#how do kids think they don’t need laptops???

[ravenlilyrose]

Laptop stopped working. Have only phone. Am not enjoying this.

[starlooove]

The breakdown is gonna hit

[2tarbell]

vanilla birthday cake — send some dialogue 4 a short drabble with rafe + any of my !readers

mean!rafe + crybaby!reader “i don’t wanna know”

HAKSJSKSJKS

MEAN!RAFE + CRYBABY!READER ⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚

participate in my bday celebration!!!

rafe had had just about enough. he wasn’t very patient to begin with but he was trying to be better — for her.

his poor little girlfriend that had a never ending supply of sorrow and tears. normally, around him, she was content as could be. and he was happy to indulge her and be the one to soothe her when external factors hurt her sensitive heart.

but she just wouldn’t stop crying.

today, she had to have set a new record. whimpering away next to him while rafe tried to get some work done on his computer. she knew better than to interrupt him when he was working, but crybaby just needed some attention. some love.

what if he was all quiet ‘cause he realized how annoying she was? what if—

“okay, what’s a-matter?”

her watery eyes flickered up to his deep blue and thundering ones.

rafe stared at her impatienty — fingers poised as if about to start typing. but his eyes held a question in them. an intensity that makes crybaby shrink into herself, eyes shifting and babbling for an answer while her shaky hands played with the buttons on her shirt.

“wha—? oh, um, s’nothing…”

not a good liar, but even worse at holding eye contact. rafe huffed and closed the laptop abruptly. he spread his legs further, setting the device somewhere beside him. she could be so difficult sometimes.

“kid, you’re over there, sniffin’ and shit — what’s the problem?” his voice was gruff and low, but so familiar and comforting in its own way. running a hand over his buzzed head in a way that always sent her heart racing.

“well, uh, i— i jus’— um…” the stuttered words came out clumsily, not a coherent thought in her head as she stared wide eyed at him. tears began to well anew.

“okay, okay— shut up. i don’t wanna know anymore, jus’— c’mere.”

god, she looked dumb with that look on her face. all frozen and tense as he tries to coax her closer. like a deer and a hunter.

rafe tilts his head to the side, a small smirk settling on his lips. he sees the moment she relaxes; eyes still wet and lip still trembling but she’s scooting closer nonetheless.

he scoops crybaby into his lap, strong arms circling her and pulling her into his chest. rafe sighs like it’s hard work — but the concerned furrow of his brow says otherwise.

she’s still sniffing, nuzzling her face further and further into his chest as she straddles him. trying to disappear fully into his warmth and affection. it’s like just being in his arms sends her into a daze. it’s made worse by his hand pulling her chin up, forcing their eyes to meet.

“what’s wrong, baby?”

her rafe. that soft mumble only she’s privy to. his gentleness entirely reserved for her, for her moments of need. yet, she loves when he’s mean to her — in that dirty, knowing way he is. when her heart just feels so heavy and she doesn’t wanna think anymore. she craves that fuzziness only he can make her feel, a warmth pooling in her underwear. she needs it.

her voice is meek and barely audible when she huffs, “i jus’— today was so—”

rafe rolls his eyes, but tugs her closer. pressing firm kisses to her hairline and letting her ramble on about all the hard things she went through. she doesn’t register his wandering hands. it’s only when his fingertips are breaching her lace panties when she finally notices how he’s pushed her skirt up.

“hmf— rafey—”

her slickness makes a groan vibrate through his chest, fingers pressing forward until he’s prodding at that spongey spot just right. crybaby is hiccuping and sniffling again — eyes pitifully squeezed shut from the intrusion.

“shuddap, let daddy do this, yeah? getchu to stop whinin’ for once.”

based off this little thing i wrote!!!

[peachesofteal]

how’s clover going to manage that conversation next time she goes into his office..

or will she even go again?

also i think dr riley is so interesting as a character already.. i need to take a little look in your brain for a bit bc whatever’s cooking up there is good shit

psych au - 18+ - tw for mental health, ptsd, extreme suicidal ideation, Clover is a mess. Dr Riley crosses a line. Part One / Part Two / Part Three

You're kind of stuck to the floor, surrounded by beige walls, and beige carpet, the waiting room's obnoxious brown beige clock ticking on the wall.

All of it feels very loud.

You took the train again today, and stepped closer to the yellow line. You stepped over it, even, too aware of the man to your left's gaze, his beady, nervous unblinking eyes, calculating what exactly were you trying to do.

Yeah, kid. What exactly are you trying to do?

It crosses your mind again, for more than a split second this time. Throwing yourself onto the tracks. Closing your eyes. Letting your head go quiet, finally. No one talks about how easy it is. How they just come and scrape you up, load what’s left into a black bag, and clean up the scene. One second, one decision, and you’d be gone, eyes closed, mind empty.

No one would blame you. Another service member with PTSD. What a surprise.

"And did you hear what happened? I wouldn't be able to live with myself after that, either."

It's bad now. It's gotten worse. Therapy was supposed to help but you're not made for civilian life. You're not supposed to be here, and you've tried saying it over and over until you're blue in the face, but Dr. Riley doesn't budge. He asks you trust him, but you don’t know how. You can't think here. Can't sleep here. You close your eyes and feel fire, hear screams. The best you can do is go to the gym for hours and try to work yourself into exhaustion.

You sit in the chair with your feet flat on the floor, and try to breathe.

The shame, the stupidity of the other night is pressing against you, boxing you into a corner, burning you alive from the inside out. You’ve tried to blot it clean, black it out, but the single second of his lips on your lingers like an infection in your blood.

You didn't want him. You don't. He just... understands you. Makes you feel seen. It's his job. You're getting it mixed up.

Or-

You do want him. You do so badly it’s heavy, sticky in the air like summer heat.

Each time the second hand ticks, your skin itches. It burns. Something prickles. You're not trying to breathe, you're holding your breath.

You can't do this.

You're up and beelining for the door before you can talk yourself out of it. You can't do this.

"Clover." A firm voice calls from across the lobby, and you freeze. Stomach knotted in dread, you find him holding the office’s hallway door open. "My office."

It's first time you've heard him issue a command, and you can't help your response.

You snap to.

He settles in the chair across from the couch, laptop balanced on his thighs. He’s wearing dark khakis of some kind, and they stretch over his quads, long sleeve navy blue shirt tight across his chest. It’s… distracting.

You look away. Pointedly.

"I-"

"You will never put yourself in danger like that again." He grits, and you slowly blink. "You wandered off from a bar, in the middle of the night, nearly too plastered to stand. I asked you to stay put, and you-"

“Disobeyed a direct order?” You volunteer cheekily, his eyes narrowing.

“This isn’t a fuckin’ joke.” The curse straightens your spine into a steel rod.

“I… I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to… do any of that.” Your head hangs in shame, tears fighting their way through your control, your efforts to smother them, tamp down your emotions.

“I know,” his voice is soft, a blanket, a balm, and you close your eyes. “You’re going through something very difficult Clover. I don’t fault you for anything you’ve done.” The forgiveness doesn’t settle like you want it to, acrid in your throat, bile churning in your stomach as you try to digest it. Why? What did you want in its place?

Something else.

Even now, with him across from you, your heart trills like a hummingbird’s. It’s confusing, it hurts. You think of the yellow line, the one meant to forbid you from stepping to closer to the tracks.

The couch dips on your left, weight compressing the cushion, a large, heavy thigh just an inch from yours.“Can you tell me what you’re thinking about?”

Can you?

“I want to go home.” You whisper it away, trying to lessen the strain on your heart. “I don’t… I’m sorry, I should have cancelled. I’m not feeling very good.” Fingertips graze your shoulder. You rocket to your feet.

He stands and latches onto your wrist before you can step away. “Sit down.”

“I-“

“It’s not a request. Sit. Down.” He’s turned towards you now, crack in the cushions between your bodies, but he still holds your wrist. “I want to help you.” He says softly, holding your gaze without wilting. “But you have to let me, I can’t do it unless you meet me halfway.”

“I’m trying.”

“Are you? How long have you been drinking like that?” Shit. You turn your face away from him, blinking at an empty spot on the wall.

A palm presses to the back of your neck, his signature heat bleeding through cell and bone, shooting straight to your heart. The sliver of a wolf, a predator, gleams in his eyes again, for the first time since your first session, but this time it’s tempered with silk, easy calm, vibrating from him to you.

You stare at him. Dissect the scars, the fault lines, the weathered tissue, torn open and healed anew.

Healed. A novel concept. A foreign idea, so far away you don’t know what it looks like.

The hand at your neck slips away with a sigh. “Clover, listen. Normally in this situation… we’d assign you a new provider. We’ve crossed a serious professional boundary, and the appropriate thing would be for me to remove myself from your care team.”

“Wait… no. I mean, you didn’t do anything. It w-was me, it was my fault.”

“It’s not your fault. I’m your doctor, I’m the one in a position of power here. What happened-“

“I’m sorry.” Your vision goes blurry with tears. “I’m sorry, I was just d-drunk and I didn’t know what I was doing,” you’re gasping, lungs soaked with salt, despair, panic rife and cleaving through your chest, “I didn’t mean to, I messed up, I didn’t- I didn’t mean- captain, I-“ the height of your hysteria is turning dark, dredging up the things you tried to buried, the images you’ve tucked inside a black box and dropped to the bottom of an ocean. Suddenly, you can’t breathe. He’s talking to you, you can hear it, but the words don’t make sense, the scrape of your breathing too loud.

“You’re in my office Clover. You’re with me.” You shake your head, but it does nothing to calm you. “Try to breathe.”

“C-can’t.”

“Okay. Try to ground yourself. Tell me your name.” You spit it out, first and last, but it doesn’t help. Everything feels like too much. His fists clench, flexing open and shut, cords of muscle flexing before he grits something sharp under his breath and reaches.

He hooks you into his body, guiding you forward by the back of your head until your nose is in his neck and all you can feel, all you can see, or smell is him. It takes its toll, slowing your heart rate, breaths settling into a shaky pace in time with his, and you register the thumb stroking small circles against your neck, his nose in your hair.

“Just breathe.”

[tunatoge]

take a slice - s. gojo x reader

contents: teen!gojo x teen!reader, angsty with a fluffy (?) ending, mentions of geto and haibara, gojo can’t lose another person

you sit in your dark and nearly empty dorm room with your laptop propped up on your knees. you have the cheapest plane tickets pulled up on the screen as you gnaw on your fingernails, wondering if this is really what you want to do.

for nearly thirty thousand yen you could get a flight to the incheon international airport and away from your life as a jujutsu sorcerer. you know it wouldn’t last long until the higher ups found you in korea but you were ready to get even a little shred of normal, domestic living. right now, you couldn’t handle being a sorcerer after suguru’s defection and haibara’s death. you wanted out.

your cursor hovers over the ‘complete transaction’ button as you think about how easy it would be to run away and how difficult it would be to restart your life. it’d be easier to stick around with satoru and shoko but you can’t seem to find it in yourself to want to. it’s tempting to throw everything you know away and restart from the beginning. you could finally think about dating someone without endangering them, or adopting a pet without potentially leaving it owner-less after an ill timed death.

you groan at your thoughts and shut your laptop as you fall backwards and grip at your hair.

“goddamnit!” you hiss, swiping your laptop off of your lap and onto your bed next to you. hot, fat tears roll down your cheeks as you pull and tug at your hair in frustration.

you roll back and forth in your bed, knocking into your laptop over and over. a small knock makes you stop as you turn to look at your door, satoru leaning in the doorway with his pillow under his arm. satoru frowns at you and you know he can tell what you were planning on doing but instead of mentioning it he makes his way into your bed and forces himself between your arms. you quietly cuddle with him as he hikes his leg over your hip and presses his face into your chest. after a few minutes, you move to grab your laptop out from underneath you to confirm your flight.

“don’t run away,” satoru whispers, his voice laced with hurt and exhaustion. “please.”

you inhale sharply as you roll away from him and open your laptop. you and satoru stare at your bright computer screen in the darkness of your room. for nearly thirty thousand you could be in a different country within a few hours. you already had your visa and everything else planned out; this was just the last thing you needed.

you turn to satoru with a small frown, carefully watching his expression as he looks up at you with sorrowful eyes. you have a feeling he won’t try to stop you or even beg you to reconsider.

“i’m scared,” you finally whisper. “i don’t think i can make it as a sorcerer; i don’t think i’ll live a long life exorcizing curses.” you swallow the bile that rises in your throat as you think about abandoning satoru and shoko and the two kids satoru saved earlier in the week.

you grasp at your hoodie strings as you turn back towards your laptop. tears roll down your cheeks and splatter onto your laptop. you let out a loud sob as you clutch your face in your hands.

“i don’t wanna’ die!” you wail, “i wanna’ live a long life with everyone i love around me! i wanna’ raise a dog or a cat, and i wanna’ be loved and married!” snot runs down your nose as you wipe at your face with your sleeves.

“you won’t die,” satoru tells you. “i won’t let you die. you and i, we can be teachers here at the school and live our lives as teachers and i’ll take your missions and make sure you’re safe. that kid, megumi, he can summon demon dogs with his technique. we can raise him and his sister and his dogs together.” satoru reaches up and grabs your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours as he looks at you with a steely look in his eyes. “and i love you and we can get married whenever you’re ready.”

your heart stutters as you look at him in shock. throughout the past two years shoko and utahime had insisted that satoru had feelings for you, but you always thought they were lying. you told yourself that he had feelings for suguru, that he only ever had eyes for suguru. your lips tremble as satoru sits up and takes your face in his palms.

“so please,” he whispers, “don’t leave me.”

you nod as you shut your laptop and let him pull you into his chest, his fingers clutching at your hair as you cry.

[pnutbutter-n-j-elyy]

When They Accidentally Bring Up an Insecurity |Hyunjin

The evening was quiet in the shared apartment you and Hyunjin lived in. The air was filled with a gentle hum from the city outside and the occasional flicker of streetlights casting shadows on the walls. You were sprawled on the couch, your laptop open in front of you, surrounded by papers and notes. A mountain of work and a looming deadline had you feeling overwhelmed, and the pressure was building up inside you.

But you couldn't manage the stress and just sat there, letting it ruminate in your mind that you had these deadlines.

So while you were getting some work done, it was getting done really slowly, and you were utterly exhausted.

But all your life you had been told you were lazy; so work ethic had been engrained in you, and you felt like sometimes it was all you knew how to do.

The deadlines making you stressed, but the stress not allowing you to work on the things that were due. But your deep seeded insecurity making it so you pushed yourself to work even when you weren't in the mental state to do so.

Hyunjin entered the living room, fresh from a dance practice, his face flushed and his clothes slightly damp with sweat.

His dark hair was a little bit stringy with perspiration, a testament to the amount of work he had put in.

"Baby, I'm home."

He greeted you with a warm smile, but his eyes quickly took in the scene of scattered papers and your furrowed brow. “Hey, you look like you’re buried under a lot of work. Everything okay?”

You forced a smile and tried to sound upbeat. “Yeah, just a bit of a tight deadline. I’ll get through it.”

The tall(ish) boy cocked his head at you and set down his duffel bag, opting to walk barefoot rather than put on the matching house slippers you guys had.

Yours were kicked off somewhere in the kitchen.

Hyunjin sat down next to you, glancing at the mess around you. “You know, you don’t have to take on everything at once. Maybe you should take a break or get some help.”

You shook your head, trying to push the frustration down. “I’ll be fine. I just need to power through it.”

Hyunjin’s gaze softened with concern. “I know you’re strong, but it’s okay to admit when you’re struggling. You don’t have to handle everything by yourself.”

"Hyunjin, I said I'm fine."

He huffed. "You're not fine Y/N. I see your obviously struggling."

"No, I'm not."

"Yes you are."

"Hyunjin stop-"

"No. Take a break."

"I need to get this done."

"Your mental health comes first." He stated firmly, collecting your papers.

"Hyunjin stop-"

"Not until you eat." He said collecting your papers. "You need to step away from this for a second-" He grabbed multiple piles of papers that were obviously separated and you let out a noise as Hyunjin put the piles together, then adding it into another pile of other papers.

"Hyunjin what the fuck?!" You exclaimed as you rushed up from the couch and started sorting through the papers. "Shit..." You groaned, feeling tears brim your eyes in anger and frustration and exhaustion. "Are you kidding me right now Hyunjin?" You grit out looking at him.

Hyunjin stood resolute. "No, I'm serious Y/N! You're mental health is declining! You're focused on work so much that you don't even have time to focus on anything else! Even taking care of yourself, are you seriously okay with that?!"

His voice was loud, and you logically knew he wasn't yelling at you; he didn't mean to yell, he wasn't angry he was concerned but you didn't want to process the reality of the situation.

So instead you burst out into tears.

Hyunjin's eyes immediately widened, thinking you were crying because of him.

"Baby- no, no, no, baby don't cry please...please..." He said making his way to you. "No, I didn't mean to make you cry...I'm sorry...baby...I'm sorry..."

You fell limp into his arms and he held you, his chin resting on top of his head as you cried into his chest.

His sweet nothings became silent when he realized you just needed him to hold you.

You felt secure in his embrace, his scent adding a level to that security.

It seemed that you two stood there forever, until Hyunjin looked down to see you had fallen asleep.

Hyunjin knew something was up as he moved you over to the couch, running his hands through your hair.

He let you sleep there, as he looked at your laptop, screen filled with things that he didn;t understand, but knew were of importance to your job.

He sighed and wished he could do something to help, looking at the pile of papers and realizing that he had probably messed up something based on your reaction.

You woke up, and the lights in your living room were still on, but the clock in it showed that it was 4 in the morning.

"Jagiya?" Hyunjin said quietly, rubbing his eyes as you sat up from his lap.

You noticed he was still in his practice clothes.

"I'm sorry I didn't mean to-"

Hyunjin shook his head, looking at you with tired eyes. "Are you okay?"

You blinked.

"Are you truly okay?" He asked quietly.

You swallowed and shook your head.

"Can you help me at least understand? Help me understand why work is so important that you set aside your needs?"

You opened your mouth, it felt dry but you spoke.

"I just have to." You said, not wanting to discuss things further at the moment.

Hyunjin was tempted to ask you to continue, but he knew you would come to him when you needed.

The next day went buy in a flash, as you spent most of it sorting out what Hyunjin had mixed together.

That evening, as you both settled down for bed, the tension from the previous day seemed to linger in the quiet space of your room. Hyunjin lay on his side, scrolling through his phone, while you lay on your back, staring at the ceiling.

“Hyunjin,” you said quietly, breaking the silence. “Do you ever get overwhelmed with things, but keep going to make other people happy?”

He looked over at you, his brow slightly furrowed. He set his phone down and turned his body to you. “Do you?”

You hesitated before responding, your voice tinged with vulnerability. “I'm tired but...I don't want to be called lazy. I've spent my entire life being labeled that and I came here to start over. Yet...I feel like...I'm not measuring up. Maybe those people were right to call me lazy. I'm stuck in a cycle of wanting to quit, because I'm tired to the point of tears Hyunjin, I'm tired.” You licked some of the tears off your top lip and gulped for air. "But I don't want people to think I'm quitting because I'm lazy I just don't know if I can handle it anymore."

Hyunjin’s expression shifted from curiosity to concern. He sat up, turning to face you fully. “Did my comment hurt you?”

The vulnerability in your voice had clearly affected him. He reached out and took your hand gently. “I don’t want you to think that it was meant to hurt you. Rather, love, I'm sort of disproving your insecurity...not invalidating but disproving. Because I think you work too much, love. I see you day after day work yourself until you can barely move. It hurts me to see you disregard yourself for something like work.”

You felt one tear escape as you looked at him, trying to keep your emotions in check. “It’s just hard when that's how I've programmed my brain."

Hyunjin’s expression softened further, and he scooted closer to you, pulling you into a comforting embrace. “I want you to know that it’s okay to lean on me when you’re feeling overwhelmed. You don’t have to go through everything alone. Your struggles are valid, and I’m here to support you.”

You nestled into his embrace, finding solace in the warmth of his presence. Letting yourself completely go. “I'm tired, Jinnie. I can't take it anymore.”

Hyunjin stroked your hair gently, his voice soothing. “Do you love me?”

You sniffed and nodded.

"Then, can you stop hurting the person I love most and let me take care of them?" He murmured while brushing your hair back from your face so it wouldn't stick to the tears.

You couldn't even reply, but by the way your fingers tightened their grip around his shirt he took it as enough of an answer.

The room was filled with a sense of calm as you both lay there together, the weight of the day slowly lifting. Hyunjin’s reassuring words and the comfort of his embrace helped to ease the anxiety you had been carrying and quickly lulled you to sleep.

In the months that followed, Hyunjin worked silently to make sure that you didn't have to feel stressed. He made you use up your vacation time- weeks upon weeks that had piled up due to your refusal to use them.

And the week before your vacation ended, Hyunjin came to you, squatting down in front of you as you sat on the floor of his art studio, covered in paint and splattering it everywhere in abstract expression. You had a real smile on your face as you looked up at him, a bit of red paint streaked across you making it look like you had a unibrow.

"Hi, Jinnie!" You exclaimed rubbing the paint onto your pants. Hyunjin smiled and spoke.

"You're happy." He stated.

"I am, it's...been really nice. Not having to work..." You bit your lip. "I go back next week."

Hyunjin licked his bottom lip. "How about you don't?"

You stared at him wide eyed.

"Come work with me. I talked to the company and explained everything. They're okay with you coming to work for us. You've always liked taking pictures, so they're willing to offer you a position as a photographer. It'll only be about 30 hours a week because of our other photographers; and you might not have to anything other than really be at the photoshoots to help out the others, but they're kind and you can still stay around us when you're not working. Or, you can help script some of our videos. Or my personal favorite is you just travel and hang out with me and let me invest all my money in you." His head was tilted slightly as he looked at you.

"Do...Can I really do that? Work for you guys? You won't think I'm lazy?"

Your hopeful and amazed tone broke Hyunjin's heart slightly, that the opportunity to work a less cumbersome job was something so foreign to you that you were that excited.

"Of course, baby." He said so quietly it was almost inaudible.

You nodded enthusiastically, looking for your phone. "I need to write my two weeks and-"

"No, baby. Just quit. Don't worry about the repercussions or anything. Let me take care of you. No one is going to call you lazy. I won't allow it. Because taking care of yourself is a job within itself. A never ending one at that."

He placed a kiss on your cheek.

"So, don't let that be an insecurity anymore. Let me take on your workload. Take all your effort."

He smiled.

"And put it into you, because you're the priority now."

@abovenyx @wolfs-archive @oddracha

@iyeeeverydee @parisanmorovati @seungmincenteric

@panbish-1209 @fxiry-vtt @sseawavee

@shuporanporang @amarecerasus @softkisshyunjin

@whoa-jo @meanergreener @rikibun

@ayyonoona @shinywombatcrusade @y4yayael

@skzstan12345 @mariteez @allys-reads

@jazziwritesthings @skzstannie @yongbokkiesworld

@kkkeopi @neverendingstay @moony-9

@minsungsthirdwheel @everlastingspring143 @joyofbebbanburg

[chaos-in-deepspace]

LADS: Knocked Up | 18+

Damn my laptop for this virus called "Brainrot" after I saw a post by @pixiiipie So anyway now we gotta do our due diligence and knock up these men. I don't make the rules but I will enforce them. Also Zayne turned out fluffy but Xavier and ESPECIALLY Rafayel get chaotic reader to the max.

♡(ᓀ‸ᓂ)♡ Disclaimer: This is an original fan work for “Love and Deepspace”. Do not repost on other platforms or plagiarize. All characters shown in this fic is 18+. ♡(ᓀ‸ᓂ)♡ Warnings: Joking of MPreg, Mentions of Pegging, Zayne Losing his sanity again, Crack taken seriously, suggestive themed ♡(ᓀ‸ᓂ)♡ Pairings: Xavier x Reader, Zayne x Reader, Rafayel x Reader. ♡(ᓀ‸ᓂ)♡ Synopsis: You decide to pop the question to your beloved boyfriend, "So can I knock you up?"

Blog Information | Masterlist

Xavier

Xavier looked so content, so vulnerable as you walked through the apartment. He was in the kitchen, grabbing a snack, when your arms wrapped around his midsection. Xavier hummed, noticing you and relaxing into your hold.

“Xavie baby, I have a question.” You said, your voice light and Xavier paused in his actions.

“What did you need?” He finally asked and you chuckled, your face pressed in his shoulder blades. He knew that snicker, it was one that you had whenever you were up to no good, a common theme these days.

“How’d you feel about me getting you preggers?” You finally asked. You could feel Xavier’s back tense up at the thought. You couldn’t see his face, but you were certain his eyes were wide like saucers at the moment.

“My star, you do realize that’s impossible, correct?” Xavier finally asked and you groaned into his back. He shuffled a bit until he could turn around, your body still wrapped around him but now your face was in between his pecs.

“We just aren’t trying hard enough, Xav. Trust me, I can do it.” You said, looking up at him with your pleading eyes. Xavier looked away from you, his cheeks a bit red at the thought of what you were asking.

“Where did this line of thinking even come from? Did you want kids?” He asked, looking at you with confusion. You couldn’t help but snicker at the thought and shook your head.

“I never said I wanted kids. I just was implying my want to breed you.” You stated it so bluntly that Xavier looked up at the ceiling as if asking for some divine intervention from your insanity.

“You want to somehow get me, a male, pregnant, yet you don’t want children?” Xavier said slowly, as if gauging the situation.

“Mpreg you, ya. That’s the goal. Make your boobies bigger.” You said with a nod. Xavier sighed as he grabbed your arms from around his waist and pulled them off. He pressed your arms against your chest as he leaned a bit.

“I think I need to go for a walk.” He said and you pouted.

“Without me?” You murmured and Xavier felt a small part of him breaking at the pleading look in your eyes. Despite how insane you were, he still loved you.

“You can join me if you stop this line of questioning.” He offered. You let out a hum, thinking things over before shaking your head.

“In that case, no. I’ll be here, waiting for you to come back, with rose petals on the bed. Have fun, love.” You said as you gave him a quick peck on the nose before getting things ready for his return.

Zayne

“Oh Zayne.” Your singsong voice came out, making the man in question stare over at you. He adjusted the glasses on his face, looking you over as he wondered what you wanted. Your voice was too sweet, too innocent. You were up to no good.

“Yes?” He said, closing the medical text he was currently reading for fun. You made your way over to his desk, sitting on the edge of it and smirking as his eyes went from your thighs to your face. You had just finished your check-up with him and opted to stay until his shift was over. That had been half an hour ago and you had grown bored.

You crossed your legs, flashing him a bit more skin as your head tilted, “I was thinking…I wanna get you pregnant.”

Out of everything Zayne had come to expect for you to say, that certainly hadn’t been it. He paused for a moment, looking at you then looking away just as fast. He took his glasses off and placed them in the front pocket of his lab coat.

“I’m sure I don’t need to be the one to remind you that I don’t possess the proper organs to carry a child. I would think you’d know this, however if you needed an extra lesson in reproductive health and basic human anatomy, I’d be more than happy to teach you.” He said with a sigh, leaning back in his chair.

He watched your mischievous smirk turn into a frown as you looked away. Your cheeks were slightly puffed up as you pouted; your legs were swinging half-heartedly as you gave the man a subtle silent treatment. 

Zayne could tell immediately that your mood had dropped, so he just sighed. You heard him clearing his throat and his chair rolling on the ground as he stood up. His arms were placed on either side of your legs as he looked at you with a serious expression. You finally looked back up at him, curious as to what he was up to.

You watched as a blush crept up to his cheeks, turning them red alongside his ears. He couldn’t even look at you as he spoke, “I never said that had to stop you from trying.”

Those words snapped you out of your funk as your jaw dropped. He still wasn’t looking at you, but he knew you were content by the little squeal you let out. You cupped his cheeks, immediately going to pepper his face with several kisses.

“Ah you’re the cutest, Zayne.” You said, leaving a few more kisses before forcing him to look at you, “For the record, I never had any plans on stopping.” You said and Zayne sighed.

“Of course you didn’t.” He murmured, making you smirk. He knew loving you came with a price, he just forgot that the price was his sanity.

Rafayel

“Hey fish boy, bend over and lemme breed that bussy and fill you with my babies.” You said unprompted as you looked at him. The poor man had been mixing paint as you sat down on the comfortable sofa across from him. Rafayel seemed to pause, your words processing in his head. You could see when they finally began making sense in his mind when his cheeks and ears began getting red.

Rafayel shot you a small pout, “I guess a good morning isn’t enough anymore?” He complained, making you snicker.

“Raf this is serious. I couldn’t sleep at all because it was all I could think of.” You said, now getting up to walk over to the artist. The man was already shrinking away, his body tense as he prepared to run off if need be.

“Then get a new brain…besides shouldn’t the role of getting someone pregnant be my job.” Rafayel finally asked, not able to make eye contact with you.

“Okay but who’s the submissive and breedable one between the two of us?” You asked and Rafayel gave you an unimpressed look.

“If you’re asking me, then that description would fit you.” He finally huffed.

“Absolutely not. Now come ooooooon, Raf.” You said, getting close enough to wrap your arms around his neck, “Lemme breed you. Please?”

Rafayel took your arms off him and turned around, his ears still a brilliant shade of red, “Absolutely not. I know I’m irresistible, but I’m not ready to have kids.” He said and you chuckled.

“I didn’t say we needed to have kids.” You finally said, not giving up as you now wrapped your arms around his back and placed a small kiss on the back of his neck. “Just wanna breed.”

Rafayel finally seemed to have caught on as he swallowed a lump in his throat. He didn’t bother looking back at you as your words were finally making sense, “Is this your unsubtle way of asking to peg me?”

You let out a fake moan, “Oh my gods Raf, you are so sexy when you finally use your brain. I could kiss you right now…in fact.” You said as you moved his head to press a peck on his lips, “I just bought a new strap.” You stated.

Rafayel rolled his eyes, his face still scarlet, “You’re the absolute worst.” He finally said, making you chuckle.

“And yet here we are, with you still helplessly in love with me.” You murmur, glad he finally figured your line of questioning out.

“Whatever you say, little pearl.” He murmured.

I regret absolutely nothing. In fact, I'm happy I did this. The world needs more chaos and I am here to deliver when I can. Also someone tell me why the first thing I do when my wrists are better is write this?

[mooniiify]

ok what about tsukishima when he finally changed his glasses?

he’s had the same type of frames since he was born, basically. those square ones that mostly old people wear now. you’ve poke fun of him about them at times, but you never really meant it. it was all good fun, right?

tsukishima doesn’t really take it as a joke, though. he thinks about it a lot. do glasses shape really matter that much? (they don’t, to you at least, but he’s he’s an over thinker. he can’t help it)

so! second year comes around, the frames are about three or four years old now. you’re at tsukishima’s place, in his room. you’re both sitting on his bed and watching a movie on his laptop after a study session and tsukishima keeps wiping his glasses on his shirt, a frustrated sigh escaping him every few minutes before he does it again.

you pause the movie, looking at him. “what’s up?”

“i think my glasses are ruined,” tsukishima spoke as he wiped on his shirt again. “i can’t clean them properly anymore.”

you take a look at the glasses being wiped on his shirt, trying to ignore the little bit of skin showing under. “don’t you damage them more when you wipe them with your shirt?”

“maybe.” tsukishima threw the glasses on the bed in frustration and rubbed his eyes, sighing. “i should go to the optician tomorrow. gotta pick new frames, too.”

you beam at that. “oh, can i come with? i can help you choose!”

of course you can. the next day you find yourself in the optic with tsukishima. he stood with his scratched glasses — he still needed them, even if they sucked; he was blind without them — looking around. it was pretty empty, just a few people browsing.

“kei, look, how about those?”

“fuck off, what is that?”

you were pointing at a pair of cat-eye shaped glasses with a cheetah print. tsukishima hoped knew it was a joke.

“i’m kidding.” relief passed through him. “but i know exactly what glasses you can pull off. let me find them.”

it didn’t take long. soon, you dragged him over to another glass case, pointing at a pair. tsukishima crinkled his nose. “thirst-trappers wear those glasses.”

“yeah! so? you’ll look hot in them, promise!”

tsukishima sighed. the glasses weren’t bad, not really. a vintage square pair. he took his prescription out and looked at it, then the glasses again. well, if you thought they looked good, then they probably did. at least he won’t be called an old man anymore.

once the glasses arrived all fixed up with his prescription, he went to pick them up by himself since you had homework to do, then he headed straight to your house. when you opened the door, tsukishima watched as your jaw visibly dropped and your eyes bulged out.

“holy shit, kei.”

maybe he would start taking advise from you from time to time.

[wlntrsldler]

poisoned mercury | now you got me

ix. now you got me by inhaler

series masterlist | previous | next

the happy little bubble you and luke made for yourselves inevitably bursted a few days after you made it official– though if you asked luke, you rejected his advances, which always earned an eye roll from you followed by a long kiss to his lips that had him silent for the next five minutes. you knew he was milking the hell out of you saying no to his question until he let you listen to the song, but you were his and he was yours regardless of the title. 

you stared at yourself in the mirror, blushing as you ran your fingers down the marks on your neck. you added a turtleneck under your chb shirt, not having enough energy to cover up the marks on your neck with makeup, and you definitely didn’t have the energy to explain to people how you got them. thankfully, the weather cooperated with you today. it was unusually cold for the summer, a slight breeze entering your room from your opened window. as you continued to get ready for the day, your phone buzzed with a text from your dad. 

‘hey kid, can you come to my office real quick?’

you hadn’t spoken to your dad in weeks, not since he stormed out of the cabin after finding out what started the fight with your teammate. this was the longest you’d gone without speaking to him. you texted a thumbs up and made your way out of your room. 

luke was sitting on the coffee table in the middle of everyone, looking at you with wondering eyes, “where are you going?” 

“my dad wants to talk.” 

“do you want me to come with you?” luke got up from where he sat. you told him last night that you’d been avoiding your dad as much as possible, and he did the same with you. as much as you guys butted heads, luke knew that it was taking a toll on you. you shared that you were scared about what would become of your relationship with your dad. luke, being as close to his mom as you were with your dad, understood. he knew what it was like to feel like your biggest supporter was giving up on you. it wasn’t a feeling he’d wish on his worst enemy, and definitely not a feeling he’d ever wish on you. 

“no, it’s fine,” you clenched your jaw, shaking your head. 

luke’s shoulders slumped over as he stuttered in his actions to sit back down, “oh, okay–uh, let me know if you need anything.” 

you nodded and waved a small goodbye before exiting the cabin. your heart was pounding the entire time you made your way to your dad’s office. a lot of things had been weighing on you this summer– your probation, a possible dent on your record, your estrangement from your parents, luke– and it was a lot to handle. camp half blood was supposed to keep you away from the problems that existed in your day-to-day life, but it seemed to follow you. 

you entered your dad’s office to see him typing away on his laptop. his eyebrows raised when you walked in, motioning for you to shut the door. he closed his laptop and placed it in one of the drawers of his desk. he took a deep breath, “hey, kid.” 

“hi, dad,” you replied, suddenly feeling like a little kid again. you sat on the usual chair in front of his desk and leaned back, “what’s up?” 

“i, uh,” he cleared his throat, “i just wanted to say i’m sorry for how we left things. i shouldn’t have stormed out like that. i was just angry. but not at you, at myself for making you feel like you had to fight these battles for me.” 

he leaned across his desk to hold your hands, “you’re my kid, y’know. my job is to protect you, not the other way around. so i apologize if i ever made you feel like you had to come to my defense.” 

“and i’m sorry for being mia the last few weeks,” he chuckled, squeezing your hands, “i’ve been in contact with my lawyers and they’re working on making sure the charges against you don’t stick so i’ve been pretty busy with that.” 

“you think it’ll get sorted out?” you asked. 

“yeah, don’t worry about it. it’s finishing up and i think you might even be able to play this season,” your dad smiled. “but i have to deal with a pr crisis right now that sprung up on me this morning.” 

your shoulders relaxed at your dad’s words. at least your probation was getting sorted out. that was one less thing to worry about. you tugged on the sleeves of your turtleneck as you got comfortable on your chair, “what’s the pr crisis?” 

he sighed, pulling out his laptop, “something with the band.” 

you hoped your dad didn’t notice the slight widening of your eyes. because you hadn’t been talking to your dad, he didn’t know about the recent developments between you and luke. you two didn’t show much pda outside of the cabin, scared that one of the campers would break their nda and post a picture of the two of you. neither of you were ready to tell the world about you two yet. it’s too soon. you didn’t even have the “what’s going to happen to us after summer?” conversation yet. 

“what happened?” 

“some pap pictures leaked. it’s of this new actress in hollywood and a guy leaving her hotel room. the press is reporting that the guy is luke. it looks a lot like him and you know the media– they run any story that’ll get them clicks even if it’s not fully fact-checked as long as they add the word ‘allegedly’ to the article,” he rolled his eyes, turning his computer to face you. “nobody knows where the pictures came from, so we don’t know if it’s actually luke or not, but i’ve been on the phone with may and their team all morning trying to do damage control. she’s telling the guys about the pictures right now.” 

at first glance, your heart dropped to your stomach. the guy did look an awful lot like luke. the rational part of you knew that this was probably taken before the two of you met because you’ve seen him every day since and he was practically imprisoned at chb all summer, but then you thought of your impromptu trip to achilles’ arcade and it made you want to throw up. if luke could sneak away with you like that, it would’ve been easy for him to do the same when he was alone. 

were the nights he didn’t spend in your bed because he was “writing” just an excuse to sneak off to meet up with the girl in the picture? she was gorgeous, after all. blonde, tall, the perfect new hollywood star. they’d make such a great power couple. the two rising stars in their respective industries, the perfect pair. 

the boy’s face, who may or may not be luke, was covered by his hood, but you can clearly see that he was kissing the girl deeply, with his hand placed on the curve of her back. the next picture was them with their fingers laced together as she led him into the hotel, giggling at something he said. the guy had a similar build as luke and dressed the same way as he did when he was having a lazy day– sweatpants, hoodie, and converses. 

bile made its way up your throat as you continued to scroll through the pictures. you looked at the time stamp of the photos and closed your eyes, wincing, when you saw that they were taken two days ago. luke didn’t sleep in your room two days ago, nor was he in the cabin. he showed up the next day saying that he was in the studio, trying to finish up the song so you would officially accept being his girlfriend. 

you squinted at a close-up picture of the pair, zoning in on the guy's hand. you breathed out a sigh of relief, fingers immediately clutching the ring that rested on your index finger. you turned the laptop back to your dad, “that’s not luke.” 

his eyebrows shot up, looking between you and his laptop screen, “how do you know?” 

“look at his rings,” you pointed at the bands around the guy’s fingers, “luke doesn’t wear a ring on his ring finger anymore. and look, the guy has a ring there and it’s gold.” 

“how are you so sure? what if he just decided to wear it that day?” 

“trust me,” you waved off, “he’s particular about his jewelry. he stopped wearing one on his ring finger a while ago. and luke doesn’t wear gold jewelry.” 

your dad narrowed his eyes at you suspiciously, shutting his laptop, “i didn’t realize you were that close to luke that you had his accessories memorized.” 

“ah– well,” you cleared your throat, looking down at your feet. you felt caught. “s’your fault, really. you made us live together.” 

“is there something you need to tell me, kid?” 

you got up from your seat, quickly making your way to the door, “geez, dad, i didn’t realize the time! i promised clar that i’d help her with camp duties, so i gotta go. thanks for all your help on the probation and permanent record thing. you’re the best!” 

you didn’t bother to turn around to see your dad’s reaction to your excuse. you knew that he could see right through you. 

you dad called from behind you, his joking tone camouflaged by his “dad” voice, “tell castellan that if he does anything wrong, i’ll kill him and his career!” 

“love you!” 

your dad shook his head, biting back the smile on his face, “love you too, kid.” 

as you were rushing back to your cabin, you ran smack dab into luke who was frantic, worry evident on his features. his eyes widened when he saw you and he placed his hands on your shoulders, steadying you so you didn’t fall at the impact. 

“five star,” he sighed out, out of breath, “i don’t know if mr. d told you but those pictures aren’t me, i swear!” 

you had two options– you could one, tell him that you knew it wasn’t him and put him out of his misery or two, you could pretend to not believe him and make him sweat. luke looked like he was about to get on his knees and beg you to believe him. you wouldn’t be surprised if he made a powerpoint presentation listing the reasons why it wasn’t him in those pictures. 

you pursed your lips, “i saw the pictures luke.” 

“and they weren’t me!” he said, exasperated. his eyebrows knitted in anxiety, as he chewed on the nail of his thumb, “you gotta believe me, babe. i don’t know who that guy is but i can promise you it’s not me.” 

you tried not to swoon at the pet name that left his lips. “how do i know that? you weren’t home the night those pictures were taken.” 

“i know it looks bad, but look,” he ran a hand through his curls. “i finished the song the boys wrote and you can go listen to it right now, but then that night, i got caught up with a song idea about you and i stayed up all night to write it. you can listen to the demo right now if you want. you can listen to all the demos you want if that gets you to believe me. i think the recordings have timestamps too, so you’ll see i was in there all nigh–”

“down, pretty boy,” you couldn’t keep it up any longer. luke looked like he was two seconds away from bursting into tears and as much as you wanted to hear him yap, you didn’t have it in your heart to drag it on. you chuckled, wrapping your arms around his neck. you pressed a soft kiss to his lips and he instantly relaxed at the feeling. 

your lips moved in sync as his hands found your waist, pressing you closer to him. his tongue licked your bottom lip, asking for permission, which you gladly granted. it was the sound of clarisse and chris inside the cabin, tapping against the windows that pulled you and luke apart. you both turned to look at your friends who all had shit-eating grins on their faces. 

travis and connor were behind the couple, shaking their heads, “get a fucking room, you heathens.” 

luke flipped them off and pressed a softer, more innocent kiss on your lips before you spoke. “i knew it wasn’t you. just wanted to see you sweat a little bit.” 

“that was mean,” he pouted, but he couldn’t fight off the smile on his face. he always seemed to smile after he kissed you. it made you want to kiss him again, starting a never-ending chain of kisses that would surely lead the two of you to be unproductive for the rest of the day. “i was so scared, five star, you have no idea. the fucker looked so much like me.” 

you laughed, playing with the curls on the nape of his neck, “trust me, i know. my heart dropped to my ass when i first saw them, but i knew it wasn’t you.” 

“how’d you know?” 

“the rings,” you flushed, thinking about how crazy you must sound knowing these small details about him.

“shit, five star,” he whistled, surprised. there was a warmth in his chest that spread throughout the rest of his body at the idea of you paying attention to these things about him. “nothing can get past you, huh? i didn’t even notice that.”

“yeah, at least you know not to sneak around behind me because i’ll find out,” you teased, lacing your fingers together as you slowly made your way up the steps of the cabin. luke stood in his spot, pulling on your hand to get you to to turn around. you walked over to him, confused, “what’s up?” 

“y’know i wouldn’t think of doing that, right?” he asked, voice suddenly serious. “i would never do that to you.” 

your eyes softened as a wistful look appeared on your face. you kissed his cheeks, relishing in the feeling of luke wrapping his arms around your torso in a tight hug. you pressed your face into the crook of his neck, placing a feather-light kiss on his jugular, “yeah, yeah.” 

“‘m serious,” he pulled away, holding your face in his hands. he was staring at you intently, making sure that you were hearing his words. you never gave him an indication that you didn’t trust him, but luke knew that it was better to tell you these things straight up if he wanted to have a real relationship with you. he knew it takes a toll on the people he dates (not that he’s had any relationships like what he has with you) to see these bullshit stories online. if he was in your position, he knew the reassurance would help. luke placed a kiss on your forehead, “i wouldn’t do anything to mess this up if i can help it, five star.”

you let out a forced laugh, awkwardly shifting in his grasp, “yeah, given that my dad controls your contract, i know you wouldn’t.” 

luke frowned, “not because of that.” 

“uh huh,” you said, feeling too vulnerable right now. you didn’t know how to handle this situation, so you coped with humor, “he likes you so don’t worry, your contract extension is practically in the bag.” 

“y/n.” 

you tensed at luke’s use of your real name. he never called you by your name. he always called you by the nickname he gave you when he first met you. five star. you knew luke wasn’t in the mood to joke around. “luke, it’s fine.” 

“i don’t want to pick a fight,” he sighed, playing with the hem of your shirt, “but i just need to hear you say that you believe me when i say that. i wouldn’t cheat on you or do anything to make you feel like i ever would.” 

your voice shook as you spoke, “what if you’re just saying that because it’s still summer and we see each other every day? what’s gonna happen when i’m back in school and you’re out in the world traveling and living your rockstar life?” 

luke’s heart broke at your words. did you really think that he would forget about all of this once september rolled around? as if you didn’t consume his thoughts every day since he met you, as if he didn’t count down the minutes until he got to see you again when he was forced to be away from you because he had things to do, as if he didn’t have a sinking feeling in his stomach when you weren’t next to him. he was starting to think you didn’t understand just how deeply he felt about you even when you assured him that you did understand. 

“i’m not gonna lie, long distance is gonna be hard,” he said, “but we can figure it out. i know it.” 

“i never knew you were such an optimist, castellan.” 

luke laughed at that. if only you knew how many times he psyched himself out of making a move on you because of his own pessimism. it only changed recently, when he finally decided to say fuck it and go for it. “for you? always. i’d be stupid not to be. you’re a good thing, five star.” 

luke fucking castellan. you pressed your head into his chest, feeling his rapid heartbeat against your face. he gave you a tight squeeze, placing a kiss on the crown of your head. he loved having you like this, all soft and cuddly with him like you didn’t want to let him go. he should be scared at how quickly he was falling for you, how attached he already felt. 

you kissed his lips again, pulling away with a smile, “so babe huh?” 

“babe, baby, sweetheart,” he mumbled, leaning over to kiss you again. “anythin’ you want.”

[itgetsdark-x]

I Wanna See You Beggin’

Summary: Joel Miller is your dad’s best friend, you knew it was wrong, you knew it would only cause trouble but you couldn’t help the way you ached for the man. (Title is from I Hate Myself for Loving You — Joan Jett & The Blackhearts) 6.9k words. I’m sorry.

Characters: dbf!Joel Miller x f!Reader

Warnings: 18+ only, no minors as it’s just a big ol’ load of smut… praise kink (use of ‘good girl’ a lot), p in v sex, unprotected (be sensible and wrap before u tap, pls), age gap (reader is mid twenties, Joel would be in his late 40s), use of the word ‘daddy’, oral (f receiving), no outbreak in this au.

A/N: hi guys, I haven’t written smut for years and Joel Miller has me frothing at the mouth and giggling like a little girl with a crush especially dbf!joel… Anyway, if this is enjoyed by people, I have an idea of how I could make this into a series. Please leave me nice comments or catch me crying in a corner somewhere lol

“Dad,” you huffed into the receiver as you held your phone to your ear with your shoulder. “I love you and all but I could think of better ways to spend my Friday night rather than listening to you and Joel argue over which 80’s band is the best.” You chuckled fondly as you carried on typing away at the laptop in front of you whilst you spoke into your phone. 

“Sweetheart, I love spending time with you and Joel, you love him as well! I’ll pay for dinner?” He spoke softly and you smiled as your could hear your dad’s smile down the phone. 

“Fine, what time do you want me round, old man?” You teased fondly. “I finish work at 5 today.”

“6:30pm work okay for you? Don’t forget to bring some beer.” Your dad asked with a smirk. 

You rolled your eyes before responding to him, “Fine, I’ll bring the beers but as soon as you and the other old man start arguing, I’m out!” You laughed. 

“Deal,” your dad agreed. “I’ll see you later my sweet pea, love you!” He hummed and hung up before you could respond. 

“Old men and technology.” You muttered to yourself before taking your phone and opening your messaging app. 

You quickly tapped on the screen and chewed on your lip as you did so. 

‘You need a lift to dad’s later? x’ you hit send and placed your phone down on your desk, returning your attention back to your work laptop. You were in the midst of replying to an email when your phone buzzed on your desk beside you. 

‘Sure thing, peach. See you around 6? :) Xx’

You couldn’t help the way your lips upturned into a smile, and as soon as you caught the reaction you chewed on your bottom lip. You hated the way the older male had such a visceral effect on you, you had known Joel Miller for around ten years now. You moved to the city and your father worked with him, the two of them soon became best buddies which in turn, meant he spent a lot of time around you and your house. When you first met Joel you were a mere sixteen-year old kid, from day one you felt an instant attraction to him, you knew it was wrong but you couldn’t deny it. In the beginning it felt like a harmless, childish crush, one that you were bound to grow out of but things only seemed to get worse the older you got, that attraction burned deep in your veins and any time you spent time with the older man you couldn’t help the way your cheeks burned and your pussy throbbed; there had been many nights where you had dropped him home after visiting your dad and rushed home just so you could relieve your tension. Your fingers buried deep in yourself, moaning Joel’s name as you came around them. 

You felt shameful, dirty and down-right embarrassed about those moments but it didn’t stop you from doing it again, and again.. and again. You knew Joel would never cross that line, never, he was too much of a gentleman and had way too much respect for your old man but that didn’t stop the feelings you had for him.

Your mind was reeling, so much so you barely noticed the way your thighs pressed themselves together searching for some relief to your aching core, you stood from your desk in your room and stretched before you looked at the time on your desktop, it read 4pm. You sighed and went to your kitchen to grab a snack and make yourself a strong coffee, you had an hour left of work before you had to shower and get ready before picking Joel up. 

The last hour of your work felt excruciatingly slow, your mind was busy with thoughts of your evening ahead of you; it was no different to your usual Friday get-together with your dad and his friend but today you couldn’t erase the filthy thoughts of Joel from your mind. You quickly showered, hoping the hot water would wash your mind and body clean, you ignored the burning to urge to relieve some tension and give your body the orgasm and relief it so badly needed. 

After showering you, you applied a light layer of make-up, like usual before pulling your hair up in a half-up and half-down style. You looked into your wardrobe and reached for a plain black tank top, orange plaid over shirt and black tennis skirt; you paired the outfit with your favourite pair of black converse. You put your accessories on; earrings, rings and gave your body a spritz of your favourite perfume. After grabbing the 12-pack of beer from the fridge, you quickly grabbed your phone and keys off the counter and left your apartment to go and pick up Joel. 

You were running a tad late but that wasn’t out of the ordinary, and Joel was always expecting it. You pulled up outside his home, gave a beep of your horn and took a shaky breath in as you saw him lock up and approach your car. Your hands gripped the steering wheel a little tighter as he climbed into your car and suddenly your senses were attacked with the older male. The small space filled with his heady scent, his aftershave musky, spicy and just Joel. He was wearing dark grey jeans, not too tight but tight enough to appreciate his thick thighs and your eyes couldn’t help but notice his bulge as he walked. Joel was wearing a dark khaki over shirt and a black T-shirt under that went perfectly with his jeans, and of course, he was wearing his trusty dealer boots. 

“Hey peach,” he spoke and leant over to press a kiss to the side of your head. It was something he had done for years, only now, you craved to feel his lips elsewhere. 

“Hey old man.” You grinned and started your car once more. 

The journey to your father’s house was short, only about twenty minutes; it was annoying that he didn’t live in the same neighbourhood as it always meant you or, on occasion, Joel had to drive. It was a comfortable journey as the two of you spoke about your respective day’s and week’s. 

“So you’re not hanging out with that guy again tonight, oh, what was his name!?” Joel questioned, searching his brain for the name. “Derek? No, no, he definitely seemed like a George!” He laughed, his hands resting comfortably on his thigh, you couldn’t help the way your eyes glanced down at his large digits. 

“His name was Ben, and you know that, Joel. You’re just being a dick.” You shook your head quickly with a laugh. “And nope, dad had other ideas for me… clearly babysitting duties. I would much prefer to be out with Ben but here we are…” You said softly with a roll of your eyes, it was a lie, of course. You would happily spend every waking moment with Joel, if he let you, exploring his body, sharing your thoughts with one another. 

His hand tensed on his thigh, it was brief and barely noticeable but you did notice it; that was… weird? You shook off the feeling and parked up outside your dad’s apartment block. 

“Anyway, I love babysitting you old men. It’s cute. Great practice for when I actually want kids.” You laughed, turning off the ignition and climbing out of your car. “And, I’ve warned dad, slightest hint of bickering between you two and I am out. Gone. Done. You can walk home.” As you spoke, you bent over to reach into the back seat of your car to grab the beers, one leg slightly lifted as your body struggled slightly to pull them closer; you hadn’t given the motion much thought, especially in your outfit.

Joel moved until he was stood behind you, he cleared his throat and looked away sheepishly after catching a glimpse of your black, lace panties. His hand rubbed at the back of his neck awkwardly. “Uh hon, you might want me to grab those? Gonna give someone a heart attack if they see you like that.” His voice was soft as he spoke, still not making eye contact with you. 

“Shit. Sorry, Joel.” You cursed, your cheeks flushed red as you watched the dark haired man grab the beers and you smoothed out your skirt.

The rest of the evening played out like usual; your dad and Joel had a few beers each, you allowed yourself to have one as you were driving and you all ate way too much Chinese take-out. It was getting late, you were laid out on your dad’s couch, your legs swung over your dad’s lap, Joel was sat in the lazy-boy across the room, his legs sprawled wide. This was always part of the routine, you would all catch up on your week’s complain about work, talk about sport’s games that had happened or were about to occur, it was familiar and safe. 

“So get this, bud,” Joel spoke, his voice breaking the noise of whatever Depeche Mode record they had put on the player. “Y/N over here was saying she would have preferred to have hung out with that douche, Ben, we met last month. Can you believe that?” He looked over at you, smirking as he took a swig of his beer. 

“Dick,” you mouthed over to him and let your head hang back onto the arm of the sofa. 

Your dad opened his eyes and looked over at you. “Is that right, sweet pea? You don’t wanna hang out with your favourite ‘old men’?! I’m truly offended.” He laughed, closing his eyes again, feigning hurt. 

“Joel is just bitter I have a better love life and sex life than him.” You shot back, immaturely sticking your tongue out at the other male. 

“Gross! Dad in the room!” Your dad grimaced, watching his hands in front of his face. “You’re my little girl, I don’t wanna hear about you having sex.”

“Hey — that’s not even true, I have sex… plenty of it…” Joel huffed, trying to sound convincing as he lied through his teeth. In truth, Joel never really had an interest in the women he had met, sure he took a few women home from bar to sleep with them but after he lost his wife and child, Sarah, he never really had it in him to give dating a proper go. 

“Sureeee you do,” you giggled, causing your dad to let out a loud laugh.

You all laid about a bit longer, listening to music and joking around before you sat up and stretched your back out, causing your tank top to rise, showing a small sliver of soft skin to show. There it was again, Joel’s hand tensed in place and it was almost as if his jaw clenched down. You were sure you were imagining these things, like usual so you pushed yourself off the sofa and smoothed your clothes out. 

“Right, pop’s I better get old man Miller home before I pass out here. I’m shattered.” You yawned, reinforcing your previous sentence. 

After saying your goodbyes you walked back to your parked car, the cool chill of the late-night air made your skin prick up with goosebumps and sent a small shiver down your spine. 

Joel and you walked in silence, the silence remained as you started your car and cranked the heating up.

“Dick move, bringing up Ben to my dad by the way, Miller. Real dick move.” You spoke, your voice seeming loud in the confined and silent space, just the low thrum of your car’s air vents trying to clear the windows and fill the air with warmth.

“Ha, sorry, Peach. Couldn’t resist it. Was right there for me to tease you with.” He laughed lowly, bringing his hands up to blow some warmth into them. There it was again, that nickname, every time it rolled off his tongue it sent warmth straight to your core. 

“My dad doesn’t need to know what I would rather be doing on a Friday night, or rather who I would rather be doing.” You huffed.

“I wouldn’t go around proclaiming that sorta thing, especially round your pops. I’m sure he wouldn’t wanna hear how corrupt his good girl truly is.” Joel hummed, his finger tapping on his thigh as you began driving. 

‘Good girl’, it rolled off his tongue so effortlessly yet it sent sparks straight to your core, as you drove you shift in your seat and pressed your thighs together. 

“I — I uh, I’m an adult, Joel. I’m a fully grown woman, incase you haven’t noticed. I have needs and wants.” You argued, trying to remain confident in your words. 

“Needs… and wants, huh?” He laughed, raising an eyebrow at you. “Is that why I see you practically drooling every time you see me? Now would you say that’s a need or a want?” Joel asked, his voice low and sultry.

Your mouth dried up instantly, voice getting stuck in your throat as you tried to protest. “I — I do not.” You protested, your voice coming out as a mere squeak.

“Oh peach, I see the way you press your thighs together. So needy for me? Hmm.” He hummed, his hand reaching over to touch your bare thigh. “I’ve seen the way you shift in your seat when I spread my legs in the arm chair or when you catch a short glimpse of my bulge. I’ve seen it all, no need to hide it.” His fingers were barely touching you, ghost-like touches on your skin. It was a risky move, he knew that and he knew you could quite easily pull the car over, kick him out and tell your dad what he had done. It could ruin his only true, pure friendship if your dad found out. But Joel was also sure he had calculated this properly, he had seen you for the past couple years and your minuscule reactions only seemed to ramp up the older you had been getting. 

Your breath hitched harshly in your throat as you tried to concentrate on the road ahead of you but your mind was swimming with Joel once again, his fingers lightly traced patterns on your inner thigh and all you could do was whimper pathetically under his touch. 

“J-joel,” you whined. “Please don’t tease me, I’ll crash the fuckin’ car if you play like that.”

“Oh little girl, I’ve barely placed a hand on you and you’re already whimpering for me? Quite cute really.” He said, his voice seeming deeper than usual; he splayed his hand across the skin of your inner thigh and gripped it tightly. 

You forced your eyes open as you continued to drive, you weren’t sure if you were doing the speed limits or what, all you could think about was the large hand that was so close, yet not nearly close enough to where you needed it the most. You could feel how wet you were already, you had been a mess all evening but now you could physically feel your arousal collecting in your lace panties. 

“You reckon your ol’ man knows how needy you are for me? Your dad’s best friend. Oh peach, what a mess.” He continued, he had moved closer to you now, reaching over the centre console of your car, his breath fanning out over your neck. 

“J-Joel, I’m serious. I’ll crash if you carry on like that. Not funny.” You whined, trying to press your legs together again but feeling resistance in the form of Joel’s hand. 

“Tsk tsk tsk,” Joel tutted. “What are you trying to do there, darlin’?” He laughed, letting his pinky drift closer to your clothed cunt just barely brushing the fabric. 

You whined again, just a small noise from the back of your throat and pulled the car over, from what you could tell you were a few streets away from Joel’s house; the suburban area was dimly lit with few lights and no people walking around, especially not this late anyway. You pushed your car into park, turned off the lights and engine and looked at the older male for a moment, your lips wet and cheeks flushed. 

“Joel…” you started. “Y-you don’t have to do this, I know I’m not your type and I’m sure you’re just trying to play a bit of a joke on me. We should get you home and forget about all of this…” Your breath was shaky, you hoped to every god out there that Joel would continue but you wanted him to know he didn’t have to humour your silly feelings. 

“You don’t think I want this?” Joel asked, his face close to yours, hand still pressed teasingly to your thigh. “I’ve noticed recently, the way you react to me and tonight, w-when you were bent over. Took everything in me to not pull those little panties aside and bury myself deep in that little cunt right there in the middle of the street.” His voice sounded near animalistic as he finished that sentence and your cheeks burned a deep, cherry red as he finished speaking. 

“I didn’t mean to do that, didn’t really think.” You mumbled, looking past him to stare out the window. 

“Shh,” Joel hummed, he leant forward and placed a kiss to your lips with his hand still stroking soft patterns into your inner thigh. 

You sighed contentedly into the kiss, finally experiencing what you had craved for years, your hand snaked up to hold Joel’s face as you deepened the kiss; hungry to taste more of the man. Joel tasted like smoke faintly, salty from the foods you had eaten and there was the distinct taste of hops from the beer he had drank. Your fingers intertwined into his greying hair and you gave it a testing tug; Joel groaned and allowed his tongue to swipe across your bottom lip. Eagerly, you opened your mouth and urged the kiss to be deepened, taking as much of him in as you could in that moment. 

Joel saw this as his opportunity to advance his hand, he slipped his fingers under the hem of your skirt and let them stroke across the damp fabric of your panties. You whimpered into the kiss, your hips bucked forward searching for further contact. He couldn’t help but smile at how undone you were already. Joel teased his fingers across the waistband of the lace fabric of your panties, teasingly slow, just as you were about to pull away from the kiss and protest he allowed two fingers to slip into your wet folds and agonisingly slowly circle your swollen clit. 

“Fuck,” he growled lowly. “So fuckin’ wet for me already, darlin’?”

You nodded, gripping at Joel’s forearm as he started to rhythmically circle and play with your clit. He was right, you were near sopping as he slipped through your folds. 

“Wanted this for s-so long,” you whimpered. You couldn’t quite believe this was real, you were almost convinced you would wake up any moment, sprawled out on your bed with your fingers deep inside of yourself and not actually in your car, with Joel Miller’s fingers close to making you cum already. 

“Yeah?” Joel asked, his fingers speeding up. “Wanted to feel my fingers on your wet pussy, making you feel good? Huh? How does it feel to have my fingers finally in you?” Joel spoke, his voice a low huff as his fingers worked quickly. 

“So. Good.” You moaned, the noise low and breathy. “Feels so good. I’m going to cum. Please.”  

Joel groaned, he still couldn’t believe this was happening to him. Since you started maturing over the past couple of years he had thought so many times about how much he would love to corrupt you; to have his fingers, mouth and cock making you fall apart at the seams. Just anything to make you feel good. 

“That’s it, atta girl. Cum for me, good girl.” Joel whispered, his lips ghosting over your ear as he sunk a digit into you abruptly and let his palm bump up against your clit.

That was it, the white hot, searing heat in your stomach erupted and your eyes screwed themself shut so tight you saw white patterns dancing behind your eyelids. Your teeth sunk into your bottom lip so hard the familiar metallic tang flooded your mouth, anything to stop you from alerting the neighbourhood with your screams. If that You that wasn’t just the best orgasm of your life, you would have been slightly embarrassed at quickly he had made you cum. 

Joel barely moved his finger in you, just circled it slightly but his palm nudged your clit as he worked your through your orgasm and it made you whimper loudly, your body flinching with over sensitivity. He took the hint and removed his hand from your wrecked panties and brought it up to his mouth, sucking his digits to clean them from your juices. 

“Taste so sweet, just like a peach.” He groaned, his fingers popping from his mouth, the noise startling you from your orgasmic comedown. There it was again, your nickname but now it just sounded sinful and you knew going forward, you wouldn’t be able to hear it without getting wet and embarrassed. 

When you finally regained some composure, you looked at Joel; your lips were swollen and red and your cheeks had a light flush settled on them. He smiled, thinking you were truly the most perfect sight he had ever seen. Your hand reached over to his lap, you had a hunger and needed to curb the insatiable need for his cock. Your small hand palmed him through his jeans, he was rock hard and fuck, he was big. You swallowed, almost nervously at the thought of his large cock stretching your tight hole out. Of course you had slept with people, you weren’t a virgin but your previous boyfriend was nowhere near that big and he definitely couldn’t make you come that hard, even on his best days. You gently squeezed at his length, stroking him through the rough fabric. 

“Not here, darlin’. How about we go back to mine so I can properly appreciate you?” He asked, and just as you opened your mouth to protest saying you wanted him right there and now he spoke once more. “I’ll drive, dunno if you can drive properly after that, little girl. I saw how hard you came on my fingers, now imagine how hard you could cum on my cock.”

Your whole body shuddered involuntarily, never in all your years of knowing Joel had you heard such filthy things from his mouth; he had always been the perfect Southern gentleman. You were soon pulled out of your thoughts by Joel opening your car door. 

“Shuffle over.” He commanded. 

You nodded dumbly and did as you were told. Joel swiftly started the car and continued the drive back to his, it barely took ten minutes but every minute felt like torture; your mouth watered at the thought of Joel filling your holes, using you how he pleased, your core ached with the need to be full of Joel again. 

Once the car was parked, Joel hopped out and was once again opening your door for you, you exited the car and grimaced at the cool air hitting your skin. You felt Joel’s hand on the small of your back, guiding you into his home, a place you had been hundred’s of times before but this time you felt nervous. 

He opened his front door for you and you walked in, just as you were about to turn and speak to the male he was holding your hips in his large hands and pressing your smaller frame against the wall. His lips were on yours and starting a bruising kiss, once again your hands found their way into his hair and you moaned softly. You wanted to be stuck like this forever, with his soft lips on yours and his rough facial hair scratching your skin slightly reminding you exactly who was kissing you. 

“Please don’t tease, I just want you so badly Joel. I have for years, b-been thinking about your cock filling me up for years.” You whined, sounding like a petulant child. 

“And I’ll be fillin’ you up real soon, sweet girl. But how about I make you feel good again, yeah? You think you can be good for me and cum again, I wanna truly taste how sweet you are, sugar.” He growled, his lips trailing rough kisses down your neck. God how he wished he could mark you up, head to toe, just so people would know you were all his.

Your knees buckled, and your body fell against Joel’s slightly, causing him to laugh breathily; no woman had ever reacted like that to him before, let alone just his words but then again, no woman was like you. He took you by the hand and led you up to his room, you couldn’t help but take in your surroundings, you had been in Joel’s room a couple times before but you had never noticed just how much it smelt like him. 

“How about we get you nice and comfortable, let’s get those clothes off you. Can’t wait to see your body.” He started by pushing your plaid shirt off your shoulders, throwing it over to the side; the heavy fabric landed with a dull thud onto his wooden floor and with that he swiftly removed your tank top. Somewhere along the way you had both kicked your shoes off but your brain was too murky to fully register it. 

Joel’s rough hands slid up your sides, he was drinking in every inch of your curves and soft skin; in the wake of his hands your skin was freckled with goosebumps. 

“So beautiful,” he breathed, a dim light casting beautiful shadows over his face. You felt embarrassed as his eyes fully drank in your form. “May I?” He asked, voice soft and smooth like honey, his hands were at the clasp of your bra and you simply nodded. It seemed like a trivial thing to ask permission for considering less than thirty minutes ago you were cumming around his fingers. 

He removed your bra, your perky breasts bounced ever so as the supportive fabric was gone. Your nipples hardened as the cool air hit them, pulling the sensitive skin tight. Joel could have devoured you whole, right there and then. His large, calloused hands came up to hold your breasts, his thumbs swiping over your nipples almost in a testing fashion. He did it again when it elicited a moan from your throat, he pinched the sensitive buds and your back arched towards him. 

“Joel, I can’t take it. Please.” You whined, his touches were entirely too much yet not enough all at once. It was your own form of perfect torture. 

The older male was loving this, watching your eager reactions as he toyed with your body, his cock was hard and leaking in his jeans and he couldn’t wait to be inside of you. 

“Be patient, darlin’. We have all night.” He smirked, slowly sinking to his knees in front of you. 

His rough hands begrudgingly left the peaks of your breasts and worked their way down to the zip of your tennis skirt, he unzipped the fabric causing it to fall to the floor. You took the cue and kicked it to side, out of the way. Joel’s fingers hooked into the waistband of your panties once more and slid them down your legs, you rested onto his shoulder and stepped out of them, just before you could kick them to the side, he was bunching them up and shoving them into his back pocket. 

This man — he would be the death of you, you just knew it. 

You were about to make a comment and protest but Joel was stood once again and gently pushing you back onto the bed behind you; you fell onto the plush mattress with ease, your thighs falling open without being asked to do so. You felt exposed, vulnerable but above all else, you felt needy. 

“Good girl, without even being told to lie like that. Such a beautiful girl.” He remarked, pulling his shirt over his head and slipping his jeans from his thick thighs. 

You rested up on your elbows to peer at Joel as he undressed and your throat tightened, all the air in the room seeming to have evaporated immediately. He was beautiful, all harsh lines to the outside world but in the glow of his bedroom now, he looked soft and warm. You were in deep, and you knew it meant deep trouble. 

He palmed himself through his boxers just to stave off some of the throbbing and your eyes followed eagerly, the thick outline of his cock making your walls clench around nothing. Wordlessly Joel knelt at the end of the bed, latched his hands onto your thighs and pulled you closer so you could feel his hot breath fanning over your sopping folds. Your hips bucked into thin air, nothing there to help you and he laughed, it was quiet and breathy but he definitely laughed — fucker.

Joel trailed two fingers through your folds, collecting your arousal on them once again and without warning he plunged them into you roughly. You gasped, your back arched off the bed and your fists balled into the sheets either side of yourself. His fingers were so thick, so much thicker than any man you had been with before; you weren’t sure whether that was down to the age difference or just Joel’s build. He slowly pumped his fingers in and out rhythmically, building speed and curling them so they brushed that perfect, sensitive spot inside of you. 

Your mouth was agape as you laid there, completely at his will, writhing under his relentless touch. Moan after moan, after moan spilled from your parted lips and just as you felt the tension tighten in your stomach Joel lapped his tongue of your clit. Your back arched and the filthiest moan escaped your mouth, you weren’t even sure how that noise had come from you but it had and it had Joel smirking as his tongue swiped through your folds again just to circle around your clit once more. 

Your hand laced its way into Joel’s hair, your fingers gripping the strands with a deathly vice and he groaned into your pussy causing vibrations to ripple through you. You weren’t sure how you were still holding on but your stomach was twisting, tightening and bubbling as your orgasm approached once again. 

“Mmm, good girl.” He praised as your walls clenched around his fingers as he continued to pump them into your wet heat. The room was filled with obscenely filthy noises; your moans echoed throughout the empty space as Joel slurped up your juices. 

“Joel —“ you sobbed, your back arching impossibly high off the mattress below you. “C-can I cum? Please. Need it.” You asked pathetically.

Why were you asking permission?

Never before had you felt so submissive for a partner in bed, never once had you asked permission to cum, no, normally you would be chasing your high, just trying to grasp at a fraction of how good Joel was making you feel. 

“That’s it baby, such a good girl for asking permission. Wanna make you feel as good as I can, peach.” He groaned in between pleasuring you. “Cum all over my face, wanna taste as much as I can.”

That was it, the coil in your stomach snapped abruptly and you were gushing onto Joel’s fingers, a pleasured scream tumbling from your lips. Never, not once had you squirted before, yet here you were, soaking the sheets beneath you and in turn, Joel’s beard and your own thighs. You would have felt ashamed if you didn’t feel such pure euphoria in the moment. Your back was twisted and contorted off the sheets as Joel worked you through it, making you squirt further.

He could have cum in his boxers, like a teenager as the first drops of your orgasm hit his face. He lapped up as much of you as he could, like a man who had been starved for years. And he had, he had been starved from allowing himself to have this moment with you and now he had you, he wanted to savour and devour you as much as you would allow him to. 

“Joel,” you whimpered, your thighs trapping his head. “C-can’t do it anymore!” You sounded wrecked, your throat felt raw from how loudly you had been moaning. 

Joel laughed, pushed your thighs apart and removed his fingers from you. You winced and your walls clenched around air, feeling so empty once again. 

“Please, p-please can I have you now?” You asked, positioning yourself on your knees in front of Joel. You reached your hand to feel his hard cock through his boxers once again and this time, he didn’t stop you. 

You abruptly pulled the checkered fabric from his waist and his boxers pooled at his feet; freeing his cock finally, it sprang up against his stomach and you all but moaned. 

“You’re so…” you whispered, looking up at Joel through your lashes as your small hand wrapped around his thick length. The tip was dark, a bead of pre-cum glistened at the slit and all you wanted was to taste it, to taste Joel’s musk. “You’re so big, fuck.” You cursed, your tongue sticking out to kitten lick at his tip. 

You wanted to sink your mouth down his length to fully take him in so your nose could bury into Joel’s thatch of dark hair but you resisted and gave him another lick, tongue flicking into his slit.

Joel groaned, a low and gruff noise from the back of his throat. “Fuck, darlin’, I gotta be in you. None of this.” He spoke lowly, his thumb coming down to swipe along your bottom lip and you quickly sucked it into his mouth. 

“Please, daddy.” You whispered, the honorific slipping from your throat before you could process it. A look of horror washed over your features and you knelt up higher to look Joel in the eyes. “I — I, — sorry. I didn’t mean —“

Your fumbling words were cut off when Joel placed his big hand around your throat and brought you in for a kiss. You were trouble, you were sinful and he was damned. He had been called daddy a few times by younger women, they thought it was sexy; the way they would flutter their lashes at him at the bar, saunter over to him and whisper ‘hey daddy.’ Normally it made his skin crawl and caused his body to cringe but the way it almost innocently slipped from your lips, it was like a curse from the devil himself and it made Joel’s cock jump, nudging your stomach. 

He squeezed his hand around your throat and you smiled? Trouble. Nothing but pure trouble. 

“Not such a good girl, after all, huh? Been acting all innocent all these years.” He whispered, his thumbs squeezing near your pulse point, hard enough to make your head feel lighter and floaty but soft enough not to hurt you deliberately. “God, what would your old man say about this? See his little girl begging to cum, see you squirting on his best friend’s face. Smiling as I wrap a hand round your throat. Your trouble, darlin’. Nothin’ but damn trouble.” He whispered, his teeth nipping at your bottom lip before peppering small nips to the flesh of your neck. 

Your legs trembled as they held you up, it was wrong but his words went straight to your core and soaked you further, you didn’t think your arousal could get higher but here you were. He was right though; your dad would be horrified, would be downright mortified to know what his daughter was truly like and at the hands of his best friend? That would destroy your lives. All three of you. You pushed that bitter thought away as your head lulled back and you allowed Joel to grope at your chest, hungry to feel your body once more. 

“Say it again,” he growled into your ear as he pushed your body back down onto the bed. “Call me it again as I fuck you real good. How ‘bout I show you what it’s like to have a real man fuck you, not some silly boy.” He said, his voice gruff whilst he stroked the tip of his cock through your folds. 

“Daddy,” you whimpered, parting your legs further to allow Joel more room to enter you. “Daddy please fuck me.” You begged, sounding weak. 

“Oh, of course, baby girl.” He cooed, pushing his cock into you roughly until he was bottomed out. “Fuck,” he cursed. 

“S-so big, daddy.” You whimpered, your hands grasping at Joel’s biceps, just trying to hold onto something as you adjusted to the slight burn of him stretching you out. “Mmm, please move.” You moaned. 

“Atta girl, taking daddy’s cock so good already.” Joel groaned and he swore that he saw heaven in that moment; your tight body below him, contorting to how he needed. He had already built up a punishing pace, hips drawing back to slam forward roughly. The room was filled with echoes of your skin slapping together, his deep pants and your wanton moans and weak, pleading whimpers. 

“I’ve wanted this for s’long,” you sobbed, your eyes falling shut as the tension built further in your stomach once more. You knew from this point forward you would be wrecked for any other man, no one would be able to make you feel this good. Not even close. “T-touched myself so many times thinking about you fucking me.” You admitted, the words falling without thought. “Want you to cum in me, wanna be full of just you, Joel.” You moaned. 

Joel was a goner, he knew he wouldn’t be able to keep this up for much longer, you were too tight, too wet and just too good for him to have any real stamina. Your admission didn’t help matters, either. The thought of you spread out on your own sheets, touching yourself to him?!

He gripped one of your hips tightly, hard enough to leave bruises on your delicate skin as he fucked into you harder with deep groans. “Can’t be saying that to me, peach. Gonna cum too quickly.” He hissed, his free hand snaking between you to trace circles around your clit. 

“I c-can’t do it again,” you stuttered, your body burning from the inside and out. “Too much.” You breathed, your sharp nails clawing at any bare skin you could find. Just anything to anchor you down as Joel pulled another orgasm from you. 

“I think you can. Hmm?” Joel spoke. “What you think? Wanna be a real good girl for daddy and give me one more?” His thumb sped up but his hips slowed to a sensual roll, his cock head bumping the electrified bundle of nerves deep in your walls. You clenched around him tightly and he moaned, louder than before. “That’s it, baby. That’s it. One more, come on now. Come on.” He groaned, working your clit faster. 

You whined, the noise stuck in your throat as your back arched once more and you clenched around Joel before gushing around him with a moan of his name. “Joel, Joel, Joel, Joel, J—.” Your eyes had rolled back, any further and they would have disappeared into the back of your skull.

“Such a good girl, fuck. So tight. That’s it, squirt on my cock.” He groaned, removing his hand from your clit to hold down both your hips as he fucked into you with more fervour. He wasn’t going to last long, but he also knew you couldn’t take much more. You were cock drunk and spent. “Gonna fill you up so. fuckin’. good.” He huffed, accentuating each word with a thrust. 

“Daddy,” you cried, tears pricking the corners of your eyes as your body went into overdrive. 

That was it, that’s all it took. Joel looked down at you, your were a mess and all from him, tears fell onto your cheeks as he finished inside of you with a groan of your name. “Shhh, that’s it sweet girl. Such a good girl.” He cooed, his hand cupping your cheek as he emptied himself into you. 

You moaned, feeling the hot liquid of his cum fill you up, your walls clenched weakly, just trying to milk him of every drop and you turned to kiss his hand. The room smelt of sex, the air was thick and hot and sleep called to you like a sweet song. 

Joel pulled out of you with a hiss and you whimpered, your body felt like there were a hundred tiny pin pricks on your skin. You were overstimulated and completely spent but ultimately, you were so happy. 

“Hmmm, m’sleepy.” You hummed contentedly.

“I know, sweet girl but can’t sleep here. The sheets are a mess. How about you have a rest in the spare room and I’ll go sleep on the couch?” He asked softly, brushing your sweat-dampened hair from your face. 

“Sorry about the sheets,” You giggled, eyes heavy-lidded and barely open. “Although, was kinda your fault. You’re a dirty old man, too good at that.” You teased, still giggling. 

“Yeah, yeah. I’m going to hell.” He huffed, his voice all too serious. 

Joel scooped your naked body off his bed with a gruff noise and before you knew it, you were in another bed with the duvet wrapped around you. Joel had cleaned you up with a damp towel, dressed you in one of his shirts and wrapped you up into the sheets. 

“Stay with me,” you whispered as Joel turned to walk out, assuming you had already passed out for the night. “P-please stay with me.” You cried, tears filling your eyes. 

He smiled and obliged with no arguments. The mattress dipped beside you and he wrapped his large arms around your waist, pulling you close.

“Of course I’ll stay, peach.” He whispered and pressed a kiss to your temple.

You hummed sleepily, your eyes already closed and you felt peaceful. It was the most peaceful you had felt in a long time. Joel was there, you finally felt content and safe in his arms. You knew trouble was brewing on the horizon but right there, in that moment, you couldn’t find it in you to actually care.

Everything felt like it was too much, of course your fantasy came true but what did this mean for your futures? You only assumed it would be messy and all too hard on you both. 

You drifted off to sleep peacefully that night, the most peaceful you had been in far too long. Your senses screamed Joel and you felt safe. You knew trouble was brewing on the horizon but for now, you were content and happy.

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[pucksandpower]

Ooh, for the grid kids series, how about the time when all the grid kids had to babysit Seb and y/n's daughter? I feel like it would be chaos all around.

Grid Kids: Baby-Sitters Club

Sebastian Vettel x wife!Reader x platonic!drivers

Summary: the grid kids have tamed some of the fastest cars on the planet but can they tame their baby sister?

Series Masterlist

Max Verstappen: Good Taste in Music

“Alright, mate, remember, she likes the pacifier if she starts crying and always check if she’s hungry,” Sebastian instructs as he hands over the baby monitor to Max.

Max nods, trying to hide the nervousness on his face. “Got it. How hard can it be? I’ve tamed a Red Bull, after all.”

You chuckle, “It’s not the same, Max. She’s not going to pit in 2.4 seconds if she needs something.”

Handing over a small pink bag, you add, “There’s some milk in the bottle and a few toys. Oh, and if she starts crying and won’t stop, play her the Formula 1 theme. She strangely calms down to that.”

Max, cradling the baby carefully in his arms, smirks. “Like mother, like daughter.”

Sebastian laughs, “Alright, we’ll be back in a couple of hours. You got this.”

An hour into his babysitting gig and things are surprisingly smooth. Max and the little one are seated on the couch, with him talking to her about overtaking techniques and the importance of tire management.

Suddenly, a small wail interrupts his monologue. Max’s eyes widen in slight panic. He tries the pacifier. No luck. He checks the diaper. Still dry. The wailing grows louder.

Thinking quickly, he connects his phone to the speakers and starts playing the F1 theme song. Just as you said, the baby’s cries subside and she starts to doze off.

Max lets out a sigh of relief, whispering to the now sleeping baby, “You’re going to be a racer, aren’t you? Just remember, Maxie taught you the basics.”

A few hours later, you return to find Max fast asleep on the couch with a snoozing baby cuddled on his chest, the F1 theme playing softly in the background. You share a smile, knowing your little girl is in good hands with her grid brothers.

Charles Leclerc: Start Them Young

“Okay, she might be a bit tricky during her nap times. She’s been fighting sleep a lot lately,” you adjust the baby bag over Charles’ shoulder.

Charles gives a confident nod, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “Don’t worry, I have a plan. Have you ever tried Ferrari engine sounds to help her fall asleep?”

Sebastian chuckles, “Not quite the lullaby most kids go for but anything is worth a shot.”

You smile, patting Charles on the back, “Good luck. We’ll be back soon.”

An hour into babysitting, the little one is becoming restless, rubbing her eyes, yet refusing to close them. Charles has an idea. Booting up his laptop, he finds a clip from one of the recent races, and soon, the familiar sound of a roaring Ferrari engine fills the room.

Amazingly, the baby’s eyes start to droop, and within minutes, she’s sound asleep. Charles grins triumphantly, feeling quite proud of his unconventional method.

Later, he decides to do a mini photoshoot, dressing her up in a tiny Ferrari onesie he secretly bought and posing her with a little Ferrari model car.

Upon returning, you and Sebastian are welcomed by a giggling Charles showing them the adorable pictures. “Look, she’s a natural Tifosa! We start them young.”

Sebastian laughs, “That’s one way to do it. Just remember, she’s got Red Bull and Aston Martin blood too.”

Charles winks, “We’ll see about that!"

You can’t help but laugh, “No matter the team, she’s got the best grid brothers around.”

Lance Stroll: Canadian by Proxy

“Alright, little miss, ready for some Canadian immersion?” Lance grins widely, holding up a tiny hockey stick and puck. “It’s never too early for your first hockey lesson.”

You raise an eyebrow, laughing, “I’m not sure she can even hold that stick yet, let alone play.”

Lance winks, adjusting the baby-sized Montreal Canadiens jersey he brought with him. “Trust me, by the time I’m done, she’ll be ready for the NHL.”

Sebastian smirks, “Just remember, no actual skating yet.”

With you and Sebastian heading out, Lance sets the scene for a cozy afternoon. He places the baby on a soft blanket, surrounding her with plush hockey toys, and turns on a recorded game. Soon, the room echoes with the sounds of cheering fans and commentary.

The baby gazes curiously at the screen, her little fingers reaching out to grasp the mini puck Lance places in front of her. Lance, laying beside her, narrates the game with exaggerated commentary, making her giggle with delight.

Halfway through their game, Lance feels adventurous. He gently places the baby in a laundry basket cushioned with a plush blanket, using the mini hockey stick to push her around, mimicking the action on the TV screen. Her laughter fills the room as they play their unique version of indoor hockey.

By the time you return, you find Lance, completely worn out, sprawled on the floor, with your daughter, dressed in her little hockey jersey, contentedly napping next to him, clutching the mini stick.

Sebastian laughs, “Looks like you had quite the game.”

Lance grins, slightly out of breath, “She’s got potential. Might just be the next German hockey prodigy.”

You chuckle, “Thanks, Lance. Just remember, before hockey comes racing.”

He winks, “We’ll see. Maybe She’ll bring the Stanley Cup back home to Montreal one day!”

George Russell: Pulling Pigtails

“George! Over here!” You wave, holding out the baby bag as George ambles over, hair in its usual perfect quiff.

“Well, hello there!” George greets, bending over to coo at the baby who instantly reaches out, tiny fingers eager to grab his thick hair.

“Looks like someone’s a fan of your hair,” Sebastian remarks with a chuckle, watching as his daughter gleefully tugs on George's hair.

George laughs, wincing just a tad. “It’s alright, who needs a hairdresser when you have such a cute little stylist?”

You hand over a bottle of milk, “She just had a nap and might be hungry soon. And, well, you might want to keep an eye on your hair.”

With baby in arms, George heads over to the living room. Laying out a blanket, he places her down, only to have her immediately try crawling towards him, reaching for his hair again. Grinning, he plays a little game, leaning in close and then pulling back, making her giggle each time.

As the afternoon progresses, George discovers that his hair is the ultimate distraction. Whether she’s fussy or just bored, having his hair within reach keeps her entertained. Even feeding her becomes easier as she remains captivated by his hair while sipping on her milk.

Feeling a tad mischievous, George decides to shoot a quick Instagram story, showing the world his new hairdresser in action. Fans immediately flood the comments, loving the adorable interaction between the racing star and the tiny tot.

When you and Sebastian return, you find George seated, baby in his lap, both engrossed in a video of funny hair fails. His hair now looks nothing like its usual pristine self, instead resembling a bird’s nest.

“Seems like you two had quite the day,” you remark with a laugh.

George, brushing a hand through his tousled hair, smiles, “Best hair appointment ever. And the most adorable tiny stylist to boot.”

Lando Norris: Stealing the Show

“Alright, munchkin, just you and me today. How hard can this be?” Lando chirps, picking up the little bundle and settling her onto the couch, surrounding her with cushions. The room is set up for his usual streaming session, his gaming chair at the ready and multiple screens glowing.

He’s barely into his first game when a small cry interrupts him. “Hungry already?” he asks, looking over to see her trying to grab the controller lying next to her. “Ah, you want in on the action?”

Quickly, Lando scoops her up and settles her on his lap, handing her a toy controller. “There you go, co-host,” he says with a grin, adjusting his headset and returning to his game.

He’s live-streaming and the chat exploded with comments about his adorable helper.

Who’s the kiddo?

That’s some fierce competition you got there!

Does she have her own Twitch channel yet?

But the peace doesn’t last long. In the middle of a particularly intense race, the baby suddenly decides to slam her toy controller on the keyboard. The game goes haywire, Lando’s car spinning out of control.

“Oh no! Sabotage!” Lando exclaims, laughing even as he tries to regain control.

The baby giggles, clearly pleased with the chaos she’s caused. Lando’s chat goes wild with laughter and teasing comments.

Dude, you just got schooled by a baby!

That’s what you get for multi-tasking

She’s clearly the superior gamer

Shaking his head in mock exasperation, Lando says, “Alright, alright, you win this round.” He lifts her up, peppering her face with playful kisses, making her squeal and show a gummy smile.

Throughout the stream, there are more interruptions — from spit-up incidents to sudden dance breaks every time she gets fussy. Lando quickly learns that streaming with a baby requires a whole new level of multitasking.

As the stream comes to an end, Lando addresses his viewers. “Thanks for joining in. Hope you enjoyed the special appearance by our youngest gamer here. Maybe we’ll make this a regular thing?”

The unanimous response? More baby streams!

Chuckling, Lando signs off, “Say bye-bye, little co-driver.”

She waves her tiny hand as the screen goes black.

Mick Schumacher: Baby Meets Fur Baby

“Hey there, Ang,” Mick says with a smile as he enters the room, the baby cradled in his arms. Angie, his Australian Shepherd, immediately perks up, her tail wagging enthusiastically.

The baby’s eyes widen as she takes in the large, furry creature approaching her. Mick chuckles, gently lowering her onto the floor as he kneels down beside her. “This is Angie,” he introduces, watching as the dog sniffs curiously at the baby.

Angie’s warm, wet nose tickles the baby’s palm and she lets out a squeal, her fingers curling in delight. “Looks like you’ve made a new friend,” Mick chuckles, patting Angie’s head.

As if sensing the baby’s fascination, Angie sits down and gently places her head in the baby’s lap. The baby giggles, her tiny fingers brushing against the soft fur. Mick watches the interaction with a fond smile, his heart melting at the sight of his dog and baby sister bonding.

Mick then picks up a toy from the nearby pile and hands it to the baby. “Here you go, little one. Angie’s sharing her toys with you.”

The baby takes the toy, inspecting it with wide eyes before promptly attempting to shove it into Angie’s mouth. Mick chuckles softly, taking the toy from her and showing her how to play with it.

“Hey, Angie, be gentle,” Mick instructs his dog, who seems just as excited as the baby about the playtime. As Angie retrieves her own toy and lays down beside the baby, Mick joins them on the floor, ensuring the little one doesn’t get overwhelmed.

Time flies as they play together, the baby’s giggles filling the room. Mick can’t help but smile at the simple joy on her face and he finds himself falling into a gentle rhythm with her.

After a while, the baby’s eyelids start to droop and her fingers loosen their grip on the toy. Mick smiles, knowing she’s getting tired. “Looks like someone’s ready for a nap,” he whispers, carefully picking her up and cradling her in his arms.

Angie follows them as they make their way to the nursery. Mick gently lays her down in the crib, placing a soft kiss on her forehead. “Sleep tight, little one.”

As he turns to leave the room, Angie hesitates by the crib, looking back at the baby with a soft whimper. Mick chuckles, scratching behind her ears. “Don’t worry, Ang. You’ll be here when she wakes up.”

Runaway Baby

Max, face flushed, darts through the paddock, narrowly avoiding a mechanic pushing a cart of tires. “I swear I just saw her here!” he shouts, barely avoiding a collision.

Lando, holding a stuffed bear, pants as he catches up, “I turned around for a second and she was gone! How does someone so small move so fast?”

Charles is on the phone, trying to speak over the noise, “We’ve got everything under control, just ... some tiny mishaps. Nothing to worry about!”

“Tiny mishaps? Charles, that’s an understatement!” George interrupts, waving a baby bottle in his hand.

Lance, coming out of the Aston Martin garage, looks worried, “Checked the garages, no sign of her. We need a strategy guys, like an actual race strategy but without Ferrari messing it up this time.”

George chimes in, “How did we lose her? There were six of us and one of her!”

Mick looks pale, “I was showing her my dad’s old helmet and turned around for one second to put it down. Then she just toddled away while I wasn’t looking!"

Suddenly, from a distance, there’s a familiar baby giggle. They turn to see a reporter, microphone in hand, crouched down in front of a camera. Their sister sits beside him, happily babbling away, reaching out for the fuzzy microphone cover.

The reporter, clearly amused, asks, “And who do you think is going to win the race today?” The baby, enthralled with the microphone, tries to chew on it.

Lando sighs in relief, “Well, she’s got a future in media, that’s for sure.”

Charles approaches the duo, scooping up the baby and thanking the reporter. “Thanks for babysitting. You might have a new pundit here.”

The grid kids gather around, all breathing sighs of relief. Max ruffles his sister’s hair, “You gave us quite the scare, snoepje.”

“She definitely knows how to steal the spotlight,” Mick says with a chuckle.

You and Sebastian, having witnessed the chaos from afar, approach with raised eyebrows. You smirk, “You guys thought babysitting in the paddock would be easy?”

Lando grins sheepishly, “Definitely more challenging than a race, that’s for sure.”

[pearlfeline]

the world's best tour guide

peter parker x fem!reader/stark!reader

word count: 2.6k

tw: none

a/n: made this longer to make up for the last one but then i went so far i didn't know how to end it lol hope its still readable because i don't think so :') enjoy ALSO HOCO PETER CALLBACK BC I MISS WATCHING THAT MOVIE FOR THE FIRST TIME IN MIDDLE SCHOOL OH GOOOOOOOOD

“There needs to be somebody else with me!” Your father exclaimed.

“Oh, well maybe you should’ve thought of that before making this fraudulent internship?”

“It’s… real. It’s real to me.” Your father gazes at you longingly.

“Soooo people are supposed to believe I have to work my way up through this internship despite the fact that we share a last name and address?” You look up from your laptop for the first time during this conversation.

“There’s celebrities out there that don’t give their children even a penny, you’re lucky.” Tony shrugs, popping a grape in his mouth.

"Plus, it makes perfect sense! You're a little builder like me aren't you?" He says in between chews.

“Those are mine,” You snag the bowl back to your side of the kitchen island. “and I’m adopted!” You shove two grapes in your mouth to one-up him. “Do you know how effed up you would be to cut off my only source of income when I’m adopted?!” You were muffled by the grapes in your mouth.

“Don’t curse.”

“I said eff I didn’t say fuck.”

“DON’T CURSE.” Tony warned.

“Ugh, where’s mom? I wanna complain about you.” You groaned, taking yourself and your laptop upstairs.

“Leaving at 11:30!” Tony shouted through the stairs.

You waved him off, rushing to your room. You continued working on your computational model simulated lab that Bruce designed for you to play around with.

“Bam.” You say to yourself as you let the 3D models crash into eachother.

“Knock knock.” Your mom says quietly.

“Mom, don't say knock knock. Just knock on the door.”

“Honey, let’s get off the computer for a second.”

Pepper closes your laptop gently. “Just go with your father hon. He’s just using this as an excuse. He wants you to work with him more he loves you.” She crouches down at your eye level, taking your hand.

“Everybody knows how smart you are, they want to work with you. Okay? Okay. Great, get dressed.”

“It's not that I don't want to go, it's the fact that I'm probably not allowed to touch anything fun or follow dad anywhere cool. Also your pep talks are getting shorter and shorter.” You huffed.

“I’m hungry. I want lunch. Maybe your dad should’ve waited for me to make my toast before asking me to come up here.” Pepper takes one last look before leaving the room. “Be ready in 5 minutes.”

You begrudgingly come downstairs.

“You look great honey.” Tony clasps his hands together.

“I didn’t even change.” You said flatly.

“…Okay. In the car.”

Pepper gives you a look with many meanings behind it. If you had to guess, her expression meant “Be nice”, “He’s trying his best”, and “Shut up don’t complain”.

You give your mom a half-hearted thumbs up before leaving.

After a little while of driving, Happy comes to an abrupt stop.

“Dude what the-” Your phone dropped to the bottom of Happy’s seat in the process.

“Here’s the kid.” Tony says, trying to hide his smile. It was evident even from the backseat.

A boy with a linty hoodie and a beaten down bag waved to the car, a matching grin plastered on his face after he realized who was inside.

“Mr. Stark!” He exclaimed.

Your dad gets out of the car, exchanging words with the boy.

Tony opens his door. “Yeah go sit back there. Now, I trust you know not to bother my daughter.”

As if on cue, Peter opens the door to see you with intimidation in his eyes.

“Hi.”

“H-Hi.” Peter sits in his seat stiffly. He extends a hand and reels it back realizing what your dad had just said.

“He’s just kidding.” You shake your head, chuckling. “…I’m allowed to greet people.”

Peter swallows a lump in his throat. “Right. Of course. I’m just not sure if I can greet people.” He wipes his sweaty hand on his sleeve before extending it out again.

“Peter.” He looks up with a shy smile.

“Y/N.” You nod, shaking his hand.

“I saw you on youtube. The robot you built? The one that could project a hologram five times its size? So cool.” He gushes.

You smile shyly, having to look away from embarrassment.

“I’ve seen you on youtube too.” You grin subtly.

"...Oh god. I was only ten, my solar system was supposed to orbit around slowly. I used paperweights instead of styrofoam balls and the battery I used was high powered, they weren't supposed to fly out like that. I even paid for the school's camera with my Christmas money-"

"Uh- no.. I meant like the spider thing?"

Dumbfounded, Peter looks over to Tony through the rear view mirror. Tony meets his eyes and gives him a wink.

"Oh... I didn't know you knew about that." Peter sinks into his seat.

"Don't be embarrassed. I think it's cool." You smiled.

Peter unconsciously smiles back at you. "Thanks.. I…try." Peter cringes at his attempt to reply to you normally.

You lessen the distance between you and him and look at him fascinated.

"How do you swing around? Lab-made fibers? It looks.. almost organic."

Peter tries not to flinch and holds his breath. He should've brought his breath mints. What if his breath stinks? He ate a string cheese before he left the apartment.

"I-I uh- I make them myself. It's web fluid. When it flys out of my web shooters, it solidifies into that flexible, strong stuff." He pulls up his sleeve to show you.

"Woah, how many cartridges do you need?" You run your fingers along the band around his wrist, staring curiously.

"They last a while, but I switch them out like every few weeks-"

"We're here." Happy yawns, taking the opportunity to stretch his arms.

"Thanks Hogan." You pat his shoulder from the backseat and get out of the car.

Peter blinked and all of the sudden, everyone filed out of the car. He frantically steps out, his eyes having a hard time adjusting to the sun.

"Here." You push him three inches to the side, bringing a shadow to shield the sun from his eyes. A really big shadow.

Peter can't help but let his mouth hang open.

"Just as flashy as I remember it dad." You said before stealing his sunglasses from his face and running to the doors.

"Hey, GENTLE! They're Dita! VINTAGE!" He shouts.

You giggled as you tried to frantically slide your keycard into the scanner that unlocked the doors.

"I'm gonna tell the receptionist they're a gift!" You yelled back before rushing inside.

This makes your dad quicken his pace, rummaging his pocket for his keycard.

Peter had never seen Tony like this before. There was someone who was alive, very real, and actually had authority over him. His child. Peter slowly catches up to Tony who's waving his credit card around the sensor.

"Sir.. I don't think that's the right card." He mumbled.

Tony looked down at his gold card, his brain short-circuiting for a moment.

After composing himself and taking out the correct card, Tony almost flung the door open, his eyes locked to you leaning over the front desk.

"Y/N!"

You turned around, the sunglasses nowhere to be found.

"Yeah?" You tilted your head innocently.

The receptionist takes this opportunity to go back to her typing after you finally stopped talking her ear off. She wasn't wearing them either.

Peter stood awkwardly behind Tony. He stared at the high ceiling and the enormous fish tank that stretched across the wall with fish he had a hard time telling if they were real.

"Gotcha." You reveal the sunglasses behind your back, handing them back to your father.

"Not my style.. Also probably not her's either. Right, Erin?"

The receptionist only shoots you a glance, her fingers never stop clacking on the keyboard.

"Kid, this way." Tony sighed, gesturing Peter and following you to an elevator.

Peter shyly makes his way to the corner of the elevator and staring at the array of buttons. He's never been in a building with over five floors, let alone a hundred.

"So... What are we doing exactly?" You asked your father.

"I thought I'd give the kid a tour." Tony says while he scrolls through his phone.

Peter fiddles with his hoodie's strings, unable to make eye contact as he's being mentioned.

"Oh." Tony stops.

"What?" You asked warily.

"I need to approve something. Something either dumb and obvious or an array of important decisions." Tony looks through his missed calls and rings a number.

"Tour my ass." You mumbled.

If superheroes do anything, they double book. Constantly.

The elevator dings and you and Peter file out. You turn around and Tony doesn't step off.

"You've been promoted to tour guide. Okay bye." Tony closes the elevator doors and you watch him descend to a lower floor.

"I went from being a child of nepotism to a tour guide? I don't consider that a promotion."

Peter was visibly dumbfounded. He was intimidated by Tony by some degree yes, but he already knew him. He's never been to the tower, and now he's alone with his child that could make or break his reputation here.

"...Dude?" You wave your hand over his face. From your perspective, ever since your dad went downstairs, Peter had been blankly staring at the floor.

"Hm?" Peter's eyes didn't leave the floor.

"Wanna meet Dr. Banner?" You smiled. It reminded Peter of a cat that knew it was doing the wrong thing.

Something about your expression told Peter you wanted to bother Bruce more than you wanted to introduce Peter to him.

After a string of trailing after you in hallways that looked like they were from the future, you slid open the keypad, and rapidly drew a complex pattern into it.

"Hey Dr. B."

"Woah." Peter's eyes wander throughout Bruce's lab. Holograms fill a lot of empty space.

"Hey mini Stark, hand me that slide rack will you?"

You were all smiles. Peter could see you were finally in your element.

"What are you doing now?" You peer over Bruce's shoulder.

"Not too close, unless you wanna put on a coat and some goggles." He says, eyes locked on the microscope.

You immediately run back to the doors, a nervous Peter Parker blocking the coat hanger.

"C'mon Peter." You enthusiastically put on a lab coat and fasten the glasses over your face. Without hesitation, you put another pair on Peter's face and throw him a coat.

You grab him by the sleeve just as he put on the coat and run back to Bruce.

"Dr. Banner, this is Peter." You smiled.

Bruce looks up from his microscope and gives a small wave.

"From what I've seen, I think he might be one of us." You chuckled.

"...And maybe one of you guys." You give Peter a teasing smile.

Peter let out a small and odd noise before clearing his throat.

"Dr. Banner, I'm a huge fan." Peter gushes.

"Hey, show him your webs." You pull his sleeve back.

Bruce’s eyes studied the webshooters.

"He's the spider guy." You say proudly.

Peter tries not to shake uncontrollably from a mix of embarrassment and excitement.

"Oh.. You made these?" Bruce blinks curiously.

Peter nods and tries to conceal his growing smile.

“He’s one of you guys. I told you.” You wink at Peter, only for him to see.

“That’s… how? How did you make these?” Bruce chuckled in disbelief.

“Can I borrow your whiteboard?” Peter asks.

After writing down the entire formula for the polymer he used for his webs, Peter finally slouches over. His work takes up a majority of the board.

Bruce stares in awe of Peter’s creation.

“Basically this is it.” Peter scratches the back of his neck.

“Visit any time kid.” Bruce chuckled, speechless. He gives Peter a pat on the shoulder.

“How about a snack?” You asked Peter.

“If you’re gonna pass this little audition with my dad, you should probably know where the kitchen is.” You sighed, pulling the goggles off your face.

“Are you sure you’re not just hungry?” Peter asks.

“Oh, I finally got the boy to let his guard down? Telling jokes now huh?” You laughed.

Peter shakes his head, smiling to the floor.

“I just met Bruce Banner.”

“Mhm.” You trail down a long hallway, to a shiny pair of doors that stretched from the floor to the ceiling. The kind of doors Peter would visualize any person having a hard time opening.

Behind the doors was a kitchen area bigger than the living room of his apartment. The marble top island was like his dining table.

“Take anything.” You said casually, fetching two spoons from a drawer.

Peter walks in like he’s just attended his own surprise party. When he opened the pantry he didn’t expect a wall of snacks.

“I like these.” Peter points to the bag of mini reese’s cups.

“Then bring the bag dummy.” You snorted and opened the freezer.

“How about some ice cream?”

Peter and you somehow moved all your snacks to the balcony and you started tearing away at them almost immediately.

“You brought a lot.” Peter unwraps a peanut butter cup while you sink your spoon into your coffee ice cream.

“What are you hinting at man?” You give him a glare.

“NO! God, no I meant I don’t want to eat all this food, it’s- it’s not mine I’m sorry I didn’t mean it like that.” By the end of Peter’s sentence he pops the candy in his mouth, defeated.

“I’m messing with you. Dig in. Seriously though Cap is on a new diet he found on this dumb blog. I never should’ve gave him an iPad for Christmas.” You rolled you eyes.

“It’s mostly my snacks now. Sometimes Natasha eats with me when I bother her enough.”

“Cap? Cap as in?” Peter knew the answer but needed a confirmation. There was no way he could be convinced he’s in the very building where all these heroes roam around.

“Captain America.”

“And Nat?”

“Oh, Black Widow.” You say in a sultry voice.

“That’s my lady. We watch dumb movies when I come around here.” You added.

“That’s.. wow. You see them often?” Peter takes a spoon and digs into the ice cream too.

“I guess.” You shrugged.

“Just so you know, they’re all lame like me. Not as cool as you think.” You grinned at the memories you had of them hanging around.

Peter shook his head.

“You’re not lame. You’re cool. I don’t think anyone else can mess with Tony Stark like you can.” Peter chuckled.

You look down and take another scoop of ice cream.

“…Not that he’s the only reason why you’re cool. You’re so smart and really funny.” And really pretty. But he wasn’t going to say that.

“Thanks. You’re pretty cool too.”

Peter let out a dry laugh.

“No. I’m not. You should see me at school seriously. It varies from being invisible to being a-”

“Don’t call yourself a loser or a nerd before I do a flip off this balcony.” You groaned.

“Besides, what’s a nerd if not a person in the wrong environment?” You give him a nudge.

“This is an environment where nerds thrive… And the occasional superhuman.” You added.

“Then why aren’t you getting recruited possibly, like I am?” Peter asked.

“My parents won’t ever let that happen.” You sighed, opening a bag of spicy chips.

“Maybe in the future, I’ll be one of these guys, we’ll be older, and we can convince your parents.” He said.

“You’re so innocent.” You laughed. “But yeah. If you somehow land a spot here, you have to help me get in too.”

Peter held out his pinky.

“..What are you doing?” You raised an eyebrow.

“I…pinky promise.” Peter held a stern expression. For the world’s best tour guide, he was willing to keep his word.

“Okay, swear?” You held out your pinky.

“Swear.”

[delfiore]

—THE HAPPIEST GIRL IN THE WORLD.

pairing: tara carpenter x reader

synopsis: your ex-girlfriend is a drunken mess at a college party and the only person her friends think to call is you.

word count: 1.8k

warnings: extensive talk of vomit, mentions of ghostface attack

Your phone blared in your ears like some kind of end-of-the-world siren. Groaning, you lifted your head from your laptop on the desk and answered the call. Mindy’s voice sounded in a panic as you caught a glimpse of the time, 11:46pm.

“Y/N, we need you at Greg’s party. Tara is literally blacked-out drunk and she’s like throwing up non-stop, and we don’t know what to do. She won’t let us take her home and—”

“Woah, woah, woah, slow down,” you felt the oncoming headache in your temple. Your hazy mind began to spiral.

Mindy had been gracious enough to allow you space after the breakup. You were a part of the friend group but chose to distance yourself afterward, but Mindy and Anika were the ones you still talk to occasionally. Sometimes the way they bounced between you and Tara made you feel like the divorced parent hanging out with your kids every two weeks.

“I’m studying for finals.” You rubbed your eyes.

“Please, Y/N. She won’t budge. If it weren’t this dire, you know I wouldn’t call you.”

You knew it was true, but it’s only been two months.

News of the party had been bubbling around campus for a few weeks now. Everyone has been talking about Greg Hansen’s end-of-semester party, even if you weren’t coming, the gossip was what kept it alive. Even more so when it was a party thrown by someone from your major; you were always hearing about it. So you also knew where it was.

When you arrived, you couldn’t be more appalled by the concoction of weed, sweat, and beer wafting in your face the moment you walked through the door. In the corner of the living room was Greg Hansen, chugging beer from a tube as his henchmen hyped him up, being the life of the party as always. But you needed to find Mindy and, eventually, Tara.

You texted an ‘I’m here’ to Mindy and looked around for any sign of a familiar face when a hand clasped around your shoulder. Turning around in fright, you relaxed when you realized it was Chad.

“She’s in the bathroom. This way, come on.”

Mindy couldn’t answer your text because she and Anika were busy holding back Tara’s hair as she was emptying the contents of her stomach. Sure you’ve seen how bad Tara can be after parties. but never this bad.

“Good, you’re here.” Mindy turned around, relieved. “We need to leave, now.”

A groan escaped the raven-haired girl’s mouth as she sat back against the bathtub. It was then that you got a good look at her face, the first time you did in months. Suddenly it felt hard to breathe.

“Tara, come on. I’m taking you home,” you said.

Her eyes opened slowly. They were glazed over, but there was a moment where her eyes met yours and you thought she had sobered up, but soon after she pulled herself upright, groaning again before staggering out of the bathroom.

“Tara, where are you going, man?” Chad asked, dejected.

She didn’t respond.

Without an answer, she found the near bottle, not caring what its content was, and felt for an empty red solo cup.

You scoffed and took the cup from her. “I think you’ve had enough, don’t you think?”

“I don’t care what you think. Give it back.” Tara protested and reached for the cup in your hand, which you have extended far beyond her reach, the other arm pushing against her. Her frustration was apparent as she shoved you aside with a cry. “Get the fuck away from me!”

“Tara, enough.”

She held your gaze like there was fire in her eyes. Her lips wobbled, as she looked back at her friends behind you with a betraying look. You knew you had won from the way she pulled her arm away from you roughly, and looked out at the ground like a scolded child.

“I’m taking you home.” Your voice softened and gestured towards the door. Tara staggered towards the exit but crumbled against a wall like a piece of paper. You quickly grasped her hand to support her, but she swatted your hand away and made her way outside herself.

You sighed and turned towards the Meeks-Martin twins. “We’ll be okay. You guys can stay if you want.” The twins looked at each other and shrugged before going their separate ways back into the party.

You found her on the lawn, squatting on the ground and groaning.

“Come on, don’t be stubborn.” You rolled your eyes and tapped your foot impatiently. “I was in the middle of revision.”

It was a weird sight, seeing her in the passenger seat of your car again after you had made it your mission to get rid of everything inside that reminded you of her; a half-drunken water bottle in the door compartment, a few hair ties in the cup holder, her forgotten sunglasses in the glove compartment. You had thrown all of it away before proceeding to have a mental breakdown in the driver’s seat.

“Jesus, who the fuck puts the seat so far back?” You heard the girl next to you mutter, as she scrambled to pull the seat forward.

You looked out your window to hide the grin that made its way onto your lips. Tara was smaller than your average passenger, and that seat hadn’t been seen so far up in a while.

“Can I go now?” You said mockingly.

“Yes,” you heard her mumble into the window, propping her face on her hand.

The ride back to her apartment was mostly silent, except for the handful of times you heard quiet gags next to you, to which you grimaced and handed her a plastic bag you found lying around.

“Please don’t barf in my car. I don’t think I can forgive you for that.”

At a red stop, you grabbed your phone to check the time; 12:16am. You felt her eyes on you, her inebriated, yet dreamy eyes, that you knew if you looked you wouldn’t be able to look away. Try as you might, you couldn’t resist. Her body was shifted so that her head was resting against the window and her legs pressed against her chest. But what made your breath hitch was the way those eyes were trained on you. There wasn’t any sign of that hatred or fury or whatever she felt that was spilling out of her with the alcohol; with her bangs tousled over half her face and hooded eyelids like this, Tara just looked lost and defeated, and in need of a kiss.

She always looked like this, in need of cuddles and kisses, after parties and you were always ready to take care of her.

The red light on her face shifted to green, and you quickly pressed the gas pedal to bring her back home, then you could go back home, and everything would be back to the way it was.

You’d be happily carrying on with your life without Tara in it.

Despite rejecting your help earlier, she did end up needing it when both of you dragged each other up the stairs (you more than her) to her apartment. The light in the hallway was off, which meant her sister wasn’t home.

You tried to set her down gently, but she threw herself onto the bed like a body bag, face-first.

You called her name once, twice.

“Huh?”

“Are you gonna sleep in that?”

“Uh-huh.”

“In a full face of makeup too?”

No reply. You shook your head and pulled her sitting up, and shed her jacket.

But she was still looking at you, the way she did in the car. You sat there, dumbfounded.

You had to go, revision was waiting.

“Wait,” she said, grasping your hand.

You refused to look at her.

She sounded like she didn’t know what she wanted from you either. There were noises of hesitancy coming out of her mouth, but nothing to convince you.

Until she said, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t.”

“I’m sorry,” she pressed.

“No,” you shook your head, and tried to leave, but she had grasped your arm desperately.

“Wait, please.”

You were grateful for the dark room, because you were sure you had tears in your eyes.

“I was scared that they’d hurt you. I thought you’d be safe away from me.”

You shook your head. “No, no. You can’t do this. I was just getting over you.”

Your pleas fell on deaf ears, as she tilted your face to her, resting her forehead on yours.

“Kiss me,” she whispered.

“Tara, please.”

She cupped your cheeks softly. You could smell the alcohol in her breath when she leaned in. You couldn’t stop it—you’d be the biggest criminal if you did—when her lips tasted so sweet.

Tara sighed, and pressed her body flushed against yours.

You remembered the night you were kissing her, just like this, when the attack came. You just wanted to protect her, to keep her behind you in case the masked killer got to her, but the next moment there was just so much blood. You were told you almost flatlined twice. Tara thought that was enough and ended things.

“You told me that I was a liability,” you said quietly.

“You know I didn’t mean that. I just thought it’d be easier for you . . .” Tara shook her head. “I’m sorry, Y/N.”

You thought you were imagining her saying it, but she might as well have without the accountability of sobriety. Tara Carpenter apologizing, now that’s a sight to see.

In the midst of the haze, she had pulled you on top of her on the bed, still kissing you like her life depended it.

“Tara,” you pulled away, your chest heaving against her. Sitting back up, you let out a shaky breath.

She was watching you with those doe eyes, her fingers finding their way between yours.

“Will you tell me all of this when you’re sober?” You asked, but you knew what the answer was.

“Yeah,” you breathed out. That’s what I thought.

You kissed her forehead softly and left without another word.

Tara Carpenter, as much as she vehemently denies it, was still very much haunted by her past. As much as you loved her, you wouldn’t let yourself be dragged down that rabbit hole, not again.

It might have started raining. You couldn’t quite tell because the streets were already glossy from the blur of your tears.

[morganski-19]

The One Where Eddie Gets Another Job

Steve and Robin walk into the coffee house after work. Nancy, Jonathan, and Argyle already sitting in their spot. Robin sits next to Nancy on the couch while Steve flops into the armchair.

“How was the first day of school,” Nancy asks Steve.

Steve groans. “I have three Gabriels in my class and all of them want to be called Gabe. And two of them have a last name that starts with H. Then the fire alarm went off because Beverly decided that popcorn was the perfect lunchtime snack. Three moms tried to hit on me when I was doing car line, and I think one of the kids was sick. So that’s about to be spread around my classroom.”

“That’s,” she starts, trying to find something positive to say. “I have nothing, that sounds like shit.”

“I could never be a teacher,” Robin sighs into the couch. “I didn’t like kids that much to begin with. And after the things you tell me, never.”

“I don’t know,” Argyle pipes in. “It could be fun. And very rewarding.”

“I could totally see you being a kindergarten teacher,” Steve suggests.

The group does a vague nod in agreement.

“For anyone wondering how my day was,” Robin perks up. “I had a very nice conversation with this Italian man. He’s opening up a small bakery with his wife and wanted someone to go over the contracts with him. He’s bringing me some pastries as a thank you when they get up and running.”

The conversation about work continues for a bit, each of them sharing how their day was and destressing.

“Where’s Eddie,” Steve eventually asks. He’s normally here by this point.

Nancy starts laughing. “Oh just wait.”

“What,” Jonathan looks up from his laptop. “Did we miss something?”

“Like I said,” Nancy continues to laugh over her coffee. “Just you wait.”

Like speaking of him suddenly made him appear, Eddie walks out of the backroom of the coffee house. With an apron tied around his waist and a pencil behind his ear. He heads over to an empty table with a wet rag, wiping it down.

“Oh my god,” Robin whispers with surprise.

“Is that Eddie, working?” Argyle questions. “Here?”

Nancy nods, her laughter getting louder. “Yes.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen Eddie working,” Robin comments. “It’s like watching an animal out in the wild.”

“I can hear you, you know,” Eddie groans. Shoving the rag in his apron pocket and walking over.

Robin smiles. “I meant you to.”

“How long have you been working here?” Steve asks.

Eddie shrugs. “A few days now.”

“I thought you were working on being a tattoo artist,” Jonathan says. Taking a break from editing photos on his laptop to invest in this conversation.

“That I am. But I needed to shut down my Etsy page for art commissions, because people were being a bunch of dicks, so now I’m down one job. So I got another. Because rent is fucking expensive.”

Nancy makes a gesture with her hand. “And that’s with it rent controlled.”

Eddie makes a gesture toward her. “Also, I blew all of my savings moving out here, so I am trying to build those back up.”

“Aw, look at you being financially responsible,” Robin teases. Poking Eddie’s arm.

“You’re growing up,” Nancy eggs on. Feigning wiping away tears.

Eddie rolls his eyes. “You guys are the worst. I knew it was a bad idea getting a job here.”

“I don’t think I ever envisioned you being a barista,” Argyle notes. “Bartender, yes. Barista, no.”

“Well, I work the late shift too. So I am both of those things.”

“Oo,” Robin turns around on the couch. Standing on her knees to see him better. “Do you get a discount? Can we abuse it?”

Eddie shakes off her hand. “Yes, I get a discount, no you cannot abuse it. I sort of need this job, so I’d rather not get fired. It says strictly in the rules that I cannot use it for friends.”

Robin falls back down, defeated. “Boo, you’re no fun.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Eddie walks away behind the counter. Cleaning off the counter and starting to make someone’s order.

“I’m going to go get something to drink,” Steve says, standing up. “You want anything, Rob?”

“Just a green tea. Not feeling coffee right now.”

Steve nods while going over to the counter. Sitting down at one of the stools. “So, you work here now.”

“I thought that was already established.” Eddie hands off the drink he was making to the girl further down. Coming to stand in front of Steve.

“Is that why you couldn’t come over last night? You could have said that.”

Eddie shrugs. “I didn’t want you to know, quite yet. Thought you wouldn’t really like how much I bounce around jobs.”

“You’re not though. You have a job, you just needed a second one. No shame in that.” Steve leans further across the bar. “It also helps that I find bartenders to be really hot.”

“Steven,” Eddie gasps. “I am at work.”

Steve smirks. “I know.”

Eddie shakes his head. “Did you want anything, or are you just here to flirt with me?”

“Only if flirting with you gets me a discount. Otherwise, I’ll just take my business elsewhere.”

“Is that really all I am to you?” Eddie starts making Steve’s usual drink order. Waiting for the espresso to brew.

“And Rob wanted a green tea.”

Eddie nods, pouring some hot water into a glass and adding a tea bag. “How was work?”

Steve rolls his eyes. “Don’t even get me started. The first day is always hard.”

“Oh, I bet.” Eddie steams the milk, adding it to the top of the espresso and drizzling it with caramel.

“And I just can’t wait until I get to hear all of the single, and not so single, PTA moms throwing their cheap pick-up lines at me.” Steve says that with a leading tone. Hoping that Eddie takes that in the direction he wants it to.

Eddie slides the drinks across the bar. “That something they do,” he says, with a lilt of jealousy.

“Every year. Without fail.”

“Any way I can help with that?”

“Come over later and find out.” Steve gives him a flirtatious smile. “What do I owe you?”

Eddie waves his hand. “It’s on the house.”

“I was joking before. Seriously, what so I owe you.”

“And now I’m being serious. I get a free drink a day that I can give out to a friend, so consider that covering Rob’s, and then I am personally paying for yours.”

“What was it about needing to save up money?”

“That doesn’t apply to you, sweetheart.” Eddie leans over the bar a little bit, palms pressed into the edge of the counter.

“Steve,” Robin yells from the couch. “I thought you were getting us drinks.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “I’m paying next time, no arguments.”

“Whatever you say so.”

He walks back over to the group and hands Robin her tea.

Tag list (let me know if you want to be added or taken off) @slowandsteddie, @annieofhearts, @cacdyke, @ubpd, @captain--low,

@thespaceantwhowrites, @goodolefashionedloverboi, @anne-bennett-cosplayer, @lunaticparisianlady,

@apomaro-mellow, @dolphincliffs, @dragonmama76, @maggiebug417, @stevesbipanic,

@fearieshadow, @eightpackdiaz, @au79burger @bookworm0690 , @practicallybegging,

@potato-of-the-lord, @autumncrocusandladybug, @estrellami-1, @ilovecupcakesandtea, @gregre369

@my2amgaythoughts, @ellietheasexylibrarian, @emmabubbles, @eriquin, @grtwdsmwhr

@croatoan-like-its-hot, @dreamercec, @dreamy-jeans137

[obbystars]

Drop some random sebastian headcanon u have in mind fics related or not if u ever had one pls drop itudulfyldyostoakakak😇😇

(ALRIGHTY LET’S SEE IF I’VE STILL GOT IT IN ME TO MAKE A HEADCANON POST)

CONTENT WARNING: cannibalism in post-experimentation section

Notes: Sebastian Solace x GN!Reader / General Relationship Headcanons + some general Sebastian headcanons / kid you not pulling this up i realized i did not have any headcanons for sebastian thought out so i spent a good while thinking LSJDJSNX / i hope you guys know this is written by someone who has not dated before (has no idea what they’re doing) / wishing this could’ve been longer

Credits: dividers by @cafekitsune

To be honest, when it comes to entering a relationship with Sebastian, I can never see it happening when you meet during the events of the game. Like, obviously he only sees all of expendables as research collectors (and possibly food) and that’s pretty much it. He does not give two shits about us.

If you knew him before he got arrested, or even knew him while he was a prisoner under Urbanshade (specifically another prisoner), then yes I can see it happening. Of course, if you knew him beforehand and became an expendable for whatever reason after, then yes I can also see it. It’s because you knew who he was before he became what he is now, y’know?

Anywayy…

He’s a teasing type of partner. Often making sarcastic comments whenever he sees the opportunity to, pushing some of your buttons just for the fun of it, all that stuff. He can tone it down if you ask though, or if he sees it’s actually bothering you.

Sebastian does like cuddling but he is almost never the one to initiate it. It’s not that he’s uncomfortable (well he kinda is sometimes), he’s also not sure if you’re comfortable with it unless you voice it to him. Will that change anything? Not really, you’ll still need to initiate most of the time.

It’s probably obvious now that I see a relationship with Sebastian will require quite a bit of communication, but there’s nothing wrong with that. As long as you can respect his boundaries whenever he voices it, there won’t be any problems. Be sure to voice yours too, he doesn’t want to overstep any of yours either.

He’s a listener. Ramble about the most random stuff to him and he’d unintentionally take in the information. Sometimes you just going on and on about stuff makes it easier to work on his homework even if what you’re rambling about is related to your own work. If random factoids aren’t exactly what he’s looking for, playing music also helps. You can take turns playing music. He rambles too but not all the time. Usually it’s something relating to his engineering class.

Sebastian can cook up something really good whenever he feels like it. It’s not super fancy but he can recreate some of his mom’s recipes. When it’s not that, it’s just a simple peanut butter and jelly sandwich or something microwaved. It really depends on the mood he’s in. If you cook, try making something he hasn’t had, like a dish from your country. He’s always willing to try.

Quality time type of partner. You don’t really need to be doing anything, he’s happy just being in the same room as you.

You two are watching YouTube videos on his laptop in bed late at night until you both fall asleep. One of you sometimes wakes up to put the laptop away, while other times it was almost kicked off the bed. Thankfully it hasn’t happened yet.

Game date nights. Whether it’s PvP or Co-op, you’re both playing. Local or online, doesn’t matter. As long as it’s multiplayer. Sebastian does strikes me as a rogue-like, souls, shooter type of gamer though. He probably picked up Sims at some point and got way too into making houses rather than actually making Sims. Sometimes he playa horror but it scares the shit out of him most of the time.

He sometimes plays his guitar for you, even asking if you have any requests. If you ask nicely enough, he’d help you learn how to play if you don’t already. If you actually end up getting your own, he’d be so down to play with you.

Meeting with his family is pretty much a must (his mom wants to meet you). His big sister embarrasses him by telling you just how much he “gushes” about you. In reality, he talks about you to them whenever they ask and if you two are going out just so they know and to not call or text him or anything until then. Still, his family likes you and that’s all he wants.

Post-Experimentation

Remember how I said Sebastian isn’t exactly uncomfortable with touch? Yeah, now he is. He has a bubble around him and he does not like it when someone gets too close whether it was intentional or not. His reaction to it can vary from shoving them away to a more violent reaction that may lead to a serious injury or even death.

Upon finding a corpse and being so terribly hungry, he had to try and force himself to eat it. The idea of eating another person made him want to spit it all out, to regurgitate all of it out. Flesh, bones, intestines, lungs, liver, heart… “Keep it in your stomach. You won’t find much food after this.” Eventually, he was able to stomach it. Eventually, it became natural.

If you’ve known him before all of this and he meets up with you while the lockdown is still happening, yeah he has questions cause what the hell. He wants to keep you safe, but if you stay around too long, Urbanshade might get suspicious that they lost an expendable’s signal. It’s already bad enough that they want him dead, and the scrambler can be a dead giveaway if their operatives suddenly can’t contact HQ. Just don’t die while you’re out there, please. It’d also be best if they don’t find out about your much deeper connection with him, so there’s another reason why it’d be difficult to stay in touch with each other in the facility.

He’d try to get in touch with Painter just to let him know about you. Lead the Good People away, shoot down a wall dweller that you haven’t noticed yet, all that stuff. He can’t do much about the bull shark, squiddles, and the anglers but he can try to do something about Pandemonium. Unlike the anglers, it’s not a cloud of smoke and is really just rotting flesh.

Physical touch with him in this case is still complicated. He’s very uncomfortable with it and it may take a while for him to warm up to your touch again. He’s not gonna hit you or anything, god no. If you were anyone else, one he doesn’t know, absolutely. He’ll try to express that. The topic itself is sensitive and he never likes bringing it up.

Assuming Mr. Lopee has taken an interest in you and allows you to keep coming back after every death, Sebastian is more willing to help you. Will he give you a discount though? No, especially not if there are other expendables with you. (he will slip in a battery or two though) It’s also a little less worry for him since death isn’t the end for you, but he wonders just how long it’ll take for Urbanshade to realize one of their prisoners is capable of coming back to life. You’re not supposed to have access to the Ferryman Tokens. The expendable protocol was specifically made so that Urbanshade didn’t have to use so much of them.

If you happen to come across something rare or something he usually sells at a high price, he’d appreciate it if you allowed him to take it off your hands and sell it to one of the other EXR-Ps. More intel from them means a higher chance of escaping (hopefully). You two will likely be stuck here for a while as long as no one else takes the crystal before then.

yeah uh

that’s all i got 🧍

[theprettynosferatu]

CW: covert hypno, misogyny, step-sibling stuff.

I

Claire was in a foul mood, stomping like a toddler through the hallway of her childhood home. Ah yes, coming back home from College was always a mixed bag. On the one hand, she loved spending time with (and being pampered by) her mom and Rick, her step-dad. But on the other hand, it meant dealing with The Asshole.

He hadn’t always been The Asshole, and that just hurt even more. Somewhere beneath his alpha male bullshit were the remains of her step-brother John. Surely that sweet, shy boy had to be inside this new, incredibly annoying person… but no matter how hard she tried, Claire couldn’t make the person she had loved as a brother emerge from the armor of pick-up artistry and right-wing bastardry John had built around himself. 

It had started during his senior year of high-school, her first one away in college. Maybe he got bullied too much, maybe he listened to too many podcasts and influencers… who knew? The point was that John started hitting the gym, spouting sexist bullshit, bragging about his sexual conquests. And little by little, in her mind, John started to disappear. Now, three years later, she could only think of him as The Asshole. And so, she tried to avoid him as much as humanly possible when she was back home.

It soured the experience for her. It seemed impossible that The Asshole was Rick’s son- after all, Rick was a good man. He had treated Claire like a daughter, with a respect and kindness her biological father had never shown; that was, when that deadbeat had even been around. Claire never called Rick “dad”, but she did feel him as a dad in her heart, and the memories of her “real” father were hazy and growing more and more faint with the years. With horror she realized her memories of John were fading as well, devoured by The Asshole. She fought to remember that The Asshole had once been a decent kid.

The Asshole, for his part, made that task incredibly hard. His off-hand comment that she’d be happier dropping out of college and being a “proper wife” had made her storm off the dinner table. Hence her stomping in that hallway, going to her room. She slammed the door. It would be a long summer. 

II

Pathetic. She couldn’t think of a better word for it. She should feel violated, perhaps- after all, she had caught The Asshole using her laptop- but she found it hard to even muster up anger. She felt disgusted, and also a bit sorry for him. His explanation was as ridiculous as she could have expected from him.

“I just wanted to make sure you weren’t being a low value whore, chatting with a bunch of dudes.”

Sure, Asshole. That’s what I need: you as the guardian of my virtue, she thought. Still, it was an excuse, and she would hold on to it. The alternative explanation was worse and even contemplating it felt abominable. And yet a little part of her, a voice deep inside her head couldn’t help but feel relief.

I’m glad my nudes are on my phone.

No. Better to not go there. John was her step-brother. Even after becoming the prick he had turned into, he wouldn’t see her… like that.

Would he?

She knew he saw her friends like sex toys, given that two of them had confessed to being somehow persuaded by his alleged charms. Needless to say, those girls were now former friends- not so much because they slept with The Asshole and more because they had given him ammo: it made it harder to argue that his toxic manosphere crap was repulsive when he could throw such conquests in Claire’s face. But not even the world’s biggest douchebag would cross the line that separated family and attraction. And they had been family, once. God, it hurt to remember.

She had screamed at him like a fucking teenager, but what was she expected to do? And he had walked away like nothing had happened, like she didn’t catch him red handed. Claire took a deep breath. Fuck it. Let it go. Don’t let him ruin your break. She sat down for an evening of happy, mindless Youtube binging.

Huh. Was the screen acting up? She couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but every now and then something felt… off. Well, it was no big deal; certainly not annoying enough to warrant an expensive trip to get the laptop checked out.

Shit. She figured the fight had left her more upset than she had thought: she had watched a two hour video essay on feminism and media representation and she couldn’t remember a second of it. A wave of fear came over her. Spacing out for two hours wasn’t normal. Maybe she was just tired. Yeah, that seemed right. Dealing with The Asshole was exhausting. She needed to sleep.

III

Relaxing ended up being easier than she had expected. She spent long hours in front of her laptop, whiling the time away, floating in a blissful state of pure peace. So what if she couldn’t always remember what she had watched? The effect was soothing, like soaking her brain in a nice hot tub. And she had at long last found a way to deal with The Asshole.

The key was so simple she felt dumb as a rock for not figuring out sooner. The way to avoid a fight was, simply, to avoid the fight. Why spend precious energy fighting a man who was incapable of changing his mind? So she didn’t. Whatever inane bullshit came out of his mouth, she let slide. Maybe give him a polite smile and nod so he would think she was actually paying attention, and daydream about her next laptop session. This was exactly what she needed: a full vacation for her overworked brain.

Around the end of the first week the benefits of Claire’s new regiment became evident. She felt less irritable, giddier, somehow… lighter. And even her libido, long buried under a pile of stress was coming back with a vengeance. Why else would she emerge from her laptop dives soaking wet, needing to pleasure herself as intensely as she needed to breathe? And the way her body felt! Before, her… playing was quick, almost as if doing maintenance on some needed but almost forgotten piece of machinery. Now every time she played with herself was a celebration. She caressed her breasts, took her time, toyed with herself… it was no longer a race to orgasm. Her own body was the greatest show on Earth.

The effects of regular self-pleasuring, long documented in scientific literature, hit her like a train. She was relaxed, energetic- and hell, even The Asshole didn’t seem so annoying anymore. Just smile and nod at him and ignore his misogynistic ramblings. And, if she was being honest, even The Asshole was right, every now and then. Broken clocks and all that. 

You really should show off your legs more. Advertise your sexual value to high-status males.

Okay, so half of that was idiotic. But the legs thing? Right on the money. Claire twirled, letting her new, short sundress flutter and fly, and giggled. It felt light. She felt light. Radiant.

Every now and then her mind went back to the laptop. The screen was acting funny. Maybe she should do something about it, but it seemed like work, and she was home to relax. The laptop thing could wait.

Do you think men would be so nice to you if you didn’t have great tits?

Those words struck a chord inside her. She pondered them after a few hours of mindless laptop time. Sure, she knew she had large-ish breasts, and she wasn’t a complete idiot: men had been extremely fucking obvious about them since she had been a teen. But were tits -breasts- that important? Surely not. Her professors valued her for her intellect.

Didn’t they?

Then why had every professor that had mentored her and helped her out been a man? 

My big tits.

No, that was ridiculous. Silly. And yet, she barely noticed her hand sliding between her legs as she thought about it. My tits matter. My tits are what’s important.

She came almost instantly, and a wave of shame washed over her. She needed to escape it. Dodge it somehow. Laptop. Watch something on the laptop. Let it relax her.

Claire’s low-cut top didn’t go unnoticed at dinner. She wasn’t really sure why she had put it on. It just felt right. Rick obviously kept quiet, but The Asshole made no effort to hide his glances and his smug smile. She should be angry, something inside her told her; but it was a distant voice, faint and growing smaller. If anything she felt… valued. Desired. Worthy. Fuck it, even if it was The Asshole, she had to admit a bit of male attention now and then wasn’t so bad. She found herself blushing at first. Eventually, it was all too much. Claire excused herself and dashed to the bathroom. She fell on her knees, rubbing her pussy -vagina- with a desperation she had never felt before. She needed to cum. The Asshole’s eyes, and his sneer of superiority, and his hateful words… she had to bite her hand to stop herself from screaming.

Claire came back to the table, flustered but okay. Or so she thought.

“Pour me a Coke”, The Asshole said. It wasn’t polite. It wasn’t a request. He had just treated her like a fucking servant.

And yet, she walked to the kitchen and made sure she poured the most perfect glass of Coke possible. She leaned in a bit while she placed it by his plate, giving him a beautiful view of her big, dumb tits. Breasts! Her breasts! What the fuck was wrong with her?

“Thank you, cunt”, The Asshole whispered.

Claire froze. She should… what? Slap him? Scream at him? Lecture him? What would be the point? No, it was better to let it slide. Smile and nod.

Smile? Smile after that? What the fuck was she thinking? Claire was mortified. Turning in bed, she wished she could take that stupid smile back and… fucking punch The Asshole for calling her a…

Why? Why, why, why? Why was she so fucking wet? It was disgusting! He was disgusting! 

…She was disgusting, getting soaked at being called a…

It was too strong. She tried to fight it, she truly did, but her pussy, her traitorous fucking pussy refused to give up, driving her insane. A cunt. He had called her a cunt. Her fingers went into her body. She wasn’t gentle with herself. No, she fucked herself without mercy, like she imagined he would use her if he had a chance. Her mind was a vortex, a mess of words and images and shame and pleasure.

Cunt. Cunt. Big-titty cunt. I’m just a stupid cunt. My tits are all that matters. I’m just a cunt. I’m just holes and tits. I don’t need to make choices. I need to do as men tell me. Men know best. Men are superior. I’m just holes…

She woke up covered in sweat. Fuck. Had she passed out? What… what was wrong with her? She was an excellent college student…

She wanted to throw up. College. All that work. Thinking. And then what? A job? Stress? She couldn’t do it. No way. She was…

I’m too stupid and weak.

It felt so fucking good to think it. It was liberating. Relaxing. It felt like the universe was simple, and she was simple, and now her place in the world was simple. It was light and fresh and it made her want to burst out in giggles. 

A shower of images and words flooded her mind. Women on their knees. Women cooking in traditional aprons while wearing chokers. Women kissing, putting on shows for men. She had no idea when she had seen all that, and suddenly she couldn’t even care enough to fight the feeling. It all just felt… right. Sexy. Natural. It was her place. It was her purpose as a woman. As a cunt. As an inferior fleshlight. She moaned at the idea of sharing this new wonderful bliss with her stuck-up college friends, and making them see the light…

She didn’t even get mad when The Asshole got into her room without knocking. She didn’t even consider covering up. In fact, she felt happy when his eyes focused on her body.

I’m useful. My body makes me useful.

“What are you doing?”, He asked. Suddenly He wasn’t The Asshole anymore. He was a He, and He was always right, and she was meant to do as He said. Simple. Sexy. Fun.

“I just rubbed my dumb pussy until I passed out”, she blurted out before exploding in a symphony of delighted giggling. 

“You know, I know how you call me. Your cunt friends told me. So I’m The Asshole, huh?”

Claire looked at him with fuzzy, unfocused eyes. She’d never think that of a Man!

“What are you?” He asked.

“Holes!”, she replied excitedly. “And tits! And porn!”

“And what do you serve?”

She blanked for a moment. Serve? She did what Men told her, but that wasn’t serving, that was just… being herself. Being a good little cunt. It was natural. Then, as if to help her out, he let his trousers fall.

“Cock!” she yelped. “I serve cock!”

“Then serve”

Duh. Of course she served cock. How could she have forgotten? As she licked and wonderful, conquering cock in front of her, she realized how silly she had been. That was why Men did the thinking. She took in its smell, its smooth texture on her tongue, the way He looked down at her and she looked up at Him. It was just natural.

She was happy, she thought as she relaxed her throat and let that cock slide deeper and deeper inside her.

In the end, she never found out what, exactly, had happened with her laptop. 

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