#This just started out as a picture of him and then it evolved into this madness | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

wolvndmouth · 20 days

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Guys. I think about this shot a lot. Seven (7) times a day, minimum.

This is the exact moment Wade realizes that Logan looks at him, like really looks at him. Logan’s eyes have always been reading Wade in every way they can. Annoyed and scowling aside, he tries in earnest to understand who Wade is through his cracked humor and self-depreciation. No matter how angry he is, no matter how confused he is, he has eyes on Wade. When they’re staring at each other from opposite sides of a gun, when they’re sitting across each other in the diner, when they first fight in the Void, when they argue in the Odyssey; each one of these scenes have a moment where Wade is showing his cards and Logan, even through his rage and thirst to hurt, stills himself to listen and learn for as long as he can.

The man has no choice in the matter. Charles left him with the burden of knowing what it is to be loved, even at his most difficult. He’s felt the healing that comes from someone being able to look past his defenses and aggression and have the patience to plant compassion in the spaces of him that need it the most. He hasn’t been able to bring himself to unbury all the good he had before the bad, but it doesn’t stop him from having the guts to be gentle and kind when someone least deserves it. One of his gentlest moments is when he takes Juggernaut’s helmet off Cassandra to save her, and his wish to be the man that Charles thinks he is is what strengthens his ability to comfort the displaced and love-starved child that Nova really is. It is that same hope that allows him to take a chance on Wade. All Logan can do is hear him out and do his best to see the merc for who he truly is. It takes him some time, but from the moment they met in the bar, to joining Wade’s world, Logan’s gaze never wavers; it only changes as he grows to understand Wade more. He is able to look past Deadpool, and see Wade Wilson.

‘Never take your eyes off an enemy’ evolves into looking at a mirror to his own soul. Wade is everything Logan is, and everything Logan isn’t. They are yin and yang down to the very cores of their being, and for Logan, it’s a tough pill to swallow when he realizes just how easy it is for Wade to love. It’s not only consistently thrown in his face with Wade’s repeated reminders of what’s at stake, but Wade showing him the picture of everything he has left forces him to reflect on the walls he’s built around himself and why. He has made so many mistakes, and he can do nothing but examine his own failures as an X-Man and as Logan himself. He is astounded by Wade’s ability to survive with his heart so crudely stapled to his sleeve, and when he looks at that photo, there’s a piece of him that almost wouldn’t mind being a part of the portrait. He thinks of a world where Scott doesn’t have to beg him to put on the suit. Where Jean, Storm, and Beast aren’t dead. Where Charles is still there to remind him everyday that he matters. Maybe a world where Charles could meet Wade and remind him that he matters too. But “when they fix your world” becomes “if they fix your world”, I imagine in the bitterness of that, Logan starts off repulsed by Wade’s openness to overfill his cup and share what overflows. It’s a slow eventuality, but inevitable nonetheless; Logan learns how to let Wade pour into him. His eyes soften and steady towards Wade as their relationship progresses. When being introduced to Althea, it’s obvious that something inside him has calmed, and the soft nod he gives is the only way Logan knows how to say that actually wants to be there. He’s answered Wade’s call and didn’t walk away. Logan can finally look at Wade with a sureness that he’s not going anywhere.

[GIF by bettercallcohen]

And I think Wade can feel that. Wade is so open because his universe is so small compared to everyone else’s. 9 people. 9 people who make him feel seen, make his heart full, and that make him feel like he belongs somewhere. So when he’s presented with the chance to add #10 to the Polaroid, when someone can actually see him through his vulgarities, through the violence, through his cancerous mutation, it’s more than just surprising when it’s someone like Logan. It’s been a long time since someone’s looked at him like he’s home. No one has looked at him that way since Vanessa. And he probably felt like no one would ever look at him that way ever again. But then here comes Logan, all eyes on him, shredding him to pieces and picking him apart. Wade is the only person he knows in this world, and Wade is the only person in this world that knows him. Logan is forced to confront the idea of being seen and being needed by someone again. Wade comes to him in a crazy, desperate attempt to save the people he loves, and instead he finds one more person to violently stitch into the fabric of his existence.

It’s intense, probably for the both of them, but Wade only knows intensity. Maximum effort. Nothing is off the table, nothing is left behind. Wade’s eyes are as loud as his mouth and bear a burden of their own; a burden of honesty when it comes to conveying his feelings as being one of the only things the Weapon-X experimentation left true and untouched. He sees the truth and they speak the truth. He could see right through Logan from the moment they met. Where Logan could only see a traitor, the Worst Wolverine, Wade saw someone that could teach him how to be a hero. Where Logan could only see himself as the wrong guy for the job, Wade knew this man was the only one capable of saving everyone and everything he loved in this world. He just wasn’t expecting Logan to become part of that world.

Wade is a tractor beam for both the jaded and the gentle, and there is a softness in his eyes that is warm and inviting and penetrating all at the same time. For Wade, it’s not hard to look at Logan and see the tired parts of himself in him. He sees in him the familiar longing for death. He sees a world where he doesn’t have Cable’s time machine to make things right, where Vanessa and Peter are still dead, and he’s blowing out birthday candles alone. Logan is a mirror in his own right; a reflection of not only his failures, but his fears as well. The fear that there may be a day where his luck runs out, and being crazy isn’t enough to save his world.

Crazy is what Wade does best, and the two of them have more than enough instances where “your crazy matches my crazy”. But it’s not hard to see that the way Logan looks at Wade during those moments morphs from a sharpened hostility to a warm familiarity. Though the context of this last scene is Logan fulfilling his duty as a wingman, it is the very second Wade realizes that the other man’s gaze has lost its vitriol and conviction has taken its place. It’s the moment Wade figures out that Logan is serious about wanting to stay, serious about learning how to live in his universe, and serious about his change of heart towards him. It’s a Logan that has accepted his twin flame, and is comforted by the thought that he has someone now that can not only take everything he can give and more, but can bite back just as hard. It’s no secret that Wade holds a space for Logan, but he’s never been concerned with whether or not Logan has done the same. So the moment he’s met with a gaze that is as sure and true as Logan’s is, Wade knows there’s not only room for him to bare all, but now there’s someone that won’t shield their eyes and look away when he does.

#this movie got me fucked up honestly #all i can do is scoop up whatever is left of my brain rot and shove it back into my skull along with them #deadpool x wolverine #poolverine #logan howlett #deadclaws #loganpool #wade wilson #wolverine #deadpool #wolverpool

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forhappysake · 9 months

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Teach Me

A/N: This is my first smut and it is LONG. Sorry y'all, I love a plot. Also, not totally proofread, xoxo.

Warnings: SMUT, professor!reidxreader, implied age gap, mentions of dementia, loss of virginity, bl0wjob, protected sex, use of nicknames (good girl), sub!reader/dom!spencer if you squint

The fact that you’d managed to get into Dr. Reid’s criminology class was an absolute stroke of luck on your part. You’d stayed up until midnight, eagerly waiting for your round of registration to unlock, and you’d immediately submitted your requests and refreshed the page until you got confirmation. You were elated. You had read so much about the young doctor, only in his mid-30s, who had multiple doctorates and over a decade of FBI experience. You were fully aware that taking his class would elevate your resume, not to mention that he was quite easy on the eyes.

Of course, that last part was just the consensus around campus. He polled “hottest professor” on social media every year since he’d arrived. You stared at his professor profile on the university’s website. The picture was undoubtedly a couple of years old, with brown curls atop his head and a cleanly shaven face. However, you’d heard from lots of the older majors that he’d aged like fine wine. With that in mind, you shut your computer before crawling into bed for the night. This semester can not end fast enough, you thought.

*Seven weeks later*

Returning from Christmas break was never easy, but knowing you were going into Dr. Reid’s class made things that much easier. It was your last class of the day, from 3:00 - 4:15, and you knew you’d soak up every minute of it. Though after surviving two other earlier classes and multiple rounds of icebreakers with your new classmates, you were starting to lose your initial excitement at what Dr. Reid’s course may hold.

You walked into the lecture hall, noting an empty seat about three rows from the front. Claiming the seat as your own, you pulled out your new notebook and a red pen, scribbling the date and course number at the top of your page. You checked your watch: 2:58. You couldn’t help but tap your foot impatiently as your fellow students filtered into the room.

After a few more moments passed, the side door in the lecture hall opened, and Dr. Reid walked out in front of the room. He didn’t look up at the students, whose murmuring had gone silent the moment he entered. Instead, he turned his back to the group as he wrote his name and the course number on the whiteboard.

He turned back around, this time scanning the students in the hall before clearing his throat. “Good afternoon, my name is Dr. Reid. I’ll be your professor for this course.” He paced around for a moment before coming to a stop and leaning himself back onto the desk. He looked a bit different from his faculty picture. His brown hair had grown out, allowing you to see more of his curls. His once clean-shaven face had evolved into stubble, and the rings around his eyes looked a bit darker. However, you couldn’t argue, he had aged well.

“First thing’s first, the university requires that I take roll call for the first three weeks of the course.” You waited for him to fumble around on the computer or take up a piece of paper with all of your names on it. Surprisingly, Dr. Reid began calling out names from memory without picking up a roster. “Riley Anderson?”

“Here,” a light-haired boy in the back of the class said, waving his hand.

The back and forth of Dr. Reid calling names and students replying went on for another minute before he came to your name, “Y/N Y/L/N?”

You raised your hand and offered a small smile, “Here.” He looked up at you and smiled back. As you looked away, you could feel his eyes lingering on you for a moment before he cleared his throat and continued, making quick work of the rest of the roll call before starting the course.

The first day’s lecture was relatively tame. Nothing too gruesome was discussed, and thankfully the young doctor didn’t make you play any more icebreaker games. Upon class dismissal, a large line of students eager to make nice with their new professor lined up at his desk. Though you had hoped to meet the doctor personally, you didn’t want to wait around after being on campus all day. You quickly gathered your books and shoved them in your backpack before walking up the stairs and leaving the lecture hall.

As with all semesters, the work began to pile on quickly as you did your best to keep up. Most of your classes began to blend together. However, Dr. Reid’s class was always your first priority. There was something about him that made you feel the urge to make him proud of your work. Maybe it was the way he’d smile thoughtfully as you asked him questions during the lecture or the time he’d made extra office hours for you when you needed help with a paper. It could have even been the morning you’d bumped into him in the campus coffee shop and he’d paid for your drink. As you pondered this, laying in bed the night before your midterm, you couldn’t help but feel a little silly. He did these things for all his students, right? You did your best to quiet your thoughts before forcing yourself to sleep the night before your exam.

The next morning, you walked through campus with a certain confidence in your step. Though you had never been a great test-taker, you were confident that you were going to do well on Dr. Reid’s midterm. He’d even been so kind as to offer you a study guide, which you had been working through over the last week. You were prepared, but as you approached the lecture hall, you could see that your classmates weren’t feeling so confident.

A young boy sat by the door, frantically scanning his handwritten notes in a last-minute attempt to memorise information. Several others followed suit.

Dr. Reid came around the corner, exams in hand. “Good morning, Y/N,” he said with a bright smile. “Are you ready for the exam?”

“Born ready, Doc,” you joked, following him into the lecture hall and settling into your seat. Dr. Reid passed out the exams. Just as you suspected, you finished without a hitch. You dropped the paper on his desk and he offered you a small smile as you turned and left the lecture hall.

You made your way to the library to study for your fifth and final midterm. You chose your typical spot in the corner of the room, hidden behind a large bookshelf. As you settled into study, you put your headphones in. As you dove into your reading, you became oblivious to the world around you. An hour passed, and it was only when you felt a tap on your shoulder that you were pulled from your work.

You turned to face whoever had tapped you, and you failed to hide your surprise when you were met with the dark eyes of Dr. Reid. “Oh, hey!” you said, trying to be casual as you paused your music and took your headphones off. “What are you doing here?”

He looked down at you from his standing position, offering an awkward shrug. “I’m not sure, really. I guess I just thought I might find you here.”

You furrowed your brow. “Is something wrong? Did I mess up on the exam?”

Dr. Reid shook his head, tucking his hands in his pockets. “Goodness, no. You did wonderful. The grade is already in, actually.” “Oh,” you mumbled, smiling a little at his compliment. “Well then, what’s up?”

He stumbled around for a second, working up the confidence to utter his next sentence. “I was wondering if you were free tonight.”

Your eyebrows raised and you felt your jaw drop a little. Was this happening? “Uh… f-for what?” you asked, trying not to get your hopes up.

He pulled his hands from his pockets, fiddling with his tie as he shook his head. “Ah, you know, this was silly of me. I should go,” he turned to turn from you, but you reached out and grabbed his hand before he could walk away.

“For what?” you asked again, ignoring his previous comment. You locked eyes with him, trying to read his expression.

He stood up a little straighter, your obvious interest seemingly bolstering his confidence. “I’ve been working on an article for a journal publication here at the university. I was wondering if you’d be willing to look it over for me,” he said. There was silence for a moment before he added, “I will also be cooking a new pasta recipe I found, and I would like it if you would stay for dinner after that.”

You felt a small smile creeping on your face, but you tried to contain your excitement. However, you could tell from the blush growing on his cheeks that he noticed. “I would love to do that, Dr. Reid. If you could send the address to my personal email, I would be more than happy to be there in-” you looked down at your watch, “roughly an hour.”

A smile spread over his face, “Great. I’ll do that right away.” He looked around the library for a moment before he seemed to realize where he was, snapping back to reality. “Right, well, I’d better go straighten up my place a bit. I’ll see you soon, Y/N.” With that, Dr. Reid turned from you and headed for the library door. He glanced back at you once, the blush on his cheeks evident as he walked out onto the quad.

—

After Dr. Reid’s departure from the library, you quickly gathered your things and rushed to the parking lot, making quick work of the drive back to your apartment. You jumped in the shower and rinsed the day off yourself before drying off and standing in front of your closet.

You examined your clothing choices. This wasn’t a date, was it? Maybe you should go with business casual… or should you choose something a bit more scandalous? Scandalous seemed to be the winning choice. If anything, you could lie and tell him you were going out after leaving his place. He wouldn’t think anything of it, right?

You settled on a shorter black dress that had a low-cut top. It exposed the tops of your breasts in a way that wasn’t wildly distasteful but wasn’t too subtle, either. You decided to skip on the underwear for the evening, the idea of being exposed underneath your dress enough to excite you. You’d never been with a man before, and you figured tonight wouldn’t necessarily be any different. You might as well have some secret fun of your own.

Checking your watch, you realized you were running short on time. You dashed back out the door to your car. Checking your phone, you saw he’d emailed you as he promised:

From: Spencer Reid Here’s the address you asked for, along with my apartment number. I look forward to seeing you soon. -S.R.

You couldn’t help but smile as you entered the address into your car’s GPS before taking off. The fifteen-minute drive felt like an hour as you tried not to let yourself get too nervous. You entered the lobby of his apartment building, catching the elevator to the fourth floor.

“Apartment 424,” you mumbled to yourself as you stepped off and walked down the aesthetically lit hallway. The carpeted floor was pristine, and the view from the window at the end of the hallway told you that living in this building was not cheap. You shook the thoughts from your head as you reached the last apartment in the hallway, closest to the window. This is it, you thought, don’t fuck it up.

You knocked twice and stopped to listen for any motion on the inside. You swore you could hear the soft lull of classical music from behind the door, and you suddenly heard footsteps fast approaching. The dark wooden door swung open, unveiling the wild curls of Dr. Reid. “Y/N!” he said, a smile spread wide across his face, “I’m so glad you’re here. Please, come in.” He stepped back from the door, ushering you into the room.

“Thank you, Dr. Reid.” You stepped inside, examining the room around you. It fit his personality wonderfully. The green paint on the walls was accented by large bookshelves and dark furniture. You smiled when you noticed the lack of a television and instead, a record player sat in front of the sofa. “You have a lovely apartment, Dr. Reid,” you whispered, in awe of the way his personality was infused into the design of the place.

He furrowed his brow at you, tucking his large hands into his pants pockets once more. He must be nervous. “I appreciate that. But please, call me Spencer.”

“Spencer,” you said, testing how the name felt in your mouth. “I can do that.” He smiled at you before gesturing to the couch, offering you a place to sit. You followed his lead, sitting on the far end of the couch as he perched in the middle. You felt him watching you closely, so you turned to look at him.

Spencer noticed that you’d caught him staring, so he cleared his throat to diffuse the awkward silence that had fallen over the room. “Here’s that piece I’ve been working on, if you’d still like to look over it.” He leafed through some files on the table before pulling out a thick stack of papers, held together by a large paperclip.

You took the article from him. “Twenty-seven pages front and back? That’s quite the article, Spencer,” you joked, a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips.

He blushed sheepishly. “You don’t have to read it all if you don’t want to. I just thought that-”

You waved your hand, cutting him off. “Of course, I am going to read it all. I’ll get started right away if you want to go work on something else.”

“Actually, I think I’m going to start that recipe I mentioned if you’re still interested in dinner,” he rose from the couch, watching for a sign of your approval.

You looked away from the papers to smile up at him, “Certainly, thank you.”

As he walked away, you continued scanning the papers he had given you. You weren’t sure why he wanted you to review it, you could find no issues. You let out an audible sigh, which Spencer heard from the kitchen.

“Are you doing okay?” he asked.

“Oh, yes! I’m not sure why you wanted me to look over this. It’s flawless,” you said, sounding almost disappointed.

“I would take that as a compliment if you didn’t sound so let down,” he said jokingly, a nervous tinge in his voice.

You shook your head, “I feel that I wasn’t much help.”

He scoffed, rolling his eyes. “You’ve been a great help on this project. In fact, the questions you asked about the behavior of female abusers in class were what got me thinking about this in the first place.”

A blush spread over your face, “Really?”

He smiled, trying not to make it too obvious that he noticed the blush on your cheeks. “Really. You’re easily my best student. Your drive is unmatched, and your work is some of the best undergraduate writing I have ever seen. You should consider graduate school if you aren’t already.”

I shrugged at his words. “I’m trying not to get ahead of myself. We’ll see where life takes me, I reckon.” Spencer nodded before padding back to the kitchen, checking whatever he had put together in the oven. Almost on cue, a kitchen timer dinged, letting him know creation was complete.

He pulled an oven mitt onto his large hand and pulled the dish out of the oven, setting it carefully on the stovetop before he turned back to you. “If you’d like to come sit at the kitchen table, I’d be happy to serve you.” You did as he requested, picking one of the two seats set at the table. Two glasses of wine were readily poured and thick, black cloth napkins were placed at each chair. You spread the fabric over your lap, noticing the careful vines embroidered along the trim.

“Are these hand-embroidered?” you asked.

Spencer nodded, “My mother used to live with me. She enjoys doing that sort of thing. I came back one day and she’d done these floral patterns around the edges.” He held up his cloth, gently tracing his finger along the vines and flowers.

Despite your evident interest in her handiwork, you couldn’t help but wonder about his mother. “Your mother used to live with you?” you asked. “Where is she now?”

Spencer sighed as he looked down, gently laying his cloth across his lap as you had done moments before. “She stays in a nursing facility where they can give her the attention and care she needs. Between working at the university and consulting on cases for the Bureau, I wasn’t doing enough.” As he looked up at you again, you could hear the implication of his final statement: I wasn’t enough.

You reached for the hand he’d placed back on the table, gently covering it with your own. “I’m sure you did everything you could for her. I’m certain she knows how much you care for her.”

He offered you a sad smile, turning his hand up under yours and gently wrapping his fingers around your hand. “Thank you, Y/N.” Spencer trailed off, seeming to zone out for a minute as his eyes glazed over. You gently pulled your hand away from him, bringing him back to reality.

“Well, uh,” he cleared his throat, rising from the table. “We can’t have dinner without the food, how silly of me.” Spencer gently picked up the dish from the counter, setting it on the table in front of you. You examined the dish of pasta. “May I?” Spencer asked, scooping up a healthy spoonful.

“Sure, thank you,” you picked up your plate, offering it to him. He placed a large helping of food on your plate along with a piece of bread before passing it back to you. You waited for him to serve himself and get reseated before you took a bite. “Oh my god,” you mumbled.

Spencer’s eyes shot up from his plate as he dropped his fork on his placemat. “What’s the matter?”

You shook your head, eyes wide in amazement. “This pasta is incredible. Where did you find this recipe?”

Spencer’s shoulders relaxed and he let out a small laugh of relief. “Oh, I got it from a coworker. He’s a true Italian – cooks this sort of thing all the time.”

You lifted the glass of wine he’d set out for you earlier. “Cheers to this mysterious coworker and your ability to replicate authentic Italian cuisine.”

He mirrored your movements, and your glasses gently clinked together. You locked eyes with him as you both took sips of your drinks. Something about the moment was wildly intimate and laced with flirtation.

You forced yourself to look away, examining the cloth on your lap. “So, uh,” you stuttered, “are you looking forward to the end of the semester?”

Spencer took a bite of his pasta, mulling this over for moment. “Well,” he started, “yes and no. How about you?” He looked you over. You wondered if he was trying to profile you based on his careful examination of your body language and facial expressions.

You chose to shrug, “Yes and no.”

“Why’s that?” he asked.

“Oh, I’m not sure. There are some classes I’ll miss. Yours, of course.”

He smiled shyly, “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“You should. I love your class, but it’s really more than that,” you mumbled, refusing to make eye contact as you fiddled with the hem of your dress.

He quietly rose from the table and approached your side, looking down at you carefully. “Tell me,” he whispered. He leaned down to you, putting a hand under your chin and forcing you to look at him. He placed his large hands on either side of your face, as one of his thumbs gently caressed your cheekbone. “Tell me if I’m reading this wrong,” he whispered. His dark eyes scanned your own. “Tell me if I’m reading this wrong and we can forget this. We’ll never talk about this again.”

You swallowed nervously. “You’re not reading this wrong,” you answered quietly. You brought one of your hands up to cover one resting on your face.

You rose from your seat and he followed suit. He stood several inches taller than you, adding to the strange power dynamic between the two of you.

He lowered his hands, running them over your shoulders and down your arms until he slipped his hands around your hips, holding you in place in front of him as he looked at you. You could see the way he held himself back from you. He was trying to decide just how far he should go.

You sighed and reached for him. “I’m not made of glass, you know,” you whispered jokingly, hanging your arms loosely from his neck to pull him a bit closer to you. He complied, leaning over you silently as your words hung in the air between you.

“This entire situation is delicate,” he said in a serious tone. “I just don’t want to overstep.”

“Spencer,” you laughed. “I’m standing in your apartment, calling you by your first name. Your hands are wrapped around my hips. I’m hanging off your neck. Don’t you think we’ve already overstepped?”

He considered this for a second, looking around the room. “I suppose. What are you thinking?” he asked genuinely, raising an eyebrow in curiosity.

“I’m thinking,” you said, pressing your body against his, “that I would love to push some more boundaries with you.”

As much as he tried to deny it, he found himself giving in to you. Spencer closed his eyes, letting the scent of your perfume flood his senses. “You have no idea how long I’ve thought about this,” he whispered.

“Tell me,” you pressed a gentle kiss to his neck. He leaned back, allowing you full access.

“Fuck-” he murmured, “I noticed you from the beginning. You…” His words trailed off into a groan as you gently sucked on his neck. He ran a hand down your body, pressing you against him with a large hand on the small of your back. “You’re always so attentive, so eager to learn.”

You hummed in agreement, continuing to trail your lips up and down his neck. “Is there anything else you can teach me?” you whispered dangerously close to his ear.

He pulled away, placing a gentle hand around your waist, guiding you into the hallway of his apartment. “Where are we going?” you asked.

“My bedroom,” he said. His hand tightened around your waist as he reached for the door.

The two of you stumbled inside, unable to keep your hands off each other. You found yourself falling backwards on his bed as he leaned over you, catching your lips in a kiss once again. You ran your hands through his soft curls and thought of all the times you’d berated yourself for imagining this exact moment. This couldn’t be happening.

“I’m not going to go easy on you,” he mumbled against your lips. You felt a tinge of anxiety. Was now the time to tell him you really had no idea what you’re doing? He ran his hands up the back of your thighs, lifting the hem of your dress and revealing your lack of underwear to him. “No underwear?” he asked, smile evident on his lips as he leaned over you, leaving your back pressing against his clothed chest.

You blushed, trying not to let on that you’d secretly been praying for this to happen all evening. Of course, Spencer already knew that. You were putty in his hands.

He lifted himself off of you, and you rolled over to face him as he stood over you. “Stand up,” he said. You did as you were told, rising in front of him. You stayed still as he circled you a moment, almost as if you were some kind of prey. Spencer found the zipper to your dress. He rested his hand on it for a moment, leaning forward to offer you a soft kiss on the cheek. You took it as his way of asking for your consent, so you nodded, to which he immediately began unzipping the back of your dress.

The black material fell from your shoulders and soon laid limply at your feet. Spencer let out a quiet moan as he turned you around to face him. You were completely bare before him. “My god, Y/N,” he mumbled.

His lips attacked yours as he pushed you back on to the bed, your dress forgotten on the floor as his hands explored your body. He placed both his hands around your breasts, squeezing them gently as he began kissing down your neck. Spencer’s descent down your body continued with the utmost purpose, as you saw him lowering himself off the bed and down on to his knees in front of you.

“W-what are you doing?” you asked nervously.

Spencer looked up from your body to meet your eyes. “I want to taste you,” he said, matter of factly.

As hot as the statement was, you couldn’t overcome the insecurity and anxiety that had seeped into your mind. In one flash, the confession fell from your lips. “I’ve never done this before,” you whispered, voice barely audible.

Spencer stopped immediately, completely removing his gaze from your naked figure to focus on your face. He rose from his knees and sat himself on the edge of his bed. “You’ve never had sex before?” Spencer asked gently, looking you in the eyes the entire time.

You nodded, suddenly feeling extremely vulnerable in front of him. “I probably should have disclosed that sooner. I’m sorry, I know it’s a major turn off,” you started to sit up, reaching for your dress on the floor. As you did, Spencer grabbed your wrist, forcing you to stop and look at him.

“Quite the opposite, actually,” he said.

You furrowed your brow at him. “Really?”

He cupped your face with his hands, gently tracing the edge of your jaw with his thumbs. “I know our situation isn’t the most conventional, but if you let me, I promise I’ll take care of you.”

You bit your lip in anticipation. “Okay,” you nodded.

“Okay,” he whispered. “I want you to lay back for me, and I’ll make you feel good.”

You couldn’t help but trust him as you laid back on to the bed. He dropped to his knees once more, running his hands over your thighs before pulling them apart, exposing you to him. Spencer lunged forward, licking an experimental stripe up your slit to gauge your reaction. You’d never felt anything like it before, and you couldn’t help but moan as he continued his movements, focusing his attention on your clit.

“Spencer,” you groaned. Your hand found its way to his mess of curls, tugging sharply. He moaned into your center, the vibrations nearly sending you over the edge. “I-I’m close,” you whined, continuing to hold the back of his head.

You heard him speak from between your legs, “Let go, baby. I’ve got you.” Spencer dove back into your core, wrapping his lips around your clit.

A sudden intrusion caused your legs to jerk, and you realized he’d inserted a finger into you. The mixture of the wonderful pressure he was placing on your bundle of nerves and the new sensation of his finger thrusting inside you sent you over the edge. You came hard, loosing your grip on the back of his head as you did.

Spencer remained on his knees, lapping up what he could of you release before he rose to meet you on the bed. “You’re such a good girl,” he said, placing a soft kiss on your forehead as he laid next to you.

You hummed in satisfaction, forcing yourself to open your eyes. He brushed a strand of hair out of your face. You couldn’t help but notice the sinful amount of clothes that were still on his body. You expressed this by tugging gently on his tie, “Why am I the only one who’s naked?”

Spencer chuckled. “We can fix that,” he said, rising from the bed. He made quick work of his tie, and undid the buttons on his dress shirt as you watched in awe. As Spencer shrugged the shirt off his shoulders, you took in his physique. Though thin and tall, his muscles were pronounced. You noted a few scars scattered about his figure, and wondered if you could get him to tell the stories behind them. His voice brought you out of your thoughts. “You’re staring,” he said as he slowly undid his belt.

You shrugged from your position on the bed, “I like what I see.”

He let out a quiet laugh as he discarded his belt on the floor next to the bed, the hard leather hitting the floor with a loud thunk. Spencer peeled his pants off his legs, neatly folding them and setting them on a dresser next to the door. You couldn’t help but notice the large tent in his boxers, and found yourself wondering what exactly he was hiding under there.

Before you could stop yourself, you slid off the bed and stood in front of him. He raised an eyebrow at you, indicating his confusion as you dropped to your knees in front of him. “What do you think you’re doing?” he said with a tinge of humor in his voice.

“Returning the favor,” you said shyly, not wanting to meet his gaze.

A large hand came to rest gently on your head as he ran his fingers through your hair, “You don’t have to do this, you know. This is about you.”

You shook your head, finally mustering up the courage to look up at him. “I want to. I want you to teach me,” you whispered.

That statement was enough to bring an end to his objections. Spencer smiled down at you with a sigh, “Pretty girl. Go ahead.” You smiled happily at the compliment and the permission to continue. You placed a few simple kissed above the hem of his boxers before locking your fingers under the seam and pulling them down completely. Spencer assisted by stepping out of his boxers, and he stood completely bare in front of you. You stared at his figure once more, eyes wide at the sight of him. His length was intimidating, especially for someone as inexperienced as yourself. You were unsure of how to proceed.

Spencer leant down quietly and took your hand from his thigh, moving it to wrap around the base of his cock. “Now, just move your hand back and forth until you find a rhythm,” he encouraged. Like a student eager to please, you followed his instructions. After a moment he spoke again, “You’re doing so good, pretty girl.”

You weren’t sure if it was your need to praise him or the flash of unadulterated lust you felt at that moment, but you leaned forward and slid the tip of his dick into your mouth. Spencer looked down at you through hooded eyes, the silent act urging you to continue. You opened your throat the best you could, sliding him further into your mouth until you couldn’t anymore. You wrapped your hand around the rest of him and, in time with the bobs of your head, stroked what you couldn’t fit in your mouth.

“Y/N,” Spencer groaned from above, placing an encouraging hand on the back of your head. He held your hair tightly. “Relax, baby,” he murmured. You slowed your movements so that he could fuck your throat at his own pace. You could tell he was holding himself back for your sake, and your heart swelled at how gentle he was trying to be during such a filthy act.

You closed your eyes, becoming accustomed to the feeling of him hitting the back of your throat, timing your breaths to the thrust of his hips. Suddenly, you felt the hold on the back of your head let up as Spencer pulled completely out of your mouth. “I’d love to keep doing that,” he said, out of breath, “but there are other places I’d like to finish tonight.”

You blushed at the implication of his words. He reached a hand out to you, helping you stand up from the ground and pulling you into a passionate kiss. Spencer’s tongue entered your mouth as he moaned into the kiss, hands exploring your figure as he pushed you back towards the bed. You let yourself fall, the soft mattress greeting you as Spencer continued kissing you.

He reached a hand down between the two of you, taking a hold of one of your thighs and spreading your legs open for him. Spencer pulled away from the kiss, meeting your eyes. “Do you still want to do this?” he asked.

You nodded. “I want to do this with you, Spencer.”

“You have to be vocal,” he said, continuing to look down at you. “I want you to tell me what you feel and what you need.” You agreed.

He kissed you gently once more before guiding his hand in between your legs, pushing a single finger into your opening. Spencer thrusted the digit in and out of you slowly, allowing you to get used to the feeling. “Do you think you can take another one?” he asked quietly.

You nodded, “Yes.” He gently pulled his fingers out of you, the next intrusion stretching you more than the last. He worked his index and middle fingers in and out of your opening as you moaned under him.

After another minute, he pulled away from you. “You’re doing so good,” Spencer encouraged. He gave himself a couple quick strokes as he reached over to his side table, pulling a condom out of the drawer. He slid the condom over himself and positioned both your legs on either side of his body, lining himself up with your entrance. “Remember, you have to tell me what you’re feeling. Okay?”

He rubbed soothing circles on your thigh with one hand as he gently rubbed his cock up and down your folds, collecting your wetness. You whimpered as Spencer pressed his tip into your entrance, body jerking inadvertantly as he continued to enter you. He peppered your collar with kisses as he continued. There was a small tinge of pain which brought tears to the corner of your eyes, but the pleasure was overriding the minor discomfort you felt. After fully entering you, he paused, allowing you to adjust.

“How does it feel?” he asked. Your eyes, which had been squeezed shut, fluttered open at his voice.

“Spencer-” you stuttered, “m-move. Please.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead before pulling himself back and entering you slowly once again.

“God, you’re so tight,” he groaned above you. You couldn’t respond, too focused on the feeling of him thrusting in and out of you to begin to form a reply. “I wish you could see yourself right now,” he whispered, peppering your cheeks with kisses, “You’re so fucking beautiful.”

You moaned at his praise, and you felt yourself tightening around his cock. “You like it when I tell you how good you’re doing?” Spencer asked, a mischievous smirk rising to his lips. “You’re such a good girl, Y/N. You’re taking me so well,” he punctuated the final two words with sharp thrusts of his hips.

Between the words coming out of his mouth and the consistent movement of his hips, you knew you wouldn’t last long. You moaned, dragging your fingernails down his chest in an attempt to let him know. “Words, baby,” he encouraged.

“I-” you groaned, “I’m gonna cum.”

Spencer nodded, lifting himself up on his right arm to create some distance between you. “Hold on for me, one second.” He snaked a single hand down your torso, reaching your clit. He began drawing tight circles on your clit, causing your legs to shake as you tightened around him. Spencer leaned down to you and pressed his body against yours, “Let go, I’ve got you.”

With his permission, your orgasm hit you like a ton of bricks. Your back arched off the bed as you squeezed your eyes shut, Spencer’s name falling off your lips. Driven by the feeling of you constricting around his cock, Spencer drove one final thrust into you, pushing himself in to the hilt.

You felt an unfamiliar sensation as he finished into the condom inside of you, lips parted in a silent groan as he held himself above you, staring deep into your eyes. “Good girl,” he whispered one more time as he collapsed on top of you. You both laid there for a second in a futile attempt to catch your breath. He leaned up, placing a soft kiss on your lips before he pulled out of you, causing you to moan at the sensation. “I’ll be right back,” he said.

You heard him exit his bedroom, and the sound of water running drew your attention to the bathroom. A moment later, Spencer reentered the bedroom. “Come on, baby. Let’s get cleaned up.” It was then you became aware of the amount of sweat coating your body, as well as the wetness coating your inner thighs. You accepted his outstretched hand as he lead you to his bathroom, allowing you to sink into the bathtub before he followed suit. He climbed in behind you, allowing you to lean back against him. “How do you feel?” he asked.

You turned your head to look at him, “I feel great.” You sat in silence for a second, a smile spreading across your face.

“What?” Spencer asked.

You shook your head, covering your face before letting out a small giggle.

Spencer’s smile mirrored your own. “C’mon now, what is it?”

“I guess you did have a lot to teach me, Dr. Reid.” You turned to look at him, eyes meeting for the first time since entering the bathtub.

Spencer pressed a gentle kiss to your cheek, lips dangerously close to your ear. “Believe me, there’s lots for you to learn, if you’re interested.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Are you asking me on a date, Doc?”

He sighed, leaning back against the bathtub. “Sure am.”

“Maybe next time, we’ll actually make it through dinner and get to dessert,” you said with a laugh.

“I don’t know,” he said, leaning around to look at you. He lowered his voice, “Now that I know what you taste like, you’re my favorite dessert.”

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therealcocoshady · 5 months

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Hi coco!

Can you do a one shot about a younger actress reader?

There is a tiktok going viral about her saying that she likes older men and another where she is looking at marshall at an event with "fuck me eyes"?

Reader freaks out when marshall just slides into her dms but later they are spotted together at the paparazzi?

I just find it cute and awkward 💀

DADDY’S SPAGHETTI 🍝

Eminem x Young Actress Reader

Synopsis : You are a young actress whose crush on Eminem becomes public. You are mortified about it… until he slides in your DMs.

Author’s Note : I absolutely LOVED this request, I had to give it a go ❤️. I was inspired and I swear I never wrote anything that quickly. It is short and sweet and I hope you enjoy it. ☺️

You thought you were done being publicly embarrassed. Yet, life was proving you wrong. As an actress who had her start in her teenage years, you weren’t a stranger to embarrassment. From awkward casting calls to stupid deaths on TV, it was practically part of the job. However, as your career evolved, you thought it would go away. After all, you were now in a better position, able to choose the projects you were involved in and you had garnered the respect from your peers and the industry. Even the media had become more kind towards you. In a matter of years, you had gone from the awkward teen movie star to well-respected actress, and you were able to look back fondly to your early years. You even joked about how awkward you were, back then. The last thing you expected was for it to start all over again.

You were walking the red carpet for the premiere of your latest movie, your biggest project to date. It was truly the highlight of your career : a role created specifically for you, a movie directed by someone you admired, a beautiful story told on the big screen… You had gotten your fair share of praise in the past, but you knew this was going to be your « big break ». Behind the scenes, everyone had praised your performance and told you it was « Oscars material ». You didn’t know if that was true or not, but you were on cloud nine nonetheless. When you walked the red carpet at the premiere, in a custom Elie Saab gown, everything felt right and you weren’t even stressed out when you answered the questions of a few journalists present.

You look truly amazing, tonight, one commented. Who are you wearing ?

Thank you ! This is a custom Elie Saab, I feel like a princess. I sort of had to dress up for this beautiful event, you replied as you tried to shift the focus on the movie.

This is your biggest role to date, another said. How do you feel about the movie ? Have you seen it ?

I’ve seen bits and pieces. But I’m going to discover the whole thing tonight, you said with excitement. I’m very confident. Filming with such a director was an honor and I know that the result will be great. I can’t wait for everyone to see it !

One thing that everybody is really excited about is the soundtrack, too, a third journalist chimed in. Eminem was involved. Have you heard the theme song yet ?

I haven’t, you said. But it’s Eminem so I know it’s going to be absolutely fantastic ! I can’t wait to hear it !

You sound like you like his work. Have the two of you met ? They asked.

Oh, I’m his biggest fan, you said with a huge smile. His music’s the soundtrack to my life ! But no, I haven’t met him…

Tonight’s your chance, they joked. He is over there.

They pointed to him and Eminem was, indeed, a few feet away from you. He had been a celebrity crush of yours for years and you were absolutely starstruck. He was even more attractive than in pictures ! You couldn’t help but stare. This man was oozing charisma and commanding attention. You didn’t even notice that you were looking at him with « fuck me » eyes and licking your lips. For a brief instant, you completely forgot where you were, until you heard your name being called, signaling that you had to keep walking and enter the screening room. That night, you didn’t get a chance to meet your idol, though. As the lead of the movie, people kept on coming over to you and talking to you. It was probably for the best, too. You had been starstruck enough on the red carpet ad you did not trust yourself to have a pleasant exchange with him.

Of course, the video of you thirsting over Eminem went viral. It would have been kind of cute if other clips hadn’t surfaced. There were videos from years ago, of you talking about having a crush on him - God, you really didn’t have a filter, back then - and especially one interview where you were candid about being attracted by older men.

What’s your type when it comes to men and dating ? The journalist asked.

I like mature, older men, you said candidly. I’m not really attracted to people my age.

Any physical features you’re attracted to ?

Oh, it’s typical, you know, you giggled. Dark hair, blue eyes… I like a nice beard, too.

So basically… Eminem ? The interviewer playfully asked.

Oooof… You have no idea, you replied with a grin.

Isn’t he… Old enough to be your Dad, though ?

Let’s just say I wouldn’t mind calling Marshall Mathers Daddy, you giggled.

At the time, this interview didn’t make much noise. It was for an indie podcast and, seeing as you weren’t too famous at the time, it sort of flew under the radar. It was kind of a harmless joke and a nod to your thirst for him, which all your friends were very much aware of. However, the video resurfaced after the viral red carpet clip, and people were quick to make edits, soberly titled « Y/N thirsting over Eminem over the years ». Your friends jokingly forwarded them to you and you know they were being playful, but to you, it was everything but fun. You were absolutely mortified. Having a crush on him was one thing, but there was a literal video of you staring at him like you were in heat. So much for being a classy movie star…

The nail in the coffin came when Marshall was interviewed and asked to react to the video of you thirsting over him. He seemed genuinely surprised, leading to think that he wasn’t aware of the clip before the interview. All in all, he didn’t say much, he just described the whole thing as « flattering » and quickly went on to praise your performance in the movie : « We didn’t actually meet, but I saw the movie, which I worked on the soundtrack for, and she is really amazing in it. Really talented. ». Thank God, he didn’t add to your embarrassment. Your friends were going crazy over this « Come on, Y/N, he said he was flattered and that you’re talented ! That’s cute ! You should DM him or something », they encouraged you. However, you didn’t. He was clearly just being classy and not publicly embarrassing you - you did that on your own anyway.

A few days later, however, you had the biggest surprise of your life : a DM from him on Instagram. At first, you thought it was a fake account and didn’t pay it much attention but it was clearly him, verified account, blue tick and everything. You were nervous to open it and you almost didn’t want to. What would he say to you ? Most likely something along the lines of « Please don’t mention me ever again, that’s awkward, you’re awkward and your filmography is trash anyway». It actually took you a couple of days to muster the courage of opening it. Thankfully, it wasn’t anything horrible. Quite the contrary, actually. He was in LA for the week and wanted to know if you’d have dinner with him. You were terrified and freaking out, but also excited. At first, you were reluctant - what if you embarrassed yourself ? But ultimately, curiosity got the best of you and you accepted. Surely, if he asked you to have dinner with him, it couldn’t be that bad, right ?

A couple of days later, the two of you went for dinner and joined at SoHo House in West Hollywood. Due to both of your fame, a members-only social club was a safe pace that allowed for privacy. You were nervous, at first, and some paranoid part of your brain was scared that it would be a complete disaster, but it was the contrary. He introduced himself as Marshall and was an absolute gentleman and a sweetheart. He mentioned he had seen a lot of your movies and described himself as an admirer of your work. The whole evening, conversation flowed easily between the two of you. He put you at ease and was one of the most interesting persons you had ever met, knowledgeable on a lot of subjects and funny as hell, too. You weren’t too sure, but it also seemed like he was subtly flirting with you, though you didn’t want to get in your own head and make assumptions. He was so chill that you weren’t star struck anymore, but you were still reasonably impressed and too scared to flirt, so you simply enjoyed conversation with him. You were usually scared to meet people you admired, afraid that you’d have a terrible interaction with them that would taint your perception of their work, but the whole dinner was heavenly and you were so glad he DMed you. In his company, time seemed like a foreign concept, so much so that you had to be kicked out of the club’s restaurant, since you were the only customers left and it was 2 in the morning.

I can’t believe we’ve been here for six hours already, you giggled. Time really flew by.

It did, he said with a smile. I’m really glad we did this, Y/N.

Me too, you said shyly.

You were in the lobby, about to part ways, and your heart was beating fast. The way he spoke your name had you feeling all the feels and you didn’t really want the moment to end. He was staring at you intently while you were nervously biting your lip, trying not to say something awkward that could ruin the night. « Don’t be that person, Y/N », you thought to yourself.

Thank you for coming, he said. When you didn’t reply to my DM, I thought you didn’t really want to meet. But I had a really great time tonight.

Yeah, sorry I… I actually took a few days to open your message because I was scared, you confessed. I mean, we haven’t addressed the elephant in the room tonight, but I did kind of make a fool of myself on the red carpet. And when you wrote, I was kind of nervous.

You didn’t make a fool of yourself, he said reassuringly. Nothing to be embarrassed about. It was kind of adorable.

No need to sugarcoat it, you said nervously. You’ve seen that video of me thirsting over you…

I have, he said as he got closer to you. I’m pretty lucky…

A-Are you ? You asked nervously.

Yeah… Thank God they didn’t catch me staring at you the whole night of the premiere, he continued. Because I literally couldn’t take my eyes off you. You’re gorgeous.

Oh ? Uhm… I mean… The glam team really did a good job, you babbled. And the stylists, too.

They really did, he said with a smile as he got even closer. You were stunning.

I mean, it was a lot of work for me to look good, you know ? I mean I normally look like tra-… I mean, not trash but you know it’s…

There you were. Embarrassing yourself. There was only so much time you could spend in his intoxicating presence without making a fool of yourself and, apparently, it was six hours. He was smiling and you nerves were getting the best of you. You didn’t drink too much at dinner and you couldn’t even blame it on the cocktails. Just your dumb brain making interactions awkward. Thank God the lobby was dimly lit, otherwise, he would have seen your face turn bright red. You cheeks were burning from embarrassment.

I-I’m sorry, you said. I’m not good at talking to hot people. I mean you’re… Oh my God, why can’t I shut up ? I’m sorry, it’s late and -

I’ll help you, he chuckled as he cupped your face and kissed you.

The kiss was soft and romantic and you could feel him smile into it. He had one hand stroking your cheek while the other one was on your waist, pulling you close to him. You wrapped your arms around his neck and fully leaned into the kiss as your lips parted ways, allowing his tongue to caress yours. Thank God it was late and you were the only people there, having some sense of privacy while the kiss got more and more passionate. When he broke the embrace, Marshall grabbed your hand and pressed his forehead to yours.

Would you like to come to my room ? He asked with a smile.

Ok, you nodded - still a bit dizzy from the kiss.

In the elevator, you kissed hungrily and there was absolutely no doubt as to where this was headed. You usually weren’t the kind of girl to sleep on the first date, but your five-date policy was thrown to the fire. Marshall was way too hot, way too charismatic. Also, you’d fantasized about him long enough to make an exception. If every wet dream of yours he had inhabited over the years counted as a date, this was actually overdue. You made it to the room and quickly ended up on the bed with him on top of you, nipping at the sweet spot in your neck.

Marshall, you moaned.

You meant « Daddy », right ? He asked with a smirk.

You stared at him with your mouth open, almost embarrassed as you remembered your comment about how you wouldn’t mind calling him Daddy. Your shocked expression made him laugh and he didn’t give you time to reply. Instead, he captured your lips and ran his hands under your blouse. That night, you did end up calling him « Daddy », as well as screaming his name while he ravished you in every way possible until the both of you passed out from exhaustion.

The next morning, as you woke up in his arms, you weren’t too sure what to do or say, wondering if that was a one time thing or not. However, you weren’t confused for too long as Marshall asked you on another dinner date. You saw each other as much as possible for the remainder of his stay in California. It was meant to be casual, at first, but it quickly became more and, even though the two of you were busy, you tried to make it work. Whenever he came to LA to work with Dre, he would stay at your place and, as soon as you had free time, you flew to Michigan to spend time with him. It was only a matter of time until rumors started to emerge about the two of you, though you were careful not to be spotted together.

DADDY’S SPAGHETTI : Y/N SPOTTED IN DETROIT.

Oscar-nominated actress Y/N was spotted in Detroit last week. She was seen grabbing a takeout order from Mom’s Spaghetti on Woodward Avenue. Through the years, Y/N has been quite vocal about her love of Eminem, but it seems like she’s doing more than supporting the Rap God’s business venture. The hoodie she was wearing does look a lot like the one Eminem was wearing a few days earlier when he was spotted attending the Lions game. Last time she walked the red carpet, Y/N was seen thirsting over the Detroit rapper. Is there a chance they could appear at the Oscars together ?

#eminem #marshall mathers #slim shady #eminem fanfiction #eminem x reader #eminem fluff #marshall mathers x reader #marshall mathers imagine #eminem imagine

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princessbrunette · 1 month

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⊹ ᜊ(ᜊ ´ ˘)੭ ♡ … HOT TO GO! ♡

5, 6, 5678!

the day had come — and of course, at the busiest hour of pizzadeliveryboy!popes shift. they still had this janky red landline phone from the 80’s in the kitchen of the restaurant, with possibly the most obnoxious ring one could fathom. like, really — it was no wonder these things weren’t household items anymore. the sound was ear piercing.

popes too busy sprinkling cheese to pick up — so you’re greeted with a disinterested thirty-something year old who barely got out his ‘you’ve reached HTG Pizza how can i help ya—” before you were blasting his ear off with—

“PUT POPE ON THE PHONE!”

you had broken up with your boyfriend. one year of toxicity, pain and torment all in the name of saving face. kook life was cruel, and appearance so often mattered more than feeling — and though your boyfriend treated you terribly… the life was safe and sweet.

maybe you were the cruel one for making pope wait. he’d been too patient for his own good— watching you try to uphold your perfect reputation whilst confiding in him on the side. he knew you were a sweet girl, simply making a bunch of not so sweet choices, and pope would never condone cheating — but soon the two of you started fooling around, which lead to you screwing around (which is just fooling around without dinner.) and just like that, he’d caught feelings.

he’d do anything to break the two of you up. no really — the term ‘praying on someone’s downfall’ was never something that the heyward boy was familiar with until he met you. it started off as petty things, reporting every instagram picture of the two of you together. this quickly evolved into sending you check in texts at angel number hours like 11:11, so that maybe you’d think some divine figure was trying to guide the two of you together. terribly enough, he even dragged kiara down to that crystal shop downtown so he could ask the nice lady with pretty feathers in her hair what crystal he could use to break you up with your boyfriend.

kiara told him in was bad karma to pray on peoples downfall.

but now he’s cycling to your house, your empty house might he mention and all but dumping his bike on your front lawn because for once it doesn’t matter who sees. hell, he even ripped off the uniform visor on his head and tossed it. you’re there at the door waiting for him under the warm porch light in just a skirt and bra like you’d already worked on getting your clothes off for him.

“i’m so sorry i had to finish my shift i obviously would have come as soon as—” he’s rambling before he’s reached you, but you’re shaking your head with a purely lustful look in your eye, breathing out a—

“— shut up.”

and as soon as he’s reached you you’re diving into his arms, legs round his waist — lips to his and you really, really didn’t care who saw. you fumble for the door anyway, the two of you bumping into things as you slam it shut behind the two of you. he takes his lips away just for a second to suck in a breath and whisper “i didn’t bring any pizza this time—” but you clearly didn’t care, stuffing your tongue back into his mouth. well, that settles that. it was never about the pizza.

every surface. pope heyward was doing you on every flat surface of that egregiously large house of yours — and soon, after much loud and bordering on aggressive sex, you’ve finally wound up on your back in bed, staring into eachothers eyes as he rolls his hips, little “ohhh, ah, ah…”’s leaving your sore and sensitive mouth.

“god i’m so glad to have you now. i can have you now, right?” popes brows furrow, looking desperate and urgent. the two of you had sweat so much he doesn’t even smell like stuffed crusts and garlic dip anymore.

“was always yours. m’sorry pope i’m so sorry!” you sob when the curve in his cock nudges your cervix because he can’t help but bottom out fully when you say it. he kept anticipating that he’d wake up to his alarm and this had all been a beautiful dream, reminding him to hang on just another day.

“you’re okay i— i’d wait forever for this. fuck.” he shudders, face dropping for a moment to press an earnest kiss to your collar bone.

“can i tell you something?” you grasp him, speaking in a hushed tone, saved for a vulnerable moment like this.

“anything!” he promises, back to eye level.

“i…i really don’t like the pizza you’d bring, i mean papa johns is just way better—”

“no yeah that’s completely understandable. i mean totally—”

you’re rolling him onto his back now. the undying urge to make up for lost time taking over and instantly you’re sinking down onto his length and grinding like your life depended on it.

“shit. oh my god.” he groans, dishevelled in your pink sheets. a hand comes to his forehead in disbelief at the sight of your naked body riding him like this, so different from your usual rushed encounters before anyone returns home or in the back of his pizza fan — and the other thumb grazes your clit, eyes glued to the way you’re swallowing him, leaving a creamy ring at his flushed base.

you follow his gaze, reaching down to spread yourself for him. quite the sight.

“who’s is it?” he presses your clit and you howl, clutching his wrist. “who’s baby? tell me please.”

“yours pope!” you cry.

“who’s?”

“s’all yours pope! it always was!”

perhaps he knew this already, but god did it feel good to hear.

#chicago mentioned….. iykyk #hotpizzadeliveryboy!pope #pope heyward prompt

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inkskinned · 1 year

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one of the things that's so frustrating is how often the arguments against us are actually happening to us. we said - you need to watch out, this will evolve into allowing fascism into legal statute. and we were told: you're a sensitive snowflake. you're annoying and stupid and have no concept of reality. nobody really believes that stuff.

but it's indoctrination for kids to even see queer people. it's grooming for kids to even be around queer people. it's disgusting to even put rainbows on kids clothes. it's inappropriate, shameful, still-an-argument. like any of this is new - we know already. for you, even seeing someone unashamed is the same thing as "forcing" it onto you. because god-forbid you confront any internal thought you have. because god-forbid you practice empathy. rage is better, i guess. it keeps you pretty.

this has always been the way of some people - a while ago, it would have been "sinful" for my white mom to marry my hispanic dad. once, in the year of our lord 2015, someone told me that "mutts" deserve a woodchipper. that one particular insult stayed with me - not because it was the first or last, but because there was something so unbelievably violent about it that i couldn't figure out how to hold it. the idea that someone is so assured of their bigotry and rage that they would paint this kind of a picture. even jokingly, even with the anonymity of the internet, it kind of centered things for me. a sense that, for some people, their rage burned so unimaginably large that it blocked even the basic fact of my humanity.

at one point, while i still had enough fire in me to get into long arguments, one of the bigots i was "debating" (being harassed by) said: to be honest, it's about the sex, not the love. between you, me, and the four walls of this blue hellsite, i actually didn't really care for "love is love" as the slogan of our community. it seemed so placid, so gentle, so ally-focused. where was the vitriol? where was the hours i spent agonizing over myself? where was the quiet moments of my life, filled with the sound of other people's hatred? this static that settles over everything; even for the action of holding her hand.

the world is unfair. i am an adult, and without the veneer and small-pond syndrome of my teenage years, the slogan has started sounding more desperate. the more places i went, the more people i met. love is love. love is defending him on a rooftop bar. the drink she throws at me goes down into my shoes while i stand there, wishing i had a better retort than what the fuck. love is both of us, keeping our heads down, the black SUV full of frat boys (?) pulled up next to us, howling, for five whole blocks, until we both gave up and had to stick our bare legs into the thicket by the side of the road, giving over into tick country rather than let it go on any longer. love is a lazy spring afternoon, my hand on her belly, the fan spinning overhead. did you hear the whole thing about target?

did you hear about being the target? that's a fun little parallel, isn't it. it almost feels like the game that-is-about-me is being played without-my-participation. someone wants to set fire to my life, and i have to wait for a response from a capitalist institution. i am watching a tiktok where a white woman under white lights complains about adult swimsuits, even though i think a lot of people would benefit from having swimming options that are not "instagram-inspired bikini" or "impossible to move in but otherwise pretty".

sometimes it just seems so fucking stupid. like, just to check, the rage you feel and the hatred - you could really just avoid all of that by minding your fucking business. sometimes (and this is true): it's not about you, and people don't need your permission. like, i don't understand any obsession with sports, but it seems to make other people happy. american football literally results in grievous bodily injury - and yet there are onesies for babies that say future quarterback. i personally don't love it, so i just don't buy that stuff. i walk by it, and don't let it bother me. there have been so, so, so many times that i was told - "so what if he's a little bit homophobic, if you don't like him, don't watch his movies." "so what if they fired her. don't buy their product." "so what if they wouldn't make a rainbow cake. just don't support them."

sometimes i feel the meaning of it scud against my body, an orca whale inside of me, threatening the boat. it is too large to see from my place; this shadow of a thing that dwarfs my petty other-concerns. i need to find a dress for an event, and florida is passing more anti-gay legislation. i need to text my friend back and confirm our plans, and someone is throwing beer bottles to the floor in a walmart because a different case had rainbows on them. it is a long fall, if i look down into it; this sense like the bottom doesn't exist. like i have only ever dipped my toes in.

sometimes i am unbelievably tired of talking about it. it feels like it has become too trite in my own poetry - queer writer complains about the state of the world! how original! - and then something else happens, and i am here again. i remember that it isn't a moment. i remember it isn't a scattered population of cartoon evil-doers, intent on world domination from behind handlebar mustaches. it is a concerted effort of real people with real power who really-do want to see my end. it is a lifetime of dodging the beercan as it sails out of the back of the van. it is a lifetime of not-kissing once we leave the apartment. it is a lifetime of watching someone protest our existence and then, very slowly, giving them the finger. it is a lifetime of holding my friends' hands and hearing the same agony in their life that i lived through. it is us, together, our faces turned upwards, the night sky so vast, milky way overhead like a lacework zipper.

it is a lifetime of staring down woodchippers.

#writeblr #this got away from me #i love you #whereever you are. u are mine. i am yours. i am sorry this is happening

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syoddeye · 1 month

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pricegaz x reader bit. ~900 words. cw: alcohol, chloroform, abduction, insecure reader

the man who bought your drink is out of your league.

soft and warm brown eyes. an easy smile. fit, but not imposing. he fills out his shirt nicely, firm muscle flexing and draping over the two-top you’ve been hiding at all night. he slides the glass next to your empty, introduces himself as kyle, then echoes your name with a grin. you’re afraid to take your eyes off him, scared he’ll disappear and you’ll wake up from a dream. you can’t remember the last time a man approached you like this, so you savor the attention. bask in his spotlight.

it escalates over a couple of rounds. it starts with an innocent comment about your hair and evolves into him pushing up your sleeve to admire your tattoo. his hand falls and rests on your knee, sliding up to squeeze your thigh. he cajoles you into trying to close your thumb and forefinger around his wrist, and when you inevitably can’t, the sound of his laugh makes an express trip south.

eventually, the three ciders catch up, and you excuse yourself. in line for the toilet, you allow yourself a little private smile. it’s happening. finally happening. you’ll ask kyle back to yours when you get back to the table, and break your dry spell.

your plan goes out the window when you return to find another couple at your table, and kyle’s nowhere in sight. you ask the strangers about him anyway, throat drying as they supply the answer you already knew in your gut: him? he said he was leaving.

a stupid shred of hope makes you linger at the bar anyway. each minute that passes drags you further down. your excitement fizzles into dejection. knowing your luck, his friends probably sent him over on a dare. go talk to the wallflower. the loser drinking alone.

you cut your losses and slip out to head home, fishing a cigarette from your bag. a smoke to take the edge off. you rummage for your lighter, cursing at the damn thing. at kyle. at yourself. you get so wrapped up in anger that when you glance up to gauge how far you’ve walked, you do a double take at the man who materializes in the mouth of an alleyway ahead.

his features clarify with every step. he’s got this grizzled sea captain thing going on. broad shoulders in a denim coat with an upturned collar, a beanie tucked over the tips of his ears, and a thick beard. the light of an ember casts a flickering glow across his face, giving him a glow. he leans against the brick with his hands shoved in his pockets. his lips quirk into a smile when he catches you looking.

“need a light?” he asks, gesturing at the cigarette between your fingers.

“yeah, thank you.”

cautious but polite, you glance into the stretch of darkness at his back, relaxing when you see nothing but the streetlamp at the other end. you edge closer, finding yourself drawn by his growing smile. you briefly wonder if this is your shot at redemption. maybe this time, you’ll do the flirting. kyle who? you inwardly laugh. this man’s a bit older, but perhaps that’s what you need. a man.

“sorry, i just had it…” he chuckles, cigar clenched in his mouth as he digs around his pockets.

“it's alright.”

you giggle, bat your eyelashes, and nonchalantly wet your lips.

his eyes follow the motion, then flick behind you. “like i showed you, now.”

your eyebrows pinch and raise, the very picture of confusion, but the obvious question doesn’t make it past formulation.

a mass of fabric appears from around your head, pressing and smothering your nose and mouth. a second source of pressure forces your face into it, cotton catching on your teeth and something sweet leaching onto your tongue. you reach up to yank it away and claw at a hand, but two burly arms wrap around your middle, and together, the men bully you into the alley.

they whisper as they drag you, fight flagging with every inch surrendered.

“solid work, gaz. ah, she's much prettier up close.”

“learned from the best, sir.”

a heavy, unnatural calm rolls over you. your limbs leaden, then collapse all at once as if their bones and muscles liquefy. they keep you from falling with one of them cradling your head. lips press to your temple to hush your pathetic, fading whimpers. they murmur praises as you fall limp.

when you come to, it’s in the back of a windowless van. you notice the gag first, but the ropes hooking you to the van’s wall is an immediate second. head throbbing, your stomach churning from whatever you inhaled, and the bleak swell of dread. it pitches into panic, gripping your heart and squeezing. despite the gag, a scream bubbles up, and—a pair of voices interrupt.

your teary gaze pans to the front of the vehicle. the man in the beanie sits in the driver’s seat and in the passenger seat...kyle. your chest heaves with shallow breaths, eyes widening to saucers.

“you were right, sir. that wrist move’s lethal.”

“gets them every time. riles them up and you get a feel for how they’ll fight back. works best with the desperate and the lonely.”

“yeah? which one do you reckon she is? desperate or lonely?” kyle chuckles. even now, your thighs press together at the sound.

the older man’s eyes find yours in the mirror. “well, dove? which are you?”

#pricegaz x reader #pricegaz x f!reader #stuck on my pricegaz x reader oneshot so here's something to help get me through it

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actuallysaiyan · 8 months

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I Think You're Holding The Heart Of Mine(Part I)

warnings: fluff, mutual pining, office relationship, mommy and daddy relationship

word count: 1.1k

pairings: Nanami Kento x Fem!Sorcerer!Reader

summary: as you're lost in thought about your life as a sorcerer and teacher at Jujutsu High, your work husband comes by to surprise you with lunch. and he suggests going to that little pub you enjoy for dinner...only to have Itadori-kun ask such a shameless question

a/n: This is very much inspired by the thirst and fic that @carnal-lnstinct sent in and wrote! I didn't think this would be a multiple part fic, but here we are! I hope to update this little story regularly.

Part two!

Your mind is clouded as you sit at your desk, paperwork forgotten in front of you. Despite the fact that you’ve settled in well at Jujutsu High, you were wondering where this position may lead you. You were wondering if things would evolve into something more than this. Life as a Jujutsu sorcerer was tough enough as it is, but someone was always there to make you feel more at ease.

It started small too, just him being kind to you behind those stoic glances and authoritative words. You were beginning to tear down those walls and see the true Kento underneath it all. And all this because you had proclaimed he was your work husband. It wasn’t something he truly loved to hear at first, but as you continued to treat him kindly, Kento was beginning to love the special treatment.

Your thoughts are interrupted by a knock at your office door and you look up to see the man in question. He’s got a paper bag full of food for lunch and there is a tiny grin on his face as he sees you. Your heart skips a beat at the way he’s playing into this role more than you ever expected him to. You beckon him closer and he sits down on the chair that faces yours. The bag is placed on your desk and your stomach growls the moment you can smell the many scents of spices.

“I got your favorite, honey.” Nanami loves calling you pet names, but it’s always with that teasing tone.

“Awh I should have known my sweetheart would know just what to perk me up.”

He pulls out the boxes of take-out and hands you a set of disposable chopsticks. Your heart is full of love for a man who you know isn’t actually your husband. But damn, you can’t help but really be in love with him most days. You’d do just about anything for him to slide a beautiful diamond ring on your finger.

The both of you eat comfortably, Nanami inquiring about your day just as a good husband should. You ask about his day, smiling when he mentions Itadori-kun. The first years were so special this year. You knew that Gojo had asked Nanami specifically to take care of the young pink-haired teen, but when you saw just how much Nanami took the young man under his wing, you could tell that there was a strong bond forming there.

“So our little boy is doing well,” you tease the blond man in front of you.

Nanami blushes slightly but keeps his composure, “Itadori-kun shows promise. Despite the brash way he charges into battle, he is a kindhearted young man.”

Just those words paint such a beautiful picture. You can’t help but fantasize about family movie nights with Itadori coming over and snuggling between you and your husband. You coo softly at the way Nanami is describing the young sorcerer.

You finish up your meal, thanking the blond sorcerer in front of you. Nanami smiles, and this one is a genuine smile. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t want to hear you thanking him for dinner as well. He was planning on asking you out, strictly as co-workers of course. He doesn’t want you finding out about the feelings that are building so deeply inside of him. If it were up to him, he would have married you quite some time ago.

“I’ve got this paperwork to finish up, then I’m training Kugisaki-san.” You explain to Nanami, and you watch as he wipes his hands on the wet wipe provided by the take-out place.

“I’ve got to get back to training as well with Itadori-kun.”

There’s a silence that falls between you both. Your heart is racing in this moment. You just want to jump over this desk and pin him to the ground. You want to press kisses all over his beautifully chiseled face until there’s red lipstick prints everywhere. But you do no such thing. The two of you exchange a smile and a glance, and it’s almost the kind that suggests you’re both part of an inside joke that the whole world is excluded from.

“How about after work we head to our favorite pub for dinner?” Nanami suggests, praying his tone isn’t too hopeful.

You smile, “That sounds nice. It would be good to get out. It’s been a little bit since we’ve been out.”

He nods, “Yes, I was just thinking that.”

The two of you get up, and Nanami throws the trash from your lunch into the garbage can that’s next to your desk. As you come around the desk, he wishes he could just take your hand in his and walk you outside to the training ground. Instead you both walk side by side and chat lightly about work.

It’s a mundane feeling for the both of you, but it isn’t boring. It’s sweet and domestic, and everyone knows that you two are pretty much attached at the hip. But yet there always seems to be something keeping you held back from actually making this work relationship into a real one.

You spot Itadori and Kugisaki awaiting the two of you, the pair seem to be gossiping. You always loved the way those two had grown so close, and yet…you wondered if maybe they had something similar going on that mirrored your own relationship with Nanami. You looked at Kento, smirking playfully.

“You sure you won’t be too tired to take your poor wife out to dinner tonight?” You practically purr in his ear.

Nanami shudders, “Please, have a bit more faith in your sweetheart, dear.”

Just the sound of his voice calling you dear has you wondering if you should just confess right here and right now. You want to tell him how badly you have fallen head over heels for him, but you also wonder if that’s just not the right choice. You look at him once more, and you lean in the smooth the collar of his shirt and the lapels of his jacket. His heart skips a beat when you’re this close to him.

“Well, I suppose I have faith in an old man like you.” You rib him, laughing at his reaction.

“You’re three months older than me.” He says, a smirk spreading on his face.

You groan, “Please, don’t remind me.”

You two begin walking over to the first years you’re responsible for. With a final promise to go out for dinner, you part ways. It’s only then you hear Itadori asking your work husband.

“Nanamin, are you sure you and her aren’t actually married?”

#bacon.writes #nanami kento x reader #nanami x reader #nanami x you #jujutsu nanami #nanami kento #Nanami Kento x you #Nanami Kento x reader #Nanami Kento x y/n #nanami x y/n #work husband!nanami x you #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #Nanami Kento fluff #Nanami Kento imagines #Kento Nanami x reader #Kento Nanami x you #Kento Nanami x y/n

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guiltyasdave · 4 months

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nothing lasts forever

chapter 4 • series masterlist

pairing: Dave York x f!reader

summary: You're both worried about the prospect of you leaving soon. Also, just a lot of filth lol

word count: 5.3k

tags/warnings: explicit smut -> 18+ mdni, dbf!Dave, somewhat unhealthy relationship dynamics, dom/sub dynamics, angst, daddy issues (reader’s dad sucks big time), able-bodied reader, reader has hair that Dave grabs, no use of y/n, divorced Dave, alcohol consumption, unprotected p in v, oral (f & m receiving), rough sex, dirty talk, praise kink, degradation kink, biting, semi-public sex, orgasm denial, use of restraints, pet names, let me know if anything is missing!

a/n: co-written with my angel @joelscurls, throwing around these ideas with you is so fun, i love you <3

follow @guiltyasdavenotifs for updates and find jess’ masterlist here and my masterlist here :)

dividers by the lovely @saradika-graphics 🤍

David is becoming a problem.

When you’re not with him, you’re texting him, having evolved from mostly suggestive messages and pictures to sharing almost every thought that pops into your heads with each other. He knows your friends’ names, your favorite subjects. You watched his favorite movie, sending him your every reaction in real time.

When you’re not texting him, you’re thinking about him. About his broad hands, about how good he feels inside of you, about the filth he spits into your ear, but that’s not all of it. More often than not, you’re daydreaming about how good his arms feel wrapped around you, engulfing you in his scent, about the feeling of his chest when you rest your head there. About the way he sees you, hears you, makes you laugh. Makes you feel important.

You’ve pushed the fact that you’re gonna leave again soon into a far away corner of your mind, but as the end of your break is steadily growing nearer, it’s becoming harder and harder to ignore.

You haven’t talked about what you are to each other, but you’re not delusional enough to think that he’s gonna wait for you. Gonna visit you once every few months and exchange late night messages in the meantime, like you have some kind of future together, like he’s your boyfriend.

He already has a life, has done all the things that you have yet to experience, is miles ahead with no way for you to catch up. You know all this. Which is why it was supposed to be just one time. Until it turned into two times and now into more times than you can count and into something that has grown strings, attaching you to each other.

No one’s ever had you before, not like this.

You’re lost in daydreams, sometimes about the things that you’ve done together, but mostly about the things that you wish you could do. Going out together, without worrying about being seen. Cuddling up on his couch for movie nights, cooking in his kitchen, sleeping in his bed. Things that he doesn’t let you do. Because, unlike you, he hasn’t lost sight of what this is.

You’re so deep in your thoughts, filling the days when you don’t see David with nothing but fantasies about him, that even your father notices. The resulting lecture about focussing on your studies, working on job applications, and to under no circumstances become lazy over the break, washes over you. You nod obediently, promise to get right back to it, not bothering with excuses that you know he won’t listen to. Then you retreat back into your daydreams.

Dave has fallen into the pit much deeper than he had planned to, deeper than he had thought possible, honestly. He’s in his forties, not some lovesick schoolboy, but that’s exactly what he feels like.

Once he’s started seeing you regularly, talking to you, thinking about you, he finds himself unable to stop. He likes talking to you, likes the way you actually listen to him, the way you seem to care about every single thing that he has to say. You’re funny, and smart, and quite frankly the only person that he really likes being around these days. Seeing your eyes light up when you tell him about your interests, laughing about the way you almost constantly outsmart him, knowing the person that you can be when you feel safe enough for it, with him, has his heart clenching in his chest.

He still can’t shake the knowledge that what he’s doing is wrong, the feeling that he’s taking advantage of you. You’re the vulnerable one and he’s the adult and he should be the one who makes reasonable decisions. For both your sake’s. It’s just– you make him happy.

He can’t quit, not when you look at him with those wide eyes, your lashes fluttering, so often flustered about the things he says to you, the things he makes you do. Not when you remain so open and trusting of him, so willing to please. It’s a heady feeling and he can’t seem to let go of it.

You have plans this Friday, something about drinks and dancing with your friends, and you roll your eyes at him telling you to be safe, but there’s something else too, a sadness below the surface that gives him pause. He briefly wonders if your father doesn’t make you promise the same thing every time you go out. Probably not, he bitterly thinks to himself.

He doesn’t necessarily dislike Jim, not really. Jim hasn’t been a bad friend to him, not in the way that Dave is with what he’s doing. He just can’t witness the way you’re being treated and like him, either.

“Do you want me to pick you up? You can stay over if you want.”

He had been battling himself on this one, but he doesn’t think he can go through a repeat of the last time you were out late and couldn’t go home. He watches your eyes grow almost comically wide on his phone screen.

“Y–you would do that?”

He knows you’re thinking back on the last time too, on how he turned you down and he hates how small your voice sounds once again.

“Of course, sweetheart. Just call me, okay?”

You nod eagerly, thanking him profusely, a smile slowly growing on your face in unison with the warmth in his chest.

A little after 2 AM you do call him, all giggly and sweet and just fucking adorable.

His heart swells when he sees you stepping out of the club, hugging your friends goodbye and exuberantly waving in the direction of his car before you make your way over. Your heels are clicking against the pavement and he can’t keep his eyes off your approaching figure. Off the way your dress is hugging your body so tightly, off the expanse of your bare legs, and least of all off your beaming smile that only grows when you can make out his face behind the car window.

“Hi David,” you giggle, plopping into the seat and pulling him into a kiss almost instantly. You’re rarely bold like this, letting him take the initiative, but he likes this, likes how uninhibitedly you want him right now. Your mouth tastes sweet when your tongue flicks against his, a combination of fruity cocktails and the remnants of your lipgloss.

When you finally part, you’re panting, your lips are already swollen and your pupils blown wide. His cock twitches with interest at the sight.

“Let’s get you home,” he suggests, not missing the way your lips part wider at the breathless husk of his voice. You nod wordlessly, eyes still glued to his face.

As he starts driving, you’re fidgeting in your seat, stealing glances at him, biting your lip.

“What is it, baby?”

You avert your eyes, teeth digging deeper into the soft cushion of your lips. Still so shy for him. He raises an eyebrow, throwing you a hard glance.

“Tell me.”

The short display of dominance is enough to force a whimper up your throat. You gingerly reach out towards him, running your hand over the curve of his belly before you cup his length through his sweatpants. He sucks in a breath, rapidly hardening under your touch.

“I want to– I want to suck your cock. Please.” Your voice is barely above a whisper, all soft and needy.

Chuckling, he grinds his hips up into your touch.

“Of course you do. Such a desperate little whore for me, aren’t you?”

He does his best to appear unimpressed, to play up that persona that he knows gets you both off so much. Still, his cock is already rock hard, leaking at your eager nod in response to his words, at how much you want him. You look so gorgeous right now, your sparkly skirt slowly inching up your thighs, and there’s no doubt in his mind that you could have had anyone in that club. And yet, here you are, begging to suck him off.

He relaxes deeper into his seat, reaches out to fist one hand in your hair and tug you closer.

“Well, if you need it that badly. Fucking greedy.”

You whimper again, louder this time. Your body is pliant under his touch, following the direction of his hand pushing your head down to the pronounced bulge in his lap. With your fingers sneaking under the waistband, you throw him a cautious glance.

“Can I–?”

The proud smile he gives you in response has you glowing.

“Go ahead. Good girl for asking.”

He raises his hips slightly to help you slide his sweats down enough to let his cock spring free. You audibly moan at the sight, and it drives him wild, to elicit this reaction from you.

Your mouth sinks down on him eagerly, enveloping him in wet heat, and it takes everything in him to keep his eyes and at least part of his focus on the road. He feels the way you’re squirming, can picture the way your thighs must be rubbing against each other right now.

You swirl your tongue around his head before you start sucking, and he hisses through his teeth, his hold on your hair tightening further.

“Fuck,” he groans, head falling back against the headrest. “You’re so fucking good, baby.”

You whine in response, sinking your head down further, until he’s nudging at your throat.

When Dave pulls up to his building, he’s already embarrassingly close to coming. Reduced to nothing but burning want by your mouth within mere minutes.

You’re insatiable as he’s leading you up the stairs to his apartment, hands frantically grabbing at him. He tuts at you, but there’s no bite behind it.

Once the door falls shut behind you, you’re on him, your lips seeking his out with heated intensity. You only pull back when he tugs your hair sharply, forcing you to look at him. You look wrecked, your lips still swollen and tears sticking to your lashes, pure desire written all over your face. It gives him an idea.

Grabbing your shoulders, he turns you around abruptly. You whine in protest at losing the proximity to his mouth, but still obey willingly, letting him direct your body until he has you in front of the full length mirror in his hallway.

You’re a vision, watching with wide eyes as he looms behind you, his fingers trailing over your scantily clad body. Your ass presses against his front, grinding against the hardness of his cock when he circles your nipples over the fabric. A high pitched whine escapes you and your eyes slip closed, your head falling back to rest against his shoulder.

He clicks his tongue, his hand finding the back of your head and forcing it up again. Your eyes flutter back open and your brow furrows in mild confusion.

“Watch,” he purrs into your ear. “Watch how beautiful you are, all desperate for me.”

You gulp, but your gaze obediently meets his in the mirror. He smirks, the corners of his mouth curling upwards as he wraps one hand around your throat. Only applying a hint of pressure, but you melt into him, your eyes glued to your reflection.

“Look at you,” he coos, his grip tightening. He nips at your earlobe, relishes in your responding shudder. “Want you to see how beautiful you are.”

You nod weakly, and he knows how far away you already are, how hazy with pleasure you get when he has you like this. Still holding onto your throat, his other hand splays over your upper thigh, causing the hem of your dress to inch up higher and higher as his fingers dig into the supple flesh. He lets his hand climb, expecting to find your panties soaked with your arousal, but instead he’s met with nothing but bare skin, coated with your slick. He can’t stop the growl building up in his chest and you grind against him harder.

“Fuck, have you been like this all evening? Whoring yourself out, huh?”

It doesn’t bother him, at all. The idea of you surrounded by people, with nothing underneath that little skirt, and still patiently waiting for him, has his blood running hotter. He feels you swallow under his palm, feels the movement of your throat as you try to form words, the small shake of your head.

“T–took them off. After I called you.” You bite your lip, your pleading stare searching his reflection. “I wanted to be ready for you.”

Dave’s head falls forward at that, his groan muffled against the soft skin where your neck meets your shoulder.

“Good girl,” he sighs, lips moving against your body. “You’re such a good girl.”

His fingers toy with you, featherlight touches caressing your cunt, giving you only the tiniest bit of friction. When he brushes over your clit, you respond with a needy little sound, akin to a sob, that goes straight into his cock. Rutting his hips against yours, his touches get more intense, fingers nudging at your entrance.

“Please,” you whine, your eyes falling shut once more as you get lost in his touches.

“Nuh-uh,” Dave tuts, his fingers pausing their ministrations. Landing a slap on your clit instead, one that has you jolting in his arms. Would have probably made you scream too, if he wasn’t holding your throat so tightly. “Thought I told you to watch. If you can’t listen, I’ll stop.”

You sob again, desperation lacing the sound, but you force your eyes back towards the mirror. He sinks two fingers into you while his thumb swirls over your clit. Your lips part in a loud moan, your frame trembling against him.

“Look at how good you are for me. Watch yourself falling apart for me,” he grits into your ear, tightening the hold on your throat, forcing you to the edge with his touches.

Your breath catches, your pupils dilate, before you both watch you shatter around his fingers. Your knees buckle, body collapsing into him. He holds you tightly, helping you ride out your high, transfixed by the image of you, falling apart for him so beautifully.

When you come down, he turns you around in his arms, lips seeking each other out, a mess of tongues and teeth. Devouring each other. He wants you like this, this close, this open. His. Always his.

“Come here,” he murmurs against your lips, tugs you into his side and holds you close as he finally, finally opens his bedroom door for you.

He should have done this sooner, he thinks to himself, as you’re on top of him, your gorgeous tits bouncing with every movement. Should have had you in every possible position, should have let your presence fill every corner of his place, should have committed it all to memory.

He knows that the image of your head on his pillow, drifting off into sleep with a content smile on your face, will be burned into his mind forever, even after you’re long gone. He wouldn’t want it any other way.

“Shit!”

Dave stirs awake to your voice, frantic and nervous now, so different from the sounds he pulled from you mere hours ago. You’re sitting beside him, hunched over your phone.

“What’s going on?” he asks, inching closer to you, one hand rubbing over your back in an effort to soothe you.

You wordlessly turn your phone screen towards him. It takes him a few moments of squinting before he’s able to make out that you’re showing him your message thread with your father. Several missed calls, several messages demanding to know why you’re not home.

“But–” He furrows his brow, his brain only slowly kicking into gear. “Did he not know you were going out?”

“He did,” you murmur, eyes still glued to the device in your hand. “I’m just gonna–”

You tap the screen and hold the phone to your ear, anxiety still painting your face. Dave sits up beside you, unsure of what to do. You’re both feeling it, he thinks, the sudden realization of how fragile this thing is that you have. How quickly it could go up in flames around you.

He doesn’t agree with Jim on a lot of things, but he can’t stop his mind from thinking about his own girls, about how quickly they’re growing up. About how, in a few years’ time, the roles could be reversed. How murderous he’d be if he ever found himself in a similar situation.

“Where the fuck are you?” your father’s voice barks through the speaker immediately when he picks up, interrupting Dave’s train of thought.

You flinch at his tone, your shoulders hunching forward.

“I went out with Jess and Kristen last night. I– I told you.”

He huffs, a dismissive sound.

“That’s not what I asked, is it?”

Biting your lip, you shoot Dave a wide-eyed glance. He reaches forward, hand coming to rest on your knee, desperate to comfort you in some way.

“You– last time you said you didn’t want me to come home drunk, so I figured I’d just stay over–”

Your father interrupts you with a loud sigh, like you’re making him carry the weight of the world on his shoulders. Dave silently watches you deflate further.

“You realize that we wouldn’t need to have this conversation if you didn’t get plastered every weekend, right?”

“I’m not–”

“I don’t know why I’m spending all this money on your education when you act like you can just waste it. That’s not how I raised you.”

“I’m on–” Defiance sparks in your eyes for a split second before you exhale sharply, your head bowing down. “I know. I’m sorry dad, I’ll be home soon, I promise.”

Without bothering with a goodbye, your father hangs up. You stare at your phone for a second, sighing deeply.

When your eyes find Dave’s again, they are flooded with shame.

“Sorry you had to hear that,” you whisper. You’re concealing it well, but he’s seen and heard enough of you by now to recognize the slight wobble in your voice. “He’s right, I shouldn’t have… I’ll just get going.”

You sit up straighter, scrabbling to get out of his bed, your knee slipping away from his touch.

“Sweetheart–”

David’s voice is raspy, still thick with the remnants of sleep. He reaches for you, one arm wrapping around you and pulling you into his chest. You feel so safe, so comforted in his embrace, sinking deeper into it immediately. He kisses the crown of your head and it takes everything in you to not start crying.

You don’t want him to see you like this, to experience first-hand how incapable you are of standing up for yourself. None of this can possibly be what he desires from a relationship, from a woman.

“You did nothing wrong,” he mutters into your hair.

You don’t know if you agree. You’re being selfish. Too reckless for your own good, too quick to believe that nothing would go wrong, that there’s no way your father could find out what you’re doing. And you’re pulling David down with you.

You believe that he likes you, that he enjoys being with you. You have to believe that. But in moments like this, you wonder if a part of why he keeps meeting you is that he pities you.

Shrugging him off, even as your heart is screaming at you to sink deeper into his touch, you get up and start getting dressed.

“I can drive you home,” he offers softly, his eyes following your every movement.

When you look up at him, you could swear that you see something like hurt on his features. You’re probably mistaken though. It’s much more likely that he’s just annoyed with the sudden complications that being with you brings.

“No,” you murmur, your voice thankfully more steady than before. “That would be… suspicious, I guess. I’ll just call an Uber.”

He hugs you tightly before you leave, slotting his lips over yours. They always sting, the small goodbyes. Especially knowing that they’re gonna evolve into one big goodbye soon.

At home, an extended version of the lecture your father already gave you over the phone awaits you. You let it wash over you, nod at the right times, apologize over and over, promise to do better. No point in arguing.

Only a few more weeks.

Before David, that prospect would have filled you with joy. Now, it’s not that simple anymore.

Once Dave’s had you in his bed, he’s addicted to it just like every other facette of you. You’re reluctant to sleep over again, always slipping from his arms eventually, and while he understands, he hates it.

Still, he has you in it as often as he can. The golden hue of the late afternoon sun is falling through the open blinds, bathing the room in warm light, painting your skin with it. Another image to add to his collection of memories. Another image that he hopes will never fade.

You’re writhing underneath him, spread out over his sheets, your fingers digging into the fabric in a desperate attempt to ground yourself. He loves when you get like this. All rational thoughts blown from your mind, your focus solely on him. On his touches, his commands, his wishes.

No one else makes you feel like this, no one else has ever shown you pleasure like this. Only him.

He wants to make you happy, but he doesn’t know if you’d let him. He also wants to drag you down with him. That, he suspects, you would let him do.

“Please, David,” you whimper, tears already brimming in your eyes. He’d been teasing you for what felt like an eternity. Positioned you the way he wanted, your hands over your head and your legs spread wide to fit him between your thighs, and told you to not move.

He has kissed his way from your lips down your neck, his teeth digging gently into the skin, then further down to where your breasts were heaving with your breathing. He’s sucked one nipple into his mouth and pinched the other between his fingers, making you keen and arch off the mattress, pushing your body closer into his touch.

His responding chuckle and the way he shushed you, his lips still moving against your skin, drove you wild with desire.

His mouth had continued traveling down your body, stopping between your legs where you could feel his breath ghosting against your feverish skin, his teeth nipping at you. It all felt so so good, but not enough, never enough, the need to feel him inside of you nearly overwhelming.

But he hadn’t budged, alternating between gentle kisses and stinging bites, pulling whines and moans from your throat in an almost constant stream.

Your hands had moved down on their own accord, fingers twisting into the strands of his hair, trying to pull his face up to yours. Trying to get him to finally, finally fuck you.

He growls at that and leans back onto his haunches, regarding you with burning eyes. His hands come up to his tie, the first piece of clothing that he takes off. He’s still fully dressed, impeccable as always, while you’re bare before him, no doubt already looking thoroughly ruined. It’s such an obvious display of power and it never fails to make your head dizzy with need.

He undoes the tie and leans towards you again, gathering your wrists in one of his large hands, his fingers easily wrapping around them.

“Disobedient today, are we?” he smirks, clicking his tongue. “I taught you better than that.”

His condescending tone is enough to cause another wave of slick to flood your pussy and you whine, your eyes trained on his handsome face above you.

“I’m s–sorry, it just– it feels so good.”

“I know it does, sweetheart,” he coos, gently placing a kiss on your pouting lips. “Still– looks like I need to teach you a lesson, hm?”

Your wide eyes and your timid, obedient little nod have his cock straining against his pants.

If he could, he’d keep you forever, just like this. In his bed, his to touch, his to hold, his to defile. His, his, his.

You let him pull your wrists higher up the bed, like a doll that he can move however he likes. The tie’s fabric is soft between his fingers. He holds it up to your face, sees the glimmer of excitement in your eyes.

“Kiss it,” he demands, pushing it closer to your mouth.

You hesitate for just a second before you raise your head to obediently connect your lips with the piece of dark blue fabric.

“Good girl.”

The corners of your lips raise at the praise, the warmth of your smile washing over him. He’s gonna make this so fucking good for you. You crane your neck, watching eagerly as he wraps the tie around your wrists and connects it to his headboard, securing the knots until your hands are sufficiently trapped over your head.

“Now what did I tell you?”

You shudder at his tone, pouting up at him, a small crease between your brows.

“Y–you told me not to move.”

“I did,” he nods, casually flicking your nipples hard enough that he knows it’s gonna send pinpricks of pain through you. Just the way you like it. Your responding wail doesn’t disappoint, and neither does the way you’re writhing underneath him, trying to grind your dripping cunt against his thighs, but to no avail.

“Please, I’m sorry, please David–”

He shakes his head, presses another chaste kiss to your lips before he pulls back.

“You need to learn to be patient. To do what you’re told.”

You nod silently, biting your lip while you watch him moving down your body again, until his head is situated between your thighs again.

“Now, don’t move.”

He knows that you’re trying, trying so hard to be good when he starts kissing your inner thighs. Knows that you want to move, want to chase the pleasure that he’s kept just out of your reach for so long already. But you’re not, your body almost vibrating with the effort. Because he fucking told you to. Because that’s all it takes.

He licks into you, savoring your taste, savoring the sweet sounds that you reward him with. Alternating between tongueing through your folds and sucking your clit into his mouth, he watches you closely, keeping an eye on your every reaction, waiting to drive you right to that point.

He knows when you’re close, feels you tensing up, hears the higher pitch of your moans. He keeps you right there, balancing you on that edge. Then he pulls away. Your whine is downright pitiful, a broken sound of desperation that feeds deep into his own arousal.

“Patience,” he reminds you, stealing a glance up at your face. Tears are brimming from your eyes, but when you catch his gaze, your lips still curl into a smile. Reminding him that you love this game, just as much as he does.

He builds you up until you’re at the brink of an orgasm two more times, only to let you down again and again. You’re openly sobbing, but keeping still, just like he asked. Patient.

When he finally sinks his cock into you, the sound of him moving through your wetness is downright obscene. It’s heavenly, how hot and slick you are around him, engulfing him tightly. He grits his teeth, forcing himself to go slow. To tease you just a little bit longer.

Pure bliss overtakes you when David finally thrusts into you. He’s still moving torturously slow, giving you nothing more than shallow thrusts. It doesn’t matter, the stretch of him breaching you almost enough to get you to your climax. Almost.

Before he notices, more tuned into your body than you had thought possible. Before he stills completely, raises an eyebrow at you, almost challenging you to protest. You don’t, determined to prove yourself.

“What do you say, sweetheart?”

“Thank you for teaching me patience, David,” you whimper, pouting up at him. You must be a sight by now, your face streaked with tears and your expression most likely as fucked out as you feel.

“Exactly,” he growls. Then he really starts fucking you.

Each thrust hits almost impossibly deep inside of you, making you see stars behind your eyelids. The coil of your orgasm is already wrapped around you, having been tightened again and again, ready to snap at any second.

David swipes his thumb over your clit, applying just a hint of pleasure. It’s enough to catapult you straight into your climax.

It rolls over you like a storm, waves a pleasure crashing over you, feeling like they’ll never let you up again. You’re only just coming down, breathless moans falling from your mouth with each of his thrusts as he’s fucking you right through it, never letting up.

“Give me another one,” he pants, wild eyes trained on your tear-stained face. “Right now. I know you can.”

His fingers stay on your clit, rubbing over the bundle of nerves while his cock keeps hammering into you, forcing you right back to the edge. It’s like you’re falling apart at the seams, your body disintegrating, melting into the sheets.

“Good girl. Good fucking girl,” David grunts above you, his jaw clenched, eyes burning into yours, the only thing tethering you to reality right now.

He stills, his cock buried deep inside of you, shudders running through his body, before he collapses on top of you. He holds you close, one hand quickly working to undo the knots around your wrists, before he pulls you into him, placing kisses all over your face.

“I’ve never–” he begins, but pauses, like he’s not sure how to phrase it. He doesn’t have to. You know.

“Me neither,” you murmur, pressing your face into his neck. You want to breathe him in, want that warmth, that feeling of being safe with him to envelop you.

It has gotten darker, barely any light falling into the room from outside anymore. Eventually, you stretch out your body on top of the bed, relishing in the sweet burn of soreness that David has left in you.

“How would you feel about pizza?” he asks from beside you, looking down at you with a fond smile. It’s so easy, to imagine this as your everyday life.

“I’d feel amazing,” you yawn, finally untangling your limbs from the sheets.

He places the order while you traipse around, putting your underwear back on and using the bathroom, before you crawl back into bed beside him, curling yourself around his still naked body. He wraps an arm around you, starts drawing shapes on your back with his fingers.

A knock raps against wood, much quicker than you both expected.

“I’ll get it,” you say, since you’re at least wearing underwear already. You’re moving towards David’s front door, pulling on his discarded work shirt to appear at least somewhat decent and looking for his wallet.

“Hey David, where’s your–” you shout in the direction of the bedroom, opening the door in expectation of being met with the sight of some grumpy delivery guy. The words die on your tongue.

Instead, you stare straight into your father’s stony expression.

.........hehe

come yell at me, it would bring me a lot of joy lol

#pedro pascal #dave york #dave york x reader #dave york x you #dave york x female reader #dave york x f!reader #janas fics #fic: wildest dreams #pedrostories

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delusionalbitchinthehouse · 3 months

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Here I am with summoning headcanons for the first ghouls told through Chain (my beloved). I'm pretty happy about this one, actually !

"Why d'you wear it ?"

Chain blinks slowly, lazily turning their head to look at Phantom, sprawled on the worn rug next to them.

The new kid is cute, they decide, a bit of a lightweight, so they stopped smoking a while ago. His cheeks are flushed purple, big stary eyes glazed over, a sweet little smile never leaving his lips.

Chain almost forgets they were asked a question, until Phantom tugs a bit more insistantly on the heavy chain looped around their waist. They hum.

"'s a lucky charm, stickbug."

Phantom tilts his head with a confused noise, wiggling closer until he can rest his head on Chain's chest. The water ghoul runs fingers adorned with bone tattoos on the skin of the young quint's arm, raising goosebumps in their wake.

"Y'know I was the first water ghoul summoned after the mess Nihil's ghouls were, right ?"

Phantom nods, tail swaying lightly.

"Well," Chain hums, "back then, summonings were messy. And now, with how much damage Nihil's ghouls had done, the Clergy was afraid. Everytime they summoned a ghoul, they found new reasons to be afraid."

Phantom shifts, reaching up to follow the glowing stripes under Chain's jaw with the tip of his fingers.

"Like what ?"

Chain sighs, thinking back to their very first pack.

"Most of them were ancient, powerful ghouls. 'Mega was the first...I mean, you've seen him. He's big. Sure, Earth and Air are taller, but there's that thing 'bout 'Mega, y'know ? Some kind of...aura or shit. Maybe it's the quintessence, dunno. Anyway, he spooked them real good, and Alpha didn't make it better."

Phantom wrinkles his nose.

"Uh oh. Alpha's spookier than Omega."

Chain can't help snorting at that.

"He's got a shit temper and an ego the size of a planet. Fought Omega the second he slid of the altar. Got messy real quick - that's were he got the scars on his cheek and on his stomach, and 'Mega has matching ones on his thigh, burn marks on his ribs too."

With a little gasp, Phantom pushes himself up on his elbows.

"Really ? But they're....really close."

Phantom's surprise is understandable. Omega and Alpha are pratically joined at the hips now, evolving around each other with an ease speaking of intimacy. Chain hums.

"Well, yeah. Suprisingly, once Omega made Alpha eat shit, it didn't take long for them to get along. I guess they just had a rocky start."

"Understatement."

That sets Chain off, somehow, and it takes a long while before they can speak again without being interrupted by their own giggles.

"And after that, Air and Earth were summoned. You've seen them. Fucking trees, the both of them. Looming above everyone. Air traumatized the poor summoners by screeching so loudly he made some eardrums burst. And Earth, well. Spat out blood and guts everywhere - not his fault they summoned him right after a successful hunt."

Rolling on top of them, Phantom pushes his forehead against Chain's, pawing at their shoulders absent-mindedly.

"And you ?"

Closing their eyes, they can still picture it perfectly. The dim candle-lit room, the smell of incens and fear, the anxious whispers, the rough stone of the altar under their naked skin. And that familiar clinking sound.

"Well, I was the last of Primo's original ghouls to be summoned. And by that point, the Clergy was rightfully pissing their pants. So, the second I crawled out of the pit, they threatened to chain me if I showed any sign of agression. I guess they didn't expect for me to find their shiny chain really cool."

Phantom blinks at them in disblief.

"You...thought the chain looked cool."

Shrugging, Chain ruffles the quint's hair with a huff.

"Y'sound awfully judgmental. Yes, I thought it looked cool. Hopped off the altar, took it from them, sniffed it a few time and decided it was mine. Been wearing it ever since - and got my name out of it."

They stare at each other for a second before dissolving in another fit of giggles. It feels good, Chain decides, spending time with the newer ghouls, telling them stories of before they were summoned and watching their incredulous reaction.

"You," Phantom pants in between chuckles, "are the least serious ghoul I've ever met."

"Part of my charm."

Phantom laughs again, and Chain doesn't realize they're purring until the quint joins in.

#first time writting chain as an active character woooo #I love them very much they are so unserious #phantom will have to process all those informations now #also mmmmh earth crawling out of the pit covered in blood why is that kinda hot #chain ghoul #phantom ghoul #omega ghoul #alpha ghoul #air ghoul #earth ghoul #nameless ghouls #the band ghost

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wroteclassicaly · 3 months

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A/N: Just something that came to me and wouldn’t leave me alone. I promise I’m still working on inbox requests & other things! ❤️❤️

Warnings: Hurt/comfort, angst with a happy ending, insecure reader, insecure Steve, mentions virginity/ loss, best-friends to lovers, self-esteem issues on both sides, and fluff!

Pairings: Steve Harrington x Female Reader

Wordcount: 1,988

“No, no. It’s okay, Steve. I promise. I understand.” You force a smile so wide that you internally cringe.

You hope he won’t notice, but he does - of course he does. It’s you. And as Steve watches you busy yourself with organizing the countertop snacks you had just unpacked together, slowly turning your back on him - he’s wishing someone taught him better communication skills.

It was a shocking conversation to have. Well, the ending anyways. You’d start off asking about dates and if he had any, he would ask you about that one guy who keeps coming in to rent Risky Business, all because you’d mentioned liking it his first time here. Whatever, that was yours and Steve’s movie, this guy could get lost. But then, you surprised Steve.

To the point, short and sweet… or crude? Steve nearly felt his teeth go through his tongue at your shyness entangled tone, as it wrapped around such a heavily sensual request.

“Do you wanna have sex tonight?”

At first Steve just shook his head, clearing all those fogs from previous head injuries, sure he hadn’t heard you correctly. You were probably asking him if he wanted to find someone to do it with. But you continued, “I do.”

That’s when it became a little alarming for him. Were you going somewhere else with this? To someone else? Or the other option that had his heart rate kicking him the ribs, dusting his bones to ash, making everything tighten, flood his body with heated flush. He’d managed to speak, voice trying to remain impassive.

“You’re a virgin though.” He deadpanned.

You couldn’t help but to roll your eyes. “Thanks, Captain Obvious. But I can still be horny. Probably hornier than you get.”

Jesus. That glaring stare you fixed him with as your manicured nails wrapped around a box of M and M’s. His jugular constricted around a painful vice. The images, ones he can’t deny picturing when he shouldn’t. Why would you want to be with him?

Your sigh at his lack of conversational participation, got him to snap out of it, following you to the candy rack and pressing his knuckles into the countertop to rest upon. He knocked them a few times, opening his line into the topic. “So, you’re sayin’ you really wanna do it tonight with this guy?”

It was causing anxiety to fester in both of you. He wasn’t getting it. You know him like the back of your hand, of course he thinks you want to be with the video renter dude. But that guy is the last person you would ever think about. You’ve learned to be the one with confidence when it comes to Steve in the last two years.

That was different before you’d gone through things together, became best-friends. King Steve and shy girl you. Cliche, only to evolve. You had jutted your hip, forcing a bravado to shield you as you looked into those sparkling amber eyes. His highlights reflect under the cheap lighting in here, making you nearly lose yourself - but you catch it.

“I’m asking if you’d like to come over tonight, have a meal with me, share a piece of cake, and then I want to know if you’ll…” Okay, you lost your train, fumbling into the winds.

Steve was too close, smelling of laundry detergent and cigarettes, his cinnamon gum lingering on his breath, his aftershave and cologne combo. When you had faced his intense gaze, you knew that he was awaiting your words with a reserved patience. As for Steve? He could barely catch his breath, fingertips down to his toes prickling with a nervous energy.

And then you say it… you ask him.

“Will you be with me tonight, Steve?”

You were asking him to be the first person inside of your body, like you didn’t just change his entire world. It’s not that he’d never been with virgins, especially Nancy. Her, even the others entrusting him in his King era - he always felt honored, wanted to make it good for them. But she was special, and you - you’re a different kind of important to him at this stage in his life. Someone he sees, the only person he sees with full certainty in his future.

His heart caved in the moment that his negative thoughts took center stage. You had never asked him out, never made a move. Sex. That’s what you want him for. He loves you and you expected him to have actual sex with you, guide you through painful, pleasurable, unfamiliar, intense sensations, knowing he’s the first and only to do so, and then carry on normally. It’s out of his mouth before he even has a chance to think through other options.

“I can’t, honey.” And once it starts, it just keeps coming. “We’re friends, and sex… the first time should be with someone you love, trust me.”

He was so caught up that he missed your crestfallen features, the way your bottom lip wobbled, and you began to fill in invisible blanks of your own trick-filled mind. Your body was light, feet heavy. You couldn’t do anything, say another word, so you made up something to do while you collected yourself. Boxes that were already unpacked and placed.

Steve kept going, “You understand, right? I’m sorry if I —“

You had cut him off.

Humiliation washes over you, your voice is unsteady. “No, no. It’s okay, Steve. I promise. I understand.”

Sounds stupid to you. You both know you’re lying. And you’re about three seconds away from crying, so you bend down and scoop some spare boxes into your arms. “M’ gonna toss these so Keith doesn’t have a lot to bitch about tonight.”

There’s a lot of things that Steve can do. He can deal with his miscommunication regrets, or he can try to explain things to you in the best way he knows how. Because if there’s anything he’s learned living in Hawkins - every single day is a damn miracle here, considering what people don’t know the truth about. And when he thinks about those vines being wrapped around your throat, he finds his own air supply cutting itself off. He’s out the back door and catching you around the elbow, just as you finish tossing in the last of the boxes.

You won’t look at him, a tell-tale sign that you’re crying and ashamed about it. His stomach feels sucker punched, his fingers reaching out to gently brush beneath your chin, bringing your head into a tilt. Yup. Your eyes are flooded over, soaking your cheeks. You go into immediate overtime, doing exactly what Steve is constantly doing - apologizing.

“I’m sorry for putting you in that position. I was being creepy and unfair. I know we’re friends, I know you aren’t attracted to me, I know that —“

He halts your hyperactive breathing, pressing his forehead to yours as a grounding technique. “Hey, hey. You always tell me to stop apologizing, and I need you to do it too.”

You’re breathless at this action, but it helps soothe your rising panic.

You find yourself incapable of anything more, leaving Steve room to tell his truth. There’s a shaking in his voice, a vulnerability he’s not felt since he falsely thought he loved Nancy still and told her (Nostalgia, it faded fast. He's pretty sure he realized he clung to that to save him from his fears of falling in love… with you. It didn’t work). Your breathing slows and he presses a kiss to your forehead, nose bumping yours as he breaks away. Here goes nothing… but everything.

“I said I can’t because I want you to be in love with the person you’re having sex with. That’s… “ he taps his fingers against his sides, nose wrinkling, and then he finishes. “That’s the most important thing. That he is someone you won’t regret. It’s a lot to handle when it’s your first time. It’s intense when there’s feelings involved, sometimes, even when there’s not.” He’s rambling, all the while you’re watching him practically pace, folding into himself, looking frustrated to put words together. “And I, honey… I just want you to have that. I want you to love the person that gets to experience being your first, because… I think that he would want you to love him, too.”

It hits you like a fucking freight train. Your heart explodes into your chest cavity, a painful ache lashing across your entire torso and sending off alarms into your brain. He said no because he’s scared… He is terrified that you’ll hurt him. So he doesn’t know? All this time and he still can’t tell the looks you give him are your forevers? That the babies he told Nancy he wants - you dream about carrying them someday?

You smile through your tears, wiping them away with the back of your hand, and it’s you that reaches for his massive palm. He squeezes back, wet lashes darting back and forth, trying to gauge what you’re going to say. Your spare hand finds his cheek, brushing along those marks, marveling at how wonderful he is and how he doesn’t know it. He’s so perfect, so beautiful. He’s your Steve.

This next part comes as natural to you as breathing.

Your voice is damp, words gliding right off, eyes wide to receive his reaction. “Why do you think I asked you, Steve?”

You can’t help the sob that escapes you at his free flowing tears. He isn’t hiding it, he’s shocked. He looks like he thinks you’re lying, that this is a dream. His irises dart back and forth at rapid paces, his hands holding onto you as if you’ll float away. “Are you sure that you want me? Because that means that you… It means you’re saying how you… feel a certain way.” He looks as if he can barely swallow.

You’re smiling softly, lifting onto your toes to nearly meet his mouth. Your statement tickles his lips, making his tongue glide across them, grazing you. It sets you both ablaze.

“It means that I’m feeling exactly what you said I should feel, Steve. And it means that I want you. I want to give this to you, if you want it?”

Steve answers without pause given.

“I want it,” His mouth is open, his breaths choppy, words trying to accumulate. His fingers trace behind your ear, resting there, his remaining hand cradling your jaw bone. “You don’t know how much I need it, how much I need… just you.” He says with certainty.

There’s a notion that’s settled within your chest cavity, a build-up fire starting between your legs, stirring flutters in your belly. You edge in closer, lips on his Cupid’s bow. “Show me tonight. What you’re like, what you feel like.”

Never in a million years could you have predicted that your first kiss with Steve Harrington would be by the dumpsters, in the back of Family Video. But as he leans down to dip his nose into your cheek, his lips capture your top lip — it’s all over for you both. That breathless, engulfing inferno drowns you, carries you into a place you won’t go back to, can’t come back from. He pulls you into his arms with a passionate embrace, just as your lips separate with a slick smack, your mouth trailing down his chin to his throat, before you bury your face into the surface of his chest, declaration mumbled right against where his heart races for you.

“Everything that comes with me, it’s always been yours, Steve. I promise.” He’s panting with pure, raw, need. A tightness in his chest and in his damn jeans.

His voice vibrates across your ears, rumbles through his chest when he speaks. “Everything I’ve got to give, you can have it, honey. M’ yours.”

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tip-top-cloud-surfer · 10 months

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The Danger Zone (Part 10) - Hangman

Pairing: Hangman / Fem!Bradshaw!Reader | OC

Word Count: 3.0k

This work, all my works, and my entire blog are 18+ ONLY

Warnings: Unplanned Pregnancy; Background Relationships; Referenced Medical Appointments; Suggestive Comments; Mentions of Nightmares; Use of "You," No Use of Y/N, No Set Physical Description

Summary: After your next appointment, you buy Jake a present.

Series Master List

Master List

With your pregnancy now completely out in the open, as well as your relationship with Jake, you felt more at ease than you had since you found out that you were pregnant.

At the beginning of your relationship with Jake, the rush of seeing him when you knew you shouldn’t was a something that you chased. And while your partnership evolved, the sense that your relationship needed to be hidden never faded.

But now, you were enjoying this new, open phase.

It was Saturday morning when you woke up in Jake’s bed. You slept over at his apartment a few times now and each night went smoother than the last.

Your clothes started to appear in Jake’s closet. And you wore Jake’s sweatshirt when you were cold—the one that he gave you before that you were forced to give back. Your set of bright mugs were in the cabinet, since Jake only had one whole mug in his apartment. You had your shampoo and conditioner in Jake’s shower. And a framed picture of your ultrasound was up in the living room.

Opening your eyes slowly, you sighed when you found that Jake wasn’t there. You rested your hand on Jake’s side to find it cold. He always went out early for a morning run on the weekends. And since you didn’t hear the shower or smell coffee, you assumed that he was still out. Letting out a sigh, you rolled onto your back and rested your hand on your bump.

“You better not be a morning person, you hear me?” you warned your unborn child.

Getting out of bed, you walked out into the kitchen, thinking about what to make yourself for breakfast. You started towards the fridge when you saw a small paper bag on the table. Curious, you padded over and read the note on it.

Hopefully it’s not too stale by the time that you find this. I’ll see you soon. - J

Smiling to yourself, you opened the bag and felt your stomach instantly growl when you pulled out a glazed donut. Lately every couple of days, you really craved a glazed donut. It was almost on a cycle and Jake seemed to be counting the days to know when to offer you one.

Taking a bite of your donut, you moved to grab some yogurt and fruit to balance it out. You sat on the couch, scrolling on your phone when the door unlocked and Jake stepped inside.

And then what you were craving most was not the donut.

Jake chose to run shirtless with shorts that hung low on his hips as sweat slowly slid down his chest. The clack of your teeth together when you missed the last bite of your donut startled you out of your daze. Shoving the rest of the donut into your mouth sheepishly, you offered Jake an awkward smile.

“How was your run?” you asked softly.

“Fine. I took a longer loop than usual,” Jake stated, tapping his phone to end his playlist. Pulling off his earbuds, Jake walked further into the apartment and sat on the end of the couch by your feet. “Did you just wake up?”

“Maybe,” you replied, reaching for your morning tea. “Thanks for the donut.”

“It’s on my route,” Jake assured you.

He was about to stand up to go shower when he decided to stay a moment longer. Gently placing his hand over your bump, like he did every morning that you woke up together, he gave your bump a few light brushes before standing up again. Jake glanced down at your bump one last time before he turned and headed out of the room.

With your body still warm from his proximity, you turned back to your meal. When you were done, you slowly got up from the couch. Walking into the bedroom, you started to pick out an outfit for the day. The door to the bathroom opened, but you didn’t turn around, knowing it was for the best. You kept your back to Jake as he rifled through the dresser, pulling out a pair of shorts.

“I was thinking that we should run some errands today,” you stated softly, reaching for the bottom of your shirt.

“What do we need . . .?”

Jake trailed off as you pulled your—his—shirt slowly over your head, revealing the expanse of your bare back. You turned slightly to the side, causing Jake to whip his head around again, knowing that he had to be careful otherwise your conversation was going to get all the more awkward. You picked up your bra from the space in front of you and continued.

“Just some little things. And maybe unpack some more here or maybe pick up some more of my stuff. I should honestly start looking at getting maternity clothes.”

Jake finished getting dressed as you let out a curse. Turning urgently to you, Jake swallowed thickly when you spun around with just your bra and tiny sleep shorts on. Finally lifting his eyes to your face, he noted your annoyed expression.

“What’s wrong?” he coughed out.

“My bras don’t fit anymore. Pregnancy is just making my boobs grow,” you huffed with frustration. “I’m just spilling out of them at this point.”

“Oh,” was all Jake managed. “Well, I’ll just wait for you out in the kitchen.” Closing the door behind him, Jake let out a sigh and rubbed his face with his hand. “Fuck.”

~~~~~

Pulling up to the obstetrician office, you checked the time before reaching for your phone. You clicked on Jake’s name and put your phone on speaker.

“Hey, you’re at the office?” Jake asked, answering the call.

“Yeah, I just pulled in. I wanted to call you before I went in.” you stated. “How’s it going?”

“Fine. Just waiting around right now. How are you feeling?”

“It’s less scary than the first one, but I think I’ll be nervous about these things until the end.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t be there,” Jake apologized for the thousandth time.

“It’s fine, Jake. You’ll be at the twenty week one, anyways. Don’t stress about it. Just focus on coming back down in one piece.” Grabbing your purse, you slid out of your car. “I’ll leave you a voicemail when I leave here.”

“Sounds good,” Jake replied, sounding a bit far off. “I’ll see you tonight?”

“Yeah, your place? I’ll pick up something after I’m done here.”

“I won’t turn down a warm meal,” Jake spoke with a smile. “I’ll call you when I’m done.”

You bid your goodbyes before hanging up. Smiling to yourself, you tucked your phone into your bag before walking into your doctor’s office.

On base, Jake moved to put his phone away in his locker. Passing some of the other Daggers, Jake paused when he saw Rooster standing in the locker room. The two men had a brief staring contest before Jake walked over to his locker. Tucking his phone into a safe spot, Jake was about to head out when Rooster broke the silence.

“You’re not at her appointment?” Rooster asked, causing Jake to shoot him a look.

“I didn’t have a choice. Just like everyone else here today,” Jake all but snapped back at him. “You would know that if you looked beyond this stupid grudge that you keep holding.”

“It’s not a grudge, it’s an instinct,” Rooster stated, shutting his own locker door. He walked over to where Jake stood, causing the two men to have a staring contest again. “You’re a really good actor, Hangman. But I’ve seen your games before. And I know how this ends.”

Rooster shot one last look at Jake before heading out of the locker room. Jake forced himself to take a breath so that he didn’t knock Rooster’s teeth out before he headed out too.

~~~~~

“Hey, Jake, I just got out of my appointment. Everything is normal and healthy. I set my twenty week appointment and I’ll text you the date and time so that you can request it off. And I’ll see you tonight.”

Hanging up the phone, you walked out to your car and started driving back to your apartment. Over the last week or two, you started to clean out your apartment and settle into Jake’s. You already sold some furniture and were in the process of cleaning out your closet, slowly but surely starting the new phase of your life.

Humming to yourself, you came to a stop at a light and looked over at the stores lining the way. Your eyes landed on the baby store that Sarah Kazansky recommended to you and in your post-appointment high, you decided to stop in and browse a little.

For research purposes.

You slowly stepped into the store, looking around with bright eyes. It was fairly large. Not a department store large but bigger than whatever the hell a boutique was. You looked through the items and you quickly found yourself in the baby clothes section. And any chance of a quick stop went out the window almost immediately.

But you told yourself that you could only buy one onesie for now. Penny and Emma were already talking about throwing you a baby shower around the start of your third trimester. And you wanted Jake to be part of the experience. Or at least there to remind you about being reasonable with your purchases.

Looking through the options, you browsed and thought about which onesie to buy when you saw one with a plane on it. And, of course, you had to pick that one.

It was a light gray onesie and soft to the touch. And on the front was the simple slogan of ‘Daddy’s Co-Pilot,’ which you were hoping Jake would appreciate. Rubbing your thumb along the material, you smiled to yourself and decided to get it. Texting Jake that you had a surprise for him, you moved to make a purchase.

~~~~~

Jake didn’t get to hear your message or read your text until about two hours later, and by that point, he just wanted to go home and flop down onto the couch. He and Rooster managed to not shoot each other down, but their arguing up in the air resulted in a long discussion with Cyclone that Jake didn’t want to relive. Grabbing his phone and his bag, Jake headed out to his truck as quickly as possible.

“Hey,” you answered his call. “You just got out?”

“Yeah, it was a long day,” Jake replied, deciding to keep the part about him and Rooster arguing to himself. “I just got out. How’d the appointment go?”

“Fine, everything was normal and healthy.”

“That’s good. Does that make you feel calmer about going into your next one?”

“Yes and no. Next one had a lot of extra tests and measurements and everything, but if everything’s looked normal and healthy so far, it should still be that way in three weeks. I’m hoping anyway.”

“You’ll both be fine,” Jake assured you. “Hey, what was that surprise that you texted me about?”

“I think you answered your own question. It’s a surprise, Jake.”

“You’re not pregnant with twins or anything that would give me a heart attack, right?”

“No, Jake, you only managed to knock me up with one baby,” you mused as Jake slowly slid into his truck with a genuine smile. “I made dinner too.”

“I’m leaving now.”

“Alright, see you in a little bit. Bye, Jake.”

“Bye.”

Jake started his truck and headed back to his apartment, a little bit of weight off his shoulders. By the time that he got home, you were standing in front of the oven. You shot him a smile and turned to greet him. Jake accepted your hug gratefully and dropped his hand down to feel the growing curve of your bump.

“How was work?”

“Exhausting,” Jake replied quietly.

“You look like it.”

“Thank you.”

You laughed and pulled back from the hug, though Jake’s hand lingered on your bump. Turning away from him, you walked around the kitchen and grabbed the little gift bag and brought it over. Jake took it with a questioning look and slowly pulled out the onesie. You watched as Jake unrolled it and read the simple phrase on the front.

“Do you like it?” you asked, playing with your fingers. “If not, I can—”

“—I love it,” Jake interjected, still staring down at the onesie with an edge of awe in his tone. “I just . . . it’s so . . . small.”

“That’s the newborn size.”

Jake grabbed the tag and flipped it over. He knew babies were small, obviously. But holding the onesie, Jake, for the first time, realized just how small your baby was going to be. And then he realized that they were even smaller right now.

“Jake?” you called, causing him to look at you again. “Are you okay? Did something happen at work? You just seem . . . distracted.”

“I’m fine,” Jake assured you, glancing down at the onesie. “Just . . . taking it all in.”

He rubbed his thumbs over the fabric before the two of you locked eyes again. You and Jake stood a step away from each other, staring into each other’s souls as Jake gently cradled that little onesie in his hands, with your bump well within his reach. You stared at him as he reached behind you to put the onesie back into the bag. Turning back to you, Jake offered you a genuine soft smile.

“Thank you for the surprise.”

“Of course,” you replied softly, looking up at Jake. The two of you kept staring at each other, slowly inching closer and closer. “I’m glad you liked it.”

“Why wouldn’t I like it?”

“I don’t know. Because . . .” you trailed off as Jake grew tantalizingly closer to you. “Because . . .”

The two of you stared into each other’s eyes, seeing the silent fears and insecurities hidden deep down that seemed to always come to the surface in these soft vulnerable moments. You couldn’t help but slowly reach out for Jake, resting a hand on his chest. Jake stared at you with such emotion as he wrapped his arm around your waist and rested his hand on your bump.

“It’s stupid,” you whispered out.

“I’m sure it’s not,” Jake replied calmly.

You hesitated, wondering if you should really say what was on your mind and risk worrying Jake even more, or if holding it in would provide more peace in the long run for your relationship. But when Jake gently rubbed his thumb along your bump, the part of your brain that was worried about his reaction melted away.

“Sometimes I’m just worried that I’ll wake up and you’ll be gone. Gone gone.”

“Well, there’s no way that I’m willingly leaving you two,” Jake stated confidently. “And as for the—”

“—Don’t,” you interrupted, resting your hand on his cheek. “You don’t have to say anything about that. I know that you don’t have any control over it.”

Jake nodded slowly, though he looked like he wanted to say something about it. His eyes certainly did. The two of you continued to stare into each other’s souls, slowly inching closer.

You weren’t entirely sure who made the first move, but you did know that you didn’t pull back when you felt Jake’s lips against your own.

Your lips moved together softly, tentatively, like you were worried that you would scare each other away. Jake slowly pulled you closer as you gently trailed a hand down his chest. The two of you hadn’t kissed since you found out that you were pregnant, but you quickly fell into old habits.

Up until the timer on the oven went off, scaring the absolute shit out of you.

Jake laughed as your grip on him tightened and he felt you jump a bit. You sighed, letting the tension leave your body as you leaned against Jake. Burying your face into his chest, you huffed.

“You can stop laughing at me now.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, you’re not.”

~~~~~

Jake awoke suddenly in the middle of the night, sweat dripping down his forehead and chest. Sitting up with some erratic breathing, he looked over at where you were sleeping beside him, blissfully unaware of his inner turmoil and asleep. Your head rested on your pillow, though your hand had fallen from Jake’s chest as he sat up.

Jake wasn’t a stranger to nightmares. But he was a stranger to nightmares like these ones. The ones involving you.

He’d had a hundred nightmares about being up in the air and something going wrong. But he wasn’t used to the image of you, sobbing your heart out, with a little bundle of blankets in your arms as part of that nightmare. And that terrified him more than anything else in those dreams. He’d never had something tethering him to the ground in such a way. And a stressed brain wandered.

Would he get deployed and miss the rest of your pregnancy? Miss the birth of your child? Miss the first few months of your child’s life? What if something happened? What if he didn’t get to come home? What if he never got to meet his child? He knew you were strong and you had your family’s support, but what if the stress from that harmed you or the baby? What if you couldn’t manage financially? Would you even tell the baby about him? What if—

“Jake?” you mumbled out tiredly, half-asleep.

You picked your head up, eyes half-closed as you reached out for him. Jake snapped back into the present and laid down, rolling over to face you. Grabbing your hand with his own, he urged you to lay back down.

“Go back to sleep.”

If you were awake, you would have considered arguing with him about it, but sleep was quickly calling your name once again. Jake waited until your breathing evened out before he turned and laid on his back, staring up at the ceiling, and focusing on his breathing.

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