#‘He fucked both of us over.’ I offer.

[fanfic-writer-and-rambler]

Batman: Who's that over there?

Nightwing turns around to see Red Hood standing a few feet away from him.

Jason: Hiiiii!

Nightwing: That's Jason... We're cool now.

Jason: Heeey!

Nightwing: He's neat for a brother.

Batman: He's... You're on good terms?

Nightwing: Well... Jason are we on good terms?

Jason: ...Eh, 50/50.

Nightwing: 50/50 there you go. Took sometime, but we've been hanging out and he's a good kid so far. He's neat. Jason I said you're neat.

Jason: ...Aww thanks man!

Batman: The man who killed and tried to kill Joker and attacked you... Is neat?!

Nightwing: Yup, you adopted an 8 year old who watched his parents die in the circus. My brother is a mercenary who likes reading classic literature and was brought back from the dead by the Ghul's tossing him in the Lazarus pit.

Jason: Did you tell him about the pit?!

Nightwing: Yes!

Jason: Nice.

Nightwing: He wanted to come with me for the mission. He promised he won't kill anyone. Right Jason, you won't kill anyone?

Jason: Just a pew pew to the non-kill body parts. Yeah.

Nightwing: Non-lethal shots.

Jason is busy spinning his gun around like a child and dancing ready for the mission.

Batman: He's not coming with us.

Nightwing: He said you can't come!

Jason: But it's been years, we can laugh at the time he threw a batarang at my neck. I'm cool with it! I got a cool scar!

Nightwing: See he's cool with it, he has a cool scar.

Batman: Stop repeating what he says!

Jason: I'm going to come over now!

Batman: Don't walk over here. Don't walk over here.

Jason walks over and stands next to Nightwing.

Jason: All right, let's go.

Batman: Nope. I'm taking Robin and were doing this alone.

Jason: Oh is it still Tim, please be Tim.

Nightwing: You do not like that kid. It's like a hateship with you too.

Jason: Yeah I like messing with him.

Jason follows Batman to the batmobile and looks through the front passenger window then opens the door and yanks Tim (as Red Robin out of the car).

Jason: Your mom says hi.

Tim growls and attempts to swipe at Jason, but Batman holds him back.

Tim: Let me at him! You and me! I will wreck your shit!

Batman: Let it go!

Tim: Come on! I will beat your ass!

Jason: Hey man you ain't got to make empty promises I know you're lying!

Nightwing: Jason.

Jason: I'm done. I'll be waiting in the car. This was fun.

Jason laughs walking back to the car. Nightwing walks over to Batman and Tim and pats Tim on the head.

Nightwing: He's easy going and nicer.

Tim glares at Nightwing then crosses his arms angry.

Nightwing: I'm not doing this with you two he is trying to go on the sort of straight and narrow and he offered to drive so that helps because my car is in the shop. This was the only way that I could bring him since you're being stubborn how's that broken nose healing by the way?

Batman: How's yours?

Nightwing: Didn't break it you can't break perfection. Sorry.

Tim chuckles as Batman holds him. Batman groaned dropping the teen.

Nightwing: After we saved you from Freeze you promised you'd hear him out... And then never showed up to the intervention. I know how you are, being Batman is your job. You will talk during this fucking job if I have to tie you both up and trap you in a fucking saw-type warehouse. Okay? I am at my limit! Starfire notices and that has made the bedroom difficult, you two are going to talk and make up! Got it!

Batman: I-

Nightwing: GOT IT!

Batman: Okay, when this plan fails, just get ready to say I'm right.

Batman walks off. Tim stands up, wiping dirt off his suit.

Tim: I'm not mad at you Nightwing. I hate Jason currently, but I trust your word implicitly.

Nightwing: Thanks Tim that's why I like you.

Tim: Awesome.

Batman: Robin, bring your ass!

Tim: I gotta go, we'll meet you there.

Nightwing: Gotcha.

Nightwing heads back to his as Jason is playing Death Metal.

Jason: Ready?

Nightwing: Yeah he said you can go and that "when the plan fails I better get ready to say he was right".

Jason: Expected. Seat belts on, Dickie. I'm going to be driving fast.

Nightwing (clicking on seatbelt): Expected.

[cuubism]

last year I saw this 1989 Dreamling art by @webonchin, became extremely obsessed with it, pondered and mulled over it for much time, and now ten whole months later I have a fic

--

my kingdom for a kiss upon your shoulder

Chapters: 1/3 Fandom: The Sandman (TV 2022) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Dream of the Endless | Morpheus/Hob Gadling, Dream of the Endless/Hob Gadling Characters: Dream of the Endless | Morpheus, Hob Gadling Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Human, 1989 Hob Gadling and Dream of the Endless | Morpheus Meeting, Musician Dream of the Endless, Stockbroker Hob Gadling, Love at First Sight, Getting Together, New York City, Alternate Universe - 1980s, Queer Themes, Disillusionment, Explicit Sexual Content, Blow Jobs, Anal Sex, Recreational Drug Use, Depression, tfw you meet someone who makes you want to change up your whole life Summary:

Despite Hob's success on Wall Street, life is starting to feel meaningless. Limitless sex, drugs, and money should be endlessly entertaining but instead he's bored, he feels empty, like something's missing.

Something, maybe, like the beautiful, tragic musician he meets at a party, who opens more than one new door in Hob's life--and reawakens the buried longing in his heart.

--

Hob lies on the couch of the crowded apartment he’s found himself in for the evening, head tipped back over the arm. Pounding music thumps distantly around him. Dim lights. Warm bodies moving in blurs. He ignores it all. Picks up his vodka soda from the coffee table and takes a swig. Half of it runs over the side of his mouth instead of into it.

He’s… bored. What’s wrong with him that he’s bored surrounded by as much drugs, sex, and general debauchery as he could possibly want?

But he is. All that climbing for so long and now… he doesn’t know where he is. Why he’s doing any of it. The climb, the growth, was fun for a while. Chasing hunger, chasing more, that was fun. But now he has all of it. Supposedly.

He sighs. Pours the rest of his drink inelegantly into his mouth. If he wants another one he’s going to have to get up. He doesn’t really feel like getting up. He feels like merging himself with the couch instead.

The party spins on around him, as it always does. Not everyone’s feeling as burnt out on sex, drugs, and debauchery as Hob is.

He could go track down some coke, he thinks hazily. Someone here’ll have some. Maybe it would kick his energy back up.

He just feels kind of tired at the thought.

It says something bad about the point he’s reached in life that even cocaine isn’t doing it for him anymore.

“This is very dull,” says a low voice, and a man slumps down beside him, sitting on the floor and leaning back against the couch. He tilts his head back, looking up at Hob. “Do you think so?”

“Yeah,” Hob says, and then does a double take as he catches a proper look at the man.

Christ but he’s gorgeous. Nothing like the men Hob would normally see at a thing like this—nothing like Hob himself—with their fashionable suits, slick hair, slicker smiles. This man is lithe and sprawling, like a wild predator, stark black and white lines, spiky hair, dark makeup, studs flowing down his ears like raindrops. Clever eyes. Long fingers clutching a cocktail that he doesn’t seem particularly interested in.

Hob is instantly fucked.

“I was promised good drugs and better sex and I’m bored on both counts,” the man continues. He takes a sip of his drink, and grimaces.

“That why you’ve come over here?” Hob asks. “Because I looked equally bored?”

“Exactly.” He offers the drink to Hob. “You should try this.”

Hob takes it. It’s… very blue. “What the hell is this?”

“There was a girl working the bar… very drunk. She said she would make me her ‘special potion.’”

That sounds… questionable. Hob takes a sip, and chokes. “Christ.”

“I witnessed her pour in vodka, Prosecco, and tequila. Blue Curaçao—for color, of course. And maraschino cherries.” He plucks one out of the glass by the stem—there are about seven of them total—and eats it.

“What the fuck.” The stuff’s revolting. Hob takes another sip. “That’s alcohol poisoning in a glass.”

“It’s been one of the better parts of the night,” the man says.

Hob returns the glass, and the man tosses more of the drink back, his throat working. Hob’s just drunk enough to not attempt to stop staring like a creep. He wants to ask him if he wants to get out of here, or even just to steal away into one of the many spare bedrooms—it wouldn’t be out of place at a party like this, hell, Hob could drag him into his lap on the fucking couch, everyone’s far too drunk to care—but propositioning this creature for a mere hookup feels like wearing an Italian suit to mud wrestle. What a waste of a perfectly-made thing.

How did something like this wind up at this party?

“Who’d you come in with?” he asks, as the man plucks another cherry from the glass and delicately bites it off the stem.

“Someone who gave me a rather mediocre blowjob after a show,” he says. “I suppose I thought I would find better here, but I was mistaken.”

“Fifty-fifty shot on that, I’d say,” Hob says. Based on personal experience. Sometimes mediocre is good enough. Sometimes sex, regardless of quality, is good enough. For a while it has been. He’s not so sure anymore.

“I dislike betting,” says the man. Then stretches up a limp hand to shake Hob’s. “If we are to commiserate, perhaps names are in order. I am Morpheus.”

Morpheus. What kind of name. Though he had said at a show. A performer of some kind? “Hob,” says Hob, shaking his hand despite the awkward angle.

“Greetings,” says Morpheus solemnly. “You are the first man I’ve met tonight who has not tried to impress me with inanities. I am indebted to you.”

Hob tips his head back against the arm of the couch again with a sigh. “Too tired for bullshit. What’ve people been saying to you, then?”

“I have been taught much,” Morpheus says seriously. “Thrice I have been ‘educated’ on the great promise of ‘mortgage-backed securities.’ The reactions to my disinterest ranged from offense to outright concern for my sanity.”

“I think they were just trying to get in your pants,” Hob tells him.

Morpheus frowns. “The finance lecture was not helping their case. In fact, with each passing minute, I became more aggressively repelled.”

Hob laughs. “You’re on Wall Street, baby,” he says. It comes out kind of slurred. “Only thing more important than the size of a man’s dick is the size of his portfolio.”

Morpheus hums in consideration. “Neither of those has a direct correlation to talent.”

“Try telling them that,” Hob says.

Morpheus sits up straighter against the couch, leaning his head on his arm to study Hob. “I suppose I should ask about yours.”

“You’re too pretty for me to be tacky like that,” Hob says honestly. Maybe he’s a bit more drunk than he thought.

“Am I?” Morpheus seems pleased.

“So pretty.”

“Hmm.” Morpheus rests his cheek on the couch cushion. The tips of his hair brush Hob’s hip. His eyes are so liquid in this light. Hob wonders if he’s hallucinating his existence.

He reaches out, mesmerized, to touch Morpheus’s hair. Morpheus doesn’t stop him. He lets Hob pet him, eyes falling shut. His hair is tacky on the ends with hair spray, but soft underneath.

“I’ll tell you a secret,” Hob says, and Morpheus hums. “All those self-important stockbrokers trying to impress you with their convoluted financial instruments… they just want to hide that it’s all really a scam.”

“Is it now?” says Morpheus. “I was under the assumption it was legal.”

“Something can be a scam and technically legal. Oh, it’s all very clever. But it’s just building money on top of money with nothing real to support it. Kick out the base of the tower and it’ll all go into free fall.” He makes a whistling, falling sound, and Morpheus smirks.

“And I suppose you are better than all this.”

Hob chuckles. “Oh, no. I’m a money-grubbing little vermin, too. Just letting you in on the game. How it’s not so serious.”

“Hmm. I am a musician,” says Morpheus. As Hob figured, then. “I’m afraid it’s as serious as death.”

“Hence the all-black ensemble and the makeup,” Hob says.

“Indeed.”

Hob wants to hear Morpheus play. Or sing, or whatever it is he does. He bets he’d be exquisite. Divine. Hob can imagine those lips pressed to a microphone. Or those long fingers on guitar strings.

“Do you want something more interesting than alcohol?” says Morpheus.

“Why, you still bored?”

“Less and less so.” He pulls from his pocket a small bag of pills and hands it to Hob.

“You brought your own drugs to a party where you were promised drugs?”

“Promises cannot be counted on,” says Morpheus seriously.

“What is it?” Hob asks, then decides he doesn’t care, and takes a pill, chasing it with the watery last drops of his drink, which is a terrible idea, but then, he’s full of them.

“Ketamine,” says Morpheus. Oh, great, Hob thinks. Morpheus takes it back from him and takes a pill himself. “It occasionally makes me feel less like I am going to hurl myself from the balcony.”

He doesn’t seem to be joking. “Good for something, then,” Hob says. “Why do you want to jump off the balcony?” He still has his hand in Morpheus’s hair. He honestly can’t believe he hasn’t propositioned him yet. That’s not like him. These parties are usually only good for quick, casual sex. He even thinks Morpheus would probably agree, and yet.

“The state of things,” says Morpheus. He has such a deep, solemn voice. Hob wants to touch his mouth, or throat maybe. Okay, this is already not going so well. “And the state of my heart.”

Hob pets his hair again. Morpheus leans into the touch. “Writing songs about yearning and angst and stuff isn’t fixing it?” He can well enough guess what Morpheus’s music is probably like.

“No,” says Morpheus. He seems to really think about it. “I think it is making things worse. Perhaps I will try manipulating the financial markets instead. Is that giving you existential fulfillment?”

“There’s only so much money you can make before it starts feeling stupid,” Hob says. Maybe he should just throw all his cash out the window and go live in the woods or something. Carve figurines out of fallen trees. Probably do more good for the world, not that that’s ever been a focus of his. “Maybe it was always stupid.”

“No solution has been found for us yet, then,” says Morpheus. “Would you care to go outside? I find that if you are high enough, the city lights look like stars.”

“You’re not going to jump off the balcony, are you?” Hob asks, suspicious.

“This is not the right locale for my dramatic end.”

Somehow, Hob actually believes him. Morpheus wouldn’t truly kill himself unless it could have the right effect.

Hob levers himself up from the couch. Oh Jesus, now the room is spinning. The pounding music is starting to feel louder, starting to thud through him. Feels good, though. Everything being bright and hazy.

He helps Morpheus to his feet. Leads him, hand in hand, out to the balcony. They lean against the stone wall, looking down at the street, dizzyingly far below, cars poking along like lines of luminescent ants, distant horns crying. Then up, out at the collision of skyscrapers.

Morpheus was right. The lights are spinning and twinkling, just like stars. It reminds Hob of the first time he’d come to New York, when he was looking for adventure, and to get a little rich—or a lot rich—and everything had seemed like it was glowing and buzzing and flying.

The air is clearer up here than down on street level, and Morpheus tips his head up, breathing it in. His throat is so long, his shoulders and collarbone so angular. He looks like he’s been starving. But the stud in his ear at least looks from afar like a real ruby. Intentional, then, to be skin and bones.

“I think I am tired,” he admits, still looking up at the sky. “Do you know that… all I had ever wanted was for someone to like my music. And now I have that and it has not fixed anything.”

Hob takes his arm and pulls him close. He’s feeling very touchy-feely now, which could be the drugs but could also just be Morpheus. He’s so pretty and he looks so sad, and his sadness is beautiful and all the more terrible for that.

“I could kiss it better,” he offers. It’s still not a real proposition. Hob’d just kiss his hand if that’s what he wanted. Or the sharp bone of his sternum under those hanging necklaces. Or kneel at his feet and kiss his thigh—

Christ. Hob’ll be lucky if he survives the night, at this rate.

Morpheus looks at him, eyebrow raised. But Hob must look serious about it, because he says, “Okay.”

So Hob leans in and kisses his cheek. And Morpheus smiles, a bright, truly happy smile, just for a moment.

“Do you wish to dance?” he says. “I do not usually, but I feel I may fall over if I move from this wall without something to hold onto.”

Yeah, the floor is kind of moving. And Hob will certainly not turn down having Morpheus in his arms. “You wanna dance to this shit?”

They’re playing some godawful thumping grating song over the speakers now, and Hob doesn’t think either of them is up to the kind of bouncing thrashing dance that would call for.

“I will sing something different in your ear,” Morpheus says.

So Hob draws him in, wraps his arms around his waist. Morpheus plasters himself to Hob’s body, mouth to the shell of Hob’s ear. He starts humming a low, melancholic song. Hob shivers at the brush of his voice.

They sway together with very little coordination. Eventually Morpheus starts singing, though Hob’s brain isn’t capable at the moment of taking in many of the lyrics. It’s something about longing, and losing things in a terrible fire. Hob presumes it’s one of his songs. Morpheus’s voice is gorgeous, low and hypnotic, and Hob closes his eyes as it rumbles straight through him.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmurs eventually, filled with a sudden tragic pain about it. “Please don’t throw yourself off the balcony.”

Morpheus chuckles. “Another time, perhaps.”

“Never,” Hob says vehemently, and clutches his warm body close. He might cry about it. Fucking drugs. “We should go get food. You’re so fucking bony I think might you die of an overdose if we don’t sop it up. You had that wretched drink, too. Christ.”

“You are worried for me?” says Morpheus, sounding touched.

“Incredibly. Come on.” Hob finally pulls away from him, with chagrin, and takes his hand. “This party’s shit. I’ll take you to get pizza.”

“Pizza,” Morpheus repeats, with a tiny smile. It’s gorgeous on his face. “Very well.”

--

One dollar pizza is one of New York’s greatest inventions, in Hob’s opinion. They find some hole-in-the-wall place barely a block from the apartment building, and stand outside the door, eating incredibly greasy pizza off of paper plates, and it’s fucking heaven. It might be the best pizza Hob’s ever had in his life—granted he’s still very high.

Morpheus is scarfing his down like all pizza on earth is about to be chucked into space. Poor bony thing. Hob just wants to feed him up until he stops looking like a skeletal waif that’s about to drop dead at a cold breeze.

And wants to fuck him, too. Yeah, that’s still there, even with Morpheus licking grease off his fingertips. It’s actually getting worse because of that.

“Told you,” Hob says. “Needed some bread to soak up the fifteen shots in that drink.”

“I think I may throw up,” Morpheus says, with the careful articulation of someone who very well might. “But I am enjoying it nonetheless.”

“Let me know and I’ll find you a bin,” Hob says. He’s had worse nights than puking on the street corner.

“Now I owe you sexual favors in return for this generous meal,” says Morpheus, folding the empty paper plate with surprising precision, considering his enduring level of intoxication, and sliding it into a nearby trash bin.

It says something about Hob’s own level of intoxication that he barely responds to this statement. “Oh, yeah, the whole four dollars of it. What does that get me?”

Morpheus scrunches his nose in thought. “Two kisses,” he decides.

“We’ll save it for after you’ve decided if you’re going to throw up.”

Morpheus giggles. He’s so cute.

Hob tosses his own plate, and takes Morpheus by the arm. “Come on. You can come back with me. I don’t live that far.”

“Ah, now the proposition,” says Morpheus, but doesn’t sound unhappy about it.

“The ‘make sure my new friend doesn’t get hit by a cab effort’, more like, but sure.” He feels kind of responsible for Morpheus now. If Morpheus actually threw himself off a balcony Hob would never forgive himself.

“Friend,” repeats Morpheus, sounding pleased.

“See, isn’t this better?” Hob says.

“Better?”

“You got to eat pizza and didn’t even puke yet, isn’t that better than killing yourself?”

Morpheus huffs. “Quite a dichotomy. If you recall you too stated that you felt your efforts becoming meaningless.”

“Yeah, but I’m not gonna jump out a window about it.”

“Fortitude,” Morpheus says, and it sounds mocking but Hob doesn’t really mind. Maybe it is fortitude, he doesn’t know. Maybe to Morpheus fortitude is gullibility, continuing to play the game when it’s long lost its spark and its reward. Hob likes the game, though.

“What will you do about it, then?” Morpheus asks.

“Dunno.” It’s the first time Hob’s really thought about it. Up until now, it’s been about chasing. Always wanting more. But now— now he’s basically at the top. Where he wanted to be. And... there’s really nothing there at all. “Leave New York, maybe.”

The words surprise him, even as he says them. Midtown is so bright, even at four a.m. It’s something Hob once loved about the area. About the city. But now he’s staring into Morpheus’s darkness. Into the ink stain of his hair against the glowing storefront lights, the sway of his body, graceful even while swimming in dissociation. And everything feels different.

“To go where?” says Morpheus.

“Back to London, maybe.” He has enough money to go anywhere. And yet, it’s hard to feel a particular point to anywhere. Where’d his sense of adventure go? His ambition? Somewhere it all slipped, in the glut of the present.

“I grew up in London,” Morpheus says. “It is too personal there, now.”

So he’s chasing something too. Or running away.

“Tokyo, then,” Hob says, as if Morpheus coming with him is a key part of the decision. “Is’at the furthest city from New York? Gotta be close.”

“It’s Perth,” says Morpheus.

“You’ve looked it up?”

Morpheus nods solemnly. “And from London: Wellington.”

“It’s settled, then,” says Hob.

“I am coming with you?” says Morpheus.

“Course.” Hob’s not going across the world by himself. Not anymore. He bumps his shoulder with Morpheus’s, squeezes his arm where they’re leaning together. “You’re coming with me.”

“We should go further, then,” says Morpheus.

“Antarctica?”

“Mars.”

Hob finds himself giggling, mirth rising in him like champagne bubbles. Morpheus giggles, too. It’s truly a ridiculous sound in his deep voice.

“They don’t have cool jackets on Mars,” Hob says, poking at Morpheus’s studded blazer.

“Ah.” Morpheus frowns. “Maybe not, then.”

That only makes Hob laugh louder, leaning on Morpheus’s arm, and Morpheus sighs, irritated to be made fun of, but doesn’t push him away.

“Come on, I’m here,” Hob says, steering Morpheus into his apartment building as it comes up. They make their way across the lobby and to the elevator bank, only a little unsteady, and then slump against the wall once the elevator doors close.

“I think I am very sleepy,” Morpheus says, tipping his head back against the mirrored wall as they go up, up, up the insanely tall skyscraper Hob’s for some reason chosen to live in.

“You think you are?”

Morpheus squints at the infinite tunnel being created by the opposing mirrors on the walls. It’s dizzying, more so now, when they aren’t exactly sober. He shudders and closes his eyes. “I would have to be connected to my physical form to know for sure.”

Yeah, Hob’s feeling that too. The walls are kind of tipping in at him, which is particularly uncomfortable when they’re mirrored. “I’ll put you to bed, sweetie.” He still really, really wants to bed him, more specifically, but he might also be about to fall over. He’ll rue the missed opportunity in the morning, but it can’t be helped.

“Sweetie,” Morpheus echoes, with vague distaste, and tips his head against Hob’s shoulder.

The doors slide open, and they stumble out into the hall. Hob somehow manages to get his keys in the door and get them inside without dropping Morpheus, who’s now using him to support almost his entire weight, and then gets them into the bedroom.

What follows is a dreamlike whirlwind of undressing, where the floor keeps tipping under him, where he tries to hold Morpheus up as he slips out of his boots and his bloody complicated jacket, his skintight jeans and even tighter shirt, helps take each ring off his slim fingers to leave carefully on the nightstand, and the pendants too, and gives him a t-shirt to sleep in, and Morpheus says, “Wait— I must—” and flees to Hob’s adjoining bathroom to strip off his makeup with some makeup wipes scavenged from Hob’s cabinet, undoubtedly left behind by a prior hookup. The silly thing talks about killing himself but still puts effort into skincare. Hob just shakes his head, then regrets it as it makes the room spin.

He strips down to boxers and undershirt and climbs into bed, because he is actually about to fall over, and soon enough Morpheus stumbles back out and collapses into the sheets beside him. For a moment they just gaze at each other in the dark. Hob means to do something, to kiss him, maybe, claim one of the ones that was promised. But exhaustion claims him first. 

[17020]

TU CORAZÓN ES MÍO — ORQUÍDEAS X WINBRE.

There is absolutely no one like him. All you hear is that young love is nothing more than miserable. With him, though, it's the complete opposite. He is your present and future, going through thick and thin together. Your heart is his, and his heart is yours.

STARRING . . . Ren Kaji, Jo Togame, Toma Hiragi. fem! reader

DICEN QUE EL AMOR EN SU JUVENTUD

SOLO TERMINA EN DOLOR... featuring REN KAJI

Ren Kaji was tired of hearing the same bullshit that came from every old fart's mouth. That young love isn't meant to last, not one bit. Every second spent together will eventually crumble, and it's best to go your separate ways before life itself sets you apart. Right?

Hell fucking no. Ren Kaji was sure that they must have had shitty, unhappy lives, because there was no way he could imagine life without you.

Sure, things were not always a bed of roses. Kaji knew that he wasn't exactly the best type of person to deal with, so he knew that it could take a bit for him to get used to things. And truth be told, he was glad you were patient.

Relationships weren't his strong suit—hell, you were his first one. His inexperience and his temper made it a wild ride, but you were willing to welcome him with open, loving arms. Your embrace made him forget about everything else: no person, comment, or action could come between the two of you. You were inseparable.

His first date, first kiss, first time, you were present in all. The more Kaji spent his days with you, the more he realized how many idiots he had heard say that this wouldn't last. He was determined to prove them wrong.

And he knew that he was being hasty, the way the velvety box slipped from his fingers many times was enough for the world to know that for the first time, Ren Kaji was anxious.

Fresh out of high school, he bolted through the busy streets. His destination? Your home.

Because after a nasty fight, he knew he had to make things right. He couldn't afford to lose you—not now, not ever.

When you heard a knock on your door, what you saw left you speechless. Your boyfriend was absolutely disheveled, with his hair all over his face, his eyes brimming with tears, and an open velvety box in his hand, revealing a thin band with your birthstone.

"I don't give one shit that we're young, but I want you to know that my heart is yours. This ring's all I have for now. Yn, marry me."

WHAT DO THEY KNOW?

THEY'RE MISERABLE, BROKEN, AND ALONE... featuring JO TOGAME

It had to be kept a secret. For both your sakes.

Because if the townspeople were to know that Bofurin's most beloved princess was involved with Shishitoren's second in command, frankly, a war was to take place.

It wasn't as if Togame was a complete asshole, but first impressions were always of upmost importance. And Jo Togame had screwed up by being a douche to Bofurin and falling for someone in enemy territory.

He was running out of excuses.

From having to run errands, being too tired and having to head home early, or even having to go to the bathroom and mysteriously spend hours looking for one, Togame always had a little lie up his sleeve in order to sneak out. It got difficult with time as Choji offered to accompany him in his errands, and Sako questioned him on why his lips were swollen, a red tint smeared across them.

"So, who's the lucky gal?"

"Dunno what you're talking about, I drank beet juice, that's all."

"Does beet juice leave your hair messy and give you hives on your neck?"

Togame chuckled as he raised his hands to his head, patting down his hair in an attempt to fix it. "Don't push it. I'll bring her over when I'm ready."

Sako stared at Togame with wide eyes, seemingly unable to process that he had indeed accurately guessed Togame's secret activities. "It's that serious?" he asked, with his raven haired friend humming in return.

"Best thing to ever happen to me. Keep it on the low, will ya? Don't want this spilling out."

Togame’s secret was well kept until a few weeks later, when he found himself inside a popular restaurant which was the borderline between Bofurin and Shishitoren territory.

And technically, he tried his best to be discreet. The restaurant’s popularity had skyrocketed overnight, which essentially meant he was to be more wary. A cap was on his head, with some dark aviator shades covering his eyes. All that hard work for nothing, as his infamous jacket was still draped over his shoulders.

The ‘disguise’ was worth it, though, as a smile grew on your face from how ridiculous he looked. It was a sign that Jo Togame was willing to go above and beyond in order to make you happy, and you were sure to keep that in mind.

“Jo, aren’t those your friends?”

The look on his face was indescribable. He whooshed his hand in the air in an attempt to call a waiter and ask for a check, and ended up drawing more attention to him.

And there they were, Choji Tomiyama and Kota Sako, making a beeline towards his table, wide eyes and shit eating grins plastered on their faces. Choji was the first to speak up, his hand patting the cap on his friend’s head. “What’s with the look, Kame-chan?”

"Is this the girl you told us about? Wait—isn't she—"

"She is" he sighed, "which is why I wanted things to be lowkey."

Sako looked distressed, his hands stuffed inside his pockets. "Do you know what'll be of us if Bofurin was to find out about this?"

Togame simply smiled in return, intertwining his fingers with yours.

"If Bofurin finds out and has a problem, it means they're miserable, broken, and alone. I love Yn, and I'd to through hell and five steps beyond for her."

A ESTAS CALLES NO VOY A REGRESAR PA NADA

TENGO ALGUIEN QUE ME AMA... featuring TOMA HIRAGI

No matter how many men you met and dated, you never seemed to find yourself comfortable with them. From them being too little or too much, you thought you'd never find the perfect match.

And your best friend Toma Hiragi had the pleasure to hear all about it.

"I mean, the date was horrible!" you exclaimed, running your fingers through your hair. "He spent the whole date on his phone talking to his friends, and when it was time to pay, he expected me to do so! I got so angry I stood up and left him on the spot. Even the waitress supported me!"

Toma sighed as he pinched the bridge of his nose. "And ya went on this blind date because...?"

"Because I want someone who can treat me right, Toma, and so far I've found nothing but assholes."

He loved the way his name rolled so smoothly off your tongue. You were his closest friend, the one he went to for everything. Hearing about your love life mishaps was enough for him to stuff his whole stomach with pills.

"Oh, for fuck's sake..."

"What?"

"Ya know what? Friday. 7pm. Dress nice."

"Why—what for?" you asked, to which Hiragi just facepalmed. "You complain so damn much about assholes, figured I'll just take ya to dinner instead. So, dress nice, and don't make me wait."

As soon as you heard those words, you knew your life was about to change. Because Hiragi doesn't do things for anybody, so for him to ask you to dinner was huge.

It wasn't a one time thing. Each week, you found yourself in various food places and arcades with Hiragi, with his excuse being that 'this was a way for you to shut your trap.' And it worked?

There were no more blind dates, or random hookups. Just Hiragi taking up more and more of your time every day. You couldn't lie to yourself, it felt like heaven.

"Toma, why do you keep taking me places? I don't want you to do it if it's out of pity, y'know. Save your cash."

He shook his head in response, "Save it? I've been waitin' for this since forever ago, ya think I'm gonna waste my chance?"

"What do you mean?"

"My heart's always belonged to ya, stupid. It's about damn time ya know."

taglist (open, yippee!): @stunie @kaiser1ns @nyxypoo @karasuglazer @littleplantfreak @maruflix @heartkaji

[finniestoncrane]

💗 with penguin? from the batman

Farrell!Penguin x Fem!Reader, word count: 750 mmmmmmm yes please anon!! this old romantic??? he'd be aching to tell his partner how he felt about them, but he's a shy boy at heart!! little bit of ozzie losing his calm exterior and accidentally spilling the beans about his devotion while he's balls deep in you coming right up!! 💜🐧 request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: penetrative sex, sweetheart/baby used, daddy!kink, reader has vagina, confessions of love, eeny weeny bit of dirty talk

Any and all fears that you had about what you meant to Oswald seemed pointless in that moment. The worry that you meant nothing more to him than a good, easy fuck at the end of a long day quickly dissipated when his cock was buried inside of you, his large hands holding your body as he rutted into you. You could do a lot worse. And if that was all you were to him, then you were grateful for it.

Who would turn down such a lucrative opportunity? Spoiled when he could, or when you let him. Fucked with the kind of feral attitude you might only find in someone trying to prove something. Given an insight into what life was like for the true rulers in Gotham. Importantly, though, you were also offered respect and care. A little bit of affection when he let his facade drop. The gold glinting grin would slip just a moment every so often, and his eyes would soften as he watched you put your clothes back on, or when you left his office at the lounge.

Sometimes, you let yourself believe that there were words behind the warm smile he offered you. A deeper meaning. You weren't willing to push him though, so you kept your questions to yourself. It was easy enough to do when your lips only opened to take in his cock, his fingers, his tongue, or to let out moans of pleasure and groans of sweet, delicious pain.

Oswald did most of the talking between you both, socially and sexually. As he pummelled into your hips, you watched his lips form the lust-driven rambling from your position on top of his desk. His hands skimmed down your thighs, tracing over the sides of your torso as he spoke.

"Fuck baby, that's it, that's the stuff right there... Let daddy show you... You gonna take it good?... Yeah you know what to do... Cos you're a good girl... My good girl... You're amazing baby doll... God, I-... I uh..."

The sudden pause, the way he almost stuttered, wasn't something you'd seen in him before. He was unsure of himself, of his words, of his intentions. And Oswald was always prepared. Given that the pace had slowed, you caught your breath and used the brief moment of reprieve to check on him.

"Ozzie? You ok?"

"Nah, I'm fine baby, don't worry about it."

He could tell the mood had shifted though. You had a distinct look of concern in your eyes, and he realised that if he held back from you now that he might lose a little bit of trust from you.

The brief pause was over though, and he realised he'd missed the moment. It was too late to say it now, so he tried to bring his focus back to the present, how you felt against him, around him. Maybe now was the time. Maybe he could feel vulnerable, open, honest. Your eyes, staring up at him, concern, genuine feeling behind them, only confirmed to him that this was the right thing to do.

Oswald's finger and thumb gripped at either side of your chin, holding your head in his palm as he redirected your attention to him. It felt like an eternity, his eyes gazing into yours, focused and intense, his cock buried up to the hilt, throbbing against your clenching walls.

"God... I love you, sweetheart."

He couldn't keep it too sweet though. You'd find out how soft he was soon enough, for now, he could be honest, but he felt like he had to remain sexy and confident. So he kept going, hoping that you wouldn't linger too long on his sentiments, trying to lull you back into dazed arousal before you criticised him for his confession.

"I love your skin. I love your mouth."

His pace picked back up, and you could only moan in response to each declaration of affection.

"I love your hands, your body."

You could feel your body tensing, giving way to the control of your orgasm as he continued.

"I love that warm, wet cunt of yours too. Love the way it makes me feel."

Oswald groaned as he let the last world trail out, his fingers digging into your skin where he held you, pulling you down onto his cock. His length pushed into you, bottoming out, up to the hilt, each thrust pressing against your limit as he emphasised each word with the branding of your walls with his cock.

"I. Love. You."

[miyasturniolo]

MULLET | nick sturniolo

pairing: bsf!nick x f!reader

summary: nick needed a haircut but he was impatient and decided to cut it himself, though when you noticed, you offered to help, even though you weren't a professional hairdresser.

warning: fluff (??), stress, use of y/n

a/n: not my photos, on pinterest. no joke but this happened to me before, my friend cut his hair so I had to give him a buzz cut because there was no saving it

WORDS: 1.0k

miyasturniolo on wattpad

you - pink | nick- purple

-

Not long ago, Nick called you in a panic, his voice filled with distress. He said he looked like a failed science experiment, making it difficult for you to understand what he was saying.

Despite thinking he might be overreacting, you agreed to help to whatever he was asking. However, upon arriving, you were still confused about what was going on.

Nick greeted you at the door with his hood up, avoiding eye contact. His demeanour only added to your bewilderment.

As you followed him upstairs to the lounge, he finally confided in you. "Y/n, I've made a massive mistake," Nick admitted as you took off your shoes.

"What have you done?" you asked, meeting his troubled gaze.

With his brothers in their room, unaware of your presence, Nick led you to the bathroom and locked the door so they couldn't come in.

Upon seeing hair scattered around the sink, you raised an eyebrow, studying the mess before turning your attention to Nick.

He pulled back his hood, revealing the haircut he had given himself, which was absolutely terrible. "Oh, shit," you whispered to yourself.

He shot you a glare and ran his hand through his hair, but some pieces of hair he had cut were still stuck in his hair and ended up on his hand.

"Nick... how did this even happen?" you whispered as he let out a frustrated sigh and replied, not too loudly.

"The hairstylist wasn't available for two weeks. I couldn't walk around looking like I had a bird's nest on my head for that long," he said, his eyes on you as he wiped away a tear of frustration.

You gazed at his hair, fighting the urge to laugh. It wasn't the right moment for that.

"Why don't you wash your hair to get rid of the cut pieces and then I can help you fix it properly?" you suggested quietly, making sure he could hear you.

He glares at you for a moment before grabbing the shower head, as you both stand in the bathroom.

You were cleaning hair from the sink, flushing it down the toilet, while Nick leaned over the bathtub to wash his hair.

"You know, you look like such an idiot with your haircutting skills," you tease, a slight smirk playing on your lips. In response, he sprays water at you, then back at his own hair.

Your eyes widen as the lukewarm water soaks into your clothes, feeling colder than expected. He chuckles slightly at his own antics before continuing to wash his hair.

There is a moment of silence as you sit on the counter, and he stands, annoyed at the sight of his hair falling out with the water.

After he finishes, he dries his hair with a towel, clearly frustrated with himself.

He looks at you and says, "I might as well shave my fucking head like I used to, I don't think we can fix this shit haircut." He gestures towards his hair in exasperation.

Even though his hair was wet, you were contemplating how to fix it, but he had already trimmed the sides and snipped randomly around the top of his head.

"Let me give it a shot first, maybe you can pull off a mullet?" you suggest, not fully confident in your skills as a hairstylist, but willing to give it a go.

"You can't even cut a straight line on paper, let alone my hair," he quips, causing you to roll your eyes. "I bet I can do a better job than you," you counter.

He gives you a defiant look and gestures with his hand before handing you the scissors.

You sit on the counter while he stands next to you, leaning in slightly so you can reach his hair more easily.

As you examine his hair, you try to stifle a laugh at how messy it is, especially with it being wet, which only seems to make it worse.

You begin cutting his hair, unsure of where to start, but determined to make some progress despite the initial mess.

"I'm going to record a YouTube video with a bald look. What should I say about it? Oh, I'm back as Eleven?" he says with attitude as you continue cutting his hair into a mullet.

"Nick, maybe trust me on this?" you say, making him stay silent, still annoyed by his actions.

You stay quiet while drying his hair, then grab the shaver and continue working on the sides, piquing his curiosity and prompting him to ask what you're trying to achieve.

"The only real option is a mullet," you say, causing him to raise an eyebrow. "Are you kidding me?" he mutters.

You hum in agreement and turn him around so he's facing you as you continue. "I don't know if I should thank you or not," he says quietly.

You just smile at him before resuming the cutting. Eventually, you finish his hair, and he looks in the mirror.

It definitely looks better than before, but you're not a professional hairstylist, so while your cutting skills are good, you're just unsure about styling it.

He simply smiled and gave you a small hug before tousling your hair a bit to style it into a mullet.

"You did resemble a failed science experiment earlier," you jest, causing him to glance at you in the mirror before playfully tapping the back of your head, though not forcefully.

"I might just trim your hair while you're sleeping and see who ends up looking like the failed science experiment with my haircutting skills," he teases with a smirk.

masterlist! guidelines & information! wattpad! socials!

[wispyxjae]

god intak looks so beefy in the photos he posted today i wanna ride him sO BAD

18+ mdni

beefy intak who knows how down bad you are for his arms. usually he’s shy about these things, but recently he’s been making every effort to show them off in front of you. sends you gym pics out of nowhere for you to ogle over while he's working out. starts offering to lift heavy items for you because he knows it's an excuse to let you stare at his biceps and the veins that decorate his arms.

oh but when he fucks you he’s keen on fucking you in front of the full-sized mirror in your shared room. he’s definitely a big fan of taking you from behind, wrapping his muscled arm around your throat (not tightly, just resting it there) to make sure you’re watching through the mirror. “do you like watching how well i fuck you, baby?” he asks, emphasizing his question with a deep thrust. you gasp in response to both the question and the overwhelming tight feeling in your stomach. you nod as best as you can and watch his lips turn into a smirk as his other hand slides across your stomach to press against it, feeling the subtle bulge from his cock with every thrust that makes the both of your heads spin.

he wouldn't be able to keep his hands off of you while you're riding him either, his calloused fingers trailing along your body. he would love to choke you while you're riding him too (duh). his mouth opens in awe at how fucked out you look while using him to get yourself off. your hands clasp around his forearm where you can feel the strength he puts into restricting your air flow. if your eyes close for a moment too long, he squeezes your throat harder. “keep your eyes on your reflection, pretty,” he mutters. once you do, he lets up and his hands are trailing down to your boobs where he gropes at the flesh and flicks at your hard nipples. honestly would attach his mouth to your boobs too (sorry, he just can't get enough of you), his teeth leaving faint red marks in his path. obsessed with the moans you let out and the way you clench around his length whenever he does something just right.

the moment his hands make their way back to your hips, however, he's using his strength to move you back and forth. the drag of your walls along his cock makes him feel dizzy, grounding himself by putting the energy he has left into getting the both of you closer to your releases. “fuck baby, just like that,” he’s panting. your hands rest on his chest as your legs start to wear out. he’s still moving your hips with his arms and you’re whining at the burning sensation in your thighs, head hanging over his before you move to kiss him hungrily. you're both moaning into the kiss as you cum, your walls impossibly tight around him as he fills you to the brim.

[starrydragoness]

Head empty, no thoughts in terms of any real inspiration but I can absolutely offer my brain worm that is Boothill and beg you to give me anything with him in it!!! 😎👉👉

Like, really

PLEASE I'M STARVING PLEASEPLEASEPL-

A/n: I understand that feeling very well, the brainworms really got to you huh- heigafg Anyhow I hope you enjoy this little short thing of the man Boothill <3 Man I love him

Contents: Boothill x Reader, fem reader, MDNI, 18+ content, eating out (fine dining - you)

Cold fingers make indents in the flesh of your thighs, holding your legs apart while the man between them pulls the lewdest of songs from your mouth using his tongue alone. Boothill was hellbent on showing you just how much he loves you today, and it is not often that he is around for long so he was making due with the time he had. He had you sprawled out on your couch, both legs up in the air where he held them, letting you freely kick when he buried his mouth in your slick heat. 

You’re sure your thighs will have bruises by morning, but the cool feel of his fingers is a soothing sensation, it’s keeping you grounded while his tongue works to make you high on pleasure. There’s no rush in his movement, but there is a need, strong as he is passionate about his love for you and his revenge with the IPC. He is pressing into you like a man desperate to reach air after a long breath hold. 

“Boothill- fuck.. that’s so good..” you are speechless and caught without a coherent word in mind, yet you felt like you’d lose your wits and lose out on the pleasure if you didn’t say something. Boothill’s ears ring with the honey sweet sound of your frail tone, chuckling into your heat, blowing hot air over your skin through his nose before he lifted his head just enough to kiss the insides of your thighs. 

“Ya’ve said that a moment ago, sugar, don’t ya got something new for this starved man?” he taunts, praising your other thigh with his lips as well before letting his teeth meet your soft skin as well. “Or perhaps I should take it for myself, I have ya spread out so nicely before me right now-” he says and kisses your clit, sending a small jolt of pleasure right up through you. 

“Mmm.. ahh, you’re crazy..” you mutter in that small moment of reprieve, to which he simply says “No, darling, you drive me crazy.. been driving me crazy the entire day. Dressed all pretty and fancy, and for who, hm?” he indulges himself in another lick up your folds, adjusting his grip to the back of your thighs and pushing them up towards you some more. Although his tone is lighthearted and warm - poisoned honey - you know he is waiting for you to respond.

“For you, mm!-”

“That’s right, all pretty for me..all dolled up, for me..” he closes his lips around your clit, suckling and licking, making you squeal before he lets go with a deep chuckle before he’s eating you out again at that pace from before, pushing to make you beg for a release.

Ⓒ starrydragoness. Do not repost, translate, edit, and/or copy any of my works. Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated.

[runninriot]

Only Me

written for @steddiesmuttyseptember

week 3 prompts: rough, aftercare | rated: E | wc: 2.737 | tags: sub Eddie Munson, mean dom Steve Harrington, restraints, nipple clamps, impact play, mild degradation kink, established relationship | also on ao3

  “Please! You promised!”

Eddie’s eyes are wet with unshed tears, wide and pleading and so goddamn pretty. He always is when he’s like that. When he’s all tied up and helpless, squirming and writhing. Uselessly tugging at the restraints keeping his arms above his head, beautifully exposed, defenceless and at Steve's mercy.

It’s a sight Steve will never get sick of, will never not feast on – especially when his eyes catch all the signs of love he left on pale skin, all the marks, the claims, the trails of colour painting his boyfriend’s body.

Lust reflecting back at him from Eddie’s strained neck that’s covered in bruises, angry red lines revealing where Steve dragged his nails a little too rough over sensitive skin, remains of a greedy mouth baring its teeth – Steve’s art scattered all over this bare perfection in front of him.

Eddie is everything he never thought he could have, submissively offering himself to be used in every way he knows they both enjoy when they indulge in this dissolute act of love.

It’s his favourite game.

   “Don’t think you’ve earned it, yet,” Steve answers his boyfriend’s feeble attempt to make him relent, to give what he’s so desperate for.

Later, not now. Steve isn’t done playing his wicked games and he knows Eddie can take some more; it would be such a waste to skip this part just because Eddie is a little cock slut, needy for Steve’s dick to stuff him and fill him up.

Eddie jerks when Steve pulls at the clamps biting into his nipples, giving each side a rough tug that must send painful ripples of electric shocks through his body.

   “Ow! Oh fuck, Steve! Please, I can’t-“

His voice cracks, words dissolving into an unintelligible sequence of pitiful sounds when Steve grants himself permission to pull again, harder this time.

   “Did you say something? Couldn’t hear you over your pathetic whining.”

It’s his second favourite part of the game, to provoke and be mean, to remind Eddie who’s in charge and who isn’t, let the little Devil inside him take the lead.

   “Keep complaining and I won’t give you anything,” Steve warns and Eddie tries to comply but seems unable to swallow the needy whimpers that break through his parted lips.

   “I’ll give you what you need. I always take care of you, don’t I?”

Eddie nods weakly.

   “Use your words, baby.”

Steve’s thumbs and fingers linger on either side of the clamps, not pinching, not pulling, just resting there as a silent threat Eddie understands wordlessly.

   “A-always. You always take care of me,” he stammers, voice weak but with certainty in his words because he knows Steve will never not give him what he needs.

It’s wonderful, bad for his already too big ego but a treat nonetheless. To hold such power over someone else makes him feel superior, godlike almost, with the way Eddie bows to him. Perfectly obedient, unless he’s being a brat but even then, Steve never loses the upper hand, knows exactly what to say and do, how to create a scene that fulfills both their needs.

   “Exactly. And that’s why you’re going to stop begging like a needy little whore and let me take my time with you.”

Careful, almost gentle compared to his earlier actions, Steve relieves Eddie from the torment, giving the overstimulated nerves in his nipples a moment to relax, letting him shiver through the lingering pain just long enough for him to catch his breath before he continues the teasing torture.

It’s too inviting, the sight of reddened skin and swollen flesh, so he gives into his sadistic nature and lets his thumbs rub in pretend-soothing circles around the sensitive area.

Eddie cries out for Steve to stop but he doesn’t mean it, not really – he knows what to say when he needs Steve to slow down. So, Steve keeps going unfazed, closing his mouth around one of the hardened buds to suck at it, greedy and rough, until Eddie’s moans turn to soft, defeated little whimpers.

   “Sorry, baby,” Steve says, not feeling sorry at all.

His lips curl into a wicked grin when he notices the tear streaks on Eddie’s face and it fills him with a twisted sense of pride that he’s the one responsible for making his boyfriend cry.

It’s paradox. Steve loves Eddie with all his heart, would never hurt him, wants nothing more than to see him smile. But this right here is different, those tears are good tears, this is the good kind of pain, the one that makes Eddie beg for more.

And beg he does, insistent and impatient, needs something inside to fill the emptiness, his loose hole clenching around nothing now that the plug they’ve used to open him up lies abandoned on the side of the bed. Steve crawls further up between his thighs, can’t bite down a mean laugh when he sees Eddie’s eyes widen, probably thinking he’s finally getting what he’s been asking for. He doesn’t, is the thing, all he gets is Steve’s hardness brushing his skin, leaving a trail of slickness on its way when he leans over him, untying the rope around his wrists.

Slowly, he brings Eddie’s arms down, thumbs rubbing over the faint redness he caused by pulling too hard, fighting against the restraints he specifically had asked for. Steve kisses each wrist before he drops them on either side of Eddie’s body.

   “Kiss me,” he demands, and Eddie complies instantly, lifts his head to capture Steve’s lips with his own.

The kiss is deep but slow, some calm before a storm only Steve knows is coming.

   “Turn around,” Steve commands when they part, voice stern and eyes not leaving Eddie’s, who looks at him with a mix of confused frustration and thrilling excitement.

On his hands and knees, Eddie offers a sight that makes Steve’s cock throb, makes it hard to resist the urge to push inside. To take without warning and finally give in to Eddie’s pleas.

Not yet, though. Eddie’s going to have to earn it. And so does Steve.

The thing about playing with Eddie like this, about taunting him by making him wait and beg and then wait some more, is that Steve, too, had to learn patience and how to maintain control over his own body’s reactions. Not wanting to lose himself too early, not wanting to miss out on the reward of falling together.

Steve places both hands on Eddie’s hips, feeling just a little bit bad for making it seem as if he’s aligning himself with his boyfriend’s ass, hole gaping and ready to take him.

   “Will you fuck me, please?”

Eddie opens his legs some more, hips swaying in Steve’s hold – he’s getting impatient, desperate to be filled.

   “No.” It’s such a small word, two letters that hold so much power because it’s all Steve has to say to make Eddie lose his mind.

Before he can complain, Steve’s hands slide down, grabbing his ass with both hands, fingernails digging into tender flesh and burning skin, digging deep enough to leave marks before letting go completely

Eddie cries out a weak little ‘Oh, fuck!’, voice trembling with anticipation. He knows what’s coming, knows how Steve will make him earn his right to be fucked.

   “Are you gonna be my good little whore?” Steve asks and Eddie answers with a nod and a whimper as he braces himself for what’s to come, no doubt already starting to become headless, always getting a little dumb when Steve degrades him with words.

When he calls him a slut. A toy. A stupid, cock-drunk mess.

Baby or whore, it doesn’t really matter what he calls him; Eddie can be both and Steve can say either with love – they’re interchangeable, mean the same thing in the language they share like a secret code.

The first contact of Steve’s palm with Eddie’s ass is barely more than a hard tap, nothing to really cause pain, only to slightly warm up his cheek. So does the second and third, but before Eddie can ask for more, Steve’s hand sinks down again with a loud smack, making rosy colour bloom on pale skin.

   “Ah! Yes, yes fuck, more please!”

One, two, three, four, five more slaps, each one harder than the one before, Steve’s hand striking down in the rhythm to Eddie’s cries, every hit drawing out another beautiful sound that goes straight to his own dick.

Steve loses count but the angry red colour in the shape of his hands is spurring him on to keep going until Eddie’s moans turn into sobbing.

   “What’s wrong, baby? D’you need me to stop? Or do you want me to go harder? Your choice.” Steve grins, tongue licking over his teeth like a hungry hyena, excitement pulsing in his lower half because he already knows what Eddie’s answer will be.

   “H-harder. Please, Steve. Need it.”

Always so polite, his perfect boy.

How could Steve resist when he’s asking so nicely?

Only when Eddie’s arms give up and he falls face-first into the mattress, does Steve stop. He marvels at the art he created on his boyfriend’s skin, red and hot, burning under his fingertips as he lets them trail over soon-to-be bruises he’ll have to tend to later.

He lifts Eddie’s weakened body up, holds him by his hips and then, finally, pushes the swollen, purple tip of his cock into the waiting heat that’s been yearning to be filled for so long.

Eddie’s back arches beautifully when Steve thrusts deeper, doesn’t need to hold back, not when Eddie is so open and willing to let him in.

And then he fucks him. Hips snapping hard against Eddie’s sore ass, pulling cry after moan after pathetic little whimper out of the other man’s throat. They’re both too deep, too far gone already, won’t last long, not after building up all this tension and pressure and overwhelming neediness. Ready to fall and come and burst at the seams, lose themselves to each other.

   “You should see yourself. Fuck, baby!” Steve’s eyes are transfixed on the place between his thighs where he watches himself sink deeper, watches Eddie’s body welcome him, swallow him, stretch around him so perfectly. “Taking me so well, so good for me. Ah! So tight! Shit.”

Eddie comes first, cock neglected and untouched, spurts all over himself and the sheets, and the noises he makes are what tips Steve over the edge, spilling his release into the depths of Eddie’s body, shaking apart as he rides out his own orgasm.

He watches the mess he made when he pulls out slowly, watches the trail of his own cum trickling out of Eddie’s sloppy hole, can’t help but to push it back where it belongs, pumping two fingers inside with no resistance where he’d just been buried balls-deep.

Beneath him, Eddie bucks his hips, moaning and panting – Steve knows he’s had enough, knows he would still let him play with him for hours more if Steve insisted.

It’s tempting, his greedy inner Devil already rubbing his hands at the thought. He could plug him, make him keep Steve’s cum inside, could make him suck his spent cock until they’re both hard again.

But there’s always time for that later, tomorrow, the day after – Steve’s not going anywhere and neither is Eddie. They’ve got their whole lives ahead of them, enough years still left to be young and reckless.

Eddie deserves a break, deserves to be loved in a gentler way after being so good, so obedient, so perfect.

Groaning, obviously wrung out and exhausted, sore in all kinds of places, Eddie turns to lie on his back, hissing when his ass hits the sheets.

Steve’s beside him, eyes roaming over his boyfriend’s body, taking in the state of him. Come stains on his belly, a sheen of sweat glistening on his skin, his legs still slightly trembling, and his mind probably floating somewhere far away – Eddie is a mess in every sense of the word and Steve is about to make it worse. Just a little. Just as a treat for himself before he’s actually going to take care of his sweet boy.

He leans down, parted lips hovering over stained skin, hot breath tickling his boyfriend’s abdomen.

   “Ste-heeve! Stevie, whatcha doing?” Eddie giggles, sounds high or maybe drunk; drunk on Steve, maybe, wouldn’t that be something?

   “Just wanna give back what belongs to you,” he answers vaguely before darting his tongue out.

Eddie squirms, shaking with laughter that turns into a loud moan when Steve’s tongue trails from his pelvis up to his navel, lapping up Eddie’s cum on its way. When he comes back up so he’s face-to-face with the other man, Eddie is already looking at him with wide, curious eyes.

He nods frantically to answer a question Steve didn’t ask and opens his mouth. Steve pushes two fingers over the waiting tongue spilling over his bottom lip, forcing his jaw to open wider before he lets a string of saliva drip from his mouth to Eddie’s, sharing the taste of his own cum with him. It's filthy and beautiful, makes him feel hot all over, regretting the fact that he can't give him more.

   “Good boy,” he teases, tapping Eddie’s cheek with his spit-coated fingers as he watches his Adam’s apple bob when he swallows Steve’s gift obediently.

Eddie’s eyelids flutter shut, expression soft, and Steve seals his lips with a kiss.

   “God, I can’t believe how perfect you are,” Steve’s heart flips when Eddie opens his eyes again, sparkling, dark, and full of adoration and love.

   “So perfect. All for me, only me.”

   “Only you,” Eddie agrees, says it like it’s a promise and Steve feels overcome with selfish satisfaction at the thought of being the only one who’ll ever get to see him like this. The only one to touch him like that. To love him this way.

   “How are you feeling?”

   “Hmm, perfect. Thank you.”

Eddie sounds sleepy, eyelids heavy and hardly staying open. Steve proudly thinks to himself that he must’ve done a real good job tiring him out. But he can’t have Eddie fall asleep like that.

   “Let’s get you in the shower, baby.”

-----

The water is warm and comforting, easing the strain in Eddie’s aching body. Steve doesn’t stop kissing him while he gently scrubs him clean, careful not to hurt him where his skin has already started to change colour.

Steve loves this part, the after, when he gets to worship Eddie’s body with care, soft and slow, different than before but just as wonderful.

Intimacy comes in many forms and although Steve really, really enjoys the rougher side of it, loves to give in to the raw and brute kind of his own desires, he can’t deny that this, here, is even better. To hold an exhausted Eddie in his arms like this, close to his own heart, gently caressing the skin he blemished before, taking care of the bruises and scratch marks, the shapes, and colours Steve left on every part of him, fills him with a different kind of satisfaction.

To be the one allowed to put Eddie back together after tearing him to pieces, is an honour, something Steve cherishes a lot.

When they fall into bed together, naked, and soft, and tired, Steve pulls Eddie close to his chest, whispering love confessions into his hair until Eddie’s breathing calms and he can feel his body sink deeper into the embrace, slowly drifting as sleep takes a hold of him.

His own heart matches the rhythm of Eddie’s, a slow but strong beat that sounds like a love song written only for them. Because they belong together. There could never be anyone else for Steve; his heart and soul belong to Eddie and Eddie alone. And for as long as he'll let him, Steve will give Eddie everything he needs, everything he wants, and sometimes even more than that.

Eddie is his to hold. To fuck and tease. To hurt in all the good ways and to love. No one else but Steve is allowed to touch him like that.

   “Only me,” he whispers once more, a little selfish and a lot possessive but he knows that’s okay because it’s true. And it makes him smile, content and satisfied, before exhaustion finally pulls him under.

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

Can we get more wolverine polycule??? Theyre so cute for her

"Way to go, champ," Wade said, kissing your nose. "Knew you could do it, did it feel good?"

"Yeah," you manage, snuggling into the warmth that's offered. Tomorrow you'll be sore. Tomorrow you'll be limping at work and you'll just tell people you tripped on a rug. But that's not a right now problem. Right now you're sleepy and warm, tangled up with two walls of muscle keeping you pinned to the bed.

Behind you, Logan laughed softly and buried his face in your hair, "You did good, Princess. Do you want Ice?"

" 'm okay, Lo," you murmur. But despite your protests, you find yourself laying half ontop of Wade, your head on his shoulder with Logan'warming lotion in his hands.

"Can't have you miserable tomorrow after you fucked us both stupid today," Wade reasoned, stretching lazily as he met Logan's eyes over your head.

They could go again. Few more times. But. They could do that tomorrow while you were at work- it had been... a while since you'd been able to come play with them like this. The pain made you tense and the tension made you think and the thinking only made it worse. The more tense you were, the more painful it was to even have sex. You'd blow them if they wanted, sure but. They liked this. Their girl in their bed. Satisfied and not just sitting on the sidelines.

Logan worked down your back and hips, smirking when you sighed. "That's it, pretty girl," he coaxed. "Took such good care of us-"

"You did most of the work," you point out.

"Soul-sucking blowjobs are work," Wade put in.

"Did so good you shut Wade up. Fucking miracle worker," Logan snorted, popping your backside affectionately.

When you don't answer, from your spot face down on Wade's chest, he pushes hair out of your face and grins, "Out cold," he said.

"Good," Logan rumbled, kissing the back of your neck and pulling a sheet up over you. "Gonna need her beauty sleep." He laid down on your other side and threw his leg over you, effectively pinning both you and Wade in one place- where he'd know if you got up. Where he'd know you were safe.

"Breakfast in the morning?" Wade asked, stretching.

"Sounds good." It was better now. You smelled right. Like them. Tomorrow's problems were tomorrow's problems. Right now, nothing was wrong. The feel of your bodies were imprinted on him properly and it felt right.

_____________

When mottled arms wrapped around him in the shower, Logan hummed, "Where's Y/N?" he asked.

"Showered, dressed, and fucking baby sitting," Wade whined.

"Babysitting?" Logan growled, "What the-"

"For not fucking liking her her sister is really quick to drop off her fuck trophies at the ass crack of dawn," Wade sulked, thudding his head against Logan's back.

Logan growled, "How'd I not hear-"

"She met them downstairs. Kids slept on the couch for a bit while she hosed off all that sweet sweet-"

"So much for breakfast," Logan grunted.

"Yeah. She took them out already. Guess she figured if she fed and walked them they'd be easier to wrangle. Cute kids. Less bitchy than their mom."

Logan snorted. He'd see about that. He also wondered if their parents knew you were fucking BOTH the men you lived with. You tended to avoid telling your family anything you didn't have to.

By the time they were done fucking around, dressed and out of the bedroom, you were back. And in full 'Cool Auntie' mode. Clearly, this might not have been an expected visit, but it didn't take long for Wade and Logan to notice the near hero worship on the faces of the three boys who were sprawled on the furniture and playing with Mary.

"Listen, Homie," you're telling the oldest, "I got you you first date and I have pictures that can ruin your life, don't test me."

"No you don't," he scoffed.

"Oh, oh honey," you laugh, "I took you to your first comic convention dressed as a tiny baby Hulk-"

He visibly paled and you grinned, "I got pictures that can ruin your mama too. So. Try me if you want to but remember. We existed before Life 360."

"Hey, Shush," the middle kid asked, looking up from his phone, "what was it like when dinosaurs roamed the earth?"

Wade snorted when you mimed throwing a plastic cup at him, "I dunno, Peanut, what was it like?"

"Fuck you, Wade."

[saltnsugarbear]

you're the only one who makes me- every time we- (18+)

summary: just some foundational building for this au (headcanons)

title from: "Wildflower" by 5 Seconds of Summer

word count: 1.4k

content warnings: MDNI!!! talks of cam work, allusions to a break-in, casual affection between friends, allusions to sexual fantasies

side note: everyone go kiss aw-live for giving me more filthy ideas on this au <3

- I think we've decided Lip hosts his cam streams in the top floor of the Alibi Room (we being me and Olive)

- it's simply the place where he would have the most privacy and Veronica would probably be chill about it and be like get your bag (she ran cam shows??? so she's like fuck yeah okay king)

- I've just remembered she did cam shows, hell yeah actually she's like get your bag king here are some tips and shit.

- V probably helps set him up with a nice camera, gives him a set of keys to get into the bar and upstairs, helps him spruce the place up, make it look nice for the streams

- this takes place during when he works at Patsy's, and is 100% diverging from canon

- I don't think he's entirely obnoxious about how attractive he is but he has some sort of inkling? like he's the smallest bit cocky about his appearance around his partners just because they're kind of like,,,, they short circuit sometimes

- so he has the idea that he's attractive enough so he's like fuck it why not try?

- and I mean he's got a mouth on him so he can definitely say some shit that'll get people hot and bothered

- so he figures doing cam shows is worth a shot and will help bring in some money on the side

- you work at Patsy's Pies as a waiter, dressed in the white tank top and shorts that have become your uniforms

- you're one of Fiona's most trusted and therefore are very close with her

- one day Fi asks you to go out but day of she asks if you can swing by her place, asking you to bring an item of clothing with you because she has the perfect outfit planned

- so you take the L to the nearest station to her and make it to her house in no time

- you're a little surprised the Gallaghers have an unlocked door policy given they live in Southside Chicago but oh well, Fiona assures you they're prepped for anything (she even shows you The Bat)

"It's unlocked!!" You hear from behind the door. The voice sounds much farther than just a door between the both of you. True to the statement, the door gives way when you turn the doorknob.

The mudroom your greeted with is cramped, boots and shoes littering the floor and coats crammed onto different hooks.

"Kitchen!" You can hear Fiona's voice clearer now. You duck out of the mudroom, taking in the cluttered living room that leads to the dining room.

Fiona pops her head out from the doorframe and gives you a bright smile. "You made it!"

"I said I would, didn't I?" You adjust the strap of your bag on your shoulder. Fiona shrugs as you walk into the kitchen. Her hair is up, and she's got a steaming mug in her hands.

"You brought it, right?" Her eyes are bright as she looks at you. You nod, opening the bag to pull out the corseted top she asked you to bring. It was something you had been gifted and never planned on wearing yourself, so you offered it to Fiona happily.

Her eyes light up when she sees it. Fiona sets her mug down before she walks over to you, taking the top out of your hands. You watch as she fingers the material, taking it in.

"Thank you," Fiona is quick to wrap her arms around your shoulders, bringing you into a fierce hug.

"'S no problem." You tell her, squeezing her tight before she let's go.

"Gonna go change, and then we can get ready together!" Fiona gives you a soft kiss to your cheek as she departs. You've become used to Fiona's casual affections, watching how she gave the same affection to her siblings in the restaurant. "Help yourself to some coffee."

You watch as Fiona goes up the stairs, disappearing behind the wall. You listen to her walking upstairs before you set your bag on the counter and search for a mug.

The sound of footsteps on the stairs comes sooner than you anticipated Fiona would be.

"Hey Fi," You call over your shoulder. "Where uh- where do you keep the clean mugs?"

The footsteps stop short, and you turn around to look at Fiona. "Left cabinet."

It is not Fiona who speaks, and you think you might break your neck with how quickly you finish your turn. Lip stands on the third step.

Shirtless.

The sight makes your brain pause. Your eyes widen slightly, taking in every detail you can process. What jumps out at you the most is the outline of a triangle on his left pec.

"I- Um-" You're struggling to find any words.

"Sorry, didn't think anyone else would be here other than Fiona." Lip takes the last few steps down and walks to the laundry basket on top of the washing machine. Your eyes follow him as he crosses the room and grabs the first shirt he can get his hands on.

You watch silently as his muscles move when he lifts the shirt over his head. You quickly avert your gaze when he tugs it over his chest.

"Which, uh- which cabinet did you say?" The image of the ink triangle has thoroughly derailed any thoughts you might have had.

"Far left." Lip's voice is curt.

You make your way to the counter, leaning against it to open the far left cabinet door. True to his word, there sit mix-matched coffee mugs.

"Pass me one?" Lip's voice is closer and you can feel his shoulder against yours as you grab the first mug. You softly place the first mug on the counter, exchanging it to your other hand to pass it to Lip. His fingers are warm where they graze over yours when he takes the cup. You're quick to grab your own, turning to push yourself against the counter behind you.

After he's filled the first mug, he passes it to you on the counter and holds his hand out for the empty when you've got grasped between both your hands. You're almost too quick to pass him the mug, nearly pushing it into his hands.

You take the first one, bringing it close to your chest. Being this close to Lip makes your brain go blank like an etch-a-sketch.

"Cream, sugar?" Lip asks as he places the pot back against the machine.

"Uh, both." You say, setting your cup on the counter.

Lip nods as he opens the fridge, grabbing the gallon of milk from the fridge.

"Sugar's behind you.." Lip mutters coming up beside you and reaching around you. You can't help but freeze, holding your breath until Lip is out of your space.

He grabs two spoons from the drying rack on one side of the sink, offering you one of them.

You take it from his hand, your fingertips brushing against his knuckles

You can feel his eyes on you as you start taking spoonfuls out of the container. The huff he lets out through his nose makes you glance at him, watching as he rubs softly at the knick on his cheek.

"Make your coffee.." You mutter, bumping your shoulder into his.

Lip huffs, turning back to his cup. He takes the sugar from your hand, trading you the milk for it.

As you mix the milk and sugar into your coffee, you can't help but zone out.

The inked triangle you saw on Lip's chest makes an appearance in you fantasies that night. And the few nights after that, when you try to get yourself off.

Of course, such a simple thing was to haunt your mind.

It was Lip Gallagher, after all.

- Lip is not the soft and sweet camboy no no

- he is the mean, condescending camboy

- the camboy who talks you through it, degrades you while fucking himself into his own fleshlight in his hand

- the camboy who teases you and coaxes you and says if you cum before he tells you to he won't let you cum again for a week

- safe to say he builds quite the desperate fan base. men, women, and people alike clock in to watch his streams, showering him in tips easily, giving him enough money in one stream to pay rent

- sometimes he's an extra tease on stream, using his third one for the week to just talk you through it, not even thinking about his own pleasure as he coaxes you through your own release

- that's all for now

- gotta wait for the big show for more thoughts!!!

[loveesiren]

Doing It All For Us (Pt. 7)

Masterlist

Rafe Cameron x Reader

Summary:

Warnings: Language, knives, sadism, fighting, neglect,

Word Count: 4.7k+

Your fingers traced over the small scar now forming right above your heart. RC. You wince at the pain but can't help but smile as you remember the events that took place a few nights ago.

You and Rafe experienced a whole new side of each other. A side where God wasn't present and the Devil himself controlled you like puppets. That's what happens when sex is fueled by angst and cocaine.

I want my name on your skin

The words lingered in your head. "I want to feel something," You had said, your body numb to the drugs. You pick up the knife that rested on your bed and held it out to Rafe. "Put your initials on me."

Rafe looked at you with wide eyes. "I can't hurt you."

"I like the pain," You whisper guiding his hand over your heart. "I want you to mark me as yours." You lay back on your bed, pulling Rafe on top of you. "Right here." You tap the skin right above your left breast.

"A-are you sure?"

"I'm sure, baby." You beam up at him.

Rafe offers a devilish grin and slowly begins to carve into your skin. You hiss in both pain and pleasure at the sensation. Feeling the knife glide across your skin has a heat growing between your legs.

"Done," He says, smiling up at you. He brushes his thumb across the fresh wound, wiping away the blood before bringing it to his mouth and licking it off. "Your turn."

You smile and roll him over so that you're straddling him. You help him pull his shirt off, licking your lips at the sight of him. "You're so handsome," You say softly. Beads of sweat clung to his skin in the dim light of your bedroom. His usually perfect hair was now messy and falling in his face. His mouth opened slightly as he grew hard underneath you, grabbing your hips to pull you closer to him.

You lean down and place a kiss where you intend to mark him as yours. "Oh, fuck!" He breathes as you get to work, slowly carving your initials into his perfect skin. "I love you so much," He whispered as he grew larger beneath you.

When you were finished, you admired your work. You had both taken your time, to make sure it would look good when it healed, and because for some reason the sensation was extremely arousing. You ran your tongue over your initials, licking up the blood that dripped from his skin.

"I love you too, King." You lean down and kiss him, letting him taste the blood that lingered on your tongue.

He moans into your mouth and pulls you closer to him. You grind your hips down on to him and you can feel him getting frustrated, wanting nothing more than to be inside you.

"Get undressed," He demands. You smile and do what he says, quickly ridding yourself of your shorts and shirt as he pulls his jeans off.

He picks you up and slams you against the wall. You gasp, shocked by the sudden gesture but a small smile breaks across your face. "You drive me fucking crazy, you know that?" He says, trailing his lips over your neck, teasing you as he rubs the tip of his cock between your folds.

You wrap your legs around his waist, silently begging for him to push into you.

"Always having me worried about your psychotic ass,"

You bite your lip at his words. "Teach me a lesson," You whisper in his ear, feeling him come undone at the sound of your voice.

He thrusts into you. Hard. You cry out at the sudden sensation and dig your nails into his back. "That's right, baby, hold on to me." He pulls out and thrusts into you again. He reaches up and wraps his fingers in your hair, yanking your head back so you're looking him in the eyes.

He started moving faster and the sounds that escaped your lips were ungodly. He hadn't fucked you like this before. He was usually so gentle and careful with you. But tonight, he was like a hungry animal, and you absolutely loved it.

"Tell me you're mine," He pants between thrusts.

"I'm yours, Rafe. I'm all yours. Forever." You whine. You clit was rubbing against his skin just right and you could feel yourself reaching a whole new level of pleasure.

"I'd live for you," He whispers. "I'd kill for you. I'd die for you." Those last words sending you both into euphoric bliss.

"Oh my fucking God!" You scream as you release around his cock, hanging onto him for dear life.

Rafe growls into you skin as he pushes deep inside you, filling you up.

When you both finally come down from your highs, Rafe lazily carries you to you bed and you both collapse. You were both speechless as you tried to understand what just happened.

This memory played over and over again in your head as you brushed over your scar in the mirror. That was three days ago. Rafe's dad called him into work the next day and practically worked him to death the last few days.

But tonight, the Cameron's were hosting a dinner, you and your dad being the guests of honor.

You slipped into a champagne silk dress and some nude strappy wedges to match. Simple, yet elegant. You placed a bandaid over your healing wound. You were proud to have Rafe's initials embedded in your skin but you also didn't want to explain to your dad and Ward exactly what happened the other night.

"You ready, honey?" Your dad called from your bedroom door.

"Coming!" You said, giving yourself one last look in the mirror. Your loose curls fell past your shoulders, the signature 'R' hanging from your throat. Possessive. Rafe Cameron was possessive. He loved making it known that you belonged to him. But he never treated you like an object. He worshipped the ground you walked on.

He didn't mind other guys drooling over you. You were the baddest bitch on the island. On the fucking planet in his eyes. But it was made obvious that if anyone even tried to flirt with you, they'd end up in a body bag. You were Rafe's and Rafe was yours. The whole island feared the two of you as they watched you spiral into some kind of psychotic love for one another.

You ran downstairs and met your dad at the front door. "You look beautiful, honey." He said as he looked you over.

You offered a shy smile. "Thank you." Ever since your mom died your dad did the bare minimum to take care of you. He worked hard, made sure you had food on the table, nannies came and went. But for some reason, he didn't want to be a dad. He pretended, sure. Complimenting you, telling you he loves you, all the stuff a parent is supposed to do. But looking you in the eyes was rare.

You reminded him of her. Of your mother. Your hair, your eyes, the way you carried yourself. You reminded him of what he lost. The women he loved fell victim to a random home invasion. He was grateful his only child had survived. The one piece of his wife he had left. But it was hard to look at you. He loved you. He did. But he swallowed that love, knowing you could be taken from the earth at any time as well. It was his grief and trauma that prevented him from being a real father. Nevertheless, he made sure you would never have to work a day in your life. You got everything you wanted and more. That was his idea of love. Oblivious to the fact that all you really wanted was your father to be there for you.

_____

"Nice place," Your dad says as he pulls into Tannyhill.

"Yeah, I've been here a few times. We usually hang out at our house." You say.

"That boy treating you well?" He asks.

"Yeah, he's amazing." You gush.

"What happened here?" You dad asks, pointing to the bandaid on your chest.

"Oh, uhm, cigarette burn." You lie.

"Smoking isn't lady like."

"I know," You sigh before climbing out of the car and heading towards the door.

Your dad follows you and rings the doorbell. You straighten your dress, almost nervous to see Rafe. It'd been three days. Three days since one of the most intense and beautiful nights of your life. Thinking about it gave you butterflies.

"Elliot! Y/N!" Ward says as he opens the door. "Please, come in!"

"Good to see you, Ward!" Elliot says, shaking his hand.

You walk in behind your dad. Smiling sweetly at Ward. "Y/N! How are you?" He asks.

"I'm good, Mr. Cameron." You say. "How are you?"

"Doing well, thanks! Rafe will be down in just a moment. He was just finishing up some work."

You all make your way to the lounge. You scoff under your breath as you see Sarah and John B talking on the couch. Sarah glares in your direction and you shoot daggers back at her until she finally avoids your gaze.

"Hey baby!" You hear Rafe's voice behind you. You turn and beam up at him. His hair slicked back, navy blue button up and slacks. He looked so fucking good.

All you could do was squeal and throw yourself into his arms. "I missed you so much!"

He wrapped his arms around you tightly, lifting you off the ground. "I missed you too, baby girl." He said as he inhaled the scent of your hair.

"Fucking vampires," You hear Sarah whisper to John B. You choose to ignore it. It was obvious she had seen Rafe's wound at some point. As ready as you were to bash Sarah's head in, you were more ready to sit and love on your boyfriend.

You and Rafe approach the bar. He pours you a glass of wine and pours himself a whiskey.

Ward and Elliot begin discussing business, sucking Rafe into the conversation. You couldn't care less but you lean back against Rafe's chest as his hand rests on your hip. You just needed to be close to him.

You zone out of the conversation, focus on the way Rafe's fingers glide along your hip and thigh. Turning you on right in front of your parents.

"Dinner's ready!" Rose finally announces and you all make your way to the dining room. Rafe pulls out your chair for you, making sure you're comfortable before he takes his place beside you, resting his hand on your thigh.

The two of you sat across form John B and Sarah. The men at one end of the table while the women sat at the other. You picked at your food as listened to the non stop business talk, rolling your eyes as you were bored out of your mind.

"So, Y/N, did Rafe mark you the same way you marked him?" She smirked, running her hand over her chest referring to the bandaid that obviously sat on yours.

Rafe dropped his fork on his plate, making a loud clanking noise and earning the attention of the rest of the table. "Why don't you ever mind your own business, Sarah?"

"Mark?" Elliot asks. Everyone looking between the two of you now.

"Rafe, what did you-" Ward begins but you quickly cut him off.

"I don't know what mark she's talking about. I burned myself with a cigarette." You stated sourly. "I'd be more concerned about the fact you and John B are fucking in the bell tower. I hope you have your tetanus shot!" You smirk.

"Y/N!" Your dad hisses.

"You fucking bitch!" Sarah says.

"Sarah!" Ward spits.

You couldn't help but smile at the chaos unfolding around you. If she wants to play this game you'll show her how it's done.

"Okay, everyone calm down!" Rose yells.

The table goes quiet. Rafe snickers beside you. You chew on your cheek as your try to hold back your laugh.

Your dad gives you and Rafe a disapproving look but you shrug it off.

Ward, however, cowers at your father's expression. Knowing his son was the reason for this behavior.

"Rafe, can I speak to you in private please?" Ward says as he stands from the table.

You can hear Rafe swallow his nerves and you squeeze his hand for comfort. He stands up and follows his dad to the office.

Rose sighs as she accepts the fact that the dinner her and Wheezie slaved over was ruined.

You looked up and saw John B eyeing the bandaid on your chest.

"Keep your eyes on her tits," You spit, nodding to Sarah. "Fucking Pogue."

Sarah stands up and you do too. "What the hell is your problem?!"

"You, Princess!" You spit back at her. "Why don't we take this shit outside?! I'm sick of the way you treat the people I love!"

Ward and Rafe come rushing back into the room right before you were about to lunge at Sarah. Rafe wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you back. John B does the same with Sarah.

"You know what?!" Elliot stands up. "I'm not sure I want my daughter around this family!"

Everyone freezes. Rafe clings to you tightly, as if you're about to be taken from him forever.

"If this is how your family does business, Ward-"

"Elliot, I-I'm sorry." Ward says.

"Y/N, we're leaving." He says as he steps towards you.

"Fuck you!" You spit, gripping Rafe's arm. "You're no fucking father! You don't get to sit here and judge this family when all you do pump money into my bank account and disappear for weeks!"

"Y/N-"

"I overdosed! I almost died. And you couldn't be bothered to answer the call. You couldn't even respond to the messages that me and Courtney and Rafe sent you!"

Your dad's face fell. Everyone else remained quiet.

"You miss mom. I get that. I miss her too. But after she died, you ignored me as much as possible. You still do. I needed you. Don't act like you care now." You say sadly. "Rafe's been more of a family to me than you've ever been."

Elliot sucks his lips between his teeth. Not sure how to respond to the ball you just dropped.

You laced your fingers between Rafe's and pulled him towards the front door. No one tried to stop you and for that you were grateful.

"Y/N, baby!" Rafe said, pulling you to a stop in the front yard. "Baby, are you okay?"

There were no tears in your eyes. "Fuck my dad," You spit. "I'm sorry that went so shitty. I just wanna be with you."

"I'll follow you anywhere, baby," Rafe says, pulling you into his chest.

"Let's go to Courtney's." You suggest.

"Whatever you want, my love."

You and Rafe lazily walk down the street, hand in hand as the sun sets. You couldn't help but smile as you trotted along next to him. It was rare the two of you just held hands and enjoyed the silence. You were usually all over eachother. You could hear the crickets chirping and the frogs croaking. The southern wildlife was actually a welcoming sound.

Courtney was on her front porch smoking a cigarette. "Well look what the gator coughed up," She smiles as she sees the two of you approach.

"Sup bitch?!" You say, skipping onto her porch and snatching the cigarette from her lips.

"Well don't you two look fancy," Courtney teases. "Evening at the Cameron's I assume?"

"Yeah, that went down hill fast," You say as you sit beside her, leaning into her shoulders as she wraps her arms around you.

"Our dads are dicks," Rafe adds.

"Hey, I get it," Courtney says. "My dads been cheating on my mom for years. They sleep in separate rooms."

"Rafe Cameron." A drunk Helena says as she steps out onto the porch.

"Good to see you, Mrs. Fields," Rafe says.

"I hear you're dating my sweet little pumpkin here." She says, brushing your hair behind your ear. "She behaving for you?"

Courtney holds you tight as you both chuckle.

"Nothin' but an angel," Rafe smiles. His eyes flicker to you, appreciating the way your tan skin glows in the moonlight.

"Well, you kids come inside, I'll make ya a drink!" Helena says.

You and Courtney hop up from the couch. You grab Rafe's hand and pull him inside. "So why do you two look so fancy?" Helena asks as she mixes up some margarita's.

"Tried to have a family dinner," You say. "Didn't go well."

"Daddy issues," Helena says.

"Mom!" Courtney hisses.

You laugh. "Yeah, pretty much. Sister issues, too."

Helena brings a tray of margaritas to the island where the three of you sat. You all take one.

"Holy shit, these are good." Rafe says as he sips his.

"Glad you like 'em, doll." Helena winks. "Take it easy, they are strong."

You and Courtney chuckle, already used to her moms margarita's. 90% tequila.

"You know, your momma would love him," Helena says, taking a sip of her drink and nodding towards Rafe.

Rafe looks around, semi-confused. "You knew Layla?" He asks.

"She was my goddamn best friend!" Helena laughs. "Why do you think these two are so close?" She gestures to you and Courtney.

You smile at her words. "Yeah, my mom would definitely love you." You tell Rafe.

Bright pink spreads across his cheeks as he looks down and tries to hide it.

"Wow, the Rafe Cameron blushing in my house. You must have him absolutely smitten," Helena says to you before heading upstairs. "You kids have fun! Don't fuck on my new couch!"

"Oh my God," Courtney says, pressing her palm to her forehead. "I apologize for my mother."

"It's fine, Court." You laugh. "Let's go watch a movie!"

You could see Rafe getting tipsy off his margarita and you giggled, pulling him into the basement behind you.

You all enter Courtney's giant theater room that sat just across from her bedroom in the basement. You pulled Rafe on to the giant Lovesac that sat in the corner of the room while Courtney flopped onto the couch. You kick your shoes off and Rafe takes off his jacket before you sink back into him, resting your head on his chest while he holds you tightly.

You watch as Courtney flips through the movie options, sipping her margarita loudly. "I'm sorry about Sarah." Rafe whispers against your temple. "And I'm sorry I made your dad hate me."

"You didn't do anything, Rafe." You look up to him. "Sarah's a bitch. My dad is an asshole. They don't matter. All that matters is you."

Rafe offers you a sad smile. One that breaks your heart. You know he just wants his dad to be proud of him. Now he feels like he fucked everything up with your dad as well.

You roll over and straddle his lap. He bites his lip and looks up at you with pain filled eyes. You rip the bandaid off your chest and point to his initials that are forever embedded in your skin. "This, Rafe. This means you and me against the world. Forever."

He reaches up and brushes his thumb over your wound. The sensation sends butterflies through your stomach. He smiles now, placing his hand over his heart where your initials sit under his shirt. You smile back at him, knowing the two of you are forever connected from the scars you share.

"Holy shit," Courtney says, snapping you out of the moment. "Did you guys cut eachother?" You and Rafe just look at eachother and laugh. "Ya'll are real freaky you know that? I'm going to make popcorn." She announces before heading back upstairs.

"What?" You ask as Rafe stares at you. He swore he could cry just looking into your diamond eyes. He'd never seen anyone or anything more beautiful. The thought of losing you made him physically ill.

"I'm so inlove with you," His voice was barely above a whisper as he reached up and cupped your face.

You blushed and leaned into his touch. "I'm so inlove with you, Rafe Cameron." You pressed a kiss to his palm before laying down beside him. He turned to face you and pressed his forehead to yours as you stared into eachother's eyes. You brought your hand up and tangled your fingers in his hair while he ran his fingers over your cheek.

"Ya'll are gross," Courtney said as she reentered the room, mouth full of popcorn.

You chuckle but you don't take your eyes off Rafe's, as if just by staring into his eyes you're able to learn all the secrets of the universe. You knew, from the bottom of your heart, that you would absolutely die for this man.

_______________

You woke up still clinging to Rafe. He held on to you so tightly you knew you would be sore but you loved the feeling. He was still asleep and you smiled at him, appreciating how innocent he looked. His hair fell in his face, lips parted as he snored softly. You pressed a kiss to his forehead and slowly tried to crawl away from him.

"Mmm no," He groans, pulling you back to him.

You chuckle. "Morning baby, did you sleep okay?"

"Always sleep good with you," His voice was soft and raspy and it turned you on. You hated the fact you were in Courtney's basement right now.

"Oh, good, you're up." Courtney says as she enters the room. "You're dad's been calling non-stop. He even called me and my parents.

"What the fuck?" You ask as you reach over and grab your phone to see all the missed calls and messages. Your dad couldn't be bothered when you almost died but now he wants to worry?

You sigh as you sit up. Your finger hovers over the call button. After a few moments of contemplating, you decide to call.

Hello?

He picks up on the second ring.

Dad? Why did you call me so much?

He sighs. Look, Y/N. I'd like to talk to you about last night.

What about it? You ask dryly.

I'd rather talk in person. Can you meet me at the club?

I don't know...

You can bring Rafe.

You consider it for a moment as you look back at Rafe. His eyes were locked on you, running his fingers down your spine. Your dad didn't sound mad anymore, but you also didn't want to risk him yelling at Rafe in the club.

"My dad wants us to meet him," You whisper to Rafe. He chews on his lip nervously but nods in agreement.

Okay. We'll be there in an hour.

You hang up the phone and sit quietly for a moment. "Is everything okay, angel?" Rafe asked, sitting up and wrapping his arm around your waist.

"He says he wants to talk about last night."

You could tell Rafe was nervous, but he would do anything to show your dad he loves you. "Okay. I can drive us."

You nod. Rafe places a kiss on your temple and stands up. "I'll run home and get the truck and come back."

"Thanks, babe." You smile at him. He smiles back before taking off.

"Court, can I borrow some clothes?" You ask.

"You know where the closet is," She waves you off as she scrolls through Instagram. "So what happened last night?"

You pick through her closet, grabbing a pair of shorts and a band shirt. Motley Crue. Not exactly what you'd normally wear to the club but you didn't care.

"Fucking Sarah, dude!" You said as you threw on the clothes. "She started shit during dinner. I was about to beat her ass."

"What did she say?" Courtney asks, sitting up now.

"She tried to call me and Rafe out on this," You say pointing to your chest. "So I told everyone she was fucking John B in the bell tower." You grin.

"Ha! Petty. I love it!" Courtney squealed.

"Yeah, but then my dad started saying he doesn't want me around their family and I popped off on him. I told him he's always been a shitty dad and he can't tell me what to do. Then we left and came here."

"Shit."

"Yeah, I have no idea what to expect when we get there."

"Text me after, yeah?"

"Of course. I'm gonna go meet Rafe. Love you!" You say as you walk upstairs.

Rafe pulled up right as you walked outside. He jumped out of the truck and ran to the passenger side door. He changed. He was in shorts and a polo shirt now. His hair still slightly messy as if he quickly tried to slick it back.

"Hey, gorgeous!" He says excitedly as he helps you into the truck. Once your buckled in he goes back to his side and starts the truck. "You ready to go?"

"Not really," You grumble. "Did your parents say anything?"

Rafe shook his head. "No one was home." You nod and sit quietly. "Hey, baby," He says, reaching over and taking your hand. "It's going to be okay."

You started getting nervous as you pulled into the club. So many emotions were running through your head and you didn't know what to expect.

Rafe parks and turns the truck off. You stare at the entrance of the club. "What if he kicks me out? Cuts me off..." You say softly.

"You'll come live with me."

You turn to look at him. Worry in your eyes knowing his dad has no issue kicking him out too.

"We will figure it out. Together. You and me against the world right?" He smiles, squeezing your hand.

You smile back. You enjoyed the life you lived. All the luxuries. But you would give it all up as long as you got to keep Rafe forever.

You nod and hop out of the truck. Rafe holds your hand as you walk into the club. You see your dad sitting on the deck outside and you slowly make your way towards him, Rafe close behind you.

"Y/N," Elliot says, standing up and attempting to hug you. You shy away, brows furrowed as you tried to take in his expression. He was hurt but he understood. "Please, sit."

You and Rafe sit down hesitantly. Rafe holds your hand tightly under the table, equally as nervous as you.

"I, uh, I talked things over with Ward." Elliot said.

Rafe squeezed you tighter.

"Everything is fine. We worked it all out."

You can feel Rafe relax a little.

"Y/N...I..."

Your face twitched as you waited patiently for his next words.

"I'm so sorry."

You look down, trying to hide your tears. You didn't realize your dad was tearing up too.

"I should have been there for you. I should have always been there for you. I'm so sorry I've been such a shitty father. I can't take it back, but I want you to know I love you."

You were crying now, Rafe pulled you into him and held you as you sobbed silently, running his fingers over your exposed skin.

"And Rafe, I'm sorry for the things I said last night. I can't thank you enough for being there for her when she..."

Rafe clenches his jaw, shooting daggers at Elliot. He wanted your dad to accept him but he also hated what he's put you through.

"Overdosed." Rafe stated. His simple word made it real. He made it known that it had happened even though Elliot had avoided dealing with it. Rafe was the one that rocked you to sleep every night. Rafe was the one that held your hair back as you puked your guts out. Rafe was the one that made you food and held ice to your head as he tried to break your fever. He wanted Elliot to know you had almost died and he was the one that took care of you. Not him.

"Overdosed." Elliot repeats sadly.

You were hiding your face in Rafe's shoulder now. You really couldn't think of anything to say. An apology wasn't going to cut it.

"I'm going away for a while." Elliot finally says.

"What else is new," You mutter.

"It's to this retreat type thing. A place that helps you deal with grief. If I'm going to be a better father to you I have to start by getting help first."

You finally look up to him now. Yesterday's make up running down your tear stricken face. "How long?"

"Three months."

You swallow and nod. You were used to your dad not being around. Atleast this time he'd be getting help.

"Ward and I worked out a deal."

You and Rafe both look up. "What deal?" Rafe asks.

"Your dad will fill you in when it's time. You're both adults and free to do as you please, but you will both be taken care of. The Cameron's will be there for you if you need anything, Y/N."

Your eyes narrow. Unsure exactly what he means. Elliot offers you a small smile before standing up and grabbing his jacket from the back of his chair.

"Rafe," he says as he slips his jacket on. "Take care of my daughter."

Rafe nods and squeezes you.

Elliot leans down and places a kiss on your head. "I love you, honey. I'll see you soon."

And with that, your dad walks away.

You just sat, staring at the space in front of you. You couldn't bring yourself to speak or move. You were comatose.

"Baby girl," You felt Rafe whisper against your temple.

You closed your eyes at the sound of his sweet voice. But you couldn't stop thinking about how badly you wanted to stick a needle in your arm.

[luke-hughes43]

surprise | luke and stella

this takes place like barely 2 months into them dating. and is really cute bc they are both still in that awkward phase.

~

stella's pov

so for columbus day weekend, i'm heading to michigan for a tournament and a visit with the softball program too. i was hoping to get to see luke but the timing of my games, his games, and then going to ann arbor, it just isn't working out.

but that's ok. i'm coming out for thanksgiving to see him anyways.

mom is coming with me to michigan and ellen offered to pick us up. i take a quick nap on the plane because as soon as we land, we're heading to the field.

it is borderline too cold for softball so i have my under layers on. i'm playing centerfield and in the leadoff position. we have a double header tonight and then a double header tomorrow. so lots of softball. and then sunday will be play until you lose and then i have my michigan visit on monday.

i'm hoping to be able to surprise luke at his game tomorrow night but we'll see how i feel. anyways, the game starts and it's going good. i'm getting good hits and making the plays in the field.

i get up in the 5th inning and bunt to get on. then i get the steal sign and take off for second base. i slide into the base and my cleat gets caught in the base and my knee twists. i hold my knee while staying on the base and the umpire calls time.

i still haven't gotten up yet and so my coach comes running out, "what's wrong? are you ok?"

"i twisted my knee when my foot touched the base. i think i'm good, i just need a second." i say and get up to my knees. i finally stand and just walk around a little bit. i do a little jog and tell my coach, "i'm good coach. hurts but i'm good."

"are you sure? i can sub you out so that you're good for the next game." he double checks. I nod, "i'm good."

he nods and goes back to the dugout and i get set at the base. the game goes on and we win the first game 4-2. my knee hurts the rest of the first game and all of the second game but i power through.

in between games, i'm icing my knee and both bella and avery (my bestest friends in the whole world) come over to me. bella asks, "are you ok stella?"

i nod and say, "yea. just hurts a little bit but i'll be ok."

avery says, "ok." and they just sit with me while i ice my knee and we gossip about everything going on at school before we have to get ready for the second game.

the second game goes fine, we win 2-1 but my knee kills. as soon as i get back to the dugout i take my cleats off and put ice on my knee. we had the last game of the night so i don't rush to get out. i lay on the ground with my knee propped up on the bench and ice my knee.

after i don't even know how much time passes, my mom comes in to the dugout and says, "hey honey. how's the knee?"

"it hurts but i'll be fine." i say with my eyes closed.

"ok. do you need anything from me?" she asks. i shake my head and then she continues, "ok. well honey, please hurry up. you have someone who wants to see you. and i think coach is waiting for you."

i nod and finally get up. i'm confused as to who would be here to see me but she does have a point that coach probably wants to talk with the whole team there. i put my sneakers on and grab my bag to head over to the team huddle. as i leave the dugout, i hear what sounds like my boyfriend say, "hey there superstar."

i turn and make eye contact with luke. he's here. oh my fucking god he's here. oh my god. i run over and hug him. he holds me tightly and kisses my head. i say against his chest, "i've missed you."

"i've missed you too stella."

we both pull away form the hug just enough to kiss each other. i smile into the kiss and hold him tight to me, not wanting to let go. i hear my coach yell, "zegras, let's go! kiss your boyfriend on your own time!" the girls giggle and so do i. i peck his lips and he says, "go. i'll wait right here for you."

i nod and hobble over to the team. the girls are giggling and bella elbows me. i smile and nod and listen to coach debrief the game. to be honest, i'm not actually listening. the only thing on my mind is luke luke luke.

i zone back just in time to hear coach dismiss us. i go straight back over to luke and into his arms again. not only because i've missed him so much but it's also cold as fuck. while holding me, luke asks, "how's your knee baby?"

"i'm fine. it hurts a little bit but i'll be ok. nothing i can't handle." i say into his chest. after like a minute, he asks, "are the two girls who are looking here every 30 seconds bella and avery?"

"yea." i respond quietly. i turn and wave them over. i say to luke, "and now you're about to meet them. bella is a guard dog and avery is really shy."

he nods and they come over. i say to them, "bella and avery, this is luke my boyfriend. luke, this is bella and avery. my best friends."

avery says quietly, "it's nice to meet you." luke smiles at her and bella says, "nice to meet you luke."

"you guys too. stella talks a lot about you guys. really good things." he says with a smile. avery smiles but bella's face remains the same, she's not impressed. she's very protective of me. she says, "so how do you expect to make long distance work luke? i know it's hard and i'll be the one picking up the pieces if you break her heart."

"i don't plan on breaking her heart. i know it's hard but we text almost everyday, we call twice a week. and have some trips planned to see each other. i promise bella, i really like her and i really wanna make this work with her. whatever it takes."

"good. because i have a bat and i will fly to michigan to hit you with it if you break her heart." bella threatens. i giggle and luke nods, "understood. plus, her brother is best friends with mine. if i break her heart, trevor knows where i live and will kill me."

"fair enough. you're acceptable." bella says and winks at me. luke smiles and holds me tight. my mom walks over and says, "hey honey. i'm gonna meet up with ellen and catch up. you're welcome to come but i imagine that you wanna stay with luke. he's welcome to come to the hotel tonight but he can't stay over. i'll text you when i'm on my way back. do you guys need a ride?"

luke shakes his head, "no thanks mrs. zegras. i drove here so i can take her back, it's not a problem." she smiles and heads off. luke tights his arm that's around me and i say, "i think we should go soon because it's cold and my knee hurts."

luke smiles, "we will stel. bella, avery, it was great meeting you guys and i hope to get to see you guys again. i'm gonna get her back to the hotel to rest and i might see you tomorrow but i don't know yet."

they both nod and we walk off to luke's car. he opens the door and helps me in like a gentleman. he starts the car and hands me the aux cord. i start playing music and he makes the short drive to the hotel.

once we get there, we go up to the room and i all but collapse on my bed for the night. luke laughs, "comfy?"

"yes. but i need to shower and i want cuddles." i say into the pillow. he chuckles, "go shower. then we can cuddle and you can ice your knee."

i nod and take a quick shower. i quickly change and immediately get into bed with luke. he pulls me tight into him and i rest my head on his chest. i say in almost a whisper, "i wish we got to this more often."

"me too. i hate that our time is always so limited." he responds. he rubs my back softly and kisses my head. i wrap my arm around him and cuddle as close to him as i can. i say, "yea. but next year we'll be on the same campus and you'll be so much closer."

"i know. just have to get there." he says. i nod and we just lay together in the silence. i must've fallen asleep because i woke up the next morning to my alarm blaring and luke gone.

here's to another day of softball.

(thinking this deserves a part 2 no?)

[katuschka]

Blowing Smoke – coming soon

Tom (m!OC) x Josh Kiszka x m!OC

Huge thanks to my dear @edgingthedarkness, who came up with the initial idea for this fic and later offered it to me to write it, so I think of this as a collab. Thank you for your consultations, babe. Mwah. If Tom sounds familiar to you, you're right – it's the Tom from Usually Sexual and A Rollercoaster Ride with Tom&Jerry. I just really like the character and he fits in perfectly. :) Warning no.1: This is going to be pretty intense. Full of smut, angst, deception and intense emotions (if you know me already, you know what to expect...)

Here's my taglist, if you're interested.

TEASER BELOW contains heavy angst, foul language and a dose of violence.

“I’m not interested in hearing the whole tall tale, you asshole. Get to the point. DID.YOU.FUCK.HIM…?”

The silence that followed should have shattered the window wall. Physical laws should have succumbed to the power of their internal screaming. They could both feel it: the supersonic wave of go-to-hells and suck-my-dicks. However, nothing happened. On the contrary, the setting sun kept mocking them as it continued to cover the room in its warm glow. How fucking romantic! It once was, when they were both equally loud, but for completely different reasons…

Tom couldn’t stand it any longer. He grabbed his still half-full whisky tumbler and smashed it against the wall, dangerously close to Josh's head. To make him say something. 

Again, nothing happened. Looking at now utterly bewildered Josh, Tom thought the hell must have frozen over during those last few horrid minutes they spent yelling at each other, because that was the only explanation for Josh’s sudden loss of speech. For years, those puppy eyes filled his heart with joy and his dick with blood, but now they only made him SICK. 

“Nothing? Not even a simple yes or no? I thought I deserved more than that. But you know what? Don’t bother trying to explain. I already know you did. You finally did it! We’re done.” 

Finally? FINALLY!!! The sheer hypocrisy of Tom’s accusations finally helped to untie Josh’s tongue. Hitting the very same wall with his own fist, he bellowed back: “Yeah, because he told you, huh? This was your plan all along! You played me…” 

“Not this! Not this public parade. I never wanted this...”

The last words left them both deflated. When Josh finally spoke again, it was with a shaky voice: “No, that was his plan. He played us both.”

I started a joke which started the whole world crying But I didn't see that the joke was on me oh no I started to cry which started the whole world laughing Oh If I'd only seen that the joke was on me

@its-interesting-van-kleep @takenbythemadness @edgingthedarkness @writingcold @ignite-my-fire @jakekiszkasbuttsweat @fleet-of-fiction @lvnterninthenight @myownparadise96 @josh-iamyour-mama @jazzyfigz @sanguinebats @thewritingbeforesunrise @wetkleenex-gvf @lyndz2names @gretasfallingsky @clownstarr @lipstickitty @gvfmarge @emojakekiszka @lizzys-sunflower @fleetingjake @wetkleenex-gvf

[to-thelakes]

nothing but a pass time (lip gallagher x reader)

content warning(s); underage smoking, mentions of underage drinking, sad!lip, comfort, hints of angst (unrequited love)

summary; the summer had come around but you and lip were always the same. except it was harder to ignore your brewing feelings now.

series masterlist

i have edited and read this part over so many times that i feel like i'm not actually making it better anymore, so here it is! more of my babies, the next few parts are gonna get a little angst-heavy from both lip and reader's side but then i think it's gonna settle a bit and hopefully get a little better, i have the next three parts all partly/fully written and they're sad but also sweet (comfort is real and lip NEEDS iT, this poor man), so anyway, here's the new part hehe

“My dad would kill you if he found us,” You said as you rounded the corner with Lip. He had texted you, asking you to come and meet him. You didn’t mind. You’d been dying to see him after a too-long shift at the store. You had been there all day, sweating and dealing with shitty customers, and that one text was enough for you to be filled with a familiar sense of glee. 

You didn’t need a reason to see Lip, you never had but something about him asking to see you made you giddy. That text was enough to have you halfway out the door in minutes, changed, showered and beaming.

Though, that had always been the case.

The cigarette between your lips was new though. You had never been one for smoking but Lip had somehow gotten you into it. You only smoked with him though.

“They still think we’re dating?” Lip asked as you stopped by one of the pillars that held the El tracks up. The train only came every twenty minutes or so this late at night. So it was peaceful, quiet and you could smoke without being disturbed.

You were the one to plop yourself down first, feet aching from being on them all day. Working nearly a 10 hour shift was not for the weak and you were wondering why you’d bothered to do it to yourself.

“I dunno,” You shrugged as you took a drag of the cigarette Lip had handed to you. He sat down beside you, head resting back against the concrete. You let the smoke fill your lungs before you breathed it out into the night air. It was cooler than it had been all day, you didn’t feel like the air was suffocating you, just the cigarette, “Hard to tell with them at the moment,” You shrugged, the hint of something more beneath those words but neither of you dug into it. Lip simply nodded and you offered the cigarette back. He took it from between your two fingers and took a long drag.

He looked sad. You assumed that’s why he had even bothered you this late. He knew you’d been working all day and he had always used it as an excuse to keep to himself. But tonight, he seemed to want to see you. You were never going to deny him.

You hadn’t ever denied him anything.

You watched as he blew the smoke out through his nose and you leaned closer, resting your head on his shoulder. He briefly tensed up before relaxing. 

He had gotten so jumpy recently. 

You tried to ignore it.

“What’s up?” You asked after a moment of silence. He offered the cigarette to you but you waved him off. You could feel the nicotine buzzing through your system, not used to the high after nearly a week of not seeing Lip.

“Karen’s got this guy,” Lip said after a moment of silent contemplation, “Jody. Some fuckin’ asshole twice her age,” He explained, waving his free hand out. He then put the cigarette between his lips, breathing in the smoke and speaking as he exhaled, “Hasn’t even fucked her. She says it’s some Sex Addicts Anonymous shit. I don’t get it,” Lip said as he choked slightly on the smoke. You should have known this is where the conversation would go so you simply reached your hand out for the cig.

Lip passed it over without question.

Part of him hated himself for corrupting you. You had never touched a drop of alcohol until he convinced you otherwise. And you had resisted smoking cigarettes until one night a few months back at a party with him. 

You had been pretty drunk at that party and he had casually offered his cigarette to you. He hadn’t thought much of it, expecting you to shake your head and tell him to ‘fuck off’ as you always did. Instead, you had taken it from his fingers, taken a drag and coughed on the smoke. 

But that didn’t stop you from taking another drag.

Now every time he watched the smoke curl out from between your lips, he felt bad. Like he had doomed you to some horrible fate.

“And she said that they’re together and just sit under the stars and talk and shit. I mean, who does that?” He asked. You tried to bite back the reply that that’s exactly what the two of you did but you kept your mouth shut, “We’re teenagers. We’re meant to be fucking each other and doing stupid shit. Not- not watching cartoons and fucking cooking together. It’s- it’s just bullshit,” Lip was frustrated. You could tell and you couldn’t blame him. Not really.

Part of you just felt sorry for him. You knew that he had fallen for Karen but she never really shared those feelings. At least, not that you could tell. She liked him and she liked to fuck him but you were never sure if it was more.

Another part of you was happy she was fucking with Lip’s head. Maybe it made you spiteful but you wanted him to understand how it felt to have someone always keep you at arm’s length.

You tried not to think about that though. 

You were his friend. 

You were there to help him, not celebrate his pain.

“Are you still fucking her?” You asked after a moment. You weren’t entirely sure how to make Lip feel better. You weren’t well-versed in this shit.

He nodded.

“Yeah but it’s this guy. He’s a fucking asshole,” Lip bit back, cigarette hanging from his lips. You rolled your eyes and took the cigarette from between his lips to take a puff yourself. You stayed quiet for a minute, not sure what to say.

“At least you still get to fuck her,” You responded, trying to see the bright side. You wanted to make him feel better, “Clearly if they aren’t even fucking, it doesn’t mean that much. So, give it a few months and she’ll be past him.” The words felt heavy on your tongue, trying to ignore the truth in what you were saying.

Lip had never fucked you and you had always been nothing but a pass-time for him. A friend to cry to and seek comfort from but nothing more. You knew that you didn’t mean that much to Lip. Not as much as Karen anyway.

“Yeah, maybe,” Lip said as he glanced down to watch you blow the smoke from between your lips. You tapped the edge of the cigarette on your thigh, ashes flying through the air just as an El train passed overhead.

It was deafening but the noise gave you some solace. You hadn’t noticed Lip looking at you and so you let yourself feel the heaviness. It was just for a moment and then you put your guard back up.

But for a moment, you let yourself frown. Let yourself feel sad. Feel lonely. Feel fucking stupid.

Then you were back to normal.

Once the train had passed, you spoke again.

“The way I see it, he’s either gonna break up with her or they’re gonna fuck. Either way, she’ll come back to you,” You decided after a moment. You weren’t sure if it was true. You had no experience with relationships. You’d only ever kissed people drunk at parties so you were talking out your ass.

But Lip just hummed along and took the cigarette from between your fingers. He took another drag and then smushed the butt of it against the grass, putting it out.

“Everything okay with you?” Lip asked after a beat of silence. Your head lifted from his shoulder, eyebrows furrowed. You couldn’t remember the last time he’d asked if you were okay. Usually, you told him anyway but he never asked.

“Yeah, why?” You responded, eyebrows knitted together in confusion. He shrugged, meeting your gaze. Your eyes were boring into him and he felt guilty seeing the confusion. The way your eyebrows furrowed at his question as if you weren’t his best friend. As if he didn’t care about you.

“Y’just seem tired, that’s all,” He responded, shrugging. He was trying not to be defensive but it was hard not to be.

“Had a long day, it’s fine,” You retorted as you reached into the top pocket of his shirt. You didn’t ask before you grabbed the pack of cigarettes. Instead, you just plucked a stick out and grabbed his lighter. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” He asked. You looked up at him, a teasing smile on your lips.

“Bumming a smoke,” You stated before you placed the cigarette between your lips. You used your hand to shelter the end of the cig before flicking the lighter on. The bright flame illuminated your face, eyes shining in the light. It was there for a split second before you had successfully lit the cigarette.

“You been smokin’ with someone else?” He asked. You scoffed, dropping the cigarette pack and lighter back into his pocket before you took a drag.

“Fuck off, as if,” You dead-panned as you exhaled. You then took another drag, leaving the cigarette hanging off your lips as you blew the smoke out of your nose. It was Lip’s turn to take the cigarette from your lips now. He made eye contact with you as he took it, placing it between his own.

Fuck. You hated when he did shit like that.

The way he looked at you like he really gave a shit.

You tried not to think about it.

“Good,” He said before he took his own drag. You two sat in silence like that for a while, sharing the cigarette. You knew it was bad for you. You had told yourself you’d never be a smoker but the summer was long and being around Lip was painful. The nicotine made it easier to deal with.

So you just smoked until Lip - once again - put it out in the dirt. He then just stared, another El train passing overhead. You were both quiet for a moment before you sighed. You needed to go home.

“Got work tomorrow,” You muttered after a beat. It was you saying you needed to leave without really saying it at all. But you did, you needed to get out of here.

“Stay at mine tonight?” He asked. You shook your head.

“Gotta leave early, starting at 6. Would just wake you up. You’re grumpy that early,” You stated as you looked up at him. He frowned. You didn’t know what else to say to him and so you just looked at each other for a moment.

“Want you to stay over,” He mumbled, looking away. You ran your hands across your face, wondering if you were really gonna let this happen. But you already knew the answer the second he had asked the question.

“Let me grab my shit,” You gave in. Lip couldn’t help the smirk that spread across his face. It felt like a victory, a small victory. 

[sitepathos]

141 w/ Armored Titan Male Reader

A/N: ok, I know I said I was working on a CoD/Star Wars series, but I kinda forgot about the draft I barely worked on after a while and now I’ve been on a AoT kick lately, so hope this is an acceptable substitute. For a little world building, you were created in a lab with Titan abilities and the lab was raided, Laswell learned about you and had you spirited away to the 141. Both to help them on their missions and to ensure you don’t end up being used as a weapon by certain generals in the States.

Price

When Laswell told him she was sending him a young man with the ability to turn into a giant, he was worried that she’d finally gone off the deep end and was actually planing on staging a kidnapping so she’d take some time off.

Then when he finally met you and saw you turn into the Armored Titan, he was blown away by the sight of 15m giant with more armor than a tank appearing out of thin air.

He didn’t know what to make of you, a young man barely old enough to serve in the military that’d spent his entire life cooped up in a lab and being prepared as a weapon of war, but Laswell said she’d owe him big time for this and she always makes good on her promises.

Plus, when he saw your record, he couldn’t help but take you in. He has a thing for strays and is bad for collecting them for his prized task force.

When you completed your first mission, he knew you were staying with 141 and he’s fight tooth and nail to keep you. Seeing you smash through enemy defenses like they were nothing and crushing enemy troops like they’re bugs is a sight he’d never forget.

Gaz

When Price told them they would have a giant on their team, he thought his captain meant König would be a permanent member on 141. Then you were shown to them, easily the shortest person in the room.

When you demonstrated your ability on the training grounds by turning into the Armored Titan before all of them, he was speechless. One moment, you’re some scrawny looking kid and the next, you’re a bulky beast that towers over them.

He was interested in knowing how you came to be and asked Price, who handle his your file. When he learned that you were nothing but a lab rat for all of your life and now had nowhere to go, he reached out, offering you someone to talk to and showing you how to live outside of a cold, dark lab.

Obviously you were confined to the base at night for safety reasons, but as long as you had an escort, you were allowed to leave during the day. During that time, he would show you around London, pointing out important landmarks and tourist attractions.

He’ll always treasure the first mission you went on with them, charging through the enemy base and shrugging off small arms and explosives like they were mosquito bites. That was probably the first mission where all the enemies were killed and no one on 141 fired a shot.

Ghost

Oh boy, when you first met him, he scared you more than the scientists and their endless poking and prodding.

And this man already has MAJOR trust problems. The moment he realized that you could turn into the Big Unfriendly Giant due to a paper cut, he was demanding Price end you back to the States.

At first, he wanted nothing to do with you. You get anywhere near him and his gaze scorched you more than exposed Titan flesh.

Then, your first mission happened. After they collected the info they were after, a few hostiles realized you were a distraction and turned their rocket launchers on their position, but before impact, you shielded them with your hand, absorbing the blast and crushing the shooters like they were bugs.

After that, he decided you were owed a little trust. After all, you are a part of 141. (Also, watching you break through an enemy compound was like fucking beautiful.)

Soap

You ever see a child on Christmas morning? That’s exactly how this hardened soldier looked like.

As a demolitions expert, he’s obsessed with being able to deal the most damage to an enemy, leaving them with absolutely nothing worth salvaging. And here you come, being able to do that like it’s nothing!

Of course he’s a little wary of you, but he prides himself on being a good judge of character and seeing you as some poor kid whose whole existence revolved around being the ultimate weapon, he welcomes you with open arms and convinces his team to give you a chance.

No matter the mission, he’ll ALWAYS demand to be on your shoulder as you charge through an enemy base, pancaking hostiles and their equipment like they were bugs. Mostly because he loves watching you deal the kind of destruction he can only dream of, but also because he loves getting to ride on a giant.

Seriously, even on base, he’ll BEG you to give him a ride.

While Gaz shows you all of London’s tourist hot spots, he’ll show you to all his favorite pubs, determined that he’ll be the one to share your first drink with. He’s also determined to bring you to Scotland, insisting “it’s better than those Brits’ city.”

@darkangel4121

[coquelicoq]

crashes ur board meeting n drags u out by the collar but its fine bc youre the one always saying shit like "im looking for people i can use" ok lol. get used idiot