#Give me the super ripped t shirt

[hecateisalesbian]

STOP PUTTING CHARACTERS IN CUTE LITTLE TANK TOPS AND MATCHING SETS FOR NIGHTWEAR. PUT THEM IN PANTS FROM 5 YEARS AGO, CLOTHES TO WORN OR STAINED OR PAINTED ON TO WEAR OUTSIDE, THE SAME SHIRT THEY WORE THAT DAY, BIG OLD HAND-ME-DOWN TEE SHIRTS, AND (IF IT IS MATCHING) BAGGY SETS OF PJS FROM ROSS THAT WERE SO CUTE BUT WAY TO BIG BUT YOU BOUGHT IT ANYWAYS!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[guess-my-next-obsession]

the alchemy | ii. the moment

pairing: no outbreak!dbf!joel miller x fem!reader

chapter rating: Mature [18+ only, minors dni, dbf/secret relationship, age gap (joel is 34, reader is 24), reader is described as curvy & only has one parent--all else is open to interpretation (we are POC friendly over here okay!!), one mention of f!masturbation but it’s super brief]

summary: you go over to the miller house to spend the afternoon with sarah, only to find that she's spending the summer with her mom. when joel insists you stay, things get flirty and then awkward and then flirty and then what the fuck.

wc: 3.6k

the masterlist | next chapter

Sarah had begged you to come over to their house next door to watch her at the pool, given that Joel was busy upstairs renovating his master bathroom with his younger brother, Tommy, and you were more than happy to oblige her request. Armed with a book, sunscreen, and a bag of chips, you made your way over and waited on the front porch for one of the Millers to answer. 

Luck seemed to evade you—or perhaps shine down on you, depending on how you wanted to look at it—as it was Joel who answered the door. He looked as good as ever in a paint-stained white t-shirt and a pair of ripped jeans, his hair damp with sweat and curling at the nape of his neck. His gaze traveled up and down your body, taking in the relatively modest one-piece swimsuit and unbuttoned denim shorts you’d chosen for today’s activities with something one could only perceive as appreciation. 

“Hey,” you managed, offering him a pathetic excuse of a smile. “Sarah invited me over to swim.”

“Oh,” he said, brows lacing together. “She didn’t text you?”

You shook your head, your confusion mimicking his own. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, it’s just that her mom called last night and asked her if she wanted to spend the rest of the summer with her, so she’s gone now until the middle of August,” he said, his tone giving away that he wasn’t exactly pleased by the last minute invitation. “But you’re, uh, still welcome to use the pool if you want. I’m just upstairs workin’ on the bathroom.”

He didn’t say anything about Tommy, which could only mean he was the one who was dropping Sarah off at her mom’s. And that meant that Joel was the only one around today, your dad off visiting his girlfriend in San Antonio for the rest of the weekend. 

Was it really a smart idea to spend your day around the one man you’d found yourself fantasizing about in the last year? Probably not. But it beat sitting at home sorting through your piles of keep or donate. 

“Yeah, sure,” you said, shrugging your shoulders. “If that’s alright with you. I wouldn’t want to impose or anything.”

“No, you’re fine,” he assured, stepping aside to let you in. You held your breath as you walked past him, convinced that if you caught another whiff of that warm cologne he always wore, you’d be right back under the spell that caused you to act so awkward last night at dinner. “Did you have lunch yet? I was thinkin’ of grillin’ some burgers.” 

He followed closely behind you as you made your way through the living room towards the kitchen. 

“No, but that sounds good,” you said, setting your things on the kitchen island as he walked over to the fridge to grab himself a beer. 

“You want one?” he asked, holding up an extra bottle. 

“Freshman and sophomore year ruined beer for me,” you admitted with a laugh, bringing a slight smile to his face. “Water’s fine.”

“Alright,” he said through a chuckle, grabbing you a bottle and passing it over to you before taking out some thawed burger patties. “How’s it being a college graduate?”

“Nice,” you said, shrugging. “Don’t have to worry about deadlines or finals anymore. But…I don’t know. I guess it’s just a little hard moving back in after living on my own for so long.” 

“Yeah, I can imagine,” he said, cutting through the plastic wrapping of the pack of meat. “But your dad seems happy to have you back.”

“Yeah, he’s being a mother hen about it,” you said, chuckling. “I had to tell him it was fine to go visit his girlfriend about twenty times before he finally decided to go.”

“Oh, is that where he’s off to? I saw him leavin’ earlier this mornin’.”

“Yeah,” you said, taking a swig from your water. “Off to visit Vic. Have you met her?”

“Yeah, couple times.” He glanced up at you as he washed his hands in the island sink, a smile tugging at one corner of his mouth. “Have you met her?”

“No,” you replied, scrunching your face up. “And I don’t know if I’m ready for that yet. It’s only been a few years since my mom passed, and well…I just worry that I might be a bitch to her for no reason. Or worse, I’ll find a reason.” 

“She’s alright,” he assured. “A little quiet, a little conservative for my taste, but she ain’t the evil stepmom type from what I’ve seen.”

“I think I’m a little old to call her my stepmom,” you said, cringing at the idea. 

“And how old are you?” he asked, busying himself with seasoning the patties. “I’ve never really asked.”

“Twenty-four. Turning twenty-five in December,” you said, fighting off the butterflies that frenzied in your stomach at the thought of him finally realizing you were only a decade younger than him and all the possibilities that might open up. 

“You started school late then.”

“Yeah, took two years off to work and save money so I didn’t have to take out as many loans.”

“Smart girl,” he praised, and god, did you want to hear more of it from him. “I’ve been savin’ for Sarah’s school since she was a baby, and I still think it won’t be enough.”

“She’s a smart kid, she’ll get scholarships,” you assured, and it was true. Sarah was by far the brightest kid you’d ever met, not to mention that she’d been playing the cello since she was in first grade. She’d have no problem financing her education, but it was sweet that Joel cared so much about investing in her savings just in case. “Did you, uh, go to school?”

“No, I thought about it, but I was never the studious type,” he confessed with a smile. “I liked math and readin’ and all that, but I hated the homework part. Figured all that was important in college, so I just decided to get my carpentry license instead. Tommy went to school, though, after doin’ his four years in the army.”

“Yeah, I think we talked about it once. Hospitality, right?” 

“Yeah.” Joel smiled, a look of surprise on his face as he met your eyes again. “I didn’t know you and Tommy ever talked like that.”

You’d done more than talk to his younger brother, going so far as agreeing to a date with him last summer, but nobody knew about that little secret. It didn’t end in anything more than a kiss goodnight, though, so both of you agreed it would be something kept between just the two of you. 

“Yeah, we’re friends,” you said instead, shrugging your shoulders. Joel arched an eyebrow at you in question, but you only smiled at him, daring him to prod. 

“Tommy isn’t known for havin’ a ton of female friends,” he said, moving back to his sink to wash the seasoning off his hands. “Or just friends, should I say.”

“Hmm,” you hummed, amused by his questioning. If you were a more delusional woman, you might’ve thought his tone carried a hint of jealousy to it, but unfortunately, you were a bit too realistic to buy into that. 

“It would make sense,” he said, shrugging his shoulders as he leaned back against the counter, his beer in hand. “He ain’t that much older than you.”

“Five years,” you added, smirking into the lip of your water bottle. “I’ve been known to date older men than that.”

“Have you now?” He laughed, swallowing it down with a sip of his beer. “Your dad know that?”

“We don’t really talk about my dating life,” you chuckled. “What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”

Joel’s smirk was devious, and you had no idea how you’d managed to start flirting or what gave you the confidence. But here you were, trying not to let your hopes get too high that maybe, just maybe, he’d flirt back. 

Sighing through his amusement, he shook his head and picked up the back of burger patties without saying another word, leaving you to follow after him as he step out onto the patio. 

You expected some sort of verbal confirmation that he was interested, or that he wasn’t, but instead all you received was silence an a permanent look of amusement as he got the grill started. 

And silence just wouldn’t do. 

“Where is Tommy? I expected he’d be here helping you out,” you said, hoping to coax more conversation out of him. 

“Droppin’ Sarah off,” he said, not so much as glancing your way. Your mouth twisted with disappointment. It seemed like he was so close to playing along with your flirtation in the kitchen, but now he was back to being his usual closed off and sidetracked self. “Don’t worry, your boyfriend’s gonna be back soon.”

You let out a gasp of a chuckle, shocked by his teasing. “Boyfriend?”

“Mmhm,” he hummed, glancing up at you from over the hood of the grill with a half-smirk. “And don’t you try and deny it. He’s been askin’ about you since we heard you were movin’ back.”

Well, that was mildly surprising. You were under the impression that he was as disinterested in you as you were in him. After all, he wasn’t really the type you went for. You liked your men quiet and reserved, at least outside of the bedroom, and Tommy was the exact opposite. He was talkative, outgoing, and at times a bit too much. 

“I promise you, Tommy is not my boyfriend,” you said, laughing. 

“Well, seems like he’s interested, then,” he said, setting the patties down on the grill. “Might wanna give it a shot.”

Was this his way of letting you know that he, himself, wasn’t interested? If so, you wished he’d just come out and say it rather than trying to push you off on his younger brother. 

“I’ll keep that in mind, I guess.” 

Deciding to let the conversation end there out of fear that he might continue trying to play matchmaker, you finally decided to take a dip in the pool. Sliding out of your shorts, you briefly cursed yourself for choosing a more modest swimsuit today rather than the string bikinis you’d learned to love wearing through years of teaching yourself to be comfortable with your body and all of its imperfections—or what society deemed to be imperfections, at least. Instead, you were wearing something that covered all the bits you hoped to tempt Joel with, and judging by his lack of interest, your one-piece seemed to serve its purpose. 

You shoved Joel out of your mind as you stepped into the perfectly lukewarm water, keeping your back turned to him. You didn’t turn around and chance a look his way until you were submerged up to your neck, but even then, he still wasn’t paying any attention to you. 

It seemed that whatever had sparked that brief interest back in the kitchen had vanished completely, for better or worse. For the better because if your father ever found out you were fooling around with a man ten years your senior, he’d likely have nothing nice to say. And for worse because despite all the trouble it would cause, you still wanted Joel—wanted to flirt with him, wanted to touch him, and wanted to know him beyond what little he’d shown you over the course of the last four summers. 

When Tommy arrived, the burgers had just come off the grill. You were wrapped in your towel, sitting at the patio table across from a very quiet Joel. Tommy, of course, shooed away what lingering awkwardness remained between the two of you with his overt friendliness, choosing to sit beside you and fix his attention on you alone. 

“How’s it being back home?” he asked, as everyone seemed to. 

“S’alright,” you said, taking a bite out of a fry. “What about you? How’ve you been?”

“Been alright,” he said, leaning back in his chair with a sip of his beer. “Workin’ mostly, but you know me. I make time for extracurricular activities when I can.” 

You rolled your eyes at his playful tone, a smile finding its way onto your face despite your lack of interest in playing along. 

“You have any extracurricular activities goin’ on right now?” he asked, not at all subtle. 

“Not the kind you’re talking about,” you said, shooting him a look. “And I’m not looking for any, either.”

“That’s too bad,” he said, giving you a playful look of disapproval. “Now’s the time.”

“And who do you suggest I fill that time with?” you asked, your tone teetering the line of flirty. You weren’t sure why you were doing it, either, except out of the delusional hope that if you managed to make Joel jealous, perhaps he’d finally be lured into your trap. 

“There’s always me,” he replied, resting his arm over the back of your chair. 

“That’s my cue,” Joel muttered, grabbing his plate from the table. Your eyes shot to his, a pathetic look of disappointment in them as you watched him get up and walk inside. 

So much for jealousy, then. 

“Hey.” You turned in your seat to face Tommy, biting at your lip. “Did you say anything to Joel about our date last summer?”

Tommy smiled, shrugging his shoulders. “I might’ve said somethin’. Why? Should I not have?”

“I just thought we were gonna keep it between us like we said.” You weren’t sure why it angered you so much that he’d gone and done the exact opposite behind your back, but you had an inkling that it had something to do with the fact that now that Joel was aware of your very brief history with his younger brother, he likely wouldn’t try anything with you. 

“It ain’t a big deal,” Tommy said, his brows lacing together. “Unless you wanted it kept a secret.”

“Obviously,” you scoffed, rolling your eyes before standing up and collecting your plate. Tommy’s hand was gentle as it touched your arm, stopping you from walking off. 

“Hey, I didn’t mean to cross a line,” he said, his eyes rounding. “I just didn’t know it was that big of a deal.”

“It’s fine,” you said. Anything to get him to drop it. “No worries.”

“It doesn’t look like it’s fine,” he said. “Looks like you’re pissed at me.”

“I am, but like I said, it’s fine.” You moved past him, his arm slipping out of reach as you opened the sliding glass door that led into the kitchen. 

Joel was standing there at the sink scrubbing his plate, his back turned to you. You swallowed the dryness in your throat and approached him, earning a glance. 

“I can wash mine,” you offered. Joel rolled his eyes at that and gently grabbed the plate from your hand. “You don’t have to—“

“S’fine,” he grumbled, turning back to the sink. 

“Did I manage to piss you off somehow?” you asked, crossing your arms over your chest. 

“No,” he said, shaking his head and frowning. “Why would I be pissed off at you just because you’re sneakin’ around with Tommy?” 

You chuckled, the sound not one of amusement but realization. 

He was jealous. 

And he was sulking over it. 

“I told you, Tommy and I aren’t sneaking around,” you said, trying not to laugh. “We went on one date last summer, but he’s not—it wasn’t a match. That’s the end of that.” 

Joel shut the tap off and moved over to the stove to grab a dish cloth so he could wipe his hands dry. He kept his head down, watching his hands, but you could tell he was still stewing from the clench of his jaw. 

“Joel, I don’t know why you’re pissed about the prospect of Tommy and I, so why don’t you tell me?” you said, stepping closer to him until his warm scent hit you. Joel lifted his eyes to look at you, his head still shaking. 

“I don’t know either,” he confessed, his voice soft and whispered. “Just am.”

Scoffing, you rolled your eyes at him and turned to go back outside so that you could grab your things and head home, but Joel’s warm hand on your arm caught you before you could even take a step. Your breath hitched as he pulled you close, his hand slipping up your arm as if to cradle your cheek. You waited for the warmth of his palm to touch you again, but the sound of the sliding glass door opening behind you forced him to take a step backwards as Tommy walked in. 

“You’re still here,” he said, oblivious to the moment he ruined. “Thought I pissed you off enough that you left without your stuff.”

You cleared your throat and turned to him, shaking your head. “No, but I was just about to.”

Joel remained a few feet away, watching the two of you in tense silence, but Tommy didn’t seem to think twice about it. Instead, he gestured for you to follow him out back with a nudge of his head. You took a breath, glancing at Joel before deciding that either way, you needed to grab your shit and go before things got even more awkward. 

“Listen,” Tommy started as he slid the patio door shut behind you. “I didn’t mean to piss you off. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, Tommy,” you sighed, gathering your things in your arms. 

“No, I should’ve kept it between us like we said we would,” he said, stepping closer to you as you stood by the patio table. “I know I went and pissed you off, and I know you probably don’t wanna give me another chance, but—“

“I’m not looking to date anybody right now, Tommy,” you said, half annoyed and half flustered by whatever it was Joel was about to do before he was interrupted. “But we’re cool. There’s no hard feelings, I just…I’m only interested in being friends right now.”

Tommy swallowed the defeat with a nod, his lips pursing just slightly. “Alright. If you ever change your mind, though.”

“Yeah,” you agreed, though you knew it would take a miracle for you to ever go down that path again. Especially when Joel was finally starting to pay you some attention. “I should go.”

“Can I walk you home?” 

You chuckled, shaking your head. “I’ll be fine. Right next door, remember?”

“Right, sorry,” he laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Well, I’ll see you, then.”

“Yeah,” you gave him a gentle pat on the arm as you passed him to head back into the house, somehow feeling guilty for rejecting him even when you knew you had every right to do so. Still, you were empathetic enough to remember the sting of your own rejected advances and hated the thought of him feeling that way. But your feelings for him, or lack thereof, couldn’t be helped. 

You wanted Joel, and Joel alone. 

Even if it was delusional, even if it was unrequited. 

Joel was nowhere to be found when you entered the kitchen, nor was he in the living room. It seemed he’d retreated back upstairs, and though you were familiar enough with the house, it felt like an intrusion to seek him out when it was clear that he wanted to be alone. So you’d save your feelings for another day, perhaps one where his brother wasn’t around to interrupt the two of you. 

You walked yourself back to your house in the late afternoon sun, your bathing suit and shorts already half-dry by the time you shed them in the bathroom before taking a much needed shower. You were only mildly ashamed to admit you’d used the memory of his warm hand on your skin to get off in there, but it never took much in that regard, at least when the fantasy of Joel was involved. 

By the time you got changed into some pajama pants and an old t-shirt, you were ready to call it a night. You opened your phone to start your routine of mindlessly scrolling until your eyes got too tired to stay open, but were surprised to find a missed text notification from Joel on your lock screen. You opened the message with bated breath and shaking hands. 

Joel Miller: Sorry about today. If you want to talk about it tomorrow, feel free to stop by. Hope you have a good rest of your night. 

Impatience gnawed at you, the urge to get up and drag your ass over there right now so that you could tell him there was no need for him to apologize hitting you hard. But you managed to reel yourself in, choosing to reply to him via text instead. 

Don’t you dare apologize. We can talk about it tomorrow. Have a good night, Joel. 🤍

You waited an agonizing few minutes for a response, half ready to die with embarrassment over your choice of words, your decision to add a heart emoji, the fact that you even responded at all, but thankfully, his reply came in before you had the chance to worsen things by sending a second text. 

Joel Miller: I’m just sorry I didn’t get the chance to kiss you like I wanted to. 

Well, shit.

[emmisturniolo]

edge - matt sturniolo (part two)

warnings: smutty smutttt, cursing, masturbation, cum denial, use of y/n, over the phone masturbation, pet names (baby, princess, good boy), cursing, lmk if i missed any!

a/n: part two let’s fucking gooooo!! i worked super hard on this one so i hope you guys enjoy! proofread 👻.

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it has been about ten minutes after matt posted that video. his phone is buzzing constantly of fans dming him, friends texting him, and family calling him. he doesn’t care that his fans, friends, and family have seen it. he just wants you to see it. he continuously checks his phone, waiting very impatiently for your text.

time: 3:20PM

matt has been pacing around his room, waiting for your text or call. he’s checked his phone at least thirty times in the past two minutes. he’s so anxious to see how you would respond. then, his phone vibrates. he picks up his phone so fast and looked at it.. a message from y/n.

y/n: matt whats this video you posted that everyone’s freaking out over?

matt: oh that? watch it, you’ll like it i promise

y/n: uhm okay i’ll go watch it

matt’s heart nearly beats out of his chest as he read your message. “i’ll go watch it”. he read that over and over. he was anxious and excited. the video is about fifteen minutes long, so that gives him time to calm his nerves. he lays in bed scrolling through instagram, awaiting your text.

fifteen minutes later

matts phone finally buzzes and he gets your text. he opens your message and reads what you said,

y/n: matt, who’s pic where you jerking off to, hm?

matt: yours, princess

matt’s phone starts ringing, you’re calling him. his breath hitches as he sees you’re facetiming him, and he answers to see you sitting on your bed, hair layed across your shoulders framing your face, with a smirk displayed on your lips.

“you jerked off to my face, and posted it, baby?” you say in a seductive tone. “yes,” matt says, looking away from his phone, slightly embarrassed. “that’s so hot, matt..” you say almost breathlessly. matt’s gaze goes back to his phone as you said that, a slight smirk tugging on the corners of his lips.

“yeah, princess? you liked that?” matt says almost teasingly with a smirk plastered on his face. you bite your bottom lip and nod, then speak up. “wanna touch yourself while on facetime with me? i could tell you things, and show you things…” you trail off, a slight hint of hopefulness shadowing your voice.

matt’s eyes widen with that same smirk on his face — he feels his face heat up at your question. not saying a word, he nods, earning a smile from you.

“go to your desk, baby” you say softly, but slightly demanding. matt immediately stands up and sits on his gaming chair, propping his phone on his desk so you have view of his whole body.

“take your pants off” you demand. matt immediately tugs his pants down, leaving him in a t-shirt and boxers. “good boy” you say with a nod.

matt starts to palm himself through his pants, a soft, barley audible whimper escaping his lips. hearing him whimper makes you so turned on.

matt palms himself a little bit faster, his eyes locked on your face that wss watching him very closely. “ca- can i tak- take my boxers off… please?” matt begs in between breaths. “go ahead” you say with a nod, matt immediately rips his boxers off of his waist, now pooling at his feet.

his hand wraps around his dick, pumping slowly, eyes still locked on you who is watching him do all of this. so many thoughts were rushing through your mind, “he’s so fucking big,” “oh my god he just whimpered for ME”

matt throws head head back as he whimpers and moans from the pleasure, then looks back at your face, which is plastered with a smirk. “ca- can i-i cum? ple- please y/n.. so.. clo- close..” matt whines, desperation lacing his voice. his breathing shaky and his hair messily displayed on his forehead. “no. hold it.” you say, matt groans and bites his bottom lip, trying to hold in his release.

“goddd.. fuck, pleaseee y/n.. gotta cum so baaad.. shit” matt begs, he’s so close. he wants to be your good boy.

“go ahead.” you say with a nod, earning a loud groan from matt. one last pump of his hand on his dick, and cum spurts out his tip, coating his hand. he groans loudly as he comes down from his high, still staring at you. “good boy,” you say, pleased with what you just witnessed.

his breathing becomes slower and steady as he calms down, a small laugh escaping his lips. he pulls his boxers and pants up, and grabs a napkin, wiping his hand. “god, that was.. a lot” matt says, earning a laugh from you.

matt looks at his lap before looking back at his phone, “hey y/n?” he says slightly nervous. “yeah?” you say with a smile. “do you think… we could maybe do this again sometime?…” matt says hesitantly. you giggle and nod “i’d be down for that” you say, earning a soft shy smile from him. god you just love him.

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tags: @sturnluvs @chrisinsomnia @no1drpepperfan

(it won’t let me tag the other people on the taglist, i’m sorrryyyyyy)

[eringobragh420]

🖤 Pairing: Damian Priest x f!Reader 🖤 Summary: Damian and his girlfriend’s relationship is on the edge of collapse, and they discover a new, interesting way to reconnect. 🛑 Warnings: NSFW. Angst, alcohol, cockwarming, dirty talk, unprotected p in v, cum 18+ 🖤 Notes: Spanish translations are at the end of the story. I do not speak Spanish, so if anything is incorrect, please let me know and I’ll fix it! ❤️ It's super long, so I marked where the smut begins for my feral beauties ❤️ 🖤 Taglist: @pittieprincess22, @cyberdejos2, @brideofinfamy, @rainbowdreams-x. If you’d like to be added, please click here! 🖤 Requested By: Anonymous. Hope you enjoy! 🖤 MASTERLIST

Staring at the label on the empty bottle of beer in her hand, she heard Damian’s boisterous laughter across the bar. She remembered a time not long ago when her own giggling would have been mixed in, but instead, here she sat, abandoned by her boyfriend so he could watch some stupid baseball game on the TV behind the bar with a group of other drunk guys he’d only just met this evening. She glanced over her shoulder at him, the tallest guy in the place, hair in a wet ponytail, dressed in his Yankees jersey, band t-shirt, and ripped jeans. Sexy as ever—the man only got more attractive with each passing year. His gestures were big as he entertained the circle around him, probably regaling them with stories from the road as a WWE superstar. She rolled her eyes, returning her attention to the beer bottle. She considered getting another one, but how much fun was it really going to be to be pissed off and drunk?

“You look lonely.”

She glanced up, eyebrow cocked, and found not a bad-looking man standing next to her table, but a man just the same, who was not her boyfriend. She cast her eyes back to Damian, and he was still otherwise occupied.

“I’m really not,” she replied.

“Sure you are,” the man argued, taking it upon himself to sit across from her. She inhaled deeply through her nostrils and all she could do was hope Damian remained oblivious. “I saw your man leave you over here like an hour ago.”

Had it really been that long?

“Well, maybe I’m just not very good company,” she deadpanned.

“I don’t believe that,” the man said. “A pretty girl like you? You’d be the best company, and I sure as hell wouldn’t leave you alone all night.”

“Listen, I appreciate the interest, but—”

The man’s eyes lifted, focused on something behind her, and she didn’t need to turn around to know what was happening, or about to happen.

“Somethin’ you need?” Damian’s hulking presence was beside her, and she took another deep breath, leaning against the back of the booth. 

“Hey, man,” the guy seated in front of her said, lifting a hand a beer bottle, “nobody’s doing anything wrong. Just havin’ a conversation.”

“Oh, okay, cool,” Damian said, leaning his fists on the table, muscles and tattoos rippling beneath the sleeves of his jersey. “Let’s have a conversation.”

The man across from her tilted his head and told her, “Good luck,” before beginning to climb out of his seat.

“The fuck is your problem?” Damian commanded, shoving the guy with one hand as soon as he stood up, freely knocking him off balance and to the sticky floor.

“Damian, relax,” his girlfriend yelled, slamming her bottle of beer on the table. “We were just talking.”

“Well I got some things to say, too,” Damian growled.

“Great,” she said, climbing out of the booth. “You guys talk it out, and I’m gonna go home.” 

Damian paused the stalking of his prey to focus on her for the first time since the incident began. They watched one another for a moment that lasted a lifetime, and she remembered falling in love with him the first time she saw him, she remembered feeling him the first night they’d had sex. She remembered holding hands and whispered secrets and promises of the future. He’d pledged to give her the world. Had he been lying when he’d sworn or had their relationship simply come to an unfortunate end? She didn’t know him well enough anymore to know the answer to what should have been a terribly straightforward question, and it horrified her, but she thought maybe if she could hold his concentration on her, he would recall all of those things, too. The good things. If he would just look deeply enough …

Damian severed their connection by turning back to a man and a situation that didn’t matter, and her heart disintegrated. Dusted, like in the Avengers. She grabbed her purse from the booth and had the Uber app pulled up on her phone before she even reached the door. She fought herself from looking back, repeating in her head that he wasn’t worth it—not anymore—in a futile attempt at making what she was about to do just a little easier. Yeah, right.

Once inside the Uber, her boyfriend having never once come out to check on her while she waited, she had another battle concerning whether or not to glimpse back. She kept her eyes forward until the vehicle was about to make a right hand turn, and suddenly there was a tug in her chest where her heart had once been. Like there was a string tied around the veins and arteries still remaining and it was connected to something she’d left behind. Clutching her aching chest with one hand, she pressed her other hand to the door to help her turn around, and she gasped, tears cascading down her cheeks. Damian was standing outside the bar, ponytail whipping this way and that as he searched desperately, perhaps finding what he was looking for in the back of the very vehicle she sat in as he promptly launched into an all-out sprint on the sidewalk, chasing after her. She slowly covered her mouth, weeping at the agony etched on his face, and she slid down in the seat, closing her eyes. 

She loved him. By all that was good and gracious in the world, she loved him with her entire being, but she couldn’t fucking do it anymore. She finished crying over the rest of the ride home, to their home, and she mumbled a thank you to the driver before getting out, closing the door behind her. The car sped off, she watched it go, and she imagined the scene was much like the one Damian had witnessed just a short bit ago. Her eyes slid to their front door, and she wrestled more tears as she plodded inside.

Damian arrived home faster than anticipated, but she’d had enough time to get herself together, to expel all the tears and soothe her trembling body by the time he came bounding through the door. Seeing her standing in the middle of the living room, he all but skidded to a stop. “I didn’t think—” He gestured at the door and held up his keys.

“We need … no, you need to figure out what you want, Damian,” she interrupted. 

He walked slowly around the couch, approaching her as if she were a lioness that could and probably would strike at any moment, rip him to pieces and devour him. When he was within a few feet, she took a step back. She knew what he was trying to do—he did it all the time. Get close enough to touch her, kiss her, hold her, coax her into believing she wasn’t mad about what she was really mad about. Her reaction stopped him dead in his tracks, and she watched his throat work as he swallowed.

“I don’t know—” he started.

“Of course you don’t know,” she interjected again, more tears pricking the corners of her eyes. So much for all cried out. “Why would you? It’s all about Damian. It has been ever since the beginning of this relationship, but I was too …” She sniffed, shrugged. “Too in love, I guess.” Her chuckle was pathetic as Damian breathed deeply through his nose, chest expanding and deflating. “And I thought you were in love with me …”

“What are you—? Of course—”

“Do you remember how we used to be?” she asked pitifully. “You were the Mickey to my Mallory …”

“Baby—”

“We actually made love for hours. We didn’t just fuck to cum like we do now.”

“Please listen to me …”

“No,” she stopped him one final time, her tone so soft she wasn’t sure she’d spoken at all. “I’m done listening.” She wiped fresh tears from her cheeks. “I put all your stuff for Raw by the door.” Damian’s brows furrowed and he turned to look at the door he’d just come through. His suitcase-on-wheels was lying on its front, a small duffel bag nearby—he’d blundered right past them. His eyes, now for the first time this entire evening beginning to show worry, returned to her, and they both knew how his luggage had gotten there from where he’d left it in their bedroom on the second floor. “I know you’re not supposed to leave for a day, but I just … I need you to go now.” Damian’s eyes fluttered closed and he scrubbed his huge hands over his face. “And while you’re gone, maybe you’ll remember what we used to have. How happy we used to be.”

“I’m—”

“If you say you’re happy, I swear to God—” She trailed off with a strangled chuckle.

“Oh, so you know how I feel?” Damian retorted.

She blinked up at him, and in his eyes, the ones that had once been so alive and so full of love, she could see misery and turbulence, and yeah, she could easily say she knew how he felt. She cleared her throat, brushing more tears from both cheeks quickly, as if she did it fast enough, he might not see how utterly broken she was. Maybe that’s what he needed to see. “I’m going upstairs,” she whispered, “and if you do love me, if you do care about me … you’ll leave.”

“Mi vida, please, just tell me—”

“You left me alone for an hour tonight!” his girlfriend suddenly erupted, and Damian’s eyes rounded. “We’ve seen each other four days in the past two weeks, and some fucking Yankees game has your attention? You try to fight some guy who didn’t know we were together because you left me alone for an hour?” Damian’s lips pursed and he remained silent for once. She sighed. “Goodbye, Damian. Have a safe trip.” 

She gave him a wide berth on her way to the stairs, stepping over his luggage as she headed up. Hurrying into their bedroom, she closed the door and locked it behind her, and by the time she’d slid down the wood until her ass met the carpet, she was a blubbering fool, covering her mouth to keep from crying out, to keep from hollering for Damian and telling him she was just kidding, and could he just hold her for a while and then everything would be okay? In time, she heard the front door open and close again. She could almost feel his presence, his very soul, drifting further away from her, that tugging in her chest returning, and she collapsed in slow motion, floating to the floor on her side, hugging her knees to her chest.

She awoke some time later in the same fetal position, suspecting she’d passed out from sheer exhaustion. Lifting her head, her spine screamed from the base of her skull all the way to her tailbone, and the carpet stuck to her cheek—she could only imagine the pattern etched into her skin as she lurched into a sitting position. She’d left a lamp on in the corner of the room, the soft glow illuminating the empty space, the unmade bed she wasn’t sure she’d be able to sleep in at all, and as the quiet enveloped her, she wondered if there would ever be laughter here again. She looked at the chaise lounge opposite the lamp, a small smile quirking her lips when she could almost see herself straddling Damian’s lap there, and she could almost hear her voice whisper that she was in love with him and had been since shaking his hand on her first day at WWE.

She rolled her eyes, refusing to permit any more tears from staining her cheeks, but that didn’t stop the intrusive thoughts in the back of her mind. Did Damian remember these things? Did they mean anything to him? Did she? Or was it his career he was now madly in love with? She’d sent Damian away to decipher the answers to these important questions, but she wasn’t certain she’d be strong enough to hear the answers. She climbed to her feet, limping across the floor to grab her phone from her side of the bed. As she reached for it, she paused, rubbed her fingers along her palm, and took a deep breath—all she could do to prepare for what she might find waiting for her in her notifications.

The missed calls and text messages were both in the double digits, along with a few voicemails, all from Damian, and she swallowed a softball size lump in her throat as she opened the text messages. She knew damn good and well there was no way she’d be able to listen to his voice without breaking down once more, and she was so damn tired of crying.

She sat slowly on the bed, the earlier suspicion she might not be able to sleep here blotted out by the overwhelming need to somehow be near Damian even though she’d just sent him across the country a day earlier than either of them had anticipated. Her dying phone slid from her hand, thumping on the carpet, as she backed across the king-size bed until she was on Damian’s side. Somehow the man slept with only one very thin pillow, so she grabbed one of hers and added it underneath before slipping her legs under the blanket and sheet. She was instantly inundated by the scent of Damian’s leave-in conditioner, but most importantly, the spice that was simply him drifted inside her nostrils and she was both allayed and shattered at the same time. Still depleted, now more than before, her heavy eyelids fell and she drifted off into a land of nightmares.

As Damian’s plane bound for Washington crashed above her into the side of a mountain, she was jolted awake. Her upper body careened forward, hair flying, arms reaching out because maybe if she could just catch the plane … A hand on her shoulder brought her fully out of unconsciousness, and she jumped again. 

“It’s okay! It’s just me!” Tiffy. Beautiful, sweet, perfect Tiffy, but all Damian’s girlfriend could think about was the fact that Tiffy had Ludwig and Ludwig had Tiffy and they were disgustingly happy and she was wildly envious.

“Tiffy,” she whispered. “What are you …” She scratched her head, looking up at Miss Money in the Bank, eyes mere slits. “How did you get in here?”

“Damian called Ludwig,” she explained. “He said he hadn’t talked to you in hours and your phone was going straight to voicemail.” Damian’s girlfriend nodded, though not wholly comprehending. “He told me where the spare key was.” She held it up.

“I see,” the dejected woman in bed said. “Well, I’m fine.”

“Obviously,” Tiffy rolled her eyes, “just like Damian is just fine.” Her pink manicured nails formed air quotes.

“Tiffany, I really don’t—”

“Look. It’s almost one o’clock, so I brought two of these—” She lifted the neck of a bottle of wine out of her glittery tote bag. “Let’s talk.”

Damian’s girlfriend was really getting tired of people demanding she speak to them, but she supposed this was different. Maybe she needed another perspective. She sent Tiffany to the patio by the pool while she changed out of the clothes she’d worn to the bar the night before and then had slept in, brushed her teeth, and as she was headed across the bedroom toward the door, she spotted her phone still lying on the white carpet. She feared what she’d see upon bringing it back to life, so she left it where it was, closed the door after her, and met Tiffy by the pool.

Nursing a hangover on Sunday and into the evening on Monday thanks to Tiffy Time, Damian’s girlfriend was again in bed, on his side, iPad in her lap, Monday Night Raw on the television. Tiffany had succeeded in making her feel at least a little better, agreeing that things had gotten bad enough between them that sending him to Washington early was probably the best way to get through to him, although, she added, it seemed a bit harsh. She recalled a similar situation between herself and Ludwig—their schedules had been completely opposite, they never saw each other, and their connection had started to dissolve—to which Tiffany had responded in a completely different manner. Instead of kicking him out and sending him across the country, she’d done internet research and consulted various friends in search of a way to reconnect with her boyfriend.

And the route of reconnection Tiffany had discovered was now in the search bar of Safari: cockwarming. Damian’s girlfriend had heard of it, but never given it much thought, assuming it was just one of a million other ways to please a man, but Tiffany had assured her that cockwarming wasn’t about giving or receiving pleasure, it was about being present and intimate with someone you loved, building or rebuilding a physical and emotional relationship by linking together in the closest way possible. It made sense, and she was willing to try anything. 

She glanced up at the muted television, heart skipping a beat when saw Damian in the middle of a match. He looked tired, and maybe he was hungover too, and he just didn’t seem as on point as he normally was. A little slower, a little careless, a little like he didn’t give a fuck. She turned the TV off, rubbing at her forehead. She was responsible for his distraction, and she hadn’t meant for their problems to interfere with his work, but she’d acted so rashly in kicking him out, she hadn’t considered any effect it would have on his live television performance. She hadn’t considered him at all, if she were being honest, so what did that say about her? Maybe Damian wasn’t the only one who needed to figure things out.

Without warning,  a bolt of lightning shot through her entire body, a current of electricity coursing across her skin, and she jumped out of bed. She looked at Damian’s side where she’d been sitting, her pillow under his, and it wasn’t right. She glanced at the TV and Raw wasn’t on and she wasn’t cussing at whomever Damian’s opponent was, and it wasn’t right. She hadn’t kissed him goodbye and he hadn’t slapped her ass for good luck, as was their routine, and it wasn’t right. The way she’d made him leave, ignoring him—none of it was right. Her eyes cut to her phone on the bed, to her purse on the chair, ending on a pair of sneakers in the corner of the room. Her brain shut off, leaving her heart in control, and her legs were moving. She grabbed the phone and the purse, slipped her feet in the shoes, and jogged downstairs. She grabbed her keys from the table and slammed the front door behind her.

She found herself at the airport, still on autopilot, and she bounced from one foot to the other as she waited in line to purchase a ticket. When she finally reached the desk, she placed her wallet on the counter. “Hi,” she said, “I need to get to Seattle tonight. Right now. One way.” 

The lady behind the computer punched several keys. “Well, it’s your lucky day,” she beamed, and Damian’s girlfriend suppressed the urge to punch her. “I have one seat left on a flight leaving in thirty minutes.”

“Great.”

“It’s $1,798.” Of course the only seat left would be first class.

“That’s fine,” she said, rummaging through her wallet for her credit card and identification. Damian was worth it, their relationship was worth it. 

Aboard the plane, she tried to sleep, but it was impossible. She tried to read a book on her phone, but she couldn’t concentrate. She ended up spending most of the flight reading and rereading Damian’s text messages, self-loathing growing with each pass. Yes, he was responsible for their abrupt separation, but she was just as much to blame. 

Landing in Washington, she checked her messages again, this time tapping on the thread with Rhea, who’d responded to her question while she’d been 37,000 feet in the air. Armed with the information provided by Damian’s closest friend, she ordered an Uber and gave him the address of Damian’s hotel. She rode the elevator to the top floor, wondering if he’d had to pay extra for a last minute booking, which, again, would have been her fault. Same with the price of his plane ticket. Of course, whatever she’d cost them monetarily paled in comparison to the time she’d cost them. 

SMUT Standing in front of Damian’s hotel room door, she knocked softly. Moments later the door opened, and there he stood, the love of her life, the Mickey to her Mallory, the very face she wanted to see before she died. He was in a black sleeveless shirt and black basketball shorts, and he looked burnt out and used up, and was she accountable for that too? But when he realized who was standing in front of him, those dead eyes reanimated, and his hunched shoulders squared. They gazed at one another for an extended moment, a silent conversation passing between them, an ask of permission and consent granted.

Damian stepped into the hall, and his girlfriend raised her elbows so he could position his big hands under her armpits before slowly, tenderly, lifting her in the air, not unlike picking up a crying toddler. Her arms slipped around his neck, her legs around his waist, and he completed their puzzle by enveloping her in his protective embrace. She tucked her face into the crook of his neck, crossed her feet behind him, and she was home. He held her for a while in the hall before stepping back inside the hotel room, the mechanism at the top of the door closing it for him, and then he held her some more, still standing, placing a hand on the back of her head. Eventually he took a seat in the chair beside the bed, his girlfriend repositioning her legs so she was straddling him, sitting back on his thighs, and they were able to look at each other again.

“I’m sorry,” he spoke first, cupping her face. “You’re right. I took you for granted. I took everything we have for granted.” He shook his head, eyes round and clear and the most delicious shade of chocolate. “I know what we were before … and I know … we’re not—we’re not that anymore. Just tell me how to make it right.” He brought their foreheads together, and her hands braced herself on his hard chest. “Tell me how to fix it. Because I ain’t quitting, and I ain’t letting you go.”

His girlfriend smiled for the first time in days, but it was fleeting. “I shouldn’t have kicked you out. I’m sorry, too.”

Damian shook his head, eyes searching her face. “No more apologies.” He kissed her forehead, and she laid her head on his chest. “So what do we do?” he mumbled against the top of her head.

Her eyes opened. “I just think we … need to reconnect,” she said. “And … I might have an idea how we can start.”

She explained cockwarming with a hell of a lot less grace and knowledge than Tiffany, and a hell of a lot more embarrassment, if her superheated cheeks were any kind of clue. But Damian listened, and his focus was solely on her, and he didn’t make fun of the idea, and they were already headed in the right direction. They agreed to give it a try here and now, as there was no better time than the present, and they were both too exhausted to engage in much else. The couple made their way to the bed, Damian’s girlfriend toeing her shoes off before they removed each other’s clothing, and they climbed under the blankets.

The experience was supposed to be more about intimacy and less about having sex, she’d illustrated, but, to make it easier for him to slip inside her, she’d have to get at least a little damp. It was no secret what Damian did to her simply by existing, so he smirked, brushing her hair from her shoulder so he could cradle her neck, thumb caressing her jawline. He pressed their lips together, the couple sharing a sigh of relief, and she rested her fingers on his wrist as they kissed. All the fear and worry and stress melted away as her arousal grew, and as they’d both suspected, it didn’t take long for her to become wet and ready, and, consequently, for Damian to become hard.

“Sorry,” he said.

“That is something you’re never gonna have to apologize for,” his girlfriend assured him. They shared a smile. “Just try to keep from, you know … fucking me.”

“Easy for you to say,” Damian commented, and they snickered. “How do you wanna …?“

She rolled over to her other side, backing up against him, semi-hard dick slipping between her ass cheeks. Damian whispered in her ear to be careful, and she couldn’t help the smile. They were going to get through this. He positioned her how he needed, making sure she was comfortable before slowly sliding inside her. He moaned, playing it off by clearing his throat, and she was barely able to mask her own whine. His arm slid under her pillow, gripping her hand that was already there, his other arm wrapping around her, and she held that hand with hers against her chest. He twitched inside her, and her pussy instinctively clenched around him, and their holds tightened on each other.

“You know it’s been, like, 50 hours since I left,” Damian said, following a moment of adjustment and silence.

“Damian …”

“No, I—I just mean … that was 50 hours without you. 50 hours to think about everything, all of it. So I don’t want you to feel bad for kicking me out. You were right. I needed time to figure things out.”

“And what did you figure out?” she asked. Considering he was inside her and holding her and he hadn’t slammed the door in her face, she knew his answer was at least a little positive.

“I haven’t been there for you,” he said, voice so deep, his girlfriend could all but feel her pussy producing slickness. “I made my job and everything else more important than you. And I’m sorry.” He pulled her closer, his cock slipping that much deeper within her. His biceps were unforgiving but protective, and the steady rise and fall of his chest comforted her on a level she’d never experienced before. “Baby, I’m so sorry.”

“I’m sorry, too,” she said, squeezing his hands.

“You don’t—”

“Damian, there are two people in this relationship. What if I had just talked to you about how I was feeling weeks ago? We could have avoided—”

“I know me, you know me. It wouldn’t have had the same effect as kicking my dumbass out of my own house had.”

She sighed, believing what he said, but there would be no way to erase the guilt she still felt. 

“I love you, querida,” he uttered into her ear. “Eres mi vida, mi alma, mi todo. Siempre.”

Her body shuddered, Damian’s arm tightening around her. “I love you, Papí.” He pressed his face into the back of her neck, and the couple was physically as close as they could possibly be to one another. She felt her heart rebuilding, she felt their connection rejoining, and she knew just this one night wasn’t going to solve all their problems, but they were making an effort, and that was enough for now. “I love when you’re inside me,” she breathed, eyes closing.

“I know,” Damian whispered.

She awoke sometime later, eyes slowly blinking open. The sun was beginning to rise and her body was moving, ever so gently, her head sliding up and down the pillow. Regaining consciousness, she realized that where Damian had been semi-hard and comforting inside her before falling asleep, he was now solid and thick, filling her to the brim, and his hips were thrusting somewhat casually against her. And then she heard a faint snore from him, and that explained everything. She thought about waking him, she really did, but he felt too fucking good and she’d missed him too fucking much, and it had been a long fucking time since they’d been so intimate. There was no way she could fight this.

She let him continue, his pumps erratic and varying in strength, but she didn’t care. His hand rose from the mattress, sliding past one nipple to cup the opposite breast, which he instinctively squeezed, groped, and that particular pump was hard and deep. She cried out, smacking a hand over her mouth, but it was already too late.

“Shit,” Damian breathed. “I’m sorry, I thought I was dreamin’.”

She reached back, grabbing at his hip over the blanket. “No,” she whispered, “please don’t stop.”

“But—”

“Please, Papí,” she begged.

Damian attacked her neck, sucking, biting, and she moaned into the pillow, imagining proudly wearing his marks for all to see on the way home. His thrusts became steadier, more powerful, and his hand returned to her breast. He brushed the cool metal of his rings along her nipple before pinching and pulling, and her back bowed, pulling him deeper inside her pussy.

“This isn’t …” he trailed off, panting, and she recognized the sounds he was making, the words he was repeating.

She lifted her hips away from him, allowing him to carefully slip from inside her. Rolling over, she climbed on top of him, stroking his big cock a few times before lining her pussy up with the head. Meeting Damian’s gaze, she sank down onto him at a snail’s pace, watching as his eyes averted to witness their bodies join together, lasting longer than she expected before he laid his head back on the pillow, eyes closing, mouth uttering a string of obscenities. Biting her lip, she massaged her soft hands along the firm planes of his tattooed pecs until she found a suitable position that would allow for optimal riding. As she was about to lift her hips, Damian’s fingers encircled her wrists and raised her hands, melding their palms together, their fingers intertwining, his elbows anchoring them to the mattress.

“Ride it, baby,” he growled.

Grinning, his girlfriend’s eyes closed and her grip tightened on his hands and her hips started to move. She was instantly reminded of his size as she rose, her pussy shrinking back to its normal proportion the further he was removed, only to be stretched again with the next downward thrust.

“Fuck, that’s it,” Damian moaned, as she repeated the action over and over.

“I missed you so much,” she breathed, impaling herself fully and then grinding her clit against him. She freed her fingers from his and put them back on his chest, her entire body moving with her hips.

“I know,” Damian whispered. He grabbed two handfuls of her ass and took control of the pace. “Fuck, yeah, bounce on it. Bounce on my cock, baby.”

She obeyed, though he was doing most of the work, which ended up with him holding her still and his cock hammering up into her. “Oh, God,” she squeaked, his pounding hitting that secret spot inside her. “I’m gonna cum, Papí.”

His hand wrapped around the back of her neck and he jerked her down until their lips smashed together. “Say my name,” he breathed. “Say my fucking name.”

“Damian,” she wailed, pulsing around the battering ram that was his dick. Their lips smacked and their teeth clacked, and her throbbing cunt milked his own orgasm. The kissing continued as they rode out the waves of pleasure, as every ounce of stress and heartache and worry melted away, to be replaced by hope and love and positivity for the future.

Sleep was knocking, and she slowly descended until her cheek was on his chest, his softening cock staying warm within her. “I love you,” she whispered, almost like an afterthought, and Damian chuckled, placing a hand on her head.

“I love you, mi vida.”

🎀 Mi vida — My life 🎀 Mi alma — My soul 🎀 Querida — Dearest/Beloved, term of endearment 🎀 Eres mi vida, mi alma, mi todo. Siempre — You’re my life, my soul, my everything. Forever 

[ronearoundblindly]

okey dokey, I've had *a day* and will use this glorious...🥴 idek which body part to reference 😮‍💨...and merge it with your previous ask about cooking or baking for Steve and giving him a nice, comforting, home cooked meal. And his response to that act of service and caring. Because this is me, I will obviously be starting with ::gasp:: an argument. Don't you love how predictable I am?!?!

To Tire Is Human

No warnings, uhhh, canon language (sh*t)? Written in drafts so no exact word count. It's not long (2k maybe, very much unedited)!

"The hustle? What does that even mean?" Steve gripes as he finishes up various chores around the property.

"It means I do the work."

Your boyfriend rips apart the wood log he was about to start chopping. "Do the work? Do the work? For nine hours? After leaving home early enough to be at work for an hour before the actual work starts? Then staying at least a half hour to clean?"

"Unless I also have to restock," you add quickly just to really turn the knife.

"You have got to be shitting me," he nearly snarls, eyes down toward the pile.

You don't blame him for not understanding. He's from an era where people worked to live, the point was the living. This...is not longer that era, and you are not of that generation.

Of course, it frustrates him, too, because your work makes living almost impossible. With all that he just mentioned, the commute, and attempting to offer yourself the basic self-care of eating and washing, you don't have the energy to do chores, and you've certainly struggled to find energy enough to show Steve love.

"That's the gig nowadays. That's how us super-average humans do it."

The thing is that you are also so tired of having this conversation. You are tired of the guilt for not magically considering yourself the center of your universe because, despite jokes about every kid receiving participation trophies, it is deeply engrained in you that you are replaceable.

If you don't perform above and beyond, fired. If you ask for too much and offer too little, gone. If you don't constantly learn how to outpace others, useless. It never ends.

And, finally, Steve Rogers might not get this but you age. You aren't powerful to begin with, but day after day, you get weaker and older, while someone else on Earth gets smarter and stronger.

You don't want to hear the spiel. You can see from his pinched face that Steve wants to give the spiel.

You sigh in exhaustion and prepare to hear the whole Cap speech before you two go pick up dinner in town.

One day later that week, your work schedule falls apart and lands you back at home hours before Steve is due to return. Antsy to accomplish something--and looking for a snack,--you notice the perfect combination of ingredients, something saucy and salty, hearty, just like Steve melts for, and a fruity baked good.

It's a lot of steps, there's a lot of mess to clean up as you go, and then there's still a lot left behind. You're hastily rushing around to set the oven timer and yank a skillet off the burner. Perhaps the whole endeavor has gotten you in over your head.

Steve appears out of nowhere.

Well. Not nowhere, but all the chaos in the kitchen is making enough noise, you didn't hear the door.

"I have everything under control," you automatically say.

His expression morphs from one of surprise and concern to utterly overwhelmed. His eyes look glassy as he approaches and scoops you into a quick hug, hands tucking themselves beneath the hem of your shirt so he can feel your skin as he breathes you in.

He quickly releases you at the sounds of oil popping and sniffs, reverting to Cap mode.

"What do you need? What can I do?"

All you can think is that the table hasn't been set.

Steve eats his whole meal--entree and dessert--with his non-dominant hand just so he can hold yours.

He had one of your days.

He spent the drive home listing all the things he needed to do in his head, more energy for each tick, more time for sitting still, more of him to give...

...and then he got to enjoy a lovely dinner with you.

You spent your energy on him, on you both. You spent energy specifically to spend time with him, and Steve could cry but he won't. He keeps smiling, making happy, pleased noises with each delicious bite.

An hour ago, he wasn't sure he could feed himself or wash up. He's simply too tired.

You start playing with his hand, drawing patterns in his palm, lightly dragging your nails on the sensitive inside of his wrist. It makes him shiver.

There were at least four things he was supposed to do outside before it got too dark, a load of towels and sheets needs done, a basket of clothes waits to be folded and put away. He does not want to do any of it.

His fingers close around yours.

"Thank you," he interjects softly, "I was so tired."

You lean forward and plant a sweet kiss on his cheek, whispering in his ear, "you wanna leave the dishes to soak and watch a movie instead?"

Steve chuckles, turns his head to quickly kiss your lips, and nuzzles his nose to yours.

"Oh, you're a naughty minx, aren't you?"

Playfully racing up the stairs, ignoring the plates and glasses still on the table, you call back to him.

"Show some hustle, big guy! We got a whole lot of nothing to do."

He twitches, just for an instant, before finally deciding that grabbing the spare pillows from the guest room will add more to the movie experience than doing the dishes.

You're both going to do the work tonight: the work of taking care of each other, enjoying each other, and being human together.

Thank you for asking!

[Main Masterlist; Light Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

[luveline]

eddie idea for shy friday! reader who is into the same music as eddie & has a similar aesthetic but not the confidence that is associated with it, and maybe eddie takes the initiative to interact with her because she’s nervous to do so? :)

thank you for your request! eddie x shy!fem!reader ♡

Some metalheads are super loud and some aren't. Eddie knows guys who've been in the scene longer than he's been alive who barely talk about it. He doesn't really need you to be loud about what you love to get the message. 

For starters, you look fucking sick. Your hair, the makeup, toned down but undeniably influenced by all the greats, Joan and Chrissie and Kim Gordon. You dress in simple stuff like he does, though you usually swap dark jeans for skirts with pretty, shiny studs and tights with ladders climbing your thighs. He's been meaning to try his luck with you for ages, but he hadn't wanted to do it while you were working —he has a funny feeling that behind the bar is the last place you want to be asked out. 

It's his good fortune that he finds you in a record store in Indianapolis. He does a double take, thinking he's seeing some other pretty girl in black. It wouldn't be uncommon here. 

But there you are, sorting through classic rock records with a darling mildness about you. Unhurried, always so quiet. He kind of really loves that about you, the delicate way you move and the unassuming curve of your lips. 

He decides to just go for it. In and out. 

"Hey," he says, trying to be a normal guy. It comes out a teeny tiny bit too loud. "Fancy seeing you here. Are you looking for something?" 

Eddie's no master in girls but he understands body language pretty well, and feels guilty at the shift of your legs, one thigh pressed to another as you lean back. 

"Hey," you say, "um, no, I'm just looking around." 

"That's a good one," he says, nodding at the vinyl between your fingers, Sad Wings of Destiny. "I love Judas Priest." 

You put the record down, and he worries for a split second that you're gonna bolt out the door, and he's acting like a creep, but you grab the zip on your jacket and pull it down to your navel. 

You're wearing a Judas Priest t-shirt with a rip just under the soft valley of your chest. "Me too… You're Eddie." 

"I am," he says, a little surprised that you know him, but trying to be suave. "I guess I'm at The Hideout too much if you know me before I've introduced myself." 

"I–" You clasp your hands together against your stomach. "I've wanted to talk to you, tell you that I like the band… you remind me of Judas Priest, actually. You know, 'cause you and your second guitarist, you're a twin assault." 

His jaw drops dramatically. "Are you flirting with me?" 

It's the worst thing he could've said. You swallow, and he's about to take it back, make a joke about his huge mouth, but you smile gently. 

"Maybe," you say. "Is that… okay?" 

"Girl like you?" Eddie gives you his smoothest smile, his eyes half-lidded as he looks down at you. "Beautiful, it's more than okay."

You bite your lip, turning your smile back to the bin of vinyls.

"Are you busy? Maybe you could help me find something specific?" he furthers. 

You don't look at him, but you nod. It's a great start. 

Eddie doesn't have a record in mind, so he names the most obscure one he can think of and feels it like a punch when your eyes light up in recognition. You find it quicker than he thinks you will, you know exactly where it'll be, and he scrambles to drag it out. He hasn't even started on what he wants to ask you, what you like doing outside of work, if you did your hair yourself, if you're free Friday night. 

"Uh," he says eloquently, "are you busy? You're a mastermind, and there's a couple of other LPs I wanna check out that I'm too dumb to find myself." 

And that's how Eddie spends 137 dollars in forty-five minutes. He learns your details through stacks and shelves, revelling in your shy answers, and how hard you laugh at his cheesy jokes. 

You wince as they ring him up in sympathy. He starts to regret his decisions, but you slow in front of the door and look at him through your lashes. 

"Did you wanna get coffee?" you ask. 

"Yes," he says immediately, his jaw aching in the effort it takes not to grin like a fool, until he remembers himself. "Or, I would. I don't think I can afford it." 

You smile gently. "My treat." 

He's so entranced, he forgets he's broke. 

[peachhcs]

macklin giving blarie her first piece of sharks clothes with his name and number ! also mack got this awesome sharks bomber jacket for the draft and i definitely seeing him wanting blarie to wear it because it would look so much better on him

celebrini 71

figure skater x macklin celebrini au (macklin + blaire)

after becoming official, blaire makes her debut in mack’s official sharks jersey as a surprise

wc: 1.7k

i swear you guys are just writing the au at this point i’m just here to add the details :) i combined two requests since they were basically the same thing but i thought this was super cutie

au masterlist

now that they were officially together, it was just a matter of slowly telling everyone else and the fans who mack knew would go crazy when they found out he had a girlfriend. knowing how crazy they got sometimes, he didn't wanna scare blaire with it all, so before the next game, they talked about how ready she was to make their relationship public. 

"we totally don't have to do any of it," mack said making sure the girl understood that he wasn't pressuring her into any of this. she giggled though. 

"i don't know, i kind of want to. plus, so many people where your name and number so i'd just blend in with them. people will think i'm a fan or something," blaire grinned and those words were like music to the boy's ears. he'd been dying to get her into something that told people who's she was. not in a possessive way, but in a way that he wanted to show her off. 

"i guess you're right. are you sure though? i don't wanna push you into this if you aren't ready. people online can be pretty brutal," the brunette admitted because he's seen it before with so many guys and their girlfriends where the fans were just ruthless and saying horrible things—especially to will and samy after they got back together. 

"i'm sure, i promise. i hardly even use instagram or twitter to even see those comments," the girl reassured him, pecking the bridge of his nose. 

"okay, well in that case, my whole closet is yours to choose from," mack jumped up and opened the doors so blaire could see the full layout of all of his sharks merch she could wear to the game. she blushed, her eyes wandering over all of the options. 

"i mean i'd love if you wanted to wear my jersey, but if that's too much too soon you obviously don't have to. i have a bunch of shirts with my name on them—oh, and..i may have gotten you a small something," the hockey player rambled nervously as he jumped back over to his desk. blaire watched curiously as he brought out a two boxes wrapped up in blue wrapping paper. she raised her eyebrow.

"mack, what is this? you don't have to get me things," she quickly complained but the boy shook his head. 

"i know, but i wanted to," he smiled softly. she eyed him before slowly ripping the paper open. the first box she opened was a sharks t-shirt that one would see in the merch store or something, but after flipping it over, macklin's 71 and last name was displayed across the back. the girl quickly grinned.

"i wanted to get you your own," mack explained.

"this is so sweet, mack. i love it. i'll wear it everyday," she brought him into a hug. "good, i'm glad you like it. i had to keep up the tradition you know? of you having all my team shirts," he kissed her cheek and then urged her to open the other slightly bigger box. 

blaire tore into the wrapping paper again and eagerly lifted the lid off the box. her eyes widened when she saw the same sharks' teal in the form of a jacket. she lifted it up to see, admiring the detail that was the san jose sharks across the back and then mack's name and number along the sleeves. 

"woah, this is crazy," blaire mumbled

"i got it from the draft but i thought you'd look better in it than i ever would," he chuckled a bit.

"are you serious? you don't want this??" the dirty blonde admired the jacket in disbelief that her boyfriend didn't wanna keep something like this for his memories. 

"i'm sure. i probably wouldn't really wear it and i want you to have it," he insisted. blaire looked at him, a soft expression coating her features as he brought him into another hug. 

"you're so sweet. thank you," she said and they exchanged warm smiles. 

"of course. i hope i'll see you in one of them tonight," mack grinned, excited to see what outfit blaire would choose. she smirked, "looks like you'll have to wait and see." 

—

blaire was gonna go all out for the game. she layered the new shirt mack just got her with his jersey which she was already planning on wearing before he got her the new shirt and jacket. she did her hair in a half up braid and those teal and white ribbons she wore to every game. she really hoped mack would like her outfit because she'd been planning it since last week when they finally became official. 

the girl pulled up to the rink an hour before puck drop. she got through the front security and headed towards her seat, eyes on the lookout for mack down on the ice. like blaire suspected, she blended right in with the other fans wearing the player's jerseys so everyone would just think she bought mack's jersey herself when in reality it was his actual jersey she was wearing. 

the brunette was busy warming up that he didn't notice her in her usual spot right away. the girl just admired him for the moment and the focus on his face as he ran the puck between his stick. it was something blaire had always admired about him and his dedication. mack never once let up, always ready, always giving it his all. it was why they bonded so quickly way back when they met because she was super dedicated to figure skating. she put her whole life into it, so meeting someone who was just as passionate about his own sport was something blaire really admired. 

finally, the rookie looked up at the stands for his girlfriend. he didn't see her at first because she blended right in with the other fans, so the boy became puzzled when he thought he didn't see her in her usual spot. he looked at the time—20 minutes until the start of the game. if mack knew anything about blaire it was that she hated being late. she always got to places early, so he was confused when he didn't see her. 

mack started growing concerned and was about to ask will when he finally saw her face in the crowd of people. she was looking at her phone, but mack recognized those ribbons from a mile away. his eyes traveled further down her figure and that's when he realized why she blended in so well and he didn't see her at first. 

she was wearing his jersey he gave her the other day. his jersey. the brunette was so shocked that he stopped everything he was doing to stare at her which made it quite obvious to others watching him. 

"mack?" will grew confused when he saw his friend just standing there not moving. the blonde tried following his eye line and that's when he saw blaire sitting up in the stands with a 71 on her back. 

"that's my jersey," the boy mumbled still in disbelief. 

"celly, you're staring," will nudged him before other fans caught onto what he was staring at. 

mack finally broke out of his stare, face completely red when he realized how hard he was staring. he ducked his face so fans didn't see and acted like he was still doing warm ups. blaire finally looked up, oblivious to her boyfriend's staring. she smiled when will offered a tiny wave in her direction. the girl waved back and then she watched him nudge mack. the boy's head slowly lifted and that's when she saw his crazy blush and she knew he had seen her in his jersey. 

mack wasn't sure how he was going to get through this game knowing blaire was up there in his jersey. not some knock off from merch stores, it was his. a jersey he's put on his body and been out on the ice during games. 

the team was called back down the tunnel. mack sent her a quick wink as he skated after will making blaire giggle. 

it was safe to say blaire was mack's good luck charm that night. he got two goals and two assists—his best game yet. the fans were on their feet cheering the rookie on, but the only cheers that mattered to mack belonged to the dirty blonde jumping around with pretty little ribbons tied into her hair staring directly at him. 

he was out of the locker room in record speed once the game finished to where blaire always waited for him in their secret hallway in the back of the arena. he laid his eyes on her as soon as he turned the corner and was practically running to spin her into his arms. blaire giggled when mack immediately lifted her off the ground, spreading a thousand kisses across her face. 

"hey," she giggled at his affection. mack pulled back to really take her in up close, his pupils literally turning to hearts as he made her do a slow spin so he could see the whole jersey on her. 

"wow," he mumbled. 

"i wanted to surprise you," blaire grinned and she felt his fingers gently trace his last name on her upper back and then down to the 71. 

"you look so good," he turned her back around, cupping her face in his hands. 

"so you like it?" 

"like it? i love it," the brunette kissed her, not being able to hold back anymore. she stood on her tiptoes for a better angle, her own hands clutching his wrists. 

"you look beautiful," mack hummed when they pulled back. 

"you're so sweet. brings me back to shattuck days," blaire remembered the old days where mack always gave her the jersey he wasn't wearing that game for her to wear and she wore it proudly every time. tonight was no different. 

"for sure, but this is even better," the rookie leaned in to kiss her again and she quickly reciprocated. it was such a good thing no one came back to this part of the arena ever.

[starlightsearches]

track 8 with eddie!

all i ask is that it’s sub!eddie 🤞

Brat

So I lied earlier about deleting all of the requests for the mixtape milestone 😬 i did get rid of the some of the requests i hadn't started, but i couldn't let go of the ones i drafted, which is good news, because inspiration struck for this one!

Ex-boyfriend! Eddie Munson x Fem! Reader

Warnings: NSFW 18+, pussy eating, bratty eddie but he gets put in his place super quick, bondage, not a happy ending if you want them to get back together, language, and i think that's it!

You never thought you'd be back on Eddie Munson's doorstep.

Hands hanging heavy at your sides, a little taste of a summer breeze teasing at the hem of your skirt. You'd been full of a strange mixture of righteous fury and sick anticipation on the drive over but it's all gone now, a choking feeling in your throat when you lift up your hand to knock.

And you still can't do it.

Your eyes rake over his completely uninteresting door (are there even interesting doors?)— pockmarked with random dents and dings and sticky residue from long gone flyers—but you study it like it's the Mona Lisa, like it's got the meaning of life hidden somewhere in its peeling paint.

Fuck that. You didn't come here for the meaning of life.

Your knuckles meet the cool metal, once, then twice. The door flies open before you get a chance to drop your hand.

Eddie was waiting for you on the other side.

Heat floods through your entire body—and not the good kind—the oily feeling of embarrassment creeping up your neck. Had he been watching you through the peep hole?

He leans casually up in the door frame, arm stretched long above his mess of curls. The smile on his lips is so familiar it makes you ache.

"Hey, sweetheart."

Eddie looks good. Better than the last time you saw him—a little over a month ago, although not much as changed. Kind of stubbly, kind of toned. Still very, very hot.

There's no need to feel guilty for thinking it, but that doesn't stop your stomach from sinking as you drag your eyes down the white t-shirt he wears, band logo faded and the sleeves cut off, knees poking out of the rips in his jeans.

It should be ridiculous—a fucking caricature of a cool guy with his artful rips and the tats littering his arms. A Halloween costume on anybody else. But not on Eddie.

You push past him, like you push past the thought about how tight he wears his jeans. "Don't call me that."

He follows you into the living room of his shitty little apartment, kicking the door closed behind him. "What can I call you, then? Sugar tits?"

He doesn't even pretend to whither under your stare, although you feel like you cut glass with the look you give him.

"I thought I told you not to call me at all. Where is it?"

He's standing too close, looming over you with a little smirk. You can feel how hot his skin is. Feel the warm puff of breath from his nose on your cheeks. "Where's what, gorgeous?"

He never called stuff like that when you were together. Baby was his favorite. Princess when he was feeling sassy. Honey, but only on the rarest occasions, the sweetest mornings. That one always made you weak at the knees.

"The box of my stuff," —you're mad at him, at this, and it hits you hard, has you jamming a finger into his sternum, feeling the wiry muscle of his chest underneath the tee—"the one you left me three desperate messages about."

That humbles him a little bit. A very little bit, but enough to make Eddie shut his mouth for once. He points down the hall behind you.

"Bedroom."

You know the way, but let him lead. It's colder in his apartment than it was outside, the hair on your arms standing up, and you hold yourself a little tighter, cussing yourself out for leaving your jacket in the car.

"You look good," he calls back without turning in your direction, eyes on the clutter covering every inch of the floor, maybe hoping you won't notice the edge in his voice, “going out tonight?"

That was the plan—before this. "Yeah."

"Who with?"

Eddie doesn't even have enough shame in him to look embarrassed about asking, staring at you openly, like he has any right to know anything about your life now that he's not in it.

"You don't know them," you answer, and he laughs.

"Come on, sweetheart. Your friends are my friends."

And yeah, that used to be the case. Robin still called you up some weekends, inviting you out to girls' nights in a sad little tone. You made up excuses every time, but she still called.

Whatever. They were Eddie's friends first.

"Well, I made new ones."

Eddie runs his tongue over his bottom lip, crossing his arms across his chest.

“What’re their names?”

Jesus, he's such an ass.

"Just a bunch of guys I met outside a liquor store. Said they'd buy me shots tonight if I let them motorboat me in the parking lot."

"Har-har," Eddie rolls his eyes, but you didn't miss the look. His concern for you makes you itch. "Seriously, princess, just wanna know if you're keeping good company."

"Well, I'm not. Can I get my stuff now?"

And maybe you feel kind of bad for lying to him, but you can't let him know the truth—that it'll just be you and a couple girls from work. A few glasses of wine and some gossip. Hell, you'll probably be in bed before midnight.

Eddie digs around at the bottom of his closet, producing a cardboard box littered with garbage—a stack of magazines, some stupid teddy bear he won for you at an arcade, and a couple of bras you'd never be able to wear anymore with the way Eddie's spit is probably permanently fused in the fabric.

A wasted trip.

You try to take the box from him, but Eddie's grip doesn't budge.

"I can carry it out to your car, sweetheart," he says, standing up tall, "unless those biker guys are out there waitin' for you."

"I never said they were bikers," you respond, adjusting your grip on the box, pulling it tighter to your chest. It just has Eddie taking another step closer, big, warm hands sliding over yours.

"Good, 'cause I don't think bikers are your type."

He's whispering a little, lowering his voice all sexy in the way that always used to get you into bed with him.

Not this time.

"Oh fuck you, Eddie. What would you know about my type?"

"Uh, at least a little, honey," he laughs, smiling wide and boyish—so confident, self-assured.

"Don't—" you snatch the box out of his hands, "call me honey."

That's the landmine he's been waiting for you to step on. Eddie looks at you, ready to mash all your buttons until he figures out which ones will have you on him. You wish he wasn't so close to the right combination.

He stalks closer, trapping you up against the closet door, both hands planted above your head. You can't feel anything below your knees.

Voice low, breath wet up against your ear, Eddie says, "what are you gonna do about it, honey?"

The box falls with a whump, spilling all your shit across Eddie's bedroom floor. It's nothing compared sound of your body slammed against the door when your lips finally meet his.

You don't know who started it—whether it was your hands tangled up in his hair or him pinning you in place with his hips. You just know you don't want it to stop.

Eddie's running hot—hot hands at your waist and stubbly skin scratching up your jaw and his whole, hot body pressing up against you, moving just the way you like.

Liked.

You push his hands away with both of yours, trapping them against his sides, but it's not enough to stop him, his mouth at your neck.

"Come on, honey," he whispers, "I said I was sorry."

"I don't want an apology, Eddie."

He tries again, fingertips just brushing against your hips. He looks at you, eyes a little sad, a little too honest.

"Then what can I do to get you back?"

Fuck him. You didn't come here for that either. There's only one thing you want from Eddie Munson, and it's not a box full of bras.

"Get on your knees."

You're surprised his bones don't break with the speed he falls to the floor, thumping against the carpet. Hands already pushing up the hem of your skirt, face pressed low against your stomach. Maybe he's missed this as much as you.

"God, baby," he whispers against your thighs, fingers snaking under the hip of your lacy underwear, "knew you couldn't stay away."

Your knee juts out against his sternum, pushing him back.

"Stop that."

The look on his face is a little stupid, jaw dropped open and his brows furrowed. You were never like this when you were together, always deferring to him in one way or another. But you’re not together anymore.

You crouch down to his level, tracing the tips of your nails over the distended veins in his neck. Eddie's lids flutter, and then fall closed when your lips run over the same path, hand stroking faintly down his arm.

"You don't get to touch me, Eddie," you tell him, and he starts to nod, until his eyes flicker open again and he gets a good look at you, zeroed in on your tits and the low-cut of your dress.

"I- I don't, I mean . . . how?"

You slip the black bandana from his back pocket, give his ass a little squeeze. "Don't worry, honey, I'll help you out."

Eddie doesn't fight you when you push his wrists together, wrapping the cloth around them. He just stares, like he's trying to make sure this isn't a dream, his throat trembling when you pull the knot tight, letting the coarse fabric bite into his skin. You can almost hear a moan on his lips. But maybe you just imagined that.

Besides, you're not worried about what he likes right now.

Back on your feet, you rest your shoulders against the door, jutting your hips out toward him. Eddie looks up at you, big eyes wider than you've ever seen them, wiggling his wrists a little to see if there's any give.

You raise a brow, nudging at the ripped knee of his jeans with your bare toes. "Well?"

Whatever doubts Eddie may have had, they're out the window the second he sees you lifting up your skirt, revealing more and more of the soft skin of your thighs, the black lace you're wearing underneath it.

"Jesus, honey," he shuffles forward until his face is sandwiched between your thighs again, "you wear these for me?"

There's a little laugh on your lips, if only to cover up the way your breath hitches at the way he kisses at your skin, squeezing you between his teeth.

Even without his hands, Eddie Munson is dangerous.

You shift your legs wider so he can fit better, plant a hand in his hair and pull him closer to where you want him.

"Not a chance, Munson. You think the next guy will like them?"

Eddie can't answer. Not vocally at least. His mouth is busy, tongue splitting your lips, before he stops to rub slow circles over your clit through the fabric. Like he's trying to tell you that there's not gonna be a next guy.

Fuck. You thought you were stronger than that, but maybe he's right.

Because, for all his faults, Eddie really knows how to eat pussy. Even without the use of his hands he's got you shaking—better than the feel of his fingers splitting you open, maybe even better than when he'd rip your underwear off you and dive in, nothing to separate you from the pleasure Eddie loved to give.

Your underwear are soaked, and not just from his spit, the sloppy way Eddie devours you, big eyes dark, looking up at you past the bunched up hem of your skirt. He's got you dripping, a little desperate.

Or more than a little.

Eddie's whispering when he pulls back enough he can speak, and you're shocked you can even hear him with the way he's talking directly into your pussy, and through the buzzing in your ears.

"Come on, princess. Let me taste you."

You snake your free hand down—because you want to, not because he asked, pulling the sticky wet fabric to the side. Eddie whistles low and soft when he sees your glistening cunt, the breeze sending a shiver up your spine when it meets your feverish skin.

He moves back in, slower this time, savoring the taste of you, his tongue peeking into your dripping hole and circling the edges, collecting your cum, drinking you up.

You press tighter against him to improve the angle, one leg coming up to rest on his broad shoulder. Eddie groans and the vibrations go straight to your clit.

Fuck, you're close. Close in a way you haven't been since you slammed the door to this apartment all those weeks ago—the kind of close you'd been looking for with your hand between your legs ever since, losing the feeling every time you were reminded that you should be thinking about anyone but Eddie.

But how could you manage? Head like this was hard to find.

Eddie knows that, the fucker, lips circled around your clit, sucking at you like his life depends on it. Your vision goes dark, eyes rolling back of their own accord. The only thing louder than your moans is the sound of Eddie's sloppy mouth working at your core.

You grind your hips down against his face, riding his mouth when the feeling overtakes you, body buzzing as those little uh uh uhs spill from your lips. Shock waves like fireworks traveling through you with each stroke of his tongue.

Fuck.

Eddie doesn't slow down, still abusing your poor clit, sucking at your puffy lips, trying to drain you of all those moans from you until you've got to drag him away by his hair or else he's gonna make you cum again.

And then you'll never want to leave.

Eddie looks up at you, face shiny, and he smiles.

"How was that?"

And it's almost as thrilling as that orgasm, the way his brain so clearly shuts down and stalls when you shift your clothes back to where they were, unphased, patting his cheek with a patronizing little look.

"Passable. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have plans."

Eddie doesn't have quite enough balance to get back on his feet with his wrists still tied, so he shuffles after you on his knees, tripping on clutter and knocking shit over.

"Wait a second, what about me?"

He waves his hands in front of his face, like you might have forgotten that you tied him up, like it wasn’t the highlight of your day.

"I'm sure you'll be able to figure it out, princess."

You don't even bother to look back, and the satisfaction that washes over you probably feels better than heroin.

You're in the living room before you hear Eddie call out again.

"Hey! You forgot all your stuff!"

He doesn't get a response to that one, either. The last Eddie hears from you is the slamming of his front door.

[maisnamedmoon]

Young Justice Headcanons #2

Yes, it's currently 00:50, don't question me, I can't sleep if I have ideas. Feel free to add if you have thoughts

Superboy is a little chubby

With his broad shoulders, toned arms and black T-Shirt stretching over his chest, he definitely has the build of a superhero, he knows that.

But then he is standing in the changing rooms at mount justice, looking around.

There is Beast Boy, who has barely hit puberty, but then again, do boys who shapeshift into animals hit puberty?

La'gaan, with his swimmer build, but you can't really compare your human looking body to a fish guy, can you?

Impulse, who, how old is he anyway? He can't be older than Nightwing when they rescued him from Cadmus, so 12-14 ... maybe? Either way the boy looks underfed no matter how much he eats, rips protruding, stomach flat, almost sickly looking, still the amount of energy he has tells a different story, so he's probably fine ... right?

Then there's Blue Beetle, he is about as old as Connor's body. His build is lean, promising a growth spurt at some point in the future. His muscles are still growing, due to Scarab using the nutrients food gives him to sustain itself.

And then there are the two boys, men, who would probably even make Superman self-conscious.

Aqualand, with his swimmer build, broad shoulders, toned muscle, eel tattoos winding down his arms. There are his strong thighs, used to quickly moving him through the dense depths of the ocean.

And Nightwing, who due to growing up in the circus and then training under Batman, only grew into the lithe acrobat build he was blessed with, body under his suit nothing but bones and muscles, scars painted over them like an artwork.

And then there is him, Superboy, broad shoulders and toned arms, but that's it. He doesn't have thighs that can push him though the water at Atlantian speed like Kaldur'ahm. He didn't have to work out a single day of his life like Nightwing, giving him the build of someone who can jump off a 5 story building and still land gracefully on the pavement underneath.

No all he has is a layer of fat, covering the abs that Superman is showing off so proudly, in his skin tight suit.

In the end he was still half human DNA, the Kryptonian half enabling him to have super strength, but still having to work in order to look like all the superheroes who walk around the Watchtower.

[shamless-bee]

Morning baby

Ghost x Afab!Reader

After coming home from hanging out with the lads, ghost finds his baby sleeping in his shirt and some panties; he can’t help but eat you up~

MDNI (18+ only)

Warnings~ slightly cnc if you squint (Reader is sleeping in the beginning), awakened with sexual touching, boozy!Ghost, oral f!Receiving, fingering, rough sex, P.I.V, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it.), just in general super smutty, and this gets away from me~

Dear reader

If any of the warnings above bother you, please don’t engage with this post; if you continue and find other warnings I should mention, please let me know, reader has female anatomy, but reader is referred to as you. (Also I didn’t proof read this)

Word count~ 1.6k

Please do not repost as your own, share on other platforms or plagiarize. Explore your creativity~

Reblog if you enjoy!

You were waiting patiently on the bed for Simon to get home from the pub. He rarely gets time to himself and the boys from T.141 outside of missions and bloodshed, so it didn’t bother you as much as it could have when you noticed it was half past midnight.

You sighed deeply through your nose and felt your eyelids getting heavy. You tried to stay awake, hoping to see Simon home before falling asleep, but your eyes slowly drifted closed. Before you knew it, you had drifted off to sleep.

-

It was a quarter after two in the morning when Simon unlocked the front door to your shared flat. He grunted out softly as he did his best to unlace his boots; his dark eyes looked around the entrance of the flat, the TV off in the living room and the kitchen unoccupied; he often found you there making sweets; it was one of your favorite hobbies to make cupcakes and cookies.

He quietly walked further into the flat and ripped off the balaclava from his head, his sandy blonde hair messy; he didn't think he drank that much but could still feel a lingering numbness from the alcohol consumed tonight; he rubbed his rough hands softly over his face trying to sober up cursing Johnny in the process for wanting to see who could hold out longer.

He went to the bedroom, hoping to find you reading or perhaps even touching yourself. He loved coming home to the lewd sounds of your wet fingers touching your needy little cunt and the whimpers you moan, and the sound of his name rolling off of your tongue. His mind was already swimming in lust as he made it past the door into the bedroom, finding you sleeping on top of the covers of the bed.

His eyes lingered on you, wearing his black shirt that almost completely covered you. If it weren’t for the fact your legs are slightly spread, revealing the thin fabric of your panties covering your mound. His mouth was almost salivating as his dark eyes devoured you.

He couldn’t help his mind getting more excited when his touch fingertips slowly brushed down your exposed leg; you let out a soft moan from the touch, and his eyes darted back to your face only to see you were still sleeping, his hand softly caressing your leg giving it a soft squeeze and before he can stop himself he hooks both his thumbs under the waistband of your panties slowly bringing them down your legs.

Simon softly grunts as he looks at your moist folds, his mouth watering; he slowly pushes your legs apart as he sets his head between them, his tongue pressing to your clit, Simon feels your body stir, but you still haven’t awakened just yet, he smirks before he laps from your hole to your clit slowly, giving your clit a little suck. A soft moan leaves your mouth, eyes still closed, his hands now gripping your thighs while his tongue works on your clit.

You start panting in your sleep, another moan passing through your lips into the quiet room. He grunts softly into your mound as he tastes more of your arousal. He feels your body stirring more before your eyes start to flutter open.

“S-Simon?” You whimper out as the sensation between your legs grows; you see his head first in your cunt as you try to sit upright with your arms. He kisses your clit, earning another soft moan from you before moving his head away from your soaked cunt

“Morning baby,” his rough voice hits your ears softly. Before he returns to giving your cunt another long lick from your hole to your clit once again

You weren't expecting to be treated like this once he got home, but you’re not complaining as his mouth works on you skillfully; soft moans continue to spill past your lips; to him, the sound is heavenly. One of his hands left your thigh, and his finger dipped into your soaked hole, his fingers curling with each thrust to hit your perfect spot.

“Simon!” You moaned as your fingers found their way into his hair, softly gripping onto it as your hips jerked towards him, a familiar knot forming in your lower stomach.

He grunts against your clitoris, sending a wave of electricity through you, your walls gripping onto his fingers, the sound of your arousal and lewd wetness from your cunt getting louder as his fingers start to move faster into you, he knew you were close, and he wanted so badly to tip you over the edge, to taste your sweet release on his fingers after he’s made you come undone.

Your back starts to arch as the knot becomes intense; he moves his other hand from your thigh to the right under your knee, forcing your leg towards yourself as he enters a second finger into your already dripping cunt, his fingers moving more roughly inside of you as he starts to suck on your bud.

You scream out his name as you come undone, your fingers tugging roughly at his hair, seeing stars in your vision. His fingers don’t slow down; he wants you to ride your high as long as he can push you

“O-oh fuck y-yes,” you scream as your legs shake, your eyes almost rolling into the back of your head. He slows the movements of his fingers as your high ends; he sits up to look at you, a panting mess, his dark eyes locking onto your half-closed ones, your face flushed. He doesn’t stop himself from moving his fingers into his mouth, a groan coming from his throat as he sucks his fingers clean from your juices. He smirks after he takes them out of his mouth.

“I’m not done with you yet, baby.” His voice is thick with lust as he quickly tugs off his belt and unzips his pants; his thick hard cock springs to attention, already dipping with his arousal.

Your mind is already foggy; being awakened with him between your legs and having an intense orgasm has clouded your mind. You softly hum, almost falling asleep again; his hands grip your waist, pulling you towards him, a soft scream escaping your lips from such sudden movement.

“I’m going to fuck the living hell out of you,” he growled close to your ear as he hicks your legs onto his clothed chest, his buff arms on either side of your head; before you could comprehend what was said, you feel the tip of his cock already at your entrance, and with a quick movement of his hips he slams his cock deep inside your cunt, you walls clenching around him as a gasp leaves you, you always felt so full when his cock was barred deep inside you

He growls, his head dropping as he circles his hips, wanting to ensure he has stuffed you as completely as he can with his cock. He can feel your walls twitch around him before he brings his hips back and slams into you again, another moan echoing through his ears. He’s unable to hold himself back any longer, his eyes hungry for more; he pounds into you relentlessly, your hands now digging into the duvet, his balls slap into your ass with each quick thrust he slams into you

“Fucking take my cock, baby; you always take it so well,” he rasps as he continues plowing into you. You can’t help but moan; you loved when he got so rough with you, his dirty words always making you crave more of him.

“Fuck” he yells out, his hand moving around your neck as he starts to choke you, your eyes once again going to the back of your head as you become a moaning mess underneath him. You feel the knot once again forming in your stomach, your moans getting drowned out by his grunts and the sound of him slamming into you relentlessly. He can feel your walls tightening around his cock as he fucks you into the bed.

“Don’t you dare cum.” He barks at you, his hand still secure around your throat. “You're not allowed to cum until I say so,” he grunts.

You do your best not to cum as his cock continues to plow into you, your moans becoming louder, your throat becoming scratchy. He can feel your walls get tighter around him as you try to hold onto your orgasm.

“Fuck! Simon, please,” you scream out, your knuckles becoming white as you fist the duvet

“No. Not yet,” he barks at you again. He releases your neck and uses his thumb on your clit, the rough finger moving in circles. He can see the tears forming in your eyes as you do your best to listen to him, not to come undone.

You can feel his cock swell inside of you, his thrusts not halting for a second. “Please, Simon! I can't,” you scream in lustful agony. You can hear his grunts and growls get louder; for a moment, you are positive he is starting to ignore your pleas; he circles your clit fast with his thumb before pinching it harshly

“Cum.” He commands you to let go, your knot coming undone, and he slams his hips into you one last time before he empties his ropes of seed deep inside of you; he feels your walls twitch around his cock as you both reach your highs.

After a few moments, you both panting, he moves off of you and lays beside you on the bed; he turns his head towards you and brings his hand to your face; tucking a hair behind your ear, he pulls you into his chest and kisses the top of your head.

You’re exhausted, and all you hear before you drift into sleep is Simon saying softly, “Goodnight, baby.”

[sensitive-neuvi-enthusiast]

Day 31: Costume

♤♡-Pairs: Kaveh x male!reader

☆☆-Warnings: male reader, college au, kissing, fingering (kaveh receiving), bathroom sex, nurse costume (kaveh), clothes ripping (kavehs tights), panties (kaveh)

A/N: Super early upload! But I hope yall enjoy and thank you for this amazing first kinktober! Happy Halloween 🎃 👻

WC: 1.7k

"Do I really have to wear this?" Kaveh groaned, eyes casting a disgusted glance towards the pile of white fabric in his hands. 

"You do. That's how bets work." Alhaitham added, lithe fingers working at the button of his cape. Kaveh looked to his other friends; eyes pleading. But they only gave him a sorrowful glance, agreeing with Alhaitham. "Ugh, but what if he's there…" He mumbled, fingers picking at a loose thread. "Then you'll thank me, because he'll want to fuc-"

"Ahh, no more." He shook his head rapidly back and forth. Hanging his head in defeat, he slowly trudged to the bathroom. Slipping on the costume, his face immediately erupted into hot, red heat as he casted a glance in the mirror. White fabric tied in front, just above his belly button. Intended to push up breasts that he didn't have, instead gave the same boob window he had with his normal attire. But now, his tummy was exposed too. His blonde happy trail, peeking just a bit above the band of the skirt. Oh the skirt-he immediately hid his face in his hands. It stopped above mid thigh and he was sure if he turned-yup, you could clearly see the bottom of his ass. Or you would, if Alhaitham hadn't taken pity on him and gave him some tights. This was humiliating. Especially if you saw him. Kaveh nibbled on his bottom lip. Maybe he should just stay-

A harsh knock came to the door. "Come on, we're gonna be late." Kaveh really didn't wanna go. 

Reluctantly, he opened the door and peeked out. All three of his friends waited by the door, faces absorbed in their phones. With a deep breath, he stepped out, all heads swiveled to his direction. Alhaitham gave a hum of approval. "He'll definitely fuc-"

"Stop!" He yelled, waving his hands in front of his face. "Let's just go," he pouted with his arms crossed over his chest.

…

Kaveh had never felt more embarrassed than he did right now. He was hiding from you, it was obvious. As soon as he arrived, you just had to be the first person he saw. Your hair slicked back with gel, plastic fangs tucked in your mouth as you wore a low-cut suit. Who knew he had a thing for vampires? Not that it mattered, as soon as he made eye contact with you, he ran away. And everytime after that. Currently, he had posted up in the bathroom. Staring angrily at himself for being so weak and nervous to talk to you. Or even look at you. It was no secret he'd had a crush on you for a while. Well, you didn't know. 

He needed to put his big boy pants on and face you! With a curt nod to himself in the mirror, he turned to open the door. Coming face to face with you, a beer in your hand that he accidentally made you spill. "Shit," you hissed, the cold liquid seeping into your shirt. 

"I.." kaveh choked, his throat felt dry as he stared at you. This wasn't how it was supposed to go! "I'll help! Paper towels? Um.." he looked around, eyes wavering as he tried to find something. "Don't worry bout it, an accident." You gave a sigh, stepping into the bathroom now, shutting the door. Kaveh blinked, watching as you shrugged off the top layer of your suit, removing the white button up underneath it. He gulped. "Want a picture?" Your eyes glanced at Kaveh's shocked expression before you chuckled. "I'm messing with you dude," your eyes drifted a little lower before coming back up. "Nice costume."

Someone open the ground and swallow him whole please. "T-thanks…" He shifted his feet. "Lost a bet," Kaveh murmured. "Yeah?" You questioned, using your distracting hands to wash the beer stain out of your shirt. "Thank whoever made that bet with you, for me." He blinked. Did he hear you right? 

"What?" You chuckled, giving up on your shirt and set it on the counter, turning to him. "I said, thank whoever made that bet with you." You looked him up and down. "To think I'd see you in a nurse outfit, a sexy one at that." Kaveh's cheeks felt hot, was this really happening? Were you really saying these things to him? 

You stepped closer, hands hovering at your sides. Looking like they itched to touch his body; they did. 

"I know you like me Kaveh." You sighed, a playful smile on your face. "Y-You do? How? I mean-" He rubbed at the back of his neck, accidentally showing more of his slim waist. You felt your cock stir in your slacks. He really did look just too damn hot right now. "It's not hard when you catch someone constantly having eyes glued to you." You stepped even closer, bodies almost touching. "You were so absorbed in it, you didn't even see me looking at you, did you?" 

He swallowed thickly; had he really missed it? Kaveh shook his head. "Thought so," your hands tentatively rested on his hips, causing him to suck in a breath. "Well, now you have no excuse. What do you say we have some fun, hm? It's well overdue, and I have to be honest. This costume?" You licked your lips. "Makes me hard."

Was it possible to feel even hotter? Kaveh pondered that as he felt his head nod, giving you the go ahead. Immediately, you surged forward, pressing your lips against his. And it was a mess of spit, tongues tangling with the other, and teeth knocking against each other. It was hot. Kaveh could already feel his dick spring to life, lifting the front of his skirt a bit. You groaned, hands slipping around to the back. Grabbing handfuls of his ass, squeezing the flesh hard enough to make him squeak against your lips.

You chuckled, pulling back. "Sensitive aren't we? That's fucking hot." You lean back in, claiming his lips again. Kaveh found himself palming at your bare chest, seeking something to ground him from his foggy mind. Unable, still, to comprehend this was actually happening.

"Hop up," you murmur against his lips. Tucking your hands under his thighs, lifting him. Your hands spread across his backside, molding the flesh how you liked. "A shame you didn't wear any pretty panties with this." You mumbled, fingers tugging at the fabric of the tights. "Do you like these?" Kaveh heard you question. He shook his head, "N-Not really-ah!" His body flinched, the obscene sound of ripping fabric echoed in the bathroom. Did you…just rip his tights? Oh fuck, that was hot. "Oh?" You were pleasantly surprised to find, he was in fact, wearing panties. "Fuck-" you groaned, resting your forehead against his cheat. "You're killing me. I won't rip these, I wanna fuck you with them on." 

"Please.." he found himself saying almost immediately. Shivering when he saw how your eyes darkened with his neediness. "Don't worry, I will, gotta prep you first." With one hand around him still, you brought the other to his mouth. And you didn't even have to tell him, he immediately took your fingers into his pretty mouth. 

"God, you really are too fucking hot." Your dick strained painfully against your pants, leaking pre already. 

You pressed your fingers against his tongue while he swirled it around your digits. If he sucked fingers like this-how would he suck cock? The thought was enough to make you groan. As much as you wanted that though, you wanted to be inside him. Needed to be. You slipped your fingers out, sliding his panties to the side and slipping in a finger. His hole twitched, spasming around you as there was slight resistance. "Relax," you spoke softly against his lips. Thinking if you kissed him, maybe it'd help him relax. And you were right. Soon, you were able to get three fingers inside, his body grinding himself on your fingers.

His soft whimpers and whines going straight to your dick. You doubted it would take long for either of you.

"You ready baby?" He nodded his head almost immediately, hot breath puffed against your neck. You moved over towards the sink, slipping your fingers out and setting him on the ground. "Turn around for me. I want you to see. No distractions." He complied, turning towards the sink, laying his front on the counter. His ass pointed upwards as he flipped the back of his skirt up. You rubbed the front of your pants at the sight, "You really are gonna kill me." No more wasting time. You undid your pants, slipping them down your legs. Freeing your cock from its confinements, spitting abruptly into your hand. Stroking up and down its length a few times before slapping the tip against the flesh of his ass. 

His ass wiggled, his pretty mouth begging you to just put it in please. "Need to feel your cock inside me." He didn't have to tell you twice. Grasping the base of your dick, you slowly fed yourself into his greedy hole. Twitching and clenching around you. Even though you prepped him, you were still met with some resistance. You leaned forward, kissing up his back. "Fuck-relax baby, can't move, squeezing me too much." 

Eventually the resistance faded and you were fucking into him. Your balls, full and heavy, slapped against his ass. His blessed out face present in the mirror and you couldn't help but hiss. Tangling your hand in his hair, pulling back enough to make him arch. Allowing you to push deeper inside, the tip of your cock brushing against his prostate.

"Fuckfuckfuckfuck," Kaveh whined. Eyes became misty as the pleasure took over his body. Making his poor nipples harden and brush against the cold surface of the sink. "Gonna cum," he announced. His pretty eyes leaking tears that rolled down his cheeks, flushed a rosy pink. 

"Me too," you grunted, picking up speed. "With me, cum f'me, oh fuck fuck-" 

A flash of white burned behind your eyes as your hips stilled, spilling your sticky cum inside him. Kaveh's dick twitched, spraying his seed on the counter and his tummy. You fell, landing on his back as you panted heavily. 

…

"You owe me twenty bucks," Alhaitham pointed to Cyno. Sipping from his cup, eyes following you and Kaveh walking out of the bathroom.

Masterlist

Prev. ☆

[sparklypinkflightsuit]

Stars Align: Part 8

Pairing: Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

Warnings: Smut, Angst, Fluff, Violence, Mentions of Abuse, Angry Bradley, Swearing, Alcohol, Sexual Themes, Soppy and Emotional Scenes.

-- Part 7 Here --

-----------------------

18+ Only

-----------------------

Past:

''Would you hurry up? We're never going to get a good spot.'' Bradley groaned as he stood outside the guest bedroom while you got ready for your beach day.

''Okay okay, I'm ready.'' you said as you shuffled out of the bedroom, an oversized t-shirt draping over you like a blanket.

Bradley scrunched up his nose, ''How are you gonna catch any sun with that thing on?''

''I'll take it off when we get there.'' you said as you grabbed your beach bag and made your way down the stairs.

You opted to walk the short distance to the beach as the weather was perfect. Carole had given you one of her big sunhats and Bradley had fished out his dads old aviators. Together the pair of you looked like an old married couple, squabbling about stupid things jokingly as you walked.

Bradley slung his arm over your shoulder as the sound of the sea and happy vacationers became audible, and he sighed.

''One day when we're older and earning money, you're gonna live with me.''

''Why would I want to live with a gross boy?'' you teased.

''Because I'll be like super ripped and you won't be able to keep your hands off of me.'' Bradley winked, and you shoved him away with a groan.

''Yeah you wish.''

Little did you know everything Bradley had said would come true, eventually.

You found a little spot on the beach and put your things down, scanning the water for somewhere to swim.

Bradley bent over to remove his shoes, and as he stood back up you were in the process of taking the huge t-shirt off.

Bradley gulped loudly, your body was incredible. He wasn't sure when you really became a woman, but there was nothing left of that dorky teenager he'd helped years ago.

Your bikini was figure hugging and complimented every curve. Gabby had taught you a thing or two about dressing for confidence, and boy was she right, you felt much less awkward in your own skin suddenly.

You began to walk towards the water, ''You coming, Bradshaw?''

Bradley closed his mouth and nodded, ''Yeah...yup. Coming.''

As he followed you to the sea, he tried to keep his eyes on the water ahead, instead of on his best friend, who was really beginning to give him confused feelings.

He watched as you stepped into the sea, the waves lapping at your soft skin. You gasped as the cold water splashed your chest and hopped around as you adjusted, and Bradley's jaw hit the ground.

He suddenly couldn't hear or see anything but you, and he felt himself losing control over himself.

''Shit.'' he mumbled as he quickly sat down under the cold water.

''Wow that's brave, the waters freezing.'' you said, as the cold waves splashed up against Bradleys lowered form.

''Mhmm.'' he mumbled through gritted teeth. Sure, the water was cold and it wasn't a pleasant feeling being submerged so quickly, but it was doing wonders subduing something else.

He breathed as his erection went down, and waded deeper out into the water, following you as you finally submerged yourself.

You swam around and floated in the water for a while, enjoying the happy sounds of people splashing around, the smell of the sea and sunscreen filling your nostrils.

''It's so nice to be back.'' you sighed happily, looking back at the shore.

''It's nice to have you back. You have no idea how lame it's been without you.'' Bradley chuckled.

''You're so soppy all of a sudden, who even are you?'' you teased, and splashed Bradley in the face.

He looked at you in shock, ''How dare you?'' and splashed you back.

You laughed and lunged at Bradley, gripping his shoulders and trying to push him under the water, but you'd forgotten how tall he was, and he didn't even budge under your weight, instead your body landed against his, and he steadied you with his hands on your hips, your faces inches apart.

You flushed red and pushed away, swimming backwards as you glared at him playfully.

''Alright, I'm cold. Let's go get a tan.'' you instructed as you swam back to shore, your heart racing at how desperately you wanted to prolong the awkward little moment you'd just had.

''Okay, I'll... I'll be out in a minute.'' Bradley mumbled awkwardly, waiting yet again for the water to subdue his excitement.

_____________________________

Present:

You blinked rapidly, desperately hoping you were having a horrible nightmare and you'd wake up in the bungalow tucked safely under Bradleys strong arm.

Nat moved to your side and gripped your arm to steady you. Bradley had told her briefly about a bad ex and Nat was smart enough to recognise trauma when she saw it.

“Is it him?” She mumbled in your ear.

You nodded, as you forced some air into your lungs.

“What’s wrong? Aren’t you happy to see me?” Jacob chuckled, his dazzling smile almost nonchalant as he edged closer. Alice grinned from behind him.

“Hope you don’t mind, Y/N, but a quick scour of your Facebook showed so many happy pictures of you two. I just figured… well, it might be nice to find him and reunite two old flames.” She smirked, a glint of revenge in her blue eyes.

“When I heard you’d left Fall River, it really hurt me…” Jacob stepped forward and took your hand, cupping it in his other.

You still couldn’t speak, for fear the tears would begin to fall and you’d look weak. You tried to put on what you thought was a brave face, but to everyone around you, you looked terrified, like a ghost of bad times past stood before you.

“I really thought that one day, eventually, you’d forgive our squabbles, and you’d come back to me. I mean, I called, I called so many times. And I came to your door but you were never home, but I just thought our love was stronger than all of that and you’d eventually wake up and see that too.” He sighed, his blue eyes crinkled as he grinned down at you, black hair slicked back perfectly as it always had been. Nothing about Jacob had changed in the last few years.

He was still the same devilishly handsome, darkly dangerous man as before.

You had somehow, inexplicably, been able to avoid him for the past few years despite the small size of the town. Jacob had changed schools after the breakup, but it didn’t stop the ferocious slander from the other teachers who sided with him.

You managed to memorise his very particular pattern. He shopped on certain days, at certain times, in certain stores. On Saturdays he went to the library for most of the day, so you knew it was safe to run your errands, and you mostly stuck to shopping in the evening when you were sure he was at home, sipping wine and tucked into a good book.

You felt immense relief when you left town, finally feeling a sense of freedom you hadn’t had in a long time, but suddenly you felt all of the sneaking around and moving was for nothing, and your body began to shake.

“Please leave.” You managed to squeak out.

“Leave? Do you realise how far I’ve come just to see you? The least you could do is have a drink with me, beautiful.” He cupped your cheek and your body locked up. A single tear slid from your eye as your nostrils filled with his musky cologne, all of the bad memories rushing back.

“Jacob I think you need to go, if you know what’s best for you.” Nat stepped forward.

“You called?” Hangman sang as he walked back into the room, Bradley following and both none the wiser.

“Not you, Jake. Him. It’s Birdy’s ex.” Nat scowled at Jacob. Hangman eyed up the newcomer and moseyed forward with his own face plastered in a cocky grin.

Bradley’s eyes finally landing on you and your shaking form, and man with his hands on you, his eyes went dark and his body tensed up.

“Well well well, I’m sorry ‘Jacob’. I’m afraid there’s only room for one Jake in this building… in this city even, and that’s me. I’ll be happy to escort you out.” Hangman drawled, taking the toothpick out of his mouth and flicking it dramatically to the floor.

Jacob let go of you and focused his scowl on Hangman, walking cooly up to him. “This is none of your business, kid. Maybe just stay out of it if you know what’s good for you.”

Suddenly, from just behind Jacob, Bradley cleared his throat. The two men were about the same height, but when Jacob turned to face him, Bradley seemed at least a head taller than him as he stood tall and angry with his fists clenched at his side and his jaw set.

“You’re Jacob?” Bradley ground out.

“That’s me, buddy. My girls been talking about me, I take it?” Jacob smirked over at you. But just as soon as he looked back, Bradley’s hand was wrapping around Jacob’s neck as he pushed him up against the nearest wall.

Jacob struggled as his neat hair came loose from its slicked back hold, huffing against the wall as his eyes scanned the room.

“I’m only going to tell you once to get the fuck out of here, if I catch you anywhere near her again, it will be me and every naval officer in this room you’ll have to contend with. Got it?” Bradley growled, his face red and a scowl etched deep into his features as his huge hand wrapped tighter around Jacobs neck.

The Hard Deck was now silent as everyone, including Penny, stood with bated breaths. Even Alice looked surprised.

Hangman, Bob, Javy, Mickey and Reuben stood in a half circle around Bradley and Jacob, ready to pounce at any sign of struggle. Nat stood at your side, her arm hooked around your waist just in case, as you stood watching in horror.

“Fine. Fine. I’ll go.” Jacob said, his shit eating grin still unfaltering as Bradley reluctantly let go of him.

Jacob smoothed his hair back and straightened his shirt and jacket, and Bradley followed him through the crowd towards the entrance.

The rest of the Daggers followed, and reluctantly your feet began to move too. You had to be sure he was really leaving.

Once out in the parking lot, a crowd beginning to gather at the door, Bradley stood with his huge arms crossed as he watched Jacob walk towards his rental car.

You breathed a shaky sigh of relief as you thought it was all over, but Jacob suddenly stopped, chuckled to himself, and then turned around.

“Actually, I always knew it would end like this. With me kind enough to give my girl another chance, but naturally the little whore has surrounded herself with more men than she can satisfy.” He spat, and it was enough to release Bradley’s rage.

Bradley surged forward across the gravel, “You fucker!” He growled, and his fist connected with Jacobs face.

Jacob stumbled back in surprise, touching his split lip and smirking at the blood on his fingers as Bradley stood over him.

“Stay the fuck away from her. She’s not your girl.” Bradley spat.

“You don’t know who you’ve fucked with. I’ll see you around.” And with that Jacob turned and climbed into his car.

Alice stood in the crowd and crossed her arms. Her plan had seriously backfired. All she wanted was for Jacob to take you away so she’d have another shot with Bradley, she hadn’t realised the full extent of the situation. Before anyone could pick a bone with her, she slunk off into the crowd and disappeared.

Bradley took a moment to breathe, his hands on his hips as he collected himself.

You stood behind him, hands still clasped over your mouth, shaking like a leaf. Bradley turned around and his angry face softened as soon as his eyes landed on you. Wordlessly he pulled you into him and held you, kissing the top of your head.

“Are you okay, Birdy?” He whispered into your hair.

You nodded, wrapping your arms tightly around him, “Thank you.”

“I’m sorry you had to see that.”

“I’m not... It’s nice to know so many people are fighting my corner, especially with you at the centre. I don’t feel so scared anymore.” You said as you looked up at him.

Bradley bent down and kissed you gently, his swollen hand threading through your hair.

You pulled back slightly, “What about the others? They’re gonna know.”

“I don’t care. I want them to know you’re all mine.” He said before his lips connected with yours again.

“I fucking knew it!” Nat chuckled from the entrance.

“Alright alright, let’s give them a moment.” Bob smiled, and everyone filtered back inside.

—————————

Past:

The summer had passed in a blur, and before you knew it, you were spending your final night in the Bradshaw household before you had to fly back the next morning.

The summer had been filled with perfect memories. Long days down at the beach, evening walks around the neighbourhood reminiscing about the good old days, lots of laughter at dinner times and movies in Bradley’s bed before you went to sleep.

Carole didn’t mind you spending time alone in each others rooms, provided you went to sleep in your own beds at night.

On the last night you finished watching The NeverEnding Story for the tenth time, a movie you and Bradley had loved when you were younger, and you said goodnight to him as you left for your bed.

Bradley sat in his bed for a long time after you left, contemplating how to sneak the letter he’d wrote you into your suitcase without you noticing. He’d been thinking about it all summer, and had decided he needed to tell you how he felt.

He wasn’t the best at using his words, so felt it better to write everything down, and hoped you’d be long gone by the time you read it, so that he wouldn’t implode into himself if you read it in front of him.

Once he was sure you must have fallen asleep, Bradley crawled out of bed and grabbed the letter from his desk drawer. His hands shook as he held it in his hands. Letting out a shaky breath, he snuck out of his room and padded quietly down the dark hallway.

He carefully opened your bedroom door, and he could hear your steady breathing. You were asleep. He snuck inside and crept towards your suitcase. He bent down and slowly unzipped the front pouch.

“Bradley?” Your soft voice hummed.

Bradley shot up and threw the letter on the floor, kicking it under the chest of drawers.

“Hey Birdy.” He whispered.

“What are you doing in here?”

He was quiet for a moment, but then he walked over to the bed and climbed in next to you.

“I just wanted sleep next to you one last time.” He whispered.

“Won’t your mom be mad?” You whispered back, turning on your side to face him, close enough to feel his breath on your face.

“She doesn’t need to know.” His heart was thudding against his chest.

“Okay, I’m glad you’re here. I always sleep better when you’re around.” You grinned.

You closed your eyes as Bradley stroked a strand of hair off of your face. You looked so beautiful, it would be so easy just to kiss you. But Bradley was terrified you’d reject him and he’d ruin the entire summer by making one wrong move.

Little did he know you were desperate to tangle your fingers in his hair and have your way with him too.

“Birdy?” Bradley’s hoarse voice mumbled.

“Hmmm?”

“I… uhm…” he trailed off, unsure of how to put what he wanted to say into actual words.

“What is it?” You hummed, your hand gently moving to lay flat against his chest. You could feel his heart thudding and you wiggled closer.

Bradley’s breathing caught in his throat, and suddenly he was overwhelmed by the fear of losing you.

“Nothing.”

“Okay.” You sighed, slowly turning over so your back faced him. You squeezed your eyes shut in embarrassment. You really thought he felt the same for a moment there, but you must have misread the room.

Bradley silently cursed himself. He knew the moment had passed to say anything, but it didn’t mean he couldn’t just enjoy having you there before you left again.

Edging closer, Bradley slipped a hand onto the dip of your waist, and lay his head on your pillow so he could rest his chin on your shoulder.

“Goodnight, Birdy.”

“Goodnight, Roo.”

—————————————

-- Final Part Here --

Note: I dunno about y'all, but this is who I imagine Jacob as:

Taglist now open 💛 Please let me know if you'd like to be added!

@dizzybee03

@lucyjenniferx

@xoxabs88xox

@pinkpantheris

@italk2god

@shanimallina87

@knight-of-the-doctor

@legolastheleafyelf

[cycat-carisi]

Lonesome Superhero

Pairing: Gator Tillman x f!reader (not romantic)

Summary: Gator keeps hitting on you and you finally give him a piece of your mind. He's not the sweet boy you once knew anymore - or if he is, it's far too difficult to see.

Tags: No spoilers! Angst. Post episode 1 and 2.

Warnings: language, misogynistic themes from the show

Length: ~1.3k

A/N: This just popped into my head and I needed to get it out. Gator is despicable and unless he has some major character growth, I can't bring myself to romanticize him. I do think his character is super intriguing though. I hope we get to dive deeper into what makes him tick throughout the season. (:

(Plus, I have a theory that Gator may have unintentionally been a witness to his mother's murder as a boy...)

Fic below the cut or on AO3 here

It's in the way the frosted glass door harshly swings open that immediately lets you know who is behind it. There could only be one person who felt entitled enough to barge into a retirement home like he owned the place.

You swallow thickly. Not again.

Turning around from your medicine cart, you find him standing there in his camouflage cargo pants and a black t-shirt that is two sizes too tight. His hands perch on his hips as his narrowed eyes and cocky smirk aim in your direction.

"Gator, please. Not today," you speak coldly.

His smirk only grows. "Oh, c'mon, babycakes, you don’t know what you're missin'!"

"Gator!" you scold, trying to hush your voice in front of your patients. "Come with me, please." Anger bubbles up inside of you as Gator's face contorts into a triumphant grin. He saunters forward as you lead him toward the back entrance of the small facility.

In the shadow of the building, the fall air nips at your bare arms. The chill, however, is easily quelled by your boiling blood.

"How dare you come to my place of work!" You waste no time laying into the Tillman son.

Your ferocity catches Gator off-guard, causing panic to dart across his features. He takes a half-step back, pulling his head and neck along with it.

Oh, but you’re far from done with him.

"For weeks now, you've been popping up wherever I go, asking me to go out with you in the most degrading ways possible! Every. Single. Time. I have turned you down, yet you clearly cannot take ‘no’ for an answer! And now you have the audacity to show up at where I work and do the same? No! It doesn’t work like that, Gator. I worked hard for my career. I went to college, got my license, and came back here to help my community. I am respected in this building, and I will not tolerate you waltzing in here like God's gift to women and disrespecting me in front of my patients!"

Out of breath and seething, you continue to stare Gator down. He looks downright gobsmacked – a mixture of a wounded pup about to run and a cornered hound ready to bite.

The silence is deafening. You wait for Gator to snap back like he always does – some moronic comeback that's as pathetic as his barbed wire LOL tattoo.

And predictably, he does just that. "What the hell?!!" he cries out, stepping towards you and invading your space. The pungent odor from his last puff of vape wafts off his breath. "I'm the law in this town! I'm a winner! All you ever do is humiliate me! You're fucking awful!"

"I'm awful?!" you scoff, eyebrows shooting skyward. You're about to rip him a new one when you simply stop and shake your head in pity. "What happened to you, Gator?"

Once again, the Tillman son is rendered speechless. His dark brow pinches together in confusion. "Wha-?"

You seize your opportunity to dive a little deeper. "I mean, what happened to the Gator from middle school? The one who used to be my friend? The boy who was sweet and kind and would spend lunch hours reading comic books with me. It's like you suddenly woke up one day and decided to become an asshole, always acting out in class and purposely bullying other kids. Doing reckless shit because your dad could get you out of trouble. And now? I think you've gotten worse! Hell, Mrs. Lakeland told me that you all but pushed Gladys Baker out of the way at the corner store the other day. What the heck is wrong with you? Who do you think you are?"

"I - I -" he stammers, head spinning. Then Gator swallows, puffing up his chest. "I take what's mine! I take what I'm owed. I made it through police training. People in this town owe me their respect, so I take it as I see fit."

"Newsflash! That's not how you get respect, sunshine," you retort. "Respect is earned, and from where I'm standing, all I see is a pathetic man-child whose daddy got him where he is today. 'My father is the sheriff' are the magic words that force people to step out of your way. That's not respect; that's notoriety from being a grade-A asshole!"

Gator's face twists into a snarl while his fists clench and unclench at his sides. You've clearly hit a nerve.

Even though you’d love nothing more than to lay into him some more, you remind yourself that it’s notworth the fight. Instead, your chest constricts with disappointment. "I don’t get it, Gator,” you speak softly. “Why do you let your father run your life? He says to jump and you ask how high. When are you gonna wake up and realize that he's just using you?"

If it wasn’t clear that you’d struck a nerve before, it certainly is now. Gator’s combat boot strikes the gravel, sending up a cloud of dust and dirt, and his cheeks glaze over with a deep red flush. "I don’t – He doesn’t –" Lost for words, Gator simply clamps his jaw shut. He kicks at the ground again and throws his hands to his hair, letting out a frustrated yell.

You hop back in surprise; a fearful gasp escapes you at his sudden outburst.

Gator's head whips back up, and those dark eyes meet yours.

Middle school was a long time ago, yet Gator remembers everything. He remembers how nice you were to him; how one day you saw this quiet boy sitting alone at lunch with a comic book and decided to come over and ask what he was reading. He used to dream of being as invincible as the superheroes in his books – Gator's way of shielding himself from everything that he'd seen. But then you came along and somehow made him feel a little less alone. He adored you and your friendship, eventually developing a little crush. That was, of course, before Gator was taught that girls weren't supposed to like comics, that men lead while women follow, and that his father's word was absolute. If he pleased his father, any situation could go Gator's way. The power sought after by characters in his comic books was right at Gator's fingertips; all he had to do was prove to the senior Tillman that he was worthy. Nothing else mattered.

And now? Gator almost had it. He was so close to having his father's approval. He was certain of it! Why couldn't you see that? Why couldn't you see how awesome he had become? He had buried his crush on you away while you were at college, but now that you were back, there was no reason to hide that he wanted you. And there should be no reason why you wouldn't want him either!

Except…your words today hurt. They made Gator feel puny and pathetic. How could you say that he was just his father's pawn?! He was his own man! A tough and strong and important man in this town...right?

You watch as despair briefly flashes across Gator's face before quickly being replaced by aggravation. He grunts again prior to spinning on his heels and stalking off.

No! Gator is his own man, and you were just the type of woman his father had warned him about! His crush is stupid, and so are you...

As Gator storms off, his ears catch your quiet words laced with pity. "Silly me for thinking that the sweet guy who read comics with me would still be in there.”

For the first time since he was a boy, tears stab at Gator's eyes. He scrunches his eyes closed and shakes his head, instead focusing on the sound of gravel crunching under his boots as he slinks away.

Thanks for reading! Feedback is loved ❤

| Series masterlist | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 |

[lifewithdavefarts]

DaveFarts - Episode 29 “Ripped Ripper” [Episode List] Dave’s gym is closed due to maintenance so he decides to do some working out at home. Lazy Tim doesn’t want to join him, but Dave knows how to make things more… interesting for his kinky bro.

POV: Tim

Ripped Ripper

Another lazy Sunday evening, a great reward after a busy week like the one both me and my friend/roommate Dave just had. I was in my bedroom minding my own business, reading stuff on my laptop, listening to some music: perfect pre-Monday night for a guy like me, now 30, too tired at the idea of doing something that demands a bit more commitment than, well, this. I even closed the window shutters this morning so the Sun couldn’t bother me with its very inappropriate life-bringing light.

Luckily, Dave is a fellow lazy man, so I know I have a good roommate when it comes to just chilling in silence, without even interacting, after a long week. I’ll ask if he wants pizza though, least I can do for not, well, not making up any plans for tonight.

“Babe, come here!”

Speak of the Devil.

I heard my bro from his room, next to my own. I know him, he probably didn’t even need me for anything important, as his voice had that tone he uses to mess with me (and our other buds) like the idiot prankster he sometimes can be.

“Here I come.” I replied, very maturely putting a lot of emphasis on that last word.

I… took my time to actually go on check on him, ‘cause I liked the song I was listening to. Once it was over, I managed to get up, almost tripping on my own sweatpants and slippers somehow.

I walked to his room, knocked a couple of times on the door, which was open, and looked at him with the most bored expression I could muster. 

“You rang?” 

Faint rock music was coming out of Dave’s smartphone on a desk while he was sitting on his bed. He was wearing a blue t-shirt, a pair of grey basketball shorts, and sneakers.

“Not interested.” I then said, walking back to my room.

I heard Dave laugh and then his own footsteps right behind me. He grabbed my left arm and pulled me back to his room. I didn’t fight back ‘cause I know I couldn’t; not because of Dave being strong or anything but because I knew he won’t leave me alone the whole evening.

“Not gonna let you dump me for the fourth time this week.” he said.

“I said I’m not interested.” I replied.

He let me go, sat again on his bed and looked up to me.

“No, you said you wanted to exercise.”

“…eventually!”

“You didn’t say ‘eventually’, you said ’next week’.” He got up and patted my shoulder. “Come on, give it a shot.”

I sighed, defeated, but I still wanted to slip my way out of that situation in a way or another.

“I already tried the gym with you once and I got bored pretty quickly.”

“Oh shut up, you stopped showing up because you were too busy crushing on that hot guy, so much so you got too afraid to work in with him.”

I looked at him with a puzzled look, pretending to have no idea of what was he talking about.

“Also I’m way hotter than him and I’m very offended by your poor taste.” he joked.

I rolled my eyes in response, even though, yeah, I do think Dave is quite hot, regardless of my kink obviously.

“Look.” I said. “I just don’t feel like it today, I hav-“

“I have to work tomorrow” he completed my sentence, also doing a very poor imitation of my voice. “So do I, man. It’s not even 4:00 PM. The Sun’s still up. Do you even look outside of your window sometimes?”

I literally shook my head in disbelief.

“Wait, what?”

I sincerely thought it was, like, almost dinner time. Maybe Dave’s got a point, after all.

“…maybe you’re right.”

I noticed a small exercise mat on the floor by Dave’s bed; I simply sat there, waiting for my friend’s instruction.

“Alright, lead me to a healthy life of wellness where I don’t trip on my own slippers.”

“Well you’re in the wrong place!” Dave excitedly said, in a bit of self-irony since he’s not super fit himself, but he’s better than me at this no doubt.

The room was big enough so the two of us could lie on the floor. He pretty much lied on his back next to me as a way to “guide” me through the first exercise, one I was actually familiar with: crunches.

“Should I do some warm-up first?” I asked.

“Yeah, you should have, but since you’re right here just… give it a shot. It’s not like you’re gonna die.” He placed his hands on the back of his own head, starting the exercise. “…I think.”

Even though the fact that I’m into farts and that my friend right here constantly blasts me should be the most embarrassing thing about myself, my performance during this first, relatively easy exercise was definitely more painful to watch: I couldn’t even finish a set (around 20 crunches), while Dave was humiliating me. I struggled so much and felt pain in my chest for some reason; I was already sweating and panting.

Not even 5 minutes in and I already wanted to quit.

“Yeah.” I managed to say, lying on my back, as my bro kept crunchin’. “Not my cup of tea.”

“The hardest part is getting started.” he commented.

“Wow. Thanks Master.” I replied, sarcastically.

He stopped mid-crunch, and turned to me, looking me at funny.

“Tim, blasting you with my farts doesn’t make me your Master.” he said, with a mocking tone.

I instantly sat back up as if I woke up from a nightmare. 

“What the fuck.” I turned to him, as he resumed doing his crunches. “Where did that come from?!”

“It’s fine bro.” he kept teasing me. “You can keep calling me ‘Dave’ if that’s fine for you.” he laughed.

Hearing my straight friend just casually making references to my fart kink, let alone the fact that he constantly face-farts me, will always be wild to me, like a fever dream. And also insanely hot, dammit.

“Is this because I suck at doing crunches?” I asked, not very politely.

“No, it’s because you’re already giving up.” 

“It’s just…” I sighed. “That’s just my thing bro, sorry. But thanks for trying to help, really.”

I lied on my back again, defeated, as Dave kept exercising. I could sense my friend looking at me, probably with his usual smirk, completely unfazed by me moping around, exhausted.

“Well… maybe I can do something to make things a bit more interesting for your lazy ass.” I heard him say, finally breaking the silence.

A silence that soon became a distant memory as the sound of Dave’s sudden, loud fart shook the entire room, easily surpassing the faint rock music coming from his phone. I’m used to my bro’s blasts and trust me, they are almost always loud, but this one felt even stronger somehow. It was also, but that goes without saying, long, like 9 seconds long. 

As ridiculous as I may sound… I had to see it. 

I sat back up one more time so I could get a good view and I saw Dave still lying on his back, one leg up to ease the blast out. How the grey fabric of his basketball shorts could endure that stream of gas is a mystery to me. His eyes were closed: he had the facial expression of someone surprisingly struggling to keep that blast going, a sign that he was holding that gas in for a while, which is unusual ‘cause my friend usually can rip monstrously long and loud blast with relative low effort.

Whether the case… that was a very hot sight, the tent I pitched in my sweatpants being the undeniable proof.

As the fart kept going, Dave lifted his left leg even more, as if there was a recoil, making it even louder.

The fart lasted around 14 seconds and my friend let out a quick sigh of relief as he ripped one last toot out. That sounded (and looked) more exhausting than me trying to do crunches.

The teasing bastard winked at me, ‘cause he knows how to press all the right buttons of my fetish.

“You know what I’m capable of…” he said. “Now imagine my skills, like, powered up by protein shakes.” he laughed and let another loud, but shorter (around 3 seconds) toot out to prove it, not that he needed to, as his farting skills are always jaw-dropping.

Still, he’s a teasing bastard.

The scent of his ass polluting the room reached my nose and I coughed a bit for how rancid that was.

“Are you seriously… bribing me with farts?” that’s a sentence I just said, fuck my life.

“Maybe.” another quick toot followed. “Is it working?”

“I’m going to punch you.” 

“Can’t finish a set of crunches and he wants to punch me.” he laughed. “Pissing you off is so easy bro.”

“I’m not pissed off.” I wanted to clarify. “You… you’re just making me hard.”

Even though Dave knows about my kink and fully accepted me, I still have a hard time letting him know that his farting skills (and teasing, nonetheless) never fail to give me a massive boner.

Dave looked at me funny, faking a serious expression. Then let out another loud rip in response, around 4 seconds long. Why do I even worry…

“Of course.” I simply said, too embarrassed to even look at him though.

As usual, he didn’t care, and only found my awkwardness hilarious. Disgustingly hilarious.

“It’s fine… at least you tried.” he then said. “We’ll give it another shot tomorrow.” 

I turned to him, appreciating the encouraging words.

“Still.” he said, adjusting his position. “I’m still gonna need a spotter to count those.”

“Yeah.” I nodded, without thinking. “I can do that.”

He let out an evil cackle in response, with that smug, hot smirk drawn on his face.

“So, what are we counting? Pushups? Crunches? Stars?”

I remained seated on the floor as Dave stood up, easily towering over me. He looked down to me and I, silly me, realised too late where this was going, even though I should have known.

“Who said anything about pushups and crunches?”

My gassy friend turned around and, simply put, sat full weight on my head as if it was a stool, his very gentle way to force me to lie down, with yet another loud toot thrown into the mix for good measure, one that I could properly smell this time.

The protein shakes are a powerful fuel and the scent reminded me of rotten eggs, which made me cough again as I lied down, letting my bro’s ass crush me.

However, that didn’t happen, not as violently as I expected at least. Dave’s ass was actually hovering only inches from my face; he could easily simply sit on me and let his ass roar but for some reason he didn’t.

“One.” I heard Dave say.

A fart quickly followed, loud, high pitched and wet-ish. I had to close my eyes as I literally felt the rancid gas erupting on my face, the thin grey fabric of Dave’s basketball shorts being the only thing separating me from his raging anus.

After a couple of seconds, the fart ended, and my bro got back up, but he wasn’t done at all. He let me took some breaths of (relatively) fresh air, only to bend his knees again mere moments later.

He was squatting over my face, basically, his ass barely tickling the tip of my nose.

“Two.”

Yet another impressive fart, the stench adding up to what was left of the previous one. Things were already getting too exhausting even for my trained nostrils: this is why I should never leave my room again.

But as much as I could “hate” what was happening, as Dave’s ass roared all over my face, my boner only got harder. My bro is not the hottest man in the world but he is quite hot and having a guy like him blasting me so effortlessly, no strings attached, will never cease to amaze me. 

I was definitely enjoying the sound more than the smell however, which made me feel like I was drowning in a sewer.

“What the fuck did you put in that protein shake, man?!”

I managed to ask, my voice being almost nothing compared to the loudness of the fart Dave was still ripping all over me. However, he did hear me, as his ass “bounced” a bit over my nose, a sign that he was laughing like the jerk bully he sometimes can be.

After a total of 12 seconds I was greeted with newfound silence and my bro got up, but before I could do or say anything or, you know, breathe, he squatted again.

“Three.”

Another loud rip, this time shorter, about 4 seconds, but still extremely dangerous stench-wise. Also, those were getting wetter and wetter. The sweat dampening Dave’s asscrack through his grey shorts didn’t help at all and only made the fart wetter and the stench stronger.

My bro’s ass went silent and I quickly asked a simple question.

“How many squats are you planning to do exactly?”

Dave laughed in response, as usual. “You tell me, it’s leg day.”

The second part of his answer was him squatting again on my face, this time making sure to crush my skull. He then made sure to shove down my throat and nostrils another powerful, protein shake-powered blast.

A wet one, a fully wet one, but Dave was a pro, so I knew it was just very nasty gas. Still, a good challenge to test the limits of my already disgusting kink. The blast was so powerful it made droplets of sweat from his ass rain all over my face: whether Dave was sweating because of the squats or the endeavor of pushing such big farts out I shall never know.

What I did know, is that after 9 seconds, Dave got up again, and at this point I couldn’t even remember what pure oxygen tasted like as not only my face, but the entire room was now basically engulfed with gas.

Dave instead, towering over me, proudly took a deep breath, showing off his muscles (which wasn’t a lot, but he definitely looked ripped when compared to me) and then stared down at his victim.

“And you wanted to quit.” he stated.

I couldn’t even come up with a proper comeback because his ass was already in my mouth, hastily erupting yet another fart, one I could actually taste.

He kept squatting on my face, repeatedly, each time ripping a fart, a loud wet rip, each time sweating more and more. My friend was wearing a pair of grey basketballs shorts but all of that sweat made his asscrack completely visible, basically proving he went commando for some reason, which also meant that there was basically nothing between me and the sheer force of Dave’s anus.

My bro farted so many times in my face over the last months I couldn’t even count it, but things rarely got this… filthy.

I got my face soaked wet in sweat which wasn’t even mine, but rather from Dave’s ass, fart-scented and fart-flavoured sweat; kink or not, my limits were being tested here.

And apparently, Dave’s job is completely ignoring such limits.

For his 20th and final squat, he just completely sat on my face, spreading his legs wide, so my nose could easily fit in his sweaty, ripe asscrack. He wiggled his ass as if he was wiping the sweat off of it using my face, and then I felt him push.

Bubbles, that’s how I can describe it. That display of flatulence was as wet and disgusting as you imagine, a mix of gas and sweat engulfing my nose and nostrils, making my entire head shake, so rancid I could smell it without even breathing in. 

The fart was so thick I could taste it and my eyes were burning for all that gas.

I feared that Dave’s limit were also being tested here, given how wet that fart was; but no, it was just terrible, terrible air coming out from his sweaty ass.

After almost 20 seconds of torture, I was done.

The sewer comparison I made before was now in full effect: truth to be told, I couldn’t take it anymore, I was drowning, suffocating, and I wanted to get out of there, I needed air, like actual air, oxygen.

Mustering all the strength I have in what passes for “muscles” in my arms, I managed, not without struggle, to actually push Dave’s roaring ass away from my face, which actually surprised him as he tripped over.

I coughed my way to freedom and took deep long breaths. The air in the room was still filthy but it felt like pure fresh air compared to the source, the depths of my friend’s ass who, in the meantime, actually stopped farting. I remained there, lying down, wondering how I could even survive those blasts.

Despite being disgusted, pre-cum leaked from the tip of my hard cock, so I guess this wasn’t beyond my limits after all. 

As I kept trying to clean my nostrils by taking more deep breaths, I heard Dave, lying next to me just like before, slow clapping, as if he was some kind of villain of a heist movie being (falsely) impressed by the heroes.

I scolded him with an annoyed glare. “What the fuck are you doing now?”

“Not bad for a first day, huh?” he simply said, with a smirk. “You managed to lift me, that’s impressive.”

“Those were my survival instincts kicking in.” I remarked.

I lied down, exhausted, staring at the ceiling, Dave doing the same. I could once again hear the faint rock music coming from his phone on the desk: good, I was afraid today’s ass-thunders made me deaf.

“I wanna try again tomorrow.” I admitted. “No farts though.” I quickly added.

He laughed. “I’ll see what I can do.”

We remained silent for a few moments, as I tried to ignore the massive boner I still had.

“Look at us.” Dave said. “Covered in sweat, panting. It’s like we just had sex.” he joked.

“You wish.” I replied.

A few more moments of silence, a silence that Dave broke one last time by doing a deft leg-lift to rip a quick, loud, wet toot.

“Told ya it’s leg day.”

The End

[j0eyj0rdis0n]

HEYYYYY i just wanted to say i love ur work <3 and secondly

i wanted to ask if you’ve seen the a24 movie pearl (2022)? cuz like i had a creepypasta request idea based of a pearl scene😭 it’s where toby gives fem-reader like stockholm syndrome and she becomes really clingy to him. And so one day he tells her that he’s gonna be right back and reader starts overthinking and assuming that he’s leaving her forever. AND THENNN she says the infamous pearl lines “NO! WHY ARE YOU LEAVING ME IF I DIDNT DO ANYTHING WRONG! I DONT UNDERSTAND I THOUGHT YOU LIKED ME!!!!”.

then they have a huge fight to which it turns into reader trying to hurt toby and toby just calming her down in anyway tehe :3

Hey love! I unfortunately haven't seen the movie as I'm not really one for movies at all, but I've certainly seen this clip circling on TikTok. It was super intriguing and it made me want to see it but I just haven't had the chance. For not seeing the movie I hope that this is at least somewhat accurate! Thank you for the ask!

Also I have some works ready for Kinktober! I only picked some of the prompts, I’ll start on day 6 so get ready!!

WHY ARE YOU LEAVING ME?! - "TICCI" TOBY

"Y/N I'll be back s-soon. Ma-asky has been in a s-shit mood 'bout this mission." Toby grumbled as he tied his boots.

"What..?" You looked up at him quickly from the dishes you were washing. "Why are you leaving me...?"

"Y/N, it's j-just for a m-mission." He sighed, realizing that this would be coming the longer he kept you here with him alone. "P-promise it won't be long."

The look of confusion and hurt on your face was evident. He hated it when you got upset like this. How was he supposed to explain any further that it was only a short mission? He felt like he couldn't ever explain anything to you. It was starting to get rather irritating too.

"You don't want to stay with me?" You questioned, your tone slowly growing angry. Your hands letting a plate clatter to the counter.

"Don't st-start with that. I told you! A sh-short mission!" His tone began to match yours, with a rough twang of anger. He tied his boots up with white knuckles before standing up and glaring at you.

"Don't leave me!!" You screamed, not bothering to wipe your wet hands off as you grabbed his wrist. "Why don't you love me?! I haven't done anything wrong!! Why do you keep leaving?!" Your voice grew hoarse as you screamed louder, practically begging for him to stay. "Toby please! Please don't leave!" You tried to pull his hand from the doorknob with tears streaming down your face.

"L-let go Y/N! I have t-to go!" He shouted back, ripping his arm from your grasp and throwing the door open.

"NO! NO! DON'T LEAVE ME!" You cried, watching him walk out in a huff.

You ran after him, kicking up dirt with each long stride. You grabbed onto his shirt, trying to drag him back inside. "Please Toby! Please I need you!"

He shrugged off your advances, continuing down the dirt road. If he wanted you for himself so badly then why was he leaving?! They had more than enough manpower to get missions done without him. You could barely survive without him! How dare he leave you like this! His pace didn't stop you from continuing your chase. Picking up a hatchet leaning against the picket fence you ran with rage in your eyes and anger in your heart.

"You're not leaving!!" You shouted, bringing the hatchet above your head, ready to swing at him.

He turned quickly, dodging your swing and wrestling the hatchet out of your small hands. "What on e-earth do you think y-you're doing?!" He shouted, throwing the hatchet far into the dirt as he got up in your face. "You're going to k-k-kill me for trying ta' leave? What the f-fuck is your problem!?" He took a moment to pause, staring you down with a look that could probably kill. "Get the f-fuck inside. Now."

When you didn't respond to his words, he grabbed your wrist with enough force to shatter it completely, dragging you towards the house. He threw you on the couch, pointing an accusing finger at you as he continued his yelling spree.

"I do all this for y-y-you! Be fuckin' grateful!"

It was only when he saw tears spring to your eyes that he went quiet. Yes he was upset you were making such a big deal out of one short mission, but he wasn't upset enough to make you cry from yelling at you. He let out a defeated sigh, taking a seat next to you on the old couch.

"S-sorry... I shouldn't have y-yelled... You gotta k-know missions aren't optional... I really gotta go Y/N..."

You sat defeated, tears streaming down your face. You hated it when he left, and no amount of reassurance made you feel better. Every time he left, you felt a piece of your heart break.

All you could do was nod, letting him stand without protest. Toby gave you a gentle kiss on the forehead before heading out the door once more.

[rabbitsrams]

Omg you HAVE to further elaborate onto that inexperienced reader x inexperienced schlatt fic omfg that shit drove me UP the wall it was too good. You have made my year

oh anon i love u sm <3 yes im obsessed w this idea esp speaking as a barely experienced virgin gal :D

nsfw under the cut, minors dni!! 18+ only.

(also PLEASE lmk if u want more i love writing these!!)

so you and schlatt met in a calculus class. it was required for his major while it’s just a general education class for you. because you sit near each other in the lecture hall you're often paired together for quick discussions (those 'turn to the person next to you' talks that i dread lmao).

he always thought you were really hot but was too shy to ever say anything, mostly just thinking about you in every way imaginable while he jerks off.

and you too, your size kink rly went brr seeing his tall ass like...

you once made the mistake of looking at his hands for a little bit too long and then that was all you could think about for a week.

you eventually became friends slowly over the course of the semester which was how u started fooling around in the first place.

both of you opened up that u were both virgins and not that experienced. and this mf was really like 'oh wouldn't be funny if...'

"how am i attracted to you?"

it starts with some making out. you've both kissed people before so you were a bit familiar with it. and it's nice!

you starting to kiss down to his neck and omg his fucking reaction when you leave a hickey for the first time. he's flaunting it so everyone can see, his roommate and friends are gassing him up sooo much.

while in class he's reading on how to give a hickey and ends up giving you so. many. all over your body. did he just awaken a marking kink?

also like once you guys start you just can't get enough of each other.

he's just so. obsessed with your moans. he's watched porn loads before, he knows how exaggerated those moans are. but somehow your more subdued noises turn him on even more. AND THE WAY YOU SAY HIS NAME???? he loves it.

his face going all red when you touch him anywhere. he whimpers so much, it's like you have him under a spell.

like i said before, he's super vocal. he usually can't help himself, especially when you're on your knees sucking his cock. because duh <3

once you started sucking him off, you can't get enough. and he can't either.

blowing him under the desk in the library. oh lord help me.

wearing one of his sweaters (the harvard one came to mind particularly) for the first time and he's just. jaw dropped.

the prettiest girl ever is wearing his clothes???? if he doesn’t have you right then and there he’s jerking off to you as soon as u leave.

and also you wearing his sweaters when walking around campus and he is just so proud like wow. you're all his.

falling asleep together after your first time and waking up to his morning wood‼️ he’s so needy in the morning he’s practically humping ur leg as soon as he wakes up. thank god your roommate was out.

lazily riding him while he just gushes at how beautiful you are in the morning. fuck. me.

whenever he spends the night at your dorm or vice versa you always help him out in the mornings <3 whether it be a blowjob or a handjob or turning to your side so he can slip it in and fuck you :D so what if you've been late to class a couple times?

you call him ALL the pet names. angel. sweetheart. darling. baby.

and his for you? oh. all the ones you call him and more. toots (thats a major one). doll(face). princess. bark bark bark.

you sending him nudes for the first time one night when he's home visiting family. what starts off innocent enough, you in one of his t-shirts without any pants on turns to pics of your tits, your fingers in your pussy, then VIDEOS OF YOU MASTURBATING!!! he's ripping his jeans off as he slams his bedroom door shut and dials your number into facetime.

SKIPPING CLASS JUST TO HAVE SEX SJKLFBHEDDJKLSJK

HE DRIVES TO SOME REMOTE PLACE ON CAMPUS!!!! AND U HAVE CAR SEX FOR THE FIRST TIME OMG

it's SO awkward at first😭where do you go? the back? stay in the front? go into the trunk?

you're glad he wanted to stay in the front because OMG. RIDING HIM IN THE CAR SEAT. he tries sooooo hard not to cum too fast bc ur tits are literally in his face and your pussy is squeezing him so well fuck fuck fuck he's obsessed with you. wow.