#and i kinda sorta started part two

[stardustandash]

Last of the claimed febuwhump fics! This one is for @breakfastteatime who requested solitary confinement for Jedi Fallen Order. Hope you enjoy!!

Words: 2,099

Tags: whump, hurt no comfort, pre-Jedi Survivor, Claustrophobia warning

ao3 link

seven thousand, nine hundred and twenty minutes

Four thousand, three hundred and fifteen minutes. That’s how long Cal had been trapped in the little durasteel room. Four thousand, three hundred and fifteen minutes. And sixteen minutes, actually. He wasn’t sure if that was correct, he’d only started counting when he was bored enough, and he’d slept a few short stints somewhere between the counting.

The room itself was small and empty. At Cal’s best guess it was a roughly six foot cube of plain grey durasteel, with no visible door anywhere in the smooth plating and two bright, buzzing lights overhead flush with the durasteel around them. He had no memory of being put in the box. The last thing he remembered was being out in some small spaceport town picking up some supplies for Greez. He had a vague recollection of fighting someone, flashes of running through a street, sending BD-1 for help, but not much else. When he’d woken up it had been with a pounding headache and a very tender spot on the back of his head, but after three days’ worth of minutes he was starting to string his thoughts together in a more organized fashion.

Now Cal was just bored. And worried. What had happened to the others? He can’t quite remember if they were on the ship or out in the town with him. He could remember that Merrin had insisted on making breakfast and it had been something spicy with eggs and sausages and some kind of plant she’d picked up somewhere that Cere and Greez avoided, but he couldn’t picture if she was with him when whatever happened to get him locked in here. He hoped that she wasn’t. Ideally the others were mounting some daring rescue and he just had to wait for them. Too bad he’d never been good at waiting.

Cal paced the room. There was nothing better to do. The only thing he had to avoid in it was the small toilet in the corner of the room. There was no other furniture. He ran one hand along the wall as he went, searching for any kind of crack or crevice that could show signs of an exit. Four thousand, three hundred, and thirty six minutes, and he still couldn’t find anything.

It took him a long time to notice that he could’t feel the Force either. It was around him in the room. He could feel the space of it through the Force, the corners, the sad little toilet, but he couldn’t feel beyond the durasteel perimeter. Once, when he was young and small and impressionable, Master Tapal had sat him down and discussed methods of keeping a Jedi captive.

“Firstly, I must impress upon you that this is all for a worst-case scenario. As long as I, or Commander Gamut, are around we will do our utmost to protect you,” said Master Tapal.

“Then why bother teaching me about it? You hardly let me go on missions anyway,” Cal whined.

“Because knowledge will help you overcome your fear and give you the tools you need to escape.”

Cal huffed. He preferred physical training to the lectures from Master Tapal. This was boring. Besides, Master Tapal almost never let him out into the field so it wasn’t like any lectures on what to do when captured or behind enemy lines was ever going to be useful. He wanted to learn fun things, like how to wield a dual-bladed ‘saber like Master Tapal.

“To begin: when a Jedi is captured, they are likely to be known as a Jedi immediately. We wear our robes, and we have our lightsabers. Both identify us as who we are.”

“Then why don’t we dress like other people? The clones and the other soldiers all have uniforms.”

“Because, Padawan, we stand at the end of a long thread of tradition, and that is not a tradition of war. We are peacekeepers, not soldiers. We must remember that we are trying to end this war, not fight it.”

Cal thought that it felt very much like they were fighting a war. Nobody on the holonet talked about peace or an end, just what battles were going on and what the Hero With No Fear was up to.

“If you are caught, they will take away your lightsaber. This does not disarm you, as you will always have your connection to the Force. But, if they are prepared, they will have special binders on hand to dampen the Force to us, make us as any other person in the galaxy.”

A cold chill shuddered down Cal’s spine. He couldn’t imagine not being able to feel the Force. “Then what do I do?”

“Well, hopefully, I come get you. But if not, Commander Gamut and Sergeant Twitch will show you various methods you can use.” Master Tapal leaned back with a smile. “Though I imagine I will regret this lesson very soon.”

Cal had never heard of Force-dampening walls before, but perhaps either bounty hunters or the Empire had gotten creative sometime in the last six years. He can’t think of anything else it might be. He wished whoever was holding him had just gone for the binders, it would’ve made this whole situation much easier to handle as he could’ve picked them and been on his way.

As Cal paced he could almost hear the accented voices of the clones walking him through the steps to pick the lock on a set of binders. How to turn the locks, the feeling when you knew part of it had sprung. He turned the corner of his tiny prison and saw a flash of yellow and white out of the corner of his eye.

He couldn’t help it. Cal jumped backwards, tripping over his feet and falling into the wall behind him. The tender spot on the back of his head throbbed with a new ache. With a groan he picked himself up and reached back to touch the sore spot. His hand comes back bloody. Just what he needed, an upgrade from probable concussion to definite.

As Cal stared at the blood on his hands he couldn’t help but feel a little foolish. It had been years since he had seen a clone, and more since he’d seen one in 13th Battalion yellow. There was no reason to be afraid of them now, so many years later and with clones phased out of the Imperial army. No, what he should really be afraid of was what could lie beyond the durasteel walls of his prison.

-

Five thousand, seven hundred and sixty minutes. At least, by Cal’s reckoning. He had slept for a while, but unlike the last few times he’s curled up on the hard floor under the harsh lights of his cell, this time when he woke there was no water waiting for him. Maybe they forgot about him, or they were moving him, but Cal didn’t sense any vibrations through the metal that would betray being loaded on some kind of transport. The durasteel was still and unmovable. Yet he could not shake the thought that maybe he had been forgotten. Without water he was going to die in this tiny box. A rather unfitting end for his adventures so far, but maybe not so far off an ending for him, alone and scared and trapped.

“Hello?” called Cal. His voice was dry and cracked. “Hello?”

There was no response.

“Hey! I’m still in here, you know.”

With the lack of an answer it wasn’t hard to picture that his captor had simply decided he wasn’t worth the effort of selling to the highest bidder and was simply waiting for Cal to die in order to dispose of him. Probably decided it was less barbaric or something than just doing things the easy way and shooting Cal in his sleep. Cal would’ve preferred the blaster bolt, thank you very much.

He could feel himself starting to panic. Trying to squash the feeling down, Cal tried to think of what he could do that he hadn’t tried yet and the answer was simple. Trust in the Force. So he stood in front of a wall and put his hand on the cold metal. He took a deep breath in, and as he exhaled he pushed with the Force. Still the wall remained still and unmovable. There must have been something on the other side of the walls or they were thicker than anticipated. He tried again, with a little more Force. Nothing budged.

“Hey! Come on, let me out!” yelled Cal.

Not waiting for an answer he threw a punch at the wall, putting as much of the Force behind it as he could. The durasteel groaned, but didn’t give. With a wordless scream of rage he threw his whole body at the wall shoulder first. His shoulder crunched against the wall and gave an awful wet, popping noise. Biting back a scream Cal slumped down to his knee with his hand clutching his shoulder. Under his fingertips he could tell that it was dislocated, and though Cal had grown up in a scrapyard full of stupid injuries, he didn’t know how to fix his own shoulder.

Five thousand, seven hundred and eighty-four minutes, and at last Cal broke.

A sob built in his chest as hot tears stung at his eyes. He didn’t want to die here. He wanted his friends, his family really. He wanted to listen to Greez ramble about his latest recipe, he wanted to watch as Merrin discovered the secrets of a new planet, he wanted Cere to stay up with him in the middle of the night and tell him about the Jedi, and he wanted to keep on adventuring with BD-1. Yet here he was. Trapped and alone and hurt.

Beneath his fingertips Cal could feel the bone of his shoulder and the awkward angle it sat at. Already his hand was starting to tingle with oncoming numbness. His head still pounded from its meeting with the wall as well. He must look a mess. There was dried, tacky blood in his hair and his hand was purpling across the knuckles where he’d punched the wall. He couldn’t quite see what sort of strange silhouette he made with his dislocated shoulder but he was sure it wasn’t good. He choked a breath down around his sobs. Crying wasn’t going to do him any good. It wasn’t going to magically fix his arm or summon Cere with a medkit in hand. It didn’t do him much good. The deep breaths failed to work. Apparently his body needed to cry itself out, and he was going to let it.

-

Seven thousand, two hundred minutes. Cal had never actually counted this high ever. He’d never had seven thousand credits to his name to count with, and that was the only thing people regularly had that amount of anything in. He idly tapped a finger on his good hand on the ground in one second intervals. There wasn’t much else he could do. His arm was so numb he hadn’t been able to lift it for hours, and his mouth was so dry he swore Jawas were about to move in.

He was going to die here. Somewhere in the last few hundred minutes Cal had calmly accepted that fact. He shouldn’t, but there was no hope of him escaping on his own, especially now with only one good arm and having no food or water in days. He was too weak to do much more than shift a little when his legs started to fall asleep. When he did go, he hoped it wouldn’t be Cere and the others who found him, if anybody ever did. It wouldn’t be pleasant. He’d probably become some kind of misshapen, desiccated, mummy-like body. Definitely not the end Cal had ever envisioned for himself. Most of the time he pictured long uninterrupted falls or scrapping machinery. But he could feel himself getting heavy, like his body was weighed down by stones. For a moment he thought about fighting it, but really, what was the point. Nothing he did would change anything except make him suffer a little longer. He’d had a good run. Six years longer than he thought he’d have after the Purge. He’d even found a family and a home on a luxury yacht, and that wasn’t too bad for a scrapper nobody. No, it was okay. He had done enough.

-

Seven thousand, nine hundred and twenty minutes later, a small hatch in the ceiling dropped open.

[whilomm]

oh okay heres one:

"sleepaway camp"= you go there for at least a few days, a week, sometimes several weeks, and sleep there, as opposed to a """camp""" where you go for the day and your parents or whoever picks you up afterward (those arent really camps, but like. idk when i went to "space camp" it was a weeklong but not sleepaway). in the U.S. at least, the typical image of a sleepaway camp involves staying in cabins, dunno how common it is/what it looks like in other countries.

for the first few i just mean like. not necessarily a stealth church camp, just like. idk, a camp where theres also an Assumption Of Christianity and just general vibes without being actually church camp. So, there might not be daily services and jesusy dedicatwd activities, but maybe theres still a prayer said over meals and shit. Which i assume might exist...

(oh and @reblogforsamplesize if u wanna)

[nereidprinc3ss]

do you believe me now? | 2

in which fem!reader is feeling insecure about how inexperienced she is around spencer's friends and seeks his expertise to amend the problem

series masterlist

18+ (smut) warnings/tags: inexperienced reader, oral f receiving, (MUNCH!SPENCE RETURNS), fingering, (very) insecure reader, softdom!spencer, sub reader, nipple stuff, kinda sorta implied age gap, god i'm probably forgetting things pls lmk if i missed something important a/n: i've been laboring at this bad boy every day for so long i had to immediately post once it was completed lol. there will be a part three ... maybe i already started it ..... anyway i love u guys and i hope this is a satisfactory part two!! PLS lmk if you liked it!! hearing from u makes my day :')

When Spencer dropped you off at Penelope’s apartment for your first girl’s night—the hostess had promised you, JJ, and Emily lots of gossip sans 'icky men'—you had been ecstatic. You wouldn’t stop rambling to him about how excited you were. 

When he picks you up two and a half hours later, he can hardly get a word out of you. 

It’s not his fault, of course—well, not really, anyway. It’s just that all the girls had wanted to talk about was sex. A topic on which you held very little expertise and had essentially nothing to contribute. Out of the four, you were the only non-FBI agent, the youngest, and undoubtedly the least experienced. It was like high school all over again, except you actually desperately wanted to impress Spencer’s friends. All in all, you weaseled your way out of sharing without giving away that you were still very much a virgin. Sure, you could have said ‘we did hand stuff two weeks ago’, but you had a feeling these women wouldn’t consider that very impressive. 

But you can’t easily relay that information to Spencer—even when he immediately picks up on your sullen mood. He asks you what’s wrong as you make your way down the echoey staircase, but you hold back, muttering something along the lines of we’ll talk about it later. 

Later doesn’t come on the sidewalk outside. It doesn’t come in the car, or at any point during the twenty minute drive, but you feel it rapidly approaching as you climb the stairs to Spencer’s apartment. He unlocks the door and holds it open for you, doesn’t speak as you kick off your shoes and wander aimlessly into the living room.

“Did you eat?” He finally asks, hanging his keys on a hook by the door and glancing over to where you linger in the center of the room like a ghost. 

“Not hungry.”

You both know that wasn’t the question, but he lets it go. 

“Alright... well, I was thinking—“

“Why haven’t we had sex?”

The question flies from your mouth before you can stop it. It tastes like metal and you wish you could take it back as you stand there, cheeks hot and awaiting a reply. It seems you’ve thoroughly astonished Spencer as he gapes at you like a fish out of water for several silent moments, eventually opting to shove his hands in his pockets and shake his head at the wall as he processes the question. 

“I… I don’t know. We just haven’t. Does that bother you?”

Suddenly your whole body feels intolerably warm. Your fingers twitch against your thighs. Of course it bothers you. 

“Do you just not want to? You aren’t attracted to me like that?”

God, you despise how fragile your voice sounds—how much you obviously care, how insecure you clearly are. Spencer picks up on it, despite your most fervent wishing that he wouldn’t, and approaches, stopping a few feet away. You stare at the span of oriental design on the floor between your feet. 

“That’s not at all what I said, angel. I wish you wouldn’t put words in my mouth.”

“Well, then… say something else,” you plead quietly, childishly, still unable to meet his eyes. Prove me wrong. 

He sighs, which does not bode well for you. You wonder if you accidentally triggered the early demise of your relationship and christ do you wish you could rewind. When he steps closer, when his hands find your arms, you’re not sure where to look. But the low, sweet tone of his voice entices you to finally meet his gaze, charmed like a snake as his eyes dart between yours. 

“You know that’s not how I feel.”

You shake your head earnestly, looking up at him with wide eyes as he slowly rubs your arms. 

“No. No, I don’t know that.”

Spencer frowns, glancing at your lips as he speaks. It’s impossible to not do the same when he’s standing so close. 

“But I’ve told you. I don’t understand how you couldn’t know how far from the truth that is.”

You think back to two weeks ago—the first and only time he’d ever done anything more than kiss you. A different kind of flush replaces the shameful one in your cheeks as you try to make your case and not get distracted by the memories of his hands all over you.

“So why won’t you prove it?”

It’d been intended to come out cool, but instead you sound a little desperate, a little out of breath as you realize you and Spencer somehow ended up so close to each other you can feel the warmth radiating from his body. 

“Is that what you need from me? More proof?”

He speaks so lowly, his fingers press into the flesh of your arms portentously, and you think maybe you’ve poked the bear one too many times. But you won’t back down now—not when you think you might actually get what you want. 

So you look up at him and nod, throat too dry to speak. His eyes are deceptively soft, but you don’t miss the big bad something lurking just beneath the surface of the placid hazel. 

“And how do you think I should prove it?”

“I told you what I want,” you whisper, speaking above your pounding heart. 

“Not tonight, honey. Choose something else.”

“Well—that’s not fair,” you stammer, “the whole point is for you to want to have sex with me.”

Spencer smiles a little, tucking hair behind your ear. “I do want that. I promise you I do. But there are other things I want us to do first.”

“Then I want to do that, too! I just—I don’t know what I’m doing, and you do, and I’m already out on a limb by asking for this much. I know this is what I want but I need you to take the lead here. I trust you, Spencer.” You top off the monologue with an imploring gaze—hoping it delivers even a fraction of the impact that his puppy-dog eyes always have on you. 

He seems to study every square inch of your face as you wait in suspense for him to say something. At long last, his lips part—to no avail for several more seconds as he regards you. 

When the words finally do come, they’re an immense relief of pressure. 

“You’re going to promise me that you’ll communicate honestly. That means telling me if we need to slow down or stop, or if you don’t like something—”

“I promise,” you say, perhaps over-eagerly, offering him your extended little finger. 

An incredulous smile narrows his eyes. 

“Is this a pinky-promise?”

“It is.” You wiggle the finger in emphasis, and he shakes his head, smiling wider as you link pinkies. 

“I left you with Garcia for far too long.”

You shush him, disentangling your hands to cup his jaw and press your lips to his. It’s sweet and smiley until it isn’t—until everything slows down like sticky molasses and his hand is ghosting over your cheek, your neck, the curve of your waist, finally substantiating itself on your hip—the other encouraging you to tilt your head back as he deepens the kiss and you feel yourself melting under the heat of his touch. 

The pressure of his body against yours builds until you’re forced to take a step back, and then another, and another. Without question you allow yourself to be herded toward the bedroom, walked slowly backward as he keeps kissing you and blindly trusting he’ll make sure you don’t run in to anything. The bedroom door clicks shut behind him, and it is in all practicality a pointless gesture—but you find it incredibly comforting nonetheless.  

It’s too warm beneath your sweater and his hands are cool as they slip under the hem, sliding against the curve of your hip. Spencer’s never seen you without a shirt, you realize, as he pulls away from the kiss by only centimeters.  

“Off?” he mutters, thumbing at the knit fabric. And while you’re far from confident, you’ve certainly been making progress in this area. You help him tug it over your head without a word, noting a distinct and surprising lack of terror within yourself as you watch for his reaction to you. Hands glide slowly up your waist and you find yourself enchanted by the slight furrow of his brow, the parting of his lips. He traces down the lacy edge of your bra, skimming sensitive skin as he goes. 

“Pretty,” he murmurs. “You’re… so pretty.”

It seems you’ve rendered him uncharacteristically prosaic. The reaction might be underwhelming if it were anyone else—but Spencer Reid is a man who probably knows every synonym for pretty in the English language. Looking at you, he can’t think of a single one. In an odd way, it’s the highest compliment he could pay you. Your cheeks heat and your stomach flips as he drags a knuckle up the center of the cup, and you can feel it through the layers of lace and fabric. He leans forward, ghosting his lips over yours and continuing to run his fingers over the sensitive spot. “Do you know how pretty you are?”

This is one argument you will not be winning—one he’ll keep bringing up at the most inopportune times until he gets his way. 

“Spencer…”

“Don’t Spencer me. I’m asking you a question.”

The words don’t seem nearly as harsh as they really are when they’re delivered velvet-soft, with his lips and hands on you—when he’s so deftly popping the button on your jeans and dragging the zipper down with all the quickness of a slight-of-hand. It makes it hard to focus, even harder to speak. 

“We have… we have differing views on this matter.”

Generous handfuls of your hips and ass are taken as he helps you tug down your jeans before you kick them off, now left just in your underwear. 

“I thought I argued my point fairly well last time you were here. You didn’t learn anything from that?”

“Mm… maybe you just need to remind me.”

“Oh, I think I have to,” he agrees through a smile you can only hear. Gentle fingers skim up your back and tap the clasp of your bra. “How about this? Can we take this off?”

Any confidence from earlier crumbles and you loose a nervous hum—which is not the enthusiastic yes you’re sure Spencer will be seeking all evening. He pulls away, features etched with the beginnings of concern and a searching gaze. Asking would be unnecessary; the words simply come tumbling out of you. 

“What if you don’t like how I look?”

Spencer doesn’t even blink.

“That’s not going to happen.”

How you wish you could have the same assuredness in yourself that he seems to. 

“But what if… what if you’ve been with other girls who are more, like—I don’t know, just—better? Prettier?”

“Honey, you’re—” a sigh, a pause as he searches for the words—his eyes dart up and down your form, assessing, and when he looks back up at you, they’ve cleared and softened. He pulls you a little closer, rubbing circles into your back with his thumb. “I’m not thinking about anyone else right now. I’m not interested in anyone else right now. I already think you’re perfect, and I’m going to keep thinking that regardless of how you look. When I look at you, I’m not looking for things to critique. Do you understand me?”

As far as sentiments go, it’s a nice one. But the pressure of being seen still feels like an impossible burden. You whine, leaning your head against Spencer’s chest. He accepts your weight and runs his hand over your back as you look up at him. 

“But what if I’m hideously deformed?”

His eyebrows raise. 

“You’re not.”

“But what if I am?”

“Okay. It seems like you don’t feel ready yet, which is completely fine, we just won’t—”

“No!” you protest. “I am ready. I am. But… you have to promise to be nice to me no matter what. Or break up with me if you don’t like what you see so I don't have to wonder.”

“You’re ridiculous,” he says, kissing you, “and the only thing I’m willing to promise is that I’ll think you’re perfect. Me being nice will come as a natural byproduct of that which is very different than being nice by artifice. Take it or leave it.”

A moment of hesitance—but it’s short-lived. This is more important than your insecurities. Spencer is more important. 

“Take it,” you mumble against his lips. His fingers trace up the smooth skin of your back, all the way to the fabric and metal hooks on your bra. 

“Thank you.”

You wouldn’t have thought Spencer’s genius would manifest in being really good at undoing the clasp of a bra, but you can truly say you’re impressed by the ease with which he does it. It falls to the floor, leaving you completely shirtless for the first time in front of him. 

“Well?” you murmur, arms crossed defensively underneath your chest, because you understand overtop would sort of ruin the whole thing. “What’s the verdict?”

“You,” Spencer manages after a moment—you literally watch him memorizing every square inch of your body— “are ridiculously beautiful.”

The way his voice gets quieter makes your stomach flip. It sounds genuine. Too genuine to be faked. 

“So… no breakup?”

It seems that the more vulnerable you feel, the less likely you are to take a compliment. Spencer, who is always seeking patterns, probably recognizes this one, and doesn’t push you so hard this time. After a silent moment, he sighs and cradles your face in his hands. 

“You’re gorgeous. I hate how incapable you are of seeing that. We’re going to talk about this.”

“Yeah, but not right now, right?” you murmur, standing up on your tiptoes to kiss him. 

“Not right now,” he agrees. 

His lips are so soft and gentle against your own it feels like love, it feels like being talked down from the ledge of your own insanity. Somehow the way he strokes your hip feels more nurturing than sexual. It’s like he has sex and chaste affection on tap, able to turn them on and off at will. You’re happy to drown in either. Ideally, both.

After a while, his hands begin roaming farther, become bolder in their excursions over your flesh. Up, down, over your waist and ribs. Clearly Spencer had been trying to ease you into it, but you still can’t hide your sharp inhalation when his thumbs graze the sensitive skin of your breasts. He pulls his lips from yours, hands splayed over your sides. 

“Sit down.”

It’s much too gentle to be a command, but you frown. 

“Without you?”

“I’m not going anywhere,” he chuckles, lightly squeezing your waist. “Just sit. Utilize patience.”

You sit on the edge of the bed with an atypical reticence—you’re just a little too nervous for a snippy comeback. Spencer picks up on this, features softening sympathetically as he undoes his tie with nimble fingers. It lands somewhere on the bed and he leans over you, resting his weight on his fists and offering you a quick kiss. His voice is soft and designed to soothe as he speaks, mere inches away from your face, and so quiet it could only be heard at this range. 

“Are you nervous?” Cloth from the duvet pinches between your fingers. For a moment you don’t reply, dropping your head to watch when Spencer runs his hand over your thigh. “It’s okay if you’re feeling anxious, baby. We don’t have to do anything tonight.”

You expel a frustrated huff. 

“I want to. Just because I’m nervous doesn’t mean I don’t want this. I can handle a little bit of anxiety.”

He hums, dropping to a crouch and inserting himself directly in your line of sight. 

“I know you can. But you don’t always have to push yourself so hard.”

“I’m fine pushing myself a little. I pinky-promised I would tell you if I wanted to stop, remember?”

“Oh, how could I forget a pinky-promise?” he smiles. 

How could you forget anything, you think, becoming flushed and silently insolent at his dulcet teasing. 

“Please, do something.” It’s a whisper, brushing his lips as you lean down until you’re nose to nose. His hands are on the back of your legs. 

“I’m working on it.”

“It doesn’t look like it.”

“You’re smart, angel. Tell me why I've got you naked on my bed and I’m kneeling in front of you. Where could I possibly be taking this?”

Oh, you have a pretty strong inkling—but you’re scared to voice it and be wrong. Instead of risking it you shake your head slowly, shyly. What you’re not expecting is for Spencer to duck his head down, slide his hands up the side of your thighs and press kisses to the delicate skin there. It feels good—better than you’d have thought. 

“You don’t know?” he asks, looking up at you through burnished gold-rimmed pupils. “No guesses?”

“No guesses,” you agree breathlessly, hotter than you were when you had your clothes on and all the energy in your body condensed into one point between your legs. Spencer hums like he’s considering your answer, smoothing his thumbs over the soft skin of your thighs so gently it feels like burning. 

“I don’t think you’re being entirely truthful. Lie back, sweetheart.”

You do as you’re told, scooting up on the mattress and falling back on your elbows. Spencer wastes no time in climbing over you, leaving you in much the same position as the last time you’d been in his bed. The sheets feel cool against your bare skin, but he is exceptionally warm and solid over you. 

“I’m being honest.” Lie. “I don’t know what you’re going to do.”

Lips find the most sensitive spot of your neck, dancing over it torturously. The front of his shirt brushes your chest. Your thighs clamp together. 

“I don't like being lied to. Just say it, baby. I know you know.”

“Spencer,” you whine, fists bunching the excess fabric around his waist. Warm breath condensates on the skin of your neck as he chuckles. 

“You don’t like being teased, huh?”

“Please, Spence,” you whisper. You notice the pattern of his breathing pause momentarily before it all comes rushing out at once—and you catalogue that particular plea for later usage. 

“I can’t say no when you ask me like that.”

You push your fingers into his soft hair. 

“I know.”

It was a lucky guess. 

He’s still for a moment, relishing the feeling of your hands in his hair, before darting up to kiss you. 

“I’m going to use my mouth this time,” he murmurs against your lips. Though you knew that was what he intended, your heart stumbles in its perpetual march. “Is that okay?”

“What if I…”

You trail off. This is a very intimate situation which you’re not quite sure you have delicate enough language for. Or maybe you’re just stalling. Either way, Spencer is eternally patient with you. 

“You need to stop worrying so much, pretty girl. I’d love to do this for you. But it’s your call.”

“Love is a pretty strong word.”

“Sometimes I think not strong enough.”

The way he’s looking down at you so tenderly, brushing hair from your face, makes you think maybe he’s not just talking about how much he would love to go down on you. Regardless, it fortifies your trust in him. Spencer is the kindest person you know. He’s so clearly an enthusiastic giver. Why not allow him to give you this? 

“Okay,” you breathe. “You can—yeah.”

As usual, you’re impressively awkward, but he doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, you think he not-so-secretly delights in being the one to fluster instead of the other way around. Rarely has he mentioned his past romantic and sexual exploits, but gathering bits and pieces, you assume he was a fairly late bloomer. He probably knows what it’s like to be nervous and so deeply unsure of yourself. 

“Do you remember what you promised me?” he whispers, pressing butterfly-light kisses to your jaw. Your eyes flutter shut as his lips traverse down your neck, teeth skimming over the delicate skin while your breath catches. 

“Mhm.”

“You’re not gonna break that promise, are you?”

His voice, soft and muffled by your skin, is the most exhilarating and disorienting high. Your entire body buzzes with anticipation, satisfied only where his lips soothe and his body presses against yours. It takes a moment for you to remember to reply. 

“No.”

Reward comes in the form of his thumb brushing over the peak of your breast at the same time as he murmurs, “good girl.”

Your stomach flips at the endearment—you squeak and arch into him slightly. Spencer’s hand slides down your ribs as he chuckles, lips pressed just above your collarbone. 

“You’ve never called me that before,” you shudder as he continues kissing over your neck. 

“It’s not appropriate in most conversational contexts. But I can tell you’ve always been good.”

“Really? How?”

Spencer pauses, pushing himself up to regard you with searching eyes. The places he’d kissed feel cold without him. 

“I just can. You’re thinking too much, baby. I need your focus on me.”

“It is on you,” you huff. 

You watch his expression shift minutely. He loves games. Of course he’d love playing with you. That knowledge is why you’re only partially surprised when his thumb catches on your nipple again. 

“Is it? You’re only thinking about how it feels when I touch you here?”

A stammering nod. 

He toys with the sensitive flesh only a second more, amusement lighting his eyes, before dragging his hand down, down, down until it’s between your legs. Fingers trail over your clothed core, skimming the most sensitive part of you while your breath hitches.  

“Tell me how it feels when I touch you here.”

“Really good,” you admit, a heavy exhale escaping parted lips as he pins you with his gaze. 

“Really good, right. I can make it feel even better. Do you want me to make it feel better?”

Your thighs drop fully open and he adds just a bit more pressure until you’re pushing against his hand in search of more friction. 

“Yes please.”

“Then no more questions. I need you to trust me.”

Your answer is a breathy, dreamy sigh—you’d do anything, say anything for him. 

“Okay.”

Spencer kisses you, absorbing your noises of protest as his hand ceases between your legs and settles on your hip. But you’re trusting him. No whiny complaining. No unnecessary questions. 

Things go much quicker once you’re not interrupting him every twenty seconds to say something. His lips reattach to your neck, retracing their path (albeit quicker) until he’s below your collarbone. You watch in rapt fascination, twisted brows and parted lips as he peppers kisses down over your breast before dragging his tongue over your nipple. A jolted little moan spills out because you hadn’t been prepared to hold one in. Waves of hair fall over Spencer’s face, obscuring him from your vision, but you don’t think to push it away—your body is too busy processing the sensation to be much use on any other front. He darts his tongue over the peaked flesh, eliciting more little open-mouthed exhalations of pleasure from you. Earlier you hadn’t really thought it necessary for your bra to come off—you had no idea this could actually feel so good. A moment later he begins toying with the other nipple and you gasp as a bolt of heat goes straight to your core. 

You curse, further words catching in your throat as he suddenly switches, mouthing at your other breast and letting the cold air chill the other until you have goosebumps. It feels a little like hypnosis—you’re unable to move or speak as his tongue laves over you. Soon he’s replacing his mouth with a thumb again, sucking a mark onto your tit just above your nipple. You whimper a little at the pleasant brutality of it, hoping as he releases that it won’t soon fade. Spencer swipes over the stinging skin and presses a tender kiss to it, almost like an apology—but you sincerely doubt he’s actually sorry. 

Then he resumes his descent, leaving soft kisses down between your breasts, over your ribcage and stomach—when he reaches your hips, he doesn’t pull off your underwear all at once. Rather, he slides the fabric down centimeter by centimeter, kissing the revealed skin like it’s precious. 

This time you don’t need to be told to lift your hips. He helps you slip the final piece of clothing down and off of your legs, flinging it somewhere blindly before getting comfortable between your thighs once more. Your heart pounds with arousal and anxiety as his arms wrap around your thighs and his hands rub up and down the tops of them slowly. 

“God, you’re fucking beautiful,” he mumbles, loosening his hold on one leg to thumb at your folds. They glisten in the dim light of his bedroom as he gently reveals your clit. A soft whine escapes you when he nudges at the aching bud, slipping over it a few times and alleviating a bit of the pressure that’s been building. “Shh, baby. I know. I’m gonna take care of it. You’re being so good for me.”

Fuck. The way he talks to you makes your brain turn to mush—you’re utterly incapable of forming an intelligent thought. Spencer has rendered you a complete idiot, and you’re not upset about it in the slightest. 

He presses more gentle kisses to the creases between your thighs, just above your clit—everywhere except for where you need him most. Everything aches for him in the best way and at least you’re too turned on to be very insecure anymore. All you want is relief. But you’re trusting him. 

Thankfully, he delivers. 

The tip of his tongue grazes so lightly over your clit that if you weren’t this worked up you may not have felt it at all. In your current state, however, the stimulation echoes through every atom of your being. Every muscle is tense, frozen in place—you can’t even breathe for a second. He does it again, a little flatter, with a little more pressure, and you whimper. It’s a delicate thing, almost pained and definitely overwhelmed as he gently begins working his tongue against you. Your head cranes up to watch, your jaw drops. Approximations of curse words try to form, but come out only as, “f-fu—oh,” so whiny and soft it doesn’t even sound like you. He hums sympathetically, but you suspect it morphs into a chuckle as you continue to gasp and mewl. 

There are times where you can hold back sounds of pleasure. When you’re by yourself, it’s typically not a problem. Two weeks ago when Spencer was knuckle deep in you for the first time, it had certainly been a challenge, and you’d pretty much given up. But this—this is something else entirely. It feels like religion. It feels like compulsion. Even if you had the slightest modicum of control over yourself, which you currently don’t, you wouldn’t want to keep quiet. You want him to know what he’s doing to you. 

So you let every cry, every whine and whimper drag from your lungs, unbidden and unshaped. You’re new at this, after all—every broad lick feels so good that you have no fucking idea what do to with your hands or how to stop rolling your hips or how to censor your sounds. 

“Spencer,” you keen in one of the moments you remember to breathe. He moans against you, taking you into his mouth and sucking lightly. Your hips buck. “Oh, my—fuck!”

The hand that’s still around your thigh rubs soothing lines up and down. The one that’s spreading you open pulls your folds apart a little bit further, granting him more access to your clit. He flicks his tongue and you almost come then and there, vision going gray for a split second. 

“Wait, wait, Spence—“ you squeak, writhing and trying not to squeeze your thighs together for fear of hurting him. He pulls back and looks up at you, lips shining with your slick and eyes glazed with lust. Fuckfuckfuck he looks so fucking good. “Please, just… slow down, or I’m gonna… or it’s gonna be over.”

The corner of his mouth twitches as he rubs circles into your inner thigh. 

“It’s over when you say it’s over. You don’t have a refractory period. We don’t have to stop at one.”

“Oh—you don’t—you don’t have to do that,” you stammer. 

“I know I don’t have to. But if you want me to, I want to. You taste so good, angel girl.”

Well, shit. 

He looks absurdly sexy between your legs like this. You have no idea how you got so lucky, but you don’t plan on taking it for granted. Your fingers tangle in his hair. 

“I don’t know if I can do more than one,” you admit shyly, slightly embarrassed by how little you know about yourself and in general compared to Spencer. Hazel eyes sparkle in the warm light. 

“How about we start with one and see how it feels?”

Your voice is breathy when you respond, “okay,” already impatient for him to get back to it. Spencer seems just as eager, immediately kissing between your legs with a passion that makes your lips jealous. 

The flat of his tongue presses circles against you and your hips buck, already ramping up to that point you’d been at before calling a time-out. Slowly his fingers find their way to your entrance and he teases you with them, dipping in to the first knuckle before withdrawing again. If you could form words, you’d beg him to just do it already, but all you can manage is an affronted whine as you tilt your hips down, hoping he catches the meaning. 

Of course he does—pushing two fingers inside you at once. The intrusive stretch adds a sharp edge to the pleasure, makes it more interesting, as your brain short-circuits and you choke out a moan. It only takes a few slow pumps of his fingers in tandem with the pressure of his tongue until your hips are writhing and you’re and mewling desperately, more overwhelmed with pleasure than you’ve ever been. You push his hair back, able to see him for the first time, and fully appreciate the hollow of his cheeks, the way he looks up at you with perfect, glassy half-lidded eyes, the rhythm of his hand and tongue—he takes your clit between his lips once more, sucking lightly, and you’re done for. A pornographic sob escapes from deep within you as you come, but he doesn’t stop. The orgasm lasts longer than you knew one could—although, it’s only your second time, so you don’t exactly have a lot of data to go off of. Your entire body feels warm and floaty, and what he’s doing feels so good you want him even deeper—but you know he won’t give you that yet. Instead you focus on the slow burn of your orgasm, allowing him to carry on for a while until you begin slowly drifting back to earth and it becomes a bit too much. He recognizes the barely-there whine for what it is and pulls his fingers from you carefully, pressing one final kiss to your clit that makes your legs twitch and summons a weak little moan. 

Spencer’s lips find other avenues, over the delicate skin of your thighs and hips and stomach as he slowly drags himself up again. By the time you’re face to face again you’re still breathing hard. You sort of feel like prey underneath his weight, studied so scrupulously, known far more intimately by him than anyone has ever known you before. But there is so much light and kindness in the way he looks at you that you almost can’t make sense of it. 

Maybe it’s possible to be known and still wanted. The possibility spins like a coin on its edge in your mind. An idea you spent so much time trying to nurture and is only just now beginning to sprout. Maybe someone could see you at your most vulnerable, and still find you worthy of kindness. Appreciation. Affection. 

Spencer certainly could, it seems, as he ducks down to kiss you. You dodge it, turning your head demurely. He nudges his head against yours, speaking so, so softly, utterly cloying as he teases, “what? You’re not gonna kiss me now? Is that how it is?”

“No!” you balk, equally as quiet and especially bashful. “Not when you… no.”

“Let me kiss you,” he pleads, so earnestly you turn your head back to face him. His big eyes are hazy, reflecting all the warmth and dizziness you feel. “Let me kiss you. Please.”

You whine.

“I don’t wanna… taste… myself.”

Spencer doesn’t miss a beat. 

“Hm. We’ll need to work on that. Because one day, I’ll make you come just like that again, and then I’m going to fuck you, and you’re really going to want me to kiss you then, angel.”

Something flickers in your core. 

Suddenly you’re not so squeamish. You really want him to kiss you now. But it seems he’s going to have his fun, first. 

“Open.” Without even thinking about it, your lips part. He really ought to be careful with what he tells you to do—you’re all too compliant. Even as his fingers slip between your lips, you’re obediently hollowing your cheeks around them, watching him with big eyes as his own mouth falls slightly open. “Oh, baby,” he croons. “What are we gonna do with you?”

That flicker has returned to a full-fledged throbbing once you open your mouth again, slightly dizzy from lack of oxygen. 

“Can you make me come again right now?” you whisper, grasping lightly at his shirt. He grins like he loves the idea—and you let him have his way, accepting his lips on yours with no complaint. After a few moments, (the taste is surprisingly unobtrusive), he pulls away.

“I would love to.”

-

part three

[luludeluluramblings]

Smalltown! Neglected! Meta! Reader x Yandere! Batfam

Part Two

Part One ☁️ Part Three ☁️ Part Four ☁️ Part Five ☁️ Part Six ☁️ Part Seven

A/N: Still establishing some more lore and feelings. Currently, the Batfamily has two yanderes. With more yandere’s being revealed outside of Gotham and some in Gotham about to start falling into obsession. Also, my favorite Reader is one who is manipulated into thinking the collar around their neck is a necklace. Will be working on Part Three, but it might take longer because we have obsessions starting and Reader starting to get to a breaking point.

Warning(s): Yandere themes, Obsessive behavior

Poor Reader has it rough. Not too rough, but still life kinda sucks and they wanna go home now, please and thank you.

But, as always, things start to brighten up a notch or two.

Reader is thriving at school, sure they can’t hang out with their friends, but their friends understand (which honestly kinda odd, but they’ll roll with it)

There is a small issue.

Reader is a metahuman. (I know, shocking. So unique.)

Reader controls the weather, at will or with extreme emotions (oooooo interesting)

Back in their hometown, Reader didn’t have to hide said abilities that much. (Hell, more than a few people knew about it. Such an understanding community.)

Here in Gotham, in a practical stranger’s house, they’re not gonna to that.

Which is fine. Fine fine fine

Okay, so Reader is tense. Doesn’t have a healthy outlet, and is bottling things up. So that storms brewing. Gonna be fun when that comes back to bite Reader in the ass.

But, things are looking up. (I swear this time!)

Duke and Cass are hanging out with Reader more. They’re sorta becoming a trio of amigos.

Though, they do disappear often. For long periods of time.

Reader is pretty sure Bruce is Batman, at this point.

They’re not stupid, it’s in their damn genetics to be somewhat intelligent, so to speak.

But, no one actually tells reader. It’s lead to some awkward situations of them going silent when Reader enters the room, or the manor being unusually empty after everyone went to the ‘library’.

(Smalltown doesn’t mean stupid, bunch of jerks.)

It just makes reader feel even less like they’re part of the family. Even Alfred disappears for a time, leaving Reader completely alone with nothing, but portraits and old wood furniture.

No one says anything. No one mentions a single thing. (Am I not worthy of the secret? Why did you drag me here only to ignore me?)

Bruce continue to bounce between ignoring and coddling. Yet gets upset if Reader does the same. (Making them anxious.)

Dick pops back in, immediately showering Reader and excessive amounts of affection before shooing them off cause he’s gotta take care of somethings. (It makes reader feel like a pet in a degrading way.)

Jason gets caught harassing Reader by Alfred. Which leads to a screaming match between Jason and Bruce. It’s a violent one, but Alfred drags Reader out of the room before they can see. (But they hear things breaking and It’s terrifying.)

After that, Reader is extremely cautious around Jason. Which for some reason makes him angry and more violent. (Why does he hate me? This is scary.)

Stephanie starts to come around. Slowly. They’re getting there. (Stephanie still prefers to hangout with Tim and Tim…)

Tim ignores Reader the most. Will not talk to Reader at all. Which sucks because Teader thinks they would total get along. (But, nope. All they get is the cold shoulder.)

Reader just avoids Damian like the plague.

Reader talks more often to her other half-brother living miles away than the one she’s currently living with. (That’s gonna piss Damian off later)

While Barbara remains cordial.

Life is moving on. We’re good. Everything’s good.

Wait? Gotham Academy is having its own student Gala? That sounds amazing! Getting dolled up, having a night with friends. Maybe…. Having a date escort them….

And the best part is, Bruce says Reader can go.

Now, Cass and Duke and Damian won’t be going. Which is a bummer, but Reader understands.

Bruce even buys reader something to wear.

An obnoxious designer outfit. (A couture ruffle monstrosity that’s all the rage on the runway.)

It’s so terrible you have to laugh. (Just to hide how upsetting it is that no one actually knows what you like here or bothers to ask.)

Reader even shows Stephanie and they share a laugh. (It’s great. Reader needed that laugh.)

But, there’s no way Reader is going to wear this. So, Reader calls her childhood friend and favorite fashion designer.

Commissioning a more mature outfit. (Reader is almost grown, time to take a break from the ruffles and embrace the sexy.)

BFF comes through and then a week later someone shows up at Wayne Manor. (Damn that was fast.)

Someone from Reader’s hometown, and this starts to set things in motion.

BFF’s older brother, Reader’s childhood crush, shows up holding a dress and driving Daddy’s old truck. Which he hands Reader the keys too.

Nana and Grand Daddy, the Step Grandparents, wanted to surprise reader with a gift from home. (Remind Reader how much better living in a smalltown is compared to somewhere like Gotham. How much their town adores them and misses them.)

Poor oblivious Reader. Not realizing her smalltown is so desperate to have her back. (Reader was their’s first, they know Reader best.)

Nor how desperate Gotham is going to be to make force reader to stay.

[harrywavycurly]

Summary: You’ve been Harry’s bestfriend for over ten years, having met him back when he was still wearing snapbacks and flannel shirts with skinny jeans it’s safe to say you’ve been there for him throughout most of his career. After meeting you Harry didn’t want to risk losing you so he made the choice to not allow himself to see you as anything but his bestfriend, minus the few times the two of you have shared some drunken kisses and hookups. Meanwhile you couldn’t help falling in love with him because how could you not? But all of that changes when you invite Harry over to lunch one day and before you can even offer him a glass of wine he is dropping to one knee and asking you to marry him, why? Because he’s lonely and he knows you’re lonely too so why not just be together?✨

Pairing: Harry x fem!reader, Harry x bff!fiancé

Status: Ongoing

Trope: Friends to lovers and if you squint it’s kind of fake marriage au but only kinda sorta.

CW: None it’s pure fluffy mushy goodness with only like the tiniest bit of angst

A/N: This series is requests based, since it started off as a request so all updates will be from what y’all request. I just figured it was easier to have all the parts and extras for this pairing in one place✨

Requests: Here (open)

Tag List: Open just let me know if you’d like on it💖

Conversations: Here

Instagrams: Coming Soon✨

Extras: Here

*you’ll find all the parts down bellow in the correct order*

Part 1: Lonely

Part 2: Catch Up

Part 3: Caffeine

Part 4: Make it Quick

Part 5: Our House

Part 6: Marriage ?’s

Part 7: Man of Honor

Part 8: Don’t Remember

Part 9: Centerpieces

Part 10: I’m Fine

[deathbecomesthem]

Basement Apartment Part 2/2

Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader - 6.6K

+18 ONLY - Minors DNI

Summary - It's 2001, and you've just moved into this new basement apartment. It's not so bad, except for the neighbor directly above your bedroom.

Contains a mean reader (kinda). There is smut within Eddie is submissive here, but there isn't really any kind of actual dom/sub dynamic. This is kind of an enemies to lovers deal. Sorta. Alcohol. Use of derogatory language against Eddie.

Part 1

A/N: Thank you @jo-harrington for loving this story, and thank you for editing this at a moment's notice. Love you forever.

The alley is dark with only a singular halo of light illuminated by the light perched over the oversized metal door through which you and Jeannie just exited. There’s a rusty pipe just outside of the circle of light dripping into a small puddle of trash water next to an open dumpster. Cigarette butts litter the ground like the memories of past alleyway encounters to which you and Jeannie will add your own.

“You really are the hottest girl I’ve seen around here in a long time.” Jeannie’s smile is sweet, one of a Chesire cat grin. She’s eyeing you up and down in appreciation. “Maybe that’s just because I get to see you put Ed in his place for once.” You cough out a laugh because it is fun to put that boy in his place.  “Don’t get me wrong, he’s actually a great guy, just a cocky bastard when someone gets his dick hard.”

“Yeah, well, sounds like most of the guys I’ve dealt with,” you exhale the words along with a mournful sigh. You think about the casual misogyny that impacts every aspect of your daily life and frown at the thought. Just another man that looks at you like a prize, something they can win. Something they deserve.

“Nah, Ed really is a good guy. Not your typical asshole. Don’t let him fool you.” Eyebrows cocked, you take in the cheeky smile on Jeannie’s face. Guess I’m not getting any pussy tonight.

“I take it this” you move your hand between yourself and Jeannie “is not happening, eh?”

“Can’t do it, pretty. Not when you dance with me, and eye fuck a guy. No hard feelings.” No, no hard feelings. Not for Jeannie, anyway. No, you’re a stupid bisexual mess, and that’s not her fault.

“Oh my god, I can’t believe I cock blocked myself.” This has you both laughing. “I’m sorry, that was bad behavior. You’re being too nice about it.”

“Nah, it’s cool.” Jeannie rubs out her cigarette and wiggles her fingers at you in a goodbye as she turns and heads back into work. She stops at the door and adds, “He’s not a bad guy. He’s really not,” and the door is closing, leaving you alone in that circle of light to listen to the water drip, drip, drip while the filter of your cigarette starts to burn.

You hear faint laughter and watch a couple walking by, arms wrapped around each other. You step to the side, hiding in the shadow so you can watch them without being seen. You let out a little groan and stomp your foot in frustration. 

“Fuck this.” You’re done, ready to go home and find a bottle in the cabinet. You consider going to 2A to see if Mary and Steve were around, but you couldn’t bear the idea of cock blocking Mary too. It was pissing you off that this guy was in your head. It was pissing you off that you wanted him.

The short walk home is not enough. Just as your apartment building appears in the distance, you detour through an empty parking lot. This is a spot you’ve never explored, an elementary school with 4 square lines spray painted in the pavement, rusty basketball hoops, monkey bars, and 3 swings lined up in a row. One of the swings has been tossed over the top of the poles a few times, it sits higher than the other two. The moon is out, the air is calm, and you don’t mind the slight bite of cold through your thin pantyhose. You swing.

At first, it’s a gentle movement, but muscle memory takes over. You find yourself pumping your arms and legs, gaining momentum. Higher, higher, and higher still. You let your laughter erupt in the open air. Your breath fans out in a cloud around your face. You feel clean and free for a moment. You are laughing and swinging for what feels like hours, until something draws your attention.

A jingling sound can be heard at the side of the building, near the old basketball court. Someone is walking a dog, maybe? Your senses are heightened at the perceived possible threat, dragging your feet on the soft earth beneath the swing, you open the snap at the top of your purse. Then you see what is approaching, sauntering, towards you. A huff of aggravation leaves your mouth.

“You come here often?” The line is so ridiculously delivered, a faux husky voice, it earns Eddie a small laugh, and you can see his back straighten with pride. “Shouldn’t you be sitting at the bar waiting for Jeannie to get off work?”

“Did you put a tracking device on me somewhere? For fuck’s sake, give a girl a break.” His head is wobbling back and forth, as if to say, yeah, sorry. His long legs squat deeply to allow himself to rest on the swing to your right. You can’t help but giggle, the sight is endearing if not completely annoying.

“I heard someone laughing while I was on my way home. I had no idea I’d find you out here. I was intrigued, what can I say?” What can you say? Nothing. So, you don’t. You toe the dirt for a moment and begin pumping your arms and legs in earnest. Let him see your laughter. What harm could it do?

Eyes are on you as you reach the sky. Your hair whips from in front of your face to back behind your head. The laughter comes, the boy still watching and kicking the dirt. And then he says, “Wanna hear a joke?” And how could you not? You let out a loud, “Yeah” on your down swing.

“What do you do when your wife starts smoking?”

“What do you do?” You ask with genuine curiosity.

“Use some lube.” 

You snort a laugh at the ridiculous joke. You drag your feet, a giggle still in your mouth. And you look at Eddie. God, he’s so beautiful it takes your breath away.

“That was an awful joke. Tell me another.” Now he’s swinging while you watch him. His legs are too long to kick back fully and get any real height, but he’s still going for it. He’s letting out a “Hmmmm” in thought while he thinks of another joke. You aren’t fooled, you know this guy has a whole arsenal in that brain of his.

“What do you call someone who refuses to fart in public?” He hasn’t even gotten to the punch line, and you're giddy enough to giggle already.

“What?” He stops hard, feet planted in the dirt to deliver his punch line.

“A private tutor.”

You can’t help it, you’re laughing like a flirtatious teenager, “You idiot.” You go to swat his arm, and he’s fast. He grabs it before it hits its mark. His fingers interlace with your own, and he lets your arms drop between you. Holding hands, arms formed in a V at this little school playground. It’s so tender you could puke.

“I’m sorry.” A long finger is rubbing along your knuckles while you listen to his soft voice, “I’m such an asshole. To be fair, that usually works for me.” His eyebrows are cocked at you, and his small smile is barely visible in the moonlight. He seems small and sweet in this moment, and you feel warmth spreading through your chest at the sight of him.

“Yeah, well, I was just about ready to hate fuck the attitude out of you.” He drops your hand and dramatically grabs his chest.

“Hold on, let me just get in the right mind frame.” He stands up and shakes his arms at his side to limber up and clears his throat. His long arms grab the metal chain of your swing, and he leans into your space. A low seductive voice reverberates through his chest as he says, “Baby, your boobs remind me of Mt. Rushmore. My face should be among them.”

Your laughter is a release of tension. You’re in hysterics. It’s the only thing to describe your reaction to this fucking nerd putting on this ridiculous show. There are tears in the corner of your eyes until you catch sight of Eddie’s face. He’s watching you, the moonlight creating a halo around his stupid head with a wide smile that beams with pride.

“I would do anything to hear that laugh.” When you let out a groan of protest, his hand waves it away, “I’m serious. It’s what drew me back here. You have the sweetest laugh I’ve ever heard.”

You grab a fistful of his shirt and pull him down to your eye level. Right as your noses brushes against his and you’re angling your mouth towards him he whispers, “I’d love to hear what other pretty noises you make.”

Hand flattened, you give him a shove. “You’re such an asshole, Eddie.”

“Oh, come on, I was joking.” You’re up and heading back to your building, annoyed with yourself more than him. “Please stop. I’m sorry.” Wheeling around to face him, he stops abruptly with his hands raised in surrender. You have your hands propped against your hips. You bend down and unlace your boots and toe them off. You’ve lost a couple of inches, but Eddie still seems completely intimidated. He inches his way towards you, as if approaching a rabid dog, and he reaches down to pick up your discarded boots to carry for you.

“Let me walk you home, hmm? Are you hungry? I picked up some perch at the fish market yesterday.”

“I’m sorry, are you offering to make me dinner at,” you look at your watch and scoff, “1:30 in the morning?”

“Uh, yeah. To be fair, I was planning to make myself dinner anyway, but why not. It’s obvious neither of us is getting laid tonight.” Too true. Neither of you were getting laid, which made you wonder…

“Why aren’t you getting laid tonight? You been in a dry spell lately? I saw plenty of pretty bimbos making googly eyes at you earlier.”

“Yeah, true.” He sighs dramatically, “I think I’ve had my fill of bimbos for a while, ya know? Plus, I think I was getting a slutty reputation around the building.”

“Pffffttt, come on.”

“I’m serious, I was more than a little embarrassed to have the hottest chick I’ve ever seen call me an asshole and a slut to my face.” Well, you are a slut. “And I know what you’re thinking, you were just calling it like you saw it, but is it a crime to have a good time, Sweetheart? I didn’t know everyone in the apartment building could hear me.”

There’s a tinge of something, guilt, in the back of your mind. You never told him about the vent. The vent that certainly can’t be legal. The vent that creates a direct opening between your rooms. Yeah, he’s a loud ass, but you probably wouldn’t hear most of what he’s doing in the privacy of his own room if it wasn’t for that fucking vent.

“Not everyone in the building.” You admit, sheepishly. A pause, a gentle hand on your shoulder, an eyebrow raised in question. “So, there’s this vent I discovered. It’s basically just wide-open space between our rooms.”

His eyes are moving side to side as if he’s trying to understand, trying to see it in his mind. “A vent? Why is there a ductwork that goes from one room to another room like that?” And you think for a moment you might get away with your bad behavior, because maybe he’ll focus on the design flaw instead of the fact that you blamed him for something out of his control.

“Wait. Are you telling me that you’ve been ragingly pissed off at me for something that isn’t my fault?” You wave your hand a little bit. Because, yeah, that’s pretty much true.

“Sort of. I mean, you’re still a cocky asshole that doesn’t consider his neighbors when he’s got his dick up.” His arms go up in frustration. “No, you’re right, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have decided to be mean right off the bat.”

Eddie’s still gripping your boots while your feet are walking on the freezing cold sidewalk with nothing but pantyhose between you and the night. The chill is finally starting to get to you, the booze having worn off completely. Your building isn’t too far, about a block away, and your teeth start to chatter a bit. You’re trying to hide it, not wanting to seem too vulnerable, too weak in this moment, but he’s observant. He swings off his leather jacket, leaving himself in just his cropped t-shirt, and wraps it around your shoulders. It smells like cigarettes, worn leather, and Old Spice. You could scream at how comforting it all is. How safe and cared for you feel. Instead, you try to satisfy your curiosity.

“So, tell me, Eddie, what do you do for a living?” You ask, hating the way the question sounds coming out of your mouth. Boring chit chat that doesn’t fit the already too intimate understanding the two of you have with each other. 

“Besides playing metal for free booze at the downtown bars? Take a guess.” Oof, if you had to guess, you’d have no idea. Tattoo artist? That’s plausible. Cook? Could be. Mechanic, plumber, electrician? How annoying to not know and how annoying to have him play coy about it.

“Oh, I don’t know. Can’t you just fucking tell me?” His head is thrown back in a laugh. He really enjoys needling you. He likes pissing you off, at least just a little.

“God, you’re so impatient. If you must know, I work with kids. Believe it or not, I’m a counselor for at-risk youth.” You can’t hide the shock on your face. There is no way you would have ever been able to guess that this guy worked with kids. Is a counselor. You’ve done work for family attorneys in the past, and you know what some of these kids go through. You imagine him holding the hands of kids going through the horrors of life. A lump begins to form at the base of your throat.

“Are you joking?” You practically choke out the words. It’s a rude question and you have no excuse for it other than the fact that it’s exactly what crosses your mind.

“Not joking. I had a rough time when I was younger. I barely got out of high school alive. Steve started going to a community college back home, and I decided to go for it with him. I spent 6 years getting a 4-year degree while flipping burgers.” 

Your mind is so blown you can’t do anything but stutter, “You’re a fucking saint? That’s actually kind of annoying.” You nudge Eddie with your shoulder affectionately. “Aren’t you going to ask me what I do for a living?” He nudges you back, affectionately.

“I know what you do. Mary told me. You’re an assistant for a lawyer with the aspiration to go to law school. And, you’re very likely going to do it and be a huge success because you’re a genius and you work harder than anyone she’s ever met.” Bless Mary, what a sweetheart. You can see her saying this to him, verbatim. She’s your biggest cheerleader. “It’s why I haven’t been having any overnight guests. You seriously had me feeling like the biggest dick in the world, you know.”

Ascending your steps to the front door of your building, you stop and look at Eddie. He’s a step below you, and still taller than eye level. “Why did you come on so strong with me? Why not just” you’re flapping your hand around looking for the right thing to say, “be normal with me?”

“I’m naturally flirtatious.” A roll of the eyes has him breathing through his nose, “Fine. you’re hot when you’re angry. Like, it’s insane. And, you know, most people find me charming.”

Yes. You could see it. He is charming. And sweet. Jeannie is right, he’s not a bad guy, he’s a really good guy, in fact. You reach your hand out to touch his curls, you’ve been thinking about how soft they would feel between your fingers since the first time saw him. Yes, they are soft. Oh, his hand is cupping your cheek, and you’re leaning your head into it. His skin is so warm despite the cold.

“God, you’re so beautiful, I could cry.” The words are out before you can stop them, and maybe you don’t want to. Maybe he needs to know what is true about him in your eyes. That he is beautiful, and that you want him, even more now that he’s let you see who he really is.

He releases a slow exhale at your words, and you can see a flush creeping up his neck. You are charmed. Before a protest can be made, you let your mouth meet his. You let yourself taste him, breathe him in. And he is sweet. A light kiss, and his breath is fanning over your face.

He pulls back to look into your eyes and says, “I think you might have something in your eyes.” You furrow your brows a little while he inspects them, “No, sorry, just a sparkle.” He’s breathing out a laugh at his own terrible pick up line, and you hate him.

“I hate you.” You say the words without conviction, and this time, his mouth meets your own with a firm kiss. A tongue snaking across your bottom lip in a plea for entry, and you grant it. This is bliss. His arms are holding you at your hips while yours find his neck. Like teenagers at your parents’ doorstep not wanting the night to end. This goes on until he feels you trembling and remembers that you could be doing this inside. Where there’s heat and comfort.

“Wouldst thou allow me the honor of walking thee to thine door this fine evening, M’lady?” He asks, and you realize that this guy that has  fucked every woman in the tri-state area is an actual nerd. A goofy bastard.

“Thank you, kind sir. I hate to be out on these streets alone.” You bat your eyelashes and he lets out a little groan of pain. You relish in that groan, an indication that you have the upperhand with this man. You do have him wrapped around your little finger. Not only could you make him putty in your hands, you are doing it by just existing within his space. 

As you head to the stairs, you feel Eddie’s warm fingers tangling themselves with your own, and that feeling of being a kid hits you again. It’s been so long since you’ve felt this kind of zinging tingle from such a simple gesture. Will he be careful with me? A bit of doubt begins to prickle at the back of your mind.

“So.” You’re standing with your back against your door, head tilted up to Eddie while he’s leaning his arm above you and bending into your space. “Did you want to come in, or…” Lips are on you. His soft mouth, so warm and inviting, and your tongues are dancing. It is divine. It is perfection. Until. Until. Until. “Wait.”

When your eyes focus on his face, there is concern. Not anger at being told to wait. Not frustration at your hand holding him away from you. Just brows knit together in distress for you. 

“Are you ok, Sweetheart. I’m sorry if I did something wrong.” His knuckles brush against your cheek, and then he takes a small step back to allow you a little distance.

“No, Eddie, you’ve done nothing wrong.” You’ve turned around at this point, and you’re fumbling for your keys. They rattle as they hit the linoleum at your feet. Curses are being muttered under your breath while you try to recover.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Eddie’s big brown eyes are still so full of concern, you could cry. You want nothing more than to bring him into your home, into your bed, and just let go. It would be one thing if there weren’t these feelings brewing inside of you. It wasn’t what you planned. No, you want his mouth all over you, a tender embrace. The last time you had those things, you got burned. You’ve learned about playing with fire, and you just don’t do it anymore.

“I’m sorry, Eddie.” You let out a little shocked noise at your stupid self, “you really are beautiful and sexy. And you’re a good person to boot.” Your head is shaking at him, because these are not things you’ve been looking for.

“Um, thanks? Why is that bad?” His tenderness is too much for you, and you feel yourself wanting to give in. His hand is gently brushing your hair away from your face, and he’s tilting his head to try to see you better.

“Because, I like you, and that’s not something I can deal with. I’m not looking to feel anything other than mutual physical satisfaction. With anyone.” You throw your hand out to emphasize your point. Nope. Not looking for a boyfriend. And that’s what this motherfucker is, he’s a goddamn boyfriend if you’ve ever seen one.

“Uh, well, I say that’s too fucking bad, Sweetheart. The feelings are mutual, and if you don’t want to hang out with me because we’re super compatible, that’s the dumbest shit I’ve ever heard.” The smile he’s wearing barely masks his frustration. He’s looking like the cocky shit you first met. Arms spread open to present himself to you. “Fucking fine, I’ll leave you alone. Give me my jacket back.”

You shrug it off and hand it over, already missing the warmth. You feel so small right now, and so angry at yourself. He’s right, it is stupid. “I’m sorry, Eddie. I don’t think I could fuck you and have it be just casual. I can’t have you living above me, hearing you and whoever else. It would be one thing if we didn’t live in the same building, but I’d rather not even go there right now. There’s no way this wouldn’t end up being a complete shit show.”

He spins on his heel and takes the stairs two at a time, leaving you standing alone under the glow of the fluorescent lights that illuminate the hall. When you finally enter the apartment, tears are stinging at the corners of your eyes. What is your fucking problem? You don’t even notice that Mary and Steve are sitting on the couch watching a movie.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Mary is scrambling out of the embrace she was sharing with Steve. “I heard you shouting with, uh, someone in the hallway.”

“With Ed, it was definitely Ed.” Steve says nonchalantly, as if saying his name wouldn’t drive a dagger through your heart.

“Thanks for that, Steve.” Mary’s annoyed face is completely unconvincing. To be fair, how could anyone be annoyed with Steve? He’s so precious.

“I just,” You sigh and try to find something to say to get her to leave you alone, “I hung out with him a little bit tonight, and I can’t do this right now. It would be one thing if it was just sex, but he’s so fucking perfect.” Mary knows. She’ll support you. She knows how hard you took it the last time you tried to do the feeling thing with someone. She will hug you and tell you that you’re doing the right thing.

She is staring at you with incredulity. Flabbergasted. Bemused. Dumbfounded. Absolutely flummoxed. “You’re fucking stupid.”

Steve lets out a little laugh through his nose and clears his throat to cover the sound. You and Mary both shoot eye daggers in his direction and he just gives you both a little shrug. “You know, Eddie hasn’t stopped talking about how much he wants to get to know you. You have him so wound up, it’s ridiculous.”

“Oh, come on. I’ve done nothing but be a complete bitch to him.”

“Yeah, and Mary here has told him how amazing you are. He’s always like this. He loves when someone is willing to put him in his place.” Your head is spinning at the thought. Putting him in his place. “Plus, Mary told him that you want to be a lawyer and work with legal aid. He’s ready to go out and buy a ring.”

“Shut up, Steve, you’re freaking her out.” Mary turns back to you and grabs your hand. “Just answer this question for me, and I’ll leave you alone.” Her eyebrows are raised, and you nod in answer, “If you’re already hurting your own feelings by not allowing yourself the chance to spend time with Eddie, what’s the harm in seeing what might be there before you crush it?”

You roll your eyes and wave, “Good night, guys. Be safe.” You hate that everyone is right. Fuck this. You’re going to bed.

Emotionally exhausted, you find sleep easy to find. As you drift, through the sound of your fan blowing gently on your night stand, you hear something that is bringing you back into the waking world. It’s soft, so quiet. Is that? It’s music.

It’s a song you recognize, anyone would, but it’s so much more mournful than it should be. Soft and gentle strumming. Mary’s words are hounding you while you hear Eddie singing, through that fucking vent, I Want To Hold Your Hand. You’re so pissed off, there’s nothing you can do but throw your legs over the edge of your bed and stomp out of your room. Down the hall. To the living room where Steve and Mary are sleeping. Out your apartment door. Up the stairs. All while still in your tiny sleep shorts and tank top, the breeze of the front door to the building leaving your skin covered in goose flesh.

*knock, knock, knock* Come on, I know you’re awake. A little louder *knock, knock, knock*, and you hear him grumbling behind the door. “You’ve got to stop forgetting your keys man, it’s like 3 in the morning. The door swings open, and he sees you.

“Hi.” His eyes widen, “Oh shit, I’m sorry. Was I too loud?” Yes. Too loud. Too pretty. Too kind. Too sexy. Too everything.

You push your way past him and into his apartment, back into his bedroom. He’s following you, still confused, huffing at you. Until you stop to face him outside of his bedroom door. A finger firmly pointed at his chest.

“One of two things needs to happen tomorrow.” He’s looking from your finger to your face, trying to understand what’s going on, “Either we get the landlord down here to fix this vent issue, or you and Steve switch rooms.”

“Uh, ok. Yeah, that’s fine.” Your finger moves up to the fringe of his hair, letting it dance along his forehead. “Sweetheart, do you have something else in mind to talk about?” You shake your head at him, eyes still focused on his, absolutely mesmerized by him.

“I want you, Eddie, if you’ll have me. Even if it’s just for tonight. How does that sound to you?” Eddie’s lip curls up and throws his arms around your waist to lift you off the ground in a bear hug. Your fist pound his chest in protest while giggles are erupting out of you. Without putting you down, he kicks his door open and walks you over to his bed.

“Oh, Sweetheart, this is gonna be so fun.” Your mouths are mingling gently, with need and passion, but so sweetly. His big hands grip your torso and toss you onto his messy bed. He’s climbing over you while you crook your finger to draw him closer to you. Close enough for you to-

“Jesus, woman.” -wrap your legs around his waist and flip him onto his back. You wiggle your finger at him in a “no-no” gesture when he tries to push himself back up.

“Let me make you feel good, Baby. You’re so pretty, I just wanna play for a while.” A pathetic whine leaves his mouth at your words. You know these are probably words he’s used on countless women over the years. You mean it, too. You want to open him up and see his heart beating in his chest. You want to see his lungs expand and expel his breath. You want to explore the expanse of his chest with the tip of your nose. Your tongue. You want to see the freckles that are hidden from his own gaze and take the time to appreciate each of them.

“Let’s come to an agreement, Baby. If you tell me no, ask me to stop, or in any way sound like you’re anything more than enthusiastic about what I’m doing, I’ll stop. Ok?” Eddie nods enthusiatically. “The only other thing I’m going to ask is that you don’t touch me until I tell you it’s ok. You can ask if you really need it.” He’s nodding again, and you give a curt head shake, “Tell me if this is ok, please.” You’re sitting with your legs slung over his chest, and a hand cupping his cheek. You need to see what his face and words are telling you.

“Yes, please.” He’s nodding, and then a little wolfish grin crosses his pretty lips. “That all sounds good for now. We can talk about a switch up for the next time.” You scoff in answer, but you can’t deny the throb you feel at his words. Maybe you could see yourself relinquishing some control with him.

No more words for now, Eddie is on his best behavior as he watches you with keen, shining eyes. You waste no time and peel his shirt off, showing you that chest you wanted to mark up. Before even touching him with your hands, you lick a stripe from the line of hair below his belly button, up his stomach, over his chest, and to his neck where you begin sucking behind his ear. His responding groan is music to your ears.

Before long he’s laid out for you, completely nude, hard as a rock and moaning while you tease him with gentle strokes and words of praise. He is so good for you, so beautiful with the purpling marks on his chest and thighs. And quiet, he’s being so quiet for you.

“Baby, you’re such a good boy for me. Tell me what you want me to do.” You give his slit a little kitten li k and his eyes roll back but his hands are still firmly planted and gripping the sheets below him. “Wanna see how far I can get your cock in my throat? It’s pretty big, Baby, I don’t know if I can handle it.” You’re pouting at him, giving him your sweet big eyes, batting your lashes at him.

His response is high pitched, sounding almost painful, “Sweetheart, I want you to suck my cock, but god, can I touch you, please.” Aw, it’s only been 30 minutes.

“Oh, Baby, I was just getting started.” Your hand moves down his shaft to the soft sac at the base of his cock. As he’s watching you, you take two of your fingers into your mouth and let your saliva coat them. His own mouth is moving in sync with your own, tasting the ghost of your fingers. You bring your hand down to the spot below his sac where it’s so sensitive and press firmly. His cock jumps and arousal leaks down to the thatch of hair at the base.

“Oh my god, I need to touch you. Please, please, please, let me touch you.” His whining cry, and the tear gliding down his cheek have you feeling weak.

You work your shorts off, finally exposing yourself to him. His hands are still pinned to the bed while you hover your sticky center over him. You sit on his stomach and rock yourself, not quite touching the head of his cock with your ass. His head is thrown back in concentration when you finally tell him, “You can touch me, Baby.”

His eyes shoot open, and his hands find your hips. Without a word, he has you on your back. “You gonna let me make you feel good, Sweetheart?” He’s wild, he looks like he wants to devour you, and you’re ready to let him do anything in this moment.

“Please, Eddie, anything you want.” His eyes are still wet from the edging. You’re running your finger along the purple marks you left on his chest, and he’s gone. You feel him ripping your shirt over your head and he’s throwing it out into the room.

He’s not gentle, and you’re not surprised. He’s not used to being teased like this. Your legs are spread wide, and his big hands pull you down into his waiting face. Immediately, he gets to work, he’s laid flat against the bed, his erection finally getting some friction while his tongue gets to taste you. It’s broad stripes along your slit with tiny kitten licks when he reaches your nub. Over and over and over. The movements are calculated. You’re watching him and he’s watching you. It’s when you start to rock your hips up to meet his mouth that he latches on to your clit with ferocity.

*bang* you’re writhing in pleasure. The feel of his mouth has you shaking uncontrollably, your moans get higher and higher until every muscle in your body is tense and you feel your center releasing. Eddie is practically growling as he laps up your arousal until your hands thread through his hair and you’re pulling him up to you.

“I need you inside me. I need it, Baby. Please.” Eddie is calming you down with a gentle shushing. His hands have found your face, and he kisses away the tears you didn’t know you had shed.

“I’m here, Sweetheart.” Kissing him now, with your taste on his tongue, you want it to last forever. You wrap your legs around his waist, hooking your ankles around him, pleading with your eyes. He leaves a kiss on your temple as he reaches for the small box on the nightstand. You watch, your body still boneless as he glides the condom down his length. You can’t remember the last time you had a man in this position. His body flush with your own, covering you, his face in your neck. Every inch of him makes your body hitch in excitement until you are completely full. You and Eddie are both open mouthed, and making silent noises until he moves. You’re meeting every thrust with your hips.

Moving in tandem, hard and fast, you know it won’t be long. Every thrust is hitting your most sensitive spot inside, while the hair at the base of his shaft tickles your clit. His breath on your neck, the whimpers and moans in your ear. It all feels so unbelievably good. You’re wound tightly again, already, sweat is collecting between your breasts that are pushed against Eddie’s chest.

“Oh, Baby, you’re fucking me so good. I’m gonna cum.” His reaction is to speed up even more, pounding you brainless. Only static and pleasure. That’s all that’s left of you as he uses you.

“Fucking cum with me.” The orgasm rips through you, and you’re screaming. If you had a brain to think with, you’d realize that if you were in your own room the sounds would be louder than any you’ve heard before. You can feel his thrust turning into a gentle rocking as he empties himself. And then, you’re both still, breathing into each other’s necks.

You lay together for a while, until you start to feel like you’re being suffocated. “Eddie, get off of me.” You reach down and give his ass a little slap. You think he might have drifted off to sleep while still inside of you.

He rolls over with a deep groan. You know you’ve worn him out, he looks exhausted. “Oh, Baby, I’ll be right back.”

You head to the bathroom and wash yourself. You count it as lucky that your apartments are identical, and guess that you could find some washcloths in the linen closet. When you reenter Eddie’s room, he hasn’t moved an inch. You remove the condom and clean him off while he makes little noises. You find his boxers and guide them up over his slender hips. After you find your own underwear, you climb into bed and cozy up into his chest.

“Sweetheart?” His voice is full of sleep and barely whispered. You hum back to him. “Can I keep you? Will you be mine?”

“Yes, Eddie.”

tagging: @missmarch-99 @powderblueblood @thornsnvultures @corrodedcorpses @munsonburn3r

@definitionwanderlust @mopeymopeymouse

[pali-writes-atiny-bit]

Who You Belong To

Pairing: Chan x afab!reader

Summary: when you're at an after party and Chan doesn't show you enough attention you start acting up. OR wherein you learn actions have consequences Chan fuck the brattiness out of you

WC: ~1.95k

Content Warnings: 18+ MDNI. Established relationship, Dom/sub dynamics, degradation, spanking, spreader bar, name calling (Babygirl, princess, slut, sweet girl , pretty girl, baby, daddy), unprotected piv sex (please practice safe sex irl), hair pulling, overstimulation, squirting, aftercare (let me know if I missed any, please and thank you)

A/N: this just kinda popped into my head last night and I really needed to get it out there. Kinda sorta proofed but not really.

You're at an awards show party with Chan and the rest of Stray Kids. You've been there for a couple of hours now and you're growing bored. You're all dolled up but Chan has been too busy mingling to pay you much attention.

In your boredom you decide to flirt with some of the other male idols. Surely that will catch his attention. Although you've been nothing but appropriate, you're pushing the boundaries. When you catch him watching you with his jaw clenched, you smirk. You meet his eyes and see the dark warning flashing in them before turning away.

You're standing talking to Hongjoong, your hand resting on his arm when Chan comes striding over. He greets Hongjoong with a nod before excusing the both of you. He drags you by your arm to the side of the event hall with a grip just shy of bruising.

"Chan! I wasn't done talking to Hongjoong!" you turn to face him and try to pull your arm free. A muscle ticks in his jaw and instead of letting go, he tugs you closer causing you to stumble over your tall heels.

He hisses into your ear, "I think you've done plenty of talking for the night. Don't think I don't know what you you've been doing. I'll deal with you when you get home. You have 10 minutes before we leave."

A frisson of equal parts fear and anticipation surges through you. When he releases you and strides off, most likely to bid goodbye to the other members, you release a breath you hadn't realized you were holding. Just what you gotten yourself into.

The car ride home was silent but you could feel the simmering energy crackling between the two of you. When you get back to your shared apartment, he ushers you in. When the door closes, he cages you against, hands on either side of your head, and kisses you deeply until you moan.

When he withdraws, he fixes you with a stare. "I think I need to remind you who you belong to, babygirl. 5 minutes. I want you naked and on the bed on all fours." He swats your ass as you scurry off.

You're undressed and in position within the first minute, but he makes you wait. You can't help the wetness that's already gathering between your thighs in anticipation.

After 5 minutes are up, you hear him enter the room. The bed dips down behind you and he sets something down. You feel the familiar sensation of a leather cuff being wrapped around first one ankle and then the other. He slides a few fingers under the cuffs to check the tightness. Satisfied you won't lose circulation, he clicks open the spreader bar and you gasp.

This is something you've only talked about, and not actually tried yet. The bar has wrist cuffs too, and he draws your wrists between your legs and attaches first one wrist then the other. Without your hands, you're forced to rest on your chest and shoulders. It's not exactly comfortable on your neck, so he props you up on a couple of pillows, then steps back.

"Princess, you look so pretty all trussed up for me."

You runs a hand over your perfectly presented ass and your shiver. "You were flirting with all those other guys, with Joongie, but they don't get to see you like this, do they, slut?"

When you don't answer, he lands two harsh smacks in quick successions, first one cheek then the other.

"No, they don't," you bite out.

Another smack, "no what?"

"No, daddy!" you squeal.

He caresses your flesh with his palm, lovingly. Reverently. "That's right. I think 15 more ought to remind you who you belong to. Count!"

He brings his hand down and you bite out "one!"

He strikes again in the other cheek. "Two!"

He alternates sides, sometimes hitting the top of your ass, or the bottom where it meets your flesh. By 10, you're sobbing and your make up is ruined with tear streaks. "Please! I'm sorry, daddy!"

"Oh, you will be," he growls.

By the time you reach 14, your ass is a beautiful red and warm to the touch but your cunt is absolutely dripping. He soothes your skin with his palms and you moan.

"One more, babygirl," he says. Your thighs quiver with anticipation. You steel yourself for the strike, but this time he slaps your pussy, finger tips just grazing your clit. You jerk in shock and scream "Fifteen!"

He runs a few fingers through your folds and moans. "Fuck, princess, you're absolutely soaked. Did you enjoy that?"

You shake your head vehemently, and he chuckles. "Your head says no, but your body says yes."

"Who does this pussy belong to?" he asks as he sinks two fingers into your wet heat. Your mouth falls open and you let out a filthy moan.

"You, daddy! My pussy is yours. Please fill your pussy," you beg.

He withdraws his fingers and you hear the clink of his belt unbuckling. He quickly sheds his clothing and your feel the bed dip behind you again as he lines himself up.

His hands grip your hips so tightly you're sure to bruise. You both let out a hiss as he pushes inside you, taking his sweer time entering you. You're soaking wet, but he knows he's big. You moan when he is fully seated. His girth stretches you deliciously while the tip of his cock presses against your cervix.

"You take me so well, baby girl," he says as he draws his hips back. Your walls grip his length, trying to suck him back in.

He draws back until just the tip is inside, before slamming back into you. He repeats these motions again and again, slowly increasing the pace until he he's pounding into you.

You cry out and he says, "Is this it? Is this what you wanted baby girl? You wanted me to remind you who this cunt belongs to?"

"Y-y-ye-yes!" you wail.

"I'm going to make sure this pussy is molded to my cock, pretty girl."

His words make you clench around his cock. "I want to cum... I need to cum," you beg, pulling against your bonds.

"You'd better hold it until I say, baby girl," he says slowing his thrusts. "If you cum without permission, you'll be cumming until you beg me to stop."

You want to be good for him, for your daddy. You're trying your hardest to hold on but his fat cock is hitting your gummy spot just right with each thrust.

"I can't! Please, daddy!" You beg. "Please can I- fuuuuuuck!" You scream.

Before he can grant you permission, he delivers a particularly sharp thrust that has you falling apart on his cock.

"Oh babygirl... you were so close. But you still came without permission."

He continues driving into you as your walls flutter and pulse around him. The sensitivity from your first orgasm has you quickly climbing to a second peak.

You mind goes hazy with pleasure. Each snap of his hips punches a moan from your lips which are parted and drooling. It isn't long before you fall apart a second time.

He stops thrusting, and places a hand on the base of your skull gathering a handful of your hair. Taking care not to pull your roots too much, he hauls you up against him.

Your eyes are closed and you're panting. Your walls still quivering around his cock with aftershocks.

"Color, babygirl?"

"Green," you moan breathlessly.

That's all he needs to hear before he begins thrusting into you from below. With the change in angle he's hitting a new spot inside you.

He threads his other hand in front of you and gently presses against your lower belly. He groans at the feeling of his cock pressing against his hand each time he bottoms out. The added pressure makes you feel so full. You're hurtling towards your third orgasm.

He can feel how your cunt is tightening, bearing down around him. He slides his hand down and circles your clit.

"Cum for me baby. Cum on my cock again!"

You jerk at the contact and scream as your vision whites out and your hearing fades. You cum around him again, squirting and flooding the sheets below you.

You're shattered. Your soul scattered. You don't think you've ever cum so hard in your life.

When you come back to your senses, you're lying on your back. Your wrists and ankles are unbound and Chan is kneeling between your thighs, rubbing soothing circles into your skin.

When he sees you coming back to earth, he wraps your legs around your waist and presses a thumb to your clit. You hiss at the overstimulation, tears gathering in the corners of your eyes.

He pauses and looks at your with his brow furrowed in concen.

"Color?"

You're so tired and truthfully you don't know how much more you can take. You take a deep breath and whisper, "yellow, daddy."

"Okay princess. You've been so good. Do you think you can give me one more? Daddy wants to cum with you."

You let your gaze roam over him. You know that if you say no, he'll stop immediately. But you look at his cock which is red and angry, covered in your cream and twitching with need. He's so good to you. You want, no, you need him to cum with you.

"Please fill me with your cum, daddy."

"My sweet girl," he moans as he sheathes himself inside your core once more. He closes his eyes and tips his head back. "Shit, you feel so good princess."

His thrusts are slow, almost gentle. You wrap your arms around his neck and pull him closer. He begins rambling as his thrusts grow erratic.

"You took your punishment so well. Fuck. My perfect girl. You're made for me."

You moan and clench around him at his praise causing him to groan in response. "I love you, babygirl. I'm going to fill you up!"

He thrusts two more times before he stills deep inside you. You feel his hot cum painting your walls and the feeling triggers your own release. You cum around him a final time with a wail, "I love you too, daddy!"

You cling to him as your contracting walls milk his cock. When your orgasm fades, you all but slump to the mattress, exhausted.

Chan extracts himself from your limbs and pulls out. He walks to the bathroom and you hear the sounds of water beginning to fill the tub. He returns with a glass of water and a warm, wet washcloth.

He helps you drink the glass of water and then begins cleaning you up, taking care with your sensitive, swollen folds.

You're mostly asleep by the time he finishes and picks you up bridal style. He carries you to the bathroom. With your eyes still closed you murmur, "I'm sorry for being a brat, daddy."

He kisses your head whispers "I love it when you're a brat."

He places you on the toilet so you can pee and then settles you into the bathtub. He changes the sheets while you relax before sliding into the tub behind you.

He holds you and whispers sweet nothings in your ear. And when you fall asleep, he dries you off, dresses you in one of his t shirts and tucks you into bed.

He kisses your forehead and whispers how much he loves you. He loves when you're a brat. And he loves when he gets to fuck it out of you.

@daydreams-after-dark

[huskersbooze]

Part 2 of Who's in Control?

Cordial

Alastor x Reader

| Part 1 | Part 2(here!) | Part 3 |

Summary : You and Alastor are still struggling to get back on good terms, both coping, but you still can't forget what he had done. Meanwhile, things with your soul's contract is going downhill..

Pairings : Alastor x F!Reader (M!Reader here, Gn!Reader here) , Huskerdust(?)

Warnings : Valentino(he doesn't actually do anything he just sucks)

Additional Tags : Still kinda angst(sorry), cussing

Ib : Cordial by Set it Off

Word count : 1.2k

A/N : By popular request, I think I have an overall plot for this originally-to-be-oneshot? There will be more parts to come in the future <3 thank you all for being patient with me

"Hey.. ya’ wanna open the door for a sec?”

You roll off your bed and lazily walk over to open the door. Without looking, you unlock the door and let him in, turning to curl back up in bed.

“How ya’ holding up..?” Angel asks, seeing you in such a state making his heart ache. “We’re all really worried about you.”

“I’m fine, Angel.” You wrap yourself in your blankets and sit on the bed, Angel following.

“You haven’t come down in days. Charlie asked me to check on you.” He says.

“Does she know..?”

“About you and creepy face? Sorta.”

You raise an eyebrow.

“They all know something’s going on between ya’ two. They just don't know what.”

“Great.. let's keep it that way.” You try to force a smile but to no avail.

It was quiet for a moment. Awkward at first, yes, but you both started to enjoy the company.

“We're really worried about you.. ya'know? I'm worried.”

“Thanks.” You hum. “I appreciate it.”

“You gunna’ come get breakfast..? It'll be quick, I promise.”

“Is Al down there?”

“No.” He simply replied. “We don't really know what he's up to lately.”

“What d’you mean?”

“He's also been isolatin’ himself. We don't actually see him much around the Hotel.”

You stay quiet.

“What are we waiting for? Don't want the food to get cold, do we?”

Angel perks up.

“I thought ya'd never ask.”

-----

You follow Angel down to the lobby, where everyone gathered and ate their breakfast.

The others were surprised to see you, to say the least, but they decided not to interrupt.

It was nice that Angel was able to have you out of your room, they wouldn't want anything to make you go back.

“Hey, kid.” Husk whispers, handing you a plate of pancakes. “Your favourite.”

“Thanks, Husk.” You reply, giving him a genuine smile.

“Ya’ doing alright?”

You shrug. “Could be better.”

“Just glad you’re here, kid.”

“Glad to see you too.” You laugh, walking alongside Angel and Husk towards the table where everyone was having breakfast. “Good morning, guys.”

Everyone stays quiet — everyone consisting of Charlie, Vaggie and Sir Pentious only. Niffty was off dusting the halls.

“I’m fine, Charlie. Thanks for sending Angel to check on me.” You catch a glimpse of Charlie’s worried eyes glued to you, reassuring her it was okay.

“We’re glad to have you back.” She says.

Husk takes his normal seat, Angel on the right of him, leaving one open spot on the left.. not that he ate breakfast much, he usually showed up just to keep you company.. Alastor…

“How’s the breakfast, my dear?”

“It’s amazing! I don’t know why you never bother to try it.”

“I work better on an empty stomach. Plus, I’m more fond of deer.”

“Deer? You actually eat deer?” You asked, bewildered. “Like the whole thing?”

“Well, not the bones, of course not. But yes, I enjoy eating deer.”

“Aren’t you like.. a deer yourself?”

Alastor shoots you a look, and laughs whole-heartedly.

“You certainly don’t see Angel Dust befriending spiders in the hotel, do you?” He lets out another chuckle. “You are such a charmer. Besides, venison tastes exquisite.”

“I’ll try it sometime.” You shrug, taking another bite of your pancakes. “When do you eat this.. deer meal of yours?”

“Oh, all the time. In fact, I’ll be on my way to have it for breakfast later.”

“What’s stopping you from going now?” You tilt your head, licking off the syrup on your fork. Alastor stares at the sight and smiles, genuinely.

“You are, darling. I certainly can't leave a guest unattended.”

“What? Is that why you’re always here for breakfast but won’t actually eat anything? To accompany me?”

“By all means, if I’m intruding, do let me know and I’ll leave.”

“What? No!” You immediately finish your last bite of pancake. “I just think it’s time I accompany you for breakfast, don’t you think?”

His ears twitch.

“Come along then, darling.”

…

“Hey, kid, you alright?” You feel Husk give you a soft nudge on the elbow.

Snapping out of your thoughts, you blink and come back to your senses, seeing everyone staring at you with worry laced on their faces.

“You can go back if you want to.” Charlie says. “No pressure being here, really.”

“Oh, no, it’s okay. I’m okay.” You say, immediately taking a big gulp of your pancakes. “I was just lost in thought.”

“Look out for yourself, aight, kid?”

“Yes, dad.” You joke. 

Suddenly, you feel a presence behind you, and you can already tell who it is.

You stiffen.

Everyone stiffens.

You feel him stiffen from behind you.

After a second or two, you feel the presence start to leave. Acknowledging the fact there were no open seats and he rarely came for breakfast, you let out a sigh and hoped you won’t regret this later on.

“Morning, Alastor.” It comes out barely a whisper, your eyes glued to your now empty plate. “I was just leaving, you can have my spot.”

“Thank you, darling.” He simply says, placing his plate down as you took yours and left towards the kitchen. You could hear his voice was audibly more tired and broken, but you couldn’t bear looking him in the eyes.

You finish washing your plate in the kitchen, and as you turn, you see Alastor, standing right in your face, nearly bumping into him.

“Jeez! You scared the shit out of me, Al.” You put a hand over your chest.

“Ah, sorry, darling.” He says, ears perking at the mention of the sweet nickname he secretly loved hearing. “It wasn't my intention to startle you.”

“It's fine.” You shrug it off, catching a glimpse of his gaze and immediately melting right into it. Fuck, you had to leave. Now.

“Dear, wait.” He calls after you, but you ignore him.

“Please. I never meant for any of this to happen.”

“And? Are you asking for forgiveness or what?” You sigh.

“I just hoped to apologise. I'm deeply sorry.”

“Okay.” You turn to leave. “Thanks for letting me know.”

“Darling, can we start over?”

“We can't get back to normal even if we both play pretend.” You don't bother turning to face him, your voice starting to shake. “None of this shit between us is cordial, Alastor.”

“But we're friends, dear-”

“Are we? Friends don't lie to each other and make one another sell their soul to them. Have a nice breakfast.”

Alastor shuts up, watching as your back turns the corner and like that, you're gone.

-----

“Alastor, how nice of you to join.”

“Valentino. Surprised you aren't taking care of the useless screen.” Alastor acknowledges.

“Vox didn't want to be here, so I thought I'd fill in.”

Alastor takes a seat next to Rosie as the overlord meeting continues on.

“Before we leave, Alastor, may we have an update on the girl?”

His eye twitches, gaze turning to face one of the overlords.

“I simply don't know what you're talking about.”

“Alastor.” They warn. “She's not just any soul.”

“Everything is fully under control, don't fret.”

“Just a reminder, Alastor~ If you fail, she's mine to take.”

“No need to remind me.” He smiles at Valentino, a bit too friendly.

Rosie sends Alastor a look.

Oh whatever is he going to do about this deal.

———/ TBC. /———

READ PART 3 HERE

Taglist : @musicalsundrop @for-hearthand-home @saeran-g @smoky000 @otherthoughtsofbu @letmebeagreekstatueyoumotherfuck @hudiexiaoying @prettyboychoso @thonethatflies620 @alastorssimp @impatiencepersistonthinstring @speaker15 @zq13 @starr11111 @fokrilove @aloraaaxcrystalzx @simps-for-to-many-people @siriuslyobsessedwithfiction @ohdarlingohdeer @sophiasrant @soyobi-wankenobi @karolinda007-blog @alastorsgirl48 @memymay @perrynina @john-kramer-0807 @preciousbabypeter @sugxryratz @polytheatrix @maksdust @96jnie @spirit-of-the-hollow @chirimeimei @itsukiestia @sky2lar (Tumblr hates me. I can't tag empty blogs (or is that a rule idk about?))

If you want to be on this fics taglist leave a comment! Please specify you want to be tagged or else I won't tag blogs that ask for another part cuz it doesn't seem polite- Thanks in advance <3

[thebearer]

fall into me |carmen berzatto x reader|

prompt: part 2 of follow me. your date with carmen.

contains: fluff. anxious carmen. mentions of mikey. but all fluff :)

Carmen was sure he was going to be sick. A new kind of sickness, where his stomach felt like it was going to fall out of his mouth and ass at the same time. He changed his outfit six times, slacks and a tie felt too formal. Jeans felt out of the question, and while the very cool guy on TikTok swore that slacks and t-shirts were in this season… Carmen couldn’t bring himself to wear it. 

So he wore his slacks, good shoes he still had from pretentious meetings in the restaurant, and his good button down, a steely type blue- the saleswoman told him it really complimented his eyes, then wrote her number on his receipt. Of course, Carmen didn’t call it. He’d never allow himself the simple pleasures like that. 

Carmen smoked the whole way to the restaurant, a bottle of cologne in his pocket, which he doused himself in on the corner, popping a mint. He saw you standing there, awkwardly on your phone by the light pole, head ducked to your screen in your black, silk, cowl neck dress. Carmen could feel his heart jump at the sight of you, cursing while he started to jog in the still new shoes. 

“Hey, shit, sorry.” Carmen apologized, his chest tightening and burning as he slowed in front of you. “I-I couldn’t find my phone.” Definitely not because I tried on a million different outfits and had a panic attack.

“Ah, so that’s why you didn’t text me back. Thought you ghosted me at your own restaurant.” You quipped, his heart plummeting, face falling with it. You grinned, shoving your phone in your tiny purse. “‘M fucking with you, Carm. I just got here.” 

“Oh,” Carmen sighed. “Yeah, good. That-That’s good. Do you want to go in?” 

“Sure.” You giggled. “After you, Chef.” 

“C’mon.” Carmen laughed lightly, shaking his head, hoping it would hide his burning cheeks. You were ahead of him, reaching for the door, his heart skipping when he saw it. “I got it!” 

You drew your hand back, looking at him carefully. The blush in his cheeks spread down to his neck. “I-I got it, let me get it.” Carmen nodded, pulling the handle. You glided past him, his hand ghosting on the small of your back, leaving you shuddering under his touch. It was casual, you doubted he even knew he did it, just a slight usher while he followed you in. 

“It’s so different being here at night.” You whispered to him, your arm brushing his while you walked to the hostess station. 

Carmen nodded. “I know, it’s, uh, it’s nice to see it like this, ya know?” He muttered. “See it from a customer’s perspective.” 

“That’s what you wanted, isn’t it?” You asked, your head tilting to the side softly. “Why we’re kinda doing this?” 

Carmen’s heart fell, swallowing around the lump in his throat. He could feel his own mind racing. Of course, you didn’t think this was a date. Why would you ever want to be on a date with him?

“I mean, yeah, sorta. Here f’you too. To thank you for everything.” Carmen nodded, eyes cutting to yours. Fuck, he knew he needed to look at you, he wanted to look at you, but it was so fuckin’ hard. When you looked so pretty, so effortlessly calm and cool. It made him fluster. 

“C’mon, Carm. You hired me, paid me. And you guys have been so nice. Most places are… horrible. Act like I’m bothering them when they hired me. You’ve got a good place, great staff. I’m glad you wanted me to be a part of it for a while.” You smiled, stepping up to the hostess station.

Carmen could feel his heart squeeze, an uncomfortably tight realization that this would be the last time he saw you. He’d been running numbers all night, seeing where he could take cuts so he could keep you, but even then, you’d be gone for at least another two months since you already took another job. By then, whatever you had here, would be gone. 

“Ah, there you are, the VIP customers for the night.” Richie schmoozed, sliding behind the hostess stand. 

You grinned, Carmen’s eyes downcast making Richie’s jaw tick. “How are you two this evening?”

“Great.” You beamed. “Excited to try this place. I’ve never been here before. Heard it’s the best in Chicago.” You nudged Carmen playfully with your hip, grinning at him. 

He gave you a tight lipped smile, hands by his side, trying to nonchalantly wipe his hands on his slacks. Richie smiled at you, glaring lightly at Carmen. “Well, you heard right, sweetheart. We want your night to be extra special, so we have this booth back here just for the two of you.” 

“Hey, Syd,” Tina muttered, looking up from her plating to see your head pass with Carmen’s curly locks. “They’re here.” 

“Shit, are they?” Sydney turned, looking through the window. “God, Carmen looks like he’s about to pass out.” 

“Fuck, he does, doesn’t he?” Sugar huffed, her hands on her hips. 

Richie caught Sugar’s eye through the window, a flickering glance that told her exactly what she needed to know. “So, I will have the focaccia out for the two of you shortly. Can I start you off with anything to drink?” 

“‘M good.” Carmen muttered, taking the leather bound menu into his hands, knee bouncing under the table. 

You looked a little uncomfortable, eyes cutting to Carmen’s before a moment of hesitation flashed over your face. “Uh, I’ll take a glass of whatever you think would pair best with the meal?” 

“Perfect. I’ll have that out.” Richie smiled, hoping his silent screams at Carmen would be enough for him to catch on. Fak passed, slipping a piece of paper in Richie’s hand. Richie stepped away, reading Sugar’s scribbled writing: “GET CARMEN BACK HERE NOW!!!!” 

“Excuse me, folks,” Richie greeted apologetically, though the two of you weren’t talking. “Carmen, I hate to do this, but I need you just for a second, ok?” 

Carmen nodded, sliding out of the booth without so much as looking at you. Richie fought the urge to roll his eyes. “I’m sorry, sweetheart, it’ll just be a second. That focaccia and riesling are on the way.” Richie grinned at you, stepping beside Carmen. 

“What’s goin’ on? Did we run out of-” 

“-No, you fuckin’ moron.” Richie huffed, letting the door slam shut. “The fuck is your problem, huh? You’re not even- hey, send that to six with the Cakebread white, ok?- You’re not even looking at her, c’mon, Cousin.” 

Carmen blushed, running a hand through his hair. “What? I-I’m talkin’ to her-” 

“-No, you’re not.” Sugar snapped, rounding the corner. “You look like an ass, Carmy. You’re on a date with her and-” 

“-It’s not a date.” Carmen shook his head, brushing it off. 

Sugar blinked. “You’re on a date with her,” She repeated, her tone firmer- a mom tone she’d adapted since working here that would help with the baby. “And you’re acting like a total-total…” Sugar waved her hands, stuttering over the word. 

“Jagoff.” Neil added, passing through the kitchen for a moment before going out the doors. 

“Thank you! Yes! A total jagoff.” Sugar glared at Carmen. 

“I-I don’t even think she thinks it’s a date-” 

The kitchen erupted in groans, shouting at him irritatedly. “Look at how she’s dressed. If she thought this was a free meal ticket, she wouldn’t wear that. That is a date night dress.” 

“That’s true.” Sydney added. 

Carmen couldn’t help the way his heart flipped with excitement, looking out the window at you, sitting at the table, nursing your wine slowly- alone. 

“Cousin, c’mere,” Richie motioned him, leading him towards the office. “Look, I get you got this whole ‘I deserve nothing good’ doom and gloom attitude, but that right there. That’s good.” Richie jabbed his finger towards the door. “I see you, ok? You guys got that cute little texting thing goin’ on, alright?” 

Carmen stilled. He felt like a teenager again, being teased and tormented by Mikey and Richie about a crush he had. How the fuck did he know about your texting? “Look, if you let her go tonight without even trying, you’re gonna regret it. You only got one chance, cousin, do not miss your chance to blow.” Richie said seriously. 

“Don’t fuckin’ quote Eminem to me right now-” 

“-Alright, alright, but seriously?” Richie nodded into the office, the tiny frame that held Mikey’s note ‘Let it rip!’. Carmen felt his stomach turn, guilt trilling in it. He knew Richie was right and that fact alone made him queasy. “Listen to Mikey, alright? You can have good shit in your life.” 

Carmen looked at the photo, taking a grounding breath, Mikey’s voice ringing loud in his ears. “Let it rip.” Carmen muttered, pushing past the double doors back to you. 

“Oh, no way!” You laughed. “You don’t have TikTok?” 

“No, no. Don’t have time for it.” Carmen shrugged, sipping his water. 

“Then how do you watch our videos?” You asked, brow raising in question. 

“I click the link you send me and it opens up just on my Google or whatever.” Carmen grinned, shrugging lightly, popping another truffle fry in his mouth. He’d nearly fallen over when you asked for ranch, teasing you lightly. You’d only shrugged, sticking one in your mouth, declaring it would taste better with ranch. You were kidding, of course, it was perfect. 

“Wow.” You smirked, finger tracing around the rim. “You’re missing out. It’s addictive.” 

“Yeah? It’s weird too.” Carmen snorted lightly. 

“Says you! You’re Mr. TikTok Famous and you don’t even know it.” You pushed his arm lightly, trying not to gawk at how firm his biceps were. Sure, you’d definitely seen them while he was working, but… they felt better than they looked. “Should see how you’ve got everyone in a tizzy. Chopping onions and marinating wagyu.” 

Carmen laughed, cheeks reddening at the compliment. “Yeah, those comments were…shocking.” 

“You think?” You cocked your head to the side. “I thought they were pretty normal.” 

“Half of them were asking me to violently punch them.” Carmen laughed, eyes widening at you. 

“Well, can you blame them?” You grinned, leaning in closer. “You got nice hands. Of course, they’re going feral. I knew what I was doing with that shot. Giving the people what they want.” 

Carmen blushed furiously, hoping you couldn’t see under the low light of the restaurant. “Nah, c’mon.” He looked down at his fingers, etched with tattoos. 

“You c’mon.” You grinned, reaching out a little daringly to trace a finger over his veins. You’d blame the wine for your boldness, but Carmen shivered under your touch. “You’ve got hot hands. No wonder they all go so crazy. You’re a pretty chef with good hands.” 

Carmen knew you had to see his blush now, sure his body temperature went up ten degrees, heart beating so bad in his chest he was sure he wasn’t going to make it another course. “Uh,” Carmen laughed, running his free hand over his mouth, hoping to hide some of his grin. He didn’t dare move his hand from his. “Well, thanks, I guess. I, um, I wanna say I think the same.” 

You lifted a brow, biting back a laugh when he stuttered, his eyes widening. Your giggles were infectious to him, a stream of his own nervous laugh spilling out of his throat. “No, I-I meant- fuck, I meant… I, uh, I think you’re pretty.” 

There was a pause, your own teeth pulling in your lip, grinning shyly at him. “Really?” You asked. You felt like you were in junior high again, finding out the boy on the JV team like liked you. It was giddy, the feeling in your chest. Warm, your heart skipping a beat. 

“Yeah.” Carmen nodded, swallowing around the lump in his throat. “Beautiful, really.” 

“Well, thank you.” You grinned, hoping to hide your smile behind your own glass of wine. Fak came by, dropping your next course off, a temporary relief for the moment, letting the two of you get yourselves together. 

“You think he’ll do it?” Sugar asked, pretending to roll silverware while Richie handed them to her. A meaningless job that just so happened to be by the window, so they could see the two of you. 

“I dunno. Could go either way.” Richie sucked in a breath. “He seems to be close, ya know? Think he has it in him to do it, just… fuck, I hope he does.” 

“Me too.” Sugar sighed. “Can you hear what they’re saying? It looks… nice? So that’s gotta be good, right?” 

“Yeah, hopefully…” Richie hummed, squinting to try and make out the words you were whispering to each other. The two of you were pressed together, migrated together as the meal went on until you were huddled, like it was the two of you. 

“I really don’t want you to leave.” Carmen admitted, body pressed to yours, hand in yours in the dim light of the booth. Everyone had left, all the patrons shuffled out and escorted to their cars. Some of the kitchen staff went home, but some stayed, pretending to be extra tedious with their cleanup so they could see the two of you. 

“I know. I’m having such a good time with you.” You agreed, tilting your chin up to look at him, lashes batting, eyes a little glossy from the wine. 

“No- I mean, yeah I-I’m having a good time with you, too. But I meant… leave forever.” Carmen admitted, the lump in his throat growing more and more with each word. “I really liked having you here.” 

“I liked being here.” You hummed, tongue running over your bottom lip lightly. “It was a lot of fun. I liked spending time with you.” 

“Yeah? I liked spending time with you too. A lot.” Carmen admitted. “And I… I want to keep spending time with you?” It came out more as a question, all hopeful eyes and a rounded gaze. “If-If you want to-” 

“-Yeah.” You grinned. “I wanna keep spending time with you. I like being with you, Carmen.” 

“Yeah? Really?” Camren was half convinced he was hallucinating. 

“Yeah.” You nodded. “If you wanna spend some more time with me too. I’d like to get to know you more, and not to just write a staff spotlight on.” You giggled, his lips curling at the sound. “To, like, really get to know you.” 

“I would… yeah, I’d like that. Like to get to know you too.” Carmen nodded. 

There was a pause, the tension between the two of you was thick. Your eyes darted from his lips back to his eyes, already leaning closer. Carmen could feel his stomach lurch with nerves, Mikey’s voice ringing over and over and over. 

Let it fuckin’ rip, Carmen thought before he moved in, lips on yours. His hands were clammy cradling your jaw but you didn’t seem to mind, your own arms snaking their way around his neck, pulling him closer, deeper into the kiss. 

“Holy shit!” Richie gasped, dropping the fork. “Look! Fuckin’ look!” 

The staff clambered around to huddle by the window, watching the two of you kiss, pulling apart with small smiles, before going back in. Carmen’s hands sliding down your back, your arms, your waist- fuck, he just loved feeling you like this, and he hadn’t even felt all of you. Yet. 

“He fuckin’ did it.” Richie grinned, awing at Carmen. “Hey, Sug, might be a bad time, but I believe I’m owed fifty dollars.” 

You pulled apart, grinning at Carmen, still huddled close together, his hands rubbing the silk fabric of your dress, your sliding through the curls on the nape of his neck. Your mind was dizzy, the rush of adrenaline, emotion, and buzzing from the wine. 

“What’re you doin’ tomorrow?” Carmen asked. 

“Nothing.” You hummed. “Why? You’ve got something in mind?” 

“Not-Not right now, actually.” Carmen admitted with a small laugh. “But I’d love to do something with you.” 

“Me too.” You smiled. 

Carmen looked around, catching his staff standing in the window, rolling his eyes when they darted after he caught them, scampering in different directions. “Um, it’s gettin’ kinda late.” Carmen looked at you, fingers drumming on his thigh- that was still touching yours. 

“Yeah.” You nodded, looking at your phone. “I guess I should go, and I’ll, um, I’ll see you tomorrow?” 

Carmen nodded, sliding out of the booth then offering his hand to help you. “Did you walk here?” 

“No, I took the L.” You walked towards the door beside him. It was quiet, the soft hum from the kitchen, the muffled clatters of pots and pans being put away. 

“Me too. I’ll ride back with you?” Carmen offered. 

“I thought you lived like three blocks away?” You giggled, tilting your head to the side. “And I’m in the opposite direction.” 

“Yeah, I-I do.” Carmen nodded. “I just… You shouldn’t ride alone at night, ya know? Shit could happen and… I don’t want it to. To happen to you.” 

You could feel the heat flushing through your cheeks, through your chest. You laughed lightly. “Is this your way of trying to come home with me?” You lifted a brow playfully. 

“No! No.” Carmen shook his head, flustered, which made you laugh harder. 

“I’m kidding, Carm.” You giggle, reassuring him. “But… if you wanted to come stay the night. Since it’s late… and you’re insisting on coming with me on the L.” 

“I don’t wanna make-make it weird, or come off like that. I-I really am… I like you.” Carmen stuttered. Fuck, there was nothing more tempting than that invite, but Carmen didn’t want to fuck this up. He really didn’t want to fuck this up. 

“I mean, stay over so we can talk more.” You gave him a pointed look. “We were having a good conversation. Weren’t we?” 

“Yeah, no, yeah. Yeah, we were.” Carmen stuttered, hand on the door, twisting the lock though his eyes never left yours. 

“So… You want to come over then? Finish telling me about Copenhagen? Please?” And how could Carmen say no, his head spinning with excitement when he walked out behind you, letting the door fall shut, your arm looping around his while you walked towards the L. 

Richie ran to the front, pushing the door open with Sugar and Tina, watching the two of you walk towards the station. “Good job, Cousin.” Richie muttered. 

[g-xix]

🔞Wet Dreamz | Sharky

Summary: Lazy Sunday morning, waking up within Sharky's arms and realising he's dreaming about you, by the way you can feel him thrusting between your legs. Good thing it's a Sunday morning, and the two of you have plenty of time to live it out with one another...

CWs: Kinda somnophilia, lazy sex, spoon sex, hickeys, lots of boob play, unprotected sex, wet dream, grinding, belly bulge, soft sex

Wordcount: 2k words

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Waking up to Sharky rutting his length between your legs wasn't exactly what you'd expected upon waking up - and turning around groggily to see what antics Sharky was trying to pull - his eyes were closed and lips slightly parted. Clearly asleep. It wasn't how you'd expected to wake up for sure, but it would be undeniable to say that the way Sharky's head nudged your clit wasn't building arousal between your legs at the feeling of him repeatedly brushing over that bundle of nerves.

"Sharks," You mumbled, pushing your hips back to bump his body into consciousness, before reaching behind to find his hand and squeeze that slightly, to try get some sort of reaction.

A little whine left Sharky's lips, his thrusts slowing to a stop, signifying his awakening.

"Baby, you'll never believe, I was just dreaming 'bout you..." His first words came out, husky and lower with his morning voice that made your heart warm at the sexiness of it. The irony of his words didn't fail to make you giggle, responding with a smile.

"Yeah, what were you dreaming about?"

"Well, we'd just gone on honeymoon... And we were in Tokyo - like we said we'd do - and the place was gorgeous... You know, balcony and private pool and we were watching the sunset from our bed - because there were glass windows, and..."

"Let me guess," You started as Sharky began trailing off. "We were fucking?"

"How'd you guess?" Sharky murmured, his sleepiness evident in the yawn his gave.

"Well, you were sorta.... thrusting."

Sharky choked, coughing on his own breath at those words, making you laugh at his own shock at his actions - followed by a frantic flurry of fragmented apologies. 

"Oh baby, it's fine, I was worried initially but... I don't know, I guess we all have those dreams sometimes," You had turned around to console him, pressing a chaste little kiss to Sharky's lips to calm him, though you felt Sharky's erection brush your lower stomach as you leaned in, and Sharky clearly felt it too, as he let out a low groan at the momentary contact. 

His hands found your waist, exposed from your shirt that had ridden up, plaid bottoms an old pair of Sharky's own which you'd opted for instead of your own. The arousal that'd built between your legs was almost begging for some type of stimulation, and the lazy Sunday with no plans booked felt compliant with your plans to have Sharky inside you before breakfast got there. But the cosiness of the bed's thick duvet which covered you, blanketing you in a thick layer of your own heat told you to stay right where you were- rather than shuffling to disrupt the duvet warmth and have sex with Sharks.

"Mhhmff- Sharks- I'm too comfy to do anything..." You whined, further proving your point by curling slightly, into a stretched foetal position. 

"That's fine, Amore," Sharky's deepened voice with the slight accent, gravelly in a way you could tell he was used to try and persuade you. And much to your dismay, you were undeniably seduced.

A short squeal left your lips as Sharky's hand on your hip pushed you- not to shove you - rather to roll you onto your back, hitting the mattress flat and barely getting a moment to come to your senses before Sharky had attached to your neck, his tongue licking a long stripe up from your collarbone to the soft skin below your jaw, pushing harder as he went from muscle to soft spot between your jaw and ear, pressing the lightest kiss right there and whispering something unintelligibly hot into your ear before ducking below.

He'd mapped out your body within the back of his mind, not wasting any time in trying to find that sweet spot, attaching his lips to the undeniable dip above your collarbone and sinking his teeth into the skin, making you let out an initial gasp at the sharpness of his canines, pronged tips leaving little markings against your skin as he pulled back with an almost shy smile, just wanting to see that look of surprise on your face. Though he proceeded to soften the bite by creating a suction within those teethmarks, holding until it just began hurting before pulling away with a pop, admiring the darkening mark that formed within the softness of your flesh, soft sighs of pleasure falling from your lips at the feeling.

You could feel his hand trailing up from your side, too, palms encircling the underside of your breast and pushing it upwards, fingers grasping at the pillowy flesh through the thin material of your tank top. His mouth still gently working against the crook of your neck, embellishing you with a myriad of possessive markings, his fingers explored beneath the neckline of your top - reaching and cupping one boob, pulling it out from the fabric and letting it plop back down - his mouth leaving your neck for just a moment as he licked his thumb, letting the slick digit press against your nipple and circle around that darkened skin whilst his fingers groped the rest, your breathing hitching as you could feel your back unintentionally arching away from the mattress and further begging for his touch. 

His mouth scaled down from neck to chest, paralleling his hands which trailed down to the waistband of the pair of bottoms you wore (one of Sharky's, obviously) his mouth wrapping around one bud, hot tongue circling around the peak against before flicking it up and down, making you feel a heavy aching between your legs whilst a gasp and moan simultaneously left your throat, jerking your body forwards slightly from that feeling Sharky gave you - even whilst he detached from your wet nipple with a pop sound from the released suction.

Reaching behind with a shaky hand, you felt his hard cock through his own matching plaid bottoms, the stimulation from stiff cotton against his sensitive tip making him let out something guttural - between a grunt and a groan as his hand snaked around your waist, pushing his cock against your behind so that he could grind against your behind, providing even more satisfying friction that made his mind whir.

You pushed his bottoms down, freeing his cock whilst shimmying your own off, listening to the low breaths Sharky gave as his hand gently ran up and down his shaft, waiting for you to give him the go.

"Shit I'm so lucky to have you," He groans as he sees your exposed core, making you flush as his hand, sat on your hip, manoeuvred you onto your side, facing the opposite way as though you were getting ready to spoon.

But the feeling of Sharky's tip pushing into your pussy, tip stretching the hole as you parted your legs more, neck rolling backwards as you accommodated the stretch, before letting a contented little sigh fall from your smiling lips at the feeling of fulfilment, having Sharky completely filling you, bottomed out.

There was no need to pause and let you adjust to his size, he already knew how accustomed you were to his length, and he didn't plan on going rough regardless - his hands vicing around your hips with a comfortable pressure, moving your body with his own hips to pull out to the tip before pushing back in with little force, letting you bask in that feeling of the stretch.

You closed your eyes, letting your breathing slow slightly whilst your head fell heavily against the pillow - hands slipping between your thighs and dragging that slight between your legs up to your clit with a middle finger, tapping ever so slightly on the bundle of nerves and sighing at the feeling of satisfaction.

The stretch and the euphoria that came from the double stimulation alongside your clit also - it was like waking up in Summer - pulling the duvet back and spreading your limbs, comfortable from waking up as you realise the sun's warmed the room and it's just as cosy outside the bed as it was within it.

You let yourself lean backwards, Sharky's body curling into yours as his face came close to your shoulder, delicately pressing a kiss over the smooth skin whilst his hand rubbed over your hips, feeling the gentle dip and the peachy softness of your skin, his own hips pulling back before pushing forwards so that to two of you were completely flush. The rush of morning air that enveloped your back as Sharky pulled away and disturbed the blankets almost made you want to just roll him over - push his back down flat with you on top - your chest pressed against his - just lie on him with his length inside you, cuddle and cockwarm instead of doing anything really. 

But the feeling as Sharky's hand dipped past your hips and replaced your hand on your clit - dragging your slick up from your core and circling the sensitive bud - rendered you completely wordless, a high, breathy noise slipping from your throat before you could catch it.

Sharky groaned into your shoulder, his teeth scraping over the place he'd kissed - teeth sinking in and biting your shoulder gently as a small sign of affection, his pronged canines sharp against the softness and giving you that fraction of pain which only made you feel your heartbeat in your heat.

You pushed your own hips back into Sharky's, the light motion causing agitation within the duvet above you - yet you couldn't even care, the feeling of Sharky's length kissing the tip of your cervix drove you wild, and only made you stretch your back out more, Sharky's own hand trailing up to your breasts to grab a handful of your tits, almost using them as a vice to manage his thrusts back and forth.

You could feel a warmth spreading from your fingertips down, and felt your orgasm coming - the fluttering of your pussy around Sharky's cock making him groan and notifying him of your pending orgasm which he mumbled "So close my love, me too-"

And the action of Sharky's hand tracing down your front, down from your tits, down your ribcage - until it sat on your belly - pushing his palm flat against your stomach with just enough pressure that you could feel his cock hitting the inside of your stomach, and so could his hand-

Neither of you could contain yourself - your back arching and thighs shaking as you felt euphoria course through your body, a warm spread of pleasure rushing through every single vein and artery in your being, filling you with lightness and bliss - whilst Sharky filled you with his cock in one last thrust, climaxing inside of you and letting you feel that warm rush that filled your pussy, before he pulled out - letting out a deep sigh of fulfilment.

You turned a half-turn, lying on your back - chest up - staring at the ceiling with limbs splayed in all directions. Like a starfish.

You peeled the duvet back a little further, feeling the golden morning rays that shone through the window gracing over your skin. You felt as though your whole body was glowing, and Sharky pressed a kiss to your shoulder, you could tell he felt the same.

"We should do this more often," You let a deep, fulfilled sigh fall from your lips, lips curled into a smile as Sharky's arm snaked around your shoulders, pulling your naked body close into his own, absolutely loving his first sight in the morning being simply you.

"You think?" Sharky quirked a brow up, running his tongue over his canines with a devious grin. "'Cause I could sure get used to waking up n fucking you first thing-"

"Well, c'mon, maybe not every day," You rolled your eyes, curling into Sharky's chest and letting him roll over so that your body lay atop his, enveloped by his arms which wrapped around your waist tenderly.

"Mhmm I can work with that," Sharky pressed a kiss to your lips, pulling away and mumbling with a blissful smile- "To be honest, being able to wake up next to you is enough of a blessing in itself."

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[bobafetts-princess]

Stranger and the Bear Pt1

Summary: A handsome stranger has been warming a stool at the bar you work at. What happens when ghosts from the past make an appearance?

Pairings: Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: drinking, a touch of Logan smoking the cigar, abusive relationship mentioned (no abuse shown), I think that’s all for this chapter

A/N: if you saw this on ao3, I’m the same person! I’m deep in a Logan crisis and have been thinking about moving my Logan fics over to tumblr so his resurgence has given me the boost I need!

Part 2 can be found here

“Hey stranger!” You shout to your newest bar customer, tossing a coaster in front of him before turning around and grabbing his usual.

“Hey Bear,” he responds, his deep voice silky and rough at the same time.

“I can’t believe you still call me that,” You laugh, “it’s been like, three months.”

“You mentioned it first, so I ran with it.” He smiles and winks playfully at you, the most lighthearted you’ve ever seen him. The tall and handsome stranger had first come into the bar you work at a few months ago, ordering a whiskey neat and a beer.

You’d given him your name in the hopes that he would give you his in return, but no luck. “My childhood classmates called me care bear though, they claimed I was as sweet and cuddly as a care bear,” you tell him, smiling at the old memory.

“Care bear, huh?” The stranger had said, deep voice rumbling through his chest. “How about just Bear?”

“Ooh! I like that,” you say before asking him what he would like to drink.

The two of you had fell into an easy camaraderie, always some light flirting, at least from your end. You’d never asked his name and he’d never offered. Your stranger was a good looking man, neatly trimmed facial hair and sideburns, usually in a leather jacket and form-fitting jeans. He was the definition of ‘hate to see them leave, love to watch them walk away’ and you looked forward to the one or two days a week he would come in. He was always respectful, drank the same thing, and left a decent tip.

The evening passed in a blur, patrons coming and going but your stranger stayed where he was. You refilled his drinks at the exact moment he was finishing the last, that was your routine. You’d refill his drinks and he would hang out for a few hours. He watched you work, sometimes from behind dark sunglasses, sometimes through hazel green eyes.

“Hey Bear, c’mere.” Your stranger asked, cigar hanging from his mouth. You made your way towards him, thinking about how no matter how much he drank, he seemed perfectly sober. “You from ‘round here?” He asked, no sunglasses today. You could see his pupils were blown and for the first time in two months you wondered whether he was actually buzzed. He smelled like good worn leather and the cigar he was smoking. You had to prevent yourself from closing your eyes when you inhaled his scent.

“Uhh, sorta kinda. Why?” You told him, shocked at the personal question, and also embarrassed.

The truth was that you weren’t from here, you’d moved here to be with an ex-boyfriend and it had ended badly. You’d gotten home from work one night to find the locks had been changed on the apartment as well as his phone number. Come to find out, he’d been sleeping around on you since you started dating and decided he liked his side piece more. So you’d called your boss, Sally, begging for somewhere to stay and she rented you the studio apartment upstairs. You struck up a deal, the apartment for half price as long as you closed the bar down every night.

When your ex’s side-piece decided she didn’t like him as much as she'd originally thought, he’d begun stalking you and things had gone downhill. He tried to get physical with you once but Sally had threatened him with a shotgun and he hadn’t shown his face again. That was ABOUT the same time your stranger had started coming to the bar, and for some reason you felt safer when he was there.

Apparently Sally did too because on nights he showed up, she took off early and let you close down by yourself.

“So I presume you know that guy in the corner over there? He’s been watching you most of the night.” He told you, clamping the cigar between his index and middle finger. You began to turn your body in the direction of the person he was talking about but a warm hand a-top yours stopped you. “Don’t make it obvious, Bear. Don’t want him to know.” His eyes raked down your body as he was speaking, drinking you in. You weren’t wearing anything fancy, fitted jeans and a black cropped tank with the bars logo on it, but the way he was looking at you made goosebumps cover your skin.

Forcing your mind back to the issue at hand, you glance in the corner, keeping your body facing your stranger. When you caught sight of the face in the corner, you paled. It was your ex, and Sally was gone, her shotgun locked in her office.

“You alright, sweetheart?” Your stranger asked, noting your expression, his hand rubbing back and forth across your knuckles. If you hadn’t been worried, you would have blushed at the way his hand held yours and the nickname he called you.

You forced your voice to sound normal when you spoke again. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just ghosts from the past.” You forced a smile, one that didn’t quite reach your eyes and were surprised to look up and find your strangers face held concern and a touch of tenderness.

“I’m gonna stick around late tonight, Bear. So keep ‘em comin’.” He told you and you felt a bit safer.

You worked the night away, one eye on your next drink ticket and one eye in the corner where your ex sat, unmoving. Your stranger did the same, only he kept one eye on you and one eye on your ex. At ten till close your voice rang out into the emptying bar, “last call!” The few that were still hanging out left not too long after, leaving you, your stranger, and your ex in the bar. You chose not to acknowledge that you knew it was him, hoping that the dark shadows of the bar would convince him that you didn’t notice who he was. After a few tense moments he stood, heading towards the front door so you turned to your stranger.

“I’m gonna run to the bathroom, Bear.” He said, the sultry tones of his voice soothing you. You took a glance at his retreating back before turning around and starting your wipe down of the back bar. A rough hand grabbed your wrist, pulling and making your body spin. It happened so fast that you didn’t get a good look at the face until it was the only thing in your line of sight. It was your ex, which shouldn’t surprise you but somehow it did. Your voice caught in your throat and you couldn’t attempt to shout for help from your stranger, your fear paralyzing you.

“I thought your miserable ass left this fucking town.” He snarled in one ear, face pressed against yours.

“You would think that when I left you, you’d have tucked that tail and ran back to mommy and daddy. Why are you still fucking here??” He sneered and you could smell the alcohol on his breath and when he pulled back, your wrist in his hand, you could see that his pupils were blown wide. He was high too, but you didn’t know what on. You didn't know why he was so obsessed with you, it wasn't like you had a great and powerful love. You thought his feelings were just hurt because you didn't take him back. “You stupid. Fucking. Bit-“ But he didn’t get a chance to finish because his body was ripped away from yours. You blinked and saw your stranger standing over him as he lay on the floor where he’d been thrown.

“Attacking a woman while she’s alone?” He snarled, that deep vibrato now a growl. He picked your ex up by the front of his shirt, his strength shocking you. “You piece of shit. Picking on a woman half your size while she’s alone?” He growled, shaking your ex while he was holding him up in the air. “What kind of an asshole gets off on that?” Your legs were shaking so bad that you sunk to the floor, the butt of your jeans wet from the beer and liquor that had been spilled during the course of the evening.

Your ex looked terrified, used to always being the bigger in a fight but he looked like a teenager next to your stranger. His mouth was moving wordlessly, almost like he was trying to make sounds but was too frightened.

“I’m not gonna hurt you tonight, but I swear to god if you come back, I’ll rip you limb from limb. And I’ll be here every night to make sure she stays safe. Get outta here before I change my mind, you piece of shit.” He snarls, dropping your ex unceremoniously on the floor in a heap of fear and embarrassment. He scrambles to his feet, sprinting towards the front door, letting it slam behind him. You see your stranger following behind him to lock the door before your vision starts to swirl with the beginnings of a panic attack.

“In through your nose. Out through your mouth. In through your nose. Out through your mouth.” You repeat over and over to yourself when you feel a large, warm hand on your shoulder and a low gravelly voice speaking in your ear.

“Bear. Bear. Are you alright?” You continue your breathing, adding a small nod to ensure your stranger you were fine.

“I’m gonna pick you up. You live upstairs right?” He asked and in the back of your mind you wondered how he knew that. But thoughts left your mind as strong arms wrapped underneath your legs and behind your back. Your heart rate was slowing, and your panic attack subsiding, so when he asked you which way the stairs were you were able to answer. His strong body carried yours up the stairs and into the studio apartment you resided in, slowing as he crossed the threshold.

“I’m okay to stand. You can put me down.” You told him, but he seemed hesitant and you swore he clutched you even tighter to his body. “Really, Stranger, I’m okay.” You said, smiling up at his kindness.

“Logan.” He whispered as he lowered your legs onto the ground, arm staying around the small of your back until he was sure you were okay on your own two feet.

“What?” You asked, not sure of what he said.

“Logan. My names Logan.” He repeated, fingers digging into the exposed flesh of your hip, biting slightly.

“Okay, Logan. It’s nice to not refer to you as Stranger in my mind.” You giggled. You stepped reluctantly away from his embrace, heading towards your ‘kitchen’. “Would you like a drink, Logan? All I have is beer and water.”

You heard him clear his throat and when you looked at him, he looked like he was warring with himself.

“Uhh, ya, sure Kid. Bear. I’ll have a beer.” He said and for the first time since you’d met him, there was a twinge of uncertainty in his voice. You popped the top on two, handing him one before heading to the small couch you had, a mere 10 feet from your bed. He followed, sitting next to you and doing his best to make sure he wasn’t touching you, but the area was so small that your knees touched anyways.

“So that was my ex. He was stupid enough to try and get physical with me once. Sally threatened him with a shotgun. I didn’t think he would be stupid enough to try it twice.” You tried to explain without going into the entire sordid story.

“I’m going to tear him in half.” He answered, taking a long pull of his beer and you felt ashamed at what the dominance in his voice did to your lady bits.

“I don’t think he’ll be stupid enough to try this again so hopefully I don’t ever have to worry about him again.” You assured your stranger.

“Logan.” You mused aloud, a small smile crossing your face.

“Ya, Bear?” He answered, thinking you were going to ask him a question.

“It’s such a normal name.” You snickered.

“What’s wrong with my name?” He asked, faux defensiveness in his voice at your teasing.

“I’ve wondered for WEEKS what your name was and it’s Logan. It’s so normal. It suits you though. I like it.” You smiled at him, hitching one knee up on the couch and turning your torso towards him.

“I’ll be comin’ by more often and stayin’ until the bar is locked down. Just to make sure that moron doesn’t come back.” He told you, venom in his tone, but in a way that had you suppressing a shiver. You wondered what he sounded like first thing in the morning, his voice filled with sleep. “What’re you thinkin’’ about, Bear?” He asked, almost knowing your thoughts. You flushed, embarrassed to be caught in your thoughts.

“Nothing, just how you manhandled him. I think you humbled him.” You lied through your teeth, hoping he wouldn’t realize you were thinking about HIM manhandling you.

“He’s a lightweight. Pushin’ people around that are smaller than him.” He told you, eyes skimming over you. You heated at his gaze and wondered to yourself how long it had been since you’d gotten laid. When you couldn’t remember immediately you’d decided it had been too long. “People like him always need to be manhandled, otherwise they don’t learn their lessons,” You glanced at his beer, bartender habit, and stood to get him another. Yours was still half full, so you only popped the top off of one and brought it back to him. You felt his eyes glued to your frame as you walked and tried not to let it go to your head.

“You didn’t have to do that.” He told you, even though he took the beer from your hands when you stretched it out to him.

“Thank you Logan. I don’t know what would have happened if you hadn’t been there. How did you know I lived upstairs though?” You asked, the memory hitting you quick.

“I’ve heard you speak to the woman about rent. Sally? And I’ve stayed after a few times when I come by to make sure you get to your car, and you never come out of the building. The lights go out though.” He told you, unashamedly. You were struck by the kindness of this stranger. He was looking out for you and you hadn't even known. He watched out for you and all you'd ever offered him was a warm smile and a cold beer. Your breath hitched in your throat as you muttered out a small thank you to him, but he simply shrugged and took a long pull.

"I don't know how to thank you." You admitted to him but he waved you off.

"Don't worry about it, kid." He said, finishing his beer. You decided it was better off to just thank him in a different way, probably with free booze. You decided in that moment that this man would never pay for another drink in the bar again, and you felt that Sally would agree. You would speak with her about it first thing in the morning, after you filed a restraining order.

[babiebom]

Heyyy! I was wondering if u could do the bachelors & bachelorettes reactin to / dating an s/o who has really intense nose bleeds when they're stressed. But plot twist bc this is literally the norm for the farmer bc they have crippling anxiety, especially social.

Thank u sm!!

A/N: I don’t know why I thought this was funny??? My anxiety just makes my stomach upset but a nosebleed in front of everyone like some sort of anxious demon is funny. Not the clean up tho. I’ve never had a nosebleed but I know they bleed SO MUCH. Also no problemo!!! Always glad to get requests!! I did different things (so not just stressed because I would’ve written the same thing for anyone I made crush aspects as sort of for stress too lmao) for each hopefully they’re good enough!

Tw: cursing, blood, anxiety, the nose bleeds are VERY dramatic because it’s fiction lmao. Physical fights(in Leah’s part), arguments(in almost all of them). Pierre hate Pam hate(kinda) Demetrius hate Morris hate. And Kel is gender neutral! let me know if there’s anything else to tag!

Wc: idk lmao hopefully at least 100 words for each

Stardew Masterlist

Sebastian:

Just frowns

Actually helps unexpectedly

….we can never talk about this happening again if you want……

It’s not often that you get to see the towns resident emo, even after visiting Robin multiple times for various building needs. So when you wander into the house, looking for Robin so you can upgrade your coop, seeing him makes your brain malfunction.

“Oh…hey farmer.” He greets, moving past you to head further into the house. You blink for a second before returning the greeting, watching as his dark hoodie disappears behind a wall.

You try to force your breathing to slow down. There is absolutely NO reason you should be this worked up over a literal one second conversation. While you sit with your thoughts, foot steps fill your ears and the sight of Sebastian returning from wherever he went makes all of your progress regress. “So…you here waiting for my mom?”

You nod quickly, clearing your throat, “yeah…um…just need to upgrade my chicken coop.”

“Oh well, she’s not in today. She usually goes to Pierre’s store to work out with the other moms.”

You frown to yourself, how did you miss that she wouldn’t be in today? Damn now all you can think about is how you just made a fool of yourself. Lost in your thoughts, you miss that Sebastian had cleared his throat a couple times until he waves a hand in front of your face.

“If you want, I can take your order and tell her when she gets home later. That way she can get started tomorrow.”

“Would you?” Your heart flips as you perk up. Was he usually this nice? You kinda heard from Robin herself that Sebastian never really interacted with people he wasn’t already friends with.

“Yeah sure.” He shrugs and moves to go around the counter, setting his slowly cooling food down. “Okay so she usually charges 10,000g and you have to have 400 logs of wood and 150 things of stone. Sound right?”

You nod and hand over the bag of money. The second your hands touch it’s like your body decided it couldn’t handle anything else from him. Luckily he just takes the money and pretends like your nose hasn’t become a geyser as you scramble to try to keep the blood from dripping all over their furniture.

Sam:

WOAH DUDE IS THAT LIKE….NORMAL?

it’s like from a movie or something

Is overall sorta scared but at the same time thinks it’s cool

“And this is how I do a kick flip!” Sam shows you skateboard trick after trick and honestly you can’t get enough of it. It wasn’t a secret that the both of you had crushes on each other, and even now it was very obvious by how you were watching him do his tricks that you had feelings for him. Yet still you two weren’t in a relationship, just sort of friends who like each other in a romantic sort of way.

“You’re so cool!” You clap as he lands another trick.

“And you’re cute!”

“What?”

You freeze in your spot and watch in confusion as he sort of freezes midway through his next trick and crashes to the ground. His words echo in your head, making your face heat up and your heart soar. He smacks his face on the ground, sending you into a panic because now all you can think about is how he thinks you’re cute, and now how he probably has a concussion from hitting his face directly onto the concrete.

When he lifts his face off the ground, you’re kneeling next to him, trying to check on him. His forehead is bleeding, his nose is bleeding, and so is his mouth. You shriek and try to go through your backpack to see if you have anything to help him. You didn’t.

You already know where this is leading, and you let out a groan of annoyance right before your nose starts leaking just like his. His eyes widen and he lets out a loud laugh. Maybe you two can move out of the weird friendship you have after all.

Shane:

Would just stare silently

Like no comments no nothing

Doesn’t even act like it’s happening

Having a part time job at Joja Mart during the winter is one of the absolute worst ideas that you’ve had in a while. But you didn’t make a lot during your first year of farming. Stacking the products onto the shelves, your only saving Grace is the fact that you’re allowed to have earphones in. Except for the fact that Pam is now standing next to you asking loudly about where something is. Shane is stacking the shelves behind you.

“I don’t know Pam…the alcohol is probably on the wall in the back.” You frown at her. She obviously knows that you don’t know this store that well, you were a FARMER that NEVER shopped here before. She rasps out another question and it takes everything in you to not snap at her. Trying to calm yourself of course there’s gonna be something else that makes you lose your mind. That something is Morris, coming over and being the absolute WORST and in turn making Pam LOUDER and more insistent.

He’s lecturing you, Pam is agreeing with him way too loudly, the music on your headphones is now overwhelming instead of calming, and the sound of random things in the market is making you want to bite a chunk out of the loaves of bread in front of you, plastic and all. With everything building up inside of you, you already know what’s going to happen. It always happens, but instead of excusing yourself you stand there, staring Morris down as the blood begins to flow from your nostrils.

Pam yells out curses and Morris begins to stutter, but behind them Shane just stares for a second before continuing to work. When you’re finally left alone with him in the aisle as your two stressors hastily take their leave, all he does is let out a dry chuckle.

“Sam has a hell of a mess to clean up…”

Alex:

Oh DUDE your nose is like….LEAKING

Doesn’t help

Just watched and comments

“AND THEN HE HAS THE NERVE TO TELL PEOPLE THAT MY HARVESTS ARE HIS BUT HE ONLY DOES IT IF ITS GOOD!” You rant to the brown haired boy, pacing back and forth in his room. Thankfully both Evelyn and George were out so you weren’t bothering anyone except for the man in front of you.

You huff and puff as he watches, slightly amused slightly concerned. Alex wasn’t the best person to go to when you’re upset unless it was something absolutely devastating. So being in front of him now, complains about your farming woes meant that he was only half ass taking it seriously. “You should go and speak your mind.” He says.

Turns out you should NOT take advice from Alex. Standing in Pierre’s shop, you’re staring him down angrily, anxiety creeping up your throat from you trying to will yourself to call him out on his bullshit. The older man just kind of stares at you in confusion because all you had done was shout his name angrily as you entered the shop then stand in front of him seething.

“You….you…..” you point a finger at him. This was the moment, the moment you stand up for yourself and tell Pierre how HORRIBLE he is!

But of course things don’t work how you want and your nose gushes out blood all over the counter before you can work yourself up to the point of accusations. With a gasp you run out of the shop, hoping that he would keep his mouth shut with Alex running behind you laughing. Again, NEVER let Alex talk you into anything.

Elliott:

Panics

How do I help PLS LET ME HELP

Everything probably gets messy

Fishing had never been your favorite pastime, but now trying to fix up the community center you had to. Unfortunately Willy was gone and couldn’t properly teach you even though he had gifted you an old rod of his, so the next best thing is getting your boyfriend to teach you since he does fish often. Now you stand on the docks, waiting for a fish to bite the hook.

“Keep calm, the fish can feel your fear and it makes them upset.” Elliott spoke. In all honesty you didn’t even know if that was true or not, but you take in a breath to calm down. You did not want to be here all day you had cows to pet.

The second your line begins to pull you try to pull the fish in. And you succeed until it comes time to unhook the eel you managed to catch. The eel is slimy and slippery and all around not a good thing to try to grip. A shriek leaves your lips and the eel struggles, Elliott tries to help you but is also struggling to catch hold of it. And now your nose is bleeding adding another layer to the already hellish experience.

You’re unhappy, the eel is unhappy, and Elliott is unhappy. After what seems like an hour, the stupid thing slips out of your grips and back into the ocean, washing your nose blood off of it and splashing you with saltwater. 0 out of 10 you will not be trying again.

Harvey:

Calm but concerned(after panicking for a second)

Has a doctory approach to it

But is secretly like WTF inside

Your heart thumps in your chest as you sit on the clinic bed. It’s been a while since you’ve been in Harvey’s clinic, having taken a break from the mines, and somehow this seems more shameful than having been beaten almost to death by living slime. Your hands bleed into the cloth you have pressed into it. One of the pigs knocked you over into the broken fence you were in the middle of fixing. Now you sit waiting for the good looking Doctor.

When he walks in he’s all smiles, tapping his clipboard with his pen. “While I’m sad to see that you’re injured, I’m glad to see it isn’t from those mines again.” The eye contact he makes with you makes your heart twist for a second.

He starts speaking of all the shots you need and the antibiotics you need to take, rust poisoning is quite serious you know. “Now,” he says, moving towards you, “let me see your hand.”

Your heart thumps erratically at the close proximity of him and you. You only really ever got to see him this close when you were half dead and barely conscious. His face is much too close for you to be able to do anything but focus on how pretty his eyes are, and how fluffy his mustache is, and how…

“OH MY DEAR YOBA” He yelps and jumps away from you. It takes only a second after him to realize what’s going on, and now your furiously wiping away at your nose with your hands instead of with the cloth, and he’s trying to get something on your nose to catch the blood. It’s a disaster, really. But at least you’re already in a clinic!

Penny:

Probably panics

Doesn’t know how to deal with it

Would try to help though

The warmth of the pool in the spa did nothing to ease your nerves as you waded in the shallow end of the pool. Penny had invited you to come sometime after 7 pm, and when you had arrived she was already waiting for you, kicking her feet in the pool. The thought of her asking you here made your stomach turn, did you do something wrong…? Was she inviting you here to tell you she hated you or something…? You had grown close to her over your time here and would hate it if she thought you were too much or something.

“Do you know why I invited you here?” She asks, moving closer but keeping her eyes on the water.

You shake your head, “I’m not exactly sure, no.”

She frowns and sighs at you, meeting your eyes for a fleeting second then looking elsewhere. “Really? I thought you would’ve noticed by now…” her words trail off and her eyebrows furrow.

The next few seconds are ones that you simultaneously want to remember for forever and forget. She confesses her feelings for you. Feelings that you obviously reciprocate, and the emotions in you mix and grow, rising up your throat as if you were a volcano of conflicting feelings. As soon as you open your mouth to tell her that yes, you like her too, her face morphs into one that’s horrified instead of hopeful, disgusted instead of smitten and you realize a second after she does that your nose is spouting red, dyeing the water you both were swimming in.

Penny shrieks for a solid second before trying to scramble out of the water as fast as she can. You do the same, swirling the red around the pool as both of you splash trying to exit the now crime scene looking pool. When you get out of the water, she’s holding a towel right in your face, smooshing it so hard you can barely breathe and now your nose is throbbing with slight pain. “What do we do?!” She asks moving about quickly. She’s so confused that she just keeps walking and turning as if she’s remembering and forgetting things at the same time.

You just tilt your head downward and cringe inwardly, this was not the way to get a girl to like you. “It’s fine…I’m fine,” you say voice nasally and muffled. “And I like you too by the way.”

Haley:

confused staring

wtf is happening

Actually speechless

It isn’t every day that you get to talk to a beautiful blonde. It isn’t even every day that you talk to anyone. So when she approaches you on one of your trips off of your farm you couldn’t help but feel like either everything is out to get you or that you’re up on your luck. You don’t really know for sure, it honestly depends on how things go.

“Hey farmer!” She smiles as soon as she stops in front of you, the feeling of your stomach twisting makes you want to vomit in all of your nervousness. “I have a favor to ask you…”

“Yeah?” You ask trying to keep your cool. “What is it?”

“I would totally love love LOVE you forever if you could bring me an amethyst? It’s for Emily’s birthday and I don’t really like Clint so I don’t wanna buy anything from him. I’m willing to pay 150g!”

You cough into your fist, nodding along and taken aback by how casually she’s speaking to you. Before you can accept doing her the favor, the horrified look on your face makes your words falter.

She looks absolutely horrified, and touching your hand to your face you can feel why. Your nose started dripping blood, and by dripping you mean you can now feel it running down to your chin. A flurry of curses leave your mouth as confused noises leave hers. It's not much of a surprise that this has happened, but man did you wish it wasn't in front of her.

Emily:

Surprisingly chill about it

Probably has a weird story about a nosebleed or something

Actually helps

You sit at the bar alone, upset at a horrible farming day. You tried your best, you really did, but those stupid ass crows actually ate ALL of your seedlings. Or…almost all of them but that’s basically the same thing! There is no way you’re gonna make enough to make it through winter comfortably. You told Emily exactly this, appreciative of her listening ear in the middle of her busy shift.

“You know they probably didn’t mean it…or maybe they did,” she sucks in a breath eyebrows furrowing as she thinks, “you know crows are very smart they probably know that you’re using that land to farm and stay there because of all the free food.”

“But it’s not free!” You exclaim, throwing your hands up in annoyance, “I have to buy those seeds! They’re just putting me into debt!”

She hums and nods, wiping the bar next to you where a person had just left. You had only a couple months left until the snow started falling and making it virtually impossible to grow anything. The little plants you had left you had to fight the crows for. And by fight I mean you angrily swung a broom at the with the intent of scaring them (not hitting them that’s mean). Still the growing anger inside you was not easily crushed by her warm and quite frankly outlandish words. No, in fact your anger grew the more you thought about it.

You felt it coming before anything had even exited your nose, hurriedly snatching the rag from Emily’s hands. Damn now you would have to buy the bar a new one. She just blinks then nods as if your nose becoming a bloody waterfall was normal.

“You know…nose bleeds cause by stress is usually because your heart rate and blood pressure increase and it causes your blood vessels to dilate!”

You stare at her before laughing. Maybe she was helpful after all.

Abigail:

WOAH

WTF

WHAT DO WE DO?

You stand in front of Pierre in front of the shop, arms crossed as you watch his face grow redder the longer time goes on. “-IN A RELATIONSHIP WITH MY DAUGHTER?” You’re not really listening to his tirade, over the whole ‘protective dad’ thing.

“Dad I’m an adult! You have no say in who I date!” Abigail yells back, face equally red. Who would’ve known that he would have a problem with the farmer he rips off constantly dating his daughter?

He yells out more reasons that the two of you shouldn’t be dating, and in turn points a finger into your chest roughly. You sputter out an offended sound, moving away from him. “Don’t touch me!”

“You shouldn’t be touching my daughter!”

“What? Dude we just started dating, you’re weird as hell!”

The arguing only gets worse from there, accusations flying around and now an audience comes with the drama. It’s almost too much for you to handle with now Caroline, Harvey, Haley, and the Milner family standing and watching the chaos. “Abby let’s just go to my place…” you try suddenly feeling the need to escape and no longer feeling the ‘fuck you dude’ attitude.

“No! He needs to understand that he can’t control my life!”

It’s like a volcano in your body and just like a volcano your nose begins to erupt. Now you’re screaming, Abigail is screaming, Pierre is screaming, the Mullners are screaming. Could this get any worse?

Turns out yeah, it can get any worse, like a family fight worse and now all of you are sitting in Harvey’s clinic. At least you aren’t the only bloody one now.

Maru:

Is surprised

Also forgets what to do

Would probably make things worse

Maru talks about robots and space the way you would talk about her: totally and completely enamored. You sit on her bed listening to her talk about her newest invention, some sort of robot that can cook and clean and basically be a free maid. You laugh and move your arm to get in a more comfortable position to watch her. Unfortunately your arm had other plans and smacked hard into her bed post. Groaning out in pain, your eyes close and begin to water from how much your elbow hurt.

Demetrius is in your face before you even realize that he was in the room. You yelp out in surprise as he starts ranting about you ruining his daughter’s future. You blink in surprise and try to retreat back into the mattress. What was happening. You can hear Maru screaming over his words but your ears feel like they’re filled with water.

“We’re just friends!” You find yourself shouting. Like damn is the man insane? It wasn’t the first time he’s gotten upset at you over Maru, but it was the first time that he was absolutely losing his mind.

“Dad stop!”

Time froze for a second as you and Demetrius stared at each other, Maru standing near him. Breathing in you can taste blood in your mouth before your nose starts bleeding, yet you can’t bring yourself to do anything but sit and catch your breath.

“Oh my god!” Both Demetrius and Maru exclaim moving around the room trying to find something to help. You couldn’t help but feel annoyed at him acting concerned now.

Thankfully Maru looked cute trying to help you which at least made things a little better.

Leah:

Is also freaking out on the inside but calm on the outside

Helps you with tissues

Is understanding

Going on a date with Leah is a dream come true. There’s paint, wine, food, and you’re sitting in the prettiest meadow you’ve ever seen, well it’s pretty because Leah is there and she’s pretty and you’ve been here multiple times because it’s near her cottage but it still looks different today.

You sit, paintbrush in hand, laughing at something she’s saying. It’s fun and if she hadn’t have asked you would’ve spent the day farming like usual, this little break was needed. The day couldn’t be ruined, absolutely nothing can ruin it.

Okay, one thing can ruin it and that one thing is Kel coming and ruining everything. The argument that ensues is one of the worst that you’ve seen. Kel tries to walk up on you(translation: Kel wants to fight you), Leah stops them but in turn gets into a fight with them which causes you to actually get up and try to defend her.

You kinda block out until you can hear Kel call out “I made your nose bleed bitch!” Which again causes you to want to drown in your anger.

“My noses is bleeding because I’m stressed, stupid!” You back. It’s obvious Kel hadn’t been able to hit your nose so claiming to be able to hit you so hard your nose bleeds isn’t even possible. It’s almost childish how the two of you argue.

Leah finally gets Kel to leave and hands you a bunch of tissues as she sits you down on the now rumpled blanket. As the two of you catch your breath and calm down, you find yourself smiling at her behind the wad of tissues catching blood flowing from your nose.

At least the situation would be funny in the future.

[yusiyomogi]

i've been thinking about kabru and mithrun again and how they change each other in subtle ways. kabru is a people-pleaser: a large part of his personality is to adapt to another person, act in a way that make them more relaxed and friendly in his company, do what they want. but in reality he's a type of person who has his own pretty strong beliefs and larger-than-life ideas, and at the end of the day his charismatic act comes from his desire to have control.

it's not a coincidence that he isn't at all open about himself like he wants other people to open up to him. and so, he's more comfortable expressing his desires by slowly and carefully manipulating other people to do what he wants, instead of just, yknow, saying it out loud? it's essentially a survival tactic he adopted after utaya's tragedy, that was fitting for his personality (he loves people!) and convenient in elven society.

without doubts there's a constant conflict between these two sides of him, because he feels strongly about what he wants, yet he can't do anything about it because of his compulsive people-pleasing. he puts off and ignores his own desires, even though they often burn their way through him. this conflict makes him yell angrily in his mind and fantasize about violence in some pretty mild situations, as we can see happening all the time in the manga.

and this is where his dynamic with mithrun truly shines, i think. because not only kabru can relax and act more genuine, because mithrun doesn't have any strings to pull, he's forced to act on his own desires, because mithrun doesn't have them.

mithrun relies heavily on what other people want, but in comparison to kabru, he literally has no other choice. and in a way, mithrun shows his trust by choosing to follow certain people's desires, because he knows that many people would take advantage of his condition. "what do you want to do?" is a question of trust and respect from mithrun, but also something important and complicated for kabru, because he now has to express his own desires vocally, which means showing vulnerability. this is an uncomfortable situation for kabru, but the good thing is that mithrun wouldn't judge him.

and it's sorta like a weak muscle you need to train. kabru slowly realizes that he doesn't have to always act in a way other people wants him to act. after a short time they spend together he's already much better at it, being able to hohestly tell laios he wants to be his friend and stop mithrun from going after the demon (unfortunately, kinda betraying his trust in the process). and in the end when mithrun is catatonic, it's only when kabru says that he wants mithrun to live a happy life, mithrun starts recovering. in many ways they help each other by helping themselves: they both have to go through the process of recognizing their own humanity and it helps the other person too. "look what i learned today about being a human, isn't it cool?"

[diorchids]

I don't know if you accept applications but Luke Castellan jealous that ends in smut , I fantasize thanks to you.

LUKE CASTELLAN, LIKE THIS.

cw: jealous!luke, exes, obsessed, SWEARING, masturbation (f receiving)

a/n: of course i do! this is sorta kinda outta character but u see the vision?? also i cut this short because my brain started blanking.. if u want a part 2, js ask

nsfw ahead !

“she doesn’t even like him,” luke scoffed at your attempts to romance a counselor, doing all the things you’d tried on him. 

in reality, he was jealous. he’d been your ex for years before this, always standing on the sidelines each time you found a new guy. he rolled his eyes while nico said nothing. 

this was the least jealous part of him. you’d talked your friends' ears off about this new counselor, describing him in a way that made luke roll his eyes. he eavesdropped often. he’d followed you consistently, playing it off each time your eyes narrowed on him. “do you even like him? he’s not your type.” he stood behind you, feet planted. 

he tried to reason with you, making it clear he wasn’t fond of your sudden relationship. you walk away from him each time, telling him off with a few expletives. 

he fisted his cock furiously every night, sneaking out or sitting in the bathroom while you were with your new guy. he bucked his hips into his tight fist, visualizing your lips wrapped around his cockhead. 

he’d got you to his cabin finally, making sure nobody was around. especially “him.” he hugged you tight and relished in your scent. “missed you. stay here.” he begged you to stay with him often, enjoying your company. “can’t. gotta stay with my sister, luke.” you moved his hands away from your body, you weren't that easy. especially not for luke.

“you’re lying. you’ll go sneak off to the lake with the fuckin’ counselor, you know it.” he caught your wrist in his grip. “c’mon, stay with me,” eyes looking desperate as he looked down at you, grip tightening, you jerked your arm back in an attempt to free yourself before he says, “don’t be like that, i know you wanna stay.” his free hand trailed up your back slowly. crawling and creeping. 

“..maybe i could. she’ll – she’ll be fine.” you gave into him. his words perforating every voice in your head telling yourself you shouldn’t. “good, good,” he whispered softly into your ear, stooping to your ear. “movie?” 

you sat on his bed watching the movie he’d picked, a horror movie with terrible. his voice came from the bathroom, “you don’t even like him,” picking his feet up to walk to the bed, “what’s he got that i don’t?” standing firm between your legs, hunching to your face, hands resting on each of your thighs. 

your faces were inches apart, your breath hitched onto his face. you wanted to speak, but no words could explain how you felt, your tongue nervously running over your top lip.

he rose and brought his rough hand to your chin. he cradled it with such carefulness while his thumb ran over your lip. 

when he speaks now, his voice has an edge of menace, “mine, you know it. you’re my girl.” he was jealous. this did it, this finally let you know that he missed you. that he was obsessed.

his fingers curved around his bulge while you looked up at him with the same eyes that got him roped in. you stood to your feet, still being towered over him, speechless but managed to blurt out two words, “show me.” 

luke doesn’t hesitate. he leans in and grabs the back of your head, planting his lips on yours and pressing his body against yours. the kiss is aggressive and forceful, and his grip on the back of your head is tight. he’s clearly taking all his anger out on you in this kiss.

you try to keep up with his lips and hands roaming all over your body, practically stumbling while he pushes you into the wall. 

big hands fall straight to your hips, rubbing and pawing at them like a desperate animal. he pulls away for a split second, “fuck some sense into you, ‘kay?” 

you attempt to pull back, but he doesn’t let you pull away. he pulls you back to him relentlessly and keeps kissing you, this time even more aggressively. what was making him like this? so needy, so mean.

you lie on his chest while he begins to sloppily run his fingers over your cunt. he moves faster with each whine from your lips, taken over by anger and lust. “be quiet, gonna get us caught.” he whispered into your ear when you mewled too loud. 

his fingers move quickly on your clit, making you buck your hips into his hand helplessly. his forearm resting on your stomach pushes your body back down, the other hand freely digging its nail into your hips. “stop.” he grunted blatantly. 

you thrashed and moaned each time he played with your cunt, fingers moving back and forth as he dug his fingers deeply into your sides. his cock bucked up against your ass, twitching when you cried his name out or begged him to go faster, “can’t make you feel l-like this, huh?”

“that’s it, let go.” his breathing becomes ragged as he feels you starting to lose control. “feels good, real good. fu–uck.” he leans down slightly, his chest pressing against your back and hips grinding against yours.

you love his touch, begging for it again and again, “keep going, please.” tears fall from your eyes when you feel yourself about to cum. he continues his relentless assault on your senses, his fingers finding new ways to stimulate your sensitive spots through your underwear. “can’t make you cum, yeah?”

“cumming, gonna cum.” you taper off. you’re so dazed by his voice and touch that you barely even know what you’re saying. “give in to it, you’re doing so well,” his voice now laced with pure lust as he feels your body trembling and bucking in response to his touch. 

“i’ve got you, cum for me,” his soft side slowly seeping out, “let it wash over you.” he maintains a soothing tone, guiding you through your climax.

“cummin’..” you thrash and groan out, “give in,” he whispers encouragement as you climax, his body tensing as well in sync with yours, his erection throbbing and leaking pre-cum.

your legs shook before luke wrapped his arms around you, not in a comforting way. in a way that made you realize you're his again, pulling you closer to his chest.

“he can’t make you cum like that.”

it took everything in him not to fuck you right then and there.

[x0x0josephinex0x0]

comfort | kmg

i am feeling icky (physically and mentally and basically in all the ways, send help lol) and as always mingyu is my comfort human so i guess i was just feeling it. reader is mentioned to be an introvert. also reader is in a bad place mentally, lowkey is implied to be a depressive episode (self-insert? hi). kinda sorta from mingyu's pov. pet names used (honey, baby, my love). kinda sorta based on this song (How to Love You Today by Son of Cloud).

mingyu understands the difference between being introverted and being quiet -- after all, he's friends with hoshi, an introvert, who can blow his eardrums at a moment's notice. he's also dating you, and while you're no hoshi, you're definitely not a wonwoo, either.

more than understanding the difference between quiet and introverted, though, he knows you. so he knows that look you have in your eyes -- the hollow, dull look that steals over your features, sometimes for weeks at a time, while you struggle to feel anything at all. he sees it in you now as you stare out the window at the gloomy clouds gathering over the hills.

it's getting bad again. he knows it. you're usually so still when you sleep, and so splendidly expressive while you're awake, but recently that has switched -- your dreams are restless and your sleep-talking more vocal, and you spend more time sitting and staring than you do normally, your face blank and empty, your hands cold whenever he reaches for them. these are the kinds of days that sap you of your saturation, leaving you feeling listless and drained -- times when mingyu has to remind you in gentle tones to eat, to come to bed, to join him in the shower. your mind is not always kind to you, so mingyu has made it his personal mission to be so.

the worst part is, you've stopped singing. when you'd been "just friends", sometimes your constant humming and vocalizing would peeve mingyu when he was trying to concentrate, but after living with you for almost two years, he barely notices it anymore. in fact, he only really notices when you stop, and it's one of his first indicators that something is off about you.

he's been waiting for you to tell him what's going on. usually he can tell you're in a bad state before you can, but mingyu also knows that if he tells you he's noticed, you'll start trying to hide it from him. because you don't want to be a burden. (the thought of you ever being too much for him is laughable to mingyu. he loves you like it's breathing -- just an instinct, something he never even needs to think about, because it's just that easy. every person is heavy sometimes, so why was it so unreasonable for you, his most beloved and treasured person, to believe that he'd willingly carry you, no matter how heavy you got?)

so he waits, staying aware of you always, noting how the dark circles under your hollow eyes get more pronounced. and he worries, of course he does. but he also knows that one day, soon, you'll --

"mingyu?"

he's in the kitchen shredding lettuce for a sandwich for you when he hears it: that tiny voice you use when you're sort of kind of hoping he doesn't turn around to look at you. because you're on the verge of tears, or you look like hell, or a million other reasons that he couldn't care less about. so he turns around. "hey baby. what's up?"

"i...i don't feel good."

that's really all he needs. that's really all it takes, if he's being honest with himself. he goes to you where you hover in the doorway, afraid to take up space, and pulls you into his arms. "i know, honey. i've got you."

there's nothing like the feeling of having your tense muscles relax into him, the way your body releases all that angst as he runs a warm hand up and down your back. you lean your head against his shoulder and repeat, "you got me?" softly, almost embarrassed.

but even as mingyu's heart aches for you -- even as the tears prick the back of his eyes as he thinks of how you must've been suffering -- he feels so grateful. grateful that you trust him. grateful that you feel safe enough to do what he knows is so scary for you. grateful that you choose to do it despite everyone in the past who has made you feel inadequate for needing a hand.

he presses one, two, three kisses to your temple. "i've got you, my love. i've always got you."

[throwawayhero]

could you give more hcs or a drabble about bakugou with a crush on reader!! pls i feel like ur fics are the closest ive seen to canon... i need more

No problem, and thanks! I try to make them seem canon, but sometimes it's difficult T-T. Just realising now that a few of these sound stalker-y and I'm sorta regretting writing this but oh well. I hope this is satisfactory!! c/w; social media au, buzzfeed, eminem (idek), karaoke, not proof read

!Katsuki who unintentionally catches himself playing with his hair while talking to you. Not in an obvious way (that's what he thinks at least), but more so absentmindedly fiddling with his side burns and such. It's kinda funny when he accidentally curls them and leaves them like that for a while. He also has a habit of playing with his baby hairs on the back of his neck.

!Katsuki who "accidentally" managed to copy your handwriting style down stroke for stroke? He doesn't really know how it happened, to be honest. He just noticed it one day during a group project after Jirou pointed it out to the two of you. You found it funny, but he found it outrageous and claimed that you had been the one to copy his handwriting.

!Katsuki who allowed you to tag along on one of Kirishima's and his study sessions. He beat the shit out of Eijirou and was gentle with you, more or less. He wouldn't hit you of course, but he certainly wasn't scared to yell. At least the first time. The look you gave him made him writhe with guilt, so he shut the fuck up out of embarrassment.

!Katsuki who heard you talking about a band you loved and decided it was his god given right to go through their whole discography and criticise it in his own time. But turns out, you have good taste, so he keeps to himself about it. "Accidentally" bought a spare ticket to their next concert and offered the spot to you. No big deal, right?

!Katsuki who did extensive searching for your socials, scrolling through his friends friends following, mutuals, and genuinely just word of mouth. When he did find your accounts, he stalked the SHIT out of them. When you requested to follow him, he freaked out and accepted straight away. He didn't follow you back until a week later, "just to be safe".

!Katsuki who unironically took one of those "Do I have a crush on my friend?" quizzes when he started to feel things towards you. 100% went down a rabbit hole on buzzfeed. He wanted to call his "crush" ANYTHING other than what it was. Mentioned it to Kirishima once and was left even ore confused than what he had originally been.

Unrelated but he just looks like he would listen to Eminem. Probably gets a good chuckle out of the whole "You gonna cancel me, yeah? Gen Z me brah?!" thing. Don't ask me to explain why I think this, it just makes sense.

!Katsuki who more often than not is watching you out of the corner of his eye. Not in an overly-creepy way, he's just "aware of his surroundings". He says that to anyone that mentions it, which is literally just his paranoia.

!Katsuki who secretly loved the fact that you hung out with him and his friends almost daily. Because then he wouldn't have to initiate hangouts and look as desperate as he really was. It gave him a plausible excuse to absorb every single opinion you uttered. It gave him an excuse to get even closer to you.

!Katsuki who freaked the FUCK out when everyone (besides the two of you) got sick and couldn't do the bi-weekly hangout everyone had played a part in organising. The group had settled on doing karaoke, so you can imagine how it went down with just the two of you there. Although, the two of you did make an amazing duet. (No one was really sick, Mina just mentioned Katsuki's behaviour and put 2 and 2 together. She also wanted to see if he would take initiative for once.)

!Katsuki who went out of his way to make changes to his hero costume that he knew you would like. Small details here and there, for both style and practicality. While it was cold he would use the neck warmer to hide the smirk that creeped onto his face when he saw you checking out his new look. He also started to make himself look nicer in general, indulging in a bit of jewellery (stud earrings, a ring or two, and a silver necklace), nicer shoes, wearing the uniform properly and such.

!Katsuki who has your number pinned in his contacts, as well as giving you your own message & ring tone sound. He has everyone but you, Kirishima, and his parents on silenced. He also has your contact saved as a nickname he assigned you without you knowing with a heart emoji. It's simple, but endearing.