#and all my other mutuals I'm too scared to talk to yet

[eggymoth]

My friends are so awesome and wonderful and talented and I love them!!! I'm so lucky that I got to meet them during my lifetime and I will cherish the time I get to spend together with them!! I forever wish them happiness and although I am not perfect I will try my best to be here for them!!!!

[moonlight-prose]

I saw that prompt list you reblogged and so if you’re looking for logan ideas i really liked:

10) finding their partner’s sex toy/toys and making them play with it in front of them

Love your fics btw too!!! 💜💜

hunger

a/n: oh my brain went to mush at this one. like actively i've lost brain cells and am currently scrounging to find more. this is basically me being a horny bitch for this man. (possibly cause i'm ovulating). but that's okay. we're all here to do the exact same thing!

summary: things are set into motion the second logan opens your drawer. suddenly you find yourself the center of a show with only one audience member.

word count: 1.7k+

pairing: logan howlett x f!reader

warnings: EXPLICIT SO MINORS DNI, mutual masturbation, overstimulation, hints at oral (f receiving), cigar smoking, voyeurism, dirty talk, he's so filthy i blushed writing this.

Accidental was far from the word he'd use to describe the current situation. He'd rather say it was intentional. At least that's what it felt like when you sent him to your drawer for a pair of clean boxers you stole from him in the first few weeks of dating. Logan was used to the act. Finding his flannels strewn throughout your closet—his leather jacket draped across the foot of your bed like a fancy throw blanket.

He felt it before he saw it. The soft silicone feel of something small—an uninteresting object he normally would have overlooked. He pushed it out of the way at first, mistaking it entirely for the little portable charger you usually keep by the bed.

Only for it to roll to the side, the button hitting the drawer. A loud buzz drew his attention close within seconds. His hand grasping the small vibrator and flicking it off with a smirk. A look he wore when the choice to fuck you into the mattress solidified in his mind.

"Hey what's taking so long?" You stepped out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel—water droplets streaming off your naked body, forming a small puddle on the hardwood floors of your shared bedroom.

He close his fist around the small device when he stood, holding the clothes you were waiting for. Logan watched you smile, reach for his hand, and stop short as his other palm opened—revealing the black little toy you only kept for emergencies.

For nights when he was called on a mission that might land them in deep waters for days on end. You never minded—it was part of the job after all—but telling Logan that you fucked yourself in your spare time to ease the thoughts of him that plagues you...wasn't an easy conversation to have. Yet there it was. Staring directly at you; taunting you with the knowledge that he found it before you could locate a better hiding spot.

"Got somethin' to tell me bub?"

Your mouth dried at the sight of his grin—nostrils flaring as your scent sharpened in the air. Thicker than before; the tell tale sign that you weren't angry or irritated. But interested in where he might take this.

Before you could snatch it from his hands, he tossed the clothes back into the still open drawer. His smile on deepening at the sight of your swallow—the steady thrum of your heart now a quick flutter under your chest. There was no hiding how you felt with him. Not when he was so in tune with your body it nearly scared you.

He could smell the pool of slick that began to form in between your clenched thighs. The sharp breath you sucked in giving him enough confirmation to keep going. You wanted this—him. And though he could never understand why, he rarely questioned it.

So he nodded towards the bed, dragging the chair you kept at your desk over to sit a foot away from where you were perched. Your hand still clutching the towel and eyes stuck on the vibrator in his hold.

Logan lowered himself with a sigh—legs spread and body relaxed as your eyes trailed down his stomach to the thick expanse of his thighs. Last night you were perched on one, reduced to a whiny moaning mess as he dragged you along the rough denim. Watching you work yourself into a high that left you immobile.

His head tilted, gaze dragging down your body, tongue swiping out to wet his bottom lip. "You aren't gonna need the towel bub," he rasped.

"I don't know what we're doing."

"Don't you trust me?" You nodded quicker than you expected. "Then drop it and spread those pretty legs for your old man."

A soft whimper barely legible above your gasp echoed in the room. Logan heard it as if you pressed it directly to his ear. You scooted back on the bed, the towel now forgotten and dropped to the floor. He shifted at the sight of your feet pushed against the soft comforter, your cunt on full display for him to view.

"There we go," he murmured.

Your hand slipped down, sliding through your slick for barely a second before he was clicking his tongue. "That's not what I want."

"B-but you said-"

"I said spread 'em. Not touch your pretty little clit."

"Logan," you breathed, fighting the pull that demanded you find some sort of relief. Even if that came in the form of your own touch.

He merely lounged in the chair, smiling at how you battled with yourself in order to be good for him. Oh how he loved the sight of your brows pulled together—need eating away at the very core of your body. If he was a better man he'd let you choose what to do.

He'd follow your lead.

But that remained something he never excelled at.

"Don't worry. She'll get the attention she needs." He leaned over you, placing the familiar device between your breasts—a kiss quickly snuck against your nipple that peaked under the wet heat of his mouth. "I'm real interested in how you use this sweetheart. Show me?"

The breath escaped you with a punch to your stomach as he settled back in his previous spot. You glanced at him—heat spilling beneath your cheeks—and felt a wave of slick drip down to the bed at the sight of him pulling a cigar free. He cut the end off, stuck it between his teeth, and flicked the lighter on with practiced ease.

This was a show and he remained the only audience member.

"Go on," he mumbled, smoke unfurling past his lips. "Be a good girl."

With a shaky breath, you gingerly picked up the vibrator and turned it on. This was second nature to you now. Laying in bed with your legs spread as you listened to the buzzing sound that would bring you your desired orgasm. You'd been here before. You would no doubt be here again.

Only this time Logan paid attention to every minuscule movement. He clung to the way you slid your hand down and pressed the end of it to the very top of your clit. Almost as if you were the best fucking program he had the privilege to watch.

Instead of the rush of sweaty embarrassment you almost expected. You were greeted with a boost of pride at the sound of his harsh groan. The chair creaking under his weight as he shuffled to find some relief for his growing cock.

"How's it feel bub?" he breathed, inhaling another drag from his cigar.

You sighed, high pitched and needy. "Good."

"Yeah?" He shifted again when you slid the vibrator through the lips of your cunt, a moan spilling past your parted lips. "Fuck. You normally take your time with it?"

Nodding, you dragged it back up to your clit, teasing yourself with small circles. "F-Feels better like this."

That familiar tug in your gut began to grow the longer you held it against yourself, building quicker than before. You knew it was on account of him watching you. Licking his lips and white knuckling his cigar to keep from sliding his tongue through your slick. You had half a mind to beg him. To see if you could get him to break.

The minute you slipped it down further and plunged it into your tight walls was enough for him. He snapped with a feral grunt. His hands working the belt buckle of his jeans—a whisper of his zipper being tugged down—before his cock sprang free. The tip red and shiny with precum.

You moaned at the sight, legs trembling as you pumped the vibrator clumsily into your cunt. "Touch yourself," you gasped, stomach going taut. "Please. Need to see you baby."

"Fuck sweetheart. Gonna make me cum like a fuckin' teenager." He spit loudly into his palm, slicking up his cock with a heady moan.

"P-Pretty," you slurred.

"Look whose talkin'," he huffed. The cigar now clamped between his teeth.

The intensity of his gaze only grew when you replaced the device with two of your fingers. Rapidly working them in tandem with the buzzing on your swollen clit. Sparks shot down your spine, heat clamping tight around your stomach. What time you thought remained now worked its way to an eviscerating crescendo.

"Your creamin' around your fingers bub," he grunted, the wet slap of his hand blending with the echo of your cunt. "Want to lick you clean after this."

Your walls fluttered, heart leaping to your throat. "Can I suck your cock?"

A ragged moan filled the empty spaces that lay between. "Can't say no to you."

"Logan," you mewled. "'M gonna-"

He snarled, abruptly sitting forward, hand still working his cock in rapid strokes. "C'mon. Cum for me. Give me a show."

The string holding you together broke in two, flooding your body with bliss and turning your vision blurry. His name was a broken cry torn from your throat—hips canting up into your touch as you pushed the vibrator harder against your clit. Until the pleasure began to seep into pain. A whimper echoed in the room when you pulled away, legs falling to dangle off the bed—body now entirely spent.

The soft press of his lips against your knee jolted you slightly; the nerves under your skin still sensitive. He dropped to the floor, eyes latched onto the way your entrance fluttered, cum now forming a mess between your thighs.

"Made such a pretty mess for me bub."

You sighed, a smile pulling at the corners of your lips. "You like it?"

Wet open mouth kisses trailed along your inner thigh, his nose pressed to the curls above your center. "I fuckin' love it," he sighed, inhaling your heady scent with a groan.

"It's yours."

You gasped when his tongue slid along your cunt, thumbs spreading you to reach every fucking inch. "Yes it is." He pressed a kiss to each lip, sucking them into his mouth as if he was kissing you. "All fuckin' mine."

[mrsbarnesblog]

one step at a time

masterlist

summary: after being rejected by you, the person who managed to catch Rafe's attention in a way no one else ever had, he goes spiraling into his addiction even more. you happened to be the only one who was able to pull him out of the turmoil in which he had buried himself in the last years.

words count: 6.5k

warnings: drug addiction, withdrawls, mutual pinning, angsty with happy ending

a/n: i've been writing and rewriting it since august and i still don't know whether i like the final result or not, so i'm ready for your feedback. aaaand happy new year to all of you, my precious followers. hope this one will bring you only the best💘

You felt your skin getting hotter under the intense gaze of a particular guy who had been starring at you whenever you two were in the same room. The one who was present in your head all the time, no matter how hard you tried to get distracted and convince yourself that it was not the person that you needed in your life.

Rafe Cameron.

He was in a circle of his so-called friends, mostly not paying attention to them and instead watching you. You didn’t know when it started to happen—when the looks that you gave to each other started to get longer and more frequent, when your eyes started to search around the rooms until they found what they wanted, when the small talks that you had during official Kook’s events became so awkward and nervous.

Your fathers worked together for a few years, so you weren’t friends, more like acquaintances who occasionally attended the same galas and parties, where you usually ended up in the same circle of people. And who, well, might have developed a secret crush on each other. 

The thing is, you didn’t know why you felt that way. Rafe was certainly not the nicest person on the island, yet you didn’t have a real reason to hate him either. He was a menace; he was spoiled and thrived on attention from others. But Rafe was undeniably hot, so damn attractive without even trying, and you just wanted him. Your whole body was gravitating towards him, no matter how you tried to get this bullshit out of your head. 

Still, you knew for a fact that no matter how much even his presence in the room affected you, seeing him do countless and countless lines at every party pushed you away from him more than anything else ever could. You were not the one to ever judge people for their addictions, but seeing many times what drugs did to people, you didn’t want to deal with it at all. Remembering the first time you noticed it, the first time Sarah cried because of how her brother became so reckless and that she was scared for him, a shiever ran down your spine. 

You excused yourself and left from inside the house when the air became to thick with the smell of smoke, alcohol, and sweat from people all around you and when your thoughts started to wander in the familiar direction. You found a semi-quiet space at the balcony on the second floor, but it didn’t take too long until someone else went there, as you heard footsteps approaching you. 

“What are you doing here alone?” You instantly turned around at the sound of Rafe’s smooth voice, only to catch him looking at you up and down with a gleam in his eyes. You heart raced, almost breaking out of your ribcage, while you tried to visibly not freak out.

“Nothing, just needed some fresh air.” You shrugged. “And why are you here?” 

“Honestly?” He chuckled, seemingly feeling nervous, as his right hand started rubbing the back of his neck. “I followed you.”

“Oh…”

“Yeah, kinda wanted to talk to you alone for a long time.” He stepped closer, mostly looking at the floor and licking his lips. You didn’t know whether it was the chill air or the fact that Rafe’s presence had a weird influence on you, but you shivered. “You’re so pretty tonight, y’know? I mean, always. Thought I could ask you to hang out sometime. Like without shit tons of people around us?”

Your eyes followed the movements of his slightly trembling hands and the realization that he was high again made your heart sink. It were drugs speaking, you were sure that he wouldn’t have done it with a sober mind, so you just pursed your lips at the bitter feeling in your chest. 

Rafe was almost jittery, either from finally asking you out or the powder that was currently flooding his system — he didn’t even know that himself. He wanted to ask you out for ages, always thinking about the way you pulled his attention like a magnet, the way he craved you more with every passing day, but it seemed like there was never a good moment for that. 

“Rafe…” You breathed out his name, your eyes finally finding his. Pupils dilated, almost covering the pretty blue color, and the look so distant, weird, as if he wasn’t even fully there. “I can’t. This is wrong. I don’t want to do it like that.” 

“You-you’re looking at me. I know I’m not fucking crazy. You look at me the same way I look at you, don’t bullshit me, Y/N.” His eyes narrowed, his throat suddenly dry from the nerves and a hurting feeling of rejection. He stepped closer, which seemed like a way to intimidate you, but you weren't afraid of him, not even in this state of mind. 

“I’m not… denying it, okay? I like you, for some reason.” Your cheeks heated, and you started fidgeting with your fingers, but still looking up at him with seriousness and concern. “But I hate your lifestyle, Rafe. Say whatever you want, but this is not normal. You’re high even right now—I see it in your eyes. Will you even remember this party, me, our conversation the next morning?”

Was it anger that was bubbling inside of him right now? Or maybe agitation? Whatever it was, it hurt him deeply, more than he could admit. For the first time ever, Rafe actually, genuinely, became interested in someone, not with the intention of a meaningless hook up, but just because something was pulling him towards you. And, of course, he had to fuck everything up again with his dumb ass desicions. 

Who was he kidding, thinking that you wouldn’t care about the coke? You were possibly the sweetest person on the island, despite being a kook, and he had never even heard any rumors about you doing anything illegal. You were just the definition of a rich girl who enjoyed her perfect life on an island, hanging out with your friends, doing your hobbies, and never getting into trouble. 

Rafe just wanted to hit his head against the wall from the amount of mixed feelings and thoughts that his poor overstimulated mind was experiencing right now. 

“Rafe, please listen and understand what I say. I’m not rejecting you. I’m just saying that I can’t commit to anything if you’re not even fully there. If the situation was different, I would’ve happily accepted it.” His attention was focused on the floor, but from the way his jaw was clenching while you were talking, you knew that he was listening. “These people are not your friends, because they let you do that and they do not care. You should stop destroying your mind and your body with drugs while you can.” 

You tried to reach out to touch him, but he flinched. 

“Yeah, I–I get it. See ya later.” He mumbled under his breath, not even looking at you.

“Rafe, wait! Rafe!” You tried to call out, but he was already gone, mixing in the croud of people in the main room.

You pushed on the button on the doorbell for the third time, but it seemed like Cameron’s house was silent. Rafe’s truck was on the driveway, as was his red bike, so you knew that he must be home. 

After that talk with Rafe almost three weeks ago, you only heard about him and caught a few glimpses with his friends at Figure 8. People talked that he had gone even crazier than usual and that Shoupe arrested him twice. You were worried that it might be your fault, but just when you decided to catch Rafe the next time you see him, he vanished for the whole day. 

You had to call Sarah to ask what was wrong with her brother, making up a stupid excuse for your sudden interest, and the only thing that she told you was him not getting out of his room and acting weird.

Maybe it was a bad idea to come here uninvited when clearly no one else besides Rafe was home, or because you weren’t even that close, but it was too late to go back when you opened the front door and slowly went up the stairs to his room. 

You were in the house a few times already, when your families had their usual gatherings together, so you pretty much knew where you had to look for Rafe. You stopped in front of his door, unsure of your actions, but before you could run away like a child, your hand had already knocked on the door.

The soft groans and mumbling were heard inside, as well as the sound of the bedsheets and something falling on the floor. Your first thought about him having someone over there made your heart drop for a second, but another groan, almost painful, filled you with concern.  

“Get—get the fuck away, Sarah. T-told you a million fu-ucking times.” Rafe’s voice was hoarse, and it seemed like he was trembling with the way it shaked. You heard cussing and more groans. He did not sound like himself with those strange pauses and unusual sounds, which made the level of your worry skyrocket. What if he was doing coke in there, or maybe something stronger? His ego must’ve gotten hurt because of your rejection, and now he was putting that shit up his nose again. 

“It’s not Sarah, Rafe. Open, please.” You rested your head on the door, listening to the complete silence after your words. He was thinking—you knew that. He was trying to figure something out, and the fact that you didn’t know what was exactly happening frightened you. "Fuck, are you doing it again? I won’t go until you open the door. Rafe, this is not funny!” 

You didn’t expect to see what was in front of you. As soon as the door opened, another version of Rafe was looking at you. He was barely standing straight, gripping the side of the door for dear life, shaking like a leaf and sweating. His face was pale, with almost white lips and bloodshot, exhausted eyes. 

You gasped, covering your mouth with your hand, but stepped closer to take a hold of his face. He took something worse than cocaine. He’s high again. It’s bad. Your mind immediately went to a dark place, already feeling tears at the brim of your eyes. 

That’s when Rafe’s eyes met yours, and you froze in place. 

“You are clean.” You said, not asked, breathlessly. Tired, red, and slightly watery, but still clear, eyes looked right at you with a mixture of shame and relief. He licked his lips a few times, probably dehydrated, trying to stay focused on you despite feeling too sick to stand up straight. “Oh my god, Rafe, I thought—What's happening?” 

When he didn’t respond to you, with a new wave of confidence, you pushed him back into the darkness of the room, closing the door behind you and looking around. It was a mess, but no empty bottles, white powder, or random credit cards were seen, and you sighed with relief. 

Rafe was barely holding himself up. His body was fighting against him, craving that poisonous relief again. He swayed on his legs, suddenly feeling way too hot again, even though his skin was covered in goosebumps. It started to become more than he could handle, but another reminder that you were, in fact, right in front of him came in the form of your hands holding his face. 

Your soft eyes were searching for something in him while he tried to focus on your face. He thought that maybe he started hallucinating because, why else would you be there? Rafe leaned forward as his face curled in pain. You hummed in response, taking some of his body weight on yourself. Your hands stayed on his face, while his own trembling ones fell on your waist for some kind of support. 

At first, he thought that he was mad at you. After you rejected him, when he finally found power in himself to talk to you at that party, he was furious. He came back to his friends, immediately pulling out a plastic bag from his pocket and emptying it on the table in front of him. He inhaled more than he needed, hurt and angry from what you said to him. It blocked his mind for some time as everything around got muffled and blurry. His heart was pounding, his breath shallow, but his mind spun faster than he could keep up with. Every word you’d said echoed in his head, sharper and more painful each time.

It went on like that for some time, and at one point Rafe couldn’t even figure out what day it was. Everything was just a blur of parties, his coke buddies, and countless lines on every surface possible. It was bad, and at the back of his mind he knew that he was spiraling somewhere he wouldn’t be able to get out of, but then again, he had no one to try for. Ward didn’t care as long as Rafe didn’t cause any problems; his sisters gave him stares that he thought were either pity or disgust, as you... you weren’t there to fully see it all, so he did everything to prove God knows what, knowing damn well that it was hurt.  

The coke gave him fleeting moments of numbness, but it never lasted. The hurt always came back, heavier and sharper, gnawing at him when the highs faded and the quiet of his thoughts became unbearable.

It all was adding up, until one time Sarah caught him blacked out on the couch besides the pool. He still didn’t know whether it was a game of his mind or it happened actually, but he remembered her faint silhouette, sitting in front of him. She sounded like she was crying, but he wasn’t sure—too high to actually understand. What he remembers were her words, that surprisingly his mind was able to comprehend even in that state. “I thought you were gonna get better. I thought Y/N would be the one to pull you out of this.” Her voice cracked, a mix of sadness and disappointment that cut through the fog in his brain. “But look at you, Rafe. You’re worse than ever.”

Rafe’s vision blurred, though he couldn’t tell if it was from the high or the emotion clawing its way to the surface. He tried to move, to sit up, but his body felt like lead. He hated how vulnerable he felt in that moment, laid out in front of his sister like a broken mess.

“He cares about you, you know. She told me a long time ago how much she liked you. I know you do too. And you could’ve had it all if only you were able to get out of your own way.” Sarah said, her voice soft but edged with frustration. “But instead, you’re here, killing yourself slowly over something that you could fix. Or maybe you’re just too scared to try.”

“I’m not scared.” He gritted his teeth, groaning at the baanging noises in his head.

“Then prove it. Fix your life, Rafe. Until it’s too late.” 

He didn't remember what happened after that, but then he woke up with a more clear head, still confused and disoriented. Sarah’s words were hanging at the back of his head.

What was he even trying to prove? To you? To himself? He’d spent so much time running from the pain, from the rejection, from the fear that he hadn’t realized he was running in circles, destroying everything in his path.

Rafe stood shakily, gripping the back of the couch for support. His reflection in the sliding glass door caught his eye, and he barely recognized the person staring back. Bloodshot eyes, hollow cheeks, and a gauntness that hadn’t been there before. It was a version of himself he couldn’t stand to look at anymore.

He wasn’t sure where to start or if he even knew how to fix it, but he knew one thing: Sarah, once, was right. If he didn’t make a change now, it would be too late. Too late for you to ever see him as someone worth caring about again. Too late to prove to himself that he could be better.

Dragging a hand down his face, Rafe took a shaky breath. One step at a time, he thought, Sarah’s voice still echoing in his mind. For the first time in a long time, he felt like he could do it. He didn’t know if it would be enough, but for the first time, he wanted to try.

“It burns. I feel like my body is on fuckin’ fire. It’s in my veins. I can’t take it anymore, Y/N.” Rafe’s eyes flattered, and his breathing became heavier as another wave of heat washed over him. “I don’t wanna take coke again, but shit—-“

“You can, Rafe. I know you can. You’re doing so well. You have to fight it just a little longer.” You ran your thumbs over his cheeks and realized that he was way too hot. “You need to cool off a little. Can you take a cold shower? Can you do that by yourself?” You slightly patted his cheek until his eyes focused back on yours.

“You actually came?” His voice was hesitant, almost fragile, and a sad smile touched your lips.

“I did. I’ll help you, okay?”

“Mhm… Stay here? Please.” He almost begged, leaning into your touch and licking his dry lips again. With your touch still lingering on his face, Rafe stumbled into his private bathroom while you decided to prepare everything for him. 

After politely rummaging through the room, you found new bed sheets to replace the old ones. Then you quickly aired the room, brought a couple water bottles from the kitchen downstairs, and turned on only one light to not disturb Rafe and his sensitive mind right now. 

As you were cleaning up, you got lost in your thoughts about what had happened in the past few weeks. From Rafe asking you out, then seemingly going crazy because of your rejection, and now his attempt to quit drugs. Not that you didn’t believe in him, but he was so stubborn, and with the amount of problems constantly surrounding him, it wouldn’t be so surprising if he had just ignored you and continued living his own way. 

But you wanted him to get clean so badly because you hated the way coke was affecting him. You knew him for a pretty long time now, and you couldn’t miss the changes in his behavior after he started using. You wanted to see the real him, wanted to help him out, no matter how cliche it sounded. 

You hated that he was so careless about his own body and mind that he willingly put that shit up his nose again and again, thinking that it would change anything. You had feelings for Rafe, you did for a long time, no matter how many people openly said that he was a disaster and a big problem. One thing that you knew for sure was that if he really wanted to try, then you would support him. 

You heard the bathroom door creak open and turned to see Rafe leaning against the frame. He looked exhausted, his damp hair falling into his eyes, his skin pale but no longer feverish. He wore a fresh pair of sweatpants, the towel he had used slung loosely around his shoulders. His expression was a mix of vulnerability and shame, like he wasn’t sure he deserved the care you were giving him.

“Hey.” You said softly, walking over to him. “You feeling any better?”

He nodded faintly, his eyes meeting yours. “A little.” He admitted, though his voice was hoarse. “Thanks for… all this.”

You shook your head. “You don’t have to thank me. I just want to make sure you’re okay.” Rafe’s movements were a little slower than usual when he came closer to you, as if he craved your presence around him. “Just made you a fresh bed. I also brought some water because you’re probably dehydrated. You should try to fall asleep, and I’ll stay here if you want to.” You softly smiled, not missing the way his eyes were glued to your lips, as if he were trying to understand you better. 

“Yeah—shit, I mean okay.” Rafe started breathing heavily again, shaking his head to clear the fog and trying to stop his hands from shaking. 

In a few minutes, you managed to get you both into his bed, with you sitting against the headboard and Rafe’s head comfortably placed on the pillow on your lap. He was facing you, so you could see the way his eyes were flattering while he tried to control himself. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” You asked quietly, mindlessly running your hands through his long hair.

“Didn’t think that you would care about it, ‘cause you clearly said no to me.” He shrugged, while one of his hands sneaked under the pillow on your legs and touched your thigh. It wasn’t sexual in any way, but it gave Rafe some kind of comfort.

“I care about you. You are my friend.”

“I don’t wanna be your friend, Y/N.” 

You shook your head at his stubbornness, sliding your fingers down the side of his face. “I know, but we are. At least for now.” Rafe scoffed, tightening the grip on your thigh and trembling as another wave of chills washed over his body. “Sh-h. Remember, I didn’t say ‘no’. I said that I can’t commit to anything if you’re not fully here. It would be unfair for both of us. So now you have to get better, and then we’ll work from there.” His tired eyes met yours as if he were trying to understand whether you were serious or not. “When was the last time you used anything?”

“Yesterday morning.” 

“Mhm, so it’s your second day already. That’s amazing, Ray.” 

Rafe just hummed in response, his mouth suddenly feeling extremely dry. You made him drink some water, trying to convince him that his body needed to get rid of the toxins, and one of the best ways to do it was by drinking a lot of fluids. He was surprisingly obedient, just going back to his previous position with one hand on your leg and facing you. 

You two settled into a comfortable silence, both too lost in your own heads and thoughts. 

Rafe’s eyes didn’t leave your face. No matter how hard it was for him to focus, he studied your features that were perfectly illuminated by the small lamp. He looked at you countless times, always sneaking glances when no one would notice, but right now he thought that you looked the most beautiful. With a soft smile and eyes and slightly messy hair. 

Your hand that was brushing through his dump hair and then touching his face like a feather was almost too good to be true, making Rafe almost forget about the poisonous cravings and unusual reactions of his body. You, you, you—were the only thing on his mind. It was soothing and peaceful. It was calming the storm in his head, so Rafe didn’t want this moment to ever end. 

You mindlessly traced lines on Rafe’s face, just admiring the way he seemed to be calm and relaxed, as much as it was possible in his condition, and how it differentiated from the way he had always acted. Maybe it was stupid on your part to get closer with Rafe so easily, because, let’s face it, he could go back to his habits as soon as you stepped out of the house. Everyone around you constantly talked about him being the type of person who would never change to please somebody and who would never put his pride aside. 

But no matter how hard you tried, the boy in front of you, the one who looked at you with trust and unusual softness, made your heart beat faster. Your body and mind were screaming that you did the right thing and that he was worth saving, so you couldn’t just walk away and pretend to feel nothing. 

As you watched his eyes start to flutter with sleepiness, your own hands slowed down. With the wave of comfort that his company and the atmosphere of the room had brought you, you didn’t notice how you fell asleep. 

The next few days were rough for both of you, with Rafe trying to pull his shit together and not give up and with you trying to be as helpful as possible. He struggled a lot. You saw that pretty clearly, but what you also saw was how actually strong Rafe was and how determined he became to get through it. 

It was underestimating to say that your help and support meant everything to him. Your words of encouragement, your genuine kindness and willingness to help, your visits and time that you spend in his room—it all made it seem like the efforts were not worthless and that there was a reason to fight. 

After almost a week since the day you first fell asleep in Rafe’s bed, your relationship started progressing rapidly. You started actually getting to know each other, and countless text messages and phone calls were proof of that. 

He was feeling much better; the worst of the withdrawal symptoms had passed, and the fog in his mind started to lift. It wasn’t perfect, and there were moments where he felt overwhelmed by the weight of everything he had to face, but he was getting there. You could see it in the way he started to smile more often and how his voice had grown steadier on the phone; he became calmer and wasn’t always on the edge of snapping. 

Your attraction to Rafe grew rapidly whenever you saw the real version of him, the one that was soft and caring, brought up to the surface—the one that had been buried beneath layers of anger, frustration, and his addiction. The version of him that you knew had always been there but had been clouded for so long. It was these moments, the quiet ones when he was relaxed and open, when his vulnerability came through, that made your heart ache in ways you hadn’t expected.

Sitting on the porch at your house, you thought about Rafe and your time together, and your tummy fluttered with anticipation for what was yet to come. You saw that longing look in Rafe's eyes, and you weren’t one bit surprised because that night he clearly said that your friendship was not enough for him, but you hoped to move slowly. 

Even if your breath always hitched whenever he stepped closer or lowered himself to say something to you. 

Even if your heart skipped a bit whenever you saw a message with his name next to it. 

A notification from your phone brought you back to the present, and as soon as you saw Rafe’s text, you proved yourself right. Your heart skipped a beat again as a shy smile touched your lips. 

Café near the beach? My treat. I have something to show you

k, i’ll be there in fifteen

When you got out of the taxi, your eyes scanned the people sitting in the open area under the light of the setting sun, but you didn’t see one particular guy who started messing with your head in the best way possible. 

That was until you saw someone turning their head back, as if they sensed you standing there, and your mouth fell open in shock. 

You came closer as Rafe stood up from his chair with a smug look on his face, but your eyes were too hungry, taking him in, to even try to be respectful. 

“Your hair! Oh god, Rafe! How—why—when?" Your hand reached out to touch his freshly buzzed hair, rubbing it back and forth. 

“Texted you as soon as I finished. Just wanted to get rid of the past, y’know.” He shrugged, soft eyes studying your face that was way closer while you inspected his new haircut. “Don’t you like it?”

“It’s hot—I mean, you look hot. It suits you.” You stepped back, looking up and down, trying to memorize a new image. Rafe did look hotter. You suddenly noticed his sharp jawline, strong neck, and shoulders. Damn, he looked bigger. He looked healthier. With that spark in his blue eyes, smoothed, tan skin, and muscles... Oh god, you felt your face getting hotter as your eyes lingered on his arms way too long. 

How the hell did you miss his sudden transformation from being a frat guy to a rich golden boy? Was it the effect of his quitting drugs and finally drifting apart with his previous lifestyle and friends?

“It definitely does. Though I'll miss playing with them.” You mumbled, suddenly nervous and shy under his gaze.

“You think I look hot, hm?” He teased, placing a firm yet gentle hand on your lower back.

Touchy, but never overstepping. 

“Don’t you know that already?” You bit your lip to hold back a smile, placing your hands on Rafe’s upper arms and looking up through your lashes. You both felt that sudden tickling feeling running through your veins at the eye contact, and it made you both start smiling without any words being said. 

“A’ight, I think we should go get something to eat.” 

You were going around the people who flooded the beach house that you were currently in. With you constantly spending time with Rafe, your friends almost begged you to the party, only to leave you almost instantly as they got too interested in the experience of alcohol. Not that you were too upset about it, because you still asked Rafe to come with you, and he was more than happy to do anything for you. 

The music was too loud in the main room, and you went through the back door to an open yard that led right to the beach and was still full of drunk people, but at least there was some fresh air, and Rafe had already been waiting for you on the bench near the big wooden table with lots of drinks. 

You left him just for a few minutes just to use a bathroom, but when you stepped outside, you saw him talking to a guy that you had only seen around when Rafe was doing drugs. Your heart started beating faster at the sight of their obviously not so calm conversation, and you rushed closer to know what was happening. 

“Rare? What’s going on?” You stepped beside him, brushing your hand against his stiff back. “What do you want from him?” You pointed a finger at the guy whose name you didn’t bother to remember, and he just snickered back at you. 

“Nothing. It’s alright, sweetheart.” 

“Quit being a pussy, man. I have the best shit with me today. You’ll get high as a kite.” The guy completely ignored you, only looking at Rafe. You could physically feel the anxiety washing over you at the thought of it happening again, of Rafe just walking away with him right now and leaving you here alone. 

You tugged at his arm, trying to catch his attention. “Rafe, you promised. We should go now, please.” He looked back at you, nodding without hesitation and catching your hand to interlace your fingers. 

“Told you that I quit it. Go chase someone else, Hugh.” 

“Because of this bitch?” The moment this word left his mouth, Rafe’s hands gripped the front of Hugh’s t-shirt, backing him against the table and knocking over a few bottles. 

“Call her a bitch one more fucking time and I’ll knock off your teeth.” The guy lifted his hands in surrender, as Rafe was seething with anger, without a doubt meaning what he just said. 

You tugged gently on his arm again, trying to ease the situation. “Rafe, let’s just go, please.” You urged, your voice soft but firm, hoping to ground him before things escalated any further.

Rafe’s breath was heavy, his grip on Hugh’s shirt still tight, but his eyes were fixed on you now, softening at your touch. Slowly, he released Hugh, stepping back and running a hand through his hair.

“Yeah, we’re done here.” Rafe muttered, his voice low and controlled, though the anger still simmered beneath the surface. You guided him away from the curious people, who were already whispering about the unfolded scene.

You sat on a wooden bench under a giant tree, with your legs thrown over Rafe’s and almost no distance between you two. It happened so instantly, so naturally, that none of you even thought about it. Rafe had his warm hands laying on your thighs and knees and rubbing your exposed skin in small circles, keeping his eyes down.

A silence lingered between the two of you, and while Rafe was too lost in his head, you took your time to admire him. You spent so much time together over the past month, not because you felt obliged to, but because it was simply amazing. Underneath all of those layers, you found real Rafe, the one who was teasing, who was funny, and the one who was super protective and incredibly caring.

You had never expected to be absolutely down for a man like him, but he was getting so much better with every passing day, never giving you a reason to doubt his intentions. Of course you didn’t forget Rafe’s words about him wanting to be more than your friend, and it lingered over your head every time you caught him staring at you. Though he had never rushed anything, wanting to have that natural bond between you grow stronger and only showing his hidden desires with glances full of admiration and with careful touches. 

Rafe’s head suddenly shot up, eyes clear yet narrowed. He smirked, seeing you already looking at him and subconsciously tightening his hold on your leg. He held eye contact for a few seconds, making a smile tug at your lips before he looked away, shaking his head with a deep chuckle. 

“What?” You half-whispered, suddenly feeling shy. 

“Do you even know what you’re doing to me?” You tilt your head slightly to the side, trying to hold back a smile, but miserably fail when he moves a tiny bit closer and all you can see, feel, and smell is him. “You’re like— I’m— Fuck, you made me stutter like a damn middle schooler…” He was completely infatuated by you, barely able to handle his violently beating heart.  

You couldn’t help but laugh softly, the sound warm and full of affection. The way Rafe was fumbling with his words, clearly flustered, made you feel something deep in your chest—a flutter that wasn’t just attraction but something more vulnerable, something you hadn’t expected to feel when you first started spending time together.

“Rafe…” You whispered, leaning in just a little, your voice low and teasing. “You’re so cute when you’re like this.”

His eyes darkened slightly at your words, the smirk on his lips turning into something more sincere, more tender. He took a deep breath, shifting so he was closer, his chest nearly touching yours. His fingers slowly and carefully traced the edge of your skirt, and the way his gaze flickered between your eyes and your lips made the air feel thick with tension.

“Don’t do that.” He said softly, his voice a mixture of amusement and longing. “I’m trying not to make this harder for myself.”

“Trying?” You raised an eyebrow, your teasing smile not leaving your lips. You knew exactly what you were doing, enjoying every second of his reaction. “You’re doing a pretty terrible job of it.”

Rafe exhaled sharply, his hand now resting on your waist, his thumb brushing back and forth slowly as if he were trying to steady himself. You could feel his breath on your skin, warm and erratic. He leaned forward just enough to close the space between your faces, his lips hovering over yours, but not touching. The energy in the air around you suddenly shifted, and you raised your hand to his neck to pull him even closer.

“I don’t want to rush this.” Rafe murmured, his voice low and serious, his forehead gently pressing against yours. “But god… you make it so damn hard to hold back.”

You could feel his heart beating against yours, the rhythm erratic but strong. You didn’t speak for a moment, simply breathing with him, caught up in the quiet intensity of the moment.

“You don’t have to hold back. I’m not going anywhere, Ray.” You said softly, your voice almost a promise.

And with that, the tension seemed to snap, the silent understanding between you both growing stronger. He finally closed the space between you, his lips pressing gently against yours, tentative at first, as if he were still unsure but desperate to feel you. And as the kiss deepened, as he pulled you closer to his body, you were completely lost. 

The kiss deepened further, his tongue gently coaxing yours into a slow dance. He was lost in you, the intensity of the moment making everything else fade away. The way you responded, so naturally, so eagerly, only fueled his desire. Rafe’s grip on you tightened, pulling you onto his lap, your bodies fully pressed together now, the heat of his body seeping into yours.

When he finally pulled back, his lips still brushed against yours, his breath shaky and uneven. He looked at you, his eyes full of something deeper than just desire—there was a tenderness, raw and vulnerable, something that had been buried beneath the walls he’d built around himself.

"Thank you." Rafe breathed out, his voice thick with emotion. "For being here. For helping me... through all of this. I don’t think I could have done it without you."

You smiled softly, licking your lips before speaking. “You don’t have to thank me. You should be proud of yourself for being able to do that.” You traced your fingers down the side of his face. “Just promise me you won’t stop trying if something hard happens, okay? You have me, and you have your sixers who care about you too.”

“Okay. I won’t. I promise.” Turning his head to the side to place a kiss on the palm of your hand that lingered on his face, Rafe pulled your body closer to him. There was still a lot to work on, but hidden away from other people, you finally savoured a quiet moment between you two, and for the first time, there was nothing but peace and warmth in both of your hearts. 

[ghoulishhx]

hii how ya doin! idk if anyone's asked for this yet but I'd LOVE to see nr 8 from the smut prompt list with frank!!

much much love from vienna, big fan of your work!! 🖤

8.) oops, we were just hiding in this closet, but then the close proximity get us too turned on not to fuck

heyy bestiee, im so glad you like my work mwah im obsessed with you. i really hope you like this one too!!

edit: my dumbass had this tagged as number 4 this whole time when it is actually number 8, I'm sorry for the potential confusion LMAO

18+ MDNI !!

My Masterlist!

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Pairing: Frank Castle x FemVigilante!Reader

Content Warning: SMUTTT, enemies to lovers type beat, fingering, squirting, oral (m!recieving), doggyy, kinda rough frank, dirty talk, praise, spanking, a little slappin' and whatnot, swearing, mutual pining

Wordcount: 3.5k

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✦ be quiet

“For fuck sake, what are you doing here, Castle?” you groan, noticing the dark figure in the corner of the barely lit room as soon as you enter through the fire escape. You hear him let out a deep sigh, acknowledging your presence as he turns on his heel to meet your eyes. The annoyance oozing out of his stark, chiseled features. Nostrils flaring, lips turning white from strain. As if this night couldn’t get any worse, you think to yourself.

“What am I doing here?” he lets out a laugh, as if your question was insulting. “You should be askin’ yourself that sweetheart, not me. This is my case, I don’ need to be babysitting your ass all night. Hurry on home doll, I got it from here.” you scoff at the patronising tone his words carried, anger boiling your blood as you stand staring at him dumbfounded. 

“I’m not your fucking sweetheart, Frank,” you spit at him, chest heaving with annoyance. God, did Frank Castle know how to push your buttons. “You know damn well I work this territory, scurry back off to Hell’s Kitchen before I drag you there myself.” you puff your chest out subconsciously like a fucking bird, making yourself appear big and scary when in fact the man you were trying to intimidate stood over a foot taller than you.

“Nice try darlin’,” he mumbles, shaking his head as he darkly chuckles at your feeble attempt to get him to back off. “You don’t scare me in the slightest.” He leans down, whispering in your ear. The feeling of his breath hot on your neck, causing goosebumps to erupt across the back of your neck. You take a deep breath, inhaling his scent. A mix of gunpowder and whiskey sits present in your nose and you let out a shaky breath. 

Why the fuck, how the fuck is he eliciting this reaction from you? You resent this man, the way he’d always show up in your fights, finishing your jobs with that cocky smirk across his face that drove you insane. Of course it was always bound to happen, New York is a huge city with an even huger crime rate, two vigilantes bumping into each other and sticking their noses in the other’s work is expected. But it was almost every time you were on patrol, it would always end with you and Frank at each other’s throats. You started to think he was doing it on purpose, intentionally trying to rile you up, feeding off of your uncontrollable rage. 

“Cat got ya tongue, doll?” he teases you, noticing the way your face instantly grew red at the sudden close proximity between you both.

“Shut up.” you state between gritted teeth, moving your head from his, avoiding his eyes. He chuckles, and from the corner of your eye you watch him look you up and down, the action so quick you believed you imagined it. 

“Y’know, the more we bump into each other like this.. I’m startin’ to think you’re obsessed with me or somethin’ angel.” he inches closer to you, his face so close to yours, making your heart beat so hard out of your chest you’re worried you might have a heart attack. 

“You wish Castle, dream on.” you scoff, finally turning your eyes back to his, matching his intense gaze. His pupils are blown with an unrecognisable emotion, the sight making a wave of arousal crash through you.

“Maybe I do.. Listen I-”

He’s cut off by the sound of boots outside the door of the apartment you had both snuck into. You pull away from each other as you glance towards the fire escape, thinking to yourself you could make it to the window in time before the footsteps come through the door. Before you have a chance to bolt for the exit, you feel yourself being dragged from behind, Frank’s large rough hand covering your mouth, stifling the noises as he drags you both into the closet behind you both. 

“What the fuck Frank?” you hiss, grabbing his hand from your mouth and pushing it back into him, keeping your volume low knowing you two were no longer alone.

“Shh.. won’t ya shut ya fuckin’ mouth for once. They’re coming in.” he whispers back as you hear the door to the apartment swing open. You hear at least 3 men come into the room, slurring their words and laughing amongst themselves heartily. They were obviously intoxicated. Your source told you tonight would be the best chance to hit the place as there was absolutely no way anyone would be in. ‘Thanks a lot Lieberman, last time I took your word’, you think to yourself. 

Only now do you realise how close you are to Frank, barely inches apart from one another, your chests pushed together, his hands either side of your head resting on the closet behind you, trapping you in. You feel his chest heave against yours, your breathing deep and synced with each other. He absentmindedly takes one of his hands from the side of your cheek, and brushes your hair out of your face. You two have never been as close to one another as you are now, and you take the time to analyse all of the features on his face. His furrowed brows and dark eyes staring deep into your own, his freshly shaven face enhancing his jaw line, his nose. You can’t help but let your eyes travel all over his features, taking them all in, memorising every single bump and crevice. He does the exact same, staring you down with no shame. You two were always arguing and he never allowed himself to realise how gorgeous you were, those soft plump lips, the fullness of your cheeks. His eyes rest on your lips, imagining what they taste like, how they would feel against his own. 

Without thinking, he closes the gap between you both, giving in to his desire to have you. You reciprocate, instantly becoming addicted to his taste and touch. He moves his hands down to your hips, gripping them so intensely you’re sure they will be bruised by morning. He pushes himself into you even closer and you feel his hard bulge through his jeans rubbing into you. Moving his lips from your mouth to your neck, sucking and nibbling on the sensitive skin, you can’t help but let out a small moan. Looking up at you, he takes one hand from your waist and wraps it around your mouth.

“Ya gotta be quiet baby, you think you can do that f’me?” he lowly whispers, his words deepened with arousal. You desperately nod your head. “Good girl.”

He carries on the assault of your neck with his rough hand clamped around your mouth, subduing any noises that attempted to escape. His free hand roams all over your body, feeling your curves through your latex purple and black suit, hungrily grabbing at you. You reach down to palm his bulge, the need for him possessing you. You hear his breath deepen as he pants into your neck at the sensation. 

“God, you don’t know what you do to me when I see you in this.” he grips at the material of your latex suit as his hand travels to your breast. “Been dyin’ to know what you feel like.. Taste like..” he trails off as he resumes kissing your neck. You moan into his hand, grinding yourself into his crotch. If you told yourself 10 minutes ago you would both be in this situation, you would’ve laughed. He was your least favourite person on earth, the mere thought of him being in your proximity other than right now made your skin crawl. That's probably why this felt so good, all that pent up emotion for one and other coming undone through each of your touches. 

All patience leaves your body in a flash, and you’re reaching down to unbuckle his belt, your movements fast but quiet, the knowledge of the three men outside the closet door mere meters away is prevalent in your mind, but you know if you can’t have Frank now you might explode from horniness. He welcomes your gesture as he begins slipping off your body suit in return, slowly peeling the fabric from your body to expose your chest and the tiny lacy bra covering your pebbled nipples. A low groan emerges from his throat at the sight, as he takes you in.

“You’re so fuckin’ gorgeous doll, shame ya never gave me the chance to tell ya earlier, always too busy runnin’ that bratty mouth off at me.” he whispers, flashing you his signature cocky grin in the dark. You roll your eyes and begin to offer him a remark back but you’re interrupted with the feel of his tongue swirling around your nipple, taking the bud in between his teeth and biting softly, making you jerk in a delicious mixture of pain and pleasure. You have to hold your hand over your mouth to stop yourself from screaming out his name. You buck your hips into his, chasing any sense of friction. He notices your pleas of desperation, moving one of his hands down to your panties. “Fuckin’ hell doll, you’re fuckin’ soaked.. All f’me?” he softly utters in your ear, rubbing his fingers through your folds and drenched underwear.

“Only you Frank, fuck please fucking touch me.” you hush, surprised at the words coming out of your mouth. You can’t lie to yourself anymore, you’ve wanted him this entire time. As much as you hated him, you wanted him just as bad. Frank pushes the soaked garment to the side, coming into contact with your bare pussy. His calloused fingers run over your engorged clit and you almost cum instantly. The air in the closet was thick and electrified, the energy emitting from both of your bodies was intense, the movement of your bodies so close together was addicting. He begins flicking at the bundle of nerves, as your knees begin to buckle beneath you. It takes every bit of power you can muster to stay quiet, his skilled fingers bringing you closer and closer to the edge with every swipe. He replaces his fingers with his thumb, slipping the now free digits to your entrance, rimming the opening with his middle and index. 

“Shh doll, really gonna need ya to shut up now ok? Even though all I want is to hear ya scream my name, that can wait till later.” he gives you a quick wink as he enters you with his fingers, capturing your gasps and whines with his mouth, shoving his tongue deep into your face as the two muscles dance among one another, collecting each others’ tastes. He pumps in and out of you in a bruising pace, pushing so perfectly against your songy spot. You feel your release around the corner, about to take over you until you hear a voice outside the closet.

“You guys hear that? Someone in here?”

You and Frank freeze, his fingers still inside you as he fulls his mouth from your tit, putting his hand back over your mouth, staring you down with his lust blown pupils. You stay like this for a few minutes while you hear the men shuffling around outside the closet. He begins slowly pumping his fingers inside of you again, slyly smirking as he watches you go insane. You glare at him, shooting daggers into him as he torments you, knowing the effect he has over you. 

“Nah man I think you’re goin’ insane, ain’t no one here but us.”

Your shoulders drop, visibly relieved you weren’t caught but that was too damn close. Frank begins the pace, harder and more intense this time and its mere seconds before you cum around him, your walls clamping around his fingers like a vice.

“That's it doll, let it all out. Good fuckin’ girl, stayin’ so quiet f’me.” your eyes roll to the back of your head and knees threaten to give out beneath you, but his strong arm wraps around your waist, holding you up before you crash into the wood beneath you. Despite cumming as hard as you ever have before moments ago, your arousal crashes through you, watching him remove his fingers from your pussy and take them into his mouth, sucking your release from his digits, revelling in the taste. You start reaching down to give him attention too. He can’t help but throw his head back as you move to your knees as carefully as possible to not make noise or rock the closet too much. Your face is met with his cock, impossibly thick and long, leaking pre-cum from the tip. You almost drool at the sight, and wonder how on earth it will fit inside you. You place your tongue on his tip, collecting the juices leaving his member, the salt making you salivate more. You begin bobbing your head slowly, taking as much of him in as you can. You can’t get enough as your eyes well with tears not even being halfway down. He takes his hands and laces his fingers through your hair, gripping harshly as he makes a fist with your hair. Frank begins guiding your head up and down his length, jaw slack and mouth agape at the feeling of your hot mouth around him.

“Just like that sweetheart, fuck just like that..” he darkly whispers, as if he was trying to stifle the noises erupting in his throat. He starts fucking into your mouth, pushing himself so unbelievably deep inside of you, 

“Needed to punish that fuckin bratty mouth of yours.. Fuck, the way you’ve been speakin’ t’me these weeks and you expected me not to fill it? Dirty fuckin’ girl needed a big cock to finally get her to shut up.” you moan around his cock at his lewd words, as he lands a soft slap to the side of you face. 

“If you can’t be quiet doll, imma have to stop, ya don’ want that d’ya? My little slut can’t get enough of my cock.” you shake your head, meeting his eyes with a pleading gaze because the thought of him stopping right now was not even an option for you. “That's what I thought. Attagirl” he rubs over your cheek where he struck you, contrasting from the previous sharpness with his comforting touch.

“Alright, we got what we need. Let’s go boys, boss wants us to meet him at the bar.”

The footsteps outside of the closet move through the room, towards the door as you hear the door unlocking and them pass through.

They’re gone, and you and Frank are now alone, his cock still twitching in your mouth.

You look up to him and smile around his girth as he smiles back.

“Fuckin’ finally,” he exhales, relieved, grabbing your elbows from your side and pulling you up to match his height. “I don’t know if I could’ve handled fuckin’ ruining ya in here, unable to hear you scream my name.”

He steps out the closet, taking his gun in his hand to make sure there was no one outside. You couldn’t help but giggle at the sight, his messed up hair, flushed cheeks, clothes rustled as he steps out with his hard cock first and jeans undone. 

“It's all clear doll, come out.”

You leave to join him, as you peel the rest of your suit off of you while stepping towards him. He takes you in a firm embrace and pushes his lips on yours as he sheds the rest of his clothes. Running your hands all over his toned chest, feeling every indentation of his abs as he does the same, cupping your breasts and kneading them like dough while fucking your mouth with his tongue.

“Bend over the couch f’me doll, be a good girl yeah?” you nod, turning away from him as you push yourself down the arm of the couch, wiggling your hips at him. He lets out a primal groan, the sight sending him over the edge. You feel a harsh slap ring across your ass. You yelp in pain laced with pleasure as he slaps you again once more, followed by a couple more. Your breaths are hiccuped, as you whine and push your ass into his crotch, dying for any sense of friction.

“God dunno how much I’ve been wantin’ to do that, spank this perfect ass for all the times you’ve misbehaved. What’s up doll, cat got ya tongue?” he says, reaching down to cup your jaw and angle your face towards him.

“‘M sorry sir, I’ll be good from now on, I swear.. Please Frank I need you so bad.”

“Need me to do what, sweet thing? Use ya big girl words f’me yeah? Know ya can.”

“Fuck Frank, please. Please just fuck me. Need to feel your big dick inside me- oh!” your words are cut off as he pushes himself fully into you, the stretch of your walls burning so good as he gets situated inside of you.

“Fuck darlin’ you’re so fucking tight. I’m gonna fuckin’ ruin ya.” he begins thrusting into you with a harsh and passionate pace, his heavy balls smacking off your clit. Pleasure coarses through your veins, the feeling unlike nothing you have experienced before, with either yourself or anyone else. His tip repeatedly kisses your cervix with every thrust. The noises erupting from you are sinful, you shamelessly cry out as he grips onto your hips, keeping you firm in place.

“Fuckfuckfuck Frank right there don’t stop don’t you fucking stop. ‘M so close.. Fuck please ohmygod.” you say through strangled sobs, your moans are borderline pornographic. 

“Let it all out babydoll, milk my fuckin’ cock. It’s all yours darlin’” he reaches down to your engorged bud, flicking it hurriedly. It’s not long until your release, forcing his cock out with the sheer power of your pussy clamping and the long stream of squirt leaving your sex. 

“There she goes! Atta-fuckin-girl doll, mess up that pretty pussy.” he replaces his fingers with his tip as he rubs it across your throbbing clit, prolonging your orgasm for as long as humanly possible, feeling the gush of your sweet release on his cock. “Fuck doll, you look so perfect cummin’ for me.”

He pushes his cock back inside of you, grabbing your hair into a fist, pulling you back as you arch further into him. “My fuckin’ girl, who does this pussy belong to sweet girl?”

“You sir, all you. I’m all yours.” you say through strangled sobs, putting your hands beneath you to balance yourself.

“Damn fuckin’ right it is princess. You belong to me.” he growls as his pace quickens, chasing his own release. It’s not long before his thrusts begin to falter, as you feel his dick twitch inside of you.

“Fill me up sir, please I wanna feel it. I wanna feel you.”

“Don’ have to tell me twice, every drop of my seed belongs in your sweet cunt. Ya gonna be feelin’ me for days baby girl.” Frank groans, dropping his hand full of your hair to your hips, as he grips you in his large hands drilling into you. You wish you could’ve somehow recorded the noises he made when he emptied himself inside of you. You could’ve sworn you heard him whimper along with saying your name and chanting curses like a prayer. The feeling of his member throb and twitch inside of you is something you never want to forget. 

Reluctantly after a few minutes, he removes himself from you. He stands back as he watches your mixed juices flow from your hole, evidence of the previous events dropping onto the hardwood floor beneath you. He can’t help but push his finger back inside of you, forcing his cum back. Your overstimulated pussy weeps with the action, making you whimper once more.

“You look so pretty, stuffed full’a me.”

He pulls away and places a kiss to your shoulder as you turn onto your back, sprawled out naked for him, your lips flushed and swollen from his kisses, hickeys beginning to form on your neck and your dripping hole instantly make him hard as a rock once more, after fully unloading himself in you minutes prior. You notice, and offer him a playful grin, moving your hands back down to your sex, swirling the juice with your fingers. He lets out a groan at what his eyes are seeing.

“Dirty fuckin’ girl, just got stuffed to the brim but still needy? I’ll take care of ya doll, let Frankie take care of ya..”

You fucked three more times that night, all over the apartment. Luckily the drunkards who forced you into this predicament were long gone, probably passed out in an alleyway somewhere. But you couldn’t give less of a fuck, there was only one man on your mind for the rest of the night.

Frank fucking Castle.

──── ୨୧ ────

a/n: i hope you enjoyed ml, im honestly quite proud of this one, so obsessed with frank dirty talkingg it makes me feral

my inbox is open!

[sweetimpurity]

❀꫶᳜᳝ᰭ✿⃨ day 31! we've reached the end! ❀꫶᳜᳝ᰭ✿⃨

thank you so much to all my mutuals and readers and my taglist! this has been so much fun and I'm so thankful! hope you have a safe halloween! wc: 1.6k cw: some breathplay, drama, mentions of killing

You’re sitting on the sofa, a bowl of candy and a bowl of popcorn on the coffee table. The phone in your hand waiting. The scary movie playing softly on the tv. Your parents aren’t home. Attending some Halloween party across town. So you’ve got the house to yourself. Looking down at the phone then back up around. At the windows, the front door, everywhere. A chill down your arms, feeling a little anxious, a flutter in your chest. A smile playing on your lips. 

Brrrrring! Brrring! Brrring!

The phone finally rings in your hand, situating yourself on the sofa, sitting up on your knees. The lace cami dress you’re wearing. Easy access, even though you know that’s the whole point of the game. “Hello?” You answer.

“Hello, y/n…” The voice says on the other end. An effect over the tone. 

“Who is this?” You hold back a giggle, clenching the fabric of your lingerie. 

“You know who it is!” He hisses, the phone crackling. “I have one question for you. If you answer it right, I’ll let you live.” 

“And if I don’t get it right?”

There’s a pause. Your excited anxiety is growing. “Then I’m coming inside… and you’re gonna die!” He growls, the voice effect making it sound so foreign. 

“Okay… make it good though babe.” You hum into the phone. “Don’t make it too easy-” 

“I’m not babe, I’m… the killer! And I’m gonna murder you so be quiet!” He says, the usual sassy tone of your boyfriend coming through even with the effect on his voice. You can hear him rustling around on the other end. Maybe it’s the mask you made him wear. Maybe he wrote a script. 

“Okay… um… okay!” He says, getting back on track and putting the scary voice back on. “Your question is… what… is the square root… of thirteen thousand five hundred and twenty seven point nine nine zero one….? 

The line goes silent. You go silent too. What the hell is this nerd talking about? 

“Miguel how am I supposed to know that?-”

“Just answer the question!” 

“Fine um-” You huff. “One hundred and…. I don’t know.” 

“Wrong.” He says in that stupid scary voice again. He’s too cute for this. Making you roll your eyes and sigh. “You got it wrong. You know what that means.” 

“Oh no. What.” You sigh, the fear of it ruined when it’s so obvious he’s a bad actor. 

“You’re gonna die, baby.” He says. Now that actually gave you some chills. And the line goes dead. Silence washes over the house. The phone beeps until you end the call. Sitting in silence. You look around. The silence ringing in your ears. Your heart is beating a little faster. Which door will he come from? Which window will he crawl through? 

“Babe?” You call out into the silence, feeling a little scared now. Now that it’s silent.

“Miguel?” 

You can hear a chair move in the dining room down the hall. Head jerking that way to look. Not seeing anything yet but knowing you heard something. Getting up from the couch and standing in the middle of the living room. Then what sounds like some steps in the kitchen. On the opposite side. He’s everywhere at once. 

You step forward and around the couch, walking to the kitchen door, looking around, maybe he’s hiding behind the fridge? You almost don’t want to check. Again that silence. Deafening. You can hear your heart thumping. 

His hulking form stands right behind you. Dressed in the black shiny cloak you both shopped around for, for this occasion. The white scream mask on his face, tall and broad, and you don’t even know. He stands there silently, watching you as you look into the kitchen. Thinking he’s in there. He’s not. 

You step back, freaked out, knocking right into his form. Flinching and jumping with a gasp, and when you turn back seeing it’s him, the chase is on. “Ahh! Shit!” You can’t help the scream, moving away from him in the door, around the kitchen island. Scared even by the sight of him standing there in the costume. “Don’t run baby… you know how this ends…” He says, his deep voice muffled by the mask. 

You smile, dashing out of the kitchen and he’s right on your trail. “AhhhHH no no no!” You scream when he’s much faster than you. Chasing you into the dining room and around the table, trying to corner you. But you weasel your way around, bolting through the hallway and to the stairs. But he’s fast, whipping around the banister and grabbing onto your ankle, pulling you down so you can’t go up anymore. “Ah!” You gasp, grabbing at the railing trying to pull yourself up. “I got you.” He says, pulling himself up by your leg, big hands wrapping around your thighs and trying to grab onto you. 

“No no no ah wait wait!” You giggle, pulling away and squirming out of his hold, his hands slipping down you and you sprint up the rest of the stairs. Squealing on your way up, being chased by this beast of a man dressed in black. And that mask pushes it all over the edge. “C’mere baby! Don’t you wanna get fucked?” He laughs sadistically, grabbing at you at the top of the stairs, pressing himself against you. But the point is that you have to get away from him as many times as you can. Squirming out of his hold, from the confrontation of that mask nose to nose with you. 

You pull away, stumbling to the floor and crawling across the rug, trying to get away, trying to flee. Crawling as fast as you can through your bedroom doorway. And he walks on in, towering over you, looking down at you like a little bug. “Gotcha.” He mutters. Walking closer. You’re done for. There’s nowhere to run except the door he just closed. 

You back up, still on the floor, looking up at him. “You know what happens now, baby…” He crouches down, the mask really freaking you the fuck out by now. Wide eyes looking at the eyes of his mask. He grabs you by the ankles, pulling you across the floor, lifting you up in one motion and throwing you over his shoulder. “Ah- what are you doing?” You squeal, dangling over his back. 

But he just ignores you, rubbing a big warm hand over the round of your ass and smacking. A gasp leaving your lips and a red mark to show. Red and raw and delicious. He grips the fat of your ass before smacking again, walking you over to the vanity in your room. He flops you down, not being too gentle, bending you over the furniture and knocking everything out of the way. “I told you what would happen baby…” He says, his voice so familiar in your ear. The mask over your shoulder, facing you right in the reflection of the mirror in front of you. 

“Now you’re gonna die.” He growls, pushing you down and grabbing your hair in one hand, pushing and pulling your panties off with the other. Forcing them down your legs roughly and spreading your legs open with his knees. Cupping your pussy in his hand and rubbing your slick up and down, his fingers teasing you, caressing you. And then he searches around his cloak for the weapon.

“Please don’t kill me…” You whine, putting on a show, gasping when he tightens his grip in your hair. “Shut up.” He hisses. A pleasant surprise. Pulling something from under the black costume. Your eyes widening at the sight. You didn’t know of this plan. A pink vibrator in his hand, waving it in front of your face before making you kiss it. 

“No no no… no please” You gasp, desperate for every moment of this. Squirming as you hear the device turn on. Starting to buzz and then the pressure of him pressing it to your clit between your trembling legs. “Oh! Ah! Fuck-” 

You squirm and he holds you tighter. Finding the sweet spots and focusing there. Watching your reflection in the mirror through his mask. “Miguel oh! Fuck me!” You moan, gushing and coming quickly on the vibrations, clenching and contracting around nothing. Desperate to be filled. 

“Beg…” He says. Gripping your hair. “Beg me to fuck you.” 

You gasp, needing to be full of him now. “Please Miguel please please please fuck me, I need you so bad!” 

Your wilting voice has him rock hard, nudging at you through the costume. Needing to be wet with your slick and squeezed in your tight pussy. “Please!” You moan, pushing up against him. 

He pulls the cloak back, pulling himself free from his pants, his boxers, raw and bare pushing against your achy pussy. Pushing through your folds. “Need it so bad baby? Little pussy wants it so bad, huh?” 

“Mhmm so bad, please baby!” 

“Good girl…” He growls, leaning over you, his hand snaking around to your throat, his other hand pulling the vibrator back to your clit, and thrusting his cock in you fast and deep. Making you scream, the sound morphing into a desperate moan. “OhhH! Please ah! Fuck fuck fuck!” 

He’s groaning in your ear from how hard you’re squeezing him. Fucking you, choking you, putting the tiniest bit of yummy pressure on your pulsepoint to give you that bit of thrill. Listening to your sounds, pulling through your cunt, hitting all the sweet spots that have you seeing stars. “I’m gonna come! Ah! AH!” You cry, squirming and trembling, taking him deep, buried so hard and fast into you. The sounds of your release mixing with his cum as he climaxes with a groan, filling you up. Letting the vibrator turn off and fall to the floor. 

“Hah… hah…” You pant, a shaking mess. He rips the mask off, wrapping both arms around you. Nuzzling into your neck and kissing your cheek. His sweet face back in view again through the reflection in front of you. “That was fucking incredible…” 

Taglist!! love my sweeties! THANK YOU!!!!

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if you'd like to be added/dropped from the taglist, please comment on my masterlist post. Or else I might not see it! thank you! 🩷

[bunni-v1]

sunday x m reader who wont shut up while hes working so he makes reader cockwarm him to shut him up

Cockwarming With Sunday

🍓Dom Sunday makes my skin crawl. Anyway, I went for a softer take than what you wanted, sorry lol. Even when Sunday tops I can't see him as all that mean, at least, not in the way this was worded lol. Anyway, I'm very well Sunday's biggest hater (I love him more than life itself), so I hope you enjoy this. I want him dead.

Tw: NSFW; Implied power dynamics; Mean(?) Sunday; Grammar Errors; ts kinda ass

Info: Dom!Sunday x M!Reader (it's hard to tell lol); Cockwarming; pre ae sunday; Nsfw

Word Count: 1.5k

Sunday was always considered to be a patient man, especially with those he considered important to him. He had put up with plenty of Robin's silly plans and humored her with delight -- he loved her after all, and any plan she had wasn't truly all that silly so long as it came from her. He even enjoyed her endless conversations when he was meant to be finishing up paperwork. His time with her was sparse, he could afford extra time away from his duties for her. She never kept him for long anyway, understanding his position better than anyone else.

You, however, did not have the excuse of being his darling sister. You spent a significant amount of time with him, both in and out of work, and he had all the time in the world to spend with you. Which meant you knew better than most others how much he needed to fill out this report today. Yet... you kept running those stupidly pretty lips of yours.

He wasn't even sure what you were talking about, he'd tuned you out about ten minutes into your talking. Nearly an hour had passed, and you were still going on and on about something or another -- he catches that it's about an up-and-coming artist you'd seen, not that he cares for any musician that isn't his sister. It wouldn't be so bad if you were just talking, he'd mastered the technique of ignoring things that seemed to get under his skin, but you needed assurance that he was listening.

He would occasionally have to pause and answer questions without much context, or hum in acknowledgement of your words. Your incessant rambling is normally incredibly endearing to him, but with the deadline looming over his head, and the ache stinging between his brows it was enough to make it vexing.

He lets out a sigh, hands pressing the pen to the desk just a bit too harshly. You silence yourself, flinching back a little in surprise. He nearly coos, he hadn't meant to scare you, but you were very cute when frightened. (Perhaps he shouldn't be thinking such things...)

"My love," He hums, meeting your gaze with a calm smile, "you know I love having you around, don't you?"

You nod, nervousness shining in your eyes, giving you away despite the brave front you put on. You were always too easy for him to read, a bit concerning considering the enemies he has, but he'd prefer you pliant than hardened -- at least, in that way.

He gestures to the papers on his desk, "You also know how important it is that I get this done today, yes?"

"Of course," You answer immediately, and he can see the realization of why he was scolding you across your face. So very cute. "Was I talking too much?"

He hums an affectionate smile on his face, and gestures for you to come to his side. You do so with no arguments, as expected. He turns in his chair, grabbing you by your hips to situate you between his legs. You flush a bit at the contact, predictable as always, but he chooses not to comment on it.

"I need to get this done, angel," He asserts again, and you frown shamefully.

"Would you like me to leave?" You offer, but the idea sours something in his chest.

He shakes his head adamantly, "Of course not. I love having you here, but you'll have to behave for me."

There is a spark behind your eyes at his words that makes him ache a bit, his member coming to life much too fast for his liking. The effect seems to be mutual, as far as he can tell from his position near your crotch. His placid smile morphs into a slight smirk, and his eyes meet yours again, "You can behave for me, can't you?"

You nod adamantly, "Of course, s-sir." The title is stuttered, somehow unsure despite your knowing very well what he wanted from you now. It was so adorable how concerned you were with overstepping with him. You truly could do no wrong in his eyes, even when you were getting in the way of his work.

"Then," he pushes you to step back, leaning back in his chair, "Take your pants and underwear off for me. Quickly, I'd like to get this done as soon as possible."

You nod again, doing as he says like a well-trained pet, pretty eyes looking to him for approval as you shove the clothes to the side. He rewards you with a smile, leaning forward to run a finger along the bottom of your hard cock. You hiss at the sensation, drawing a chuckle from his chest.

He eases himself out of his pants as he tugs on your sensitive member a few times, enjoying the little whimpers you give him. His dick springs free, hitting his stomach. He leans back again as it does, telling you what to do with his eyes alone. You follow along like in a trance -- he'd almost believed you were under the influence Harmony, if it weren’t for the fact that he wasn’t using it in the moment.

You hiss lowly as he slides into you. Going raw must've been painful for you, but it felt heavenly for him. Your ass squeezed him so well like it was meant to hold him deep within. He smiles reassuringly at you as you finally sit fully on his lap, taking your chin in his hand to settle a kiss to your lips.

"Very good," He compliments.

You bite your lip, averting your gaze, "Thank you, sir."

He tuts at you, drawing your gaze back just as quickly as it left, "You can sit still and wait like a good boy, can't you? If you can't well..."

"Of course I can!" You respond with a desperation that surprises both of you, quickly adding, "Sir."

"Good, good," he hums, pressing a warm hand against the back of your neck. Your chin rests against his shoulder on instinct, getting comfortable against him. Once he's satisfied with you behaving, he leans forward and starts back to working on the document you'd been distracting him from.

The scratching of his pen is one of the only things keeping you grounded in reality. The stretch of his thick cock in your ass is almost too much for your brain to handle. You shouldn't have been talking so much, honestly, this is no one's fault but your own. Still, the torture of not being allowed to move for fear of worse punishment is enough to make you want to cry.

You sit there pretty on his dick like a good boy, though. Always so obedient for him, if only he didn't have to tell you to behave. No one is perfect, so this was a sacrifice Sunday had to make to keep things as he liked.

His fingers climb up your spine, tingling across your body right to your achingly hard cock. You almost hear Sunday chuckle when it twitches between the two of you, but it's so quiet you believe you might've made it up in your fucked out brain. You wiggle your hips in an attempt to get some friction, but all Sunday has to do is place his hand on it and you cease all movements.

Sunday seems, on the outside, entirely unaffected by everything. For the most part, he really is. He's blasting through his work faster than before, but that was because he couldn't wait much longer to bend you over the papers and reward you for good behavior. Each squeeze around him has him swallowing down groans, determined to not give into your temptations -- no matter how wonderful that sounded.

When he signs the last dotted line and closes the stack of papers back to the front page he lets out a sigh that resembles more of a moan than anything as you clench anticipatorily around him yet again. His pen is set on the desk with a little 'click', and he finally looks at you after agonizing minutes of your squirming. Lust has clouded over his gaze, and he looks positively angelic nearly lost to his own sin.

You are no better, pleading with your eyes for him to fuck you like the sweet thing you were. Tears pricked at the corners of your lashes, a picture of absolute beauty. He smiles at you, wiping them away from your cheeks as they spill over.

"You were very good, my sweet angel," He hums, moving his hands to your hips, "you deserve a reward for behaving, don't you?"

You nod adamantly, your heart picking up in excitement. He raises an eyebrow expectantly at you, and you know what you're meant to do next without the need for words. Standing from his lap, hissing as he leaves your tight hole, and bending over his desk like the good pet you were.

"Very good..." He hums, and your spine tingles in excitement as you hear his pants and belt hit the floor around his feet.

[harmonicakai]

Be Around Me

Part 1 of the "Love is Embarrassing" series

Pairing: Gyuvin x Reader, Ricky x Reader (one-sided), Haobin crumbs, Jiwoong x Reader teeny tiny crumbs 

Summary: Gyuvin is the type of guy to get flustered over everything, but little does he know that you secretly think it makes him even cuter.

Tropes: basketball star!gyuvin, journalist!reader, college AU, basketball!zb1, frat!zb1, secret admirer, fluff, slow burn, crack, unrequited love, mutual pining, gyuvin is a LOSER

Word Count: 4.4k

Warnings: Ricky is annoying lol, mentions of masturbation and sex (mdni!!!)

A/N: y’all will have pry zb1 college basketball au from my cold dead hands!!!!!!!! also for once in my life, y/n is not super insecure we cheered!!

FIC INSPIRED SPOTIFY PLAYLIST <3

“It's obvious she's so out of reach And I'm finding it hard 'cause She makes me feel, makes me feel Like I try, like I try, like I'm trying too hard” —Try Hard, 5 Seconds of Summer

On the court, Kim Gyuvin is the star player of the Wakefield Roses. With his long limbs, he handles the ball with ease, capturing the hearts of everybody in the crowd every time he grins after scoring a basket.

Off the court, he’s an awkward mess. Combine that with the fact that you, the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen, are usually the one covering games for the school news, and he’s a goner.

As if it isn’t hard enough for him to make eye contact with the camera, he also has to make sure he doesn’t stare too hard at your shiny hair or glossy lips. His teammates would never let him live it down if he was caught being an absolute creep on video.

What started out as a little crush has grown into a deep admiration. He reads every article that you put out into the school newspaper, sometimes even cutting out the ones you’ve written about him and his team. Everybody makes fun of him for being too scared to just ask you out.

He’s never been one to flirt with girls, but the way you make conversations so easy during interviews, even when he’s stumbling over his words, makes him feel at ease around you. Still, he wonders how much of it is just your journalist persona versus you actually liking him.

Sharing a double with Ricky means he gets exiled a lot in the name of his roommate getting laid. Sometimes, you come back from getting your morning coffee and catch him sleeping on one of the lounge’s couches.

One morning, when your arms are full of pastries that you intend to hoard in your dorm for the upcoming week, you spot him curled up yet again on your way back to your room. 

Without much thought, you stop to leave a muffin and a little note next to it on the table in front of him, conveniently forgetting to sign your name.

It began with cutesy but vague things, like “breakfast for a champion,” but quickly escalated as soon as Gyuvin started leaving notes back for you. 

After a couple exchanges, he even wrote that you didn’t need to be leaving him food at all and that he just wanted to know who you were. Truthfully, you had a really big crush on Gyuvin, but didn’t everybody?

Despite being a bit camera shy, he was always so sweet before and after your interviews, doing his best to make small talk and smiling his smile that could make anybody swoon. 

Plus, you’ve seen how much more comfortable he is with other people, even the cheerleaders, who are all super pretty. He must just be really nice.

So, you continue to leave the notes unsigned, despite each one growing in flirtation. You like the thrill of being mysterious, but you’re mostly just scared of getting rejected since he’s never given you a reason to think he likes you back.

It isn’t until Ricky catches you one morning, a sly grin on his face when he sees you leaving a whole stack of notes on the table.

When you lock eyes with Gyuvin’s roommate, you know the jig is up. Surely, he’ll tell him it’s been you all along.

“Y/N,” Ricky nods when you approach him, his arms crossed. “I have to say, I had my suspicions.”

“Listen, Ricky, I would prefer if we could keep this between us.”

“Gyuvin’s been going on and on about some secret admirer for weeks now. It’s cruel that you won’t tell him who you are.”

“He’s welcome to stop writing back if he doesn’t want to,” you shrug, although it would probably devastate you if that actually happened.

“Oh, trust me, he wants to. Especially if he found out it was you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Just that every time he finishes an interview with you, he might always run home and lock himself in our bathroom because you get him so riled up. If you know what I mean.”

Your eyes go wide at the revelation. Ricky is surely just messing with you. “That’s—that’s not funny, Ricky. You shouldn’t joke about those kinds of things.”

“I’m not joking,” he chuckles. “Listen, Zeta Beta Omega is throwing a party tonight and the whole team will be there. You should come.”

“I don’t do parties,” you scoff. “Why would you even want me there?”

“Because maybe after a few drinks, you and Gyuvin won’t be so scared to tell each other how you feel. Then you guys can knock off this silly game and he can stop whining about not knowing who his mystery girl is.”

“And go back to whining about how all his roommate does is kick him out every night so he can fuck whoever he lays his eyes on?”

“Exactly. See, Y/N, you get me,” he practically purrs. “So, you show up looking all pretty and talk to my poor, lovesick roomie, and I won’t spill your little secret. Deal?”

“Ugh, fine, I guess. I can’t believe you’re blackmailing me. Deal.”

“Trust me, it’s for your own good, sweetheart.”

You cringe at the pet name. “Is this how you talk to everybody?”

“Yes. Why? Is it working? Are you going to start leaving me notes too?”

“Enjoy the rest of your morning, Ricky. I’ll see you later,” you say, walking past him. Even if he’s annoying, it’s genuinely impressive how he managed to brush off every insult you threw his way.

“See you, Y/N.” You don’t even have to look back at him to know that he winked as he said that.

—————-

Gyuvin knows that staying up all night waiting around for his mystery girl would be an invasion of privacy. At least he thinks the person who keeps leaving him baked goods and notes is a girl. Or maybe he’s just being hopeful that it’s you.

He’s never seen your handwriting before, but he’s been close enough to smell your perfume and he swears he can catch hints of it wafting off the sticky notes.

In fact, he’s started looking forward to Ricky kicking him out of their shared bedroom just because he knows he’ll be waking up to the sweetest surprise when he sleeps in the lounge.

Tonight’s party should be a good distraction from all of the wondering. Maybe, if he’s drunk enough, Ricky will be more embarrassing than alluring and Gyuvin will get to sleep in his own bed. Still, he can’t get this morning’s notes off his mind. 

You’ve left him clues, little doodles of your favorite things. Your coffee order, favorite color, favorite animal, and so on. He’s hoping you’ll be at tonight’s party so he can see if you mention any of the stuff drawn out, but you never show up to these kinds of things.

That was before Ricky got involved. You stood outside the ZBO frat house wearing your worst sneakers and a baby pink minidress, as suggested by one of your suitemates.

If only you didn’t show up by yourself. There were a few familiar faces from class, and of course, the entire basketball team, but nobody you were really friends with. All you could focus on was how sticky the floor was and how much you needed a drink.

“Hi,” you say, finally making your way over to the bartender. It’s the team’s captain, Hanbin. “Just give me whatever tastes the best.”

“One rum punch it is,” he smiles, his whisker dimples making your heart flutter. Why was everybody on the team good looking? “Y/N, right?”

“Yep,” you say, taking the plastic cup from him. “You’re Hanbin. You know, I’ve been meaning to interview you, but you always seem so busy with other things at games.”

“Don’t worry about it. It wouldn’t be nearly as cute as when you interview Gyuvin,” he laughs, eyeing the line of guests waiting for their drinks. “I’ve got a job to do, but I’ll see you around, okay?”

“Thanks for the drink,” you say, holding it up in a sort of cheer before walking away. You take a sip and savor its sweetness, the liquor’s flavor blending in perfectly to the juice. Hanbin’s words stick with you. Were you and Gyuvin cute together?

Sure, he’s so tall that he practically towers over you, but he refuses to ever make eye contact and always keeps his replies so short and polite. Then again, he sure seems to write a lot in the notes that he doesn’t know are going to you.

For a second, you start to consider that you might actually have a chance with him, until you spot him with a beautiful girl touching his arm and whispering something in his ear. Before you can mope for too long, someone is tapping you on the shoulder.

“There you are,” a familiar voice calls over the music. You turn to see Ricky grinning at you, his hair looking almost white under the lights. “You look good.”

“Thanks, I guess,” you huff, crossing your arms over your chest to prevent him from checking you out any further. He glances past you at his roommate.

“Don’t worry about her,” he assures you. You don’t know whether or not to believe him. “Gyuvin has never taken a girl home from these parties, let alone kissed one.”

That’s a relief. “Don’t you have a hook-up to hunt down?” you ask Ricky. He cocks an eyebrow at you, sipping his drink.

“Oh, Y/N. I keep my girls on speed dial,” he chuckles. You cringe at his playboy persona and for once in his life, Ricky is embarrassed. He shuts his mouth, hoping you can’t see him blush.

“Wow,” you say, tilting your head at him. “Don’t tell me young and rich, tall and handsome Shen Ricky can actually feel shame. I really wish I had a cameraman with me right now.”

“Like I said, it works on most people,” he attempts to reason. “You’re just immune to my charms, I guess.”

“Guess so,” you smirk, downing the rest of your drink. You glance behind your shoulder to see Gyuvin still talking to that girl, then back at Ricky, who’s deep in thought.

“Do you want to meet the rest of the team?” he asks, surprising you. You give a slight nod, and that’s all he needs to see before grabbing your wrist and pulling you through the crowd.

At first, Ricky lingers as you make small talk with Matthew, Taerae, and Gunwook, and explains to you that Yujin is actually at home because he’s still in high school. You feel like a horrible journalist—have you been so preoccupied with Gyuvin that you didn’t notice there was a literal child on the team?

By now, Ricky’s abandoned you to go find something, or someone, more entertaining. He’s dropped you off with Jiwoong, the oldest player, who is as aloof as he is annoyingly handsome. The way he eyes you makes your stomach do cartwheels, and you’ve had enough to drink that you can’t see the harm in flirting with a cute boy.

He’s spewing some bullshit about meditating when you cut him off. “I like your hair,” you blurt out, catching him off guard. He turns and smiles at you for the first time since you started talking.

“You do?” he asks, running a hand through it. “I think it’s a little long. I might get a haircut soon.”

“Keep it like that,” you say, not taking your eyes off of him. “It looks good.”

Jiwoong is grinning now, but he remembers that you’re Gyuvin’s crush, and it would be totally wrong to kiss you no matter how badly he wants to. He eyes the crowd, searching for someone to save him from the tension. 

“Hao!” he says, grabbing a boy passing by and pulling him into the conversation. He looks familiar, but he’s certainly no basketball player. “Y/N, this is Zhang Hao. He’s our equipment manager. I’m gonna run to the bathroom.”

“Hi, Y/N,” Hao says, clearly caught off guard. “You’re the one who does the interviews, right?”

“That’s me,” you confirm. Jiwoong’s departure right when you thought he was going to kiss you was beyond bizarre. “I didn’t realize how many people knew me.”

“You’re basically a celebrity to the team,” Hao laughs. “They all think you’re pretty.”

“Makes sense,” you smile, sipping on your third drink of the night. “I am, in fact, very pretty.”

“Agreed. So, which one do you have your eye on?” he asks, leaning in to hear you better. “Or should I guess?”

“Go ahead and guess,” you say, eager to know what he thinks.

Hao takes a second to gather his thoughts. “Well, it’s clear that you’re into Gyuvin based on the way you giggle at his seriously unfunny jokes, but you were also just eye fucking Jiwoong. Then again, wasn’t Ricky dragging you around earlier by the hand?”

“By the wrist,” you correct him. “And yes, I do like Gyuvin. But he’s been talking to some other girl the whole night.”

“He only has eyes for you,” Hao says immediately. This is the second time you’ve heard this tonight, but the first where it’s coming from a trustworthy source.

“And you?” you ask in return, shifting the conversation onto him. “Which one do you have a crush on?”

Hao’s eyes widen. “I–I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m not—I don’t—”

“Hao,” you cut him off. “You’ve glanced at Hanbin at least six times since this conversation started.”

He swallows, knowing he’s been caught. “It’s that obvious, isn’t it?”

“Yes. Why don’t you go talk to him?”

“We talk all the time,” Hao mutters, looking down at his shoes. “I’m basically his personal assistant.”

“Do you talk about anything other than basketball?”

“No.”

“Do you even like basketball?”

“...No.”

“Hao,” you say, gripping him by the shoulders and turning him towards the drink station. “Go over there and get your man.”

—————-

As if it weren’t enough of a shock to Gyuvin that you actually showed up to a ZBO party, he’s had to spend all night watching you chat up the entire team except for him. 

They’ve no doubt let it slip to you that he has the biggest crush on you on campus, maybe even the entire world. But he’s way too nice to tell one of his classmates, who attends every game just to hold up a sign with his name on it, that he isn’t interested. 

That’s how he ended up nursing his drink with a tight lipped smile, listening to what’s-her-name ramble on about things that would be more interesting to probably anybody else, all while keeping an eye on you as you bounce around the party.

Your interaction with Jiwoong made him jealous beyond belief, and he makes a mental note that while he’s made his crush on you very clear to his teammates, you’re technically not his and free to flirt with whoever you want.

He watches as you grasp Hao and shake him, muttering some words of encouragement before sending him over to the bar. Finally, you’re alone again. It’s now or never.

“I have to go walk my dog,” Gyuvin lies, not even bothering to let the poor girl react before making his way over to you. You’re wearing pink, his secret admirer’s favorite color. Surely, it’s not just a coincidence. 

“Y/N,” he says a little too loud, startling you. You jump, accidentally knocking yourself into him. Both of your drinks go flying and suddenly, you’re covered in sticky red liquid. 

At this point, Gyuvin might as well just die alone. How did he manage to only spill his drink on you and not himself? He peers down at you, guilt written all over his face, as you take in what’s just happened.

“Here,” he says, reaching into his hoodie’s pocket and pulling out wadded tissues. “They’re clean, I promise. I have, uh, I’ve got allergies, so I carry around a ton.” 

He unfolds one and gently pats the liquid off of you without so much of a second thought. Your silence makes him panic even more, and he’s so focused on drying you off that he doesn’t even notice he’s basically rubbing the tissue on your cleavage.

Gyuvin freezes once he finally notices where his hand is, immediately pulling away and putting a good distance between the two of you. “I am so sorry. Holy shit, I don’t know what I was thinking. I’m not a pervert! Please don’t think I’m a pervert.”

“Gyuvin,” you finally say, your voice just as sweet as always. He’s pacing as much as he can with everybody packed in so tightly, his long legs taking tiny steps. “It’s okay. I don’t think you’re a pervert.”

He stops and looks down at you. “Really? You’re not just saying that?”

“Really,” you reassure him. “Although I might think you’re a klutz. Who knew Wakefield’s star basketball player was so clumsy off the court?”

“Technically, you bumped into me,” he asserts, his smile returning. “But you’re also the one who got soaked, so let’s just call things even.”

“Deal,” you agree. Sure, it’s fun when boys are obviously flirting with you, but the way Gyuvin has no clue what he’s doing is just so charming. It feels natural when you’re with him, a nice departure from the overused pickup lines and generic compliments that are usually thrown your way.

Gyuvin takes in your stained dress, the red punch seeping into the pink fabric like blood. You look straight out of a horror movie. 

“Here,” he says, shrugging off his varsity jacket and wrapping it around your shoulders before taking in the sight of you. “Wow. You look so…”

“Silly?” you answer, the expanse of material wrapped around you like a tent. 

“Cute. You look so cute.” Gyuvin meets your eyes for a split second before looking away again, his ears now feeling even hotter than when he saw you with Jiwoong. “I can get you a new shirt, if you want. My room isn’t far from here.”

“You want me to go with you to your room?” you giggle, enjoying how flustered you make him. Hearing his teammates talk about how much he likes you has taken a weight off your shoulders, and you don’t know how you ever thought he wasn’t into you before.

“No! Well, yes, but only if you want to. And I’m not using this as an excuse to bring you back to my room. I just know you like pink and I have this one pink shirt that shrunk in the wash and I think you’d look really good in it. Plus, I can start a load of laundry and get your dress all clean.”

This is the most you’ve ever heard him talk, his voice a few pitches higher than usual when he’s rambling. Plus, if he knows how much you like pink, he must be following your clues. “Let’s go to your room, then.” 

—————-

While Gyuvin’s side of the room is much neater than you expected, Ricky’s side looks weirdly perfect. Not a single thing is out of place, with every item labeled or color coordinated. You’re shocked that two basketball players can manage to keep such a small room so tidy.

“Sorry, it’s kind of a mess,” Gyuvin apologizes, moving to make his bed. “You can sit here.” 

“If this is what you think is messy, you don’t want to see my room,” you say, taking in all of the decorations. Usually, when you’re in a guy’s room, it’s all navy blue and manly movie posters, but Gyuvin’s walls are so colorful and covered in photos of his family and friends. 

One piece of paper catches your eye—the very first article you wrote about the basketball team. You scan his wall, catching more and more newspaper clippings, all penned by you. Gyuvin’s too busy putting things away and rustling through his drawers to notice you staring at them in awe.

“Here we go,” he calls out, turning and holding up a shrunken pink t-shirt and a pair of sweats. His grin fades as soon as he catches you reading one of your own articles, which have been on his wall for so long that he’s forgotten they’re even there. “Oh. Uh, please don’t think I’m a creep.”

“It’s not creepy. It’s sweet. They’re all about you, anyway,” you say, turning to take the shirt from him. It has a picture of a silly looking greyhound on the front of it.

“Right,” Gyuvin says, shrugging off the interaction. He pulls himself onto the bed next to you, sitting cross legged and making sure to leave a gap between you and him. “That’s my dog, Eumppappa.” 

“Eumppappa is an amazing name,” you muse, turning to smile at him. Your faces end up being so close that Gyuvin thinks his heart has stopped beating. In his attempt to scoot back, he ends up tumbling off of his bed.

“Fuck,” he says as he lands on the ground. You peer down from the lofted bed at his long limbs sprawled across the rug. If you didn’t think he was a complete loser before, you probably do now.

“Are you okay?” you call out, watching as he sits up and rubs his head.

“I’m good,” Gyuvin assures you, taking a breather before getting to his feet and heading towards the door. “I’m going to step out and let you change. Let me know when you’re decent.”

“Will do,” you smile, giving him a thumbs up. You strip your clothes off, throwing on the t-shirt and sweats and pulling the drawstring until you know they won’t fall off of you. “You can come back in, Gyuvin!”

He stumbles in, practically waiting with his body pressed against the door for the moment he could see you again. God, could you really not tell how much he liked you before tonight?

Gyuvin eyes you drowning in his clothes and he knows that he’d move earth and heaven if it meant that you’re who he got to wake up to for the rest of his life. 

“I’ll go throw this in the washer and then we can head back to the party,” he stammers, snapping out of his daydream and grabbing your dress. Your smile is so pretty right now, even after all of his awkwardness, that it takes everything in him not to get hard just looking at you.

By the time he gets back from the laundry room, you’ve decided you don’t want to go back to the party, especially not dressed like this.

“Oh,” Gyuvin says, disappointed that his time with you has been cut short by his clumsiness. “Do you want me to walk you back to your place?”

“I live down the hall,” you remind him. You hope he doesn’t realize you could’ve just as easily grabbed your own change of clothes.

“Right,” he grimaces. He knows that. He’s always trying to time leaving his room perfectly so that he runs into you on the way to class.

Just like whenever you interview Gyuvin, there’s an awkward silence, except this time it can’t be edited out. He’s back to looking everywhere in the room except at you.

“It’s not even midnight,” you say, glancing at your phone’s lockscreen. “Do you want to watch a movie?”

“Like, together?” Gyuvin asks in disbelief. You nod, an amused smirk on your face. “Duh, of course you meant together. Yeah, sure, let’s watch a movie.”

Moments later, you’re sitting in the dark with Gyuvin, your legs pulled close to your chest as you watch Amélie projected onto the wall above Ricky’s bed. 

Every once in a while, Gyuvin lets himself relax, his arm or his leg brushing against you by accident. After spending half of the film pulling away out of fear that he’s bothering you, he finally settles for having his fingers barely touching yours. 

“You know,” he starts, his eyes still locked on the movie. “I kind of have my own mystery going on right now.”

“Really?” you say, feigning shock. “About what?”

“Someone keeps leaving me notes when I sleep in the lounge. Sometimes treats, but mostly notes. They don’t sign their name, but today they left me some little doodles as clues and I’ve been trying to figure them out.”

The way you’re reacting makes his stomach turn. How could it be you when you have a look on your face that says you have no clue what he’s talking about?

“Well, I’ve been meaning to work on my investigative journalism. What if I helped you track your secret admirer down?”

If you aren’t going to fall for him, he’ll at least settle for being friends. “That’d be awesome, Y/N.” 

Suddenly, Ricky comes crashing into the dorm room, his lips attached to some girl’s face. He pulls away from her for a second, barely registering that you’re even there, before pulling out his wallet and throwing a couple hundred dollar bills at Gyuvin. “Get out. Now.”

Before you can protest, Ricky’s already unbuttoning his shirt, and you’ll gladly evacuate if it means you don’t have to watch whatever freaky shit is about to go down.

“I didn’t know he pays you to sleep in the lounge,” you laugh, your arms full of Gyuvin’s comforter as you walk down the hall. “With that kind of money, he could just buy an apartment.”

“He could,” Gyuvin starts, holding his pillow in one hand and the stack of notes—your notes—in the other. “But then he wouldn’t get the true college experience. Plus, he only throws money at me when it’s a last minute thing.”

“How much was that, anyway? Like $300?” you ask. He stops and takes out his wallet.

“$400. Pretty standard,” he shrugs, counting the bills. Your eyes widen at the total.

“Are you going to share?” you pout. “I got kicked out too.”

“You can have it,” he says, handing you the money, his brain short circuiting at the way you bat your eyelashes at him. You marvel at the crisp bills. “This is just another Friday night for me.”

“Okay, young and rich, tall and handsome Kim Gyuvin. Thanks for buying my dinner for the rest of the semester!” You don’t know this, but if you asked him to, Gyuvin would buy you whatever you wanted.

Before you can get down to helping him figure out the doodles, or throwing him off your trail, the two of you are fast asleep. Instead of the lounge’s couch, Gyuvin curls up on the oversized bean bag on your bedroom floor. It’s much too small for his frame to actually be comfortable, but he somehow feels more content just being around you.

—————-

Taglist: @orangesodafoam @theresawtf @nerezza123 @gyvnexe @xiurmy-everything @wollycobbl3-blr @cloudgyubi @yunnie-11 @wheatrice

[woso-dreamzzz]

Pernille's Princesse

Hardersson x Child!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: A look back at your birth from Pernille's perspective

It was, ultimately, a good idea to visit the Wolfsburg team.

Pernille was feeling terribly bad, all fat and bloated. She feels restless too, which is what actually prompts her to drag her heavily pregnant self to the training grounds to get some fresh air.

She's talking with Nilla Fischer, Magda's national teammate, when it happens. She sucks in as pain flares before something that she's been predicting will happen soon, happens.

"Are you okay?" Fischer asks, having caught the wince.

Pernille grabs her upper arms. "My water just broke," She says plainly," Did you bring your car to practice? I'd appreciate it if you drove me to the hospital."

"Oh..er...yeah, sure."

Pernille keeps a tight hold on her emotions as Nilla bundles her into the car and sets off to the hospital. Mainly, because she knows that after she's made this phone call, she'll have to be the calm one of the pair.

"I'll be there soon," Magda's voice says in greeting, a hint of laughter within it," I'm just about to get on the plane."

"You need to call Emma," Pernille says casually even though she's gritting her teeth and squeezing Nilla's wrist over the gear stick.

"What?"

Pernille thinks that Magda might be a little slow today. "You need to call Emma." Her words are short and sharp and it's all she can do from screaming from pain. "And tell her that you'll be sitting the next few games out. You're busy."

"But I'm not?"

Pernille wants to scream and cry but she's trying to stay strong and not have a breakdown in Nilla's car. It doesn't quite work because she snaps at Magda. "You are! Because I'll be damned if I push your baby out and you run back to England a few days later."

She can hear Magda's sharp inhale of worried breath. "But...You can't be having her now! She's early!"

"By two days!" Pernille hisses as another contraction hits her. "I'll send you the hospital address. I don't care how you do it but if you miss this, Magda, I will not be happy."

She drops the call when Nilla pulls into an empty parking space, leaping from the car to help get Pernille out.

"Worried mama?" The receptionist lady asks as Nilla flaps about trying to get Pernille seen.

"Worried friend," Pernille replies as she fills in one last form, handing it back over the counter," The other mama is on a plane to get here right now."

The receptionist winces in sympathy and flags down a nurse to take Pernille to her room.

Nilla comes with her but after a few hours and a text from Magda saying she's landed, Pernille kicks their mutual friend out.

"You're hovering and it's stressing me out!" She snaps as another contraction comes through. "Go and wait outside for Magda!"

Nilla leaving gives Pernille time to calm herself, taking in long and soothing breaths as she rubs her stomach. "Come on, princesse. Just stay like you are for a bit longer or I'll have to kill your Morsa."

She doesn't need to worry though because, no sooner has a nurse confirmed that she's only five centimetres, does Magda arrive.

"Am I late?"

Pernille's lying back on the bed, hand still rubbing circles on her stomach. She deadpans," Does it look like you're late?"

Magda relaxes significantly before saying with a hint of laughter," I think I scared Nilla. I left all my luggage with her."

Pernille waves a hand dismissively. "She's got spare keys. The nurse said I'm only five centimetres dilated. We could be here for a few more hours. Have you called Emma yet?"

Magda's guilty face says everything.

"We have time," Pernille says," Call her now and tell her."

She's right, of course, because your grand entrance to the world doesn't happen until early in the morning. It's absolute hell pushing you out and Pernille's ninety percent sure that she's absolutely wrecked Magda's hand from how hard she was clenching it.

She definitely screamed as well and she also doesn't want to think about the fact that the doctor had a view of her the whole time.

"You did it," Magda says as Pernille slumps back against the pillows," She's here."

Pernille can hear you screaming and she smiles, absolutely exhausted. "She's here."

She watches as the doctor passes a bundle wrapped in your baby blanket to Magda.

You've gone quiet and you're absolutely beautiful, Pernille notes, when you're unwrapped and placed on her chest.

You're rooting immediately and Pernille can do little but stare in awe at you.

●～●～●～●～

Getting you home is easy and Pernille makes Magda drag the cradle into the main bedroom, so they can get you easily at night.

"Look at those legs go. You're going to be such a good addition to Sweden when you're older."

Pernille rolls her eyes as she sits up in bed, having taken a power nap. "You mean Denmark. I'm not raising my daughter to wear a Sweden jersey."

"We'll see."

Pernille picks you up and marvels, not for the first time, at how easily you fit into her arms. She moves to the rocking chair and places you in Magda's arms.

You both look so sweet together, so soft and loving that Pernille has to take a picture - immortalising the moment.

"That's getting framed," She says with a grin," I think I'll put it on my bedside table. So I can remember this moment with you and the princesse." She crouches down to make you wear the hood, caressing your cheeks.

"We need to give her a name soon," Magda reminds her but her eyes haven't left you," We can't keep calling her the princesse."

Pernille thinks of the list they made, the one taped up to the fridge door. They had been going back and forth for weeks. She bites her lip as the name she had heard recently comes to mind.

She hums. "I know it wasn't on the list," She says finally," But I like y/n."

Magda repeats it with a smile, looking down at you. "Is that your name? Are you a y/n?"

You kick your legs, slamming them into Magda and Pernille smothers her laugh.

"That's a pretty powerful strike, princesse." Magda looks up at her. "I think she's giving us her approval."

"I think so too. y/n Harder-Eriksson."

"y/n Eriksson-Harder."

Pernille scoffs and rolls her eyes. "We've got another day before the trip to the embassies. We'll argue about her last name later." Her hand ghosts over your head. "What matters right now is princesse has a name now."

"It's a very pretty name."

[notmorbid]

women and children first.

dialogue prompts from women and children first by alina grabowski.

i hear women can have it all, these days.

i don't believe in pulling other people into your own mess.

life is too short for meaningless experiences.

they're going to eat you alive out there.

do you love me?

you're very predictable, do you know that?

you shouldn't be out alone after dark.

pity is one of the best ways to get what you want.

fuck everyone but us.

would you come to my funeral?

would you rather live forever, or die tomorrow?

you can't protect me from my own decisions.

don't get old. it's no fun.

don't forget: you can always come home.

if it touches a nerve, it's worth writing about.

writing about it won't make me feel better.

there's nothing more reliable than a teenage boy's sense of humor.

everyone wants to be a hero, don't they?

not all stories are ours to share.

what's the point of talking? what does that change?

do you still think about that night?

this is no time for a pity party.

underestimating yourself isn't useful.

relax. live a little.

childhood trauma? i barely knew her.

stop inventing traumas to explain how fucked up you are.

kids are too old, these days.

being sober here is so fucking depressing.

i love to fuck myself over.

i'm getting tired of feeling sorry for you.

why lie in the face of undeniable evidence?

we all assume there are certain things we aren't capable of.

you're making your 'don't panic' face.

don't let ____ get in your head.

i wish i had a cigarette more than anything else in the world.

tell me what happened, and i'll help you figure out what to do.

there isn't as much truth in the world as you think there is.

there's nowhere like this left anymore.

you always have to try so fucking hard.

i forget i have a body if no one is here to remind me.

the story's not over yet. don't you want to know how it ends?

sometimes it's easy to blame yourself for things that happen to you.

there are some things that only we can talk about.

what have i ever done to you?

you can't live every single belief that you have.

your choices have to mean something, even if they mean something terrible.

i don't want you to be scared like me.

for someone without a lot of luck, you sure have a lot of hope.

life isn't worth living without a vice.

you don't have to pretend you're happy. not here.

you're always trying to reinvent yourself.

all i want is for things to be still.

you've seen some shit, haven't you?

bodies ruin everything.

you deserve to just be a kid again.

i wish you had the tiniest shred of faith in me.

faith doesn't require proof. trust does.

you're a tough fucking customer, you know that?

don't be a smartass. it's unbecoming.

when did you grow up?

just when i think you can't possibly surprise me, there you go.

i don't trust pretty people.

wanting to die and wanting to live aren't mutually exclusive.

don't worry, i learned my lesson. it was a shit show.

i think i would like to be someone else.

[bloodstainedsaint]

thank you thank you thank yooou!! And I don’t mind waiting for good stuff 🤷‍♀️

Okay so my idea kinda was in episode 7 when George and Lipton is in the same foxhole. So they get “hit” by the dud but the reader is so scared something actually happened to George, so she is running towards their foxhole and George is screaming for her to stay put cuz he’s okay and then she gets hit….or almost…I mean something tragic. I wanna bawl my eyes out.

And of course…feel free to not do it, if you think it sucks🧡 Love your stuff and have a good day !

louder than bombs (george luz x reader)

word count: 1800+

warnings: blood, gore, death, angst (w happy ending), bff! roe, mutual pining, i hint at both renée x roe AND baberoe

notes: used some hcs from this (shameless self-plug), and happy new year to all! i hope that 2024 is your year :)

“So, you and Luz, huh?”

Despite Lieutenant Dike’s request not to (like you'd listen to a coward like him anyway, even if he did have a good point), you and Eugene were sharing a foxhole — one a few meters behind where Skip, Penk, Don, and Luz were standing around in a circle, joking and laughing.

Taking your eyes off the man in question — you'd been staring at him from afar for too long, anyway — you turned to Eugene with a befuddled expression. “What do you mean, ‘You and Luz?’”

He took one look at your face and chuckled around the cigarette in his mouth. “It can mean whatever you want it to mean.”

“You say that as if we’re together or something, Gene,” you scoffed and held yourself tighter for warmth.

“Practically. Seen yourself lately? You blush and smile whenever he talks to you.”

Spluttering in response, you could feel your ears going red. “Well, Bayou, what if I’m blushing because it's zero degrees out here? And what if he’s just a funny guy in general?”

Eugene glanced over to the group of men, and, as if on cue, they were cracking up at George’s impression of the chickenshit lieutenant. “He’s a good match for you, (Y/N).”

“Oh, I'm so glad you approve,” you said, rolling your eyes at your friend. “Gonna read our wedding rites now?”

He put out his cigarette. “He makes you laugh. We could all use some of that.”

You inspected the faraway look in Eugene’s eyes, and you knew he was right. The fatal accident with the goddamned Luger that killed Hoobler recently, the barrage earlier today that sent both Joe Toye and Bill home with missing right legs, the overall misery of this frozen hell. You’d all seen your fair share of blood and open flesh; the company needed the beam of light that was George Luz.

Watching Luz as he was pulled aside by Lipton, you exhaled, nodded, and huddled a little closer to Eugene. “Yeah. Yeah, you're right.” After a few quiet, thoughtful moments, a small smile creeped back up on your face when you thought of something to bring up the mood again.

“You never heard me teasing you about Renée,” you muttered beneath your breath, loud enough for him to hear and correct you on because you had teased him about the Belgian nurse. Before he could, you pushed on, your grin growing, “Hey, what about you and Babe, huh?”

Now it was his turn to turn to you shocked. Your snickering was interrupted by the roaring, deafening sound of a bombardment shredding trees around you.

“Shit!” you cursed, the night sky lighting up with fireworks of yellow and white. Snow and dirt erupted from the ground like spurts of lava from a volcano. Through the ringing in your ears, you heard bellows of “Incoming!” and other indistinct cries.

Turning to the man next to you, you shouted above the din, “Eugene, you alright?”

“Fine,” he shouted back as he clutched his helmet tight to his head. “You?”

“Fine,” you echoed with a nod, though maybe your head had moved on its own with the shaking ground beneath you. You strained your ears to single out cries for a medic; you didn't catch any, and you weren't sure if that was because no one had gotten hurt yet or because they were dead within an instant.

You peeped over the edge of your foxhole. In the flashes of light, you could make out amongst the silhouette of wrecked trees George hurriedly crawling on the ground towards a foxhole with two soldiers in it, yelling for him to come on. If your hearing wasn't failing you, you recognized their voices as Skip and Penk.

“What d’ya see?” Eugene poked his head out of the foxhole.

Your voice was strangled in your throat as you helplessly watched George inch his way toward cover. “I—” you started, before a shell directly hit the two men in the middle of their calls. Frantically, you backed into your foxhole. “Skip and Penk, they’re…”

“What?” Eugene shouted, and you realized you had only murmured it.

“Muck and Penkala got hit!” you cried. The look you gave Eugene told him that there would be no saving them.

You got back up to peek over your foxhole and saw that Luz had vanished. Your heart sank in your chest, right down to the pits of your stomach.

Before your mind could register what was going on, your feet lifted you up and out of the foxhole. You could faintly hear Eugene yelling at you to come back, (Y/N), what the hell are you doing? You hit the ground at the same time a shell did just meters away from you, showering you in debris. Yet, you felt distant from the thought of danger or bodily harm, your raw instinct on overdrive; the only thing that was running through your mind as you dashed through the devastated forest was if George was okay.

Eyes flitting around, you caught a glimpse of him getting into a foxhole with Lip. As waves of relief washed over you, you jumped into a foxhole a distance behind them. A shell impacted nearby and swept the fallen trees acting as their cover towards you. You pulled your knees close to your chest and covered your head, staying like that as the barrage kept up.

Then, for just a second, it was silent. Closing your eyes, you caught your breath. A whistling sound ceased the brief respite, and you peered over just in time to see smoke coming from George and Lipton’s foxhole. Your mind disconnected itself from your body once again; it felt like you were moving in slow motion as your feet took you to them. That smoke clouded your senses, your thoughts — all you could see and hear were the vivid memories of Hoobler’s wound gushing blood and his dull eyes closing shut for the last time; you treating Bill’s still twitching leg while Toye’s shredded one was being bandaged by Eugene only feet away; and Muck and Penkala’s foxhole going up in a spray of dirt and a show of light, abruptly cutting off their shouting.

What were you going to see when you arrived at their foxhole? Bloodstained snow? Mangled limbs? Ruined corpses? Even the thought made you want to sob.

Your heart thundered in your ear, louder than any bombs or artillery the Germans could send at you, but you could vaguely discern George’s voice in your trance.

“Damn it, am I yelling medic? Stay right fucking there, (Y/N)!”

Right as you were shaken out of your own head, your eyes focusing on the two unharmed men as they yelled for you to stay put, a shell hit a tree hardly an arm’s length away from you. The burst launched you backwards, lodging shrapnel into your face and all over your body.

You let your eyes flutter closed as the screaming started.

-

“(Y/N)!” George bawled, witnessing the last shell of the bombardment blast the tree right next to you.

“George, get down!” Lip pushed George down into the foxhole from where he'd been peeking over to helplessly watch your unsteady advance.

George couldn't get the image of you shielding yourself at the last second out of his head. He broke free from Lipton and crawled out of his foxhole to your unmoving figure, relieved to find that you were still breathing out clouds of vapor, albeit unevenly. Your right cheek was cut and bleeding, as well as your arms, legs, torso — hell, was there anywhere you weren’t bleeding from?

He cradled your head to his, whispering that it's gonna be alright and you’re gonna be just dandy, (Y/N), even though he didn't believe those words himself. He lifted his head from yours and yelled for a medic with a hoarse voice, already scratched up from having to shout over the booming to tell Lipton that Muck and Penkala got hit.

George then realized that he had gotten extremely lucky that day; Muck and Penkala had been shelled just before he reached their foxhole, and the shell that had landed next to him and Lipton was a dud. Staring down at your bloodied form, he darkly concluded that maybe he wasn't lucky — maybe he just brought bad luck to everyone else.

Eugene seemed to materialize out of thin air at the panicked calls for a doctor and kneeled over you, ordering, “Set ‘em down, set ‘em down!” George laid you down on the icy ground, and he saw that your eyes were open now, darting around at your surroundings. You looked frightened and pained, yet when your eyes finally settled on him, you seemed somewhat at ease.

“Jesus, what did I tell you, (Y/N)?” Eugene reprimanded, but the concern in his voice was evident. He began picking out the shrapnel from your flesh, and you wailed out in agony. Ripping open a sulfa packet with his teeth, he then shook the powder onto your countless wounds.

In the back of his mind, George knew that your pained whimpers would haunt him forever if you didn't pull through, acting as the price of his "good luck".

“Told me to come back, Genie,” you smiled mirthlessly, which quickly became a wince with the gash in your cheek. The white medic band around your arm was stained the same color as the red cross on it.

Lipton was out of the foxhole at this point and assisting Eugene with bandaging your injuries. “You’ll be fine, alright? Just hang in there.”

George registered that he had only been staring, his mouth opening and closing like a fish. He intertwined his fingers with yours and squeezed your clammy hand, to which you weakly squeezed back.

Grimacing while he injected you with morphine, Eugene said to Lipton, “They’re bleeding bad, Sarge; we gotta get ‘em back to an aid station.”

George’s voice sounded far off from himself. “I’ll radio for a jeep.” As he did so, his hand still clutching yours, he couldn't tear his eyes away from the excruciation on your face. For some reason, he felt guilty.

Though it felt like years to him, the jeep arrived shortly, and the three of them carried you to the stretcher on the hood of the vehicle and gingerly placed you upon it.

Gazing down upon you on that stretcher, your face streaked with crimson, your hair matted with dried blood, George wanted to say, “I still find you beautiful, Bloody Mary," but for what felt like first time in his life, the words weren't there and the wiseass comment just refused to come out right.

What came tumbling out of his lips instead was, “I love you.”

Pausing, Lipton and Eugene exchanged a knowing look and watched with bated breath. Meanwhile, George wanted to smack himself for letting the adrenaline coursing through his veins get to him; this was definitely not what you wanted to hear — rejecting him should be the least of your worries right now.

To his utter disbelief, you smiled, in spite of yourself and the grim circumstances. “I love you too, George.”

Once his brain wrapped around the fact that you needed him as much as he needed you, he implored, "Come back to me, alright?” He gently caressed your cheek, his voice sounding different to himself with the undertone of desperation. “I—I’ll be right here waiting for you.”

You placed a feeble hand over his and turned to press a kiss to it. “I'm counting on it.”

The driver finally grew tired of the delay and urged them to get moving. George stepped away as Eugene hopped in the jeep’s shotgun seat to escort you back to the aid station.

Lighting a cigarette with trembling hands, George watched the jeep dissipate into the blanket of night.

-

Eugene let things sink in for a while; you were grateful for the time to rest as the morphine kicked in. When you arrived, though, you were awake enough to hear him ask again, a rare smirk hidden in his voice:

“So, you and Luz, huh?”

-

taglist: @mads-weasley, @ronsparky, @dcyllom, @malarkgirlypop, @joetoyesbrassknuckles101, @samwinchesterslostshoe, @fxxiva

[ladykailitha]

Across a Crowded Room

*grumbles* I can't believe this IT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE CUTE AND SHORT! Not only has it gotten a little angsty in middle there, it's about to breach 10k words. And I'm not even CLOSE to the ending.

The fuuuucckkkkk.

I was meant to be working on other things. Like editing a story to be beta'ed so I can put it on AO3 for you all, extending Batshit soulmates because I was skipping over too much, and wrapping up Glitters.

Guess who did none of those things because this story consumed my soul?

ME!!!

I will be posting this on Saturday as it's not one of my regular WIPs.

Enjoy. *sniffs* I guess.

Summary: Modern, no monsters AU. After they all graduated from high school the older teens drifted to other parts of the country. And while Steve and Eddie have made short trips to see each other, usually with the whole, they really haven't spent much time in the same room in years.

That all changes when Eddie is able to spend a week in Chicago with Steve and Robin.

But when Eddie sees Steve for the first time in years, he gets scared. Will have the courage to walk across that crowded room to be with Steve?

@mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @emly03

Eddie hadn’t seen Steve in years. After high school when they became friends through mutual parenting of six absolutely terrifyingly smart teenagers, they kinda went their separate ways.

Steve and Robin had gone to Chicago for college and Eddie and his band had gone further west to LA to try and make it as metal artists.

This is was the first time in a really long time that their schedules lined up. They talked all the time. Friends on all their social media. But they hadn’t seen each other since they said goodbye in Steve’s driveway four years ago.

Eddie was standing at the bar entrance where he was supposed to be meeting Steve, just staring at him.

God, he had been gorgeous in high school. Because of course he was. Captain of the basketball team, co-captain of the swim team, and the baseball team’s best hitter.

But he looked even more so now.

His honey colored, wind tussled hair had grown out a bit. A lock of hair flopped devastatingly in front of one of his hazel eyes. He had filled out some, once thin and wiry, now deep chested and toned. Even in the winterscape hell that was Chicago, Steve’s skin was warmly tanned.

He was laughing with a group of people and never had Eddie felt more out of place in his life, and that was saying something. He had been dropped off at his Uncle Wayne’s when he was twelve. Been nicknamed the “Freak”. And had always been flamboyantly himself: a big, gay, metal loving geek.

Eddie was about to turn around and go back the way he came when a familiar voice called his name.

He turned around and there was Robin Buckley. Steve’s platonic soulmate and best friend.

“Hey,” he croaked.

“Did you just get here?” she asked brightly.

Eddie nodded. “My flight was delayed three times. I haven’t even been to my hotel yet.”

Robin winced. “That sucks.” She looked at him more closely and he gulped. “You weren’t thinking of cutting and running were you?”

“Me?” Eddie said, dramatically clutching his hands to his chest. “I would ne–”

She raised an eyebrow at him, effectively shutting him up.

“I wasn’t gonna,” Eddie said mournfully, “until I got here. He just looks so happy. He doesn’t need someone like me coming back into his life like a wrecking ball.” He pulled out his phone and waved it at her. “Once I can get this charged, I’ll message him and tell him my flight got canceled and that’ll we’ll reschedule.”

She looked at his phone and then back up at him. “What happened to your phone?”

“My charging cable port snapped,” he grumbled. “And it died after the first delay.”

Again she winced in sympathy.

“You’re in love with him,” she said, “aren’t you?”

Eddie sighed and looked back over at Steve. One of his friends must have told a joke because Steve was laughing so hard his eyes were mere slits. He looked back at her and he sighed.

“The sky is blue, Midwestern winters suck,” he muttered, “and I’m in love with Steve Harrington.”

Robin rolled her eyes, then she got this calculating grin on her face.

“Uh oh.”

“I’ll tell you what,” she said slyly, “you let me do a little experiment with a small wager. If I win, you man up and tell him how you feel. If you win, you can tell him that your trip has been cut short and you have to go back in a couple of days and blow out his life again.”

Eddie pursed his lips and looked at back at Steve.

“What’s the experiment?” he asked.

Robin jumped up and down with glee. “I’m going to text Steve that I found you. You aren’t going to take your eyes off him the whole time. Then when I’m done, I’ll show the conversation.”

He licked his lips. “And what’s the wager?”

“You think he’s happier without you,” she said. “If that’s true, he’s not going to show a lot of excitement. He’ll be relieved and happy that you’re here, but no real enthusiasm. Right?”

Eddie just nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

“I know he’s going to flip out,” she continued with that sly grin. “He’s going to be jumping up and down and looking around for you, trying to find you in the crowd.”

“What if it’s somewhere in the middle?” Eddie asked honestly.

Robin cocked her head to the side. “Then you stay the full week and suss him out.”

Eddie let out a long sigh. “All right. You’re on.”

“Good!” she said. She grabbed him by the arms and moved him a little. “There. Now he won’t be able to spot you immediately.”

He had let himself be manhandled because he had long since learned that Robin could and would kick if he didn’t do what she wanted.

“Now, keep your eyes on Steve.”

Eddie scoffed. “Easiest thing in the world.”

Robin snorted and got out her phone.

He really wanted to look over her shoulder to see what she was typing because he was eaten up with curiosity about what she was sending Steve. But he did as he was told. He kept his eyes on the most beautiful boy in the world.

Steve pulled out his phone and then his head snapped up. He looked around excitedly. He started flapping his hands and talking animatedly with his friends. Eddie watched as he smoothed down his hair and wiped his hands on his jeans. He pulled out a breath mint out of his pocket and ducked his head when his friends obliviously teased him for it.

He looked over at Robin in shock.

“What the hell did you tell him?”

She turned her phone around and he read their conversation.

-Guess who I found by the door looking like a lost puppy?

-He’s here?

-Eddie’s here?

-Where?

-Why didn’t he text me? :(

-lol

-Calm down, I’ll bring him to you.

-The idiot’s phone died and his charger broke.

-I can’t be calm, how can I be calm? He’s here! He’s finally here.

“Oh.”

The little frownie face at the end of the “Why didn’t he text me?” message did Eddie’s heart in.

He cleared his throat. “Um...if I were to, say, I don’t know, go over there and kiss his lights out, would I get hate crimed?”

Robin laughed. “No. And there is no one in his friends that would be nasty about it either.”

Eddie nodded. “Lead the way.” He bowed and waved his hand dramatically so that she would go first.

“Nerd.”

Eddie cackled as he followed her to the table. Steve was on his feet the instant he saw him.

Eddie was a weak man. That had been pretty well established tonight. So he thought he could be excused when he picked Steve up by the waist and swung him around.

“Eddie!” Steve giggled.

Robin scoffed. “Gays are so disgusting.”

“Says the lesbian,” Steve said when Eddie had put him down.

“Lesbians are a different flavor of gay and thereby aren’t disgusting,” she said with a half shrug like it was a truth universally acknowledged or some shit.

He shook his head and turned back to Eddie, who had yet to let go of his waist. “I missed you, too, Eds.”

“I missed you so much, Stevie,” Eddie whispered back.

“Yeah?” Steve asked, hopeful.

“Yeah,” he breathed and lifted Steve’s chin. He pressed their lips together and suddenly Steve’s crowd of friends erupted into cheers.

Steve broke the kiss and stared up at Eddie in awe.

“Wow.”

Eddie giggled. “You like that?”

“Yeah,” Steve said, more than a little breathless. “You’re stuck now. That’s how I want you to greet me every time now.”

Eddie’s face split with a large grin. “You got it, baby.”

Robin cleared her throat. “May I remind you two that we are in fact in public?”

Eddie and Steve looked over at her and then back at each other. Robin isn’t sure who started it, but soon they both were laughing like children.

Steve introduced him to the small group of friends.

There was a sofa near the table Steve’s friends were sitting at so Eddie sat down there, so Steve could cuddle up on his side.

“How long are you in town for?” A punky Asian girl with pink and purple streaks in her short cropped hair asked. Steve had introduced her as Maria Nguyen. They had a couple of classes with each other.

Steve looked at Eddie as if he had been wondering the same thing.

Eddie chuckled. “That’s the surprise I was telling you about, darlin’. Me and the boys got a record deal and their headquarters and studio is right here in Chicago. So I will be moving to the fair Windy city.”

“You’re staying?” Steve asked, his voice rising with excitement.

“I’m in town for about a week to look for apartments and shit,” Eddie amended. “Then I will move here at the end of the month.”

“Holy shit!” Robin said, glaring daggers at him.

Steve picked up on the latent hostility, but Eddie shook his head and whispered, “I’ll tell you later.” He pressed a kiss to Steve hair.

“You have a band?” a large young man with freckles and braces asked. He had red hair and wire rimmed glasses. Steve said his was Jason, Justin...Jarren! That was it.

“Sure do!” Eddie said. “Corroded Coffin. Me and my three closest friends, besides Buck and Stevie here, have been out in LA playing our hearts out.”

“Buck?” Maria asked, rearing her head back.

“Buckley!” Eddie explained.

“So what kind of music do you play?” Jarren asked, leaning forward, very interested.

“Metal.”

Maria snorted. “Like that’s Steve’s least favorite kind of music.”

Steve sat up. “It is not! There are all sorts of music I don’t like. Metal can be good. It’s just the screamo shit I can’t stand. Corroded Coffin isn’t like that.”

“Yeah,” Robin agreed. “Hell, Steve would put pop music below metal and you know how much he loves Tears for Fears.”

Eddie groaned. “I still can’t believe of all the 80s bands out there to be your favorite you pick Tears for Fears!”

“What? They’re great.”

“Stevie, darlin’, love of my life,” Eddie said sweetly. “You cannot honestly tell me that their version of ‘Mad World’ is better than Gary Jules.”

“Wait?” Jarren said. “They did a cover of ‘Mad World’?”

Steve shook his head. “They sang it originally. Here let me show you.”

He pulled out his phone and handed it over. Robin, Maria, and Jarren huddled around the phone as they watched the video for it.

“That was trippy as hell,” Maria said, handing the phone back to Steve.

“I know, right?” Eddie said.

Steve rolled his eyes. “He does have a point regarding this one song. The original version is too fast for what the song is about.”

Eddie cackled with glee.

“I still maintain that Shout, Head Over Heels, and Everybody Wants to Rule the World are absolute bangers,” Steve huffed.

Eddie kissed his cheek and Steve blushed.

“Wait!” Jarren said, “Do my eyes deceive me or is Steve Harrington, the man, the myth, the legend, blushing?”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Not that again. I don’t believe it was ever a thing.”

Eddie sat up on the sofa, too and looked Steve in the eye. “What’s this, babe?”

“Stevie here made a girl come just by talking to her,” Robin said with a grin.

Eddie licked his lips slowly and Steve blushed deeper. “Did you now?”

“No!” Steve insisted. “That was just the excuse she used for running away after I badly flirted with her.”

Maria scoffed. “Dude, I was there, you did not flirt badly.”

Eddie pulled Steve close to his side and murmured in his ear. “I fully expect the full Harrington Charm experience, sweetheart.” His voice dropped really low. “Because I bet you could make me come just from the sound of your voice.”

Steve’s eyes went wide and he ducked his head.

Maria shook her head. “I can’t believe that King Steve got out rizzed by this swagless loser. How in the hell?”

“Maria!” Jarren hissed. “He does not look like a swagless loser. You take that back. He’s cool.”

Eddie turned to Steve. “Looks like you’re going to have to be the tie-breaker, sweetheart.”

“How’s that?” Steve asked. “Robin hasn’t said anything yet.”

“Ah, but that’s because I think I’m cool,” Eddie said holding up one finger, “and I know that Robin would vote for swagless loser.”

Robin snorted. “Damn right I would.”

“So it’s girls verses guys,” Steve said thoughtfully.

Jarren snorted. “More like lesbians verses the gays.”

Steve cocked his head to the side and then nodded.

“I dub thee my really cool metalhead geek!” Steve said solemnly.

Everyone’s eyes narrowed at him.

“Babe...” Robin said. “Did you just go down the middle of the road to avoid an argument?”

Steve batted his eyelashes at her. “Maybe...”

Eddie huffed and crossed his arms in front of his chest, pouting. Steve leaned forward and kissed the bottom of his jaw.

“How about my very cool, gorgeous, metalhead boyfriend?” he murmured softly.

Eddie looked down at him eyes wide. “Holy shit, you mean that?”

Steve nodded.

Eddie swiftly brought their mouths together and kissed Steve deeply. “That is acceptable.”

Steve giggled.

The night past in good company and drinks.

Eddie had duck out early because he still had to check into his hotel, but he kissed Steve goodbye and left with a spring in his step.

****

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Also, also. I forgot to mention that the title comes from a song by Counting Crows called Long December. So in my head I was singing, It's been so long since you came to (Indiana) I think you should!

Never mind they're in Illinois and the actual lyric is California.

Tag List: @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @chaoticlovingdreamer @maya-custodios-dionach @danili666 @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @i-must-potato @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog @justforthedead89 @vecnuthy @irregular-child @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @anne-bennett-cosplayer @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @dragonmama76 @scheodingers-muppet @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

[formulateez]

1:32am | oscar piastri

pairing: oscar piastri x fem!reader

genre: literal pwp, except there is minimal plot, random horny hour drabble prompt(s): "i'm going to fill you up so good and make you mine." and "someone's going to hear us!" summary: classic fwb troupe where y/n and oscar try to fit in a quickie during a sleepover with their mutual friends asleep in the rooms next door word count: ~520

requested?: no, teehee, but i got faded than a hoe a few nights ago and wrote this at like 5am and it's been sitting in my drafts for a little bit because i've been too scared to post it LMFAO there also isn't enough op81 content so i wanted to add to it :) but, please reblog and leave feedback !! (but pls be nice otherwise i will cry)

extras: banners made using template by @/cafekitsune !!

"Oh-fuck, Oscar-" You choke out, your hands running through Oscar's hair as his lips found all the spots that draw out heavenly sounds from you. “Please, Oscar, someone’s going to hear us!” You fail to sound stern as the Australian continues to ravage your neck.

“Fine with me, ‘cuz I wanna hear how good I’m making you feel.” he mutters out in between each kiss that he trails down your front.

It had been a couple weeks since you and Oscar originally made a special friendship agreement. You had invited him over one night to watch a movie or two, and the night ended with his face lodged between your thighs.

Oscar’s mouth and free hand occupy themselves with your nipples, while you buck your hips up to grind against him. “Oh shit, please.” Your plead leaves your lips softly as you ache for him to give you more.

“Please what, baby? Am I making you feel good, hmm?” Oscar hums as he continues to suck on your nipple, while he’s flicking your other nub between his fingertips. “Wanna hear you say it, pretty girl.“

“Yes, yes- fuck, yes. Please, Oscar, more-“ your pleads earn you a slight chuckle out of the guy above you as his fingers find their way to the waistband of your shorts.

“Quite talkative for someone who’s worried about being heard, don’t you think?” His lips are leaving faint marks along your collarbone and the tops of your boobs. Man, does he love seeing the very faint marks peek through the lower cut tops that you often wear during the summer. “You want more? Tell me what else you want, doll.”

As his fingers dip into your waistband, they start to lightly brush over your core as another soft, yet sharp, moans leaves your lips. You grab what you can of his hair and lightly tug him upwards to meet face to face with him. “Fuck- please fuck me, Oscar.”

“Yeah?” Oscar draws his hand out of your shorts as he starts to tug them down, along with your underwear before he throws them off to the side. “You want me to fuck you, hm? Is that what my pretty girl wants?”

“Yes, Oscar, please,” you breathe out, lightly tugging on the hem of his shirt, wanting less barriers between the two of you. “Want you inside me, so bad.”

It doesn’t take long before both of you finish undressing each other, and his lips are finding themselves attaching to your neck once again. His tip is just barely teasing your entrance and he continues to work his way all over your neck and chest.

“I’m gonna fill you up so good and make you mine, princess.” Oscar groans into your ear as he slowly starts to push himself into you, enticing the sweetest of moans from your lips as you savor the feeling of Oscar filling you up as promised.

You both were, in fact, not quiet enough, as Lando was tortured with faintly hearing both of you moan. He quickly threw on his noise-canceling headphones, making a mental note to clown the both of you the next morning.

[skxtchyghost]

💭

So I don't usually do this, but I felt the need to share some personal thoughts..

During my time here on tumblr and other social media, I have met and interacted with some of the greatest people. People I look up to and admire, such as the work they do. Some of them I can even call my mutuals and/or friends and they're all the loveliest beings.

Yet, here I am, too scared to approach them.

I can't reach out to people.

I can't keep a conversation going if one was initiated.

I can't talk to people without worrying about saying the wrong thing and driving them away from me. Especially when it's people I think highly of and want to befriend.

I'm just scared of making a mistake.

Scared of making them uncomfortable with actions or words. Scared of being a nuisance and going on their nerves. Hell, sometimes I'm even too scared to follow someone or comment on their things.

At this point, it's just frustrating.

So I suppose this is my way of indirectly telling all those people that I'm horrible at reaching out and feel bad about it.

*sighs*

[xeeuns]

my first kiss with minjae went a little like this. | 1.1k

you’re in minjae's car. it’s wintertime, and the windows are slightly foggy because cold outside, warm inside. he parks the car in front of a pretty view, and it feels like it’s right out of a movie. you make small talk, and it’s awkward as hell because, before you both realized you had a mutual crush on each other, you were friends: the kind that got along really well in class but never had a reason to hang out outside of class. so both of you are keeping to yourselves, trying to be respectful of each other, not knowing how to move from the friend-zone to more than friends or classmates.

he starts. "so... what're you doing for the midterm?"

you want to laugh in disbelief, but you don't have anything else better to talk about yourself. you look down at your lap. you're playing with a loose string on the hem of your shirt.

"i don't know yet."

"that's rough... your group hasn't met up after class yet?"

"no... i think you're the only one in that class i've met up with outside of class."

"met?"

you look up for the first time since the car got parked. minjae's leaning over the wheel. he has a small smile on his face. you feel your face turn red.

you stutter. "yeah, m-met."

"is that what we're doing right now? only meeting?"

your face gets redder. you don't know how to respond. your eyes go back to the string on your shirt.

from the corner of your eye, you see his hand move towards yours. you hold your breath, thinking he's going to hold your hand. he doesn't. he holds the gearshift. you exhale.

minjae exhales softly, too. you think he's irritated because you were pretty irritated with yourself. it was so easy talking to him when you were joking around in class. now, in this car? next to impossible.

"um..." he voice nearly cracks, but he catches it and clears his throat. "can i be honest about something?"

you nod. you can't meet his gaze, and you can't respond. your mouth is too dry, and you're too flustered.

"i'm really nervous right now..."

your heart skips a beat. he's nervous? too? why is he nervous around you? he has no reason to be nervous.

and he reads your thoughts. "i thought i knew what i wanted when we first agreed to this... meeting."

he pauses.

"no, not meeting. date."

you're able to look up. you see the tips of minjae's ears are red and on fire. he's not looking at you. he's got a tight grip on the gearshift and steering wheel.

minjae continues with his confession. "i thought it would be easy going from friends to more, but my heart is racing so bad right now."

he's talking through his nervousness.

"and i'm holding myself back... because... i don't want to scare you away... i don't want to come on too strong."

"minjae... what do you mean?"

he takes a deep breath.

"lately all i can think about is you. holding you. kissing you. loving you. i'm sure you feel the same otherwise we wouldn't be here right now... but i feel like my feelings for you are stronger than yours are for me."

you eyes widen.

"and if i move too fast, then you'll leave."

your voice is hoarse, not above a whisper.

"i won't leave, minjae."

he exhales again. this time, it's shaky.

"then... can i kiss you?"

your words fail to work. your heart practically skips a beat out of your chest. you press your lips together and do your best to hold his gaze as you nod. you want him to. badly. even if your body wants you to run away, you were not going to. he wasn't the only one thinking about his crush.

your first kiss with minjae. his warm breath lingers on your lips before he presses them against yours lightly. he was angled a little awkwardly because of the placement of the seats in the car, but he leaned as far into you as he could, and you slowly push yourself closer to him.

it's a very chaste kiss. he moves back, and his eyes try to decipher the look on your face. you feel your face getting redder, and you immediately want to shy away because all of your brain cells are running around screaming and crying.

you're barely able to move away when he lets go of the gearshift. you feel his delicate touch on your face. his hand's cupping your cheek. the other hand on the wheel moves as well, and he's resting his fingers on the side of your neck. he's not forcefully holding you in place. he's rescuing you, making sure you stay with him.

and you want to do that. you gather your nerves and lean into his touch.

when he leans in to kiss you again, his nose slightly bumps against yours. he chuckles awkwardly, pretends it didn't happen, and kisses you again.

the car moves forward slightly. minjae's foot was on the break pedal, so while he was focused on your lips, he moved his foot from the pedal. your heart lurched thinking the car was moving, but you didn't linger on the thought for too long.

you were too busy entrancing yourself with his passionate kisses. you could feel his warm, slightly chapped lips from the winter weather rub against yours between every kiss. his kisses were getting longer, and you were finding it harder to breathe between the kisses and your heart running a marathon.

you were gripping the edge of the passenger's seat at first, but then you move towards him more, and you press your fingers into his thigh. his hold on you fumbled slightly, and he leaned back slightly. his chest was moving heavily, as was yours. you both were catching your breath but trying to make it seem like you weren't, which made you both awkwardly laugh slightly.

minjae clears his throat. he runs his fingers through his hair, and you can see that they're kind of trembling. he exhales again, this time in relief. he looks like he's about to cry, but he doesn't.

"would you say this is still a meeting...?"

there was the minjae you developed a crush on. you push him away slightly with a little laugh.

"stop! this is not a meeting, minjae!"

"then... what is it?"

"it's a date."

"since it's a date, we should go somewhere nicer, right?"

your heart skips another beat. you're about to be floored, but he continues talking.

"because i don't know about you, but kissing like this is hurting my back a little."

you laugh. you push him away. he laughs too. it's not awkward anymore. he starts driving again, but this time, he's holding your hand while he drives, and you're playing with his fingers, not the string on the end of your shirt.

[sonofatoasterwaffle]

surprise self-rec time! pick 5 of your favorite things you’ve written and share them here, then put this in the inbox (anonymously or not) of your fellow writers to spread the positivity and help celebrate already written fics :)

oooh fun!!

1. Always, Everytime 

They don’t do this all the time. Buck isn’t always in the mood to pick someone up and Eddie… well, for Eddie, sex is a sometimes thing. They’d spent hours talking about it, trying things out. It all worked, just to varying degrees. Everything works with Buck. But this. This is great. OR Eddie doesn’t necessarily care who Buck sleeps with as long as he comes home when he’s done

nobody really likes this one but the mutuals and the other aces, but the fact that other ace people saw themselves in this fic will sustain me probably for the rest of my life.

2. motel stay on a weeknight (it's a contrast love)

Buck really thought that this detail to Austin would be the perfect time for him and Eddie to stop dancing around this. To fall into bed together in a cheap motel room and use the excuse to wake up too close and let it happen. Of course, then he opens the door to two goddamn queens. Summer of Buddie 2024 Week 5: Break the Cliche: Too many beds

this fic has such a place in my heart cause i wrote a fair bit of it on a road trip in Turkiye and yet it still came so easily to me. it turned out cozy and reminds me of my SPN days when most fics took place in a motel room.

3. i'd shout it from the rooftops

Buck can’t even deny it. He’s freaking out. Hard. “Public record, Buck.” Eddie is hissing through both hands planted over his face. Under them, Buck’s sure, his cheeks are bright apple red. Because they really, really should have paid more attention. It’s just that everything is so new. And finally being allowed to touch Eddie is such a fucking headrush that Buck can’t seem to keep his damn hands to himself. Nor does he seem to be able to keep his filthy fuckin’ mouth shut. Not even on camera, evidently. OR Buck and Eddie dive head first into their honeymoon phase, take a page out of Buck 1.0's book, and remember their shiny new body cams- in that order.

I just really love this one. my first real dip into some degradation kink.

4. where the lovelight gleams

Buck winks when he catches Eddie watching him. “What?” he asks, amused. Eddie flushes, caught in the act. He contemplates tossing out a quick nothing, or a throwaway line about being tired, but Buck is here, in his teenage bedroom, and that feels important. Too important to obfuscate. “I’ve got a boy in my room.” he says, sounding almost as incredulous as he feels. It’s as ridiculous out loud and it was in his head, but Buck lights up anyway. “Eddie!” He exclaims. “You never had a boy in your room before?” Buck’s eyes go twinkly and mischievous. Eddie should be scared. Instead, he’s getting hard. “Oh we are so fixing this.” OR Buck and Eddie take Chris to El Paso for Christmas. Buck takes the opportunity to help Eddie make some better memories there.

okay, i know it's a lil Christmasy, but i loved how cozy this one turned out and also i just really love hating on Helena Diaz.

5. sweet like honey, tastes like home

“Eddie,” He says again, pulling back to look at Eddie’s eyes, trying to see if he’s there, if he’s doing this for real. “You’re–” Concussed. Bleeding. Scaring me. “Buck,” Eddie begs, fingernails digging into Buck’s shoulders, eyes wide and imploring. “Thought I wasn’t going to make it. Thought I was going to die before I got to, please–” Eddie doesn’t ask. He never asks. He’s asking now. OR Eddie has a close call at work that ends with both of them bleeding and desperate for each other in more ways than one.

AKA the blood kink fic. I am actually REALLY proud of how this one turned out. I feel like I accomplished the freak4freak I was going for. Also this one is SO CLOSE to 1000 kudos, I'm vibrating with excitement.

thanks for the ask, Charlie!!! <3

[unhetalia]

any headcanons for alfreds relationships and/or friendships and/or toleranceships with other nations?

Honestly I tend to have a few different versions of one relationship depending on my mood, and for every Alfred ship I like (England, Russia, Germany), the other two relationships have to change with it.

For England, it's the most complicated, because I either have him and Alfred as endgame, or I frame their relationship as father/son, which a lot of people are understandably confused about.

For me, it's pretty simple: these two will always be important to each other in a way that is completely unique from their relationship to anyone else. Don't want to spend too long on them, but their father/son relationship tends to be close, and you can't avoid one if you want to be around the other.

In their endgame universe, things are fraught for a long while, and this tends to be the slowest burn out of all the 'ships. However, Arthur does not let Al out of his sight easily, even if their relationship isn't the most friendly. This relationship basically needs a post of its own, but "complicated yet as always, filled with love" might have to sum it up.

Ivan and Alfred start working together after the Cuban Missile Crisis, when Alfred is forced out of hiding civilian life in order to prevent all-out nuclear war between their countries. They hate each other, at first — Ivan thinks Alfred is selfish for abandoning his government despite disagreeing with them, Alfred thinks Ivan is a coward for not leaving, but eventually they grow to really understand each other. They're together by 1980, and in public AU, Ivan really helps Al when he's ostracised by his people.

If they're not endgame, Ivan is in love with Alfred and he either carries on a charade of hating him in order to be in his space and to make it so Alfred's at least THINKING of him, or they're just... colleagues. Which is sad.

I always have Kiku as being quietly in love with Al, but unwilling to do anything about it. Sometimes, their friendship is unimpacted, and they're close, but sometimes I like to have Al more lonely, and Kiku's feelings will lead to him distancing himself from Alfred. When they're close, Alfred tends to have a bigger group of friends - Taiwan, nyo Philippines, South Korea, nyo India - but when they're not, it usually means I'm craving for a loneloer Alfred. I guess this means his friendship with Kiku leads to his friendship with these others, somehow.

Belarus is (alongside Tony), Alfred's best friend. Alfred isn't scared of Belarus, and Belarus is surprisingly a really good listener - she doesn't get impatient when Alfred talks about x topic for too long, and will even ask (practical) questions. They're not touchy feely, but the two of them accept the other as they are, and both of them need that.

Matthew is another one that needs his own post — I default to a Matthew that both resents his brother yet loves him to the point of obsession. Alfred is oblivious, and always forgives Matthew when he lashes out.

Mexico is their older sister who blatantly favours Alfred (further adding to Matthew's issues). She and Alfred have similar life trajectories - violent revolution and rejection of the traditional "Nation works for government." Matthew's the complete opposite on both fronts, so she just finds it hard to connect with him. Mexico is incredibly independent and can go years without seeing either of her siblings, so she's not in the picture very often, and is not really the type you would talk to about your problems or feelings.

France and Alfred are very close, and I've spoken about that a few times, so I won't go on (/tagged/re: face). There's a lot of mutual respect there.

Scotland adores Alfred, and Alfred adores him right back, and he treats Al completely different to Arthur's other colonies. Northern Ireland and nyo Ireland are similarly close with Alfred, and it's only Wales who does't actually care for Alfred at all and doesn't approve of him.

China is fond of Alfred but mostly in a distant way - he's mostly concerned with his siblings and himself.

Cuba loathes Alfred because he believes if Al had done his job, his people wouldn't have been impacted the way they were. Most people who dislike Alfred are in the same boat. These include, surprisingly, Spain and Portugal, who both see Alfred as irresponsible and "not doing his duty right."

Similarly, there's a subsection of England's colonies/ex colonies who resent Al. Anguilla, Barbados, Bermuda, Gibraltar, Falkland Islands. (Canada).

If you have any characters you want to ask about in particular, please do!