands in front of the three of you with a smarmy smile. His voice is low and enticing. You and Kaylee don't even have a second to tell her no, sit and stay, before she's following him outside with a giggle.

“She made that so easy.” Kaylee snorts.

“How long did we spend consoling her when they broke up?” Olivia rolls her eyes and takes another large sip. The quicker she drinks it, she thinks, the quicker it is to get over the awful taste.

“Weeks!” Kaylee laughs into her own cup. Olivia shakes her head with a laugh of her own, the plastic cup muffling most of it. Her face is flush, body warm, as the alcohol hits her hard.

Suddenly Kaylee pipes up, “Oh, I'll be right back! I see Aundrea and she looks too good.” Her eyes settle on the pretty brunette in the corner.

“Think you'll finally get her attention?” Olivia leans into her friend with a giggle.

“I fucking better. I've been flirting for months and she's either incredibly oblivious or too nice to reject me. Don't move, I'll be back.” Kaylee warns your daughter playfully before getting up from the couch.

And just like that Olivia is by herself in the crowded party, sitting on the couch nursing a terribly mixed drink. But, to her surprise, it's not for long.

“Liv, hey…” a warm, smooth voice is next to her before she can process that someone's even sat down.

Adam, an upperclassman from school, someone Olivia's harbored feelings for for a while now. She smiles bashfully as his arm rests on the back of the couch behind her head.

“Hey, Adam.” She turns her lazy smile to him. He laughs under his breath.

Most girls would say Adam was a player, to stay away from him, that he was no good and only wanted a warm body to keep him busy for a few minutes. Olivia thought she saw more than that in him. He was nice to her, when he did talk to her in school, warm and funny. Polite.

Someone she might consider bringing home.

“Having fun?” He asks and she nods in response. Her cup is empty now and her head is swimming.

“Mhm, fun.” She echoes, still giggly. “Are you-” she hiccups, “are you having fun?” She leans against him heavily. Her heart would normally be racing if Adam so much as looked at her, but now she's full of liquid courage.

“Yeah, yeah ‘m havin’ fun.” Adam responds as he moves his arm around Olivia's shoulder.

“‘s so fun, right?” Olivia looks at Adam through her lashes with wide pupils. “‘cept for the dancing. It's so bad.” She laughs again, her head falling against Adam's shoulder. He laughs along with her as he glances at the dancing teenagers.

“Yeah, it's pretty bad. You had a lot to drink?” He asks, eyeing her cup.

She shakes her head, “Jus’ the one,” she hiccups again.

“Oh, so you're a lightweight.” He teases her playfully. She nods at that.

“‘ve never drank before. It's gross.” She pouts at the plastic up before letting it fall to the floor. Adam snickers again.

“It can be pretty gross, yeah.” He agrees. “Hey, wanna go somewhere quiet? It's pretty loud in here, I can barely hear you.”

Olivia perks up at the mention of quiet, “Oh my gosh, yeesss! It's soooo loud!” She leans into him again. With a smile Adam helps her to her feet, she only staggers a second before his arm is around her waist.

Olivia knows her way around Aubrey's house, she's been over there enough times, so when in her intoxicated state she's able to easily guide herself and Adam to Aubrey's room. It's quiet and cool inside. Adam closes the door behind the two and locks it.

“You're so nice to me, you know that?” Olivia smiles sloppily, leaning against Adam again. She wraps her arms around him in a hug that he returns.

“Yeah?” He guides her to the bed and they sit on the edge. “I'm only nice to pretty girls.” He smiles before tucking her hair behind her ear. Olivia blushes and buries her face against his shoulder.

“Yer just sayin’ that…” she mumbles.

“Nah, you are pretty. Really pretty.” Adam assures her.

He pulls her head back, holding onto her chin, and looks down at her with a hunger in his eyes. Olivia shifts where she's sitting. The look in his eyes makes her stomach twist in a way she doesn't like. She tries to pull back but he doesn't let go.

“What're you-” she tries to mumble but he leans in, close enough now she can smell his breath.

“Hey, it's okay. You said I was nice, right?” He asks as he brushes his nose against hers. She swallows and nods but there's a frown forming on her face.

“Y-yeah, I did…”

“Then let me be nice to you, huh? I promise I'll be real nice.” He tells her in a low voice.

She shakes her head, “No. No. I don't-”

“C'mon, don't be like that. I said I'd be nice. It won't even hurt-”

“I said no.” She's able to pull her face out of his hands and scoot away from him on the bed. His once easy expression turns hard as he shoots her a sharp glare.

“Don't be a fuckin' prude. It's just a kiss, Jesus Christ.” He spits.

Olivia gathers all her strength to give Adam a glare of her own, “An’ I said no. So fuck off.” She stands to get out of the room but he's quicker, bigger.

“Nuh-uh-” He grabs hold of her wrist.

But that's his second mistake of the night.

Despite the alcohol in her system, Olivia has had these defensive moves drilled into her since she was a kid.

Her foot stomps down angrily on his own, causing him to howl in pain and double over. The perfect position to punch him in the stomach.

“Bitch!” Adam howls as he stands enough to cover his bleeding nose with his hands.

Before he can get another word out her first is connecting with her stomach, causing him to double over again.

“That wasn't very nice,” she mutters before landing the final blow.

Her shin makes contact with his groin and Adam lets out the loudest shriek they Olivia's ever heard. She knows she'll have a bruise the next day but she knows it's worth it.

With a cry Adam falls to the ground, blood coming from his nose, hands cupping himself. Olivia knows she needs to get out of there before Adam can get up and she needs to call the only person she can trust in this situation.

With shaking hands and wobbling legs she leaves the bedroom and stumbles her way outside. The cold air helps to sober her up. She swipes through her phone with blurry vision as tears begin to well in her eyes. It only rings once before it's answered.

“I messed up,” Her voice is quiet and broken as she cries.

“Be there in five. Stay where you are.” Jason tells her.

Back at home Jason shakes you awake gently, almost feeling guilty now for wearing you out. He's sliding on his sweats and hoody.

“Hey, babe,” he kisses your temple. “‘m gonna go pick up Liv.”

“Everything okay?” You ask immediately as your eyes shoot open. He doesn't want to lie to you but he doesn't want to make you panic either.

“Yeah, babe, she's fine. Just wants to come home. I'll be back soon.” He gives you one more kiss before leaving the house.

Jason makes the twenty minute drive to Aubrey's house in less than ten minutes. He finds her crying on the sidewalk in front of her house. He barely parks the car before he's stumbling out to get to her.

“Liv-” He's crouched in front of her, gently grasping either side of her head to look her over for injuries but all he finds is a tear stricken face and alcohol laced breath.

“I'm sorry.” Are the first words out of her mouth. The way her voice cracks makes Jason swallow, his heart breaks for his little girl. He shakes his head.

“Don't-” he swallows. He doesn't know what to do, she's never needed him like this before - always brushing him off and acting like he was only a temporary fixture in her life. “Don't be sorry. You didn't do anything-” he silently curses himself.

“Are you hurt? You okay?”

She nods, “I'm not hurt. I-” she can't look at him, can't make eye contact. Instead she covers her eyes with the heels of her palms as she cries.

“I broke his nose, ‘m gonna be in so much trouble.” She cries. Jason's feeling a mixture of confusion and pride.

“You broke someone's nose?” He's almost smiling.

Olivia nods again, “He tried kissing me.” Jason's smile drops.

“Who?” Now he's seeing red. Some dipshit kid tried kissing his little girl? The Red Hood might be retired now but he'll make a special exception for tonight.

“Some guy- Adam.” She responds, “But I broke his nose and kicked him. Like you taught me.”

Jason's heart swells and breaks and swells again, his expression softens. His poor girl had been through too much.

“Like I taught you, huh?” He runs his hand over her hair. She nods with a sniffle before she pushes herself into him, wrapping her arms around him in a tight hug.

“I'm sorry. I should have called you or Mom before-”

“Shh, shh, don't. Don't apologize. You're okay, that's all that matters.”

She looks up at him with big glossy eyes, “It is? You're not mad?” Jason's stunned silent before he pulls her back in against him. He can't believe that all she can worry about is being in trouble.

“Of course I'm not mad at you. Mom won't be either. We're-...” He's quiet for a split second, “I'm just glad you're safe.” He whispers against the top of her head. He lets himself breathe, lets himself calm down knowing that physically safe and unharmed.

“I can kill him, ya know.” He mutters. He's so painfully serious, his finger is just itching to pull the trigger on the person who hurt his girl.

Olivia stays silent before she lets herself smile.

“No way. It'll be more satisfying seeing his stupid broken face at school.”

Jason shakes his head, “Hell no. You're transferring. No way in shit I'm letting you go back to that school. Or I'll have Bruce pull some strings and get him expelled.”

“Yeah,” he hears Olivia laugh quietly and his heart melts. “Expelling him works.”

“Just like your mom,” he teases lightly, “not letting me kill anyone. Y’guys are no fun.”

This time Olivia laughs louder, “He's seventeen-”

“Seventeen?! And trying to-!” Jason cuts himself off as he pulls Olivia back by the shoulders to look at her. Now he wants to make sure that more than the kid's nose is broken, even more than he did before.

“Little fucker…” he grumbles. Olivia feels the heavy weight in her chest lighten. She knows that she's safe now with Jason.

“Can we go home now, Dad?”

His expression falls, jaw slacks as he looks down at her. Now he's the one who wants to cry. He feels the backs of his eyes prick with tears.

Dad.

It was the first time she's ever called him that. He feels like he can hardly breathe with the way his entire chest fills with emotion. He smiles softly at her and nods.

“Yeah, let's go home, kiddo.”

taglist: @vellichor01 @thy-crimson-king @tinasdcstuff

[sockiess]

:)

[sockiess]

always

— superman/clark kent x fem!reader

— synopsis: sometimes, clark liked the color red; there's the red sun, superman's red cape, and then there are the red days. 

— a/n: hehe

"clark, honey, i need your help."

the volume of your voice was kept at a minimum, slightly muffled by the snacks in your mouth. yet clark, a couple miles away, hears your call for assistance. 

clark—superman, rather, hands a two dollar bill to the man who sold a falafel, thanking him with a kind bow. then with a careful grip to his own snack, he pounces just enough to send himself flying and onto where you were.

in an instant, he's in front of your window. you're slumped on top of the couch, the coffee table too cluttered for clark's liking, with crumbs of snacks decorating the wood. you beam when you see the familiar red cape of his flowing in the air, standing up with a hand on your navel and opening the window.

"so," he leans sideways, his right elbow on the window frame and the left hand on his hip, giving you a soft, flirtatious smile that had just a touch of innocence; clark was poking out of superman's confident demeanor. "you called for help?"

you look at clark's falafel in his right hand and giggle. then you take out a chip, put it near his mouth, to which he gladly takes with his slightly chapped lips. 

"thanks, baby."

"i need a favor," you say sheepishly. "so i got my period."

clark slows down his chewing. and then he looks down to where your navel is, eyes turning the way they would when he's turned on his x-ray vision. you gasp in response, pushing him slightly.

he blinks rapidly and seems to pale a little. "that's a lot of blood."

"it's the first day." you reply. "and really? you're squeamish?"

"i don't exactly kill people, don't i? i rescue them. i've seen more blood in the saw movies than i do in battles." 

"point is," you pop another chip in your mouth. "could you buy me a napkin? or tampons or a diva cup? just anything. i've seemed to have ran out."

clark hands you his falafel and nods. "anything for my darling." he gives you a chaste kiss on your forehead, then points at his falafel. "please heat that up, thank you."

—

clark in a drugstore was a normal sight; a normal, human civilian, looking at a variety of sanitary products for his girl.

superman however...

a staff approaches him, shy and confused. superman's back is hunched from the stress he feels in choosing the correct product, the way clark would when he's working on a new article, humming beneath his breath and skimming through with his fingertip as if he were at the library.

Superman Found in Local Drugstore.

"um, excuse me mr. superman sir," she greets. Clark snaps out of his trance and straightens his back, blinking rapidly to look down at the girl. "may i help you, sir?"

"ah, yes." his arms cross. "what's a good sanitary product?"

the woman is befuddled. "for pads? tampons?"

"yes, um, what exactly is a diva cup?"

she blushes. "you put that inside you, sir. i mean well, the girl puts it inside of her and when released, it opens and catches the blood into the cup."

clark grimaces. "wouldn't that hurt?"

"it's made of rubber, sir."

"ah i see," he scratches his chin, a growing stubble felt on his fingertips. "what about a tampon?"

"good for absorption, sir. you put it inside you as well," the woman reaches for a box. tampax.  

he hums, taking the box from her. "what's the one with wings?" 

"ah, pads," she walks a bit farther to the left, showing him a variety of sanitary napkins—there's blue, purple, pink, even black. clark frowns. "they come in a lot of sizes."

he thinks back to what yours looked like. 

"does..." he looks at the girl, cheeks dusted with a pink blush as he asks: "does it depend on what size her... feminine area is or-?" 

the girl, flustered at superman's abrasive question, says: "it depends on the blood flow, mr. superman." 

"oh!" clark chuckles, embarrassed. then he remembers how much blood he's seen stored inside you. "how about uh, very strong flows? a period with a lot of blood." 

"there's a medium size and large size. the large ones reach up to the back, but if the flow is strong, i suggest the all-night pads." 

she takes out a large pack, purple with clouds and a sleeping woman on the front. the size, as shown on the package was large enough in a way clark decides would be enough for you.

"alright, uh, i'll take one pack."

—

"babe," you say, a bowl of ice cream in hand and a makeshift hot compress on your navel, wrapped up in one of clark's crocheted blankets he made himself (he'd picked up the hobby from you). "that's- that could last me for an entire year..."

clark ends up buying ten "46 pieces" packs. he may have overlooked how strong, or how periods actually go. he sets the plastic bags on the ground, and then pulls out a paper bag full of unimaginable snacks. 

"i saw the blood in there," his eyes widen then he blinks, toeing his red shoes off. "gosh, i can't imagine bleeding that many everyday."

then he takes off the red underwear, and then his cape, folding them and placing them on the laundry bin beside the bathroom door. "it feels like peeing when a huge clot comes out."

clark winces. "are you in pain all the time too?"

"not all the time. but when it hurts, it hurts. wanna try the period simulator?"

he places both hands on the area above his belt and pulls up, rendering him shirtless and only the bottom half of his suit. it looked comically ridiculous—but it's clark with his now disheveled hair, eyes turning red to laser beam heat onto his palms before he settles beside you. 

"maybe next time," he pushes the makeshift compress aside and replaces it with his palms. you sigh wantonly, putting your weight on him. "could you get me my glasses please?"

the following week, when you both come to work, clark headlines another newspaper, and it seems as though he has snagged himself another "interview" with superman, but this time, maybe for more brand deals. 

Superman Advertises Top Sanitary Napkin Brand Always. 

[sockiess]

when Shannon said “if I had one those, it’d would be sticking up for you, too” she was lowkey so silly and real for that because me too girl me too

[sockiess]

how would scotty boy be meeting the parents for the first time or his girl meeting his for the first time ???

gulp. sorry for not answering. im back, sort of 😊🩵

SCOTT MEETING YOUR PARENTS . . .

★ He wouldn't be super nervous, but he'd be concerned about whether your parents think he's too nonchalant or anything like that. He thinks that your parents think he's showing little to no interest in meeting them, but he's actually kinda excited.

★ He thinks your mom is really nice, and he likes her cooking. Your dad is a little bit intimidating, but overall–cool.

★ Your dad asks him about how football is going for him, and Scott says it's great, but then starts ranting about how sometimes the other guys mess up their plays and he has to save them.

★ He tries to be really talkative because he doesn't want to be awkward, but a lot of the time hes just listening to whatever story your mom wants to tell him.

★ Its nothing too special. He just stays for dinner and then hangs out in the livingroom with you because he isn't allowed in your room. Not even with the door open.. dad's rule.

my first time writing in weeks 😥

@bxbyysstuff @anakinstwinklebunny @lovethestarrs @valloos @anisangeldust @xo-yaaaaaas-xo @anakinca @dollfilmz @gothams-sweetheart @sockiess @sythethecarrot @speaknow-sw @loveamira @alealuvshayden @mvst4far @prettiestmini @amiratheangel @blckberrie @literally-izzyy @litt1e-misssunsh1ne @chanelluvstvd @hearts4sammonroe @fratbrochrisgf

[sockiess]

how is teendad!scott’s and readers relationship while scott is in mt.horizon and she’s either pregnant or had leo and visiting as much as she can? does she get jealous cuz shelby and juliet try to hit on him ? how is he with her when her and leo come visit ?

I don't think reader should be jealous because she's #lockedin with Scott. Like, come on. He's the dad of her son 😥. She she's him every time there's visitation days, and of course, she brings Leo 😊 Scott always holds him the whole time that he's there. He never wants to let go of his baby, even when he's already walking.

Shelby and Juliet don't hit on him anymore, but they're visibly jealous whenever you come over, and they see how the 3 of you are so happy. They hate seeing how quickly Scott goes from nonchalant to all smiles and laughs when you two are with him, which is really crazy. But again, they won't do anything about it.

Again, Scott's all smiles and laughs when she and Leo are there. Leo likes to walk around, so you and Scott follow the little boy around while he's saying hi to everyone he remembers or just picking at random patches of grass. Scott always has an arm around you, and he never stops pressing kisses to your face. He always misses you. Never ending “I love you”'s and hand holding !!!!

@bxbyysstuff @anakinstwinklebunny @lovethestarrs @valloos @anisangeldust @xo-yaaaaaas-xo @anakinca @dollfilmz @gothams-sweetheart @sockiess @sythethecarrot @speaknow-sw @loveamira @alealuvshayden @mvst4far @cutestcouch @amiratheangel @blckberrie @literally-izzyy @litt1e-misssunsh1ne @chanelluvstvd @hearts4sammonroe @fratbrochrisgf @kqmbr1a

[sockiess]

NOTICE: As more and more fanfic writers are using generative AI for their works (you uncreative dweebs), I hereby swear on everything I hold dear that I have not and will NEVER use generative AI in ANY of my written work. Everything I post will be organically and creatively my own.

[sockiess]

hey how are you? how are exams going?

maybe i could request something with feely? i have such a hyper fixation on him its crazy! something fluffy smutty pls and thank you 💋

all for you

pairing: patrick feely x fem!reader

tw: it’s just smut

a/n: i’ve been on holidays mb for the content drought

masterlist !

you’re stretched out on feely’s bed, flicking through one of his rugby magazines while he’s down at the end of the room, pulling his jersey over his head.

“ya know, you’re not supposed to read those,” he teases, voice warm and low, hair sticking up in every direction. “they’re sacred.”

you grin, eyes sliding slowly down the planes of his chest. “right, because reading about fellas smashing each other on a pitch is deadly important information.”

“fuck off,” he laughs, tossing a rolled-up pair of socks at your face. “cheeky.”

he crawls onto the bed beside you, bracing his weight on his elbows, grin softening as his eyes drop to your mouth.

“ya look fuckin’ gorgeous,” he murmurs, brushing his thumb across your lower lip.

“do i?” you ask, voice small suddenly under the weight of his stare.

“yeah. ya do.”

he leans in, kissing you gently at first — slow, sweet, all warm lips and soft exhales. but you’re arching closer, fingers twisting in his hair, and he lets out a low groan.

“god, i missed ya,” he mutters against your mouth, pressing closer so your chest is flush to his.

“i was gone for two hours, pat.”

“too long.”

he kisses you again, rougher this time, hands slipping under your shirt. his fingers are warm and a little calloused from rugby, gliding over your skin like he can’t get enough.

“ya sure ya wanna…?” he mumbles, eyes searching yours, breath coming quicker.

you nod, swallowing hard. “yeah. i want you.”

“fuckin’ hell,” he groans, dropping his forehead to yours. “you’ll be the death of me.”

his hands are already tugging at the hem of your shirt, and your pulse stutters in your throat.

feely’s fingers slip under your shirt, warm and a little rough as they skim over your ribs. his breath hitches as he lifts the fabric higher, eyes darting up to yours like he’s checking a thousand times if this is still okay.

“tell me to stop if ya want, yeah?” he murmurs, voice gone husky.

“don’t stop,” you whisper, chest rising and falling so fast it’s dizzying.

he lets out a low groan, pressing a soft kiss under your jaw before pulling your shirt off entirely. his eyes go wide, cheeks flushing pink as he takes you in.

“fuckin’ beautiful,” he breathes, almost like he didn’t mean to say it out loud.

you’re about to tease him, but then his mouth is on your chest, kissing and sucking gently at your skin. you gasp, fingers threading through his messy hair as he works his way lower.

he pauses, looking up with that boyish grin. “ya know i love makin’ ya feel good, right?”

“i know,” you gasp, squirming as his thumbs brush over your nipples.

“good,” he says, voice rougher now. “’cause i’m not stoppin’ ’til ya can’t even remember your own name.”

his hands slide down your waist, tugging your jeans open, and you lift your hips to help him peel them off. his mouth drops open slightly when he sees the wet patch already darkening your underwear.

“jesus christ,” he mutters, pressing a kiss just above the waistband. “ya this worked up for me?”

you whimper, biting your lip as he drags your underwear down and tosses them aside.

“look at ya,” he breathes, eyes glued between your thighs. “fuckin’ perfect.”

he settles between your legs, shoulders pressing your thighs apart as he leans in and licks a slow, deliberate stripe through your folds.

your whole body jolts, a broken moan spilling out of you.

“oh my god, pat—”

“that’s it,” he mumbles, voice muffled as he dives back in. “just let me take care of ya.”

his tongue flicks and circles your clit, switching between gentle licks and firmer pressure that makes your toes curl. one of his hands comes up to hold your stomach steady, keeping you pinned as your hips try to buck.

“feely, please—”

“please what, love?” he teases, pulling back just enough to smirk at you. his lips and chin are shiny, flushed pink. “tell me what ya want.”

“i— fuck, don’t stop,” you gasp, reaching for his hair.

“wasn’t plannin’ on it.”

he dives back in, faster now, sucking lightly until your thighs clamp around his head. he hums in satisfaction, like he’s proud of himself, and the vibration sends you spinning.

“that’s my girl,” he rasps, pulling back to press wet kisses along your thigh. “gonna make ya cum so hard, yeah?”

you nod frantically, too far gone to speak, as he slips two fingers inside you, curling them just right while his mouth finds your clit again.

your vision blurs as you tumble over the edge, crying out his name, and he doesn’t let up until you’re trembling all over.

you’re still shaking a little when he finally crawls up beside you, lips swollen, cheeks flushed, hair a mess. he brushes a damp strand from your forehead and leans down to kiss you — soft, like he’s scared you might break.

“ya alright?” he murmurs, voice rough but sweet.

you nod, a little dazed, your fingers finding the hem of his shirt and tugging him closer.

“c’mere,” you whisper, and he obeys instantly, wrapping you in his arms like he’s afraid someone’ll come in and try to take you away.

“ya were unreal,” he says, pressing his face into your neck. “like… actually unreal.”

you laugh softly, fingers curling around his bicep. “you weren’t so bad yourself, pat.”

“i better not be,” he mumbles, tightening his hold. “gave it everything i had.”

he nudges your nose with his, brushing soft kisses across your cheek, jaw, the tip of your nose.

“d’you need water?” he asks suddenly. “or somethin’? i can run down and get—”

you shake your head quickly. “just stay. please.”

he exhales slow, relieved, and tucks your head under his chin.

“ya know i’d do anything for ya, right?”

your throat catches a bit at that — because he says it so easily, like it’s obvious.

“i know,” you whisper, burying your face into his chest. “and i’d do anything for you too.”

his hand rubs soothing circles on your back, slow and warm. he’s still a little breathless, body soft and boneless against yours, but his voice is steady.

“ya ever need anything,” he says, “you just tell me. i mean it. even if it’s three in the mornin’ and i’ve a match the next day. i’ll be there.”

your heart swells painfully at the sincerity in his voice. you pull back just enough to kiss him again, slow and sleepy, and he hums contentedly into your mouth.

“stay here tonight?” you ask, already half-asleep.

“of course i will,” he says, voice quiet and certain. “m’not goin’ anywhere.”

you fall asleep in his arms not long after, wrapped in the soft, steady warmth of him, his heartbeat keeping rhythm against your cheek like a promise.