#^it’s the way it picks up in intensity. that’s what it feels like when you try to communicate how smth feels but they don’t listen and then

[heich0e]

"so... how's work?"

you accidentally click the edge of your wine glass against your teeth as you tip it back, jarred by the strange question from the man standing at your side. you swallow the tiny mouthful of wine you manage to sip, turning to look at suna in bewilderment.

"work?" you ask him incredulously. "why are you asking me about work?"

suna rintarou doesn't care about what you do for work. truthfully speaking, you're not sure he even knows what you do for work—you certainly don't remember ever telling him, and the memory would stand out quite starkly considering all you ever seem to do when you run into him is bicker with him uselessly.

suna is a friend of a friend. or a friend of some friend's ex. or something. all you know is that every so often the two of you end up at the same social event, and there's something about the guy's face that just... makes you want to pick a fight.

and he has yet to turn down your instigation.

your friends all think it's funny—like you're some kind of comedy duo, and this is your special bit—but you don't see the charm in the slightest. you suspect they've started inviting you both to events just to have some entertainment.

"what?" rintarou asks, fiddling with his cellphone in his hand—pinching it between his thumb and his ring finger while he twirls it with his index. "i'm not allowed to ask about work? isn't that normal small talk for a christmas party?"

you're a little taken aback by his words. first of all, because he's right (which you hate). second of all, because he seems strangely defensive about it.

"normal for other people, maybe," you mutter, more to yourself than anything, before taking another tiny sip of wine. you swallow it, but somehow it doesn't help the dry feeling in your mouth. you're not sure you like this particular wine, you think, as bitterness clings to your tongue. "work is... fine."

suna perks up beside you at that, and you feel his eyes on your profile like he's waiting for you to go on.

"things get, uh... things get slow this time of year, so I'm mostly just answering stupid emails and ordering gifts online while i sit at my desk." you swirl the glass of wine in your hand, watching the way that the light catches in the deep red surface. "my section chief has kids and loves the holidays, so she's been pretty checked-out lately, herself. makes it easy to get away with slacking off."

you risk a glance over at him, and are somewhat dismayed to find him listening intently.

"must be nice to get a little break," he offers.

"yeah, i guess," you reply. your words are in agreement with him, but still your brow furrows.

what the fuck is going on?

you look around the room, as though checking for a hidden camera, or some other sign that might give away what the hell this guy's motives are. but around you is simply a room of friends enjoying each other's company—sipping drinks; eating finger foods the hosts had been carefully set out to graze on; chatting amongst each other about their lives, their holiday sweaters, their work.

everything seems totally normal, other than what's transpiring in the quiet corner where you and suna rintarou find yourselves standing side by side.

"how is... your... work?" you manage to ask, though it sounds as though the question is pulled from you with considerable effort. stiff and strained in every way a question so innocuous doesn't have any right to be.

suna laughs a little under his breath, masks it with a clearly fake cough, and then rests his hand over his mouth. he's smirking. you know he is. he's revelling in every second of your discomfort like the twisted little freak he is.

you're about to tell him as much, but he cuts you off.

"it's good," he replies to your pained question with an unexpected sincerity. "we're coming up to the half-way point in the season, so training is still pretty intense. we do get a day off for the holiday though."

right, he's a volleyball player. you'd learned that upon your first meeting, before your opinion of him was quite so hostile. you remember thinking at the time that he looked like a volleyball player—tall, lean, with big hands that made the beer can he'd been holding look almost laughably small in comparison.

you glance down at those hands again, still idly fidgeting with his cellphone. he's not drinking a beer tonight, and you wonder if maybe it's because he's in the middle of his season.

you think about asking him.

but you don't.

suna seems to be waiting for you to say more, but when you don't, he continues on the conversation himself. "i thought about taking the train to hyogo for the day, but it wouldn't really make sense just to go visit for a few hours."

you take another sip of your wine. you decide that you do not in fact enjoy it.

you hum a bit, ditching your mostly full glass on the edge of a table that rests within reach. "tough to just make a day trip, especially since the weather's so..." you trail off, gesturing vaguely with your now empty hand in a way that's supposed to indicate the unreliability of the winter climate.

suna laughs.

you look at him in confusion.

"the weather?" he asks you, rubbing at his mouth again like he trying to hide the expression underneath his fingertips. it might work if his eyes didn't crinkle at the corner when he smiles. "we're talking about the weather now?"

your lips part indignantly at his jibe. he's the one who'd initiated this hellscape of small talk, and now he had the nerve to chide you for it?

"oh, i'm sorry," you guffaw, feigning remorse, "is there some pressing matter you'd rather discuss?"

rintarou dips closer to you from his greater height, and the fact that he's so much taller than you are only irritates you more.

"there is actually," he says with a nod.

"oh, yeah?" you roll your eyes, gearing up for a fight. you turn to face him properly, tilting your chin up to meet him eye to eye without wavering. "and what's that?"

"are you aware that we've been standing under mistletoe for the entirety of this conversation?"

you slowly look overhead.

like something out of a horror film, you find that for once in his life (or at least the few months you've known him) suna's chosen to say something factual. overhead, a little bundle of mistletoe has been affixed to the ceiling with a piece of tape that seems to barely be hanging on—the decoration at risk of falling at any moment.

you feel sick.

"so what?" you ask him, swallowing down that feeling of dread and maintaining (what you hope is) an air of indifference.

"so that means we're supposed to kiss," he tells you matter-of-factly, almost a bit pointedly, like he can't believe you didn't know.

"i'm aware of that," you hiss. "i don't, however, bend to the whims of plants, as a general rule."

"weird rule," he remarks, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

you feel a throb of irritation behind your eyes.

"you're the one who came over here to bother me," you point out. "if you knew there was mistletoe hanging up there, that means this is your fault."

suna shrugs a bit.

you keep going, your pulse thrumming beneath your tongue and fanning the flames of irritation churning in the pit of your stomach.

"if anything, that makes you the weird one for coming up with some scheme to trick me. we're not children. if you wanted to kiss me so bad you could have just aske—"

"can i kiss you?"

what?

"i asked if i can kiss you," rintarou says, and you're not sure if that means you voiced your thought aloud or it was just plainly written across your face. he inches closer to you, and though you would usually shift away to accommodate for the intrusion, the table where you'd discarded your glass of wine keeps you mostly trapped in place. pinned. cornered. "you said that if i wanted to kiss you, i should ask. so, i'm asking if i can kiss you."

why?

suna sighs after a moment of contemplating the look of abject shock on your features, slumping forward and resting his forehead on the wall beside your head, caging you against the wall with his lanky frame. you can't breathe with him this close—too startled by the proximity and the warmth radiating from him to even think about drawing air into your lungs. too confused by this entire situation to meet your basic human needs.

"you really don't get it, do you?" he asks quietly. he's so near that you feel his words more than you hear them—especially since they were spoken so quietly just next to your ear.

"get what?" your own voice sounds distant—sounds strange—to you when you finally manage to speak.

suna pulls back just far enough to meet your gaze, and you're shocked to see just how pink his face is. he looks mortified—and desperate—as his eyes find yours. he tilts his face towards you, and when he speaks again you feel the warmth of his breath break against your lips.

"you're the only person in this room who i'd enjoy listening to talk about the weather."

and it's not until much later, when the lingering bitterness from the wine has been replaced by something much sweeter (though entirely unexpected) on your tongue, that you realize rintarou was the only person in the room tall enough to reach the ceiling.

a/n: for nana, who forced me to write this entirely against my will but whom i love dearly in spite of it

[littlelamy]

𝒶 𝓁𝒾𝓉𝓉𝓁𝑒 𝒾𝓂𝒶𝑔𝒾𝓃𝑒

author's note: mentions of reader saying she's going on a diet; s4rafe coded. wanted to take a break from posting about burlesque!reader so enjoy! i'm hoping to have one or two more fully edited of rafe and sarah before christmas but i am visiting my family sooo...

rafe’s knuckles went white around the fork as he stabbed at the eggs on his plate. the clink of metal against porcelain made your stomach twist, though you ignored it, focusing on the glass of water in front of you.

"what the hell did you just say?" he asked, his voice sharp enough to slice through the quiet morning.

you hesitated, fingers playing with the hem of your oversized sweatshirt. "i’m going on a diet. i just… i feel like i need to lose a few pounds."

his jaw clenched, the fork stilling midair as he turned his full attention to you. his blue eyes darkened, a mixture of disbelief and frustration clouding them. "are you fucking serious right now?"

"it’s not a big deal—"

"bullshit, it’s not a big deal," he snapped, the fork clattering onto the plate as he stood abruptly. "you think i’m just gonna sit here and let you starve yourself over some dumbass idea you have in your head? hell no."

your stomach tightened as his tone softened slightly but remained firm. "rafe, it’s my body—"

"it’s your body that i fucking love," he interrupted, his hands gripping the edge of the table as he leaned closer, blue eyes locking with yours. "you don’t need to lose anything, y/n. you’re fucking perfect."

before you could respond, he grabbed a plate and started piling it with food—eggs, toast, fruit, and even a slice of bacon. setting it down in front of you with a deliberate thud, he crossed his arms and glared.

"eat."

"rafe—"

"eat the damn food," he insisted, his voice dropping to something dangerously close to a plea. "don’t fucking do this to yourself. you’re perfect the way you are. fuck, y/n, i mean it."

you blinked back the sting in your eyes, his words cutting deeper than you expected.

"please," he added, his jaw clenching like the vulnerability was physically painful.

silently, you picked up the fork and took a bite, avoiding his intense gaze. his shoulders relaxed slightly as he sat back down.

but just as you swallowed, he was suddenly out of his chair again, crouching beside you. his hands gripped your waist, dragging you closer until you were perched on the edge of your chair.

"you know you’re fucking insane, right?" he muttered, his voice low but filled with that same sharp-edged frustration. his lips brushed over yours briefly—just a peck.

you barely had time to process it before he leaned back in, this time slower, pressing his lips against yours with more intent. your breath hitched as his hands tightened on your hips, pulling you closer until there was no space between you.

his tongue slid against yours, the kiss messy and heated, and when he pulled back just enough to catch his breath, a thin string of spit connected your lips.

"see?" he murmured, smirking as he swiped a thumb across your bottom lip. "that’s how much i fucking love you. don’t ever pull that diet bullshit on me again, alright?"

you nodded, dazed, your cheeks flushed as he leaned in to kiss you again.

"good," he muttered against your lips, his tone softening but still firm. "now finish your plate. we’re getting ice cream later."

taglist: @namelesslosers @maybanksangel @averyoceanblvd @iknowdatsrightbih @starkeysprincess @anamiad00msday @ivysprophecy @wearemadeofstardust0 @rafesangelita @sstargirln @rafedaddy01 @soldesole @bakugouswaif @skywalker0809 @vanessa-rafesgirl @evermorx89 @aariahnaa @outerhills @ditzyzombiesblog credits: @dollywons for the png!

[xxgoldie]

OMGG hiii!!! can i get for the alphabet event lighter with J, K, L and V(๑•́ω•̀๑) if it's too many u can pick whichever you like ofc!! and congrats on 100 followers٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و ♡

main event page - event masterlist

J: Jealousy - do they get jealous easily? what are they like when they're jealous? Already done this one, see it here x

K: Kisses - what are their kisses like? Lighter's kisses are always intense even if they're innocent, always pressing even closer to you, and he lingers a bit longer than he probably should, like its a battle of wills for him to actually pull away. And you can always feel him smiling against you, a victorious little smirk, all proud of himself as if he just won a competition and getting to kiss you is his prize. He tastes sweeter than you'd expect because of the lollipops he always has on him, and sometimes he'll ask you what flavour you think he had after finally pulling a way from a makeout session (and its borderline impossible to answer, if his everyday kisses are intense his makeouts are mindmelting, but it gives you an excuse to kiss him again 'to double check'). Other than your lips, he likes kissing you on the temple, often pulling you up against his side and pressing one there at the slightest excuse.

L: Language - what are their love languages (could be of the five official love languages, or other stuff) Of the five love languages, he's definitely mainly an acts of service guy. Anything you need, he's yours, whether you're dating yet or not (and his definition of 'what you need' is a lot closer to 'what you want'). Picking up a prescription for you? Of course. Helping you put together IKEA furniture? He'll be there in five. Need to last-minute bake 200 cupcakes for your cousin's school's bake sale? He's picking up some energy drinks on his way over and will help you until they're done, even if it takes all night. The type of guy to go to your house while you're out and spend a day doing that annoying massive chore that you keep putting off as a surprise. And he HATES if someone jokes that you "have him trained well" - he just wants to see you happy, and if its in his power to help with that, why wouldn't he? Does their partner's happiness mean nothing to them? He doesn't even laugh it off, it genuinely makes him angry.

V: Valentine - how serious are they about valentine's day? how would they ask you to be their valentine? Lighter may be a sap and romance enthusiast, but I don't think he places tons of importance on Valentine's Day - if anything, it's just an excuse to spend a nice day together, and he's adept at finding excuses for that year-round. He'll insist on some sort of date night, but he'll mainly match your energy - if you're not bothered about the holiday, he's more than happy to spend an evening watching movies with takeout and lots of blankets, but if you want to do something more special, by god he will give you special. He's not big on fancy restaurant dinners n stuff like that, but he'll find a great stargazing spot in the Outer Ring and set it up with a cute picnic with all your favourite foods, cushions and blankets and fairy lights; he'd get you flowers and drive you out there at sunset so you get to watch the sky change colours on the way, n he definitely recruited the girls to help him find the spot and guard it while he gets you there. When it comes to asking you to be his valentine, he'll make it sweet but not super flashy. He knows he's meant to ask even if you're dating - the girls remind him in a panic because they saw online that a bunch of guys didn't know they were meant to ask their partner to be their valentine, but he's just like "yeah obviously, I've already got plans for it". Will most likely get you a small gift or a little gift basket of things you like with a note asking you to be his valentine. And he'll lowkey be nervous when he gives it to you lmao, like why is he scared that you'll say no, he's literally your boyfriend.

[angelicwrites]

would’ve could’ve should’ve 2 | logan howlett

summary. a friends-with-benefits arrangement where you realize you’ve fallen for logan, the only rule you both swore to follow. though he hesitantly agrees to end things, his silence hides a truth that he’s fallen for you too. pairings. fwb!logan howlett x fem!reader genre. smut (MDNI 18+), dom!logan x sub!reader, porn w plot warnings. did not proofread this, cheating, unprotected sex, manhandling, oral & fingering (f receiving), nipple play, jealous!logan, angst, lmk if i miss something

a/n. so sorry this took long i keep on deleting bc it sucks, pls show this some love by reblogging !

you tried to avoid logan, shutting him out of your thoughts and focusing on moving forward. it wasn’t easy, not when every memory of him clung to you like a shadow. the connection you shared was unlike anything you’d ever felt, and no matter how hard you tried, the way he made you feel lingered in every quiet moment. but you told yourself it was for the best. he was with someone else, and you couldn’t be the one to cross that line again.

days turned into weeks, and you convinced yourself you were making progress. you threw yourself into work, picked up new hobbies, and even said yes to a date with scott, a charming, persistent friend of yours who’d been vying for your attention. it was a distraction, a chance to prove to yourself that you could move on.

but logan was never far.

he’d heard about your date, jean mentioned it in passing and something inside him snapped. the thought of you with someone else was unbearable, a sharp pain he couldn’t ignore. he’d ended things, yes, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that you were his. and the idea of scott touching you, holding you, drove him to the brink.

you were in the middle of getting ready, slipping into a little black dress that hugged your curves perfectly, when a sharp knock echoed through your apartment. you assumed it was scott, arriving early, but when you opened the door, it was logan.

he stood there, his jaw tight, eyes dark and unreadable. “logan,” you breathed, your heart thudding in your chest.

“what are you doing?” he asked, his voice low, laced with tension.

“i could ask you the same thing,” you shot back, gripping the doorframe.

his eyes flicked to your dress, his expression hardening. “you’re really going out with him?”

you didn’t answer, but your silence was enough. logan’s jaw clenched, and before you could react, he stepped inside, shutting the door behind him with a quiet finality.

“what are you doing?” you repeated, taking a step back as he advanced toward you.

“you can’t just move on like this,” he said, his voice rough, almost breaking. “like i never mattered.”

your breath hitched. “logan, you’re with jean. we ended this—”

“i don’t care about jean,” he cut you off, his tone raw, his eyes blazing. “i care about you.”

the words hit you like a tidal wave, stealing the air from your lungs. he was inches away now, his presence overwhelming. you tried to hold your ground, but every part of you trembled under his gaze.

“logan, this isn’t fair,” you whispered, your voice breaking. “we can’t do this anymore.”

“then tell me you don’t feel anything for me,” he challenged, his voice softer now but no less intense. “look me in the eye and tell me you don’t want me.”

your lips parted, but no words came out. you couldn’t. not when every part of you still ached for him.

logan’s hand reached out, brushing a strand of hair from your face, his touch sending a shiver down your spine. “that’s what i thought,” he murmured, his voice heavy with emotion.

before you could think, his lips were on yours. desperate, demanding, and full of everything you’d both been holding back. it wasn’t just a kiss; it was a confession, a plea, a promise.

your hands pressed against his chest, intending to push him away, but instead, your fingers curled into his shirt, holding him closer. his arms wrapped around you, pulling you against him like he never wanted to let go.

“logan,” you gasped when he finally pulled away, his forehead resting against yours.

“tell me you don’t want this,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “tell me, and i’ll walk away.”

but you couldn’t. not when his touch still burned on your skin, not when his words echoed everything you’d been too scared to admit. and as his lips found yours again, all the barriers you’d built crumbled in his arms.

logan's hands roamed over your body, cupping your breasts through the thin fabric of your dress, squeezing and kneading them. he pinched your hardened nipples, making you moan into his mouth. his touch was rough, almost brutal, but it sent waves of pleasure through your body.

with swift movements, logan tore your dress, exposing your naked breasts. he bent down, taking a nipple into his mouth, sucking and biting gently, causing you to arch off the bed. his hands traveled down your body, tracing patterns on your skin, making you squirm with anticipation.

"you like that, don't you?" he murmured, his breath hot against your sensitive skin. "you love it when i take control."

you couldn't deny it. logan knew exactly how to push your buttons, how to make you surrender to his will. as he continued his assault on your senses, you felt your resistance crumbling.

logan's hands found their way to the waistband of your panties, and with a swift motion, he ripped them off, leaving you completely exposed. he admired your naked body, his eyes taking in every inch of your glistening pussy.

"i've missed this," he groaned, his voice thick with desire. "i’ve missed this so much you don’t understand."

without warning, logan lowered his head between your thighs, spreading your legs wide. his tongue flicked across your clit, sending a jolt of pleasure through your body. he licked and teased, driving you wild with need. his fingers joined in, sliding into your wetness, stretching and filling you as he ate you out with abandon.

"oh lo," you moaned, your hands gripping the sheets as you surrendered to the pleasure. "i can't— i can't take it."

logan's mouth and fingers worked in perfect harmony, driving you closer and closer to the edge. he sucked on your clit, his tongue flicking relentlessly, while his fingers pumped in and out, hitting all the right spots. your body trembled, your orgasm building to an intense peak.

"cum for me bub," logan growled, his voice hoarse with desire. "let me feel you come on my tongue."

his words were like a trigger, and you exploded in a wave of ecstasy. your body shook as you climaxed, your juices flowing freely, coating logan's face and hands. he didn't stop, continuing to lap at your sensitive flesh, drawing out every last drop of pleasure.

as your orgasm subsided, logan rose above you, his eyes blazing with satisfaction. he positioned himself at your entrance, his thick cock pressing against your wetness.

"i need to be inside you," he grunted, his voice strained. "i need to claim you, remind you who you belong to."

with one powerful thrust, logan impaled you, filling you completely. you gasped as he stretched you, his length hitting places deep within you that no one else had. he began to move, his hips pistoning in a relentless rhythm, driving into you with primal urgency.

"yes lo!" you cried out, your body rising to meet his every thrust. "i am all yours!"

loan's hands gripped your hips, holding you in place as he pounded into you. his cock felt like a steel rod, pounding into your core, hitting your sweet spot over and over. your pleasure built again, spiraling towards another climax.

"i'm close," you panted, your nails digging into his shoulders. "im so close lo!"

logan's breathing became ragged as he neared his own release. he slammed into you harder, his balls slapping against your ass with each thrust.

"i'm gonna cum bub," he grunted, his eyes wild with passion. "i'm gonna fill you up, mark you as mine."

you felt his cock twitch inside you, and then he exploded, filling you with his hot seed. your walls clenched around him, taking every last drop as your own orgasm crashed over you. you cried out, your bodies locked together in a tangle of sweat and pleasure.

as your breathing slowed, logan collapsed onto the bed beside you, his chest heaving. you turned to look at him, your eyes meeting his intense gaze.

"i can't stay away from you," he whispered, his voice hoarse. "i know i shouldn't, but i can't let you go."

logan will appear in ur room if u like/comment/reblog !

taglist. @m1cky-y-y @slowlikehoneyyy

masterlist

©angelicwrites on tumblr

[queenie-ofthe-void]

A Very Hopper Holidays

Hopper POV || wc: 3.7k || tags: smoking, recreational drugs, grouchy old men dealing with their feelings, smart-ass Eddie Munson, meet-cute Steddie, Steve and Max siblings, El thinks Steve is cute (so does Eddie), emotionally available Wayne Munson gives the best advice, holiday fluff, found family

This is a companion piece to my fic The Babysitter Chronicles, but can be read separately!

Brief background: Wayne patched Steve up after his fight with Billy in s2

Hopper’s freezing his goddamn balls off out here, waiting on the front stoop in the dark, banging his fist on the door. There’s no answer, but the lights are all on and it’s dinnertime on Christmas Eve. So someone’s fucking home, and the sooner they answer the sooner he can leave.

“Dammit, Wayne. Open the door so I can give you a damn present, or next time I pick up your nephew maybe I throw him in jail for the night instead of bringing him home.”

Sure enough, the door flies open, but it’s not Wayne on the other side. The kid’s standing there, layered in enough flannel shirts and sweatpants to dress all of El’s shithead friends with some left over. Hopper watches as he drags the sleeve of an oversized black flannel across his red and dripping nose, shifting uncomfortably and eyes darting side to side.

“Munson,” Hopper crosses his arms, “where the hell’s your uncle?”

Even bundled up like a little kid, he still tries to make himself bigger, taller, meaner, like he always does when Hopper picks him up. “Not here.” The tone is flat, devoid of Munson’s usual snark as a particularly intense gust of wind slams the screen door open against the side of the trailer.

“It’s Christmas eve, what do you mean he’s not here?”

“He’s working.”

Hopper scoffs. “You’re telling me your uncle works Christmas eve?”

Munson scoffs back at him, a dramatic mockery of Hopper’s own tone. “We’re Jewish, asshole.”

Well, shit.

He doesn’t have time for the kid’s hardass act. All he wanted to do was drop off a simple thank you and also merry christmas but now probably happy hanukkah gift and be on his way to his own family. He can only hope El spares him a bit of holiday mercy for making her wait. 

“Look kid, can I just come in?” He takes another step up, only for Munson to block his path.

His eyes grate across Hopper’s jacket, noting the star on the chest. “No cops in the trailer.” 

A low grumble forces its way up Hopper’s throat which breaks into a frustrated groan when another gust of wind scrapes the exposed skin on his cheeks. He stamps his feet on the stairs hoping it’ll keep the blood flow going to his toes as they start to tingle. Munson’s wrapped his hands up inside the sleeves of what’s most likely one of Wayne’s old jackets.

“Look,” Eddie starts, sniffling another drip back inside his nose, “if you could just–”

But Hopper cuts him off with a deranged laugh, head thrown back in dismay at this entire situation. “No, you look here. You’re going to listen to exactly what I have to say.”

Eddie’s taken a step back, and yeah, Hopper supposes he’s never seen the Chief of Police actually freak out before. But it’s been a long day of wellness checks and stove fires, and Eddie’s the only thing standing between him and a night of kid’s Christmas movies and spiked eggnog.

So he pushes forward, spurred on by the kid’s once-in-a-lifetime stunned silence. “Now it’s clear that Wayne’s working nights, probably earning holiday hours to pay for the radiator which is pretty obviously busted, given the ten to twenty shirts you’re wearing. Meaning you’re alone, in a tin box with a tiny space heater that’s so old it’s a fire hazard shoved into the corner of your room.” The Chief walks up the stairs, standing on the step just before the door so he’s towering over Eddie, who shrinks in on himself just a bit. 

“Here’s what’s going to happen, Munson.” Hopper ticks off each gloved finger as his list of demands grows, Eddie’s growing wider in time. “You’re going to let me inside so I can piss and blow my nose, since I’ve been standing out here for too fucking long. You’re going to pack a bag, you’re going to call your uncle, and you’re going to tell him you’re staying with me for the night.”

Eddie stammers, mouth flapping around words he can’t find fast enough. It doesn’t matter, because Hopper’s on a roll now.

“Then,” he steamrolls Eddie again, pushing his way into the trailer, closing the door as Eddie stumbles backwards down onto the couch, “you’re going to eat my food, you’re going to watch our movies, you’re going to smile when we smile and laugh when we laugh because even if you’re Jewish you can still have a damn good fucking Christmas eve!”

He’s sick and tired of stupid teenage boys trying to be something they aren’t, like they’re manly or tough or strong for barely surviving on their own, practically raising themselves. And the best way Hopper can drill that into their thick skulls is to get them to shut the fuck up and feed them.

The silence lingers on the frost coating the inside of the windows and the crust of dried snot on Eddie’s sleeve. The kid’s avoiding eye contact, like Hopper will just leave if he’s ignored. But if Hopper can outlast guards in the POW camp, and a little girl who hates green beans, then he can sure as hell outlast Eddie goddamn Munson. So Hopper waits. And waits. 

It pays off, like he knew it would. The kid gets up, storms towards one end of the trailer. Hopper slowly follows down the narrow hallway and sees Eddie viciously shoving rumpled clothes into a backpack, mumbling about pigs and asshole cops. 

After all’s said and done, they’re pulling up to the cabin about twenty minutes later. The front door opens with a bang in greeting, causing Eddie to jump out of his skin. But when they step through the now open door into the warmth of the living room, there’s no one there to greet them.

Ah, so she’s a little upset.

El’s door is closed, like it’s not supposed to be. Light shines out from underneath, and he can hear soft voices inside. The whispers are abruptly hushed when he knocks on her door. “El, honey, I need you to open the door. Six inches, remember?” Hopper tries turning the handle but it doesn’t budge. Honestly he can’t help but wonder why he bothered to install a door with no lock when she’s got superpowers– that’s on him, he supposes. 

He turns around to find Munson standing awkwardly in the middle of the living room. “Take your jacket off, put your shit down, and stay a while, will ya?” Hopper laughs at Eddie’s incredulous expression, eyebrows scrunched together and lips pursed tight. 

“Ok,” Eddie drags the sound out in question as he sets his pack next to the couch, “who opened the fucking door?”

“Hey, language!" Hopper calls, Max’s voice echoing his own.

Eddie startles, head whipping between Hopper’s no-doubt exasperated expression and El’s still-closed bedroom door. He drags his hands down his face and sighs as her mimicry sends the girls into a fit of giggles. He hasn’t decided yet if Max is a good influence on El, even if Hopper knows it’s not himself she’s mocking.

He hears the creak of the bathroom door opening as Steve walks back into the living room. Hopper can’t help but turn to watch the show, the two boys coming face to face. 

Munson’s oversized black and red flannel covers the ripped sleeves of whatever tattered, black band t-shirt he’s wearing. Which would be on par with what he normally looks like, except it’s contrasted against bright blue, wool pajama pants with little white snowflakes on them. When Hopper first spotted them at the trailer, a teasing smirk on his face, Munson only rolled his eyes and argued they were the warmest clean pair he had.

Harrington, on the other hand, has lived his entire life in locker rooms and an empty house. Which means that he once again forgot to bring a shirt to change into after his shower. It's not normally a problem-- except when El catches him, a blush lighting up her face like a goddamn Christmas tree, accompanied by incessant giggles that make Hopper want to drown himself.

What is a problem is Munson’s shameless gawking, mouth wide enough to catch a whole swarm of flies. His blush puts El's to shame, red blotches burst across his neck like hives. Hopper can practically see the steam rolling out of the guy’s ears, hearts popping out of his eyes as he just stares and stares his fill, completely unaware that Hopper’s still standing less than five feet from him.

Thankfully, so far Steve is none the wiser. He’s got a cotton swab in his ear, head tipped down as he double-knots his Tigersharks swim team sweatpants. Hopper notices they hang baggy and loose around his hips. Another shitty reminder of how much weight the kid’s lost since getting kicked off the team because of his ‘incident’ with Hargrove. He wonders about the last time the kid ate a decent meal, and pushes down the rising anger at the most realistic answer, which is not recent enough for his liking. Hopper has the same gnawing concern when he looks back at Munson, dark circles under his eyes, skinny as a bean-pole. 

He’s got to stop taking in strays.

“Harrington, we’ve talked about this.” Hop tries to keep the frustration out of his voice, but if he has to watch El swoon over the kid’s wet hair and bare chest again he’s gonna blow a gasket. “Put a damn shirt on.”

“Oh, yeah sorry, Hop.” Which is the exact moment Steve decides to turn his head. They both catch Munson giving Steve a once over, who then chokes on his own spit when he notices Steve looking back at him. Hopper knows Harrington’s trying to turn over a new leaf, but he also knows the kind of people Richard and Helen Harrington are. So he’s a little surprised when, instead of having to stop a potential hate crime, he notices a similar blush bloom across Steve’s chest– or maybe it’s the heat from the shower. 

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Muson’s screech is so high it could set dogs howling. Steve flinches at the outburst, and Hopper hopes this little interaction doesn’t trigger another migraine for the kid. He was barely pushing through when Hop picked him up yesterday, but seems to be feeling better today.

“Munson, I need you to tone it down,” Hopper argues. It goes unnoticed.

Steve’s sputtering. He runs a nervous hand through his hair and of-fucking-course Munson gasps, swoons just like El. Harrington’s free hand fumbles for a shirt hem that isn’t there. He realizes he’s half naked and turns into a deer in headlights, hands frantically moving over his chest like he doesn’t know how to hide himself. Unfortunately the unintentional groping sends Munson into a coughing fit. 

“Me? What the hell are you doing here, Munson?”

Munson scoffs, crossing his arms as he backs himself into the wall behind him. “The high and mighty Chief of Police here basically kidnapped me. Forced me to pack a bag and tossed me into his truck.” Ah, there’s the Munson he expected. Except if it wasn’t for how many times Hopper’s hauled the kid in, he might not have noticed the nervous energy in Eddie’s twitchy fingers and shifty eyes. “He failed to mention–” he waves around at everything until Munson’s wild gesturing lands on a half-naked, sweats hung low, hair slicked back, barefoot Steve Harrington.

The squeal of El’s door opening behind him propels Hopper full-speed into the living room towards Steve’s duffle. He pulls out the first shirt he manages to find. It hits Steve in the face, and they both breathe a sigh of relief when he pulls it on.

“Aww,” El complains, before her eyes grow ten sizes too big when she catches Hopper glaring back at her. 

“Who the hell is this guy?” Max asks. She makes her way toward the kitchen, dragging El with her to help pull out dishes and cups. 

“Apparently another kidnapping victim.” Steve huffs, annoyed, before making his way over to the girls. “Munson, get over here and help me set the food out.”

Steve doesn’t even look up from where he’s pulling a large cast iron out of the oven, so he misses the absolutely priceless distress scrawled into Eddie’s bulging eyes and flapping hands. Looking back and forth between Harrington and Hopper, Eddie points to himself in confusion as if Steve hadn’t asked him by name. Hopper can only chuckle at the kid’s antics. He rolls his eyes and tilts his head toward the kitchen so Munson finally gets the jist, moving across the cabin in double-time. 

It’s a more intense Christmas dinner than Hopper was hoping for, but after introductions and a full stomach, everyone’s relaxed a bit. El and Max curl up on the couch next to him, snuggled under the same blanket surrounded by bowls of popcorn and half eaten bags of candy. The boys, finally over whatever awkward tension laced between them earlier, are sitting rather comfortably next to each other, poking fun at the cliche holiday movies that Hopper secretly enjoys.

Well after the girls are tucked in and the boys have set up a mess of sleeping bags and blankets on the living room floor, Hopper moves quiet as a mouse across the trailer to Eddie’s duffle. After a quick search, he pulls a joint from a hidden zipper pocket hand-sewn inside the lining.

Kid must think he’s so smart, like he’s the first guy to ever sell drugs.

Hopper deserves a little treat after all the shit he’s been through this year. It’s been ages since he’s smoked, and with the boys here to help watch over the kids, he thinks he can allow himself time to relax for just a little bit. He’s earned it. Plus, it’s not his fault the damned kid decided to try to sneak his stash here. Hop’s not an idiot, even though the boys clearly thought so when they went out for some ‘fresh air’ earlier and came back looking a little less fresh than when they left.

So he brushes the snow off of his favorite lawn chair, wraps himself up in a tattered old blanket, and lights up in the cold, winter air. 

Hop loved smoking in high school, so he takes a long inhale, reveling in the burn heating his chest. Unfortunately, Hopper hasn’t been a teenager in a long, long time. His coughing fit is loud enough to wake his non-existent neighbors. But when he can finally breathe fresh air again, there’s no noise to be heard from inside.

He goes slower this time, tugging on little puffs as he watches the snow fall between the pine trees. It’s quiet, a good quiet, filled with the rustling of rabbits in the brush and bugs singing in the night. Even the joint is absolute shit, like most of Munson’s wares. It’s still enough for him to relax, to appreciate what unfortunate circumstances have gifted him, and keep him from dwelling on what he’s lost. 

Less than an hour’s passed when a pair of headlights shine down the drive. Wayne steps out of his beat-up truck, in only slightly better condition than Eddie’s van, and makes his way over. Without a word, Hopper gets up and grabs another folding chair propped against the end-railing and sets it next to his own.

The joint’s gone by now, but Hopper pulls out a pack of smokes and offers one to Wayne, who silently takes it with just a slight nod of his head in thanks. Out of the corner of his eye, Hopper notices Wayne’s worn-down work boots have a gash at the front, exposing the hard steel underneath the suede. He’s wearing a large, thick flannel that looks exactly like the one Eddie was wearing when Hopper found him, and it’s just as oversized on the old man. 

There’s almost nothing similar between Wayne and his nephew. Wayne’s always been a quiet one. A guy who’d make his way to the back of a crowded room, who kept his head down when he knew what was good for him. And Eddie is– is really just something else. Loud, obnoxious, brash, a kid with a well-crafted personality faker than government coverup. Almost one of a kind, if Hopper didn’t happen to know another boy just like him.

Wayne clears his throat, stubs out the bud with his boot in a little pile of snow. “Got a note from my foreman saying you kidnapped my boy.” His tone is gruff, but Hopper catches the small uptick to the man’s chapped lips.

He doesn’t say anything when Hopper heads inside. It takes him a minute to find the wrapped bottle and two glasses. While he meanders around, he checks that the boys are still both snoring away and the girls are sound asleep amidst a pile of stuffed animals.

When he closes the front door behind him, Jim hands the bottle to Wayne and sets the two glasses into the snow between them. Wayne hums in thought, turning the bottle over in his hand. “Macallen single?”

Jim actually croaks, chest light and filled with laughter when he clocks the mirth in Wayne’s teasing eyes. Maybe him and Eddie aren’t so different after all, both having a shithead sense of humor.

“Just Johnny.” Jim wipes a hand down his face like that’ll hide the sincerity in his smile. “You helped patch up my kid, Wayne. You didn’t save the goddamn world.”

The light in Wayne’s eyes dims only slightly. Instead of unwrapping the bottle, he unscrews the lid off the top, ripping the paper off with it, and pours them both half a glass. They silently cheers, even though the air between them has shifted slightly. 

“Thought that boy was a Harrington, not a Hopper.” It should sting, but it doesn’t, because Wayne’s not that type of man. It’s a genuine question, one that Jim’s not sure how to answer. So he keeps silent, hoping Wayne will cave and move on like his kid does when things stay too quiet. But Wayne sits, and sits, and his own gut finally starts to roil. Ah, so that's what it feels like.

“Apparently I’m good at picking up strays.” Jim’s attempt at a joke falls flat between them. He pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs. “Although, I think I got to Harrington a little too late.”

Wayne takes a decent sip from his glass, smacking his lips together. He peers out into the dark, just beyond the porch railing. But Jim can tell he’s not looking at the woods in front of them or the starry sky overhead. Wayne’s looking at something that’s long behind him.

“Ya know, Harrington didn’t look much different than my boy did when he showed up lookin’ like a dropped sack of peaches. Just a little thing he was; no hair, clothes that didn’t fit. Hell, I’d almost been able to see his ribs if it weren't for the bruises.” Wayne’s looking down at his feet now, scuffing the snow off the bottom of his boots. He downs his glass in one go before pouring himself another. 

“I beat myself up for too long for not doing something sooner. My own nephew, my own brother, livin’ only two towns over, and I had no idea it was that bad. Told m’self over and over that I should’ve known, should’ve helped sooner.” Wayne heaves a heavy sigh before looking up at Jim again. There’s guilt in the crinkles around his eyes, but it’s quickly replaced with resolve. “You might not’ve always been there for the Harrington kid, but that don’t mean he don’t need you now. Maybe more than ever, by the look of him. And if he’s got you watchin’ out for him, maybe he’ll turn out more Hopper than Harrington afterall.”

Jim can’t take the intense eye contact anymore and firmly looks away, finishing his glass and extending it out to Wayne for a refill. It’s quiet, Wayne’s patience sitting on his shoulders like the world’s most uncomfortable blanket. But even blankets that are scratchy as hell can still be warm.

After a while, the silence releases enough tension that he can sit back again, and the two men slowly sip their whiskey and watch dawn break through the trees. Wayne grabs the bottle as he moves to stand and pats Jim’s shoulder a little too hard. The man’s stronger than he looks.

“Why don’t you bring Eddie back yourself a little bit later, give me a chance to fix that radiator. Plus, being around Harrington might be good for him,” he chuckles to himself, hopping into his truck. “Maybe show the boy not every kid who don’t wear all black ain’t a damn conformist suburban yuppie.” Jim laughs, Wayne’s mockery a spot on impression.

All’s still quiet in the cabin, each kid right where he left them. He’s not sure if it’s the joint, the two whiskeys, Wayne’s advice, or just a combination of everything, but there’s a heat behind his eyes he hasn’t had to deal with in a long time. He’s not typically a crier– happy or sad. The only time he’s cried since Sarah was in the elevator shaft, El collapsed in his arms just after closing the gate. And even then, it was only a few stray tears.

Now he’s unspooling wads of toilet paper to blow his damn nose in, crying like a kid who got coal in their stocking. Except this isn’t like when he thought he’d lost El, or when he’d held Sarah’s hand when she took her last breath. Jim Hopper’s happier than he’s been in a long, long time. And after the shit awful year he’s had– that they’ve all had– he lets himself revel in the joy of having a family again.

Gorgeous graphics provided by @steddiecameraroll-graphics

And as always, thank you to @carolperkinsexgirlfriend for telling me "I think your calling might be writing well-meaning, grumpy old men" and also, "you just understand the spirit of The Old Man", but mostly just thank you for being an amazing beta reader <3

[arisluvvers]

Highschool Jimmy AU smut fic.

High School AU Jimmy belongs to me and @birdyisthewordyy /silly. Note that Jimmy and the reader are both seniors in this fic and are of age!

Jimmy x GN! Reader

Readers Genitalia is not mentioned at all and is entirely left up to interpretation!

Contains mentions of: Paranoia, bullying, watching porn, masturbation, virginity loss, missionary sex (It's both of their first times give em a break)

Not proofread!! Reader discretion is advised.

A/N: Do you ever sit down and tell yourself "I'm gonna write 1K words." And then end up with 3.6K words? Anyways I'm so sick rn.

Jimmy bit his lip, his hands shook slightly before he met your intense gaze. “Are you sure you want to do this? With me? I mean out of everyone… you could pick… anyone from our highschool - are you really sure you want your first time to be with someone… like… like me?” His voice came out as a soft whisper and his soft brown eyes met yours, pleading for any sort of non verbal confirmation that you were indeed - okay with this whole thing happening - at his hands nonetheless.

That you were okay with him pressing his lips against the skin of your shoulders.

That you were okay when his breath hitched and his eyelids fluttered shut when you pressed open mouthed kisses to his collar bones.

That you were okay with his hands mapping over parts of your body that he dreamed of touching - that he spent so many hours of every day and every night fantasising about.

He wanted to make sure that you were okay with him. Okay with him being here with you.

Okay with him loving you.

Jimmy was socially awkward, and what most would consider: a loser, or even a creep. Jimmy wasn't stupid, he knew that much already. He was a nobody, a shadow in the background of every class photo. His fellow classmates barely acknowledged his existence - save for his best friend Curly of course. 

He was called names behind his back. People whispered about him when he walked through the halls - and maybe he was being delusional, but Jimmy swore he could feel all the pairs of eyes trained onto his slouched form as they gossiped about him and called him weird or gross.

And you know what at this point - he didn’t mind it much anymore.

He never really cared about making friends, or appealing to anyone at all. Curly accepted him for who he was and that’s all he really cared about to be frank. 

He wasn’t set out to meet and potentially befriend a million people. He was content with just one.

But that all changed when you stepped into the picture.

He had originally considered you the poor and unfortunate soul that was assigned by your teacher to be paired with him for your shared chemistry project.

Jimmy found these sorts of group projects to be the worst - usually his teacher assigned classmates would either: discreetly drop all of the workload onto his shoulders - and then get mad when he was barely able to scrape up a B plus - out outright said that they would refuse to work with the likes of him and demand a new partner, not caring if he was sitting right next to them - listening in.

What he didn't expect was for you to sit down next to him, after grabbing all of your things, flash him a brilliant smile and in the most angelic voice he has ever heard, ask him, “So… where do we begin?”

From that moment on Jimmy was smitten. Your hair - your eyes - your voice - your lips - heck he even fantasised about how pretty your hands would look against his skin. Not all of it was sexual though, Jimmy frequently caught himself daydreaming about being your boyfriend - about taking you out on extravagant dates - that he definitely couldn’t pay for but hey- you can’t blame him for dreaming! He thought of holding your hand and kissing you under the shooting stars. Way too many times he caught himself thinking of the kind of suits he might wear to your shared wedding - or the colour of the tiles of the kitchen floor your shared house might have. 

It seemed that it was during one of his many daydream sessions when Curly pointed out that his best friend seemed so lost in thought lately - that it sounded like Jimmy here, was in love with his chemistry partner. 

Only for a very flushed and red Jimmy to shut him down. Yet Curly’s suspicion never left the confines of the blond boy's mind.

And it never left Jimmy's either.

In love.

Was he in love?

Or was just a fleeting obsession. 

A crush.

Nothing more.

It would go away.

That's what he told himself. “It's only just a crush, it'll go away. It's just like all the others, it'll go away.”

And yet - it never ended up going away.

Jimmy spent nights upon nights with your name echoed on his lips as sweat dripped across his moonlit kissed chest. His pants were discarded to the side, long forgotten. His body ached and was hot to the touch. He could feel his blood pulsating and thrumming under his skin. His hand was sore and he was tired - but he was almost there. It was practically on the tip of his tongue.

‘Jimmy.’ 

His subconsciousness blessed him with the memory of your voice - so soft and so fucking tender. And so full of love. He could practically feel your hands, sliding across his hot skin, pressing hot kisses to his body and ultimately - tipping him over the edge.

Jimmy bit his lip to muffle the sounds of his moans as he squeezed his eyes shut, cursing under his breath. He arches his back, his brown eyes rolled back as he muffled his groans, reaching the peak of pleasure. It felt like fireworks were exploding in every one of his blood vessels, his whole body grew hot and sweaty. 

The feeling of euphoria was nothing short of incredible. 

It was almost like he could feel your soft, loving caress as he slowly recovered from his high. And yet when he opened his eyes.

His bed was empty.

It was during nights like these where Jimmy would usually end up frowning slightly before ultimately shaking himself off and moving to clean the mess he had made. It's fine - ‘you were way out of my league anyways.’

You probably had loads of boys in your bed before.

And if you were going to be in someone's bed it definitely was not going to be with him.

But it looked like he owed Curly fifty bucks. Money he definitely didn’t have right now.

He lost the bet because of you. 

Because you were there.

You were here. In his bed. And it was real - this whole thing was real. He was really about to do this. 

With you. 

His biggest crush.

His wildest fantasies - the images that plagued his mind twenty four seven - were all unfolding right now in front of him. 

In his fantasies he knew exactly what to do - where to put his hands and where to kiss you. In his mind the countless hours spent watching porn weren't for nothing, because he gained information from them. And he would use all of that information to make you cum so hard and so fucking fast that you would forget your own name.

But that was in his fantasies. Truth be told, now that you were here - laying in front of him - ’Wearing nothing but your underwear’, Jimmy told himself - he had no idea what to do. His hands where shaking and fuck- why was he sweating so much?? ‘[Name] must think I am so fucking gross right now.’ What was he supposed to be doing? Was he supposed to touch you? Or was he supposed to kiss you? Where was he supposed to grab? Your hands? Your hips? 

‘God, if you’re up there. Please fucking help a poor guy like me out. I really think I might actually start crying right now.’

“Jimmy, are… are you okay? You're really red.” You mumbles, your hand reaching up to cup his cheek and brushing your thumb against his acne ridden cheek. “Hey it’s okay.. We don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to-” Jimmy shook his head, cutting off your words by pressing the palm of your hand against his lips, tenderly kissing your flushed skin. 

There was no fucking way he was going to give up his one chance. He wasn’t going to throw away the one opportunity to love you completely - love you in the way he dreamed off.

“No no! I want to. I’m just… nervous is all...” He confessed, a whisper under his breath. Jimmy averted his eyes, casting them downward. Fuck- nervous was the understatement of a lifetime. Jimmy was down right terrified - what if you didn’t like it? What if you didn’t think he was hot enough? What if he wasn’t able to make you cum? What if you ended up hating him? What if you never gave him the chance to be your boyfriend if he screwed up? What if you never spoke to him again after this? What if-

“I’m nervous too… This is my first time y'know.” You confessed shyly, your body growing warm at your confinement of what you considered - your biggest secret. Your friends had their fair share of sex and weren’t afraid to spill any extra or juicy secrets. TMI was a thing of the past. Sure you watched your own fair share of porn in the past too but this was real, this was real life. This wasn’t a video that was going to end up being played on a screen. Nor was it over the top fake acting. But this wasn’t hushed whispers and slightly flushed cheeks in the back of the maths class either. Nor was it giggles and prodding each other for more information during lunch breaks.

This was real.

This was real and you were about to have sex with Jimmy.

Your chemistry project partner - turned lab partner - turned close friend - turned muse for any thoughts that lingered too long in the back of your mind and too many nights spent with your hands in between your thighs, his name leaving your lips like an empty prayer.

The same boy was now looking down at you - his hands shaking as he rested them against your bare hips. Jimmy’s eyes were wide. This was your first time? There was no way - there had to be a mistake - there had to have been someone else.

“This… is your first time…?”

Jimmy whispered.

You nodded and gave him a nervous smile.

“And you want to do this with… me?”

You nodded.

“And there’s no-one else you’d rather do this with - Cause I mean if there is I’d rather just get dressed y'know?… Don’t wanna waste your time with me when you could be fuckin’ oh I dunno… like Curly or someone y’know?.” Jimmy gave you a nervous grin, it was obvious he was trying to hype himself up but there was most definitely a layer of insecurity coated under his words. 

Because of course there was - he wasn’t Curly. Curly who could charm the likes of both the students and teachers alike - Curly who would win the praise of everyone. 

He wasn't ‘Overly Exceptional Curly.’

He was ‘Slightly Below Average Jimmy.’

You shook your head and smiled. “No. I can’t think of anyone else I would rather do this with. I want you to be the one to take my virginity, Jimmy.” 

Those words. Those few words. The words he so desperately ached to hear were spilling from your lips. 

Mist glazed over Jimmy’s eyes. Am I going to cry? He thought to himself. Fuck I’m going to cry. Jimmy sniffled and blinked quickly, trying his best to stop the tears from spilling. 

You sat up from your spot on his bed and cooed under your breath, reaching up with a tender touch to wipe his eyes. “I want this Jimmy.” You reassured him once more with a smile. “I want you...”

He felt more determined now. Nodding he grabbed your underwear and slid it down your hips, exposing you to him. He swallowed, meeting your eyes. “If uh… this hurts or anything please tell me. I don’t wanna hurt you.” He mumbled. You nodded and smiled. “I trust you. And if it hurts I’ll tell you to stop.” You whispered.

Jimmy nodded, pressing two fingers at your entrance. He observed your face carefully, watching your every reaction as he slowly pushed in one finger. You squirmed and whimpered a little but didn’t draw away. Jimmy was ecstatic! At least he was doing something right! Right? 

When you nodded again Jimmy began to thrust his finger in and out at a slow pace, he had read somewhere that sex required a good amount of preparation and lube too. Good thing he was prepared and bought a bottle of the stuff - and a few condoms too just in case. 

“You can… add another finger.” You whispered under your breath. Jimmy snapped out of his train of thoughts and nodded, slowly easing in another finger. It’s warm. He noted to himself. His cock stirred in his boxers - twitching slightly at the promise of what was going to come. 

Fucking hell he was so excited he could barely think straight.

You were so attractive and so nice and so hot and your kisses tasted like cherries and strawberry ice-cream. And you were here! And you were going to have sex with him. With him! Out of everyone you wanted your first times to be with - you wanted Jimmy to be your first! You trusted him enough to let him take your virginity!

You whimpered and his name escaped your lips in a pleading whine.

Jimmy could feel the precum pouring from the slit of his cock. His dick twitched and he groaned in delight drawing his fingers away. He smirked slightly when you whined at the loss of his touch. “Hey don’t worry, I just gotta prep myself and then I’ll be ready to properly fuck you.” 

You nodded, throwing an arm across your face. “Okay…” The moonlight from Jimmy’s window pooled over your bare body and it was strangely comforting. Sitting there and knowing that you were safe. There was shuffling coming from Jimmy’s side of the bed and he cursed under his breath. “Are you okay Jimmy? Do you need help?” You chuckled, pulling your arm away and sitting up. The sound of the lube bottle being opened echoed around the room, and you silently thanked your lucky stars that Jimmy’s father was out for the weekend. You could only imagine the kind of temper tantrum that man would throw if he caught you in his son’s bed.

A very nervous Jimmy shook his head. “No, I got it! It’s okay! Just relax!” He insisted, pushing you back down on the bed. “I just uhm… Can I uh… tell you something?” He whispered. 

“Yea?” You whispered back, looking up at the ceiling. The glowing plastic stars stuck on the ceiling made your heart flutter. Your eyes slid from one star to the other making constellations in your mind. ‘The star crossed lovers.’ You smiled as you looked up at them, two figures. Holding hands. How you managed to make that out from Jimmy’s plastic glow in the dark stars you wouldn't know. “Are you sure you won’t hate me?” Jimmy whispered. 

“I could never hate you.” You whispered back, meeting his eyes. “I could never hate you Jimmy. Never.” You said sternly.

Jimmy nodded and took in a deep breath, positioning the tip of his cock at your entrance. The tip prodded at your entrance and he took in a sharp inhale of air, slowly easing himself into you. “I think I’m in love with you.” He whispered as he gripped the sheets tightly. Jimmy let out a soft moan and pressed his forehead against yours, squeezing his eyes shut.

Your breath hitched and you bit your lip. “Fuck…” He felt so good and this feeling of being so… full. It felt so good. Your heart fluttered, thrumming against your rib cage. “I think I’m in love with you too.” You whispered back.

Jimmy’s eyes opened, his pupils were blown out and his cheeks were rosy. His breathing came out hot and bothered. “You’re… serious? You’re in love with me?” He couldn't help the stupid grin that spread across his lips.

You nodded, and smiled back. “Yea. I am. You’re amazing Jimmy. I would be an idiot if I didn’t fall for you.” You whispered back. 

Jimmy swallowed and grabbed the sides of your face as he slowly rocked his hips against yours. “Stop me if I do something wrong.” He breathed out before pressing his lips against yours. 

The kiss was desperate and messy and fuck was it hot. There was the feeling of tongues pressing against each other and teeth clashing. The feeling of the tip of Jimmy’s cock rubbing against that one spot inside of you - and the feeling of his tongue licking against yours - and now knowing that he shared the same feelings for you made your head hazy and- fuck it felt so fucking good.

Jimmy was making you feel so fucking good. 

And you wouldn't have had it any other way.

Jimmy groaned, pressing his forehead against your shoulder pulling his bottom lip in between his teeth. “You’re so tight I- it’s so warm… feels better than I imagined fuck-” he panted. Jimmy groaned - at this point he might not be able to hold on for any longer. He was so fucking close - his head might explode.

You weren’t doing any better either, with every delicious drag of Jimmy’s cock inside of you was bringing you closer and closer to the edge. Your body was hot - too hot, like your skin was on fire and felt like Jimmy was the water that existed to only quench your thirst.

Like he was your second half. The part that completed you The part that made you feel whole. Your reason for existing. When you held his hand you felt alive, the feeling of his pulse against your palm was the reason you felt so alive.

And now this - the feeling of him inside of you - the way his cock dragged through your sticky walls was enough to make you feel like you were floating. Airy… light… like you were in cloud nine. 

Jimmy was the drug.

And you were already addicted.

“I’m… close.” He panted, sinking his teeth into the delicate flesh of your shoulder using it to muffle his moans.

You groaned, eyes rolling back, gripping at his shoulders and digging your nails into his skin. “Fuck me too-” 

Jimmy nodded his words slurring, his vision growing hazy. Sex drunk. It hadn’t even been five minutes and he looked like he was about to pass out. “Cum with me.” He whimpered. “At the same time. Cum together with me.” He groaned pathetically, rutting his hips against yours, desperately trying to make you reach your high. 

You nodded eagerly, moaning as you threw your legs around his hips, trying to stop him from accidentally pulling out. “Jimmy- oh fuck Jimmy ‘m so close.” You whimpered, eyes growing wet. Fuck it felt so good- he felt so good. You felt so fucking good. 

Life felt so fucking amazing right now. 

Jimmy bit his lip, his grip on the bed sheets growing even tighter - to the point his knuckles were going white. He threw his head back and moaned when he came. The filling of Jimmy reaching his peak was enough for you to follow, with your back arching and your legs shaking - you came with him. 

It took a minute for you both to compose yourselves, the air in the room was stuffy and warm and reeked of sex. But neither of you really minded. “Did you… are you- I mean did you enjoy it?” He whispered, he was kind of hoping you’d say yes - seeing as he did make you finish after all. But still, he wanted to hear it. 

He craved that sort of validation.

You smiled and nodded. “I did. I really enjoyed Jimmy.” 

Jimmy grinned and pumped his fist. “Yes!!” He hissed under his breath before catching himself. “I mean uh… yea good that’s good. I wasn’t too rough or anything right?” He smiled when you laughed and shook your head. “No, I'm fine. Thanks for worrying though.”

“Good! I’ve uhm… never done this before so sorry- I don’t really know what I’m doing.” He mumbled under his breath and scratched the back of his neck awkwardly.

“Me neither.” You chuckled, flushing slightly. “But hey! We’ll get through it together.” You hummed, offering him a grin. 

Jimmy grinned back, pulling on his boxers before helping you get dressed, moving to lay beside you in bed. “Yea… Oh that reminds me! Did you uh… mean it when you said you liked me back - I mean you can say no y’know I’m like- not gonna force you to be with me if you don’t want to or if it feels like I’m forcing you to be with me!”

You laughed and shook your head. “No I meant it! I really did.” You cut him off and watched the words die on Jimmy’s lips. You watched his face contort from joking fear of rejection - to confusion - to elation. 

“You… you want me to be your boyfriend?” He whispered, tears brimming in the corners of his eyes and you nodded, smiling at him.

Jimmy grinning and grabbed you by the shoulders, tugging you into his arms with an ‘omph’. “This is the best day of my life!” He laughed. You smiled back and nuzzled into his side, body growing heavy with sleep. Jimmy threw an arm over his face. His cheeks were beginning to hurt from all the smiling he was doing but he didn’t care. This was the best day of his fucking life. ‘Thank you God. Thank you for keeping me alive. This is so worth it.’

Tagging: @birdyisthewordyy @tim-tam-jumbalya

[sturnlsstuff]

FAMILIAR STRANGER | chapter six

what's gonna happen when you find out about your enemy's biggest secret?

ghostface!chris x enemy!reader

chapter five

— warnings; smut with plot, dom!chris, sub!reader, fingering, unprotected p in v, rough, creampie, dirty talk, pet names, bratty reader, cursing, - english isn't my first language.

~~~

you have gone through many stressful situations in your life. most of the time you didn't care about anything, always chilling and thinking logically, not emotionally. however, there were moments when even you started losing your shit and they were always more intense than they should have been. one of them, for example, was taking your driving test, which kept you up at night. or your 18th birthday that stressed you out so much that you had to drink a bottle of wine alone before the party to get rid of the anxiety. or choosing what college you wanna go to, and whether you'll even get there or not. lots of stressful days in your life, lots of situations.

but your heart had never beat as fast as it did in this moment.

your thumb hovering over the 'send' button while you consider all the pros and cons of what you're doing. biting your lower lip nervously, feeling the taste of blood in your mouth, but even this doesn't stop you. you had to make a decision whether to text chris or not, and that wasn't supposed to be so stressful, but it was.

after he left you alone in his room at the party, you didn't see him at all. after fixing your makeup, you went back downstairs and found emma, telling her you were going home, needing to process whatever happened in chris's room and how it made you feel. she knew you were with someone, anyone would notice by the state you were in, even if you tried to make yourself look presentable for twenty minutes in front of the mirror in chris's room. somehow you managed to get rid of emma and her questions for now, ignoring her for two days. in fact ignoring everyone, needing some time alone, but it didn't feel like you were by yourself at all, with the way chris was in your mind every second of the day.

finally, before you could change your mind, you sent the message and threw your phone to the other end of the couch, hugging your legs to your chest and clutching your heated cheeks as if that would somehow help you. tense silence remains in the living room for the next two minutes, as you start to regret texting him.

another five minutes and you finally reach for your phone, ready to delete the message when you see three dots showing that he is replying. with w muffled scream, your phone flies across the room as you throw it again, a notification indicating a new message heard. for a second you just sit still, wheels turning in your head, but then you almost jump from your place, your legs on the couch, the rest of your body hanging off it as you steady yourself with one hand on the floor, the other picking up your phone and reading the message. you could feel the blood rushing to your head.

"bitch," you mutter to yourself, looking at the screen in pure disbelief. there's no way you were stressing for the past hour to send that fucking simple message, overthinking all night if you should even text him and how to do it to not sound too desperate, even wondering if three question marks is too much and maybe you should put one, and he just said he's busy.

unfortunately for him, you weren't a person who gave up easily, and if you finally decided to talk to him, you will do everything to make it happen. so you reply back, not having to wait for his response too long.

you roll your eyes, upset that you even tried to start any conversation with him, that you wasted the entire day yesterday and today thinking about him when he was clearly busy and definitely not overthinking anything like you did. you're not only mad at him, but also at yourself for being so stupid. after all it was chris, there's nothing to talk about here. he had his way with you and that's it, nothing changes.

not that you wanted it to change anyway.

leaving him on seen, you decide to take care of yourself a little bit, to relaxe since this stress made you feel and look terrible, bags under your eyes after two sleepless nights. so the next hour you spend in your bathtub, cool music filling your ears as you read a book, careful not to make it wet.

then you hear a noise coming from your room, at first thinking it's some hallucination from the lack of sleep, so you stop the music and listen, immediately hearing another muffled bang that makes you jump out of the tub, almost soaking your book. cursing under your breath, you wrap a towel around your waist, looking around to find anything which could be useful in defense. all you find is a glass flowerpot, so you take it, poking your head out from behind the bathroom door.

silence.

you carefully step out of the bathroom, water dripping onto the floor from your body as you walk slowly barefoot towards your room where the door was slightly open. it seemed stupid to go there, but you were acting out of adrenaline.

you heard another curse and the sound of the window closing, a frown appearing between your eyebrows as you gently opened the door, ready to attack whoever the fuck was in your room, clutching the flowerpot in one hand and holding the towel that was sliding off your body with the other.

"chris, what the fuck?!" your eyes wide as he turns around to look at you, dressed as a ghostface.

"i got fuckin' stuck," he removes his mask, running his hand through his hair, eyes immediately traveling up and down your wet body, covered by nothing but some thin towel.

immediately pressing the material against your body, now feeling strangely naked, your expression questioning him before your mouth could. he rolls his eyes, "told ya to remember 'bout closin' this fuckass window, didn't i?" he takes off his robe, leaving him in black pants and a t-shirt, his gaze had not left your figure, a strange shiver pass through him, which he only felt around you. "i knocked on the door, but you didn't answer again."

"couldn't you call me?"

he blinks stupidly, his eyes moving back up, "right." then he notices the flower pot in your hand, a low mocking laugh leaving his lips, "wanted to kill me with this?"

you glance at the flower pot, rolling your eyes and walking into the room to put it on the desk, feeling his eyes on you. "i was taking a bath, you idiot—" turning around, you almost jump when he's suddenly in front of you.

"i noticed," he smirks, tilting his head to the side. you try to ignore his intense gaze, "what do you want anyway?"

"you wanted to talk."

"weren't you busy?"

"took care of that," he retors. your eyebrow arches up as you peak out behind him at the mask and knife placed on the bed. "yes," he simply says, noticing your expression. you didn't need to know anything else.

"well, okay," clearing your throat, you grab some clean clothes from the dryer. "let me get dressed first."

"no need to rush," at the stare you give him, chris lifts his hands up in surrender and flops on your bed just as you leave the room.

you put on some shorts and a two size too big shirt, quickly cleaning up the bathroom as well. honestly, you were playing on time. you didn't expect him to come after he definitely said no in the text, and now you had no idea what to tell him, and the stress you were feeling earlier came back stronger than before.

finally finding the courage you leave the bathroom, finding chris in the living room looking at the photos you had on the wall. stopping in the doorway, you quickly tie your hair into a ponytail.

"i remember that," he points at one picture with you, him, his brothers and nate on it after one of your old friend's birthday party. you liked this one a lot.

"crazy night—"

"we danced together," he says casually though his voice a little weaker as if the memory of it was doing something to him. you're taken back that he even remembers since he was awfully high that night.

"yeah..." your voice unsure since neither of you ever mentioned it before. "-- yeah, we did."

the corner of his mouth twitches into a smile but he quickly hides it, licking his lips and settling on the couch. you take the seat next to him, keeping your distance.

after a short silence, he speaks up, "it was fun. that party." you agree with a nod of your head. that night you two were pretty chill, he was high, you were drunk and both of you just had fun, for a few hours not remembering that you disliked each other. sometimes you thought of it and wondered why couldn't it be like this all the time.

"so," he clears his throat, getting more comfortable on the couch, arm resting on the back of the sofa as he looks at you. "what's this super important conversation you've wanted to have with me?" his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"uh, right... about that—" you think about how to put it into words, heart pounding in your chest while your brain working at full speed. finally you just blurt out mindlessly, "we fucked."

chris raises an eyebrow, his expression unreadable, "really? didn't notice."

you open your mouth and then close it again, trying to ignore his comment. taking a deep breath, you continue, "i mean... well, i was kind of drunk, let's be honest. so i didn't think—"

"c'mon, kid, we both know you'd fuck me even sober," he rolls his eyes, slight annoyance in his tone at the clear delusion coming from you.

"that's literally not even close to what i'm talking about..." a wave of heat washes over you from embarrassment of being called out like that. you had to find some excuse, because to be honest, you didn't know how you ended up in chris's bed. well, you knew how, but you needed some explanation for yourself. though, what you're for sure aware of, is that the desire and arousal you felt was real. "it was, like, another moment of weakness."

"you got a lot of 'em with me recently," he teases, scanning your face as if looking for something. for a moment you were speechless from the intensity of his blue eyes. and chris noticed it. of course he did. "it was good though..." he adds, his voice lower now.

you try hard not to look too nervous while agreeing, "yeah... it was." his lips curve into that smirk you knew so well while he shamelessly checked you out again, his eyes lingering on your exposed thighs for too long. noticing that, you quickly add, "it shouldn't have happened and we won't do it again."

"yeahhhh," his tongue clicks against his teeth. chris makes eye contact with you again and that's when you know you're screwed. "we won't."

with these words you look at each other too long and too intensely, almost as if communicating between the words. and you didn't even know when or how you ended up straddling his lap, gripping his shoulders desperately trying to steady yourself while he pumps his fingers rapidly into your cunt, curling them up to hit that sweet spot inside you. his thumb rubs circles around your clit, applying just the right amount of pressure. the ghostface mask is back on his face, making you clench around his fingers. it all happened in less than ten minutes, that's how weak you were for chris and how addicted to you he's become.

"mhmmm, look at you... so fuckin' pretty, drippin' all over my hand..." he says, his voice hoarse with arousal. his cock was rock hard already, uncomfortably straining against his pants. "your body doesn't lie, even if your mouth does," chris watches you closely, taking note of the way your chest heaves, lips parted with little whimpers escaping them.

"chris— mmmh, f-fuck.... so... so g-good— oh!" your walls tighten around his fingers, hips slightly grinding against his hand. he flexes his fingers inside you, stretching you, his thumb on your clit picking up speed.

he smirks to himself at how responsive you are to him, "you jus' fuckin' love when i manhandle you, huh?" he adds a third finger, scissoring them, his other hand tugging on your hair, forcing you to keep your eyes on his mask. chris was now aware of the effect it had on you and it was making him so turned on. "constantly tryin' to make me mad, messin' with my fuckin' head, kid... not really nice of you."

you let out a loud pornographic moan when his fingers once again curl inside you, hitting your g-spot perfectly, his thumb pressing more against your bud. at the feeling of you tightening around him, a low groan escapes his lips. "thaaaat's it— yes, c'mon, give it to me... show me how bad you fuckin' hate me..."

"chris!" your eyes roll back as euphoria consumes you, head dropping forward onto his shoulder. "my... god...f-fuck you—"

he pumps his fingers languidly to ride out your orgasm, drawing out your pleasure for as long as he can. "mhm, i will," he smirks, slowing down his movements. "no need to rush, princess." he finally pulls his fingers out of you, lifting up your head, "open up."

as you obey, he brings his fingers into your mouth, your tongue immediately cleaning them up, tasting your own release on your tongue. "fuckkk—" he bucks his hips up, his clothed hardness pressing against your swollen bud, stealing another whimper from you.

you were sure you had lost your mind. you really wanted to make it clear today, that what happened at friday couldn't happen again, but it was so hard when he was... him.

"chris, we need to stop," you say as soon as he removes his fingers out of your mouth, immediately placing them back between your legs, gently caressing your swollen folds and spreading your wetness around, which makes you flinch from the over sensation.

"stop sayin' that when you react so strongly to me," his other hand moving to unzip his pants and pull them down his hips, freeing his leaking with precum dick. you look at him, the ghostface mask sending shivers straight into your core and you already know there's no coming back. "so?" he asks, gripping your hips, "still wanna stop?"

"no," you mutter annoyed at the way he was making you feel. chris bites his bottom lip with a grin, his body begging for any kind of release. he's never wanted anyone so badly. he lifts you up a little, then impaling you on his length in one swift, deep motion. both of you moan, his head throwing back at the feeling of your tight walls sucking him in. he missed this.

"fuckkk, you jus' feel so good..." he praises, holding you still for a moment to savor the feeling of being burned inside you. then he starts pounding into you, his grip on your hips painful as he doesn't let you move at all, wanting to have the control over everything.

"...what a fuckin' slut you are f'me— jesus..." he looks down, watching as he slams deep into your heat, not caring about the noises or the mess. he's too far gone to worry about anything expect the feeling of your tight pussy wrapped around his dick. "sooo perfect, fuck— and what'd you say, huh?" he pants, looking up at your full of pleasure expression. "not happening again? fuckin' watch."

you're practically bouncing on him from the strength with which chris fucks you from below, your walls immediately clenching around him, the overstimulation from your previous orgasm makes your head spin.

"chris, s-so-- deep..." you whine, gasping for air as he changes the position to get a better angle. he flips you onto your back on the sofa, pressing your knees against your stomach which caused him to go even deeper.

"yeah? you like to feel my fuckin' cock? look..." his fingers wraps around your wrist and he moves your hand to the noticeable bulge in your gut as he slides in and out of your wet pussy. the feeling of him like that, makes your toes curl as you quickly feel your second release approaching.

"gonna... c-cum! oh—" your whines and moans now filling the room with chris's eventual groans when he feels you constantly clenching around his dick.

"come all over me, c'mon... and m'gonna fill you up, yeah? gonna do it so fuckin' deep, you'll be leakin' my shit for days..." he snarls, his thrusts becoming harder as another orgasm washes over you, your eyes locked on his ghostface mask, even if you could barely keep them open. he doesn't even slow down while you tremble from the intensity of your release, moans leaving your lips and back arching up. "squeezin' me so tight, shiiittt— you were made f'me...."

with a feral groan, he buries himself as deep as he can, his dick pulsing as he explodes inside you, his hot seed filling your cunt to the brim. both of you panting, chris props himself on his hands of each side of your body so as not to crash you with his weight. both of you panting heavy, your eyes now closed while you try to come back on earth.

once the last waves of his climax subside, he pulls out with a wet squelch, his cum dripping out of your hole. a smirk appears on his lips at your disheveled form as he takes the mask off, pulling back to have a better look on your swollen, glistening cunt. just as your legs weakly were about to drop onto the couch, he grips your thighs, keeping you spread open for him. "that's a sight..." he runs a finger through the mess he'd made, making you whimper. "sensitive much?" his tone mocking. his fingers slipping between your folds, gathering as much as he could of his and yours release and pushing it back inside, a muffled scream escaping you.

"chris!" you smack his hand away, your legs automatically try to close. he tsks, his face full of mock innocence, "what? just cleanin' you up." his eyes glistening when he makes eye contact with you and he adds, "unless you wan' me to lick it off instead?"

"no, thanks," you mutter fully aware he'd love to overstimulate you.

"a'ight, drama queen," he rolls his eyes, grabbing the tissues from the coffee table, cleaning his own mess before passing them to you. he sits up, pulling his pants up while you proper yourself on your elbows, starting to clean up.

a silence remains in the living room, he takes a rolled joint from his pocket, placing it between his lips, and looks towards you noticing how your hands and legs are shaking a little. you weren't able to clean yourself thoroughly, the mix of your and his cum running down your inner thighs.

"kid," he lights up the joint, taking a long drag. "the fuck you doin'?"

you give him a death stare, "it's quite clear to see."

he exhales, smoke billowing out as he speaks, "but, like... you don't— just..." he groans, putting the joint back between his lips, his voice muffled, "--fuckin' gimme it... can't even clean y'self up, jesus... so annoying..."

chris practically snatches the tissues from your hands as he spreads your legs, ignoring your confused and surprised expression. he simply starts wiping the mess between your legs, his touch strangely tender, "can't do shit with that shaky ass hands..." he keeps commenting under his nose more to himself than to you, the smoke from his joint filling the room.

you watch mesmerized, as he grabs the joint between the fingers of one hand, the other still focused on the task, his tongue poking out at the corner of his mouth in concentration. he was gentle, or at least chris tried to be when he saw how red and puffy your pussy looked. it was such a simple action but it made your heart do a backflip. and not only you felt this way, chris himself was somehow, almost nervous.

he finally catches up on your stare, a frown appearing between his eyebrows, "the fuck you lookin' at..." his eyes traveling to the marks he left on your hips, some of the bruises older from friday, others fresh and reddish. this sight fills him with a sense of pride. he finally leans back on the couch, throwing the used tissues aside, glancing back at you. "stop starin', kid."

your face all flushed as you finally tear your eyes away from his and manage to sit up, adjusting your shirt and looking around for your sweatpants.

"here," he hands them to you, taking another drag on his joint. you put your clothes back on, wondering what the hell was going on.

you sit next to him still slightly breathless, after a moment he passes you the joint, neither of you looking at each other as you take it.

"y'know..." chris finally speaks up, "for someone who claims to hate me so much, you sure do let me do all sorts of nasty things to ya."

that's what causes you to finally make eye contact with chris, annoyance flickering through your face at the sudden call out. "for someone who claims to hate me so much, you sure want to do a lot of nasty things to me."

he smirks amused at your response, looking like you exhale the smoke. "well, yeah, hating you and being insanely attracted t'you aren't mutually exclusive, y'know..." you raise your eyebrows as he continues, "besides i never said i hated you, i jus' said i hated you."

the clear confusion and how your cheeks were burning after his words, makes chris's grin widen. "what the fuck is the difference?"

"don' worry 'bout it," he retors, grabbing the joint from between your fingers to finish it.

"insanely attracted to me, huh?" you process his words. chris rolls his eyes, "insanely is a strong word actually, what i meant is—"

"nuh, uh," you interrupted him with a grin on your face, pointing your finger at him. "you said what you wanted to say."

"no, i—

"lalala, i can't hear youuuu," you cover your ears like a kid, the mix of annoyance and amusement building up within him. "you're a child," he puts out the butt of the joint in some empty can on the coffee table, and takes your hands away from your ears. "child."

you just smile, feeling unfamiliar warm spreading across your chest. it was strange, chris usually saw you smiling but at other people, not at him. it made him want to... kiss you? hold you?

"weirdo," he mutters, leaning back, but there's no usual bite in his tone. his arm rests on the back of the sofa behind you, his wheels turning around in his head. he glances at your side profile, his tongue clicking against his teeth, "i always wondered why you were with this idiot jake." you're taken back, glancing at him with a frown, but it doesn't discourage him from continuing. chris felt like he has to. "you were always annoying, but i thought you're better than that. he had no idea how to treat you right and you kept comin' back to him, what was insane to me. he was just a dick—"

"you wouldn't understand..."

"no, i definitely fuckin' wouldn't," he retors annoyed. "so m'not even gonna try, but he was pissin' me the fuck off. i was waitin' for the day you finally leave him for good."

"it wasn't that simple," you try to explain, but chris wasn't having any of that. "kid, don' bullshit me. you even try to defend him now when he's gone? don't tell me you..."

"no, i try to defend myself, 'cause you don't get it," you interrupt, not wanting to hear whatever he was going to say. "he was awful, but at that time i kinda just... craved affection, i guess," your cheeks heat with embarrassment. "and sometimes he was giving me that."

"what affection he could give ya? bet, he fuckin' sucked. and you deserve to get affection and all this other shit all the time, not just sometimes. that's fucked up."

"and what do you know about all of that?" you question him, which annoys the hell out of chris. "every week you have a new girl to fuck, then moving on to the next one."

he knows you're right, chris had no clue how to show affection either, he never was good at this because he simply never let himself attach to anyone. but he knew, if he had you, he would never be like your ex. chris would try his best to make sure you know you're loved.

"there's nothing wrong with that, they all know m'not lookin' for a relationship. i always tell 'em at the beginnin' that it's only a hook up. i don' play anyone..."

"always?" when chris nods, you add, "i didn't hear you saying that to me."

now he's surprised, quickly hiding it, but the way his eyes scanned your face was telling you everything you needed to know.

"well..." he slowly licks his lips, carefully thinking of his next words. "i never... i mean, i knew we'd do it again at some point... but i just— fuck, i don' know..."

your voice is dripping with sarcasm when you say the next sentence, but there was genuine curiosity behind it, "maybe deep down you expected something?"

his expression is unreadable, but chris's heart was beating so hard, he was afraid you'd hear. the question you asked stirred weird feelings inside him and he had to get out of this situation fast. you knew one of his deepest secrets already, there was no way he'd let you know his other ones.

"be serious, kid," his smirk doesn't reach his eyes. "enough with that talk. i gotta go..."

his reaction saying more than he would ever say. you watch as he stands up, "i am serious and you're running away right now—"

"shut your goddamn mouth for once, holy fuck," he snaps at you, gripping the bridge of his nose. "i have shit to do so i'm leavin', simple as that. not that is any of your business anyway."

your blood boil at his words but you don't say anything else. you were afraid your voice would betray you, so watching him gathering his stuff from your room and then hearing the front door shutting, was all you did.

taglist: @certifiedstarrr @chrislovespepsi @le4hsblog @sturnsxbitvh @sweetlikesug4rvenom @xaristhings @mattsfavbitchhh @lvrsturniolo @r0s3luvr @slut4brunettes @madisonsturnioloss @chrispillowprincess @sturnioloslutttt4 @ashlishes @mattsbitchh @hi-people-who-are-alive @stellward123 @inssanely @matts-girlfriend @imnotalive420 @emely9274 @shadowthesim @yunkilm @sophiaxsblog @namelesssav @demyackerman @fratbrochrisgf @lvrsturniolo @chrisweetheart @chrisfavoritewhore @sturnslutz @ncm9696 @certified-sturniolo @mattsobvimyfav @swagalicious260 @giannalovessturniolo @sophand4n4 @brazyturtleneck

[jollyhunter]

24 Kinky Days with Dean x reader - Day 16.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x fem!reader

Warnings: NSFW - MDNI! - includes explicit sexual content (somno, intense fingering, edging, overstimulation), soft!dom Dean, also some fluff sprinkled on top of it ♡ (Also! English is not my native language)

Summary: Dean loves to pleasure you when you’re still in your half-sleep, still dozy and all his to play with and to take care of… and this time he coaxes you into taking a little more than usual.

Words: 2,520

Feedback and reblogs are highly appreciated! And let me know whether you enjoy it so far! <3 A/N: I skipped the 15th Dec. prompt, since I felt like writing this one first. I'll post the 15th later some time! On another note; I've got a new theme! Made my own lil' banner and such. Hope you like it 😳 ANYWAY

♡ ENJOY THE torturous EDGING MY LITTLE VIXENS ♡

16th Dec. - Roll Over Rule

The sound of Dean’s serene breaths make you tiptoe your way around the bed, careful not to wake him from his deep sleep. It was late, 3AM by now. You’d done some late night research in the War room with Sam, losing track of time as you often did. And you’d basically forced Dean to go to bed a few hours ago since he had stayed up the past nights.

You slowly slip under the covers and still in your movement for a moment – listening for the slow rhythm of his breath. Good, he is still asleep. And he has occupied 3/4rd of the bed as always. Your face softens as your eyes take in his peaceful state; his face pressed into the pillow, his ruffled dark blond hair still a bit damp from the midnight shower. He’s on his stomach, his body twisted in a way that almost makes you wince inwardly. And his left arm stretched out to your bedside. Waiting for you to latch onto it, as it had become a silent habit of yours.

You gently grab his arm and snuggle up to him. Your arms wrap tightly around his muscled upper arm and his forearm gets tucked nicely between your thighs. Dean stirs briefly, mumbling something before he angles his head to rest it against the top of yours. You let out a soft, content sigh, relieved that you didn’t wake him from his dreamless sleep. Soon enough you fall asleep with your limbs entangled with his arm, feeling his comforting warmth and listening to his calming breaths of a slow steady rhythm.

You don’t know how much time has passed, maybe an hour or so, when you feel Dean’s arm slightly twist in your grip. Suddenly his hand slips between your legs to cradle you there with palms up. Your mind’s still too sleepy to fully register what’s going on when a little shiver goes straight to your core. A small, almost imperceptible one. But your body acts on instinct and doesn’t need your mind for what it subconsciously craves. You suddenly let go of his arm and roll over onto your stomach – a sleeping position you usually never take. Unless, it’s meant as a green light for Dean to go on.

Yeah, you had been pretty needy lately. ‘Damn, you’re like a bitch in heat, babe.’ As Dean had commented on it shamelessly. Which not only made you sputter, but had Sam choke on his beer and Cas raise his eyebrows in confusion, secretly wondering why Dean would compare you with a female dog.

Your mind quickly slips back into that cozy sleep – whereas Dean seems to have woken up beside you. He places soft kisses along your neck, his hand gently running up and down your body, occasionally slipping beneath your pyjamas.

Next moment you remember, you feel hot and aroused. Your inner thighs are wet, your clit swollen and you’re panting slightly. And then you feel his two fingers slip inside you, effortlessly parting your slick folds. A meek moan escapes your lips, your mind still somewhere caught between sleep and excited arousal.

“You good, sweetheart..?” you hear his gravel voice next to your ear. You nod, not wanting the pleasure to stop but too sleepy to form any words.

He picks up a tantalizing pace. His small and middle finger pumping inside your dripping wet cunt while his index and middle finger slide along your folds, pinching your clit between them with every thrust. Your moans grow louder and soon turn into needy whimpers, begging him for release.

“Mh? Tell me baby…” your answer once again is a weak, short whimper. A thick haze clouding your sleep-addled mind and ridding you of any capability to form a thought, let alone words. It��s like you’ve been turned into a whimpering, mewling mess – powerless in every form. At this moment you were his entirely. Completely at his mercy. And knowing Dean, you are left with no other option but to take the overwhelming pleasure and to teeter on that torturous edge. Over. And over. And over.

Dean is truly a master in the art of edging. His calloused fingers playing you like it’s child’s play, hitting every spot at the right moment and – to your frustration – changing rhythm and withdrawing them every single time right before you get to fall over the edge. Leaving you mewling desperately, close to tears from the overwhelming built up tension in your core. You cry and pant into the pillow breathless while he starts over with the procedure, denying you the final relief with a cheeky grin of his.

Soon a third finger is jammed into your throbbing cunt. Dean and you groan in harmony when your walls clamp his fingers, pulling them in like they were made for you. He bites back another deep moan before grazing his bottom lip with his teeth. "Damn... sweetheart, you're killin' me here..."

Once he rode you through another round of edging by switching between the numbers of fingers every now and then, you quickly adjust to the new size.

When Dean notices how his fingers slide in and out so effortlessly, an idea forms in his head. He suddenly presses his lips against the shell of your ear. His voice a husky whisper, gentle and yet demanding, “Show me how deep you want it.”

You don’t even think, your body acting on its own. It’s like he’s got you under some magic spell, the relentless working of his fingers keeping you spellbound. His hand stills while you buck your hips against his hand. Further and further up, angling it while you press your chest into the mattress – the increasing tightness making you whimper and bite down on the pillow.

But to Dean’s amazement, you keep pushing against him, taking it all the way. Even whenhe slowly slips a fourth finger inside. He bites back another guttural groan. The feeling of you clamping his fingers and now even slowly, tentatively rocking your hips against him is almost too much for him.

“That’s it…” he murmurs, a hint of pride in his voice which doesn’t go unnoticed by you, despite your mindless state. You roll your hips up against him and a loud groan erupts from your throat at the intense sensation of him splitting you apart.

Dean leans a bit back to relish the view with parted lips: He’s knuckles-deep inside you. His four thick fingers stretching you to the point you feel like you might explode. He’s completely filling you, his fingertips hitting your most sensitive spot at the very end.

He lets you set the pace, only occasionally curling his fingers as he draws sounds from you which can only be describe as borderline pornographic. Every whine and mewl are rewarded with a stronger flick of his thumb over your swollen clit. Your legs are shaking and you buckle from the increased friction, the pleasure doubled with a simple continues rub against your bud.

It doesn’t take long until your legs not only tremble but start to give in and fight the mattress for some form of control. Short erratic puffs of breath burst out of your mouth and a little dribble of saliva escapes the corner of your lips. The sight alone would’ve almost sent Dean, but the sounds you made – my God your sounds of pleasure where like heaven to him.

Desperate and overwhelmed, your body starts to act on its own again; your legs kick and squirm and writhe. Your hips suddenly jerk away and your fingers dig into the sheets enough to strangle a grown man.

Dean’s eyes widen briefly, leaning down with his weight to keep you still. “Shhh-Shhh,” he coos reassuringly, but with an almost mock-innocent undertone. As if that sly bastard didn’t know that you are on the brink of breaking.

He slings his leg around one of your kicking legs, effectively holding it in a deadlock as he presses it back into the mattress. “Ah-ah-ah,” he playfully warns you with a cocky smirk, “Stay here, sweetheart… ain’t done with ya yet…” He moves his free hand up to the back of your head where he carefully threads his fingers through your hair, taking a fist full to gently tug your head back and hold you in place.

A pleading whimper leaves your lips. Begging for relief, for him to finally allow you to fall over that damn edge. You try to voice your plea for mercy but any word that’s meant to leave your lips is smushed into another pathetic, strangled noise on its way out.

“Damn… can’t even talk any more can ya, gorgeous…” Dean chuckles deeply, his rumbling chest vibrating against your back as he keeps you pinned down under his weight. You can feel the muscles of his hard calf, tense and unyielding against your trapped leg. Your thigh straining against him in vain, twitching and trembling. Your toes claw at the sheets in a desperate attempt to break free from his grip, whimpering something which he recognises as a scrambled, frustrated “please”. But he doesn’t budge, his strength effortlessly keeping you at his mercy and leaving you no chance of escaping his onslaught.

He leans down to your ear, his voice dropping an octave when he asks teasingly, “You wanna come? That it, baby? You want me to make ya come?”

Yes, yes, yes yes yes – you keep repeating the word in your head until you realize that you’re only whining more. Dean chuckles, “That a yes? Hm? What was that?”

Oh Jesus Christ he’s enjoying this way too much. This time you nod – frantically. Not taking the risk of your answer getting lost again. Your sounds are hoarse by now, your body contorting from his four fingers slowly moving inside your cunt and his thumb working your clit every now and then – not enough to let the knot in your stomach burst, but enough to keep you on the brink of it. He falls into a tantalizing pace, sometimes shallow, sometimes so deep that it makes your half-lidded eyes roll back with a pained groan.

Dean meanwhile drinks in the sight of you squirming from the pleasure he can give you, all at his mercy, making sure to not give you a single moment of catching your breath.

“Oh yeah..?” Dean lets out a low hum. He pulls your ear lobe between his teeth and gives you a little tug at your hair. You’re shaking, even your whimpering sounds are clipped, breathless and trembling, your mind numb by now. Your body overstimulated and exhausted from chasing that sweet relief for what feels like hours.

“Jesus, you’re so vocal babe… you know how hard this gets me?” He groans against the side of your face and he grinds his rock hard erection against your hip to prove his statement. After a moment, he releases the grip on your hair and moves his hand down your neck, angling his shoulders to push his arm down between your shoulder blades to keep you from wiggling away. “You’re such a good girl for me…” he says while shifting his position on top of you, “And good girls get a reward…”

Fucking finally. A long shaky exhale escapes you when his weight presses down on you, his body covering you like a heavy blanket. He supports himself by leaning up on his right elbow, always making sure not to put too much pressure on you, but enough to let you feel his strength and the power over you.

His hot, ragged breath hits your ear once more. Whispering in that gravelly and authoritative tone of his, every word punctured by a deep thrust of his fingers, “’M gonna count down from ten… and when I hit zero... I want you to come for me baby, understand?”

Lord have mercy. You nod again, although most of his words went past you and at this point you would have probably agreed to anything for that relief. With your brain melted into a useless puddle, you feel like your only driven by need and primal instincts by now.

And then, the next ten seconds feel like the most intense you have ever experienced. With every number you feel your knot tighten more, your core burning up as if it was to explode any second – but not yet, not yet – “…seven…”

He moves his arm along your back to grab your left hand, holding it down. “…six...” His fingers intertwine with yours, while his other hand picks up its pace. “…five…” Your suddenly arching your back, involuntarily trying to squirm away from him. But his firm chest keeps you safe beneath him, while his lips form the next number against your ear, “…four…”

Almost there. Your free knee slides along the mattress aimlessly and your other hand rips at the pillow, feeling like your body is about to snap into two. “…three…”

Determined to get you there, his calloused thumb flicks your overstimulated bud without mercy, earning himself another guttural whimper of yours, “-that’s it, let me hear ya …two…”

The sound of his low rumbling voice cuts right through your haze and a shudder shoots through your body. The anticipation’s almost killing you at this point, feeling coiled up like a spring.

“…one…” You can feel it, the wave building up and ready to crash down on you. Dean can sense you’re on the very edge too and he intends to send you over it this time. He gently bites down on your neck, muttering his final order against your skin, “…zero… come for me, sunshine.” You go tense like a bowstring and your head snaps forward to bury your face in his elbow. When, at last, the wave hits your body and the knot in your stomach finally explodes with a strangled scream of relief. Several shudders of pleasure ripple through you, leaving you twist and turn, sandwiched between the mattress and Dean’s heavy body. He lets you ride out your high, his strong muscles working to hold you close to his chest.

You pant heavily, shakily. Your mind finally clearing. Your bleary eyes fully opening for the first time, like this was all just a dream too good to be true. His voice draws your attention to his face, when he gasps. “Jesus sweetheart… it’s like a swimmin’ pool down here.”

That comment takes you so much off guard, that you break out into a surprised laughter. He grins at you before he joins with his own hearty bark of amusement, a cocky grin on his face. “I ain’t kiddin’ – I’m growin’ fins!” He holds up his drenched hand, wrinkled skin, wiggling his cum-covered fingers in front of your eyes, “Look!”

He chuckles and his widened eyes take in the mess with something like fascination and an eager lick of his lips. The corners of his smile pull up into a lazy grin when his emerald eyes meet your satisfied and dozy, half-lidded ones again. “Y’know… I think ’m gonna need to clean up that mess down there.”

Masterlist of opened windows:

1st Dec. - Sunshine 2nd Dec. - Spell Book 3rd Dec. - Lights Out 4th Dec. - Tickle 5th Dec. - Dirty UNO 6th Dec. - (TBA) 7th Dec. - Candlelight 8th Dec. - Hex Play 9th Dec. - Whip Stroke 10th Dec. - Barbie World 11th Dec. - Temptation ... (check the masterlist for more!)

Tags:

@ariasong11 @deansjacket @literallylexa @lmpala1967 @foxyjwls007 @impala67rollingthroughtown

[byte-your-tongue]

How They Wrap Your Presents Pt. 1 (Obey Me! SWD Brothers)

(Platonic, GN Reader)

AN: Recently got access to my old obswd account after over two years of not being able to play!! ₍^ >ヮ<^₎ .ᐟ.ᐟ im excited about that + the holidays so here yall go take some sill lil hcs. these are pretty christmas focused but if anyone wants an edited version where i remove that and make it more generic what holiday is being talked about just let me know! part two with the other characters will hopefully be up soon!

Lucifer:

His presents look neat but maybe a little bit boring compared to some of the others on this list

They are tastefully wrapped in a simple solid color metallic wrapping paper with no ribbon.

He wouldn't pick out a wrapping paper with a pattern because he thinks it looks sort of silly or childish or "too much"

He doesn't use sticker labels, instead attaching a small piece of paper or card with his elegant cursive handwriting on it addressing it to you from him.

He will leave your present under the tree in the HOL and look on with pride when you open it christmas day.

He may get onto you if you try to shake it to figure out what it is early, telling you to be patient and that it will be worth the wait.

Mammon:

He could have taken the easy way out and put your presents in a bag but he wants to wrap them himself.

This of course leads to a disaster with wrapping paper scraps everywhere and him covered in tape. He probably also somehow manages to cut himself with the scissors at one point.

Your present may look like a disaster but it's wrapped with love.

Sure he could have asked someone like Asmo to help him out but he selfishly wanted the present to be only from him alone, with no one else helping him.

He would probably pick out a very basic pattern like snowflakes or something.

He doesn't put a tag on it (which is probably for the best, his handwriting is atrocious)

He's sort of embarrassed of how it turned out and doesn't put it under the tree before christmas, choosing instead to hand it to you directly on christmas morning.

If you tell him you like the wrapping despite how it looks he will be over the moon and blushing like a tomato.

Mammon is overjoyed to see you so happy because of him, and commits this moment to memory forever.

Leviathan:

I don't think he would be very confident in his wrapping skills, instead choosing to give you a gift bag instead.

Plus it's just easier that way! No fiddling with wrapping paper and tape.

It's not like a gift bag is an any way less good than a wrapped present, but after seeing Asmo's gorgeous gift to you sitting under the tree he gets worried you won't like his.

So he decides to customize the bag for you, drawing your favorite character on it.

He puts your gift inside, adds some simple tissue paper, and adds it to the small pile of gifts already under the tree.

On christmas day when you finally open his gift he's anxious you won't like it. When you beam at him and tell him you love it and compliment the drawing on the bag he feels like he could pass out from joy.

Satan:

Satan for sure is going to make your gift look good.

He is careful and meticulous with the wrapping, not an inch out of place with perfect folds.

He might pick out a simple pattern that just has holiday colors on it. Nothing too intense but still festive.

He is the first one i've talked about so far who would add a ribbon. Something thin and shiny wrapped across both axis of the present and tied up with perfect curls.

He adds a simple tag that has your and his names on it in neat print.

He will add his present to the pile, admiring the other ones already there.

When you finally get his present you almost don't want to open it, admiring how it looks.

He will be happy if you like his gift, smiling warmly at you.

Asmodeus:

You KNOW Asmo is going all out on wrapping your presents.

Your present is wrapped in the most adorable sparkly paper he could find and topped with a big bow and ribbons.

Your presents from him are very cute without being over the top.

He is very excited for the holidays, picking out your presents and wrapping them before anyone else had even found anything for you.

He spends a lot of time wrapping your presents perfectly and making sure not a single piece of ribbon is out of place.

Beelzebub:

He doesn't really know what do so he goes to Asmo for help. Beel is one of the only people here who doesn't mind asking for help, and he knows Asmo would be perfect for this.

Beel picks out the paper and gets Asmo to help him wrap it so of course it comes out cute looking.

The first paper Beel wanted to use had a cute little pattern with gingerbread men on it, but he did in fact eat some of the paper while Asmo was trying to wrap.

After that the two of them decided another choice of wrapping paper might be better if they want your gift to survive.

Beel adds a sticker to it that addresses the gift to you from him and places it under the tree.

Belphegor:

Belphie is NOT wrapping your present.

He's not even putting in in a gift bag.

The bare minimum he would do is slap a simple bow on it and calls it done.

Since your present isn't wrapped he doesn't put it under the tree, instead waiting till christmas and giving it to you directly.

He may not have put a lot of thought into the wrapping, but he did put a lot of time and effort into picking out your present so he really hopes you like it.

[slut4b1ls]

—NOTICED (part 2)

BILLIE EILISH X F!READER

summary: One morning you wake up to a mail from Billie Eilish’s manager asking you to star in her new music video..(continuation; check out the previous parts)

prologue part one part two part three (soon)

As the door to the garderobe opened, Billie took a step back and a blonde, middle-aged woman entered the room. "Hello, so sorry I’m late. I’ll be retouching your makeup" she said. "We need to be quick because the shooting starts in 30". It was the makeup artist you two had completely forgotten about. You glanced at Billie, but her eyes were still focused on the woman speaking. Had she really been flirting with you a moment ago?

After retouching Billie, the woman led you to a separate room. The entire time she was doing your make up, you remained quiet. Billie’s makeup was already finished, so they were just waiting for you.

When she finished, you thanked her and hurried to the main room where the shoot was taking place. As you entered, you immediately exchanged glances with Billie, but she simply smirked and looked down at her shoes. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t mad at how quiet she was now, but you’d also be lying if you said it didn’t drive you crazy in the best way possible.

"Okay, listen" the manager yelled so everyone in the room could hear. "As you know, the script for the video is simple. Everyone stick to the plan, and there will be no issues". Once she finished, everyone took their places and you started to walk toward Billie. "You ready, baby?" She asked as you got close enough. You were so stressed by the whole filming process that you didn’t even notice the nickname she called you. You were in the same white space where the mv for Lunch had been filmed, and the first scene required just a simple wooden chair.

As all the cameras were set up and ready, you did a test shoot where they walked you through the first scene. Billie was supposed to sit on the chair while you stood behind her, placing your hands on her shoulders, slowly leaning in closer, letting your hands linger on her further. The thoughts of it were so overwhelming for you, but you knew what you signed for, it was the thing that happened moments earlier that made you even more nervous to do the scene. You tried to shake off the thoughts and convice yourself that the whole situation wasn’t what you thought it was and get the job done.

When the actual filming of the scene began, you performed as you were told to. After repeating the scene multiple times, finally getting through, the team gathered around to see the final playback. Billie stood up from the chair and leaned toward you. "You did really good. Are you getting nervous again?" She said with a smirk "I can feel you’re tense." You ignored her comment, as you were already weak in your knees, and you went into doing the next scene.

Each scene was getting even more intense, especially with the comments Billie made during them. After some, it was finally a time for a lunch break. The team had ordered some food for you and Billie that you were supposed to eat in her garderobe. The two of you began walking toward the room in complete silence, the tension still present in the air.

As you entered the space, Billie grabbed the packed food that was waiting on her vanity table and opened it. It was a selection of veggie burgers she specifically asked for. Handing one to you, she took a seat at the couch, manspreading casually as she opened hers. "Hope you will like it. I picked them for us from my favorite spot." She said, glancing at you. "Oh I’m sure they are delicious" you replied shyly.

You two started eating, enjoying your food as Billie spoke. "I hope the filming isn’t too overwhelming for you. That’s the last thing I’d want" she said, her tone gentle. "You really seemed nervous while we were on the set. If you need help calming down, I’m sure we can work it out."

You stared at her as she smirked, choosing not to say anything. "Okay, just keep in mind that I’m open to help anytime." She added with a wink. You remained froozen, unsure of how to react.

The moment was inturrupted by the manager who came in to inform you both that the filming will resume in 20 minutes. Until then, you had some free time.

When the manager left, Billie stood up, leaving the empty food container behind, and walked over to her vanity to check her reflection in the mirror. As she looked at herself, you decided to speak up.

"Just so you know, I’m so thankful for this whole opportunity. This feels so unreal to me. You truly are an inspiration, and I have admired your work for so long now."

Billie turned her gaze toward you, soft laugh escaping her lips "Yeah?" she softly asked. "You are a fan of mine?"

"I guess you could say that." You replied, your tone softening. "You know what? I really insist on you trying my calming technique." Billie said with a playful smirk "I’m sure it will make the whole experience even better"

"Maybe it’s not such a bad idea, I will definitely think about it." You said with a smile. "Better think quick. We only have about 18 minutes left until someone will interrupt us again." Billie said as she walked toward you.

a/n: It’s here!! Sorry for keeping you waiting, hope you like it and as always let me know what you think. Next part will be probably the one you will like the most, be ready.. 👀💋

tags: @hkkuugu @certifiedwomenlover @hopingforgoodblogs @canthelpit0 @billiesbabygirll @mybluebossanova @slutforabbyanderson

if you would like to be added to my taglist to be updated when I post a new fic, let me know!!

masterlist.

[thisonegirl]

And What If...

pairing : geto suguru x reader rating : nsfw warnings : mentioned of infertility; swearing ; angst (a lil bit) ; descriptions of sexual activities wc : 1.6k (unedited)

Your scalp ached from the tight grip Geto had on your hair as he roughly pounded into you from behind. You shook from both pleasure and exhaustion, sweat rolled down your skin and the heat that spread through your body was almost unbearable but you couldn’t get enough of it.

With a hand occupied in your hair, his other one snaked around your waist pulling you up to where your back was against his sweaty chest. That same hand then made its way down to your pussy and began rubbing soft circles against your clit, a stark difference from the roughness of his thrust.

“Oh fuck, baby,” you squealed out feeling the overstimulation creep up but you welcomed it. 

“You like that baby?” He groaned against your ear, to which you moaned in response, “use your words angel… tell me…”

“Fuck yea,” you whimpered.

You reached an arm behind you and turned your head pulling Geto into a kiss. The desperation of it made it wetter and sloppier than it needed to be. Your teeth and tongues clashed aggressively as you felt him let go of your hair and instead wrap it around your throat with a firm grip.

“Ah, I’m close, I’m so so close…” you whined as his thrust grew rougher and he rubbed your clit faster.

“Yea? You gonna cum all over me again?” He hissed, “come on baby, let it go for me.”

As though his words were a command, you obeyed, letting the force of the orgasm shake you and reduce you into a trembling and moaning mess. 

Much to your (mis)fortune, Geto wasn’t even close yet. As you came, you had no time to come down from that high when you felt another creeping in again but with much more intensity. Geto let your body fall forward onto the bed still fucking you with his body pressed firmly against yours. The weight was nearly crushing but you couldn’t get yourself to even give a fuck.

“G-Geto,” you breathed out, “its t-too much.”

He chuckled softly in your ear, not letting up one bit as you felt your mind and body burst, “you want me to stop? You know the word, angel. Just say it,”

You gave no answer. You didn’t want him to stop. Your mind was far gone and you like it that way.

“So? Should I stop?” He asked, slowing his pace down. You whined and his teasing, shaking your head and begging him to keep going.

He picked his pace up, going harder than before.

“Ah yes, fuck!” You screamed out. You felt him lift his body from off of you and gripping waist.

“I’m close baby,” he groaned, the words shakily leaving his mouth, “ can I come inside you? Please angel, please let me cum inside your tight little pussy,” he all but begged. It made you even wetter than what you thought was possible.

“Yes, yes, yes,” you chanted, “cum inside me. I wanna feel your cum in my pussy,” His thrust grew faster and sloppier and you felt another orgasm coming up.

“I’m coming,” he let out a long groan and you, a moan as you both reached your peaks. His thrusts slowed as he pumped his load deep into your pussy while you twitched around his cock feeling the warmth of his cum inside you. 

Once done, he slid out of you and collapsed beside you, pulling you into his arms and placing small pecks around your face.

“That was amazing,” you whispered tiredly against his chest. 

“As always,” he responded, “and before you fall asleep, let go take a shower.”

“Ugh, I’m too tired,” you groan in discontent.

“Yeah, but I’m sure you’ll sleep a lot better after a nice warm shower so come on,” 

Geto, being the gentleman that he is, carried you to the bathroom and placed you in the shower. As he helped you wash yourself, thought about how lucky you were to have such a thoughtful and considerate husband. Truly a blessing.

“D’you think I finally got a baby in you?” Geto asked, breaking the silence you dwelled in as you laid in bed ready to sleep.

“I don’t know,” you snorted. It wasn’t the first time he brought up the desire of having a baby with you, something you were completely on board with just not with the same amount of enthusiasm as Geto.

Since before you had gotten married, he always spoke about his wish to build a life and a family with you. When you finally tied the knot, you immediately discarded any birth control and started trying to have a baby.

You hadn’t been trying for long but you couldn’t help but feel impatient and somewhat worried that your attempts had not worked yet.

“Hm… with a load like that, I for sure did,” he joked crassly, you gently slapped his arm as he laughed at your blushing face.

“Well don’t say it like that, jeez,” you cringed, scrunching your face in disgust. 

“I’m serious though,” he said with the tone to match his statement, “I have a feeling this is gonna be it.”

You smiled softly, hoping that it would disguise the anxiety that brewed within as the dread of disappointing him again filled you. 

“What if…” you trailed off. Did you really want to ask him what would happen if you couldn’t conceive? Like at all? No. “What if the girls don’t react well to the news? They are a couple of daddy’s girls,” you asked with a forced chuckle but realistic enough for Geto to not have noticed.

“They won’t. I actually think they’d be excited since they’ve been hinting about having a little sibling,” he said with a light chuckle that just tightened your heart even further.

You wanted to share your concerns with him but didn’t want to shatter his dreams and expectations. You’ve tried to convince yourself that you might just be overthinking things but the longer it took to conceive, the harder it was to gaslight yourself. 

Knowing that Mimiko and Nanako were actually looking forward to something you weren’t fully sure you could give, made the situation even harder for you.

Your mind swirled around with anxious thoughts as Geto slept beside you. You debated with yourself on how to broach the subject but couldn’t quite figure it out. You had a family, a little one that you both built together and it was enough for the both of you but the expectation of a little additional bundle has swollen your hearts with joy and excitement that now you wondered if you could shatter it for everyone involved, including the girls.

You felt like crying, feeling the weight of your failure upon your shoulders. You knew you weren’t less than but you sure felt like it. 

Soon, you too had fallen asleep, joining Geto who was already deep in his slumber. As you slept, your thoughts continued to manifest themselves as dreams, or rather, nightmares that plagued your sleep making it restless.

You woke up feeling tired the next morning. Geto was still resting peacefully beside you. You almost envied the tranquility he felt, having nothing to worry about. 

You studied his face as he slept. His masterpiece of a face as you’d often put it. You let your fingers softly trail down his nose to his slightly parted lips. You shifted your head on his chest to rest on your chin, still taking in his features.

Your mind soon brought forward a conversation you had previously had about what your child would look like. You recalled how he said he hoped they got your eyes and you said you hoped they got his nose. You’d imagine your lives out loud, building up the excitement to live it.

Your mood dampened as the memories became overshadowed by your fear. You had to tell him. For one, you were married. You were a unit and a partnership. You knew he would support you as much as you needed, if you needed it. You knew he would love you regardless of whatever the issue was. You knew he would tell you everything would be alright and whatever else you needed to hear.

But you couldn’t do it. You couldn’t vocalize it. You couldn’t bring forth that thought and turn it into reality, ultimately shifting everything. You didn’t know if you had the courage and strength for it. At the same time you knew you had to. He deserved to know.

“What are you thinking about?” His hoarse voice, saddled with tiredness, startled you from out of your thoughts. His eyes were still closed.

ªNothing…” you responded.

“You know I can tell when you’re lying, right?” he said, opening his eyes ever so slightly as he adjusted to the light in the room, “tell me what’s wrong.”

Sighing, you opted to tell him the truth and let out your concern, “What if I can’t get pregnant?”

Your heart started racing as you uttered those words. You looked at him worried and anxiously as you waited for his response. 

“Then I guess it's just gonna be us,” he responded coolly, “We have everything we need and want right here, right now, and if not having a baby won’t take anything from it.”

“But you and the girls --” 

“The girls will understand. And for me, as long as I have the three of you, I’m more than fine,” he concluded before placing a kiss on your forehead.

You let his words stew for a bit, still undecided if you believed him or not. You wanted to for you peace of mind above all else but you couldn’t fully accept his words.

“Hey,” he whispered, “I mean it. We’re gonna be fine.” He pulled you into a kiss as though to seal his words. Though they didn’t ease you as much as he likely wanted them to, they did comfort you to a minimal extent. Enough to force you into making a conscious effort to lean towards a more positive mindset.

“We’ll be fine,”  You repeated his words, drawing out a small smile from him as he leaned his forehead against yours.

——————————

masterlist

got a block halfway through so the ending is a bit shitty 😭😭

[yuvany]

CHRITSMAS TREE SHOPPING // ENHYPEN

OT7 ENHYPEN x f !reader contains : est relationship + not ptoofread // no cw !! 𝐰𝐜: 1.2k

─── ( on point ) this is promt nr.12 for @cupidhoons seaon of romance event !! such a fun idea and I enjoyed writing this a lot.

NOTE : finally back and posting... enjoy ? I hope

reblogs are always appreciated !!

𝗟𝗘𝗘 𝗛𝗘𝗘𝗦𝗘𝗨𝗡𝗚

going shopping with him sometimes felt more like a task, especially when it was time for holidays. Heeseung becomes competative and fierce because if he really wants something, he'll fight for it - even when you're his girlfriend. On the walk over to the christmas tree market, you could feel the intensity radiating off him, and you start to get worried, because well, it's only a tree, right? Wrong. "What tree do you wanna get?" You ask your boyfriend who was holding your hand in his that was cosily in his pocket. "I really want a classic green, and you, babe?" He asked, and you felt his eyes on you. "I wanna try white one this year!" Upon hearing that, Heeseung purses his lips. "White?" "yes! have you not seen those pinterest posts?" At this point, the two of you have stopped walking, and were blocking the way, going back and forth on what colour was the best. "Will you agree if I give you a kiss?" you say at least, and he replies, "One won't be enough. How about a hundred more, mm?"

𝗣𝗔𝗥𝗞 𝗝𝗢𝗡𝗚𝗦𝗘𝗢𝗡𝗚

Jay doesn't seem like the type to be very picky when it comes to choosing stuff, he only wanted to know what you were interested in. "Have any plans for Christmas?" He asked you, walking beside you on the side walk that hardly looked any different from the road where cars drove by, their window swipers shoving the snow away from the glass. "Actually, no idea." Jay sweats, because what are two clueless lovers supposed to do in a market? "What do you think?" You asked your boyfriend, He clears his throat and pullls out his phone. This motivates you to continue picking on him the whole walk there. "I don't know either, babe." He admits at last. "We gotta YOLO it I suppose, let's hurry, I wanna look at the trees!" You say and pull him behind you. Even though you didn't know what you wanted to buy, you somehow knew what you did not like. "This one is pretty." Jay said, pointing at a dark green coloured one. "we for sure have different tastes." You comment with a scowl.

𝗦𝗜𝗠 𝗝𝗔𝗘𝗬𝗨𝗡

Jake wants to find the perfect christmas tree, a tree where he can place all the presents he had bought for you. The market was filled with trees ranging of different heights and colours, you did not really care what tree you guys would carry home at the end of the day, but Jake was running around the place with you on his tail. "babe, calm down!" You call out, your legs almost giving up on you. "Hurry! look at that one!" He says, stopping only to tell you to keep up with him. You heave a sigh and stomp your feet, frustrated. "c'mon..." Jake moops, his palms on your shoulders. "Just pick a tree, you're not an expert." You groan, and Jake shakes his head. "But we need to find the perfect tree. I'm not leaving until we find the one." "Just pick any one, the decorations will make the tree pretty." You argue, your head finding his chest as exhaustion catches up to you.

𝙋𝘼𝙍𝙆 𝙎𝙐𝙉𝙂𝙃𝙊𝙊𝙉

It's been hours of walking around the place, and the both of you could not agree on one tree that the both of you found pretty. At first he said he didn't care, but gradually he revealed his real demeanour. "But you said I could pick whichever one!" You whine, and Sunghoon shoves his hands into his pockets cluelessly. "What do you mean, sweetie? I did not say that." Sunghoon lied. You shake your head at his words, feeling betrayed by the one you thought you could trust the most. "It's just a tree, hoonie, and you can't take back a promise. We pinky promised." Sunghoon remembers this vividly and winces as he tries to make an excuse, but he can't find one that'll satisfy the both of you. "Sure, go ahead. I did promise you, lovely." He walks towards you and wraps an arm around your shoulders. "Do you really want this brown, poop-coloured tree?" "I was actualy joking with you." You admit.

𝗞𝗜𝗠 𝗦𝗨𝗡𝗢𝗢

Sunoo is a perfectionist, but he also loves you. You had walked up to a classic tree that had that traditional musky colour, the scent of freshly cut wood and the aroma of chirstmas making its way through the market. Something classic could never go wrong, right? That's what you thought at least until you look over your shoulder to get Sunoo's opinion. Upon the sight of his raised eyebrow, crossed arms as he tapped his boot against the thinly covered ground, you start to second guess. "Babe, what do you think of this?" You ask with hesitation. He lets out a hum, "It's alright, I suppose." You shurg his reaction off, and turn to look to the next tree due to his reaction. He sees this, and gets ahold of your shoulder. "Why did you continue looking? Didn't you want this one?" He asks, and you shrug. "I mean, it didn't seem like you liked it." You explained. "I mean, as long as I get to decorate it, I'm fine with anything." Sunoo reassures, and you chuckle.

𝗬𝗔𝗡𝗚 𝗝𝗨𝗡𝗚𝗪𝗢𝗡

He could not care less about what tree would be carried home that eveing, he just wanted to tease you. Whenever you suggested a tree, he'd turn down the option. It came to the point where you were pointing at every christmas tree that you passed and he'd still shake his head.Your legs began to get tired and you stood in place in front of a classic short tree and pointed at it. "What about this one then?" You asked him with an eyebrow cocked upwards. Jungwon had his fingers around his chin as he was mocking a stance deep in thought. "Are you sure about this one?" He asked. "Goodness, this is the last one in this place and the one you haven't said no to. Go pick one for yourself." You sighed and Jungwon combed his hair back upon seeing your tired state. "babe, I was just teasing, get whichever one you want and decoration, and I'll pay." He offers with a hand cupping your cheek.

𝗡𝗜𝗦𝗛𝗜𝗠𝗨𝗥𝗔 𝗥𝗜𝗞𝗜

"What do you think of this one?" you asked, trying to find at least one tree that the two of you could agree on. "Can't you see that it has too many branches?" Riki judges, and you can't believe how childish he is being. "That one is the perfect one," he continues, pointing at a tree in the distance. "Are you really sure, because I find that it is very ugly. no offence." You sass, looking at the too tall tree. You feel his sharp gaze judge you, but you only giggle at this, knowing you managed to tick him off. "So... what do you wanna do?" You asked him, nudging your shoulder with his. "Obviously that tree." Riki looks over at the one he was insisiting on bringing home. "Lets settle this with rock paper scissor." You challenged him, and he eagerly nodded. "Rock, paper scissor..." He counted down, and you played a paper, and he did a scissor, resulting in his victory. "You were just lucky this time." You sulk.

TAGLIST : @dollyhoon @itjengirl @saeivra @orimuraa @pshwrldd

[realcube]

dilf december

day twenty-one ⭑ doppo kunikida ⭑ naughty list ?!

tw: nsfw minors dni, sexting, heavy implact play and degradation

everything is so boring when you are home alone.

workload at the ADA suprisingly seems to surge around the holiday season, meaning kunikida has to stick around at the office for longer, leaving you in the house all alone, with nothing to do. the place was spotless, since you had already done every chore conceivable. as for preparing dinner, it made more sense to begin once kunikida messaged you saying that he was on his way home, that way it will be nice and hot upon his arrival.

hence that left you with an hour, in which you had nothing to do but mope around. of course you had sources of entertainment in your home, like a tv and a console, but neither really called to you.

however, the messenger app on your phone did.

you rushed to your shared bedroom and spent the an hour throwing on different sets of lignerie and negligees you owned, posing for all sorts of seductive photos in the full length mirror. each position you took was even more raunchy and revealing than the prior. some were silly and light-hearted, while others were intense and could believably be found on the cover of a porn mag.

and you recklessly sent image after image after image, not thinking much of it. you assumed that his phone would be on silent during office hours, then he would be in for a little treat when he clocked out, but you couldn't have been more wrong.

you realise your mistake when your husband comes storming in to the house. while leaning against the bannister of the staircase in the foyer, you attempt to welcome him home in a seductive manner — dressed in a see-through gossamer negligee — but he is entirely dismissive of you; focussed on the removal of his jacket and neatly hanging it up on the coat rack, not paying your lewd antics any mind.

once he has completed all his routine duties upon entering the house — such as taking off his shoes and placing his work bag aside — the air in the room turns cold as his piercing stare finally lands upon your scantily clad form.

he storms towards you with an unwaveringly cruel glint in his eye, and before you have a moment to react, he scoops you up in his arm and hauls you upstairs to your shared bedroom.

"kunikida! what're you doing?" you yelp, not bothering to struggle against his strong grasp. he's quite strong so he is able to pick you up with a single arm, carrying you under his arm and hauling you to the bedroom in a similar fashion to the way a farmer would carry a chicken.

"what are you doing, is the better question." he corrects sternly, in the displeased and aggravated tone that you know all too well, "sending me all those lewd photographs while you knew i was at work."

clearly you have sent him on a tirade, so once you finally arrive at the bedroom and he carelessly throws you onto the bed, you know better than to argue and simply listen, innocently gazing up at him through your lashes to hopefully soften the blow.

"i see you are messaging me so i open my phone — thinking it was an emergency — but no, your entire nude body is now covering my screen! you're lucky i was in my office, what if i was in a meeting and other people saw that?" he huffs, pacing back and forth across the length of the bedroom, yelling out into the emptiness of the room opposed to directly at you. though he would shoot you the occassional pointed glare. "not only that, but know that i've seen the images, i have to conceal my, uh, feelings towards them. i couldn't get up out of my office chair for half an hour, (y/n)!"

you fail to quell a snicker at the thought of kunikida being chair-bound due to a boner, which causes him to halt in his tracks and stare at you with a dumbfounded expression. "is this funny to you?" he asks, deadpan.

before you can even open your mouth to croak out a response, kunikida hastily approaches you on the bed, harshly grabbing at your thigh, "because it's not. you should know better than to send me such depraved images during work hours, but you clearly you need a reminder." he tells you through gritted teeth. then, he uses his grip on your thigh to flip you over, so you are lay on your stomach, and pull you down so you are bent over the edge of bed; with your stomach flat against the sheets and your legs hanging off the side.

he runs his big hand over the flesh off your ass, which is stuck out all pretty for him and is partially veiled under the gossamer of your negligee, but mostly on display, especially once kunikida has pushed the fabric aside as he caressed your ass.

his fingers then begin to explore between your folds, barely inhibited by the embarrassingly thin string of your thong. the rough pads of his fingers rub lazy circles over your soaked labia and clit. "so wet already.." a precise balance of fast and slow to make you squirm yet desperate for more stimulation, which he would happily deny as he pull his hand away from your cunt, licking his fingers clean.

"when did you become such a slut?" he spits, his palm making firm with your ass he does so. the loud 'slap' noise resonating throughout the room, shortly followed by your incoherent whimpers and sobs that you feebly try to choke back.

"please.." you whine, knuckles paling as you grip the cotton covers, "i won't do it again."

"yes, you will." he says defnitively, "because you're just a little attention whore." his sentence is puntuated with another hard slap on the ass, provoking a guttural gasp from you as a reaction to the painful impact.

"you'll do anything for me to play with this needy pussy, huh?" he asks while using the heel of his hand to carelessly rub your folds for a moment, then immediately slap your cunt afterwards, sending electric jolts of pleasure and pain up your spine and through your stomach.

"so here is all the attention you so desperately need." another spank hits your ass; the sting causes you to wince and moan in response.

"that feel good, princess?" he asks, mostly sardonically, his relentless hand spanking your ass repeatedly, each time more brutual than the last, surely searing a burning handprint into your skin. it hurt more each time, hinted at by your quiet whimpers and mewls. but also your pussy would spit out more arousal with each intense impact, which gave mixed signals.

you had lost count of the amount of spanks before he eventually paused, stroking your aching cheeks as he idled, "i asked you a question."

previously you were unable to answer the question because you were preoccupied with choking out faint pleas and cries, but now that he has halted his ruthless attack on your ass, you are able to stutter, "it felt good, sweetie." your face is consumed by the heat of the covers which you bury yourself into.

"good.." he muses, continuing to gently caress your sore skin, "you know i only do this because i care. so much. i could never ignore a message that you send me; i worry far too much about you to do that, so i have to view it. and if i open it in front of my co-workers, i would hate it if they saw something meant for my eyes only. understand, sweetheart?"

"mhm.." you hum. pleased with the kind and relaxed way he was speaking to you, but his change in tone was so sudden that it could've gave you whiplash. not that you were complaining.

"i enjoyed the photos. you are so gorgeous, (y/n). don't stop taking them." he softly squeezes the fat of your thigh and asks, "does it hurt badly?"

"kinda." you reply timidly.

he bends over and plants a kiss your ass, peppering them over your warm skin before straightening himself. "i'll be gentler next time." his hand wanders from your ass, down between your thighs to carefully poke at your clit, "now, let's take care of my needy girl.."

[clarkeyhill]

English Love Affair |George Clarke

Smut. Fluff

The second day in London had been a whirlwind of sights, sounds, and the kind of quiet exhaustion that comes from trying to soak up a new city in a short time. By the evening, though, I felt rejuvenated—excited, even. Max and Andrew had invited me to a bar, promising good drinks, great company, and a chance to unwind. It sounded perfect.

When I arrived, the bar was already buzzing, its dim lighting and low hum of conversation wrapping around me like a warm blanket. Max waved me over enthusiastically, Andrew grinning beside him. With them was—George.

He stood out immediately, not just because of his dark, fitted jacket or the way he seemed to command attention without trying. It was his aura. There was a quiet openness to him, like he was unafraid of being seen for who he was, yet something about him remained distant, guarded. His voice carried a calm dominance, each word weighted with intent.

We exchanged introductions, and he gave me a small, knowing smile that sent a jolt through me. It wasn’t flirtatious, not exactly. It was something else entirely, something I couldn’t quite place.

The first round of cocktails came quickly, and we fell into easy conversation. Max and Andrew were their usual lively selves, recounting old stories and poking fun at each other. George was quieter but sharp, his occasional interjections landing with precision. He seemed content to let the others talk, his eyes lingering on me more often than not.

As the night progressed, the drinks flowed, and so did the laughter. But somewhere along the line, George’s demeanor shifted. His laid-back calm gave way to something more intense, more present. When I stood to go to the bar for another drink, he was suddenly beside me.

“I’ll get it,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

I blinked at him, taken aback. “Oh, it’s fine, really. I can—”

“I insist,” he said, and there it was again—that sense of quiet dominance. Before I could protest further, he was placing the order, his body angled just slightly between me and the rest of the bar.

When we returned to the table, I noticed it wasn’t just me who had picked up on the shift. Max raised an eyebrow at George as he slid my drink in front of me. Andrew exchanged a look with him that was part confusion, part concern.

The moments that followed only heightened their curiosity. George seemed hyper-aware of my every move, his eyes scanning the room whenever someone got too close or lingered too long. At one point, a man bumped into me on his way to the bar, and before I could even react, George stepped in, his tone cold and clipped as he told the man to watch where he was going.

Max and Andrew weren’t subtle about their skepticism.

“Alright, George, what’s the deal?” Max asked, leaning back in his chair. “You’ve known her for what? Not even 24hours whats with the whole bodyguard act?"

Andrew nodded, his gaze flicking between George and me. “Yeah, mate, it’s a bit much. You’re acting like she's your… I don’t know, responsibility or something.”

George’s jaw tightened, and for a moment, I thought he might brush it off. But then he looked at me, his eyes softer now, almost apologetic.

“I’m sorry if I’m coming on too strong,” he said, his voice low. “I just… I don’t like the idea of anything happening to you. London can be unpredictable.”

It was a strange answer, vague yet loaded. Max and Andrew still didn’t seem convinced, exchanging another look. I felt their concern, but I also couldn’t ignore the strange pull I felt toward George.

He was acting like he had some claim over me, and while a part of me bristled at the notion, another part—one I wasn’t ready to examine too closely—didn’t entirely mind. There was something undeniably magnetic about him, something that made me feel both protected and exposed in ways I hadn’t expected.

As the night wore on, Max and Andrew continued to watch him carefully, their protectiveness of me now matching his. And George, for all his guarded nature, seemed almost… possessive. It was disarming, intoxicating, and confusing all at once.

When we finally stepped out into the cool London air, George offered to walk me back to my hotel. Max and Andrew hesitated. But I found myself agreeing, curiosity and something deeper urging me to see where this strange night might lead.

As we walked, the city quiet around us, George’s earlier intensity seemed to fade. He spoke more freely now, his voice gentler, though still carrying that undercurrent of control.

“Tonight… I might’ve overstepped,” he admitted, glancing at me. “But there’s something about you. I don’t know what it is yet, but it’s there.”

I didn’t know what to say. His words were bold, startling, and yet they resonated in a way I couldn’t deny.

The night had started as a simple outing with friends, but it had turned into something else entirely—something charged, unexpected, and impossible to forget. As I reached the door of my hotel, I couldn’t help but wonder what the rest of my time in London would bring—and whether George would be part of it.

[t1redang3l-xo]

Guys idk when this sudden hyperfixation on mha and dabi specifically started but here we are :/

Also Ive never written Dabi before and this is not proofread so I'm sorry if he's a little ooc I love him a lot guys :)

(Yan!)Dabi x reader

TW!!! Adult themes so MDNI, mentions of blood and wounds(not reader), unhealthy coping mechanisms, dark content, um.. kidnapping?, mean dabi, afab!reader, toxic behavior (not reader), mild suggestive themes, he is literally obsessed with reader, he loves you but he's not very good at expressing his feelings, yandere!dabi, stockholm syndrome!reader because I said so, also some minor reader descriptions mainly just about height and stature though, also I do not condone any of what is written here please do not do these things !!

You knew that walking home alone at night was not a good idea, but the busses weren't running, all your friends were all too drunk to drive and so were you. You'd heard the stories about the girls going missing before, you just never thought it'd happen to you.

And now you were sitting in a cold, dirty, empty room, your hands and feet were tied and they're was a rope (suck to what you could only assume was a collar) keeping you tired to some object that was embedded in the wall, and to make matters worse you were also gagged and blindfolded so you had no idea where you were or how you got there. Stuck in your tiny dress and heels you decided to wear to the club you were beginning to get really cold and couldn't stop the shivering, you could feel that you were sat on an old worn out mattress with a small blanket on it but your hands were quite literally tied so you couldn't cover yourself.

Going over what had happened in your head you realized you likely passed out not lond after your fourth shot, when you'd stepped outside to get some air because you felt really wobbly and suddenly super tired so you'd stepped out bag in hand so you could smoke a cigarette, naively thinking that would help, but next thing you knew you had woken up here, unable to move, see, or do anything. The only explanation was that you were drugged. To say you were scared was a bit of any understatement. You didn't know where you were, you could see or do anything. For all you knew this building you were in could be in the middle of nowhere, so there was a chance that even if you screamed until your throat bled nobody would hear you. Not even your quirk could help you, all you really could do with it was heal yourself and those you touched, not very useful in a hostage situation, especially considering you were the hostage.

All you could really do was bide your time until your captor, whoever they may be, came back for you. Surely they didn't go through the trouble of kidnapping you just to leave you here. So that's exactly what you did, you waited. And you waited. And you waited. You waited for what felt like hours, probably because you had no way of paying the time. Eventually, though, you heard a door in another room open and shut, and footsteps that seemed to get closer and closer, every step this kidnapper took seemed to take an eternity to get to the next one, until finally they stopped outside the door to the room you were being kept in. Oh your heart was pounding so hard, you had no idea what to expect, being kept in the dark(literally and figuratively) was something you absolutely hated.

The door was opening and your heart rate picked up even further. Your kidnapper walked in and closed the door behind them, as he walked closer to you you could tell by the weight and rhythm of his footsteps that he was definitely a man. He stopped right in front of you, crouching to meet you where you were, on that old dirty mattress on the ground. He took the blindfold off of you and before your eyes could adjust to get a good look at him he stood up and walked over to an old rusty fireplace on the other side of the room. Using his quirk he set it ablaze, seeing the flames turn a bright and intense blue you had to hold back a gasp, immediately recognizing that if you tried to fight him you'd be burnt to a crisp. In that moment you decided that fighting was not a viable option, you'd just have to be the perfect prisoner until the right moment to escape arose.

You stared at him as he stood, staring at the fire. He only looked at it for a moment before speaking up. "I know you won't recognize me. It's been.. far too long. However I still recognize you, y/n." You were even more screed now, how did he know your name? How much more did he know about you? So many thoughts raced through your head but he probably already knew that you were trying to recognize him, trying to see if you could remember him, so he cut off those panicked thoughts. "You can call me Dabi now." He turned to face you finally, the first thing you saw were his scars, and there were so many and they were so big too. Just what had happened to him? In your current state you found yourself feeling just the slightest bit sorry for this man, even though he'd kidnapped you, and you still had no idea who he was. You wanted to speak but he'd never taken the gag out of your mouth, so whatever you'd wanted to say died on your tongue before it'd ever see the light of day.

The man you now knew as Dabi, walked closer to you, he walked slow like he wasn't in a rush, like he had all the time in the world. Once he reached you he sat in front of you on a stool next to the bed(if you could even call it a bed, this mattress was really falling apart). He pulled the blanket over your legs, he didn't want you catching hypothermia and dying on him after all. "I wish I could've brought you some place nicer for our first time together as adults. But right now, I just don't have much of anything really." He spoke so matter-of-factly, but his words left you confused, did you actually know him from somewhere from your childhood? If you did he looked so different now that you'd never recognize him. You tried to ask who he was but all the sound that came from you were just mere muffled noises due to the cloth wrapped around your head keeping you gagged. "I know, I know. You have questions, but I need to keep that pretty little mouth of yours quiet until I can trust that you won't do anything stupid." He let out a long dramatic, yet playful, sigh and dragged his fingers through his dark hair before he continued on, "You always have been a little dumb and ditzy haven't you?"

He was laughing at you. This man was really rubbing salt in the wound he'd inflicted. Mocking you for falling into his trap. It made you want to cry, you hadn't really done anything wrong and now you were here. You felt like you were really all alone.

Well except for him.

As time passed by you realized that he didnt seem to want hurt you, for most of the days he just talked to you, sat with you, held you often. Sometimes when he was in a good mood he'd take you gag out and adjust the restraints so you were more comfortable. Yeah he could be kind of mean when you cried too much or questioned him too often or ever said anything stupid, but for a kidnapper he wasn't that bad. You've heard of cases that were far worse than yours. Over time he gave you more and more freedoms, but he never let you leave his sight if he was with you and if he wasn't you'd be restrained again, gagged and blindfolded. He often told you he loved you and that he needed you, and how after all your time apart he felt complete to have you again and he couldn't let you go, not again. He never said anything more about your past together though, leaving you silently taking your brain to try and remember him. It was almost as if he didn't want you to remember the old him.

Eventually he'd put locks and boards on the windows and made sure every door in the building had at least three separate locks on each one, just so he could let you move around a little, considering how good you'd been for him. You don't know how long you've been here, maybe a few weeks or maybe a few months? It was hard to tell. But you didn't have much strength anymore, he didn't feed you very much, you did eat at least once a day but not enough to maintain your body weight, you've definitely lost a few pounds, so in turn your energy levels also depleted. Likely also part of his plan to keep you where you were. He wasn't so cruel as to starve you to death, however, so he did make sure to feed you.

One day when he came back from wherever it is that he goes to he was angry, he was walking really loudly, slamming doors and cussing throughout the place you were both in and it made your heart race, you'd never seen Dabi angry before.

He walked into the room you were in and slammed the door behind him. Your hands were tied up behind your back and your ankles tied together, gag in mouth but no blindfold this time.

You tried to keep your eyes off him, out of fear of upsetting him, he hated in when you stared at him.

Making yourself as small as you could, you looked down at your legs, avoiding any and all eye contact. He shot his fire into the fireplace with somewhat if a disregard, the walls and floor around it turning black with ash. The smell of burnt paint and ask filed your senses and you stole a glance at him, wanting to see what had happened. He was breathing heavily, chest heaving up and down as he gripped his hair. It looked like he was really struggling with something, you almost wanted to comfort him. You were kind in nature and it seems as though that's become your downfall. You don't look at this man who kidnapped you and see a criminal, you don't see a villain, you don't see evil.

You see someone who needs help, who needs love, and care.

Deep down you knew that was a dangerous mentality and it's likely what got you here in the first place but you just couldn't help it. You hated seeing people in pain, hurting. It hurt you when others were hurt. It probably has something to do with your quirk. As your eyes moved from the burnt walls and floors to Dabi himself. As you looked at him you noticed a huge gash in his abdomen and he was bleeding a lot, blood was dripping his side.

You wanted to heal him but you were tied up for him. He'd rather you not move about when he'd not hear, he fears you'll leave him and in his mind he won't make it another day if lost you again.

On the rare occasion when Dabi was allowed outside to play when he was a child, he was at a park and happened to meet you, little you. He remembered exactly how small and kind you were, how happy he always felt when the little kid versions of you two played together. That's when the infatuation- no, the obsession with you started. In the turmoil that was his youth your rare playdates at the park were the light in his life, he didn't look forward to much else, with all the abuse and neglect from his father. Until one day he got seriously burned, which is what caused him to look the way he does now. First it was abuse, next he nearly died, finally he was neglected and forgotten about by his whole family and since then, he'd disappeared. His only regret, not finding you first.

But now he'd found you, he has you. You are his. In his mind he owns you. And he'll never let you go again. But now that things were finally starting to go well for him he ran into his asshole father out in the street and it pissed him off, the thought of know he has you here, at home waiting for him was now the only thing holding him together. He was thinking about how he'd use you and your abilities to, quite literally, hold him together. He needed you, he needed you to heal him, yes. But he also needed to feel you. He needed to feel you so bad. He'd been holding back for your sake, he wants you to want him. But he's also growing impatient, especially with the situation with endeavor he needed a release so bad, if you didn't start to want him soon he was going to get desperate. But little did he know he'd get lucky tonight. In more ways than one.

Slowly he tried to calm himself, just a bit for your sake. Once he wasn't so panicked he started walking over to you, when he got there he crouched and removed your gag and started untying you. "Let me heal you Dabi, I can help you!" You nearly yelled it at him, you had caught him off guard. This was exactly the reaction he'd needed from you, he'd been waiting for you to want to help him, to want him. And it looked like you were finally getting there. Fully removing the ropes from your legs and then your hands he looked up at you, it was like he was looking for something, he was being cautious, he was looking for any sign of you lying but your eyes were crying you, you looked worried, for him. "Okay." It was almost silent, that's how quiet he spoke. He moved so you could see his wound, it was really bad. Like you were apprised he was still standing.

Leaning down you gently raised his shirt to get better access to the damaged area. Putting your bare hands to his wounds, this was the first time you've seen him like this and the sight of him trusting you made you blush ever so slightly. You were glad it was dark. You'd never admit it before but after spending all this time with Dabi you honestly started to like him, you starting to find him really attractive. And seeing his chest and abdomen exposed like this was making you feel things, things that left you getting very conflicted.

On one hand he literally kidnapped you and is keeping you locked up in this cold empty building. But on the other hand you've begun to really like him, you've begun to want him. When he doesn't notice you've started to look at him the way he looks at you after a long day, full of want and hunger. So you healed him. You treated his wounds. You comforted him as you healed him until he was better. You were wearing that little dress you wore when he found you, he loves seeing you in it so he made you wear it often. You were so focused on healing him and your own conflicted feelings that you failed to notice him looking at you. His gaze might as well be glued to your thighs and tits the way they squished together in your tight little dress made his head spin, he wanted you so bad.

With the hand opposite his wounds he reached over and grabbed your thigh, he didn't grab so hard it hurt but he made sure you knew where his hands were. You jumped a little at the sudden contact, but tried to ignore it as you focused on his injuries. That proved difficult the way his fingers slowly inched up your though closer and close and closer.

By the time you were done healing him there were butterflies in your tummy from the way he touched you, one hand on your upper inner thigh, the other on the curve of your neck and jaw. You could feel him starting at your body and suddenly you felt a little exposed, shifting where you sat. Moving his left hand to the back of your neck and his right to the small of your back he quickly leaned in and pressed his lips against yours, he seemed like he hadn't wanted anything more in his life. Like he needed you more than he needed oxygen. His hands roamed around your body roughly as he kissed you and that was when you realized that this would be a very long night.

[ikkyfics]

Vows

James Potter x fem!reader

Summary: “Writing these vows. It’s an impossible task. How can I put everything I feel for you into words? There aren’t enough. I start writing and everything sounds... small, you know? How do I sum up you?”

Warnings: none

Part of 3 Marry Me

Masterlist

James was sitting in the armchair near the window, the late afternoon sun casting a golden glow on his dark hair. He had a parchment in front of him, partially scribbled on, but most of the words were crossed out or abandoned at random. His quill spun awkwardly between his fingers as he looked at you across the room.

You were curled up on the sofa with a book, but he had no idea what the title was. For James, the sight of you, your forehead slightly furrowed in concentration, the way your fingers slid along the edge of the page before turning it, and the way the corner of your mouth curled, as if savoring each word, was simply mesmerizing.

“This is impossible,” he murmured to himself, but loud enough for you to hear.

You looked up, confused. “What’s wrong?”

James let out a dramatic sigh, dropping the quill onto the parchment and sinking deeper into the armchair. “Writing these vows. It’s an impossible task.”

You tilted your head, a smile starting to play on your lips. “Why? I thought you were great with words.”

He laughed, messing up his already wild hair, his glasses slipping a bit down his nose. “Normally, yes. But... how can I put everything I feel for you into words? There aren’t enough. I start writing and everything sounds... small, you know? How do I sum up you?”

Your heart tightened, but also warmed with the intensity of his words. Closing the book, you set it aside and moved closer. “Let me see,” you said softly, sitting on the edge of the armchair and picking up the parchment.

He hesitated but handed over the paper with a guilty smile. “Don’t laugh, okay? I swear I tried.”

You scanned your eyes over the scribbled words. There were unfinished sentences, like ‘I promise to love you with everything I am,’ and others with little drawings beside them—hearts, stars, and something that looked like an attempt to draw you, though in a clearly awkward way. You couldn’t help but giggle when you saw one draft where he wrote: ‘I promise never to steal your chocolate, unless you offer.’

“James,” you began, your voice warm with affection, “this is so you.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Is that good or bad?”

“It’s perfect,” you said, looking at him with sincerity. “I don’t want perfect or polished words. I want them to be yours. And this...” you pointed to the clumsy drawing, “is exactly the kind of thing I love about you.”

James smiled, his blue eyes sparkling behind his glasses. He gently pulled you by the waist, making you fall into his lap. “Really? So you won’t complain when I give an entire speech about how beautiful you look when you’re concentrating, or how much I love it when you correct me with that face of ‘James Potter, stop being an idiot.’”

You laughed, the sound light as a melody. “Oh, I will, especially if you say it in front of all the guests.”

“Oh, so I should save it just for us?” He tilted his head, his lips brushing your temple before he kissed you gently.

Your heart melted with the gesture, but you tried to keep the playful tone. “Definitely. And the less you draw, the better.”

“Hey!” He made a mock pout, placing a hand over his heart. “My drawings are full of emotion, you know?”

“They’re full of something, for sure,” you teased, laughing when he pretended to be offended.

“All right, all right,” he said, holding your face in his hands and looking deeply into your eyes. “I may not be good at drawing, but I know exactly what I’m going to say in the vows. I’ll say everything I love about you at the right moment. Every detail, every little thing that makes me think I’m the luckiest guy in the world for being yours.”

You felt tears welling up in your eyes and tried to look away, but he wouldn’t let you. “Hey, no hiding those tears from me,” he whispered, his thumbs gently caressing your cheeks. “They’re beautiful. Just like you.”

Before you could respond, he leaned in and kissed you, slowly and deeply, as if trying to convey everything his words still hadn’t managed. When he pulled away, he rested his forehead against yours, a peaceful smile lighting up his face.

“So, what do you think? Do I still need the vows, or is this enough?”

You laughed, wrapping your arms around his neck. “I think you’ve already said everything.”

James smiled, pulling you closer as if he never wanted to let go. “Great. Now, let’s move on to the second part of the plan: doing nothing but staying like this with you for the rest of the day.”

And at that moment, with the sunlight glowing all around and the sound of your laughter echoing through the room, it felt like the whole world had been reduced to the two of you. And that was more than enough.