#also pretty sure I fucked up my shoulder somehow so that doesn’t help

[themoonunderstoodmydadjokes]

We are having a day y’all 🙃🙃🙃

[hungharrington]

Thinking about Steve cumming quickly - like under 30 seconds of thrusting because he's just so in love with you he couldn't help it

He hides his face in your neck afterwards all embarrassed and you rub his back to bring him back down from the intensity of it all

To add to this - he also has certain triggers that make him cum immediately.

You say you love him, he cums. You scratch at his tummy/happy trail, he cums. You gently pull on his hair, he cums.

My apologies if these thoughts have already been given but it's all I've been thinking about this morning 😭😭

a most delicious ask i’ve been hoarding 🫶 i LOVE all these thoughts i’m sry i didn’t get to incorporate all of them !! is this hot? idk…. but it’s got sum love in it tehe MDNI this entire blog is 18+

Look, Steve Harrington doesn’t have his reputation for nothing, okay?

He’s a ladies man, through and through. He knows exactly what he’s doing with his hands, he loves getting his face in between a pair of thighs, and perhaps most importantly, he is not a minute man.

Steve Harrington has stamina.

At least, he certainly thought he did— but that was before you. But in his defense, nobody told him that sex is a hundred times better when you love the person. A thousand better if they love you back.

And, god, does he fucking love you.

You’re a dream— all laid out on the bed beneath him, chest bare and eyes soft and heavy. Your lips are sheened with spit and all kiss-bitten and Steve has no doubt he looks the same. Kissing you never gets old. His cock throbs, aching for some friction and just begging to be buried inside you.

“Well?” You say, somewhere between a tease and a breathy gasp. “What’re you waiting for?”

Your fingers slip into the waistband of your panties but Steve is quick to knock them away, replacing them with his own hands. He grins up at you, his tongue darting out to wet his lips.

“Can’t let you do my favourite part now, can I?”

You giggle. With that his fingers start to trail down your naval, slow and sensually, dragging the fabric with them. Your hips move to accommodate him and your breath hitches as he drags them down your thighs that part as he wrangles them off your ankles, inviting him in.

Steve nearly groans at the mere sight—a hot surge twisting in his tummy that goes straight to his cock. God, he must be losing blood with how much blood is rushing to harden it up. Or maybe he’s just too enamoured with you and that’s enough to make him breathless. Either way, he’s aching.

“God, baby,” He says, voice gravelly. “Just look at you.”

His hands shift up from grasping lightly at your ankles up, up, up, til he’s nudging your thighs apart further. His dark eyes flick up to your face, his expression one of hunger.

“Y’so pretty, honey,” He coos.

You flush, feeling somehow more naked at his compliment, knowing he’s being sincere. Reaching up, you drape your hand around his neck and urge him forward slowly, pressing up to scrape your lips against his.

“Oh, yeah?” You breathe, your lips twitching up at the obvious way Steve’s breath catches in his throat. “Which part of me’s so pretty?”

Steve chuckles, his gaze switching between your own and says, “All of you,” before he kisses you like he’s starved of the taste of you.

Breaking the kiss, he leans back and his hand disappears into his bedside table for a condom. He makes quick work of it, pausing to give himself a firm squeeze around the base as he does— fuck, he’s going to bust the moment he gets inside of you if he doesn’t take a moment.

But you’re so damn hot — and eyeing him with a heavy desire that makes his tummy hot. He’s not sure he can wait.

He shifts himself up and settles on his hands on your thigh, pushing it back further so he can line himself up and sink in tantalisingly slow. Your cunt is warm and wet, drawing a whiny moan from his throat, and Steve’s head drops into the curve of your shoulder in an instant.

“Fuck,” He hisses, hips flexing to hold back from pushing himself all the way in—a near impossible task considering the breathy little noise you make. God, fuck, fuck, he can’t move another inch or he’ll lose it. “Fuck, baby, you feel so good.” He gasps.

Your arms looped around his neck tighten, pressing your chest up against his as you make a noise of agreement. You begin to mouth lazily up his throat, feeling the throb of his cock between your legs like a heartbeat, burning hotter and hotter.

“Cmon, Steve,” you whisper, nibbling at his earlobe. Steve keens, his hips shoving forward bit more as he tries to contain himself. “Want you to fuck me,”

He makes another pitiful noise that he’d probably be embarrassed of if he wasn’t so gone. He follows your instructions quickly, shifting his hips so he can start slowing fucking into you. It’s lewd, soft wet noises sounding as he builds up a rhythm, sinking himself into you over and over. Pleasure drools through his gut.

“Stevie,” you pout, panting lightly. “Can’t— can’t see you,” You tug on his hair lightly, trying to encourage his face out of hiding but only succeeding in making him whimper. His cheeks burn hotly but he forces his face up, kissing along your jaw as he does.

His eyes crease open as he pulls back and Steve keens at the sight of you, his plush lips parting in a soft pant. Fuck, what was wrong with him? Normally he’d be still murmuring filthy things into your skin, marking up your neck while his hips roll into you, all does that feel good? and oh, it does when you moan in response.

Instead, he’s the one coming apart and beyond his words. You scrape your hand through his hair again and leave it cupped sweetly on his jaw, your eyes watching closely. Swatching your thumb across his cheek, you moan lightly, “Wanna -uh- wanna see your face, baby— love your pretty face,”

Something tightens up in Steve’s tummy, heat flourishing up his spine and he whimpers loudly, the roll of his hips turning the rapid, jerky thrusts in a moment. Skin slaps against skin and you make the cutest noise at the change of pace. It feels so good—too good. He feels too close, his pleasure scratching the edge of release.

Then you stutter out a breathy, “I love you, Steve,” and the coil in his stomach snaps without warning.

Steve gasps loudly and his entire body tightens, his face burying itself in you neck as his hips fuck into your snug cunt desperately. He all but collapses onto you, his hands curling around your waist tightly as he lets out a string of pathetically whiny noises, coming undone far too quickly.

It takes a moment for you to realise what’s happened— to figure out exactly why Steve suddenly sinks him cock into you with fervor and is whimpering in your ear. He’s trembling lightly you realise, as your arms sweep down his back, letting him fuck through his orgasm.

The pleasure of it drags out and by the time it tapers out, mortification begins to set in. Steve’s only glad he’s hidden his face so you can’t see his flaming cheeks. Fuck. Fuck. He’s never finished that fast before.

“I’m so sorry, you just feel— and you said—” He starts, voice sounding wrecked.

“Don’t apologise,” you interrupt sweetly. You stroke down his back soothingly and Steve can’t help but shiver. He groans loudly.

“Don’t apologise for finishing after 1 minute like a 16 years old virgin?” He asks, going for sarcastic but failing with the embarrassment tinting his tone.

You can’t help but giggle, hand still sweeping over his back comfortingly as you say, “I don’t think that was even a minute, babe.”

Steve groans louder, attempting to press his face further into your neck and nipping at it when you laugh a little louder. You’re being way too sweet about this. Steve’s not sure he can ever show his face again.

“I’m banning you from saying ‘i love you’ in bed,” He says, the words muffled against your skin. You huff another laugh, grinning, and comb your fingers through his hair.

“Boo.” You pout, knowing he’s joking completely. You’re still throbbing and aching for him to keep moving but you know you only have to be patient. He’ll fuck you just as you need it. “You’re no fun.”

“I used to have stamina,” He whines. “What have you done to me?”

You chuckle again, turning and pressing a kiss to his temple as best you can. “Turned you full loverboy. Soon enough, any time I say I love you, you’ll pop a boner.”

From within you, you feel the soft twitch of his dick and Steve’s breath hitches again. He finally digs his face out of your neck, a serious furrow between his brows. “Don’t even joke about that!”

[maybankcore]

rafe cameron — nsfw alphabet ༝༚༝༚

context : the alphabet.. but each letter has a new rafe cameron nsfw/sfw concept. this is also bunny!reader x rafe.

tws : smut, nsfw, rafe x sweet/bunny reader, cream pie, voyeurism, brief degrading, brief daddy kink. fingering, porn/nudes, tying reader up, oral sex, a ton of nsfw headcanons.

A: aftercare • you would tend to get sleep almost immediately after you come, and the first thing rafe does is take you to the bathroom and let you pee so u don’t get a UTI, n he’ll probably wait outside and keep asking “u done baby?” ‘till you clean up. and obviously, after the oh so harddd task of peeing, he’ll carry you back to bed. rafe somehow doesn’t get tired after sex, but seeing you already get lazy eyed, he has no choice but to lay down with his little bun and cuddle up with her.

B: boobs. literally boobs. • rafe loves your tits, and he loves grabbing them even more. he’ll randomly come up behind you when you’re doing your makeup, hair, etc. and just grab ur boobs. he loves the way they fit perfectly in his big palm, and how flustered you get too. “rafe! stop— i’m doing my makeup!!” you’d say, as you wave his hands away, feigning annoyance. “relax baby, their just too tempting.” rafe snickered, smirking. rafe just can’t get enough of them, especially when your wearing the thin, baby pink, lacy top from victoria’s secret.

C: cum • okay, rafe knows that he has to use a condom, blah blah blah. but on those days where he just needs a good, raw, fuck.. trust me, he’d cum inside you, making sure every inch of his hot cum fills you up to the brim. and rest assured, you’d hate and love it at the same time.

D: dirty talk • he’d soooo dirty talk you in public, whispering sweet nothings in your ear, knowing how wet your sweet pussy gets just by the sound of his voice. he’d sometimes say the most vile things about what he’d to you when you both get home.

“do you really think i’m not noticing your blowjob eyes as i’m golfing, huh? y’know.. i’d love seeing those eyes of yours when i’m fucking you endlessly. making you cum so hard. oh god, baby, i can hear those pretty moans of yours already. hmm?” he’d huskily whisper, inches by the shell of your ear. and then, he’d walk off as if nothing happened. leaving you anticipated for the entire day, squeezing your thighs and drinking an excessive amount of water to help with the heat building in your cheeks.

E: experience • rafe deffo has experience with sex. but i wouldn’t call him the biggest man-whore, since he met you in s2 of obx, i’d say he had 4 bodies by then. 2 of them being random hookups and the other 2 being girls from a short term relationship w/ him. i also hc that bunny!reader would have a few bodies, but would act like she’s a virgin just for rafe, similar to how maddie perez did it.

F: fingering • mmm, rafe is a master at fingering. he knows how to get your pussy wet and make it even wetter when he’s touching you. he’d start off with just a few strokes on your clothed pussy, building up tension that you so desperately want to release. n then when you’d get all needy he’d slide your panties down and spread your thighs.

you’d position yourself on his lap, head on his shoulder, looking at him with your big bambi eyes, pleading. and he’d slowly circle your clit in circular motions, taking pleasure in the way your hips jerked and lips parted with heavy breaths. and then he’d sink two fingers in, slowly at first, and then going faster. the cold touch of his golden rings slipping between your lips made you moan. loud. and in amidst of all this, he’d be doing some random thing on his laptop, but secretly taking a voice memo of your sweet moans. to obviously jerk off to later, you really think he’d pleasure you and restrict himself from doing it later on?

G: g-spot • imagine no guy has actually found your g-spot before, they’d just fuck you and you’d get that tiny ounce of pleasure that made you cum, but when rafe first fingered you, curling up his fingers to hit that sweet spot that only you yourself could find, you UNRAVELED. i’m sure he was shocked at how loud you moaned. he had thought you’d never gotten fingered before. but when you told him that no guy had actually fingered you that good, he was both pleased and shook. “what d’you mean no one’s found your g-spot? isn’t that like— the main thing in sex??” but to be honest.. him being the only guy that found your g-spot really boosted his confidence lol.

H: hair • rafe absolutely loves your hair, playing with it, braiding it, seeing how it drapes over your shoulders elegantly. he had never met someone who takes care of their hair like their life depends on it. you’d have serums, hair masks, good hair days and bad hair days, and rafe was all here for it.

(this is for my curly hair readers btw). sometimes when your hair wasn’t cooperating you’d get annoyed and bang your hairbrush against your head, clearly disheveling your hair, and rafe would come over and brush it for you. putting in your gel, mousse and even diffusing it.

rafe also is weirdly obsessed with how your hair smells, he’d bury his shoulder into it, or randomly smell it throughout the day, and once he’d even gotten wheeze to smell your hair.. “her hair smells so good right? i don’t even know how, it just smells fuckin’ amazing.” he’d proudly state, and you not being sure if wether that’s creepy or cute.

I: initials (tattooed) • right on his chest, beneath his heart, are the two letters of your name, more so, your initials. Y/N.Y/L/N written in a bold, italic font. and right next to it is your favorite animal, a bunny. you were struck when he had actually gotten a whole ass bunny tatted next to your initial!!

J: jerking off in ur absence • whenever rafe has trips, or if you’ve been away for some time, rafe deffo jerks off to pictures you sent to him. you’d send a teasing mirror pic of you getting dressed, your hand covering your nipples. and then you’d send a soapy tit pic of you in the shower. but lastly, a day before you come back, you’d send the hottest picture of you in rafes favorite pink lingerie set, playing with yourself and moaning rafes name. leaving him needy and desperate until he lands..

K: kinks • omg the amount of kinks u and rafe would share imagine him fucking you for the first time and slowly starts roughing you up, only to see you cooperate and urge him to do more. the smirk on his facee😩.

L: location (where you fuck) • personally, public sex is a huge turn in for rafe, but being the little slut you are, it’s an even bigger turn-on for you. obviously you’d fuck in his bed or yours, and sometimes i’m the couch or kitchen counter. rafe would also take you on the druthers boat and make you ride his lap, stopping when a boat comes buy, your sweaty face and messed up outfit being evident.

M: marks • rafe would leave hickeys everywhere. stomach, thighs, neck, collarbone, shoulders, tits, even inches away from your pussy. you’d leave bite marks on rafe, scratches illuminating his back, and lipstick stains all over his collar and cheek.

N: nudes • he just has a hidden album filled with your nudes. wether its videos of you both fucking, teasing pictures you’d send him of your bikini try ons, or you fingering your self. he’d also have voice memos of your moans saved. p.s, rafe would so ask you to talk about something random for a minute on voice memos and jerk off to your voice.

O: only fans acc • a little similar to the one on top ^. but imagine making an only fans account where ur only follower/subscriber is rafe. and trust, he will act like a whole ass fan. he’ll comment on your videos; “omg ur so hot can i request food play” with a +400$ message next to it. youd livestream and he’d be your only viewer, talking you through playing with yourself. and when i mean he’s a fan, i mean this man would literally pay you 1000$ per month as per his ‘subscription’..

P: plushies • whilst fucking you hard, rafe would grab your favorite plushy and tell you to hold it. he found it so fucking hot seeing you cling onto the soft toy, bringing it to your mouth to bite onto to hold back your loud moans.

Q: quickies • yall would deffo have quick fucks in between parties, hangouts, dinners, etc. sometimes if your ovulating you’d practically beg on your knees for a quickie with rafe. “rafeyy, please. if you don’t do anything i’ll go to the bathroom n’deal with it myself!” you whine, nudging his arm to get up from his seat at an event. and obviously, he gives in. every. single. time.

R: riding his thigh • when your extremely horny, and need an immediate relief youd prop yourself on rafes thigh and start grinding. this would be your only option as he’d dismiss your attempts to make him fuck you, so he’d tap his thigh and say “if your really that horny jus’ ride my thigh. cmon, you wanted to come, right?”. you’d get so wet, making a mess on his sweatpants.

S: sucking his dick • messy blowjobs>>. sucking him off after a hard day, at a party when he’s high and needy, or right after you went to his family dinner. you’d look so perfect with your big, glossy eyes staring up at him. head bobbing as you perfectly swirl the pad of your tongue against the base of his cock. him groaning and praising your amazing head-giving skills.

T: tying you up • hands above your head, a belt knotted against both your wrists, restraining you from pushing rafe away whilst he fucks you mindlessly. rafe would be destroying you, pounding in and out as you take the pleasure like a good girl. you are his little bun, after all.

U: unfair • teasing you when your sat on his lap, waiting for him to finish off his work, whilst he slowly and lightly circles your clit. “daddy, i really need you.” you’d moan in his ear. “i know baby, i know. daddies gotta finish this off first, ‘kay?” and so you waited, only for him to go into the shower, not even letting you in.

V: voyeurism • sliding your panties off and stuffing it in his pocket is his favorite thing to do when he’s off golfing whilst your sitting in your garden chair, feeling the coldness of the air blowing against your sticky cunt. not being able to fix the unbearable tension in your pulsing clit, and having to wait till you get home.

W: what/how big is he • a whopping 7.3 inches. a tad bit specific ik, but the way he’d ruin you.. and what’s funny is the fact that rafe knows he’s big!! and he knows that you can take it too.

X: ion know what to put for this one.. so i’m gonna put a random hc of rafe.. • has a weird food play kink?.. i just feel like he’d take ice cream and lick it off your tits, or spread chocolate syrup all over your nipples and stomach and lick it off too. (obviously nothing down there, don’t wanna get a yeast infection).

Y: ‘your too big!’ • lining himself up against you, seeing his big cock already needy of slamming into you, made you worry. your eyes slightly widened at his size, how the fuck is he gonna fit?. “rafey, i don’t think it’s gonna fit.. your too big.” you mustered out, wanting but at the same time not wanting him. “shhh bun, ts’ gunna fit, i’ll go realll slow? okay baby?” he stated, making you ease up and unclench your pussy, allowing full entrance. he slowly slid inside you, already owning a long moan and scatters of whimpers escaping your mouth. he went in further, and you took him in fully. “good girl, i told you it’d fit.”

Z: also have no idea, so another random hc one again! • loves seeing you spit out his cum after sucking him off. just seeing his cum drop down your chin turns him on sm and makes him hard asf.

⊹˚₊‧───────────────‧₊˚⊹

[beneathstarryskies]

Word Count: 2,986

Summary: At his low point, Geto decided to take a change on striking up a conversation with someone at a cafe. This conversation drives him into finding a new purpose.

Warnings: smut, fem!reader, oral (f!recieving), unprotected sex, depression, AU!Geto (he doesn't become a genocidal maniac), pussy saves lives, also Nanami makes a brief appearance

A/N: Shout out to my babygirl @actuallysaiyan for helping me stay inspired to finish this ❤️

Exorcise. Consume. Repeat. Exorcise. Consume. Repeat. Exorcise. Consume. Repeat. Exorcise. Consume. Repeat. 

It’s a brutal, mind-numbing cycle Geto has been stuck in for so long he doesn’t know if he’s capable of doing anything else. No matter what kind of path he tries to imagine for his future, it also comes down to the same cycle. He doesn’t recognize himself anymore. He never sees Satoru or Shoko. He feels stuck. Like a caged animal being prodded with sticks and struck by stones. 

It’s like watching a car crash and being unable to look away. Or worse it was like hearing the gunshot and then seeing Riko fall to the ground. That feeling of utter helplessness has never left except now he’s the one holding the gun and he doesn’t know where he’s going to point it. 

“I’m fucking done,” he hears Kento Nanami’s voice. The utter disdain in his voice is what grabs Suguru’s attention. Nanami is carrying a duffel bag on his shoulders, and Suguru sees him in something aside from his uniform for the first time.

“Kento, what’s wrong?” Suguru asks, setting aside his soda to walk outside. When Kento turns to face him, there’s an anxious look in his eyes. His jaw is set tight. 

“What are we dying for, Suguru?” Nanami asks. “I mean seriously?” 

“To…protect…” Suguru winces at the lack of conviction in his words. 

“Yeah, exactly,” Nanami rolls his eyes. “I’m out of here. I want to fucking live, okay?” 

Live. 

What does a life without sorcery even look like? Nanami has always been a bright spark of intelligence, and he’d shyly told Suguru a few months back he’d been accepted into college. Suguru wonders if he’d ever be able to get into college, but somehow he doubts it. 

He watches the younger sorcerer get into the car and then leave. He doesn’t know if he’ll ever see Nanami again, and part of him hopes the answer is no. He wants Nanami to live as he said. 

Geto goes to grab his soda from where he left it, then he starts towards his dorm. He can’t stop thinking about what Nanami said. When he returns to his room, he changes clothes instead of moping around as he had planned. He puts on black pants and a sweater before going outside to get on his motorcycle. He rides into the city, not knowing exactly where he’s going until he ends up in front of a coffee shop. He doesn’t know why he stops here, but it’s better than wandering. 

He walks inside, and heads to the counter to order a coffee. He’s standing at the other end waiting for it to get done when he notices you. 

You’re sitting in a table by the window, scribbling away in your notebook. He can hear you humming softly, a song he vaguely recognizes. He’s never been one to approach strangers like this, but he likes the look of you. You’re pretty and you seem just unaffected. 

“Hi,” he says shyly as he approaches you with his coffee. “Can I sit?” 

“Oh, sure!” you smile softly and move your things. He’d expected you to look around at least to see if the other seats were taken before accepting him into your space, but you didn’t. “Nice bike,” you say sweetly. “I saw you pull up earlier.” 

“Ah, thanks. Sometimes I think it takes more work to keep her on the road than it’s worth.” 

“Everyone needs a pet project,” you shrug. 

Geto grins but hides it behind taking a sip of his coffee. You close your notebook and slide it into your bag. 

“I’m Geto Suguru,” he introduces himself. You smile and introduce yourself as well. He can’t remember the last time he spent more than five minutes in the company of a non-sorcerer. Ever since what happened at the temple…Seeing all those people cheer for Riko’s death…The thought of non-sorcerers made his stomach turn. 

“Do you go to the university?” you ask, and he realizes he has ventured close to the college. He wonders if it’s the same one Kento will be attending. 

“Me? No,” he chuckles. “You?” 

You nod, “Yeah, I’m actually between classes right now.” 

“What are you studying?” 

The second the question leaves his lips, a spark of excitement enters your eyes. You begin rambling animatedly about your studies, your future plans, and sharing pieces of knowledge you’ve picked up. His heart swells with affection as the way you smile when talking about it. Then, your smile fades into shyness and you look down at your coffee cup. 

There had been a time 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to go on like that,” you say shyly.

“No, please, don’t apologize,” he smiles. He wants to reach out to take your hand. Not just for your comfort but for his sanity, he wants to seek connection. His hand is already on the table, fingers stretching out in search of yours. He stops himself, but barely. He closes his fist and pulls his hand back. If you’d noticed, it didn’t dull the sparkle in your eyes. 

“I have to go to class, but would you like to exchange numbers?” you ask, and you’re already digging your notebook out of your bag again. 

“I’d like that,” Suguru grins as he watches you scribble your name and number. You pass it to him, and he feels a jolt of happiness when your fingers touch. It’s been so long since he felt someone’s touch. 

“Will you text me, for real?” you ask as you put your notebook away again. 

“I really will,” he smiles and carefully folds the paper.

Suguru returns to campus feeling something shift inside of him. He wants to live. 

Satoru is leaning against the wall beside the door to Suguru’s dorm. He’s looking at his phone, feeling so secure he doesn’t even look up to see who is approaching. 

“Where have you been?” Satoru asks. “I’ve been waiting forever.” 

“I went out on my bike,” Suguru opens the door. “Are you coming in?” 

“Yeah, duh,” Satoru follows him inside his dorm. It’s been ages since they hung out, but it’s never awkward between them. Still, Satoru notices something is different about Suguru. He seems relaxed. “So what have you been up to?” 

“Oh, you know, exorcise, consume, repeat…” Suguru wonders what will happen to the curses inside of him. When he leaves the jujutsu world, he guesses the curses will remain a part of him. 

“Nanami left,” Satoru says as he sits on the bed. 

“I know, I spoke with him.” 

“Too bad…I like Nanami,” Gojo pouts. 

“He hates you.” 

“No he doesn’t, he just pretends he does.” 

Suguru smirks, “Alright, Satoru.” Suguru leans against the wall, studying Satoru carefully before speaking again. This time he’s quieter, more serious. It’s a tone Satoru knows requires attention. “Have you ever though about leaving?” 

“Where would I go?” Satoru shrugs. 

“I suppose it’s different for you.”

Unlike most sorcerers, Satoru benefits greatly from being a sorcerer just by being who he is. He’s afforded almost any privilege imaginable. Suguru doubts Satoru would know how to function as a normal member of society. 

“Are you going to leave, Suguru?”

“I don’t know, Satoru.” 

**

You were shocked when Geto texted you. Part of you had figured he’d forget your shared moment in the coffee shop. You spend weeks chatting back and forth. You like him. He seems kind and intelligent in ways different from most of the people you meet. He hasn’t pushed for a date or in-person meeting again. He doesn’t ask for nudes or surprise you with a dick pic. You almost wonder if you’ve imagined him. 

Then, one night, after weeks of texting, he asks if you want to go out the coming weekend. You’re shocked, but thrilled, to receive the invitation. You agree to meet at a restaurant for dinner. 

For the next few days, Suguru focuses on settling into his new apartment so it’s not a mess on your date night. He doesn’t want to assume you’ll come back to his place, but his time as a sorcerer taught him to be prepared for any possibility. 

His preparation proves to be a good idea on the night of your date when he talks you into coming back to his place. It didn’t take much convincing on his part. You’ve been wanting to spend more time with him ever since you started texting. He holds your hand as he opens the door to let you inside. 

His heart is racing as he guides you to the couch and lets you settle in. You notice right away how sparse the decoration is. 

“Can I get you a drink?” he offers. Truth be told, lately, he’s been drinking more than he should to fight off the loneliness of living outside of a dorm for the first time in so long. 

“I’m okay,” you smile and pat the spot beside you on the couch. “Come here.” 

He feels nervous as he sits next to you. His hand wraps around yours and he squeezes gently. A smile crosses your face as you look up at him and say, “This has been a great date.” 

“I agree,” he blushes. “It’s been a while since I went on a date.”

Your eyes move down to his mouth. He sees your tongue dart along your bottom lip and he knows what you want. A pang of panic hits him. He has a fear of you being able to taste the disdainful curses on his tongue. You lean closer, your lips parting with anticipation. At the last moment, he turns his head away so you end up sloppily kissing his cheek. You’re mortified at the mistake, then your heart sinks into your chest when you realize he’d dodged your kiss on purpose. 

“I’m sorry if I overstepped,” you swallow hard, trying to clear the lump in your throat. 

He watches your face drop. The look of sadness in your eyes breaks his heart. He holds your hands and tries to think of a way to explain this to you. He doesn’t know how to explain the fear of you being disgusted by the taste of his lips. He kisses your knuckles. 

“I apologize,” he says softly. 

“Do you not want to kiss?” 

He blushes, “I do…But…” 

“You’re scared?” 

It’s a shot in the dark, but your aim is surprisingly good. Geto’s cheeks burn and he looks down at your intertwined hands. 

“I am terrified,” he admits. 

“We don’t have to,” you assure him. 

Your understanding only makes him want to kiss you more. He leans in. His lips are gentle and tentative as they press against yours. His fingers dig into the couch cushion in anticipation of that moment when you pull back to look at him with disgust when you taste the curses on his breath. He gasps in a mixture of shock and relief when instead deepens the kiss. In the split moment of openness offered by his gasp, your tongue slides into his mouth. His hand moves from the couch cushion to cup your cheek, and he moans as he eagerly drinks up your kiss. The sweetness of your mouth provides a temporary relief. He finds himself chasing your lips when you pull away, a shy smile tugging at the curve of your cheeks. 

“Was that scary?” you ask. 

“Not at all,” he groans and kisses you again. 

You tangle your hands in his long black hair. When you reach the roots, you tug gently. He moans against your mouth, shoving his tongue between your teeth to seek out your tongue with his. 

The thought crosses his mind that you must taste this good everywhere. He has to find out. He nuzzles against your neck and his tongue darts across your skin. His large hands eagerly knead at your hips. 

“S-suguru,” you whimper. 

He pulls back, “Did I do something wrong?”

“No, no, I just wanted to make sure you were okay. You seemed hesitant at first.” 

He pulls you closer by your hips, “I know, I’m sorry. I want to continue if you do.” 

You smile, “Yeah, I want to.” 

“Alright,” he blushes. He stands up and offers his hand for you. Then, he leads you to his room. He keeps it quite neat and minimalistic in his space. 

He closes the door before grabbing you again. His hands move over the soft material of your dress before carefully lifting it over your head. He takes a moment to admire your figure standing before him draped only on your bra and panties. His admiration is disrupted by the feeling of you tugging at his shirt. He smirks and lifts his arms. You have to stand on your tiptoes to lift the shirt off completely, then it joins the pile with your dress. 

“You’re beautiful,” he whispers before seizing your lips again. His hands move over your body in a greedy exploration before finding your bra clasp. He opens it with ease and his fingers are deft to guide the straps down your arms. 

“Am I going too fast?” he asks. 

“No, it’s good,” you kiss him sweetly. 

He carefully lays you down on the bed, his broad form hovering over you. You notice the scars littering his body, but he doesn’t give you much of a chance to look further before he lowers himself to your chest. His breath is warm on your skin, heated up further by the open-mouthed kisses left along the swell of your breasts. He feels your hands in his hair, tugging him towards your sensitive spots. He relinquishes his curious exploration in favor of learning which spots drive you crazy. 

“You’re perfect,” he whispers against your stomach. His teeth scrape against your abdomen before he spreads your thighs. Your panties cling to your wet folds. He pulls the flimsy garment off before kissing down your thigh. 

“You don’t have to,” you whisper, suddenly seeming so shy. 

“What?” he looks up at you. He furrows his brows when he realizes what you mean. “I want to, baby.” 

Want is a rather weak word. He needs to taste you. 

“Are you sure?” 

He kisses your mound, “I’m certain.” 

You nod shyly, and he is all too eager to bury his face between your thighs. His tongue laps at your slit, hungry grunts falling from him as he relishes the taste of your arousal. He doesn’t taste curses. He doesn’t taste anything but the musky sweetness of your cunt on his tongue. 

The pleasure rolls through your core in intense waves with every smooth lick and suckle. You tremble in an attempt to keep still as he teases out more and more sensations. His strong hands keep your thighs spread wide so he can fully focus his attention on the feast laid out before him. He stays buried between your thighs until he notices the tell-tale signs of you being close. Your tense thighs and needy whines tell him all he needs to know. He pulls away from your cunt just as you’re about to cum. 

“Fuck, look what you’ve done,” he groans as he sits up on his knees and cups the prominent bulge at the front of his pants. “You still wanna keep going?” 

“Yes,” you whine. 

He pushes his pants down past his ass before slotting himself between your legs. He reaches down to stroke his cock a few times, then drags the tip between your soaked folds. The head prods at your hole, and he begins pushing in carefully. He watches your face contort with pleasure as he fills you. Once he’s bottomed out, he brings himself lower so your chests are pressed together. You can almost feel his heart racing against your chest. 

“You feel so good,” he kisses your forehead and nose. 

His hips begin to rock at a slow, sensual pace. Your nails dig into his back as you lock your legs around his waist, moaning at the pace he’s keeping. Your kisses are sloppy, more tongue than lips. Your moans pass between your mouths like a breath. 

The lingering feeling of your earlier orgasm he’d deprived you off makes the perfect foundation for what’s to come. Already you can feel it, twisting in your core. His cock hits the sweet spot inside you with precision. 

“Suguru, I’m close,” you moan. 

“Good, baby. Cum on my cock.” 

With a few more deep thrusts, you’re crying out his name in unbridled pleasure. The way your walls clench around him as you cum is nearly enough to drive him over the edge. 

“Can I cum inside you, baby?” he asks, his voice husky. Without much thought you nod eagerly. 

He braces one hand against the pillow by your head, squeezing the material as he starts chasing his high. His pace is sloppier and quicker now. He bites his lip so hard it almost draws blood, then at the moment of climax his mouth parts in a silent cry. His cock throbs as he releases inside you. 

As you both come down, he nuzzles against you. You’re both panting to catch your breath. You caress his back until he lifts himself up again. He carefully pulls out of you and lays next to you on the bed. 

“Stay with me,” he murmurs as he gathers you up in his arms. 

[unclewaynemunson]

Wingman Wayne AU pt6 yaaay! | AO3 link

The next time Eddie sees Steve, he knows immediately that the thoughts that kept plaguing him late at night weren't induced by some weird chemical unbalance in his brain caused by eating too much cheese or taking one pill too many. No, those thoughts were very, very real. Because Steve is looking absolutely breathtaking in his stupid tight jeans and stupid green polo and with his stupid wild hair that Eddie just wants to run his fingers through and those goddamn stupid pink lips. Shit.

'Lookin' hot today, big boy,' Eddie blurts out before he can help himself.

A frown appears between Steve's stupidly perfect eyebrows. 'Don't do that, man,' he says, avoiding Eddie's gaze.

'What?' Eddie asks, as if he doesn't know exactly what Steve means: Don't mess up our Very Platonic friendship by getting feelings for me. That wasn't what we agreed upon. Well, it's already too late for that anyway. And honestly, whose fault is that? Exactly, it's the fault of Steve's stupid lips.

'You know what I mean,' Steve says. He's still not quite looking Eddie in the eyes and Eddie feels guilty immediately.

'Sorry,' he says. 'Won't happen again, friend.'

It's only awkward for a minute, until they're both sitting on the couch in the Munsons’ trailer and Eddie easily launches into a whole monologue giving Steve the latest gossip on Wayne's colleague Jimmy because he ran into Jimmy's wife at Melvald's, and he immediately gets reminded why it's so nice to have a queer friend, because, in contrast to Jeff or Gareth or even Wayne, Steve understands exactly what he means when he says “straight people” in a lamenting voice and doesn't get confused when he goes into a minutes-long rant about “straight culture.”

'Dude, stop, you're doing it again,' Steve suddenly interrupts him at some point.

Eddie stops mid-monologue to give Steve a confused stare. 'What?'

Steve nods towards the place where Eddie's hand is comfortably resting onto Steve's knee, fingers stretched all the way into his thigh. Like it belongs there, somehow. Like it’s something natural.

Eddie clears his throat as he pulls his hand away and crosses his arms to keep himself from unconsciously reaching out for Steve again. Is it really that bad to have me touch you? he wants to ask – but he doesn't, because he isn't a completely terrible friend.

'My sincerest apologies, comrade,' he says instead, before he picks up where he left off in his story, trying to act like nothing happened. But Steve doesn't really seem to listen anymore; his gaze keeps wandering away and he barely even shows any investment in the gossip that he usually loves so much.

'You okay, Stevie?' Eddie asks.

A blush starts creeping over Steve's cheeks.

'I don't know how to tell you this without making shit even more awkward,' he says, 'but you staring at my lips for like ten minutes on end is also part of the things you shouldn't be doing.'

Fuck. Eddie is pretty sure that his own cheeks are rapidly starting to reach a shade of red that matches Steve's. He wants to apologize, but somehow, the words get all mushed into something else while they make their way from his throat to his lips, and what comes out is, 'Is it really bothering you that much?'

Steve stares at his hands. 'Yes,' he says softly. 'Yes, it is.' He looks up at Eddie again, and there's a look in his eyes that Eddie doesn't quite recognize.

'Eddie – you were the one who insisted right from the start that nothing about me would attract you, remember?' he says. 'You were the one who proposed to be friends. And I was fine with that, because I wanted to be your friend, and I thought I could keep my feelings under control. So please don't make this any harder for me than it needs to be.'

Eddie's heart is suddenly beating in his throat, his hands sweaty.

'Jesus, Steve,' he says, his voice barely more than a whisper. 'I'm so sorry.' He stretches out his hand, gently letting it land on Steve's shoulder – but Steve immediately gets up from the couch, as if Eddie's touch is burning him.

'Don't,' he says, his voice suddenly cold with frustration. He starts pacing back and forth through the tiny living room. 'Now you're just being cruel.'

Shit. Eddie squeezes his eyes shut for a moment. The memory of Wayne's soft voice echoes through his head: Can't you just... talk to him?

Of course Wayne was right, he always is. Eddie should know that by now. It's terrifying, the thought of actually talking to Steve - but Eddie knows that he's the only one to blame for this mess, so it’s only fair that he should also be the one to fix it.

'What if I told you I was wrong?' he blurts out before he can change his mind like the coward he is.

Steve freezes in his tracks, finally looks Eddie in his eyes again.

'What if I told you I've been a fucking idiot all this time?' Eddie continues, his heart beating at a nauseating pace now. 'What if I told you I was – I was expecting another Chad, back when my uncle told me about you, and I really didn't want to repeat that same shit again – and you've been continuously blowing my goddamned mind ever since we met. I really, really wasn't planning on falling in love, but Steve, you're fucking fascinating, and with every little bit I got to know you better, I started falling a little bit harder.'

Steve finally takes his place next to Eddie on the couch again, looking at him wide-eyed, lost for words.

'You're the most interesting person I've ever met,' Eddie continues, because he simply has to say it all now, 'and you have such a big heart, and – and I haven't been able to stop thinking about your lips for days – and I really didn't mean to hurt you. I should've given you a fair chance right away and I'm so sorry and –'

Steve suddenly launches himself at Eddie and shuts him up by clashing their mouths together slightly too forcefully, breathing into their kiss and only slowing himself down when he realizes that Eddie isn't going to pull away, that Eddie isn't going anywhere – and Eddie tangles his fingers into Steve's majestic hair as he finally gets a taste of that fucking addictive strawberry lipgloss. It’s exactly as sweet and soft and perfect as he imagined it would be and it might just have become his new favorite taste in the world.

'Jesus H Christ,' Eddie mumbles when they finally break apart, both panting and chuckling shakily. 'Uncle Wayne's gonna be so fucking annoying about this.'

Pt7

Can I just say that all your “look eddie it’s the consequences of your own actions!” comments on the previous part had me giggling kicking my feet?? U r all so right but also eddie is a complete idiot no i won’t take criticism. I am LIVING for all those sweet and funny comments / tags, it means the world and I am cradling them all in my hands <333

(Also everyone saying they feel like a burden asking to be added to the taglist, noooo!! It only takes me a couple secs and it honestly makes me crazy happy that so many of you are invested enough to want updates! I am hugging all of you!!)

Taglist: @phantypurple @love-kurdt @eddiemunsonswife @mackdaddyofheimlichcountyy @swimmingbirdrunningrock @paintsplatteredandimperfect @stevesbipanic @momotonescreaming @yourebuckingkiddingme @th3-r4t-k1ng @messrs-weasley @moonshadows-13 @im-sam-fucking-winchester @xjessicafaithx @yournowheregirl @henderdads @lwhoscribbles @courtjestermunson @steveisabicon @rainydays35  @cassaloopa @skeliiix @thesuninyaface @silversnaffles @jestyzesty @4nemo1egend @ace-of-foxes @harringtonsgother @thegingervulcan @snapshotmaestro @thereindeerlady @jillfriend @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @gamerdano @spectrum-spectre @zerokrox-blog @00biscuit @mixsethaddams @steve-the-hairrington @episcogoth @caligularib @gaydrieeen @winterbuckwild @bookbinderbitch @daysarestranger @nonbinary-eddie-munson @fangirltofangod @solalasoforth @obsessivlyme @slit-wrist @fxndom-hoe @lifeisnotsobadonceyoustopcaring @joruni @roastingdragon @lenore1232 @princessstevemunson @cuips-not-cute @munsonsuccubus @justalittlefungi @cherrycolas-things @nitrilexam @thepainisspicy @hopefulslothcollecter @whatisreggieshortfor @doctorqueensanatomy @fandemonium-takes-its-toll @sadcanadianwinter @iamsotiredman @orangeandthefairroadkill @anything-thats-rock-and-roll @b-icetea @freddykicksasses @faery-god @poleaxed-aloe @mamaclownhunter @paperbackribs @blvckwidow @mightbeasleep @butuglypeoplefucktoo @lolawon @angryavocadofrog @iwouldsail @livelaughlexa @magpiemuseum @shushuac  @ravnlinn @homohomohoe @kissaphobic-kas @cmackz93 @your-greatest-queen @alltheweirdkidsinoneplace @soulsofstarsliveinyourveins @ceaselessly-watching @anaibis @enchantedlandcoffee @fluffy-alpaca-of-darkness @nelotegreitic @mollymawkwrites @evix-syne666 @redfreckledwolf @ajamlessbaby @connected-dots @nothisisntmyname @steddieassheg0es @anxiouseds @summer1066 @loopholesinmydreams @mareydi  @lillemilly @this-is-moony-lovegood @qomrades @mad-h-w @gay-stranger-things @blanketlicker @fandomcartographer @adankrivervalleynearyou @undreamingscatworld @theysherobinbuckley @i-wanna-combust @stranger-poets-society  @fanshipgirl88 @nonhetbts @literallyjustarat @knitsforthetrail @limpingpenguin @spoopy-rayvynnnox @impeachy @ashwinmeird @7boxesofcheerios @nonsense-of-dimitri @azreadytodie @fuctacles @fuzzyduxk @pluto-pepsi @bornonthesavage @what-am-i-doing-with-my-non-life @alanna342 @jinxjinn @ali-just-ali @piningapple @captain-daryn @namelessssho @doltclassic @elsarenard @ramyayaya @my-heart-is-stopped @lightwoodbanethings @goblin-eddie @indie-npc

[crazykitsch]

Can you do a jealous Fermin one pls, it starts a little angsty but ends in fluff 🙏🏻 I’ll leave it to your imagination

Fermin Lopez: you & me

pairing: fermin lopez x reader

warnings: none

❝I don't care about your first love. This should be your last one. Nothing like your last one. You look better on me, that's fashion.❞

I am not the jealous type. Atleast.. I like to think i’m not, others might disagree.

However my boyfriend, Fermin, sure does know how to make me jealous. I know he doesn’t do it on purpose, but it does sometimes (always) get to me when I see him and his ex girlfriend Valerie (who was also his first girlfriend). They broke up about 1,5 year ago and still remained friends.

I honestly just don’t get it, whats her deal? Me and Fermin are perfect for eachother and look great together. No need for her to butt in.

Right now we’re at Lewandowski’s house for a lunch for all Barca players and their girlfriends. Somehow Valerie is here since Pedri is single and he’s good friends with her so he invited her.

Im sitting next to Fermin and right next to him is, ofcourse, Valerie.

I AM a girls girl but I really do fucking hate her, sorry. I feel like she knows whats shes doing and how to get on my nerves. Should I name an example? Right now she is ‘talking’ with Fermin. Any person who doesn’t know them would definitely assume they’re a couple. But they’re not. I am sitting here, talking to no one, while being on my phone just scrolling on Instagram, I don’t know what to do.

I suddenly hear an annoying voice giggle so I immediately look at Valerie. I see her and Fermin laughing together at God knows what and she leans towards his shoulder and rests her head there. What the fuck. Now i’ve seriously had enough of her bullshit. How does Fermin not notice she’s still into him?

I sit here for a minute thinking of all the things I wanna do to her AND him. I decide to not do anything right now and instead I get up and go to Robert Lewandowski, I say goodbye to him and a few of my friends here and grab my jacket. Fermin has the car keys but I do not feel like talking to him so I just walk home. It is a 30 minute walk and as im walking I start to think about everything. I suddenly start crying and text my friend

~

PRIVATE CHAT: lola <3 & y/n 🎀

y/n 🎀:

lola?

lola

lola

please answer

lola <3:

hi

hi

hi

whats wrong bb

y/n 🎀:

im literally so fucking done

are you home?

walking in your street

lola <3:

walking ??

y/n come over now

~

My tears have stopped and I knocked on Lola’s door. She opens it very quickly and lets me in. ‘Y/n what happened?’ she says and I can’t help but cry again. It might seem dumb to other people but I just really don’t like it when others try to take what belongs to me. ‘Lunch at Lewandowski’s, fucking Valerie getting on my nerves again, Fermin doing nothing.’ I say. We walk into her living room and sit on her couch. She hugs me as she says ‘Boys are really stupid, you know? Especially Fermin. He has such a pretty, smart, amazing girlfriend.’ I don’t know what to say so I just nod and hug her. ‘Do you want to spend the night?’ she asks and I nod again.

We just sit there watching tv and i’ve calmed down a bit. Right now it’s almost dinner time so we decide to cook pasta together. During dinner I suddenly remember I haven’t updated Fermin at all..

‘Do you think I need to text Fermin? I didn’t tell him where exactly I was going.’ I asked, I know I probably should but I don’t know if im ready for an argument. ‘If you’re ready for that you should.’ Lola says. I take a minute to think about it and say ‘I’ll do it tonight.’

It’s currently 8pm and me and Lola are on the couch watching a movie. We’re both so tired that after an hour we accidentally fall asleep. Stupid. I know.

I wake up the next morning and see that it’s 6am. I wake up Lola and say ‘Did I text Fermin? Or did I forget?’ okay now i’m really stressed. ‘Ehm.. I dont know, I think you didn’t’. ‘Fuck!’ I grab my phone and the first thing I see are all his notifications..

~

PRIVATE CHAT: fermin 🩷 & y/n ❤️

fermin 🩷:

where did you go to?

is it because of Val?

fermin 🩷:

just got home, where are you?

fermin 🩷:

im worried

fermin 🩷:

okay youre not funny anymore

where are you

fermin 🩷:

come home now y/n

fermin 🩷:

its midnight. please come home

fermin 🩷:

alright i’ll take it as a sign youre not coming home

~

Oh my god. I’m so stupid??? I show Lola the texts and she tells me to hurry and go home so I do.

She gives me a ride to my house and right now im standing in front of our door. I hesitate for a second but then I knock and I see Fermin standing there. Before I can even figure out what to do or say he pulls me into a hug and says ‘I’m so grateful you’re okay dont do that again please.’ I don’t know how to react. What I did WAS a bit wrong, but he’s not innocent either. Should I mention that i’m still mad? Or should I just let it slide? But if I let it slide Valerie will only get more and more touchy and comfortable with him..

‘Fermin?’ I say as I pull out of the hug. ‘I left yesterday because i’m so fucking tired of you and Valerie. I don’t know if you’ve ever noticed but that girl is still into you. She knows exactly how she can get on my nerves and she never fails to do so. I don’t want to be that girl to make you pick sides but I would really appreciate it if you, my boyfriend, would see how she’s acting and tell her to stop.’

I can tell he doesn’t really know what to say. Before I can say something he says ‘Y/n Valerie is a friend of mine, nothing more. If she really does bother you i’ll break all contact with her right now because I don’t want you to go away anymore.’ I see him grabbing his phone and I can see he’s removing her number and unfollowing her on everything. I mumble a little ‘Thank you’ and he says ‘If you feel like that again please just tell me and if i deny it keep telling me, alright?’ I nod yes and hug him again.

It’s now a few hours later, 11 pm, and Fermin needs to go to Ciutat Esportiva Joan Camper for football training. ‘Y/n do you want to come along? Your support brings luck.’ he says and I smile and nod yes.

When we arrive there I see my friend Mikky and sit next to her. All of a sudden she says ‘How are things between you, Fermin.. and Valerie?’ I laugh and say ‘Me and Fermin are good now, Valerie is still the same bitch she was before.’ We both laugh while we sit there watching our boyfriends train.

After training, which took them like 3 hours we go home. He says he’s all sore and hurt but im pretty sure he’s just saying that so we can cuddle which I dont mind. I’m sitting on the couch as he lays on top of me.

‘Was fun watching you train today.’ I say as I start playing with his hair, ‘You were talking with Mikky the entire time though.’ he says. I kiss his head as I say ‘Needed to catch up.’ I can hear him hum and notice he’s been getting a bit more tired. I turn on the tv to watch my favorite show and notice Fermin has fallen asleep. I smile and kiss him one more time before fully concentrating on the show.

A/n: I’m soooo sorry this took longer than expected. I’ll try my best to work on more requests today!!

[lenreli]

The Linchpin

[AO3]

For A3 - Time Travel Org for @dreamlingbingo!

CW for a tiny bit of violence at the end!

T, 5.6k. Dream has something life-changing coming up, but it's not what he thinks it is.

-

Dream’s presentation is only a week away, and he may be good with internal workings and hypotheses, with insane ideas (his sister, his siblings), but it’s the speech that terrifies him the most. 

Mostly, he’s just staring at his speech in despair, at the questions and possibilities as he makes a list― 

There's a sound, a crash nearby but he doesn’t pay attention, focus on writing answers down as he thinks them, and suddenly a hand is on top of the papers, a black ring with a red gem on one of their fingers. Blinking, he looks up at the person who owns the hand in confusion. “How did you get into my house?” 

“The same way I’m gonna get out of your house, obviously,” the man answers with a smile, brown eyes crinkling and Dream’s stomach swoops, which feels pretty inadvisable as the man points out the window, “see that van?” Frowning, he stares at the plumbing van, nodding, which he’s sure has been out there for days, “the people inside it want to kill you!” The man says cheerily. 

“Kill me?!” He hisses, “what! You? Or―” 

“Whoa, hey, obviously not―” the man stops and tilts his head as he gapes, still wrapping his head around the news dropped onto him, “listen! I’m Hob, and I’m here to save you from them!” 

“Shouldn’t I―call someone, or,” he frowns, putting the speech into a bag nearby, along with his presentation and Hob sighs. 

“They won’t be able to help. Plus, it’d be easier to show you, I think,” Hob bites his lip and scratches at the greys of his temple. “Dream,” he freezes, phone in hand at the way Hob says his name, “I’m with the authority that can help you,” he says gently―then taps something on his left wrist, something like a watch. 

Which it’s not, clicks and whirs as screens come out of the watch, circling around above the device and Dream’s eyes widen as Hob fiddles with the device on his wrist, the blue screens showing a dizzying blur of images, the text somehow illegible to him but Hob can read through. “What,” he deadpans. 

“Do you―” Hob stops, device still glowing of blue screens as he huffs and takes the phone out of Dream’s hand and puts it in his bag. “No, but just,” Hob sighs once more and grabs his wrist, skin warm. “Now,” Hob barks out― 

-

They’re on a skyscraper. How is he on a skyscraper, plastic sheets hanging from beams, higher levels of it still being made, “how,” he wheezes, brain scrambling as he sits on the concrete floor underneath him. 

“Some place in the American two-thousands,” Hob mutters, sitting next to him, and Dream stares blankly at the screen of the device, Hob fiddling with the device and suddenly Dream can understand it. 18th January, 2005, the screen says, “should be good for a start.” 

“That,” he shakes his head, grabbing his bag tightly as he puts it over his head. “We traveled in time?! You’re a―” 

“Time traveler?” Hob grins and fiddles the device back to gibberish, the blue screens fading away. Dream gapes, head slowly wrapping itself around it, Hob looking at the sky and city underneath them. 

“So. The people who want to kill me,” he states, insides tingling as Hob gives him a soft look, even with the terror of the situation. 

“Also time travelers,” Hob confirms, gentle smile fading into a serious stare. “And they specifically want to kill you before you deliver that presentation,” Hob nods towards his bag. 

He stares at Hob incredulously, “what?! That’s―it’s a nothing, it’s just some useless―” 

Hands gripping his shoulders, warm compared to the cold around them, stops his mouth from continuing. “Actually, it could be the most important presentation in history, considering these people are willing to kill you before you do it,” Hob says quietly, eyes glittering a beautiful gold from the sun and Dream has got to stop thinking that, for fuck’s sake. He shivers and Hob sighs, pulling him up so they’re standing ― and fiddling with the device again, blue screen circling around as Hob ― puts in another time? “We should get out of here. Both to put more between us and them, and to get somewhere warmer.” 

Date apparently set, Hob holds onto one of his hands, callused fingers putting his hand onto Hob’s arm. 

Hob gives him a soft look, half of his face blue-tinted from the transparent screens. “Ready?” Hob asks, and he nods, expecting Hob to shout again, activating it―but this time, Hob pushes a button on the device, the blue screens slowly turning green, and it feels like his insides warp as they disappear. 

-

It takes two more time jumps, which he only calls them mentally ― and them sitting down for lunch at a Chinese restaurant in Quebec, Canada sometime in 2030, when he can finally ask, “and how would they kill me?” 

“They’re time travellers,” Hob points out over a stir-fry, “if I was going after someone and I also had time travel, I’d probably leave them in setting concrete of some building. Drop them in some massive earthquake or something,” Hob says with a shrug, then winces as Dream stares at him, eyes wide. “Sorry. But something like that.” 

“Wonderful,” he replies, tone flat and dull as his brain gives him rapid-fire worst case scenarios. “I could be killed in some famous disaster and I’d never even know.” 

“But you won’t,” Hob says, clacking his chopsticks together loudly. “Because I’m here to stop it.” 

“And why all the ― jumping?” He asks, still feeling a bit despondent as he takes a bite of fried rice. 

“To throw them off the trail really. There’s more of us around, so they’ll have to do some digging before they lock onto us, then they’ll have to do the same thing when we go again.” 

Dream furrows his brows, intrigued, “more of us?” He echoes. 

“We’re a whole organisation. Not for like ― crimes in time, though in your case, very much. But more just ― keeping things on track,” Hob scrunches his nose, “I’m terrible at explaining this. But, you know, very much fate and balance of the time stream! That sort of thing you see in movies, you know? Or nothing like that.” 

“Of course,” he blinks, not mentioning that things like sci-fi or time travel aren’t on his radar. Doctor Who, maybe, but that’s a whole different style of time travel compared to the one Hob has. “And why me? I’m just some ― jumped up 20something!” He frowns, loathe to use one of Desire’s insults for him, but, well. Needs must. He kind of misses when his biggest concern was the presentation, and not this.

Hob laughs, “who knows?” Hob says with a grin, eyes sparkling, like he does know, which ― yeah, he probably does know. 

“Can’t you tell me anything?” He stresses, sighing. 

“Spoilers,” Hob says, grinning even wider. Dream just gives him a flat stare. “Now eat up. We should probably go to my HQ. Need to recharge my watch soon.” 

-

The HQ ― well, the room he ends up in, is ordinary. Aside from Hob muttering to himself as he stashes things under into a drawer under the desk. Dream gets the impression that this is Hob’s room, frosted windows and a frosted door as Hob sighs, resting against the desk. “What about charging your ― thing?” He frowns and Hob huffs, looking up at the ceiling. 

“This whole thing is charging it,” he gestures to the room, or wherever they’re at, “passive charging, built into the walls and floors. Pretty sure I can tell you that,” Hob finishes off to himself. 

Dream nods, looking around at the room, finding history books behind Hob’s desk as he sits down in the chair in front of the desk. “And what will we do about the people trying to… ?” 

Hob sighs and sits on top of the desk, feet occasionally brushing against his legs. “This is more for ― research, than Minority Report! I don’t know,” Hob groans, covering his face with his hands. “I’m not cutout for killing someone, which ― they’re after you,” Hob says, voice muffled and distressed. 

Dream blinks and considers the options, “well, how far in the past could you travel?” 

There’s another sigh, Hob pinching the bridge between his nose, “we’re still working on going into 1889, so there or―” Hob frowns, staring at him, “what? Leave them in the past? Making them age and die before you’re even born?” 

Dream shrugs, “it’s a possibility,” he replies quietly as Hob continues to stare at him, brows furrowed.  “And it’d require no murder. So to speak.” 

Hob nods, looking grim―then there’s a knock on the door and Hob scratches his head. “Stay here,” he says, pointing at him as he leaves the room, and Dream leans over, seeing what looks like the end of a black coat―and gibberish between two voices, one of them Hob’s. 

The gibberish continues, whatever privacy technology being used making him unable to parse what they’re speaking about, or who the other person even is as the gibberish rises in volume, unable to keep the exasperated tone of Hob’s voice hidden. 

After some more talking, there’s a sigh as Hob comes back in, rubbing his forehead. “What was that?” He asks, unable to help himself. 

“That was,” Hob huffs ― and smiles, fond and soft, “my husband being a menace,” Hob says, affection easy to see and Dream’s insides twist in jealousy, in envy at the way Hob still loves his husband, even with the arguing they were just doing. Groaning, Hob sits back on top of the desk, checking the device on his wrist, the edge closest to him steadily glowing more green. 

“You two work together?” He asks quietly, wanting to know more of this ― odd, wonderful man who’s trying his best to keep him from being murdered. 

“For a while,” Hob says, “even when he’s being a ―” Hob huffs and gets out a thing from his jeans pocket, putting it in his ear. Hob cringes as apparently someone talks to him as he nods. “Yes, L, I―what was I meant to do? I needed charge! And to keep my eye on him,” Hob gestures to him. “L! I haven’t told him anything!” He hisses, moving to grip the back of his chair behind the desk. “I―I know, I very much know, thank you for the reminder, I’m just trying my best to keep him safe and well, your boss says to just keep going. So we keep going.” 

Conversation apparently ended, Hob groans and pulls out the ear communications, putting it back into his pocket. “We keep going?” He echoes, glad that Hob’s still―going to help him, that he’s not going to carted off to someone else, or perhaps kept somewhere until the problem’s solved. 

“Yep,” Hob sighs and goes through the drawers of his desk, pulling out various amounts of ― money, different types in cash clips, putting them in the pocket of his blue hoodie. “It should be charged now,” Hob frowns and looks at the device, a glowing green around the edges, “so we should go.” 

-

Sydney, Australia, 2028.

“You’re not what I expect a hero saving me to look like,” he mentions, looking at the various shops lining where they appeared, people milling around them. 

“Sorry, I left my tight, impractical formal suit at home today,” Hob snipes back and Dream’s brows raise. “I’m a researcher, a ― I’m not some―” Hob scowls, then stops at the windows of a store, chuckling. “Nevermind, sure, let’s get some new clothes. May help, or something,” Hob huffs and drags him into the store he was looking at―a second-hand store. 

Hob seems to be on a mission, zeroing in some clothes as he pulls them out, staring in disbelief and muttering quietly to himself. “Put these on,” Hob shoves the pile of clothes ― dark, to his chest and presses past him, and Dream can only blink in bewilderment, before Hob shoos him into a small, rectangular dressing room. 

Dark grey jeans, a black shirt that has spidery, metal-band writing on it ― and a coat, long and black, as he puts his other clothes into his bag. Coming out of the dressing room, he watches as Hob laughs with the person at the till, gesturing to him as he comes up to Hob, who pays for their clothes as he smiles brightly. Hob has a backpack now, hoodie taken off to reveal hairy arms. 

He has a husband, Dream mentally berates himself, swallowing down the want to be held by those arms, to touch the soft looking hair of them, or the scruff on the other’s face. “Thank you very much!” Hob says to the person at the till as they say have a nice day! “You too,” Hob replies, putting an arm through his as they walk out of the store. “Should probably help, considering they’re expecting us to wear those other clothes anyway.” 

Hob frowns, fingers fiddling with the lapels of his new coat, smoothing it out and Dream’s heart rate triples at the touch, light and casual. 

“Do you know why they want to―” he frowns, swallowing as he pushes down his yearning, not mentioning the hands on his coat, lest they leave. 

“Going back to HQ did help with that. It’s mere speculation, but maybe they want to steal your ideas, and pass them off as their own.” 

“What? Why would they―” he stares, baffled as Hob only smiles at him, hands settling onto his shoulders. 

“Dream, I’m not going to tell you the future. But perhaps, hypothetically, you help invent something amazing ― and maybe, they want the glory of that. And money,” Hob scrunches his nose. “In fact. Most likely the money.” 

“Greed,” he responds dully, sighing as he considers the speech, the presentation in his bag as Hob pats his shoulder in commiseration, disgust at what might be planned for his scribbles and mad ideas. 

-

Nice, France, 1973.

“Maybe I just shouldn’t do the presentation,” he says once they’ve had a ― lunch, and Hob, in flawless French, books them a room. That Hob assures him will be fine, considering the high level of time traffic to various places throughout this time. And also that his husband has twigged a setting on his device, that’d make them even harder to pin out. “Just. It’d be easier to not―”

“Ah! Nope! Not doing that,” Hob interrupts him cheerfully, knocking against his shoulder as he sits down to him on the sofa. “You are going to do it,” Hob’s voice holds no argument. 

Dream groans, sinking down the sofa, “I don’t even know how to do a presentation. Or how to ― I get so anxious, thinking of doing it, of the questions, of the judging,” he sighs. “Why am I even telling you this.” 

“We are in a pretty crazy situation right now,” Hob reminds him, eyes soft as he smiles, bumping into his arm once again. “I have some pretty good advice for you, I think,” Hob grins and Dream straightens up. “For reasons that are becoming clearer,” Hob sighs, then laughs, “my husband swears by this.” 

“And what is it?” Dream frowns, leaning in as Hob’s smile widens, and his heart skips at the lightest brush of the Hob’s scruff against his cheek. 

“Work with it,” Hob says, voice quiet between them and Dream blinks. “Insane, I know! Counter-intuitive, you’d think, right?” Dream nods, “but, you work with it. Use that anxiety to fuel your presentation. Make an off-hand mention to it, or something. The more you try not to think of it, the more it burdens you. Like being asked to not think of a polka-dot elephant.” 

“Work with it,” he repeats and Hob hums, resting his head on a hand, “your husband is insane.” 

Hob laughs. “Well, you have time to mull that over while I work on dealing with your pursuers.” 

-

Dream, a voice says, lovely to listen to ― could listen to forever as he touches a soft face, scruff scratching pleasantly, fingers going into just as soft dark hair. Dream, the voice repeats― 

A flick against his forehead pulls him back to reality ― “Dream!” That voice whisper-shouts, a rough finger pressing against the spot it flicked as he groans and opens his eyes, Hob leaning over him. Frozen, he considers the dream, hazy and sensation and feels his face heat. 

“Yes?” He scratches out, feeling young and almost like a teenager as he tries to not think of the other man, eventually flicking away the other’s man’s finger on his face as he resists the urge to hide under the quilt cover in embarrassment. 

“Much as I’d also like a full night’s sleep, they’re close,” Hob says, tapping his watch, which is ― pulsing, droning, a warning apparently. Hob pulls back, gathering their bags as Dream yawns and forces himself awake, and out of the warm, comfy bed. “Dream! Up!” Hob ― commands, voice stern and Dream’s face heats even more as he gets up, feet going into shoes as he talks his still partly-asleep brain to not get hard as he picks up his coat from the end of his bed. 

Hob glances at him and mumbles to himself in an undertone, device’s blue screens glowing as he chooses a spot for them to go. “I’m ready,” he whines, pulling his coat around himself as he tries to remind himself that he’s 23 now, and that he’s definitely not a teenager who gets turned on in a second when a beautiful man gives him an order. 

He’s married, he has a husband, he’s at least a decade older than me maybe, or more, Dream reminds himself desperately, and he can feel his ears turn red as Hob holds onto his wrist, hand warm as they disappear.

-

Rotorua, Aotearoa, 2040

“I need a drink,” Hob declares once the device stops it’s droning, and Dream can only follow as Hob stalks off down the road, Dream unable to appreciate wherever they are as he catches up with Hob. Bar found, they walk inside, and Hob sighs, crossing his arms on top of the counter as he motions for two. “Vodka shots, please.” 

Dream blinks, nose scrunching up, “I hate vodka,” he scowls as it’s put in front of him― 

―Then Hob slides it over to him, downing it and the other shot in moments. “I know,” Hob scowls and orders another two, getting out a black credit card and tapping it to pay. 

“Can you even handle your device drunk?” He asks as Hob throws back his two new shots, glass clinking as he stacks the shot glasses. 

“Stop being logical and reasonable,” Hob mutters, crossing his arms and resting his head on them. “Fuck,” Dream hears, Hob groaning as he rubs his face. 

“Are you… okay?” Dream asks tentatively, which isn’t helped with the withering look Hob gives him, bottom half of his face hidden by his arms. “Is this about letting them get close?” 

“All of this,” Hob sighs and massages a temple, “just. Everything. It’s a lot.” Hob sighs, a foot knocking against his, trapping it under the other’s food and the spoke of the bar stool. “Dream,” Hob says, tone solemn and Dream’s pulse skips as hands frame his cheeks, “I’m a historian, not some sort of―and then with the―everything! I’m dying here,” Hob pouts, brown eyes wide and shiny. 

“You’re being very melodramatic, considering they’re after me and not you,” he mentions. Hob just laughs, and Dream tries not to react at thumbs massaging his jaw. 

“Got it from my husband,” Hob mutters into his bicep, hands leaving his face to go back to the counter. “That dramatic bastard,” Hob’s voice is affectionate, even with what he’s saying. “Smug asshole, all cat-got-the-canary throughout all this. I know he is,” Hob mumbles, then sighs wistfully, putting his head on a hand. 

“It must be nice,” Dream says, heart aching with envy and jealousy as Hob makes a questioning sound, “to be loved so much.” 

“I do love him, of course,” Hob bemoans and calls for two more shots, which he thankfully doesn’t down at lightning speed, grabbing one of the shots to slide around the counter. “Arrogant prick,” Hob swallows back the shot and adds it to the small tower of finished glasses, “he’s so mysterious and teasing, when he forgets that I know him too.” 

Dream nods and asks for water, pushing it in Hob’s direction gently. “He sounds interesting,” he says, throat burning with envy as he gets another water, drinking it to get rid of the feeling. 

“You sound jealous,” Hob points out with a smirk and Dream’s insides freeze. 

“Like I said,” he shrugs, looking away as Hob takes a drink of water, throat moving from the corner of his eye, “it’d be nice to have something like that, that’s, it’s all it is.” 

Looking back, he gets the feeling Hob isn’t convinced, an eyebrow raised. “You think that―” Hob scowls and taps the glass of water to his forehead, and all Dream gets from Hob’s quiet muttering is from the past before Hob sighs. “Nevermind. I’ve had my own little meltdown. We should get going.” 

-

Barcelona, Spain, 1993

Dream’s lucky to have a book in his bag before this whole thing happened, since it’s a better thing to try and read then thinking about Hob, in the bathroom next to the bedroom, naked― 

Definitely better to think about the words in front of his eyes, which he has yet to take in. Especially with the way Hob talked in casual Spanish with employees of the hotel, leaving as they got bathroom supplies at a store nearby ― Hob getting many tiny versions, a whole routine apparently. Hob gave him a disgusted look at the 5-in-1 bottle Dream found, but didn’t say anything, the stare speaking volumes. 

While he’s definitely been comprehending his book, Hob comes out of the bathroom with a sigh, flopping down onto the bed near the door. And dressed, which Dream’s not disappointed to see. But also, for the best. “How many languages do you speak?” He asks. 

“Enough,” Hob replies, voice muffled by his face on the quilt. “Go have a shower before you ask more questions.” 

Dream huffs and puts away his book, getting his own toiletries to have a quick shower, at least compared to Hob’s. Refreshed, he gets into the comfy clothes he wore at the start of this, then flops down onto his own bed. “How are you planning to stop them?” 

Hob, who’s been looking at the device with a frown, shrugs. “Deciding the place is easy, as long as it’s in the past. The thing that worries me is you,” Dream frowns, looking at the other man in confusion. “We, or I, would have to get close enough to take these off them,” Hob shakes his wrist, “which would make it easier for them to hurt you.” 

“Ah. What kind of weapons would they have?” He asks, not wanting to think about the pain of ― any of the things he’s thinking about. Knives, swords, guns. 

“Nothing good. Probably a gun, for ease. Carrying around a bazooka or a machine gun would make them too conspicuous,” Hob sighs. 

“None of these sound good,” he groans. Hob frowns at his device, “are we gonna have to charge that again?” 

“Yep,” Hob pinches the top of his nose. “Let’s at least get a few more hours before we go do all that madness,” Hob waves a hand in the air, then crawls over to turn off the light on his bedside table, Dream watching as he crawls under the sheets. “I miss my usual skincare routine,” Hob says, voice despairing and muffled and Dream bites back laughter, keeping the majority of his unnerving sounds inside so Hob doesn’t hear. “Shut up.”  

-

HQ, ?????, ?????

Dream stares around at Hob’s office ― at least, something familiar, where he’s been before, considering they’ve been to many different countries in an amount of time. “You said you were a researcher, then a historian, who’s also a polyglot?” He ponders and Hob looks away from his charging device to look at him. 

“I started as one first, which then informed the other, and then well, time travel. And in so many different places, so I just picked things up here and there,” Hob says, pointing a thumb at the bookcase behind him, “here and at home I have so many language books. My husband keeps asking when I’m going to get a PHD in one of the languages,” he smiles, the soft affectionate one when talking about his spouse. 

“Or more.” 

“Or more,” Hob echoes with a nod. 

“So this place is to… research the past in a more concrete way?” Dream asks. 

“Basically, yeah. Though―my husband also loves theatre and I keep telling him that we should go back and record some of the theatre we’ve never seen but had an interest in, or what have you, but he’s all the ethics, Hob,” Hob mimics, voice low. “He didn’t even have any ethics in mind when he started it! It’s very much a scientific approach of we can do it, so why don’t we do it anyway,” Hob stands and gestures and Dream opens his mouth. Hob points at him, “I know, nuance and all that! But you get what I mean.” 

“I for one support you going back to record past theatre,” Dream pipes up, and Hob has a moment of smug happiness before he suddenly scowls. 

“That motherfucker,” Hob mutters, poking at the charging device and Dream’s brows raise at the sudden change, “that cheeky chucklefuck, I’m going to wring that pretty neck,” Hob continues in a growl. Dream tries not to think of Hob’s hands anywhere near his neck, face heating slightly ― and there’s a ping, which pulls Hob out of whatever he’s thinking about as he gets out a phone to read whatever message he’s got. 

“What?” Dream blinks as Hob stares blankly at him before shaking his head and putting his phone away.

“Thank you, Dream, for your support,” Hob says with a grin. 

“It’s not like it means anything,” he points out and Hob huffs, sitting onto the chair as Hob looks at the ceiling. 

-

Cornwall, England, 1890

Dream can see the sea past the trees and rocks of the coast, the sun slowly coming up as Hob turns off the cloaking on his device. “We’re going to hide,” Hob states and Dream looks around, only seeing trees and rocks. “That way, at least the sun may knock them off a bit,” Hob mutters and Dream nods as they hide behind some of the trees, Dream watching as the sun shines onto the water. 

“And how do you plan to stop them?” He asks, a knot of anxiety inside as he considers that soon he’ll see the people who are willing to kill him, Hob’s device starting a slow drone of warning. 

“My usual plan is to not die. Worked so far,” Hob shrugs and Dream gives him a worried look as the drone seems to speed up, the sound of it pulling at his teeth before Hob taps the warning off, quickly pulling the screens up to put something in. There’s only the sound of waves, of birds as they wait, and soon enough two men appear on the dirt road, blue screens flashing off as they talk quietly. “I was always thinking there were three for some reason,” Hob says in an undertone. 

Hands on his throat, fingers going into his hair make his heart pulse race, face heating up under Hob’s hands as he’s stared at, dark lashes reflecting the gold of the sun. He has a husband, he brings up mentally to not do something stupid, like kiss him.

“Stay here, okay?” Hob whispers and he nods, biting his tongue to stop himself from keeping Hob’s hands on him as they leave. 

Heart racing in fear, he watches as Hob shows himself ― in fact, runs straight at them and Dream stops himself from lurching forward by grabbing onto a nearby tree as Hob punches one of them, knocking them to the floor. The other man stumbles back and gets something out. A gun, and Dream’s eyes widen as Hob talks to the man, voice indistinct. 

The man replies in a growl, gun waving around―then there’s a shout of pain as Hob stomps the man’s shin, the gun almost falling from his hand, with Hob grabbing then fun and whipping the butt of it across the man’s face, a cracking sound echoing throughout the area. 

Stunned, Dream slowly walks over to Hob, who’s kneeling on the ground and taking off the men’s devices, “I thought you weren’t the killing type,” he offers and Hob scoffs as he stands up and crushes the other devices under his shoes. 

“Of course they’re not dead. Unconscious and in pain, yes, but not dead,” Hob points out, flicking a switch on the gun before putting it in his jeans pocket. Dream just stares at him incredulously, “what?” Hob shrugs and switches on his device, ignoring his baffled looks, “I know how to look after myself,” Hob mutters in defence. 

“You are―” A sound. A shot. Gunshot. 

As Cornwall disappears around them, Hob’s arms tight around him, he only realises once they fall off him. The masses of people don’t see them, don’t see Hob gasping as he kneels on the ground and once the shock of it all abates a bit, he rushes forward, grabbing Hob’s shoulders in worry. 

“Hob? Hob?!” He asks, frantic as Hob takes in deep breaths. 

“My shoulder,” Hob says, smiling still and Dream’s anxiety lessens a tiny bit. “Hurts like a bitch, but it’ll be fine,” Hob soothes, a hand coming up to pat his cheek. “And look, it’s time for your big presentation,” Hob nods towards the building and Dream only takes a cursory glance, “well, least an hour off, but you know,” Dream lets out a wounded sound, not wanting to leave Hob at all, and definitely not like this. 

“But you’re, I can’t just,” he implores, grabbing onto the other’s wrist as fingers go through his hair. “Hob.” 

“Like I said, I’ll be fine,” Hob’s hand leaves him and Dream helps, Hob wincing as his now injured shoulder moves so Hob can press a button on his device. RECALL, an automated voice says. “Dream. Go,” Hob says and Dream lets out a cry as Hob disappears. 

-

London, England. June 7th, 2022

It takes ten minutes for Dream to enter the building. Then it’s his phone ringing wildly, his sister calling as he splashes water onto his face as he talks to her. As he tries to think about how to spin people were trying to kill me and a handsome time traveller saved me, into ― something, he thinks which ended more like I needed time by myself to go over my presentation. I didn’t mean to worry you, sister, I’ll make sure to tell you next time. 

Sitting in the reception area, there’s another ding on his phone, and he expects his sister again ― but this time a blue screen folds out of his phone, an image of Hob in a hospital bed, grinning with two fingers up in a V, and Dream covers his mouth in relief as the blue screen fades into nothing. Looking through his phone, he can’t find it anywhere and despairs that the photo was more like a phantom text, then something that could stay.

Swallowing, he gets out his presentation and speech, staring down at them ― and decisively, tears up his speech, stuffing the papers back into his bag as he goes over everything. 

-

One Year Later

Work has been going ― well. Increasing exponentially, enough that they’ve had to get new investors and a whole team of people. Lucienne and Matthew he’s particularly fond of. Not that he shows it. 

At least it’s better than his love life. Holding the torch for some married man from the future, and all his latest brief flings never have the right brown eyes of Hob’s, this one doesn’t have the right cadence of voice. That one doesn’t hold him right, fingers in the wrong places, calluses not what they should be. They’re never right, because he’s still pining over that time they were together, even with knowing how futile it is, considering Hob’s happily married. 

Sitting in his office, sketching some new mechanisms, he tells himself to stop it. It’s not like Hob’s going to come back from the future and― 

A laugh stops him, pencil scratching over his sketch as his head jerks up, eyes wide. Hob’s laugh is familiar, having heard a lot of it, and he almost can’t comprehend what he sees. Hob talking with Lucienne, talking and laughing and―

Younger, no greys in his hair, clean-shaven as he Hob gives Lucienne a nod, a hand pointing his way. A hand with no wedding ring on it. Standing up, he walks to the doorway as Hob comes up to meet with him a smile, less wrinkles on his face but still so beautiful. And he has glasses!

“Oh. Wasn’t expecting you to get up to meet me,” Hob smiles and puts out a hand, “Robert Gadling, but you can just call me Hob.”

Dream swallows, standing up straighter as his heart races, still unable to believe his eyes. Rubbing his hand on his black coat, he holds Hob’s hand quickly, and decides that maybe Lucienne deserves a raise for who she chose for this. “Dream. It is nice to meet you,” he states, aloof to hide the hurricane of emotions within him.

[Fin]

Hob: *ranting* Dream (the husband), smug, batting his lashes: Does this mean you're not going to wring my pretty neck?

[enigma-selfships]

Blitzwing NSFW Alphabet

So this has been in my drafts since February, and I finally decided to post it after seeing the lack of Blitzwing content. First time making an NSFW alphabet, so hopefully it’s not awful. Enjoy~

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Attentive, he’ll be asking you a lot of questions. Was that alright? Are you okay? Did you enjoy yourself? If you somehow got injured during your activities he’ll be on it before you even fully come down from your high.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

It’s a tie between your eyes and your thighs. Your face is so gorgeous.. but damn. He could spend all day just kneading the thickness of your legs while staring right into the windows of your soul.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Blitzwing is a nasty boy. Whatever you want to do with cum, you name it and he’ll do it. Things will be getting messy. Although his favorite spot to cum is deep inside you, it’s just so warm and perfect. You’re keeping a part of him with you.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Before you officially got together, Blitzwing saved a lot of photos of you to his processor. Nearly all of them were without your knowledge. He definitely… got his use out of them.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

While he’s not a virgin, I think it’s safe to say Blitzwing doesn’t get a lot of action. Especially post triple-change. Not a lot of bots are interested in a mentally unstable German science experiment.

He could fool anyone though, as his eagerness makes him a quick and happy learner.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Breeding press. Blitzwing loves having you pinned down and immobile, thighs hiked over his hips as he gazes into your beautiful eyes. Plus the chance (however unlikely) of you getting sparked always sends a thrum into his spark.

Sometimes though, he’ll be on his knees, pulling you up to his lap, so only your shoulders are touching the ground as he hammers into you~

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

It really depends on the personality. Hothead takes sex very seriously. To no one’s surprise, Random is usually very goofy, although he was occasionally moments of seriousness, usually while he’s on the mission of eating you out. However Icy tends to be the most balanced out of the three.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Well… he’s a robot….

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

When it’s all said and done, sex is only one of the ways Blitzwing shows you how much he loves you. He wants you to feel it, and this is the best way how. He really tries to show you he loves you during sex, even if it may get lost in translation occasionally.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Before he met you, almost never. Maybe once in a millennia, but it never felt satisfying. After he met you though, and especially before you got together he did relatively frequently. He just couldn’t help himself, you really get his motor running.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Breeding kink for sure, the thought of filling you up is enough to put him down bad for the rest of the day - completely worthless other than to fuck you good and hard.

He also wouldn’t be opposed to bondage, particularly on himself. Bonus points if you tie him up so he can’t move and then tease him until he cries.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Oh, anywhere that you’re comfortable with. Blitzwing literally has no preference. And as a bonus, no shame!

Want to fuck on Megatrons throne? What about the control console? How about in a back alleyway? He will do anything with you, anywhere.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Really, just being around you. His mind will wonder and he’ll find one thing or another to work himself up over.

One thing that will get him going real fast is tight pants. Ooooh how he loves those tight pants.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

NO SHARING. He already feels a strange bit of jealousy between his three personalities, he does NOT want to share you with a whole other bot.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Give give give. Oh this boy loves to love! Lay down and let him blow/eat you out. He’ll go for hours, the sheets getting wet from your combined juices. He’s just so sloppy, he can’t help it.

As for receiving, Blitzwing just never found it as enjoyable. He gets too impatient, he’d really just rather fuck you.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

He tries to be slow, he really does. He wants to make you feel just how much he loves you. But unfortunately he is a tad insane, which means it will always dissolve into a hard manic fuck.

He can’t help it! He’s just that crazy about you.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Oh, sign him up. Blitzwing loves quickies, something all three faces can attest to.

A quick fuck in a closet or similar is a great way to snap that attitude of his back into shape.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Anything you want, just say the word. He is up for anything you could think of.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Random and Hothead will last for hours. You absolutely will tap out before either of them will. Icy however, only tends to go for two or three, though they are long and sensual.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Why use toys when you have a long prehensile 4ft tongue? He may use them occasionally, but he really prefers to do the work himself.

One thing he is a fan of is panty vibrators. Hooking up to them and torturing you when you’re in public tickles that evil side of him.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Teasing is something Blitzwing loves to try to do. But as soon as he starts feeling riled up, he drops the act. He is very impatient.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Icy usually tends to bite his noises back to only soft huffing. You’ll know when he’s getting close , because he’ll start moaning.

Hothead grunts and huffs when he’s not grumbling out commands.

Random gives Starscream a run for his money. This boy can make some NOISE. Moaning, squealing, begging, you name it. Random’s mouth does not stop during sex.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Blitzwing would absolutely be into thigh fucking. Watching your thick, squishy little thighs grasping his length while you squirm and whine and drool just really gets his engine running.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Blitzwing is a big bot, and his spike is definitely proportionate. The colors match his paint job perfectly, a purple shaft with a black head and a white stripe up the top of his spike. He also has purple bio lights that line the underside.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Before you came into his life? Close to zero. But now that you’re here, this bot is ready to go at the drop of a dime.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

As hyper as they are, you’d think he’d just bounce right back. Nope. After making sure you’re doing alright, he’s out like a light. Nothing like a good fucking to expend all that energy.

[queerofcups]

a July rec list

I read a truly absurd amount of fanfic in July, and since I’m tracking my fic reading anyway these days, I figured, why not pull up some faves. I’ll do my best to tag authors when and where I can! I’ll throw some commentary in there to talk about why I like some of them, but rest assure this is a rec list and I think every one of them has something to love. 

Hockey RPF

In the scrawl of the ringside choir E, 37k, Hockey RPF | @goodnightpuckbunny Sid/Geno

“Geno, this is Sid Crosby,” Kris says, sitting back down. The kid towers over both of them, but seems small in the office. “You need a coach, so he’s gonna help you out.” He looks Sid over, eyes scanning like he’s looking for weaknesses, faults in his form. Sid has plenty, but he’s not fighting anymore. He doesn’t bother mirroring the gesture. He can guess without looking. “He old,” Geno eventually decrees. 

Interview with the Vampire

The Vampire Eric

E | 4k | falsescience (@theburialofstrawberries) Eric Bogosian/Jam Reiderson, Jam Reiderson

Oh ho, Eric thinks to himself, and then, aloud, because it’s just too delicious, and wouldn’t Rolin be ashamed, and a little pissed: “Oh ho!” He feels zapped alive: young, powerful, god-like. Jacob starts giggling immediately. “Did you just say ‘oh ho’?” “Or maybe aspen. What do you think, Eric?” “Not a damn clue,” says Eric, with a broad grin. “You look very satisfied. He looks very satisfied, doesn’t he?” Jacob smiles at Sam over his hitched shoulder. “Hm,” says Sam. “I think we play it safe, and go with red maple.” Yeah, Eric is certain: Jacob and Sam aren’t fucking. But they’d like to be.

First of all, I am RPF’ing these people real hard in some private chats. But largely, I like the characterization happening here, and the little turn of understanding that happens in the last third of the fic. 

reformation

E | 44k | verseau (@downstairsbar) Lestat/Louis

we're gonna heal. we're gonna start again. you've brought the orchestra, synchronized swimmers. // It makes him speechless sometimes, how much he loves Lestat. He thought for years, a decade, that it was sickness. It’s not. It’s not. Even when Louis hated Lestat, nothing was more certain than that he loved him.

There’s some great, great plotting and characterization here but/also I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve read a fic and known immediately that the author is Black. That’s obviously not a requirement of the fic I write but it's nice to have Southern Black characters really sound like people I’ve known/grown up around etc. 

let’s keep this off the record

E | 1.4k | anonymous

Louis/Santiago (sort of)

There would be no second chances for the Englishman, no opportunity for him to crawl out of some dump and seek revenge. Louis would make sure of that.

Honestly, I think it's great that fandom has a long and storied history of skullfucking. I think it's fun that weird shit like that still happens around here.

Maman

T | 2k | anonymous Claudia/Madeline, Louis/Lestat

Madeleine meets in the in-laws. Particularly one of them.

transpires

M-E | 5.8k total | familiar (@bigvampo or @camilliar? sekrit you've got so many blogs) Louis/Lestat

I mean, sekrit is just a fucking stellar writer. sekrit’s got a way of telling so much —  about a character, their mental state, the world their in —  in just a few razor sharp details. also these fics are so funny and the characterizations of Louis and Lestat feel like natural progressions from what we’ve seen in canon both in how much they love each other and how terrible they are (to each other and in general)

Harry Potter

Right. I think I’ve always been pretty upfront about my continued reading of Harry Potter fanfiction, but in case it's somehow necessary to say, please do not come to my inbox talking about JK Rowling. I don’t think about that woman and I’m very clear about what she thinks about me. 

Those Three Curses

E | 6k total | @dodgerkedavra Draco/Harry

Obviously I had a bit of a fucking dodgerkedavra moment here, but these blew me away. So much story telling in such little space. 

Former Things Come to Mind

E | 64k | dodgerkedavra

Harry Potter has had a headache for seven and a half years.

In the Presence of My Enemy E | 41k | dodgerkedavra Draco/Harry

All Harry knows is that Sectumsempra is for enemies. He doesn’t know that it will bind him to Draco Malfoy, for better or worse, ‘til death do them part.

Tiny Home

E | 30k | @wolfpants Draco/Harry/Ron

Harry and Ron left the Aurors years ago to travel the world and make up for lost time. When they finally decide to settle roots back in England, together, building a tiny home in the Lake District by hand seems like the perfect plan. What they don't realise is that Draco Malfoy already lives on the plot of land that they choose to build on. A story about years of feelings, about weaving lives in and around each other, and about finding a place safe enough to call home.

I really feel like there’s been an explosion of excellent Draco/Harry/Ron all of a sudden. One of my qualms with a lot of polyship fics is that it's very uhhh “we must do everything together” and I really love that this fic breaks that down and allows everyone to have histories and experiences together as dyads and all together. 

In Our Blood

E | 37k | secretsalex Draco/Harry

Draco is an accomplished pure-blood curse breaker, and Harry is tasked with accompanying him on his latest job—cleaning up the Van Boer mansion, which has been under a devastating fertility curse for seven generations.

I’m not even going to bullshit y’all. This fic reminded me why I love mpreg. Excellent use of body horror, body dread, suspense, all these things. Also, an mpreg fic that remembers abortion is a thing. Amazing!

Probationary Action

E | 63k | @toomuchplor Draco/Harry

As part of the terms of the probationary contract, DRACO LUCIUS MALFOY shall submit for inspection his WAND on the last day of every month, such inspection to be carried out by a duly registered and fully qualified AUROR in the employ of the MINISTRY OF MAGIC, and such inspection to include a PRIORI INCANTATEM spell to ensure that no PROHIBITED MAGICS as heretofore described have been practised by the aforementioned probationer.

I’ve been obsessed with toomuchplor since Inception and this fic reminded me why. I don’t love Auror!Harry fic (truly, just so much unchecked, delighted writing about police brutality) but I do like any fic where Harry starts to wake up to the fact that maybe just because they’re “the good guys”, not every choice made by the Aurors/Wizarding Gov’t in general is right. Also, I appreciate the expansion on the idea of sex charms!

Embers

E | 41k | @shiftylinguini Draco/Harry

Werewolf Alphas aren't meant to be alone, or to suppress their ruts indefinitely like Draco has been since he was bitten eight years ago. He needs company, companionship, to knot ― he needs an Omega Heat Companion. At least, that’s what the Healers say, and even Draco can admit contacting the person they’ve referred him to might be nice. Of course it turns out to be bloody Potter.

idk man, I like a fic that treats sex work like it's just a job. Worthy of respect, full of technical expertise, etc. 

--

Both of these next fics came from @hd-wireless which has been, pound for pound, one of the best fests I've ever witness and is a testament to how important having multiple fic fests in a fandom can be! so much good shit to read!

The most he’s ever said

E | 16k | anonymous Draco/Harry

It takes them twenty years.

Two Houses

E | 11k | anonymous Draco/Harry

Two households, both alike in... meddling Floo connections, apparently? Draco Malfoy is a highly professional and well-respected Ministry official, with a demanding schedule, a loving son, and—through no fault of his own—a faulty Floo connection that keeps regurgitating the Minister for Magic through his fireplace.

I really enjoy that there's been more of a trend of writing about these two as older people and fleshing out the characterization of their kids.

[aeligsido]

[WM] Prompt 24 — Kid fic.

Rating: G.

TW: Snape being his delightful self.

Characters: Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, Maeve Lupin (OC), Severus Snape, Fleur Delacour, Ginny Weasley.

Additional Tags: Maeve is Remus’ adopted daughter, she’s also a baby werewolf, Snape has beef with a seven year old and is losing, bigotry, slur I guess?, this awkward moment when you went to prison and your fiance got himself a kid and now you don’t know what your relationship is anymore, Sirius and Remus are both dads, OotP, a bit of Fleur appreciation bc i love her.

Summary: Sirius watches as Fleur and Maeve excitedly talk.

Words count: 813.

A/N: Missing Scene for a fic I haven't written yet lmao. I hope you like it! ❤️

@wolfstarmicrofic

—

Sirius watches as Fleur and Maeve excitedly talk, the little girl making large hand gestures all the while. Fleur joining the Order is surprisingly not surprising, considering what happened just short of two months ago — she barely even took the time to go back to her own country before signing up. And she’s good with kids, never making Maeve feel less because of her young age, which can only endear her to Sirius.

Molly is busying herself in the kitchen once again; her children are scattered around, Ron looking more and more annoyed each time they remind him he can’t tell Harry anything. Ginny doesn’t exactly look better either. The twins are talking to each other in low tones, seemingly unaware of the world around them; Sirius knows better for seeing them react to anyone coming a bit too close to their private discussion. Bill is alternating between trying to help his mother and looking at Fleur with a look in his eyes Sirius knows well.

Remus is drinking his tea beside him, his gaze fixed on Maeve as well. She laughs, and she sounds just like Remus when they were young and invincible. She doesn’t have his hair nor his eyes, or even anything of him, yet she is so jarringly his daughter all the same.

Maeve Lupin, taking their old heart hostage since 1993 and onward. Sirius smiles into his own tea.

Snape suddenly comes in like a bat out of hell (and who should have stayed here). He sneers, his usual expression when in the presence of anything breathing. His sudden arrival stops all motion in the room — even Molly turns around with a new tension in her shoulders — except, of course, for Maeve who somehow manages to not notice him. One of her wide hand gestures ends up with her bumping into Snape, and she blinks owlishly at him as she realizes his presence.

“Oops. Sorry!”

Remus puts down his cup, watching the exchange carefully. Sirius feels ready for a fight. Snape sneers some more.

“Should learn to leash the beast,” he says, and Sirius sees red; Maeve straightens up, scowling, and wonderfully unphased.

“You’re mean and ugly and still wear the same robes than two years ago!”

Remus snorts, a low sound nobody else probably caught. Snape opens his mouth to answer; Sirius has already silenced him.

“Don’t fucking talk to my daughter like that.”

Snape glares and glares and glares some more; then, with a dramatic swish of his cape and a last sneer, he disappears into the corridor.

“Why he's so mean anyways?” Maeve huffs, still scowling, and Sirius hates seeing her like that — she’s a child, she should smile and laugh and be happy.

“Oh, he's just a jealous dick,” comments Ginny, ignoring her mother’s following reprobation to wink at them.

Maeve thinks it over. “Because I'm smart and pretty and he's not?”

“The smartest and the prettiest,” confirms Sirius, and things suddenly feel a bit lighter.

-

When they had to move into Grimmauld Place, the first room they cleaned up and decorated and otherwise made sure looked just right was Maeve’s.

Despite the clutter expected from a seven year old, the room is still clean and perfectly lived-in in a way his parents would have hated. Not enough control, probably.

Technically, Sirius has no reason to be here and kiss Maeve goodnight, but he’ll be damned if he misses it for anything. Maybe it keeps making things weird between him and Remus, because truthfully they still have no idea where they stand with each other, and Maeve calling them both her fathers is delightful and not helping at all. But he'll do it all the same.

That night, Remus grabs his hand as they exit her room and close the door behind them; there’s a look in his eyes, fond and hopeful and a little bit of something else, too, that Sirius recognizes so well.

“You called her your daughter,” he says.

Sirius thinks back to the scene in the kitchen. “I did.” He never had before; Remus is the one who adopted her, not him.

For a few seconds, Remus doesn't say anything, absentmindedly playing with Sirius’ fingers instead; he looks almost shy, as if trying to find his words and failing, and it reminds Sirius of their first year at Hogwarts when Remus was still so afraid of everything.

“I liked it,” he finally admits, and Sirius catches him blushing, and he can’t stop smiling.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Sirius lifts his hand to Remus’ cheek; in the dim light of the corridor, he looks just the same as when he kissed him for the first time.

“Good. I don’t plan to stop.”

Remus nods, squeezing his hand before dropping it, offering him a bit of his space back; instead, Sirius bends down and kisses his cheek.

(Maybe they’ll be alright, in the end.)

[rayshippouuchiha]

I’m the housewife kink anon, but I can’t find the fic!!! No one seems to have a downloaded copy on any of the usually haunts either. Pretty sure the author deleted their account which is a damn shame since they were one of my favs. Not rly surprised tho since they were getting some hate for the pairing when I read it a few yrs ago and I imagine it only got worse. So I’ve decided to outline everything that happened in detail!

So the plot was basically aged up Izuku and yandere Aizawa meet at a pre-raid meeting where some big time hero tries to discount Aizawa’s info and talk over him. But Izuku- Eraserhead has been my obsession since I watched his first sport festival-Midoriya shut that down quick with what was essentially an in depth analysis of how Erasehead is a perfect hero, especially compared to the hero that talked shit.

So yandere Aizawa was obviously like mine and started stalking Izuku who could immediately tell (I think he went abroad to train with All Might after Inko died and then helped dismantle AFO’s base of power internationally thus discovering he was still alive and Izuku ended up killing him w/ All Might) but was honestly just rly turned on by it so allowed it.

At the raid, they ended up in the same section and had impeccable team work the whole time which made both of their internal monologues sound like smug cats. They worked so well together that they kept getting paired up on other raids (all human trafficking rings connected with AFO I think) and eventually Izuku got hurt but wouldn’t tell the medics cuz discrimination trauma and paranoia so Aizawa drags him home to give him stitches.

This is where the domestic fluff and house wife kink kicks in bc Izuku cleans+ bakes+ cooks when he’s bored (which he was since he had to wait for the stitches to heal before he went off to do hero work). So Aizawa, coming back from UA to all this plus Izuku splayed out on the couch like a whole snack smiling up at him saying welcome home, goes fucking feral in his head. And it kinda becomes routine for them and there’s was this one scene where Aizawa wraps his arms around Izuku’s waist as he does dishes and puts his chin on Izuku’s shoulder and strokes over the stitches. I think he was humming a love song Izuku was listening to which was jdjejebdbhsjs.

At this point they both want to jump each other but Izuku is like he’s just being nice to me while Aizawa is like if I allow myself to show how much I want to put a collar on him he’d run so I must be careful. But after the stitches heal Izuku just doesn’t leave bc whenever he half heartedly tries to go back to his apartment something happens where he had to stay (all orchestrated by Aizawa of course). Then Izuku’s like fuck it and just brings all his stuff to Aizawa’s apartment while he’s gone and starts paying half the rent without saying anything. Which Aizawa adores since it obviously means Izuku finally realized that he belongs with him and nowhere else. Let’s just say they didn’t manage to stay off each other for long when Aizawa absently used his scarf to pull Izuku out of his way and called him a good boy.

There was also a concerned all might crew going on at first with a lot of wild misconceptions but it all settled over when All Might met Aizawa in person and was like ah young midoriya, I see you have found one that might be able to handle you. Cuz all might is Izuku’s mentor/hero/father figure, and knew exactly what his successor was about. And this feral looking man he managed to find checks all the boxes Izuku- I destroyed AFO more completely in few years than anyone else managed to do in centuries- Midoriya has.

oh oh god this sounds perfect in every way

Author is you somehow see this then by all the gods please repost because this is magnificent

[tgmsunmontue]

Where do I know you from? 4/10

Hangster crackfic. There are too many Jakes and Bradleys for Jake and Bradley to be dealing with. Or the Universe is just as fed up with them being blind.

PART ONE PART TWO PART THREE

PART FOUR

                Jake is still trying to not imagine Maverick and Cyclone together, although Three and Five are of course asking more questions. Jake doesn’t know if he’s imagining it, but the rate at which new Roosters are arriving seems to have picked up. Twelve and Thirteen arrive together and they’re both older. Bradshaw still looks good, especially the one in uniform, but the one not in uniform is making a beeline for him, looking worried.

                “Jake. Are you okay? This has to be really fucking weird for you.”

                “Yeah. Very weird.”

                “You’ll be okay. I mean, you time travelled in my universe so –”

                “He what now?” Three, Five and Eight all exclaim, and Thirteen looks a little taken aback at the response from them all.

                “Just Jake travelled… not me.”

                “Nothing freaky happened where I’m from, if that helps…” Twelve states.

                Three and Five, along with Eight who just watches go back to their spreadsheet, asking the two new arrivals the standard questions he’s heard a few times now. Jake has also noticed that the ticks in the naval aviator column are also increasing, although Rooster Thirteen has an asterisk by it. Fourteen has arrived and is listening in horror as DADT is explained to him, because it somehow wasn’t a thing where he comes from. His Maverick and Iceman were together since the Eighties. Which seems to be normal judging by the way Three and Five react, despite them having DADT.

                “A lot of me are naval aviators. Interesting.”

                “Why’s that?”

                “Well, my mom didn’t want me to be a pilot. Seems like I went against that wish in a lot of different universes.”

                “Oh…” Jake says, because he cannot imagine a Rooster that doesn’t fly. “He’s the best of the best.”

                “Have you told him that?”

                “Of course not,” Jake replies, rolling his eyes and Three bumps his shoulder again in a friendly gesture. “I can’t imagine him not flying.”

                “Oh, I fly. I’m just not a fighter pilot.”

                “Same. Mav started teaching me when I was like, fourteen,” Five states.

                Three and Five seem to have a lot in common, even if there is about an eight inch height difference.

                “Hangman. You look good.”

                “I am good…” Jake says automatically, and it feels almost right, but this Rooster, number Fifteen now, is looking at him like he already knows all of Jake’s secrets and he doesn’t know if he’s a fan.

                “Hmm… you are,” Rooster Fifteen says, stepping right up against him and his Rooster would never. He’s pretty sure his Rooster would only help him out of obligation. Or payback for saving his life. “You blush very prettily, but I better leave that for your Rooster to find that out hmm?”

                “You know what, you can go and sit with number ten,” Jake states, pointing to the pool table where he banned Ten to. “I’m sure the both of you will get on great.”

                Of course, there are universes where Rooster is even more confident and walking-sex-on-a-stick, but Jake has limits. And they are being stretched.

                “Want me to go tell him to back off?” Thirteen asks and Jake shakes his head. He kind of likes the way Thirteen seems to be looking out for him, and he doesn’t want to explore why he feels like he needs to do that. Fucking time travel.

                Sixteen arrives with Seventeen. Sixteen is simply in service khakis, looks comfortable entering the Hard Deck. Seventeen on the other hand… Jake’s mouth goes dry. Seventeen is wearing cowboy boots and hat and he looks like a fucking wet dream and Jake didn’t realize this was a thing he had, and he’s sure he actually doesn’t, but on Rooster it’s just too much…

                Because the universe hates him Eighteen walks in wearing an almost identical get-up, but with a whip swinging from his hip and Jake lets out a little whimpering sound, holds out his hand and makes a grabby gesture to Six for another drink. Fortunately Six is forthcoming and Jake throws it back gratefully. Two Roosters dressed like cowboys. Not just dressed like it but they also seem comfortable and capable and Jake cannot cope with this.

                “Oh. Now there is a look I wouldn’t have thought I could carry off, but I look good…” Ten says; he and Fifteen have come to watch the door, because the door does not even close before another Rooster is walking through it, which is why they’re almost arriving in pairs now; one of them sometimes holding the door for the other. He’s starting to lose track of who is who, the number of identical uniforms and almost identical faces making the job a lot more difficult. Three and Five are also starting to look a little overwhelmed, which he doesn’t find reassuring at all.

                “You said you know your Bradley. I think we should maybe either get him to come here or we go to his place.”

                “How am I meant to transport twenty people?”

                “Hound isn’t around?” Rooster Nineteen, maybe, asks, eyebrow raised in question and Jake shakes his head.

                “Who the fuck is Hound?” Jake asks, because it sounds like a callsign.

                “Just my Universe then…”

                “Apparently.”

PART FIVE

[shingekinomyfeelings]

Shh (Reiner x female reader; smut, PWP; mdni please)

nsfw. canon universe, alt timeline, 104th cadet training era in which characters are aged up to 18+. ~700 words. content warning for implied penetration and explicit dialog. contains dirty talk, reader getting railed on a dresser, and Reiner being a horrible little tease

You might be a little shy about being overheard, but Reiner sure isn't.

notes: let me say it again so we're super clear here - characters in my fics set during the cadet era should be assumed to be aged up to 18+, in a very slightly less miserable world in which training doesn't start at age 13. If this is really objectionable to you, that's okay, you don't need to read it.

This is by far my filthiest bit of writing as of yet, and my first pure PWP bit. At first I was kind of mortified about sharing it! I'd never even tried to write anything approaching dirty talk before and was worried it would be super 'off' and, you know, reflective of my being an asexual who's never touched a dick, and posted it sort of... hoping only a few people would read it - and then pretty few people did. But, somehow, over time I started feeling way more confident about and maybe even proud of this one, and honestly wishing I'd hyped it up more. It still feels weird for me to share smut with anyone, but I'm ngl, writing shit this shamelessly horny is actually a lot of fun. What's happened to me?

Anyway, love it or not, thank you for reading and for giving me an audience for trying new things like this. I think it's what pushes writers to grow.

Oh yeah, there are also some minor edits from the original version because I can't help myself.

originally published January 2023

Training exercises in the interior are rare, but they also come with a rare perk – you get to spend the night at an actual inn, with your own rooms and soft, comfy beds.

Currently, though, you’re not on the soft, comfy bed. Having slipped quietly from your room and sneaked off to Reiner’s, you’re currently seated on the dresser, clothes wantonly discarded across the floor, hair falling over your shoulders as your boyfriend stands, fucking into you with a desperation that you can only assume is inspired by the elegant change of scenery.

It’s certainly easier to sneak around at a place like this, and while you were a little tired after training and would have been content just to lay in bed with him and cuddle, Reiner was never one to waste an opportunity. He was also as charmingly persuasive as ever, those imploring golden honey eyes coaxing you into an exercise that was far more pleasant than training ever was.

Squeezing your breasts, kissing your neck, soft, deep moans offering a counterpoint to yours, Reiner is a sweeter and more exuberant partner than you imagine there may be behinds these walls...

That doesn’t change the fact that you’re currently in very close proximity to the rest of the 104th, though.

When a series of especially enthusiastic thrusts suddenly cause the dresser to rattle loudly against the wall, you’re more than a little mortified to imagine that the others are probably still awake in their own rooms and press your lips to Reiner’s neck with a hiss. “Shh! What if the others hear that?”

“Mm, hear what? The dresser?” He repositions you a little so that you’re forced to look into his eyes, a brow raised in amusement as he makes absolutely no effort to soften his pace. “That could be anything, for all they know, dove.”

But then a wicked little smile spreads across his face, and he slides your hips forward and angles them wider to let himself sink in deeper. Your tiny gasp only makes his smirk broaden.

“Or,” he continues, leaning in so his lips are nearly brushing against your ear, his thrusting into you becoming quite agonizingly deliberate, “Are you worried they’ll hear something else? Like how good I’m fucking you right now? Doesn’t bother me one bit.”

His voice is soft and just above a whisper, and his breath is warm against your skin. Your own breath is quickening a little and your cheeks feel like they’re on fire in response to his teasing, but you find you’ve lost any inclination to admonish him - and he’s so fucking annoyingly aware of it. A little huff of a chuckle almost feels like a caress against your cheek.

“Think they can hear how soaking wet this pussy is every time I slide my fat fucking cock into it? I sure can.”

A whimper escapes your throat and your voice slips out as a whine. “F-fuck, Reiner...” You’d hate to admit it, but his words affect you in ways he can feel all too well.

Reiner’s exhalations are growing shaky now, like your response is a call of encouragement. “Are you afraid they can hear those cute little sounds you make? Mmph – your sweet little whimpers? The way you say my name like it’s the only word you know? Shit--” He rests his forehead against yours for a few heartbeats, voice almost slipping into something softer. “Not gonna lie, I do like being the only one who’s ever heard those...”

He’s quick to recover from this lapse, though, and being keenly aware of how close you’re getting, he moves his hips against you faster, and sweetly kisses your forehead. “Don’t care if they hear the rest, though. Honestly, I fucking want them to hear it and know it’s my hot cum spilling out of you right now. I could keep on filling you up with my cum until they can hear it dripping onto the fucking floor.”

And then in an instant, he pauses, tilting your head back to fix you with that smug, infuriating, gorgeous grin of his. “Of course I can stop if you’re really that scared they’ll hear us.”

With mild irritation evident in your voice, you pull him against you so you can press your lips fervently to his neck again. “I think I can live with them hearing.

[your-local-hoemie]

Imagine our favorite gingers with a constantly sleepy s/o T-T s/o just casually falling asleep on a chair during a social event coz her social battery is non existent (this is so me)

-🐢anon

Somehow tumblr is exposing my red flags better than what my therapist did, how ya’ll outing me like this 💀

Also hELLO! Yesyesyes our favourite ginger snacks are bACK!

I legit had to do this instead of catching up with Genshin because I was doing Heizou’s hangout quest and bro had me giggling and kicking my legs istg Hoyo knew what the fuck they were doing with him and I can’t handle it.

Warnings: fluff, swearing, established relationship, gn!reader, not-proof read.

Characters: Childe, Thoma.

Childe~

Dude finds it funny

Seriously had to hold back from teasing you about it 24/7 and it’s starting to break him

Ego boost 2000

At first he was very concerned!

Thought you died again 2.0

Kept asking if you were hungry or sleeping alright since he legit thought you weren’t taking care of yourself

Which you probably wasn’t knowing ya’ll, drink some damn water.

But when you told him it was just because your social battery was akin to a decomposing gummy worm, he immediately started laughing

Him being a extrovert makes it kinda hard for him to understand why social events are exhausting for you

Even if it’s just like 30 minutes

Even so, he loves his baby and will absolutely make sure to be prepared!

Always has something on him that can double as a pillow!

If he forgets it or can’t find anything then he’ll lean you against his arm or lap

He’s so casual about it too 💀

Unless he’s feeling like a lil’ shit and decides to tease you.

If you’re embarrassed about it or feel insecure about not keeping up with his ungodly amount of energy then he’ll be quick to put your mind at ease!

There’s nothing you could do that would make this man embarrassed by you

Gets suuuper cocky and proud when people look at you snoozing away against him

Mans just like-

“Yeah, I know you wish you were me right now”

If someone complains or gets annoyed by it then well

I think we all know the drill by now

He’ll help them take a nice nap too

Permanently

Or at least make em wish they could take the forever nap

Sometimes if the event or meeting is super boring which it usually is for him he’ll get lost staring at your face and admiring all your pretty features~

Ends up feeling bad when he has to wake you up but loves seeing your groggy face change from confused to panic within seconds

Usually ends up with you hitting him because he didn’t wake you up

Which usually ends up accidentally encouraging him to take you home so you can “rest” in bed >;)

Thoma~

You’re so lucky omg you have no idea

He got so concerned when he noticed you acting kinda off during a outing during one of his days off

Boy kept a super close eye on you and made sure you all stopped to eat just because he thought you had forgot to eat ;-;

when you ended up falling asleep on his shoulder he was fROZEN

Like you know when an animal falls asleep on you and you legally can’t move?

That

He panicked

After he tried slightly nudging you he simply just accepted his fate

After this happens a couple more times he eventually figured it out!

He’s good at being social given his close relationship with the Kamisato clan but he prefers keeping to himself a lot

So he’d definitely be able to understand!!

Knows how to help you recharge quickly too!!

He also grew used to you taking naps randomly when your energy was completely used up and prepared for it~

Very similar to Childe in that aspect!

Though he’s get too flustered to let you lay on his lap in public jkfjdkdkk

When it’s time to go he’ll wake you up by softly kissing your cheek or brushing it with his finger while gentle sitting you up

Doesn’t even give you a reason to feel insecure about it!

He’s so sweet and gentle that he’s just naturally comforting to be around

Always reassures you even if he thinks there’s even a slight chance of you feeling guilty ;-;

Occasionally calls you his sleepy angel if you’re being particularly cute!

If anyone gets mad about it he’ll simply tell them that if it’s annoying then you can both just leave

Has zero patience with anyone who dares to get mad at you for things you can’t help

When you both get home after a draining day he’ll make sure you’re all nice and tucked up in bed while he makes dinner

Please show him how much you appreciate him istg this boy is so precious

Look at me being productive uwu

Seriously how do people have the energy to just be social and not pass out the first chance you get it genuinely scares me-

[marmie-noir]

Magic Mike Audition

TW: A real jerk of a customer, minor injuries, I feel like shirtless Mitch is a warning? Nothing crazy this time ya'll.

Per usual not edited, please forgive any mistakes but I had written this by hand and then typed it up.

Also, if you were the human who said something about Sunny wearing Mitch's clothes, this is obviously inspired! I can't find the note/info in my activity because of the boop madness but TYSM!!

I glanced up as Ann approached, a small frown out of place with her normally chipper attitude. “What?” I asked, straightening with a stack of dirty plates balanced on one hand, glasses in the other. Our bus boy had called off and it had been super busy, Mitch barely even getting out from behind the bar to help us out on the floor. At least the tips were nice if nothing else, the people seeing how we were swamped with two waitresses, no buser, and one bartender. 

“Guy at 10 is an ass.” She muttered, looking over her shoulder. I followed her gaze and spotted a middle aged man mean mugging her. “What is his problem?” I asked, glancing back at her as we walked to the kitchen together. She began punching an order into the POS screen back there while I cleared the plates I had brought back, lining them up in the sturdy plastic tray prepping to be washed. The young dishwasher gave me a thankful smile and I returned it. He was a nice kid Mitch had just taken on, sweet by shy.

“Says he hates redheads.” Ann snipped, the sound of her nails hitting the POS screen a loud tapping noise in the kitchen. I frowned, seeing that she was very clearly a loud and proud redhead, her pretty hair pinned out of her face but in no way hidden. “Want me to take him?” I offered. I didn’t really mind difficult customers and if his issue really was redheads then problem solved. 

She glanced at me, fingers pausing over the poor screen she had been abusing moments before. “You sure?” I gave a small shrug. “Sure, why not. You’ve had a few jerks today, share the love and all that.” Her grin was immediate. “You are an angel. You hear that, Keller? Sunny is a real angel!” 

Hearing her say his name I looked back to find Mitch was in the kitchen at the pick up window getting a few orders for his customers at the bar. He paused, glancing between myself and Ann before sending me a half smile. “I know.” He said, grabbing the plates full of food. “But why do you think she is?” 

Ann gave me an amused look, always a little entertained that Mitch was never shy about complimenting me. “Because,” She said, wrapping up the last of her order, the few final clicks of her nails on the screen sounding somehow more satisfied. “She’s jumping on one massive asshole grenade.” Flashing me one last smile Ann breezed out of the kitchen, obviously lighter now that she had been relieved of table 10. 

“Darlin’.” Mitch said, a plate balanced on each hand, looking down at me but giving nothing away. “Explain.” “Table 10 told Ann he doesn’t like redheads so I’m gonna take it from her.” I said, smiling at him with a little ‘shoo’ motion. “I’m a big girl, cowboy. That food is gonna get cold if you keep standing here pesterin me.” “Sunny.” “Mitch.” I said his name with a smile on my lips. “You can see me from the bar. Now git.” “You tell ‘im girl.” Charlie called from over the pit grill, making me laugh as I left the kitchen as well. 

Ann of course had been right. This guy was an absolute dick. A whole fucking bag of them really. Not only was he rude, but he was also picky, a tragic combination in a human. His beer had to have three orange slices, three, he had repeated at least six times while I write it down with the patience of a saint. His fried pickles had to be extra crispy, and his ribs had to be drowning in sauce. He spoke in a condescending, slow tone, pausing to ensure I wrote down every one of his words as if they were scripture. And the douche canoe made sure to let me know that he had absolutely no issues sending food back. Shocker. 

I went to the back to grab the pickles when they came up, dropping them at his table before checking in with my other tables as I was covering half the dining area. He didn’t kick up a fit so I thought I was in the clear. 

I was wrong. 

I heard Charlie hit the little bell that let us know that some food was in the window. Knowing mine was up next I went to the back and spotted what could only be described as a plate of bar-b-que sauce, ribs barely visible with the amount of sauce. The plates had a raised edge so quiet a bit was on there, but he had been very insistent he wanted them swimming and those ribs were damn near doing laps. 

I grabbed the plate carefully and the other plate with his sides, as they obviously couldn’t go with the ‘swimming’ ribs. “Thanks Charlie!” I called as I walked out, beelining to table 10. 

I slid the plates before him with a friendly smile, not betting on a tip but trying to still be polite. Glancing up I noticed his beer with his three orange slices was nearly gone and I paused. “Would you like ano-” “What is this?” He cut me off, looking down at the plate at what I would personally call bar-b-que soup at this point. “Oh,” I said, brushing off his interruption. “Those would be your ribs, and I had your sides put on another plate. Does it not look right?” I asked, knowing full well this was exactly what he ordered. 

“Do you think this is funny?” He snapped, eyes lifting to focus on me now, clearly not pleased. “Do I look like I’m laughing?” I asked, looking down at him as my hands rested on my hips. I was polite to a point, didn’t mind working with customers on their weird requests, but this guy was just the absolute worst. I was kind, but I was no doormat. “You ordered exactly what is in front of you. If something looks wrong I can fix it, but you’ve got to tell me.” His face turned a shade of red I’d never seen, skin blotchy with his brows pinching together. He slowly stood, glaring down at me before doing something I hadn’t been prepared for. 

Putting his hand under the lip of the plate the asshole flicked it towards me, the lake of sauce and ribs splattering against my front as the plate fell to the floor. It shattered loudly, the ribs falling next as I stood there. The sauce was hot, not to the point of it being dangerous, but it didn’t feel pleasant. “Oh no.” I heard someone say but I was already moving. 

“Alright asshole, come here.” I growled, hands falling into fists as I went to swing. A cool hand wrapped around my upper arm, stopping me mid strike and I wrestled against Ann’s hold. Luckily for this asshole Ann was scrappy, stronger than she looked, and she began to pull me away from the jerk who looked far too smug. “Let me- Ann! Let me go!”

“Let Mitch handle this one, Sugar.” She whispered to me, pulling me to the back. I looked back at the asshole of a customer only to see him getting literally dragged out to the parking lot by Mitch whose face reminded me of thunder clouds right before a violent storm. 

“God damnit.” I cursed under my breath, marching to the back without a fight as the target of my rage was out of sight. Ann followed after me, a little like a nervous bird fluttering about for a few moments before finally settling on trying to get some sauce off my front with a handful of rags. There was just way too much, I felt it smear on my skin, the sweet smokey scent filling my senses. But it gave her something to do, and distracted me, irritated I hadn’t even gotten a punch in. 

There was a tense few moments of Ann basically smearing still warm sauce on my shirt before she glanced up. “M’sorry, Sunny.” She murmured, bright eyes dropping back down to the mess she was really only making worse with her efforts. Her tone and expression sucked the anger right out me. I deflated, a long sigh pulling from me before I shook my head. “Ann, no. Hey.” I gave her arm a squeeze, thankfully not leaving any smears on her. Someone had to be able to handle tables while I got cleaned up, not both of us could be 90% sauce after all. “That guy was gonna be a jerk no matter what. That isn’t your fault, okay? It’s fine. I’m not hurt I’m just… sauced.” I admitted, nose scrunching slightly at the unpleasant feeling. 

“Perfect good waste of my sauce, too.” Charlie chimed in, sounding grumpy. Ann and I exchanged a look before cracking up. “What? It is!” Mitch walked in, hands fisted at his sides, pausing in surprise to find Ann and I both laughing. I’m sure he had expected to have to come in and handle a demon (me), but really nothing bad had happened. Least he didn’t grab my ass. Seeing us both unharmed and apparently in good spirits he moved closer. “Ann, tables.” He ordered, still a bit tense. 

“On it boss.” She said, winking at me before handing me the sauce smeared rags and heading back out to the dining area. Mitch didn’t look away from me, taking in the mess that I was and the way Ann had certainly not helped. “C’mon.” He said, gesturing with a tilt of his head towards his office. 

I followed after him, careful not to accidentally bump into him or the walls. The moment the door was closed Mitch reached out and plopped me down on the edge of his desk with no warning. The feeling of his hands on my hips, lifting and then lowering me had my eyes widening slightly and I looked up at him. 

Before I could react or say anything he spoke first. “You okay, darlin’?” He asked, hand lifting and thumb brushing against my cheek. I felt something smear and knew that I had sauce there too. 

“M’okay.” I murmured quietly, looking up at him. “Sauce was a little hot but not too bad. I’m mostly mad.” I admitted. That got me a half smile which was a vast improvement. 

His fingers lingered on my cheek a moment before falling to the hem of my shirt. “Course you are fine, what was I thinking?” He muttered mostly to himself, amused as he started to peel off my shirt. Mitch was careful, ensuring that the shirt didn’t get anything into my hair or smear it on my skin more than it already was. I let him knowing I would have struggled and made a larger mess. Plus, there was no saving the shirt with how drenched it was. 

He tossed the shirt into the bin and it made a spat noise that had me frowning. Together the two of us cleaned the sauce with Mitch getting most of it, grabbing the package of baby wipes Ann kept in her cubby for emergencies. She swore they were the best make up removal wipes ever but hadn’t tested it myself. Worked wonders of bar-b-que sauce though. 

‘At least I wore a plain bra.’ I thought, thankful that the simple black bra wasn’t in danger of being ruined. If one of my cute pale ones had gotten sauced I would have been pissed. Mitch gave me one more once over and I noticed that some of my skin was a little pink and sensitive. Guess the sauce was hotter than I had felt. I wasn’t too bad though, more annoying almost than anything, a dull pain. Mitch’s touch was unbelievably soft though, fingertips glossing over my skin gently as he helped to clean me up. It was nice, and while I wouldn’t voluntarily step in the way of flying plates in the future, I didn’t mind getting this kind of treatment from the man looming over me. On his desk. The very desk where he had me falling apart just last week. 

As if reading my thoughts Mitch’s eyes slid up from the middle to meet mine, the zing of awareness coloring my cheeks slightly. He let out an amused little exhale, lips quirking up, but he didn’t say anything. Instead he took a little step back, tossing the used wipes into the bin as well before grabbing the first aid kit. 

Without the heat of his larger form close I felt goosebumps race up my arms and I frowned, glancing around the office to see if I could find a spare shirt to borrow for the rest of my shirt. Normally Mitch had a few shirts with the bar's logo on it for people to buy, but hadn’t ordered any in a hot minute. 

Mitch came back with the kit, settling the little metal box next to me on the desk before popping it open. “Lean back a little, I want to get some burn cream on your stomach.” He said, pulling a little packet of said cream from the kit, eyes on the pink skin of my abdomen. “I don’t need it, honest.” I tried to reassure him, not wanting him to go through all the fuss. Mitch reached out silently, his hand gentle as he pressed against my collarbone so I had to lean back, my arms holding more of my weight. “Humor me.” He said in that honey laced tone that had me nodding mutely, looking up at him all doe eyed. “Good girl.” He praised, voice low and sweet, the words rumbling from him into the small space between us. Then he began to apply the cream to any part of my skin that was looking a little irritated or pink. It was cold, I sucked in a little breath that had his pretty blue eyes jumping to my face to check in. Seeing that it hadn’t been a pain induced sound he smirked before continuing. His touch was gentle, borderline adoring even, rubbing little circles with a light pressure as the cream soaked into my skin. It hadn’t been a bad burn but it had been a little sore, almost like a sunburn. Still, I was touched that he insisted on taking care of them, as non-serious as they were. 

His hands slid up my bare sides, palms a little rough on my skin in the best way, his thumbs rubbing soothing little circles along the way. I was smiling, watching his hands glide over my skin before glancing up at him through my lashes. This man either had no idea how handsome he was or he didn’t care, even now in this moment with those thick lashes and deep blue eyes. The way his hair fell a little from his hat, or the way his lips were just slightly parted as he concentrated on me. Focused. It was addictive, having his complete and total attention. “It does feel better.” I admitted, earning another smile from him. Mitch leaned in, giving me a chaste kiss before straightening, his warm hands leaving my skin. I nearly pouted, wanting to continue to be spoiled with his care and attention. Then he took me by surprise, reaching instead to undo the buttons of his flannel. I blinked at him, confused as to what exactly he was doing. He paused, seeing my confusion, but instead of answering the obvious question he flashed me that teasing smile before taking off his hat and sliding it onto my head, pulling the bill low so it blocked my vision. I adjusted it with a huff, uncaring it if mussed my hair. “Not that I don’t appreciate a good show,” I started, watching him undo the next few buttons a little slower than before. Flirt. “But wanna share why you’ve decided to join me in the shirtless club?” 

“Well,” Mitch said, smiling as he shrugged the flannel off. He set it next to me on the desk, leaving him in that deliciously semi-fitted black t-shirt. The kind that hugged his biceps just right and showed the strength of him without being uncomfortable, the material soft and hanging just right on his form. God bless whoever invented that cut of shirt. “You aren’t working shirtless, much as I would appreciate the view, I don’t really want everyone else getting an eyeful.” “While I don’t disagree, that doesn’t explain why you are doing a Magic Mike audition right now.” He pulled his shirt off in one practiced move, grabbing the back of the collar and lifting it over his head and then off his arms. It left his hair a little mussed and he let out a laugh at my comment, his free hand reaching up to smooth his hair back once more. My mouth was so dry, eyes slightly wide as I took in just how absolutely sexy that was and how tempting he looked right now.  

Seeing me at a loss for words made him a little smug and he reached out, attempting to put the shirt on me. “I-Mitch, I can wear a bar shirt, you don’t have to.” I stammered out, cheeks a little warm, meeting those familiar blue eyes that had warmed with humor and a slightly less innocent heat. 

“Don’t have any, Sunshine.” He said, taking a half step closer, one of his thighs splitting mine and resting against the edge of the desk as he got even more in my space. 

Christ but did he look good. Mitch wasn’t packed with muscle but he was still obviously strong. His arms were thick, body trim with very little extra weight, slightly softer in the middle. His pants were a little low too, that fancy silver buckle of his gleaming even in the low light of the office. I was far too distracted by the fine line of dark hair that traveled down his lower stomach to disappear into his jeans that when Mitch pulled his hat off my head and back onto his own I jumped, surprised. It had me blushing, looking up at him as he let out a pleased laugh, fingers brushing under my chin teasingly. “Darlin’, you keep looking at me like that and poor Ann is gonna have to run the bar alone.” He teased while a very real spark of heat lit in his dark eyes. I swallowed before letting out a huff, lifting my arms to allow him to pull his shirt over my head. 

Mitch was bigger than me so the shirt was obviously oversized on me. The sleeves weren’t tight around my arms, and the material bunched near my hips. It wasn’t unflattering, it just didn’t look as good on me as it did on him. It smelled like cigarette smoke and bar food but under that I caught a whiff of his body wash and cologne, the fabric still a little warm from his skin. Something about that made my skin tingle, hand lifting to gently play with the collar of the shirt as I looked up at him. 

“Little big but it’ll do.” He hummed, leaning back slightly to adjust his hat once more, blue eyes scanning over my figure to take in how I looked in his shirt. From his expression Mitch Keller really liked me in his shirt. A lot. 

“Thanks.” I mumbled, distracted by the scent of him right under my nose. I watched him grab the flannel once more and slide his arms into the sleeves, starting to do the buttons up once more. I reached out with a grin, helping him do the buttons up, fingers brushing his skin with a faux innocence. Without the t-shirt under the flannel a small patch of his chest hair was visible. It felt naughty for some reason, the little bit of previously hidden skin peaking out of the collar of his shirt. It didn’t help that he rolled up the sleeves to his elbows. 

God, I was a lucky lady. 

Watching him roll up his sleeves unashamed I caught sight of something out of place and frowned, reaching out to gently grab at his right hand. Lifting it up so I could see better in the garbage lighting of the office my eyes lifted to his. Mitch’s knuckles were bruised, a few slightly split open. Clearly from when he’d dragged that jerk out to the parking lot. Not that I’d guessed they’d had a civil conversation, but seeing physical proof of what Mitch was willing to do for me? It made the butterflies in my stomach fill up my whole body and I felt like warm butter, ready to melt if he so much as touched me. 

“Thank you.” I said softly, pressing a small kiss to the back of his hand, ever mindful of his injuries. “For always saving me.” 

“Y’don’t need saving, Sunny.” He responded, voice low and warm. “But I’m glad I get to.” I smiled at that, holding his hand in one of mine while the other dug around the first aid kit. “Lemme patch you up and then we can both go save Ann.” 

“Alright, Darlin’. Whatever you say.” 

More Mitch and Sunny here

[hobistyles]

Forbidden Love

Pairing: Taehyung x Reader

Warnings/Tags: Cussing, dirty talk, cheating (please don’t ever do this), unprotected sex (again, be smart!), smut. *I want to remind everyone that this writing involves infidelity and can make several people uncomfortable, which is never my intention! Please do not read if it makes you uncomfortable*

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3

A/N: Hello everyone! I would love getting feedback on my writing. I used to write a lot for One Direction back in the day, but I’d like to consider myself a new writer since it was so long ago! Anyways, I hope everyone enjoys and I’m also thinking of making a series of this, so again…please share your feedback and let me know if I should do a part two!

Your lips leave his, hesitant to stop, but you knew this wasn’t right. “Taehyung,” you whisper, as he begins to move down to your neck, making sure to mark you — to claim you his. All Taehyung ever wanted was for him to know he wasn’t the only one receiving intimacy from you. “TAE!” You snap at him. He smacks his lips, completely stopping and giving you all his attention. “What is it, Y/N? Do you not want me anymore? Do you not want this anymore?” He guides your hand to his throbbing cock. All you could think about is how much you wanted this.

How much you wanted him.

You stop yourself, “No…this isn’t right. I’m fucking my boyfriend’s best friend. You think that’s right? You’ve known Jungkook for how long? I mean—do you even feel guilty?” Taehyung sighs and rubs his eyes with one hand, then proceeds back to looking at you. Those dark brown eyes that you adored so much. He takes a deep breath before leaning towards your lips, kissing you passionately.

You’re uncertain, but don’t stop him. “Baby…” he whispers in your ear, “does he make you feel like this?” He grabs your legs and wraps them around his waist. “Hm?” You can’t help but to grab onto his shirt and press your lips on his. Although you didn’t want to admit it, you craved him. You desired him. “He doesn’t get you wet…” he whispers, “he doesn’t fuck you the way I do,” he smirks. You breathe heavily as you close your eyes, uncertain to keep going. Taehyung notices and grins, proud that you melt under his touch.

“Just tell me when to stop,” he coos.

You can’t help but to give in, selfishly. “I…need you.”

“You need me? Tell me what you want,”

You part your lips, having a hard time to speak. His lips slowly moving downwards to your stomach.

“C’mon, be a good girl and tell me where you want my mouth,”

He knew exactly what to do every time to make you agree to fuck once again. You had always told him that the last time, would actually be the last time. Somehow, he always managed to convince you otherwise. For the longest you wanted to stop the affair. You loved Jungkook, but something about being with Taehyung gave you that adrenaline that Jungkook could never offer you.

“Want you to taste me…want you to feel how wet I am for you.”

His tongue trails down, slowly pulling your skirt up. “Fucking slut…look at that pretty pussy…even wore my favorite thong,” he growls. You both knew what you came here for. Taehyung pulls your thong to the side and licks a stripe of your heating core, sending electric shocks to your body.

“Mmm, baby…” you moan, quickly feeling your legs go weak as he lifts your legs and places them on his shoulders for easy access. His tongue glides and licks in between your folds. You grab a hold of his locks, arching your back as he perfectly circles your clit with his tongue. The sounds of moans and grunts fill the room. Suddenly, you feel pressure being inserted inside of you. “Oh shit, Taehyung!” His middle finger pumps in and out of you while he continues to do his tongue work on your pulsing cunt.

“You taste so good,” his nose teasing your clit, adding more arousal to you.

“So close…” you whine, rolling your hips towards him to hit the spots you crave so eagerly for him to hit.

“Cum for me…I want to taste your sweetness, baby girl.”

You’re numb. Legs shaking as you’re cursing underneath your breath. You feel a sharp sensation on your stomach and your vision becomes blurry. You let go, as you cum without warning. “FUUUUUUUCK!” Taehyung pulls away. His lips glossy from your fluids. He looks at you with a slight smirk and licks his lips.

“You want my dick, or are you still feeling guilty?” A chuckle leaves his lips.

You nod, unable to speak from the sparking orgasm you just endured.

“Use your words, princess.”

“…m-want you i-inside o-of me,” you breathe out.

He pulls down his sweats, releasing his rock hard member. Taehyung hovers over you, not breaking eye contact.

“I love you,” he whispers.

Shocked at his words, you didn’t know if you could say it back. What you felt for Taehyung was very much different than what you felt for Jungkook and it’d be wrong if you fell for your boyfriend’s best friend.

You open your mouth to say something, but he stops you, bringing your lips to his. The tip of his dick tickling your stomach. He looks down, his hand giving his erection slight strokes before teasing the tip on your entrance. His hips lean against you as his cock perfectly sinks inside you. Taehyung throws his head back and begins stroking in and out of you, pumping his cock easily into you.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” he grunts. “I fucking love when you’re wet for me, and only for me,”

Your hands make their way down to rest them on his stomach.

“Fucking love your cock, baby…you’re the only one that makes me feel like this,”

“Yeah? This pussy…is…mine,” he thrusts between each word, making you cock stupid. “Tell me this shit is mine!”

“It’s yours Taehyung, all yours.”

His pelvis pounds harder into you. You feel your second orgasm coming close. The tip of his cock hitting your cervix perfectly. “Feel you right here, baby…” you grab his free hand, placing it on your tummy. “So big…” you whimper, making him go crazy.

“You’re so cock hungry. Look at you being desperate for my dick. I bet you don’t moan for him the way you do it for me, princess. Fuck, you’re so good,” his eyes roll back, his climax reaching to its peak as well.

All you could hear was the skin slapping and bed shaking from how hard Taehyung’s force was going in and out of you. Your nails digging his back, for sure leaving marks for everyone to see what he did the night of. He winced, feeling both pleasure and pain. “I’m gonna cum!” You try to escape, but he presses his hand on your waist, keeping a tight hold on you.

“I want to cum with you,” you wrap your legs around his waist for better access.

“Yeah, I’m filling you up with my cum. Another way to mark you my cum slut.”

You clench around him, perfectly snuggling his pulsing cock, both of you releasing your orgasm together with moans escaping each other’s lips. Taehyung milks his cock, thrusting a few more times before slumping in bed next to you. Beads of sweat held his dark hair, perfectly. A slight smile forms his lips as he looks over at you. You’re completely in awe of what just occurred.

“Baby,” he whispers. “…so when are you gonna do it?”

“Hm, do what?” You mumble, not snapped out of the satisfying orgasm you just received.

“You know…leave him,”

You slump up, gazing into his eyes with a confused look. “Leave him? Tae…I…don’t get me wrong. I love being with you and…I…you have to understand that I can’t leave Jungkook. What kind of person would I be if I leave him for his best fr-”

He cuts you off. “But you are though. You can’t leave him, but you’re fine with sneaking behind his back and having sex?”

“That’s why I think we should stop. This time I’m serious. We should stop,” you kiss his cheek, sort of like a last goodbye.

He gets up and examines your face. “Oh, baby. Listen to me and listen well,” his face getting close to you, in a way to intimidate you. “You either leave him, or I’ll tell him everything we’ve done…in detail…”