#i know this is shitty written but i didn't write that much in months

[fckyouiwontdowhatyoutellme]

This is so choppy and weird I'm sorry

Imagine if you will Steve, Robin and Eddie at some concert, waiting infront of the location to be let in.

Steve and Robin went together, knowing that Eddie will be there too. Eddie and Steve are in the very beginnings of something but despite Steve being usually super confident in his flirting, he wasn't confident enough to put the moves on Eddie yet.

By the time Steve and Robin arrive at the concert location Steve has already decided to elevate his confidence with some beer and weed so now he's in his giggly, loopy mode and Robin already had it.

Eddie is already there with his guys by the time the other two arrive but he is also not confident enough to approach Steve alone, so he just awkwardly steals some glances towards where he and Robin stand around. He sees Steve whisper something to Robin, while pointing at him and almost has a heartattack when Robin walks over.

"Okay so I am not entirely sure what dingus over there said but he either wanted me to hit you or hit on you, so I am going to do the first one" she says with a light punch to a very confused Eddies arm.

Eddie just awkwardly laughs and waves Steve over to them as well. Steve follows on wobbly legs and falls into another fit of giggles when he almost knocks over Robin. Eddie has already heard of the infamous giggly Steve but witnessing it in person is a hole new level. He is absolutely enamoured.

Within a few minutes Robin and Steve are sitting next to Eddie and his friends on the floor, Robin chatting with the guys and Steve...well Steve decided to flirt.

Unfortunately the only thing his drunk fuzzy brain can come up with is trying to give Eddie a wet willie as an excuse to be close to him. So now Eddie has to deal with a giggly drunk Steve constantly poking his spit wet finger into his ear (failing to actually hit his ear 80% of the time because he's that drunk) and he can't even be mad because Steve looks just way too cute like that.

So Eddie endures the poking attacks on his face, neck, arm, literally anywhere Steve can reach and once he has enough liquid courage himself dares to bite Steve's finger hovering infront of his face. To Eddie's delight that makes his opponent blush like crazy (he ignores Jeff and Grant pointing out that he's blushing as well).

So as the night goes on the two of them are stuck in a poke/biting war and basically all over each other even during the concert. It eventually evolves into sneaking a kiss onto whatever part of the other is closest. Gareth and Robin yell at them to just get a room already to wich Steve simply responds: "Yeah I'm planning on that".

They do get into a room but only with much help of Robin and the Corroded Coffin guys because by now they're both giggly drunk/high messes who can barely walk straight (ha!). Their poking/biting/smooching war goes on the entire way back to Robin & Steve's appartment and when they finally fall into Steve's bed still giggling they manage to sneak an actual kiss on the lips despite being uncoordinated as fuck. After that they're both out like a light and Robin doesn't have to get out her earplugs much to her delight.

They do talk about it all when they wake up all tangled together, still in sweaty beer soaked clothes from the night before and laughing about how stupid their drunk selves decided to flirt.

And when someone asks months later why Steve gives Eddie a wet willie with the fondest look ever on his face, Robin just sighs and tells the story of her dingus and dork and how that became their love language.

[hunny-bean]

Too Close For Comfort

Pairing: Frank Castle x F!Reader

Summary: Frank comforts you after he is forced to kill a man in your shared motel room.

Word Count: 5.4k

Warnings: 18+ (Minors DNI), Gun Violence, Dead Body (Not Frank's. Don't Worry), Explicit Sexual Content, Little Pinch of Angst, Long Ass Flashback, Porn With 3.5k Words of Plot

A/N: This is the first fic I've ever written! I've been wanting to write for the JB fandom for a while and I finally decided to go for it. I'm planning to write for a lot more of his characters in the future, but I figured Frank was a good starting point. Hope you like it! I'm open to feedback if you've got it. XOXO.

Read on AO3

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After almost three months of living in an old stolen pickup truck and a series of shitty motels, you had learned to count your blessings. An important one, you quickly came to realize, was good water pressure. You were in the middle of your forth shower in the three days you and your new travel partner had been in this town, and you were trying your best to savor the moment. Since the closest companion of long showers is long trains of thought, you allowed your mind to wander back to how your adventure first began.

You took a step back in the cereal aisle in your local grocery store to examine the top shelf and ran directly into someone trying to pass behind you. Startled, you dropped the basket you were carrying full of frozen veggies and canned soups, and watched them roll in all directions. You whipped around so quickly you almost joined your soup on the floor, but luckily a strong hand shot out to steady you before you could.

"Whoa. Sorry 'bout that," the stranger said. And that was how you met Frank Castle. Surprisingly, your first impression of him had nothing to do with his gentle giant aura or his warm, gravelly voice. Your first impression happened before you even laid eyes on him, and that was how backing up into him was like hitting a brick wall with your car. He didn't stumble or falter. He didn't even flinch.

"No, sorry, that was my fault," you replied, your cheeks flushed from creating a loud noise in a public place. The stranger removed his hand from your arm and glanced down at the floor where your bags of peas laid, slowly thawing.

"You, uh... You want some help with those?"

"Oh, I got it, don't worry."

The man mumbled an "alright" and you watched him start to walk away, expecting him to leave the aisle, but he only took a few steps before his foot brushed a stray can, and he bent down to help anyway.

"Thank you. You didn't have to do that," you said when all the groceries had been collected.

"No problem," he muttered. You weren't sure why, but there was something off-putting about him. Later you realized it was the stark contrast between his gruff outer appearance and his quiet way of speaking. He was so intimidating but he seemed so trustworthy. "You have a nice day, ma'am."

Before he could walk away, you found yourself calling out to him, too curious to let him leave without asking any questions.

"Hey, I don't think I've seen you around here before. Are you. . . new in town?"

He seemed amused by your attempt to start a conversation, but decided to indulge you anyway. "I'm just passin' through. So you, uh, you really know everyone that lives here?"

Although he seemed genuinely interested in what you had to say, he kept subtly glancing around like he was about to cross the street or something. When he turned his head, you noticed the remnants of a week-old bruise on his jaw.

"Pretty much, yeah," you responded. "So, life on the road, huh? Sounds pretty exhilarating."

He let out a friendly chuckle. "Yeah, I guess it can be. If exhilarating is what you call lukewarm showers and buying all your food from the gas station."

You smiled back, happy the man seemed to be warming up some. He seemed less on edge, and you weren't sure why, but that made you feel accomplished in some way.

"Well, this isn't a gas station," you remarked, playfully contradicting his earlier statement.

"You're right, it's not," he said. "But I had to make an exception because-" You watched as he pulled a round object from his jacket pocket, holding it up and waving it slightly as if to show it off. "-gas stations don't carry mangoes."

You mock gasped, unable to fight back a smile. "Pocket fruit? I hope you were planning to pay for that. Or are you 'just passing through' because you're on the run from the police?"

You expected him to laugh at this, but instead you saw him staring intently over your shoulder at a man who had just entered the aisle. He seemed to identify the new arrival as some sort of threat. You saw that they were looking directly at each other, and you suddenly felt uneasy. Before you could ask what was wrong, several things began happening at once.

The man at the end of the aisle pulled out a gun and pointed it directly at the two of you. No, not at you, just at the kind stranger, who immediately pushed you behind him as the first shot rang out, followed by a second one. Thankfully, they both missed the two of you, but the second bullet grazed the basket you were still holding which was sticking out from behind the stranger's leg. Instantly, you dropped the basket and began sprinting for the nearest exit with the stranger close behind you.

You ran through a door marked 'EMPLOYEES ONLY,' which the stranger quickly barricaded with a tall shelf packed with bulk boxes of paper towel rolls. As the shooter banged at the door, the two of you found an exit at the back of the stock room, which you flung open and rushed through into the building's side alley. The stranger pulled you behind the building to where his vehicle was conveniently parked, almost as if he'd been anticipating an emergency escape. Too terrified to argue, you didn't protest when he ordered you to get in the passenger seat and jammed his keys in the ignition. He tore out of the parking lot and onto the main road, carrying you away from your home and the man who had tried to kill you both.

It took you half an hour to work up the courage to ask questions.

"Who was he?" you asked, softly. You're sure he heard you, although he seemed happy to pretend he didn't.

After a few long moments, when he realized you weren't going to stop staring at him until he answered, he begrudgingly responded.

"A bad man."

"Why did he wanna kill you?"

"I, uh, took something from him," the stranger said, studying his rear view mirror to see if you were being followed.

"Are you a bad man?" you asked, tentatively.

At first he just sighed, and for a moment you thought that's all he was going to give you for an answer, but then he spoke.

"I'm not going to hurt you, if that's what you're asking."

"Then. . . can you take me home?"

"I can't turn around yet, not 'till I know we're not being followed. Then I might be able to take you back so you can pack a bag or two."

"Pack?! For what?" you exclaimed, dreading the answer. There was another awkward silence while the man planned his answer. "Why do I need to pack? Tell me!"

"That man, the one with the gun? He has a, uh, habit of targeting his enemies' loved ones."

"But we barely know each other, why the hell would he-"

"He doesn't know that."

"Besides," he continued after a while, "I don't really. . . have any loved ones. So he's kinda grasping at straws to find somebody I'd want to protect."

"So, he thinks you would care if I died, and now we're both in danger?" You stared at him in disbelief.

"Pretty much, yeah," he mumbled.

After that, the truck was silent for a long while. The only time you spoke in the next two hours was to give the stranger your address. You watched the trees and road pass by beside you, trying to figure out what you would pack when you finally made it home for possibly the last time. You were lost in thought so long that you were pulled out of your head by the truck's tires bouncing over the dip in your driveway. You didn't even know you had turned around.

"You get ten minutes. We're traveling light, so don't go crazy." You began to hop out of the truck before the stranger's voice stopped you in your tracks. You turned around and saw that he was looking at you for the first time since you escaped the grocery store. "For the record," he began, contemplating what to say next, "I would care if he killed you."

You just stared back at him, not knowing how to respond to that.

"I'm gonna keep you safe, alright?" he promised, and you believed him.

You nodded, and went inside to gather your belongings. There was just something about this man that made you want to trust him. You managed to fit everything you needed into a large duffel bag and a back-pack. Looking around you, you realized something. You lived alone and all your friends lived out of state. This town had nothing to offer you except a shitty restaurant job. Most likely, the only person who would even notice you were gone was your boss. You took a deep breath before returning to the truck, putting your life in the hands of someone you just met.

You hopped back in the passenger seat, and the stranger helped you toss your bags in the backseat after checking that they were of a reasonable size. "You ready?" he asked.

"Fuck, no. Lets go."

The two of you took off down the road in a different direction than before, hoping to throw the bad man off your trail. After about an hour on the road, you looked over at the stranger to find him smirking slightly, lost in thought.

"What?" you asked, happy the mood seemed to be lightening despite your situation. He glanced over at you momentarily, and instead of providing a verbal response, he just reached into his pocket and handed you a slightly dented but still perfectly ripe mango. You took it from him with a smile.

"What's your name?" you asked.

He looked at you for a long moment, before seeming to make a decision. "Frank. What yours?"

You were brought back to the present by a torrent of freezing cold water, telling you you had been in there too long. You were thankful that Frank seemed to prefer morning showers. As you stepped out and dried off, you thought about the man chasing you. Eventually, when Frank opened up to you, he revealed that his name was Jordan Carlisle, and that his father was involved in the murder of Frank's family. You also discovered that the thing Frank had taken from him was his father's life. It had been so long since that day at the grocery store, and you wondered if you'd ever see him again. Maybe by this point, he'd given up on his revenge, and decided to leave Frank in peace. But Frank said Carlisle wasn't the type of man to just give up, and that if you ever wanted to stop running, someone would have to die.

During your few months together, you also learned that Frank wasn't the type to run away or avoid confrontation. The only reason he hadn't met Carlisle half way and taken him down was to keep you safe. That and the fact that he had been forced to leave behind some supplies shortly before you met and was left with nothing but a handgun, two bullets, and a pocket knife. (All things you could use to kill a man, but probably not a trained assassin).

You were both anticipating the end of the chase, however, because Frank had recently acquired various new firearms and a respectable pile of ammunition, and he was getting a little tired of running. Also, there's only so much distance you can put between you and your attacker before he realizes he's moving in the wrong direction. You had just pulled your favorite cotton nightgown over your head when-

*BANG*

You heard the unmistakable sound of the motel door being forced open. You heard a gunshot and something hit the floor. The sounds of a physical struggle just behind the bathroom door simultaneously relieved you and caused your heart to slam against your rib cage. At least you knew Frank was still alive. Unfortunately, so was the person who broke in. You couldn't see him, but you were pretty sure you knew who it was.

Two more gunshots shocked you into motion. You slid under the bathroom sink and tried desperately to remember what Frank told you to do on your first night together in case of a break in. He told you to get outside and find a hiding spot or barricade yourself in a closet or bathroom and wait for him to come get you. His voice in your head was commanding you, "Do. Not. Move." You tried to do as you were told but the urge to make sure Frank was alright was growing stronger. The muffled grunts and thuds were scaring you. You couldn't tell who had the upper hand and you didn't know enough about guns to determine which shots came from which man.

A loud cry of pain from Frank was your final straw. There wasn't a single thought in your head, let alone a plan, but you couldn't keep hiding while someone you cared about was potentially getting himself killed. You ran to the bathroom door, unlocked it, and threw it open with as much force as you could manage. The door slammed into the wall beside it with a loud crash. A distraction.

Just a few feet in front of you, Jordan Carlisle was caught off guard by the sound and he twirled around to find the source. Almost instantly, his gun was trained on you. Suddenly, you felt consumed by fear unlike anything you'd ever felt before. You heard the gunshot and flinched violently backward, as if you could somehow escape the bullet, stumbling back onto the bathroom floor. You screamed and squeezed your eyes shut tight, waiting for the impact, but it never came. You hesitantly opened your eyes just in time to watch Carlisle collapse onto the dirty motel carpet, eyes open and unseeing. He was dead. The chase was over.

Almost immediately you burst into tears, unable to get the image of his lifeless body out of your head. You knew you should be relieved, but there was something about almost dying that made you prone to emotional outbursts. You gazed up at Frank across the room, who still had his gun pointed at the spot where Carlisle had been standing moments before. He slowly lowered it and looked over at you where you were sitting on the floor, sobbing. He seemed angry, like every cell in his body was infused with a furious energy, and he had just shot the thing he was taking it out on.

"WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU THINKING?!" Guess now it was your turn. "I TOLD YOU IF SOMEONE BREAKS IN, YOU FIND A PLACE TO HIDE AND YOU STAY THERE."

"I was j-just wo-horried about you," you hiccuped.

"I HAD IT COVERED."

"I'm sorr-"

"YOU COULD HAVE GOTTEN YOURSELF KILLED. THEN ALL OF THIS RUNNING BULLSHIT WOULD HAVE BEEN FOR NOTHING."

You turned your head away from the shouting and found yourself looking directly at Carlisle again. This time, you were unable to turn away. It was like you were completely frozen, tension locking all your muscles in place, rendering you incapable of even the slightest movement. Your tears began falling harder but you were barely making a sound. Your lungs were tight and burning. You couldn't even draw in a full breath. Frank's reprimanding faded into background noise. You found yourself wishing desperately that you were anywhere but in that room.

"Oh, fuck," Frank muttered when he saw you damn near hyperventilating. He calmed down considerably when he realized yelling at you was only making things worse. "Shit, I didn't want you to see this."

He made his way over to your side of the room and knelt down to be at eye level with you. You barely acknowledged his presence.

"Hey, look at me," he asked gently. You didn't move your head. Softly, Frank cupped your cheek, the one farther away from him, and used it to turn you in his direction.

"You're gonna be okay," he promised. "Can you stand, sweetheart?"

Seeing Frank alive and calm helped you come back to yourself. Slowly, you nodded. Frank stood and held out his hand to you, which you used to pull yourself up with a little effort. You managed to get upright, but your legs were shaking so hard you weren't sure if you'd be able to walk. It was pathetic, and you were quite sure Frank would agree, but he didn't say anything about it. He just took one look at you and scooped you up into his arms. You were embarrassed by your incompetence, but you had finally stopped crying, and that was an accomplishment in and of itself.

Frank carried you over to your bed on the far side of the room and laid you down carefully. On your way over, you passed his bed which was closer to the bathroom, and saw two bullet holes in the pillow Frank had been laying on when you left to take a shower. That was when the relief hit you. You felt no more grief or fear or regret, only solaced by the fact that you were both alive and safe at last.

"Stay here, alright? Don't move," Frank murmured. He turned to walk over to the body again but you grabbed onto his arm before he could leave. He looked back at you questioningly.

"I heard you get hurt," you mentioned shyly. "What happened?"

Frank's eyes revealed that he was happy you were talking again. He seemed touched that your first concern when the shock wore off was for him.

"Ran into the nightstand," he admitted, rubbing his side. "It's just bruised, nothing to worry about."

You had a feeling he wasn't telling you the full story, but you decided to accept his answer. As far as you could tell, he wasn't bleeding anywhere and he didn't seem to be in much pain. Satisfied, you let go of his arm and turned to face the wall. You had a feeling you wouldn't want to see what was about to happen.

You laid there for a while, listening to Frank working behind you. You heard something being dragged across the floor, several grunts of effort and a sickening thud. You heard the faucet running in the sink and the sound of the bathroom door closing. There were footsteps moving around the room. . . the sound of someone changing clothes. You smelled the air freshener left in the bathroom cabinet masking the scent of blood.

Finally, after God knows how long, you felt the bed dip slightly as Frank sat down on the edge. You sat up and moved next to him, resting your head on his shoulder after a moment of hesitation. He put his arm around your shoulder and held you closer to him. The two of you weren't usually this affectionate, but you had certainly grown closer during your time together, and you figured the situation called for it.

"Do you think the police are on their way down here?" you asked.

Frank shrugged. "Probably not if they haven't shown up by now." Frank tried and failed to fight back a small smile. "Either that guy behind the front desk is a really heavy sleeper, or he did something to piss off the jackass in our bathtub. The only other people in this dump checked out yesterday," he said. You couldn't help but smile at that along with him. You were just so happy to be alive.

The more you let that thought run through your head, the more you wanted to be close to him. You needed more than an arm around your shoulder after you almost got shot in the head. You wanted to be held. 'Oh, sue me,' you thought. 'Who wouldn't?'

But you tried to let it be enough. You weren't sure how Frank would react to more than what you were already doing and you were too nervous to find out. You felt Frank shift next to you and realized that overthinking had caused you to become tense. The silence between you grew slowly thicker and you were worried he was about to pull away from you. In that moment, Frank standing up seemed like the absolute worst thing in the world that could happen to anyone, and you weren't about to let it.

'Fuck it', you thought, and with one quick movement, you were straddling his lap with your arms thrown over his shoulders, pulling him closer to you. He was caught off guard for a brief moment, but a second later his arms were wrapped around your waist, holding you just as tightly. You buried your face in his neck, breathing him in and savoring the feeling of his pulse against your cheek.

"We're okay, Frankie," you breathed. "It's over."

"I told you I was gonna keep you safe, sweetheart. I don't make promises I can't keep."

The two of you stayed like that for a while, content to just hold each other until the sun shone through the curtains. Well, you thought you were content, but it wasn't long before the closeness started to affect you. He was just so warm and solid, and suddenly you felt like he was wearing too many clothes. You wanted to feel him. Feel his heartbeat and the warmth of his skin on yours.

Your stomach was tight with desperation and you felt tears forming behind your eyes. You needed to be closer. Your thighs tightened around Frank's hips and he felt your breathing get heavier against his neck. You shifted your position slightly to ease some of the wanting in your veins but you froze when you heard Frank's breath hitch.

As you settled your weight on his lap again, your new position provided a new sensation. There was something warm pressing against your inner thigh. Even through Frank's impenetrable denim jeans, you could feel it heating up.

Frank was just as aroused by your position as you were. He wanted you, too, but you knew he would never admit it because he cared about you too much to do anything that could potentially hurt you.

The worst part was, you could feel it getting bigger and pulsing softly right next to where you wanted it the most, and he knew you could feel it. He knew, and he knew you wanted it, but he still wasn't saying anything about it because he was too damn stubborn. He probably thought you weren't in your right mind and would regret it in the morning but that was just such bullshit. You could never regret him, and you were going to make sure he knew that.

There was still some part of you that was afraid to make a move, and that part of you really wanted Frank to break first. So, you decided to make him unable to ignore it any longer. Pretending to adjust your position again, you settled down directly on top of his bulge, making sure it was exactly where you wanted it. The feeling of his cock hardening against you sent another wave of desperation through your body, causing you to tighten your limbs around him again. Still feigning innocence, you rolled your hips once for good measure, grinding down on him to see his reaction.

You didn't see it so much as feel it, when his arms tensed up around you and he turned his head away from you in frustration. You could feel your blood pumping hard, and you were sure your face was flushed. You wondered if he could feel your heartbeat the same way you could feel his pressed up against your clit. You felt his cock twitch again, even through three layers of fabric, and you could barely take it any more. You rolled your hips again, purely on instinct, and accidentally let out a soft moan.

Frank exhaled sharply and slid his arm from around your waist to pull your head away from his neck.

"What are you doin', sweetheart?" he asked, looking at you sympathetically when he saw your wrecked face. Suddenly, it was all too much for you, and there was nothing you could do to stop a rogue tear from sliding down your cheek.

"Please," you whispered, and that was all you had to say.

He put a hand on the back of your neck and pulled you toward him before lightly brushing his lips against yours. You pushed forward, wanting more, but Frank pulled away before you could really kiss him. He just sat there for a moment, searching your eyes for any signs of reluctance or any lack of clarity whatsoever. In the end, he found nothing but pure desire and maybe, just maybe, love.

This time, when he leaned in, you met him half way. This time, it was more than just a brush of lips. Frank kissed you like you were the most precious thing in the world to him. Gentle, yes, but also tortuously deep. You felt his tongue brush against your lower lip and gently coax your mouth open to kiss you harder, and it was warm and wet and perfect. As your need got worse, you began to grind down on him again, sighing into his mouth from the friction.

The hand he had on your neck moved up to tangle in your hair, tugging gently, while the other one shifted to settle on your lower back as he encouraged harder, slower movements of your hips. As he forced you down against him, the feeling of the rough denim on your clit through your thin panties caused you to whine quietly. Every slight movement sent sparks shooting up your spine.

You shifted your body backwards and reached down between you to tug at his zipper, but it didn't want to come down. Frank let you struggle with it for a moment, but just as you started getting frustrated, he took over for you.

In one swift movement, you were on your back underneath him, your legs still hooked around him. He sat up for a moment to pull off his shirt (revealing his fucking perfect abs that seemed completely unfair and you were about to LOSE YOUR MIND BECAUSE HOLY SHIT) and then he was back on top of you, pressing one last kiss to your lips before pulling away to look you in the eyes.

"You sure you want this, sweetheart?"

"Don't you fucking dare leave me like this, Castle."

Frank snorted, rolling his eyes affectionately. "Yes, ma'am."

With one hand, he reached down to unzip and tug down his pants and underwear, freeing his flushed cock from it's uncomfortable confines. It was bigger than you expected it to be, which is saying something because you already knew he was big from rubbing against it. He was so hard it looked painful, and he gave himself a few tugs to take the edge off. Just watching it drip onto the bed had you feeling dizzy. You were unbearably wet and all you wanted was to feel it inside of you.

Luckily, Frank seemed to tell as much, because he slid his hand up your thigh, kissing your neck gently and pushing the hem of your nightgown up to your stomach. He hooked the fingers of one hand in the waistband of your underwear but he paused there, waiting for some sort of go-ahead. You nodded at him, and he sat back again to tug your panties down your legs and pull them off.

This time, instead of immediately climbing back on top of you, Frank took a moment to admire you from an upright position. He gazed hungrily at your exposed cunt before swiping a finger through your folds and brushing your clit with the pad of his thumb. You jolted at the feeling, whimpering when he did it again just to watch you shudder.

"Frankie, please," you whined.

Frank decided to have mercy on you, and he came up to kiss you as he lined the tip of his cock up with your aching hole. He pushed slowly until the thick head was all the way in, surrounded by your soft, fluttering walls. It was a stretch, and it wasn't even half-way in. You appreciated Frank giving you a moment to adjust, but you didn't want one. You wanted to feel all of him, even if it hurt.

Hooking your legs tighter around him, you tried to push him into you. It didn't work, obviously. You didn't think you could move Frank if you barreled into him full-force, but he got the message.

In one smooth thrust, he buried himself fully inside you, grunting loudly and whispering an "Oh, fuck" into your neck. Your back arched up off the bed and you moaned loudly as his cock hit sweet spots inside you that you didn't even know existed.

Having Frank hovering over you, connected to you in so many ways, was easily the best thing you'd ever experienced. You were both breathing heavily and shaking as you waited for the initial pleasure shock to wear off.

Once you adjusted, you shifted slightly under him, trying to fuck yourself on his cock. Whatever stimulation you managed to get from that was nothing compared to when he actually started moving. Each thrust was slow and deep, sending waves of bliss coursing through you. You couldn't stop the gasps and whimpers that kept escaping, nor did you want to.

Franks arms were on either side of your head, closing you in so all you could see and feel was him. You had never felt so safe in your entire life. Every movement was so complete and perfect. Nothing was rushed or forceful, but it was still all pure pleasure. You were sure you had never been this wet before.

Feeling Frank's back muscles shift under your fingertips as he thrust into you was mesmerizing, and hearing him moan softly and curse against your pulse point was sending shivers through your body. Every time Frank pushed his cock back inside you, you felt yourself ascending further, rapidly approaching your peak. Every time he pulled out slowly so you could feel it dragging against every part of your sensitive walls, you wanted to sob from feeling so good.

It wasn't long before you were crying out from your release, tightening your grip on every part of Frank and leaving long scratches down his back. When your climax finally hit, you swore you were having an out-of-body experience.

"Attagirl, that's it," Frank whispered as he felt you spasm around him. "Oh, fuck, sweetheart. Where-" he began. Reluctantly, you rubbed your hand on your stomach. You hadn't had access to birth control in almost six weeks and shitty motels don't provide condoms. Even the ones with good water pressure.

You rubbed the back of Frank's head gently as his thrusts grew more erratic, grabbing onto and playing with his hair. Suddenly, he pulled out of you and jerked his cock barely three times before he was finishing on your stomach with a quiet groan, painting it with his cum.

Breathing heavily, the two of you collapsed next to each other, coming down from your highs and processing what just happened. Idly, you began playing with the mess on your stomach as you thought about what was next for the two of you. There was no way in hell you were letting Frank drop you off at your house and just take off after that. You know you said "It's over," but it couldn't really be over, right?

"Stay with me," you whispered.

"I'm not goin' anywhere, baby."

"I'm not talking about tonight. When you take me back home, stay with me."

Frank pushed himself up on one elbow, looking at you in disbelief. "Sweetheart, I don't think I can-"

"Then I'll stay with you. My house is a family heirloom, I've only gotta pay for water and electricity. It'll still be waiting for me whenever I need it."

"I can't let you do that. You have no idea how much I want to, but I'd get you killed."

"Then stop moving for a while. No one would find you in that town. Just stay with me. Please. If you hate it, you can leave."

Frank sighed, glancing around the room before settling his gaze back on you. He brought his hand to your face, brushing his fingertips down your cheek like you were a precious artifact. You both knew he wasn't ready to let you go.

"Okay."

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[steddiehyperfixation]

not so tragic a thing after all (steddie ficlet)

Eddie has an essay due in two days. It’s a big one, the last one of the semester, of the year, the one that will make or break his grade and determine whether or not he finally gets to graduate high school. 

And he can't write it. 

As in, he's been sitting at his desk and staring at a blank piece of lined notebook paper for hours, bouncing his leg and tapping his fingers and twirling his pencil but not producing a single word. It's not that he doesn't understand the prompt or that he doesn't know what he's going to write about, because he does understand it and he does have ideas, he just can't write it. There's some block in his brain, something that keeps him stuck there and anxious, feeling each unproductive second slipping by like a physical thing brushing past him, but still unable to make himself write. 

Eddie's always struggled with essays. Out of all the subjects, he has the lowest grade and the highest number of missing assignments in English Lit. Which is such counterintuitive bullshit because that's his favorite subject, and it's because it's his favorite subject that he's failed it every year. 

It's like this: If Eddie doesn't understand a math assignment, he doesn't care, he'll just scribble in some bullshit numbers or turn it in incomplete and take whatever grade he gets with an impassive shrug and zero damage to his self-esteem. He's just not a math guy, and that's fine. Same with science or history. But he is a words guy. Eddie is a storyteller, a writer, a lyricist; words are his weapons, his outlet, his safe space, his identity. He takes pride in his ability to artfully string his words together, and a shitty grade on a shitty essay is something he takes personally. He'd rather not turn in anything at all than turn in a collection of words he's not proud of. 

Right now the words aren't coming together just right in his head and so his hand refuses to move to write them. He tries to tell himself that it's okay if it's not quite right, that something written, even badly, is better than nothing written, and that he's only guaranteed to fail if he fails to turn this in. It doesn't have to be good, it just has to be done. He tries to force his hand to move, to write something, anything, but the signal isn't getting from his brain to his hand because his fingers continue to twirl his pencil between them rather than curl around it and press the lead to the paper like he wants them to. He just keeps sitting there and staring and fidgeting and not writing like he's been doing all day, all week, all month. 

Eddie berates himself for being so stuck, yells and shouts and curses at himself to get his shit together and just write. But he doesn't, won't, can't. The seconds keep pushing past him and the deadline inches closer and closer and his page remains blank and he's so goddamn frustrated he's on the verge of tears. 

There's a knock on the front door that makes Eddie jump and then a knock on his bedroom door that makes him shove his shamefully empty paper under a book and out of sight as Wayne pokes his head into the room to tell him, “Your boy’s at the door.” 

“For Christ’s sake, Wayne, he's not my boy.” Eddie rolls his eyes at his uncle. He drops his pencil and stands, grateful for the distraction. “Told you a million times, he's just a friend.” 

“Uh huh,” Wayne says, which isn't an argument but very much sounds like one, the way he drags out those syllables with a sort of deadpan disbelief. 

Eddie valiantly ignores him and pushes past him to open the front door for Steve. “Hey, Harrington. What're you doing here?” 

“Uh-” Steve shrugs, looking almost like he doesn't quite know what he's doing here himself. “Missed you, I guess? It's been a minute.” 

Eddie's been isolating himself the past couple weeks, canceling on Hellfire and band practices and hangouts, insisting he needs to focus on his essay. He didn't realize any of his friends had taken notice. 

“Oh, and I brought snacks!” Steve adds brightly, holding up the bag of chips in his hands like he just remembered it was there. “Thought you might need a break from your schoolwork.” 

“Oh.” Something warm blooms in Eddie's chest and tugs a smile from his lips as he moves aside to let Steve in. “That's sweet, thank you.” 

Steve returns the smile, stepping inside. “Anytime. So - how's the essay going?” 

“Uh, yeah, it's kind of not,” Eddie admits with a self-deprecating sigh, running frustrated fingers through his hair. He nods for Steve to follow as he heads back to his room and pulls the stupid blank page out from its hiding place to show off his failure. “Been at it for weeks and I still can't seem to get a single goddamn word down.” 

“Hm.” Steve frowns a little at the paper for a second, but his attention appears to be far more focused on the book the page had been shoved under: a well-worn copy of Romeo and Juliet. He smirks as he picks it up and reads the title aloud, teasing, “Didn't take you for a romantic, Munson.” 

Eddie rolls his eyes. “It's what the essay's on.” He snatches the book back before Steve can start to flip through it and read anything he's written in the margins. “And it's not a romance, it's a tragedy - which is exactly what I was going to write about, actually, if I could just write it.” Eddie sits down heavily in his desk chair, glaring at the blank paper. “Was gonna argue that people tend to focus too much on the romance of it all, but they're missing the point entirely, and this tendency to over-romanticize the story completely overshadows and trivializes the actual themes of the play. It’s not about love, not really, or at least not in the ways people think. It’s-” 

His tangent stops short as he notices Steve beginning to rifle about his room - setting the bag of chips down on the nightstand, grabbing a pencil off the desk, scooping a random spiral notebook (his math notebook, as it happens) off the floor. Eddie turns sideways in his chair and looks at him strangely. “What are you doing?” 

Steve turns the notebook to a blank page and sits down on the edge of Eddie's bed, already starting to scribble words across the paper. “I'm taking notes,” he says, like it's obvious. “Don't let me interrupt you.” 

Eddie's eyes narrow. “Are you patronizing me?”

“No, no, of course not.” Steve's reassurance is quick and comes with a rapid shake of his head. He looks over at Eddie, expression earnest and genuine as he says, “I’m just interested in what you have to say. I wanna know what you think Romeo and Juliet is about. If it's not romance, what is it?”

Eddie regards him skeptically at first, answers in a measured tone and glances warily at the pencil continuously scratching ‘notes’ onto Steve's paper. But the more he speaks and the more Steve engages with such honest reactions of interest and encouragement, the more Eddie gives into the tide of thoughts in his head and lets them spill from his mouth with increasing enthusiasm: He describes the inherent tragedy of a life cut short which could've been prevented, rambles about the reality of being young and stupid and consumed by emotion, rants about the mortality rate of blind bigotry and prejudice, and waxes poetic about love itself being something tragic and dooming, occasionally grabbing the book and reading out lines of the actual poetry to illustrate his points. 

When Eddie's well of words on the subject eventually runs dry, Steve continues writing for just a few seconds longer before he glances up with a grin and stands to toss the notebook and pencil onto the desk next to Eddie. “There's your essay,” he announces. “Well, kind of. You might want to rearrange it a little-” 

“Steve,” Eddie cuts him off, staring at the open notebook covered in the scrawl of Steve's handwriting with wide-eyed disbelief. He looks back up at him. “You wrote my essay for me?” 

Steve shakes his head. “You wrote it. I mean, it's all your words exactly as you said them, all I did was transcribe it.” He shrugs. His tone and expression are still casual and light, but the hunch of his shoulders and the way he shoves his hands in his pockets now speaks to a sudden shyness as well. “You said you just couldn't get the words down, I know what that's like. I get that way too sometimes - just…stuck - where the thoughts and the intention are there but the action is just frozen. It helps to talk it through, but it also helps to kinda separate yourself from the task a little too. I thought if I could do that first step of getting the words on paper for you, it might make it easier for you to copy some of it down and then start to write it and reorganize it on your own, might get you past that block…” 

Eddie kind of really wants to kiss him right now, feeling young and stupid and consumed by emotion. He leaps to his feet and hugs Steve fiercely instead. “Thank you.”

Steve nearly stumbles from the force of the hug and lets out a startled laugh before returning the embrace. “Don’t even know if it worked yet. Thank me after you finish your essay.”

Eddie shakes his head against Steve's shoulder. “Thank you just for trying - just for being here, even. I’m sure there are much better ways you could've spent your Saturday than listening to me ramble about Shakespeare, but you stayed here anyways and made an effort to help me when you didn't have to. I appreciate it.” 

“Nothing else I’d rather do. I like listening to you talk; I like how passionate you are about your opinions, even if they are a bit cynical.” Steve pulls back with a smile, squeezing Eddie's shoulders for a second before dropping his hands. “It's gonna be a killer essay.” 

Eddie beams at him, the warmth in his expression a reflection of the glow that's unfurling in his chest again.  He plops back down at his desk and picks up his pencil, hovering it over his own blank paper as he looks over the words - his words - that Steve had written. He takes an anticipatory breath…and starts to write. 

Steve was right, restating the words once they've already been written down by someone else does depersonalize it enough to make Eddie finally able to write it and it does get him past that initial block. Soon he's able to move on from simply copying down the words and begins to add new ones and make edits. A laugh escapes him like a cheer, a short burst of something giddy with satisfaction and relief. He's writing, and writing and writing and writing, the words flowing from brain to pencil to paper perfectly and with ease, the way it should've been from the start. 

Steve hangs off to the side at first like he's trying to give Eddie space to work, but ends up slowly drifting closer. When Eddie cheers, Steve's hand goes to his shoulder again, giving it another squeeze, encouraging and proud. His hand then stays there, thumb idly rubbing across Eddie's shoulder blade as he watches the other write. Eddie feels like he's got electricity running through his veins.  

Somewhere within the next hour or so, three pages and two sheets of paper later, Eddie slams his pencil down and sighs with finality, “Done!” This earns him another shoulder-squeeze from Steve and a bright smile when Eddie looks up at him. “You are a fucking lifesaver, Harrington, I don't know what I would've done without you.” 

“Glad I could help,” Steve says, his smile turning sheepish and his hand finally dropping from Eddie's shoulder as he gives a modest shrug and adds, “I’m sure you would've managed on your own, though.” 

“I wouldn't have. I would've failed,” Eddie says seriously. “I was fighting an epic battle against my brain and I would've lost, would've doomed myself to yet another year of pointless high school existence, if you hadn't swooped in and saved me like a goddamn knight in shining armor.” He cracks a grin and stands to dip into a melodramatic bow. “I am forever indebted to you, my liege.”

Steve laughs, and it's a beautiful sound. “You're being dramatic.” 

“I’m allowed to be.” Eddie straightens and grabs his essay off the desk, holding it up and shaking the papers. “This is my golden ticket out of high school, man, you have no idea how much this means to me.” 

“Well then, we should celebrate.” 

“We can finally eat those chips you brought.” Eddie moves around him and reaches to grab the bag of chips on the nightstand, but Steve catches his hand. 

“Screw the chips,” Steve says. “This calls for a proper celebration. How about we go get dinner somewhere? My treat.” 

Eddie glances down at his hand in Steve's. “Are you asking me out, Romeo?” he asks as he looks back up, a teasing edge to his grin so he can play it off as a joke if he needs to. 

“Depends.” Steve rubs his thumb over the back of Eddie's hand, eyes flicking across the other's face almost nervously. “What would you say if I was?” 

Eddie’s smile softens and he finally curls his fingers around Steve's hand. “I'd say yes.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Then yes,” Steve says, his face breaking into a bright and beautiful grin, “I am absolutely asking you out.” 

Another cheer of laughter bursts out of him, giddy now for an entirely different reason. “What are you waiting for then, big boy?” Eddie holds Steve’s hand tight, already starting to drag him from the room. “Where are you taking me?” 

Steve laughs as well and lets himself be pulled along for a second before taking the lead as they head for the front door. “You’ll see.” 

To Wayne sitting on the couch watching some game on the TV, Eddie shouts over his shoulder in passing, “Finished my essay, we’re going out to eat!”

Wayne nods in acknowledgement. His eyes flick to the boys’ joined hands, a knowing smugness in his expression as he mouths subtly to Eddie, ‘Your boy.’ 

Eddie just grins in response, and then he’s out the door. 

Steve takes him to a diner, Eddie’s favorite one, and it makes his chest warm again that Steve knows that. They grab a booth in the corner, hidden from prying eyes. Steve makes fun of Eddie for dipping his fries in his milkshake, Eddie makes fun of Steve for covering his directly in ketchup. It’s all talking and laughing and easy banter, same as it’s always been since they’ve been friends, except now Steve holds his hand and hooks their ankles together under the table and peppers smooth compliments into the conversation that have Eddie grinning and blushing like crazy. The famed Harrington charm is in full effect, moves and lines he’s sure Steve’s used hundreds of times on hundreds of girls, but now they’re just for him, woven so easily into the dynamic that already exists between them, and Eddie basks in it. 

It’s the best first date he could’ve asked for. 

Perfect gentleman that he is, Steve even insists on walking Eddie to the door when he takes him home. Steve kisses him on the porch then, soft and sweet and promising, and Eddie’s starting to think that maybe love isn’t so tragic a thing after all… 

Maybe he needs to rewrite his essay. 

[starsandhughes]

Didn't Know What Love Was— Quinn Hughes

summary: you were somewhat of a cynic when it came to love. you didn't believe in it, and if it was real, you didn't want it. that is, until your best friend sets you up with a certain hockey player named quinn.

warnings: swearing, fade to black smut (like extremely fade to black), fluff

word count: 3.9k+

MASTERLIST

this is inspired by the song 'didn't know what love was' by kane brown!

You weren’t expecting to feel this way. 

You didn’t think this feeling was real. 

Love.

You’ve said it, you’ve been told it, but all of those instances weren’t real to you. You get to a certain point in a relationship and someone says it first and you think, yeah, I guess that’s what this is. It was nothing like how it was portrayed in the movies, because they were just movies. Movies are fake, so you thought love was, too. It always ended. It always included drama. And then you’d find someone new.

You’ve never been more wrong. 

February 20, 2021

“Mack, have you ever thought of the fact that I’m just not meant for a relationship? It’s all bullshit anyways,” you grumbled. You were laying on your back horizontally on bed with your feet hanging off the edge, settled on the floor. Your best friend, Mackenzie, was once again setting you up on a date. “You’re single now! Find yourself a date!” 

Mackenzie rolled her eyes and sat next to you, “I’m not ready to get back out there! It’s only been two weeks since Jason and I broke up and we dated for seven months. You, however, have been single for almost a year!” 

“You’re only proving my point, Mack!” you said, sitting up. “Relationships end. They’re messy and leave us heartbroken. And maybe the magic blinds you for a while and you get married, but I’ve met more people with divorced parents than married ones. And I’ve seen so many loveless marriages that the couple only sticks together because they wouldn’t know what else to do. I’ve seen couples break up in restaurants. I’ve seen couples fight and scream at a public park.  Love isn’t real. And if it is, I can live without it.” 

Mackenzie looked at you with the most pity filled expression you’ve ever seen. She believes in love. She believes in the shitty romance novels and shitty movies. But you’ve picked up her pieces too many times to even contemplate believing in it. 

“Love is real!” she exclaimed. “How else could people have written sonnets and movies and books and songs about it?”

“People write stuff about monsters, too, but you don’t see any people bursting into flames in the sunlight,” you said. 

“In Twilight they sparkled!”

“I don’t give a shit what they did, they’re still made up,” you laughed. “It’s called fiction for a reason.” 

“You can’t make up a feeling. You can’t make up being so enamored by someone that you miss them so bad it hurts when they’re not with you!” 

“You’re just repeating things you’ve heard in movies about love!” you argued. “You haven’t even been in love. Not truly. You told me so when you broke up with Jason.” 

“So go on this date, and if it all works out, you can tell me what love is. They even call oxytocin the love chemical! You believe in science! And I believe that this guy is the perfect match for you,” your best friend continued to beg. “Think of it as a science experiment.” 

You ended up caving, more so to get Mackenzie to stop begging. It’s not like you were against dating, you’ve had plenty of relationships, but after so many failed ones you stop seeing the point. You could get your needs met without being tied down and risking becoming attached. That’s all that “love” really was. Attachment. Sure, it’s nice to have one person that’s somewhat of a best friend to spend your life with. But adding all of that “girlfriend and boyfriend” stuff to it is destined for failure. And you were done with it. 

When you found him at the restaurant, you were taken back. You’d seen pictures of him so that you’d know who to look for, but he looked so much better in person. His hair looked unbelievably soft, and he somehow made the locks seemingly out of place look perfect. His soft eyes were to die for, and the sleeves of his black shirt rolled up made the veins in his arm visible. All you wanted to do was trace them. 

“Y/N?” the boy asked when he noticed you staring. He stood up to greet you, helping you slip off your jacket to hang on the back of the chair as he pulled it out for you. He waited for you to sit down before taking a seat himself. “I’m Quinn.”

“So I’ve heard,” you chuckled. “I’ve been told that you’re the sweetest guy Mackenzie knows and are bound to change my mind about my stance on relationships.”

“I’ve heard you don’t believe in love,” Quinn countered. 

Your eyes widened, and if you were taking a drink, you would’ve choked on it.

“Wow,” you said amused. “Mack jumped to the nitty gritty then? I take it this means that you do believe in love?”

“I do,” Quinn confirmed. 

“Have you ever been in love?”

“Not yet. But I’ve seen it. My parents have the purest love I’ve ever seen. They spread it to everyone they know and everyone my brothers and I know. They make it hard to not believe in it.”

You couldn’t help but feel soft at his statement. You’ve never heard anyone tell you that they believe in love because of their parents. Hell, you haven’t really had a guy firmly tell you that he believes in love. It was always your girl friends swearing up and down that “the one” is out there. 

“Are you going to teach me how to love, Quinn Hughes?” you said flirtily, placing your hand under your chin.

Quinn reached across the table and grabbed your other hand, “I’m going to show you what a romantic date is supposed to be like. And if you like it, I’ll take you on another. And another. And if we get there, I’ll show you how a real man acts as a boyfriend. And hopefully, along the way, we’ll fall in love. And I won’t say it until I know it’s there.”

“How will you know it’s love?” you asked. He already had you melting at his advances. 

“I’ll know when it’s a feeling I’ve never felt before. I’ll know when it’s a feeling that can’t be described as anything but love. Are you in?”

You bit the inside of your cheek. Quinn was serious. He didn’t want a fling. He wasn’t here to get sex at the end of the night. He was here to see if he can find the real thing with you. He was here for a challenge. 

“I’m in.”

Over dinner you two did the usual small chat about yourselves, but that quickly developed into telling full out stories. It wasn’t awkward with him like it had been on some other first dates. You were strangely very comfortable with him. 

He told you about his summer at his lake house with his family and friends, you told him about your trip to London with your cousins. He told you about how he first met Mack when she was drunk off her ass at a party back when she was still dating Brock, the only ex she ended on good terms with and is still friends with, and you told him about how she was not her drunkest at that party, and that one time you two snuck out of a party to have a lightsaber fight but didn’t have lightsabers so you used traffic cones. 

“You did not!” Quinn laughed. 

“We did!” you shouted over your laughs. You were definitely getting stares, but you didn’t care. “I beat her ass, too.”

“Oh yeah?” he asked, quirking his eyebrow. 

“Oh yeah. I totally had the high ground.” 

Quinn walked you to your car at the end of the night. You two shut down the restaurant, neither one of you desired to leave. You boldly grabbed his hand as you started walking and were relieved when he looped your fingers together in response. 

“Did you have a good time?” Quinn asked you when you arrived at your car. 

“I really did. I’m not sure I want it to end,” you admitted. 

You wanted so badly to ask him to come over. But he told you that he wanted to give you a romantic date, not a pre-sex affair. He’s looking for something real. Something that isn’t just sex. 

“Me either,” he smiled. 

As you two looked at each other, your eyes started flickering from his to his lips. He noticed, but you knew that he was doing the same. 

Your hunger ended when Quinn finally leaned in. His hands slid down your waist and settled on your hips, pulling you closer to him. Yours went up and around his neck, happily content feeling the ends of his hair.

Quinn kissed you in a way that you’ve never been kissed before. It was soft. Sensual. It had you aching for more. The feeling that people describe as “sparks flying?” You were pretty sure this was it. 

The kiss wasn’t rough; it wasn’t filled with primal need. 

It left you breathless. Lightheaded. Warm. 

It was the type of kiss that told you there was more to him. And all you wanted to do was learn. 

“That was—“

“Don’t describe it,” Quinn cut you off in a whisper. He reached his hand out to cup your face, “Just feel it.” 

All you could do was nod your head. You felt your entire body quivering at his touch. 

Quinn smiled and opened up your car door for you, “Tell me when you get home?”

“Y-yeah. I will,” you stammered. You couldn’t stop looking at him. 

“Goodnight, Y/N. Drive safe!”

“Goodnight, Quinn,” you smiled. 

You watched him walk away in your rear view mirror, smiling madly. Quinn left you feeling like a giddy little girl. It was something that no one else has ever done. 

March 16, 2021

You were going on your fifth date with Quinn tonight, and Mack was swearing up and down that Quinn was going to make things official. 

“Y/N/N, trust me!” she said while dramatically shaking you by the shoulders. 

“I want to!” you laughed, shoving her off of you. “I just don’t want to get any hopes up. We’re going out to have a good time and that’s it!” 

“Hopes up you say?” Mack asked as she wiggled her eyebrows. “Does that mean you want Quinn to ask you? Do you, Y/N Y/L/N, WANT a boyfriend just mere weeks after saying you were done with dating forever?”

“I didn’t say forever!” 

“Alright!” she surrendered. “I’m keeping my mouth shut because I don’t want to jinx anything, but just know that I am a very happy girl right now!”

You shook your head at your best friend’s nonsense. Okay, maybe you were hoping what she was saying will turn out to be true tonight, and maybe you were liking the goodnight calls and good morning texts and mid day updates. And maybe you relish in the smile Quinn gives you when you stand at the glass during warm ups at his games while you wear his jersey. And maybe you’ve never felt like this before, and it was making you the happiest you’ve ever been. But you weren’t sure if it was love. Love was still a weary and scary concept for you at this point. But maybe… maybe this is pre-love? Maybe this is the build up. Maybe this is the jump before the fall. 

You weren’t scared of jumping.

Whatever it is, you’re pretty positive it’s too early for love. You’re just now open to the idea of love because of Quinn, so you certainly were skeptical at the notion of “love at first sight.” Although, it’s been a little too long to count as “first sight.” Love at fifth date? Love at hundredth facetime? Call it what you want, but it still felt way too soon. 

You were still doing your makeup when there was a knock at the door, signaling that Quinn was here. 

“Mack, could you—“

“I’m already on it!” she cut you off, rushing down the stairs to open the door. 

You tried to finish up your mascara really quickly, but that only resulted in your dropping it and smearing some across your cheek. 

“Shit!” 

“Shit?” you heard Quinn ask. You gasped in surprise, and he just laughed as he approached you. He placed his hands on your cheeks and kissed the top of your head before taking a look at you, “Ahh. I see the source of the shit.”

“It’ll wipe off, it’s fine,” you shrugged. “I’ll just need five more minutes?” 

Quinn smiled, “Take all the time you need to feel happy.” 

If you were alone and that was a text, you’d probably be kicking your feet at Quinn’s comment. He didn’t say anything teasing that you take forever, he didn’t use the cliché “you look pretty without makeup” or whatever, he said that he wants you to feel happy with your appearance. You didn’t know why that felt more romantic than a compliment; it just did. He was focusing on your emotions and confidence. He was validating you. Validation and understanding feels a lot more intimate than a compliment about your appearance. 

“I’m ready!” you sing-songed as you climbed down the stairs. 

Quinn was standing at the bottom of the stairs with his hands behind his back and a soft smile on his face. 

You jumped from the fourth step down to the second step. You reached out gently to tilt Quinn’s face towards yours and leaned down to crash your lips against his. You stepped down to the final step to become level with when he deepened the kiss. He released one of his hands to place it at the small of your back in order to draw you in, but the other remained. 

“Whatcha hidin’, handsome?” you asked cheekily. 

Quinn’s other hand quickly whipped around in front of his center and revealed a bouquet of daisies and lavender. You gasped and kissed him quick, taking the bouquet from him and inhaling its sweet scent with a smile after your lips parted.

“They’re beautiful,” you told him. 

“They’re not the only thing,” he whispered. 

“You flirt,” you blushed. 

You both bid your goodbyes to Mackenzie and walked out the door. Quinn rushed slightly ahead of you to open up the passenger door for you before making his way to the driver's seat. It was a quick drive to the mini golf place, and it was filled with you two goofily singing along to the radio. 

When you got there, you were surprised at how many people and families there were. It was a Saturday night, but still. You didn’t know this many people went mini golfing at any given moment. 

You picked out a pink club, and Quinn grabbed a green one. He held out his hand for you to take, and for once, you didn’t feel weird holding somebody’s hand in public. It was a small act, but it was still a big deal for you. You used to do it with previous boyfriends, but that was because you felt like you had to in order to try and feel like you were in a normal relationship. You want to hold Quinn’s hand. You love the way your hand fits in his and how warm his hands are. You love how rough they feel compared to your soft ones. Just this simple action made you feel safe and less overwhelmed by the amount of people. It made you feel like it was just you and him. 

“Ready to lose, Y/L/N?” Quinn taunted you.

“Don’t be so cocky,” you teased back. “I’m a pro at this.”

“You said you haven’t been mini golfing in years!” he pointed out with a laugh. 

“I’m trying to speak me winning into the universe, Quintin!” 

Needless to say, you were terrible, but Quinn gave you two extra puts each round to try and get you more points. It didn’t make much of a difference for how badly he was beating you, but it made you feel good.

“What ever happened to letting the girl win?” you groaned. “Some gentleman you are.”

Quinn softly smiled and walked over to you. Placing his hands on the small of your back, he kissed you gently, “I’m sorry, baby. I just can’t fake sucking.”

You dramatically threw your head back, groaned, then gave him a pout when you looked back at him. Quinn laughed and kissed you again, effectively wiping the pout off your face.

This was also something big for you– kissing in public. PDA. You’ve never done that. You always pulled away or forced the kiss to be a quick peck instead. You were worried about people staring and judging. But not with Quinn. You didn’t care who was around, you wanted them to know that you were happy. 

Unsurprisingly, Quinn won. He cheered with his club in both hands being held above his head, sending you into a fit of giggles. 

“Stop parading around like you just won the Stanley Cup!” you shouted. 

Quinn whipped his head towards you in mock offense. He walked towards you and kissed you again, much more firmly this time, “I’m sorry you sucked.”

“It’s okay,” you chuckled. 

“I do believe me winning deserves a prize!”

“Oh yeah? And what did you have in mind?” you smirked. 

You were expecting his answer to be something along the lines of another kiss or going out for ice cream, but what he said proved your best friend to be correct.

“Will you be my girlfriend?” he asked you softly. He was confident in his question. He had the biggest smile on his face that was filled with so much hope and admiration. 

“I’d love to,” you answered. 

Now Quinn really looked like he won the Stanley Cup. His eyes lit up brighter than you’ve ever seen them, and his smile looked like it hurt. You should know, because your smile was so big that it did hurt. Quinn hugged you so tightly that your feet kicked off the ground and he spun you in a circle. When he put you back down, he kissed you passionately. It was different than every other kiss you two have shared, given that is a small number since this was only your fifth date. This one meant more. This one said more. 

When he walked you to your door and kissed you goodbye, you reached out and grabbed his arm to stop him. He turned around slowly, and you knew that the look in your eyes said all that you wanted to say.

“Are you sure?” he whispered.

“Positive.”

Mackenzie was already in her room for the night, much to your relief. You and Quinn kissed all the way up the stairs and into your bedroom. The second your bedroom door closed; clothes began to be thrown off. He threw you on your back onto your bed like it was nothing, then he climbed on top of you and began to pepper kissed up your stomach, through your neck, across your jaw, until he finally reached your lips again. 

“Just tell me if you want me to stop,” he said low.

“Don’t stop,” you panted. “Please don’t stop.”

April 14, 2021

You were pretty sure you were feeling it. No, you knew you were feeling it. 

Love. 

You were feeling just like the movies and love songs and poems said– you were enamored by Quinn. You missed him so bad that it hurt when you weren’t with him, especially when he was on roadies during the season (you were selfishly glad that it’s over for the time being). You felt like the best version of yourself when he was around. But you were also learning that your definition of love was so much more than that.

“OH MY GOD! I KNEW IT WOULD HAPPEN! I KNEW IT!” Mackenzie screamed when you told her. 

“Alright!” you giggled. “You knew it, you did it, congratulations! Now how do I tell him? Do I wait for him to tell me? What if it goes away and I don’t–”

“Are you sure it’s love?” she cut you off.

“I am. It’s new, and it’s freeing, and it’s–agh! It’s perfect. It has to be,” you said, covering your hands over your face so that she couldn’t see how wildly you were blushing and grinning. 

Mack grabbed your wrists and yanked your hands off your face, “I don’t think that’s going away, babe! Now tell me! The deal was that you’d tell me what love is! Spill it! And don’t quote the movies!”

“I think love is different for everybody. I’m feeling the stuff that they say in the movies and the sonnets and the songs, but it’s so much more than that. Love is… wild. Love is like a never-ending joy ride with the windows down and your favorite songs blaring on the stereo. Love is like that feeling you get in your body when you hear a new song, and it absolutely consumes you to where you heat up and feel like you're vibrating. Love is feeling like you could do the impossible as long as your person is right there beside you. Love can feel like you’re flying.

“But love can also make you feel safe. Love is feeling at home with your person, no matter where you are. You could be in the backseat of a car, but if you were with your person? That could be home for the time being. Love is like that feeling of pride and relief when you deep clean your house for the first time in forever. Love is like sitting by the ocean and watching the waves crash against the sand, and none of the sand ends up in your shoes. 

“Loving Quinn feels like a breath of fresh air. Loving Quinn makes me feel like I finally know who I am and who I could be. Loving Quinn makes me feel alive for the very first time. It’s everything.”

Mack looked like she could burst into tears then and there. You were about to hug her when an all too familiar voice ceased your movements.

“Did you mean that?” 

You turned around so quickly that your head spun. There, standing at the edge of your living room, was Quinn.

“Yeah,” you whispered with a nod. “Every word.”

Quinn rushed towards you and cupped your face, slamming his lips onto yours. You heard Mack clap with glee, but you didn’t care. She was slipping away, and only you and Quinn existed in the world at this very moment.

“I love you,” you breathed when you two had to come up for air.

“I love you,” Quinn echoed. “You described it perfectly. I felt every word. I am helplessly, irrevocably, completely, and utterly in love with you. I’ll never stop saying it. Not now that I know what it means.”

“I didn’t believe in love before you. I didn’t know what love was. It’s you, Quinn. My love is yours, and only yours.”

The smile on Quinn’s face was contagious, but your face was already painted with one. You didn’t expect to fall in love, and you certainly didn’t expect to say it first. Maybe it was fate, maybe it was a god, maybe it was the stars aligning. You didn’t know why, but you did know that you were made to love Quinn Hughes alongside all of the other things you were made for. 

Love was real. And you can’t live without it. And you’re so glad that you learned that. 

———

reblogs appreciated! it helps spread the fic <3

[constantly0lost]

Okay I haven't written in literal months, but i was inspired by the little blurb about otter harvey at the bottom of @sashiavi 's goat Harvey post, so enjoy a ramble. Alot of my sleep tired brain escaped into this, sorry for how sloppy this is, i just wanted to vocalize my thoughts or my head would have exploded. I would carry 19 of Harvey's children if asked, peace.

CW: bit of a breeding kink, i reimagined/softened the mannerisms of otters during sex cause MAN, male otters SUCK, other otter things (harveys hydrophobic hair), lactation kink, me being a simp for this man, UHHh, shitty writing :)

Otter Harvey who gives you special things that made him think of you. From rocks to acorns to mushrooms to flowers to leave and so on, and being so blushy when he gives them to you, because its just acorns but it means so much to him. And he swoons when he finds out you kept them all.

Otter Harvey who holds your hand while y'all sleep, even though you're as close as two people can physically be without fusing together. He knows logically that you can't go anywhere, and even if you did, you'd be right back in his arms, but it feels so nice to have his hand on yours.

Otter harvey who eats sea urchins in secret, not because of someone finding out he eats them, but because he has to yank one out of Vincents mouth after he saw Harvey eating them, and he didn't want to cause anyone any extra undue stress.

Otter Harvey who has to take showers with slightly more intense temperatures so that he can actually wash his hair, otherwise it rolls right off of his hair. The only time he won't is when you take a shower with him, because he doesn't want you to be uncomfortable because of him, and even then, after you get out he'll change the temperature so he can actually get clean.

Otter Harvey who, if you end up having kids, is the best fucking dad. He teaches them literally anything and everything, and sits at the table responding to their toddler gibberish with full blown sentences. He takes them to school, plays anything they want, and is a total pushover sap for them, no matter what happens. (He is also 110% a girl dad)

Otter Harvey who bites higher up on you than he probably should, but he can't help it when you make him feel such mind numbing pleasure. So now you have hickeys on your cheeks, lovebites around your nose and mouth, along with all the marks he leaves along your body.

Otter Harvey who has such a rampant breeding kink that on "bad" days, he'd fuck you over and over until he's so drained he's lightheaded and overwhelmed, and he feels guilty for fucking you like that, even though he's still inside of your puffy cunt.

Otter Harvey who can't help but moan and whimper as he fucks into you, digging his nails into your hips as your pussy seems to suck him deeper, your walls clenching around him in a downright mean way as he bites and sucks anywhere he can get his mouth to.

Otter Harvey who often and loudly verbalizes how he wants to stuff you full right as he's about to cum, drilling the head of his cock harder into your spongy walls.

Otter Harvey who, when he gets jealous, will hold you down by your neck, or might even just hold you down by your hair, as he drills into you, harder than he normally would dare. His mouth turns downright filthy, spewing the nastiest words you'll ever hear in your life, as he hefts your leg over his shoulder.

Otter Harvey who can, will, and has spent hours buried with his face between your legs, looking up at you with those pretty eyes in search of your approval. He wants you to pull on his hair to guide him, wants you to pull until his scalp burns.

Otter Harvey who whines so damn pretty when you ride him, his cock kicking on your hand as he eyes roll back, his nails digging into your thighs. He mumbles whispered gibberish, which could almost be pleas, but are too garbled to fully make out.

Otter Harvey who will suck on your tits until you produce a few beads of milk, which he gratefully laps up and swallows like it's heaven on earth. Of course afterwards he gets anxious, wanting to make sure it's not galactorrhea, and wanting to make sure you're healthy.

Otter Harvey who would bend over backwards to make sure your happy, who would wait on your hand and foot so that you feel properly appreciated. He loves you, and knowing you love him back is all he needs.

FUCKING OTTER HARVEY IM GONNA RIDE HIM IN MY DREAMS TONIGHT AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.

[an-idyllic-novelist]

Angel Dust with Violet Evergarden!reader platonic fluff scenario

Warnings: spoilers up to episode 4, possible triggers. If you do not feel comfortable venturing any further, please leave now and read something much more pleasant.

For everyone else, welcome to this small piece of fluffy goodness! You guys might know me from my other blog, @forbidden-sunlight . You have sent me your ideas for future Violet Evergarden!reader scenarios for Hazbin Hotel, and here is one of them! :)

Sit back, relax, and let us dive into a chaotic afterlife, where even a bit of reprieve from dishonesty and hypocrisy isn’t possible…until now.

Angel Dust's first impression of you is the following: a cute weirdo who dressed like a doll and didn’t smile much. What was even more tragic is that you actually believed there is a chance for sinners to be redeemed, and that the only to do that is complete Charlie’s half-assed rehabilitation program. You still do, even your progress hasn’t gotten you one step closer to Heaven’s pearly gates and the next Extermination is in six months. Five months actually, but who's counting?

That was around the time when he had to go back to work. He didn’t want to, but he knew if he didn’t…well, he didn’t want to think about it. Valentino is a psychopathic freak. He promised to make him, Angel, a big star in Hell’s entertainment industry, and instead fucked him over six ways from Sunday with false promises.

Long hours, shitty pay. No time to even take a nap in his dressing room because of course Big Daddy Val had his favorite toy’s schedule booked until he couldn't walk anymore and needed a stiff drink. When his afterlife seemed to take a nosedive for worse, and after Husk knocked some sense into him, he started finding letters under his door.

At first glance Angel could tell that they weren’t from his fans. No one’s gonna go out of their way and buy expensive paper to type it on, shove in an envelope, and put a wax seal on it just to praise him for his acting skills and share their wildest fantasies starring yours truly. No. This was….someone else.

He honestly didn't know how to describe the context of these letters because he had never received something like this from anyone who did not expect anything from him in PS or PPS. The sender would write either a short or long letter. The short letter was about half a page long; the sender would ask how he was feeling and ask him one question. What was his favorite food? What is the color he would never wear? The sender included a little about themselves too, as if to encourage him to respond. The longer ones started the same, with a greeting and almost the same stuff written in the shorter ones, but they shared how their day went with him, even the stupid, mundane shit they do every day as a part-time clerk at an antique shop and when they come home. The longer ones were at least two pages long. Some stuff made him roll his eyes, made him laugh…but it was the closing sentences, even as they vary from letter to letter, always jerked his heart in a way which made him both sad and happy at the same time.

I’m happy I’ve met you.

Thank you for being here.

Good night and have pleasant dreams.

You are stronger than you think, Angel.

I hope I can receive a letter from you someday.

You made a lot of progress today in Charlie’s exercises. I’m proud of you.

You’re doing great.

Angel might be a bit of a dummy….but he could tell right away who had been sending him the letters. The bit about Charlie’s exercises…there were only a few people attending that day. Vaggie, Sir Wet Noodles, and you. Vaggie wouldn’t write this kind of shit, and definitely not the wannabe overlord. You. You’ve helped him get through it with these letters and you never expected him to reply back. It’s as if you just wanted your words to reach him through Val’s sickly red smoke and hold his hand in your gloved one.

Naturally…the best way he can say thanks…for caring about him in your roundabout way…is to write a letter back. Maybe have a drink at Husk’s bar and talk about shitty coworkers or why Smiles never stops smiling? He’s not sure, but he’ll figure it out somehow. Sex isn’t the only thing he’s good at. And he’d like to get to know you a little more too.

Taglist

@angelltheninth

@tired-of-life-86

@nixie-writes

@frompeach

@riddle-simp

@likesugarandcyanide

@witch-of-the-writing-desk

@22carolina08

@angel-tsugikuni-kamukura

@justamegafan

@saltyfruitbat

@lanxianschoenheit

@trecllllllll

@vikkirosko

@imperfectbloodmoon

@theunknowntravel3r

@thatstonedwriter

@isuckatwritingsobenice

@chroniccorvus

@food-theorys-blog

@doc-tooth

[that-sarcastic-writer]

Distractions (Soldier Boy)

Pairing: Soldier Boy X F!Reader

Summary: You're Soldier Boy's assistant and you're trying to prepare things for an upcoming premiere, but he has other plans. And he really wants your attention.

Warnings: 18+, minors dni, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it, you know better than these mfs), fingering, creampie, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, bit of denigration, praising kink, choking, dirty talk, Soldier Boy bc yes he's a warning on his own, cursing. I'm not really following any plots or canons here, this is just porn w/ soldier boy.

WC: 3k

A/N: So yeah, I said I had a little something hidden in my drafts, and after thinking I don't give a fuck, I'm posting it. We all know soldier boy is a horrible person, there's no need to debate on it, I'm not gonna sit here and pretend he is, but hes a lot of fun to write and hes fucking hot and I want to fuck him, shitty or not, so to anyone who wants to fuck him as much as I do, here's whatever the fuck this is. Enjoy you sinful fucks.

Soldier Boy Masterlist

Reblogs and comments are highly appreciated!

“Ben.” You hissed, moving your head and nudging him away with your shoulder when you felt his lips on your neck. 

He sat back in shock, taking a minute to process the fact that you actually shoved him away, “Did you just—”

You tore your eyes away from the pile of papers in your hands and you looked at him. His green eyes were glued to your face and you had to clench your jaw to stop yourself from laughing at the genuinely offended look on his face. You have been his assistant for a little over six months, you had gotten used to him whining and complaining whenever he didn't get his way. It hadn't even been a month when he was already bending you over a table and fucking you senseless simply because he wanted to. You were pretty much done for then. So it was nearly impossible to tell him no after that. 

“I’m trying to look over your goddamn talking points for tomorrow’s premiere, so yes, yes I did.” You reminded him with a sarcastic smile as you held up the pile of stapled papers in your hands. He snatched them from your hand with a scoff. 

“The fuck do I need talking points for?” He asked as he eyed the printed words as well the written notes and scribbles you had made on the paper. 

“Because unlike what you have been led to believe, you can’t actually do or say whatever the fuck you want in public.” You sighed, it was like you were talking to a teenager. You took the papers from him with annoyance and returned to scribbling and crossing things off and tried to ignore him huffing and puffing next to you. 

“That’s funny because I can do whatever the fuck I want. And right now I want to fuck you stupid over this couch, so I’m gonna do just that.” He said as he grabbed your jaw and turned your face towards him, kissing you hard. 

You gasped against his mouth but you were melting into it merely a second later. It took all of your willpower to not give in. It was nearly impossible to say no to Soldier Boy, but fuck were you going to try. You held yourself together, standing your ground, despite that part of yourself just screaming at you to do as he told you. You whined against his lips and pulled your head back. You almost missed the look of both annoyance and neediness he gave you. He didn’t take kindly to being told to wait. 

“Ben I’m serious, I have to finish looking over these because Mr. Edgar will have my fucking head if you go off your script again.” You sighed, running your fingers through his thick hair. He rolled his eyes at you and slightly smacked his lips with equal irritation. 

“Does it look like I give a fuck?” He scoffed, holding your jaw with a tight grip, he wasn’t taking no for an answer and you knew that. “Just a quick fuck. Then you can do all the boring paperwork shit you want.”

You narrowed your eyes at him and bit your lip, almost giving in, almost, “It’s never just a quick fuck with you. I can barely move after, let alone think about work.”

“Awe, I do fuck you stupid, huh sweeatheart?” He smirked and tilted his head as he eyed you with a smug glint in his eyes. You glared at him and pulled your head away from his grip, turning your body away from his entirely. Now you just wanted to fuck with him. 

“You’re insufferable,” You said with distaste, going back to your papers. You completely missed the way his jaw twitched, but you did hear him inhale sharply. 

“You know, you’ve lasted longer than any other assistant I’ve ever had, they don’t even last a month, and yet here you are, so I can’t be that insufferable.” 

“Oh, you are insufferable, trust me, I can’t stand you either most of the time, especially when you won’t let me do my fucking job,” You started to say, not looking in his direction, but you felt his weight leave the couch and you saw him stand up out of your peripheral vision. Huh, you couldn’t believe that actually worked. “I don’t think any of your other assistants had the amount of patience I do, because being around you is like being around a spoiled teenager twenty-four seve— Hey!” 

You looked up at him with wide eyes when he stood in front of you, took the papers right out of your hands and threw them behind him, out of your reach. You glared at him as you stood up to grab them, but when you did, he grabbed you with ease and threw you back on the couch. Your back hit the armrest and you were about to protest when he grabbed your ankle and dragged you so that your back was fully on the couch. He spread your legs apart and settled between them before you could protest. 

“And, none of my other assistants dared to speak to me the way you do. So maybe I should remind you who’s in charge here.” He said gravelly, eyes dark as he laid a hand flat on your collarbone with enough force to hold down with just that one hand. His body was also on top of you, you wouldn’t be able to move even if you wanted to. Which you didn’t, not really. 

His lips came crashing down on yours hard. You gasped against his mouth, and he took the opportunity to invade your mouth with tongue. You could taste the faint whiskey on his tongue. He took everything and gave you nothing. He was kissing you so hard you didn’t notice the trip grip he had on your shirt and before you realized, you felt a harsh tug and you heard the fabric tear. The shirt fell in two pieces on opposite ends and you groaned against his mouth. 

“Dude again? Stop ruining my clothes.” You complained but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t like it, the way he could manhandle you like that. He didn’t look bothered at all, there was a smirk on his face, if anything he looked proud. 

“Be thankful I’m letting you walk away with panties this time.” 

His mouth was back on yours, his tongue slipping into your mouth with ease as his hands did quick work of getting rid of your pants. He tore them off your legs along with your panties with ease. He thankfully didn’t tear the fabric of either this time, he could be careful if he really wanted to at times. You were completely naked under him, and he was fully clothed still. Though, thankfully, you didn’t have to go through the hassle of taking his entire suit off since, at times, when he knew you were both completely alone in his penthouse, he would ditch the suit and would dress in comfortable clothes. Your hands found the end of his shirt and you tugged it up. He pulled back and pulled his shirt over his head before he was leaning down again. His lips found the skin of your neck and he sucked, hard. You gasped when you felt his teeth dig into your skin, surely leaving a mark you would have to cover for tomorrow’s premiere. 

“I'm gonna have that there tomorrow you know.” You muttered to him as he pulled back and eyed the spot that would soon turn a shade of purple with a proud smirk on his lips.

“Good, maybe then you won’t have corporate assholes kissing your ass all night if they see you’re fucking a real man.” There was a certain hint of possessiveness in his tone as he spat into his hand with equal harshness.

“Not that anyone would actually know who that is, because you won’t tell anyone about us.” You pointed out with a bit of harshness of your own. You didn’t know why it bothered you that he wouldn’t go public, probably because it meant this wasn’t anything serious to him. And as much as you knew you coukdnt expect anything out of him, it did bother you and he knew that.

He looked at you, face turning serious for a moment and he leaned down, planting a hard kiss to your lips, “Trust me sweetheart, we’re better off. You don’t want Vought to use you as PR, I don’t want you to be, okay?” He cocked his eyebrows at you, expecting a response. He rested a hand on your hip while the other one ghosted over your inner thigh. You didn’t want to argue with him about that now, you already were craving him, your mind foggy with want and need for him, you weren’t in the right state of mind to have that conversation, so you simply nodded. 

“Good girl.” He smiled at you, pressing a sloppy kiss to your mouth before he pressed his fingers against your already wet core. You whined softly and squirmed under his much larger body. He caught the way your eyebrows narrowed and your lips parted, and he smirked, spreading the wetness over your clit.

“Fuck,” You cursed under your breath, a sigh of satisfaction leaving your lips as he rubbed small circles over the buncle of nerves. He watched your face with amusement as he slipped two long fingers into you. He said nothing as he worked you open with his fingers, simply listening to the increasingly loud moans that came out of your mouth each time his fingers curved against you. “Please Ben, I need you.”

“Hold on, I don’t want to hurt you.” He muttered, scissoring his fingers with urgency. Despite being as needy and desperate as you were, him being the one who wanted you in the first place, he wanted you to come first, he had learned his lesson trying to take you without foreplay.

But honestly? You didn’t care, you just wanted him. 

“I’m not going to break. I can handle you.” You whined, shaky hands coming to tug his sweatpants down his hips, or at least attempt to. He really wanted to control himself. But fuck, if you were begging him? Fuck control.

His fingers quickly left you. You shivered softly at the sudden emptiness, but that didn’t last long. Ben tugged his sweats down past his thighs, his cock springing free against his stomach. Your eyes unconsciously traveled down and your lips slightly parted at the sight. He chuckled smugly, loving how you always seemed to worship him at times. He leaned down, using one of his arms to brace himself above you as he guided his cock to your entrance. You hooked your legs around his torso and braced yourself. He slid into you with ease, already rolling his eyes back at the feeling of your walls squeezing him. 

“Fuck you’re so—” He groaned, his hips shifting as he sat still for a second and he soaked in the way your lips parted and your eyes rolled back with pleasure. “—Fucking tight. You’re already squeezing the fuck outta my cock.” 

He gave you a second before he was drawing his hips back and slamming back in with enough force to make you scream. Well good thing he had a whole penthouse to himself, you could make as much noise as you wanted and nobody would tell him shit. Not that anyone would otherwise. 

You had to bite your lip to stifle the sounds that wanted to come out of your mouth. He was relentless, he fucked you like it was his mission. With each thrust of his hips, he went deeper, hitting your most sensitive spot over and again once he found it. He gripped your hips roughly, slightly lifting them off the couch to meet his thrusts at an angle that had you screaming. And while his grip was bruising and his movements were rough, he wasn’t hurting you, something he learned after months. You always thought he would break you, but he never did, nor would he ever dream of it. 

“Stop biting that fucking lip or I’m gonna bite it for you. Let me hear you scream for me.” He demanded, gripping your jaw with a tight grip as he gave a particularly deep thrust that made you scream. “Yeah, just like that.”

You were squirming under him, your thighs clenched around him and you were squeezing him so tight he knew you had to be close. Soldier Boy was one smug motherfucker, he lived off his pride and ego, and he’d be fucking damned if anyone ever said he didn’t please his women. 

“Fuck Ben!” You cried out as he pressed his thumb to your clit, rubbing quick circles on the swollen bud, that combined with his already unforgiving pace, you pretty much lost it. 

He pulled you into a sloppy kiss, happily swallowing your moans as you trembled, your orgasm washing over you. He fucked you through it, groaning when your walls squeezed him and your juices made him slip in and out of you with ease. Your head was spinning and you were shaking, but you were coherent enough to still feel Ben above you, his pace not once faltering or slowing down. Supe stamina you guessed. 

You were about to speak when he grabbed your hips and flipped you over, your stomach flat on the couch but he pulled your ass up. He held your hip with a bruising grip as he slammed back into you. You pressed your forehead against the couch, your mouth falling open into silent scream as he sunk into you again. You didn’t know if you were just sensitive or fuck drunk, but you could already feel the coil in your stomach after he gave you a few more thrusts. Your eyes were filling up with tears and you could feel a burn in the pit of your stomach. 

“Ben wait— I can’t—”

“Yes you can sweetheart. Just give me one more and I’ll leave you be.” He panted, close to tipping over the edge but not quite there yet.

“Ben,” You whined, squeezing your eyes shut, the overstimulation making tears slip from your eyes and your legs shake. You felt a shiver run down your spine when you felt his lips on your spine, his tongue running over your skin. He stopped at your neck, he left a trail of wet kisses before he pressed his lips against your ear.

“You’re my good girl right? You’d do anything I tell you to?” He coaxed, his voice deep and smooth, enough to make you want to come right then and there, again. You nodded, not trusting your voice. “Yeah you fucking would. So come for me, now.” He demanded, his hand slipping down your body to run your sensitive clit and the overstimulation was enough to send you over the edge, again. He sat up, pulling you flush against his chest as he fucked you through your high. His hips actually faltered this time. 

“You’re still on the pill right?” He rasped in your ear, the hand that had been on your hip now resting on the column of your neck. You somewhat registered his words in your fucked out brain and you half nodded, you had a feeling you knew why he was asking. “Good. Yeah, you’re gonna be a good little slut and take everything I give you.” 

Not that you would say no, as pathetic as it might’ve been, you’d do anything he told you, you’d take whatever he gave you. And he loved that, just as much as he loved shutting you up. 

“Fuck, fuck that’s it,” He moaned, his hand squeezing your neck tight enough to bruise, but not enough cut off your air entirely. He turned your head and kissed you hard, tongue slipping into your mouth as he sunk into you one more time before he spilled inside you.

You both sat there, he held you as you both tried to normalize your breathing for a while. You could feel the mixture of releases slip down your thigh but you didn’t care. You closed your eyes as Ben said dirty praises into your ear. And when you were no longer shaking, he unwrapped his arms from you and slipped out of you, the mess he left seeping out of you and coating the couch. You couldn't be less bothered by this as you simply laid on your stomach, eyes still closed and your body sore and arching. You didn’t come out of your little trance until you felt Ben leave the couch and chuckle lowly. 

“Clean yourself up sweetheart, you're making a mess.” You could hear the amusement in his tone, he was fucking with you. It still annoyed you enough to make you open your eyes and flip him off. He laughed. “Don’t you have work to do?”

Oh right.. Work. Totally forgot about that in between all the fucking. 

“Shut up. Just leave me be.” You muttered still in a drunken state of bliss. The last thing you could think about was work. 

“Whatever you say sweetheart. I was just thinkin’ I could run you a hot bath, have you relax while I finger that pretty little pussy ‘til you’re coming all over my fingers again. Then we can go to bed,” He paused, waiting to see your reaction. He successfully caught your attention and you lifted your head, your eyes finding his playful green ones and he continued. “But hey, if you want to sit here all night doing this boring shit nobody will actually give a fuck about tomorrow because I’m gonna say whatever the fuck I want anyway, be my guest.”

“You’re gonna have to carry me then, I don’t trust my legs with walking.” You hummed, flipping onto your back and you looked up at him, catching the smirk on his lips and the glint in his eyes. 

“Trust me sweetheart, you won’t be doing much of that either after I’m done with you tonight.”

[countryclubkook]

Him or Me

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x fem!Thornton!Reader

Warnings: language, topper being a slight asshole, small mention of parent death and absent parent, not proof read so potential grammatical errors, slightly ooc/fanon Rafe I think that’s all but please let me know if there’s anymore I should add

Summary: when Topper finds out his best friend Rafe is secretly dating his sister behind his back, all hell breaks loose. Will they be able fix their relationship? Or will the betrayal be too much to recover from?

A/N: This is the first story i’ve written in months so i’m still a little rusty. I wanted to get something out though to get back into the groove of things. Italicized means flashback, this also is meant to take place in season 1 after Sarah and John B are together so I hope you all enjoy🤍 I left the ending of this slightly open for a potential part two if people want it/I decide to write one (Topper is 19 and reader is 18 for the sake of this story, Rafe is his canon age in the show)

“You know I’ll take care of you right?” he spoke with such certainty. How could you not believe him?

It was never supposed to be this way, you and your brother's best friend being together, but when he gave you those bedroom eyes and whispered those sweet nothings in your ear how could you resist? The both of you kept it a secret from Topper as long as you could knowing his overprotective nature when it came to you. He had found out when he saw the two of you kissing at the country club, that was a bad night for the three of you.

“My fucking sister dude? Are you kidding me? You could have any girl on this island but you go after my sister?” the vein on his neck popping out as he screamed at Rafe. Neither of you had expected him to be home, let alone for him to be waiting in the living room for you two to come back. As soon as Rafe stepped into the door he was thrown against the wall by his neck, a very angry Topper staring at him with pure hatred.

“Topper stop, let him go. Please.” you pleaded with him but it was no use, his grip stayed the same and he acted as if you weren't there. They were in their own world at that moment.

“Fucking relax man, I chose her for a reason. I love her, and you're not going to stop me from seeing her. So if you're going to hit me and tell me to stay away from her, do it so we can get this over with.” he was visibly annoyed by this as his tone confirmed it. Sure they were friends, but you meant more to Rafe than anyone else so your big brother trying to prevent your relationship was simply just an inconvenience that had no real effect at all.

The two men stared at each other for a moment, nostrils flaring and veins so visible you were getting concerned about their health. It wasn't until Topper let go of Rafe with a small scoff that you felt you could breathe again. You've never felt more shitty in your whole life than you did when Topper looked at you with such betrayal and hurt. He just shook his head and stormed out of the house, the front door slamming behind him.

“Are you okay? I'm so sorry, I didn't know he would be here” you say as you rush over to him and examine his neck that was now red (and would inevitably bruise) from the grip Topper had on it. He watched as you examined him with such worry and such a gentle touch that it reminded him yet again why he was with you, that you were worth whatever argument ensued because you showed him love nobody else would.

“Baby, I'll be fine. I'm more worried about you being okay than my neck.” grabbing the sides of your face and forcing you to look at him. Your eyes were glossy with tears and your breathing slightly uneven. Your relationship with Topper was different than the one Rafe had with his sisters, it had always just been the two of you since you were growing up. Your dad had died when you were babies and your mom was a piece of shit who was never around so that left the two of you to protect and raise each other. Hurting him felt like the biggest stab in the chest and you felt terrible.

“I-” your sobs overpowered your voice before you could finish as you broke down in your lover's arms. His shushed comfort helped bring you some peace but not nearly enough to stop the feeling in your chest from growing. He had moved you over to the couch and held you in his lap until your cries eventually stopped and your breathing remained calm.

“Baby?” he asked quietly in case you had fallen asleep. When he got no response, he gently laid you on the couch and covered you with a blanket before kissing your cheek and heading out to find your brother. Rafe was probably the last person he wanted to see but he would try to talk to him for you.

That “talk” didn't go very well. You didn't know what was said, all you know is that Topper came home bloodied and bruised and didn't say a word to you. It didn't take a genius to put two and two together when you saw Rafes bruised knuckles the next day and his excuse was that he “wanted to try boxing without his gloves”. But a few weeks had passed since then and you thought it would be fine, you and Top would go back to normal and eventually he and Rafe would reconcile like nothing ever happened. If only it was that easy.

Topper had grown increasingly hostile toward you when he decided to acknowledge your existence. His responses were always short and snappy like you were the most horrible person to be speaking with. You knew the only way of fixing this was breaking up with Rafe but there was no way in hell you were doing that so you instead just tried to give him space when you could. But one day he decided that ignoring each other wasn't enough, he needed you to know your options.

‘We need to talk’ one text that always has the ability to make your heart race. You stare at it for 10 minutes trying to figure out the right response before you type back a simple ‘Okay’, his next text telling you he’d meet you at the house in ten minutes. You felt like throwing up and your anxiety was through the roof. You knew what he wanted to talk about, that's what made you nervous. It felt like hours had passed when you finally heard the front door open and heavy footsteps approach the kitchen. Your heartbeat had become very quick when he came into your peripheral vision.

“Hi” a simple word used to greet people now had a more hostile meaning behind it. You finally looked up to see him but he was already looking at you. He still had that same look in his eyes he had that day. Betrayal, disgust, anger, every emotion you had hoped you'd never see him have towards you.

“Hi” your voice much smaller as you tried to avoid his hard gaze. An awkward silence passed for a few moments before he finally spoke again. There was clearly no small talk to be made so it was now or never.

“I'm giving you two options, and I never thought I'd have to say this to you of all people but I guess you really can't trust everyone. I understand you think you love Rafe and that he loves you, but you don't know him like me. Rafe Cameron doesn't ever love someone, he uses them to his advantage until he no longer needs them around and then he leaves them in the dirt. I'm not staying around to watch that happen to you so it's him or me.” his voice was stern, there was no hesitation in his words. He meant every last thing he had just told you.

You stared at him for a moment trying to process what you just heard, did he really just give you an ultimatum? You half expected him to laugh and tell you he was just fucking with you, that he was still upset you hadn't told him but as long as you were happy so was he, but that moment never came. Instead, he continued to stare at you with a pierced gaze waiting for your response.

“Are you serious right now Top?” you chuckled in disbelief. There was no way this was happening right now.

“As serious as a heart attack” no hint of amusement in his voice. Your emotion quickly changed from guilt to anger as his words finally registered.

“You have no right to do that. None. Rafe and I do love each other, we don't think that. You don't know our relationship and this was exactly why we didn't want you finding out. I'm not a baby anymore Topper. I'm a big girl and I can make my own decisions about things, including who I date. If that backfires that's on me and I learn from it. You don't get to decide that for me.” your face had turned red and you felt hot. How dare he make you choose between them.

“Y/N you don't understand okay? I know how he works, I've seen it happen. He's only going to hurt you when-” he tried to argue but you cut him off.

“No. You don't understand. He treats me better than anyone else ever has, he makes me feel loved. You don't know anything about love, that's why your girlfriend cheated on you with a fucking pogue.” his face fell at the comment. You knew it was harsh and uncalled for but you were too upset to care.

“Fuck you Y/N. I'm giving you one last chance to make the right choice” you knew he meant that.

“Fine. You want me to choose so badly? I choose him, I'll always choose him.” your breathing was heavy as you yelled at him. There was no taking it back now so you could only hope it didn't end badly for you.

“Okay” he scoffed “just don't come crying to me when he breaks your heart. You mean nothing to me anymore” he spoke with such disgust that it took everything in you not to cry.

“I won't. He's never going to do that to me” you spoke to him with the same voice he had spoken to you. The two of you staring at each other with anger and a look of disbelief that this had happened to you. Topper gave one last shake of his head before going up the stairs to what you thought was his room. It wasn't until you heard a loud thud a few minutes later that you realized he was in yours.

One by one, bags and boxes of your things came flying down the stairs. Topper was standing at the top with his arms crossed and a satisfied look on his face.

“You want to be with him so bad you can go stay with him. I don't want a lying whore living with me.” his words hurt you more than would ever admit but you swallowed your tears and began packing your car with your things, getting in and starting the car to drive to Rafes once the last thing was thrown in.

He hadn't expected to see your text but all he could do was worry when you’d told him you were on your way to him. The only thing comforting him was pacing around the room and thinking of all the ways he could try and help you. He heard your call pull up and almost broke the door getting to you and his heart shattered when he saw you. Tears streamed down your face, eyes red and puffy, you looked destroyed.

As soon as you were in his arms you broke down, the both of you falling to the ground as your sobs echoed in the warm air. The familiar smell of Rafe's cologne made you feel safe, a feeling you hadn't fully felt since Rafe and Topper's fight. It felt like you were finally home and could relax, the war was over and you could just live again.

“Shh baby it's okay, you're safe now. I've got you” he said as he rested his head on top of yours and wrapped his arms around you tightly. There wasn't much that could be said to help you feel better about the situation but knowing you weren't alone did help to make you feel good. Topper was just jealous he didn't have this type of love with Sarah.

You'd finally calmed down enough to unload your things into Rafe's room. Ward adored you so letting you stay with them was absolutely no issue which you were so thankful for.

Hours had passed and your tears had long stopped. You had taken a nice long shower and now you were in bed with Rafe, it felt natural to you. He gave you a small nudge to get your attention and your eyes met his. He had a slight smirk on his face.

“What? Do I have something on my face” your eyes widening slightly worried you had forgotten to wipe some makeup off your face.

“No no it's not that, it's just… I could get used to this you know? It feels right” his voice was much softer now.

“It does, doesn't it? Maybe this whole situation isn't so bad after all” it was very bad, but maybe you could convince yourself otherwise if you said it enough.

Rafe could see you thinking about the situation again despite what you'd just said so he grabbed your face to hold it in place. His eyes never leaving yours for a second.

“You know I'll take care of you right?” and you had no doubt he would, fuck Topper. You just needed Rafe. He would never betray you like Topper, he would never hurt you the way your brother did. He loved you.

“I know” you smiled sweetly at him before giving him a soft kiss, both of you enjoying the moment of peace before pulling away to turn the lights off. Sleep slowly engulfing you as you relaxed into the others touch. This is how it was meant to be.

If only you knew exactly what getting involved with Rafe Cameron would turn into.

[lynnsquared]

In My Dreams || stepsis!Yves x f!Reader

an : so i'm sorta kinda taking a little break rn but i didn't want to just post nothing this month.. 😭🙏 this little fic is just me trying to branch out and write things i'm not exactly used to, i guess!! plz enjoy (to everyone who has sent in requests please understand i see them and i will work soon.. life has been kind of messy and im sure if ur a student u will understand the stress at this time of year so plz just.. know that i will get to you soon and that i am not ignoring you)

cw : stepcest (duh), wet dreams, somnophilia, dubcon??, scissoring, uhhh i'm not sure 😭 both yves and reader and pervs but focuses mostly on yves sooo, not proofread, kind of shitty bec i've never written somno or dubcon or anything with a plot like this so this is more like a warm up round

wc : 1.6k

A string of soft moans left your mouth at the feeling of Sooyoung's gentle hands fondling your breasts. Her nimble fingers grazed over your nipples as she bit down slightly on your neck. When you winced at the feeling of her teeth sinking into your skin, Sooyoung hushed you.

"You need to be quiet, sweet thing. Mom and Dad might hear you."

In response, you attempted to keep your lips sealed tight. You tried to keep everything in while you shivered from your stepsister's affectionate touch. You could feel the damp spot in your panties becoming more and more obnoxious as it got wetter. Sooyoung seemed to be preoccupied with your tits, so the most you could do to soothe yourself was press your thighs together and let a few quiet, needy whines slip from your throat. She noticed immediately.

"Aw, you're already so excited. You wanted big sis to touch you so bad, right?"

You nodded eagerly. Sooyoung's eyes were hungry and almost predatory as a smirk formed on her lips. One hand snuck off of your breast and down to your panties, feeling your erect clit through the fabric. She rubbed delicate circles and cooed. She knew you were wet, but the extent to which you were was slightly shocking.

"Needy girl, you're soaking.."

Sooyoung chuckled before she pushed your panties to the side and effortlessly dipped her middle finger into your cunt. A sharp moan fell from you as her finger caught you off guard, the sudden contact feeling unexpected but satisfactory nonetheless. You quickly slapped your hand over your mouth to make sure your parents wouldn't hear and tightly gripped onto her shoulder with the other. Before you knew it, Sooyoung's thumb found its way to your clit, and she was-

-Awoken abruptly. Tonight was the third night this week that Sooyoung had a wet dream about you, her younger stepsister. These dreams started a few months after your parents got married. At first, she felt so much shame, but now they'd just become a part of her life. You found Sooyoung odd because she rarely spoke to you, but this shame was the reason behind that. She could barely stand facing you, so the idea of talking to you was infinitely more horrifying. She was afraid of these desires. She was worried about her ability to control herself around you, so she closed you out entirely. It's been an awkward few months living with her since then, but she assumed this was for the best.

She sighed as she woke up, shaking and sweaty. She slept in only her tank top and panties, and she could feel the dampness between her thighs when they pressed together as she sat up. She rubbed her eyes, switched her light on, and looked at the mattress. There was a stain from her slick. She cursed under her breath and scratched her head. This was the most intense reaction her body had after a wet dream.

She felt a little shame, but she couldn't shake the feeling of arousal. She sat up, stretched, and checked the time on the clock on her dresser. It was 11:30. That was late, but not late enough for you to be asleep. The thought of you being awake now turned her on for some reason. She was uncontrollably wet, and it only got worse with the sudden urge to go into your room and beg for help. 

With shaky legs, Sooyoung stood up and moved towards your room as quietly as possible. She turned the knob to your door and gradually pushed it open. When she noticed your lamp was still on, she opened it faster, assuming you were awake. She stepped in, turned around, and shut the door before analyzing her surroundings. She immediately noticed that while your lamp was on, its light was dim, and you were asleep on your bed. 

As perverted as it sounds, your sleeping face turned her on.

It turned her on a lot.

No amount of guilt she felt could've surpassed her desire. Her guilt wasn't even apparent when she crawled into your bed. She stared at your sleeping face and flushed. You were so pretty when you slept. She couldn't help but let her hands wander past the band of her panties. She started to touch herself softly, coming in contact with the immense amount of slick she'd produced in her sleep. When her fingers grazed over her clit, a sharp but still quiet moan escaped her throat. She analyzed every detail of your face. She could tell you were in a deep sleep. 

That's when something hit her. You were the deepest sleeper she'd ever seen. She recalled a few months ago when you'd watched a movie with your parents. You fell asleep on the couch after 30 minutes and stayed there until morning. She remembered being shocked when you didn't stir in the slightest, as the movie was incredibly loud. Your inability to be disturbed when you slept gave her an idea. 

Slowly, Sooyoung sat up. She removed her hand from her underwear and flipped you onto your back, looking for any signs of disturbance before continuing. When she was confident you were undisturbed, she pulled off your shorts, leaving you in your panties. She faintly blushed when she saw them. She almost snapped back to reality and realized how perverted she was acting, but she couldn't stop herself.

She took off her panties, then yours, biting her lip when she revealed your crotch in its entirety. Looking at your face again for discomfort, she lifted your legs and spread them slowly. When she got you to a position she believed would be the most comfortable, her desire consumed her again. She placed her clit against yours and bit her lip. Your eyebrows kneaded together, a quiet groan coming from your throat. Sooyoung, as worried as she was about you waking up, couldn't hear you. She was lost in her pleasure as a string of drool fell down her chin. 

Just sitting with your clits pressed together eventually wasn't enough for her. She started to hump your pussy in a slow rhythm, holding back a whine with every movement. She was desperate to get off and even more desperate to feel your body against hers. She couldn't help but go faster, her lewd behavior fueled by the feeling of your cunt pulsing against hers. You liked it. You liked her... Even if you didn't know it.

Sooyoung was eventually unable to hold back her noises. She picked up her pace and panted, the occasional grunt slipping out as propping one of your legs up to deepen the contact between your folds and hers. She threw her head back and sighed, coming closer and closer to her orgasm. The room was silent, except for the subtle slap of your thighs and her grunting. That was until the silence broke unexpectedly. 

You shifted a bit before groggily opening your eyes. You were immediately alarmed when you realized you were naked from the waist down, and even more so when you felt your stepsister rubbing your clits together and moaning like a fool. She didn't notice you woke up until you spoke softly. "S-Sooyoung..?"

With that, her movements didn't cease but slowed. She looked down at you with wide eyes and a flushed face. She was so horny she couldn't bring herself to stop or even acknowledge how you might've felt. She just placed one palm over your mouth frantically and hushed you. "S-sis, shh.. It's ok, it's just me.."

You whined, partly because of discomfort but also because it was impossible not to when her erect clit hit yours. You would be lying if you said you'd never fantasized about her as well, and you were too tired to tell her to stop. If you were in your right mind, you wouldn't have been so afraid. 

Sooyoung spoke as she removed her hand from your mouth, placing it back where it had been before as she sped up again. "I-I'm close, let me finish... Let me finish, and I'll go away.."

As she continued, you started to enjoy the feeling of her body on yours. Moans and pleas for more fell from your throat as you could feel yourself approaching your orgasm as well. Sooyoung huffed before she winced sharply and ceased her humping. Her cunt twitched as she pressed it tightly to yours, a layer of cum coating your pussy before you came as well. You came shockingly fast, but she'd been stimulating you for as long as you were stimulating her. It was only so shocking because you woke up in the middle of it.

Sooyoung was a little surprised when you gave in and came. She expected you to be afraid and push her away, but you didn't. You had the same reaction as she did. She was ecstatic.

Instead of leaving like she said she would, she flopped over next to you and panted, pulling her panties back on. She looked at you with her slightly teary eyes and spoke softly. "I'm sorry, sis.." 

"No, don't apologize.." You muttered, your face flushing as she stared at you. "It's fine... I just have to process that." 

Sooyoung fell quiet as your words fell on her ears. You really didn't mind that? What a dream come true. Silently, she clung to your side tightly and let her eyes flutter shut. She grew drowsy again as you sighed, but she didn't expect you to speak again. "We have to talk about this tomorrow, though." 

She nodded, agreeing to talk with you. She nuzzled as close as she could and let herself drift off, you following her into sleep shortly after. It was more than obvious that it didn't matter how much you tried to satisfy each other. No matter what, you would keep meeting Sooyoung in her dreams and making her crave things she never knew she needed.

[boobo13cambridge]

Drifting Apart I | Kylian Mbappé

Pairing: Kylian Mbappé x f.Reader

Warnings: Angst, physical violence (Y/N slaps him)

Summary: Y/N and Kylian’s relationship is crumbling as they navigate the most difficult moments of their lives. Will they stay or fall apart due to the pressure?

A/N: Hello, everyone! This is the first time I’ve ever written angst, so I really hope you guys give it much love. As always don’t forget to like, comment, and repost! Enjoy, lovelies ❣️

Tired.

Exhausted.

Drained.

Three words that fully encompassed her emotions as she finally put the triplets to sleep after a long day of cleaning up dirty diapers and writing a thesis. Y/N felt close to tears as she felt overwhelming guilt for being worn out at taking care of her babies when she loved them with all her heart. To make matters worse, she and Kylian had been getting into a lot of arguments lately. She knew how important and stressful this year was for him, and in the back of her mind, she wished that they had waited a bit more before having kids.

After getting married in the summer of 2021, the young couple wanted to enjoy a few years together before starting a family. Getting married so young, at the ripe age of 20 and 22, came as quite a shock to some (which in her eyes didn't make sense because a lot of footballers had kids even younger), but they were in love, and despite their parents' skepticism, they tied the knot on July 12, 2021.

Fast forward a year, and Y/N found herself staring at the two dark lines indicating that she's pregnant. Getting pregnant a few months before the 2022 World Cup was definitely not part of the plan, but with the support of their families, they made it through somehow. Throughout her whole pregnancy, Kylian was the best husband any woman could ever ask for, always so attentive and understanding of her every need. When they found out they were having triplets, and all boys at that, Y/N almost had a mental breakdown because she could never in a million years understand how she could ever be a mom to one kid, let alone three. It took Kylian, her mom, and two nurses and a doctor to calm her down.

And needless to say, the triplets, or as Kylian loves to call them 'his perfect hat-trick,' were born on December 4, 2022, right when Kylian had scored two goals to qualify France for the quarter-finals. In all honesty, she really wished she could have just given birth in Doha, but she was under strict surveillance and wasn't allowed to travel. Needless to say, in the moment, she was quite happy that she was having a c-section instead of a normal birth but regretted that soon after as it took way longer to recover. Kylian was definitely devastated to have missed his sons' birth and was this close to booking a flight back to Paris. It took Marcus and Ousmane to calm him down and talk him out of it.

A couple of days after that, France lost the World Cup, which absolutely broke her heart, but she was happy that her husband would be by her side. Post-World Cup, Kylian Mbappé was a very attentive father and husband, but she knew how much the loss had affected him and tried her best to cheer him up. She was secretly glad he had injured himself because he would finally get a break from playing with such a shitty team. Now, back to the present, May 28th, 2024, Post-Transfer Kylian Mbappé was moody and had a frown permanently etched on his forehead.

Once again, she tried to understand, knowing he had so much pressure on his shoulders from transferring to Real Madrid. He was Kylian Mbappé, the current greatest footballer, and people never gave him a break, always demanding perfection every match. He had a huge burden to carry, with the fans pointing out every little mistake he made on the pitch. The Madridistas had long anticipated his transfer, and they were out for blood. If the fans were demanding, then Kylian was even more demanding of himself. It was like living with the shadow of her husband. Gone was the sweet man who would make her breakfast in bed and massage her feet. In his place was someone who only had one thing on his mind: winning everything.

La Liga, Copa del Rey, Supercopa de España, UEFA Champions League, Euros, Summer Olympic Games.

She was going crazy just thinking about it. Lately, it was as if the only thing on his mind was trophies, and she couldn't stand it. The day before the La Liga final, which was held at the Bernabeu just two days ago, Kylian had once again started an argument just because she told him that she was tired of putting his dirty clothes in the laundry and that he should do it himself. The argument was so bad that she didn't even want to be there at the last match of the La Liga season, but on the day of the match, Kylian had profusely apologized and begged, so she forgave him and came to see him lift the trophy. This morning, Kylian had woken up in a foul mood and just seemed to want to be an absolute dickhead. He nitpicked at everything she did before leaving for practice, loudly complaining that she had put too much protein powder in his shake.

The whole day, she tried to text him and call him, but he was ignoring her calls. She had had enough; she couldn't deal with it anymore. Time and time again, she had tried to be understanding, swallowing and smiling through every single complaint and whine he let out. So what if he had his first Champions League final with his new club in three days? She didn't deserve to be treated like such a nuisance.

As she went to the kitchen to grab something to drink, she broke down into sobs. It was too much. She hated feeling like she wasn't enough. Kylian hadn't kissed her, much less said, "I love you," before storming out. For months, all he did was complain, complain, and complain.

The young woman heard the door open and close, instantly recognizing her lover's footsteps. She tried to muffle her sobs so he wouldn't hear, but she forgot that the kitchen lights were on.

Kylian walked right through the archway leading to the kitchen and stopped in his tracks when he saw her teary face, instantly feeling guilty. He knew he had been treating her horribly these past few months and that he should stop, but he had been so stressed with everything that he took it all out on the love of his life and the mother of his children.

"Bébé, are you okay?" he asked slowly, approaching her and trying to wipe her tears, but she moved back. Her action pained him because he realized how much of a jerk he had been.

"What do you think? Do I look like I'm okay?" she snapped at him, wiping the tears with the back of her hand, her voice filled with frustration.

"I'm sorry, my love. I've been such an ass-" he said apologetically.

"Yes, you have! You have no idea what I've been going through because of you!" she replied angrily, her tone laced with resentment.

"Bébé, you have no idea how sor-" he tried to explain, but she cut him off.

"Save your fucking apologies, Kylian! I don't fucking care anymore. You've made me feel like the biggest piece of shit these past few months," she spat out, her words filled with bitterness.

"You know how stressed I've been with the transfer and-" he started to defend himself, but she interrupted him.

"AND SO YOU DECIDED TO TAKE IT OUT ON ME WHEN I-" she yelled, her tone conveying a mixture of anger and hurt.

"STOP INTERRUPTING ME! YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHAT I'VE BEEN GOING THROUGH WITH ALL THESE PEOPLE PUSHING THEIR EXPECTATIONS ON ME WHILE YOU SIT AT HOME-" he retorted, his voice tinged with frustration.

"SIT AT HOME? WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU EVEN DO THE WHOLE DAY EXCEPT KICK A FUCKING BALL AROUND WHILE I TAKE CARE OF THE KIDS, CLEAN THE HOUSE, COOK FOOD, WRITE MY FUCKING THESIS, WHICH YOU NEVER EVEN BOTHER ASKING ABOUT BECAUSE OF COURSE THE WHOLE FUCKING WORLD TURNS AROUND MR. HOTSHOT HIMSELF!"

"KICK A BALL AROUND ALL DAY? ME DOING THAT IS THE ONLY REASON WHY YOU SPEND THOUSANDS OF DOLLARS BUYING USELESS SHIT-" 

"I USE MY OWN MONEY TO BUY SHIT, YOU DICKHEAD! AND THE ONLY USELESS SHIT I BUY WITH YOUR MONEY IS CLOTHES AND FOOD FOR THE CHILDREN YOU KNOCKED ME UP RIGHT AFTER I GRADUATED! I'VE SACRIFICED SO MUCH FOR YOU-" 

"SACRIFICED?! WHAT HAVE YOU SACRIFICED FOR ME, HUH? STOP ACTING LIKE I KNOCKED YOU UP WHEN YOU WERE MORE THAN WILLING TO SPREAD YOUR LEGS FOR ME!" 

SLAP.

The sound reverberated through the kitchen, accompanied by a sharp sting on Kylian's cheek. Pain radiated through his face, mingling with the shock that coursed through his veins. His hand instinctively reached up to cradle his burning cheek, his eyes widening in disbelief. The room seemed to spin as he struggled to comprehend what had just transpired.

Y/N's expression mirrored his own disbelief, her eyes wide with horror at the consequences of her actions. Tears streamed down her face, mixing with the remorse that consumed her. She trembled, overwhelmed by the magnitude of what she had done. It was a moment of raw vulnerability, where the line between love and anger blurred into a haze of anguish.

"Kylian, I'm so sorry," she choked out, her voice quivering with remorse. Each word dripped with the weight of her regret, desperate to erase the irreversible damage she had caused.

His throat tightened, a turbulent mix of emotions swirling within him. The pain on his cheek competed with the anger that burned in his chest. He fought to find his voice, to process the torrent of thoughts that assailed his mind. The apology hung in the air, suspended between them, as he grappled with conflicting impulses.

Gulping down the lump in his throat, Kylian felt the anger surge within him, fueled by his own frustrations and insecurities. The relentless stress, anxiety, and guilt that had plagued him clawed their way to the surface, intertwining with the raw ache on his cheek. It was a toxic concoction that threatened to consume him, driving him to respond with his own fury.

But beneath the anger, a part of him acknowledged his own culpability. He was not blameless in this dance of discord. The weight of his actions pressed upon his conscience, intertwining with the pain on his cheek. The realization of his own flaws clashed with the indignation that simmered in his veins.

In that moment, Kylian made a choice. A choice to channel the anger, the hurt, and the guilt into something different. Instead of lashing out, he took a deep breath, summoning the last remnants of self-control. The anger flickered in his eyes, but he suppressed it, focusing on the vulnerability before him.

He approached Y/N slowly, his steps cautious and deliberate. His hand reached out, hesitantly, aiming to wipe away her tears, but she flinched, pulling back as if his touch were a reminder of her own transgressions. The ache in his heart matched the pain on his cheek, the longing to bridge the chasm that had formed between them.

Words hung unspoken, heavy with unexpressed emotions. They both knew that apologies alone were not enough to heal the wounds they had inflicted upon each other. The room remained steeped in anguished silence, punctuated only by the echoes of their shattered love.

As the weight of the moment settled upon them, Kylian and Y/N stood at a crossroads. A crossroads where anger and remorse converged, where past mistakes collided with uncertain futures. The path forward was shrouded in shadows, their once-solid foundation crumbling beneath the weight of their anguished hearts.

Time seemed to stand still in the wake of their confrontation, the air heavy with unspoken words and shattered expectations. The kitchen, once a sanctuary of shared laughter and intimate conversations, now felt like a battlefield, scarred by the aftermath of their verbal warfare. 

Kylian's gaze never wavered from Y/N, his eyes tracing the contours of her tear-streaked face. He longed to bridge the distance between them, to mend the rift that had widened with each bitter exchange. The ache in his heart intensified, a poignant reminder of the love that had once bound them together.

Y/N's body trembled with a mix of regret, fear, and a longing for reconciliation. The weight of her actions bore down on her, leaving her feeling small and vulnerable. She yearned for solace, for the reassurance that their love could withstand the tempestuous storm that raged within them.

With measured steps, Kylian closed the physical gap between them, his heart pounding with a mixture of trepidation and determination. He reached out once again, his hand hovering in the space between them, a silent plea for forgiveness and understanding.

Y/N hesitated for a moment, caught in the crosscurrents of conflicting emotions. Her gaze met Kylian's, searching for a glimmer of the man she had fallen in love with—the man who had once cherished her and their family above all else. Slowly, tentatively, she extended her trembling hand, allowing their fingers to intertwine, a fragile connection in the face of their shattered trust.

In that delicate touch, an unspoken promise lingered. It whispered of their shared history, the moments of tenderness and joy that had been eclipsed by their recent turbulence. It spoke of a willingness to rebuild, to confront their flaws and the demons that haunted them.

The silence, once heavy with resentment, now became a sacred space for introspection and reflection. The unspoken words hung in the air, their weight acknowledged by both parties. It was a moment of surrender, a recognition that love could not thrive in the absence of vulnerability and forgiveness.

However, despite their fragile moment of reconciliation, the scars of their previous altercation still festered beneath the surface. The guilt and anger that plagued them now resided like smoldering embers, waiting for the slightest breeze to ignite their fury once more.

The following morning, the house was shrouded in an uneasy silence. Kylian moved cautiously, as if walking on eggshells, acutely aware of the tension that lingered in the air. Y/N, her face etched with traces of weariness and apprehension, busied herself in the kitchen, desperately trying to maintain a semblance of normalcy.

Suddenly, the sound of shattering glass pierced the fragile peace. Kylian's hand trembled as he gazed at the broken fragments scattered across the floor, his breath catching in his throat. The weight of his mistake crashed down upon him, triggering a surge of self-loathing.

Before Kylian could even react, Y/N's voice lashed out, sharp and cutting. "Kylian, how many times have I told you to be careful? You never pay attention to anything!" Her words dripped with frustration, a reflection of her own mounting resentment.

His heart sank, a mixture of shame and frustration swirling within him. The bitterness that had consumed him since their previous argument threatened to overflow. He could no longer bear the weight of his guilt and his bruised pride.

The room seemed to close in on them as Kylian's retort hung heavily in the air, each word a dagger aimed at Y/N's wounded heart. "Oh, what now? Are you going to slap me again, Y/N?"

The accusation cut through the air, leaving a palpable silence in its wake. Y/N's eyes widened in disbelief and hurt, her body trembling with a mixture of shock and anger. The triplets, sensing the rising tension, began to cry, their innocent wails intermingling with the growing storm of emotions.

Y/N's voice quivered as she fought back tears, her voice heavy with a mixture of sorrow and indignation. "How dare you say that, Kylian? I never wanted to hurt you, and you know it!"

The room trembled with their voices, each word a dagger aimed to wound, tearing at the fabric of their fragile bond. Kylian's face contorted with anger, his voice laced with a bitterness he could no longer contain. "Of course you never wanted to hurt me, right? You've done such a fantastic job so far!" Kylian spat, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Complaining and nagging every fucking day like I don’t already have enough of that every time I open social media"

Y/N's eyes filled with tears, a mixture of pain and disbelief etched on her face. She struggled to find her voice, to make sense of the torrent of emotions crashing over her. "I'm trying, Kylian. I'm trying so hard to hold us together, to be there for you and the kids. But it feels like nothing I do is ever enough!"

He scoffed, the bitterness in his voice turning his words into venom. "You? Trying hard? Don't make me laugh! All you do is complain and criticize. You're so quick to point out my faults, but what about your own? Or do you think you're perfect?"

Y/N's voice trembled with a mix of anger and hurt. "I never claimed to be perfect, Kylian. But I've given up so much for you, for our family. I've sacrificed my dreams and aspirations to support you, only to be constantly belittled and dismissed!"

Kylian's eyes blazed with fury, his fists clenched at his sides. "Oh, so now it's all about your sacrifices, is it? What about mine? What about the pressure I face every single day, the weight of expectations on my shoulders?"

Their words collided in the air, their voices filled with resentment and unspoken pain. The triplets' cries grew louder, their innocence caught in the crossfire of their parents' anguish.

Unable to bear the suffocating atmosphere any longer, Kylian turned on his heels, his voice dripping with disdain. "I don't have time for this. I have a plane to catch, a team to lead. Maybe being away from you for a while will do us both some good."

As he stormed out of the house, the door slammed shut behind him, leaving Y/N standing in a sea of shattered hopes and shattered glass. The anguished cries of their children echoed through the empty rooms, a haunting reminder of the fractures in their once-unbreakable bond.

In that moment, as the gravity of their fight settled upon them, both Kylian and Y/N were left with a hollow ache in their hearts, each tormented by their own regrets and the uncertain path that lay before them.

[lovable-liar]

Slasher!schlatt, who doesn’t really wanna kill reader, because he’s known them since he was younger. So, when he’s chasing reader and reader falls and begins sobbing hysterically, begging for schlatt to come save them, he reveals himself as schlatt. -🪺

TRIGGER WARNING: mention of assault, mentions of murder.

I'm writing up some backstories for the slashers that I may or may not post, but here we go!

The infamous "J" was well known by the police and by the media.

That bastard took inspiration from Jigsaw and rebranded it.

Rebranded it into some shitty gimmick.

Some... shitty... terrifying gimmick.

His calling card mocked the police especially.

VHS tapes.

He was a cocky son of a bitch in them but what got to them the most was the fact that he put his face in them.

Aside for some sunglasses and a Yankees hat, the police *could not* decipher who he was because of the grainy grey-scale he had overlayed on his visage and the swirling colors in the background kept any information about his whereabouts under lock and digital key.

His voice would be deepened, but that did not hide the mocking edge to his words.

He'd read them passages from the bible, parts of the constitution, extracts from his latest reads, poems, etc.

His favorite was Ozymandias.

He would probably have been titled "Ozymandias" by investigators, but his other calling card was a simple, hand written "J" stuck to his victim's corpse's.

However, his victims weren't random. They all were people that had recently been able to evade prison sentences for heinous, unforgivable crimes. Or, they were corrupt politicians.

So, when you found yourself being hunted down by the Slasher, your mind was racing.

What had you done?

The only thing you had on your record was underage drinking a few months before your 21st birthday!

You worked at a fucking McDonald's for Christ's sake!

Maybe he was a regular?

But you could've bet money that you'd recognize him from the released tapes!

Of course you followed media about him.

It's New York City, shithead, it's gonna be global news!

Maybe the pigs might not be able to tell who it is, but you certainly could've.

Maybe you'd slagged off America too much at work and he heard you? Maybe you said something offensive about the bible or Christianity? Maybe he was somewhat of a Riddler figure - maybe he thought you dressed too "unmodestly?" Maybe... Maybe?

No more maybes! He was gaining on you, fast! You had to get out of here.

Where- where is here?

Here. The backstreets of the concrete jungle.

You wished it was more like a jungle. You wished you could camoflauge into a wall or something. You wished fire escapes were easier to climb!

*Thud*

"Ah!" You winced in pain, a sharp sting shooting up your spine from your tailbone. You really wished it was more jungle and less concrete now.

"Please! PLEASE!"

You curled in on yourself, like a singed piece of off-cut wood, baring your palms to the sky that began to weep down on you.

You clenched your eyes tight, breathing through it, hoping. Praying, that your death would be painless.

You'd seen all the autopsy reports of all of his victims, but you were hoping he might spare you. Spare you with a quick and painless death.

Praying that when you opened your eyes again, you might be greeted with all of life's questions, followed by all of death's answers.

"Toots?"

"Wh- Schlatt?"

"I- was tryin' ta walk home with ya! But ya ran away! Are- are you okay? The fuck're you doin' on the floor? Ya gonna get wet, sweetheart! Did someone hurt you?"

He picked you up from the floor, but your breath was already snatched away. You were paralyzed. From fear or from the pain still emanating from your definitely broken tail bone. You didn't know.

All you knew is that in a moment's notice, you were placing his sunglasses back on his face after he tucked them into the neckline of his shirt.

The disgust? Horror? Confusion? That filled you was almost unable to bare.

"I know, sweetheart... Look- Hey! No! None of that! Don't you fuckin' dare run away! HEY! Don't try and kick me! Just- LISTEN TO ME! Dollface," He scolded you, "Hear- Hear me out. I'm not gonna hurt ya, I'm not gonna kill ya. So, chill out."

You manage to find it in you to calm down, slightly, and for some stupid fucking reason you let him take you back to his apartment, quietly explaining on the way there.

"Ever since that scum robbed dad's business and the pigs did nothin' about it, I took shit into my own hands. Tracked 'em down. Killed 'em. Got dad's shit back. I swear on my life, I was gonna stop there. But, then I started noticin' all the corruption with these animals. They do fuckin' nothin' but sit on their asses all day, lettin' innocent civilians get slaughtered! And I wasn't gonna have it."

Once you reached his place, he took you to his bedroom.

"I especially wasn't gonna have it when ya got assaulted... I killed the guy. Couldn't sleep knowin' he was still out there, walkin' the same streets you did..."

He looks into your eyes. In searching them, you could find something you didn't think you would.

You found care. Love. In some killer's your best friend since childhood's eyes.

"Can ya find it in you to forgive me, dollface?"

...

"How the fuck did I not recognize you?!"

[noxioustoxin]

I'll Be Here, Always

Mentions: Implied Abuse (Warning), Suicide (Warning), fluff, tender love and care.

Small Authors Note: "I'm just looking to do some major self-care, but I do hope you all enjoy my short story." ^^

——————————

It had been about a month, almost two now, that Dazai even bothered to check his notifications. His phone lights up throughout the night with halfhearted check-ins. He didn't have to look to know who the messages were from, the soft chime told him exactly who it was. "Bastard, the hell are you ignoring me for?" "You better not be dead, or I swear shitty Dazai."

It was the same thing every few days or so that it started making his head spin. Normally Dazai would've written a snarky comeback, teasing the redhead about how much he seems to care. In reality, Dazai cared. But even his little dog couldn't pull him out of this one. Dazai could vividly recall the moment when things began to spiral, which wasn't uncommon for him. He was known to be suicidal and depressed, but this time, he took the liberty of writing a note. His fingers ached as he scribbled out his goodbye, which was only to one person, but he wouldn't dare let that letter be seen. Not by his slug. He wasn't that cruel though many would argue with that statement.

Even with the meticulous work he put in to hide his letter, he still somehow found himself in Mori's office. Dazai's letter was there open against the desk, and he could hear a scoff from his boss. It was obvious to him that Mori had already read the contents of the letter. "When will you give up on this futile endeavor? Aimlessly reaching for an outcome you can't achieve. You can't die until I say you can when I provide the means." His voice swirled around Dazai's mind like filthy venom, reminding Dazai with that choice of words that he was chained to him. Typically, Mori's words were nothing more than that. Words. But that unsettling feeling that stirred within his stomach made his limbs suddenly feel like lead. He felt bolted to the floor. But in his mind, the only thing that mattered was Chuuya. Not Mori, not being chained to him and the organization, not his suffering. Just Chuuya.

Flash forward to the present, Dazai sat uncomfortably atop his small mattress. His eyes were misty and puffy from the tears that refused to fall. The shipping container in which he called home carried an ominous chill, one that didn't feel right. "Mackerel… please talk to me."

His phone lit up the small area. He knew it was Chuuya, but what was he supposed to say? That he once again wanted to leave the world behind because of his pain? No. Not that again. So instead, Dazai curled up into a fettle position and sighed heavily into his knees. After what felt like hours, in reality, it was only about twenty minutes, a knock jolted Dazai away from his misery. He sighed and uttered a soft "go away," but that was quickly met with louder and more forceful knocking. The sound made his heart sink, and he knew he couldn't ignore it anymore, so reluctantly he scrambled off of his bed and made his way to the door. His hand hesitantly reached for the lock and slowly opened the door. "What?" His voice shook as he tried to upkeep his typical cold exterior until he was suddenly wrapped in a tight embrace. That familiar warmth quickly enveloped his body, and his body relaxed for the first time in those two months. Chuuya. Dazai opened his mouth to speak, but he couldn't find the words. The words weren't needed at the moment, but instead, Chuuya simply led him over to his bed and pushed him down against it. Those usually piercing blue eyes were softer and gentler as he cupped Dazai's cheek. "You don't have to go silent whenever you hit a low period," Chuuya began softly, "I can handle it. I want you to understand that I know you still struggle and suffer with those thoughts." He paused to press his forehead lightly against Dazai's, the gesture so tender that it caused butterflies to form in their stomachs. With that, Dazai's tears finally fell as he quickly tugged Chuuya onto the bed with him. His taller frame fits rather perfectly with Chuuya's smaller one. A soft chuckle could be heard from the redhead as he reached his hand up to play with those messy brown curls. "Come on, we aren't staying here. I've got canned crab at home, let's get you a nice bath and a hot meal." Dazai only cooed in response as he nuzzled his head into the crook of Chuuya's neck.

"Okay, Chibi… I love you." "I love you too Mackerel, now let's go."

Dazai knew that Chuuya did mean what he said, he meant that he was here for him even through his dark times. Maybe, just maybe, this was what his meaning in life was. No. Not maybe, Chuuya was his reason. And that was all he needed now. "I'll be here, always." And Dazai believed it. Completely.

------------------------------ Again, I truly hope you all enjoy this little, short story!

[k11ty]

Sore

I've never written any mpreg, or any preg fic, in my life so go easy on me this time. Don't take it seriously, please its just for laughs and giggles. Its a very shitty plot, i know, i didn't really plan what else to write besides milk and tit sucking, and well, diluc mpreg. It was requested by my sibling for fun, don't hate on me.

when you see the "-" in the fic it means the time jumps, like maybe some weeks or months. Can be read as gender neutral.

not proofread, hope you all enjoy 💀

During dinner one autumn, Diluc was very handsy and whiny with his alpha, you gave him warning looks during it all. you knew what he wanted and were not going to let him have it as of the time. Before Diluc came off his birth control, you would get to fill the petite omega up every day, but now he had to deal with the consequences of having a horny alpha and a omega on no birth control.

Diluc would secretly suck your cock as an apology for him his behavior, you'd very often appricivate the apology and finger fuck him to a mind-blowing orgasm afterward. Then you would let him ride you for hours until his hole was sopping wet and with your knot and cum.

However, that time was over, for now. After you impregnated Diluc at his next heat without any of his supplies, he came with the news that he was pregnant.

_

You pawed at the omega's chest, kneading into the flesh to get as much milk as possible before finally letting go with a pleased sigh. You looked at Diluc's flushed face, and couldn't help but want to tease him.

"Hmm, you're quite sensitive from me sucking away at your breasts. Don't you think you've become a bit obsessed?" You leaned into Diluc's neck, "Will you let me suck them even when the baby is out?" you whispered, showering his neck with butterfly kisses.

"What will you do when the children come? They are going to be so needy" You ask as you pull away. It's not the first time this has ensured. Both of you have been looking forward to the day Diluc started leaking milk. Speaking of, Diluc stammers a bit before looking away, getting flustered by the thought of the image in his mind.

You push yourself up with your elbow and lean down again  to peak his lips as a thank you before moving down to his swelling chest again. Carefully you take his right nipple into your mouth, while diluc places a hand on top of your head, pushing back your hair. Diluc let out a squeak, then a weak moan as he begins to express the milk his chest has been storing up for the last few days. You always thought his milk tasted better the longer the days went, but always gave in when Diluc came whining about how sore his breast was.

You moan too, happily sucking and drinking his sweet milk, like a child. It tastes a hell of a lot better than last time, you think to yourself. You drink until he's dry, kneading the other breast in your free hand. You gave his nipple a few kitten licks before you pull off, licking the droplets going down your chin.

"Feel better?" you ask, voice heavy and rough from arousal. "Yes" Diluc breaths, squirming under you. "I want,,, can you do my other one too, please?" you nod, dive in the moment you get, delighted that Diluc's enjoying it as much as you are, if not even more. Sucking and licking, you're happily drinking the milk from his other breast and you feel his hand rest on your head, halting his head pats. You still for a moment and look up to see him biting his lips with his eyes shut closed. You'd imagine if you weren't between his legs keeping them spread, that the red-haired omega would be rubbing his thighs together in arousal.

You pull off his red sore nipple again, and he whines for the loss. You started purring, it was almost as if he could imagine a bushy tail eagerly wagging behind you. Diluc attempts on pressing his thighs together as the alpha's scent overtook his senses. The scent you let out of the sweetest wine assaulted Diluc's senses, and for once he truly enjoyed the smell of alcohol. As everyone in Monstadt knew, wasn't Diluc a fan of alcohol, but he didn't mind at all the idea of getting off to your high-quality scent.

You lay your face in between his small plumbs, rubbing your scent everywhere. "I'm so tired..." he let out in a sigh, tugging his nightgown a bit to cover his legs. The child hadn't given Diluc much rest, always so active. You both joke that the more active the healthier the baby would be. The pain was also something that never gave Diluc any rest, back pain, cramps, and contractions to sore breasts. You rub your hand on his belly comfortingly, occasionally moving upwards to squeeze and massage his chest, once again, just enough that it relieves any soreness- and not enough to get him worked up or act erotic in any way.

You kiss his collarbone and earlobe too, content with cuddling and holding your omega close after a long day. The sweet moment was interrupted by the red-haired squirming around underneath the alpha's heavy form. You look up for a moment to catch Dilucs face in discomfort, "Huh, gotta pee?" You ask, noticing your husband's movements. "Eh,,, oh yeah, been holding it since I laid down here with you." He continues to squirm his way out from underneath you and off the cloud-like cushions. "And with the child kicking my bladder it's not helping." He turned around to face you, "So go to the bathroom then" you jokingly say. "Try having a tiny human kicking your organs and sitting on your bladder twenty-four seven, almighty-alpha." He rolls his eyes.

You wink at him and he only cracks a small smile as he pushes himself up from the bed. You lay on your back, watching Diluc fix his nightgown before waddling into the dimly lit room and pulling down his underwear before lowering down onto the toilet, he saw there was some blood in the fabric. It obviously wasn't that much, but it clearly was there. He did his business then cleaned himself up, washed his hands, and exited the bathroom.

When the red-haired omega made his way back to the bedroom he noticed how much his bump have grown, as one of his breasts is still a little more swollen than the other. His hip was starting to spread daily to accommodate the nearly developed pup. There was also a noticeable change in his thighs, once slender was now a meeting of soft, supple fat. As for his upper body was still relatively slender his belly had nowhere to o but out.

The realization hit, that he is going to have a pup with the one he loves.

His alpha.

[soleminisanction]

This might seem a bit out of the blue to you, but I just wanted to say your old posts about Stephanie Brown changed my mind on her quite a bit, even if I still don't feel quite as strongly about it as you seem to haha. Overall she's a character with some interesting potential to her backstory, but she's been written awfully over the years. Your points are all really well-argued, even though for me it's hard to look past the Doylist context of the choices made with her character; from plain poor writing to mysoginy to editorial mandates and whatnot, so it's tough for me to outright *hate* her, but when I put the Watsonian glasses on... yeah, she does kinda suck, and Batgirl 2009 is pretty darn shallow. And honestly, TimSteph shippers outright baffled me--well, no they didn't, a lot of their outrage at the breakup was just pure biphobia, but if I were giving people the benefit of the doubt and assuming they genuinely liked the relationship as presented from Rebirth onwards it's like... why tho. They're such a boring couple, leaving aside the toxicity of Post-Crisis because I don't know much about it and just ick. Idk what I'm even saying here. Just expressing appreciation for the effort put into your posts even if I don't agree with absolutely every interpretation, I guess. Keep on keeping on

Thank you. I appreciate you saying all that.

It's not like I'm unaware of the Doylist reasons behind all the events that happen in-comics, I just don't agree with the idea that the way to fix that is to brush huge swaths of a character's history under a rug. That's just not how you do it if you're trying to reclaim a character who's been sexistly victimized, not if you're doing it well -- they didn't do it with Barbara after Killing Joke, or Carol Danvers after Avengers #200, or Gwen Stacy when creating Spider-Gwen, or with Harley when transitioning her into anti-hero, and those all resulted in great stories.

And male characters have to deal with the aftermath of bad shit they pulled under other writers all the time. Wally West only just put a final capstone on the events of Heroes in Crisis last month. Over in Batman, Bruce is catching the brunt of fall-out from both the Babel Protocol and the Batman of Zur-en-arrh. Hank Pym got labeled an infamous wife beater because one artist misinterpreted a script direction. Roy Harper has only just recently gotten back everything that Cry for Justice took from him.

So yeah, I think it's only fair to do the same with Stephanie, and that it does the character a major disservice not to. More than that, it's lazy. The least amount of effort needed to get people on the internet to stop yelling at them.

Killing her off for Bruce's manpain and having her around, alive, but presented as a flat, perfect little Princess Badass with a bland "quirky" personality and no interests outside the immediate needs of the plot are both examples of sexist writing. If you want to engage with her as a character you need to embrace the fact that she can be kind of an asshole, that she's got negative emotions and bad opinions and shitty ideas and things that she just plain sucks at. Of course she does! She's human!

That's all feminist writing really means. Treating women like they're human instead of just a plot convenience. It should not be that hard.

[bacchicly]

Plan to finish Whoa! Plus a bit of journaling about the block.

Note: my tag for journal posts is "bacchic dances"

CW: journaling part will explore a bit of my relationship to sex/intimacy and also the depression I am digging myself out of.

Background: Whoa! Is my garvez WIP where they explore Pony play and we learn that Penelope and Luke and Lisa have been having loving threesomes for a few months. Lisa also falls in love with Dio. Luke and Penelope make a breakthrough.

SOOOOOO I have not written in ages and I can trace it back to a specific moment. I read part of the story to someone and they reacted with "this makes me realise I was not very good at sex" (not verbatim).

I didn't realise it right away and it wasn't the person's fault but the result was the comment and my reaction to it made writing the WIP less fun. It didn't help that my family life and work life has been chaotic and that I have been fighting some real depression for the last few months.

One thing I have realised (or at least vocalized for the first time) is that sex is my "special topic". (This is surely not a huge surprise to my longtime readers/mutuals). I love learning about it, thinking about it, studying it -- yes I love the feelings of sex but that is in some ways secondary to it's special topic-ness -- and it's not always the easiest special topic to have...it being taboo and all in a lot of circles and that my own relationship to sex is confused and impacted by my ADHD and PMDD Symptoms.

(I know that is hardly unique - but it doesn't make it less true)

Anyways - if I am trying to do some healing - then finishing this wip (which I actually love) feels important.

I also am trying to not take on other people's wants, needs, and opinions quite so much and my fanfic writing is basically my one space where I really can work through my own thoughts, opinions and feelings on these topics that matter so so much to me. Also it is important to me to keep improving as a writer and fanfic has helped so much.

I really want to go back to giving myself this gift...but I am the only one who can do it...just like I'm the only one who can take it away.

So hence...a plan is needed...so what are my challenges right now?

I can't totally remember where I am at.

It's just shy of 20000 words and I am determined to write the end before posting.

Editing feels really challenging.

I can't decide if this is a really really long one shot or chapters (I think chapters and I am thinking I will post it section by section - 1 per day. With editing between.

I am nervous about my OC.

Ok so if that's the case...what do I have left to write?

Ok I just read where I am at and I think I have exactly two scenes left to write. Lisa and Dio deciding to skip the shower for Baby number 5 & calling Pen & Luke to advise them - and the call coming during a final scene between Pen and Luke.

So - if I wrote for 2 hours...I should at least have a shitty version. Then I could do a read through for it all hanging together. Then start posting / editing.

I think I can make 2 hours today to do this.

But if not...I can plan a schedule to finish it within 2 weeks.

[theintrovertbean]

Hi!

Life has been a little hectic, and honestly, I feel exhausted. I'm sure a lot of us feel this way because of the drama that happened during the summer. It's noticeable, but I really can't blame you. Not gonna say more about that. But well, my ass needs a break too.

So, from now on until idk when, I will be taking a little break. Could be two weeks, a month, or even half a year. I'm still gonna be here, you can still reach out to me, and I'll continue to lurk the Nadia tags three times a day, but I won't do much posting. You're not getting rid of me.

There is one project that I'll keep working on, tho. Hopefully, it will be posted soon because we've been teasing you about it for ages. I'll let you know about the release.

I'm gonna keep my asks open in case anyone wants to send stuff, which I highly doubt, but I encourage you to do so. Sometimes one request is enough to make me go crazy and give me a much-needed rush of inspiration 😭

Also, I used to write fanfiction, and I've realized how much I miss it. Don't get me wrong, I love writing headcanons, but fanfiction was my thing for years; then I stopped because of life, and I also didn't feel good enough (even though it was apparently more than good enough, but most writers never eel like they are enough). So, right now, I've been leaning towards the idea of making a Nadia x OC story. It's probably gonna be mafia stuff because holy shit. Mafia Nadia. That's all I'm saying. I need that in my life.

So yeah, I want to go back to my roots, but it's kinda scary. I haven't written a whole fanfiction series in so long. It's been, like, almost four years. Holy shit, I'm getting old. And I also fear that I might quit halfway because that has definitely happened before, and I still feel so shitty about it. This turned into a vent. I'm sorry.

Anyway, it's time for me to rest and recover after what happened.

Be bad, have fun, love women, and I'll see you later, simps 😎

-Esz