#DUDE I CAN SEE HIS SCALP

[katieshook02]

mathew michael paul barzal.. what in the ever loving fuck did you do to your hair

im about to call Nadia. this is not funny.

[justsomeweirdbandkid]

Ok no I LIED I'm going to rant about him lovingly in the tags even more

[lokisgoodgirl]

Distractions [Loki x Reader]

A Link to my Masterlist is HERE Summary: You suck Loki's fingers during movie night with entirely predictable results. Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI. Avenger!Loki x Female Reader. Finger-sucking. Smut. Chino-besmirchment. Language. 'SEVEN' movie references. (w/c 1.6k)

You flinch as Brad Pitt recoils from the body on the bed in disgust. Scott hollers in the corner, sending popcorn and assorted snacks nestled between he and Sam flying. “Wooooah-” Scott cries. Sam's face is aghast as he tries and fails to scramble the chocolates. “Dude, what...these are new chinos. Pale stone, man. Pale...stone.” Scott’s hands crest at his nose. “Did you see that guy on the bed? Ho-boy, that’s gross. So gross. Rewind it.”

“Fan-tastic,” Sam says dryly, yanking the depleted bowl to his side. He clutches it in one hand, searching for stray chocolate buttons concealed beneath his thighs with the other. Tony snaps the leg panel of his recliner down, bracing at the sides. “Zip it or you’re barred. I have managerial rights.” “C’mon man, you saw what he did to my snacks - to my chinos.” Tony raises a silencing finger to Sam, moving it slowly to Scott. They both shrink into the sofa. "You know you're out of line when the lovebirds are better behaved that you are - and one of them is Loki." Loki’s mouth moves to your ear in the midst of the bickering, his breath making your scalp tingle. “It still amuses me that these picture reels affect you so. So easily unnerved.” “I’m not affected,” you mumble against his t-shirt. Loki’s low chuckle jostles your head. You prop your chin on his chest, staring up at the taut underside of his jaw. His eyes are bright and reflecting the screen stretched across the wall of the common room. “Yes you are,” he whispers in a frequency it feels like only you can hear. “It would be unreasonable for you to be as stoic as a god, darling. Very difficult to affect us to the same extent, you see.” “Is that right?” “Mmm,” Loki hums as he focuses on Morgan Freeman doing something clever. “My concentration is impeccable. Always has been.” You snort against his t-shirt. Minutes pass and peace is restored to the Stark cinema. You reach for Loki’s hand, intertwining the fingers. He gives it a squeeze, kissing the top of your head with his eyes trained on the screen. “Quiet,” Tony snips. A puff of air escapes against your hair. Loki squeezes your hand again and you press a kiss into his stomach, sucking the cotton between your teeth. The hard heat of his muscle clenches as your teeth graze the curve of a pectoral, blowing a blast of heat through the fabric. A strained exhale escapes Loki’s nostrils. “Careful, darling,” he murmurs. Silently, you shift the back of his hand to your lips. It's huge. Your dainty fingers get lost in the flickering shadows from the screen beneath the perfect pale of his long digits. His abdomen tightens against your cheek; hips shifting beneath you. After pausing a few moments...just to make him sweat, you press your lips against his skin. The unlikely pair on-screen move and talk, but you’re not really listening. It’s Loki’s gentle breaths you’re listening to, the ones drawn with such utmost precision that they’re anything but natural. Your lips move along the back of his hand, kissing the way you used to practice when you were a kid. “Mmgh,” he groans quietly, widening his thighs. Without looking you can tell Tony is glaring. “Apologies,” Loki says. “Cramp.”

Your tongue covertly traces the line of Loki’s finger from his second knuckle to the tip, catching it between your lips. A violent shudder wrenches his thighs and his effort to remain casual is astonishingly evident in the tighten of every muscle touching your body. His finger balances on the flat of your tongue and Loki’s holds his breath. After a pause, you slide it to the back of your tongue, fastening your lips to the base of his finger. “Norns,” he breaths, clearing his throat. It times perfectly with a jump-scare on screen. His free hand is curled to the arm-rest, perfectly manicured nails turning white as he digs them into the upholstery. You began to suck.

A growl rumbles his chest and the desperation to seem un-phased makes heat pool in your belly. You shift your hips, wetness sliding in your underwear. Loki’s cock is hardening furiously against his thigh, the drape of your hand, swelling against the tight jeans he insists on wearing. Sucking firmly, you drag your mouth down his finger, lingering on the tip and swirling your tongue. When you do that to his cock, just right, he cums down your throat with a whimpering stutter of your name. “I can’t do this anymore,” Loki mutters. Suddenly the world is upended and you’re tossed against the cushions on the opposite side of the sofa. Loki’s on his feet, one hand on his hips and the other pointed at the screen. It glistens with your saliva. Tony slams the feet of his recliner down. “Laufeyson for Christssakes will you pee before the movie? How many times.” “This man is an insufferable buffoon,” Loki says as he gestures at Morgan Freeman. “It’s clear the villain they seek is among them: the man with the vaguely attractive face who’s eating constantly.” Scott covers his ears while Sam leans forward. “Yo, man...spoilers,” he warns, raising an eyebrow. Loki lowers his head, shaking it with a smirk. Dark curls fall around his face and the pulse in his neck races in the half-light. “Fools. Come, darling. We shan’t waste your depleting lifespan on this nonsense.” Loki grabs your hand and yanks you from the sofa, bustling towards the door. “Keep moving,” he orders while a frantic hand runs over your ass and squeezes hard. The door barely clicks shut before Loki descends like a storm; hands and lips and dark sighs smothering you against the wall. “You dare to tease me thus?” He pants between the words, wet lips parted and eyes heavy. “I didn’t think you’d be affected, you say as Loki’s eyes glint. “I thought your concentration was impeccable.” He steps between your legs and the flat of his thigh pressed up against your clit. You gasp. “Even a god can be undone by simulated oral pleasure on his extremities, darling." You bat your lashes, biting your lip. “I won’t tell Hydra, I promise.” Loki growls again as he trails his knuckles over your breasts; his black hair and t-shirt and jeans melting into the darkness of the unlit corridor. The hand snakes down your thigh, working under the loose hem of your skirt. “Loki,” you say, eyes darting to the cinema-room door at the other side of the corridor. “Shhh…” Loki buries himself in your neck, sucking against your pulse. There’s a girlish scream from inside the room as another body is discovered. Your fingers fumble with Loki’s jean buttons, a desperate sigh of relief clouding the air as his cock springs free. “You’re impossible,” he says as he pulls the gusset of your panties to the side. “You’re impossible.” “Well, yes,” he says with a conspiratorial smile before hoisting your legs around his waist and sinking you greedily onto his length. The tug of his cock squeezing inside you hits with new fire as his hand covers your mouth. The finger you sucked is still wet and you pant against his palm. His eyes are bottomless in the gloom; the slight tremble of his brows and the part of his lips as he fucks you against the wall making you melt against him. Every slow roll of his hips erupts a quiet moan between his fingers. His breathy pants time with your own as he gets off on your pleasure like he always does. Your fingers claw at the V of his t-shirt, bunching it in a fist with a mewl of his name. “Teasing a god rarely ends without mischief, love,” he murmurs in the dark. Loki’s skin is flawless in the weak light leaking beneath the door to the cinema room. “You’d do well to remember that as we continue this…” He thrusts with calculate precision. “Venture.” You moan against his hand, eyes screwing shut as the coil tightens deep inside you. He loosens the pressure of his palm, a finger nudging at your lips. “Go on,” he whispers through heavy exhales. “Suck it as I fuck you. Show me how filthy you are for me.”

You let it slide against your tongue, sucking the digit over the flat with every rise of his hips. Legs tightening around him, Loki bites his lip as he looks down at your head falling back against the wall with unbridled approval. “You like it,” he moans with a whiff of condescension. “Perhaps I can summon a duplicate of myself for you to pleasure while I take you another way; would you like that?” The thought has blood thumping in your ears and the twisting pressure tightening in your core reaches critical levels. You whine, sucking Loki’s finger frantically as his eyes glaze with lust and his teeth clench. “F-fuck,” he chokes, stiffening against you. His forehead presses to yours, a guttural sigh shaking from his chest. Breath mists against your lips and you can feel the swell of his hot cum leak from your slit as he shuffles, milking the last of his pleasure – and yours. Your nails dig into the meat of his shoulders as you cum with a strangled whimper, dragging against the cotton. Loki’s thrusts slow, his kisses working into the angle of your jaw and the thud of your pulse. “You were wrong,” you sigh as he lowers your feet to the floor. “Excuse me?” “About the killer. It’s not Brad Pitt.” Loki’s brow scrunches as trembling fingers pull at his zip. “How can that be?” You shrug mysteriously, buttoning his jeans with a pat of his softening bulge. “Shall we go back in?”

Loki’s eyes narrow and he curls a damp strand of hair behind your ear. “Alright. But no distractions.” “I promise,” you lie, and a wicked smile plays on Loki’s lips.

Tags in comments because Tumblr continues to be annoying❤️

[kauuni]

𓇼 ᅠׅ ᅠ ݁ 𓂃 I WISH YOU ROSES — rafe cameron . . !

female! reader. black reader in mind n’ most canons are black reader coded. fluff &&. smut! mdni pls. different rafe’s like friends w benefits! rafe, mean/soft! rafe, love-sick! best friend! rafe, perv! rafe. . . might add more as i think of them.

꣖ surprise! was gonna do a drabble or sum but i just can’t bring myself to do it sooooo brain rots instead ꣓

soft! boyfriend! rafe who lets his girl kiss his face all over, getting lipgloss all over his face, no matter where he’s heading to.

rafe cameron buys you a necklace with his initial on it to ask if he can be your boyfriend.

soft! biker boyfriend! rafe who lets his girlfriend put flower stickers on his bike helmet cause she wants to.

soft! boyfriend! rafe who loves looking at your pussy. after you’ve creamed on his dick, the pink of your pussy coated with a white cast that makes your brown lips appear shiny.

perv! boyfriend! rafe adores how small your clothes get as it get hotter. the shorts and small skirts without panties getting him a good show throughout the day.

boyfriend! rafe adores the curve of your ass. always putting his hand into the back pocket of your short shorts when walking with you or kissing you, getting a hand full of it then.

soft! boyfriend! rafe gets obsessed with anything your obsessed with. but, he acts like he isn’t HARD but will always sit down and watch your favorite tv show all day. most of his days really revolve around you so it’s kinda hard not to.

boyfriend! rafe who takes a hand full of your ass and hits it every time you walk away from him.

perv! boyfriend! rafe who watches you change all the time, without shame. eyes glue to your ass as he tries his best to get a glimpse of your pussy when your putting on a swimsuit.

boyfriend! rafe who, when introducing you to someone, will always put “my girl” before your name.

fwb! rafe w feelings for you who’s little sister notices his feelings for you and he has to confess to her about it so she stops threatening to tell you.

fwb! rafe w feelings for you who will scare off every dude you will ever try to date. so much, that now if you try to talk to anyone they’ll be like “your rafe’s girl, right?”

fwb! rafe w feelings for you who has been yelled at many times (like a child) by you for going around telling people that your his. but, he continues to shrug it off and tell you it’s not that big of a deal.

fwb! rafe w feelings for you who gets you to stay so he can really apologize by promising to never do it again. although he promises, he continues to pound you into his mattress while telling you how your his and how much he needs you.

boyfriend! rafe who loves the attitude you give him. always just sitting and listening as you yell at him about whatever. when you notice he's just staring, you instantly get angry and try to walk off, saying he’s not listening but he swears he is. ( he definitely wasn’t, he was too busy watching your lips and thinking about you sucking him off )

boyfriend! rafe who lets his brain go to complete mush once feeling your nails on his scalp.

boyfriend! rafe who finds that’s the only way he can really fall asleep.

boyfriend! rafe who flashes the gun that sit in his waistband at any guy who tries to talk to you. any guy. whether it’s someone trying to talk you up at a party or a waitress that smiled a little too hard.

fwb! rafe w feelings for you who is so frequent with asking to films the two of you fucking that you finally cave. and, he doesn’t let the opportunity go to waste either. him filming everything from you sucking his dick to him coming on your brown skin.

perv! boyfriend! rafe who rubs himself a little when seeing you bend over in your small bikini’s and gets a peek of your pussy. “jesus christ,” he says, sucking in air through his teeth before landing a hand right on your ass.

love-sick! best friend! rafe who hates when you introduce him as your best friend to other guys, even though that’s what he is to you. he just wishes he could get a chance with you.

love-sick! best friend! rafe who’s face when watching you talk to another dude is so intimidating that they practically run away from you. so intimidating that you have to tell him to smile or at least not sit and stare.

boyfriend! rafe who knows what you like and always picks the best clothes that compliment your skin.

fwb! rafe w feelings for you who leaves things at your house to have an excuse to come and see if any other guy has been there.

boyfriend! rafe who’s the #1 pantie stealer without shame. even has a favorite pair.

“rafe, put ‘em back!” you would groan at him, watching as he picks them from the floor. “why?” he grins, continuing to stuff them in his pants that are unzipped. “they’re seamless, i need those for next week, for the party.” he nods as if he cares, even turns up his lip playfully before kissing you and leaving with them.

fwb! rafe w feelings for you who’s favorite thing to do is finger you. your back against his chest as he watches your chest cave into its self, moans falling recklessly from your lips while the rest of your friends are downstairs. him loving the fact that they can probably hear you, but he’s the only one that gets to see you take his finger deep inside.

boyfriend! rafe who loves coming inside of you. not only because he loves feeling you gush onto him while he fills you up but the way your pussy looks with cum dripping out of it. especially because of the extra contrast between your brown lips and his white cum.

mean! boyfriend! rafe who doesn’t mind not giving you what you want. with holding his dick from you all day even when you beg for you. so when he finally has you all you can do is whine and beg.

fwb! rafe w feelings for you doesn’t believe in him getting a girlfriend if it isn’t you. has tried many times to get one, but can’t seem to replace you.

boyfriend! rafe gives an annoyed look to any girl who smiles too hard at him.

mean-ish! boyfriend! rafe who, when you have on a bathing suit or anything slightly thin, will grab the string of your underwear or bottoms and pop them against your skin.

perv! boyfriend! rafe who asks you to lean down to get something for him 90% of the time so he can see the outline of your pussy.

fwb! rafe who once said that you couldn’t last more than a month without his dick, so you took it as a challenge and did. for more than 2 months actually. he, of course, couldn’t handle the pressure and ended up taking his last couple months of frustration out on you.

soft! boyfriend! rafe who definitely kisses your ankles when he’s deep inside, mumbling praises off his lips.

boyfriend! rafe who has laid you across his legs and done a lines of coke on your ass. almost as a party trick at a party.

fwb! rafe w feelings for you who daydreams about coming inside of you but never brings it up. since he can’t replace you, he always just fists his dick to the thought when you can’t make it.

ꪆ ݁ ᳝  2024 starher . . . ( pinned )

[qrrieterisunnq]

A week without you - Jack Hughes

jack!hughes x fem!reader Summary: Jack's on the roadie and he misses y/n so much, so he's cuddling with a body pillow, pretending that it's y/n… A/N: It's been a while since I posted something that wasn't requested, so enjoy this angst/fluff, and happy rest of the day! And it's not edited, I might edit it in two weeks, 'cause we have three weeks of practice, so I'll have time to do it. requested: yes/no likes are good, reblogs are better <3 gif, not mine word count: 1,65K warning(s): angst?, sad Jack, Luke being a caring young brother, FaceTiming

masterlist | wip's

Just eight days. Just eight days and he’ll be back at home, in the embrace of his lovely girl. Her hands would scratch at his scalp, as she’d listen to his talks about the roadie.

Jack is currently sitting on the bench in Rogers Arena in Vancouver, his breaths are heavy from the intense morning skate before the game against canucks.

“Jack?” Luke’s voice makes Jack jolt in place, his hand rising to his chest, taking in a deep breath.

“Dude, you scared the shit outta me,” he shifts on the bench, making a place for Luke to sit down. “What do you need?” Jack looks over at him, raising eyebrows in question and curiosity.

“Just wanna ask you, if you’re, okay?” there’s a concern in his eyes. He’s been observing Jack for the few days they were away from Jersey, and he can see the change in his mood. He’s been distant a lot and he was playing like shit in the last two games they had. “You’ve been acting weird lately.”

“I’m fine.” Jack tries to sound convincing, but Luke doesn’t buy it. He lets out a deep sigh, hanging his head low, thinking about how to make Jack talk.

“Jack, you know that is a lame, thing to say,” Jack nods his head, knowing damn right, that he can’t get away from this conversation. “Tell me, what is going on, J.”

Jack takes in deep breath, while he’s sorting out his thoughts. “It’s nothing…I just miss y/n you know,” he let out, fiddling with his gloves. “I know I was away from her for longer, but it just hits me hard, you know. In a month we have our year anniversary and I feel like I should be with her, you know.” he looks over at Luke his eyes already on his brother, concern in them.

“I can’t say I know how you feel, but I get it. If I had a girl and our anniversary was coming, I’d wanted to be with her too.” Luke nods understandingly and throws his arm around his shoulders to pull him close. “Come on,” Luke stands up, holding Jack’s hand to help him up. “Practice is over, and I’m sure, y/n is waiting for you to call her.” This seems to bring Jack into reality. He swiftly stood up, moving past Luke to the locker room, leaving Luke standing in the place with nothing more than an amazed expression.

“Wow, that was quick.” He mumbles to himself with an amused smile on his lips and follows his brother into the locker room.

“Lukey?” Jack turns at his younger brother with a plea in his eyes.

“Yeah?” he says bluntly not looking up from his phone as he makes his way into the room dropping his bag on the ground next to Jack’s.

“Could you maybe go to the boys for a while?” Jack starts carefully waiting for Luke’s reaction. His brows raised in confusion before he can ask why, Jack explains. “I want to talk with y/n for a while. You know, in private.”

“Yeah, sure!” he nods his head, opening his bag to pull out a wallet. “I’m sure the boys will head to a restaurant, so I’ll go with them,” he says making his way to the doors. He catches sight of Jack’s expression, chuckling to himself. “And I promise I won’t drink anything!” with a small wave he leaves the room, his phone already glutted to his ear as he’s calling Nico asking where they are.

Jack walks over to his bed popping down, he pulls his phone from his pants. A wide smile spreads across his lips as he sees his wallpaper. It’s him, hugging you tightly to his chest as you both fall asleep in a chair at a bonfire last summer in the lake house.

He finds your contact, dialing your number, waiting impatiently for you to pick up.

With a groan leaving your lips, you reach over the table to get your phone. You’re not in the mood to talk with someone. Your boss was an ass to you, giving you another thing to do, even though your work hours ends in ten minutes. Not looking at the caller ID, you pick it up, groaning. “What is it?”

“Oh, hi. Am I calling too soon? I thought you were done with work.” Jack lets out, scrunching his nose as he looks at the time. It’s 1 pm in Vancouver which means it's 4 pm in Jersey.

“Sorry, baby. No, you’re calling right. It’s my boss. He gave me another thing to do so I’ll be here for another hour or so,” you sigh, getting the call on speaker, placing the phone next to you, focusing back on your work. “Anyway, you excited for today's game?” you say with a smile on your lips. You were supposed to come to that game, but your boss wouldn't give you time off, so you’ll be cheering on them from home.

“Oh, so excited! Another time we’ll be playing against Quinn. It’s always amazing playing against him. Just sucks that you won’t be here.” You can imagine the pout he’s wearing on his lips, together with his sad blue eyes.

“I know my love, I was looking forward to seeing you play all together. I’m sure, there will be other chances I’ll get to see you play. Maybe next season, okay? But don’t think about it, tell me something!” you say in a cheerful voice. You love listening to his voice while you’re working or doing something.

His voice is so angelic. You could listen to his voice forever and you wouldn’t be bored of it.

“Okay, but I don’t know what,” he snorts chuckling.

“Anything! What were you doing today?” you asked, waiting for him to start talking. As soon as his voice sounds through the speaker you start typing on your notebook.

On the other side of the call, Jack is lying in his bed, a pillow pressed to his chest as he talks about his practice, aware that y/n is working and that she probably doesn’t know what he’s talking about.

“Y/n,” he asks when there’s a long silence.

“Yeah?” she hums bluntly her focus on the task she’s almost done with.

“I miss you,” Jack whispers shyly, his voice soft. You let out a sigh, a pout forming on your lips. “I miss you so much. I don’t know if I’ll make another day without you.” He confesses tears springing in his eyes.

“I miss you too, Jacky, but it's just eight days and you’ll be home. You’ll have four days without any game.” You say cheerfully, trying to ease the moment.

“I can’t sleep without you.��� He says as he clutches the pillow to his chest, a single tear running down his cheek, dropping on the pillow.

“Jack you can, just pretend I’m here or something.” You let out a sigh, resting your face in your hands.

“It’s not helping,” he pouts childishly. “The pillow doesn’t smell like you.” y/n sighs closing her eyes. Sure, she misses him and it’s hard to sleep without him in the bed, but she knows how hard it’s for Jack to be apart from her. He’s been like this since university when they were going on short roadies. They always slept with Facetime on during the whole night. “Can I see you?”

“Sure, J,” you nod, waiting for him to turn on the camera. “Hey, my love.” A smile forms on your lips as soon as your eyes meet his.

“You are gorgeous,” he blurs out as soon as your face pops on his screen. “So fucking gorgeous, especially with the glasses on. You look sexy.”

“Thank you, J,” you giggle, your cheeks turning red at his compliment. “But I really need to work, so if you don’t mind I won’t be saying anything for another hour or so?” you cock your head to the side, watching his soft and relaxed features.

“Yeah, that’s okay, love. I’ll probably take a nap. We’re going to meet Quinn in like…” he looks behind his shoulder, searching for something. “Don't you know where my phone is?” he asks his brows furrowed in confusion.

“Love it’s next to you, we’re face-timing through it.” You laugh shaking your head at his…you don’t even know what.

“Oh, right,” he chuckles shaking his head. “Anyway we’re going to meet Quinn in like two hours for a brunch, so, I’ll just take a nap.” He rambles.

“Yeah, fine by me!”

After half an hour, when you’re almost done with your work, you look over at your phone, only to see your beautiful boy, clutching a pillow to his chest, a small smile resting on his lips as he mumbles something under his nose. You’re eyes grow softer at the sight of him.

If you were here with him, you’d probably run your fingers through his hair, massaging his scalp, and reading a book or something while he’ll be napping.

You can’t help the smile growing when you hear him mumbling your name. The boy is your entire life. In a few days, you’ll be celebrating your year anniversary as a couple, and you can’t wait for it. You let your sweet boy sleep as you start finishing the work you have to do again.

When Jack wakes up with a big smile on his face, it even grows wider when sees his girl still at the same place, a focused look on her face as she types something on her computer. He snuggles more into the pillow he’s holding to his chest, a pillow he was pretending was a girl as he was sleeping for a few hours, and lets out a quiet sigh as he watches his beautiful girl working.

[writingroom21]

Okay imagine this reader goes in a all boys school pretending to be a dude to cover up her brother but soon rafe later knows she's a girl since she's in the guys shower room😫

A/N: I literally love this idea so much. She's The Man is one of my favorite movies.

Boys Bathroom

Warnings: 18+, smut, unprotected sex(wrap it up), p in v, overstimulation, squirting, oral (f receiving), fingering, semi public sex (communal bathroom), (let me know if I missed anything)

wc: 3.6K

The plan was simple. You would go to the school for two weeks and then swap places again. It shouldn’t be that hard to fool everyone since the two of you are twins. Since your parents found out they were having twins they got the two of you matching things. Your cribs, toys, clothes were all bought to match.

 The only downside was one of you is a girl and the other is a boy.

When the news was broken to them, they had mixed emotions. On one hand they get the best of both worlds with one of each. The other is that they planned on having the same gender twice. They tried to look past it and throughout childhood it was fine. Your dad had the perfect little boy to play catch and watch sports with. Your mom had a little angel that she could dress up and show around. 

It was all perfect until you hit puberty. Max, your brother stayed the perfect son that he always was. But you had become the wild child of the family. You weren’t really wild, just not the picture perfect daughter they had in mind. In middle school you started to not want your mom to dress you, leading to arguments about how you dressed.

Then now in highschool you are focused on being an artist, which isn’t an ambitious enough job for them. You would think that after their divorce they would stop agreeing with each other. But no they will always agree on one thing, you are too much to handle. They just don’t like how outspoken you are and how you will not conform to the version of you they want.

They focus on you so much they don’t even realize that it’s Max they should be worrying about. Sure he gets good grades and he never gets in trouble, it doesn’t mean he’s not doing things. You are always covering for him so he can sneak out of the house. Driving him around after he got so drunk with his friends that he can’t function. They don’t see that side of him so they worship the ground he walks on. 

They love him so much that they are now sending him to a prestigious all boys school. Max has been complaining about it all week since they told him. It’s a boarding school so he will be under 24/7 supervision. Which is a no in his books. Max has done everything basically to try and get out of this to no luck. Leading us to the moment the plan was formed.

“Come on please. Just do this one thing for me.” Max pleads at the end of your bed. You continue reading your book ignoring him and his weird request. He says your name to get your attention. “I’ll get you something when I come back. A token from Bora Bora sounds nice right?” You scoff at his audacity. “Dude I’m not going to pretend to be you so you can go on some vacation. It wouldn’t even work, you're a guy and I’m not.” Max throws himself on your bed, face planting onto the sheets. “If you do this for me I’ll get mom and dad to lay off your art school decision.” The book drops from your hands and you stare at him. You don’t have to think, getting them off your back is much needed. “Fine.”

The wig itches your scalp as you fix your clothes making sure your binding doesn’t come loose. The last thing you need is for it to come undone and your boobs come out. It;s the second day at the school, everyone seems to be buying that you are Max. Your best friend had shown you how to place wigs on, making sure that it can’t get loose. It seems to be staying in place so you can’t complain. You have to get used to squishing your boobs so much but it’ll be okay.

Your parent’s had splurged for Max to have his own dorm so you get to relax in your own space thank god. It would have been perfect if it weren’t for the boy next door. You had been unpacking when a knock interrupted you. Alright show time. You open the door to be greeted with one of the hottest guys you have ever seen. He has to be at least six feet tall, with hair you just want to wrap your fingers around. Don’t even get you started on his blue eyes. 

You were so caught up with checking him out that you didn’t notice he said something. “Hello?” He questions with this weird look. “Huh?” You clear your throat and make your voice deeper. “Sorry, what did you say?” You stand up straighter, trying to make you look taller. “Said I’m Rafe. I'm in the room right next door.” He points to the left. 

“Nice to meet you, I'm.” Your name almost slips out but you covered it with a cough. “My name's Max. Want to come in.” Rafe shrugs, entering and looking around your room. There’s not really much to look at. The walls are bare and the clothes are all put away. The desk has books for the classes you’ll be in and unfortunately a box of pads. Rafe spins around to you.

“Dude why the fuck do have those?” He practically shrieks. He’s pointing behind him and you follow it to see the box. Fuck you had forgotten to put them away. “Oh I have a twin sister that likes to prank me. She always packs something embarrassing in my bags.” You try to explain. Rafe listens as you fumble through your words, kinda weirded out that some dude has chick products.

“You have a twin?” He really doesn’t believe you. Instead of explaining further you pull out your phone, finding a picture of yourself to show him. Rafe looks at the photo and then at you trying to find similarities. “I can see it.” He looks closer at it again. “You know she’s kinda hot.” A blush forms on your cheeks. “Thank you.” Your eyes widen when you realize what you said.

“I mean she would say thank you or something dumb like that.” You laugh off. Rafe just nods at you slowly making his way towards the door. He can’t wait to get out of this room, something about you just isn’t right. “Right. Uh I gotta go. See ya man.” He was out of the room as soon as the words left his mouth. Leaving you there hoping you didn’t give yourself away.

The next few days you saw Rafe everywhere. He was in two of your classes, English and Biology. You’re thankful that your English teacher had assigned setting by last name. You were far away from him but your eyes would still find him. Looking at the back of his head and averting your eyes when he looks back at you. It didn’t help that he decided to be your lab partner for biology.

He sat down next to you, throwing his books down without saying a word. He doesn’t know why he can’t stay away. Rafe feels like something is wrong but at the same time he wants to figure out what. It’s the reason why he sat next to you and why he notices the things you do. He tries to play it off as if he gets close to you that he’ll likely get with your twin. If only he knew it was actually you.

The two of you watch each other in the cafeteria as you eat. Eyes meeting and looking away just to look back. At this point Rafe thinks you're gay, he has nothing wrong with that, it's not his type though. His friends are talking around him but his brain is playing a game of tennis. Throwing ideas out left and right.

Maybe you are just socially awkward and that's why you act like that around him. Or you are from some freaky conservative family that sheltered you for too long. All his thoughts just keep playing in his mind, every interaction on display to dissect. This game of cat and mouse continues for the first week you are there. You are just counting down the days until you can leave.

The stress of not getting caught has been eating you alive. Both of your parents have been texting you to go to their house since you weren’t there the following week. They think you are still staying at the other parents house. A risky plan but they only talk to each other when you do something they don’t like or when Max does good in something. The idea of them finding out has been eating you alive. 

You had called Max, anxiety getting the best of you. “What do you want?” The call is a little fuzzy, his international plan seems to be only doing okay. “You need to come home like now. I can’t keep doing this.” You can hear people talking in the background of his call. He says something to them and the noise dies down. “Listen it’s just one more week you can do it.”

“Max no you need to come home. Mom and dad keep asking me to come home. What if they find out?” If he was there right now he would slap the back of your head to have your senses come back. You’ve always had the flare for dramatics in his eyes. “Relax mom and dad arent going to find out. I’ll be back before they even notice. Just one more week.” You give in knowing that he won’t come back.

In the hallway Rafe was making his way to his room after coming back from a run. He was in the middle of taking his headphones off when he heard voices coming from your room. Curiosity got the better of him and he moved closer to the door, resting an ear on it to get a better shot. He heard it all, from the begging of your brother to come back to him saying he’ll be back in a week. What he can’t really understand is the voices.

Without a doubt he believes the female voice to be you, Max’s twin sister. What he can’t wrap his head around is the male voice on the other end. In his mind he knows that it’s you, it had to be. But the voice sounds different, the tone and octave aren’t the same that he’s been hearing. It's confusing to say the least. He goes to his room when he hears the call end, piecing together all the information that he knows. Which isn’t much.

You get awkward around him when he tries to talk to you in class, acting like a pre-teen who can’t talk to girls. Now that he thinks about it there’s a good chance you are gay. He catches you checking him out in English and the lunch room. Always tables away with your eyes glued to him. Then there are the times where he will see you blush at something he says. Rafe knows he’s a good looking guy. Girls were constantly throwing themselves at him before his dad sent him off to this shit hole.

He ignores the rest of his thoughts as he winds down from his run. Taking the necessary post workout vitamins and shakes he has. During this time you had made your way to the bathroom. Having to share a communal bathroom has not been ideal for this situation. The only times you can shower is super early in the morning and late at night. Since you are not a morning person, night showers it is. 

Peaking your head out your door you check the hallway to make sure no one is coming. Once the coast is clear you book it to the bathroom, running into the shower stalls. The stalls don’t have doors, just two curtains. You would think for the amount of money it takes to go here they would have better showering options. You strip in the first section letting the water heat up. When the water is hot enough you get in. Even for the lousy coverage they do have nice showers.

It was large enough to have double the space needed. There was a detachable shower head that had amazing water pressure. Plus a little bench to keep your stuff on not only in the changing space but the shower as well. Let’s just say that these showers have been the highlight to all of this mess. You get under the running stream, the water coats your body. Warming you up as you stand under the stream.

You go through your routine. Washing your hair you start to hum to a song that’s been stuck in your head. Getting lost in the moment you sign the lyrics softly, switching to different songs that randomly popped up. You were so distracted that you didn’t hear that someone had walked into the bathroom. Rafe had come in to wash away the sweat from his run when he heard singing. 

He stopped for a moment when he realized it wasn’t a guy singing. That or this poor guy’s balls haven’t dropped. He walks closer to where the sound is coming from. Making sure to keep his footsteps light. The last thing he wants is for the person to hear him and stop. He stops in front of the stall where the voice is coming from. Yeah there’s definitely a chick in there he thinks. Without really thinking about what he’s doing and how he’s close to becoming a creep. He pulls the first curtain aside, walking in. “Who are you and what are you doing here?”

You let out a small scream, scared from the sound of Rafe’s voice. You stand there frozen not knowing what to do. You’ve been caught, the person on the other side obviously knows you aren’t a guy. “Well?” You let yourself grab the curtain, pulling it around you so you can look at the person. “I’m so sorry. It’s a really long story actual-” Your words die when you see who it is. Rafe.

He’s as shocked as you are, both of you have wide eyes. “Your Max’s twin.” Then he says your name, to double check he had it right. “What the fuck are you doing here.” You want to answer, you really do. But his towel is hanging low on his waist, his toned stomach on display. That’s when it clicked to him, Max wasn’t gay because it wasn’t Max. It was you.

It all makes so much sense now. “Max wanted to go on vacation so he had me pretend to be him.” You don’t look him in the eyes. Mostly out of shame of being caught, the other being that you are too busy checking him out. You can’t help but wonder what he looks like without it on. A pink blush graces your cheeks at the thought. The reaction is noticed by Rafe.

He then realizes you are naked behind that curtain. Your wet body is right there for him to grab, only separated by thin plastic. He looks you up and down, mostly seeing your silhouette due to the curtin being slightly white. His dick is getting hard just thinking about you and how wet you must feel. He covers himself with a hand the other holding his shower stuff. “So you’ve been pretending to be him this whole time?”

“Yup.” You clutch the plastic to your chest, the water hitting the back of you. “Well this is awkward now.” He scratches the back of his neck looking at the ground. “I told you that I thought you were hot.” He laughs, shaking his head. When his hand falls back to his side you take it in yours. Hoping that your bicep can help the plastic keep you covered. “It’s okay. I think you're hot too.”

Maybe it's the fact that he has a pretty girl in front of him or the fact he hasn’t been laid in a while since being her, but he’s about to lose control. Fuck he’s been so desperate that he imagined you that night after seeing your photo as he masturbated. This is honestly a dream come true for him. He laces his fingers with yours, placing his things down. 

“You know I read somewhere that we should be saving as much water as we can. Mind if I get in with you?” Rafe never read that anywhere. The only reading he does is when he’s texting or doing school work. You will never catch him reading something about climate change or whatever. You smirk as you look up at him, dropping the curtain to take his towel off. “Mhmmm. Wouldn’t want to be wasteful.” He leans over you, his height allowing him to see all of you as he looks down. 

Your hands graze up his thigh, fingertips dancing along his dick. One of his hands cups your face to bring you in for a kiss, the other plays with a nipple. He backs you up to the wall and deepens the kiss. His hand moving lower to rub your clit. Your hand tightens around him, a moan slipping your lips.

He pulls back to watch your face, wanting to absorb every moan you let out. From the side of his eye he sees the shower head. He smirks down at you, pulling his hand back and taking yours off him. “Is everything okay?” You’re worried something happened and he wants to stop. “Yeah pretty girl it is. Why don’t you sit on that bench for me?” Even though it was a question he meant it as a command.

You hesitate at first, concerned about how sanitary it is. Then you see the look in those pretty blue eyes and your concerns vanish. Sitting down, you watch as he takes the shower head down, switching the stream setting. He’s probably going to regret this later but he kneels down on the tiles. Positioning the shower head between your legs, the strong stream hits your clit. You didn’t see that he adjusted the water temperature so it wasn’t burning hot.

“That feel good?” Your hand flies to his shoulder, nails marking his flesh. “So good.” You moan out, trying to be mindful of your volume. Rafe gently moves the head around, creating circles on your clit. It feels so fucking good. He leans over you, attaching his mouth to one of your nipples. He sucks on it while his unoccupied hand finds your entrance, teasing a finger in you.

Rocking the finger back and forth, he adds a second when he feels you relax around him. The sensation of his mouth, finger, and water is too much. You are biting so hard on your lip to stay quiet that you’re bleeding. You release your lip with a wince, the sharp sting radiates in your bottom lip. Rafe looks up at the sound, eyes clocking the red coming from the cut. “Poor baby.”

He licks the blood, giving a quick suck to your lip to make sure he got everything. “It’s just too much for you, isn't it? Hmm?” He taunts as his fingers increase in speed. Your climax is right there, you can feel it in your fingertips. “Please Rafe. I” You sob rips it’s way out of your throat, your orgasim over powering. You are physically shaking from the intensity but he doesn’t let up. He keeps the water right where it is, his fingers increase their pace. He goes back to sucking on your nipples. You try to tell him it’s too much but all that comes out is moans. 

It feels like your orgasim is never ending. Then with one more stroke to your g-spot you were gushing. Rafe takes the shower head away, still fingering you to get you to squirt more. You keep drenching him, his fingers now rubbing your clit furiously only making it worse. He drops the shower head, his hand shooting up to cover your mouth. Silencing you moans as the last bit comes gushing out of you. You’re spent, body limp from that earth shattering orgasim.

“That was so fucking hot.” Rafe bends down and starts to lick you clean. Dying to get a taste of you. You push his head away from how sensitive you are. Your clit feels like it’s on fire. He pulls you up and turns you around to bend over on the bench. He’s not going to last long, he was close to blowing his loud just watching you. There’s just no way in hell he’s giving up his only chance to fuck you.

Before you could protest he’s already slipping in. You’re so wet that he slides right in and bottoms out. He gives you a second to adjust and then he’s ramming his hip into you. You’re still sensitive so your next release builds up quickly. He wants to be embarrassed from how fast he comes, he really does. He just can’t find it in him to really care.

You feel so good wrapped around him, your walls constricting him so tight. He barely had room to keep fucking you as you second orgasim ripped through you. He quickly followed, pulling himself out and jerking off so he could paint your ass. It’s okay because he’ll wash it off of you in a second. You get up after getting your bearings and the two of you wash off. “That was really fucking good.” You dream out loud. 

Rafe gives you a kiss, nibbling on your lips. You wince due to the cut. “Sorry.” He gives it a kiss better. “Same time tomorrow?” You smile and nod.

Safe to say the following week was spent sneaking off at any given chance you had.

[sunraies]

If your taking requests could you write buzzcut Rafe cameron x reader

Rafe being wiped for reader + reader being his passenger princess

No one is allowed to drive or sit in the front except her. If his going to a party with his friends they need to sit in the back because the front seat is her's

And if he is ever looking for a new car she needs to go with him so she can pick the one she likes couse it's "there" car and his girl needs to love it otherwise it's returned before you can blink

-🍷🍷

I absolutely love this idea! I hope I haven't completely butchered it x

Passenger Princess

Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings - Fluff, small moment of pain.

As requested above

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

Ever since your first date, Rafe didn't let anyone in the front seat. He would happily feel like chauffeur if it meant that the front passager seat was always yours.

"In the back, man," Rafe told Topper as he opened the passenger door.

"Wh. What?" Topper frowned, looking into the car and finding Kelce already sat in the back, who shook his head.

"Get in the back." Rafe looked at him like he was stupid.

"You can't be serious. It's just us three"

"It's my girl's seat"

"She's not even here," Topper protested and looked to Kelce for help.

"I tried, my dude. Just go with the crazy, "  Kelce shrugged.

"She will be later, and I don't want you musty ass on it." Rafe was deathly serious as Topper stared at him, like he'd grown two heads. "Get in the back or find another way,"

Rafe had offered them a lift to the main land as he was going to pick you up from a night out.

"Jesus, girl got you pussy whipped" Topper grumbled as he climbed into the back.

"How's that whiplash from Sarah feeling?" Rafe immediately shot back with a smirk as he glanced back in the rear view mirror.

○●○●○

The front seat of his car was truly yours. The glove box held your favourite hand cream and lip gloss, along with a few snacks. Which you happily munched on after Rafe picked you and Sarah up from the club.

You had been on the main land, celebrating a friends birthday. You had texted him that you were done way before the night was planned to be over. The crowded club, the music, and the lights all too much without him there. Even when Rafe arrived with Topper and Kelce, you just wanted to go home and what his girl wanted, she got.

"You good, baby?" He asked, glancing over at you as you had made yourself comfortable.

You nodded as you sat curled up his jacket while his hand rested in your thigh, his thumb gently stroking your exposed skin.

As Sarah slept in the back, you gently ran your nails on the up the back of his neck, lovely that his buzzcut gave you better access to his scalp. Your nails made him hum and smile.

"Thank you for getting us, handsome," you said softly and kissed his cheek as you leaned over the centre console.

"Of course, I would come get you, baby." He took your hand and  kissed your knuckles as he watched the road.

○●○●○

"Rafe, why are we at a car showroom?" You asked, as you sipped on an ice latte he brought you on the way.

He just smiled at you as he pulled into the parking lot. Every expensive make of car you could think of was there, all brand new and ready for Rafe to buy.

"Honestly, baby. Why are we here?" You asked, getting out of the car as he held the door open for you.

You felt very undressed in your crop top and shorts, while Rafe looked perfectly in place with his checkered shirt, chinos, and designer shades over his eyes.

"We are getting a new car, baby girl." He smirked and wrapped an arm over your shoulders as he walked you towards the showroom doors.

"Good afternoon, Mr Cameron. It's a pleasure to see you again. How may I help you?" A middle-aged man, in a perfectly ironed suit and tie, greeted Rafe.

"Help my girl with whatever she wants." Rafe politely shook his hand before resting his hand on your lower back.

The salesman was a little taken aback but quickly recovered and nodded before happily showing you to any car you liked the look of.

○●○●○

You loved Rafe's new car. It had all sorts of amazing controls that you happily played with every time you were in the car.

You loved the led lights on the floor and the way the speakers sounded. The heated seats and air vents were set just right for your comfort. It was so perfect that for the first week, you asked Rafe to go for a drive almost every day.

On a very hot day, you found a fault with it, but you didn't want to tell Rafe. You desperately tried not to wince every time you moved.

"What's wrong, baby?" Rafe asked, noticing how tense you were. You hadn't moved to play with the studio or grab your drink for a little while.

"Nothing." You smiled at him and played with his hand that had been in its normal place on your thigh.

Rafe looked you up and down before humming. Once it was safe to pull over, he did, turning off the engine and facing you.

"Something is wrong. What is it?" His tone was gentle but demanding.

You sighed, looking down at his hands. "You know. You know, I absolutely love this car, right?"

He nodded and gave you an encouraging look to continue, "But? I feel like there's a but there"

"But." You sighed. "The leather seats aren't the most comfortable with shorts on"

Most comfortable was an understatement, with the leather having been in the sun and you in shorts. It felt like the back of your thighs were on fire.

Rafe frowned before getting out and coming around to your door  "Get up, baby"

You shook your head, scared you would leave a layer of skin behind.

"Babygirl, I can't fix the problem if you don't get up," He said softly.

Moving off the seat was just as painful as you imagined. You winced in pain as you took Rafe's hand before looking to see the damage. Surprisingly, the seat was clear of skin, but damn, did you thighs burn.

"Jesus, baby," Rafe squatted down and gently touched your sore skin.

When you whimpered, he placed a gentle kiss on both before standing up. "Stay there"

He quickly opened the boot and grabbed the hoodie he always kept in the car for you. He placed it on the seat, making sure every bit of leather was covered before letting you back in the car.

Your plans for that afternoon changed there and then. Rafe drove right back to the showroom and demanded fabric seats in any pattern and colour of your choosing.

[faeriekit]

Health and Hybrids (XXVII)👽👻💚

[I can't remember the original prompt posters  for the life of me but here's a mashup between a cryptid!Danny, presumed-alien!Danny, dp x dc, and the prompt made the one body horror meat grinder fic.]

🖤Chapter navigation can be found here🖤 Click to browse previous updates.

💚 Ao3 Is here for all parts 💚 (now featuring mediocre mouseover translations, only available on a computer)

Where we last left off... Danny has another hashtag breakdown! Diana helps mediate. Stinky Dad and the Alien Guy observe.

Trigger warnings for this story:  body horror | gore | post-dissection fic | dehumanization (probably) |  my nonexistent attempts at following DC canon. On with the show.

💚👻👽👻💚

Danny’s space-watching time is very important to him. He’s pretty sure it’s on his schedule, even.

Every few days��and even more days in a week, now that people are relatively certain that he’s not going to start hitting the medical staff—Danny gets wheeled over to the big window to stare out at the moon.

The moon hasn’t changed all that much since his first few visits, since. You know. It’s in space. Still, the stars shift in their positions, and sometimes they face Earth, and sometimes they do not, and a couple times Danny sees people flying out there, which is super neat.

Sometimes Danny sees maintenance workers out doing repairs on their buildings, too. They wave back at him when they’re not busy or carrying something, which makes Danny’s core bubble and spark with joy.

So, Danny is watching the stars twinkle in the sky with all the meditative calm his Obsession requires when something plops onto his head. It doesn’t hurt, but it does put pressure onto his neck. Ow.

Danny hisses automatically, but he already knows who it is—the quick-fast-kid-who-hasn’t-introduced-himself practically vibrates against Danny’s skin, all excited by omg/omg/misch/iefomg.

Typical. Danny wants to feign a bite, but his neck kind of hurts. He settles for grumbling. “What?”

“Dude,” the teenager says, or, uh, Danny approximates he says something kind of like dude, anyway— “Want to come see a feoht?”

Uh. “A what?” Danny asks, ignoring how the guy’s chin keeps digging into his scalp. It might be the most non-medical physical contact Danny’s had since he broke down with Diana. Maybe.

The teen backs up, and models some very quick punches into the air, making his own sound effects to match. It’s all very impressive, or whatever. Danny’s not going to applaud, though; his arms are tired.

“…Sure.” It’s not like Danny has anything better to do.

“Berstan!” the kid chirps, and—

Danny clamps down on his wheelchair wheels because holycraptheyaremoVINGFAST. His wheels aren’t on the ground—the teen is carrying him, chair and all—!

He’s going to be in so much trouble for running. Danny’s wheels touch the ground, and he drops straight to the floor. His hands shake all the way up to his elbows as he grips his wheels. He is going to be in so much trouble when the nurses look for him and he’s not there.

Oh no. Oh no.

“Here we are!” the quickfast teenager announces, grinning. They’re in a room with a big, rubberized floor. It’s basketball orange. The rest of the room is virtually indistinguishable from the cloth folding walls Casper High uses to divide the gym into smaller gyms—giant cloth panels line every surface that isn’t the floor. Walls. Ceiling.

Well. It’s certainly…sound dampening. There’s vents, though. So. At least they can breathe.

The other teenagers Danny recognizes yell out to them, cheerful as ever. One waves—the kid behind him waves back, and then they’re all clustered together, pleased and breathing heavy and slightly sweaty.

“Feel alright?” one teen asks—Danny recognizes him after a second; he usually has a leather jacket on over his brightly colored shirt. He isn’t sure what the huge S is for, but hey, it’s a cool emblem or whatever. Danny used to have his initial on his…

…Danny doesn’t want to think about that, actually. He doesn’t want to think about anything about home at all.

Oh. Someone asked him a question, and now they’re all looking at him for answers. Danny nods jerkily—something sloshes inside his skull, though, which. Ew. He scrunches his face up when everyone else starts to look worried about his expression, though; it’s no big deal! It’s just! Gross!

The boy who is very fast pats his hand before sliding to the other side of the room. There are buttons there, which he presses; the room shifts, just a little, to make a piece of the floor turn away in favor of a rack of weapons. The teenager who’s always masked, but is now in an exercise shirt, whistles approvingly, and two of the teens—whoah—start flying off to grab at the equipment available.

…There’s some cool stuff there. Danny. Danny might…

He doesn’t want to fight, per se, but. Um. Weaponry is intrinsically cool. There’s no doubt about it. Half the reason he liked to play Doomed was collecting the newest and coolest weapon to blast at all his enemies with! And Tuc—

—and—

—Tucker—

Something clicks right up in front of Danny’s face.

He flinches.

“You good?” the teenager asks, big blue eyes on him as Danny struggles to breathe. “Do you want hweorfan?”

Danny gasps around three uneasy breaths before his ears catch up. Or. Well, his ears work, but his brain doesn’t know what the teen is saying?? Danny shakes his head anyway—he doesn’t want more to happen. He wants less.

The teenager frowns. Danny immediately worries that he did something wrong. “Okay, but tell me if you change your mod.”

As soon as Danny figures out what that is? Sure. He’ll tell him.

In the meantime, the kids split up into groups; one set of two goes to one side of the gym and the other goes in the air, floating on the other si— wait, they can float??

…Danny stares, and two ostensibly human-looking teenagers take to the air, loudly teasing the two left on the ground, and, yeah. They’re flying. Danny watches as the one on the ground starts counting, ready to start their match, only to interrupt his own countdown for a sneak-attack at the start and a PIFF of a smoke bomb going off. Danny can’t see the buzzing kid disappear from sight as the air begins to thicken, but there’s a distinct taste of JOY/games/VICIOUS that flutters through him that tells Danny that, wherever he is in that smoke cloud, he’s living his best life.

 And. Well.

The fighting is—there isn’t a better word for it, it’s just so damn cool. There’s kicking and punching and throwing and tossing and—sure, Danny can take a few hits and deal out some surprise punches when he has to, but these kids know what they’re doing, which is so cool, because once Danny lost the benefit of gravity mid-fight basically everything Mom had trained in him had been thrown out the window. The physics were just never right.

(And— Mom—)

Like, all the punches are happening at speeds that Danny can only kind of follow. His neck starts hurting from trying to follow them—but he can’t stop watching, and the kids are really having a blast. They’re laughing. They’re teasing. They show off, even, stopping to pose and flex and be admired by their sole observer, which Danny obliges with some gentle claps. The others are quick to jump on any distraction, though, and are more than willing to have Danny be the center of attention while they sneak up on showstoppers, stick or lasso in hand.

On one hand, Danny should probably be more alarmed by the sight of kids acting as literal child soldiers training to be combat ready. He…he’s pretty sure he’s meant to be one of them as soon as he’s recovered enough to get trained.

And…it is scary. It is kind of a scary thought that Danny might have to go back to…go back to fighting and getting hit and hitting and everything that fighting means.

On the other hand, there’s no one here. All the kids here are Danny’s age, and they’re not fighting because someone is making them; they’re having fun, and their job is to help people.

…Danny puts his legs higher up on his wheelchair, until he can wrap his arms around his knees. They’re supposed to beat up threats, but they don’t think that Danny’s a threat. They’re letting him sleep in a bed and get medical care and making sure he gets medication and everything. They let him hang out with their children and he has toys and fidgets to pass the time, and maybe he’ll have to pay them back later, but… isn’t helping out because he got helped only fair?

And they let non-humans live on Earth! That one teen’s stinky dad said that they could help Danny stay on Earth, he thinks. Or, uh, it’s what he thinks the green guy translated that as? So as long as he doesn’t leave, they could even protect him from the— all the bad stuff on Earth! So really, all Danny has to do is work on getting better. He’s safe here. Diana is here, the stinky dad is here, and there’s a whole team of super-people with super powers ready to help people.

Danny’s safe. He’s calm. He’s fine. He’s…worried that Diana doesn’t know where he is, but she’s smart and there’s probably cameras.

He watches the teens play around with various weaponry like they’re his model rocket. There’re thrown projectiles and giant hammers and dodgeballs and sticks, staves, and lassos; someone pulls out a shield, of all things, glittering gold and gleaming with something that itches at the back of Danny’s eyeball, and there’s a gun that sh—

Danny only breaks out of the memory of RUNNINGRUNNINGRUNNING when he realizes that someone is holding him. He’s choking. He doesn’t know who’s holding him, but they’re not hurting him right now and he can see a crowd of other colorful figures around him, which means he’s not with the Guys in White.

He’s hyperventilating. He can’t help it. He can’t stop it! His lungs hurt and there’s no end to the stress pressing out of his chest. Someone is holding him; where’s his chair? Did he lose it?? That’s really expensive medical equipment—they’re going to be so mad at him—!

Someone lifts him out of the stranger’s arms. It’s one of the older quick-buzzing humans. Not the teenager, and not the oldest one, he thinks. Danny can’t tell. He can’t breathe, and it’s hard to focus.

He’s shushing Danny like he’s a kid. Danny would be insulted, except he can’t breathe, and he really wants someone to help him, and his eyes are all weird and he can’t see and he doesn’t know where he is and his core hurts and his chair is gone—

Oh. The guy puts Danny’s hand on his chest and models breathing in with one big, visible breath.

Danny breathes in.

The guy models breathing out. It’s a long, slow breath.

…Danny struggles through the follow-through, but he manages. Well. He chokes hard enough to cough, twice, but…close enough.

The colorful forms milling about slowly disperse, until it’s largely just Danny, and the fast guy radiating very measured levels of calm, and his friend in black and blue, who is eating a sandwich. They breathe in, and they breathe out. That one guy eats his sandwich.

Danny looks around. He’s…the room he’s in is really big. Tables. Benches. Little stands of foo… Oh. He’s in a cafeteria. Cool.

…He squints through the new haze of green in his eyes. He’s probably strained something, but there are more important things at stake here: can he get some real food here?

“Where is here?” Danny asks. Rasps. He’s mostly horizontal, so manipulating his head around to glance at his surroundings is kind of a strain on his neck. Is that a hot dog cart?

“Wistheall,” the two say simultaneously—the guy in black and blue and a bird on his chest swallows his sandwich. “…Want a snakka?”

You know what? Danny’s going to assume that this means a snack. Sure! Why not. Nodding his head so quickly hurts, but he’s also not walking anywhere, so it’s not like it’s a full-body pain. The buzzing-quick guy sort of just…carries him around and asks Danny what he wants, and the bird guy gets it for him.

The little vibrations the guy is giving off are tinged a little with wor/ryworry/worry, but the guy’s mostly…at peace? Forcibly shoved it all down? Danny and the guy are practically chest to chest at this point, so it’s probably just that Danny’s close enough to feel even really quiet things.

His suit is super smooth, by the way. It’s not, like, skintight—there’s a little armor underneath, Danny can feel—but the fabric itself is like super slick. It’s cool. Texturally.

Also, he gives Danny a tube of something that are clearly off-brand Prongles, so Danny’s mostly just enjoying that instead of wondering what’s up with this guy and his friend.

“Are you okay?” the guy finally asks, his chatter mostly winding down into a question Danny can recognize. Danny swallows his bite of chips with a swig from his water bottle, and nods. He’s…unsettled, but he’s fine. He doesn’t know where he is, but he didn’t know where the teenagers had left him either, so this is about what he expected.

Even under his red hood-and-mask, the guy’s eyes are kind. Kinda worried. Not mean. “Something bad happened?”

…Danny looks back at his chips. Something bad happened, but it didn’t happen recently. “No,” Danny muttered around the crumbs in his mouth. He swallowed dryly. “Not…not now.”

The vibrations slow, and dim, melancholy lacing through the air. The sensation makes Danny itch. “Before?”

Danny nods. He thinks about his body melting from the outside in, his face dripping off in chunks of wet matter, his throat torn open still screaming.

“It was a—“ Danny tries, but he doesn’t actually know their word for gun or blaster. He just forces his fingers to make a familiar symbol, holding his own middle and end fingers back, leaving a shaking, uncomfortable thumb and pointer.

The quiet pew pew sound effects probably aren’t necessary, but the more detail, the better, or something like that.

Danny remembers how hot it got. Just…all the heat and light, and he could smell smoke right up until he couldn’t. And his face…everything hurt—everything still hurts, even—but the scary point had been when suddenly his face hadn’t hurt, and there was nothing left to feel.

…The guy holding him pulls Danny’s fingers away from his face. Oh. Danny was pulling at his still-green, still-healing wound. He. Uh. He doesn’t remember starting to do that anymore.

“Sorry,” Danny whispers. He swallows something wet from his sinuses to his stomach, and has to fight back the memory of a blood-and-ecto-and-flesh slurry taking its place in his esophagus as he tried to crawl away to die. Again.

The man sends out pulses of sorrysorrysorry through his skin. “Me too,” he murmurs back.

Then Danny gets hitched up—Danny squawks—and gets thrown into a better position over one shoulder, so Danny has better height to see from and a better perch in the guy’s arms. Danny drops half his prongles on the floor in the process. “Want to go find your chair?” the guy asks, body vibrating just a touch outside of Danny’s conscious awareness. Still, even without seeing the guy’s face, his whole body radiates sympathy/curiOSITy/Hungry.

…Didn’t they just eat?

Either way, Danny’s not torn between staring sadly at the ground where his prongles lay cold and bared to the cruelty of the world or getting up to go find his chair. “Yes,” he agrees, and uses the flat of his forearms to haul himself up higher onto the guy’s shoulders. Kindly, the guy in red doesn’t even budge. “Thank you.”

“Na geswincan,” the guy reports back easily, which Danny is pretty sure is a less-formal you’re welcome. Too bad there’s a whole language’s worth of context Danny’s missing out on here. His friend even snags Danny an extra can of prongles, and is kind enough to rips open the seal for him.

Nothing beats recovering from a crying jag like chips. Danny takes them earnestly.

The quick-fast guy hooks his arm onto his friend’s, and the world starts to stretch and blend into the in-between planes of reality, slices of world layered atop each other. The guy smashes through each one and pulls them both along for the ride.

It’s not quite like dunking his head in the portal, but it’s not not like sticking his head in a homemade portal either. Danny shakily pulls out a chip and starts chewing. He’ll just take the ride as it comes.

*

“Superboy.”

Kon winces.

“Robin.” Wonder Woman’s eyes turn to the more remorseful end of the bunch. “Wonder Girl. Impulse.”

“Wedidn’tmeanto!” Bart wails into a pillow, which. Fair. Cassie is sweating from possibly every pore she’s ever had (and maybe even a few she doesn’t??), and Tim is doing that stoic-faced thing that means he’s flipping the hell out too much to even tell his face to make expressions about it.

Kon just looks…miserable. Just absolutely miserable.

“…Triggered by firearms, maybe…?” Tim mutters under his breath, which means that he’s theorizing about their guest’s symptoms rather than coming up with solutions-oriented paths out of this confrontation and Cassie wants to shake him because this is NOT the time, Timothy Jackson Drake, except he’s kind of made of mortal human flesh and if she actually shakes him too hard he might die.

“I hope you understand how deeply irresponsible it was to take our patient out of his rooms without any form of supervision from either myself, his medical team, or an adult up to speed with our patient’s medical and psychological needs.” Wonder Woman’s voice is sharp—and her eyes are on Timmy Wonder Boy, who’s barely paying attention, making it clear that the majority of her ire is currently on him. “All four of you are being taken off of mission rosters for the next month in favor of remedial training. I hope that you are all satisfied with the decisions you made.”

“Fiiiine,” Cassie groans. Kon slumps in place. Tim nods without really looking.

Bart, still wailing at lightning speed into his pillow, continues doing…that.

[n3ptoonz]

Can I get SFW and nsfw bi han headcanons pleaseee

bi han!sub-zero sfw/nsfw hcs

y'all know the rules; includes reader

SFW

absolutely hates loud music but catch him blasting soft jazz or traditional instrumental music that you can hear throughout the temple

another chronic tea lover like you'll never not see him with a mug in his hand or sitting on his desk, and you can best believe it's never empty

he hates surprises. unless they're from you then he's more like "oh...that's nice. thank you." with a lowkey wholesome attempt at a genuine smile (you are the first person to ever actually see him smile)

he has a soft spot for flowers. literally any kind of flower and this becomes obvious if you roam around his temple and see all the pretty vases with their hand made bouquets by yours truly

he has the best hand writing out of the trio. i'm talking like calligraphy master type shit and he even offered to teach you so you could write to him when he has to go away on long missions

i'm giggling at the thought that the "this isn't you" speech would work on him😭his short temper and grumpy demeanor gets him into so much shit and when you give him those eyes he's like "grumble grumble...fine."

at the start of your relationship he was the same but very very slowly became more patient with general things. he still has those moments though and you gotta be the level headed one or else nothing gets done

NSFW

roughest out of the three. who else is surprised? right. it did take him a while to learn control so you'd be able to leave his room not limping for once!

TITTY/CHEST ENTHUSIAST. i will die on this hill. he gets so grabby like he saw something shiny. y'all remember when his eyes damn near glossed over when he saw the coins on the ground? that's exactly the face he makes. dudes a sucker [all pun intended]

i feel like once he learns how to be gentle he's so caring. after care becomes more prominent cause sheesh the way the room looks when yall done is...😧 but seriously i think he'd be so attentive too asking if you're okay in the heat of the moment before going right back to fuckin yo shi up

groan city population him. soft mutter central. you could swear you've heard a small whimper before but he refuses to ever acknowledge it ever again LMAOOO

you [did]nt hear this from me but...he likes wax play. actually, temperature play now that i think about it. you didn't even need to suggest it cause he experimented with it once when his cold handprints were still on your hips. the second he could sense you were into it, now you gotta do it in moderation cause bro is a lil too excited

he likes to be choked.

i know i say this every time but idgaf he turns into a lil bitch when his hair is pulled. that tough guy shit is GONE once your nails meet his scalp. he has once came on the spot from it too, another thing to never bring up again LOL

[wynnyfryd]

Trailer park Steve AU part 29

part 1 | part 28 | ao3

“Hey,” Steve sniffles when Eddie gets home.

He has no idea what time it is, but he knows he’s been crying since Wayne left for work — the exhausted, intermittent kind that leaves him boneless and craving a nap. From the foyer Eddie’s expression pinches with concern, and Steve can’t help the little bubble of wet laughter he lets out over the sight he must make: swaddled in a blanket, tear streaks down his face, neck flopped over the back of the couch to look toward the door. And he’s surrounded by towels.

The few that Wayne managed to salvage after his temper tantrum are all hung up near the radiator, draped over shelves and the backs of chairs, and the rest are sloshing away in the washing machine. (Wayne started a fresh cycle for him before he left for work; didn’t say a word about Steve boohoo-ing like an injured toddler on the other side of the room, which kind of makes him want to cry again.)

“Welcome to your house,” Steve tries to joke, but his voice cracks, so it comes out sounding more pathetic than funny.

“Uh… hi?” Eddie speaks slowly, moves slowly, cautious as he drops his bag and toes off his sneakers. He comes to stand behind the couch.

Steve blinks up at him with another weak, watery laugh.

“You okay?” Eddie asks. He bows his head to meet Steve’s gaze, eyes sharp with worry, brows drawn down, and Steve smiles just a little when Eddie’s hands reach up to touch him: sweep his hair off his forehead, cradle his face, cup his jaw. He runs his thumbs over Steve’s cheekbones, wiping at the salt tracks, and his rings rest in the hollows, his fingers drumming soothing rhythms as he chews on his next words.

Steve thinks he’s never seen something so lovely. Full lips twisted up in sympathy; secondhand heartbreak in his eyes. His hair falls around them like a curtain, like a cocoon.

He looks beautiful.

Warm.

Safe.

“...Do you wanna fuck around?”

Eddie’s hands flex against his jaw and then go still. So perfectly still, every muscle tensed, face gone horribly, carefully blank.

“Jesus,” Steve cringes at himself. He screws his eyes shut with a groan; lifts a hand to hide his face. “Oh, my god. Dude, I’m so sorry, I don’t—”

Eddie plucks Steve’s hand away. Goes back to holding his face, fingers kneading the tense muscles in Steve’s neck. Steve’s thinking that if he could just go blind right now so he never has to look up and see Eddie’s reaction, that would be so cool.

“Hey,” Eddie coaxes. “Look at me?”

Steve cracks one eye open. “Sorry,” he winces.

“S’okay,” Eddie says. Soft and simple, like it's easy, like he means it. There's a smile in his eyes, a playful quirk to his lips. “More than okay, actually; shit, that’s like, supremely fucking flattering, just, uh…"

Oh, god. Is this the part where he lets Steve down? Tells him he read this all wrong; that he let Robin witness his whole sad wet sexuality crisis for nothing?

"Feel like I missed a couple chapters on the reading assignment here, Steve,” Eddie laughs; a disbelieving little thing, his blunt nails catching on Steve's stubble. “You wanna tell me where that came from?”

“Just…”

Steve lets out a breath. Desperately wants to look away, because it’s embarrassing. What he wants.

Why he wants it.

“Last night, when you…”

"Mm. Surprised you remembered that.” His thumb drifts to the corner of Steve’s lips, traces the dip between his bottom lip and chin like he's remembering it now, too. "You were pretty fucked up."

Steve whimpers under the touch. He wants to part his lips, drop his jaw; invite Eddie to feel, to pet his thumb over his tongue and press down with two thick fingers. See how far they’ll go. Eddie makes a noise, and his hands retreat to higher ground; massaging Steve's temples, scratching lightly at his scalp. His voice is almost painfully tender when he murmurs, “No offense, but, um. You still seem a little fucked up now."

Steve nods mutely, because he can feel a rogue tear sliding sideways to his hairline, and what is there to say? It's true. He is a little fucked up now. (A lot fucked up, in fact. Kinda feels like Eddie's fingers down his throat would fix him, but he doubts Eddie would agree.)

Eddie maneuvers around the side of the couch, comes to crouch in front of Steve with his hands braced on Steve's knees. Looks up at him with wide, earnest eyes; two black moons, gravitational pull. "For the record," he intones, squeezing the meat of Steve's thigh, bringing his hand back down to Steve's kneecap with a mournful hiss of air. "I do want to. Fuck around with you, I mean, just- you know. Probably when you're not crying."

Steve huffs a quiet laugh. "You're not into that?" he jokes.

Eddie's dimple flashes. "Only when I'm the cause of it." Then it disappears again, tone serious and soft. "Do you want to talk about it?"

No. God. Not even a little bit; would honestly prefer to get another plate smashed over his head so he can forget this day ever happened. "My mom left," he croaks. He sounds fucking terrible, voice breaking and full of phlegm.

"Shit," Eddie says.

"Shit," Steve agrees.

Eddie gives him a long look — a Robin look, inquisitive and intense, like he can tear all the answers right out of Steve's head. Pluck them up like stray eyelashes; blow them away for good luck. Steve lets himself stare back, catalogs his features: all the freckles and fine lines, the pores, the vellus hair. There's a chicken pox scar just below one of his eyes, a faint silver pockmark that twists and shines in the dim light.

Eventually, Eddie must find what he's looking for because he claps Steve's knees and stands, rolling his shoulders back and down. "Yeah, sweetheart," he nods, "I got exactly what you need."

—

part 30

tag list in separate reblogs, if you want to be added tomorrow please comment and let me know (must be over 21; please either verify in the comment or have your age visible on your blog)

[gravehags]

sleeping with the ghouls and ghoulettes

dewdrop - stage 5 clinger even though he’ll deny it. this dude wants to be the big spoon no matter how much bigger or smaller you are than him. is not above rutting against your ass while you’re asleep and very gently latching his fangs into your shoulder.

aether - my man loves being slept on like fling an arm over his chest and a leg over his and tuck your head into his neck and he’s in heaven (or is it hell?) doesn’t mind if you snore if you don’t mind his own snoring which is incredibly sonorous. he’s cute so you let it slide.

rain - insists he prefers sleeping alone but when you slip into his bed one evening as he dozes he immediately stirs and grabs for you. loves burying his face in your hair/along your scalp and murmuring sweet little comments to you as you both fall asleep.

mountain - big man loves being little spoon no matter how comedic it looks. he loves feeling held and will start purring if you kiss along his shoulder while rubbing his back. when you wake up in the middle of the night his tail is wrapped snug around your leg holding you close to him.

phantom - this bug is over the moon when you invite him into your bed, completely content to hold you face to face and watch you sleep. when you weave one of your legs between his, your thigh brushing against the length of him, like dew he’s not above grinding on you regardless of if you’re awake or not. half the time he doesn’t notice the sleepy grin on your lips as his lets out his sweet little whimpers.

swiss - i hope you like being crushed because this dude will flop face down onto your chest and hitch his leg up by your hip. loves nuzzling into your neck and places sweet, sloppy kisses along your jawline to work you up. before you can do anything about it he’s snoring into your sternum. maybe drooling a little. you eventually fall asleep too but get fed up and shove him off at some point in the night. he always comes back.

cumulus - two words. titty pillow. she insist on pulling you half on top of her, smushing your cheek into her boob and you have absolutely zero complaints. the two of you will lie there playing with each other’s hair and talking about the day until you inevitably fall asleep first. she loves nothing more than lying there in the dark listening to your steady breathing.

cirrus - ma’am is the big spoon always. she’ll manhandle you and haul you over to her side of the bed, murmuring words of praise when you acquiesce to her demanding touch. likes to trace patterns into your arm and back with a single claw, giving you goosebumps no matter how tired you are. total sleep talker.

aurora - loves sleeping face to face with you so she can look into your eyes and watch you get sleepier and sleepier in front of her while the two of you talk. likes to play with your hair, sometimes braid it if it’s long enough for that or just twirl it around her fingers. loves nothing more than to sing you to sleep, especially when you make requests.

sunshine - like swiss, this ghoulette will absolutely clamber on top of you no matter your size and cling to you like a koala. snores are very cute and lowkey make you laugh, your chest shaking underneath her. if you fall asleep before her she’s not above slipping a hand between your legs and getting you worked up - sometimes she’ll see it through sometimes she’ll leave you hanging. depends on her mood.

[sanjisboyfie]

draken as your attentive boyfriend

requested, thank u for whoever requested this literally felt my heart explode writing this because dear god i love draken sososososoo much. like to be so fr hes my hashtag dream man ! NOT ALL SELFINDULGENT WHAHHTTT

-> draken x ftm reader, sfw & nsfw portions (cw at that part) -> fem alligned, minors, and blank blogs dni !! DNI !! if i see you interact, i will block you

sfw

— draken who lets you play with his hair, enjoys it a lot, actually. the soft black strands are at your mercy. whatever you wanna do to it, even if it's tying it in some pretty bow and making him walk around the shop with it like that, he loves it. when you guys are just chilling in your humble apartment, his head is in your lap and he's almost asleep with the way your fingers gently run over his scalp and through his hair.

"dude, seriously?" one of his customers said, looking at his black hair that had pink ribbons tying them at their ends since you had styled his hair in two simple plaited braids.

"what about 'em?" draken snarled, leaning against the counter and not-so subtly flexing his muscular arms. "my boyfriend did it for me, you got a problem with it?"

cue the customer very nervously shaking their head as your boyfriend continues glaring down at him as if he were nothing but an insect.

— he lets you borrow his clothes whenever you want. considering how large he is, they more often than not end up fitting you pretty oversized or just right. he smiles whenever you greet him in the morning and you're wearing one of his shirts or his sweatpants that are sagging loosely off of your waist (not to mention the bottoms of the pant legs are dragging on the floor). also doesn't care if you wanna borrow his boxers either. he's a clean guy. he washes his underwear, so obviously it's fine if you take some of his to wear.

you had quietly asked if you could use one of his boxers as shorts around the house. he noticed your meek demeanor when asking, as if you were expecting outright rejection.

and he quickly pulled you in by your waist, kissing the top of your head as he said he obviously didn't mind. he kisses your cheek when he hands them to you.

"we can always buy you some of your own too," he comments, then quickly adding in, "not that i mind you wearing mine! it's just, if you ever wanted your own couple pairs, baby, we can always go out and buy some," he assures you, sitting on the bed as you stand in between his legs.

his hands are lovingly caressing the backsides of your thighs, drawing random shapes as he speaks softly to you, "but, next time, don't even ask, alright? what's mine is yours," he waits for you to nod to show that you understand before smiling and pressing a kiss to your lips.

in general, he loves seeing you in his clothes and if he knows that the oversized clothing acts as a simple safe haven, he makes sure you know that he could care less if you steal a couple shirts or hoodies.

"just don't touch my socks, alright? can never keep track of them as it is, if both of us started wearing them, i'd be fucked."

— hovers close in public, always keeping an eye on you no matter where you are. old habits die hard, he guesses, since he's almost always in constant worry mode whenver you guys go out. it's been a long time since his deliquency days, but he's never not going to be paranoid. just let him rest his arm over your shoulder or rest his hand on your waist, it really puts his mind at ease.

the two of you were going grocery shopping to stock up your pantry and fridge. draken was pressing his chest to your back, nonchalant with the close proximity the two of you were in with each other. his hands were even pushing the cart in front of you, playfully scoffing when you told him you could do it.

"make my pretty boy do the work? don't think so," he chuckled when you told him you could do it, kissing the top of your head to get you to forget about it. because there was no way he was going to let you.

he reaches over your head for some things, dropping them into the cart without a second thought. if you motion for him to grab anything, he's got it in his hands in the blink of an eye. really attentive to what you want, in general.

also he likes to boost his own ego by doing this, teasing you that, "i'm just the best boyfriend, right? man, you're a lucky guy to lock me down, huh?" as he's nuzzling his nose into your neck, making you smack him away at how affectionate he was being.

another instance when draken is painfully aware of his surroundings is when you two are walking down the street. the location of your guys' apartment isn't the greatest, but it's also not the worst. he's just really aware of whatever is going on around you two, even if you're just walking around.

it was nighttime and the both of you were getting a craving for some junkfood. so a quick walk to the conveinent store, like two blocks down, was the only answer.

he had your hand tightly gripped in his, listening to you list out all the things that you wanted from the store and nodding every now and then.

"we can also get some dinner there, right? you want some instant ramen, baby?" he asks gently, looking down at you with a smirk, "dare you to get the extra spicy one and eat the whole thing without taking a sip of water!"

just as you're about to scold him for being so ridiculous, a random person jumps out of the alleyway you guys were just about to pass.

draken pulls you behind him faster than you could react and nails the guy right in the balls. the clattering of a metal hitting concrete is the next thing you hear after the guy's groans and you peak over draken's arm to see the state of the random man.

"shit, fuckass cops need to do a better job around here," draken sighs, acting as if that wasn't even a big deal. he still had your hands in his, so he wasn't that phased. as long as you stayed close, he would be as cool as cucumber. "are you alright, [name]?"

his soft eyes settled on you and was pleased to see you were physically fine.

"well, let's get that spicy ramen! you're treating though, since i just saved our lives!" he teases, kicking the guy's face as you both walk past and not looking back once.

once you get rung up at the counter though, he's tapping his card before you can react and kissing your cheek lovingly, "d'ya really think i'd let you pay? c'mon now," he teases, biting your cheek lightly before guiding the both of you to the window seats the conveience store had.

— the "d" in draken actually stands for domesticity !!! loves to wake up next to you, both of you having really messy hair. loves brushing his teeth next to you in the mirror, fuck - he loves when you guys are just in the bathroom at the same time. it's a really intimate thing that he's really, genuinely happy you're that comfortably with each other that you've reached that point together in the relationship. loves to feel you hug him from behind as he prepares you guys breakfast. loves to just laze away on the couch together on his days off. loves loves loves making your small apartment a cute home for the two of you.

draken leans against the bathroom sink, brushing his teeth as he tries to will himself to get excited for the day. you were in the shower, telling him it was one of the mornings you needed a shower to actually get energized. you two were just that tired.

and when you come out of the shower dripping wet, he spits out the toothpaste in his mouth and continues through his routine without wasting a beat. he turns to you as you're drying your naked body, easily maintaining eye contact as he asks, "what you want for breakfast? i'll make it,"

you think for a moment, roughly drying your hair with a towel as you do. and before you can respond, he's coming over with a scowl on his face, taking the towel from your hands.

"seriously? we talked about how bad that is for your hair, idiot," he scolds you, taking the opportunity to do it for you. there's really no need for him to do it, you would have heeded his warning and dried it more gently, but he felt a warmth bloom in his chest as he took care of you.

draken doesn't know it, but he really was made to be a husband. he's just that attentive and caring. (lock him down right now-)

! nsfw, draken x ftm reader

cw: use of the word hole and cunt.

— the thing with draken is that, a lot of people assume he's a hard dom and that's all he is !! not too far from the truth, tbh, but !!! still, he doesn't mind handing you the reins if you ever want to give it a go or if you're just feeling it. he doesn't mind anything. he's a big "go with the flow" type of guy. so if you feel like domming him, say less, just tell him where to stick his dick and he's for it.

— okay, no seriously, though, he's a big listener and believes so heavily in communication (as all good partners should-). tell him your limits / what you liked and what you don't like once and he'll remember it for the entirety of your relationship.

— throughout your relationship and developement of your sexlife, there is one thing about draken that never changes. and it's with how vocal he is. whether it be through the sounds he makes or the words he says to you or under his breath, this man will always be showing you with his voice how good you're making him feel. you get the best of both worlds, praise and degradation (<- depends on the night).

"fuck, my pretty boy, you're so tight," he moans as he grips your hips, slamming into you as his jaw is dropped at the sensation of you around him. he's ducking his head into your neck in a second, placing open mouthed kisses and leaving a couple hickies over your skin.

draken's groans are almost louder than the sounds your cunt is making. it's almost like he wants to drown it out, but really, it's all just him unable to quiet down. you just make him feel so good, how the hell do you expect him to be quiet? not when you're practically sucking him back in each time he shifts his hips backwards. not when your fucked out face is looking up at him.

you're perfect for him, he's convinced of it.

— really into body worship. kisses ever inch of your skin and if it were up to him, he'd make you cum ten times over just by playing with you. he doesn't even have to use his cock to get you there, he's sure of it. (he's got a big ego for a reason, though, trust. draken's got a big dick and knows how to use it).

"so fucking hot," he praises right into your ear as he's fingering your sopping wet hole with his fingers. he was laid up against the headboard of the bed, with you putting your entire weight onto his chest. his arms were draped over your torso, eyes trained on where his fingers were disappearing inside of you. "gonna ruin you, baby, gonna fucking ruin you,"

you moan as his palm rubs against your clit, squirming your hips away at the overwhelming sensation. he clicks his tongue, using his entire arm to wrap around you and hold your hips still.

"you drive me crazy," he curses, nipping at your neck and smirking at the mewl you let out, "get so fucking hard just thinking of you, baby. wish i could just fuck you for the rest of my life, don't need anything else when i got my handsome boy right here,"

spends a lot of time just running his tongue over ever inch of your body. every kiss he places on your body earns you a praise of how perfect you are for him. draken is the definition of a service top, he's there to please you and make you feel good.

it's his favorite thing in the world, making you feel good to the point of no return.

— most annoying part of draken's personality is that he's a fucking tease. if he feels like making you work for it, he will make you work for it. he's rarely ever mean, but when he is mean, he gives you a hardass time. but don't worry, he makes up for it by fucking you stupid <3

draken coos, holding your jaw so easily in his hands, "beg better than that, pup," his other hand is holding the base of his semi-hard cock. you're kneeling in front of him, lips in a perfect pout (the sight of them glistening with a mixture of his and yours saliva makes him hard real quick). he slaps the tip of his dick to your lips, smirking when you instinctively drop your jaw to let him hit your tongue.

"want me to fuck your throat? hm? use your words," he drawls, but doesn't show any sign of pulling his dick out of your mouth when you close your lips around him. the only response you give him is a moan that sends shivers down his spine. his hand buries itself into your hair, controlling the pace you bob your head at.

as the drool drops down to your knees from your chin, he shoves you off of his dick, almost wincing at the cold air that contrasts with the warmth that once surrounded him.

"still haven't heard you beg for it," he reminds you, making you roll your eyes with a newfound pissed off expression on your face. he notices that, quirking his eyebrow, "don't give me that look, brat,"

he tugs on your hair, making you crane your neck backwards to follow the movement, "is that what you are now? a brat? what happened to my good boy that did as he was told?" a cruel grin comes over his face, "or are you just acting out cause you wanna be fucked like one?"

in the blink of an eye, he's so easily picking you up off of your position on the floor and tossing you onto the bed, "always wanted to fuck you dumb. have you remembering nothing but my name," he pulls back from your chest, where he was previously placing wet kisses on, "you want that? want my cock buried inside you?"

and, of course, the answer is obvious.

-

if you want a more focused drabble of nsfw draken instead of just these headcanons lmk <3 and i'll get to it some time muah

[nvuy]

Argenti has really been on the brain as of late…I miss my wife….how do we feel about vampire agrenti//getsranover

love bites! — argenti

summary. argenti would do anything for you, even if that anything went against his own moral code.

notes. i think ANON YOU COOKED. YOUUUU COOKED. YOUUUUUUUU COOKED.

warnings. ehhhh… i’ll give it a 16+, suggestive content, as per usual you’re a freak, but argenti is also a freak so it’s okay, as the ask suggests argenti is a vampire, blood, biting, ummm, yk. vampire stuff. but it’s romantic i think.

You feel the couch dip next to you with added weight, and Argenti rests his head in the crook of your neck.

He has barely just gotten comfortable on the couch when you decide to be a thorn in his side. You grin wryly down at him. “Wanna try it?”

Argenti flutters his lashes in confusion.

You huff. “There’s a reason I wore a low cut shirt, dude.” You gesture towards your neckline.

“Oh!” Suddenly, he looks guilty. “As much as I appreciate your offer, I’m afraid I must decline.” He shakes his head and offers you a kind smile of his own. “I have staved off blood for years. I cannot start now. It would be… very unbecoming of me.”

“But, I want you to,” you try lightly. “And it’s your birthday.”

Birthday. As if his birthdays meant anything anymore. Argenti has had hundreds by now. Still, you always manage to make him feel like the most important man in the universe.

He laughs. “My birthday is two months away.”

“Early present,” you conclude firmly.

Then, you lean forward and wrap your arms around his shoulders. His skin has been bloodless since the day you met him, but there’s something so beautiful about it’s near translucency. It’s iridescently white and brilliant, and it’s like pearl silk when his hair spills over his shoulders.

Speaking of which, his hair smells of cherry and coconut.

Hmm, hmm. He’s used your shampoo—not that you mind. Not at all. He uses it because it is something to remember you by when he leaves for extended voyages. And it’s cute.

“C’mon.” It comes out as a childish droning low whine as you hit his shoulders gently. “I see the way you look at me when I get hurt. It'll be good for you.”

Argenti appears sheepish, though he indulges in your hand that cards over his scalp. His fangs poke from behind his bottom lip.

He glances away for a moment. His eyes have traced down to your neck, and he almost abandons his willpower to taste your skin.

“Just a teensy weensy bit.” You pinch your fingers together for good measure.

“It will not be ‘teensy weensy,’” Argenti explains softly. Although his voice falters for a moment, his hands do not tremble. “I will not be able to stop myself. You have always been tempting.”

“Aww.” You bop him on the shoulder. “You’re worried about me?”

“Well, of course. I do love you.”

Your heart falters. You’re sure he can hear how your blood stutters in your veins. He’s said it those words again—how many times? Almost everyday—and it still manages to fluster you.

How you managed to score this dude was beyond you. Maybe the ‘tempting’ part of you was the friends we made along the way.

You giggle like he’s smacked you over the head with his giant spear and caused a concussion. That’s what it feels like, at least. He makes you feel dizzy, but in a good way, like you’re being spun around and around by a lover when you return home after a long day.

Your fingers are still pinched together. “Just a little bit.”

You see him swallow.

He fidgets with his fingers for a moment.

He’s staring at your jugular, and though he appears apprehensive, there’s something clouding over his gaze.

He can’t say no to you. It goes against all of his moral principles.

“If it will make you happy.” Just a taste. He’s set in his ways, now. He’ll prick your neck, allow your blood to wash over his tongue, and then he’ll pull away.

And he really does love to make you happy.

“Hell yeah, it will.” You press your chest to his. “All yours.”

Oh, goodness. He swallows harder, and his hands that are usually confident with how they move, are suddenly hesitant now that they rest on the sides of your face. His hands are free of his gloves, and though his skin isn’t warm, you enjoy the callouses and marks that rub against your flesh.

Dutifully, you push his hair behind his ears.

You’re jealous of how lovely he is.

“Are you certain this is–”

“Yep.”

His brows knit together. “But this–”

“Argenti.”

He smiles apologetically. “I just want to make sure this is something you want, and not something you are doing for my sake.”

You sigh.

Then, you press your lips to his. You don’t let the taste of him distract you, however—and you know that’s secretly what he’s plotting by how his eyes flutter shut.

Argenti appears disappointed when you pull away.

“I want you to do this.”

Uh oh. You’re in for it now. You know that look.

He wants to. He does. He’s wanted to for a while now. But it is selfish of him to drink the blood from your wounds, so he instead ignores the desire.

Now, he can’t ignore it any longer.

His lips press to your cheek first. Then he moves to your jawline, painstakingly slow, but still considerate with how he dotes upon you. Maybe he’s trying to coax you from making the worst decision of your life. Wouldn’t be the first time.

You hum, pleased.

His nose is cold when he buries his face into the side of your neck where the throbbing arteries lie beneath thin supple skin.

And you smell delicious. He smells every throb of your veins as your heart pumps in your chest; that metallic earthy smell, like soil after the rain, and dew on rose petals.

Suddenly, you grow nervous.

He notices.

He tries to reel back, but you lock a hand behind his head.

Still, he tries, “you’re uncomfortable. I won’t–”

You’re excited. Your legs are jittery. The adrenaline rush is exhilarating, and sugar flows through your veins like hot ash.

Your skin feels set alight. You’re burning to the touch.

The scent of you is too much. He pinches his eyes shut in a desperate attempt to control himself.

“Bite me.” You feel his lips bump against your neck. “C’mon.” He lets out a stuttered gasp against your skin. “Do it.”

His will is not strong enough.

He wets his lips and they then part to allow sharpened canines to dot along the skin above your veins. He knows each and every path beneath your flesh. He knows where danger lies. He understands your fragility, for he was once the same.

He steers clear of the artery, as enticing as it is. It’s wrong; and he could very well hurt you beyond repair.

Your heart stutters when his fangs slice through your skin.

And it hurts. Of course it hurts, and Argenti knows as such. His other hand that is not trying to hold you still rubs along the other side of your throat soothingly. The pinpricks of his teeth are slow and deliberate. Perhaps it would hurt less if he was quick, but the sharpness stirs hot on your flesh anyway.

You try not to voice your anguish. Instead, your fingers curl firmly into his hair.

He lingers with his teeth lodged into your vein.

It’s uncomfortable, especially when you feel something hot and wet trickle from the puncture wounds and slip over his cold teeth, but you’ve never felt so alive.

His teeth pull away with a wet pop and you shiver.

You’re bleeding, rightfully so. It’s not a major wound—he’d never. You knew he’d never—but with how sticky the holes were growing, you would be convinced otherwise.

Gingerly, you felt a warm tongue swipe over the wound.

That hurt, too. You hiss then, and you feel Argenti wince against your skin.

The damage is done.

“I’m fine.” And you are. You’re practically jumping out of your skin. “Keep going.”

After a pause, his tongue cards once again over the fresh blood spilling from the wound. It doesn’t help the fire in your veins when he slots his lips over the punctured skin and begins to suck. The noises are alarming at best, and you can hear him swallowing.

It hurts.

But it’s good.

You stiffen in his hold.

Argenti stops for a moment to pepper sticky kisses over your wound. You’re sure it’s stained in the shape of his lips. Stupidly, you giggle at the idea.

He continues to indulge and he’s slow. Maybe he’s hesitant, or maybe he’s savouring you. You’re not sure.

When you’re sure he’s finished, Argenti’s bloodied teeth scrape lower along your neck until his fangs sink into the junction of your throat and your shoulder. Somehow, it hurts more.

More bloodied kisses that make your skin stiffen. His tongue draws over your flesh again.

Both the wounds are still bleeding when he decides to add another to your body.

This one hurts even more. You can tell because his teeth don’t sink in cleanly. The other side of your throat has that arterial vein you know he wants to get to. You also know he wouldn’t ever. He’s inching dangerously close to it, though.

He’s sucking and sucking and you smell copper in the air and you’re stomach is churning and your neck is covered in blood.

Your hands slacken from around his head.

The fourth puncture wound comes over your shoulder.

Your eyes flutter for a moment.

He’s not stopping.

In fact, he hasn’t even opened his eyes to check on you. He’s way too absorbed in your taste to notice your slackening grip on his shoulders.

His tongue grazes your shoulder.

“Argenti.”

He doesn’t even hear you. You move your hands to push him away, but your arms tremble. You’re growing weaker with every second.

Oh, God. This was a bad idea. You’re good at making those.

You hit his shoulders weakly.

“Argenti.” It comes out strangled and weak.

His teeth pop out of a new wound. He hums.

You’re already dizzy. Weakly, your arms wrap around him and grip loosely onto his clothes.

As sexy as this is, and because you feel like the main character in some cheesy vampire story, the stupid primal urges in your brain to survive shut down the idea of laying there, taking it, and letting him ruin your neck until you fall unconscious.

Argenti finally understands just how strong you smell and is horrified at what he’s done when his eyes finally refocus on you.

He lays you down properly on the couch and rushes to get a first aid kit.

When he comes back, he’s mumbling strings of apologies. He looks forlorn, because he’s betrayed himself, and you.

You don’t think it’s appropriate to comment on how the blood around his mouth is almost enough to make you jump on him. Only issue is you’re not sure your bones can support your weight at the moment.

The alcohol stings as he tends to the punctures, but not as much as his teeth did.

You sigh, but it’s happy.

Argenti looks at you. Guilt is smeared over his face like a thick paste.

“You look just as beautiful as the day I met you,” you murmur to him. Because that day had been a wild day. Not only did a giant man with flaming red hair stop to offer his sincerest compliments on how radiant you were—dressed in flip flops and pyjama pants because you were simply hosing your front lawn—with two squirrels at his feet and five birds resting on his shoulders.

If Argenti could blush, you figure he’d be bright red by now.

Instead, he lets out a shaky laugh. “You flatter me so. I know nothing more enchanting than you.”

The wounds have stopped bleeding now, and he makes sure to clean each one thoroughly. He expresses no concerns about a stitch job. You’re relieved at that one.

Weakly, an arm raises to push his hair behind his ears again.

That alone takes all of the strength out of you.

“You okay?” you ask him.

He looks confused at your question. “Fret not, I have had my fill. It is you who I’m worried about.”

“I feel alive.” It’s partly true. As woozy as you feel, it’s like warm sugar still lingers in your veins. “That was great. I bet you enjoyed it.”

Argenti’s grin turns crooked. “Very much so. Perhaps too much. I’ve hurt you.” His fingers rub over the tender skin surrounding the puncture wounds. “But, you are as sweet as I thought you’d be.”

“I’m so in love with you, dude.” Very appropriate thing to say. Maybe it’s the blood loss. Amazing pet name, too.

Still, Argenti flusters. He clears his throat for a moment and his fingers still around your neck. “Words cannot convey how often I think of you, or better yet how often I long to hold you.”

He behaves as if this is his first confession of many to come.

Oh. Your heart is racing in your chest.

Arms much too tired to move, you instead pucker your lips obnoxiously.

Argenti eagerly leans down to kiss you again. His lips are still bloody, and the scent and taste of metal makes your stomach twist for a moment, but it’s him. It’s him and how gentle he always is—and how can you still be so gentle when you’re enraptured in cutting holes into your partner’s neck? Beats you.

“Still so sweet,” he whispers against your lips. “Is all of you this sweet?”

You kiss his cheek. “Wanna find out?” You’re happy to play pillow princess for an hour.

Argenti smiles at that, but it’s cheeky. His eyes crinkle with mischief as he moves to your lips again.

[belleshub]

prompt 4

yanking them by their..

satoru g. — ear.

it may sound weird at first. satoru never lets anyone touch him. the strongest. he can’t be touched by his usual means of infinity.

so why did he let you do so? it’s a conundrum to him as well. why does he touch you, put on his flawed personality for display and be so vulnerable? because as much as he’d want to deny, he loves you.

he loves you so much, to the point where he in fact invited you to go shopping with him! sure, he probably would’ve done it with himself or someone else if you were to decline, but you didn’t.

that’s what matters.

youre glossing through the crowded mall, turning a head at anything that catches your eye - and that’s when you see it.

the perfect outfit, clad on the stores front mannequin. you’re just hoping and..

“that kid there has a digimon card—“

“you are such a nerd.” you throw your head back with a exasperated groan, fingers pitching the lobe of warm hearing vessels.

“cmonn, you’re not even buying anything.”

he whined. he knew very well that he was giving you an inch.

and you knew too.

immature, much?

“I was literally just looking at somethin’, what are you on about?” you bark back.

“okay, but like, I didn’t..”

“do you even know what you’re trying to argue about?” you furrow a brow.

“can’t you mentally bookmark it?”

“…” you two shortly find your way over to a gamestop. an embarrassing scene.

suguru g. — hair

more often than not, suguru doesn’t like when other people touch his hair. he meticulously grooms it, and takes care of it to the fullest. and if someone were to touch it - they’d have to be on the list of people he can tolerate. like his parents, or maybe shoko and gojo.. and without a doubt, you.

how could he not? suguru any touch of yours to be a grounding anchor to the reality he sometimes can’t even process himself. you’re his safe space. and he means it in every definition his brain could fathom.

and with you, it’s the same. you two were simply hanging out after school, and with how sassy he was - you two were prone to indulge in some banter.

sitting on some bench next to some convenience store, you chow down on some chips - him, observe the general public. it was one of those moments where, there isn’t exactly a set plan for the day - but rather more of a reprieve from your usual treacherous schedule.

so in short, you were just.. chilling.

while you were relaxing, you rant to him about your latest fixation, and then.. he gets a text message! from.. who?

“are you listening?” you lean forward, squinting as you tried to look at his screen.

“no, yeah..” he replies monotonously. you didn’t like that.

“I dare you to recount what I just said within three sentences—“

“I think satoru set me up, that snarky bastard.” his eye twitched as he tightened his grip on the flip phone. was he gonna break it?

“dude, relax, maybe he’s like.. I dunno..”

then you pause when you read the message.

“who the hell is misaki sato? and why does she have your number?”

“I told you, satoru set me up, I don’t know that girl!” he frowned, and you gently grab a tuff of hair, tugging just enough so you don’t place tension on his oh so tender scalp.

“oh shit! I think I know her!” your eyes widen, an accomplished smile gracing your features.

“was pulling my hair necessary?”

“shut up.”

yuji i. — arm.

you two were relaxing after just exiting from the movie theater. yuji just convinced you to watch a boring, dramatic and theatrical slasher. given that you genuinely had no other pastime, you took him up on his offer.

rookie mistake on his end, because for you, your knack for unconventional garbs was going to be the death of him.

“oh my god, oh my— yuji!” you exclaim. “it’s a flash sale, you know how much I love this stores stuff.”

“are you gonna even use half of the things in there?” he said sheepishly - until he saw merchandise. merchandise of his favorite movie!

“oh..it’s..its!”

you give him a side glance.

“oh, human centipede…”

“that’s like an entirely different thing!” he complains, and you simply push his back and your hand lands on his arm. circling around it, you pull him forth.

“my bad, that weird murder shit you like..” you correct yourself. awkwardly.

“it’s not weird!”

megumi f. — collar.

to be frank, megumi wasn’t to chatty type. he was more for the tiny things, the things that made it matter.

acts of service. that his niche. so.. why was he here.. crafting all these.. origami gifts.. why? because he wanted to surprise you. particularly because you just passed exams. he’s been routing for you, studying.. buying your energizers..

yuji brought up the idea, and megumi decided to entertain it. for once.

he presses the youtube video back, navy eyes narrowing further as he scrutinized the screen just one more time.

pink hair blurs his vision, and immediately, he’s over it again.

“maybe we should ask nobara. she’s a girl, she probably knows a lot about—“ yuji fell short of his exclaimation as megumi pressed him off to the side. he may or may not subtly have elbowed him in his side as well.

“I think I know my girlfriend, yuji..” he rolled his eyes, maybe at this point, he should give up. but if it’s one of your favorite..

clink.

the noise of a door unlocking throughout the dorm room sounds, and megumi feels like his soul has been snatched. hastily, he slams it close.

yuji, on the other hand, turned to the side, front obscuring the accumulated supplies in the front of them.

“ohh, heyy! we didn’t know you were..coming so soon?”

with your arrival, you don’t exhaust haste to trot your way over to megumi.

“the air in here doesn’t feel right.” you say.

“what the hell is that even supposed to mean?” yuji barked, hurriedly pushing the papers under the bed.

“I meant what I said! you guys are doing somethin’, and it’s suspicious! why else would yuji be in here?”

“I mean, he’s not always an unwanted presence..” megumi looks off to the side, a snicker escaping his lips.

“are you insinuating there has been times where I was a unwanted presence?” his friend yells, jaw hung low in appall.

you tsk, and pull his collar, trying to see what was behind him.

he didn’t seem.. particularly bothered by your proximity.

“now, what exactly are you guys try’na do?”

[hyewka]

dude sub!beomgyu is so hot. but you know what's hotter? bratty, possessive sub!gyu. maybe i'm biased cuz i like my men like that but likeeeee

wanna overstimulate him so bad until he's crying and whining for more 😵‍💫😵‍💫 n he probably acts like a bitch at the start, acting all confident and dominant.. yet the second you start fucking him he just folds :(

literally pushing my obsessive sub gyu agenda on everyone but he'd probably fuck you after seeing you getting all close with someone else as a way to show dominance 😵‍💫 gyu seems like the type who'd overstim himself inside of you too, moaning shit like "you're mine" as he chokes on his sobs.. might as well flip him over and let him know he belongs to you only :))

anyways i'm kinda hungry 😍

warnings; sub!yandere-ish beomgyu, cockwarming, mentions of overstim? hair pulling, reader’s equally obsessive sorta, not proofread

-

You twist your sore wrist, trying to relieve the pain Beomgyu you think, or at least hope, had unintentionally inflicted. But with the way he's been increasingly needy the more time you had spent shopping, the more you're sure it was far from an accident.

So it was no surprise how fast he got you on the bed when you finally went back home.

“You’re so mean to me.” he mutters in the crook of your neck, breath hot against your skin. Beomgyu has you pinned under him, his hold unforgiving, pressing down on your body. “You do it on purpose. Make me so fucking crazy, I hate it.”

You flutter your eyes shut when his lips make contact with your sensitive flesh, the slight nip making you breathe heavier. “Beomgyu.” you try warning, to stop him from going further, but it only spurs him on.

Earlier, you stumbled upon Jeongin-- your old highschool friend, while window shopping with Beomgyu by your side. Naturally, you'd want to catch up as you haven't seen him since the last highschool reunion which was two years ago. The longer you spent enthusiastically talking, the more you felt Beomgyu's fingertip dig into your wrist.

You figured he was jealous, and when Beomgyu was jealous, he was different in the sense that he needed reassurance. A lot of it.

When he starts sucking harshly, marking all over your neck down to your collarbones, hips increasingly grinding against your clothed core, his grunts ceasing to be an act slipping his neediness against your skin, you run up your hand to the back of his head grabbing a fistful— you were always fine with his desperation to give you hickeys whenever he felt insecure, laying pliant and letting him cover you with varying purple splotches but the drawn line was always him fucking you.

And that was exactly what he was trying to do, whore.

You yank his head back and the horny dog has no shame letting the blush creep up his cheeks even when he hisses out a curse. “Who gave you the right to grind against me?”

“What? I can’t try to fuck my girlfriend but you can go around whoring with—"

He shrieks when you pull his hair again, his scalp burning, tears already brimming on his waterline. “You have such a filthy mouth pup, I ought to put it to better use, no?”

His eyes still have the audacity to look down at you. You sneer, a soft scoff escaping your lips. Beomgyu has always been one to try and dom during sex, which you wouldn’t mind if it weren’t for the fact that you knew the poor boy was weak after a single twist to his bud.

After a few beats of silence, you decide to pull him down for a quick kiss, a mix of saliva and tongue, before you abruptly stop reciprocating and Beomgyus left whimpering against your lips urging you to continue. You put your hand on his chest, getting him to reluctantly pull away. “No. You have to fix your attitude first.”

He shakes his head, “You’re the one whos been talking about Jungwoon or whatever his name is—"

“Jeongin.”

“I don’t care! You couldn’t shut up about him the entire way here! I hate it. It feels like he could sweep you off your feet when I’m not paying attention and then—and then you’ll…” his assertive demeanor cracks in a flash, his face flushed, lower lip quivering up into a pout, “You’ll leave me and, and—“

You don’t let him finish, flicking his forehead to which his hand immediately fly up to rub as if you just smacked it. “Ouch? What was that for?”

“You’re such a dumb boy.” You say shaking your head. “I mentioned Jeongin once. Once during our way here because you seemed so bothered by how we knew each other.”

You weren’t lying, proven by the way Beomgyu tries to counter your point, but closes his mouth after nothing comes out. A sly smile, and your hands already sneakily sliding up his loose hoodie, thumb finding their way to graze his already hard nipples, “Baby boy got stupid jealous just because I talked to a guy, huh?”

His arms that were holding him up, pinned next to both sides of your body had started to tremble. So fast, it was almost comical.

“Shut up. He wasn’t just some guy. He was totally into you.”

You rub his bud in circles, cooing at how his hair falls over his face, as he tries to gain composure. “Really? You thought he was checking me out too?” you tease, making sure to catch him off guard with a random pinch.

His body jerks, a strained exhale leaving his lips before hes too weak to keep himself up anymore, head falling to bury itself in the crook of your neck, getting you to feel his bulge against your thigh. He was already giving up.

“Stooop.” he whines, continuing to rub his crotch on your inner thigh. “You’re so mean to me.”

You decide to give it up, instead twirling a strand of his soft hair as he gets more and more feverish against your leg. “N-no more teasing. Have to be inside you.” he finally breathes out, a call of desperation, so needy Beomgyu was.

Beomgyu who’s too impatient to fully take off your skirt, only pulling them up before he bunches up your panties to the side, his tip barely protruding your entrance before he pushes in his red dick in, so inexperienced and stupid, shuddering as he keeps his cock buried.

“You have to move pup.” you instruct lightly, trying to fuck yourself on his dick, but it proves impossible as Beomgyu shakes his head adamantly.

His breathing is heavy, dumb mind already filled with esctasy, head finding comfort in the warmth of your shoulder, cock drilled so deep inside he might go insane with your warmth, “Wanna stay in here forever."

“And ever.” he sighs, sucking on your abused hickeys again. “So you’ll never leave.”

It should’ve been concerning, a red flag to look back on but what happens if you feel the same way? Having him only be by your side.

Beomgyu who finally starts moving, ever so slightly, moaning with each small sharp snap into you. It takes you by complete shock when his pace goes a complete 180, Beomgyu becoming crazed, his thrusts quickly becoming sharp and erratic, so similar to his humping earlier with no particular rhythm, hammering into you, each love proclamation as tears waste no time to stain his cheeks, body shuddering with his head feeling light, drool trickling down under his chin, “Mine, mine, mine. Jeongin can’t have you like this. You’re mine.”

His body presses against yours, leaving no room for breathing, kissing you so roughly, yet his soft lips are a contrast, “I only belong to you. Nobody else—ha!”

His hips stagger, lanky body once looming over you so weak and frail. “N-no! Am cumming, cumming—“ he babbles so loudly, the sight so beautiful, his lashes more pronounced with the wetness of his tears. He belongs to you, he’s right. Just pressing against where his nipples are gets him to cum prematurely. You smirk feeling smug, even when simply the sound of his cute moans has you weak. You feel his hot load shoot inside you, bad boy.

He tries to catch his breath, clearly dumb fucked, chest heaving, as he falls to your side on the bed. You don’t let the boy get away so easily after not even making sure you finished.

The terrified look in his eyes as you swiftly get on top of him, switching positions was enough for you to know that this was going to be a long fucking night.

[cameronspecial]

Let Me Cut It, Angel

Pairing: Frat!Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings:  Mentions of Sexual Content

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 0.6K

Summary: Rafe wants a new hair cut and he has to convince Y/N to be okay with it.

Masterlist

Rafe stands at the mirror fidgeting with his hair. He can’t get it right so lets out a loud groan that captures Y/N’s attention. “What’s wrong?” she inquires, looking up from her phone so their eyes meet through the mirror. He continues to mess around with his hair, “I’m going to cut my hair.” She scrambles out of bed and moves his hands away from his head. “No, you can’t. I won’t allow it,” she pouts, admiring the bangs that fall when he stops fidgeting with it. 

“Why not? It’s annoying me.”

“Because… I like it long. Plus, what am I supposed to pull on during sex. You love it when I do that.”

He takes a second to think about it and even though he really wants to do it, he reasons that she is right. She always gets wants anyways, not because she would force him but because he would do anything to make her happy. He turns toward her and nods, placing his head in her neck so she can gently scratch his scalp in a soothing manner. 

———

The wind blows his bangs into his face and he exaggerates stumbling back like he is completely incapacitated. Y/N giggles at his action, stopping to wait for him to catch up. “See, this is why I need to get a buzzcut. Please, let me cut it, Angel,” he begs, tugging her arm in a pleading manner. Y/N gives him a small smile, “Rafe, you know you could’ve cut it when you first told me you wanted to. It’s your hair.” “Yeah, I know. But you made a good point. I just want to know you’d like the change. Most of the things I do is for you,” he explains, moving behind her to wrap his arms around her shoulders and places his head on hers. She nods and reaches overhead to play with his hair, “I don’t like the idea of it, but if you want to do it, then try. Hair can grow back.”

“So I have your approval?”

“You don’t need my approval, but yes.”

Rafe lets out a little whop of excitement and unwraps himself to book an appointment with a barber. 

———

Topper sits on the chair watching as Rafe waits for the barber to come back to start working on his hair. “Are you sure you want to do this? I’ve seen how much she loves playing with it. Also, every guy that gets a buzzcut looks stupid after,” Topper comments. Rafe shakes his head, “Dude, it’s fine. I got the missus approval already, so stop looking at me like that.” The barber laughs at the comment about needing approval from Rafe’s girlfriend and gets right to getting rid of his luscious locks. 

———

Y/N looks at his lack of hair with a little awe on her face. She had to agree with Topper that almost every guy who goes through the buzzcut phase looks ridiculous after, but Rafe looks absolutely incredible. It gave her boyfriend an edge to him that she didn’t know she could need. He looks at her with a smug expression, “So what do you think, Angel?” She misses the way it could slide through her fingers, “I miss being able to play with it, but you look hot.” 

She places her hand on his chest, standing on her tippy toes so she can leave a lingering kiss on his lips. They separate and her lips ghost his still. “How about we go up to your room so that we can figure out what my hands can do now that I can’t grip your hair while you go down on me?” The evil smirk on her face looks so sexy that it goes right to Rafe’s dick. He nods and quickly tugs her upstairs, ready to get on his knees to worship his girlfriend.