#and Grunt is going through puberty

[ariestrxsh]

olderbrothersbsf!matt x innocent!reader

જ⁀➴ ♡ content warning: smut, innocence corruption, masturbation, use of toys, oral (f!receiving), fingering, loss of virginity, sneaking around, getting caught, small age gap (both characters are adults), forbidden love

જ⁀➴ ♡ summary: your older brother is back in town for summer vacation, and he brings home his childhood best friend, matt sturniolo, who can't seem to keep his eyes off of you

this fic was requested/inspired by this ask! enjoy. (p.s. sorry i made matt so pervy in this. honestly idk what got into me lmfao)

dividers by @/roseraris

Young God

chapters: | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 |

You were in your room, listening to music, headphones in and volume on full blast while you sat on the edge of your bed, flipping through your playlist when some movement out of the corner of your left eye broke you out of your focus. You glanced up at your partially open door to see your older brother peeking through and tapping on the barrier to try to get your attention.

He was finally home for summer vacation from his second year of college. "Hey!" You jumped up, taking out your earbuds and throwing your arms around him in a big hug. "Hey, little sis. It's been a while," He greeted you, not having seen you since winter vacation earlier that year. Behind him was Matt Sturniolo, his childhood best friend who you hadn't seen in even longer.

"Hey, Matt," you said, your gaze traveling over towards your brother's best friend, who looked as attractive as ever. You'd always had an insatiable crush on him, and it didn't help that he had more facial hair, more tattoos, and a more chiseled jawline since the last time you'd seen each other.

He always hit like a drug, like a habit you couldn't kick, like a long-term addiction you couldn't shake. He flooded your system with cascading waves of dopamine whenever you looked at him and interacted with him. You craved him. However, you knew you couldn't ever pursue him.

Your brother had always warned you about him. "I know as you get older and start developing feelings for boys, you're gonna wanna start dating. But whoever you date, please don't date my friends, especially not Matt Sturniolo. I know he's my best friend, but the kid's bad news. He's only after one thing when it comes to girls, and he's off-limits to you," you recalled your brother saying to you.

After you'd started going through puberty, your brother had been hyperaware of the way your behavior suddenly changed towards his best friend. He'd started picking up on the way you'd been interacting differently with Matt, trying to get his attention more often and trying to find excuses to be in the same room as him, which terrified him.

You didn't know what he meant by that, only after one thing? You didn't know what that one thing was, but you secretly found yourself curious about it, and you wondered if it was something you could give to Matt. But you nodded at your brother, promising to stay away from Matt despite the way your stomach dropped when you looked at his friend.

"Hey, you're all grown up," Matt replied, bringing you back to the present. He subtly checked you out before pulling you into a hug, leaning down, hooking his arms around your waist, and picking you up. He let out a soft grunt as he lifted you into the air. He loved the way your body felt writhing against him as you giggled. "Put me down," you half-heartedly said, secretly loving the you felt in his arms.

Your brother shot him a look as he placed your feet back down on the hardwood floor beneath you. "I'm going off to college after the summer ends. Can you believe it?" You asked, swaying back and forth. "No, I can't. The boys at school are going to adore you," Matt said, nibbling on his lip and doing nothing to conceal the hungry look in his eye.

You didn't notice, but your protective older brother did.

"Hey, Matt and I are gonna go grab some dessert. He's gonna stay the night here. We'll be back," your brother said, wrapping up the conversation so he could go scold Matt in the car and remind him of the rules about hitting on his little sister. "Can I come?" You wondered, your eyes lighting up at a chance to be in Matt's presence once again. "I don't think that's a good idea," your brother started to say.

"Come on. Let her tag along so we can all catch up. I'll buy," Matt offered, looking back over at you with a smug smile. "Fine," your brother hesitantly said, leading the three of you out to the garage. You sat in the backseat in the middle and clicked your seltbelt closed.

On the way to get a sweet treat, Matt sat in the passenger seat with his head craned all the way around, his eyes lingering on your sweet treat between your thighs. You'd forgotten you were in a skirt and were innocently sitting with your legs splayed out while your pink panties peeked out from underneath the short fabric.

Your brother, who was focused on the road, was completely unaware of the show you were unknowingly putting on for Matt.

"So, what have you been up to since the last time I saw you? You got a boyfriend now?" Matt lustfully cooed, not that he cared if you did, while studying the outline of your puffy lips through your underwear. He bit down on his lip while his cock jumped in his jeans at the sight.

Your brother glared over at him, recognizing the tone of voice he was using on you. The same he'd use when trying to take girls to bed. "No. All the boys my age are so immature. I don't want to be with any of them," you said, making a face. "Oh really?" Matt replied in a smug voice.

You guys had arrived at your destination, and after you guys had all ordered your desserts to go, Matt was handing his card over to the employee and giving you sly looks while he undressed you in his mind.

The three of you piled back into the car to head home. Matt watched intently as you swirled your tongue around on your strawberry ice cream, imagining you were lapping up something else. "Thank you for the dessert, Matt. It's so good," you said, letting out a soft moan while you savored the taste. You weren't trying to tease him, but you were driving him wild.

"Oh, a little is dripping onto the sides there," Matt pointed at the melted, pink liquid leaking down the waffle cone, and you licked a long stripe up the dessert, cleaning it off with your tongue. "Almost got it. Give it one more good lick," he urged you.

"That's it. Good girl. You got it," Matt purred, licking hot fudge off his spoon as you dragged your tongue up the length of your cone once more. His eyes flashed back to your panties, and he noted a small damp spot on the front of the pink cotton. Blood rushed to your cheeks as Matt watched you.

Your brother reached over and slugged Matt in the arm, almost making him drop his hot fudge sundae. "Hey!" Matt exclaimed. "Hey, why'd you do that?" You innocently asked, secretly enjoying the way Matt was watching you and talking to you. "Don't worry about it. Matt's just being a perv," your brother scoffed.

You realized where Matt's eyes kept traveling back to when he wasn't watching you clean off your cone. Suddenly, you became self-conscious, slamming your legs shut and going back to eating your ice cream in silence while you looked out the window.

It's not so much that you minded Matt viewing you that way. It's that your brother was picking up on it. You avoided eye contact with both of them, worried that they had noticed how much you liked when Matt had called you good girl.

No one said a word the rest of the awkward car ride home. Later that night, the boys went into your brother's room, which was only ever occupied when he was home from school, to play video games.

You desperately needed to take care of the aching feeling between your legs you'd been wrestling with since Matt had picked you up earlier when you'd hugged him. You reached into your pink panties and started slowly rubbing yourself while you pictured Matt.

On the other side of the wall, Matt and your brother were tapping away on their controllers in front of their game. Your brother was quietly berating Matt for the way he was looking at you and talking to you earlier while they waited for the next round to render.

"Dude, that's my sister. Please don't try anything."

"Relax. I'm just having a little fun making her blush. She's really cute when she gets all worked up," Matt smugly responded. "Gross. Don't talk about her like that. If you lay a finger on her, our friendship is over. I'm serious," your brother said in a somber tone. How about in her? Matt silently wondered, smirking to himself.

"Seriously, I'll kill you if she loses it to you," he told Matt sternly, insinuating you were a virgin. "She hasn't lost it yet?" Matt's gazed off into the distance as a perverted scene unfurled in his mind. "Gross. Forget I told you that. Just stay away from her," your brother said, eating his words after he remembered Matt had a thing for innocence corruption.

"Don't worry," he smirked, holding up both hands up in a defensive position, despite the thoughts going on behind his eyes about stuffing you for the first time. "I'm going to bed after this game. I feel sick after watching you with her today," he grumbled, rolling his eyes.

Matt brushed off his friend's comments. It's not that Matt didn't value his friendship with your brother and love him dearly. It's just that he was weak to his carnal desires, unable to say no to them and unable to turn down temptation when it was taunting him. Especially when it was forbidden fruit.

After they finished their final round, they shut off the light and Matt laid down on the floor next to your brother's bed with a blanket and a pillow. Your brother had fallen asleep and started softly snoring, and right as Matt began to drift off, a low hum woke him up.

At first he thought he was getting a call, but when he peered down at a black screen after picking up his phone, he realized the vibrating was coming from somewhere else entirely. It was low, unwavering, and seemed to be coming from the other side of the wall, in the direction of your bedroom.

Matt stealthily got up and slipped out the room. When he stepped into the hallway, he realized a dim light was pouring out of your room and into the hallway through a crack in your door you'd left open a bit on accident. Matt approached your room and peered in through the sliver of space between the door and the frame.

There you were, bathed in warm candlelight, laying on top of your blanket naked, legs spread, and steadying a vibrator on your clit. Matt smirked to himself as he studied the way your thighs quivered while you used your toy.

Your lips were fixed in an o shape, your cheeks were pink, and your brows were pinched together. You shut your eyes and threw your head back as Matt's name slipped through your slew of whimpers.

He poked his head into your room, pushing the door open, and he slowly invited himself inside, approaching you to get a better look at you. He loved the way your slick folds glistened in the soft lighting, and the way your breasts started to subtly bounce as you started to violently shake.

You were right on the verge of greatness, slowly nearing a climactic ending, when your eyes fluttered open, and you saw Matt standing at the foot of your bed, staring down hungrily at your pussy. Immediately, you grew insecure about being watched, chasing away your orgasm.

"Matt!?" You said his name again, but this time in an aggravated whisper. "Poor thing. All alone in here. Why play with those toys when you could have the real thing?" Matt cooed, reaching for your pink vibrator. You handed it to him while it was still buzzing, and when he rested it back onto your clit, you let out a relieved sigh in response.

"Good girl. Just lay back and relax. Just here to help," he softly directed you. "Oh, Matt," you breathed out softly, lifting your hips up and grinding up against the vibrator in his grip. You glanced down at his smirk and how his eyes were fixed on the way you were clenching around nothing.

With his free hand, he took his middle finger and started teasing your folds with it. Your eyes widened as he sunk his finger into your drooling cunt. For a moment, you thought you must be dreaming. You let out a loud, satisfied sigh as he pushed it all the way in.

"You gotta be quiet, sweet thing. If your brother had any idea what I'm doing to you right now, he'd kill me."

You nodded at him and placed your palm over your mouth to muffle all the noise you couldn't keep yourself from making. "It's gotta be our little secret," he grinned at you as he added another finger, and you could feel the cold metal of his rings on the warm flesh of your thighs as he pumped them back and forth into your heat.

"You're so tight," he whispered, relishing in the way you clenched around his digits while they started to stretch you out. He shut off your toy for a moment, setting it off to the side, and repositioning himself.

He lowered his head between your legs while he fingered you, and he started to work his mouth on your special place, rolling his soft tongue over your clit and manipulating your folds with it. He closed his lips down around your bundle of nerves and gently hummed against it, recreating the feeling of the vibrator, only much better.

You arched your back up off the bed and rolled your hips forward, chasing the sensation of his tongue exploring places no one ever had before. "Like that, princess?" He asked you in between licks. "I love it," you whispered back.

Your eyes rolled back into your head, and your legs started to tremble as he continued stimulating you with his mouth and his fingers. "Good girl. You got this," he cooed while you got close. His fingers curled so perfectly, hitting all the right spots while you kept your hand held tightly over your mouth, desperately trying to avoid waking anyone up.

"That's it, pretty thing. Cum all over my fingers," Matt purred sweet nothings from between your legs while he felt you starting to tighten around his fingers. "Relax. Let it happen. Give in to how good it feels," he talked you through it while you shook beneath him, experiencing your very first orgasm given to you by another person.

You let out a few soft whimpers that you couldn't keep to yourself while you steadily throbbed around Matt's fingers that had slowed to a stop once you'd finished. He licked them clean, and he complimented your flavor as he started pulling his cock out of his sweatpants.

You couldn't see much in the low candlelight, but it was intimidating-looking. You could see the veins that texturized his thick shaft, and you could make out how swollen the mushroom-shaped head was.

"You ever had one of these in here, sweetheart?" Matt cooed, giving you a devilish smile, and introducing his bulbous tip to your slick hole. You bit your lip and shook your head from side to side, confirming your innocence to him.

"Oh, poor thing. Let's fix that. You're way too cute to not be getting fucked," Matt groaned as he pushed it in. You squelched around his thick rod, and he shoved it all the way in until it filled you entirely, the base of his dick resting against your entrance.

You felt your pussy expanding around him as he started rocking his hips back and forth, hitting a pleasant spot deep inside of you. You held your breath for a moment, still adjusting to the size difference between his fingers and his cock, and when you exhaled, a few stifled sounds came through. It hurt so good.

"Good girl. You're taking me so well. Can't believe this is your first dick," he praised you softly while he delivered a few harder thrusts. Soon, there was no pain at all, only pleasure.

He grabbed you by your waist, steadying himself while he started to speed up, getting caught up in how good your virgin hole felt wrapped around him. He watched as he pumped back and forth, fixating on the way you coated his length in your arousal.

"That's it. Take it like the good girl you are. I know you've been dreaming about this for years," he smirked at you, and you eagerly nodded in response. It was like a fantasy come true, losing your virginity to a forbidden man, your brother's best friend, while your brother slept soundly one room over.

The bed started gently rocking and making a soft rhythmic thump thump thump as the headboard made contact with the wall. But each of you were too caught up in how incredible the other person's body parts felt to care about the noises you were making.

Matt picked up your toy again, and after propping your right leg up onto his shoulder to get a deeper stroke, he turned on your vibrator once more and held it on your clit again, sending your eyes rolling back in your head and causing your jaw to fall open in sheer desire. You'd never experienced stimulation quite like this, and you didn't know how badly you craved it until now.

When your gaze shifted back to Matt, he was peering down at you with glossed over eyes and a pleasure-filled expression. You were both at the gates of heaven, about to immerse yourselves into a shared orgasm that neither one of you could fend off any longer.

"That's it. Be a good girl. Finish all over my forbidden cock," Matt whispered, all too aware of the dynamic that existed between you, mocking your brother's attempt to keep you two apart, that instead drove the two of you into each other's arms in a twisted self-fulfilling prophecy.

You both tensed up, Matt injecting you with his seed and filling you to the brim while you throbbed around him, milking him dry. You guys softly moaned in harmony, your bodies moving in unison. The sound of the bed thudding against the wall came to a stop, and the buzzing of your toy dropped off when Matt killed the power on it.

"Wow. Your pussy is so pretty pumped full of my cum," Matt whispered with an edge of thrill in his voice as he pulled his meat out of you and watched the way it leaked out of you while you continued clenching around negative space, recovering from the orgasm Matt had just given you.

He was still admiring the mess he made inside you that started to leak onto your sheets when a stern and infuriated voice boomed from behind him, sending chills down his spine and sending a sobering wave of fear through his system when he realized the two of you had been caught. It was your brother, watching from the door way.

"I thought I fucking told you to stay away from her, Sturniolo."

part two here ❣️

taglist: @bsturnzmtt @sturniolo-girl @theyluvme-2315 @zariyam @brookiecookie-18 @maggot3647 @slut4chriztopher @strnlslvr @sleepysturniolo @lvrsturniolo @sofieeeeex @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut @matts-myloverboy @witchofthehour @slutforsturniolosss @jaysturniolo @sturniolosweetheart33 @whoahoahoahoahoa @ilovechrissturniolosposts @smt-obsessed @sturnioloxlver @that1fangirll @hrtz4alex2211 @luvhsien @sp3ncerslvt @sturniolo-munch44 @jakewebberswifee @ssturniolooss @thenickgurl @sturniolo-fann @sst7niolo @babysturniolo @chestersturniolo @riowritesitall @camzeecorner @mattsturnixlo @annedebeijer @scorpioosworld @mattlover-00 @sweetlikesug4rvenom @m11rx @sturniolocharms @mickelodeon-2003 @sigmarizzler1 @chrislova @stellarsturns @lelesturniolo @sturniolodoll @ilovemattsturn @blahbel668

[jinjeriffic]

DCxDP Prophecy Universe Part 2

Part 1

Damian glared at the envelope. He and Father were in the process of analysing the letter for any signs of toxins, explosives or other traps. Obviously he wasn’t fool enough to open a missive from a questionable source without taking precautions. So far, all their scans had come up empty. Literally. The letter was defying all their attempts at chemical or spectroscopic testing, x-ray and magnetic resonance scans were inconclusive, it defied all properties of ordinary matter. It was frustrating. It was vexing. He was blaming magic.

For all intents and purposes, the letter looked like ordinary paper, with an ordinary wax seal, bearing the initials CW. The looping handwriting addressing it to Damian was precise and neat. Swiping the surface of the letter for chemical traces yielded no results. When Damian had tried to cut off a corner of the paper for analysis it had resisted all attempts, including a laser and a diamond headed cutting tool. Damian’s only satisfaction was that when Father had grunted and taken over the task from Damian, he had no more success than his son. As if Damian didn’t know how to perform the standard array of tests!

It certainly didn’t help that his siblings wouldn’t stop their incessant chattering!

“I’m just saying, ghosts wouldn’t be the weirdest thing we’ve encountered, Red. I’m not sure it would even make my personal Top 5.”

It seemed gossip among heroes travelled faster than the speed of light.

“Really, Nightwing? Ghosts? It’s far more likely to be a meta with something to hide. Or a few screws loose.” Damian could practically hear the eyeroll in Drake’s voice “And since when do ghosts act as glorified mailmen?”

“I don’t know Red, since when do aliens pretend to be Kansas farmboys? C’mon, we deal with magic users all the time!”

“And lets not forget people coming back from the dead” Red Hood interjected over the open comm line.

“Magic is just science we don’t understand yet. Any sufficiently analysed magic becomes indistinguishable from science!”

“B, a little help here?”

“Hn” Father straightened up from his position at the lab table “Oracle, any progress on clearing up the footage from Robin’s mask?”

Grayson threw up his hands with a frustrated huff while Drake smirked.

“The program is almost finished rendering. Whatever scrambler they used did a real number on the video quality. I’m surprised the audio is as clear as it is.” Oracle replied.

“Hn. And the isotope tracer on the money?”

“Sorry B, no hits on the local sensors. Wherever the guy went it’s either outside Gotham or shielded somehow.” she said, mildly frustrated.

“Maybe it’s ghost magiiiiic” Drake sing-songed. Grayson lightly cuffed the back of his head, to which the former Robin responded with a firm shove. Their interaction quickly devolved into a childish tussle.

Damian gave an annoyed huff. “Don’t you two imbeciles have anything better to do?”

“Aww, we’re just here to look out for our baby brother!” Nightwing teased.

“Yeah, we gotta make sure your ghost encounter didn’t leave any lasting psychological damage!” Red Robin added.

Before Damian could retaliate for their needling, Oracle chimed in. “Uh, guys? You’re going to want to see this. Most of the footage was corrupted beyond repair, but I was able to pull some partial stills and, well…” she threw a handful of pictures up on the screen. There was artifacting marring them, but parts of the stranger were visible in each of them. Oracle magnified one that had a pretty good view of his face.

“Holy shit” Drake whispered.

Damian frowned. “What?”

“Dami, he looks like you. Just… older.” Grayson said softly.

“What are you talking about?” Damian snapped.

“Disregard the pale colouring for a second. The nose, the chin… he looks like you if you had a growth spurt,” Drake wrinkled his nose “and went through puberty.”

The commlines erupted into chaos. 

“Wait, wait, wait,” Spoiler exclaimed “are you telling me there’s an older version of Robin running around Gotham?!”

“Copy?” Batgirl inquired.

“Don’t tell me Talia cooked up Demon Brat 2.0!”

“Given that he looks older it’s more likely version 0.1 if anything,” Drake snarked, “though there’s the possibility of artificially accelerated growth rates…”

Damian had had enough. “Tt. You are ignoring the obvious - if this is some kind of supernatural entity it likely copied aspects of my appearance in an attempt to engender feelings of familiarity.” he said haughtily, pushing down the uncomfortable churning in his stomach. There was no way Mother would replace him with a cheap copy. She couldn’t! “Besides, the creature has obvious powers and neither of my bloodlines has any trace of the meta gene.”

“That’s ignoring the ghostly elephant in the room.” Grayson chimed in, “Maybe it’s a dead ancestor?”

Drake gave their older brother an annoyed look “Even a time travelling descendant from the future is more likely than that. And delivering a ‘prophecy’ to boot?”

Oracle pulled up an aged up picture of Damian next to the stranger’s, highlighting several reference points. “On closer inspection, there’s a couple of discrepancies. The cheekbones for one - Robin definitely takes after his mother, while our mystery meta looks more like… well… Robin’s grandmother on the paternal side.” she finished hesitantly. “B?”

They turned to look at Batman, who had remained silent during the whole exchange. If they hadn’t known him so well they would have thought him unaffected, but the tightening around his mouth betrayed his agitation.

“There’s no use in pointless speculation until we have more data to work from,” he growled, “Oracle, look for any reports of a meta matching the target. Since our regular methods have failed to yield results, I will contact the JLD about running tests on the letter.” He turned to Drake, “Red Robin, see what you can find on recent League activities. If this is another scheme by Ra’s or Talia we need to know about it.”

“The last thing we need is more demon spawn running around!” Red Hood groaned over the comms.

Damian was furious. This was absurd! To even indulge the possibility that that creature was in any way related to him was making him feel like he had swallowed battery acid. He was the Demon’s Heir! He was not replaceable! There was only one thing to do.

“Robin? Stop!”

He ignored his Father’s shout. He stomped over to the lab table, snatched up the envelope and broke the seal.

Nothing happened.

He unfolded the paper and saw the same handwriting that had been on the outside.

Brother of blood, brother of soul

Never buried but already mourned

In lightning and ice the scorned child returned

To strike down the Demon’s Head

With all that Death earned

Damian’s hand shook. He reread the lines over and over again, refusing to comprehend. He could feel his Father standing behind him, scrutinising the letter as well.

“Son…”

Suddenly, the paper burst into green flames, going up into smoke that dissipated unnaturally quickly.

Silence reigned for a few moments. Then…

“Well that was needlessly melodramatic” Nightwing remarked.

Part 3

[redflagshipwriter]

Mamabat 10 part 2/2

masterpost

Sam craned to listen to secondhand sounds of combat. It was all filtered through Val’s headset, so it was vaguely electronic.

“Up!” Said a female voice. Was that Robin? Sam tried to piece it together. The little one had been Robin, she'd thought. Could have been a boy or a girl. Robin looked around Dani's size. 

Ah, hell. She pushed down the recurring dread that thoughts of Dani brought up. 

Dani was probably fine. She just wasn't answering them because she was fabulously busy in Malaysia or Guam or somewhere else gorgeous and fascinating. She wasn't in one of those labs. They hadn't left her in a lab for a month. Sam’s hands were shaking. She squeezed them hard, angry with herself. Good thing she wasn’t in that fight, she’d be useless like this. Useless!

The percussive sounds of fast, expert violence came through Val's sound system. “Damn,” Val said. “Nice swing.” 

The answer was a feminine laugh. Man, who was that? “Not half bad yourself,” said the unknown girl.

Sam untensed, a little. They didn’t sound stressed. It was probably going fine.

There was a groan. “Spoiler, please,” said Red Robin, in a tone he probably thought was too soft to be overheard. Ha. Val was using Vlad's creepertech, and Vlad was one of the best creeps out there. Sam felt weirdly proud of him for a moment. It bordered patriotism. Their freak was the best freak in the business. Eat your heart out, Batjerk.

“Like you're the only one who can pick up girls on the job?” The girl who had to be Spoiler said. 

Sam snorted. Good luck with that one! Val was spectacularly unavailable. She should know, she had tried. 

“Spoiler, Red Robin, and Robin.” Sam listed aloud for Tucker. “What do we know?” 

“All known associates of Batman, Gotham operatives, estimated active dates are at least a couple years each. Robin is clearly an inherited role, but this current one… been in for two years, I think.” Tucker listed off. “I think Spoiler and Red Robin were both former Robins, that's not too subtle.” 

Sam snorted. Her breath fanned out as visible moisture in the cold night air. 

“Likely older teens or early twenties, both of them. Robin is obviously pre puberty. 13 at the oldest.” 

Val made a subvocal grunt that meant she agreed with Tucker's assessment 

That fit. And she really didn't like it. Sam felt her hackles rise up. What was wrong with Gotham? Her group was all child vigilantes, sure, but they'd had no adult help. They'd also all been 14 or older when they got involved. Except for Dani. God, Dani, please don't be in that building. Sam had to relax her grip on the bazooka handle because she squeezed it so hard that the metal creaked. 

Danny was older now. But she didn't like that this was who he'd ended up with. Sam gritted her jaw hard and tried to keep her temper on a low simmer. She didn't have enough facts to think Batman would put Danny in danger. 

“Clear.” 

“Clear.”

The operation inside seemed to continue smoothly. 

“That should be all the staff members on the premises,” Red Robin said. “First lab, coming up.”

“Behind me.” Batman practically growled the order.

A door opened. Sam held her breath. 

“...Are those samples?” 

Val grunted slightly. Why? What was going on? “Cores,” Val said. “Basically, people who have been injured into a coma. Left like that, they're gonna die slowly. Starvation.” 

“What do we do?” Spoiler cut in. “I mean- what can we do?” 

“Is there a way to transport them?” Val dodged the question. “I don't- yeah, that's good.” 

“Can you provide treatment?” Batman pushed. “Where will you take them?”

Val let out a long, annoyed sigh. “I don't trust you enough to go into the details.”

“Why should we trust you, vixen?” Spat a very young voice.

“Vixen?” Spoiler repeated quietly, incredulously. 

“Robin, you can't say things like that!” Red Robin hissed. “Ow- little asshole.” 

“Enough. Thank you.” Batman cut off the chatter. “Let's clear the facility.” 

They found more cores in the labs. Sam felt her stomach condense tighter and tighter into a knot as they came across research areas time and time again. 

They hadn't taken the GIW seriously enough. They'd thought they were incompetent and funny. How long had scientists been experimenting on captured ghosts here? How many of them had totally withered away? 

“Fuck,” Sam said quietly, and wiped her eyes off with her arm. 

They were clearly finished. No Dani, not unless she was one of the cores rolling around on GIW shelves like she wasn't a person.

Batman and crew came out. She could hear Batman clearly making some kind of call to…. To a Green Lantern, she thought, to pick up the GIW agents. 

Oh. That…

“Probably legit,” Tucker said on the line. He let out a big sigh and his chair clicked when he leaned back, no doubt crossing his arms behind his head. “I guess we should talk to ‘em. Should I come out there?” 

“Yeah, do it,” Sam said. “You want a pick up?” She moved the bazooka from a ready position to rest across her back instead.

Tucker hummed. “That would probably be a little cooler than using my bike.” 

Val snorted, but didn't chime in. Sam dipped back to town and let Tucker climb on behind her. He crouched to hold onto the board with both hands, because he was a sweaty nerd with no balance. 

“The bike might have been cooler,” Sam teased, and then she accelerated hard. She met them back in the field where Batman had landed his plane. As soon as she veered into sight, all of the bats looked at her, clearly ready for a fight.

“Calm down,” Val ordered. “You're all so jumpy.” 

Sam snorted and came to a sharp stop. She braced against Tucker's weight (she knew he'd be jostled.) She aimed her hardest glare at Batman. Fuck everyone else. “Danny said you wanna talk.” 

Behind them, unseen, Val double-checked the straps of a new black bag. Sam had no doubt it was full of helpless cores. 

Batman frowned at her slightly. “...Samantha Manson.” He looked behind her. “And Tucker Foley.” He didn't seem surprised, exactly,  but he didn't seem happy to see them either.

“Old man,” she shot back. “You've got half an hour. But first off, what the hell kinda game are you playing with Danny? Because this-” she waved a hand at his child soldier platoon. “is some bullshit, okay. What's going on?” 

Val shot vertically up with a whoosh of air that blew Spoiler’s hair out. All four bats whirled in time to see her blast off into the distance. 

“Focus!” Sam snapped her fingers. “Why are you here?” 

A muscle twitched in Batman's jaw. “My only intention with Danny is to ensure his safety. I have some concerns about the GIW and about his home situation that I want to look into.” 

Sam scoffed. “Bit late.” She wound some hair around her finger. “They're gone. All of them. You saw what's left of the GIW. The Fentons disappeared the day after the GIW did.” 

She heard the first hint of urgency and upset in his voice when he pressed, “Jasmine Fenton?” 

“Gone.” 

[sticky-sugar]

ask you something. (iwaizumi hajime x reader) chapter one

>> you grow up with a lot of questions, and hajime learns to answer them <<

tags/cw: very very slightly suggestive, a little unhealthy/codependent if you really stare at it with both eyes open, iwa realizes some things about himself and deals with friendship guilt, innocent reader

masterlist || chapter two

it starts when he’s seven. 

“haji,” you say, reaching over and trying to put another block on his tower. you topple over, bringing the whole thing down. he just helps you sit up and starts the tower again while you finish your thought. “can i ask you something?” 

you and that question.

“mm?” 

“have you ever held hands before?” 

“with oikawa,” he mutters plainly, very carefully stacking the red blocks together because he likes them that way. you’re both sitting in the backyard of your house, the spring breeze soft as it passes through the grass between you. 

“with ‘kawa?” you ask, leaning close. your eyes are big and wide, and hajime wonders — in a brief moment of maturity — if you’ll have them when you’re older, too. if he’ll like them when he’s big, or if he just likes them now because he’s small and you’re smaller. 

“for school,” he says. “buddies hold hands.” 

“i know,” you pout. “i’m starting buddies soon.”

the buddy system, hajime thinks. you mean the buddy system, but you just call it ‘buddies’. he usually lets it go when you don’t know things. 

“i’m scared to hold hands,” you say, stacking a small pile of blue blocks together messily. 

“what’re you scared for?” he asks roughly. he makes you cry sometimes, when he’s too mean. he doesn’t mean to be, but his mom tells him he yells a lot. 

“i dunno!” you say, your bottom lip wobbling tellingly. “never done it before.” 

he clicks his tongue against his teeth, setting his block down and reaching over. he takes your hand, clammy and smaller than his, and holds tight. his frown is deep and frustrated. 

“what’s so scary about this?” 

you stare down at your joined hands, and then you look up at him with a big smile. 

“nothin’, i guess!” 

you scoot by his side and hold his hand for the rest of the playdate. he stacks blocks with one hand.

—

“haji, can i ask you something?” 

he glances up at you through his lashes, grunting his acknowledgement while he works. he’s got to finish his homework before oikawa calls, because he knows the annoying little shit will come around eventually to rope him into practicing in the backyard.

“have you ever hugged a girl before?” 

you do that a lot. since that first day in your backyard, you’ve done it. you ask what it’s like to have a seatmate in school, what it’s like to share food with a friend, what it’s like to have a playdate at a classmate’s house. most of these things you asked years ago, in elementary school. you ask things he doesn’t even think to worry about, but he doesn’t find it odd that you worry. you’re a worrier – he’s always known that.

he’s in his third year of middle school now, nearly in high school. you don’t ask about childish things anymore like seatmates and making friends. 

one day, sometime last year when you were starting at kitagawa daiichi, you realized that hajime’s a boy and that you’re a girl. the questions had changed then, and he’d had a feeling that middle school and puberty were changing the way you saw the world but not him. not really. 

to you, he’s still haji, even if he is a boy. ‘boys are weird,’ you’d told him once. ‘i don’t understand them.’

he doesn’t have the heart to tell you that he doesn’t understand girls, either, and that knowing you doesn’t change that. because he gets the feeling that you don’t think the way other girls think.

you ask about things that everyone worries about when it comes to issues of boys and girls and things that change between them. the difference, hajime thinks, is that no one else asks them. not so blatantly the way you do. 

but he knows that you’re innocent, and he worries that if he tells you it’s weird to ask, that you might never ask again. that you’ll worry silently, and – while he’s always known you’re a worrier – he’s never known you to be silent. 

so he lets you ask, because he likes helping you not worry. he likes that you’re innocent, because it feels like he knows more. that he can be the one to help you know more, too. 

because even though it’s weird to ask, hajime had never found it weird that you ask. 

“we hug all the time,” he mutters, running through his fractions like busy work. he’s still rough, but he’d gotten more patient with you. it’s easier to be patient with you than it is with other people, even with your never-ending stream of questions. 

“no, i know that,” you say, and he can see you chewing on the end of your pencil. he reaches over blindly, pulling the eraser from your mouth with a quiet ‘that’s not good for you’. you just sigh, dropping the pencil in the spine of your workbook and letting it fall shut. “but we hug like friends.” 

“we are friends-”

“you know what i mean!” you pout, giving a small tantrum that makes him smile at his fractions. “have you ever hugged a girl in a way that’s not like friends?” 

he gives in finally, sighing loudly and tossing his pencil down, too. his fractions worksheet is done. 

“no, y/n. i haven’t hugged a girl in a way that’s not like friends.” he shrugs. “i don’t even know what that means.” 

“you do!” you argue, pulling out your phone. you pull up a video, an episode of one of those cheesy romance dramas you like so much. “you do know how boys and girls hug, dont’chu?” 

when you hit play, he watches the guy on the screen wrap his arms around the woman’s waist, pulling her close, a love confession yelled into the wind. she throws her arms around his neck and shoves her fingers through his hair, crying. 

hajime blinks, leaning away from you when you pause the video and look at him expectantly. “don’t we hug like that?” 

your deadpan makes him feel a little dumb. he doesn’t like feeling dumb around you. 

“no, haji. we hug like this-” you lean forward, throwing one arm over his shoulder and one around his torso. it’s awkward, considering you’re sitting on different sides of the little table in his room. “or like this-” you move both arms around his waist and forcing his up to your shoulders. “or like this!” you give him a one-armed side hug now. 

“what’s the difference?” hajime says, pulling away and pointing at your phone. “they hugged like that, too.” 

“ugh, never mind,” you say, throwing your phone down and going back to your workbook. he feels frustrated that he doesn’t understand. that he hadn’t helped you. 

“alright, fine!” he snaps, shoving his body away from the table and standing. “c’mon, up- up, up!” 

you scramble to stand, eyes wide. “what-”

“c’mon, hug me-” he says, gesturing you toward him. he does it again when you don’t move, impatient and annoyed. “hug me, damn it!” 

he was too rough with you again. your eyes betray it, even when you don’t let him know, and your lip wobbles. but you step toward him, anyway, so he tells himself to be gentle with you now. a calming sigh and a reminder of what you are to him is all it takes for his jagged edges to melt away. 

when you set your hands carefully on his shoulders and slide them around his neck, he realizes that, no, he’s never hugged you like this. 

he closes the distance between you, his arms wrapping loosely around your waist. he pulls you in, flush to his chest, and bends slightly to accommodate your height. your hands touch hesitantly to the back of his head, and then your fingers are in his hair. he can feel your heart beating against his chest, steady and strong but a little nervous. 

he feels a little nervous, too.  

—

“haji,” you whisper in the dark. hajime swallows hard, because you only say his name like that when something’s about to change between you. he’d faced away from you on purpose, the two of you cramped up in his twin-sized bed. 

“can i ask you something?” 

it’s the middle of the night, in his third year at seijoh. he’s going to america soon, and he knows you’ll follow him. you follow him everywhere, and he waits patiently – eagerly – for you to do so. 

he’s just won another game, just before playoffs are set to start. you’d greeted him and the rest of the team outside the locker rooms, your arms thrown around him and a squeal of excitement in his ear before he’d even noticed you were there. 

mattsun had made a joking pass at you, asking if you’d be so kind as to give him a congratulatory kiss. oikawa had delivered a brutal punch to the taller man’s arm before you could react, telling him to leave you alone. 

hajime wonders how oikawa had known he’d been upset with mattsun’s unserious crack. 

he’d brought you home with him, asking under his breath if you wanted to stay the night. you’d done it often, ever since your first year at seijoh when you’d asked if he’d ever had a sleepover with a girl. he hadn’t had it in him to tell you then that the two of you had slept at each other’s houses since you were kids, that you’re a girl and he’s a boy — because he’d known that that wasn’t what you’d meant.  

“sure,” he grunts. he probably could have stayed silent until you’d assumed he was asleep, but there’s a part of him that knows what you’re going to ask and an even bigger part that wants you to ask it. 

“have you ever kissed a girl before?” 

his heart shouldn’t jump the way it does, but it does anyway. 

“no.” 

“oh.” 

you’d learned at some point, without him telling you, that asking things like this isn’t socially acceptable. he’s not sure if maybe you’d mentioned it to your girl friends and they’d interrogated you about it, but recently your questions don’t come in questions. 

they come in silences.

but you still ask him, anyway. and there’s a terrible, evil part of hajime that preens when you do, because it means that you’d decided asking him is worth it, society be damned. that, even though you’d never ask anyone else, you’d always ask him.

that part of him likes when you ask. it feels like a secret, this habit that you have of coming to him for things you aren’t supposed to. he likes it. he craves it, waiting for the next time you discover something you want to try. 

it’s terrible and evil – hoping that, as you grow up, the things you’ll want to learn about will be grown up, too. that you’ll want to learn about grown up things with hajime. 

terrible and evil. something as simple as a kiss feels terrible and evil, because he doesn’t want you to experience this first with anyone else. 

so he turns, hearing the question in your silence like he always does. 

you’re facing him, staring right at him with wide eyes. your bottom lip is trembling, but not because of him. it’s because you’re nervous, like there’s a terrible and evil part of you that knows it shouldn’t be him, too. that iwaizumi hajime is a friend, nothing more. 

but if you’re going to try something, then you’re going to try it first with him. you’d always been that way.

when hajime props himself up on one elbow and stares down at you in the dark, you flatten your back to his mattress. a thought flashes through his mind, seventeen years old and characteristic of guys his age, of you in his bed, flat against his mattress in ways you shouldn’t be. 

he should be the one to make the first move, because that’s the whole point. it should be him that guides you. 

but this is his first kiss, too. and he’s nervous as fuck. 

so he just stares down at you, swallowing hard and hoping you can’t hear how loud his heart is in the dark silence of his bedroom. 

when you reach up slowly after a moment, wrapping one arm around his neck and letting your other hand, trembling and cold, sit on his bicep, he feels less bad about letting out the most embarrassing, shaky breath he’s ever drawn. 

your mouth is soft and makes his brain go fuzzy with static. he hopes his lips aren’t chapped and that he isn’t bad at this. 

your tightened grip on him and the way you shuffle marginally closer are terrible for feeding his ego. his desire to keep doing this, to keep being your first. 

he sets one nervous hand on your waist, and your lips part for the sole purpose whispering ‘haji’ against his when he does. 

this isn’t how things are meant to be between friends, but he’s so fucking happy they are. and he has no clue if you’re allowed to know that. 

—

a few months later, you ask if he’ll go on a fake date with you, just to show you what dates are like. just in case, you say, and he knows you mean while he’s gone next year. 

just in case things change again in the year he’s apart from you. 

he doesn’t like that, but he shoves it aside in order to give you the best first date you’ll ever have. 

and then he walks you to your door, like a gentleman should. he tells you that boys shouldn’t try to kiss you on the first date, that they should be respectful and not push your boundaries. because the moment you’d said ‘just in case’, he’d realized just how awful boys can be, and he’d wanted to warn you of those boys. boys like him, who don’t tell you what’s on their minds while you’re on dates with them. 

but he’s leaving in two weeks, and you’re looking at him like he doesn’t count as one of the boys that shouldn’t try to kiss you. because he’s never counted. he’s never been one of those boys you couldn’t understand. because he’s always been haji.

so he kisses you anyway, with the same breath he’d used to tell you that boys who do this are terrible and bad. and you kiss him back, arms around his neck and chest pressed to his and his name on your lips, whispered and full of so much more than just his name. 

hajime realizes he’d do this all over again — again and again, every time you ask, no matter how much he shouldn’t. 

—

he leaves for california. you follow him a year later. things have changed. 

[allthenobodypplfics]

I'll Crawl Home to Her (Chapter 1)

Fandom: Bucky Barnes (from the MCU)

Pairing: Soft Dark!Bucky x Female Reader

Rating: Explicit

Words: 4.6k

Summary: You and Bucky are in love, but Bucky comes from the wrong side of town. Your family doesn’t want you two together and they will stop at nothing to tear you two apart. Bucky will stop at nothing to be with you. This is my entry for @saiyanprincessswanie’s Missy’s Writing Challenge. Thanks to @tricksterhidds for beta-reading!

Chosen Prompts: Biker AU, Forbidden Love, “I wish I could just hold you one more time,” and “I will always find my way back to you.”

Warnings: Soft!Bucky becomes Dark!Bucky, angst, fluff, smut (consensual, breast play, fingering, p in v sex, oral f receiving, unprotected sex), violence, killing, descriptions of death (minor character death, temporary character death, Bucky and Reader both survive), sexual harassment (not from Bucky), bigotry, toxic family, slight horror themes.

Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist

Read on AO3

The sound of rumbling like an oncoming storm echoes around you, but there isn’t a cloud in the sky. The sun shines brightly through the row of trees on either side of the road you ran on. Your chest tightens as you struggle to breathe through your exertion. 

“Where you goin’, baby?” a voice calls out to you as he revs the engine of his bike, the rumbling turns to roaring. 

“I told you to wait for me!” he adds when you didn’t answer him.

You wheeze as you dart to the right and into the woods.

“Hey!” the voice yells over the engine. “Hey, don’t go into the woods! It’s not safe!”

You ignore him as you pump your legs, zipping through the dense trees. You hear the thrum of his bike cut off, followed by the sharp rustling of hurried footsteps through the leaves as he takes off after you. You can hear him gaining on you and you push yourself a little further. Your dress gets caught on a branch and yanks you back. You grunt as you wrench yourself free, the fabric ripping, and you continue to run mindlessly. In your panic, you aren’t able to avoid the root of a tree sticking out and your foot catches right into it, sending you flying into the dirt. A muffled “oof!” escapes your lips as you hit the ground.

“Aw, baby, what did I say?” His voice is right above you, soft with sympathy. “I told you not to go into the woods. You alright?”

You try to crawl away, but he grips your upper arm and pulls you to your feet. You yelp, but he doesn’t seem to notice. He eyes down your figure and pauses at the tear along the hem of your dress. He reaches out to brush the dirt off your outfit, but you take a step back away from him.

He looks at you with a small expression of hurt. 

“Why you runnin’ from me?” he softly asks.

“Bucky, you’re…” you stammer, “what happened to you?”

“What do you mean, baby?” He tilts his head. “I came back to you. Like I promised.”

“You came back… but you came back different. You’re… you’re not the same. You’re not the Bucky I love.”

He clenches his jaw as he steps closer to you. He cups your cheek, rubbing his thumb under your eye, swiping a tear you don’t realize you're shedding. He slides his hand to the back of your head, then down to the back of your neck, and squeezes, not harshly, but firmly. 

“Don’t say that,” he says, his voice was deep and dulcet. “I love you. I came back from the dead for you.”

You knew Bucky forever. You had been children attending the same elementary school – you in first grade and him in fourth. You didn’t pay much attention to him. He just appeared one day, transferred from elsewhere, as a scrappy little kid who always seemed to have some dirt smeared on his face or his tattered clothes. Then you briefly attended the same high school. You still didn’t pay much attention to him, but he gained a bit of a reputation. Gone was the doormat of a kid who let other kids walk all over him, tease him, and shove him around because he came from “the wrong side of town.” Puberty and discontent caused him to grow a backbone and he took shit from nobody, not his peers, or his teachers, or anybody around him. His smart mouth and fast fists had gotten him into trouble time and time again growing up, but he’d never been in a fight he couldn’t win. That earned him enough fear that no one messed with him anymore, but they would still talk about him behind his back. 

Bucky was working at the local mechanic shop long before you started classes at the local university. He repaired the cars of everyone in town who needed his expertise, but looked down on him for where he came from and his lack of formal education. When you graduated and got that little bookkeeping position at the small accountant’s office, Bucky bought the mechanic shop and became its owner, but that still didn’t stop the chatter of the town folk. He mostly kept to himself, but the busybodies continued whispering to each other, “That boy ain’t right.” Especially when they could hear him before they could see him – his roaring bike, his pride and joy, tearing through the road and startling their quaint existence.

It was after your second year of working at the accountant’s office when you finally spoke more than two words to Bucky.

“I’m gonna need you to take my car to the shop, kid,” your older brother said.

“What?” you answered, eyebrows raised in surprise. “Why me?”

“‘Cause the sheriff needs me to take a weekend shift and my car is barely hangin’ on. It can’t wait. I ain’t supposed to be relyin’ on the cruiser to run errands.”

“Why can’t Arvin do it?”

“‘Cause he’s the reason it needs to go to the shop. I ain’t trustin’ him with my car no more.”

“Fine,” you shrugged. It didn’t matter to you one way or the other.

“And don’t let that grease monkey rip you off!”

“Ha!” your younger brother snorted. “Bet he’ll fix the car for free if she’s the one bringin’ it to him. Ain’t no girl in this town givin’ him the time of day.”

“Don’t say that ‘bout your sister, Arvin,” he scolded. “Or I’ll tan your hide.”

“Aw, geez, Dean,” Arvin whined, “was just a joke!”

You drove your brother’s prized Chevy to the local auto shop with a white-knuckled grip. The engine sputtered something crazy, smoke puffed out of its hood, and the front bumper was holding on by mere hopes and dreams. 

“I swear to God, Dean, ya tryin’ to kill me?” you scowled as you pulled up to the empty garage.

You stepped out of the car and looked around. There was a messy workbench at the back of the room, a pristine motorcycle parked off to the side, a couple of helmets on a table, and a black leather jacket draped over a chair.

Suddenly, you hear a drawn-out whistle behind you. You turned to see a man walking towards you, wiping his hand on a rag.

“Well, you sure did a number on that,” he commented.

You froze as you stared at him. James Buchanan Barnes. Bucky. You always knew him to be handsome, but you never really looked at him that closely. You never said a bad word against him or thought a bad thought, but you still brushed him off as someone you didn’t care to know. Taking a real good look at him now, though, he must have been the most handsome man you had ever seen in your entire life. With his golden honeyed skin, the faintest of lines just barely beginning to trace the corner of his eyes, his sleeves rolled up to reveal the strength in his forearms, his dark hair brushed back with a loose curl falling over his forehead, a killer jawline, and full, beautiful lips… Well, he looked like a man you might just give everything up for. 

“Huh?” you dumbly uttered.

Bucky smirked. “You ran over a deer or somethin’?”

“Oh!” You shook yourself out of your stupor. “Oh, no, I mean… I don’t know. I didn’t do this.”

Bucky hummed as he surveyed the damage. He circled the car, popped the hood, and then started rambling about what was broken, what needed to be fixed, what parts he needed to get, and a lot of other technical stuff. You were listening as intently as you could, but you understood nothing.

At the end, Bucky sighed, “It’s gonna be a pretty big job.”

“Well… how much will it be to fix the car?” you asked, biting the corner of your lips.

“For you?” Bucky smirked. “It’s on the house.”

You inhaled through your nose and pressed your lips together, trying to keep your wry amusement from showing as you rolled your eyes. Arvin was right.

“No, thank you,” you replied.

“No, really-”

“It’s not my car,” you interrupted. “I’m not the one payin’ for it; my brother is.”

“Ah…” Bucky chuckled. “In that case, maybe I’ll charge ya double.” 

You snorted and then giggled. You covered your mouth with your hand to conceal your mirth.

“Aw, don’t do that, sweetheart,” Bucky said with a teasing grin. “You have a beautiful smile. It’s a real shame to be hidin’ that.”

Your face felt hot as you immediately blushed. You cleared your throat, then said, “So when will you be done with the repairs?” A hint of a smile still lit up your eyes.

“About four weeks, tops. You’ll come by to pick it up?”

“I don’t think so. My brother will probably be the one who’ll come pick it up… and settle the bill.”

Bucky placed a hand on his chest and pouted, looking absolutely devastated. “You mean, I might never see ya again?”

You shrugged, “I see ya plenty around town.”

“And you never stopped to say ‘hello’?” Bucky pursed his lips and shook his head.

“Now, why would I ever do that?” you laughed. “We don’t even know each other.”

“Well, let’s get to know each other then! C’mon, let me take ya out. We can have milkshakes, you like milkshakes? Bet they’re as sweet as you.”

You scoffed, your lips turned up into a stunned smile at his boldness. 

“Or we can have burgers instead, if you’d like. Whatever you want, baby. We can have both!”

You crossed your arms and looked away, chewing on your cheek, unsure of how to answer.

“C’mon, I don’t wanna never see or speak to ya again.” Bucky’s voice was soft and earnest. 

You stared at his handsome, hopeful face for a few seconds before you relented. “Okay.”

Bucky’s face lit up. “Tonight?”

“Sure, yeah,” you chuckled.

“I’ll come pick you up at six!”

Your face fell. “In your bike?” 

“Well… yeah.” Bucky looked at you with his brows pinched in confusion.

“It’s very loud… and fast…”

“Well… it’s a motorcycle…”

You started to shift your feet, suddenly unsure. 

Realization dawned on his face. “Oh, are ya scared? You don’t have to be scared, you’ll be very safe with me, I promise. I have an extra helmet, and you can wear my leather jacket.”

You glanced at the sleek black material draped over the chair and swayed a bit before smirking and replying, “Well, I do like your jacket.”

Bucky’s nervous look wiped from his face as he grinned again. “You’re gonna look real cute in it.” He paused and then continued, “So I’ll pick you up at six?”

Dean was going to be working late during his weekend shift, Arvin was going to sneak off with a girl he was sweet on, and your father would be working late at his office. There wasn’t a need to be sneaky tonight.

You smiled softly, “Yeah, six.”

You felt nervous butterflies fluttering in your stomach as you got ready for your date with Bucky. You’ve only ever been on two dates before with this one boy in your class back in college, but both dates ended lackluster and neither of you bothered to reach out to one another after the second date. Neither of you were sour about it, though. You’d run into each other around town every so often and would greet each other with a smile, but nothing more. Last you’ve heard, he married Mary Ann.

You heard the rumbling of Bucky’s bike getting closer and you fluffed your hair one last time in front of your bedroom mirror before hurrying down the stairs to the living room. You smoothed down your dress as you stood in the foyer, waiting for his arrival. You instinctively took a step the moment you heard the knock, but stopped and decided to count to ten so as to not seem too eager. 

When you opened the door, you were greeted with a smiling Bucky and a small bouquet of flowers. His smile became a grin as he handed you the flowers.

“Awww, thank you, Bucky,” you gushed as you accepted the flowers, “you didn’t have to.”

“‘Course I did,” he beamed, “can’t forget the flowers for a pretty girl like you. My mother would turn over in her grave.”

Your eyes widened at his admission and he cringed after he realized what he just said.

“Aw, Bucky, I’m sorry-”

“No, no, sweetheart, don’t worry about it,” Bucky quickly stammered. “Hey, I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to bring the mood down-”

“Oh, no, you didn’t-”

“Why don’t you put those flowers in some water,” Bucky interrupted, “and we can start over. Forget all this awkwardness.”

You hesitated and then agreed, “Sure. Come in so you’re not waitin’ outside.”

Bucky grimaced self-consciously and nodded as he stepped inside, closing the door behind him. 

As you walked to the kitchen, you thought to yourself, “Shoot… where am I gonna put this where my family can’t see?”

“You can put that in your room, if ya like,” Bucky suggested from the living room, almost as if he could hear your thoughts.

“Oh, okay…” you answered as you filled a vase from the sink and dropped the flowers in. Then you slowly made your way upstairs so as to not spill any water. When you got back down to the living room, Bucky was waiting for you patiently with his hands in his pockets. 

“Ready to go?” he asked.

“Yeah!” you answered.

One date turned into two, into three, and soon enough, you found yourself spending all of your free time with Bucky. You would go to his shop during your lunch breaks as well. Your weekends were spent with him. Whenever any of your family members asked you where you were going, you always came up with some lie about meeting with a few girls from work to watch a movie, or have lunch or dinner, or go to the roller skating rink, or whatever. Your father was too busy being the town mayor to question you, but Dean was beginning to get suspicious. Arvin was completely oblivious to what you got up to.

Bucky invited you to attend the annual traveling carnival one day, and you happily accepted. You arrived on the back of Bucky’s bike, wearing his leather jacket.

As you removed and handed Bucky your helmet, you commented, “Maybe I should get one of these of my own, hm?” You gestured to his jacket still wrapping you in its warmth. You could smell faint traces of motor oil and the spiced amber of his cologne, which made you want to shamelessly bury your face in the leather and inhale.

“Uh uh,” Bucky refused, “I like seein’ you in my jacket.”

“Don’t you get cold?” you teased.

“Not with your arms around me, keepin’ me warm.” Bucky grinned and yanked you against his body.

You giggled and gently swatted him in the chest. 

“Well, I wanna show off my new dress,” you stated as you unzipped the jacket and handed it back to him.

He slid the jacket up his arms as he whistled, “And you look real pretty in that dress. You got that for me?”

“Maybe,” you shrugged smugly and started walking towards the cotton candy cart with Bucky following close behind, his eyes on your rear and a heavy smirk on his lips. 

As you and Bucky were lining up for some cotton candy, you noticed someone staring at you from the corner of your eye. You turned and almost choked on your own spit as you spotted Arvin frowning at you.

“Who’s that?” Bucky asked as he met Arvin’s eyes with a glare of his own.

“Ah, shoot,” you thought to yourself. “They noticed each other.”

“Just my little brother, Arvin,” you replied, smiling wildly to hide your panic. 

Bucky’s face relaxed as he asked, “The one that crashed your older brother’s car?”

Bucky smiled and did a little wave and nod combo at Arvin. Arvin looked confused as he stiffly raised one hand in an awkward greeting. 

“Yup, that’s him,” you laughed nervously. “I’m just gonna say a quick ‘hello,’ I’ll be right back.”

You gave Bucky’s pec a little pat and then power-walked towards Arvin. 

When you got closer to him, he hissed, “Are ya seein’ Bucky?”

“Shhh!” you hissed back. “Yes, but shut up!”

“I’m tellin’ pa.”

“Don’t you dare!”

“That boy ain’t right!”

“Oh, shut up! There’s absolutely nothing wrong with him! Listen, Arvin, you don’t tell Dean or daddy about Bucky, and I won’t tell Dean you took his newly fixed car for a joyride the other night.”

Arvin squinted at you. “How you know about that?”

“I know things. Now you keep that in mind in case you ever think about squealin’.”

You didn’t bother to stick around for Arvin’s response, knowing he would keep his mouth shut with such a threat dangling over his head. 

“Shit, knew sendin’ her to his shop was a bad idea…” Arvin muttered to himself.

You ignored him as you practically skipped back into Bucky’s arms, almost knocking the huge puff of pink cotton candy out of his hand when you bumped into him. 

Arvin kept his word and neither Dean nor your father knew a thing about you and Bucky. You continued to see Bucky any chance you got, and Arvin always silently scowled when you went off with whatever excuse you could come up with. Dean assumed you met a boy, but didn’t know which boy. He would make passive comments about marriage and waiting, and you would just look at Dean with a sweet and oblivious, but obviously fake, expression. Dean would sigh and mention protecting yourself and not to get into any trouble. Your father didn’t know a thing and both brothers weren’t telling him.

One day, Bucky asked you, “You wanna go to the drive-in?”

“The drive-in? But you only gotta bike.”

“Ah, they’ve got bleachers near the back by the concessions. Even better, closer to the snacks.” Bucky gave you a wink.

You giggled and enthusiastically accepted his invitation. 

Bucky picked you up on time, another bouquet of flowers in hand. Arvin was home this time to see you fawn all over Bucky. He pretended to be busy with whatever he was doing in the kitchen while darting his side-eying eyes between you filling a vase with water and Bucky politely waiting in the living room. You noticed Arvin’s glowering and you mouthed to him, “Don’t be rude,” as you walked upstairs to put away the flowers in your room.

Arvin scoffed and continued to pretend he was busy.

“Arvin, right?”

Arvin jumped and turned to see Bucky casually leaning on the kitchen door frame. 

“Yeah, that’s me,” Arvin replied apprehensively.

“I’m Bucky.” He reached over to offer his hand. “Think I saw you at the carnival a couple of weeks ago, but we never met.”

“No, sir, we did not,” Arvin said as he shook Bucky’s hand a little too firmly, as if he might have been trying to prove something.

“Bucky?” you called from the living room. “I’m ready!”

Bucky chuckled, “See ya around, Arvin.”

Arvin mumbled under his breath, “Much rather not.”

Bucky pretended not to hear him as he smiled at you and wrapped an arm around your shoulder. 

“Let’s go, baby,” he said, pressing a kiss to your temple. 

Most audience members going to the drive-in would go there with a car so when Bucky parked his bike off to the side of the bleachers, it was empty. You and Bucky had the outdoor seating all to yourselves. 

As you two went off to line up at the concessions, you overheard some giggling and whispering. You turned to see a small group of girls sneering at you as they whispered to each other, snorted, and then began laughing. 

“What would you like, baby?” Bucky’s voice drew your attention back to him and you realized you had made it to the front of the line.

“Huh?”

“We’ve gotta large popcorn and a large soda to share, is there anythin’ else you’d like?”

“Oh, no,” you quickly answered, a bit embarrassed that you got distracted. “That’s more than enough.”

“Aw, nothin’ is too much for you,” Bucky beamed, rubbing the small of your back. “How about a box of those Junior Mints? You like those.”

“Sure, thanks, Bucky.” You smiled up at him.

“Anythin’ for my girl.”

You blushed at his words and ducked your head down bashfully.

You made your way to the bleachers with your snacks in hand and took a seat somewhere near the middle bench to peer over all of the cars. He placed his fingertips on your chin and turned your head to face him. Grinning, he gave you a chaste kiss and then turned back to the movie screen. You smiled goofily as you also turned back, but then your face dropped as you noticed a few pairs of eyes on you from the cars ahead of you. Some people were a bit more subtle and watched you from the rearview mirror. Others were bolder and actually turned around to look at you before turning back and saying something to each other in the car, then laughing. You started to feel self-conscious and shifted in your seat.

As if Bucky could feel your anxiousness, he asked, “What’s the matter, baby?”

“Hm? Oh, it’s nothing,” you answered. Quickly changing the subject, you added, “How’s the popcorn?”

“Could use a little more butter,” he smirked as he popped a few kernels into his mouth.

You ate one and then snorted, “Oh, there’s plenty of butter!”

Bucky chuckled as he draped his leather jacket over your shoulders, the evening air starting to get a little chilly. 

Throughout the movie, Bucky kept his arm wrapped around your shoulders, occasionally feeding you popcorn with a playful smile. Every so often, you could see someone glance in your direction and it was making you antsy enough that you couldn’t pay attention to the movie. You were glad when the movie finally ended because all you wanted was to leave and be alone with Bucky. However, he had other plans and decided to take you to the local ice cream parlor.

“Wait here for me, baby,” Bucky suggested as he sat you down in a booth, “and I’ll go order. What flavor you want?”

“Cherry vanilla,” you declared.

Bucky smirked, “Cherry vanilla, it is.”

A few seconds after Bucky stepped away, a girl came up and took the seat across from you. You straightened and blinked at her. You recognized her.

“So you’re takin’ your turn with Bucky too, now, huh?” she snickered as she placed an elbow on the table and leaned her chin against her fist. 

You narrowed your eyes at her and folded your hands on the table. “I don’t know what you mean, Mary Ann.”

“Aw, there ain’t a need to get all defensive. Plenty of girls had their ‘Bucky phase,’ as we like to call it. You’re gonna have a lot of fun with him.” She winked.

You scowled, “I don’t wanna talk about this.”

“Oh, don’t you worry about a thing.” She waved you off. “Us girls have to stick together. We won’t say a word to nobody. Just remember, he’s only good for a nice time, not a lifetime. He ain’t the type any lady with any sense would marry. That boy, he’s sweet, but… there’s just somethin’ about him that ain’t right. Not marriage material.”

You glowered at her as she condescendingly patted your hand and walked away. You heard of the rumor that was amongst the young ladies of this town, but you didn’t think it was true until Mary Ann confirmed it. Some girls would spend time with Bucky but he ever remained their dirty little secret. They’d have their fun with him privately as they then pretended not to know him and continued to deride him publicly, just like the rest of the town folk. In the end, the girl would find a “respectable” man to marry.

Bucky was walking back with an ice cream cone in each hand. He glanced at Mary Ann with a bit of confusion stitching at his brows, but she didn’t acknowledge him as she arrogantly brushed past him. He shrugged and continued towards you with a bright smile dancing on his lips. 

“Here,” Bucky said, cheery, as he handed you a cone, “a sweet treat for my sweetheart.”

Your smile was a little tight as you took the cone and thanked him.

Bucky’s face fell. “What’s wrong, baby?”

“Mm-mm, it’s nothin’,” you lied as you shook your head and took a lick of the ice cream. “It’s just Mary Ann. She was being a cluckin’ hen.”

“A cluckin’ hen, huh?” Bucky said, with his mouth slightly full of ice cream. “What she say to you?”

“Nothin’ important,” you reassured him with more lies. “You wanna try some of mine?” You brought your ice cream cone closer to his lips. He grinned as he took a taste and offered some of his ice cream to you as well.

Days later, you and Bucky were sitting on his porch and enjoying each other’s company, laughing and joking, and talking about anything in the world. When the conversation naturally lulled into silence with his arms around you, you finally worked up the nerve to ask him the question that had been bugging you ever since the drive-in.

“When you give me flowers,” you softly said, voice laced with uncertainty, “and you tell me that it’s okay to put them in my room, you knew that I didn’t want my family to know about us, didn’t you?”

Bucky’s cheeks ticked as he clenched and then relaxed his jaw. You could see his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed.

“Mary Ann told ya somethin’, didn’t she?” Bucky said. His voice was low and almost conspiratorial, with a crooked smile on his lips to hide his unease. 

After a pause, you replied, “Mary Ann said that a lot of girls in town had a ‘Bucky phase’ and that you were good for a fun time…”

Bucky scowled, “And not much else, huh?”

When you didn’t answer, he spat, “Cluckin’ hen.” He looked briefly panicked before he added, “Not you.”

You glanced down, but then continued, “There’s a rumor them girls like to whisper about you, that you had to be kept a secret. Is that… is that something they wanted, or you wanted?”

Bucky looked ever so slightly hurt before he answered, “It was what they wanted.”

You nodded but didn’t say anything else, still looking down at your feet.

“Baby,” Bucky sighed, “look at me.”

You looked at him a bit sheepishly. 

“I like you. I love you,” Bucky stated. “And I don’t ever want us to be a secret. I’d like to marry you one day. But if the only way you’d be with me is if no one else can know… then I’ll be your secret. I just wanna be with you… for however long you’d have me.”

Your eyes filled with tears as you whispered, “You love me?”

“With my whole heart.” Bucky pulled you a little closer and leaned his forehead against yours.

“I love you too…” You wrapped your arms around his waist and pressed your lips against his. He could taste the salt in your tears as he kissed you back, pulling you even closer until you were flushed against him.

Neither of you acknowledged the fact that you didn’t say whether or not you would tell your family about him.

Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist

Read on AO3

[libraryofgage]

Prince and the Metalhead (4)

Part of: Steve Deserves Good Parents, Actually

Debbie and Fester Addams One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six Rick and Evelyn O'Connell One | Two | Three Harley Quinn One | Two | Three | Four 10th Doctor and Rose One | Two Scooby Gang One Jedidiah and Octavius (from Night at the Museum) One | Two Queen Clarisse Renaldi One | Two | Three | Four (you're here!) Leverage Crew One

Let's all just agree to ignore how long it's been. Got it? Great, fantastic, here's some more Princess Diaries AU hot off the presses for ya.

A little shorter than other parts have been but I think it's still fun lol

As always, if you see any typos, no you didn't ;)

---

Hawkins hasn't changed.

That's all Steve can think as he watches the town pass by through the window. He recognizes every shop, reflexively winces at a pothole seconds before they drive over it, and can still put names to most faces he sees. The only ones he doesn't recognize are people around his age, and that's only because they've changed with puberty. Steve figures he's near unrecognizable to them, too.

The car, a subtly-armored SUV with tinted windows and brand new Indiana license plates, pulls up to a three-story house. It's not in Steve's old neighborhood, but it's bordered by the trees all the same. He could probably walk through the woods to his old house if he ever got the urge.

The outside of this new house is a cheery sunflower yellow, and the front lawn is filled with naturally-grown wildflowers. It's nested at the very end of a cul-de-sac, standing taller than its neighbors like a queen holding court.

"The HOA allowed these?" Steve asks, gesturing to the flowers after leaving the car.

Joyce opens the trunk and starts pulling out luggage as she says, "They don't get a say. This is land privately owned by Genovia. So, technically, it's not part of the neighborhood. We don't have to abide by their rules."

"I heard Hopper had fun explaining that to them," Robin says, grinning as she tosses one of the bags to Steve. He grunts as he catches it, frowning when she chooses a noticeably lighter bag to carry herself. "Watch the glare, dingus. Besides, aren't you so much stronger, anyway?"

"I was thirteen! Let it go already!"

"Nope!" Robin says, popping the "p" with a wide grin.

Steve rolls his eyes and follows her up the drive. The house has a wraparound porch with several swings and rocking chairs. Robin pushes the door open with her foot, a small bell on the inside tinkling to announce their presence. It's one of Hopper's favorite tricks, a subtle and cheap alternative to motion sensors.

"Our rooms are on the third floor," Robin says, walking through a living room to reach a set of stairs. Dustin has already started hooking up gaming consoles, too focused to notice their passing. Dart is hovering by his shoulder, tail wagging a mile a minute like Dustin might give her a treat any second now.

"Good view? Steve asks, adjusting his grip on the bag in his hands.

"Well, it's no Genovian countryside," Robin says, her eye-roll audible, "but your room does have a trellis. Real sturdy, too. Easy to climb, I'd say."

"Gee, I wonder if you're trying to tell me something," Steve says, voice dry.

From above them, he hears Jonathan say, "She wants to sneak out and party. I think this place'll be pretty dead, though."

"Tiny towns always have kick-ass parties in the movies," Robin replies. She and Steve look up in unison to see Jonathan leaning over the third story railing. "Hollywood would never lie, Jonathan."

Steve snorts as they finally reach the third floor, and Jonathan gestures to the second door on the right. "Lying is all Hollywood does," Steve says, nodding his thanks before walking over.

He hears Robin grumble about sarcasm and teen flicks, but pays it no mind. He's more focused on taking in the pastel yellow walls and huge windows of his bedroom. A bed is tucked against one wall, a large desk and chair places adjacent to it. One corner of the room is taken by a new piano, and the last holds a bookcase and oversized chair.

"Whaddya think?" Robin asks, poking her head over his shoulder to see the room.

Steve thinks about his room in Genovia. He thinks about his plaid nightmare room when he still lived with his parents. He thinks about the sturdy trellis and high school they passed and all his hopes for what this experience might be, what it might give him.

He says, "It's perfect."

----

The entire school is up in arms about some new kids. Eddie gets it, of course. The last time something this exciting happened was when Carol's thigh-high socks fell low enough to reveal suspicious rug burns on her knees. Kids tried bullying her about it, but they got bored quickly when she laughed and joked right back.

Anyway, the new kids.

Eddie wouldn't care if he hadn't been subjected to Chrissy waxing poetic about Robin, one of said newbies. Apparently, she was built lean and strong, had a snarky sense of humor, and blushed when Chrissy smiled at her.

"She sounds like a jock," Eddie says when Chrissy finally pauses to breathe. He pulls out a lighter and flicks it open. When he holds it up, hand protecting the flame, Chrissy leans in. Her cigarette catches and she leans back. "Thought you were done with jocks."

Chrissy slowly exhales, smoke curling between them as Eddie lights his own cigarette. "She's more band geek than jock," she explains.

"Still don't get all the fuss."

"That's just cuz you haven't seen her friend. Steve, I think. Totally your type."

"Oh, yeah? And what do you think my type is?"

"Boys with Prince Charming smiles. I know you like them a little preppy, too."

Damn.

She's got him there.

Eddie huffs, taking a drag to stall his answer. Despite the precious extra seconds, all he can think to say is, "We'll see."

Chrissy drops it, and Eddie thinks that's the end of it.

And then the day is over.

Hellfire Club is wrapping up, all the members lingering to interrogate the new kids that joined. They're freshmen, new to the school, and one of them is even a girl. Of the four, Dustin seems the most excited to be there, eagerly describing campaigns he's played before with Will as DM.

"Oh! And there was that time Pr- uh, Steve, joined and immediately died by tripping," he says, the words rushing out to cover his fumble.

None of them miss it, but Jeff at least pretends by asking, "How'd he manage that?" while looking at Will.

With a shrug, Will says, "They were in a volcano and he rolled a nat one."

Eddie snorts, about to ask how bad his modifiers must have been when the door opens. "Do you twerps know how hard it was to find this room?" a girl asks.

She's standing in the doorway, arms crossed with an annoyed look.

Not that Eddie cares. He's a little distracted by the literal embodiment of hotness standing next to her. The guy is leaning against the door, exuding a self-assured air that most people fail to gain after a life time. His hair is perfectly styled, he's got two little moles on his cheek that Eddie wants to lick, and his eyes are bright with amusement.

And his smile?

Oh, Eddie knows exactly who he is based on that smile.

Chrissy wasn't kidding when she called Steve a Prince Charming.

Eddie is utterly and totally fucked.

---------

Tag List (definitely more room if anyone else would like to be tagged in future parts ^_^)

@y4r3luv, @potato-of-the-lord, @lublix, @little-birch-boy, @eriquin, @whenindoubtb72, @paintgonewrong, @ihatespinosaurus, @hyperfixated-on-stuff, @bxnghy

[elexaria]

Simon Riley who had been on a lookout for a particular peer of his after high school, sweet little girl who normally did all of the schoolwork for him. Even behind the teachers back. Even when their handwritings never, ever matched up; but the teachers only let her off because, at the very least, he was passing with an A.

Sweet, somewhat nerdy!Reader who actually felt bad for a guy, in general just a person, going through such a rough time when in reality school would only fuck up people into being robots for the government and absolutely do no help for the post puberty and traumatized Teenager!Simon. She tries to have sweets on her for whenever he pops in, also tries her hardest to be nice to the other Riley. Sweet young lady Reader who somehow becomes well known around their high school after winning a last minute game in volleyball, followed by basketball, tennis, track, and soccer. Medals and whatnot. Even earned a goddamn picture in the Coach’s office — the female coach, the male one who seemed to be more like a father to sweet Reader.

Sweet!Reader who is suddenly gone. Desk of hers absolutely empty. No pens, no pink notebooks mixed with pastels. Not her signature backpack in sight. No scent of hers, no constant chirping, no glances that arrived at Simon once she caught glimpse of him in the hallways right before first period. Third period feels… loud. Ironic since there’s a pin-drop silence, even breathing. He normally has the rest of the periods with her from then out, until seventh period. He could recite her entire schedule.

Simon can’t help fidgeting, biting his tongue from asking where she is. Not to be nosy, not to be teased, outwardly and fucking pushed into the lockers teased. Perhaps she was coincidentally absent?

Years pass on, evidently screaming she was, in fact, gone. Even on missions, Simon can’t help but glance everywhere. He’s more fucked up, a bitter version, working exactly for the monarchy (almost forgot he’s British, for God’s sakes) and saving his people.

And just one day, one day that everything seemed normal for Johnny and the rest of Simon’s boys, he catches a goddamn glimpse of her. Her face, specifically. Rushing around, apron around her waist and down her thighs. Appropriate attire of a waitress serving a man with a comically huge cigarette and in a suit whilst speaking to another duplicate of his.

His grip on his whiskey tightens.

(Andddddd you continue!!!)

-🍓

ohoho, strawb anon you genius >:)

simon feels his chest tighten up, his grip on his drink tightening as he glances at the mom and pop diner across the street. no… could it..?

before he can indulge himself with another thought, gaz nudges simon gently. “you alright there lt?” he asks sincerely, an eyebrow raised as he tries to figure out what simon was glancing at. he just grunts in response, relaxing his shoulders as he downs the last remaining drops of whiskey. “thought i saw someone. ‘scuse me—“ he murmurs in response, standing up from the pub booth as he saunters past gaz and up and leaves. when one of the lads asks where he’s going, simon grumbles out a ‘goin for a fag’ while lifting up a ciggie and his lighter.

simon leans against the alley wall that faces the diner, deep in thought as he exhales plumes of smoke while glaring right at the restaurant. come on, he thinks to himself, show yourself. he begins to wonder if he was just seeing things, like you’re an oasis in the middle of the desert or something. wishful thinking, he muses to himself.

and just when he pushes himself up from off the wall, his lips drawn into a thin line in disappointment— he spots her.

she’s absolutely beautiful, breathtaking even. the faint crows feet around his eyes crease as his gaze softens. it’s funny how time has treated them both. one of the only friends he had considered himself to have during school has found herself working as a waitress, cute pinafore hugging her curves in all the right places— while he’s just a bigger, meatier version of the boy he once was. he’s just a husk of a man now. war’ll do that to a bloke.

he fidgets nervously with the zipper of his windbreaker, chewing the inside of his lip as he contemplates popping over to say hello. would that be weird? hell, would she even remember him anymore? his feet are itching to move, but he’s cemented right there— forced to stare at the diner, and the siren within that seemingly tempts him.

with a groan, simon pulls out his phone to text the group chat— “gonna head off, see you back on base” before shoving his phone into the back pocket of his jeans. and with a clear of his throat, he steadily paces across the road to the mom and pop diner. simon feels sick with anticipation, a feeling he’s never really felt before in his life. even when he had found the bodies of his family, even through the torture— he’d never felt quite a strange amalgamation of emotions before. and that really freaked him out.

the diner’s door bell rings, the dulcet tones of doo wop music playing in the restaurant greeting simon when he steps inside. he waits patiently in the small foyer, calloused fingers reaching out to smooth over the creased laminate menu on display. and his heart damn near falls out of his ass when the waitress greets him with a friendly smile.

“hi there! welcome to pop’s EZ diner! my name is ____ and i’ll be your waitress today!” you greet enthusiastically, beaming up at the stranger stood in front of you, awkwardly glaring right into your soul with hauntingly beautiful stormy blue eyes. it was kind of creepy, but weirdly endearing. you just wrote it off, assuming he was socially awkward— after all, he clears his throat and struggles to find the words to say for almost a minute before finally opening his mouth.

“uh… hello. you don’t—“ simon pauses, clearing his throat again as his hands continue to fidget with the menu, his gaze nervously flitting from the menu back to you. “you don’t happen to recognise me, do ya? simon? simon riley? from st matthews?” he says, the timber of his voice itching the back of your brain in a pleasing way. st matthews? how did he know where you went to school?

you shake your head politely, nervously tucking your notepad and pen back into your pinafore pocket. “oh, um. sorry, i don’t—“ you reply, offering him a sympathetic smile. the man, simon, turns bright pink— again, nervously clearing his throat as he nods, lowering his head as he turns on his heels to head back out the diner. “oh, sorry. nevermind.” he murmurs, raising his hand politely to you before his hand reaches for the door handle.

and then it clicks.

oh. my. god.

it’s been YEARS since you had thought about simon riley, and suddenly your mind was being overwhelmed with all these memories of helping a teenage simon out in school. your eyes widen, a hand reaching out to gently grip on his windbreaker sleeve. he freezes, half glaring and half shocked as he turns to face you. but the expression on simon’s face eases when he realises that he was right, it was you.

“simon riley? oh my god—“ you gasp out, eyes wide as you look up at him with a dumbfounded expression, one that sends a shiver down simon’s spine.

what an interesting reunion this would turn out to be..

[endwersed]

Snippet Sunday ☀

So! I'm currently working on the edits for my divorcee Derek/hot-for-older-men Stiles AU, and, whilst it unfortunately isn't as ready to post today as I had originally hoped, I do have a li'l snippet I can share until it is fully edited (fingers crossed, that'll be next weekend!) 🤗

-

“So, class,” Professor Boyd continues, “I’d like you all to meet – Mr Derek Hale.”

A man walks through the open doorway along with the introduction. Stiles’ jaw drops all the way down to the freaking floor.

What he was saying earlier, about his thing for older men? Well, this guy – this Mr Derek Hale – is every-fucking-thing that has made Stiles’ dick hard since pretty much he was old enough to know what to do with it.

Short, dark, soft-looking hair that is patched with spots of grey, his sharp jaw covered in a beard that is thick and coarse and close to being more salt than pepper. Even from where Stiles is sitting, even from this row way at the back of the room, he can still see the lines of age that show on his face, the faint wrinkles in his forehead, the creases around his pale eyes.

He is wearing a dark green sweater, tight across the strength of his broad shoulders, the fabric an expensive cashmere to Stiles’ inexperienced eye. Underneath it sits a crisp, white shirt, its starchy collar folded neatly along the line of his clavicle and a tie knotted snugly just below the prominence of his Adam’s apple. His legs are draped in the dark material of his slacks, skimming close enough to the muscle to reveal the definition of his thighs, and Stiles cannot fight back the thought that he kind of really wants to bury his face between them.

This guy is well into his forties, easily, and he is also, to put it bluntly, the middle-aged man of Stiles’ wettest fucking dreams.

There is no ring on that left hand, either. Interesting. Very, very interesting.

From her place next to him, Stiles can feel the searing heat of the side-eye that Lydia throws him the moment Derek steps into the room. If he cared even one lick about her judgement, he might be cowed into at least trying to hide the raging heart-eyes he probably has going on right about now.

Unfortunately for her, he lost any shame long, long ago – and that’s if he ever truly even had any in the first place.

She wouldn’t get it, anyway. Her taste in men has always been much more mainstream than Stiles’. Has been, barf, Scott, all the way since high school. She likes a nice boy her age, and she found that boy back when they were still stumbling their way through the awkward years of puberty. He is happy for them, of course, but that does not change the fact that his preferences have always taken him well, well beyond those years.

“Hello, everyone.”

The sound of Derek’s voice snaps every fibre of Stiles’ focus back up to the front of the class. The cadence of it isn’t as deep and as growly as his appearance might suggest, those thick eyebrows and that bushy beard, but it’s – nice. Really nice, actually. Stiles is, perhaps, more than a little bit interested in learning how it might pant and grunt and moan when a mouth is wrapped around his cock.

Pausing after just those two words, Derek slides a hand into the pocket of his pants, knuckles visible through the fabric as he rummages around. Eventually, he retrieves a long, rectangular box, flipping it open and pulling out –

Oh, fuck. Pulling out a pair of dark-framed glasses that he slips onto his face, sitting them low across the strong slope of his nose, peering over the top of them with that light, captivating gaze. Stiles thinks he may actually be fucking drooling. He dazedly ignores Lydia’s knee digging pointedly into the side of his thigh.

“Thank you for having me,” Derek carries on, both hands now tucked into his pockets. “As Professor Boyd said, my name is Derek Hale and I’m new to town. I hope you don’t all find me being here today as boring as I told your professor you definitely would.”

A light ripple of laughter filters around the class. Stiles is too entranced to join in with anything but a faint uptick at one corner of his mouth. Like anyone could find being in the presence of someone this freakishly hot boring. Stiles is growing less and less certain with each passing moment that he will even make it out of this class alive.

Stiles’ eyes are wide, his eyelashes fluttering ticklishly against the height of his cheekbones with his rapid blinks, and he leans forwards, pressing closer for more, more, as much as he can get. He rests the bend of his elbow against the solid plane of the table in front of him, his palm flat and open for him to lay his cheek against. It is the best position for gazing dreamily at the aging hunk gracing the next hour of his life, after all.

“I thought I’d start by talking about my years as an associate,” Derek says, light eyes sweeping slowly across the room. “I started with Pearson and Howe straight out of law school, and I –”

His words cut abruptly off. Quicker than a heartbeat, his entire body freezes, a visible tension in the square of his shoulders, a stunned-slack parting of his mouth as he stops, and stills, and stares out ahead of him, stares out at… something. It takes Stiles a few seconds of blinking confusion to figure out what the hell he is staring at, what the hell has made him react like some deer about to caught up in somebody’s bumper.

A grin spreads wickedly across Stiles’ mouth as soon as the realisation lands.

It’s him; it’s Stiles. He is what Derek is staring at, he is what has made Derek apparently lose control of his ability to speak, he is what has Derek gaping like a fish in front of a whole room of law students. Derek’s gaze is snagged with his and Stiles’ heart is kicking up into overdrive inside of his chest.

Lifting his face from his palm, he makes sure to hold Derek’s eye, sure and steady and still smiling stupidly. The room around him murmurs in confusion, and Professor Boyd has an eyebrow quirked that looks more amused than anything else, and Lydia is scoffing a quiet laugh beside him, but the only thing Stiles has the attention span for right now is Derek’s eyes, locked with his.

Heat pools around the flutter of his stomach. He bites his bottom lip and dares to throw out a wink. The tips of Derek’s ears burn brightly as he closes his eyes and shakes his head.

“Sorry,” Derek says, the word coming out low, a little choked, raw until the pointed clearing of his throat. “Sorry, I just, uh… I lost my train of thought there for a second. But anyway, uh – as I was saying.”

-

No pressure tags! @dear-massacre @heavensenthale @like-lazarus @myrrhhymns @renmackree

[jd07201990]

I watched from the kitchen door, with a wide grin on my face, as my previously combative, nerdy Stepson watched his laptop, eyes glazed, for the umpteenth time these last 6 months. Nobody would ever remember tiny, snarky little Theodore. They’d only ever see Theo, this bulky, sweaty brute, lifting and fucking his way through college, just like any red-blooded young man should. And it was all thanks to my buddy Sarge’s “attitude adjusting” self help videos, he custom designs for a slew of shady clientele after he retired. Mostly foreign governments, some loony cults here and there. But for me, he’d done a personal favor. I filled out a details chart, every last trait, from his voice to his hair, posture, everything. I thought about everything he’d said about “those sweating, grunting behemoths” that all got into school with free-ride scholarships for athletics. Theo was going to helplessly, desperately, insatiably grow, eating and grunting his way to 215, the weight I’d maintained all through college. He’d also dress, walk, and talk like the testosterone (and a slew of supplements Sarge gave me with the videos) filled cocky young male you see frequenting college courtyards, throwing footballs between bros and chasing pretty sorority girls like lovesick puppies. Their dumb, dopey demeanor would seen pour from Theo’s mouth, his shoulders back, pecs out casually. He’d grope and adjust himself, sitting down with his legs wide no matter where he is. His diet would change, adding raw calories and protein, chuckling dumbly with the other gym rats as he gulps down creatine powder, dry, and chugs a shake to wash it down. The supplements Sarge gave me to add to his meals, ensured he’d bulk up fast, and solid. As long as I fed him enough, which I was warned would triple our groceries, at least, He’d gain the weight, and the thickness I was looking for, while his body would be thrust through a second puberty, allowing for the subliminals to work on other, aspects, of his masculinity. Let’s just say, we all know what they say about dudes with big feet. And his will be a hefty size 14. Too bad for his mother, our house is also going to reek like a Varsity locker room, because those feet, and the rest of him, will be all raw male, all the time. Pumped and ready, brimming with energy, like a Golden Retriever, if it were a 6’2” behemoth. The toughest bit was straightening him out. Giving him that good old fashioned, hot-blooded straight male instinct, making him drool over the coeds and cheerleaders, chasing girls like every young man should. The videos worked their magic well, the supplements setting his balls ablaze, churning out testosterone to fuel his primal need for aggression, for hard work, and effort, and sweat and sex. He fought it until his best friend Jenna, without realizing what her playful teasing was doing to him, had been on the couch with him, and had leaned over, and nibbled his ear one night while watching a movie. He'd lost his gold star that night. Quickly, and with all the confusion and passion that comes with young love and first times. Jenna had been stunned when he’d practically pounced on her, and from there, hours passed, and they wore themselves out right there on the couch. The next morning, he was mortified, but he couldn’t help but kiss her when she woke and complimented him on his… performance. It's been 6 months, and you’d never know he wasn’t always a muscled up, sweaty, straight boy, chasing girls at school, slacking off in class, and riding his new Lacrosse Scholarship that Sarge so nicely arranged when Theo got big and dumb enough to join the team. It seems Sarge knows quite a few coaches, Alumni, and Board members with a good bot of influence. It also seemed the school’s Jock population was skyrocketing, coincidentally at the same time as Sarge added a pool, an extension, and a garage full of classic cars to his house…

[themultifandomgal]

Sister Shelby- Fainting

All YN's life she has struggled with fainting. The first time she lost conscious was when she was only a year old. The baby had been crying none stop, then in Polly grays arms the little one passed out. The doctors had said it was because of her not able to catch her breath but as the years went on the fainting got worse, especially when YN started going through puberty.

13 Years Old

"YN your gonna be late for school" Tommy scolds the youngest Shelby storming into her room. YN groans throwing her bed sheets over her head "now YN!"

"Don't feel well"

"You just want to get out of school" Tommy rips off the quilt

"Fine" YN grunts and gets out of bed. But as quick as she's up, she's back down passed out on the floor. Of course Tommy panics and calls for Polly who runs upstairs. Only a minute later YN is awake again

"Ok no school today" Polly places her arms on her hips as Tommy helps his sister back into bed

"I think we need a doctor Poll"

The doctors checked YN out and found that her heartbeat is irregular which is what has been causing her fainting spells.

15 Years Old

YN can now tell when she is going to faint and what could trigger it. One of them being excessive exercise. Now it's no secret YNs teacher, Mr Jones doesn't like her just because she has the Shelby name. The teacher had announced that they would be running around the field at the back of the school, YN immediately protests saying she can't run that far, but the teacher had said if YN didn't partake then she could expect 100 lines and the ruler across the hand. So YN begin running.

After running once she was told to run again, and again and again. No matter how many times YN said she needed to stop Mr Jones threatened the poor girl and so she carried on. She did this until she passes out on the field, thankfully her friend Eleanor saw and ran to Mr Jones, but he didn't believe her.

When YN came around she decided to just walk out of the school and head home

"What are you doing home from school?" Arthur scolds seeing his little sister walk through the front door

"Mr Jones made me run even when I told him I couldn't. He said it was either run or have the ruler. I passed out but he didn't believe Eleanor when she told him" Arthur's eyes widen

"Go to bed and rest. Let me speak to Tommy and Aunt Poll"

This caused the Shelby brothers and Aunt head to the school and Tommy even got the teacher fired!

18 Years Old

It's a hot day in Birmingham and YN is sat in the betting shop helping Arthur with the books

"I'm gonna get a Drink" YN sighs feeling the heat. Arthur nods his head not looking up. YN stands up but immediately her eyesight starts to disappear and a ringing starts in her ear. Before she can even sit back down Arthur finds his sister on the floor passed out. Knowing exactly what to do Arthur gets up from his seat and first of all checks that YN hasn't hurt herself on anything. He then rolls her so she's on her side. Tommy walks out of his office and frowns

"Has she fainted?" Tommy asks looking at Arthur and YN

"Yeah" Arthur sighs

"When she walks up take her home. It's so hot in here"

"Ok"

22 Years Old

YN is now an adult who has just moved into a house with her boyfriend Alexander. At first the Shelby's were not happy about this and they worried for their sister especially since Alex has yet to see one of YNs fainting episodes as she is now more aware of her body and when she may pass out. YN comes home from a long day of shopping when she begins to feel faint. Placing her bags down in the kitchen she slide herself down the kitchen counters and sits on the floor. Normally this would do the trick, but today this isn't what happens. Alex knows about his girlfriends irregular heart and he knows that she faints because of it, but he's always had one of her brothers or Polly around. So when he walks through the front door and into the kitchen, panic sets in seeing YN on the floor. Immediately he runs up to her and starts to try and wake her up, but it doesn't work

"YN. YN can you hear me?" remembering Tommy once checking her over for injury's he does the same. Then he remembers that Arthur would check the time to see how long she was unresponsive for, so he does just that. Unbeknownst to hun Tommy has also entered the home of the young couple and is watching Alex tend to YN "ok come on YN isn't been a minute since I've come home. I need you to wake up"

Luckily it's not to much time later, maybe about 20 seconds, YN finally starts to wake up

"Hey YN, how you feeling?"

"Tired"

"Ok. Let's get you a drink and put you to bed" this is when Alex notices Tommy stood watching the interaction "Tommy what are you doing here?"

"Was coming to see if YN wanted to head to the Garrison but I can see that's going to be a no"

"Sorry Tom"

"Don't apologise. Your in safe hands here. Take tomorrow off" with that Tommy leaves.

For YN hearing her brother is ok with her relationship means the absolute world to her.

[axeeglitter]

Hey, I'd like to see a story where a younger brother turns into inanimate objects, mostly clothes to be used by his brother. If he only feels or takes over him, that's up to you. I just want it to be very spicy :P thx, your friend

The Dorm Room Nightmare

Alex trudged back to his dorm room, his steps heavy with exhaustion and anger. Sharing a room with his older brother Tyler was like living in hell. They were only a year apart—both 21 and attending the same university—but they couldn’t have been more different. Tyler was the epitome of the stereotypical jock: tall, broad, a football star with thick, defined muscles and hair sprouting in all the places that gave him that rugged, alpha-male look. He was always drenched in sweat after practice, and even when he wasn’t working out, he seemed to exude an overwhelming musk that lingered in the small, shared space of their dorm room.

Alex, on the other hand, was lean, quiet, and far more introspective than his loud, boisterous brother. He preferred books and video games over sports, which made him an easy target for Tyler and his jock friends. Whenever they were around, Alex was treated like nothing more than a joke—a weakling, the little brother who couldn’t measure up. But even if Tyler had the body advantage, Alex had a special talent too. As puberty hit him, he discovered that when he was over stimulated by his emotions, his body would turn into inanimate objects until he was calmed enough. On some situation, it was life saver, just like when he was chased by jocks. But on other, it could be quiet annoying, like when he turned into a backpack in the middle of a concert. But overall, it was who he was and in better then bad points, a blessing to enjoy. The only thing he was scared was not to turn back, but until now, all Alex was in need of, was to calm down and find a calm place.

As Alex reached the door to their shared dorm, he hesitated. He knew Tyler was already back from football practice. He could hear the music blaring through the thin walls, the low bass shaking the floor. The smell of sweat, body spray, and something more primal wafted out from under the door, mixing in a way that turned Alex’s stomach. It was always like this. Tyler’s presence filled every inch of the room, from the discarded clothes strewn about the floor to the smell that clung to every surface.

Taking a deep breath, Alex opened the door. Tyler was sprawled out on his bed, dressed only in his football shorts and a sweat-stained tank top. His thick arms were folded behind his head, and his chest heaved as he caught his breath from whatever workout he had just finished.

“Hey, bro,” Tyler called out without even looking up, his voice deep and commanding. His chest gleamed with sweat, and his shorts were damp, clinging to his muscled thighs. The room reeked of his body, and Alex could barely stand it.

Alex offered a noncommittal grunt in response, already feeling the familiar resentment bubbling up inside him. Every time he walked into this room; it was like being reminded of everything he wasn’t—strong, confident, dominant. And Tyler didn’t help; he basked in his physical superiority, completely oblivious to the fact that he overshadowed Alex at every turn.

Alex tried to move quietly across the room, hoping to avoid a conversation, but Tyler’s heavy-lidded eyes flicked over to him, a lazy grin spreading across his face. “Tough day, little bro? You look like you could use some exercise. Maybe you could come to the gym with me sometime, you know, bulk up a little.”

Alex clenched his jaw, feeling the heat rising to his face. “I’m fine, Tyler,” he muttered, heading for his desk and trying to focus on anything but his brother’s imposing presence.

“Suit yourself,” Tyler said with a chuckle. The bedsprings creaked under his weight as he stretched his massive legs out and got up from the bed and undressed in the middle of the room before going to the bathroom to freshen up for his date. “But don’t say I didn’t offer.” He finished as he closed the door, leaving his sweaty garment on his bed.

The tension in the room was thick, a mixture of frustration and years of sibling rivalry that had never been resolved. Alex sat at his desk, his back turned to Tyler’s bed, trying to calm his racing heart. But the anger, the humiliation—it was all too much. He hated how easily Tyler dominated the room, how effortlessly he overshadowed him. And the worst part was, Tyler didn’t even realize the effect he had. He was so absorbed in his own world, his own strength, that he never noticed how much Alex resented him.

It was happening again. Alex could feel the familiar tingling sensation spreading through his body, starting at his fingertips and moving up his arms. His breath quickened as he tried to suppress it, tried to calm himself down before it was too late. But it was no use. The transformation was inevitable, just like every other time his emotions had gotten the better of him.

Before Alex could stand or even shout, the tingling intensified, spreading across his entire body. His vision blurred, and the world around him began to spin. He felt his limbs start to dissolve, his bones softening, his skin turning into something else entirely. The transformation was happening faster than ever before, and this time, it was way more intense then anything he ever felt before.

As the transformation took hold, Alex felt his consciousness splinter. His body fragmented, becoming not one object but several, each piece of him taking on a new form. His senses shifted, and suddenly, everything was different.

He still could see and feel. Every inch of him was hyper-aware, more so than he had ever been before. The first thing he noticed was the moisture, the overwhelming sensation of warmth and thickness all around him. His body had transformed into something soft, something well used, something on the ground just in front of Tyler’s bed. “Wait, could it be?” thought Alex as he saw his naked brother coming back from the bathroom still naked and still not showered. “God please not his clothes!” muttered Alex as he saw Tyler’s hand coming down to grab him as he started to put the clothes back on.

The realization hit him with a sickening jolt—he had become Tyler’s clothes. He could feel the rough fabric against his skin, the tightness around his limbs, and the constant, suffocating presence of Tyler’s sweat soaking into every fiber of his new form.

But what happened to his head was what scared Alex the most. He could see himself in a dark secluded small place. Hearing muffled sounds coming in his direction. That’s when he felt his inanimate new form move around and banging on the wooden walls that were all around him. And then he saw it, Tyler’s face smiling as he grabbed his new metallic compacted face and started to put it around his veiny, hairy musky cock. Alex felt like gagging on the huge dick. For him it felt like he was forced open and feeling something going all the way through his throat without moving. Worst, Alex could feel Tyler’s dick spasming with every heartbeat. His head had transformed into something horrifying, something intimate. He was no longer a person; he was a cock ring, snug and tight around the base of Tyler’s thick, muscular cock. The pressure was constant, a suffocating grip as Tyler’s manhood pulsed and throbbed with life. Alex could feel the heat of Tyler’s body radiating through him, the dampness of sweat and something far worse soaking into him.

Alex’s arms had become socks. He could feel them, wrapped tightly around Tyler’s feet, absorbing the sweat from his brother’s damp skin. Each step Tyler took sent a shockwave of pressure through Alex’s entire being, the weight of Tyler’s body pressing down on him with every movement. The smell was unbearable, the sour stench of Tyler’s unwashed feet clinging to the fabric that was now Alex.

His torso had turned into Tyler’s sweaty stinky tank top while legs had turned into Tyler’s shorts, clinging to his brother’s thick thighs and hairy legs. The fabric was damp with sweat, sticking to Tyler’s skin as he moved. Alex could feel every flex of his muscles, every subtle shift of his body as Tyler adjusted himself on the bed.

And the worst part—the part that made Alex want to scream, even though he had no voice—was that Tyler had no idea. His older brother, his tormentor, was using him, wearing him, completely unaware of the horror Alex was experiencing.

“Fucking bitch cancelling on me an hour before!” Tyler muttered as he sat back on his bed. He shifted on the bed, his massive frame moving as he reached down to adjust his crotch. Alex could feel the pressure increase as Tyler’s hand brushed against him—against the cock ring that was now his head. The touch was rough, careless, as Tyler squeezed his cock, adjusting the ring and unknowingly squeezing Alex tighter. “Fuck this bitch, I don’t need anyone to have some fun!” He said groping a bit harder his hardening cock.

Alex’s mind raced, but there was no escape. He was trapped in this new form, spread across his brother’s body like a second skin. Every movement Tyler made sent ripples of sensation through him, and he could feel everything. The heat, the sweat, the tightness—it was all too much.

Tyler, still oblivious to his brother’s suffering, shifted again, this time more deliberately. Alex felt a sinking dread as Tyler’s hand moved down his body, sliding over his groin. The cock ring tightened as Tyler’s cock swelled, growing hard under his touch.

“No,” Alex thought, though he had no mouth to speak the words. “Please, no.”

Tyler’s hand wrapped around his cock, stroking it slowly. Alex could feel every inch of it, every pulse of blood rushing through the thick shaft. The cock ring squeezed tighter, trapping Alex in the horrifying intimacy of his brother’s self-pleasure.

Tyler grunted, his hand moving faster, his grip tightening as he jerked himself off. Alex could feel the slickness of pre-cum leaking from the tip of Tyler’s cock, dripping down onto the cock his face. He could taste it and he hated it. The warm, sticky fluid soaked into the material, mixing with the sweat that already drenched him.

The sensation was unbearable. Alex could feel the pre-cum dripping down, seeping into the shorts that was now his lower half. The fabric pressed against Tyler’s balls, cradling them as they tightened with each stroke. Alex could feel the heat building, the pressure growing as Tyler’s hand moved faster, his breathing becoming more labored.

Alex’s sock arms were damp with sweat, and Tyler used them to brace himself, his legs shifting as he found a more comfortable position to continue pleasuring himself. Alex could feel the rough fabric of the socks tightening around Tyler’s feet, the sweat pooling inside them as Tyler’s toes curled with pleasure. Each time Tyler adjusted, Alex felt the weight of his brother’s body pressing down on him, crushing him beneath the overwhelming heat and stench of his sweat.

Alex’s mind screamed in silent horror as Tyler’s hand moved faster, his breathing growing heavier. He could feel the tension building, the tightness in Tyler’s cock as he neared the edge. The cock ring squeezed tighter as the cock spasmed harder, and Alex could feel every throb, every pulse as Tyler’s arousal grew.

And then, with a final, guttural grunt, Tyler came.

Alex’s world exploded with sensation as Tyler’s cock pulsed, sending thick ropes of cum shooting through his shaft. Alex could feel the warm, sticky fluid pumping through the very core of what used to be his mind. The cock ring that was now his head squeezed tighter as the cum surged, soaking into every fiber of his being. He was drenched in it—trapped in the most intimate, degrading part of Tyler’s release.

The waves of sensation seemed to go on forever. Each spasm of Tyler's orgasm reverberated through Alex’s form, his awareness scattered across the socks, the shorts, the shirt and the cock ring. The fabric that made up his new body was saturated with sweat and cum, the scent clinging to him in a way that felt suffocating, inescapable. Every movement of Tyler’s body was a fresh reminder of Alex’s horrifying fate.

As Tyler’s breathing slowed and he came down from his climax, he casually wiped his hand on the shorts that Alex had become, further smearing the mess into his transformed body. Tyler seemed completely unaware of the suffering, the terror that Alex was experiencing. To him, Alex was nothing more than a collection of garments, objects meant to serve his every need.

Alex tried to scream, tried to will himself out of this nightmare, but there was no escape. Alex felt the tingling appear again as Tyler undressed once more to go take a shower. Except this time the transformation never came. Instead, Alex felt the tingling going further and further, muted as time went on. He could feel the sweat drying on his fabric, the cum crusting and sticking to him as Tyler moved about. Alex wondered why nothing was happening, he was alone, thee was space around him, and the tingling of transformation had already hit. What was taking so long? But as Alex was wondering all of this, that’s when he heard his brother coming back from the shower only dressed in a soaked towel around his manly groin. As Tyler sat one more time, he grabbed his shorts and laughed out loud. “Fuck, looks like this solo action was the one too many for you buddy” he said as he pushed his finger through the freshly appeared hole between the thighs. “A hole?” Wondered Alex. “No please that can’t be, I can’t be.” That’s when the realization hit him, he was stuck like that, permanently.

As Tyler got up from the bed, pulling on his torn shorts and adjusting his socks, Alex felt the suffocating weight of his new reality as his cock ring head was put back inside the box in his bed table. He would feel his brother’s presence surrounding him, every flex of muscle, every casual movement pressing into him, suffocating him in the heat and stench of Tyler’s body.

Alex’s mind raced in panicked horror, but there was nothing he could do. He had become Tyler’s possessions, inanimate yet aware, forever entwined with his brother’s physicality. The terror of his permanence settled in, and Alex realized with sickening clarity that this was his existence now—trapped, used, and discarded without a second thought.

The nightmare had just begun.

_____________________________________________________ Hey everybody! Here is the second prompt that was sent to me. Hope you'll like it. As always, feel free to send me messages to talk about ideas and you can still send me prompts in the ask if you want to see them written. Hope you'll enjoy ;)

[rudspankow]

this was smth i wrote when i was bored, don’t hate me if it’s shitty, just wanted to post it for funsies ..

MDNI 18+

perv!!jj , smut

Context -

Your bestfriend is a sick perv who’s obsessed with you

He’s a perv, and you knew it the moment you found his eyes darting upon your cleavage longer than a friendly gaze should’ve. His greedy hands always finding a way to smush against the flesh of your hips or lace into the belt hooks of your shorts before ripping you into his harsh frame. Cuddling up to you in the Château and purposely crushing your body with his, in hopes to feel every ridge, curve, and pulse that you could grant. Feeling the blood rush straight to his cock that swelled between your legs from his perverted positioning.

Everybody saw JJ’s intentions, continuously telling him to leave your little innocent self alone. But he just couldn’t, not when you sat perked up like a pretty princess. Teasing the mutt he was with your small sundresses, hiding barely anything as your tits pooled out of the top, catching his attention every minute of everyday.

It’d take less than 40 minutes for him to rush off for a ‘leak’, ending up in the bathroom abusing his cock with his hand. Fastening his pace torturously as he imagined your silky pussy swallowing him whole, a bundle of whimpers he was. Submissive to his imagination as you ruled his entire fantasy.

JJ loved being a perv, it was his second nature.

“Jayj, you’re suffocating me. .” You choked up, slipping a small chuckle as he trapped you beneath his broad body. A grunt left his lips as he positioned himself between your legs, left cheek resting above your swollen tits. His cock began to expand, feeling the warmth that radiated between your legs as he sunk into your embrace. Completely subsiding the fact you were lacking oxygen and needed a breather.

“So comfy Y/N, can’t help it.”

You always loved helping JJ, heck. He was your best friend for crying out loud. There wasn’t a single thing you wouldn’t do for him, no matter the cost or consequence.

But nothing prepared you for the moment you stood in his room shutting the door behind you, eyes wide and pupils blown as JJ trembled before you. An aching pain of lust consuming his body as he held himself through his shorts, fighting the urge to breakdown from the intense pressure his member caused.

He was an idiot, and he knew the results when it came to taking something like E. So where did he go when he needed a quick fix, a sexual reliever?

The person he could always count on, his forever wet dream. You.

After 5 minutes of absolute blabber and begs, you sighed heavily with a silly feeling in your chest. Standing before JJ and giving him everything he’s wanted the moment you hit puberty, finally awarding the boy with the scene of your body on full display.

It was awkward, invading in a way. But nothing felt more right once his fingertips danced upon your burning skin. Letting his lips latch onto you and taste the desire that layered on your skin. JJ Maybank had officially sweet talked your pants off, caving into his puppy dog eyes and tearful pleas as he watched your body shudder with fear. Afraid this would falter your friendship heavily.

But none of that mattered after he had the privilege to slaver his pallet with your taste, ignoring every thought that urged him to step away. Guilt vanishing as you became everything he needed, suddenly his body was going through drought and famine until you rocked up, sitting pretty on a silver platter as he couldn’t wait to dig in.

“This won’t affect anything right?” You whimpered, feeling his hips buck into you fast and rough. Harsh thrusts connecting with the bruised flesh of your ass as you bent lower, feeling his fingers thread into your hair before pulling you up.

“Shh. . So sweet for helping me out Y/N—Shit! Yeah, always there for me.” He moaned, shoving you back down before hovering above you, drilling you into the bed. Your eyes rolled back as he impaled you with his cock, his hips never stuttering as he felt you flutter around him, motivating his body to impossibly fasten as you cried out his name.

“Shitshitshit,”

The feeling of your velvety walls sucking him deeper managed to throw him off the deep end, driven to the hardest release he’s ever had once your pussy leaked cum and smoothened every thrust. His girth soaked in your white sticky bliss as he fucked his salty seed into your cunt with no mercy, never stopping as he felt his greedy heart tempt him for another round.

Urging to feel your pussy pulse around his cock again and absolutely coat him in your cum.

“Such a princess for this, Y’know? Lettin’ your bestfriend stuff you with his cock because he needed help. Perfect little thing, can’t take you for granted.”

After that night you were sure things would continue forward, attempting to brush it aside and forget about the please he exhilarated through your body.

But it was so hard when all he did was watch, beg and act.

Act on every sexual desire once you entered the room.

“W-What’re you doing Jayj. .” You whispered, feeling your cheeks burn pink as your best-friend humped you under the covers. His hips rutting into your clothed core as he found home inside your arms once again, this time, you were surrounded by all the Pogues. Gathering together to watch a movie Sarah suggested.

When you pulled up in nothing but your skimpy pajamas, JJ felt every gear in his head turn as he bolted to cradle you towards the couch. Gently pushing you down before sinking between your legs and nestling his cock inside the gap ontop of your sweet, warm pussy.

“I’m gonna cum, just let me. .” He whispered into your ear, letting his head fall into the crook of your neck as he drowned his sounds with a chaste kiss across your skin. You bit your lip feeling his length rub against your core, the friction he caused turning you on crazily as you listened to his quiet sinful songs.

“So pretty Y/N, jus’ need you so bad.” He whimpered before releasing into his boxers, stuttering his hips as he came hard and fast. The wet patch seeping through his fabric and all over your clothed heat, you fought the urge to groan in annoyance. Having to stay seated with the remnants of his cum splattered on both of your crotches.

He made sure you would stay there for the rest of the night, knowing how dirty it was for you to sit there covered in his cum. It made him almost want to coat you in another load.

It was the weirdest thing, realising the boy who you’ve known since third grade desired you everyday. JJ was always attractive in your eyes, but you never seemed to step over that best-friend boundary in worry he’d reject you, or that your friendship would crumble to pieces once you squeezed it with hope for friendly affection replaced by love.

But he looked past all problems aside, just following the pathway of lust and determination as he made it his every mission to feel, touch, and talk to you. He was obsessed, crazed at himself for waiting so long.

He enjoyed knowing you flustered at his gazes, following your train of thought to the night he fucked your brains out, or the hours before where you’d let him eat your pussy. You wanted to help him, always needing to reassure JJ you were forever there.

Understanding his current home situation, you became his outlet the moment he realised how shitty his life was. Breaking down in tears and sobbing inside your embrace.

So, the boy took it one step further than just a place to stay or eating food you prepared. You became everything he needed, everything.

Eventually, one night turned into many, and friendly hugs turned into stolen gropes and whispered temptations.

“You need me to do what?” You repeated, feeling embarrassment flourish your blossoming cheeks as he stood in front of you, all teary eye’d. The scene of his sadness made you want to help him further, to draw him away from whatever bothered him so harshly. Knowing it was his piece of shit father who neglected his kindness, painting your perfect boy’s skin black and blue.

JJ sniffled, wiping his nose with his wrist before shrugging. As much as the interaction with his dad affected him, he knew he was putting on a more ruthless production, all in hopes you’d let him fall into you once more.

“JJ, i don’t know. I want to help you but, that just seems—,”

“I know, i know. I jus’ really want to feel you Y/N.” His voice croaked, and it sent a pang to your heart. Watching his lips quiver as he sat in front of you all weary and burdened, a sigh left your lips as you pulled him in. Closing a gap between the two of you as your arms wrapped around his shuddering frame.

“Okay.”

His eyes widened as you agreed, pulling away from the hug and peeling off every piece of clothing you wore. His cock jolted to life as he pushed himself against your head board, your body walking towards him seductively as you unzipped his shorts.

“This what you want J? My lips around your dick?” You murmured, mouth watering at the sight of his thick cock pulsing after your smooth mouth. He nodded vigorously as your mouth gathered his leaking tip, sucking on it gently before taking his entire length.

He was a mess before you, hands tangled into your hair as he moaned and fucked your mouth. Salvia trailing down your chin as his force picked up nailing into your raw throat.

“Just a blessing aren’t you? Gonna cum princess, keep doing that. .Shit!”

JJ breathed heavily, his body sizzling and mindset foggy as he released his hot white ropes of cum inside your mouth. Sliding across your tastebuds and falling deeper down your throat. You gagged as he shoved you lower, spilling every last drop into your mouth and keeping you there to watch you swallow his filth.

JJ made it very clear he was into you, publicly voicing his opinions whenever you were close. To your face or even just with Pope, wearing a large prideful smirk trying so hard not to spill your secret meet ups.

“Dude, you’re such a pervert.” Pope chuckled shaking his head slowly, JJ’s grin only widened as he watched you laugh alongside Sarah. Laid out on the beach towel soaking in the sun, glistened in tanning oil that ran down the valley between your tits.

“Can’t tell me you haven’t thought about hitting that, like really man! She’s a fucking sex dream, i mean look at her.”

His lips reddened from the way he bit it religiously, shifting in his position as he felt his cock swell at the sight of your half naked body. Pope grimaced at his comments, shaking his head at the boy again.

“Of course Y/N is attractive, but don’t you think you’re being a bit weird? That’s your best friend, y’know?”

“I’m not a child Pope, i’m simply appreciating her beauty—,”

“With a weird sex craze to it.”

JJ rolled his eyes.

“So what, i’m not gonna sit here and deny what i’m feeling. I’m as honest as they come Pope, who cares if i lust after my best friend. Can’t help she’s everything i want.”

[atsadi-shenanigans]

FSBE 12 - Emotional Damage

You make an observation.

On AO3.

Y’all walk. Everything is dim and gloom. Things move outta the corner of your eye and whispers skirt along the edges of your hearing.

Shadowheart seems to still be immune. Her eyes is fever bright.

The fuck does it mean to be in a cult in a place with literal, physical gods.

Fuck.

After an hour or two, Astarion comes drifting back down the line. Dread curls tight in you.

But y’all’re dating. Right? That means communicating. That’s what everybody says. That’s what most of your therapists talked (at) to you about. You just ain’t, like, listened very well.

You take a breath. This is about more than just you. This is about someone other than you, too. So you turn to him. “Good mor—”

“I wanted—” Astarion says at the same time.

The both of you shut up. Then do a little verbal dance, like trying to out polite somebody through the door in front of you.

You win.

“I wanted to apologize,” Astarion says first. There’s a hint of his usual lilting smarm, but it’s too clipped around the edges to be entirely smooth. “For last night. I’m usually, ah, better up to the challenge.”

Oh. When he, well. But you read that plenty of guys do that. Girls, too (you came on his hand in maybe a couple minutes last night, which might be a personal record). You were both going at it, so you don’t really see any reason for him to be so stiff about it. But he’s striding around like some Victorian butler, back yardstick straight, chin perfectly level to the ground (you read British royals train themselves to walk like that).

This man is usually all twirling hands and shoulder shimmies.

You debate it. Decide to take your chances. Lift your hand and flick the shoulder of his armor.

“It’s all good,” you say, when he glances (sharply) to you. “I liked. Um. Being with you.”

“How encouraging,” he says.

The rest of the group is mostly in front of y’all, with Karlach taking up the rear. You hope like hell they mind their own damn business, since half of them got pointy ears and you assume that means they all got super hearing. Fucking close ass quarters.

“How’re you doing?” you say. It’s usually the next step in small talk.

Astarion smiles. There’s something off about it. It’s a little too…perfect. Composed, even.

Fake.

“I’m quite well, all things considered. Rather eager to show you a full sampling of my portfolio, once we get the chance.”

Is he just nervous? Ashamed, maybe? There’s a whole parody song about coming in your pants. He might be worried he, what, disappointed you?

(It did the opposite. It…kinda went to your head in the moment, before he ran off. What an interesting thing to learn about yourself, his soft grunts filling your memory as he clutched at you and the glimpse of his face drawn tight—).

You shake your head. You’re having a conversation, goddamnit, not daydreaming about how he sounds mid-orgasm.

Although you could hear it again. Tonight, even, he seems to be offering. Twenty-five years, give or take, since puberty and you didn’t care much about all that. Felt horny, sometimes, but not really connected to any person (you did have your collection of toys, though, cause you’re a curious kind). Now this man got to you and woke up something in you and your body perks up at the slightest hint of him like a starved dog.

Still.

There’s a weird remoteness to him. And you don’t wanna push things too fast. Right?

“I’m getting kinda rusty on the Chondathan, actually,” you say.

“What?” Comes out flatter than fucking Kansas. The man nearly stops dead.

Ah fuck, you fucked it. Ryan fucking Meadows ghosted you for being frigid and weird and you’re difficult and isolated and, and…

“Chondathan? That you was teaching me?” Because by god, this was the road you turned down and you can’t pull a u-turn now. You just gotta plow further on. “We haven’t used that. Since the Underdark. And I think I’m forgetting it. But it was fun. And seemed important?”

The way he rolled the r’s back at you. The way the words twisted in his smooth voice. The only thing human (kinda) down there. The only other living (mostly) thing that spoke. The tether that meant you wasn’t alone.

“I,” Astarion says. Blinks. Then that weird smile slips back on. “If you like. I do have a few books we’ve picked up along the way.”

And you cannot, can not stop the high sound you make. A month or more. Fucking weeks of sitting around at night, waiting to fall asleep. Sore. Aching. Too tired. Fucking bored.

“Holy fuck, I miss books so bad. Brainworms and monsters and murder and all that shit, I could deal with so much better if I could fucking read.”

Astarion’s lips purse, and he taps his chin with one finger. “Yes, you did mention a ridiculous public library.”

Gale makes a sudden movement ahead.

You kinda doubt he’s got any kids books, though. Nothing you could sound out, let alone comprehend on the little you’ve grasped so far (yet).

“What’re your books about?” You hope to hell they ain’t all religious texts or old essays collections of Old Man Philosopher Yells at Clouds. Historically on Earth, those were the only things valuable enough for people to want to preserve, all copying by hand. Unless they got printing presses here. In which case, could they have novels?

Astarion leans in close (it’s goddamn ridiculous how distracting he smells) and says, “I honestly haven’t a clue. I snatch them up to sort out later.”

Practical, if heavy. Well, maybe not for the average person. Who didn’t grow up in a fuck ass cult out in the sticks that treated anything not the Bible or the printed pamphlets of the Pastor as contraband (you’d been so nervous the first time you ever stepped into the city library) (the lord was gonna strike you dead) (the devil was gonna enter your soul and possess you) (holy shit there was so many and you wanted all of them).

“We can do a book haul,” you say. Which you then have to explain, and this time Gale just stops to let y’all catch up so he can listen in, not even bothering to hide it).

The road curves down and ends in a fuck off giant of a dead tree, fallen on its side over a crevasse. What looks a lot like wagon ruts carve up along that dead trunk.

You’re careful to follow in the exact footsteps of Wyll out front, and absolutely not look anywhere but your next step and the bank beyond. And not visualize your foot slipping, ankle folding, the tumble into the long dark below.

“Would you,” you start, mostly so you can distract yourself. Only to realize how presumptuous you’re being. But Astarion lifts an eyebrow, cause you started a question and need to finish it. “I mean. I don’t wanna be rude. Or demanding or nothing. But um. Would you mind? Reading to me? You can say no.”

“Doing alright back there?” Wyll says, once y’all are across.

You lift a thumb. Which you also then have to explain. Some gestures are the same here, but that one ain’t. Weird.

Astarion watches you, head cocked. Something strains around his eyes. Disappears the second you return your attention to him.

“Of course, my dear. It just seems a waste when we could be enjoying our time with other means.”

His hand in your pants. Maybe even your hand in his pants.

Your body flushes hot and tingling. Greedy. But also, y’know, fucking books.

Gale makes an odd sound and falls back further to join Karlach. You can feel her grin on the back of your head.

“I. I do, um. Like that,” you say. A lot. You’d probably ruin your panties here in a minute or two as your body starts to holler about it. “But, I dunno. That’d get boring if that’s all we do, huh?”

Astarion’s face changes. Or the angle does, or the torchlight hits it odd and you been spending too much time staring at him. Like repeating a word too many times, until it don’t sound real. A twitch, a flicker of something, and he looks like a different person.

His eyes. They’re…round. Ain’t never seen them that young. It makes him look…younger. Softer, maybe. Only for a second. Just enough to clock it. Then he twists himself back to smarm. Lifts a hand and presses it to his chest all offended southern belle, and gives a tiny gasp.

“Boring? Oh darling, have I left you so unsatisfied? Perish the thought. Only, you sounded quite pleased when I joined you last night.”

Said loud enough for everybody to hear. Do not glance back, Shadowheart. Don’t she fucking dare. She fucking offered you birth control, she knows what y’all’re about.

“Oh, what an interesting stone formation over there,” Gale says behind y’all.

You want to swat Astarion’s arm. You want to swat him so bad.

And the reply comes to you. Perfect. Sharp. A glance to his crotch and a crook of your eyebrow and you could say “really” all flat and he would know exactly what you was talking about.

But he ran off last night. Fucking apologized to you about it, and this seems…this is covering. All of it. It washes over you all cold and syrupy. His approach, what he’s said, his offer. He’s…worried. What, that you don’t like him no more? That you don’t want him no more?

That perfection in your mind would hurt him. Maybe more than you even know. You can see that clear as day, and the thought makes your heart ache (jesus fuck, you’re in so fucking deep).

You ain’t gonna do that to him. And fuck everybody else being nosy or judgy to you. You gagged down enough shame on the farmstead for years. You ain’t gonna choke down one drop more. Especially not here. Like this.

You lift your chin. Meet his gaze. “My people got a saying about too much of a good thing turning it sour. If all y’all eat is chocolate, you get sick. So yeah, I did like it. And if you don’t mind, darlin, I’d like you to read to me tonight. You, you got a nice voice.”

Probably didn’t need the last part, judging from Karlach’s tiny squeal and Shadowheart’s face pinching so hard you can see it in fucking profile. But it happened, and it seems to have whammied your target. Man actually takes a step back before he catches himself. And there’s them wide eyes again. Like…like you. In them early days. When Sasha or one of the group home neighbors baked some cookies and brought them to you, and you wasn’t used to getting anything but basic rations and a new dress when yours got too roughed up to patch, because asking for more was a sin. Decadence opens the door to the devil.

To this man, one compliment is a whole tray of cookies. A gift he wasn’t expecting. Something that didn’t even occur to him.

Your heart hurts again.

“I, of course,” he says, all quiet.

Up ahead, Wyll calls out. “I see light ahead!”

[gods-no-longer-tread-here]

y'all I will Never be okay over how Shepard is like. LITERALLY Grunt's mom, no matter if you play femShep or broShep.

You pick up Grunt after his "father" dies. You go to a semi-private room, attended to by a midwife AI who's there specifically to make sure nothing goes wrong. You spend some time agonizing mentally rather than physically, if, like me, you are an anxious wreck despite knowing that he's a good kid due to spoilers by friends. You release him from his womb. Grunt falls out all gross and wet and spluttering because this is his first real breath.

AND YOU JUST. RAISE HIM. AS YOUR OWN. BC YOU'RE HIS MOM NOW.

You literally walk him through puberty. You stand there and tell him his feelings are valid, if scary, and he should talk to a doctor to make sure he's okay. When he's told to choose the people he trusts most to stand beside him, he chooses the only person he respects: you, Commander Shepard.

He asks you to send him youtube videos of his favorite animal, that's so fucking "Mommy I wanna watch the funny kitty again"-coded!!!!!

Anyway. they make me Weep.

[kit-williams]

Can I get some cream pie action with Tulio?

This is at the start of my inbox...

I guess happy Mating Press March

Male Lead: Tulio Female Lead: Psychi Universe/AU: Warhammer 40k/Yandere Space Marines Canon Status: I dunno probably not its why I gave it the ending that I did I let the spirit of the fic take me TW: Smut, Yandere behavior, Tulio behavior, dubcon?, cream pie Tag List: @bispecsual @egrets-not-regrets @moodymisty @bleedingichorhearts @liar-anubiass-blog

Note: Yeah keeping the canon status format thing from Fluffuary it's helpful for these sorts of asks.

The spice wine rushed over their tongues as it flowed freely and by the throne he wished he could allow such things to get him somewhat intoxicated but he would not stoop so low as to drinking mjod. He looked over to Psychi who wasn't used to such fine wines as her cheeks were flushed and given how her tunic was he could see how the tops of her breasts were flushed as well.

He forces himself to think about fighting tyrannids instead of the thoughts of how soft those would feel against his face... or how his tongue would run against her nipple... how he would suckle hard like a hungry babe. He grits his teeth as he forgets about the foul xeno he was suppose to be thinking about and thinks about the woman drinking and eating with him naked.

"Tulio?" She slurs softly as his eyes look to her and notice how her eyes are looking down... he follows her gaze and his face flushes as his own tunic is doing a terrible job to hide his desire.

"P-Psychoula I can explain." He felt like he was going through puberty again.

"No need Tulio." She says putting down her goblet as she crawls into his lounge chair and the wine must have made his darling bold as her hand starts to pet the cloth covered cock.

It twitches under her ministrations... of course it would for her hands. Tulio can't help but moan like some sort of virgin with the way her hand touches him. "Psychoula!" He bites his cheek to stop cumming right there.

His cry out causes her to flinch her hand away but she still felt emboldened as she leans forward with tears in her eyes, "Tulio please I have to repay you somehow!" He goes to stop her but she undoes the ties for her tunic letting it fall to her hips bearing her breasts to him and she crawls between his legs nuzzling his clothed cock. "Please... let me repay you." She hiccups softly.

He shouldn't he really shouldn't... it isn't proper.... so why was he undoing his tunic?! Why did he order her to undo her hair... of course it was to thread his fingers through her hair griping a handful as he watches her run her tongue against his cock. He shutters as he watches her lick a pearl of precum from the tip of his cock watching the way the white pearl of cum smears upon the pink of her tongue. How her eyes are half lidded as she lavishes her affections upon his flesh... running her hands up and down the shaft that isn't receiving her direct attention.

Tulio grits his teeth as he resists bucking up... as lurid as his desires and dreams may get he knows she has limits and he can't hurt her... but the way she tries to take as much as she can in her mouth... he hears her gag softly and the sensation of her saliva running down his cock is too much. He gently pulls on her hair, "Off now." He orders and she pulls off with a pop as she pants softly. She rubs her face and the flesh of her breasts against him.

He should stop. He should stop.... why isn't he stopping?! The voice inside his head whimpers as he grabs her chin and pulls her into a deep kiss tasting himself mingling with the spiced wine as he is doing everything wrong as he doesn't spend the time to prep her he just rubs his cock head against her cunt and then feels how she pushes herself down onto him... slowly pushing down each inch after inch... his hand against her cheek as he watches her get that blissed fucked out look.

"Please Tulio... please..." She begs softly and he bucks his hips up as his reply. He grunts and huffs and snarls as he has to restrain himself from burying hard and fast... he wants her and she's there on him pleading for him to fuck her and he wants to do so much! So MUCH! To her but he has a limited amount of time... unless he just keeps going until his body gives out. He pants at the horrid thought as they seem to spiral out of him as she... should be awake for these moments... but she didn't need to be awake is what the voice in his head says.

He came inside of her at those thoughts and lurid desires. He flipped her over less then gently as he looked down at her spread cunt still wrapped around his cock as his cum overflowed the sides and he pulled her legs to his chest as he thrusted down listening to her cries of pleasure and mercy as he knew she was overstimulated but just a little more! He bucked down hard, grunting like an animal, as he chanted her name and she mewled his own name so pathetically and at his mercy. He moans as he felt her walls strangle his cock and he flooded her fertile valley with his seed looking down at the way her walls were so spread as cum stained her thighs and oozed down her ass, making its way over her puckered bud. Tears left their mark on her face as she was sprawled over his lounge chair just looking up at him whimpering.

But he wanted more? Why? Why was she looking at him like that?

"Tulio?" She whimpered before flinching-

He snapped awake feeling his hearts racing and his thighs moist and his own release filling his nose. He rubs a hand over his eyes groaning before he realizes something is on his arm... and that something is a someone... a Psychi just snuggling against his arm... the chill of the night not an issue with how she was wrapped around his arm like a hot water bottle keeping her warm. He groans feeling like an awful creature... it was not often that she slept over and whenever she did... he had such intense sexual dreams which made him feel like a monster just barely hanging on...

But he wasn't one... he reassures himself as he tucks her into bed... and he watches her for awhile... before he takes a small piece of her clothing to release the rest of such pent up feelings.

[pogueswrld]

nsfw | peter parker 🦢

this is inspired by this (nsfw twt link!! why was that so embarrassing to admit omg) and this is a hc that peter has hyperspermia 🤞

after being bitten by that spider, everything was suddenly so much more than how it was before for peter. he was a teenager going through puberty, so everything was already heightened for him, but with the toxins of the spiders running through his veins and mixing in with his dna... peter didn't stand a chance.

before the spider, peter remembers distinctively how his body reacted to the random bursts of hormones every other day- he'd sweat, lock himself in the bathroom all day, and take multiple cold showers because he read somewhere that they could help. it worked, most of the time. but now as an adult with unfiltered stamina and hyper-everything, none of those old methods work anymore.

he simply could not function properly once there was a twitch from his cock. it's like it had a mind of its own, coming alive at the most random of times, and refusing to leave until he rubs one out wherever he was.

the first time it happened was after a robbery he stopped. as the rush of adrenaline and excitement slowly died down, he began to realize the strain of his cock against the latex fabric of his suit. he'd meant to adjust himself, try to push it down and away, thinking if he ignored it then it'll disappear, but the moment his hand made contact with the fabric and pulled it just a tiny bit around, a whimper escaped his lips. he tried again, this time cupping his member, and a shiver twiddled up his spine.

he simply couldn't do anything without whining at the friction he received, he felt somewhat pathetic.

and that wasn't the worst part. personally, peter thinks the worst part about coming to age with the toxins of a spider that advanced every part of him to nearly unrealistic standards, is how much bodily fluids he is able to exceed. he cannot ignore an erection as the simplest of movements will send a wave of pleasure through him, and he can't hold down on his noises any better than biting back his snarky remarks while fighting criminals on the daily, so he's out to exclude himself somewhere private. if he did manage to pull out his cock, the amount of precum dripping from his slit and down either his suit or straight to the ground was unholy, and it would never stop until he managed to push himself to the brink of an orgasm.

and if he did manage to reach his high, there was no stopping the flow of ropes of cum ejecting from him, and there was no possible way for him to keep quiet. his whines, grunts, groans, and moans would echo throughout the space he was currently occupying, and a puddle of his seed would have painted either the wall or the ground of the area.

he was always red in the cheeks by the end of each session, but he can't help it, everything about him has just grown to an abnormally hyper level and there was nothing he can do about it.