#What? Every other fucking day??? Cut him some slack!!

[justmeclover]

LEAVE THE MAN ALONE YOU GUYS HE JUST LIKES HIS OBSCURE AND ALREADY CANCELED MEDIA ALRIGHT????

It would be amazing if he did a video on LMK tho lol

In response to someone saying they think that he should focus more on currently-running shows, instead of shows that we’re already cancelled, popular YouTuber Saberspark namedropped LEGO Monkie Kid as a future video topic.

[heich0e]

"so... how's work?"

you accidentally click the edge of your wine glass against your teeth as you tip it back, jarred by the strange question from the man standing at your side. you swallow the tiny mouthful of wine you manage to sip, turning to look at suna in bewilderment.

"work?" you ask him incredulously. "why are you asking me about work?"

suna rintarou doesn't care about what you do for work. truthfully speaking, you're not sure he even knows what you do for work—you certainly don't remember ever telling him, and the memory would stand out quite starkly considering all you ever seem to do when you run into him is bicker with him uselessly.

suna is a friend of a friend. or a friend of some friend's ex. or something. all you know is that every so often the two of you end up at the same social event, and there's something about the guy's face that just... makes you want to pick a fight.

and he has yet to turn down your instigation.

your friends all think it's funny—like you're some kind of comedy duo, and this is your special bit—but you don't see the charm in the slightest. you suspect they've started inviting you both to events just to have some entertainment.

"what?" rintarou asks, fiddling with his cellphone in his hand—pinching it between his thumb and his ring finger while he twirls it with his index. "i'm not allowed to ask about work? isn't that normal small talk for a christmas party?"

you're a little taken aback by his words. first of all, because he's right (which you hate). second of all, because he seems strangely defensive about it.

"normal for other people, maybe," you mutter, more to yourself than anything, before taking another tiny sip of wine. you swallow it, but somehow it doesn't help the dry feeling in your mouth. you're not sure you like this particular wine, you think, as bitterness clings to your tongue. "work is... fine."

suna perks up beside you at that, and you feel his eyes on your profile like he's waiting for you to go on.

"things get, uh... things get slow this time of year, so I'm mostly just answering stupid emails and ordering gifts online while i sit at my desk." you swirl the glass of wine in your hand, watching the way that the light catches in the deep red surface. "my section chief has kids and loves the holidays, so she's been pretty checked-out lately, herself. makes it easy to get away with slacking off."

you risk a glance over at him, and are somewhat dismayed to find him listening intently.

"must be nice to get a little break," he offers.

"yeah, i guess," you reply. your words are in agreement with him, but still your brow furrows.

what the fuck is going on?

you look around the room, as though checking for a hidden camera, or some other sign that might give away what the hell this guy's motives are. but around you is simply a room of friends enjoying each other's company—sipping drinks; eating finger foods the hosts had been carefully set out to graze on; chatting amongst each other about their lives, their holiday sweaters, their work.

everything seems totally normal, other than what's transpiring in the quiet corner where you and suna rintarou find yourselves standing side by side.

"how is... your... work?" you manage to ask, though it sounds as though the question is pulled from you with considerable effort. stiff and strained in every way a question so innocuous doesn't have any right to be.

suna laughs a little under his breath, masks it with a clearly fake cough, and then rests his hand over his mouth. he's smirking. you know he is. he's revelling in every second of your discomfort like the twisted little freak he is.

you're about to tell him as much, but he cuts you off.

"it's good," he replies to your pained question with an unexpected sincerity. "we're coming up to the half-way point in the season, so training is still pretty intense. we do get a day off for the holiday though."

right, he's a volleyball player. you'd learned that upon your first meeting, before your opinion of him was quite so hostile. you remember thinking at the time that he looked like a volleyball player—tall, lean, with big hands that made the beer can he'd been holding look almost laughably small in comparison.

you glance down at those hands again, still idly fidgeting with his cellphone. he's not drinking a beer tonight, and you wonder if maybe it's because he's in the middle of his season.

you think about asking him.

but you don't.

suna seems to be waiting for you to say more, but when you don't, he continues on the conversation himself. "i thought about taking the train to hyogo for the day, but it wouldn't really make sense just to go visit for a few hours."

you take another sip of your wine. you decide that you do not in fact enjoy it.

you hum a bit, ditching your mostly full glass on the edge of a table that rests within reach. "tough to just make a day trip, especially since the weather's so..." you trail off, gesturing vaguely with your now empty hand in a way that's supposed to indicate the unreliability of the winter climate.

suna laughs.

you look at him in confusion.

"the weather?" he asks you, rubbing at his mouth again like he trying to hide the expression underneath his fingertips. it might work if his eyes didn't crinkle at the corner when he smiles. "we're talking about the weather now?"

your lips part indignantly at his jibe. he's the one who'd initiated this hellscape of small talk, and now he had the nerve to chide you for it?

"oh, i'm sorry," you guffaw, feigning remorse, "is there some pressing matter you'd rather discuss?"

rintarou dips closer to you from his greater height, and the fact that he's so much taller than you are only irritates you more.

"there is actually," he says with a nod.

"oh, yeah?" you roll your eyes, gearing up for a fight. you turn to face him properly, tilting your chin up to meet him eye to eye without wavering. "and what's that?"

"are you aware that we've been standing under mistletoe for the entirety of this conversation?"

you slowly look overhead.

like something out of a horror film, you find that for once in his life (or at least the few months you've known him) suna's chosen to say something factual. overhead, a little bundle of mistletoe has been affixed to the ceiling with a piece of tape that seems to barely be hanging on—the decoration at risk of falling at any moment.

you feel sick.

"so what?" you ask him, swallowing down that feeling of dread and maintaining (what you hope is) an air of indifference.

"so that means we're supposed to kiss," he tells you matter-of-factly, almost a bit pointedly, like he can't believe you didn't know.

"i'm aware of that," you hiss. "i don't, however, bend to the whims of plants, as a general rule."

"weird rule," he remarks, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

you feel a throb of irritation behind your eyes.

"you're the one who came over here to bother me," you point out. "if you knew there was mistletoe hanging up there, that means this is your fault."

suna shrugs a bit.

you keep going, your pulse thrumming beneath your tongue and fanning the flames of irritation churning in the pit of your stomach.

"if anything, that makes you the weird one for coming up with some scheme to trick me. we're not children. if you wanted to kiss me so bad you could have just aske—"

"can i kiss you?"

what?

"i asked if i can kiss you," rintarou says, and you're not sure if that means you voiced your thought aloud or it was just plainly written across your face. he inches closer to you, and though you would usually shift away to accommodate for the intrusion, the table where you'd discarded your glass of wine keeps you mostly trapped in place. pinned. cornered. "you said that if i wanted to kiss you, i should ask. so, i'm asking if i can kiss you."

why?

suna sighs after a moment of contemplating the look of abject shock on your features, slumping forward and resting his forehead on the wall beside your head, caging you against the wall with his lanky frame. you can't breathe with him this close—too startled by the proximity and the warmth radiating from him to even think about drawing air into your lungs. too confused by this entire situation to meet your basic human needs.

"you really don't get it, do you?" he asks quietly. he's so near that you feel his words more than you hear them—especially since they were spoken so quietly just next to your ear.

"get what?" your own voice sounds distant—sounds strange—to you when you finally manage to speak.

suna pulls back just far enough to meet your gaze, and you're shocked to see just how pink his face is. he looks mortified—and desperate—as his eyes find yours. he tilts his face towards you, and when he speaks again you feel the warmth of his breath break against your lips.

"you're the only person in this room who i'd enjoy listening to talk about the weather."

and it's not until much later, when the lingering bitterness from the wine has been replaced by something much sweeter (though entirely unexpected) on your tongue, that you realize rintarou was the only person in the room tall enough to reach the ceiling.

a/n: for nana, who forced me to write this entirely against my will but whom i love dearly in spite of it

[theotherbuckley]

“I need a hair cut,” Evan says offhandedly one morning, his fingers running through his apparently too long strands.

Tommy’s gaze snaps away from the paper held in his hands to Evan. He’s shakes his head, opens his mouth before shutting it again, thinking through his words.

“If you— if you want to,” Tommy says, trying to be supportive of his boyfriend’s decisions whilst already mourning the loss of his Evan’s perfect hair.

“Do you— do you not think I should?” Evan asks, looking over to Tommy. He’s still got his fingers in his hair, brushing the loose curls away from his eyes.

“I— I think it’s cute,” Tommy admits, dropping his gaze and blushing slightly.

“You do?” Evan says, almost in awe. Tommy’s always found it ridiculously adorable how receptive his boyfriend is to praise.

“Yeah, baby. It’s my favourite thing to play with,” he replies.

Evan’s eyes light up, a cheeky glint forming in them, and he smiles. “Your favourite thing to play with?” He says, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. Absolute dork.

Tommy rolls his eyes fondly. “Second favourite,” he mutters, shaking his head.

Evan smirks. “Okay, well, I still need to cut my hair because it’s getting in my eyes at work. And ever since Eddie grew his moustache, Gerrard has been extra vigilant about everyone’s appearance.”

Tommy winces slightly at the mention of the fire captain, memories of the years of emotional repression and his own wrongdoings rising to the forefront of his mind every time the man was talked about. Tommy tries to shake out the thoughts of the man, focusing instead of the gorgeous man in front of him.

“That’s fair,” Tommy agrees. “But uh— well, if you wanted to keep the curls a bit, I wouldn’t be opposed.” That’s an understatement, he loves Evan’s curls, loves how soft they make him look, how they feel under his hands when he runs his fingers through them, loves how he can tug on them and how loudly Evan responds when he does.

Evan smiles at him, his grin almost blinding like the sun — warm and bright, giving Tommy no other option but to smile back.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Evan says, nodding to himself like it’s the most important thing in the world.

Tommy doesn’t get to see the look until two days later. He’s just come off of a gruelling 24-hour shift, with plans to spend the night at Evan’s house. They’ve been together long enough now that he doesn’t feel he has to dress up for the occasion, not that he doesn’t like to put a little effort in for his man, but he can come home after a long shift and cuddle up with his boyfriend like there’s no where else he’s meant to be.

Tommy unlocks the door of Evan’s apartment, smiling softly as he uses the key Evan had recently given him, still unable to contain his joy at the fact that he gets to have this. He wanders over to the lounge, hearing the sound of the TV playing.

Tommy freezes when he spots his boyfriend. He’s laying on the couch, wrapped in a blanket because that man was always cold. He looks ridiculously cute snuggled up on the couch, but that isn’t what stops Tommy in his tracks.

Nope.

Peaking out of the blankets is Evan’s gorgeous face with his pretty pink lips matching the shade of his birthmark. His hair has been cut, sideburns faded away at the sides, the sides and back of his hair having lost some of their weight, and on top lay light brown curls perfectly fluffy, looking so soft. Tommy needed to run his fingers through.

“Hey,” Evan says, shuffling slightly where he sits so that he can look over at Tommy. Tommy who’s currently staring slack jawed at his head, practically drooling over the sight of him.

“Oh yeah,” Evan says, pointing up to his head. “Do you like it?”

Tommy blinks. “Do I— Do I like it?” Tommy lets out a small laugh. “Jesus fucking Christ, Evan,” he says, finally regaining control of his body as he stalks towards his boyfriend.

Evan tilts his head, confused, but it doesn’t last long because Tommy’s on him in an instant, pressing his lips firmly against Evan’s, swallowing any question that he was going to ask. “Do you. Have any idea. How fucking hot. You look right now?” Tommy says, kissing Evan’s irresistible lips between words.

The corner of Evan’s lips tilt upwards against Tommy’s lips as he smiles. “So you like it?” Evan whispers into Tommy’s mouth, seeking confirmation which Tommy is very happy to provide.

Tommy moves back slightly to slide his fingers through his hair. It’s just as soft as they look. Tommy grins at Evan, “I fucking love it,” he says, closing his fingers around some strands and tugging, pulling Evan until their mouths join once more. Tommy swallows the moans that Evan lets out at the action, gripping him close.

Fuck, he is the luckiest man alive.

[angelixrr]

cw for fem!reader, yan!vees, noncon + dubcon, 4some, electrocution, manipulation, slighttt voxval if u squint REALLY hard

vox !

vox was by far the most insecure of the vees, and thus overcompensated for his insecurity by being overly possessive of you

would oftentimes drag you away from the other vees to take with you to meetings to show you off to shareholders, high ranking sinners and demons alike

his insecurities reared their ugly head whenever someone else happened to talk to you. be it friendly conversation or legitimate flirting, vox wouldn't spare either one, either dragging you away or having his security throw out the unlucky sinner

vox quite literally has eyes on you 24/7, has gifted you numerous pieces of voxtech technology, ranging from a phone, to a voxtech watch, and unbeknownst to you, he had you chipped after the two of you had drinks  he, n he slipped something into your drink to knock you out for a few hours

vox will give you anything you ask for, to not only showcase his wealth, but social standing and power. he's basically telling you through gifts that "no one else could do this for you, or would do this for you. i went through hell and back to get you this, you owe me"

vox is also the first of the vees to tighten his grip on your leash you're on if he feels as if you're getting too wild, too close to other people. he'll force a shock collar onto you, and then keep you confided either to his penthouse, or the vees's tower in his office

vox can be pacified really easy, acting obedient towards him really feeds his ego, and can make him go easier on you

valentino !

valentino is the least possessive of the vees, which isn't saying much, but he has the most confidence out of all of them so he doesn't worry much about you running away

really, he thinks you're lucky to have the attention of someone as powerful as him, the only time he ever really has an outburst is if you deny him

if you tell him no to accompanying him to a club, starring in a show, or being intimate with him behind closed doors, he will take it out on you, telling you that you should be grateful that he's been this nice, cut you so much slack when he's got all his other bitches on tight leashes. you're special to him, and he treats you so well compared to his other whores, so just shut the fuck up and take him

does tend to spoil you when you've been behaving particularly well, takes you out on the town into all the nightclubs that an ordinary sinner like yourself wouldn't dare go into.  takes you to the vip lounge and sits you on his lap to show off to anyone lucky enough to look at his favorite little bitch

absolutely loves to have you as arm candy, if he goes out 9 times out of ten hes begging vox or velvette to let you go with him, and if they tell him no, he gets huffy

loves loves loves to drape his wings over you and hold you close to him

blows smoke in your face. bc he’s mean and he sucks and that’s so hot of him

velvette !

velvette is by far the worst one to land the affections of, for what she lacks in power, she makes up for it in intellect 

she’s extremely cunning, and always makes you play directly into her hand, through manipulating you and others around you

will spread rumors between your staff about you selling someone out to an exorcist, or about you getting someone else fired, when really, it was velvette’s fault

will also manipulate your social media, since that is her specialty. she will boost your social standing if you play nice with her and behave, but if she thinks you’re out of line she will spread rumors and leak compromising images of you just to send you running back to her arms 

"aww, dollie what's got you in a tizzy? someone uploaded some nasty pictures of you? 'm so sorry darling, why doncha c'mere, i'll make you feel allll better" 

dresses you up practically every day, except when she's particularly busy, but even then, the night before she'll lay out clothes for you or organize a whole week’s worth of clothes. however, if she finds out that you didn’t wear anything she picked out for you, she throws a fit, and you’re guaranteed to be manhandled for the next week like her own personal dress up doll, with extra scandalous outfits to boot

if velvette feels like she hasn't gotten enough time with you, she isn't afraid to tussle with vox or val about it because she knows who's really pulling all the strings

loves to have you working for her, because she feels as if you’re the only one who really gets her. oftentimes she’ll have you working as her assistant, and mediating between her and her designers, or fetching her whatever she needs. she’ll also dress you up for the job, so she has some eye candy while she’s busy yelling at her incompetent staff. but, she loves it when you’re incompetent. when you do it, it’s cute.

posts you on her social media 24/7, wants to show you off to her audience. will cover you in black lipstick kiss marks, then take a selfie of the two of you, just to make sure all of hell knows who owns you

will oftentimes blow up on her current models and fire them, just to have you stand in for them, and have you scantily clad in front of her cameras.

nsfw

vox !

cuz vox is insecure af so he overcompensates for it in the bedroom, barely lets you do anything by yourself, wants to control everything

likes to use his hypnosis to make you do things that usually require a bit of persuasion. if you say that you’re scared of being electrocuted during sex, vox will put you under his mind control, and make you all docile so he can put a shock collar on you and fuck you while he electrocutes you. will remove his mind control halfway through fucking you dumb just so you can feel how good he makes you feel

likes to use sex toys on you, because he can override a lot of their factory settings to make the vibrations more powerful (to almost a painful extent)

can tie you up with his own wires, which will tingle n shock you slightly

valentino !

valentino is an exhibitionist through and through, it’s one of the reasons he runs a porn studio. will sometimes either demand you star in a show for him as a favor for all the nice things he does for you, or he will secretly record the two of you without your consent. just wants to show all of hell his favorite fucktoy

loves to degrade you and call you petnames, you’re his little conejita, his puta tonta, his favorite muñeca to use til he turns you into putty in his hands

is one of the more violent ones in the bedroom if you upset him, will choke you out and slam you against the floor if you tell him you’re tired. will fuck you no matter what you tell him

velvette !

velvette dotes on you in the bedroom, loves to have you all fucked out and teary eyed underneath her

her favorite thing is to eat you out until you’re overstimulated and crying, adores making you feel so good it hurts

uses you as stress relief if she’s having a frustrating day, will drag you into a changing room and make you kneel on the floor as her nails dig into your scalp to eat her cunt

whenever you’ve had a night with velvette it’s incredibly obvious, she will rake her sharp nails all over your body, and leave hickeys, bite marks, and lipstick stains all over you. adores marking you up for vox and valentino, just to remind everyone who’s really in charge

loves to use sex toys on you, from a cute pink n purple strap to a vibrator wand, not as mean as vox with them though. just wants to make you feel good til you’re a dumb mess under her

all !

even though the vees are competitive, vying for your attention 24/7, they do come together sometimes to mutually plan how to get you even more wrapped around their fingers

val n vox share you the most, they know what makes one another feel good, they're kind of a dastardly combo together 

you'll be taking vox's cock n then val will kneel in front of you expecting you to suck him off, but the moment you have his dick in your mouth, vox is pushing you all the way to val's fluffy groin, making you tear up and gag on his length

velvette n vox are also more likely to share you at once, but they work separately to make you feel good. vox will be fingering you, while velvette licks and sucks at your neck and chest, occasionally leaving harsh bites. 

velvette n valentino hardly ever share, but when they do its messy and competitive. they're practically fucking you til you see stars, seeing who can reduce you to tears the fastest and make you squirt the hardest. they're the meanest to you when together, calling you a dumb fucktoy, their useless whore, their favorite cumdump. won't hesitate to yank you away from each other. they just fight over you like two kids fighting over their favorite toy

when they're all together though, you're in for a longgg night. happens occasionally, just bc they're all so busy (andd sometimes they're too jealous to share). but when they're together they love to share you between them all. vox n val will use both your holes at once, while velvette kisses you n pinches your nipples til they turn red. they loveee to indulge themselves in their favorite plaything so they’re prone to overstimulating you. they will still use you even if you pass out, so you’ll be super sore the next day

[chelseeebe]

jinx

18+ mdni. no smut but eddie is a grade a asshole to poor reader. mentions of weed and alcohol throughout. eddie munson x fem reader.

a/n: first off, anon i am sooo sooooo sorry it has taken me this long to fulfill your request!! i absolutely loved this request and am absolutely honoured that you came to me for it<33 i hope i've done it justice and that you still care to read this:') side note, i've updated my masterlist as i have slacked a bit but everything should be on there now ^.^

love me some chelseeebe angst—imagine fuckboy!eddie plays at the hideout right like regularly. reader starts frequenting his show days bc she likes him obviously but he starts noticing something. every time she comes in, something goes wrong. either he messes up a chord or cant see to flirt properly therefore no one ends up warming his bed as of late or something of the sort

his immediate first thought is ‘she’s a jinx!!!’ bc what other explanation could there be in his boy brain??? so he asks her to stop coming in. she does and yet he continues to mess up bc all he can think abt is her.

itd be so sexy if u added a moment of realization/angry love confession where in the middle of him being like you’ve bewitched me or something!!! he realizes hes the one obsessed with her.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

the party hums on in the background, a small group gathered outside to rob eddie blind, smoking away his entire supply. 

robin giggles nonsensically into steve’s shoulder, too high for her own good. 

“if you’re gonna smoke all my shit, the least you can do is come watch us tomorrow,” eddie had been nagging his friends to come down the hideout for months. they’d gathered a solid crowd now, not much but it was a start. 

robin groans, nancy and jonathan shift in their seats, steve can barely muster enough energy to reply and argyle snores. hardly enthusiastic about his dreams. 

“i’ll come,” you offer, bright-eyed as you smile politely at him from the floor. 

a friend of a friend, someone robin met in class and had dutifully introduced to the group. he didn’t know you well, nor had he ever really cared to. 

“i don’t think you’d like it, sweetheart” eddie retorts, flattered that you’d try and spare his feelings but he didn’t need your pity. 

“why? you can’t be that bad,” chuckling quietly to yourself. 

his eyes narrow, scoffing, “we’re not,” misunderstanding, or maybe just not caring to humour you back, “come if you want,” he shrugs nonchalantly, not as if any of his friends had offered to attend. 

“okay,” nodding along, “i will.” 

“alright,” turning his attention back to the embering joint glued to argyles fingers. 

who cares if you come? eddie certainly doesn’t. 

-

sure enough, the same couple dozen old drunks fill the bar, their glossy, zombie-like eyes stare back at him from the floor. he’d complain but beggars can’t be choosers and all that. 

they’re partway through the second song when something reflects in his eye, a low-cut sequinned top that would definitely look better on the floor of his van. 

it’s only when his eyes travel up that he realises it’s you who’s wearing that shirt, already looking straight back at him. a newfound look about you, thick lines of black line your eyes, worlds apart from the mousy girl who’d invited herself last night. 

“and we’re-,” he sings, an abrupt case of dry mouth as the next line struggles to come out, “we’re.. uh,” the entire song erased from his memory within seconds. 

he steps back from the mic, blinking rapidly in an attempt to trigger his voice though all he can see is you and that ridiculous top. 

gareth’s head whips round, still strumming along before picking up eddie’s slack, continuing the lyrics on his own, not without a damning glare in eddie’s direction. 

holy fuck. 

he’s just, taken aback, that’s all. shocked that you’d even bother to come, less so put the effort in to actually look the part too. 

his eyes don’t leave the back wall for the rest of the gig, practically stumbling through all of the songs as his head threatens to wander. trailing back to you only as they finish, walking off stage to down the harshest whisky the bar would allow. 

you saunter over a couple minutes later, while eddie tries his hardest not to stare right down your shirt. he’s not certain that he won’t choke on his words if you speak to him. 

“you were really good tonight,” you assure, smiling softly as his band mate turns to gawp. 

“uh, yeah.. thanks,” eddie fumbles, gripping the neck of his beer bottle, “thanks for coming.” 

there’s an aura surrounding you, like a wretched spell you’d evoked in him, turning him to a bumbling fool. 

“i’m gonna head out..” gesturing to the door, “see you around,” waving your fingers coyly at him before disappearing. 

his eyes linger at the door, wondering if maybe you’ll turn around and come back. not that he wants that. just curious as to why you’d come out just to see him play. 

“now who the hell was that?” jeff ogles, receiving a swift elbow to the ribs from eddie and a loud oof as he clutches his side. 

“a friend of a friend,” brushing him off, “don’t be weird about it,” jumping the gun to squash any sorts of ideas festering in his mind. 

“you’re the only one being weird about it,” jeff retorts, grabbing his beer and shuffling off. 

“i’m not being weird,” eddie calls from behind, “i’m not!” 

okay maybe he was being a little weird. 

who cares? 

definitely not eddie. 

-

this week, he feels more prepared to see you nodding along in the crowd, robin had joined you albeit looking less than impressed. 

eddie’s killing it, at least he thinks. avoiding looking anywhere in your direction, keeping his gaze on the stumbling drunk at the back instead. 

but the thoughts of you can’t help but creep into his mind, were you enjoying it? do you think he’s bad? why does he even care so much? 

his hand slides down the neck of the guitar, playing the wrong chord entirely, his fingers curating a mind of their own. 

fuck fuck fuck. 

why does this keep happening? 

gareth glares at him again, he had never been so frustrated with his idiot bandmate in his life. sure eddie liked to dick around in rehearsal but never on stage. 

if eddie ever wanted a career in music, he needed to get a monumental grip on himself. weird girls he barely knew should not have the capacity to ruin his career. 

after they clamber off stage, eddie makes a point of not going over to the two of you. no, you can come to him. 

though he wishes you’d just be a little faster at it if he’s honest. too busy squished into a booth with one of the younger regulars to care about him. 

heat rises in his chest, searing his cheeks a bright rouge, “-who is that?” gareth interrupts, bumping into his arm. 

“who’s who?” eddie coughs, clearing his throat as his eyes snap back. 

“that girl you’ve been staring at,” peering across the room to get a glimpse. 

“i’m not staring at anyone,” abruptly turning his head in the opposite direction, proving to himself that he wasn’t staring, not really. 

“you’re a liar,” gareth calls him on his bullshit immediately, “go talk to her! she’s hot,” scooting his friend along. 

“no she’s not,” you looked good tonight, he’d give you that, “can everyone please just stop being weird about this? first jeff- now you? honestly, i don’t get it,” working himself into a frenzy over what really was nothing. 

gareth’s eyes widen, scoffing at his melodramatic performance, “alright man.. calm down,” shaking his head in mild disgust. 

eddie was totally calm, you know, apart from his heart pounding in his chest. 

nothing major. 

-

filthy, downright pornographic sounds fill his cramped van, certain that it was rocking side to side with the utter obscenity happening in the back. 

chloe sits atop of his lap, tongues dancing around one another as she glides her hips back and forth. she was a regular, slightly older than eddie, at least he thinks, they’d made eyes a few times but only tonight had he gathered the courage to go and speak to her. 

any other time, eddie would be rock solid, pinning her down and fucking her into the dusty floor. today, it’s just not happening. 

his mind elsewhere, too preoccupied with nonsense to appreciate the opportunity at hand. 

he's thinking about you and the fact you’d left the bar without ever coming over to him tonight. what the fuck was that about? 

had he done something wrong? 

he breaks apart from her mouth, heaving into the tiny gap between them, “i don’t know what’s going on..” he chuckles awkwardly, looking down at his useless dick, “normally something happens by now..” 

she frowns, deep-set, showing her age more than before, “oh.” 

he reaches down, furiously palming his cock through his jeans. 

nothing. not even a twitch. 

he wants to curl up and die. never in his three years of actually getting laid has this ever happened. eddie got hard at the drop of a pin, he’d only have to think about boobs and his jeans would shift. 

so why the fuck wasn’t it working tonight?

“i’m gonna go,” chloe scowls, clambering over his legs, gathering her bag while not even attempting to hide her disappointment. 

eddie shoots up, pathetically crawling after her, desperate not to let her go. 

“it’s not me!” he screams out, watching helplessly as she crawls out of the van, “it’s you!”

no. 

“wait no! shit, that’s not what i meant,” peeking out of the van to find the empty parking lot, zero women to be found, “fuck sake.” 

left to wallow in his self-pity, alone, in the back of his dirty van. 

just as he deserved. 

if this was some karmic intervention, telling him to be a better person, he certainly wasn’t paying it any attention. 

-

another party meant another night of eddie trying to understand why the hell you had such an effect on him. 

it’s not even like you’re doing anything particularly riveting, sat with your drink in hand, nodding along to robin’s story. 

he can’t stand it. 

you have to go. 

maybe not like that, but he had to put some distance between you. there’s no way he could keep his sanity while you were still a constant in his life. 

eddie sidles over, feeling like the smartest guy in the room. he could do this, separate himself from you and your clutches and go back to playing as he once did. 

you smile upon him appearing, sickly and sweet. it makes his heart thump in the weirdest way. 

“oh.. hey,” playing this entirely nonchalantly, “i just thought i’d let you know that we’re not playing next week,” lying through his teeth, guilt ridden but really, it was necessary if he wanted to play a gig without fucking up the entire time. 

“oh,” sounding somewhat disappointed, “okay.. how come?” 

shit. 

he can’t think of a single valid reason as to why they wouldn’t be playing. 

“jeff’s sick.. real bad,” feeling even more guilty for lying about his friends health, wondering if he’s cursing jeff as you did him, “might even be a couple weeks off at this point.”

eddie was a terrible person. 

but so were you. 

bewitching him under some spell, forcing him to play terribly and embarrass himself in front of women 

you’ve jinxed him. a bad omen cursing him to play like a fucking amateur. that’s the only logical explanation his pea brain can conjure up anyway. 

that meant you had to stay away from the shows, from him preferably. 

he couldn’t understand why you have this effect on him, why your mere presence has him becoming a floundering fool. you don’t intimidate him, not even close. 

it’s almost as if he cares too much about what you think, to the extent that he overthinks it so hard that he fucks up. 

a curse that could only be broken with some distance between you. that way he could focus on the show instead of you and your doe eyes reflecting off of the stage lights. 

that’s what he’s praying for anyway. 

-

eddie despises wednesday’s. itching to get his classes over and done with so he can get his small taste of stardom on that tiny hideout stage. 

at some point over the last few weeks of you being an omnipotent presence in his life, he’d grown accustomed to crossing paths with you before the gig. 

crossing campus with your chin tucked down, arms wrapped tight around your books. typically only sharing a smile or a short nod. 

but this week you saunter over, resembling a frightened deer even more than usual. 

he pulls his headphone from his ear, anticipating whatever nonsensical, vaguely cute thing you were going to say. 

“hey,” he nods, a coy smile. 

even now you have his palms sweating, overthinking whether he should’ve said hi or hello instead. 

“you didn’t have to lie to me,” you start, brows furrowed, “it’s fine if you don’t want me to go to your gigs anymore, i don’t care,” a disappointed frown plaguing your normally cheerful face. “i thought i liked you eddie, really- but i don’t know anymore.. you’re not a good person.” 

you turn to walk off before he can even compute your words. 

oh shit. 

“wait!” he calls but it’s useless, “i didn’t- i wasn’t- fuck.”

it was unthinkably cruel, he didn’t think you’d ever find out. and maybe that was his problem, assuming you didn’t care enough to find out. 

guilt addles his chest, weighing heavy on his heart. for good reason too. 

eddie was an asshole. a true, grade-a asshole that wayne would positively despise him for. 

wait wait wait. 

you liked him? 

you liked him?

absolutely not. no way. that wasn’t what this was about.

or it’s not supposed to be. 

no, this was some adolescent feud, a confusing, one-sided, friendship that he couldn’t get a grip on. 

you didn’t like him. girls like you weren’t supposed to. 

-

it’s not at all surprising that he plays like absolute shit tonight too. 

guilt ridden for forcing your hand, for making you look at him like that. as if he were the worst person to walk the earth. 

shit, maybe he was. 

kind hearted people didn’t lie and deceive. no, kind hearted people came to gigs they obviously didn’t give a shit about. kind hearted people feigned interest in boring spiel about weed strains and whatever the fuck else eddie jabbered on about at parties. 

you, you were kind. kinder than he deserved. 

gareth slaps him harshly on the back the second they’re back behind the curtain, a scornful yet pitying scowl on his face, “look man,” he begins, “i dunno what’s going on with you but i don’t know how much longer they’re gonna let us play here if you keep playing like that.”

eddie sighs, because he knows this. he’s well aware that his performances have been lacklustre for weeks now. he just doesn’t really understand why. 

at first he thought it was just because you were there, a distance friend who would feed back to his friends about how good, or bad, he was. 

but that wasn’t it. 

you were there, and then you weren’t. and he still played like shit. 

somewhere entangled deep within his wretched heart, he thinks that maybe he just wanted to impress you. 

a nice girl, cares about her studies way more than he does, pretty too and you didn’t look at him like he was just some out of touch stoner with crazy dreams of his band getting big. 

you were polite, listening to his wacky stories and dreams of playing for thousands, in fact, you encouraged them, more than his friends ever had for sure. 

eddie’s not sure if, or how, he’ll ever be able to make amends for how he’s treated you. 

-

he’s making himself sick with worry. guilt wracking his brain. 

you don’t turn up that night, obviously. 

eddie’s eyes mindlessly search the crowd for any hint of you. his fingers failing to correspond with the rest of band, always playing a beat behind. 

you had infected him, ruined his once masterful skill to just a shell of what it once was. 

he doesn’t lay opportunity for the boys to speak to him again, rushing out of the bar as soon as his guitar is back in her case. 

there’s only one place he can think about going. 

a few months back, you’d hosted robin’s birthday party there and eddie had disgraced your bathroom with a girl he can’t even remember now. 

his fist bangs on the door, hoping the light in the upstairs window was you and not one of your roommates he’d have to shamefully apologise to. 

the orange light cascades over your face, peeking out from the barely cracked door with a frown that would scare any man off. 

“what’re you doing?” you spit, looking backwards in hopes he hadn’t woken the entire house up. 

“listen,” he sighs, “i’m real sorry about.. you know, lying to you,” his shoulders slumped over themselves, “but i just- i can’t fucking play when you’re there, can’t play when you’re not,” sounding utterly pathetic, begging for you to cure him from this sudden sickness. “i don’t know what to do anymore,” dragging his hand over his face. 

rightfully earning his spot as the worlds biggest fucking loser, stood on your doorstep begging for an answer. 

when he opens his eyes enough to look at you, you’re scowling back at him. nothing like how he had planned this situation in his head. 

he’d hoped that miraculously you’d understand, accept his apology and somehow still feel the same as you had. 

because that was it, really. 

too terrified to face the fact that he liked you too. 

somewhere in his heart of hearts he’d known it from the start. that’s why his heart fluttered when you’d volunteered to come or why he’d struggled to even touch anyone else. 

“what do you want me to say?” shrugging, “i won’t come back, that’s fine,” he wishes you’d just follow the script he’d curated for you. 

eddie doesn’t want you to stop coming, he never had. it’s killing him that you even believed that, twisting the knife in his chest further and further the more your bottom lip juts out and your eyes water. 

“actually, maybe it’s best if we don’t talk anymore,” you suggest, throwing him completely off kilter. 

woah. 

that wasn’t at all what he wanted nor was he trying to say. he just couldn’t gather the actual words he needed to express that to you. 

petrified that he’d admit to his feelings and you’d just turn around and laugh, how could someone like you ever like such a cruel man? 

“wait no, that’s not what i meant-,” bargaining with you for a little time to explain himself, though you definitely didn’t owe him any.

“-thanks for coming eddie, i’ll see you around,” flashing him a crestfallen smile before abruptly closing the door in his face. 

-

public humiliation was truly the only way eddie could think to make it up to you. 

well that and maybe a little big nudge from robin. 

he’d rather stupidly asked about you on saturday night, confused why you weren’t there alongside robin, who had very quickly got him in check. 

“why do you think dumbass?” she snapped, snarling her teeth at him, “you were an asshole and now she’s doesn’t want to come anymore,” her glare powerful and harsh, "i'd say you were lucky she didn't punch you in the face."

he’d deserve it. 

it had taken weeks of convincing to get you anywhere near the hideout again. not to mention the hundreds in free weed he’d had to bribe robin with to get her to help. 

you stand in a dark corner, hands folded against your chest, puzzled and irritated by robin’s incessant begging to get you here. 

“there’s someone here that i wanna apologise to,” his eyes don’t find you as easy this time, after weeks of missing your presence, he’s not used to you actually being in the crowd again, “if you know us, you know i can be a bit of an asshole sometimes, uh..” they find you, the lump only growing in his throat, “i’m sorry,” tunnel vision blocking out every other body in the room, “i’m really, really sorry.”

you blink, staring back at him like a deer caught in headlights. it makes him a little bit nauseous to recall how dreadfully he’d treated you, how you deserved absolutely none of it. 

your gaze lowers, and eddie can’t decide how to take it. he wouldn’t blame you if you decided to never forgive him, but he also couldn’t take it if you didn’t. 

his voice cracks a little as he speaks, “this is.. uh, we’re corroded coffin,” stepping back from the mic to gather his thoughts before the drum comes crashing in. 

-

eddie plays the best he’s potentially ever played. 

a force overcoming him to prove that he truly wasn’t as much as a loser as he’s shown himself to be.  

usually, he couldn’t wait to be off that stage and to the bar but today he’s dreading it. 

knowing that you’re somewhere out there waiting for an explanation. 

or maybe you weren’t. he wouldn’t blame you if you’d decided to leave soon after he’d embarrassed himself with that shitty apology. 

gareth runs up behind him, using his shoulders to launch himself into the air, “holy shit! that was amazing!” the boy presses a slobbery kiss to his cheek before continuing, “whatever the hell you did, keep doing it because that was insane!” running off past eddie to grab his weekly complimentary beer. 

a sudden sickness fills his stomach, slyly hoping that he could slip out of here before anyone else noticed him. 

you stand across the bar, waiting to catch his eye with your lips curled only ever-so-slightly. 

eddie’s limbs go stiff, still entranced by your jinx. by you.

your eyes trail away to the door as his follow, shuffling your way through the bustling crowd. 

his legs carry him without a second thought, out into the cool night as his eyes frantically search for you. 

he finds you perched against the crumbling stone wall a few feet from the entrance, just far enough away from the prying eyes of the smoking patrons. 

“i didn’t think you’d ever come back here,” is all he can say, feet trailing along the gravel. 

the streetlight glistens orange from your eyes, staring up at him from your perch, “i didn’t want to,” your smile only growing as he nears, “robin made me.” 

“oh,” it wasn’t as if he didn’t know that or that he didn’t orchestrated the entire thing, it just felt odd to hear it from your mouth. 

“i’m glad i came,” you clarify, allowing him to finally release the breath held tight in his chest. 

eddie dares to move closer, sitting back on the brick just inches away, “yeah?” 

you nod, the great big smile he’d forced away making a return at last, “yeah.” 

suddenly the air feels thick, it was easier apologising on stage, those people didn’t know him, they didn’t care. but now, sat here in front of you, it feels like he’s swallowing knives. 

“i’m really sorry for making you feel that way,” though it sounds meaningless now the damage was done, “i don’t know if you still care about me at all, but i- um,” his throat runs dry, clamping his eyes shut. it felt easier that way, somehow, “i think the reason why i was such.. an asshole,” the light flickers through his eyelids again, deciding that you at least deserved to see him, “fuck,” he exclaims, staring back at your confused expression. 

“it’s okay,” soothing even now, “you don’t have to explain yourself to me,” a twinge of sadness running through your tone. 

“no, no i do,” eddie persists. he’d fumbled once, he couldn’t do it again. “shit man,” he sighs, “i’m trying to tell you that i like you too, or maybe not too, i know i was an ass and i don’t deserve your forgiveness-,” your lips cuts him off mid-mumble, surging forward to press them against his blathering ones. 

he has to blink a couple times, taking in whatever the fuck was happening to him. 

you pull back, disappointed that his brain had been to fuzzy to focus on kissing you back. too preoccupied with trying not to explode and paint you in red. 

“really eddie.. it’s okay,” returning to your usual reserved self while his brain still struggles to compute. 

“can we do that again?” he asks politely, keeping the bubbling excitement to a minimum. 

you laugh, a real, throaty laugh, something he hadn’t heard in weeks, “only if you promise to stop talking,” leaning in once more, the rigid wall suddenly feeling like it was about to collapse from underneath him. 

your soft, cherry-tinted lips press against his forehead a second time, allowing him to gather his brain from a pile of mush on the floor just enough to actually kiss you back. a tender hand reaching out to caress his stubbly cheek, sending shockwaves through his limbs. 

you’re interrupted again by a loud whoop from behind, robin clapping wildly as she emerges from the bar, “now you two have kissed and made up, can we go home now?” 

[gregrulzok]

I got kinda poet-ish about it in my last post but I need to be more direct:

Genuinely what the FUCK is wrong with Daniel Molloy.

Like okay, yes, 100+ year old broody vampires with incredibly tragic backstories will be hot and a little bit insane. That's literally a given.

Daniel Molloy is a 30-somethings man with a budding alcohol problem and verging on a midlife crisis, and his response to a world-shattering revelation that vampires are real is to go SO fucking off the rails that his 500 year old millionaire stalker that blends rats for fun, reads 70 books a day at mach speed, and once SEWED A YOUNG GIRL'S HEAD TO AN OLDER WOMAN'S BODY AFTER MURDERING THEM has to be like "Daniel you're being weird again".

Like this man.

- Has no backstory as far as I know? Certainly no tragic tale I've ever heard. He'd literally some dude off the street.

- Is one of the only characters to ever be with Armand and NOT fetishize the fact that he looks 17 (hats off)

- BUT he DOES fetishize him being a literal fucking corpse, direct quote "I like kissing. And snuggling with dead things, yes, hold me." so maybe we should place him on some kind of list anyway

- Is literally ADDICTED to vampire blood, and the reason for it is that it gives him fucked up visions of suffering and torment and he's into that

- (I'm cutting him a lot of slack for also being not dissimilarly addicted to having his blood drunk, because this is Tunglr and I think we can all relate to that, but let the record state for real world purposes that's still fucking weird)

- Yells at and berates his deranged vampire stalker WELL before the time they become Lovers, in the MIDDLE of said deranged vampire stalker having some kind of angry meltdown. ("I WANT YOU TO DIAL PARIS, I WANT TO SEE IF YOU CAN REALLY TALK TO PARIS" [...] "WHAT ARE YOU, AN IMMORTAL IDIOT?" This is during a time period where, for all he knows, the deranged vampire stalker is fully comfortable with and even vaguely planning on killing him.

- Hears OVER AND OVER AGAIN how becoming a vampire is nothing but a terrible irreversible eternal curse, sees how every vampire he meets (all... Two of them, to be fair), longs for humanity, and STILL thinks "Nah. I'm built DIFFERENT."

- Like. Listen. He's aware of the pain and suffering he'd bring to others. He fully knows about it because he drinks Armand's blood. And he WANTS TO DO THAT, like that would NOT be an issue for him.

- At best that's a sacrifice he's willing to make so he gets to cuddle his dead boyfriend for all eternity. At worst, and more probably, that's a fun perk for him.

Like Daniel what is your fucking PROBLEM, man.

[gmwpluvr]

i am such a mess for post-war, domestic hinny

harry who would come home after nearly dying in a mission to ginny and the kids and they all cuddle together in front of the fire

ginny running to catch her kids and harry in a hug after winning a quidditch match

harry making sure to be there at all of her games, events, and later press conferences (no.1 ginny weasley fan)

ginny making harry's birthdays a big deal because she knows that he grew up barely celebrating, and because it was no less than what he deserved

harry helping their kids make cards and presents and banners for their mummy for her birthday, mother's day, and games

ginny teaching their toddlers to say 'dada' because she knows how much it would mean to harry

harry getting her bouquets made of chocolate or food in general because he knows she adores it so much more (but doesn't forget to still get her the occasional roses and lilies)

ginny gifting him random, silly t-shirts that say 'desirable no.1' or 'ginny's chosen one' or 'my wife's always right' but he'd wear them proudly anyway, anywhere

harry skiving off of work because he literally killed voldemort cut him some slack to surprise ginny when her work needs her to go to international countries

ginny who would nearly burn down their kitchen trying to cook for harry when he comes home even though he's the chef in the family

hinny snickering over their affair allegations in the tabloids

hinny talking to teddy and telling him that he'll always be their first baby when ginny gets pregnant with james

hinny and the kids (which obviously includes teddy) having matching outfits for christmas

hinny who everyone (by everyone i mean people who don't know them) thought wasn't going to last because it's the chosen one and a quidditch superstar but they're in the newspaper every few days for pda

hinny whos barely seen publicly without the other

hinny who lives in the country side by the beach and grows old together until they're crusty and wrinkly and have many great great grandchildren

just...fuck...married hinny

[stepbrorafe]

⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚

The hot water hits you in a stream, steam fogging up the glass door of your shower. Your hands run through your hair, soaking up the way the scalding water soothes your tense muscles.

You let out a hum from the pleasant feeling, before suddenly turning towards the glass door as you heard shuffling on the other side. Your brows furrow as you attempt to see through the steam, only coming up with nothing. You shrug it off as just being tired from your long day.

Letting the water fall over you for a few more minutes, you finally open your eyes once more to the sound of the shower door clicking open.

Your stepbrother stands in the doorway of the shower, towering over you with a dark look in his eyes. His hair falls over his forehead as he looks you up and down, his lips pulling into a devious smirk.

“What are you doing?!” You shriek, covering your naked body as best you can.

“I need to shower.” Rafe shrugs as if it’s not big deal.

You gape at him, “Um, clearly I am right now.”

He chuckles, “Come on. We can save water.”

Before you can object, he’s taking off his shirt. You stare in bewilderment, appalled by his carelessness. Your mouth parts as you take in his physique. You’ve always thought he was panty dropping, but now that he’s getting in the shower with you, you’re suddenly very aware of the fact.

He closes you both in the shower, turning to you with a small grin. You’re frozen in place, mouth still slack, completely thrown off by his presence like this. His grin only grows as he takes in your awkward stance, arms still clinging to your body in a futile effort to hide yourself.

“You gonna share some water or what?” He quips, inching closer to you.

You rack your brain in an attempt to find something to say, anything, but you’re left dumbfounded. His arms meet your elbows, softly moving you to the side, so that he can get under the stream.

Swallowing the dryness in your mouth, you manage to speak, “You shouldn’t be in here, it’s not right.”

His brows furrow as he faces you, “Relax, kid. Not like I’m feeling you up… Unless-“

Before you can get a single word out, his hands are cupping your waist and pulling you flush against him under the steaming fall of water. Your heartbeat quickens as you feel his member growing against your stomach.

“Rafe-“ You whisper, only for him to cut you off as he grasps your jaw.

Before you know it, his arms are hooked under your knees while he holds you up as he drills into your sopping pussy. Your back is pressed against the cold glass, providing the perfect balance to your burning skin.

“Oh my fuck.” You cry out, tits bouncing against Rafe’s chest as he thrusts in and out of you.

Your legs shake in his grip, your pussy tightening around him every so often. He attacks your mouth with a string of feverish kisses, two of you panting into one another.

“Always knew you’d be a slut for my cock, sis.” He groans in your ear, lowering you in perfect timing to meet his rough strokes.

You can’t help the loud moans that emit from your mouth as he continues to deliciously bruise your cervix. The sound of your skin slapping as his hips viciously slam into yours fills the bathroom, louder than the water pellets hitting the floor.

“Raaafe.” You cry out in staggered moans, your voice quivering with every thrust.

“Gonna cum for me? Hm?” He hums, “Wanna cum on my cock?”

You gnaw on your bottom lip to prevent the screams from spilling and furiously nod your head. He smirks down at you and picks up the brutal pace, completely wrecking your sweet little cunt.

Without warning, you’re clenching around him as your body shakes. The band in your stomach snaps, unable to hold back any longer, coating his throbbing dick in your juices with a pornographic moan leaving your mouth.

His thrusts don’t stop, only growing deeper and harder as he grunts, causing you to squeal, “Too much!”

He slams you down hard on his cock, the imprint of him bulging from your stomach as he cums, painting your walls a milky white. He keeps pumping in and out of you, filling you up until he has nothing left to give.

Placing you down on wobbly legs, he roughly squeezes your cheeks and plants a sloppy kiss on your lips.

“You belong to me now.”

⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚

tags : @sunkissedrafe @wickedtactics @bunnycvnts @butterflyoceandreams @rafesgiirl @yourenogoodforme @marvelfanfics1recs @cini-mini27 @pinkribboncoco @drewsphswife @laniirackssss @ditzyzombiesblog

[steviewashere]

Don't Dish What You Can't Serve

Rating: Teen and Up CW: Sexual Harassment (Not Between Main Pairing), Chewing Tobacco, Gross Shit Happens That I Can't Say Because It Spoils The PlotTags: Different First Meeting AU, No Upside Down AU, No Supernatural AU, Steve Never Became Friends With Tommy and Carol, Hurt/Comfort, Tommy Hagan Being an Asshole, Tommy Hagan is a Piece of Shit Here, Waiter Steve Harrington, Line Cook Eddie Munson, They Work at Benny's, So This is an AU Where Benny's Never Closed, Protective Eddie Munson, Eddie Munson Takes Care of Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson Gets Revenge, Steve is a College Student (But That's Not Entirely Important Here), '86 Was Eddie's Year

🥤——————🥤 Steve picks up a new job in the summer of 1986, waiting tables. The job at Family Video fell through and it just didn’t pay enough. He was starting his first year at the local college soon and he desperately needed the money. Especially since his parents cut him off, sighting his one gap year as enough reason. And so he goes to Benny’s, fills out an application and turns it in the same day. Back at his apartment, also the same day, he gets hired on. Alongside another guy around his age, one he recognizes from high school as Eddie Munson—who must’ve finally finished his time as a senior and now just needed to work.

Neither of them really talk to each other outside of putting orders in and taking orders out. Maybe occasionally scolding the other because—“You didn’t ask how rare he wanted his steak, Harrington? How the hell am I supposed to make it then?” and “Munson, you forgot the fucking ketchup on this asshole’s cheeseburger and now he won’t shut the fuck up about it. Fix this, please for the love of god.”

So, sure, they don’t get along all that well all the time. They’re not friends. More so just acquaintances. And so they don't really talk.

However, that changes one evening.

It’s a couple weeks before the upcoming school year is supposed to start. Hawkins, Indiana is one of those little college towns. Meaning, the new students were finally moving, coming around, getting to know where they now lived. And that includes one particular customer, Tommy Hagan, and his girlfriend, Carol Perkins. They’ve been coming in since mid-July, despite the new year starting in September, despite move-in dates set in late August. Every Sunday, Steve sees their pinched, smarmy, cocky faces. And every Sunday, they always cause some sort of issue.

The first time, Tommy spilled his soda all over the tiled restaurant floor. Claimed it was an accident, but Steve saw him. He saw the guy push his cup over the edge. Heard him snicker as Steve bent down to wipe it up, as he stood back up and plastered on a tight smile, promising that he’d get him a new soda right away. Flushed with shame as Tommy laughed and laughed and laughed his ass off about the, “Guy with the big stupid eyes and no thoughts in his head” and how he, “Probably doesn’t have much going for him if he’s working in a place like this.”

A riddle and game, that’s what it was. Steve would welcome them, take their orders, put them in for Eddie to make, drop the food off, and be at their service if something went wrong. Which was always. And he’d endure the stupid comments Tommy would make when he wasn’t in earshot. Spanning from how incompetent their waiter was—“He’s always screwing something up, swear to god. Don’t even know how he’s holding a job here, jeez.”—to how big of a manwhore he is because of how tight his work pants were. As if Steve would ever be catching tail in his stupid slacks, always stained with food and sticky soda by the end of the night, and the same pants that give him wedgies if he doesn’t make them sit right on his waist. All in all, Tommy is their worst customer. But it’s just a job, Steve always thought, it’ll get better at some point. Tommy will eventually start classes and leave me alone.

Then, of course, comes the Sunday a couple weeks before the new school year. Tommy is alone this time. No Carol on his arm. He just slides into one of the booths and watches Steve work until he approaches. And immediately, something is terribly off about this encounter.

“Welcome to Benny’s, can I get any drinks started for you?” Steve asks. His script. Customer service voice pitchy and monotone as it drips from his mouth.

Tommy doesn’t answer for several moments. Leaving Steve to stand and loom and stare. To smile and squirm. As he rakes his eyes so unnoticeably over all of Steve’s frame. His tongue trails along the inside of his lower lip, eyes heated, a gross smirk on his face. Smarmy.

“Bet you’d look good without that dumb frilly apron around your waist,” Tommy teases. It’s half-flirtatious, Steve thinks. But all the same creepy and…predatory.

“Excuse me?” He can only respond.

The asshole hums, assessing. Repeats himself. And adds, “You’d make better tips, too. Maybe put some gloss on your lips, a tighter shirt, no apron…yeah…vision’s coming together, baby. Could make everybody your bitch when you serve them.” He stares for a second longer. Rests his face in his left hand and flutters his eyes at Steve. “Can I get my usual, pretty boy? And one of those strawberry milkshakes.”

Steve writes the order down on his little notepad, shifting foot to foot. His stomach twists and knots. Brain still whirling at what Tommy said, unable to retort. Doesn’t even know how to really feel. Not flattered, that’s for sure. Slimy…that seems like a good enough substitute for the emotions mildewing in his chest.

“Y’know,” Tommy continues, voice sticky the way humidity is—uncomfortable—“I see how hard you work around here sometimes, even if you are pretty bad at it. Swear I can see the cogs just clogging up in your head. If you wanna give that pea brain of yours a moment to relax, you could share that drink with me. Maybe I’ll tip you real good this time, baby.”

He shifts again. Hands clammy and bile in the back of his throat. Steve swallows hard, thinks he stutters something out akin to, “I’ll be back with your order,” and promptly disappears into the kitchen.

The door swings closed behind him. And he’s not really looking, not paying attention. Just trying to get away from the residue left in Tommy’s air of existence. In the seconds between entering the kitchen and trying to storm away, he runs into somebody. An exerted grunt, raspy and deep, sounds out in front of him.

“Hey! Watch”—the person gently grabs him by the shoulders and leads them somewhere that he can’t really register. In a softer voice, no longer agitated, “Steve? Hey, man, y’alright?”

Steve sniffles. It’s then that he recognizes the heat in his cheeks, overwhelmingly hot and itchy. The scalding of tears. A pinch behind his eyes. There’s a soft cushion underneath him, the telltale creak of one of the older dining chairs. The air smells like garlic and grease, but a breeze catches over his exposed forearms—most likely from an air conditioning unit. He’s in the break room, he can finally notice. And break he does.

“That asshole is back,” he garbles, “and he”—hiccup—“he’s being really gross to me.”

The person crouches down in front of him, putting them eye-to-eye. And he knows immediately that it’s Eddie. Long hair pulled up into as neat of a bun as he can manage. A group of pitch black bats on pale skin. Dark brown eyes, shifting back and forth between his own with a mixture of concern and anger.

“What’d he say to you, Steve?”

He sniffs again, trying to gain some composure before he inevitably has a full-blown breakdown. Inevitable because he always has one when he goes home to his apartment, but it might happen here, and he can’t afford to let it happen here. Not today, at least, not now.

“Calling me…calling me baby and pretty boy. And he—he’s trying to make me share his stupid milkshake and he calls me stupid—that I have a…a fucking pea brain. Eddie, he calls me stupid every single time he comes in and I just—he’s just—I can’t”—

Eddie runs his warm hands up and down his biceps, gently pushing the fabric of his quarter sleeve, too. He shushes low and whispered. Murmurs, “I don’t want you to go back out there without me, alright?” His eyes dart back and forth between Steve’s wet ones once more. One of his hands leaves and digs into his back pocket, producing a black bandana. And he carefully brings it up close, patting it over Steve’s blotchy cheeks. “You don’t deserve that, Steve,” he whispers, “and I’ll make sure he gets what he deserves. Just wait back here for a bit and I’ll get his order done.”

Steve nods slow and heavy. Wipes the heel of his palm roughly over his eyes—to which Eddie tuts at and firmly drags it away, replacing it with the worn, soft fabric of that bandana. “Sorry that I ran into you at the door,” he says quietly.

“I’m glad you did. Because I’m going to make sure that asshole never bothers you again. ‘M sick of hearing what he does to you every single time he comes in.” Eddie stands up, but leaves the bandana to dangle in Steve’s loose grip. A tentative stroke through Steve’s hair, something he usually wouldn’t allow, but it’s too nice to turn down. “We’ll put him up on the wall, too. That bastard can suck a fucking egg.”

He laughs at that, or at least something like a laugh. It’s brittle, airy, but genuine. And watches Eddie go.

Roughly fifteen minutes later, though, Eddie wanders back into the break room and drags them back towards the milkshake blender in the kitchen. He has the ingredients all laid out next to the machine: vanilla ice cream, a gallon of milk, some freshly chopped strawberries, the can of whipped cream, and the glass itself. Adds the milk and the ice cream, but then stops abruptly, turning to dig something out of his pocket.

“What’re you doing?” Steve quietly asks, worried to be overheard through the ticket window.

“Oh, just some good ol’ payback,” Eddie answers, something darker than mirth in his tone. What he produces from his pocket is a can of chewing tobacco. The nasty menthol kind, too. He shakes the little tin in his hand, the tobacco thunking against the lid of the container. And then he twists the cap off, plucks a quarter sized amount, and stuffs the wad between his bottom teeth and lower lip. Mouth literally bulging with the tobacco. “We’ll blend this shit first,” he whispers, scheming, “add the strawberries. Then, comes the grand finale.”

Steve side eyes Eddie. His deft fingers flittering over the buttons of the blender, scooping out the strawberries with the same hand he picked up tobacco with. He grimaces, but doesn’t comment on that. “Grand finale?”

“One of the biggest fears that customers have when they go into any restaurant is that the waiter is going to spit in their food,” he nonchalantly explains, capping the blender, “though, a lot of them don’t consider the line cook. Or at least, the rude ones don’t.” Eddie shifts something in his mouth, what sounds like the slosh of thick saliva. “He’ll probably complain, but it’s not like he’ll be believed. It’s a safety hazard, sure. But nobody suspects the cook because they’re supposed to know that shit. A cook spitting in a patron’s food? No way, man. That shit’s taboo.”

“And if he is believed?”

Eddie merely shrugs. “Then I get fired. But it’s whatever. I’m already on my way out anyway, got enough money for what I need.” 

Before Steve can ask or get in response, Eddie’s blasting the blender. It chugs and churns the half cup of milk and the measly two scoops of ice cream. The strawberries burst and bleed juice throughout, mixture turning pink. And with a few shakes, a half-way pit stop to unclog the bigger chunks, and a go-about with the partially dysfunctional blades—Eddie chucks the lid off, unlocks the pitcher from the machine, and turns away from Steve.

“I’m gonna have the good graces to not make you watch this shit,” Eddie gives as an explanation, “y’may wanna cover your ears.” Steve doesn’t, though wishes he did. With a cough and a semi-gag, Eddie inhales and burbles the saliva in the back of his mouth. He can hear the way the tobacco spit dribbles from between Eddie’s lips, the way it plops into the blended mixture, and the last little dredges left in his mouth. Steve’s stomach turns, but he doesn’t stop it. Doesn’t step in.

Eddie turns back around with the blender. Sitting on top of the pink mix is one quarter sized glob of tobacco and saliva, the spit already spilling down the sides of the pitcher. “Ta-da!” Eddie exclaims, shaking the pitcher back and forth. “And that is what I like to call the revenge special. Half cup milk, two scoops of vanilla ice cream, four chopped strawberries, and a fantastical exported ingredient from the land of your’s truly. It may be a seasonal item, but it’s got the gust of something that’ll last a lifetime.”

“God…that is disgusting,” Steve mock-whispers. “You’re a fucking genius.”

“Thank you, it’s one of my many tricks.” He sets the blender down onto the metal counter, a hard thunk that rattles the milkshake glass. “Now, do me a favor and pour that into the glass, get him one of those stupid striped straws, spray it up with some whip. And I’ll dish up his monstrosity of a cheeseburger.” Eddie’s eyes soften away from the mirth they previously had. His voice dropping low, too. “I’ll deliver it, too, by the way. I would never throw you under the bus for something gross like this. This should hopefully get him to stay away, though. If he does complain about you and you have to flee, I’ll help you find a new job.”

“I could just say I did it, y’know,” Steve tentatively says, “that I fucked up his drink. You don’t need to lose your job because of issues I’m having.”

“You were crying, Steve,” Eddie points out gently. “Nobody makes my waiters cry. And nobody gets away with it, either.” He slinks away from Steve without another word and without another word getting in. And Steve watches him for a long moment. As he busies himself around his workspace, tidied and organized the way he needs it. The flex of his muscles as he flips and cuts and assembles that cheeseburger. His baby hairs at the crown of his head getting stuck to his sweaty temples, hard work painting and furrowing his brows.

But when he’s caught staring, Eddie simply and softly smiles, gestures at the blender, and turns back to his plate. So, Steve does what he’s told. Assembles the nail to his coffin, one pour and spray and straw at a time. And walks out of the kitchen, behind Eddie’s flexing back, his grease stained and sweat drenched white t-shirt. He sits at the front counter, in one of the old, flaking barstools. Watches.

Tommy looks up at Eddie from his spot in the booth, eyes wide as he sees Eddie take a seat across from him. He grimaces and sours. “You aren’t that waiter. Who the fuck are”—

“Heard you like milkshakes,” Eddie drawls. “Thought maybe I could get your opinion on a new recipe I’m trying. It’s strawberry, don’t worry your preppy little chinos off. But there’s been a slight change, was wondering what you’d think about it.”

Across the table, Tommy gives Eddie an odd glance. “Is it that important that you watch me? Surely I could’ve just sent my compliments to you or whatever when I’m done.”

“Nah, I like getting it straight from the source. So, go ahead, take a sip. Tell me what you think.”

Steve has to physically draw himself back, has to swallow down the gag and bile working their way through him, and genuinely convulses back against the counter as Tommy takes his first, long, hard sip of the milkshake. His face doesn’t move much with the sip, but he does scowl a tad, grimacing with a slight twitch in his upper lip.

“Tastes sour,” Tommy comments.

Eddie hums. “But is it good? Sometimes sour’s a good thing.” He reaches across the table, then, and plucks up Tommy’s cheeseburger. Crosses one arm across his chest, hand resting on his opposite bicep, and brings the food up to his mouth, taking a hearty bite.

“Hey!” Tommy exclaims, “that’s my cheeseburger, man! You can’t just”—

“Get a second sip and maybe I’ll consider remaking your food.” Eddie smugly watches Tommy take another deep swallow. His eyes cast at the glass, roaming at the little brown flecks in the shake. Knowing and proud. “It’s good, isn’t it?”

“I mean it’s…objectively, I guess it’s good. Can I get a new burger, man? I’m starving here and I’ve got a date with my girlfriend in thirty minutes.”

All at once, Steve’s heart enters his stomach. Eddie takes another large bite of the burger before replacing it on Tommy’s plate. He crosses his arms against the top of the table, fingers tucked securely in the creases of his elbows. Leans all the way across until he’s nearly nose to nose with Tommy.

“So, could you taste what was different? Could your pea brain discern the new flavor on your tongue?” He asks, smarmy as Tommy has ever been. Over-confident, yet satisfied.

Tommy’s eyes widen at his words being thrown back in his face, startles against the back of his booth. Fingers gripping to the edge of the table, cheeks going pale. “I…I don’t”—

“Spit.”

“Wh—What?”

“Spit,” Eddie repeats coldly. “You just drank my fucking tobacco spit.” Silence. And then, “How’d I taste, baby? Be honest. Was it everything you’d ever hope it would be with a man?”

More silence. Tense and thick, enough that it weighs on Steve’s shoulders across the way. However, Tommy finally registers what just happened. He gags hard, hand covering his curdled mouth. Behind it, muffled, he says, “You’re sick in the head. I’ll—I’ll fucking tell your boss. You’ll fucking regret this.” And he stands up on shaky legs, dashing away before he can vomit all over himself.

Eddie only watches him leave, satisfied and content. He looks back to Steve, grins. “I can’t wait to see his girlfriend’s face when she finds out he isn’t allowed back.”

Steve nervously giggles and crosses to the booth, sliding in where Tommy just was. “You’re insane,” he murmurs.

“Yeah, but it worked, didn’t it? Too bad he didn’t leave a tip. There is a cheeseburger if you want the rest of it. Promise I didn’t fuck with that.” Eddie’s eyes are on him, soft and thoughtful, watching him pick up the partially eaten burger. “I can make you a new one instead, if you’d prefer. Extra cheese, too.”

“Trying to get in all the cooking you can before this inevitably backfires?”

“Sure…or I’m trying to make sure you’re taken care of. One in the same, I suppose. So, provolone, right? Could even combine some of the cheese if you want. Pepper jack and havarti…colby jack and swiss. Take your pick.”

Steve glances up from the plate in front of him. Heart beating fast and chest gooey as Eddie looks onto him with something like reverence. “Provolone, please,” he requests quietly, “and can I get extra crunchy crinkle fries, too?”

Reaching out a hand, Eddie gently pats the back of Steve’s left. “You got it, baby”—he hisses—“I probably shouldn’t call you that. I’m so”—

“It’s alright,” Steve murmurs, “I…uh…I don’t mind if it’s you.”

Eddie sucks in a sharp breath, then stands from the other side of the bench. “You’re gonna give me a hero complex and an ego, Stevie.” He begins to retreat towards the kitchen, calling out about bringing the dishes back when he’s done, that the milkshake could just be tossed glass and all.

But Steve stops him with, “Hey, Eddie?” Is met again with those soft, dark brown eyes. “Thank you,” he quietly says, “I never thought I’d get him away from me. Means a lot that you helped.”

There’s a soft smile on Eddie’s face, one that Steve can’t help but return.

“Anything for you, man.”

He makes Eddie stop again, though. To gaze, to drink in that tight white t-shirt and the spatter of black ink on his arms, his heavy pretty curls, and that soft face of his. “When we finish closing up for the night, do you wanna come over to mine? I’ve got a rented copy of Empire Strikes Back and a few beers. Only if you”—

“I’d love to, Steve. Now let me make you your food, sweetheart. Before you gobble me up with that hungry stare of yours.”

🥤——————🥤

[honeyedmiller]

A Burning Desire part one

firefighter!joel x f!reader

series masterlist

rating: 18+, minors dni.

warnings: joel miller au, fluff, mutual pining, reader is a tad bit shy, sort of a slow burn, tons of flirting, reader gets into a serious car accident (but they’re fine i promise), mentions of minor cuts, bruises and disorientation from car accident, brief mentions of blood, no use of y/n. some descriptions of the car accident may not be suitable for everyone to read, so please be weary of this if you choose to read on.

word count: 3.1k

synopsis: you meet a handsome firefighter on a day where everything just feels… different.

a/n: would you believe me if i said this au has been in my drafts since october of last year? it’s a miracle i actually finished it. i scrapped the first idea i had for this au and switched it to this instead. hope you enjoy!

divider by @saradika-graphics

Today wasn’t like most days. 

Something had felt off. It wasn’t necessarily a bad feeling, but a feeling was there, idling in the depths of your very being. 

Maybe it was the way the summer sun was actually shining instead of a roaring thunderstorm rolling through Austin. Maybe it was the way you’d woken up to the sound of mourning doves, the birds you swore you hadn’t heard since childhood. Maybe it was the pleasant walk you had taken to your local café, multiple strangers smiling at you along the way. 

Or, maybe, it was the handsome stranger behind you in line at the café that had caught your eye. 

You didn’t mean to look intentionally. You just happened to have wandering eyes, enjoying the cozy atmosphere of Rosemary’s Roastery before your gaze settled on him—the incredibly handsome stranger behind you in line. 

You did a once-over, subtlety not your strong suit today. You immediately noticed he was in navy blue slacks with a black leather belt holding them up at his waist, and a navy blue shirt with Austin FD printed on the upper left corner. 

So he was a firefighter. 

His kind brown eyes caught yours, and time fucking stopped when he smiled at you. You felt your face heat, tossing him a shy smile before turning back around. 

The barista called you up to the counter, and after you gave her your order, you quietly asked if you could pay for the gentleman behind you. She nods with a smile and you wait at the other end of the counter for your drink. 

You watch as the firefighter orders his drink, bewilderment crossing his features when the barista told him his drink had already been paid for. He nods slowly with a smile, tucking his wallet back into the front pocket of his slacks. 

He walks over to the other end of the counter, a shoulder length away from you before turning to you. 

“You didn’t have to do that, darlin’.” His sweet Southern accent dripped like honey through your veins, warming you in a way you didn’t think was possible. 

“It was– uh– no big deal.” You shrug, and he chuckles before crossing his arms over his chest. 

Christ was he broad. His thick biceps strained against the navy blue fabric of his shirt, tan skin glowing under the soft lighting of the café. 

The veins on his forearms were prominent when he flexed his arms with every subtle move. And, god, he was so tall. 

Aside from his dark brown eyes, he had a defined jaw that was sprinkled with graying stubble and a mustache above his dark pink lips to match. His nose was strong and angular; something of a Greek god himself. His hair was dark brown with grays strewn in, the only indicator of his age. If you had to guess, it’s between mid thirties to early forties. 

He quirked a brow at you, hiding his amusement poorly as you checked him out. 

Yeah, subtlety definitely wasn’t your strong suit at all. 

“So what’s your name?” He asks, and you open your mouth to speak before the barista calls your name out to indicate your drink was ready. You sheepishly smile up at him as you thank her and grab your iced coffee. 

“Guess that answers that,” He chuckles, holding out his hand. You slot your hand in his and he gives yours a shake. “I’m Joel.” 

The barista called his name as well, and he thanked her as he grabbed his coffee. 

“Nice to meet you, Joel,” You pull him back in for conversation, deciding to throw all of your shyness behind you. “So, firefighter?” You ask, and he looks confused for a split second before he looks down at his t-shirt. 

He rolls his eyes at himself with a huff of a laugh. “Was thinkin’ you were psychic for a second before I realized my uniform says it clear as day.” He laughed at himself, and it was incredibly infectious. 

You couldn’t help but admire the crow’s feet at the corner of his eyes. You were so enamored by someone you just met, allowing yourself to indulge in the warm feeling you got in your belly when you talked to him. Never in your life have you experienced this, but the way he made you feel just a few minutes into some small talk had you yearning for him to stick around. 

“My brother and I joined the academy together and now we work at the same station.” He’s thoughtful when he speaks, a telltale sign that him and his brother might be close. 

“That’s really cool. Bet it’s fun working beside him.” You say lamely, internally cringing at yourself for your awful attempt at flirting. 

He doesn’t seem to notice, and thank god for that. 

“It is, when he’s not bein’ a pain in my ass.” 

“Younger brother I’m assuming?” You guess, and Joel looks at you quizzically. 

“Alright, y’sure you’re not psychic or somethin’?” 

You smile and shake your head. “Not at all, Joel. Just good at picking up context clues.” 

“What about the one where I was gonna ask a gorgeous stranger for her number?” His teasing tone warms you, and you bite your lip to suppress the face-splitting smile that was threatening to spill onto your lips. 

“Who’s the stranger? Lucky girl she is.” You play along. 

“Some kind samaritan who decided to pay for my much needed coffee this fine summer morning.” He hums, leaning against the wall next to him. 

“Mm. In that case,” You reach over to the section with the fixings for drinks, grabbing a napkin. You pull a pen out of your purse before scribbling your name and number on the napkin, handing it to Joel. “There you are.” 

He waves the napkin in between both of your bodies, eyes alight with happiness. 

“Definitely usin’ this to text the gorgeous stranger n’ ask her on a date.” 

“Lucky girl. Hope she’ll say yes.” You nudge him softly. 

“I hope she does too,” He grins, looking down at his watch-clad wrist—green band with a black and gray face. His brow furrows and he sighs, taking another sip of his coffee. “‘M real sorry darlin’ I gotta jam. My shift starts in twenty minutes.” 

“No worries, Joel. Hope you have a good shift.” 

“Thank you darlin’. I’ll keep in touch.” He holds up the napkin with a smirk, turning to walk out of the front door. 

You watch as he walks to his truck before exiting the side door, walking back to your apartment. 

-

“Does this mean you have a date for my wedding?” Your sister asks excitedly on the other end of the receiver. 

“Seriously? I just met this man today.” You roll your eyes and continue jotting down grocery items you need to stock up on on a pad of paper. 

“So what? If you guys hit it off that quick then maybe he’d wanna tag along.” 

“You do realize that he’d have to meet the whole family, right? I wouldn’t subject him to that. Plus, we’re getting too ahead of ourselves. I don’t even know if this is gonna go anywhere yet.” 

“Oh come on. Live a little. Let yourself be happy for once, sis.” Your sister is persistent, you’ll give her that. 

“I was fine being single before our small interaction this morning, and I’ll be fine at your wedding without a date too. I’m fine.” Which is sort of true, sort of a lie. You didn’t mind being single, because, hell, it had its perks. 

But another part of you—deep, deep down in the depths of your being, so badly wanted someone to give a shit about you in a romantic sense. You yearned for someone to hold you, someone to do cheesy shit with, someone that you could call home. 

Your sister sighs on the other end of the line. “I know you’re Miss Independent and all, but you need to learn to let go of the reins a little bit. The world won’t end if you give up an ounce of control.” 

You hated when she was right. Your sister, being a few years older than you, always had the superiority complex with I told you so’s plastered across her forehead. 

You couldn’t deny the truth, though, and the truth was you really needed to let yourself have this. Let go and unashamedly let this kind, handsome man take you out on a date. Let him sweep you off your feet. Let him treat you right, because it’d been few far and between since a man has done that for you. 

If the way you felt around him this morning was any indication that you should just relinquish control, that was it. 

“Fine. But I’m still not inviting him to your wedding.” 

And your sister laughs heartily, making you crack a small smile. 

“Right. I gotta go, but keep me updated on him!” 

“I will. Love you.” And she says it back, hanging up the phone. You sigh and stare down at your grocery list, continuing where you left off. 

Not even five minutes later, your phone buzzed again. A text from an unknown number. 

Unknown number: 

This wouldn’t happen to be the pretty stranger I met at Rosemary’s this morning, would it? ;)

You laugh at the text, biting to suppress a growing smile as you type a response. 

You: 

Depends, is this the handsome firefighter who put the number on the napkin to good use? 

You saved the number under ‘Joel’, finishing off your list before you received another text. 

Joel: 

Sure is, sweetheart. Although I wouldn’t necessarily say ‘handsome.’ Glad to know the number you gave me wasn’t fake. 

You: 

Me? Give you a fake number? Now that would just be downright stupid of me, wouldn’t it? 

Joel:

Stupid how? 

You: 

Why would I give up an opportunity to get to know a (yes, very handsome, by the way) man such as yourself? 

Joel:

You flatter me, sweetheart. I’m glad we met this morning. 

You can’t contain your smile anymore, having half a mind to drive down to the fire station to see him in person again. 

You: 

I’m glad we did too, Joel. 

Joel:

Watcha up to right now? 

You: 

Heading for the grocery store :) I need to restock a bunch of stuff. How’s your shift going? 

You double check your purse for everything you need before you stuff your grocery list and phone into your bag, grabbing your keys before locking up and heading out. 

The drive to the grocery store was only ten minutes. Emerald Eyes by Fleetwood Mac softly played through the speakers in your car, and you wondered briefly what kind of music Joel liked to listen to. You smile softly at yourself at the thought of him once more, shaking your head as the light turned green. You had to get a grip. 

And then, halfway through the intersection, a loud crash had sounded. It took you several seconds as shock and adrenaline coursed through your body that you realized you were the one who got hit. You hit your head on the driver’s side window, a throbbing pain nearly unbearable sprouting within seconds. Your car spun out, glass shattering everywhere and airbag deploying as you gripped onto the steering wheel for dear life.

“Shit shit shit!” You cry, and once your car was at a stand still, you tried your hardest to look out at the scene to decipher what happened. You know your light was green, so someone must’ve run the red. 

Other civilians pulled over and gathered around the accident, and you hoped someone was calling 911. Your vision became blurry as your head was pounding, and you groaned in pain as you tried to open the driver’s side door of your car. Your limbs felt like steel. You were shaky as you attempted to shove at your door, but you realized the door was stuck. You were trapped in your car. 

Panic started to seize your whole body until you heard the faint wail of sirens. 

Good. Someone called for help. Good. Good good good, you repeated in your head. 

The sirens started to get closer, and you heard people shouting once the firetruck, ambulance, and cops arrived on the scene. 

Joel’s seen many nasty accidents before. The most gruesome, heart wrenching things nobody should ever have to see. 

And yet, he didn’t feel panicked when he was rescuing people, being the hero everyone claims he is. But when he saw that the woman who got hit was you, he started to internally panic. He seized up at the sight of you with tears in your eyes, blood dripping down the side of your face from the cuts of shattered glass. 

“We gotta get her out of there. Tommy, hand me the jaws.” 

“Joel, we need to wait for Cap’s orders.” 

“I’ll get them myself.” Joel grits, passing by his Captain to grab the jaws. 

“Miller, what are you doing?” His Captain asks, and Joel looks at the man. 

“I know that woman in that car. Her door is stuck.” Joel’s desperate eyes trail back to your totaled car, and his Captain nods.

“Have Tommy help you.” He says, and Joel nods. Joel motions for Tommy to follow him. 

“Hey sweetheart,” You hear Joel’s voice, and you swear you’re hallucinating until you see he approaches your car in a hurry. “We’re gonna get you out, okay? I promise you’ll be out soon.” 

His voice is soothing, and a sob leaves your throat at his familiar, kind face. 

“You’re gonna hear some loud creakin’ but it’s jus’ me gettin’ the door open.” He warns, and a few seconds later you hear the loud groan of metal being pried with something sturdy. The door pops open a minute later, and Joel reaches over to unbuckle your seatbelt before lifting you out of your car. His muscles ripple beneath you even through all of his gear, careful not to jostle you too much. He didn’t know the extent of your injuries, but he was hoping they weren’t too bad. 

“Hey, you’re okay darlin.’ I got ya. Let’s let the EMT’s check you out to make sure you’re okay.” Joel places you on a stretcher while the EMT’s get to work, asking you a bunch of questions that you try to answer. You’re still a bit shaken up, but they concluded that you’d be fine. You only had a few cuts and bruises, and they cleaned up the blood swiftly. 

You were fine to walk, so Joel gently draped a blanket over your shoulders as you sat on the ambulance’s bumper. He sat down beside you and sighed as you both looked out to the other car that hit you. A police officer came up to you and asked for your information, letting you know the person who hit you was texting and driving. 

“Are they okay?” You ask the officer, and she nods. 

“They’ll be fine. You both got very lucky today.” She says, walking off to talk with the few other officers on the scene. 

“You okay?” Joel asks, and you look up at him. Worry is blatantly evident in his eyes, and it makes you melt. You just met this man hours prior and he cares about you much more than you probably deserve. 

“I’m fine. ‘S gonna fucking suck trying to find a new car, though.” You huff a laugh, and Joel grins as he stares down at his hands knotted in his lap. 

“Listen, I know we just met n’ all, but seeing you like that in your car scared the hell outta me, n’ I’d never ask a lady for permission to kiss her before the first date, but I just—”

You lay a hand on his arm, a smile on your face as you try to stop his rambling. Your sister’s words from earlier replayed themselves in your head: You need to learn to let go of the reins a little bit. The world won’t end if you give up an ounce of control.

And so you did just that. It was time you stopped worrying about the consequences of falling, because fuck did you deserve happiness. You had quite the hunch that Joel could give you just that. 

Any man that saves me from being trapped inside of a car, is a man I’ll let kiss me anyday.” Your voice is gentle as you look at him with a burning desire. 

And he does. He smiles softly and leans in, his plush lips enveloping yours in a steady, calculated motion. 

You’d be a goddamn liar if you said you didn’t feel like you were floating. You gasped softly into the kiss, and a knowing smile curled onto Joel’s lips as he pulled away in the slightest. 

“I feel it too.” And his lips are on yours again. You thread a hand through his thick locks, deepening the kiss marginally, until you hear a throat clear before you. 

“Really, Miller?” One of his coworkers said with a shit-eating grin, and a man, who’s name you think is Tommy, pipes up as well. 

“Ah, so this is the woman you’ve been talkin’ my ear off all day about. Nice to meet you darlin’, I’m Joel’s brother.” He sticks his hand out and you shake it while introducing yourself, turning to Joel after with an eyebrow raised. 

“Talking about me all day, hm?” You tease, and his cheeks burn bright red. He clears his throat and waves his hand out in front of himself, brushing you guys off. 

“Whatever.” He mumbles toward Tommy and his coworker, and they laugh as they begin to walk away. 

“It’s alright. I was talking about you today, too.” You avow to him. 

His eyebrows raise in shock. 

“To who?” He asks. 

“My sister.”

“Mm. N’ what’d she have to say?” He questions, leaning in closer to you once more. 

“She said I should give it a shot with you.” 

“Really? And what do you think about that?” A smirk makes its way onto his plush lips, and your face heats at his question. You decided to be honest with him anyway. 

“Told her I’d give it a shot.” You bite your lip to keep from smiling too hard, heart thumping in your chest as a low chuckle rumbles through his throat. 

“‘M real glad y’did, sweetheart.” He presses his lips to yours once more, butterflies raging through your whole body. Your veins are pumping with excitement and adrenaline, reveling in the man that is Joel Miller. 

Today really wasn’t like most days, but the unwavering sweetness from the handsome stranger behind you at the café truly was the start of something more than you could’ve ever wished for.  

if you want a part two, lmk!

tags: @party-hearses ; @ilovepedro ; @nostalxgic ; @cool-iguana ; @tinygarbage ; @bastardmandennis ; @amanitacowboy ; @punkshort ; @pamasaur ; @nerdieforpedro ; @brittmb115 ; @joelsranchbaby ; @lovely-ateez ; @nandan11

[rafesweetie]

౨ৎ in which john b & jj flirt with barracuda mike’s daughter in order to make it on the cargo plane to south america..

john b and jj had a mission. they needed to make it to south america to save john b’s beloved father — and maybe come back with $400mill in gold. and they needed to do it, ‘like, yesterday’, in john b’s words. they had gone through every possible option, but being pogues in a world where flying and buying a boat are too expensive for their own good, they decide to associate themselves with the rowdy gang of rockfish boathouse.

jj’s father worked for a man named barracuda mike. he was sketchy, to say the least. but, if the boys charmed him enough, they had a chance to make it on the plane filled with contrabands that was going exactly where they presumed john b’s father was.

but it wasn’t barracuda mike they needed to charm. it was you, the mans daughter who was taking her father’s place for the day while he did his ‘work’ — whatever that means.

so, jj and john b walk into the boathouse, one a bit more reluctant than the other. they pause for a second, not spotting the man they were looking for. they’re two obvious outliers in this ratty place — scratching their heads confused, standing right in the way of everything that’s happening. you notice them instantly, just like everyone else. but like your father, you’re not as timid or careless as everyone else.

“um, excuse me, do you need something?” you call out to the boys from the area where people are cutting fish.

the two boys just stare for a bit. you, a beautiful girl who does not look fit to be in this enviornment, asking if they need help? john b elbows jj a few times, as if to say ‘are you seeing her?’. jj elbows him back.

“hey. let me do the talking, mkay? chick’s probably sketchy as fuck,”

john b scoffs, then mutters as they walk over, “oh yeah, her ‘n the ribbons in her hair are so sketchy,”

jj struts up to you, putting on his most charming smile. “hey, sweets,” he starts. slick. “uh, we’re looking for a guy, goes by barracuda mike—“

“my father?” you interrupt. jj can’t stop the way his jaw goes slack. you, barracuda mike’s daughter? nonsense! “whaddya need him for?”

john b tries to turn his gasp into coughs. “holy shit. didn’t know that guy had a daughter,” john b chuckles nervously. where the hell is he supposed to go from here? no way you can get them to south america.

“pretty one, too,” jj adds. oh, so that’s his master plan now. get in your pants to get to south america.

john b instantly plays along. nothing to lose, right? “yeah, stunning,”

you giggle, playing with the knife in your hand that john b and jj only seem to notice now. probably just to chop fish, sure, but with barracuda mike as your father, who knows? “well thank you, boys,” you speak. “what are your names?”

“jj maybank,” jj replies. “uh, my dad used to work for your dad.”

you stare up at him — almost unsettling, as you figure out why you recognize him. there’s an uncomfortable silence, broken only by your realization. “oh!” you say suddenly, lifting the knife in the air as you figure out who he is. john b startles at the sudden knife movement. “you’re luke’s son, yeah? ‘n you were in the news. lost on some island or something?”

“yeah, man, i sure was. s’crazy, had to really toughen up to survive there for a month,” he flexes. it’s almost embarassing, but you find his showing off endearing. “livin’ off uh, fish and cocnuts only,” he shrugs. “no biggie.”

“i was there too,” john b adds. “there after i hijacked a boat and almost got killed. came out unscratched, though,”

oh, they’re adorable. “wow, you two are tough, huh?” you ask.

“mhm, guess you could put it like that,” jj plays nonchalant. “anyway, uh, lemme tell you the truth. we came here to see if we could hitch a ride with your dad to south america,”

“he sold the travel agency,”

jj blinks. “..oh. well, uh, we could still hitch a ride with him and his next load, yeah?”

“..i dunno,” you hesitate. “why’re you wanting to go down there, anyway?”

“look,” john b starts. “my dad was held hostage down there, and we’re worried he’s gonna get killed. we just wanna help him,”

“what do i get in return?” you ask. “i don’t wanna do this for like, free or anything. dunno if i’m even allowed,”

jj smiles. “well shit, uh, i could think of some things—“

“i’m not talking about getting laid, jj,” you interrupt. “hey. how about you just take over my usual job? i take this sketchy-ass fan filled with weed to the plane. you could do that instead, my dad appreciates getting stuff in return. you help him, you get onto the plane,”

“yeah. that works—“ jj starts, holding out his hand to shake on it. john b slaps his hand away.

“no fuckin’ way. im already wanted for like, 7 things, not adding another,”

“i’ve never gotten caught, if that helps ease you,” you chime in.

“that’s ‘cause you’re pretty. police don’t arrest pretty people.”

“mkay, well you’re pretty too, so..”

that’s enough for him to melt into a puddle and agree with you. he nods his head. jj takes your dainty hand and shakes it, giving the back of it a quick kiss before letting go.

“‘ppreciate you,” he says, fake saluting before starting to walk away. “and hey, rethink my offer,” he adds, and you smile. you totally would.

“see you around,” john b says, awkwardly following jj.

they both leave the bar. you instantly huff and deflate, cursing yourself for listening to them. they totally just charmed you and then left you in their dust. typical pogue behaviour.

[jaeyong-sucker]

christmas gift

pairing: lee jeno x male reader

genre: smut and fluff (?)

warnings: unprotected sex, rough sex, blowjobs, face fucking, anilingus, posssessiveness, breeding, voyeurism, vibrators, mirror sex, cum and saliva play

note: not proofread... i just wanted to write something for the christmas season... i'm still cringy in writing dialogues and fluff so please cut me some slack... please forgive the rusty writing... still, merry christmas and happy holidays!

For more than a decade, it has been a tradition for you and your neighbor's families to celebrate Christmas together. What started out as a simple gesture of gratitude to your neighbor for showing your family around town when you moved in years ago flourished into a deep bond that reaches its peak every Christmas. Thanks to your neighbor’s family, you were able to have someone who you spent your elementary and highschool days with. Someone who has witnessed you lose a tooth and have your first crush. He was also the first one to know about your first erection and nocturnal emissions as well as your identity as a gay person. Eyes formed into crescents and nose scrunched, he embraced you as he whispers back that he's gay. That was just the start of your freaky experiments and adventures from being each other's first kiss to jerking each other's dicks. Today wasn't any different, although maybe a bit freakier.

The moment you were done cleaning up the whole place (your families celebrated in Jeno's house and you decided to stay for the night), and probably done with Jeno playing with the vibrator stuck up in your ass throughout the WHOLE celebration, you quickly grabbed Jeno into his room, almost crushing your eardrums from the ear-splitting bang from closing the door. Jeno's smirk grew wider upon seeing your well put-up personality in the celebration earlier melt down into this messed up spirit, desperate to fulfill your carnal desires.

“Mmmhh, Jeno.”

“You were so unbothered a while ago. I'm impressed.” Jeno utters as he watches you hump yourself over his crotch. Leaning back as he is seated on the edge of his bed, he rolls his hips upwards, providing friction to your crotches, pulling long, delicious moans from your mouths.

“Shut up,” you scoff, landing a slap on his exposed chest. “If only there were no one else around, I would've fucked you already,” you talk back, slipping your dress shirt off as you lean back and admire Jeno's body. He looks so innocent and put-together as if he isn't the root of your desires to fuck with him on the spot. With the top of his dress shirt unbuttoned on purpose, almost half of his toned chest and the top of his upper abs are completely exposed. If you were an Omega you'd surely be washed over by a huge wave of heat and might be begging for Jeno to breed you and fill your hole with his pups.

While you were classy in the celebration, you were a fucked out mess in the bedroom to Jeno's delight. You're almost heated, sweaty, and nakedㅡyour lace panties left nothing to the imaginationㅡ while Jeno doesn't even look as troubled as you are. His hair still kempt and his ironed clothes are still on, prolonging the teasing from that stupid vibrator earlier in the occasion.

Jeno remains still, delightfully watching you rub your crotch against his with much desperation and want. His palms reach down to cup both globes of your ass cheeks before squeezing them in a painfully slow pace. Still unsatisfied at how messed up you are already, he plays with your puckered hole with one finger, pressing against the vibrator poking your prostate, making you shudder sensitively at his salacious touches. In response, you slam your lips against his, sucking his lips and tongue before moving to his neck. You dig your teeth before sucking in that spot you know and love so, so well, pulling a chain of deep moans from Jeno. As you leave a mark, Jeno (who probably couldn't hold his unbothered persona) throws you to the bed before taking off his clothes in a heated fashion.

“I’ve been waiting so long for this, baby,” he utters in a low voice as he gets on his knees before moving closer to your face. He taps his erect, veiny, leaking cock on your lips with a knowing smirk on his face. Not needing a verbal command, you quickly took Jeno's cock inside your mouth before bobbing your head on it. Being an expert at sucking his cock, you knew all the ways to capture Jeno's bliss whenever you give him a blowjob. You knew how to take his huge cock down your throat while tonguing on every vein and nook that makes him want to bury his cock deeper into your throat.

“Fuck, good boy,” he moans gutturally, throwing his head back before reaching for your hair. He gives your hair a few strokes before rolling his hips, thrusting into your mouth. His praise churning butterflies in your stomach, you upped his pleasure by sucking on his tip and tonguing on the frenulum. The action immediately aroused Jeno as you feel his grip on your hair tighten, and his cock harden while beads of sweat form all over his body. Pushing it even further, you cups Jeno's balls with your hands and damn were they heavy. Jeno rarely touches himself since he only enjoys it when he's around you. Thank god his college schedule is so busy and you're surely up for a huge explosion of cum tonight.

Moaning louder and wilder (he pays no mind since his walls are soundproof), he pulls out before laying on his back. You quickly hoisted yourself on top of him with your ass on Jeno's face before returning to sucking his angry cock. He reaches for his phone to put the vibrator to a high setting before landing a kiss on your puckered rim. Immediately, the vibrations send zaps of pleasure all over your body. With the vibrator hitting your prostate deliciously, you tremble as you suck Jeno's cock more urgently, lapping on the forming beads of precum over his slit.

“J-Jeno, fuck it feels so good,” you squeal as Jeno plays with your rim as he takes the entirety of your dick inside his mouth. He expertly takes all of your cock that it reaches the back of his throat (he sucked you off far more than you gave him blowjobs), humming and moaning loudly around your already sensitive dick, causing you to moan sluttilly. His one hand stretches your hole while the other gave your hanging balls the sweetest massages. Jeno just sucks you so good that all you could do is moan and squeal at every action he does that you neglect his throbbing cock, which gets harder and wetter as you moan more for him.

“Feels good baby? Tell daddy how it feels, come on.” He lands a slap on your thick ass cheek before burying his face inside your ass. He languidly inserts his tongue before lapping on the sweetest nooks and crannies, while jerking off your dick. The vibrator gets set into its maximum, sending your mind into haywire.

“Fuck, it feels so good!” “You’re so good, daddy!” “Shit, daddy, I want more!”

Jeno's cock hardens and leaks angrily as you sluttilly moan out at his actions. He smirks as he eats you out harder and thrusts the vibrator into your prostate while jerking off your tip with his thumb circling on your leaking slit.

“Fuck, you taste so fucking sweet,” he groans in pleasure as he spits on your puckered hole. Drool covering his lips, he spanks your thick ass once again before eating you out harder like a starved animal. The pleasure from the vibrator sweetly hitting your prostate and Jeno eating you out while deliciously jerking your dick is so intense that all you do is moan and irresistibly thrust into his hand. The room already smells like sweat and you know you're barely halfway with Jeno.

“Shit, daddy, I'm cumming!” You squeal wantonly as you squirt uncontrollably over Jeno's torso. Smirking, Jeno jerks you off harder and faster, intensifying your release that you squirt out more fluids that soiled Jeno's sheets. “Daddy, it feels so good,” you tear up as you hump Jeno's abs, seeking for friction. Not even taking the time to recover, you face Jeno and straddle his lap before kissing him messily. Jeno immediately reciprocates, pulling you closer by the neck before kissing back lusciously. He sits up, wrapping you in his arms as he kisses you deeper, taking control with his tongue swirling with yours and your lips rhythmically moving, satisfying and fueling your lust at the same time. You wrap your legs around Jeno's waist while your hands find their way to his broad muscled shoulders and back. As if on cue, Jeno grinds his aching erection against yours. He moans as your cocks grind against each other, releasung spurts of sticky precum.

Moaning, Jeno smoothly moves from your lips to your neck before kissing and sucking on the sensitive region. He bites and leaves multiple marks that'll probably fade in a week or two. But you didn't mind. Everything Jeno does is just sinfully pleasing that you sqeual and tug on his hair as he thrusts the vibrator deeper and harder inside you while inserting four fingers to stretch out your needy hole. Jeno has fingered you and jerked you off for so long that you forgot when you last felt the sensation of his cock inside you. College is a bastard.

“J-Jeno, put it in please,” you whimper shakily against his lips. You pull him off from your neck as you look at him needily. “I want you to fuck me now, please,” you plead as you grind your ass against his hard cock. He doesn't say a word.

“Mmmhh,” he moans deeply, leaning back from the friction caused by your ass cheeks gratifyingly brushing against his huge length. He closes his eyes and moans, grinding his cock deliberately against your rim to tease you.

“Jeno, please,” you whimper, planting pecks on his lips and neck. “You want this, too, right, daddy?” He leans forward, sucking on your nipples while grinding harder on your ass. “Let’s fuck now, please, daddy.”

Daddy. The word that scratches Jeno's horny brain in the right places. The mention of the word made him pull out the vibrator before lifting your hips, hole just right above his head before generously lubing his cock. Gently, he helps you sink down his tall, thick length. Immediately, you place your hand on his shoulders for leverage. Damn it, the stretching earlier wasn't enough to take his humongous length.

“Take your time, baby,” he whispers before pecking your lips. “We’ll go according to your own pace,” he whispers again, before making out with you passionately with his hands gently guiding your hips. Moaning nonstop, you plant your lips on his before kissing ardently as you slowly take Jeno's whole cock. As you kiss, you roam your hands over Jeno's firm, sculpted chest, giving them tender squeezes before touching his chiseled six-pack abs and well-defined biceps. Jeno delightfully moans, already deep in pleasure as his whole cock gets buried inside your warmth. He wraps his arms around you, pulling away as he moans into your ear. He slightly rolls his hips, burying his cock deeper inside you, pulling a chain of blissed out moans from Jeno.

He pecks your lips oncd again before looking at your tenderly.

“I love you.” He confesses before pecking your lips once again.

“I love you, too.” You reply, tears welling in your eyes, with your chest filling with warmth.

Your lips meet once again, now tender and affectionate compared to your previous ones that were rushed and fiery. Jeno pulls you closer by your nape, moaning as he kisses you lovingly. You grind against each other, touching each other's bodies out of warmth and adoration, equally receiving warmth deeper than physical pleasures. You trace Jeno's muscles, tenderly memorizing every detail of muscle while he lovingly touches your thick thighs and love handlesㅡwhich you’re deeply insecure of.

Pulling away from the breathtaking kiss, you press your forehead to Jeno's before pecking his lips. “Make love to me,” you whisper against his lips to which he responds immediately by gently thrusting his hips up, his tip hitting your prostate perfectly. He holds you by your hips, doing all the work as he plants his feet on the bed to leverage his thrusts. Jeno thrusts at a moderate pace while kissing your neck lovingly.

“How does it feel, baby,” he asks tenderly as he pecks your lips.

“I love it, daddy,” you squeal, digging your nails into Jeno's shoulders. “I wanna be under you.”

Gently, Jeno lays you on your back before lubing his cock once again. He inserts his cock inside your needy hole before moderately pounding into you.

“You are so beautiful, baby,” Jeno shakily moans between thrusts. “God, I can't believe I have you,” he cups your face before pecking your lips. “You’re so fucking perfect, fuck,” he moans as he thrusts slightly faster and deeper in your warm walls. Jeno was already great in fucking you but his words just make you more aroused at the moment, with his loving, piercing gaze making you wetter with more precum leaking out of your dick.

“Feel good, baby,” he asks. “Because you make me feel so, so fucking good, love” he deeply groans before reaching your hand tightly gripping the sheets before lacing his fingers with yours.

“Y-Yes, Jeno, it feels so good!” You whimper, arching your back, reacting to Jeno thrusting his thick cock deeper inside you. “You always know how to make me feel good,” you moan loudly as you look at him with your blissed out expression. “Fuck me faster please! I wanna see ourselves in the mirror!” You squeal, clenching tightly around Jeno's hard length.

Louder moans erupted from Jeno's throat as he positions you on all fours facing the full length mirror in front of his bed. “Fuck, this is so hot, babe,” he moans as he taps his cock on your rim before entering. You both moan at the sweet penetration that Jeno pulls you up, close to his body that you feel his muscular torso and abs from behind. “I love you so much,” he moans as before making out with you lovingly, while gently grinding his cock against your prostate. You kiss back eagerly, grinding back, meeting his soft thrusts, eliciting blissed out moans from the both of you.

While making out, Jeno thrusts faster and harder, reaching deeper inside your tight hole. You both pull away, moaning shamelessly in bliss as waves of pleasure travels throughout your sensitive bodies. After leaving a hickey on your neck, Jeno instructs you to look into the mirror, to which you immediately comply.

“We look hot, don't we?” He asks, nibbling your ears while playing with your taut nipples. You moan sweetly, taking in the sinful yet pleasing moving image in the mirror, apart from Jeno's thrusts increasing in pace and intensity. You couldn't help but lick your lips and drool at the sight in front of you. You and Jeno, perfectly paired for each other. Just as you thought what you saw in the mirror got you heated enough, Jeno smirks before inserting fingers in your mouth while his other hand reaches for your leaking dick before giving it lascivious pumps.

“Fuck, baby, how could you be so tight?” Jeno grunts into your ears as he drills your hole deeper. “This feels so perfect, like we're having sex for the first time,” he moans, reaching a new depth manifested by a bulge in your stomach. The sight is just dirty. Jeno fucking you wildly from behind with his fingers in your mouth and his hand jerks off your dick. You looking like a completely whored up slut, jolting from Jeno's actions and pulling his hair from extreme arousal. Sweat drips from your temples to your torsos, basically coating your bodies.

“Daddy, I wanna ride you, please!” You squeal sluttilly, to which Jeno responds by sitting on the edge of the bed with his cock still inside you. “Wanna make you feel good,” you whimper as you prop yourself over Jeno while still facing the mirror. Planting your feet on the bed, you swiftly slide down all over Jeno's length, bouncing immediately over his cock. Loud, lascivious moans erupted from your throats, not caring if anyone could hear you.

“Daddy, you're so fucking big!” You squeal with your hole tightly clenched around Jeno's throbbing, leaking length. His huge dick just stretches you everytime he penetrates you. His cock just perfectly hits all the right nooks and crevices of your tight hole and you think you will never be used to Jeno's length. Fucking yourself into his huge cock always feels like your first time being penetrated by him. It's like him claiming your virginity in every fucking session you have.

“Daddy, you're so deep inside me! I can feel it in my stomach!” You both moan upon seeing your stomach being bulged by Jeno's huge cock in the mirror. Not able to keep his hands to himself, Jeno again jerks for your dick with one hand, while the other reaches for your neck, giving it a moderate squeeze as you ride him wildly.

“You’re so fucking beautiful riding my cock like this, baby,” he moans, jerking your sensitive dick faster. “You’re such a good boy, making his daddy feel so fucking good,” he utters, nibbling your earlobe before kissing your neck.

He meets your gaze in the mirror. “Who’s my good boy,” he seductively asks, thrusting his cock deeply once. Too caught up in pleasure, you sob in sweet bliss, bouncing harder and faster, impaling your hole, stabbing your prostate with Jeno's large cock, creating nasty sounds of your skins slapping that it echoes across the room with your ragged breathing and lascivious moans. You throw your head back, unable to bounce on his cock, prompting Jeno to lift you by your legs and thrusting upwards, abusing your prostate with his unforgiving thrusts.

“You are fucking mine, baby,” he growls, spanking your ass harshly, probably leaving a handprint. “You are only mine, bitch, yes?!” He grunts, pummeling into your hole deeper and faster than he has ever been. You could only moan from pleasure and hold on tightly on his shoulders. Jeno smirks at the sight of you moaning dumbly, uttering incoherent phrases brought by him fucking you deliciously.

He presses you to the wall before thrusting upwards relentlessly. In response, you wraps your legs tightly around his waist, securing his deep, animalistic thrusts. Growling, he buries his head to your neck before kissing, licking, biting, and adding a new set of marks from your neck to your shoulders and chest. He doesn't care if it'll fade or not. It's him marking his possession.

“Who’s your daddy,” he asks, gazing at you intensely. His gaze leaves you weak and melting from his actions. Too aroused to even speak, you close your eyes and throw your head back to let Jeno use you and fuck you relentlessly. Before you could even throw your head back, Jeno grabs you by the jaw, making you meet his now more intense gaze.

“I said, who's your fucking daddy?! Answer me, dumb bitch!” He growls, wrapping a hand around your neck.

“I-It’s you!” You manage to whimper. “You, Jeno! You are my daddy!” You were practically screaming, your squeals probably penetrating the soundproof wall or even heard by the other neighbors. You couldn't care less. Jeno just confessed his love to you and fucking you wildly like a beast.

“That’s right, dumb slut,” he scoffs, landing a soft slap on your cheek. “You belong to me as much as I belong to you, right? Put that in your fucking head.” He growls before throwing you back into the bed.

He hovers on top of you, putting your legs over his broad shoulders before returning to drilling your abused hole. You squeal shamelessly while he grunts louder, the volume of the sounds of bliss growing louder as you approach your climax.

“Are you cumming,” Jeno shakily asks, noticing your leaking dick twitching. His thrusts are not as fast and deep and hard. He grunts, his thrusts becoming inconsistent.

“Yea, cumming!” You squeal, trembling as your orgasm arrives, hitting you hard like a truck. Thick ribbons of cum spurted from your dick. Shuddering, you came messily between your bodies. Your cum coated your and Jeno's torso’s with some even reaching Jeno's face.

Jeno grunts harder and louder, moaning against your lips as he finally explodes his release inside your tight, warm walls. Trembling from his hard orgasm, he presses his lips against yours, making out with you messily with drool and cum all over your lips. He cums generously, flooding your hole with his hot, sticky cum. He moans and whines into the kiss, as he becomes sensitive with the continuous ejaculation of his cum that a lot of it even leaks out of your pink hole. He reaches for your hand and laces your fingers together as you sloppily make out while recovering from your tremendous orgasms. 

Once everything got stable, Jeno pulls away from the kiss, landing another peck on your lips before slowly pulling his sensitive cock out of your hole. He hisses, glans still sensitive from the earlier orgasm, as he jerks off the last contents of his balls. Jeno leans down, burying his head in your cum-filled ass before lapping at and slurping all of his hot cum and licking your hole clean before licking your release all over your body before leaning back towards you for another kiss. 

He moans as he plays with the mixed semen and mixes it with his saliva before transferring it to you in the kiss. He inserts his tongue in your mouth, ensuring you suck all the remnants of saliva and cum from him. Jeno pulls away, landing a peck on your lips and a kiss on your forehead before laying beside you. 

You pull his arm, laying his bicep down the bed before using it as a pillow. With his free arm, Jeno holds you close by the waist before he lays on his side. He plants a kiss on the back of your head, making a sound of contentment before locking his feet with yours. 

“How are you, baby?” He asks softly, caressing your body gently. 

“Happy,” you smile, “although a bit sore.” “But I am happy nonetheless.” You scoot closer, feeling more of Jeno's warmth, while watching the starry sky through his glass wall overlooking the neighborhood. 

“What I said earlier, I meant it, baby. I love you and I want to be your boyfriend.” He whispers sincerely. You turn around to face him and see an equally sincere expression on his face. 

“I meant what I said too, love. I was just waiting for you to say it first.” You answer back, landing a peck on his lips. “Actually, I have already known for a long time. I was just waiting for you to say it.” You kiss Jeno on the forehead, making him blush and flustered, a rare moment for Jeno. 

“I didn't know when to say it. I guess I said it the way I didn't expect.” He giggles, flustered. “But really, I love you so much, Y/N.” 

“I love you so, so much, too, Jeno.” You give him another forehead kiss, which he enjoys. 

“Iloveyouiloveyouiloveyou,” he pulls you close, planting kisses all over your face. 

“There. Treat your boyfriend with kisses and cuddles after fucking him like a wild rabbit a while ago.” You utter, acting sassily. 

He pulls away, sighing and smiling in contentment. “What a perfect Christmas present. A boyfriend.”

He sits both of you up before straddling your waist. “I love you,” he smiles, eyes formed into crescents before leaning in for a short make out. 

“Actually, I have another wish for Christmas,” he whispers, eyes forming into that of a puppy’s, acting cute which he rarely does. 

“And what is it, handsome?” You grin, pretending you don't know of this secret of his. 

“I want you to top me,” he says with puppy eyes without a hint of shyness or reservation. “Please?” He asks, like a good boy. 

You land a spank on his firm buttocks. “Get on all fours now.” 

Like a happy puppy wagging his tail, he eagerly gets into said position, ready to obey your next command. 

Boy, this'll be a night for the both of you. 

It'll also be a night for Jeno's gym buddy, named Jaemin,  living across the street, who just came from watching you from his window. 

[maroonswan]

Imagine pampering pro hero!Izuku Midoriya after he rushes in the door late for date night, covered in a thick layer of the day's sweat and grime. A fresh bouquet of flowers clutched gingerly in his scarred hands as he apologizes for being such a mess.

He immediately lauches into a tangent of an explanation, rambling about how he had wanted to get back home as soon as possible but had still wanted to get you something special. That he had neglected washing up at the agency in order to run by the flower shop before it closed, and that despite the late hour he still fully indended to take you out tonight (after grabbing a quick shower).

"There're still a few bars open." He continues. "We could grab your favorite cocktails. We could dance. And, maybe after that we could get some fast food or I can cook you dinner! I'm sorry, [Y/N]. I know it's not exactly what you were hoping for, but I promise I'll make it up to-"

You cut off him before he could finish, pulling him in to a tight hug; your face burried deep in his soiled chest, muffling your laughter as he freezes in his tracks.

Midoriya can't help it. With you, his worries seem small. He takes a deep breath relishing your sweet clean scent as a smile comes to his lips.

"It's okay, it's okay. I'm just glad your home, Izu." You sigh. "Besides, I had other plans on how I want to spend the night."

"You do?" He asks, genuinely curious, feeling your self-satisfied hum rolling through his chest. Such a coy non-answer. He knows you're up to something but decides to play along. He's kind of tired of asking questions anyway.

"Whatever you want, lovley" your boyfreind agrees whole heartedly, kissing your forehead and making you giggle with excitement. You always appreciated Midoriya's trust and intend to show him so tonight.

Without another word, you gently take Izuku's hand in yours and lead him to your shared bedroom.

Thinking about giving Midoriya a handjob after a hot bath and a full body massage. The epsom salts having worked wonders on his sore muscles; the remaining knots having melted away under your touch. Yet, he knew he was done for the second you drop your rode to reveal you were wearing nothing underneath. His cock immediately swelling with blood as you crawled your way on top of him, straddling him, your ass pressing into the corded muscles of his thighs.

Izuku is still covered in oil, glistening in the golden glow of the candle light. His stares at you mesmerized as you watch him with an equal sence of wonder, near hypnotized by the nervous rise and fall of his shining abdomen and chest.

He's so wonderfully gorgeous, like an angel or a demi-god.

How could you not serve his every need?

Izuku breath catches you gently grasp your hand around him. It's warm and so soft, so smooth. He can't bring himself to protest as your start stroke him just way he likes it, your grip light but sqeezing tighter the closer you get to the tip; fingers running lusciously across the vein on the underside; the tugging of his lubed cock making such lude fapping noises.

Izuku squeezes his eyes shut as he moans openly, slutilly. He feels like he's melting in your hands even as all the muscles in his body tightened up again; your other hand massaging his balls as you continued to pump.

He knows he isn't going to last long. Not when it feels this good, when you've been so thoughtful, when everytime he reopens his eyes he's greeted again by your perfect body and jiggling tits.

You're spoiling him, and he's helpless to stop you.

"Fuck," he slurs. Better words having formed on the edge of his lips but never having fully come through.

He cums so quick in your hands, and it's alot. Warm and shooting out of him in seemingly endless ropes with each replenishing pump.

Izuku's not at all ashamed. If anything, he feels relaxed. His muscles are completely slack, and if it wasn't for his many scars he would have had a hard time beleiving he ever was hurt before.

He turns to you as you curl up beside him. His gaze soft and full of love.

"Thank you, baby."

[bambrinaa]

PLEASE WELCOME...PROFESSOR!RAFE💐

INTRODUCTION ᡴꪫ‎

ᨳິ‎professor!rafe who was quite often grumpy, walking into class with a cup of stale cafeteria coffee, a deep frown set on his face.

ᨳິ‎professor!rafe who had a bad day everyday. that was until you started auditing his class. a pretty lil' student who was interested in the literature he was teaching. of course, he didn't completely lighten up. but he was intrigued.

ᨳິ‎professor!rafe spent a few months of watching you in class, seeing you blush and get giddy whenever he praises your correct answers and brilliant questions, he called you back to stay after class for catch up work. which is when he pinned you between him and his desk, hand on the nape of your neck as he kissed you — whispering about how long he's been wanting to do this.

ᨳິ‎professor!rafe who, from then onwards, was fucking you every chance he got. teachers lounge during class hours, after class, in the library in the dusty aisle no one ventures to.

ᨳິ‎professor!rafe who will sit you in his lap as he grades your paper, lecturing you for every bad thing you did. "I mean, what type of grammar is this? do you even pay attention during my classes or are you too busy thinkin' about my dick?"

ᨳິ‎professor!rafe who on a good day he'll let you cockwarm him as he grades papers, immediately failing anybody with a name he recognises from the times you've cried about how they were so mean to you.

ᨳິ‎professor!rafe who has a soft spot for you, and only you. it shouldn't be noticeable, but people certainly saw it. he was less bossy, less rude. he gave you extensions.

ᨳິ‎professor!rafe who will take it upon himself to spank you when you have the audacity to turn in something so, so bad, that it genuinely makes him mad. "the fuck were you thinking? did you proof-read at all?!"

ᨳິ‎professor!rafe who takes time to tutor you after his spankings. starting by making you write a two page essay on something, knelt under his desk with his face buried between your thighs. everytime your eyes flutter away from your laptop screen, he pulls away from your dripping pussy to scold you.

ᨳິ‎professor!rafe who does genuine tutoring with you too, wanting you to actually get better so you don't fail his class.

ᨳິ‎professor!rafe who, before your history class begins, walks into the classroom to leave a single rose on your desk. he's a lover at heart.

ᨳິ‎english literature!professor who uses his profession to his advantage, leaving little love notes in your bag, desk, jacket, anywhere you'll find them, and others won't.

ᨳິ‎professor!rafe who signs off all notes with a very, very indecipherable '- R.C' with a sloppy, uneven heart next to it.

ᨳິ‎professor!rafe who will messily kiss you against the door of his classroom, two minutes until his class begins. the second he hears the chatter from the hall grow closer, he shoves you off, wiping your lips with his thumb to get rid of your messy, smudged lipstick. he then gently pushes you towards your seat, sitting at his desk and prepping for his lecture. he then throws you glances all the way through it, making sure not to stand face forward for too long so his other, suspecting students don't see how hard he is through his slacks.

ᨳິ‎possessive!professor!rafe who leaves marks all over your neck and your thighs constantly, for people to see out of your low cut blouses and plaited skirts.

ᨳິ‎overprotective!professor!rafe who has to bite his tongue to resist the urge to saunter up to any man who had the audacity to talk to you.

ᨳິ‎jealous!professor!rafe who pounds you from the back in his office, your chest on the smooth wood of his desk. his hand reaching forwards, pulling you up to his chest by your hair. "you think some fuckin' fratboy can fuck you like I can? hm? answer me."

ᨳິ‎professor!rafe who is actually a complete sweetheart, on the inside, very, very deep down.

                                                

                                                 ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹

© WEBDOLLZZ 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒.

[biggest-geo-oogami-enjoyer]

can you write relationship headcanons for hyugo please? he's so underrated oh my god- btw love your blog, i'm so happy there's more people in the tkatb fandom <33 thank you for your service!!

My Exaltation (Hyugo x MC/Reader - Relationship HCs)

Thank you for the ask, Anon! And especially thank you for the kind words! :D

- Signed by biggest-geo-oogami-enjoyer Exaltation: a feeling or state of extreme happiness. Trigger Warnings: NSFW and sexual mentions (nothing too crazy though).

A/N: (Check down the bottom for more info: but here's the server skeleton I've made: Link: TKATB Server).

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SFW

I see Hyugo as somebody very affectionate, like a puppy. (He literally gives puppy-dog eyes like c’mon). Also is capable of becoming as feral as one.

Definitely will be the type to walk up to you randomly and beg on his knees request to do something, considering I feel like part of the reason he has so much on his plate is due to the fact he can't stand having the same routine day after day. He needs spice. And you'll happily oblige.

Also very protective. Hell, this guy killed someone(s), so he’d be more than willing to defend you if it comes to that. Owns weapons 110%. Is also very capable at using them.

Hides all his suspicious activity from you. Not because he doesn't trust you, but mostly due to the fact he doesn't want you to get involved.

When If you move in together, he will make sure to enroll you in self-defense/weapon training classes (or he'll teach you himself, who cares about the law he's committed about 56 crimes in the span of a month /jkjk).

Is alarmingly strong, for someone of his stature and build, he often ensures to work out, because, well, he never knows when someone will come after him now does he?

Is paranoid about your safety 25/8, he's alert and vigil every waking moment. Ever since the cinema incident, he's been freaking out internally. (What if they find out about you? What if you go missing too?). Will hide it though, he can't afford you to be scared of him, now can he?

Crime hustles aside, Hyugo is genuinely a very loving and #goldenretriever boyfriend. Will use petnames as much as humanely possible, usually the flirty ones like 'darling'.

If you are a clothesnapper, expect him to start stealing back, eventually both your wardrobes will be swapped. You both don't care though, because both your horny asses will be relishing in the smell of each other in secret teehee.

Will be pulling the biggest 'Aww you look so adorable!!!!!' face known to man the first time you stole his clothes (probs a sweater or overshirt). Will tease you about it.

Makes puns 24/7, actually a master at them, it's kind of unnerving.

If you're ticklish, do not, under ANY circumstance, let him find out. You will be on the verge of dying each time he tickles you.

Hyugo's heart melts if you wanna watch his favourite movies with him: "Uh...Oh my God! MC! The new *insert movie title* came out...wanna watch it together this Sunday?" *insert massive puppy dog eyes, a cutesy little pout and two slender hands clasped together in a praying motion*

You agree, because...of fucking course you will.

Doesn't care enough to cook most of the time, but will try for you. :]

If you're cooking (or baking desserts), he'll spawn right behind you and hug you.

Will make you game with him, you don't have a choice, this guy needs action in his life (totally not like he doesn't already have any right-)

He's the little spoon, loves being smushed into your tits/pecs pressed against your torso, it means he can hear your heartbeat. It means he can fall asleep knowing you're safe.

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NSFW (I am aware these may seem short. But. uh. I'm rusty cut me some slack).

I see Hyugo as a power bottom, or even a switch. (Emphasis on the 'power' part, this guy is strong).

Is capable of serving cunt/cock scarily well. Like you have no clue how he got this good.

Don't pull his hair too hard, a bit'll make him whine groan, but he doesn't seem the type to be into hair pulling unlike Sol and Crowe teehee

More funny during sex imo, depending on how intimate it is. If it's a sudden need then he'll be silent as the grave and going all out on dishing his horniness out, but if you're both chill and happy then he's much more jovial.

Masterful at aftercare, will murmur praises for how good you were, how much he loves you, etc. into your collarbone.

You are everything to him, his lover, his vehement source of peace, and his exaltation.

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A/N: So, @hayooni mentioned that we should probably have a Discord server or something, so I made one. It's pretty mid so far, and I'm definitely going to hand off admins to other people who're superior when it comes to Discord server making, but hell, how about we make sure this community is as nontoxic and interconnected as possible. We're the OGs and veterans of this fandom; we might as well make it a fucking good one.

Link: TKATB Server

[dreamy-demons]

Where Did You Sleep Last Night?

Pairing: Charles Lee Ray x Female Reader

CW: rough sex, rough oral (male receiving), orgasm denial, cheating, degrading, lots of insults, bad dom etiquette, slut shaming, kinda sorta dubcon(??? Could be read that way), overall very toxic relationship lol

Summary: Reader ditches Charles on a night out and hooks up with a stranger. This is the aftermath.

Word count: ~2000

He's the first thing you see when you walk through the door.

It's 3am and he sits illuminated only by the table lamp, casting harsh shadows across his face. He stands and slinks toward you and you try to swallow the fear that shoots through you.

"Where the fuck did you go last night?"

Eyes down, you try to push past him. He pulls you back.

"Oh no you're not walking away from me again. You bailed on me, I think I deserve to know where you went."

“I had to get some air, okay? I got some food and stayed at a friend's house. Not that I owe you an explanation.”

Charles had been a prick at the bar last night. You were sick of him flirting with other women and thought it would be fun seeing the look on his face when you gave him a taste of his own medicine. seeing him now, you realise it was not the case.

“Awww you needed to get some air?” He scoffs, “Is that what they're calling fucking some random prick from a bar these days? If you're going to play smart with me you can fuck off and sleep on the streets. I can find another whore like you on any corner of the city.”

"Do you want me to beg, is that what you want? Oh, please, Chucky, how could I ever make it up to you." Anger momentarily cuts through your fear, and you sink down to your knees, hands up in mock prayer.

"You've got to be shitting me." He groans, rolling his eyes. "Get up, you're embarrassing yourself…"

His words trail off as he looks down at you, so fragile beneath him. When his eyes meet yours something stirs within them. A hand grasps your chin and his eyes bore into you. Your heart skips a beat.

"Are you sure there's nothing I can do?" You place a hand on his thigh.

"Let's see… You be a good girl and get me off real good tonight, and then maybe I'll forgive you. Okay? Maybe. How's that sound?" You quickly nod, sliding your hand further up his thigh until your hand ghosts over his dick. You feel his body tense.

"Shit, you're eager." He laughs pulling you up from the ground and dragging you across to the couch. Leaning back, he shoves you to your knees between his legs.

You make quick work freeing him from his pants. Spitting on your hand, you give him a few languid strokes before taking him into your mouth.

"God, that pretty fucking mouth of yours." He groans, possessive fingers grasping your hair. You work at his cock, taking him in deep, exploring him with your tongue. Charles is holding your hair so tightly it hurts, and you have no choice but to keep eye contact with him to alleviate the pain. His eyes bore into you, frenzied.

"Did you suck his dick like this too, babe?"

You whimper around him, not answering his question. He pushes your head down to the hilt, nose to his pelvis.

"I asked you a fucking question."

You struggle to let out an "mmhmm" as you nod. He pulls you off, spit dripping down your chin, and leans in close.

"You dirty fucking whore." He tuts. "This is the only cock you'll ever need, ya hear me? Because you seem to have forgotten that."

You're still gasping for air, but he pulls you back onto him.

"By the end of tonight babe, I promise you, you will never forget again."

He uses you like a toy, rutting into your throat, and all you can do is try not to choke and keep your aching jaw slack. Your eyes water with every thrust, leaving streaks of mascara running down your face. A thumb comes up to swipe away your tears, and if you didn’t know him better you’d almost be mistaken in thinking this was a sweet gesture. His eyes darken and his movements become erratic.

"That's. Right. Bitch. Cry. For. Me." He grunts out between thrusts. It’s not long before he spills deep into your throat. Charles pulls your head off him, and you make sure to keep eye contact while you swallow every drop.

He brings you up into his lap. You snuggle into his chest and he pets your hair. You relax, knowing you've satisfied him. He's forgiven you. Everything is okay and… wait. Why is he petting your hair? He sucks at aftercare. Fat chance he'd ever be petting you like this after the fight you just had. You pull back and he's grinning down at you, eyes dark.

"Oh you- you really thought" he can't get through his sentence without laughing. "Come on, did ya really think I would let you off that easily? Cause you really fucked me over back there, doll."

"I'm sorry Chuck, really. I'll be a good girl from now on."

"You think you've learned your lesson already?"

You nod, with the best innocent face you can give him.

"Yeahhh, I'm just not convinced. You need to be punished. And you know what?"

A hand slides between you, fingertips brushing past your stomach causing goosebumps all over your body. Your breath hitches when he slips under your skirt.

"I think you want to be punished."

You blush, averting your gaze.

"Look at how wet you are! I just had you choking on my dick til you couldn't breathe and you're getting off on it. You really are a whore." Two fingers slide into your hole, and he wastes no time finding that spot inside of you that makes you mewl. His thumb makes languid circles on your swollen clit, while he slowly pumps his fingers into you.

"More Chucky, please." You moan.

"More? You want more?"

"Please. I need it." You plead. It's nowhere near enough stimulation to get you close and it's driving you crazy. Instead of speeding up, he stops his movements entirely.

"Sorry doll, I don't think you deserve more right now."

You grip his shirt, whimpering. Your hips grind on their own desperately wanting him to start moving again.

"Stop fucking squirming." He growls, and you will yourself to stop. "Tell me again. What do you want?"

"I want more, Chucky. I love the way you feel inside of me, I want to cum on your fingers. I need it."

His fingers start to resume their motions, back at the same teasing pace.

"Ya know, I think I'm liking taking my time here." He grins.

Against all your better judgement you try again to move your hips, and you're met with a look that sends ice shooting down your spine.

Before you have time to react his hands are around your throat. You try to squeak out an apology but his grip is too tight. Your heart is beating so hard it feels like it's going to burst out your chest. Your life is completely in his hands. 'He could really do it right now.' You think to yourself, 'It was only a matter of time. Why did I ever think I was any different than all the people he killed?'

You pull at his wrists trying to pry him off you, pleading with your eyes. But he's stronger than you. And he's enjoying this far too much

"I already told you once to stop fucking squirming. You better think real hard before you try doing that again."

Finally he lets you go and you collapse against him. The air burns your lungs as you suck in big gulps.

"What do we say?"

"Thank you. Thank you so much Chucky, it'll never happen again I promise." God, how much more pathetic could you get?

"That was so fucking hot, my dick's already hard again. How are we gonna fix this now?"

Bastard. Of course he got off on that.

"Fuck me, please, I need it. I want to make you feel good. I'll do anything."

He finds his way back to your pussy and pumps quickly, fingers curling into you.

"Let's get this cunt nice and wet." He says, as if you weren't already more wet than you'd ever been.

"And don't even think about cumming without my permission, got that?"

His thumb on your clit moves in exactly the right way, tight circles that send shocks through your entire body. You rest your head on his chest, unable to do anything but let the pleasure wash over you. Your walls flutter around him as he rubs against the right spots with each thrust.

"God, I'm so close! Please, please can I cum now?" You're sure you've dripped all over his lap by this point. You don't think you can hold back for much longer. You're right there you just need- NO!

That asshole! He stopped. Again. The strangled cry of frustration you let out sends him into a laughing fit.

"Sorry babe, want you cumming on my dick tonight. That's kinda the whole point of this lesson. Hands and knees. Now."

You scramble off his lap and get on all fours. Chucky flips up your skirt and smears the wetness from his fingers all over your ass.

You feel his head nudge at you, but instead of entering, he slides through your folds, causing frustrated curses to fall from your lips.

"You look so fucking gorgeous like this." He groans, "This is where you belong. Spread open, dripping, desperate for my cock."

He keeps dragging through your folds, enjoying the way you twitch when he grazes your clit. Then, without warning, he sheaths himself into you in one smooth stroke. Both of you let out a groan as he holds himself deep within you, the feeling of being so full leaving you momentarily breathless. When he starts thrusting his movements are rough, hips slamming against your ass.

"You wouldn't even know what to do without me, you know that, doll? Nobody else fucks you the way I do.”

A stroke hits you in a way that makes you yelp. He takes notice, adjusting his angle so that every thrust nudges the bundle of nerves inside you.

“Nobody else is going to satisfy this needy pussy, and you'll come crawling back here begging for me."

You never understand why it turned you on to hear him talk like this, but he was right. You loved him having power over you. Your little hookup earlier that night had completely paled in comparison to what Charles was doing to you now. You hadn't even come close to cumming with that guy.

Even without him touching your clit, you can already feel your climax approaching. You feel his weight press down on you as he leans to whisper in your ear.

“Fuck, baby. I want to fill up this sweet cunt.”

“Can I cum now?” You whine, tears pricking at your eyes. Please Chucky, I'm so close. I'm yours, baby, please. Let me cum with you.”

Charles lets out a pleased groan and his fingers find their way back to your clit. It only takes a few swipes for you to cum with a strangled cry, arms giving out beneath you. The spasms of your soft walls are enough to send Charles over the edge and you feel the warmth of his seed spread within you.

“That's it Doll, take it all. Good slut.” He rides out his orgasm and then pulls out, slapping you on the ass.

After catching your breath you sit up to find him lounging back, already reaching for a cigarette. Typical. You throw your arms around his waist and lay against his chest.

“I saw you leave with him, that little fucking prick.” He lights his smoke and takes a drag. “I followed you back to his shitty excuse for a home. I know where he lives”

You look up at him, pouting.

“It wasn't his fault, Charles. Can't we leave him out of this?”

He lets out a chuckle and shrugs you off of him.

“Don't play innocent now, sweetheart,” he says, pulling his pants back on. “I know you'd love to tear him apart just as much as I would.”

At that, you flash him a sheepish grin.

“Hurry up and get dressed. You've learnt your lesson. Class is in session for your little friend.”