#P. Trash Records

[crippledanarchy]

Spotify calling the front bottoms "folk punk" is so fucking funny

[evanpetersmybf]

Be mine?

Tate Langdon x female!reader

Summary: Meeting you was his destiny. He had to make you his so he could feel alive... It was meant to be.

Genre: Smut.

Word count: 3,172

Warnings: Virgin and inexperienced reader, mentions of bullying, self-harm (just once and is nothing detailed), obsessive and stalkish behavior, swearing, cunnilingus, fingering, unprotected p in v and cumshot.

A/N: English isn't my first language and this is my first time writing smut, so sorry if it sucks or if I have grammatical mistakes or something TT. Btw, also sorry if Tate's out of character. Anyways, hope you enjoy it!

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ཐི ♡ ཋྀ

Tate had another bad day. It was the usual. Bullying, failed tests, the teacher humiliating him after he couldn’t solve a simple equation on the chalkboard, his mother scolding him. Nothing seemed new, and it seemed that nothing wasn’t going to change at any point.

He needed something, a reason to live, something to make him feel alive. Because he was dead. Dead in life, which in his own opinion, was even worse than being a rotten corpse.

He headed to the music store after secretly stealing some of his mom’s money, just a few bucks; the enough amount to buy a vinyl or some CD’s. Tate was sort of a music elitist, always believing that the artists nowadays just created pure, hollow, and trashy songs. In fact, he didn’t believe those could even be considered music.

Walking around the nearly empty store, rummaging through the shelves filled with Nirvana vinyl’s, someone bumped into him.

“Oh, sorry.” You spoke, after accidentally taking too many steps back and bumping into Tate’s behinds.

He frowned, somewhat annoyed at you for disturbing his moment of peace. The blonde turned around to look at who it was, scanning your body from head to toe, taking note of your appearance. Then, his dark eyes drifted to the sign that was on top the shelf, which indicated the musical genre of the records that were on that rack. Alternative pop. His gaze went to the album you were hugging to yourself.

“Cry Baby? What type of crap is that?”

“Huh, excuse me?”

“Never mind, you won’t understand.” Tate talked in such a volatile and rude manner, already feeling superior because of his likes.

You arched an eyebrow. What was his problem? You did nothing to him and yet he was here, judging your amazing music taste.

“Well, people’s free to like whatever they want to, hmm?”

“Uh, yeah, but what’s the point of that if everything is so generic?”

“Have you ever listened to Melanie Martinez at least once?”

He shook his head no, still scowling, now fidgeting with a ring that was on one of his fingers.

“Have you listened to Nirvana?”

“Just like… Two songs?”

“Don’t tell me. Smells Like Teen Spirit?”

“Guilty.”

Tate rolled his eyes. What was going on with this generation? What happened to good music, to the greatest artists? Why was everyone just listening to trash?

After sharing your names and a few more words, debating about who was right and who wasn’t, you placed one of your hands over his right shoulder, as an attempt to stop his rant of how superior he was. And indeed, it worked. The teen stopped venting and stared at you, all confused and a bit uncomfortable. You noticed it and quickly stepped back, apologizing for touching him without permission. He told you it was okay, that you just surprised him. But deep down, that simple yet complex touch meant a lot to Tate, even if it was absolutely nothing to you.

For the first time he felt something more than sorrow.

“So… What do you think of this? I’ll make you listen to some songs by Melanie and other artists, and I’ll listen to your beloved beautiful grunge music.” You said those last words in a mocking way.

Tate huffed, clearly offended by the way you referred to his taste. Nevertheless, in the end he agreed with you.

After paying the stuff you two picked, both of you went to Tate’s place. As you walked next to him, your fingers brushed his, making his cheeks turn a light shade of red and his heart flutter. He felt dizzy, not sure about what was going on.

In his house, he took you to his room. The boy didn’t want his mother to see you, otherwise she’d be too nosy and probably scare you and push you away from him, and that was the last thing he wanted.

“Get comfy.” He mused, extending his hand as if inviting you to take a seat wherever you feel to.

“Thanks.” You sat on the floor, using one of the sides of the bed as a support for your back. He did the same and sat right next to you.

He was nervous. So damn nervous and excited. He brought a pretty chick to his place. The Tate Langdon, the outcast, the bullied, that Tate Langdon was in the same room with a girl? He couldn’t believe it.

“Ladies first.” Tate pointed the record-player with his thumb, and you obeyed, placing the CD in it. The music started playing.

“We could’ve used Spotify, y’know?”

“Nah, I don’t like it. I prefer the old school.”

‘Cry Baby’ was the first track that was listened to.

He squinted his eyes and rubbed his chin, analyzing the sounds, the melody, the harmony and of course the lyrics.

Although it wasn’t his style, you definitely were. The way you looked, talked, walked. How you stood up for your beliefs and didn’t allow him to step on you (even if you just discussed about music). It was new for him. He craved your independence. He craved you.

That was the very moment when he realized that you were the thing he was looking for all his life. You were the one who was meant to be his, he was meant to be yours. It was destiny. Tate truly believed it was some kind of divine prophecy, and he wasn’t going to let you go.

He was so immersed in his mind that he didn’t pay attention to the song anymore. He was solely focused on you, remembering how warm and kind your touch was, how sweet your voice was. ‘Oh, she’s mine’, he thought.

“So… That was the first track. Its name’s Cry Baby. Did you like it?”

Tate snapped out of it and bit his bottom lip. He didn’t listen to your question.

“I’m sorry, what did you?—”

“Did you like the song?”

“Ah, yeah yeah. It’s quite… Innovative. I’ve never heard something like that.”

You smiled and clapped your hands. “Of course! She’s such a genius. Let’s finish the album, hm?”

He just nodded, as a little smirk appeared on his face.

The days flew by, and Tate asked you out on many friendly dates. Or at least that’s what you thought because you were so oblivious at the fact that he had a fat crush on you.

With every hang out, you noticed that Tate was lonely. Like, really lonely. Maybe that’s why he was so clingy with you.

He told you about his family, about how annoying Constance was, about his siblings and about how his father left him behind. He also mentioned the bullying he suffered and almost talked about the self-harm but stopped himself.

Both of you grew closer, as his obsession.

Since you went to a different school, he would skip class and infiltrate your campus just to see you. He couldn’t stand being away from you. And if he did, his mind was full of you, thinking of you all day, unable to focus on his homework and tests. Tate didn’t care anymore if he failed subjects, as long as you were next to him, he was happy and alive.

The void he once felt, was now fulfilled with your mere presence. You could step on him, and he would thank you. In his twisted little mind, you were free to have everything of him.

He was willing to do anything to keep you by his side. The thought of losing was so terrifying that it would make him throw up.

Tate learned every single detail about you. Your mannerisms, your likes and dislikes, your dreams, and your fears. Everything. And that includes your schedule since you wake up, and since you go to sleep.

That was his definition of love. No one ever taught him about how to express it, and he ended up being the way he was with you.

One day he invited you over to his place. The Langdon's house was empty, and he was going to take advantage of it. No doubt.

“Your mom isn’t home?” You questioned as you followed him behind, going upstairs straight to his bedroom. Little did you know this wasn’t going to be another afternoon of playing board games while listening to some music.

“Nah, dunno where she went but she won’t be back any time soon.” He shrugged and let you inside of his private space,

You went to lay down on bed, feeling relief in your aching back after a long day at school. “Damn, I need some rest!”

Tate chuckled softly and sat on the edge, looking at you as you closed your eyes and tried to relax. He was focused on your steady and calm breathing, on how your breasts went up and down with every inhalation and exhalation. His eyes stared at your lips, at how kissable they looked. He felt a sudden desire, the intense urge to make you his. Feeling conflicted, he shook his head and tried to distract himself, pretending to ignore how aroused he was getting.

He wasn’t going to say it out loud, but of course he already had some wet dreams of you. He imagined you beneath him, your precious body shivering and responding to his touch, to his kisses. Your cunt wet and ready for him, just how he wanted to.

“Y/N…” Tate cooed, unable to hold back any longer.

“Yeah?” You opened one of your eyes and spotted him, sitting on the bed with his fists clenched over his thighs, while his breathing looked kinda rapid. “You ‘kay?”

“No.”

“Uh? What’s wrong?” You reincorporated and sat straight beside his warm figure. Your right hand touched his left, rubbing it up and down with your thumb.

Tate shoved you to the bed, pinning your arms above your head and holding them tight.

His breathing pattern was no longer normal. It was a heavy one.

His dark brown eyes locked with yours. Your orbs were wide, not understanding what the hell was going on. Or maybe you did but were in denial.

“Please. I want you.” He purred, seeing you with puppy eyes, the ones he knew you couldn’t resist.

“Hahah, you funny.”

He let out a frustrated whine, almost begging on his knees for you to get the hint.

“I’m not kidding. Pretty please. I need you.”

“Do you mean…?” You raised your head a few centimeters to look at his crotch in order to confirm your suspicions. Your cheeks had a cute blush as soon as you noticed Tate’s erection restrained by his jeans. It looked painful, and it actually was.

“Yes. I want to. Please, I truly need it. Please, please, please?” His voice was shaky and low, a needy desperate whisper. “Can I?”

This wasn’t what you expected for today. You saw Tate as a best friend, but you couldn’t deny he was handsome… And that he already provoked butterflies in your stomach before.

Hesitantly, you gave a shy nod with your head, giving him consent to continue. “But Tate… I’ve never done this before, I dunno what to do, I—” You trailed off, being cut off mid-sentence when Tate placed his lips over yours. The kiss was slow and tender, not rough at all. Your bottom lip was between his, as he nibbled it with extreme care to not hurt you.

After some seconds, he pulled apart and led his hand towards the side of your face, brushing some hairs away. “Don’t ya worry, princess. Leave it all to me, hm? I’ll be gentle. Unless you don’t want me to.” With that being said, he leaned into your neck, pressing his mouth on your sensitive flesh. He left sweet kisses, making you hum as you melted under him.

His lips continued to tease your skin, leaving some little bites between every kiss, trailing down to your collarbone. Tate stopped there and helped you get rid of your blouse, tossing it aside and continued his journey, this time kissing your sternum while his right hand cupped one of your breasts, kneading it gently over the fabric of your bra. He pulled down the straps and took off the piece of lingerie, setting your tits free.

The cold air hit you and your nipples perked up, looking ravishing and making him desire you even more.

He introduced one of the hardened buds into his warm mouth, sucking it greedily and making lewd wet sounds as he did so. His left rubbed the other nipple in circles, taking it with his thumb and index, pulling it and pinching it.

“Hmph… Huh…” You let out soft whimpers, slightly arching your back meanwhile he abused your breasts.

Tate stopped after some minutes, letting go of your nipple and looking at you, grabbing your chin and tilting your head to the side. He approached your ear and whispered, “You like this?”

“Yes…” You begged. Your voice was already ragged and shaky.

Instinctively, you pressed your thighs together, rubbing them as a pathetic try to feel some relief. Tate realized it and spread your legs with one of his hands. He took his digits right to your clothed pussy, eagerly rubbing the spot where your clit was.

“Someone’s already wet? Cute.” He giggled and took off his striped sweater, throwing it away. He positioned himself between your limbs and pulled down your pants, mesmerized as he saw your damp panties. Tate continued rubbing your bundle of nerves over the fabric of your underwear, still fascinated at how humid you were.

This was the moment he had been waiting for the past weeks. He wasn’t going to need to jerk off to your photos anymore, because now he would be able to jerk off to your tits in person.

Tate removed the last barrier that was stopping him from touching your womanhood directly. He pulled them down to your ankles and you helped him to get rid of it by shaking your feet.

He got closer to your cunt and placed your legs over his shoulder, spreading your folds with two of his large digits, blowing some air at the sensitive meat. Finally, he started sucking on your swollen clitoris, enjoying the feeling of your dampness against his face.

“Mmh…” He moaned, still toying with the nub. You grabbed him by the hair, not thinking about what you were doing. You just let yourself go and pulled him closer to your pussy, wanting to feel more. Your body twitched, unconsciously bucking your hips against his mouth that was currently making slurping sounds.

His attention changed and was now on your slit, teasing just the entrance with his hot tongue, while his nose rubbed against your clit. He lapped your pretty cunt, savoring your juices as if they were a delicacy.

Looking at your adorable face contorting in pleasure, he introduced his ring finger into your wet, tight hole. It was a slow and kind movement because the last thing he wanted was to hurt you. He slipped it deeper, pumping it in and out with care, increasing speed after a few seconds once he saw you comfortable. “Tell me if it hurts…”

“Mhm… It feels nice. Huh…” Your melodic whimpers and moans were just too much for him. He could listen to you for the rest of his days and never get tired of you.

Without further ado, he introduced his middle finger, now finger-fucking you with two. Tate’s thumb was also working wonders on your lil’ bundle of nerves in circular motion.

She was clenching around Tate’s large fingers, that he curled inside of her, hitting the right spot to make you squirm and feel a new and foreign sensation in your lower belly.

“Fuck it, I can’t wait anymore.”

He undid his belt, unzipped his pants and pulled down his boxers, quickly getting rid of them and letting them fall to the wooden floor.

You just stared in awe; it was the first time you saw one in real life.

Tate grabbed his hardened cock and stroked it a few times on top of you, finding amusing your silly reaction. The reddish tip was glistening with pre-cum, which he used as lube. He spat at your pussy and rubbed his slick saliva with two digits, before finally thrusting his dick.

He did it slowly, beginning with the head. Eventually, he pushed his entire length, hitting your cervix and stretching you out for the first time.

“Fuck, you’re so tight!” Even if he was taking the lead, he was a whiny mess, vocal and loud.

He continued pounding into you, his gaze never leaving your face. Tate loved how you rolled your eyes to the back of your head and how your little mouth was letting out such nasty sounds.

The room was filled with slapping and wet sounds, created by his skin slapping against yours, his balls always hitting you with every stab. Again, he placed your legs on his wide shoulders to have a better angle and pump into you deeper than before.

His big veiny hands were roaming all over your body, specifically your breasts. Within minutes, he developed an addiction to them. Probably because of his mommy issues? He grabbed them roughly, tweaking both of your nipples as he fucked you mercilessly.

Tate lolled his head as he felt your hole gripping him tight. Very tight.

He increased the pace and moaned your name, begging you to squeeze him tighter.

“Oh, please, please, please!” The blonde kept whining. He left one of his hands taking care of your nipples, while the other went back to torture your clit. He stroked it in circles, and then up and down, applying the enough amount of pressure to make you beg for more.

“Tate, I feel like I’m—”

“It’s okay, let it go, mhm?”

You couldn’t hold yourself any longer and squirted all over him, coating his lower body with your warm fluids.

“Oh, oh, oh, oh, gonna cum!” Tate pulled out from your cunt and pumped his cock with his hand finishing with a loud moan. His hot sticky white cum coated your breasts and abdomen, creating an incredible sight that he always imagined.

All spent, Tate threw himself next to you on the bed, pulling a blanket to cover both of you as he filled your pretty face in candy pecks.

“Did it hurt? First time usually does.” He looked at you, concerned for your wellbeing. “I was too rough?”

You laughed and shook your head no, caressing his messy locks with your fingers, tenderly scratching his scalp. “Don’t worry, I’m fine, really.”

Tate smiled at you and kissed you on the lips, “You’re so pretty, Y/N.”

You hugged him from behind, him being the little spoon this time. Your mind was going wild; you were still processing what happened and was about to drift to sleep when he whispered.

“Y/N…?”

“Mh, what is it, Tate?”

“I love you… Please be mine?”

[hangmanssunnies]

Heat To Boil

Summary: After a failed Tinder date, you go to hang out with your friend Jake "Hangman" Seresin. When you get to his house, you unexpectedly find him with a baby, and it is a sight that rewires something in your head. Jake needs a baby of his own. Right now — like yesterday, actually. And that is a task you would be more than willing to help with; now, you just need to find the courage to bring it up.

Pairings: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader

Word count: 9k

AO3 Link

Warnings: 18+ Only, Friends to lovers, baby fever, smut, P in V, Oral, Hangman with a baby (deserves its own warning)

Author's note: The attorneys at work keep bringing their babies in and letting me hold them, and @top-hhun has done absolutely nothing to discourage the subsequent baby fever I've been dealing with. Anyways, that's where this fic came from. I hope you enjoy this. My inbox is always open if you want to let me know your thoughts. Reblogs with your thoughts, opinions, and tags are gold to me. I love reading through them.

You had become friends with Jake unexpectedly some years ago, hitting it off at your mutual friend's wedding. Part of you had, of course, hoped the attractive blonde aviator would be interested in you, maybe in a romantic sense, but it never came to fruition. He shipped out the week after the wedding, but the easy rapport you carried with him started with sharing jokes about how trashed other people got at the reception, and eventually developing into a true and close friendship. 

It was for the best because the more you got to know Jake, it became clear to you that he didn't want the same things that you did. He was focused on his career and didn't have time for a partner. When he did talk about settling down, it was never in an authentic way, more joking that he was waiting to swoop in if Coyote's marriage fell apart or that his Mama would set him up with a nice southern belle who wanted to give her twelve grandkids. Jake would claim he was too busy for a relationship, away from home too much to be steady. However, none of that seemed to stop him from finding time for you, which is probably why you hadn't been able to completely repress your feelings for him despite some valiant efforts. 

Just today, after a failed lunch date with someone from Tinder, you texted Jake disheartened. He hadn't hesitated first to ask if you were okay and then invited you over for dinner to tell him all about it. He had even promised to cook you whatever you wanted. A special treat guaranteed to make you feel better, considering Jake's superb culinary skills. 

You walk into Jake's house without knocking or ringing the bell, knowing he left the door unlocked in anticipation of your arrival. After securing the front door's lock into place, you toe off your shoes, making sure to set them neatly in line with the others there. Jake's home is clean and tidy, just like it always is; the organization of the entry is no exception. You know from the smells and sounds wafting towards you that he must still be cooking, which is odd because he's almost always done by the time you show up. 

Venturing further into the house you see him, standing in the kitchen, with a baby strapped to his chest. It's an unexpected sight, and you're frozen by it. Jake's in a casual white teeshirt, jeans, and a dark navy blue sling with a camo pattern wrapped tightly around him, securing a tiny infant in place against his broad chest. His hair is fluffy like it often is on his days off, and the golden strands fall across his forehead. Seeing it like this always creates an instinctual desire to run your fingers through it. However, you can hardly even process that thought because you're so distracted by the bundle on his chest. Music is playing on his record player, and he is humming along. 

Jake suddenly stops the humming, and the prep he is doing, looking down at the baby. After a pause, a smile pulls at the edges of his lips, his eyes crinkle before he drops a kiss on the infant's head. And it's like everything is right. Jake with a baby seems so natural. The fact that he exists any other way than with a baby in his arms every day feels wrong. Your heart starts beating harder in your chest, and a thought pops into your head, instantly taking deep root: Jake needs a baby of his own. Right now — like yesterday, actually. 

You don't know what sound you must have made, but Jake looks up and finally notices you standing in the hallway. He doesn't appear at all startled as a wide grin spreads across his face as he greets you, "Howdy there, Doll!"  

"You have a baby," you say stupidly in an entirely delayed response. 

"Yeah, this little guy is Jackson. Coyote and the Mrs wanted a date day, so I offered to watch the baby for them. They were supposed to be here two hours ago to pick him up, but I'm sure they just got caught up." Jake laughs and presses another kiss to Jackson's head. Before continuing on, "I hope you don't mind."

"No, I don't mind," you manage to breathe out, unable to tear your eyes off Jake or even pretend you're not staring. He quirks an eyebrow at you but otherwise doesn't comment. After he gestures for you to join him, he returns to the cutting board in front of him. You are transfixed; when you sit down at the bar in the kitchen, it occurs to you that you should probably say something and not just stare like an idiot. "Do you want me to take him?"

"I think he is just fine here," Jake says, examining the sleeping baby strapped to his chest again. Jackson has hardly moved since you showed up, clearly passed out, not disturbed by the music or any of the kitchen sounds. 

"At least let me help finish cooking then?" You request. 

"No, Ma'am. Bubba and I have this dinner taken care of. I did pick up that wine you like from the store. Maybe you can open it up for us?" 

Entering the kitchen, you pull out two wine glasses from a cabinet. Opening the fridge you see your preferred wine stocked, as well as a few of your other favorite drinks stored there. Warmth blooms in your chest that Jake picked up things for you when he was at the store last. It was touching that he would take care to buy something he would never touch but getting it anyway just to have beverages you prefer on hand. After pouring the wine, you set one glass next to Jake's cutting board, making sure it's in easy reach for him. 

"Thank you," he says appreciatively. You sigh and lean against him, pressing your face into the bicep of his arm, careful not to disturb Jackson or the sling as you do. Closing your eyes, you breathe him in, looking for the subtle cedar scent of his cologne to soothe you. However, only a hint of it tickles your nose, the cedar not as strong as it usually is. Today, Jake smells more like clean laundry and his natural musk than anything else. You are surprised to find it still does the trick in helping settle your nerves, though. Jake hums but doesn't protest your closeness, instead asking, "Long day?" 

You don't answer with words, just humming noncommittally against his arm. You leave your face pressed there for a moment longer. "Not enough wine to talk about it yet," you eventually say into his arm before pulling away. Settling on the other side of the counter again, you take a long drink of the wine you poured. Deciding to admire Jake again, you ask, "How was your day?"

"It was pretty good. Javy dropped Jackson off this morning. We had tummy time, went on a walk, and to the grocery store to get things for dinner. Then we got a little cranky, so we rocked in the lazy boy for a while." You took a moment to picture Jake doing these activities and can't decide which is most swoon worthy. Jake is always swoon worthy, of course, but knowing that he was caring for a baby while doing it feels like an extra kick to the stomach or maybe ovaries. 

"And?" You ask him, taking another drink of your wine and pillowing your face on your palm. 

"And what?" Jake asks. 

"What else did you and Jackson do today? I want to hear every detail." 

Jake gives into your request easily. Starting his description of the day over, he tells you how even though he has babysat before, the Machados were still anxious to leave Jackson alone here when they dropped him off that morning. Jake told you about tummy time, which toys they liked and which were uninteresting. How long their walk was, and what they saw. He told you about the old woman who fawned over them in the store and how they helped her with getting her groceries to the car. It was endearing that Jake used the first person plural 'we' as if he and Jackson were a team with equal agency in their day's activities. It was especially cute when Jake told you about the tantrum they had thrown earlier in the afternoon as if he had been crying right along with his godson. 

Just as dinner was finished and you were setting the table, Jackson woke up and started to get fussy. Jake cooed to the baby affectionately, leaving to the guest room, where Javy had stuffed almost a car full of supplies for Jake to watch Jackson. Some of the just-in-case supplies included toys and clothes Jackson wouldn't even be able to use until he was at least a year old.  

When Jake comes back, both he and Jackson are wearing different clothes. Jake is in a soft green shirt and sweats, while Jackson is now wearing a giraffe onesie. He has the baby propped on his hip and doesn't offer you any explanation aside from that they had an accident. Then he sees that you have plated and set everything for dinner at the dining room table, and he offers a soft thank you. 

You watch as he balances Jackson on his hip and starts following the written out directions for making a bottle that's taped to his fridge. Jake isn't someone who struggles, and you know that this is something that he is fully capable of doing, but you also can't help but think that it would be easier for him if he had two free hands. So, you gently pull Jackson from his arms and into your own instead. 

The baby blinks up at you, his eyes still soft and sleepy. He babbles a bit of nonsense but otherwise makes no protest at you. Jackson has the same brown eyes and skin tone as his father. Even with his chubby cheeks, you can tell that the little boy is going to be Coyote's mini-me. The similarities in their appearance are so close it's like the universe had just hit copy and paste. 

He is so cute you can't stop the grin that stretches across your lips when Jackson snuggles into you. One of his hands starts grabbing at your shirt's fabric while he absently gnaws at his other one. The little boy completely steals your attention as you walk around the living room and dining room with him. Asking him how he feels about his day with his Uncle Jake, pausing for his babbling like they were real answers. Jake comes up behind you several minutes later, setting a steady hand on the small of your back.

 "Here, let me take him," Jake mutters practically in your ear while reaching for Jackson. 

"No," you protest, turning away from Jake's reach. "You've had him all day. I've only gotten to hold him for a few minutes." 

"Now, darling," Jake drawls. 

"Don't darling me."

"Doll," He says 

"Don't Doll me either." You snap, though the aggression of it is completely manufactured. 

"Fine, fine," Jake says, holding his hands up. "You can have him for a few more minutes, but then it's my turn again."  

"How is that fair?" 

"It's fair because he is my godson." 

You pout at Jake, and he pouts back." I can't believe you're going to be a baby hog like this. Don't you know sharing is caring?" 

"Jackson isn't a rental car, sweetheart. Can't just hand him out to anybody."

"So what? You don't trust me with him?" 

"No," Jake says, suddenly dropping all of his dry, teasing tone. "Of course, I trust you with him. Of course, I trust you."

Jake steps closer when he says this, crowding a bit into your personal space. His sea glass green eyes hold you in place, and you don't think you imagine that they flick downwards, that he has his sights set on your lips, that Jake could be considering kissing you. However, a breath later, he is swooping Jackson out of your arms and into his own, quickly back peddling. 

"You can have the baby back after I feed him, okay? I don't want to risk him throwing up on that pretty blouse you've got on." 

"Kidnaper! Baby Snatcher!" You half gasp, half yell, and start to chase after Jake as he runs away, holding Jackson close and carefully but still managing to evade you.  

You're both laughing, and Jackson has started joyfully screeching as well when the doorbell rings, startling all three of you. Jake hands Jackson to you wordlessly before going to check who's at the door. It only takes a minute for him to come back with Coyote in tow. Who immediately rushes to sweep his baby from your arms and press kisses all over his cherub face. 

After Javy examined his son to ensure nothing was out of sorts, he handed Jackson back to you to hold while he and Jake packed up all of his stuff and moved the car seat. This was only after he made a sly comment about how good you looked with a baby in your arms, though. 

When you are alone with Jackson again, you take a moment to admire yourself in the mirror hanging on the wall. It wasn't such a hard thing for you to imagine holding a baby, and it looking normal, like something right, especially when you start to picture one with Jake's features or one that would take more after you, possibly even some sweet mix. The feeling of casual want that started from seeing Jake when you first arrived suddenly twists into an unexpected ache and intense need. 

You expect it to let up, but it doesn't. Rather, the feeling smolders in you, burning hotter and hotter until it feels slightly consuming. Seeing Jake hug and kiss Jackson goodbye, promising they would spend another day together soon, nearly does you in. Heating your feelings from a low simmer to a roaring boil. 

When you and Jake finally sit down to actually have dinner, it gets a little hotter with every sip of wine you take. Every time that Jake smiles and his eyes crinkle around the edges, the way he asks about your failed date with the perfect mix of sympathy and care, even the way he reheated dinner, all adds to the fire. As Jake is starting to put away the leftovers from dinner, refusing to let you help, you can't keep it in anymore, and you boil over. 

"Jackson was so precious," you say, casually swirling the bit of drink you have left around in the glass.  

"Little mans is so fun. I love him. It's always a treat to babysit," 

"You were really great with him today." 

"Aw, thanks Doll. Now, what do you want to do with the rest of the night? Play a game, watch a movie? We can do anything you want."

"Anything I want?"

"Yes, ma'am," Jake says easily as he pops the lids of his pyrex container into place.  

"I want a baby." You say in a quick breath. You nearly slap your hand over your mouth in horror that had just jumped out of your mouth. You really haven't had enough wine to be this bold, but then again, maybe you were a little intoxicated on having seen Jake be so domestic. 

"What?" he asks with a laugh, probably thinking he misheard you. You grip the edge of the cool countertop trying to steady your nerves and prevent your hands from shaking. 

"Jake, I want a baby," you tell him more slowly, making sure each word comes out clearly. 

"No, you don't," he laughs, shaking his head. He starts tossing dirty dishes into the sudsy water of the sink and stacking up the food containers to put in the fridge. Jake turns away from you before saying, "I thought you've said you didn't want kids."

"It's complicated," you explain softly. "Are people not allowed to change their minds about things anymore?" 

"Oh, so are you debating or like —"

"I don't really know how to say this more clearly. I want to have a baby with you, Jake." 

He freezes. You see his shoulders tense, and he stares into the fridge for a long moment, slowly finishing storing the leftovers. When he closes the fridge, he still doesn't look at you immediately. 

"You want me to be the father of a child you have? You want to have my baby?" Jake asks you incredulously. You gulp, now feeling entirely too vulnerable to speak, so you just nod in agreement instead. Jake's eyes are piercing, and his body language is tense as he stands in front of the sink again. He heaves a heavy sigh, his lips flattening into a tight line. Then he scrubs his hands over his face before narrowing his eyes at you, "This is not a very funny joke." 

"It's not a joke, Jake. I want a baby, and I know you would be a good father." When Jake's demeanor still doesn't change, you continue on hurriedly. "I think we could do the whole platonic coparent thing easily enough. We get along so well, and we're already such good friends." 

There is a long pause where he does not say anything, turning on the sink, waiting for the water to heat, and sudsing up a scrub daddy sponge. Only once this task is started does he answer you in a very stoic, perfectly level tone, "No, I don't think I can do that. I can't just sleep with you."

"Oh, well. I see. Forget that I asked, please." You mutter, embarrassed but trying to not let the sting of rejection affect your tone. You knew that this could backfire, but you didn't think it would feel this bad. Feel like the pit of your stomach falling so low you are almost nauseous. 

"I'm sorry, Dolly." 

"It's okay, Jake, really. It's just the wine getting to me."

"Are you going to ask someone else?" 

"What?" 

"Are you going to ask someone else to give you a baby?" Jake asks in a gruff tone. 

You wouldn't actually, you wouldn't want one without Jake. In fact, this urge to have a child came from seeing him. However, you didn't know how else to play off your out-of-pocket request than to commit to the bit. Nonchalantly, you say, "Maybe." 

"I could help you find someone," he offers. 

"Please, Jake. It's okay you said no. You don't have to try and fix my situation."

He practically ignores you, asking, "What about Rooster?"

"I'm sure that I would have fun with the process," you say. Jake, who has focused himself with dedication on the dishes, looks up at you sharply. He quickly looks away again as you continue, "I'd be worried about having a baby that's born with a full mustache, though. So, no, thank you." 

"I'm sure Fritz would be happy to help you out." 

"No —"

"Harvard—" 

"No Hangman. Stop," You say much harder with emphasis, cutting him off and leaving no room for argument. 

"I tell you no for one thing, and suddenly I'm Hangman to you?"

"No, you're Hangman when you disregard the people around you, no matter what they say. You're Hangman when you decide something's a mission objective, and you refuse to let it go. This isn't your problem to fix or one to pawn off on one of your friends." 

"You made it my problem when you just asked me to give you a baby," Jake says, frustrated. Roughly scrubbing the dishes, rinsing, and setting them in the drying rack. 

"Well, the moment you said no, it's not your problem anymore. I'm absolving you of responsibility. It's my problem, and I will find someone for myself to put up with me, at least for a night." You joke, trying to lighten the mood again, not wanting to ruin the whole night from this mishap. Jake doesn't react more than his face darkening significantly, a deep frown pulling at his lips as he rinses the last dish and closes the dishwasher. 

"Put up with you?" He asks, his eyebrows knitting together. Jake reaches for a dish towel to dry off his hands, and you're momentarily distracted by the thick fingers and web of veins tracing up his arm. It's a better sight than meeting Jake's intense eyes, those eyes that can stare you down and leave no room for you to hide. 

"I mean, I know I'm a lot, but I think even I can get someone to fuck me once or twice. If I want and am very lucky, I'll only need one night. There are also other options, of course, like sperm banks and adoption. Let's just let it go. Okay?" When you don't get an immediate response, you glance at Jake once more. He is staring at you, but it's not a look you like. He's looking at you like you are a problem to be fixed, a puzzle to solve, an item to take off his to-do list. So you force a chuckle out and smile.  

"I don't think I want to. Actually, I can't let this conversation go." 

"We have to," you insist. 

"Why?"

"Because Jakers, it doesn't have anywhere else to go. I expressed a stupid desire without thinking. It was awkward, and that's okay. It doesn't have to stay that way, though. Now we laugh and forget it. There is no other option." 

"A lot. Put up with. Stupid desires," Jake scoffs the words as he rounds the kitchen island. He spins the bar stool chair you're sitting on by the back, turning you to face him. Then he sets his hands on the marble countertop on either side of you, effectively boxing you in. Even sitting on the tall bar stool, you have to tilt your head a bit to look up at him. When your eyes meet again, the green isn't as soft or kind as you're expecting. "I don't like how you're talking about yourself right now." 

"I'm just being honest. I'm taxing to deal with; people get tired of me. My past relationships have certainly taught me that I'm only desirable under the right conditions. And I am stupid. I just ruined our whole night because I couldn't keep my mouth shut. What kind of normal person asks one of their best friends to fuck a baby into them unprompted?"

"Oh wow, I'm not even sure where to start with all that." Jake breathes. You can't take seeing his furrowed brow and disappointed frown. So instead, you examine his right arm that's stretched by you, mapping out the moles and freckles there. "You've developed a warped sense of the truth, Doll."  

It's your turn to scoff and roll your eyes. When you do, the arm you've been studying shifts, and Jake cups your cheek. Gently, he urges your face to turn back towards his, and a calloused thumb sweeps across your cheekbone. "Listen to me good now. The things you want and desire they ain't stupid, and neither are you. You're not too much. You're just enough."

"Thank you, Jake." You whisper. And while his words are kind, you don't really believe them.  

"Don't say thank you."

"What else am I supposed to say?"

"Say you believe me and mean it," Jake urges you. 

"I don't want to lie to you. That's not who we are, that's not our friendship," You say. Jake's hand drops from your cheek, and he steps back quickly as if he's been burned. After you had been so surrounded by him, you nearly reach out to urge him close again. Running a hand through his hair, you can tell he's resisting the urge to pace. 

"Is that our friendship, one built on honesty?" 

"I thought so." 

"Then I've failed you, and I've failed us because it's not." 

"Jake, what are you talking about?" You ask him, confused. He shakes his head at you and doesn't respond, instead backing away further until he is abandoning you in the kitchen. Swiftly, you stand to follow him, "Where are you going?" 

"I'm leaving." 

"And going where? This is your house," you remind him. You've caught up to him in the doorway of his bedroom, where he's grabbing a hat and his wallet. "I'm sorry I ruined tonight, and I'll leave. You have to be honest with me before I do, though. I have to know we're going to be okay tomorrow." 

"I can't," Jake says tersely, not meeting your eyes and attempting to sidestep you in the doorway. 

"I was wrongly under the impression there wasn't anything you couldn't do, Hangman. But I guess we are finding a lot of things you just can't do tonight, aren't we?" You aren't expecting the little lash out of a taunt to get you anywhere. Jake is normally always calm, cool, and collected, acting with decisive precision. However, nearly as soon as you've finished speaking, Jake's hands are on your arms, and he backs you up until you gently hit the wall of the hallway across from his door. 

"You're asking for more self-restraint than I have, Doll." He warns roughly. The sudden movement doesn't make you back down like he was probably expecting. Instead, the rush makes you feel emboldened. 

"I don't care. I can accept you don't want a baby with me, that you don't want to fuck me. I can accept that you want to force me to talk, but I can't accept you making me question our friendship." 

"Oh god. You really don't understand. My honesty is not going to make this better," he warns. 

"Yes, I do. Whatever it is, please tell me. I can think of many things you could be referring to, like that I'm not attractive to you. How I would make a terrible mother. Maybe I'm not a good friend. Or you don't actually like spending time with me. Whatever it is, you have to tell me. I've never thought you would lie to me. So, I need to know, or it's going to drive me crazy." 

"There you are, all twisted up again," Jake sighs. 

"And whose fault is that?" You snap back. Jake still has you pressed against the wall, so you set your hands on his broad chest with the intention of pushing him away. However, he doesn't budge; in fact, he does the opposite, coming even closer so he is flush against you. You refuse to tilt your chin to look up at him as he looms, rather only lifting your eyes in a cold stare. "I shouldn't be surprised that you're going to leave me hanging to dry, but you could at least —"

You don't get to finish the thought because a hand has snaked to hold the side of your neck, thumb tucking under your chin, turning your face upwards to Jake's waiting lips. The first brush of his lips on yours doesn't line up quite right, but that doesn't stop your breath from catching. Shifting to get a better angle, Jake applies two more feather light kisses. Your hands, which are still resting on his chest, creep up, and you loop them around his shoulders, using the leverage to lift higher on your toes and get closer to him. 

This prompts him to deepen his next kiss, lips moving harder against yours. When you open your mouth wider in invitation, Jake's tongue traces along your bottom lip but doesn't dive in. You whine when Jake pulls away to take a breath. 

"Forgive me, Doll, I should've asked first." 

"Asked what?" You wonder, not moving your eyes away from his lips and strategizing how to get them back on yours. You think if you could just get a little higher, you would be able to kiss him without Jake needing to bend down so much. 

"May I kiss you?" He asks. 

"Yes, please." You answer immediately. You tug your hold on his shoulders, hoping it will urge him to get right back to it. Jake doesn't, though. His hand shifts from your neck to cup your cheek again, his other leaving the wall to settle on your waist. 

"Can I touch you?"

"Yes, Jake." His hand traces up your side from your waist and back down again in what is a soothing motion. It's too soft and delicate for what you want right now, though, so you tug on his neck again, pressing your chest into his. He gives in this time, molding his lips to yours once more. 

When his tongue meets yours, a low rumble emulates from Jake's chest, and the sound sends a new wave of arousal coursing through you. Reaching up, you push off Jake's hat, not caring where it falls, only that it's no longer in your way. When you thread your fingers into his hair, it's smooth and silky, providing no resistance when you tug it. 

"Tell me what you want, Doll," Jake says when your lips part again. 

"You. I want you," you whimper, tugging his hair again. A wide grin breaks across Jake's face, and his eyes crinkle around the edges. He tucks his face into your neck, and you can still feel him smiling. 

"What else do you want?" He questions. When his lips brush a spot that makes you stretch your neck to give him easier access, he nips it lightly. You stumble, coming up with a response, just sighing his name as he finds another spot to bite. "Come on now, you said it so pretty earlier. Tell me again."

Once his request processes through your lust filled brain, you push on Jake's shoulders once more. This time, he doesn't resist, backing away from you and creating some space between your heated bodies. Sagging against the wall, you try to catch your breath while examining Jake. His hair is disheveled now, some of it falling across his forehead. 

"You said no, you don't want that with me. You don't want this with me," You answer, finally dropping your gaze to examine the grain of the hardwood floor near your feet. Confusion at this sudden turn in attitude from him settles over you as your head clears. One of Jake's hands enters your field of vision, turned upwards in an offering. "Come sit, we need to set some things straight." 

Taking Jake's hand, he curls his fingers with yours and gently tugs you back through the doorway of his room. With his direction, you perch on the edge of his four poster bed. Jake presses a kiss to the back of your hand and lets it go to settle on the accent chair that's in the corner. 

"We'll be honest, right?" You say hesitantly, already missing the feeling of Jake's hand in yours. 

"Yes. I'll be honest." Jake answers reassuringly before continuing, "From the beginning, I never wanted to be friends with you. 

"You didn't?" 

"Nope," he says, popping the p. "I never wanted to be friends, and then once we were friends, I was stuck. You didn't seem to want the same things as I did, and I'm not the kind of man to complain about the friend zone."

"I haven't friend you zoned you," you say, scandalized at the suggestion. 

"Just earlier tonight, you asked me to have a baby with you, platonically," Jake deadpans. 

"Because I can't conceptualize you wanting me any other way." 

"I want you. I've always wanted you, but not platonically, baby." 

Baby. Jake was a casual sweet name user, there was doll, sweetheart, honey, darling, those all were commonplace, but baby was new. Hearing it makes butterflies erupt in your stomach. He called you baby, and he has wanted you. You could have had him from the start if your fears and insecurities hadn't held you back. 

"I'm sorry," you whisper. 

"I don't want you to be sorry. I want you to need me, to love me," Jake explains with more hesitation than you've ever heard from him as if he is tip-toeing through this conversation. Worrying your fingers together, you have to take a calming breath to settle your own hesitation before answering him, "Well, that's easy because I do."  

A gleeful grin stretches across his face, and it's so bright you feel a matching one appear. He rubs a hand over his face, hiding it from view for a moment, and when you see his face again, he is still smiling. He looks as if he is trying to bite it back but can't quite manage. 

"Well, alright, a few more things we have to iron out then. I love spending time with you. You've never not been desirable to me." You can't help a disbelieving laugh when Jake says that, and the look he gives you is disapproving. "I mean that. I was thinking about it even the time I came over to bring you soup when you had the flu. Wanted to bundle you up and crawl into bed with you." 

"Oh, come on, that can't be true. I was so gross." 

"It is. I promised I would be honest, and I'm not going to be breaking any of the promises I make to you. Can you believe that?" 

You study his face, tracing over his nose, and jaw. He still has the hint of a grin that hasn't slid off his features yet, and he looks so very earnest. You can't imagine that Jake would be in the business of lying to you, and the openness he is offering makes it feel like you can believe him. That you can keep trusting him just like you always have. "I can believe that."

"Great. So, baby —" 

"Yes?" You say entirely too breathily before he can even finish the sentence. It was really a surprise how much hearing him say that already turned your brain to some form of liquid. 

"I want to sleep with you," Jake says plainly. 

"Then why are you all the way over there?" 

"I didn't want you to feel any sort of pressure while we were talking, and wasn't confident I could keep my hands to myself." 

Standing up from his bed, you walk steadily over to the chair Jake is sitting in. Crawling into his lap more confidently than you truly feel, his hands automatically slip around your waist, steading you against him. Holding eye contact with him, you say, "I don't want you to keep your hands to yourself." 

"Fuck, you're going to kill me," he sighs, tightening his hold on you. You go to kiss him again, but when you do, he blurts out, "I don't have any STDs or STIs." His cheeks stain a little pink, and he looks as surprised by the declaration as you are. 

"That's good to know. I'm clean too," you inform him. 

"Good to know. I just thought it was important to put it out there. Got to do safety checks first and everything. I don't want us to have any questions or be unsure about anything, and it's important to consider all the factors involved with —" Jake's rambling comes to a halt when you dip your face into his neck, kissing at the underside of his jaw softly. 

"Jake," you say, linking your arms around his neck and playing with the short hair there. "Will you give me a baby?" 

"Fuck, Doll. I promise to give you anything you want. The ring, the house, the baby. It's yours." 

You don't waste any time kissing him. When your lips meet, all the hesitancy and nervousness that Jake had while you were talking melts away. His mouth confidently teases yours open for his tongue to quickly follow. Your hands thread into Jake's hair again as his start to roam your back, sides, and arms. When you wiggle closer on his lap, he groans and grabbing a handful of your ass, lifting you up. Jake stands easily and walks you back to the bed. 

He doesn't drop you on the bed like you're expecting. Instead, he sets you down gently, one of his hands cradling the back of your head as he does. Laying on your back with Jake standing over you reminds you just how large and broad he is. 

With surprisingly little fanfare, he pulls off his shirt and tosses it to the side. Jake shirtless is not a new sight; in fact, it's a tantalizing one you've seen too often. He has every right to be proud of his body, you know how much time he dedicates at the gym. So it shouldn't be a surprise that, never one to be self conscious, Jake hardly could be found wearing a shirt if the situation didn't require it. However, you realize this is the first time that you don't just have to look but can also touch. 

Wanting to get the nervousness of undressing out of the way, you sit up, quickly discarding your shirt and tossing it aside. Before you can shimmy out of your bottoms, Jake's large hands are on your wrists, stopping you. 

"You're doing my job," he chastises huskily. Jake is slow and meticulous in removing your clothes, running his hands over all the skin that's exposed to him. When he pulls off your bra, leaving you only in your panties, he just sits back and stares for a moment. Such intense scrutiny from his gaze has you covering your chest, crossing your legs, and looking away. 

"I wasn't planning on sleeping with anyone tonight," you mutter, knowing that you don't have the sexiest underwear on and perhaps were not as physically prepared for this intimacy as you would like. 

"Good," he says lowly. "No one else is going to get to see you like this anymore." Grabbing an ankle in each big hand, he spreads you out for him. He slides off your panties so you're completely bare, and takes up his staring once more. "Ain't you fucking gorgeous?" Jake mutters and you realize he ain't talking about you necessarily; he's talking to your pussy. Whining his name gets Jake to shove off his sweatpants, leaving him in a pair of dark grey boxer briefs as he crawls over your body. 

As he kisses you again, your hands greedily explore his exposed skin. His chest hair proving to be much softer than you had imagined it, and his shoulders are taut as he holds himself up. While Jake's lips move with yours, you use a leg to encourage him to ease more of his weight into you, seeking friction. Kissing down your neck he lavishes attention to your breasts, licking and sucking his way across your skin. 

"You know, I was too busy to make dessert," he says when he reaches your core. One of his hands teasingly traces all around the skin. Placing a kiss on your inner thigh, he asks, "Do you mind filling in?" 

"Jake, you don't need to." You say, trying not to squirm when his fingers dip between your lips. 

"I want to. Do you not want me to?" 

"I know it's not everyone's thing," you answer, giving him an out. 

"It's my thing," Jake says. His eyes lock onto the cleft of you, and he licks his lip, biting at the bottom one. Reaching up, he grabs one of your hands and brings it up to his hair, encouraging you to thread your fingers there. His fingers that are teasing you spread you open more, and he groans, "Oh yeah you're my thing." 

Jake's tongue traces over you, probing until he finds the spot that makes your hips jump. Once Jake finds your clit he doesn't waste his time. Widening his mouth, he latches on and sucks. While he starts gently, he ramps up to sucking hard and twisting his tongue as he does. When you pull at his hair, he moans encouragingly.

"More," you request tugging his hair gently. Jake listens, sliding a finger into you. Whispering praise into your thighs about how pretty you are and how good you taste. You don't know how long Jake spends between your thighs, but he doesn't seem to be in any hurry. He sucks and licks, fucking his finger into you until the sound is sloppy and wet. He slips a second finger in, stretching you, occasionally scissoring them wider open in you. 

Even when you are whining and gasping, working against Jake's tongue, he doesn't let up. You don't have the mind to worry how you're trying to suffocate him with your thighs, which he keeps pushing back open with no complaints. All that you can focus on is Jake, how good he is making you feel, and how close you're getting. It's a matter of time until you're shuddering and falling apart for him.  

Continuing to lavish attention even as you jerk with sensitivity, Jake seems content to keep eating you out. You try to pull him away by his hair, but he just licks into you harder. "Jake, enough," you whine, trying to wiggle away from his mouth.

 "I haven't had my fill yet, Doll," he says, pulling his mouth off you but not going far, pressing wet kisses to your thighs. 

"I haven't even seen your cock yet, and I don't know why it isn't in me." You say, trying to reason with him. It doesn't come out very strong, though as Jake's fingers curl in you, making your cunt flutter. 

"Patience is a virtue," he teases.

"Being virtuous isn't really at the forefront of my mind at the moment."

Jake sighs dramatically and presses one more kiss to your pussy before sitting back on his haunches. You can see the hard outline of him in his briefs as he gets off the bed. You watch his every move closely, more than ready to finally see him naked.

However, Jake is clearly taking some sort of joy from making you wait, because he detours to start picking up your hastily thrown clothing. As he is laying them out on the chair, you lose your patience. Grabbing one of his decorative pillows, you throw it at him. It smacks him between his shoulder blades before dropping to the floor with a thunk. 

Spinning to face you, Jake crosses his arms over his chest, making his biceps bulge, his eyebrow raised. "Did you just hit me with a pillow?" 

"No, I wouldn't do that," You deny trying to look innocent. Jake tsks at you, picking up the makeshift weapon and setting that neatly on the chair as well. 

"Being desperate for my cock isn't an excuse to misbehave, baby." 

"Big talk for someone who still hasn't shown it to me. It's okay if you don't have a pretty dick, Jake. It won't change how I feel. I'm still going to want you to fuck me."  

Goading someone into action was a wonderful tactic you had learned over the course of your friendship with Jake. Something he easily did with others, and something tonight that it proved was just as effective against him because he doesn't even respond to your words. Sliding off his underwear, his dick springs free. He's hard from eating you out, and just from the first glance you get, it's clear there isn't one thing for him to be self-conscious about. 

The fleshy pink length is nestled among dark hair, and the size of him is nothing to dismiss. It's a very symmetrical cock, lining up nicely with his balls and adonis belt. Bouncing a bit as he gets back on the bed, you can't bring yourself to look away. You know he is going to fill you so deliciously. When he's finally close enough for you to touch, you hesitate though. 

"Speechless?" Jake wonders, with no ounce of shame or self-consciousness present. 

"Can I touch?" You ask. Jake nods, taking your hand and bringing it to your mouth. You suck a few of your fingers in, wetting them with your spit. Then he guides your hand to his dick, encouraging you to wrap it around him. Jake's hand covers yours for the first few strokes, showing you what he likes, but then it falls away, letting you explore. He grunts when you trace one of the veins that runs along the side, following it down to cup his balls. He allows your teasing for a few more strokes before he pulls you close, kissing you hard. 

The hard planes of Jake's naked body pressed against yours is nearly too much. He is so close and yet not close enough. With some gentle maneuvering, Jake is in between your legs and checking that the position is comfortable for you. Jake runs his length through your lips, the head bumping into your clit. Despite all the encouragement and build up, he's still not in a hurry. When his cock is wet from you, it starts to slide effortlessly. Losing your patience, you cup Jake's face, making him look you in the eyes. 

"Jake, fuck me now. Please." You say. He nods, kissing you slowly. Then finally, he grabs his cock lining himself up and pushing the tip into you. When his pelvis meets yours, he holds himself there, your breaths mingling together in light pants as he stretches you out. The time he gives you to stretch and adjust is necessary, but once you have, Jake fills you deliciously. 

"How're you feeling baby?" He asks. Your thumb moves across his cheekbone, soothing until the worry lines between his eyebrows disappear. Only responding when you know you're okay and so is he, "Perfect. Feel so full of you."

"I'll fill you up," Jake promises. 

"Yeah?" You ask. He hums his agreement and rocks his hips against your experimental, drawing a small gasp from you. 

"Promise," he says, starting a lazy punctuated rhythm, moving his hips against yours. Your hands explore the skin of his back as he thrusts into you. You hike a leg up on Jake's hips, letting him get a little deeper in you. The action makes him moan, and he pulls your other leg up around his hip, too. 

Hooking your ankles together, you use the leverage to encourage Jake to fuck into you faster. Digging your heels into his ass and lifting your hips up to meet each of his thrusts increases the heat boiling between you. His face falling into your neck, Jake starts whispering dirty praise about how good you feel around him and how long he's been dreaming about this. 

Stamina clearly isn't something that Jake is lacking in. He fucks you until you are both dripping with sweat, and you are begging for him noncoherently, unable to process anything but how good his cock feels. He maintains a steady rhythm, snapping his hips to meet yours the whole time. 

"You feel so good. Want to get you there again. What do you need?" Jake pants huskily. 

"Harder," you answer shakily, snaking your hand to play with your clit. You're close, and you know it's not going to take much more for you to get there with how long Jake's been building you up. He listens, slamming his hips more pointedly into you, grinding his pelvis every time he bottoms out. 

Huffing, Jake pulls out of you a few minutes later. Making you cry out wantonly, reaching for his retreating body. He takes a moment to kiss both your hands that he unhooks from his neck. Then, shushing you gently, he grabs a pillow and lifting your hips, he slides it under them.

"It's okay, just a little better angle." He explains to you. You flop back on the bed, content to have Jake manhandle you any which way he wants if it means he'll be in you again.  

"Oh, you're such a needy thing, aren't you?" He asks, as your cunt clenches around nothing, empty and wanting him. His fingers dipping in to play with the wet dripping from you. A flash of shame passes through you as he asks that. You drop your arms that had been reaching out for him back to the bed, and you screw your eyes shut, turning your face to the side looking away from him. 

Jake had already got you to cum once, and it was possible he didn't want you all over him as he was trying to get off now. Preferences were probably something y'all should have talked about more in depth before jumping into intimacy. You didn't want him to think you were overly needy or hard to please. You didn't want to ruin what you and Jake could have the very first time together. Noticing the shift in your enthusiasm Jake immediately stops pressing his cock into you, worriedly asking, "What's wrong?" 

"Nothing," you answer, staring up at the ceiling looking for patterns there. It's easier to play this off if you don't have to look at him; easier if you don't have to acknowledge the unexpected, unwelcome swell of emotion that's overcoming you. 

"Doll, look at me." He orders you, but you shake your head, refusing. Jake grips your chin, tilting your face to meet his eyes. They are intense studying you intently, completely focused on you. "The honesty we just promised each other needs to extend to sex nearly more than anywhere else going forward with this relationship," Jake says seriously. His hard dick is pressed against your thigh, and you don't know how he's able to have such a level-headed conversation considering the circumstances, just having been balls deep in you a minute ago. "So, what's wrong?" 

"I don't want to be too high maintenance or needy," You sigh, trying to work through your words. Knowing this conversation is important, but also not completely sure how to express what you're feeling. "Sometimes I might seem needy, or maybe I could take a while to cum or not at all, which wouldn't be a reflection of you. I don't want you to think, well, I don't want to be too much for you to change your mind about this, and now I'm ruining the mood with a dumb fucking insecurity."

"Stop," Jake says gently, but leaving no room for argument. "You haven't ruined anything. I'm sorry I called your pussy needy. I didn't know it would make you feel this way. Can I tell you something, though, Doll?" When you give a hesitant nod, Jake's voice drops so low it's nearly gravelly. "I want you to be needy. I want your pussy desperate for my cock, desperate for my cum. I want you as desperate for me as I am for you." 

"You're desperate for me too?"

"Frantically and wildly so." He answers easily. Then he asks with his thumb ghosting over your nub, "Are we okay? Is this still okay?" 

"Yeah, this is good," You sigh, enjoying the zing that runs up your back when he nudges your clit more pointedly. 

Jake grabs his cock, giving it a few languid strokes before he guides it back into you. You push your hips up to meet him. The new angle that the pillow gives him leverage to hit somewhere that's just a delicious feeling. As he rocks into you, his thumb maintains its place on your clit. Your fear of the mood having been ruined proves wrong as the coil in your core quickly builds, pushing you near the edge once more. 

"Cum in me, Jake, please. Give me a baby," you request, your thighs quivering as you near your orgasm. 

As his hips snap nearly frantically, Jake rolls your clit over in nearly the same rhythm. He moans your name a minute later, falling over the edge and spilling inside of you. Though his hips stutter to a stop leaving himself fully seated in you, he continues working over your clit. It doesn't take long until you're dissolving into pleasure along with him. 

The ripples run through your body, and you feel every muscle tense and relax, turning into jelly. Jake grunts when you spasm around him but doesn't move or pull out until you've fully melted into the bed on the downward crest of your peak. 

When he does pull out, he doesn't go far, shifting enough to spoon you. Settling behind you, Jake pulls you close to his chest, wrapping you tight in his arms. His hand is tracing lazy patterns on your hip and occasionally venturing to the soft skin of your belly. You don't have the mind to be self-conscious at the moment, still a little too blissed out. It takes significant brain power to process his question when he asks, "Do you actually want to have a baby?" 

"Do you?" You wonder. 

"You can't answer a question with a question," Jake chastises you. Turning in his arms so you are sprawled against his chest, you snuggle close, nuzzling him affectionately. 

"Do you know how it was seeing you with Jackson today?" You ask him. 

"If it was even half of how it felt seeing you hold him, then I'm sorry." 

"Whatever you felt, double it. Triple it even." You say lightly. "It was enough for me to ask my friend, who I thought could never want me, for a baby." 

"I do want you," Jake immediately reassures you. 

"Thank goodness for baby fever, then. Because at least now we know we want each other," you reason, slowly starting to draw mindless patterns of your own against his skin. 

Jake heaves a sigh and strokes his hand down your back, wondering, "Was this just baby fever?" 

"No," you answer after thinking about it for a long span of silence. "I would have a baby with you. It seems right. I want that, I think." You can feel the relief in his body, hearing that, all his tension easing into relaxation. 

"Good," is the only response he gives you, kissing the crown of your head. You expect more but don't get it. Rather, Jake seems content to just bask in the afterglow. That doesn't seem to be too bad an idea, so you close your eyes, listening to his steady heartbeat.  

When you wake up from your impromptu nap, you're not alone in bed. However, you are now under the covers of a different comforter than there was before, and Jake is no longer acting as your pillow. He is on the other side of the bed, but his hand is stretched out, grazing the middle of your back. 

Rolling to face him, you admire the sight he makes stretched out on the bed, leaning against the headboard. Jake's got a book open, folded in half, clearly abusing the book's binding just so he can have one hand on you. When he notices you sleepily admiring him, Jake shoots you a soft smile. 

"Hey baby," he whispers. 

"Hi," You whisper back scooting closer to him and grab the hand that had been touching you, threading your fingers together. 

"Let's go on a date," Jake suddenly springs on you, squeezing your hand. 

"I would love that," you respond, feeling giddy as butterflies erupt in your stomach. "Want something first, though."

"I already told you I would give you anything you want, and I meant it," Jake says, setting his book on his bedside table and giving you his full attention. 

"Good, because I want round two and a shower, which hopefully has round three involved." 

"Your wish is my command," Jake says easily. You move even closer to him so your lips are only a breath apart. "I meant it, the ring, the house, the baby. I can make it all happen by tomorrow." 

"Let's start with breakfast in bed," you say, kissing him hard. When your lips hardly touch because you're both smiling too wide, well, that actually makes it feel all the better. 

[hysteria-things]

SINFUL DESIRES (part two)

read part one here

read part three here

read part four here

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: dom!nate x reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: of course the two of you still “hate” each other. although, it’s not just the sex. you both know that.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: SMUT, swearing, p in v, spanking, praising, possessiveness, hair pulling, video, pet names (pretty)

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 661

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: ask for part two and you shall receive part two!

i’m a lover for nathan. that is all.

jerset part ib jersey by @worldlxvlys :)

the spring breeze hits you, making your hair flow in the wind. your best friend dragged you to a lacrosse game, where you know who plays. she knows you hate him, but she always says that you need to ‘live the high school experience.’

right now, your best friend’s mouth hangs open with utter shock. the game hasn’t started yet, so this seemed like the right time to spill the beans. “you’re telling me that nate — the person you despise — showed up at your house two weeks ago and fucked the shit out of you?”

“yup.” you exhale. “i couldn’t look at my parents for a week. told them i was watching porn and it accidentally connected to my speaker, but i don’t think they believed me.”

“holy shit.” she laughs.

you stand up from the bleachers, shoving your hands in your pockets. “i’m going to the snack stand before they come out. you want anything?”

she shakes her head. “no thanks.”

you step down the bleachers and head to the snack stand. the line isn’t long, thank goodness.

as you approach, a hand grabs your forearm and pulls you to the side. you startle at the contact.

nate’s grinning in front of you, all geared up and ready to play. “nate, what the hell?!” you scream, looking up and down his body.

your eyes start at where his eyeblack is, then to his jersey with the number 8 on it, and lastly to his cleats.

ah, shit.

“hi.” he waves in your face.

you roll your eyes. this kid.

he starts to fidget with your hoodie strings. this is the most confused you probably ever been in your life. “you coming over tonight?” he asks.

you stare blankly at him waiting for more information, but of course, he doesn’t give any. “for what?”

he shrugs. “to hang out.”

“fu-uck!” you moan as nate rails into you from behind, your ass red from the few times he spanked it. the remains of your last orgasm still make a mess on your thighs.

he has you bent over his desk, his hands bunching up the bottom of his jersey that he put on you.

somerville won the game, and according to him, this was his reward. you are his reward.

his eyes are focused on the DOE right above his jersey number. you’re wearing his name, and he’s making sure you know it.

you’re on your tippy toes, each thrust making you quiver with pleasure. your nails claw at the wood beneath you.

“jesus,” he whispers, grabbing his phone so he can record what you look like with his name on. he’s so fucking fascinated by it.

he grips onto your hair. “you look so beautiful getting fucked in my jersey, don’t you think?”

“mhm,” you grumble, your eyes threatening to cross.

he grips tighter, giving you a little spank. “use your words, pretty.”

“y-yes. i—” you’re cut off by a whimper when his tip hits that familiar spot inside of you. “gonna c-cum, nate.”

you squeeze around him as your pussy squelches, threatening to spew your liquid. he groans. “clenching around me so tight.”

you scream when he starts to go faster, hitting inside you deeper than before. your whole body trembles when you spread your cum around his dick. “there you go… that’s it.”

he shoots into the condom short after you, pulling out and throwing it in the trash can that’s set on the floor next to the desk. he places his phone back down.

he turns you around and leans in, kissing you passionately on the lips. he hums before pulling away. “i hate how much i like you.”

you smirk, but the blush on your cheeks gives you away. “i hate how much i like you, too.”

later that night while you’re in bed, you get a text message. you gasp when you open it.

nate.

[attachment: 1 video]

just a reminder

sweet dreams, pretty

𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

@bunbunbl0gs @lexisecretaccx @thy-mission @angelic-sturniolos111 @sophssturn @mattsneezing @janiellasblog @blahbel668 @meg-sturniolo @hearts4chris @mattslolita @sturnbaby @imwetforyourmom

[shoebillstork]

Mutual 1: (An extremely extensive post detailing their trauma on their secret blog)

Mutual 1: (A picture of the soup they finished making) Eeatting penis soup grab a bowl

Mutual 2: (Cropped batman yaoi) This scene was so compelling in the comics qnd established so much for Bruce Waynes character as a bottom

Mutual 3: Just updated my comic (it is one of the most compelling pieces of narrative youve ever read. Its based off of a bad game)

Mutual 4: Ngl this omegaverse gacha life youtube video is more compelling than most shows i watch

Mutual 5: Finally cocking out i swear if one more thing happens today i will snap

Mutual 6: PENIS TYPO

Mutual 7: PENIS TYPO

Mutual 8: PENIS TYPO

Mutual 9: This yak tranquilizer weak af

Mutual 10: Come make my sinister potion (posts how to make a pipebomb)

Mutual 11: Do i get plastic surgery and change my name and move to a different country y/n (poll is in favor of yes by a huge margin)

Mutual 12: Mutual 13 is a lying fucking piece of trash and i think they should drop dead. They live at 308 Negra Aroya Lane, Albuquerque, New Mexico, 87104 and im going to record me beating the shit out of them

Mutual 13: Aww my bestie is coming to visit me soon :]

(Mutual 12 and 13 are dating)

Mutual 14: who tf does she think she is (posts a sc of mutual 8 from three url changes ago. It is mutual 8 saying theyre going to the park)

Mutual 15: So in my latest session in dnd we rolled 1d12 for dick size and i rolled a nat 20 and idk what to do with this reponsibility now

Mutual 16: he looks so good im going to scream (a screenshot where said character is so far in the background he doesnt even have a face)

Mutual 17: eho up thinking about the moral dillemma presented in pokemon go

Mutual 18: take a look at my ocs :D (mona lisa if dhe was gay)

Mutual 19: i hadba really good day today i got to spend some time bonding with my entire family and we got to celebrate something we havent had the time for in 37 years

Mutual 20: (reblogging mutual 19) L + Don't care + 632146K~P PRC, dl.2146K~P, 5K > 2146K~P, 5K > JF 2146K~P, 2H, WS ([4]6H->P), 623H

Mutual 21: (Blurry photo of them running from police) they're after me for my stash kf yaoi cocaine

Mutual 22: (Miles long RP chain they started 2 months ago. You have post notification on for them because its awesome)

Mutual 23: Discussing the morality of liking bananas over mangoes

Mutuals 24 ans 25: having a dramatic wedding where theyre acting as a crack ship. They're on the verge of divorce

Mutual 26: She winding onbmy waker (is in the middle of intense controversy)

Mutual 27: (Callout for mutual 26)

Mutual 28: If Mutual 17 asked i would give them a sloppy toppy

Mutual 29: Anon get out of my inbox before j block you his ass is NOT flat. (His ass is fucking concave)

Mutual 30: Shes just like me fr (a picture kf a shopping cart)

[munson-blurbs]

Thot of the day: reader is obsessed with Eddie's lips, she has the biggest fattest crush on him, maybe he's a costumer in her cafe, they often speak/flirt and she watches him greedily, thinking about what those lips could do on her. She often fantasizes about making him sucking her fingers while she rides him. Well, she's determined to make him hers 🫠

Combined with this anon req:

Hello hello hello! I love your blog! may I please request a little smutty thing of Eddie losing his mind over fem reader having a tongue piercing when she's going down on him?

I took some liberties and made some changes so Eddie is more subby; hope that's okay!

Warnings: smut (18+ only, minors DNI!), oral (m! and f! receiving), unprotected p in v (wrap it up pls), teeny mention of breeding kink, subby!Eddie

WC: 2.5k

--

Eddie hadn’t even meant to meet you. 

He’d only stumbled into the café in a feeble attempt to get out of the pouring rain after the wind snapped his umbrella inside out. The goal was to get to the nearest McDonald’s for lunch, since he’d forgotten his sandwich at home, but the weather had other plans. 

“Shit shit shit,” he’d muttered, shaking out the umbrella haphazardly before giving up and chucking it in the trash. There was no way he was walking anywhere else, so he wiped his hands on his jeans—which were now stuck to his thighs—and approached the counter to get a better look at the menu. 

“What can I get for you?” A voice greeted him, coming out from behind the espresso machine. You gave him a small smile as you grabbed a notepad to jot down his order. 

“Um,” Eddie’s full attention was on you, rather than his food options. “Do you serve coffee here?” 

You gestured at the bags of coffee beans lining the counter. “What gave it away?” you’d asked, voice dripping with sarcasm. 

He could smack himself—it’s a café, of course there’s coffee. “I mean, I’ll have a large coffee, cream and sugar.” That’s what Wayne gets whenever they go to the diner, so he chooses the same. 

“Mhm,” you hummed, raising your eyebrows. “Anything to eat?” You pointed to the small chalkboard hanging behind you. “If you need help sounding out any of the words, let me know.” 

Eddie’s eyes widened. “Are you calling me dumb?” he’d balked. “What kind of customer service is this?” But he was smiling, and his silly, overly dramatic nature had you giggling. 

That’s when he saw it. 

The black stud, perfectly adorning the center of your tongue. It flicked against your teeth as you’d told him, “the chicken pesto panini is my favorite.” There was no response from the curly-haired metalhead before you. You’d squinted slightly, waving your hand in front of his face. “Hello? You good?”

“Wha—oh, yeah,” he’d stammered bashfully, breaking from his trance. “I’ll have that, then. The, uh, the chicken thing.”

“So, one coffee and one chicken thing?” you’d teased him. “And who’s this for?” 

Eddie furrows his brows in confusion. “It’s for me?” It comes out as a question. 

“And does ‘me’ have a name?” You laughed again. He didn’t even care that you were laughing at him, not with him. He’d say or do nearly anything to get a glimpse of your tongue and that godforsaken piercing. 

“Oh, uh, Eddie. Eddie is my name,” he says lamely. 

“Eddie. Got it.” You’d written his name on the side of the Styrofoam cup in permanent marker. He’d felt himself stiffen against his zipper when you’d said his name aloud. He wanted to hear you moan it, scream it, over and over. 

From that moment on, Eddie is totally smitten. He stops by the café for his coffee every morning on his way to work at the record store. The burgeoning caffeine addiction is worth getting to talk to you for just a few seconds. 

After a week of flustered half-conversations, he finally works up the nerve to ask you an actual question.

“Are you from around here? Like, from Hawkins?” It’s clunky and awkward, but it’s a start.

“Kinda?” You chuckle at his puzzled expression. “I lived here until my parents divorced when I was fourteen, right before I started high school. Then I went to live with my dad in Chicago until I started college last year.”

“That’s cool–I mean, it’s not cool that your parents split up, that sucks, but it’s cool that you lived in Chicago and go to college and stuff.” Good God, stop talking, Eddie wills himself, practically clamping his lips shut in an attempt to cut off his babbling. “What brings you back?”

You give an exasperated sigh. “My mom insisted I spend the summer with her; she wants to ‘reconcile our misgivings’ or whatever bullshit line Oprah fed her.” Eddie takes note of your eye roll when you speak about your mother. “So she set me up with this job while she drags me to family therapy once a week.” You pull a cup from the pile in front of you. “Your usual?”

“Yeah,” he says distractedly, trying to find another topic to keep the conversation from ending. “Where do you go to college?”

Your smile melts him, and he has to grip the counter to keep his knees from buckling. “The Pratt Institute. It’s in New York City,” you elaborate.

Eddie’s jaw drops. “No fuckin’ way!” he exclaims. “I’ve always wanted to go to New York, but to actually live there? That’s fuckin’ awesome!”

“My mom wasn’t thrilled,” you confess through gritted teeth. “She never liked that I wanted to pursue art as a career. It was always, ‘make it a hobby so you can get a real job.’” You slide his cup towards him. “It’s like, she disapproves of everything that I do: what I study, friends I hang out with, people I’ve dated.”

“Are you seeing anyone now?” The question spills out before he can think it through, hoping you don’t pick up on his eagerness.

You shake your head. “Single as ever,” you reply chipperly. “Why, you putting in an application?” Your tongue sneaks past your teeth, just enough to show off the piercing.

A blush creeps into Eddie’s cheeks at your proposition. “Maybe? If you’re interested? If not, I can just pay for my coffee and go.”

You tilt your head, musing his proposition. “I’d be lying if I said I was looking for something serious right now,” you begin, watching his shoulder sag dejectedly, “but my boss doesn’t get here for another hour, if you wanna fool around in the back?”

Eddie’s eyes almost pop out of his head. “You wanna fool around…with me?” He doesn’t wait for your response as he hoists himself over the counter, knocking over the stack of cups and the basket of sugar packets. “I’ll clean that up later,” he mumbles, dragging you to the door marked “employees only.” 

His hands are relentless, like he can’t decide where to put them first. First, he cups your cheeks as he presses his lips to yours, but determines that that’s too intimate for the occasion. He brings his palms up your shirt, messily groping at your tits through your bra. “S’perfect,” he growls as he bites your neck. You can feel him twitching in his jeans, and you grind up against him. The groan that leaves his mouth is downright pornographic. 

Your tongues intertwine as he pushes you against the door. He tastes like stale cigarettes and the sip of coffee he just had. His knee instinctively slips between your legs, angled perfectly for you to rub yourself on it. 

“You ever get head from someone with a tongue piercing before?” When he shakes his head dumbly, you take the opportunity to continue taunting him. “Oh, sweet boy; have you ever gotten head from anyone before?”

“N-No,” Eddie admits. “But I’d like to change that.”

You giggle at his candid confession, fingers toying with his belt buckle. He hisses at the mere brush of your hands against his clothed erection. Pulling his pants and boxers down as you drop to your knees, you watch in awe as his thick cock smacks against his stomach, leaving a pre-cum stain on his Dio shirt. “Damn, these Hawkins girls don’t know what they’re missing,” you tell him. You lean over, spitting on his pink tip and collecting the saliva back in your mouth as you lick up his shaft. 

The piercing feels like absolute heaven on the ridges of his dick. You trace along the vein as you take as much of him in your mouth as you can. He’s huge. 

“Holy shit, holy fuckin’ shit,” Eddie breathes, digging his ringed fingers into your hair. “Please keep going, please please please.”

Never one to turn down the chance to torture, you let go of his cock with a pop. “What was that, baby?” You give a mischievous smirk. 

Eddie looks like he’s about to cry at the loss of contact. “No, don’t stop; need you,” he whines, jutting out his lower lip reflexively. 

“Well, why didn’t you just say so?” You take him back in your mouth, sucking him off while playing with his balls. He’s not expecting that, and he bucks his hips into you, making you gag.

“‘M sorry,” he whispers, pulling back slightly to let you breathe. “Didn’t mean to…” He spins a ring on his finger anxiously.

“Maybe I like choking on you,” you murmur, grasping his softening length in your lithe fingers and pumping it, watching it stiffen in your hand. “You know what else I’d like?” He hums his response. “I’d like you to cum in my mouth. Y’think you can do that for me?”

You’re shocked when he shakes his head no. “I don’t wanna cum yet,” he mumbles, hoping you’ll get the hint. “Tryna hold out so, y’know…”

You lick your lips and sneer. “Honey, I bet you can get it back up in under five minutes, if that.” Swirling your tongue over his angry red tip, and grabbing his thighs, you bring him to his climax. He spills into your mouth, moaning your name so loudly you’re worried a rogue customer might hear. 

Eddie gently withdraws, and you part your lips to show him his cum on your tongue. The black stud makes the perfect centerpiece as you swallow his load.

A string of his cum lingers on your pointer and middle fingers. You consider it for a moment before bringing it to his lips. “You should taste yourself, Eddie,” you murmur. “Taste s’fucking good.” He opens his mouth obediently, sucking on your fingers harshly. His tongue tickles against them, and you shiver.

“You’re…oh my God,” he manages. “Is it too forward to say that you’re perfect?”

“I don’t care what you say, as long as you fuck me right now,” you growl into his ear. You can’t act like he’s the only needy one any longer. Ever since he’d walked into the café, drenched from the rain, you’d wanted him. Wanted his soft, pillowy lips on yours. Wanted him to sink his teeth into your skin until he left marks. Wanted him inside you, filling you up completely.

He nods his head, but the rest of his body seems to freeze in place. He snaps out of it as you bring his hands to the button on your skirt, quickly using his thick fingers to strip you of it and revealing black lace underwear. He practically falls to his knees, kissing your wet pussy through the cloth. 

“You’re fucking soaked.” Eddie can’t hide the awe in his voice, tugging at the fabric so roughly that it rips. “Oh, shit. ‘M sorry.”

“No, that was really hot,” you tell him breathlessly, mindlessly bringing your middle finger to your throbbing clit. Eddie pushes it away, running his tongue along your folds. He’s eager but timid, so you encourage him. “Fuck me with your tongue, baby. Oh, that’s it—right there,” you wail as he finds your hole. His thumb is rubbing frantic circles on your sensitive bud, not stopping until you cum so hard, your toes curl. 

“Fuck—yes—Eddie—I’m coming—f’you,” you manage, throwing your head back and biting your fist to muffle your screams. Sweat drips down the side of Eddie’s neck. “Worked so hard for me, didn’t you?” you coo, resuming your dominance. “C’mere; you ready to cum again?” His boner speaks for itself, twitching up against him. 

You lean your stomach against the cool countertop, mentally reminding yourself to sanitize it tonight. “‘S not ideal, but it’ll do,” you say. A lot of people want their first time to be in a bed, or on a beach, gazing lovingly into their partner’s eyes. Well, Eddie Munson was going to lose his virginity by fucking you from behind in the café kitchen, but you doubt he’s complaining. 

“I d-don’t have, um, protection.” He winces at his awkwardness, massaging the nape of his neck. 

“Relax. I’m on the pill.” When he shoots you a dubious glance, you laugh. “Do I look like I wanna have your babies?” His eyebrows raise at the thought of it. “Oookay, we’ll unpack that another time. For right now, for the love of God, put your dick inside me.”

“Yes ma’am.” Eddie sets himself behind you, sliding into your waiting pussy. “So tight; takin’ me so good.” He pinches his face together in ecstasy. 

You press your palms into the counter. “Harder. I l-like it rough.” He takes direction well, pistoning into you and grabbing your ponytail. “Yes, Eddie. Pull my hair. Fucking yank it.” You clench around his length as you feel the familiar strain on your scalp. 

“Can’t—hold—out,” Eddie groans. He wants to make you cum again, but his orgasm is just too close, and he finds himself spilling into you for the second time today. “Thassit. Take it. Take my cum, just like that.” He keeps thrusting even as he gets softer, fucking his seed into you. When he comes down from the high, he’s immediately embarrassed. “You didn’t get to—”

But he’s interrupted by the sound of the bell jingling, signaling an incoming customer. “Y/N? Where are you, dear?” a voice calls out. 

Eddie knows that voice. He knows it all too well. 

You roll your eyes. “Ugh, my mom’s here. I forgot she said she was gonna visit me at work today.” You pull your skirt back up to your waist, fasten it quickly, and secure your hair back in its tie. 

Your…mom? But that sounded like…

Without thinking, Eddie follows you, adjusting himself and fixing his belt as he walks. There’s no way…

“Edward? I didn’t know you worked here with my daughter!”

You turn to Eddie, confused. “How do you know my mom?”

But the older woman answers for him. “Oh, we know each other very well. Mr. Munson took English with me three times over. Isn’t that correct?”

“Yes, Mrs. O’Donnell,” he replies miserably. “But I finally graduated this year.”

“And thank God for that,” Mrs. O’Donnell scoffs. “Do me a favor and stay away from my daughter. She doesn’t need any more bad influences in her life.”

Something comes over Eddie—maybe it’s his pure rage towards his former teacher; maybe it’s the confidence he feels from losing his virginity—but he steps closer to you and grabs your ass through your skirt. “Not a problem. I think my work here is done, anyway.”

Mrs. O’Donnell practically faints on the spot. “What—what do you—oh, for heaven’s sake, please don’t tell me you two are dating.”

“Oh, no, we’re not dating,” you smirk, waiting for her to relax before dropping the bomb: “We’re just sleeping together.”

Eddie grins, leaning over to kiss you possessively. “See you tomorrow? Same time and place?” He winks at Mrs. O’Donnell, still in shock from your blunt admission. “Don’t worry; I passed sex ed the first time.”

--

[issa-pheonyx]

Sub!Fuckboy!Leon X Fem!Nerd!Reader [P.1?]

𝗜𝘁 𝗵𝗮𝘀 𝗯𝗲𝗲𝗻 𝗲𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗺𝗲 𝘂𝗽. 𝗜 𝗵𝗮𝘃𝗲 𝘁𝗼 𝘄𝗿𝗶𝘁𝗲 𝗶𝘁 𝗻𝗼𝘄 𝗼𝗿 𝗲𝗹𝘀𝗲 𝗜 𝘄𝗶𝗹𝗹 𝗵𝗮𝘃𝗲 𝘄𝗿𝗶𝘁𝗲𝗿𝘀 𝗯𝗹𝗼𝗰𝗸 (𝗮𝗴𝗮𝗶𝗻). 𝗔𝗹𝘀𝗼, 𝗜 𝗱𝗼𝗻'𝘁 𝗸𝗻𝗼𝘄 𝗶𝗳 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝘀𝗵𝗼𝘂𝗹𝗱 𝗯𝗲 𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘀𝗶𝗱𝗲𝗿𝗲𝗱 𝗳𝘂𝗰𝗸𝗯𝗼𝘆 𝗼𝗿 𝗯𝘂𝗹𝗹𝘆?? 𝗣𝗹𝗲𝗮𝘀𝗲, 𝘀𝗼𝗺𝗲𝗼𝗻𝗲 𝘁𝗲𝗹𝗹 𝗺𝗲 𝘄𝗵𝗶𝗰𝗵 𝘃𝗶𝗯𝗲 𝘀𝘂𝗶𝘁𝘀 𝗯𝗲𝘀𝘁 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀. 𝗙𝗲𝗲𝗱 𝘄𝗲𝗹𝗹 𝗺𝘆 𝗰𝗵𝗶𝗹𝗱𝗿𝗲𝗻~

▌│█║▌║▌║ L̳͈͉̅̊ȍ̸̢̢̮͚̐̚v̸̵̝͙͆̈ͤę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ M̶̷̲̊ͥ͋͟ę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ L̳͈͉̅̊ȍ̸̢̢̮͚̐̚v̸̵̝͙͆̈ͤę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ M̶̷̲̊ͥ͋͟ę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ L̳͈͉̅̊ȍ̸̢̢̮͚̐̚v̸̵̝͙͆̈ͤę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ M̶̷̲̊ͥ͋͟ę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ L̳͈͉̅̊ȍ̸̢̢̮͚̐̚v̸̵̝͙͆̈ͤę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ M̶̷̲̊ͥ͋͟ę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ ║▌║▌║█│▌

Of course, there is the fuckboy teasing the nerd and he gets so much praise, worship, and authority for it. The audacity really. It is unbelievable, but you ignore him and focused on your studies. Blasting music in your headphones when you hear him shout your name to deafen that stupid dog. If that doesn't work he would come up to you. Standing in front of you with his arms crossed, moving either side to get in your way-you know that typical shit. It has gotten out of hand though when you went to a friend of a friend's party. You asked them more than once for reassurance that Leon would not be there and they confirmed, impatiently, that he was NOT going to be there...

Boy, did they lie to you~

It was all well watching some chaotic shit going down. Guys throwing themselves into bedroom doors as they flop to the ground. People's flashing their cameras out recording the events. Some doing stunts to jump in the pool in the backyard. It was fun, obviously, with your friends there. That is until you hear one of the dudes yell,"AYEEEE, LEON!!!" Your heart dropped hearing the name as you slowly looked at the entrance revealing none other than Leon himself. He had a girl being wrapped around by the waist from his arm and the another on the opposite end touching his thick bicep. "I'm leaving." You threw your cup into the trash can. Your friend argued to stay and that both would just avoid him

You didn't want to bother as you try to find an escape, but unfortunately it was pretty blocked up by so many people piled around. You couldn't break out, so you were stuck being there, miserable. Your friend suggested to go upstairs since it was a bit more chill. That was an understatement when it would just be people sucking and eating each others faces. But, there was one bedroom not occupied, so you both stayed there. That is until your friend didn't feel their phone in their pocket, so they left to find it. You waited and waited, but lost patience and decided to go downstairs yourself

That was not a good idea. As you made it down you would be in the living room, but noticed how everyone had their phones out. "What the hell?" Before you can react you were surprised with ice cold buckets of water on you. You gasp loudly due to the freezing cold water. You were dumbfounded and next thing you know you got hit hard by a pillow that the feather came out, sticking on your soaked clothes. Everyone was laughing, cackling, and getting gassed up by the unfortunate event. You try to run only to eat shit hitting the ground. Hard. Hard that your glasses broke and cut your temple from the impact

The pain seem to concern you more than the people's sick prank. "Watch your step." A familiar voice said as you look up. It was Leon looking down at you, smugly. "You bastard..." You growled and picked yourself up even when your head was throbbing causing you to feel dizzy. Your knee and hip aching hitting down the slippery floor. You just glared at him as he laughs at you. "I ain't scared of you, babe. Not one bit." Your chest heaves, but felt something streaming down your temple as you touched it. Blood. The glasses must've stabbed pretty deep. Everyone gasps as your hand tremble

Leon looks at your hand and says,"Whoops. My bad." Before he can let out another sick chuckle you grabbed a broken piece of your glasses from the floor and strike at him. Leon was able to pull back and slip from the water. You were so close to stabbing his eye out only for it to cut his cheek. "Next time I fucking see you I will kill you. On sight. No matter the time of day, Leon." You walked away from the party and start to run. Running fast, so they wouldn't call the cops on you. Worst part is...your friend was in on it too watching with the crowd, phone out, light flashing, recording everything. Some streaming it. At least it was the weekend and soon you will be seeing him again in the weekday. You are definitely going to prepare yourself for that~

▌│█║▌║▌║ L̳͈͉̅̊ȍ̸̢̢̮͚̐̚v̸̵̝͙͆̈ͤę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ M̶̷̲̊ͥ͋͟ę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ L̳͈͉̅̊ȍ̸̢̢̮͚̐̚v̸̵̝͙͆̈ͤę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ M̶̷̲̊ͥ͋͟ę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ L̳͈͉̅̊ȍ̸̢̢̮͚̐̚v̸̵̝͙͆̈ͤę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ M̶̷̲̊ͥ͋͟ę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ L̳͈͉̅̊ȍ̸̢̢̮͚̐̚v̸̵̝͙͆̈ͤę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ M̶̷̲̊ͥ͋͟ę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ ║▌║▌║█│▌

𝗧𝗵𝗮𝗻𝗸𝘀 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗶𝗻𝗴! 𝗜 𝗵𝗼𝗽𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗲𝗻𝗷𝗼𝘆𝗲𝗱 𝗶𝘁. 𝗠𝘆 𝘂𝗽𝗱𝗮𝘁𝗲𝘀 𝗱𝗼 𝘁𝗮𝗸𝗲 𝘀𝗼𝗺𝗲 𝘁𝗶𝗺𝗲 𝗷𝘂𝘀𝘁 𝗮 𝗳𝗮𝗶𝗿 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴. 𝗦𝗹𝗲𝗲𝗽 𝘄𝗲𝗹𝗹~🖤🫣

[thegatorsgoose]

Dove

My headcanon (?) of what Danny from Wayne's Haunted Mansion by @tathartiel would look like as a vigilante

I love this fic to bits and as everything I love I overthink about it, and I started thinking about what he would look like if he became a vigilante with the batfam. (considering Bruce’s track record, and Danny’s need to help, I feel like it’s inevitable lmao)

It’s mostly just a slightly tweaked version of his hazmat suit + a white clockwork style cloak. I made sure to add a lot of armor around the knees, shoulders, elbows and knuckles and not much else because id imagine like black bat, he doesn’t run in there like the others, instead waiting all sneaky like for the perfect moment to jump out of the shadows.

The mask was originally just the top part, which is shaped like the bat symbol if you couldn’t tell, but then I realized this Danny has a very noticeable scar on his mouth and I’m not about to pull a Jason Todd and have a major definable feature just hanging out (seriously dude cover your hair) so I added the bottom part as well. It does detach tho! So he can eat bat burger with the fam afterwards:) the eyes of the mask are either black or ecto green, which Danny controls by feeding ectoplasm into it. I saw someone do something similar in a fic but I don’t remember which one, but I thought it was cool. I also added it cus Dannys a ghost, he likes causing mischief and spooking people, it’s in his blood! And seeing two glowing green eyes appear out of nowhere in the shadows is very spooky.

Also we got service dog/guard dog Cujo, the best boy, and Nightwing congratulating Dove on his first patrol! “Good job on your first patrol, spooky!”(My handwriting is trash I would have fixed it up but eh). Why give him a scythe, you ask? Well, why not? In reality I doubt he’d use one in this fic but also he has an extremely rich and specialized family, if no one in the fam can teach him then they could easily higher someone. So why no :P

I definitely intend to color this, but I’m to lazy and tired rn and I just wanted to share cus this design has been plaguing me for a while. Luckily the sketchs turned out good enough to post 👍 I hope.

(Edit, posted a little comic of him)

[preservationofnormalcy]

hi uh seventh daughter of a seventh son here. ive been handed like five calls to prophecy? help???

Get in touch with Office Legal. It used to be Olly Scratch you’d talk to but….he’s gone now.

Anyway, if you get in touch with us, after some paperwork (I think it’s 73 pages at the moment) we can put you on file as Refusing the Call. It’s a legal status we can put you under that’s a little like witness protection, where we’ll do our best to conceal your location from any messengers, prophecy-dealers, oracles, and mysterious strangers who may or may not be related to you. Any and all Extranormal interference will be minimized in the interest of your Refusal of the Call. We have a pretty good track record with this sort of thing. You won’t believe how many Archmages we have on file who would have been otherwise called to unite all of wizardkind blah blah blah.

Some people just want to eat chips on their couch watching trash TV, not fulfill their cosmic destiny. Cosmic destiny is overrated anyway.

This one is obviously under R for “refusing the call.” There’s also a sticky note in P for “prophetic destiny, refusal of”.

[whumpberry-cookie]

Well, so sad

(Cw: torture, betrayal, forced to watch, swearing)

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

Leader of the "good side" is a brilliant manipulator. To the point the whole organisation follows him and believes he is heroic, selfless and cares about them.

But then, in captivity, the interrogator figures it out straight away.

(Whumper:) "In the other cell, there's your companion. Hanging on the electric chains. Every time I don't like your answer, he will take it for you"

(Leader:) "Well, too sad. I'm not telling you shit, Whumper"

(Wr:) "Then he will probably die out of exhaustion. What a pathetic death, isn't it?"

(L:) "...which rank is he?"

(Wr:) "Excuse me?"

(L:) "Which rank"

(Wr:) ".......who the fuck knows? A private?"

(L:) "What? Heh, you really want to blackmail me with a fucking private? Hillarious!" shrugs and keeps silent, even while hearing the endless screams and calling for him through the speaker.

(Whumpee:) "P-please, no more! Pl- AAAAAAGHHH! Leader!

(Interrogator 2:) Call for him. Louder!

(Whumpee:) I- NnoDon't make me-AAh! Leader please help m- EeAAAAAH! LEADER! Please I can't take it! Tell them to stop!"

Whumper doesn't kill Whumpee after all. Instead he shows him the recording of the Leader having a great time and talking trash. His indifference and absolute betrayal was what broke Whumpee.

He spilled everything right after. For an exchange of getting to torture the ex-Leader for them.

_____________________

"Whumpee, did you really believe in what I said? I told them what I needed to. I didn't think I would convince YOU. Do you really have so little faith in me? I must say... i am dissapointed"

[brf-rumortrackinganon]

Do you remember over the summer when Harry was mentioned in court documents regarding P. Diddy’s alleged illegal activities? I only say alleged because it hasn’t gone to trial yet so hasn’t been proven guilty. I wonder if that will come up again under his new indictment? My guess is that Harry attended at least one of the parties, maybe got filmed hooking up with a pro or underaged s*x trafficking victim, and now P. Diddy has been using that as blackmail or something. Granted, I have no proof of this but seems plausible. Harry and his uncle really are similar. Just follow the attention and the party and ignore all the red flags everywhere.

That wasn’t summer. That was March. (You can verify in my archives.)

This is speculation I don’t want to get into since there’s no proof yet that Harry was involved in the acts being alleged/attributed to Diddy. These are very serious charges.

This is not the same as Andrew’s mess with Epstein, chiefly because of the evidence against Andrew - flight records of him being on Epstein’s plane, records of him being at Lolita Island, photographs of him with Epstein and at Epstein’s house, stories by Virginia and other girls, and the photograph of him with Virginia, Epstein, and Maxwell.

The only evidence of Harry is one photograph from 2007 at an after-party for the Diana concert and one mention of attending one party. That is not anywhere close to Andrew’s level of complicity. We don’t know any more than that at this time.

If Harry was really involved in Diddy’s mess, the truth will come and the trash will take itself out. We shouldn’t muddy the waters with speculation because it’ll make the actual case (if there is one) that much less effective in the court of public opinion.

[moxxie-joestar-1950]

let's do Roleplay name YOU HAVE UNO from meme

@theblackcubeofdarkness @xen-void @jim-the-trash-king @n-simp @futuristicinsurgent @emily-and-friends @roseamongrobots @carleenchoco @tutchando74 @shadelessanon @simpystarrr @drones12333 @ambulance-mom @serial-designation-x @imjusthereformyowngain @pomni-the-digital-jester @pomni-xddcc @dh-pomni @dh-jax @dh-ragatha @askzooble @zooblexx @ask-bubble-anything @ask-bubble-tadc @chef-bubble @askthequeen @inconsequential @jaxfromthatcircus @the-carnival-rabbit @soft-sweet-bun @jax-tadc22 @keykeepingbastardtm @tragic-gangle @ask-ragatha-tadc @askunstablecainetadc @rabid-mercenary15 @sm-baby @ask-kaufmotheclown-alt @ask-kaufmotheclown @gayfraggle @pinkclownshoes @moshieee @ink-the-axolotl-rabbit @ask-azamuku-the-cat @anxious-mess-and-queer @jane-crow @munchkinbaby08 @thatsteampunkphoxx @jester-anon @f0rg0ttenfaith @denzi-p @ask-cna-tadc

You guys wanna play UNO real quick? So I can record it & make that upload tonight?

[heyftinally]

Swifties do love setting Taylor up.

Just what I saw on Twitter Yesterday:

1989 is a pop Bible that everybody knows. - Well if it's trash maybe.

Reputation is hip hop ??? - What?

Reputation is goth Rock ?? - Lol

That Reputation is also supposed to be R&nB - like where?? wtf?

And her new album the Treacherous Dead Poets Default is an album with a new sound.

Or this yt lady on tt that was claiming that no other artists has transcended genres as successfully as taylor did. 😭 And she mentions Rock? Girl where? And literally there are tons of artists who did it way better than her.

Or that one video which they have now deleted bc taylor was getting dragged. It was a video of her just walking on stage and singing (not live) and the caption was like: I can't believe she was doing that for the first time. ' - Some small part of me does feel sorry for these delusional fanbase. Cause she has the highest grossing tour right now. Big emphasis on right now cause that record is not forever. Anyways they can not post much about her performance anywhere without people using it to drag her. Cause let's face it. She can't perform. She's not serving. She's giving nothing. Her dancers slay more than she does.

Pffffft Taylor went from pop country to pop and never changed again. Slightly different vibes? Sure. Still pop. She wouldn't know rock if it smacked her in the head.

Missy Elliott is hip hop. Early P!nk (ie Most Girls) is R&B. Sumo Cyco is goth rock (+ others, but still). Taylor Swift wouldn't touch any of those genres with a 10ft pole, and quite frankly she'd suck at them if she tried lol.

She doesn't "transcend genres", and considering she can't even make different versions of pop sound good, I think we know why.

And no, she can't perform. Let me flex my expertise here: I'm a trained dancer. Specifically with 26 years of training in tap, jazz, ballet, theater, and contemporary, with additional training in commercial/street jazz (aka music video and tour choreography) and various other styles in sporadic classes. I've literally been choreographing since I was about seven years old, and have been analyzing commercial choreography since I was 15.

That said,

Her performances are not only weak, but they show me that her tour choreographer either

Doesn't exist and she created all of her own "dancing" herself

Doesn't know how to adapt choreography for someone with virtually no dance technique

Actively has something out for Taylor and is trying to make her look bad

I'm going to reference "Look What You Made Me Do" from the Eras tour, because that's the most recent and clearest to illustrate my point

A video of the performance in question, for reference.

Okay, first off, right off the bat, her hand floating on her hip looks awkward and uncomfortable. It's giving "over-excited 8yo at recital". For someone with as much experience as she has performing, I'd expect her to look more settled in her beginning pose. She looks like she's overthinking, and thus it looks under rehearsed.

Then we have that flexed hand - yes it's a nit pick, but that pose belongs very few places outside of a 6yo's tap dance.

Movibg on, her robotic movements look messy as fuck. Sharp isolations like that are HARD. A lot of dancers with years of training struggle with getting the kind of sharpness you would expect to see from that choreography. And on the scale of a stadium like she's in, everything is amplified. If it's messy, it's going to look five times as messy as it might on a smaller scale, because the further away the audience is, the more detail gets lost. So you're movements need to be SHARP in order to translate to the audience. Add to that that this is clearly filmed professionally/intentionally, and it really just looks unprofessional/poorly planned.

Meanwhile the things like the "don't like you" scolding (besides looking childish) are so small that you wouldn't see them beyond the front row. When you're choreographing even for a normal stage, the #1 rule is make everything BIG and intentional. If you're kicking, you're hitting AT LEAST a 45° angle, and with the force of trying to kick the winning soccer (football) goal. Taylor doesn't do that. Those movements are small, sad, and weak, and it honestly looks lazy. I know a 10yo currently doing a competitive dance solo to this song, and I shit you not that 10yo is 50x more interesting to watch perform than Taylor.

So yeah, her music has been one note since Fearless one note (uninspired pop), and her "stage presence" is about on par with an 8yo who doesn't want to be here.

[bvtbxtch]

Stephen | Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader TEASER

I have been a little obsessed with mid 2000s trash pop, so when Stephen by Kesha came on my phone, I got inspired. Here is my delve into my very first Steve Harrington fanfic! I don't have a timeline for it now, since I am in a bunch of shows, but thought I would give a little sneak peek!

“You’re my object of affection, my drug of choice, my sick obsession.”

5 years since graduation, 5 years since you ran your way through Hawkins High, leaving boys in your wake…. Except one. Steve Harrington, apparent untouchable due to his infatuation with Nancy Wheeler. What happens when you see a worn out, former heartthrob with his fizzled highschool flame stuck to him? Unhappy, feeling unloved and in a bind, you thought Steve could be the conquest of the night… or so you thought.

Pairings: Steve Harrington x Toxic!Fem! Reader

Content warnings: smut, angst, fluff. Non canon au. Steve and Nancy are together from Steve’s senior year to the time of the story. Cheating, p in v sex, oral (m and f receiving), Reader defs isn’t a girls girl but I couldn’t help it.

The pounding in your head mirrored that in your heart as you remembered the burn of alcohol down your throat from last night. Your makeup had been smudged off onto your pillow, some still remaining on your swollen, hungover face. The day after drinking anxiety had reared its head, but a wave of nerves hit you like a ton of bricks when a vision of you writing your phone number on Steve Harrington’s hand - more or less in front of his girlfriend. 

You cupped your hands over your face and your shoulders shook. You couldn’t help but giggle at the picture of her porcelain face twisted into a bout of jealous rage. You could fully admit to yourself that you lived on the side of delusion, but there was a piece of you that wholeheartedly believed that your former king of Hawkins High would call you. 

And yet, you sat and stared at the phone perched silently on your nightstand while you nursed your hangover all day. The bright afternoon light evolved into an evening glow and still you hadn’t heard the shrill ring. You put on records and VCRs. You flicked through magazines and tried to pick up the new Danielle Steele book you had pocketed from the bookstore on main street. But the soundtrack of your thoughts was the hope that the telephone would ring and that you would hear a smooth baritone voice calling you. You fought to keep your eyes open while the blue light of your TV laughed back at you. You finally surrendered to the sleep your body had been pleading for, the blur of the night previous finally making itself clear in your dreams…

More to come sooooooon!

Taglist: @eddies-acousticguitar @mmunson86 @sadbitchfangirl @hideoutside @anxiousobserver @ali-r3n @brinleighsstuff @filth-fiction-archive @vintagehellfire @kirstinjayjay @poofyloofy @sluggzillaa @aol19 @dark-angel-is-back @keikoraven @emxxblog @adrenalineeerevolver @crybabyddl @lovemegood @cherry-pop3547 @munsquinns @cozmiccass @leelei1980 @trixyvixx @skylar-ish-meh @harrysgothicbitch

If you would like to be on my taglist, please fill out this form and consider following!

[one-annon]

can you do one where reader has a threesome with the sawyer twins and they kill reader during?

waahh im so sorry this took so long!!! writing block hit SO hard for some reason!! shockingly got this to 2k words - this is also my first x reader smut so please forgive me! hope this is good! (is it obvious im awful at staying serious)

you had just started your job at K-OKLA. so far, it was going great! stretch was really nice and lg treated you like a younger sibling. they were patient with you throughout your first few weeks, helping you sort through records as you were instructed. you enjoyed your job and the people you worked with. most of the time, you were just asked to grab a cd, or help lefty in the back with calls.

what you weren't expecting was blood over the floor of the building. you promised to bring your coworkers back some good food. everything was a wreck and you weren't sure what had happened. where were stretch and lefty? were they safe? had they left early? was this a prank? so many questions ran through your head as you looked around. everything was trashed. it was quiet. well, mostly. the only noises came from the office area. you spent some time in there..could they possibly have just spilt something that looks like blood?

you were cautious as you opened the door. instead of finding your coworkers, you found two men. one was laid out on the couch, his purple sunglasses resting on his head. the other man was sat on the floor, messing around with what looked to be - and you hope werent - animal bones. it didn't take long for the men to notice you. what the hell were they doing here? you couldve sworn you were closed during the nights.

"o-oh! another one!" the man on the couch laughed, sitting up where he had been laying. neither of them were very..appealing. but you also didn't have a very normal taste in men. the parts of them that made them relatively gross looking added to their charm. to you, they were both handsome. what a weirdo (me too). the shorter one on the floor lifted his head, a goofy grin on both of their faces. "ooh, and they're real p-pretty!"

you couldnt help how your face heated up at the hippie lookin man's words. pretty? it wasn't very often you get called that. how nice.

the men approached you. "y-yer right..they are p-pretty- th-think we can g-get a taste of 'em, bobby?" he turned to this supposed bobby fellow. you weren't sure what you were supposed to do. two guys were pressing you to a wall and calling you pretty. do you; a) kick the crotch and run b) scream for help c) get horny?

well, a and b were the most logical. you pressed your hands to their chests, trying to push them off. "who are you! let me go!" you shout, lifting your chin to hopefully get your chances of a sliced neck slimmed down. the two men pressed closer, bobby grabbing at your arm and slamming it against the wall. your wrist was seized of all movement, forcing you to sit and squirm. of course..c was still there. it was still an option. you were into men like this. mean, creepy men. men who could (and would) kill you. you were sure what they meant by "a taste" but they both seemed to want some of you. were they gonna eat you? is that what happened to lg and stretch? you shiver at the thought of ending up dead and in these guys' dinner.

"let you go? o-oh but doll! we're j-just starting!" the hippie cackled, turning to the man in the green shirt. " 'member that r-rope in m' bag, nubbins? grab it for me?" nubbins. okay..bobby and nubbins. good to know names. nubbins scurried off, rummaging through a book bag with patches and stickers. bobby turned back toward you, a wicked grin on his face. "n-now listen here..we aint gonna hurt ya yknow? j-just gonna explore your pretty body a little!"

you weren't sure how to feel about that. it's been a while since someone had touched you sexually but also..you didn't know these guys too well. just their names and that they were batshit crazy. and wanted to apparently have sex with you. you could always just escape after…get them tired enough to escape. that could work! perfect. you had a plan and were prepared for it. "fuck..okay." you whisper, biting your lip.

the shorter one, nubbins, was back at your side, maneuvering you to face his brother. choptop held your waist tight, kissing at your neck and watching as the other tied your hands together. he would've done it himself but he knew nubs had been itching to do some bondage recently. they always shared their cravings with each other.

you were forced onto the couch, back down. bobby situated himself between your legs, nubbins just above your head. both men look equally as excited and you cant help but feel yourself get heated. choptop leans over you, the tent in his bellbottoms rubbing so deliciously over your crotch. "stay real still for us now.." he whispered, hands trailing over your body. his hands were warm, light touches going over your chest and down to your thighs.

nubbins was fucking around with his pants, shoving them down with shaky hands before he desperately palms his cock through his dirty boxers. "theyre pr-pretty bobby..think they c-can take y' all?" he was staring down at you with crazed eyes. a small patch of precum was pooling up at the front of his boxers and if they werent removed soon it might drip onto your face.

choptop was already tearing your clothing off, his hands grabbing and scratching anything he could. nubbins was moaning above you, small high-pitched noises that came out paired with little puffs of air. "theyll be fine." he smiled at nubbins, pausing at your underwear. it looked hella beautiful on you..too bad! he reached into his pants pocket and held out a pocket knife. what the fuck was he doing? "hope these a-aint yer faves!" he chuckled.

you screamed as your underwear was cut in half. it left a bloody cut down the middle of your abdomen- neither seemed to care. bobby groaned at the sight, fishing his cock from his boxers. you could hear nubbins doing something similar and, after a quick glance at them both, you realized just what you were facing. nubbins' length rested on your cheek, heavy and full. it had more length than girth but you knew it would still reach your guts if you were taking him from the other end.

bobbys cock wasn't much different. maybe a little more girthy. neither of them seemed to shave and they both were uncut..and leaking. nubbins rubbed his cock up onto your face, watching closely at your expressions. you let out a pathetic mewl, squirming and trying to get away from the mess he was slowly creating on the couch.

you were too busy thinking about their cocks to notice the cold feeling on your neck. nubbins panted heavily, the blade against your jugular shaking from his grip. "careful with 'em, nubbins.." you heard bobby warn, spitting on his fingers and running them over your hole. you shivered at the feeling, shouting when he started shoving a finger into you. you cried, tossing your head back onto the other twins' lap and exposing more of your neck to him.

it hurt like a bitch. you already had a whole finger in you and you felt like it was too much. bobby pistoned his finger in and out of your heat, making sure to curl it. nubbins shifted his positioning, moving himself and your head just a little. he pressed his thumb into your mouth, prying your jaws apart and slowly pushing his dick through your lips inch by inch. he tasted rather salty, but it did keep you quiet.

you stared up at him, watching as he tilted his head back and let out a loud moan. if you had to guess, he hadn't been blown in a while - or ever. you at least tried to make this somewhat pleasurable, running your tongue down the underside of his shaft. nubbins whimpered, pulling his cock back before easing it in again.

you choked up around his dick, lifting your leg to accommodate whatever the fuck bobby was up to. a second finger was pushed into you, then a third. he seemed to be getting antsy. and he was. bobby was getting jealous of the treatment you were giving his brother and felt he needed attention too! his cock mattered too didnt it?

you groaned at the stretch, closing your eyes tightly. "thats it…" you heard bobby say. a little shuffling was the only warning you got before his fingers were removed and replaced with his cock. in your opinion, there wasnt enough lube. but you couldnt really speak your opinion due to nubbins' cock, so you defaulted to a loud scream and a gag.

bobby leaned down, his lean frame towering over yours. he pushed your shirt up, holding it to your shoulders. you whine loudly as the ac's cool breeze hit your nipples, though the uncomfortable freeze didn't last too long. choptop grazed his tongue over your hardened nipples, giving you a bit of warmth from the saliva. he nibbled and sucked and licked and thrusted. long and slow thrusts in and out of your hole. it was starting to feel good for you, fucking finally.

the two kept their pace relatively the same, pounding you from every angle they could. bobby kissed over your skin, leaving small bites and bruises in his path. his hips continued to slam into yours, heavy breathing cooling your hot skin. nubbins was in the same state, moaning and crying out every time your tongue dug into the slit of his tip. he seemed to be the more sensitive brother, the inexperienced one. despite the rather submissive noises he was making, he was a little more violent than bobby. he was the one holding a knife to your neck. he was the one holding your hair with one hand to aid him in fucking your head on his cock.

bobby was a lot more patient. he had sped his thrusts up, but he was still gentle. he held onto your hips, digging his blunt nails into your skin. "good fuckin' doll.." he would mumble, nipping your ear lobe every time he got closer to your neck. bobby made sure to keep an eye on his brother. while he didn't mind the extra meat, he would rather you stay alive during your ride back home. how else was he supposed to keep you in their shared room if you couldnt even walk yourself up the stairs? he wanted to hear you scream, man!

unfortunately for you, he wasn't able to stop his dear brother. nubbins got a little too excited and ran the knife across your bite-covered throat. he grunted, pressing the tip of his cock all the way to the back of his throat and shooting his load. it was warm, salty, and it was a lot. you werent worried about that though. what you were worried about was the fact you were actively bleeding and you were losing your vision. nubbins let his cock slip from your mouth, panting hard from the adrenaline his climax gave. "aw-…aw shit.." he muttered.

choptop groaned, relishing in the way your body tightened up around him. he followed soon after his brother, filling your hole with the same substance that was down your throat. he looked up, noticing how you were currently dying. literally. "god dammit nubbins!" he shouted, frowning. "i-i told ya to keep 'em livin'!! i dont want no corpse in our room!"

the boy scoffed, crossing his arms and looking down at you. neither of them seemed very concerned about how you were bleeding to death. "ah, fuck. now we better put this one out o' its misery…" bobby grumbled to himself, tugging his dick out of you and watching as his cum leaked out. he snapped back out of his thoughts at a gargled scream you attempted. bobby huffed, rolling his eyes as he buttoned his jeans and sliced your throat just a bit deeper, making you meet your end.

the last things you heard at the end of your time on the shithole planet of earth were two guys arguing about what to tell their older brother when they arrived home with a body full of cum. what a way to end your life huh? ---- how the hell do you end a book also its 2 am if you see any mistakes no you dont (thank you again for your request! again i deeply apologize for the delay <3)

[rinhaler]

ik some anons have sent you asks like this before but im thinking about a porn au

i can see toji doing more amateur videos w you (mainly bc hes broke and cant afford any recording equipment other than his iphone lmao), think about the green eyed girl video iykyk

Nanami and geto and higuruma do more of the professional stuff. Nanami is also a pretty decent actor so either way his videos are p enjoyable. The angles are also soooo good

now i KNOW yuji and gojo, ESPECIALLY GOJO, do the goofy shit. like “this is not a pool this is a bathtub” type shit, or the pizza delivery guy one. gojo’s acting is so trash but he FUCKS. and he fucks good.

okay it's so crazy that you sent an ask about a porn AU bc I've been thinking about this constantly (bc I do be watching porn a lot LOL) but like.. I've specifically been thinking about cheesy 80s porn. Like pool boy/pizza delivery guy type.

Also Toji making amateur videos is making me fucking insane nonnie HELP I wanna make sex tapes with him I would watch NOTHING else but our home made sex tapes what else do I need????????

obsessed with all of this HELP imagine "really? right in front of my salad?" type goofy too LMAOOOOOOOO