#WAS IT EVEN SUPPOSED TO BE SMUT

[snipersfucker]

An apology, but we all want to read how they are inside and possibly the Autobots lose control when what they have been imagining for so long happens (like Mirage / Bee / or Optimus) you made us addicted to you writing

there are special little places where yall can get help with your addiction!! im not the remedy!! (i bite the walls every single time i get a compliment) ALSO lets just pretend bees vocal cords werent ripped out to the point he couldn't moan like a slut :) dubcon:/

Bee was desperate.

The way your hips swayed when you walked, the way the soft tone of your voice echoed in the insides of his helm, the way you'd wrap your fragile fingers around his steering wheel and squeeze it ever so slightly in a playful manner—he needed you.

And one day, after spending countless nights on imagining you stretched out on his throbbing spike, your tits bouncing with every slap of his hips against your bare ass, he finally got the honour of actually seeing you underneath him, not just picturing it in his mind.

Bee was desperate for you, but he was also shy. Which meant that you had to initiate all the talks, all the touches, and all the kisses. However, when he finally understood that he had you exactly where he wanted you, and when he heard you vocalise your desire for him, he just couldn't stop himself.

The soft exchange of pecks on each others' lips turned into a heated make-out session, his glossa quickly asking for permission to slip into your mouth just so he could get a proper taste for the first time. His metal body began overheating as soon as he felt your body straddling his lap, your legs on both side of his hips. Your bold move made him only crave more of your touch, him barely able to restrain himself from just having his way with you, manhandling you until you'd beg for him to stop absolutely ruining you for the pleasure of you both.

And he wanted to continue making a mess with his lips on yours, especially when you were making so many sweet noises just for him... But he had to take things further, feeling like his spark might just explode if he didn't.

So he pulled away slowly, making eye contact with you for just a mere second, only to see the needy expression on your face, which gave him a silent permission to jump right into what he'd planned to do. His lips quickly found their place on the side of your neck, his servos landing on your hips, subconsciously pushing your core into his abdomen to create more friction between you.

He began licking, kissing, nibbling, and sucking the skin gently into his intake to create pretty bruises on your neck which would show anyone that you belonged to him.

Your breaths were getting heavier, much more chaotic, them hitching in your throat every time he paid special attention to a particularly sensitive spot. Your needy whimpers were mixing with the sound of his vents trying to stop him from overheating, his reaction to you making you want more of him than you already had.

And you didn't know you already had him whole. He was yours.

"Bee, please..." you whined, your eyes closed shut, hands on both of his shoulders with a strong grip which he didn't mind at all.

Your words made him transform the area under his abdomen, now a hard spike on full display, its length slapping against your stomach with every intense throb. He didn't stop taking care of your neck for even a second, every whimper and groan of desperation being muffled by your skin as he continuously planted wet kisses all the way down from your jaw to your collarbone.

He was growing impatient.

His spike touching you was sending constant pleasurable electric shocks down his bipedalism cord, his spark nearly exploding when you grinded against it with your clothed core.

The grip of his digits on your hips tightened, and you'd probably have endless bruises on your sweet, soft skin tomorrow, and this thought should've made him feel at least a tad bad but he adored knowing that he left something while doing such sinful things with you.

When you moved and brushed against his length again, he groaned in impatience, pulling away just to lift the hem of your loose shirt with his digit to signal to you that he needed it off. You made eye contact with him as you got rid of the piece of clothing on your upper half. But it wasn't enough for him—he had to have you naked against him, every inch of your warm, human skin against his hot, metal one.

Before his digit moved to the waistline of your pants, you were already unbuttoning and unzipping them, getting out of his lap just to be able to take them off fully alongside with your panties, them ending up somewhere on the floor, probably next to your shirt.

His optics immediately shot to your cunt, the temptation to put his spike inside you overwhelming his body. He didn't even wait patiently for you to get back onto his lap on your own, as soon as he stopped devouring the sight of you in front of him in just a bra, he immediately pulled you towards him with both servos on your hips again, placing you on his lap, exactly where you belonged at that moment.

Now your bare core was brushing against his spike, and he couldn't refrain himself from letting a couple of desperate noises roll off him glossa. You decided to undress fully for him, taking your bra off and tossing it onto the pile of long forgotten clothes. His optics could barely take in the view before his lips found themselves on your tits, his intake giving attention to both, switching from teasing, licking and kissing the left one to doing exactly the same to the right one. Your hardened nipples made it possible for him to gently bite them, making you buckle your hips and moan his name shamelessly, your own noises not allowing you to hear your thoughts, as if there was anything else on your mind other than how good Bee's glossa felt when it curled up on your nipple, it getting sucked into his intake.

The remains of self-control he could find within himself were slipping through his digits, the force of his touches increasing with every passing second. At the same time, he was also getting more and more intense reactions from you, your body craving more as it pressed against his.

Bee groaned, impatience getting the better of him, as he wrapped his arm around your fragile, human body, lifting you up with your chest still to his.

He moved fast like a starving man, placing you gently on the hard floor of the garage, its coldness radiating to your body, adding a completely new sensation. You arched your back, exposing your chest even more to him, hoping he'd put his mouth on your already swollen and sensitive nipples, but he seemed to have other plans when, without a heads-up, he grabbed the back of both your thighs, and lifted up your hips so that now the only body parts of yours making contact with the cement underneath you were your upper back and your head.

Your eyes nearly rolled to the back of your head as you bit your lip to stop yourself from whimpering at the absolutely sinful sight of Bee kneeling down and hovering over you, spreading your legs and holding them pressed to your chest for better access to your dripping cunt.

You felt the tip of his spike teasing your hole which has been clenching over nothing for the past couple of minutes, finally about to get what it needed the most. And then, with one swift motion, Bee slid into you, the wet sound of his length entering your core echoed against the walls of your head.

A loud moan escaped the depths of your throat, lips parted, eyes closed themselves shut before you could even stop them, wanting to watch as the robot began trying to bottom out inside your warm cunt, but unfortunately his spike was too big for you to take for now.

It felt good. The pain from being so suddenly stretched out around him mixed with the pleasure from his spike hitting all the sweet spots inside you with the very first thrust of his hips.

Bee felt as if he no longer had control over his own body, the feeling of you wrapped around him, your warm cunt so inviting to just ruin it without second thoughts. And he could find absolutely no strength within himself to stop the almost animalistic desire to make you his in every meaning of this word.

His optics were trained on your face for mere seconds before his gaze shifted to the place where your bodies connected, your cunt covered in your own slick, the hole visibly stretched out to take his spike, even if it was only a half of his full length.

The idea of pushing the entire thing in only made him groan, the images of the bulge in your lower stomach he'd create flashing in front of his optics.

He threw his head back when he felt you clench around him, the sensation too much to handle.

You knew he was about to begin pounding into you as if it was the only thing he was made to do, the expression on his face and the look he was giving you the entire time confirming it.

"Bee..." you whined his name, not being fully aware what that sweet tone of your voice was doing to him.

So he just positioned himself better, pressing your thighs harder to your chest, taking almost the entire length of his spike out of your begging cunt, only to slam into you and put even more of him inside you.

You couldn't even control the noises escaping you anymore, your head thrown back because of the overwhelming pleasure.

Bee has had enough of waiting, the memory of him sitting in the corner of this garage, his spike in his servo as he kept fisting himself, overloading onto the hard floor multiple times just to get some relief after having to watch you walk around in your damned little dresses, your hips innocently swaying, your tits deliciously bouncing with every step.

Before you could register it, the robot was destroying your needy cunt with aggressive pounding, feeling as if he able to put more and more inches inside you with every slam of his hips against your ass.

His speed and the way he could hit all the best spots, even though the tip of his spike was kissing your cervix, made you constantly moan out loud, as if the walls of the garage were soundproof.

He kept making noises as well, although his were much deeper, more frustrated, as if he was chasing something he was so closed to catch but right before getting it, it'd just slip away from him.

He thought of this moment for a long time, the pink transfluid painting his servos on many occasions as he was imagining you in this exact position underneath him, squirming in pleasure.

But then, he came up with an even better idea, his body immediately following through, without even analysing it. He stopped mercilessly pounding into you just to manhandle you on your stomach, lifting your backside by your hips, spreading your legs to allow him to penetrate your needy cunt even more deeply. He positioned himself over you, his spike yet again pressing against your core for just a second before finally entering you once more. He didn't even waste time on preparing you to take him, just like the first time he pushed his length inside your pussy.

Now he had the opportunity to properly grope and slap your ass as much as he pleased, his hips constantly hitting it with every hard thrust he'd make. Tears began forming in the corner of your eyes, the feeling of being so perfectly stuffed by his spike making you shudder, moan and squirm beneath him.

His movements were rapid and chaotic, but he never slowed down, only increasing his speed, making mental notes of the noises you were making while he was fucking you so good.

"Bee, 't hurts..." you whimpered weakly in-between your loud, slutty moans, him taking it as an encouragement to continue ruining your cunt which was now clenching around him more than ever before. His one servo went to the back of your head tilted to the side, his digits gently stroking your hair as if it was supposed to help ease the pain mixing with pleasure, while the other one was still on your hip, pulling your body towards him at the same time he was pushing at it, making your skins hit each other with even more force.

You told him it hurt you but he couldn't stop.

He felt himself getting closer and closer to overloading, the warmth of your cunt getting sweetly unbearable as his movements became more sloppy, yet still as hard as before.

"Fuck." Curses kept spilling from your sinful mouth, feeling his thick spike throb inside you, indicating that he was probably about to finish.

The discomfort and pain of his metal hips hitting your much softer backside were slowly becoming less and less noticeable as complete pleasure washed over you, making you a wet, moaning mess underneath him.

With his two servos on your hips, he increased the speed of his movements once more, chasing the so desired release.

"Bee, please..." you whined again, your tits bouncing with every thrust, your hardened nipples brushing against the rough floor, "Overload in me..."

Your words were enough to tip him over the edge. With only a few more harsh slams into your tight cunt, he felt himself spurting his thick transfluid into your cervix, multiple groans and whimpers leaving his intake as he did so. He kept fucking the pink liquid into your cunt, not wanting a single drop to escape.

You could still feel his hard, metal hips hitting your ass, all until you clenched around him so tightly, he swore he could overload again just from that sensation alone. You came all over his thick spike, moaning loudly, your body shaking with indescribable pleasure from both his rough pounding as well as the knowledge that his transfluid was deep inside you.

Bee didn't pull out instantly, his thrusts decreasing in speed and force with every passing second, trying to ride out the remains of his and yours overloads.

You were panting and the robot was most definitely overheating, his metal body much hotter in touch than ever before, now his chassis pressed against your back as he began planting gentle kisses to your hair, his vents not being able to catch up.

After a long time that didn't feel long enough for him, he decided to pull away and take his spike out of your core filled with his transfluid, practically begging him to just fuck it again. But now, that his lust for you was somehow taken care of, he could regain the control over his body, and allow you to rest after getting absolutely ruined by him.

You rolled over onto your back yourself, clenching your thighs together when you felt his pink juices flooding out of you, wanting to keep them there for as long as possible. He smiled at your attempts to keep him inside you, the desire growing in his optics once again.

Bee gently wrapped his servos around your bare, exhausted body, lifting you up to place you down on the sofa he was previously occupying with you in his lap. As soon as you felt the plush against the skin of your back, you pulled the robot in your direction with your hands on both sides of his helm, making him bend his body so that you could kiss him passionately for the last time that night, knowing that he was most likely about to leave you to take care of his Autobot duties. He obliged without complaining, ready to slide into you again right then and there. And how disappointed he was when you pulled away with a soft smile, exhaustion finally catching up to you...

The corner of his slips curled up as he looked around in search for something to put on you. An abandoned blanket sitting on a wooden chair since he could remember would do. Before you could even notice he left you alone on the sofa, he was back, covering you from the neck down quickly but still making sure your whole body was under the soft fabric.

"Prime needs you?" you asked in a weak tone, your voice now only confirming how tired you actually were.

Prime needed him but he needed you.

Bee only nodded, to which you responded softly, "I'll stay here." And before he could even give you any sort of a physical confirmation that he got that, you already closed your eyes with a content expression written all over your face.

He smirked to himself, the sweet feeling of finally achieving his goal washing over him, him practically having been able to live in his dreams for a moment. His smile only widened when he came to a realisation...

He finally managed to mark you as his.

don't know if i made it he-lost-control enough but i tried and that's what counts in my books. also, i made it an oneshot but if you wanted separate hcs for these characters ill be more than willing to write it

[yuwuta]

please feed us some yuuji blurbs there’s a lack of him rn :(

ofc… sweetest boy all time… here’s something was was meant to be a longer project but got lost in the editing whirlwind… love him so bad... 

NEVER LOST IN TRANSLATION, BECAUSE YOU KNOW WHAT I WANT 

notes: reader is implied to be american/english-speaking, yuuta and megumi are bilingual, yuuji, bless his soul, is not. i didn’t use italics for conversations between yuuji and megumi because it would all be in japanese, but when they get mixed later in the scene, japanese is differentiated with italics. hope that’s not too confusing lololll

Honestly, Yuuji tried his best in school. Some things came easier than other, but with a bit of hard work, and help from his friends, he always managed to pull pretty good grades. But right now, his biggest regret is not taking english more seriously in high school, because it’s been about three weeks since he met you, and he’s only been able to say maybe five full sentences to you without the help of Yuuta or Megumi translating. 

He was excited when Yuuta said his friend from abroad would be coming to visit and study, but god, he didn’t expect you to be so pretty. To have such pretty eyes, and pretty lips, and pretty hair, to have the prettiest voice in the world despite him only understanding every eighteenth word you say. You’re beautiful to him, and Yuuji thinks that even if he could speak your language fluently, the words would still get caught in his throat. He’s so lovesick, it’s embarrassing—his friends have been harping on him blushing and stuttering over you for the past month, and he can’t even blame them.

“What does she say to you when you guys talk,” Yuuji whines, hovering around Megumi, and not-so-discreetly looking back at you where you’re still sat in the living room laughing with Yuuta, “Does she ever say anything about me? I mean—probably not right? Which is fine! Actually, dont tell me—no, do. Or maybe—”

“She asks about you,” Megumi says, matter-of-fact in delivery, as he places a bag of popcorn in the microwave, but that doesn’t curb Yuuji’s enthusiasm. He’s practically bouncing, if he weren’t already—begging Megumi to spill the details, “What did she ask? Tell me! Tell me!” 

“She once asked if you dye your hair.”

“That’s it?!” Yuuji screams, heartbroken, and visibly deflating.

Megumi shrugs, “Yuuta probably knows more. She’s his exchange buddy friend thing, so ask him.”

“I can’t ask him, he’s right next to her!” Yuuji pouts, “Wait, what does ‘exchange buddy friend thing’ mean? You don’t think they’re more than friends, right…? I can’t blame her, senpai is really pretty, too, and he can actually talk to her… so unfair.” 

“You know, she’s not fluent, but she can understand some Japanese,” Megumi reminds him, “So, she can definitely hear you, and probably understand you.”

Yuuji’s shoulders slump, and once again, he turns around to look back at you. This time, you two make eye-contact, and that instant, Yuuji’s cheeks go pink, a nervous hand raised to wave at you, and instant internal regret at his actions; but, then you smile, and wave back, and Yuuji stays like that, dumbfounded and lovestruck and on autopilot as he waves with hearts in his eyes until Yuuta looks up from his phone and catches him.

Embarrassing. He knows he’s not the brightest, but he’s at a record high of self-embarrassment since he’s met you.

Yuuta finds himself chuckling when Yuuji spins around and goes back to prodding Megumi with questions. When you turn to face him again, it’s with a shy smile.

“I told you you’d like him,” Yuuta grins—the kind that seems sweet and innocent, but has just a kiss of that all-knowing tease to it; the kind that reminds you that he’s truly related to Satoru.

“Oh, be quiet,” you grumble, tucking your legs in and resting your chin on your knee. You spare another glance in Yuuji’s direction, for once, grateful for the language barrier between the two of you, when you turn back to Yuuta to proclaim: “I can like someone and not do anything about it. You’re real good at that, aren’t you?”

Yuuta’s slightly cocky grin falls into a scowl, and now you get to smile when he argues back, “We said not to bring up he who shall not be named in the presence of my friends!”

“Then don’t bring up my he who shall not be named in the presence of him!”

“Aren’t Americans all about forging new frontiers and chasing after your dreams?” he taunts, “Well, your dream is right in front of you.”

“My dream right now is to kill you.”

“Lucky for me, you’re going to have to hold off on that because your lover boy is approaching.”

You don’t have time to argue back with Yuuta when Megumi and Yuuji approach the living area with snacks in tow. Yuuta scoots to the tail end of the couch under the guise of giving Yuuji space to place the popcorn and nuggets in the center of the coffee table, but he has just enough time to flash you a wink before Yuuji settles in between. Megumi opts for the loveseat closets to Yuuta’s end of the couch, and you do your best not to reach over Yuuji and strangle Yuuta.

The boys decide on watching a movie you’ve never heard of, but Megumi reassures you it’ll be easy to follow and has English subtitles. You don’t mind, settling in to your corner of the couch with a handful of popcorn just as the title-screen for Human Earthworm 3 rolls across the TV.

You can follow along well-enough—even without subtitles, you get the gist of the movie. What you really find entertaining is Yuuji, who occasionally blurts out a comment or exclamation, or audibly coos whenever something sad is happening on screen. He’s almost as animated as the characters; you’re more of the silent-watcher type, but you find yourself endearing by this commentary, even if you can only understand parts of it.

You particularly appreciate the way that after every comment, he either motions to Megumi, or turns to you himself to repeat his thoughts in his best broken English, and even when you don’t understand his words, you understand him. His emotions are all on his sleeve: frustration, happiness, confusion, curiosity—communication between you two should be more difficult, but Yuuji makes it easy.

It gives you the confidence you cough out your own observation, “You, um… you’ve… seen the others? You seem to like this series.”

Across the room, Megumi and Yuuta hold their breaths, opting to not translate for you when you switch from Japanese to English. Yuuji is quiet for a moment, turned to face you with a slightly confused look on his face that makes you nervous, until his eyes brighten up and he smiles and begins nodding fervently—“Yeah—yeah, I do! It’s my… hm how do I say it… Oh! It’s my favorite!”

Between the smile on his face, the blush on his cheeks, and sincerity in his voice, you feel like you’re wrapped up in his world. It’s a little confusing, and scary, but it’s not all that bad. Maybe you can do something about it, eventually.

“I.. I think I like it, too.”

[rafey-baby]

hidden 5

c/w: outlaw!rafe being his usual self towards pogue!reader, barry making an appearance, closure on the hostage/stockholm syndrome situation, mentions of murder & violence, slightly suggestive, fluffy ending, 18+ mdni!

wc: 3.5k

sooo this is the *actual* last part! (might write some blurbs for them at some point idk) thank u for reading love u <3

also him getting jealous was inspired by this ask

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4

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

Consciousness drags her out of the comfort of her slumber, forcing her to blink her leaden eyelids open to Rafe’s heavy and very much naked body weighing her down against the couch cushions.  

She can feel his chest expanding with each lethargic inhale he takes and she’s momentarily disconcerted; entangled thoughts desperately trying to make sense of her current situation.

However, all too soon, the memories of last night cause her to let out a tired groan. What on earth was she thinking? Why would she let Rafe of all people fuck her? And more than once. She can’t even recall how many times she— 

Suddenly, she’s reminded of the reason she stirred from her state of dormancy in the first place when she feels Rafe’s sturdy abdomen pressing down on her bladder. 

“Ugh,” she lets the back of her head hit the armrest before trying to pry him off, albeit to no avail.  

“Rafe? Can you...” she shoves at his shoulder.  

However, he merely takes in a sleepy breath and shifts into a more pleasant position.  

“Rafe, wake up,” she tries again, this time pushing at his face that’s resting comfortably in the crook of her sweaty neck. In response, he offers her a drowsy hum before pasting a sluggish palm over her lips to make her go quiet.  

“Shh,” he silences her and she feels like slapping him because she’s about to pee on her couch and he’s hushing her, of all things.

She wraps her fingers around his limp wrist and yanks it away from her mouth with a huff. “I need to pee. Can you get off me, please?”  

He lets out a dozy grunt before groggily raising his head to look at her; squinting due to the daffodil-colored rays of sunshine peeking from the windows and appearing just as foggy as her a few minutes ago.  

He rubs a hand over his face, mumbling something incoherent under his breath and at last, removes his limbs that restrained her capability to move.  

“Thanks,” she peeps out before getting up and scurrying off to the bathroom; hearing him slump back down onto the couch immediately after.  

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

After rinsing off the stickiness of last night in the steaming shower and changing into a pair of sweats, she realizes she’s starving. Hunger is eating away at her insides and along with the graphic recollections of her and Rafe’s late-night activities vividly jumping around her skull; she can already feel a headache lurking around the corner. 

She’s in the process of cracking eggs on a pan when she hears Rafe entering the shower; the pitter patter of water droplets hitting the tiled floor following soon after. She begins to cut up some tomatoes to add into the mixture, when out of the blue, the doorbell rings.  

She doesn’t think Rafe hears it since the water is still running in the bathroom, which is why she’s not entirely sure what she’s supposed to do.   

She figures that if it’s the police again, it would seem suspicious if it took her longer than normal to open it twice in a row now. Therefore, she turns off the stove and takes tentative steps towards the door.  

Fleetingly, she wonders if she should simply act as if no one’s home since opening doors to strangers was what got her into this mess in the first place. At this point though, she doesn’t necessarily have the mental capacity to care. 

She gingerly unlocks the door with her lip worried between her teeth, and behind it, stands a guy with hair as black as a crow and eyes as brown as coffee beans. 

“Is Rafe here?” He asks with such a slow drawl it makes her wonder if he’s high on something other than just life.  

And he doesn’t seem like a cop. But wouldn’t Rafe have told her if he was expecting someone?  

“I don’t— I don’t know what you’re talking about. He’s, um, he’s not here,” she decides to play it safe; the lie clumsily rolling off her tongue. However, she can tell that he’s not buying it. 

“You sure? You tellin’ me he gave me the wrong address then?” He wonders with a lazy furrow of his dark eyebrows.  

“Um, I don’t—” 

“Barry, told you to call me before you get here,” Rafe’s low rumble suddenly interrupts her; making a shiver trickle down her spine because him being right behind her, freshly showered, reminds her a little too much of his first night here.  

“Country club! Thought they got your ass already. Good to see you not in jail,” Barry exclaims loudly and takes the liberty of inviting himself in as if her home has turned into a public building free for anyone to just come and go as they please. At least he has the courtesy to close the door, she thinks.

He greets Rafe with a heartfelt pat on the back and she’s momentarily stunned when his mouth twists into a smile that would be considered warm and genuine; something she’s never had the luxury of receiving. 

“Why you didn’t tell me you were staying with a princess?” Barry pushes at his chest playfully. 

“Leave her alone, man,” Rafe rolls his eyes in annoyance.  

“I ain’t do nothin’. Just statin’ the obvious here,” Barry raises his hands up in defense and the unexpected compliment makes her suppress a giddy simper. 

“Whatever, just get your ass here, I need your help,” Rafe grumbles out as he begins walking towards her bedroom. Not even asking if he can go there because why would he? 

“Ain’t nothin’ new about that,” Barry chuckles, revealing a golden tooth that glints under the light when he grins at her. 

And there’s a familiarity in which they interact that makes her figure they’ve known each other for a long time. With the little knowledge she has, she then comes to the conclusion that Barry most likely plays a part in the side business Rafe briefly mentioned when she’d found out about the cop he’d killed.

She assumes all of it is also connected to the plastic baggies full of white powder in the glove compartment of his truck, because there’s no way Rafe needs that much coke just for personal use.  

“We have to, uh, talk about some shit. So, go do something else, yeah?” Rafe looks over his shoulder at her.

“Right, um, okay,” she mumbles out before turning around to return to the safety of her kitchen.  

“Damn, Rafe. That how you talk to her even though she be letting you hide here?” Barry questions as he follows after him. 

“Shit, man, can you just— let’s just get this over with, alright? Don’t have all day,” Rafe mutters in response. 

“Well someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed, huh?” Barry’s humorous tone is the last thing she hears before the door closes; leaving her to resume preparing her breakfast with a weary sigh.  

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

A few days later, she hears Rafe’s voice from the living room as she’s thoughtlessly reorganizing her closet; folding shirts and pants and taking out clothes she no longer wears, since he still doesn’t allow for her to leave the house without him. 

“Come watch this for a second?” His tone sounds almost excited when she pads over to stand next to him on the rug; looking over at him in question. 

However, he merely nods towards the television screen and turns the volume higher.  

“And then onto some more interesting news. The charges for Rafe Cameron, owner of Cameron Development, have been dropped due to no significant evidence found to prove him guilty. However, the investigation is still open and the police are doing everything they can in order to find the criminal behind the devastating murder that has shaken up the entire island for weeks now. In order to ensure everyone’s safety, we hope that you keep your eyes open for anything out of the ordinary and…” 

Everything after that turns into muffled background noise as her jaw drops and her rounded eyes flicker over to Rafe.  

“I’m a free man, Puppy,” he turns to face her with a grin tugging at the corners of his lips. 

“How did you even…” she’s momentarily stunned; words withering away as she simply blinks up at him in surprise. 

“Don’t want you to worry about it, alright?” He’s quick to dismiss her as he clicks off the TV. 

“I’m, um, happy for you…even though you did kill the guy and—” 

“Already told you, he wasn’t a good person and an even shittier cop, remember? And I’m gonna need you to never mention that shit again, think you can do that?” He turns serious all of a sudden; peering into her eyes with a warning.  

“Y— yes,” her voice falters when he steps closer.   

“Cause if you can’t, I’m gon’ have to do something you won’t like, you understand?” He gazes at her with such intensity, she can’t do anything but nod with her shoulders tense.  

“You sure? Cause you’re kinda my only loose end here, and we wouldn’t want anything to happen to you, would we?” His tall frame hovers over her as he leans down to mutter out the words, causing her to flinch.  

“No, I promise. I’m not gonna say anything,” she squeaks out and means it.  

Who would even believe her? After all, she doesn’t have any actual proof and even if she did, she thinks Rafe could easily just pay himself out of it. And she’s not particularly keen on finding out how far he’s willing to take his vengeance.  

“Good,” he seems to relax some but a sense of dread washes over her anyway.  

“But what if…someone threatens me or something?” She asks with caution.  

“That’s not gonna happen. You always worry so much, just chill out for a bit, yeah?” He shrugs it off with an air of indifference she wishes she could possess as well. 

“But it’s a possibility. How do you know someone didn’t see us together when people were looking for you?” She reasons with her mind racing.  

“Listen, if someone threatens you…you come to me and I’ll fucking kill them for you, okay?” He suggests with complete seriousness.  

“What? No! That’s not what I meant at all. I don’t want you to—” 

However, she’s interrupted by amused laughter bubbling out of his chest. 

“I’m joking. Stop being an annoying Pogue for one second, yeah? Think we should go out for dinner, hm? Let me, uh, thank you for your hospitality and shit,” he says as he smooths a palm over his buzzed hair. 

“Like at a restaurant? You and me?” At the notion of them spending time together outside of all this, confusion tangles up her thoughts; making her forget all about her previous concerns.  

“You’re so fucking weird. Yes, you and me. Who else? Can get whatever expensive shit you want too, how’s that sound?” He coaxes her to agree with the mellow tone he adds, however, not without making fun of her first. 

“Um, okay…sounds great?” She can’t really grasp onto his motives in the headspace she’s currently in, merely assumes he wants to be on her good side so she wouldn’t change her mind about opening her mouth.  

“Great. Need to, uh, take care of some things over at Figure Eight first, but be ready at seven,” he makes it sound like a threat, even if he’s not trying to scare her with a gun anymore.  

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

She doesn’t think she’s ever been at a restaurant this costly; everything on the menu more than she could ever afford. Rafe practically demands her to not pay attention to the price and get anything she wants, however, it’s proving to be quite challenging as she scans over the list of dishes in front of her with creased brows.  

“You ready?” He asks with a hint of impatience.

“No, I can’t decide. There’s so many options and I don’t even know what half of them mean,” she mumbles out in distress. 

“I’ll just, uh, order for you, yeah?” He suggests with a raise of his brows as he stretches out his arms.  

At that, she swallows, desperately trying not to pay any mind to his large biceps practically on display.

“Okay, thanks,” she graces him with a grateful smile; feeling out of place with rich Kooks all around nearly suffocating her.  

Being here with Rafe, of all people, feels strange. Not even a day ago, she was still practically held captive by him, even if the leash of his strict rules around her throat had loosened up considerably, and his overly aggressive tendencies had dwindled down to grumpy mutters and displeased glares over the course of the few weeks they’d known each other. Now, she’s solely bound to him by this muddy, grimy secret that she will probably take down to her grave.  

And despite everything he’s done to her, in some peculiar way, she’s beginning to understand him. Because against all her morals, in a killer, someone who other people would consider a monster, she sees someone simply trying to survive in the harsh world with the crumpled cards life has dealt with him. And she isn’t all too sure how far her feelings of care towards the man branch out but what she does know, is that she doesn’t want him to go to prison. No matter what he’s done. 

And she’s never even met Rafe’s father and he hasn’t talked about him to her, but she has this feeling that to be so violent and hostile, has to be learned from someone.

No one is born evil, even if she wouldn’t necessarily describe him as that.

In Rafe, she sees a boy who was forced to grow up too quickly; someone with the burden of his father’s heavy legacy weighing down on his shoulders with every breath he takes. 

Therefore, she can’t find it in herself to be entirely too upset with him for the way he treated her, thinks she can live with it, even if it was wrong. Because looking back on it, in a way that makes no sense to her, it was also sort of thrilling to keep him hidden and follow along with his very much illegal activities. After all, she’s never really been one to break the rules.  

“Are you guys ready to order?” The server’s voice pulls her out of her thoughts and makes her look up at a familiar face, slightly covered by sand-colored curls.  

“Y/N? Long time no talk! How’re you doing?” Lucas, a guy she had a fling with last year meets her eyes with his surprised ones. 

“Oh, hi. I’m good. What a crazy coincidence, didn’t even know you worked here,” she forces out a strained laugh because had she known, she would’ve asked Rafe to pick another restaurant.

“Actually, just started a few weeks ago. But since when do you eat on this side of the island?” He gives her a curious look.  

“I don’t. Just a…special occasion and stuff,“ she steals a glance at Rafe who’s quietly observing their interaction with narrowed eyes.  

And him talking to her right now feels entirely too humiliating since she had told Rafe about him, assuming the two of them would never meet.  

“Right…anyway, haven’t seen you at the surf shop in a while, you still work there or?” Lucas continues with an enthusiasm she can’t quite reciprocate.  

And it’s not like they ended up on bad terms — they weren’t even officially together — she just sort of withdrew from him because despite being an overall nice guy, she felt like he only cared about his own needs. More often than not went on about his day without even taking hers into consideration, both in and outside the bedroom.

“Yeah, yeah, I do, just had a little, um…family emergency. It was this whole thing, you don’t even wanna know the details,” she lies through her teeth; picking at the corner of her napkin as a distraction.

“I’m so sorry to hear that. Is everything okay now?” His jade eyes are sympathetic as he peers down at her.  

“Yes, everything’s good. Think I’ll be able to return next Monday,” she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear and tries to appear nonchalant.  

“Cool…hey, I was actually wondering if you’d wanna catch up some time?” He scratches at the back of his head; seemingly nervous about her answer. 

She blinks.  

“Oh, um—” 

“You gon’ take our orders at some point or just flirt with her for the next hour?” Rafe invites himself into the conversation with a scoff; tilting his head at him in intrigue.  

And at that, Lucas finally turns towards him.  

“Wait a second, weren’t you just suspected for murder?” He asks with slightly wide eyes.  

“Nah, they dropped the charges cause they were tweaking. I didn’t do shit,” Rafe huffs out, the lie rolling off his tongue far too easily.  

“Oh, right, right. That must, um, suck,” he rambles, seemingly intimidated by him. 

“Yeah, it does,” Rafe mutters, and him clearly trying to fight off a roll of his eyes doesn’t go unnoticed by her, even if she’s not entirely sure why his mood has suddenly turned sour.  

Lucas is quick to fill in the silence that follows soon after. “Right, so, what would you two like to eat?”

And after he’s left with their orders, Rafe turns to look at her with an annoying smirk overlaying his features. “That the guy who couldn’t make you come?” 

“Rafe! He can still hear you,” she hisses and looks over her shoulder; relieved to discover he’s already out of earshot.  

“Don’t really care. That shit’s just embarrassing for him. What did you see in him anyway? Seems like an ass,” he furrows his brows at her.  

“You’re talking as if you’re any better?”  

“At least made you come, no? Multiple times, may I add. Or you need a reminder?” He nudges her foot under the table with his own; the self-satisfied smirk plastered on his face making her subtly kick him back.  

However, he merely wraps his fingers around her ankle; ceasing her futile attempt at bruising his leg with a chuckle rumbling from his chest.  

“You seriously just tried to kick me? Didn’t seem to complain when you were begging for me to—”  

“Rafe! Why are you talking so loud?” She whines, trying to release the limb he’s captured, however, his grip is strong and she’s not getting free until he decides she is.  

“Calm down, no one here cares. You Pogues never know how to relax, do you?” 

“I am relaxed!” 

“Yeah, I can see that,” he taunts before finally letting go of her foot and she quickly pulls it back so he can’t grab for it again.  

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

“Can I ask you something?” She swallows something akin to sand in her throat; disrupting the sound of their silverware clinking against the ceramic plates as they contently fill up their bellies.  

“Hm?” His eyes flicker over to meet hers. 

“After this, um, are we just gonna go back to our sides of the island and never talk again?” There’s a wistful hue coloring over her question.  

“That’s what you want?” He raises his brows and she blinks; slightly taken aback by him not immediately answering with a yes.  

“Um, I don’t…know. What would we even do?” She takes a sip of water to appear indifferent to the entire situation. However, she’s failing miserably. 

“I mean, could think of a couple of things we could do…” he trails off with a smug grin, causing her to huff out a soft laugh. 

“Thought you didn’t hang out with Pogues?” She narrows her eyes at him, trying to figure out if he’s even taking this conversation seriously. 

“Yeah, well, guess I could make an exception. After all, you did help a Kook, so you’re not really a Pogue anymore, are you?”  

“Okay first of all, that makes zero sense and I only helped you, cause you were gonna kill me,” she states, lowering her tone towards the end.  

“Stop saying that shit, Puppy,” he hisses, looking around to ensure no one heard it. “Wasn’t gonna kill you, just needed you to listen, alright?”  

“Well, you could’ve been a bit more polite about it,” she rests her elbows on the table, tone accusatory.  

“Listen, I’m sorry, okay? That what you want me to say? A lot was going on and I wasn’t thinking clearly. Sometimes it’s, uh, hard for me to control my anger and shit,” he mutters out the last part, as if it’s difficult for him to admit.

“Yeah, I figured,” she’s smiling now; her attempt at making him feel guilty going down the drain because him trying to defend his behavior for once, is sort of entertaining. 

A scowl covers his face at the realization that she’s merely trying to make him sweat for her own enjoyment. “You know, I still think I should’ve picked another house,” he grants her a lighthearted glare.  

“Yeah, me too,” she nods in agreement.  

And at the sight of her barely contained grin, he can’t stop his mouth from curling up as well; both of them quietly giggling at the entirely too bizarre of a situation, that for some reason, feels far too much like a first date.  

It’s almost as if they’re meeting for the first time all over again.

[cowboykento]

cw: orgasm denial, some soft degredation (he calls reader a slut, but fairly lovingly), overstimulation. wc: 1.4k

minors dni or you get blocked.

cowboy!nanami gives the best massages. years of working on the farm have made his hands strong and firm, and really just overall perfect for soothing the knots in your back.

it's so intimate, the way his thumbs press between your shoulders, eliciting a soft, sleepy sigh from your lips.

he can't stand seeing you hunched over the desk in your office, working yourself tirelessly even though you'd left your real office hours ago. he was sure that your posture was likely the same even when you were at work.

sure, he can chide you about sitting up straight and it being good for you, but he can also solve the problem as it is. after a long day from both of you, him on the farm and you at work, it's relaxing for both of you for him to gently rub the knots from your tired back.

"right there, ken," you sigh, a smile lingering on your lips despite the pressure kento is putting into your spine.

"y'gotta start sittin up, pretty. can't have knots like this forming. it's not good for ya," he says, pausing his massage to press a kiss to your spine. his way of sealing the newly-relaxed muscles.

"i know, i know, kento," you reply. "but why would i do that when you treat me so nicely when i don't?"

he lets out a chuckle, returning to your lower back, his lips still ghosting over the back of your neck.

"y'think i wouldn't treat ya like this no matter what? i'd do this for ya even if ya didn't need it, darlin'. just like makin' ya feel good."

you let a moan slip from your lips this time, both from his hands and his words. of course this felt great, but you couldn't help but press your thighs together at the though of nanami making you feel good in other ways.

naturally, kento is quick to pick up on the change in atmosphere. he can see the way you press your legs together and how the pretty sighs and moans leaving your lips have become less subdued.

his hands slide along your waist, "ya want somethin' from me, princess?"

"maybe..." you tease, resting your head back against his chest.

a warm smile breaks on his face, and it reminds you of the sunrise that he's made sure to show you plenty of times.

"gonna have to use yer words then, pretty girl," he replies.

you sigh, "you know what i want, ken. don't tease."

"i do, darlin', but i gotta hear you say it. y'wanna be good for me, don't ya?"

his hands travel down your body, rubbing over your tummy and dancing over the waistband of your shorts. you know he knows exactly what you want and how to give it to you, but you were happy to indulge him, because you really did just want to be good for him.

"please, kento, need you to make me cum."

he grabs your chin, gently turning you so he can press a kiss to your lips.

"now that wasn't so hard, now, was it, princess?" he asks, voice rumbling through his chest. "now spread those pretty legs for me.

you comply at an almost embarrassing speed, so desperate from him from the hours of pent up passion lingering from his massage.

his fingers snake down into your shorts, easily finding your clit and rubbing it gently over your panties, lips glued to the side of your neck.

you let a blissed-out moan escape your lips as he continues playing with you; his touches may be teasing, but they were doing it for you. kento always did, always made sure you felt so good for him.

"such a good girl, aren't ya? just needed me to play with your little pussy, hm? maybe you're not my good girl, maybe you're just a slut," he grins devilishly against your neck.

"hngh, no, i'm your good girl. i'm yours," you reply, desperately rutting your hips up into his hand, chasing just a little bit more friction than he's giving you.

he pinches your clit, "doesn't seem like it, with the way yer humpin' my hand. seems to me like you're being a whore. gotta teach you how to behave, darlin'."

one of his hands holds your hips still while the other picks up its pace, rubbing your clit in earnest now, truly trying to work you to your orgasm.

or so you thought.

you feel the coil in your tummy tense and tighten until it's just about ready to snap, when kento pulls his hand away from you just as you're about to go over the edge.

you let out a defeated cry, "no! no, kento, i was so close, was about to cum!"

he scoffs, flipping you onto your back like you were nothing but a sack of flour.

"you'll take what i give you, sweetness. just lay back and let me make you feel good. that's what you wanted after all, isn't it? y'don't think i can make ya cum?"

"pleease," is all you can manage to get out as kento pulls his own pants down just enough to release his aching cock from its confines.

"you'll cum when i tell ya to, darlin'. that's what ya get for actin' like a desperate little slut," he spits out as he rubs himself through your slick folds a few times, making sure he's plenty slicked up. "don't know why ya gotta act up, darlin'. ya know i'll always make ya cum. just gotta lay back and stop worryin' your pretty little head. y'know i'll take care of ya."

you nod your head frantically, doing everything in your power to get kento to stop being so cruel and just fuck you already. you wanted to grab him and force his lips to yours, giving him no other choice than to get lost in you, but you know that would only garner you more punishment.

eventually, finally he pushes himself into you, drawing loud moans from both of you.

"fuck, darlin', never get any less tight for me. such a perfect pussy, isn't that right? perfect pussy that's all for me. luckiest man in the world, gettin' her all to myself."

you moan at his obscenities---it wasn't often kento talked dirty to you like this, and it made your head spin as he picked up his pace, rutting his hips against yours mercilessly.

you throw your head back against the pillows as he rips every moan and cry out of you. tears spill down your cheeks at some point, partly from how good he was making you feel, partly from the pent-up need from him denying you once already.

"please, please, kento," you cry. "need to cum so bad, please let me, please!"

"fuck, 'm close too, sweetheart," he groans into your lips. "go on, cum for me, fuckin' milk me, baby."

his command is all it takes to finally get that cord to snap, making your vision go white as you convulse with the overwhelming pleasure taking over your body.

kento fucks you through your orgasm, still desperately chasing his own. once you're done shaking, he brings a hand back to your clit, making you cry from the overstimulation.

"no, ken, 's too much! oh fuck, gonna-"

you're cut off by kento's loud groan as he releases inside you, filling you to the absolute brim, rubbing your clit in quick circles as his soul leaves his body.

"please, please cum again for me, baby, need ya," he manages to get out before his wish becomes a reality and you're thrown head first into another bone-shaking orgasm.

you can hardly feel your fingers or toes when you finally come back down. kento pulls out of you with a hiss before laying down next to you, pulling you in against his chest.

you rest your head against his still-heaving chest, listening to his heartbeat as it jumps. you're utterly exhausted and wrecked, but equally blissed-out and floating on cloud 9 with your fiance, who looks at you like you hung the stars in his image.

"love ya so much, sweet pea. sorry if i got a little carried away there," he murmurs, voice much softer now than it had been only moments ago.

you stretch your neck to give him a quick peck against his lips, "no, that was fucking great, ken'. should do that more often."

he raises a brow, hands running lazily along the curve of your wasit, "oh? ya like bein' called a slut?"

you giggle, "if it's you? yes please."

now it's his turn to laugh as he pulls you in a bit closer.

"well, ya know i love ya. i don't actually think any of that, but ya just looked so pretty all desperate for me."

your face heats and you bat your hand against his chest, "love you too, handsome."

cowboy!kento masterlist

[maesaeart]

Rumor has it that Rae has her eyes on a reserve course student... Are they... taking a study break together?

Rae is hanging out with a reserve course student? ...What's so special about him..? Sounds like she's wasting her time...

[Study Date NO TABLE VER.] TWITTER/POIPIKU FOLLOWERS ONLY

HAHA I've been getting a lot of requests to draw hajime >w> but I haven't gotten any specific prompts yet so hERE IT ISSSSS

its is totally based on another audio i listened to >w>;; something about muffled moans really get my gears going hehe

[yaralulu]

so what you’re saying is that lucien spent the night at the manor. probably with tamlin. is that what we’re saying. is this what’s happening. because i think that’s what happening.

i was checking some details for my recent fic and acofas fr the craziest book ever bc sorry let me get this straight: lucien visits tamlin for solstice (per invitation), he stays the night, wakes up the next morning before tamlin to hunt them food so they could eat, when he comes back tamlin essentially kicks him out and not long after he packs up his stuff and dumps it at his doorstep.

what is this.

[hanfourz]

— l.rw thought [s]

🪼 - i am very much still here.... riwoo get out my head (and get in my bed)

pairing: riwoo x reader ・genre: smut, established relationship ・MDNI!!!!!

wc: 874・warnings: making out/kissing, fingering

[ network: @onedoornet ]

thinking abt getting all dressed up and going to an event together. as soon as you meet him at your door when he picks you up, he knows he's done for. you look absolutely to die for, he swears he starts salivating. you see his eyes scan over you figure and back up to your face like three times before he actually says something. he gets all nervous, making you giggle because now he's clearing his throat and tripping over his words. you tell him he looks good too but the tone in your voice makes him shiver.

the whole event y'all are connected at the hip, where he goes you go and vice versa. that part isn't uncommon for you two though. any time you're at an event together, you stick like glue. what is out of the ordinary is how touchy riwoo has been the whole night. he usually likes to keep a hand on you whether it's around your waist or resting on the small of your back. but tonight feels different, his touches more purposeful and lingering. an arm wrapped firmly around your hips, fingers splayed over your thigh when you're sat next to each other, hand grazing down your spine every so often. you don't know if he's actually trying to get you riled up or not but it's working and by the end of the night you're more than hot and bothered.

when you two finally say all your goodbyes, it takes every ounce of your self control to not drag him out the venue. and it takes you even more self control to not tell the driver to pull over when you two on on your way back home. riwoo doesn't make it any easier on you either, his dainty hands rubbing your thigh and his fingers drawing patterns that leave goosebumps. you think you're practically vibrating with need by the time you get to the hotel. and you're almost positive riwoo can tell by now, every time he tries to start a conversation you seem barely focused on the words coming out his mouth and more on the way his lips are moving and how pretty they look and how good they'd feel on- you look away before you jump across the seat. he smirks to himself, picking up on all your cues. he feels a little smug knowing you're just as affected because truthfully he's been thinking about getting you out your clothes pretty much the entire time.

you two are silent on your way through the very pristine lobby of the hotel, only the sounds of your shoes on the tile and the low murmurs of the late night staff who pay you no mind. none of that really matters to you though when riwoo laces his fingers through yours and all but drags you to the elevators. as soon as the doors close, you scan around and hope to not spot a camera. unfortunately you do but you don't let it deter you as you step closer into your pretty boyfriends space. he looks slightly panicked as you corner him and he whispers about the cameras. you just shrug as a tiny smirk plays on your lips. he sucks in a sharp breath when you're pressed chest to chest and his hands are immediately grabbing at your hips. when you press your mouth to his, he almost moans fully sinking into the kiss. it's heated and rushed as your arms wrap around his shoulders and you pull him in closer. your whimper into his mouth and he feels hot all over. your hands tangle into his hair and his caress your sides.

when the elevator dings, you both pull away hastily and try to fix yourselves. luckily there's no one there when the doors open and you two practically sprint to your room, him fumbling slightly with the keycard while your hands find purchase on his waist. as soon as you've successfully shut the door, you're back on each other. he's murmuring about how beautiful you are between kisses and you just hum at his words, more concerned currently with getting his suit jacket off. he chuckles breathily at your impatience before taking it off, throwing it somewhere in the room. your hands are grabbing at his waist again, pushing him back towards the bed. he stumbles back, collapsing onto the sheets and letting out a little noise of shock when you're immediately climbing over him. you start kissing down his neck, undoing his buttons while he starts to take off his tie. you pull away to catch your breath and start to undress yourself as he watches, swollen lips slightly parted. once you've both rid yourself of your clothes, you run your hands over his smooth skin. you tell him how pretty he is and watch a blush spread over his neck. his hands start to roam from your hips to your chest, fondling your tits and causing you to sigh into his touch. when you start to grind yourself on top of him, he lets out a breathy moan. soon enough, you're completely naked and riding him within an inch of his life while his fingers work wonders over your clit.

[sluttylittlewaistenthusiast]

╰┈➤ 18+ none of these stories belong to me! this is a masterlist of all the fanfics i’ve read and reblogged! just thought it would be nice to have them all in one spot! (if your fic is on here and you wish not to be, please let me know!) some will have summaries if provided <3

ᡣ𐭩 how you can help palestine . fic recs m.list

@runa-falls

⭒ Cocktails

you finally gain enough courage to make a move on your best friend

⭒ Secret Third

⭒ Did You Just Kiss Me?

@softlyspector

⭒ Disaster

Marc's mental health takes a turn for the worse when you give him some news. After chasing him to Chicago, you, Steven, and Jake are left to pick up the pieces.

⭒ making out with Steven. that is all

⭒ surprising them with affection they aren't used to

⭒ why won't you let me take care of you?

@soonknight

⭒ Jake Lockley (fucking you against the bathroom counter)

He's anything but gentle, but you wouldn't have him any other way.

⭒ Deserve

Marc never stays with you after he fucks you. You are better left in the hands of Steven. This time, he doesn't leave you.

⭒ "I thought we agreed to share her?"

@ichorai

⭒ dlz

jake lockley wasn't your husband. steven and marc were. jake was just... he was just there. a ghost living in your house.

⭒ Stork Owl

you often walked around with a storm cloud hanging over your head. good thing steven always carried an umbrella.

⭒ Love Dog

your neighbor was delusional. he cried a lot, spoke of nonsensical happenings, and always appeared somewhat lost. you found yourself to be rather fond of him.

⭒ I Was Just A Kid

khonshu wanted you dead. marc just wanted you.

@writefightandflightclub

⭒ A Lasting Impression

Steven falls asleep on you. No… I mean literally on you.

⭒ Just Right

Marc joined the Marines thinking he might finally belong somewhere. Turned out, he belonged next to you.

@eyelessfaces

⭒ Drenched Flowers

you and marc had a serious fight and have been avoiding each other since. the tension is hard to handle for everyone, and your only wish is to make things right again between you and marc, only he strictly refuses to front.

⭒ Tired and Wounded

marc comes home bleeding and refuses to talk about it, you beg him to let you take care of his injuries.

@psithurista

⭒ Stuck

You stop by Steven's place one night after work. Somebody else answers his door.

@redeyerhaenyra

⭒ Sleeping Beauty

After having sex with Jake, you both fall asleep in your flat. Only, it's not Jake that wakes up, it's Steven.

@mcondance

⭒ giving Steven head

@sinsofsummers

⭒ Insatiable

you can never get enough of marc. and marc? he's not complaining.

@fettuccin-e

⭒ Its Never Easy

⭒ Man in the Mirror

Steven knows it’s wrong, God, it’s fucking wrong, but it’s like he can’t stop himself.

⭒ Gold-Skinned and Eager

⭒ A Soft Ray of Sunlight

@sarahghetti

⭒ Blood On Your Mind

after an argument with marc, you go missing. he tears himself apart trying to find you.

⭒ All the Echoes in My Mind

marc falls victim to his own self-doubt. you get caught in the crossfire.

@bits-and-babs

⭒ Chocolate

After weeks of pining for your coworker Steven Grant, sharing chocolate over a late shift causes sparks to fly.

@bruhstories

⭒ Canopic Jar

marc is exasperated by you, but he needs to behave because you're steven's girlfriend.

@spctrsgf

⭒ Cake

@peterman-spideyparker

⭒ Domestic Adonis

Steven gets some new reading glasses that make your heart skip a beat and make you think of something. One night in bed as the two of you read, you voice this opinion to him. When you get back from a work trip one week later, boy are you in for a treat.

@stormkobra-5

⭒ Hold Me Close

Having been against touch all your life, now that you have three loving boyfriends, you’re overwhelmingly clingy. Cuddles, hand-holding, standing so close you’re up against them; but sometimes that’s just not close enough.

⭒ Puzzles

Steven’s not rough with you, like Marc or Jake. He’s more… Reserved. But he will wreck your shit if you ask nicely.

@luvpedropascal

⭒ First Time

[formosusiniquis]

I'm in chainmail, baby I'm impressed

Squeaking in under the wire for @stevieweek day 4: Special Outfit with bonus prompts: lingerie and DnD/Fantasy. Plus I'm counting this as my @steddie-week Day Seven Free Space

Stevie Harrington/Eddie Munson WC: 3217 | M | No Archive Warnings Apply | Tags/Themes: Transfem!Steve Harrington; Transmasc!Eddie Munson; Fade to Black

AO3

It starts with a blouse.

No, that’s not right. It actually started when Stevie asked how earring a suit of armor didn’t chafe, and if a pair of keys could stab through a beer can how were arrows not sending stabby metal pieces into people.

Which actually probably means it really started with layers. Like the extra layer of leather, done up to Eddie’s chin when he called her back. “Make ‘em pay” wasn’t the send off she’d expected after the big boy and other flirting. Flirting that had made her stomach twist and her heart flutter and her brain flinch with the close but not quite of it. But maybe that’s why she’d sent her own return volley. Why she’d grabbed hold of that half done zipper and left Eddie with a pat to the chest and a promise to do just that.

She totally saved his life with that move. Her, the leather jacket, and some extra breast tissue Eddie wasn’t really using, all working together to keep razor sharp fangs from tearing flesh and puncturing any important organs.

That breast tissue maybe saved her too, when she learned just what having it made Eddie and what it meant about options she hadn’t known were there. They had a lot of time to talk in their shared bat bite isolation chamber.

Talk about layers that go under chain and metal to protect knights of the realm and their devoted squires that help them.

That started in the Upside Down, finished in the hospital. And this started in the thrift store.

The blouse was white. Pure white, basically neon, white as the virgin snow. Totally not Stevie’s color, the fresh wedding white brings out the undertones in her skin in a way that leaves her looking sallow and liver failure-y. But something about the sleeve catches her eye. The way  it balloons before gathering at the wrist. 

It’s a 70’s throwback for sure. Reminds her of the cover from the album Eddie brought over a few weeks ago, Little Queen. Robin has her face screwed up before Stevie even has it all the way off the rack. Hating it but trying to be supportive the way she has been throughout all of Stevie’s transition from Steve to who she is now.

“That is… wow!”

“It’s super ugly, and not even in a cool way.”

Robin slumps against the rack, sending a hanger cascading to the floor. She scrambles down to pick it up but Stevie doesn't miss her, “Oh thank god.”

“The best thing to happen to you was my sense of style not changing.”

“I know. You’d look good in anything, but my wardrobe offerings would have shrunk.” Seeming to remember the source of the freak out. She snaggs the shirt. “So what’s with this thing? I think even you’d struggle to make this look good.”

She takes it back from Robin’s disapproving grip. Holds it up to herself just to see the way Robin’s face contorts. The neckline is going to do nothing for her, not low cut enough to show off the way her boobs are coming in. The poof in the arms will accent her shoulders . And it’s so, so white.

“It made me think of Eddie,” she says, fingering the loose tie that’s hanging down the front of the blouse.

“It is very vampire lord,” Robin admits. “Might even make him look tan.”

Layers, knights would wear padded shirts under their armor and under those drapey shirts in cotton and linen. He’d been excited when he’d talked about it. Passionate. The way he got when he talked about Lord of the Rings or DnD. She holds the shirt even tighter against her, turns this way and that even though she can only kind of make out her reflection in the mirror at the end of the row. It’s an ugly shirt. But it makes her think of knights and Éowyn and paladins and Eddie.

Eddie flushed pink and beautiful, squirming in his seat in a different way than he usually does, talking about devotion and pledges. Duty and honor.

“I’m gonna buy it.”

“For Eddie?” Robin asks on a sigh. She already knows the answer.

“He’ll certainly get to enjoy it.”

The problem with being the one to come up with a plan is she has to be the one to follow through with it. 

Part of her knows the blouse would be enough. She could dress it up just right, flirt a little, and have Eddie eating out of the palm of her hand.

But the part of her that had a flair for the dramatic that rivaled her boyfriend’s wasn’t going to let her skimp unless she took every possible step to fully achieve her vision.

So she goes to the only person she knows who might be able to put the final and most crucial piece of the scene together.

Flopped across the Henderson couch, she’s making herself comfortable for her and Caludia’s date with Dallas. She’s too cozy to get up, decides it's easier to flop her head over the arm of the sofa to shout at Dustin while he rummages through the kitchen.

“So if I was trying to get my hands on some of that chain link armor stuff, would you know a drama club nerd who might have some?”

“Yeah, I have some.”

“You have some?” she can feel her eyebrows raised up into the middle of her forehead. She went to him for a reason, but surely she would have known if he was capable of affording something like that. Was that why she was footing the bill at the arcade every week, so he could have suit of armor money?

“Well it's not like it grew in the backyard, I made some.”

“Made some?” she flips around on the couch, this has become the kind of conversation she has to look at her brother and have him be rightside up.

He’s got his hand on his hip which isn't as commanding when he’s also holding a glass of milk in the other. It’s cute though, like he’s trying to channel her.

“What are you an echo? It's not like it was hard. You need some wire and pliers and patience.”

“And you?”

“Har har. Yes. Do you want to borrow it or not.” The threat is there even if she doesn’t think it’s that sincere. It’s fucking armor she doubts he could hide it that well if she wanted to just come in and take it.

But she makes nice anyway cause she’s a good sister. “Yes! Sorry.”

“Ma's got all that jewelry making stuff and you know I like to work with my hands when I'm talking with Suzie.”

“Disgusting.”

It was a joke. But it’s a joke that sends his drink sloshing over the sides of his glass as he startles. A good friend, even if she doubts he’ll ever acknowledge it, she stifles her laugh in the palm of her hand as he turns a shade of red that is medically concerning. 

“Ew, don't be crass, Stevie,” he stutters out.

“Is this even going to fit me,” she takes pity on him, dragging the topic back to her, “you made it for yourself half-pint.” The insult barely works, a summer growth spurt has left sophomore Dustin towering over her shoulder. Well, not towering, but he can see over her shoulder now.

“I made it for Mike, actually, so he could be his paladin at that convention in September. But he wouldn't let me measure him cause I ‘know what he looks like’ and it came out too big.”

“Oh so it'll be perfect for me.” She tries to make it a joke, but hearing that it was made for human stringbean Michael Wheeler has her nervous in the place where all of her ugliest body issues live. At least if Dustin had made it for himself it would have just looked like a crop top.

“Well, it still might not fit because of your,” he gestures vaguely at her front.

“Boobs, Henderson, they're boobs. You can call them-”

“Alright!” He shrieks, “I was trying to be respectful.”

“When have you ever been respectful? And don't say it's because I'm a girl, I'll push you into Lover’s Lake.”

“I wouldn't talk about El’s or Max’s is all I'm saying.” He says into the glass in his hand.

“But I can borrow it?”

“If it fits over your boobs,” he says the word like it's in a foreign language he's neither spoken nor heard, “you can keep it. I know it's for some weird sex thing with Eddie and I don't want it in my closet knowing what it's seen.”

Honestly it's for the best, because if this goes the way she thinks it's going to she really doesn't want to have to figure out how to get stains out of aluminum. But it's hard to resist the siren song of torturing Dustin. “I can't believe you're calling my sex life weird, are you saying there's something wrong with us? That we aren't a normal couple like everyone else? I thought you were a friend.”

“Nothing about Eddie is normal and he'd be offended you tried to suggest he was so I'd feel bad.”

“Yeah, good point loser.” She snuggles back down into the couch, she never really gives the episodes of Beauty and the Beast that much attention but this one should be wrapping up soon. “If it doesn't fit over my tits and it sees zero action do you want it back then?”

“After this conversation, I'm not sure I ever want to see you again. So just keep it. I'm sure Eddie will find some kind of use for it.”

There’s another quip at the tip of her tongue that she knows will send Dustin into fits, whether they would have been of rage or denial she’ll never know. The front door is slamming open bringing with it Claudia at the end of her swing shift.

“Stevie, dear,” she always bustles into the house like she’s carrying an armload of groceries even when it’s just her coming home in her uniform, “never go into nursing. Doctors are some of the dumbest fuckers on the face of the planet.”

It occurs to her, the attitude might be a family trait. Maybe that’s why they adopted her so easily. If only she could pull off the tiny hat the way Claudia can.

All of the pieces of her plan stay hidden for weeks. Folded up carefully in an oversized hatbox in the back of her Mom’s extended closet. The hat, a monstrosity purchased for a Derby she doesn’t think they’d even gone to left to gather dust or whatever it is hatboxes are meant to prevent.

The chainmail had fit. The weight of it as surprising as the cool feeling of it against her fingers.

She has the clothes, the accessories, even bought something silky and golden yellow to go underneath. Like the armor wasn’t going to be sexy enough for Eddie. Lingerie under lingerie like a hat on a hat, but she has to feel sexy or else she’s going to feel like a complete idiot.

She kind of already feels like an idiot. Something in the knowing that the top and the chain and the yellow bra with the flowers embroidered on it are all upstairs makes her anxious in a way she hasn’t ever been with Eddie before.

Hands haven’t been wandering during their movie nights. She keeps her feet kicked back behind her, crossed at the ankle, when they’re sharing a booth at dinner. There’s always a fifteen-going-on-sixteen year old chaperone in the car with them, sometimes even in the front seat as she pretends she’s just making sure they’re getting pre-prepared for their upcoming drivers tests.

And sitting next to him on the sofa, a whole cushion between them for the first time since ever, she watches the careful way he makes each line as he sketches and cross hatches what she can just make out to be a flowing haired knight. Her resolve breaks.

Stevie craves him the way she used to want ice cream on a hot day. The taste and feel of it an almost physical feeling, she would want it so bad. That’s what horny feels like now, she’s slowly realizing.

Before she can overthink it too much more, “I wanna try something.”

Normally she thinks of Eddie as having a kind of feline grace, he slinks and when he does fall off of something he isn’t supposed to be on he grins like it was always the plan to reacquaint himself violently with the floor. But the hint of suggestion in her voice has him perked up on the couch like a dog that just heard his leash come off the hook.

It's embarrassing how badly she wants him.

“What were you thinking, baby?”

He’s better at this than she is, at the lead up. The introduction. It’s a different skill to slowly introduce the concept of the strange, a change. Different than foreplay. She feels like she’s propositioning her proposition. The thing about slow, missionary in a room with the lights dimmed, no bandaids need to be ripped off before.

“You’ve roleplayed.”

“Not the kind I think you’re suggesting.” He’s impossibly more perked. Notebook and pencil still and poised like he’s about to start taking notes. “But I’ll try anything you want to do, however you want to do it.”

Maybe it isn't healthy, but she likes that about Eddie. That he’s all in on her, obsessed maybe. Willing to push himself out of his comfort zone for the sake of letting her have what she wants or try what she thinks she wants.

She likes how a few right words will turn him into putty she can squish and meld between her fingers.

“I’m gonna go get changed.”

Now that Eddie is waiting downstairs for something spectacular, it isn't so hard to pull that box down from its hideaway and slide each layer on. She already knew it wasn’t that hard to get the chain on and off by herself, she had tried it on. Maybe squires were for the heavy metal suits like on Scooby-doo. Or maybe it was about the intimacy and the ritual even back then, sliding on pieces and parts meant to keep the other person safe from harm knowing later if there was a chance to undress again you could see just how you helped save them.

Next time, she thinks, they should do this the other way around. She can get Eddie off a couple times, clean him up, and slowly dress him in each new layer. Until he’s lying in her bed armored in metal and cocooned by her cotton sheets. Safe from anything the world might want to do to him. Under her panties, and the sports leggings she’d decided where the sexier choice of pants, she can start to see the evidence of her arousal in the full length mirror.

It’s a good thing Dustin doesn’t want his stuff back.

Her finishing touches go on next. The gold ring with the small green stone that Robin had given her slides on to her index finger. Then around her neck her holy symbol, the guitar pick from Eddie’s first post-almost dying show. Tossed at her from the stage in an act of Bon Jovi badassery. She had gently poked a hole through it and now she slides it on its dainty, gold chain around her neck.

She tugs at her hair in the mirror, the one part that isn’t quite right. In her vision it’s finally grown out, beautiful waves that would fall out of the ugly helmet she doesn’t have when she pulled it off. Waves like Brooke Shields or the girl from One Day at a Time who married the guy from the band Eddie liked have instead of the bob she’s growing out now.

But it would grow and in the meantime she looked hot.

Stevie looked really hot. Swallowing around the saliva pooling in her mouth, she remembers she has a boyfriend to show that to.

Her first reward is the sight of Eddie's jaw dropped against the floor.

“You remember the other day, you were talking about how paladins could get leveled up so high they basically became gods too?”

Stevie knew that wasn't right, but she liked watching the nerd part of him war with the boyfriend part of him. One itching to correct the mistake and the other looking for a way for her to be correct in a roundabout way. Usually, it leaves him flushed and wide eyed, like his brain is overtaxed and with just a little more stress steam will start to burst from his ears to keep his brain from melting. Last week she had him arguing with the Party that humanoid didn't mean hobbits couldn't also be little rabbits.

She decides to take pity on him now, his wheels skidding blankly on wet road.

“I want you to worship me.”

He's agreeing, she thinks, before he's even sure what he's agreeing to. Dropping to his knees in front of her just like the worshiper she imagined: awe struck and devoted. Her divine intervention on his unfinished prayer kept him alive. Eddie Munson would let her kill him if she wanted to, if it suited her whims.

Good thing she wants to keep him for forever.

His hands slide up the back of her legs. She can feel the hot trail of them from the calf up to the thigh.

“Beautiful,” he breathes. Presses a kiss to her knee, her thigh, the chain that covers her hip. “My hero, my knight.”

In the end, she didn’t need the blouse or the bra and panty set. She still has her chainmail on when she eases them both down onto the couch. Running her fingers through Eddie’s hair from his sweat damp temples to the tangling ends she’s careful to keep it from getting wrapped in the links while he rests on top of her.

“I don’t know where you came up with that, my lady, but I think that was the hottest thing to ever happen to me.”

She tugs at the end of his hair just to watch the way the lingering arousal dances across his face. “I got that from the way you creamed your jeans while you were playing with my clit.”

“I am but a man, my golden sun. When a paladin of Apollo is before me what can I do but show my utter devotion.”

“You liked it? It was good for you?”

Maybe it’s a testament to how good it was that Eddie isn’t immediately off the couch. He only shifts enough to rest his chin on her stomach. Looking her in the eyes or maybe at the bottom swell of her breasts.

“Steph, that was the hottest thing that’s ever happened to me. You’re a vision in everything you put on,” he assures, “but where did you even get this?”

“That’s the bad news, if you’re hoping for a better fitting part two I think I’m gonna have to give Dustin my measurements.”

[plush-rabbit]

Simmering and Smothering

Part 2 to It’s Always Coffee

Word Count: 7K

A/N: I’m soft for this guy rn. He’s so !!! Anyways, I um don’t know what else to say

- You stand with a group of people, a lanyard hangs from your neck, and you pinch at the plastic cover that holds a card reading “Visitor” stuck on it. People part of the group peek through windows, trying to catch a glimpse of the wonders behind the glass. You're sure at some point you saw Dr. Ohnn standing close to a coworker. He must have felt your gaze, because he looked up and you had to fist your hand to restrain yourself from waving at him. But when the scientist beside him puts their hand on his back, returning his attention to the project in front, you find yourself digging your nails into the flesh of your palms.

You look around, but nothing catches your eye as it should at Alchemax. While you knew that they wouldn’t show a tour group all the dark and gritty experiments, a part of you wishes that you were able to slip away to explore, but any chances of that were snuffed out with a warning at being kicked out and banned should you stray. However, you do enjoy getting to step foot into the building. The group is led through glass doors, and you hear a few people sigh in relief. Walking in, windows line the room and let in a nice glow of sun. 

“Okay,” Dr. Octavius says with a clap of her hands, “this is the cafeteria where we will be having lunch. Those tables over there-” she points over to a cluster of tables that have been protected with stanchions- “will be where you all will be eating. Lunch is one hour, and if anyone needs to go to the restroom, please contact a security guard.” Her gaze is friendly, smile wide and tone with the slightest hint of superiority, she speaks to all, before her gaze lands on you, her smile falling ever-so-slightly. “If you fail to inform a guard, and are caught wandering, you will be immediately removed from the premises.” Smiling, you give her an “okay” symbol, and in response, she looks away from you. “Okay!” She chirps, taking a step to the side, she sweeps her arms towards the selection of food. “Enjoy your lunch.”

You’re at a cart, holding a tray consisting of fruits, and a bottle of juice. You peer over the selection of bread, holding a saran wrapped bagel. You pull your mouth into a line, wanting to put it back, but unsure if that’s okay to do so. Sure, it’s saran wrapped, but what if it’s not okay to place things back. You’ve already picked it up, and with a sigh, you place it on your tray. You look over the rest of the selection of the grains, and perk up at the sight of a muffin. Happily, you reach to grab at it before your wrist is grabbed at.

“Hey-” You bark out, pulling your hand out of the grasp and turning to look at whoever it was that clutched your wrist. You stop short when you realize that it’s Dr. Ohnn. “I feel like we talked about appropriate ways to greet others,” you muse, grabbing at the saran wrapped muffin. 

“What are you doing here?” he hisses, and you frown. 

Your eyes scan his face, and you fold the tray closer to you. “You’re upset,” you conclude, tilting your head with furrowed brows. 

“Of course I am,” he hisses. Your ears begin to burn, and you look around the cafeteria, many of the patrons sitting down and ignoring you- including the tour group you are a part of. When you look back at him, he continues. “Why are you here?”

“I’m part of the tour.” You jerk your head over where your tour members sit behind the stanchions. “Fisk was promoting it- something to show off Alchemax and how family-friendly it is. But if you ask me, I think it’s just a cover to stop people from asking-”

“I don’t care,” he rushes. 

You pull your lips into a thin line. “Okay, you don't have to be rude.” His eyes widen, and his shoulders rise. He opens his mouth, but you press forward. “Listen, I paid my way in, okay? If you’re upset with it, then I don’t know what to tell you.” He stays silent and you look back to your group. Turning back to him, you start. “Is that all, Dr. Ohnn? May I go sit down, or do you want to continue reprimanding me?”

He opens and closes his mouth, and when you turn on your heel, he calls your name. You turn to him with a waiting look. “I apologize.” You encourage him with a nod of your head. “I just-” he looks around, and grabs your wrist, pulling you to another station of food, grabbing a tray, and standing in front of the selection of fruits. 

“You just?”

“I hadn’t thought that you would be here. I-” with his middle finger, he pushes up his glasses by the bridge- “I wasn’t aware there was a tour going on.”

“Does that matter?” You ask, grabbing at a cup of peeled mandarins. 

“Scientists are usually the one to lead groups,” he says quietly, "due to the fact that it is our projects we are showcasing. We all take turns with it given that leading groups take time away from our projects. This should have been a group that I would have led. Dr. Octavius must have seen your name on the roster and decided to lead it for the day.” He gives you a look. “I’m surprised that she let you in.”

“I paid,” you shrug. “She isn’t happy about it or anything, but-” you end it with a shrug. “Anyways, I won’t bother your lunch or anything. I’m simply here to see the building and enjoy lunch.” You give him a smile as you lift up your tray. “Have a good day Dr. Ohnn.” You nod your head, ready to walk away before he stops you.

“Do you have to sit down with the others?” You turn to him, and look at him quizzically. “We um- We never finished our conversation from the other day.”

You tighten your grip on the tray. “Yeah,” you breathe out. “You kinda left without exchanging numbers. But I don’t think I’m allowed to sit elsewhere.” You look back at your group. “I’d invite you to sit with me, but I’m not sure if I could give you quite a riveting conversation as your work buddies.”

“You can. You have,” he says so, without any hesitation. “Our last conversation was entertaining.” 

"You think so?" 

He opens his mouth, before being interrupted by someone calling his name. "Jonathan," calls someone far too cheery from the door. A few heads turn to watch as another scientist- you think that they look familiar- and turn back around once the scientist enters the cafeteria. They turn on their heel to wave at another and it clicks- it's the scientist that touched his back.

You look back to the doctor, giving him a raised look. He has a sort of flush that colors in his face, and you purse your lips together. 

The scientist walks toward the both of you, but their attention is solely on Jonathan. "Jonathan-" they say his name with a sickly sweet tone- "I thought you were going to wait for me so we can have lunch together." They smile brightly at the other and you watch as they reach over to squeeze at his bicep. "You hadn't forgotten, had you?"

"My apologies, Dr. Owens." You don't miss the way that he refers to the scientist by their last name while they refer to him by his first. A frown tugs at corner of your lips- they refer to him by his first name. You glance between the two and a pit settles in your stomach. "I hadn't forgotten, but I got distracted. It must have slipped my mind."

"You don't normally get distracted," they note, and their eyes dart at you. With the consequence of being acknowledged, you smile at them. "Ah. Part of the tour group, huh? No wonder you bothered our precious doctor." They're far too sweet with their words, it makes you uncomfortable. You open your mouth to apologize, but they continue on. “I was wondering if we could get the chance to go over our notes?” You feel as if you're in the middle of something. Standing besides Dr. Owens, you feel unsure of yourself. You clear your throat. They turn to you, and their smile is beaming. “Ah, I didn't mean to interrupt. While I’m sure Dr. Ohnn would love to engage with others about theories and his work, I do have to steal him away from you.” Their smile turns gentle, and you feel silly standing between them. “Sorry,” they apologize with a smile. 

"Uh, yeah." You grit your teeth- that came out less eloquently than you would liked. "Sorry, Dr. Ohnn." You tap your heel against the ground. “I’ll leave you to it.”

"Oh- Um-” he looks at you, and you smile at him, shrugging your shoulders. He returns his look towards the other scientist, and you let your gaze drift down. You walk away, catching only a glimpse of their conversation. “What would you like to discuss?”

Sitting down at a designated table, the other tour members greet you. You smile and pick at your bagel, taking small bites, regretting not getting some kind of topping. You bite at your muffin, nodding along as the other group members talk about the experiments going on at the building. 

It would make sense for him to have a partner. He's attractive, and has a good job. With the one conversation that you've had with him, he was well spoken. You eat your mandarins, letting the citrus fill your mouth. Dr. Owens isn’t unattractive and they certainly seemed nice. You do your best not to look at the doctor and his partner, keeping your head down as you listen to the other people in your group. 

You know why you feel so bothered by it all. It’s dumb. You only had one actual conversation with him, but it was nice. He was nice- much nicer than you had ever given him credit for. You feel silly over being jealous of a man you only knew for a minute. 

-

"Fuckin' driver," you mutter under your breath, your lips curled in disgust. Fixing yourself, you cross your arms and decide to walk to the train station. It's incredibly late and something that you actively avoid doing, but you don't want to risk yourself with another driver. "Now I gotta walk." 

A part of you pays with the idea of putting in your headphones and at least having a calming walk, but you shake your head at that idea. You will not be murdered just because you wanted to listen to music. 

Headlights flash by and you bite the inside of your mouth every time. A car passes by, and you watch as the red tail lights blink on. You stop in your steps, taking a look around. No one else on the sidewalk acknowledges the car. 

“Okay”, you think to yourself, “I can't get abducted in front of other people.” You take a step forward and pause. “That's dumb. Yes, I can.” You scowl and tap your foot against the pavement, holding tighter onto the strap of your bag. 

However, no one else seems fazed by a car pulling over, and that gives you confidence to walk further. At the end of the car, you see the passenger window roll down. You hesitate again. Sucking in a breath, you roll your wrists, and as you walk past the car until you hear your name being called. 

You turn, and through the windshield, you see a familiar doctor waving at you. Looking around, you clutch onto the trap of your bag before making your way towards him.

"Dr. Ohnn?" 

He smiles nervously. He looks far too tense for someone in their own car. "Hello," he calls you by your name. "I was sure you would have left ages ago."

"Tour ran late- one of the kids explored without permission," you explain. 

"I'm surprised it wasn't you." You weren't aware he could tease. 

"I wasn't in the mood for any trespassing charges. Maybe tomorrow." You shrug, and send him a grin. “Who knows? Night’s still young and all.”

He turns his head, and you follow his gaze out onto the street before the both of you. "Why are you walking?"

“People had their own rides, and I didn't. I took the bus. After the whole fiasco, I missed it. I got into a taxi, but uh-" you roll your eyes and cross your arms over your chest- "the driver was being too sleazy for my tastes so I decided to take my chances walking.” 

“Oh- I’m sorry to hear about that.” He leans over the middle console of the car, with his hand pressed down on the passenger seat. “It’s quite late,” he tells you.

Your lips stretch into a thin grin. “Correct. It’s no wonder that you’re one of the top scientists at Alchemax.”

“You’re hilarious,” he deadpans.

“I try,” you tell him. The soft glow of the streetlamps casts him in a warm glow. “But I'd be more inclined to believe you if you were actually laughing.”

“Yes, well, I’ll try to laugh next time.” He rolls his eyes, and you smile sharply at him. 

“Is that why you stopped? To hear my humor?” You tease, taking a step forward, and he tilts his head to look at you. 

“No, actually. I thought it was you,  and I wanted to know if you would like a ride?”

You’re taken aback. “Oh! Um- No, it’s okay. I’m okay,” you correct yourself. You turn looking down the street where the crowd of people slows. You look back at him. “I’m sure you have your own plans for the night. I wouldn’t want to intrude or interrupt or anything.” You twist the strap of your bag in your hand. “While I appreciate the offer, you don’t have to worry about me Dr. Ohnn.”

“You wouldn’t be interrupting anything. I don’t have any plans.” 

You stay silent, weighing your options in your head. While you’d like to be in a car and taken to your home, you also can’t just enter his car. Even if he is the one offering. No. You can’t. There has to be a line. You have a crush on him- maybe. You’re attracted to him. Wait, that’s actually worse. You shake your head.

“I shouldn’t.” You bite your bottom lip and look at the air freshener that hangs down the rearview mirror. “I would want to get you into any sorts of trouble.”

“Trouble?” He says in a quiet voice, but alarm is still laced into his words. 

“You know-” you wave your hand in front of you- “with Dr. Owens. Would they be okay with you giving me a ride?”

He gives you an incredulous look. “What does Dr. Owens have to do with this?”

Your chest begins to burn, and it travels upwards to your face. “Would they appreciate you giving a ride to a stranger?” 

“You aren’t a stranger,” the way that he calls your name has your breath hitching, and heart racing. “I wouldn’t feel comfortable with you walking so far to a station at night.”

“Okay,” you shrug. “But you have to put in the directions on your phone. I’m easily distracted and won’t be able to give you any good directions.”

“Fine by me,” he pulls away and the door unlocks. You open the door, and the window slowly raises. “Between you and I, I’m not entirely great with navigation.” The noise from the outside mutes as you close the door, the lock clicking down on itself.  You click the seatbelt as you give him a look. “I get lost easily,” he admits. He grabs his phone and sorts through his applications, finally passing it your way with the map function on display.

“Don’t you have a PhD?” You enter your address, and return the phone, watching as he places the phone on the holder stuck to the car. 

“Doesn’t mean a thing if a shopping center has me turned all sorts of ways,” he admits, setting the car to ‘drive’ and pulling away from the sidewalk. You laugh, it starts as a snort, and forms into a chuckle and it has you hiding your smile behind your hand, trying to quell the laughter. 

You turn to look at him, the corner of your lips tilting upwards and wrinkling at your eyes. “I don’t even think I could picture you getting lost in a mall.”

He sits up straighter, and casts a glance through the corner of his eye. “It isn’t a particularly good image of me,” he confesses.

Humming, you lean back into the seat, fixing your bag onto your lap, playing with the zipper. “No, I’m sure it is,” you hum. “A renowned scientist, lost at a mall.”

“It can be quite traumatizing.”

“I’m sure it can be,” you muse, trying to hide the smile that slowly grows. "Many children often fear the mall for that same reason." 

He scoffs at your remark. “Did you learn anything interesting on the tour?” He asks, and you cross your ankles.

“I think we learned about atoms?” He chuckles at that, and you feel warm. “I gotta be honest, I was hoping for something a bit more, ya know?” 

“Atoms aren't enough?” 

"Not nearly,” you tell him softly. “Maybe if they brought out some secret project or like showed some sort of light show, then I’d be impressed.”

“Oh, of course,” he says with sarcasm laced into his words. “A secret project shown to the masses, especially where one child had gone missing.”

“Explored,” you correct, turning our head to look at him.

The GPS voice speaks, and he misses a turn. He mumbles an apology, the application already rerouting him. “If you join another one, I’ll make sure that there’s a light show.” He casts a glance, and misses another turn, his hands tightening around the steering wheel. “I’m thirsty,” he tells you.

You blink at him. “You can stop somewhere and get something. I don’t mind waiting in the car.” The metal zipper of your bag shines under the passing streetlamps.. “You’re already doing me a favor by driving me home.”

“The coffee shop is still open. Would you mind accompanying me for a drink?”

“Oh! Uh, yeah- sure. I’d be okay with that. I still owe you that cup of coffee. You know, from when we met at the shop?”

He shakes his head. “Consider it my treat. I am inviting you after all.”

“But you did win that little wager, and you are driving me home. I could at least buy you a cup of coffee or something.” He shakes his head. “Come on-” you slap the back of your hand lightly against his bicep- “don’t make it difficult.”

“I’m not making it difficult,” he frowns.

The GPS continues to tell Dr. Ohnn to make a right when he can, and he fumbles with turning it off, grumbling under his breath until you offer your hand out. The phone is placed down, and you shut down the application. The phone is held in your hand, the application minimizing to show his background- a picture of- the phone is pulled out of your grasp.

“I don’t even get to learn what your background is?” You give a faux pout, leaning back against the seat. “Come on, I didn’t even get a chance.”

“Don’t worry too much about it,” he tells you. “It isn’t all that exciting.” You stick your tongue out at him in response and he fails to suppress a smile. 

Pulling to the side of the road, you place your bag on the floor, snagging your debit card before zipping the bag up. Getting out of the car, you’re careful not to slam the door. You rush to beat him from opening the door. “Okay,” you draw out the vowel, slipping to move in front of him, “how about this. You buy my cup, and I’ll buy yours. I’ll even let you get a pastry- you know as a thank you for driving me home.

“You don’t have to. I offered to drive you home, it was completely my own volition.”

You give an exaggerated sigh. “Whatever you say, but the offer is there.”

As he orders his drink, you press your card against the payment terminal, telling the barista that it’ll be two separate transactions. You can feel his eyes on you and you can only smile, nodding when the barista confirms. Lacking your energy, he pays when you order your own. You’re sure that the barista is annoyed with the two of you, but at this point, you had a win that he was owed. 

With the lack of patrons, the two of you find a table placed beside the window. The two of you sit across from each other, and wait for your drinks to be called. Tapping your hands against the table, you look out the window, watching the people and the cars. 

“I was more than happy paying for your drink,” he comments. 

You look at him through the reflection, and he meets your gaze there. “I know. But you’re already doing me such a favor by taking me home and stuff-” shrugging, you turn to face him- “might as well buy you a drink.”

“You didn’t have to,” he mumbles.

“I wanted to.”

Looking at you, he opens his mouth to speak, but closes it when he can’t find the right words. You nod, letting him take his time and to continue with whatever he is going to say. Clearing his throat, he can only get a breath out when the two of your names are spoken. You turn just in time to see the drinks placed on the counter as the barista walks away.

“I’ll go get them for us.” He stands from the table and you watch him. He takes long strides, his head bent and arms close to himself, as if trying to make himself to the public. You hadn’t realized that he had such squared shoulders. He almost reminds you of a rectangle.

Placing your drink in front of you, he takes a seat. His teeth bite at his bottom lip and he brings the cup to his lips. Placing the drink down, he clears his throat. “Why did you ask about Dr. Owens?”

Ah. Maybe you should’ve kept quiet about that. “What do you mean?”

“You mentioned that I would get in trouble with them if I had driven you home.”

“Oh um, yeah. It’s whatever, don’t worry about it.”

“I’m not worrying, I’m asking.”

“Okay,” you whisper, your gaze focused on your drink. “They just seemed into you is all. I thought there was something you know-” you lift your head looking at him- “between you and them.”

“You thought they were into me?” You choose to ignore the wonder in his voice. Opting to stay silent, you nod. “I can assure you, Dr. Owens is not into me.”

“It sure seemed that way,” you mumble into the rim of your drink. He stares at you, and you shift in your seat, hiding behind your cup. “What?”

“What made you think they were into me?” 

Your molars grind against each other. The rim of the cup is brought to your lips, but you don’t take a sip, you only press your lips against the opening, before lowering it back to the table. “Oh gosh, are you into them? Look, that's sweet and all, but I’d rather not play matchmaker to some scientists.” He stays silent, and you look outside the window, watching a couple walk past by. “You really wanna know?” He makes a noise of confirmation, and you let out a held breath. “In that little time that I saw the two of you, they had no trouble touching you. And they call you by your name, too.”

“My name?”

Nodding, you twist and untwist your legs. “Yeah.”

“Is that usually an indicator?” 

Lifting your hand, you make a see-saw motion. “Sometimes, I guess. Depends on how it’s used and all. Context, ya know?”

“I call other people by their names,” he counters. You nod, letting him continue. “I call you by your name.”

“Oh yeah- I um, I guess so,” you mumble, taking another sip of your drink, desperate to keep yourself busy.

“You never call me by my name.”

“I wasn’t aware that I was allowed.”

“Of course you are. Why wouldn’t you be allowed?”

“I always thought you found me annoying.”

“I did.” You frown, and he gives you an apologetic smile. His hand lifts up, grabbing at a strand of hair and twirling it around his finger. “That doesn’t mean that I disliked you. I have to admit-” he lets go of the strand and it falls back to place- “I always did find your drive admirable. You weren’t one to give up. You’re quite stubborn.” You stare at each for a few moments, heat blazing itself against your skin, making a chill over your body. He breaks eye contact and tilts the cup, making a circle with the bottom edge. “Do you really believe that Dr. Owens likes me because they call me by my name.” You nod, your mouth too dry despite the drink in your hand to even consider speaking. “Hm, okay,” he hums. His hand runs over his stubble, and you wonder if he’s growing out a beard. “You said that they touch me.”

“I um, saw the two of you in an office- while on the tour.” Your hand pulls up to scratch at your shoulder. You feel the need to hide from him.

His smile stretches even more. “I thought I was losing my marbles.” You take a sip of your drink. “I thought that after all my imagining about-” he clicks the last consonant, and you straighten yourself, leaning forward- “I thought that finally, after all of your incessant questioning, that I was beginning to imagine you.”

“Mhm,” you hum, taking another sip of your very diluted drink.

“You were saying.” He rolls his hand expectantly.

“When you turned around- when you saw me- they immediately turned you back around.”

“So? I believe we were discussing the recent project that we’ve both been assigned on”

Grabbing a napkin, you dab at the table where a ring of water from the condensation has formed on the table. “It was how they touched you. They touched your back and lingered their hand on you.”

“I’m not following.”

You make a noise of discomfort, and fist the wet napkin in your hand. “I can’t explain it in words. It’s- It’s in the details and stuff. The observer's point of view.”

“Can you show me?” 

“Like?”

“Touch me.”

The napkin is clenched tightly in your hand, your nails ripping through the soft paper. Warmth flushes through your body, and you fear that he can notice the change in you. You know that he doesn’t mean it that way, but for him to say something so- so, intimate sounding, without meaning to, made your heart skip a beat. His eyes widen, and he stumbles over his words. “No- Not- Not like that. I hadn’t meant for it- I’m so terribly sorry-”

“It’s fine,” you reassure, waving your hand in front of you. “It’s cool,” you smile at him and he stops his ramble of words. There’s a rapid beat that bruises inside of your chest at his words- even if he did mean them innocently. “But you know, they touched you at the cafeteria too. They went up to you and touched your bicep.” You lift your hand, reaching over the table, letting it hover over his forearm. Glancing at him, he’s watching you, and you close your fist, pulling your hand back to you. 

“And you believe that all of those actions are due to the fact that they like me?”

Shrugging, you suck in your bottom lip. “It’s just my theory,” you whisper, embarrassment laced into your words. “They wanted to eat lunch with you too.”

The two drinks remain untouched and outside, you can hear sirens. His hand lifts up to rub over his mouth, and he has this faraway look in his eyes. “Okay,” he mumbles. 

“Okay?”

“Is there anything else that you want to add?”

You pout. “No.”

In the corner of your eye, you see a worker clean a table with a rag. You watch for a moment, and turn your head when chairs are fixed back into their positions, scraping along the floor. A part of you feels unsure about the conversation. While you wouldn’t believe that the scientist had a crush on you, you had at least humored the idea, but knowing that he isn’t interested in you, makes you want to go home.

You open your mouth to speak, and he beats you to it. “I’m hungry,” he states.

“I told you you could have gotten a pastry,” you point out.

“I want dinner. An actual dinner.” Sitting straight, it’s as if he has a new resolve. “Are you hungry?”

Blinking in surprise, you lift your shoulders. “Oh, uh, yeah. I guess I could eat something.”

“Good,” he nods to himself, and stands up, the chair squeaks against the floor. You follow his eyes, looking up at him as he adjusts the chair and stands by the table. “I’d like for you to accompany me to dinner.” Clearing his throat, his shoulders bunch together, and any confidence that he did have, is slowly evaporating. “That- That is if you want to, of course.”

You scoff with a smile. “Yeah, I’m game with that, Dr. Ohnn.” 

“Jonathan. You can call me Jonathan. I don’t mind it if you call me that.” He twists his hands, interlocking them, and pulling on the back of his palm, his skin stretching thin over his knuckles. 

Straightening yourself, you nod. “Okay. Jonathan it is. The same um, goes to you of course. You can call me by my name.”

“I already do,” and the way that he says your name, softly and tenderly, held with a smile, makes you turn your head and scratch at your neck in a desperate attempt to hide how wide your smile is.

“Mhm,” you squeak out. Standing up, you make sure to push the chair in and grab at the loose napkins and your drink. 

Following behind you, he throws his drink into the trash. This time, he’s made sure that he stands in front of you, stretching his arm out to hold the door open for you. Mumbling, you thank him, standing beside the door as he goes to open the passenger side door.

None of what he’s doing is helping quell your attraction to the scientist.

Clicking his seatbelt, he starts the car, driving away from the coffee shop. “Do you have a preference?”

“On food?” He nods, fumbling with the radio that plays the song of the week. You tap your foot to the beat. “Um, I think I’m good with most stuff. Restaurants are pretty inclusive about diets and stuff most days.”

“There’s a burger place on the way to Alchemax, do you know the one I’m talking about?” 

“With the really good burgers?” 

“Yes. Would you like to go there?” 

“Isn’t that too far?”

“They opened one relatively nearby.”

“Oh okay,  yeah.” You nod. “I’m game with that.”

“Good. That’s good.”

The drive to the restaurant passes by quickly as you chat about miscellaneous things- the weather, work, different coffee shops. Uncomfortable with silences, you keep the conversation going, jumping from topic to topic, trying to make something stick. However, the driver seems to be content with silence, nodding and giving one-worded answers, only really contributing to the conversation when you give your opinion on something.

Pulling into the restaurant, he takes a glance at you, and you smile in response. He opens his door, and steps out, and you follow close behind. The door is held open for you, you order your own meal, and before you can pat your pockets to find your card, he’s already paying for the meal. You aren’t sure how to feel about the whole situation. You feel good- happy and flustered even- but you can’t kid yourself. It’s dinner. With a scientist who you have pestered for a good while about what exactly is going on within Alchemax. It’s dinner with a guy who you had coffee with- twice. That’s it. 

When he sits in front of you, and smiles, you think you’re about to pass out.

Oh. He’s really cute.

No. Whatever feelings you’re having is a moment of weakness. Maybe you should download a dating app or something. 

Your newfound emotions aren’t settled by the end of the meal where you tell him a story about an old job that you used to work. He’s an avid listener, expressive and laughing when you start to smile uncontrollably. He pushes his tray closer to yours, letting you snag what little left of fries that he has. Even with bags under his eyes, he remains attentive during your story.

“No, and like my supervisor tells me “Well whole milk is regular milk,” and I’m so adamant-” you laugh mid-sentence- “that two percent is regular milk. Or like can be qualified as regular milk.”

“Why were you so adamant about it?” He laughs softly, leaning forward.

“Honestly?” You lean forward, stealing a fry of his and plopping it in your mouth. “I just really hate being wrong. Anyways-” you wave your hand in the air- “we have this whole spiel about milk of all things. And I tell him that I like oat milk and he’s like-” you deepen your voice to portray your supervisor- “‘Oat milk isn’t even milk. How do you even milk an oat?’”

“How do you milk an oat?” He asks with knitted brows.

“I-” you pause and tap at the table. “I always thought you blended it. You know, like peanut butter?”

“Yeah, but people don’t drink peanut butter.”

“I bet you that there is at least one person in the world who does drink peanut butter.”

“Okay, you find me that person and I’ll buy you a coffee next time.”

“Yeah, yeah-” you wave your hand, trying not to let your competitive side leak out. “Anyways, I’m sure they make almond milk the same way. Blended.” You lift a hand and point with your index, swirling it in the air.

“I’m partial to oat,” he admits.

“I gotta be honest, I think all milk tastes the same,” you whisper out the confession, covering the side of your mouth with one hand.

“Oh, now you’re being difficult,” he says with a roll of his eyes, adjusting his glasses by the leg. 

“I’m not, I swear! It just all tastes the same. Doesn’t stop me from asking for it at the coffee shops.”

“Even if it tastes the same?”

“I like feeling fancy,” you lilt, and he laughs.

“So you’re tricking your mind?” 

“Oh totally.” 

“With the fake milks?”

“Real, regular milk,” you counter. “Soy is fake- I think.”

“Oh, soy is fake, but the others aren’t.” He scoffs. “That’s where you draw the line.”

You laugh, taking the final sip of your drink. “Yeah, obviously.”

He joins your laughter, dipping his head down, and stray hairs fall in front of him. When he lifts his head, his smile is wide and open, and he has such a nice laugh- deep and the type that shakes his body. Pride makes your chest swell and heat burn over your cheeks at making him not only smile, but laugh. Fighting back the urge to move away the tray pieces of hair that have fallen, you clench your hand into a fist, your laughter slowly dying down. 

A quiet moment befalls the two of you, and you both look at each other. You rub the bottom of your shoe over the top of the other, and check the time. With a click of your tongue, you gather your trash onto the tray.

“We should probably get going. It’s close to closing time for them,” you explain, nodding your head back to the register where two workers chat.

“Oh, should we?” Despite questioning you, he follows your example and gathers his own trash.

“As someone who used to work customer service jobs, yeah.” Tossing your trash into the designated area, you stack the tray overhead. “I’m pretty sure that the employees probably hate us by now.”

“Good point.” He holds the door open for you, and you follow him back across the mostly empty parking lot. Inside the car, he waits for the engine to heat, and he turns to you. “I apologize for keeping you so late.”

“No, this was,” you hesitate choosing your words, “fun.” You nod your head and pull your bag up onto your lap. “I had a good time.”

“I’m glad that you did,” he says softly, giving you a final look before he gives his attention to the road. 

-

After a long day, you stand in front of your building, Jonathan joining you. You’ve always been much more comfortable with chatter than you have been with silence, but as you stand with him, you don’t feel as uncomfortable. You might even like the silence if it gives you reason to look at him. You stand on the steps leading to your home, finally looking him in the eye, and you hate the fact that he has such soft brown eyes. 

“Thanks for driving me home. And getting me a drink.” You kick at the ground, scuffing up at the dirt that lays in a thin layer. “And paying for dinner.” A jitteriness falls over you, and you can only twist and grip onto the strap of your bag. “Thanks for all of that Dr.-” he gives you a narrowed look and you quickly correct yourself- “Jonathan.”

“You don’t have to add my title,” he tells you. Beside him, his hand twists at the hem of his shirt. 

“Force of habit,” you say shrugging. Clearing your throat, you start. “Still, thanks. This was nice, Jonathan.” You like his name, and you hate the way that it makes you feel.

He nods, and raises a hand to scratch at the back of his neck. “Well, thank you for accompanying me to dinner. I had a good time.” He says your name delicately, rolling off his tongue, and you never thought that you would want to hear your name repeated over and over.

“No worries,” you answer breathlessly. You can’t think around him. Everything feels as if it’s too much- too hot, too close, too sweet. 

It was one day- two technically- but it was a short amount of time. You wear your heart on your sleeve despite trying so desperately not to. All it took was one day with him, and you think that you might like him. 

Oh, how you wish he was with someone else, then you could give yourself a reason to look away from him. 

With cotton stuffed into your mouth, you don’t trust yourself any further. You think that you should go inside- that maybe you shouldn’t be taking up his time. A part of you wonders when you’ll see him again. Shifting your weight between each foot, you pat your hands on your thighs, drying off the clammy feeling. You wish he would start talking again. Or maybe you should. If you go inside, then this could all be over. You turn your foot, and wave your hand in a goodbye, when he starts to speak.

“Will you be joining another tour group?” There’s a hint of hope that’s weaved into his words. He’s looking at you, and you wonder if you look pretty.

“As much as I enjoyed it, no.” You think you imagine seeing his shoulders slump at your words. “It wasn’t really for me. It was nice, but much more kid-centered.” His glasses are slipping down his nose and you wonder if he’d get upset if you pushed them up. “Will you be going to the café tomorrow?”

“I work tomorrow,” he admits.

“Oh,” you clear your throat, and fighting away the burning feeling that is burning in your chest, you suck in a deep breath. It makes sense to do this now. You have to take a risk. It’s dumb and highly unprofessional, but you need to tell him something. He has to stick around, just for a moment longer, just so you could get whatever pink and sweet is in you, out. “Would-” he word comes out much softer than you would have liked- “Would you want to exchange numbers, maybe?” You hope he says no.

“Really?” He looks so shocked, and so happy. A grin tilts his lips upwards, and like seeing his smile.

Nodding, you rub the flat of your middle finger against your jawline. “Yeah. It would be a better alternative than meeting during lunch on a tour group or a random chance meeting at the café. Only if you’re okay with it.”

“I’m okay with it,” he says eagerly.

You nod eagerly, unable to fend off your smile. “Cool, cool.” You suck in a deep breath, and wait for a moment, before you start to pat your pockets, pulling out your phone and clicking at the ‘New Contact’ section. Holding the phone to him, he grabs the device and places his information. 

Holding the phone tight in your hands, you tap your fingers against the back of the case. “I’ll message you later?”

“I’ll look forward to it.” He lifts his hand and waves at you. You watch his back as he steps into his car.

You can hardly believe that you even made it inside without dropping your keys from excitement and nerves. Behind your door, you clasp your hand over your mouth, pitifully trying to stop the smile that beams across your features. Oh, this isn’t fair. And oh, you can’t wait to message him.

[sevikasenby]

idk why but the thought of either you eating sevika out under her desk while she’s trying to work or her doing it to you has taken over my brain the past few days.

like one, just imagine her tall ass trying to fit under a desk just to eat you out. two, imagine you’re slipping down your chair but her face buried in your cunt is the only thing keeping you in place. three, she probably makes you put your legs up on the desk so she has easy access to you.

four, imagine you have to get through a couple papers and sevika’s absolutely not helping you out in any way but every time you tell her you’re done with another paper, you’re rewarded with her tongue licking a single stripe up your cunt.

five, your chair is absolutely soaked by the end of it with her spit and your arousal because she of course did not let you cum just yet and will give you the rest of your reward at home :)

[duhnova]

https://www.instagram.com/reel/Cr6EosqAcSL/?igshid=MzRlODBiNWFlZA==

This with Vernon... Him giving in after a few rounds

Grabbing your neck and pushing you into the mattress and just thrusting into your pussy without any warning. He'd be so grabby and lose all his patience, railing you.... And yeah slapping you(not in a painful way obv) and spitting in you

I'm so into vern these days, literally can't get him outta my mind

don't... don't give me ideas because i WILL write a spicy truth or dare for vernon.... i have to many wips i can't do this adfghasfaghd GAWD...

"fuck this," vernon throws the card on the table before he stalks up to you to grab your jaw and kiss you hard, only a couple rounds passed but you were both border line naked and you just finished feeling yourself up as per the dare you picked. "fucking need you." he'd growl as he pulls away from the kiss, running his thumb over your bottom lip before pushing it into your mouth and laying it on your tongue.

he'd take your mouth being wide open as an invitation to spit into it, smirking at the way your legs almost give out under you as you swallow his spit, your lips wrapping around his thumb as you flutter your eyelashes at him - testing him.

and testing him you did, and (un)fortunately for the both of you vernon doesn't have the patience for your bratty bullshit tonight as he doesn't even give you time to think before he's picking you up over his shoulder to go toss you on your bed - where he proceeds to fuck the daylights out of you.

his pace his bruising and his hands are even more so as they dig into your hips, keeping a strong grip on you so he can fuck you against his cock harder. the bed was shaking and banging against the wall at this point as he quite literally fucks you into the mattress.

his hands would leave your hips on the second orgasm he draws from you, as this point you're fucked dumb - incoherent babbling leaving you as you gasp and claw at vernon's arms and shoulders (the ghost of "more please" leaving your lips.

"more?" he'd almost scoff as he picks up the pace again, sweat dripping down his forehead as he grabs your neck to make you look at him as his hips slam yours down into the mattress. he squeezes delicately before he lands a smack to your face - an even louder moan leaving you as you clench impossibly tighter around him. he can't help the smirk on his face as he grabs your jaw to squish your cheeks so your mouth falls open for him to spit into again - a little bit landing on your cheek.

he loved making a mess of you as he waited a couple seconds before he leant down to spit on your tits, his hand still holding your face before he lets it go to smack one of your tits - grabbing a hand full of them and pinching your nipples he groans as how easy he glides over them because of his spit.

"fucking perfect."

[onthewaytosomewhere]

alrighty!! it's Wednesday like 2 am but who's counting :)

thanks bunches for the early (well it was also late for you) tag @stellarmeadow 💚💚

so more of this liam/pez not-so-much one night stand who i finally have home from the club and with a few more words back the smut i had started writing - cuz i've not had much put into this bb until tonight and it didn't write itself (even tho i hoped it would)

we join the southern philanthropy already in progress.....

Liam assumed when Percy said he had a car waiting, he meant in a local parking spot, not the vehicle with the driver waiting at the curb as they walked out of the club. He hears Percy talk to the driver but doesn’t pay attention to what is said, and the next thing he knows, he’s being ushered into the back of what he thinks might be a town car or something after Percy. He expects him to slide all the way across, so when Liam finds his leg resting against Percy’s, he’s pleasantly surprised. When the dark window between them and the driver goes up, and he feels Percy’s hand on his thigh, he’s even more surprised; he’s never made out in a moving car and has to imagine it’s rather tricky with seatbelts in the way. That’s why they always went somewhere and parked back in the days when making out in cars was something he did. Percy seems to have no other plans than to sit there against him, with a hand resting on his thigh. Liam’s lulled by the movement as the car pulls out and doesn’t realize the weight of the hand on his thigh shifts until it’s sliding along the inseam of his jeans. He feels it climb higher and is both turned on and reminded of those games of chicken they all played as dumb, barely teenagers back in the day. The girls he was paired with back then never did anything for him; even that young, he knew he preferred someone with a cock, but the way Pez’s hand slowly glides up is definitely. He glances over and sees the way Pez’s eyes are alight in something beyond mischief; they’re lust-blown but playful, and he can’t stop himself from leaning over to brush against the lips that are still kiss-swollen from making out in the club. The kissing doesn’t last long before the seatbelts get in the way, but, pulling away, he realizes that Percy’s hand inched its way further up his thigh while they were kissing. His fingers are gently moving up and down along the zipper of his jeans, and when he thinks he might come in his pants, the car comes to a stop, pulling up to the curb, outside what looks like a brownstone similar to the one Alex and Henry live in.

alright some tag-backs from sunday and friday and some other tags beneath the cut cuz besides i'm sure tumblr still being stupid it's early and i'm gonna tag my lil heart out lolz --- and an open tag for anyone who wants to play (tag me plz cuz i luv to be tagged and i wanna see ur words too)

so first thanks ever so much for the sunday sentence and fuck it friday tags (i was writing ficlets and/or at a concert (growing my ever-expanding wip folder with each lolz) this is me tagging ya back for wed! @sophie1973 @suseagull04 @blueeyedgrlwrites @tailsbeth-writes @thesleepyskipper

@jmagnabo92 @henryspearl @taste-thewaste @inell @xthelastknownsurvivorx

@heysweetheart-writes @duchessdepolignaca03

and brand new tags to the rest of y'all

@adreamareads @agame-writes (happy RBB posting!) @anincompletelist @bitbybitwrites @dragonflylady77

@england-would-fall @firenati0n @firstsprinces @forever-fixating @getmehighonmagic

@hgejfmw-hgejhsf @inexplicablymine @itsmaybitheway @jellibuns @junebugclaremontdiaz

@kiwiana-writes @littlemisskittentoes @lizzie-bennetdarcy @mikibwrites @msmarvelouswinchester

@nocoastposts @piratefalls @priincebutt @softboynick @sparklepocalypse

@thedramasummer @theprinceandagcd @thinkof-england @tinyarmedtrex @typicalopposite

@wordsofhoneydew @yrsacdfox @indestructibleheart @everwitch-magiks @cricketnationrise

@orchidscript @cha-melodius @captainjunglegym @eusuntgratie

@bigassbowlingballhead @violetbaudelaire-quagmire @oxfordslutphase

[semperama]

Me trying to write smut:

Buck’s voice is so quiet, so soft. Eddie knows, then—he knows why Buck didn’t talk to him, didn’t tell him about this. The room suddenly feels crowded with all the things they haven’t talked about, or have talked around—Buck’s fingers ripped up from clawing at wet earth, Buck’s face splattered with blood, the number of nights Buck’s spent on Eddie’s couch, the way Christopher lights up when he sees him.

[hanaruri-tunes]

⚠️MDNI⚠️

Some quick Leviathan x reader. No trigger warning cause honestly it's pretty vanilla.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Imagine Leviathan making cosplays for you à la "dress up darling."

He measures you thinking how lucky he is that he's allowed to get so close to you AND he's the only one who knows your measurements. He preciously keeps that sheet of paper where he wrote them down although he would never admit it to you because he's too scared that you'll think he's a creepy piece of shit.

Aside from the regular cosplays you ask him to make, he secretly makes some erotic outfits with those measurements "as practice", dreaming that one day you'll wear those. Not like it's possible anyway since you guys would never have the kind of relationship where you'll gladly dress yourself up like a slut for him... right?

As soon as you catch him red handed you immediately ask him if you can try them on. He freezes for a solid 20 seconds. Can you?? He would literally pay you to do it and yet he can have that for free?? You put them on and oh- you look gorgeous. You're wearing the kind of costume that can be borrowed in love hotels except the quality here is top notch.

Before Levi can understand what he's saying, he has already asked you if he can take pictures of you like this. You agree and not only do you agree, you also pose for him. Though he's still too shy, ashamed in asking you for a certain pose in particular so you just try to pose in as many ways as you can think of. Eventually, as you can clearly see the outline of his dick through his sweatpants, you ask him him if there isn't anything else he'd like you to do for him.

You caress his forearm then you go up to his arm, gently swaying him as he wishes he could rip all of his clothes off right now to feel your direct touch on his skin. Your hand finally makes his way up to his torso, playing with the area around his nipples. You make soft, hopeful eyes at him. Hoping that he'll break.

"Hm? You don't want anything else? Only pictures are fine with you?"

He gulps then shuts his eyes tightly, unable to make this request while looking at you in the eyes.

"P-Please suck me off..."

You chuckle, then immediately go down on him. You tease him through his sweatpants first, then through his underwear, caresssing him with your hand. And once it's out, you shamelessly take it all in. While he sits there on his seat, he can't help but throw his head back. Gasping, squirming and whimpering like a little bitch.

He tries to take pictures of you as you're sucking him off but it comes out all blurred as his hands keep shaking. Eventually he drops the phone, unable to stop his urge to thrust his hips into your beautiful little mouth. He gets up, gripping you by the leash and collar he made just for you, pushing himself further in. Back and forth, until the warm liquid makes its way into your throat, flowing boldly.

You keep drinking him as he whines at every swallowing sensation as your throat tightens up around him. He starts on mumbling and blabbering nonsense. All the stuff he couldn't say to you earlier because he was still playing polite.

"Y-You're so beautiful, even when you're in such a slutty outfit you're so cute and pretty and aghh please accept me pleasepleaseplease I'll do anything for you to keep wearing these in front of me hngh-"

He pulls out, realizing that he may have messed up big time. He apologizes profusely, feeling extremely awkward because of the "post-nut clarity" he's been suddenly hit with. He feels stupid and filthy for doing that to you but you reassure him. Telling him you'll look forward to more outfits.

He breathes a sigh of relief before looking at you up and down, his dick rising again. He clears his throat.

"So... c-can I fuck you?"

[5mary5]

AHHHHHHHHHHH???????

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