#and if i said no he'd say 'i can't wait for you to go back to college'

[mooshkat]

crash that jeep and knock up that pilot !!!!

Blood drips onto the windshield.

Which is weird, until Buck realizes where he is. He'd just finished his hike, something to get out of the house and away from the baking supplies because there's only so many loaves of bread he can fit in his fridge after giving so much away.

The signal is bad in this specific trail too, so he knew he wouldn't be tempted to call Tommy.

Behind the blood on his cracked windshield, Buck can see further down the edge of the mountain he'd been driving on. Someone had been coming up the hill way too fast and he'd swerved and pulled over, but then...he thinks the ground crumbled underneath his back right tire and pulled his Jeep down with it.

Had he rolled? He can't remember. It's a blur. There's a tree blocking him from going further down the side of the mountain, and it's what had busted his windshield. One of the tree limbs is piercing through the passenger seat, and he's suddenly glad that he hadn't brought anyone with him for his mope hike.

He wants to call Tommy.

First, though, he needs to get out of the Jeep and onto solid ground. The ominous creaking that the tree makes only solidifies that thinking. Buck tries the seatbelt, but it's jammed and won't come undone. He keeps a tool in his glove box that should cut through it, but as he tries to reach over and grab it, he's stopped by a piercing pain in his gut.

Buck looks down. "Oh."

He's been hurt in many different ways, from having an entire fire engine on his leg to getting struck by lightning, but he's never been stabbed before. Part of the tree limb coming through his windshield had broken off and lodged itself into his stomach. It hurts, now that he knows it's there.

He wants to call Tommy.

Tommy has taken care of him before, Buck wants soothing hands and soft words to reassure him that he'll be okay from this. He doesn't know how he can be okay from this. He's on the side of a mountain, who knows how far down, and he never usually gets signal up here.

He pats down his pockets and sighs in relief when he feels his phone. The screen has a crack in it and there's blood smeared on it from where it'd soaked into his clothes already, but it's working.

There's one small, blinking bar of signal in the top right corner. It should be enough. It has to be enough.

Buck knows he should call 911, but he needs to talk to Tommy and say all the things he should've said before it's too late. He can call them after.

He holds the phone in one hand and presses against his side with the other, grimacing when he feels more blood spilling out over his fingers.

The phone rings and rings and rings, and he thinks it's going to go to voicemail, but it picks up at the last second. There's silence on the other side.

"T-Tommy? You there?" he asks, pulling his phone away to check the signal again. That little bar is holding on strong. "I need to-to talk to you."

A sigh. "I'm at work right now, Buck. Can it wait?"

Even though it hurts to hear Tommy call him that, just hearing his voice makes him feel a little bit better. Buck relaxes back into his seat and breathes through the pain that moving causes, feeling more blood spill.

"I'll be...I'll be quick." There's so many things to say, but ultimately it comes down to, "I'm sorry, Tommy. I shouldn't have asked you to move in with me that night. I-I jumped the gun, like I always do with my relationships and I get further ahead than my partner, especially when we hadn't even said 'I love you' yet. A-And I do, you know? Love you, I mean."

He has to stop and cough after speaking for so long, which jostles the branch in his gut, and he chokes on the sudden taste of iron in the back of his throat. Buck spits out a mouthful of saliva onto his lap and tries not to panic when it comes out of his mouth red.

"-ck? Buck!" Tommy calls for him through the phone, but he can't answer yet. He sucks in a wheezing breath and squeezes his eyes shut tight. He needs to finish this. "Evan!"

"Sorry," he apologizes, again. "Sorry, I'm..." He's not okay, and he doesn't want to lie to Tommy. "I'm scared, Tommy. You scare me, just like I think I scared you. You make me feel things I haven't felt in a long time, and I saw a future with you, Tommy. N-Not just moving in together, but a life. Marriage, and kids, and white picket fence. Maybe a dog. The whole nine yards. I wanted that with you. Still do, but I think I-I'm too late now."

There's a lot of movement on Tommy's side of the call, and he can hear the bell toll as they get called out. Buck is ready to hang up and let Tommy go to work, but Tommy stops him before he can.

"Stay on the line with me, okay, Evan? We're on the way. Eddie got the notification about your crash on Life 360 and we're on the way. And I'm sorry too. I've been burned in the past by someone when I was their first gay relationship, and it spooked me, I guess. But you–we can still have those things. We need to sit down and actually talk first, but if you're willing to forgive me for leaving like I did and give me a second chance, I want those things with you too."

Buck smiles. He almost wonders if the blood loss is finally getting to him, because this is what he's been wanting for over two months now. A chance to talk and fix it. "Yeah, I'd like that."

"And–and we can have the kids, Evan. I didn't think they were ever in the cards for me like this, but I'm..." Tommy takes a deep breath and Buck waits. "I'm pregnant, Evan."

Those two words would have scared Buck 1.0 shitless back in the day, but now all he can feel is awe and love. And, okay, a little bit of fear. "Pregnant? I didn't know that was...was still possible for you."

Tommy had told him before that he'd been on testosterone for...for...he can't remember how long now, but a while. He'd never had the surgery to remove his ovaries, though, telling Buck that he was about to hit the age that it didn't matter anymore.

"Yeah, me neither. Until Lucy forced me to go to the clinic the other day because I couldn't stop puking and they told me. A-And it's a girl. We're having a daughter, Evan."

It sounds like Tommy is underwater now. Buck's eyes feel so heavy, it shouldn't hurt to close them for just a second. He gasps, a shuddering, wheezy thing when he processes what Tommy said.

"A girl?" he asks, voice faint. "I've always wanted a daughter..."

It sucks he'll never get to meet her. His phone slips out of his hand and drops onto his lap.

Faintly, he can hear Tommy calling for him, but he doesn't have the energy anymore to open his mouth and answer him.

————

When Buck comes to, the first thing he feels is a hand wrapped around his. The second is pain, even through the amount of drugs no doubtedly pumping through his system.

He grunts and squeezes the hand in his, prying his eyes open to squint at the lights. He turns his head and sees Tommy beside him, this impossibly large man curled up in such a small chair. "Ow," he whines, and Tommy's head jerks up to look at him.

Before Buck can say anything else, Tommy's lip starts wobbling and tears spill from his eyes. "You are such an asshole for doing that to me." He wipes his eyes and sniffles. "Kid's not even born yet and you're trying to skip out on diaper changing duty. What the fuck, Buckley?"

Buck laughs, then winces and groans. "Ow. Don't make me laugh." Tommy grimaces and he rubs his thumb over the top of Buck's hand. "So...a daughter, huh?" It doesn't feel real.

"Yeah," Tommy smiles. "You want to see the ultrasound pictures?" He's already reaching into his pocket for his phone before Buck can answer.

The pictures mostly look like a blob with toes to Buck, but that's their blob. Their daughter. He loves her already.

He looks at Tommy and sees the same love reflected in his eyes as he stares at the pictures. "I love you," he says, making Tommy look at him.

Tommy's eyes crinkle in the corners as he gives Buck his Evan smile. "I love you too."

They still need to talk about everything, but Buck feels more sure than ever now that the future he wanted with Tommy can be their reality.

[ashwhowrites]

Hello! Can I request Eddie Munson and reader with miscommunication trope and halloween theme?

I thought about how they would spend their first halloween together as a couple. Every year as friends she and Eddie used to go to some party but these year they planned date at the trailer.

Reader heard one of Eddie's band friend saying that they're disappointed about Eddie ditching them and the party on halloween because now he has a girlfriend.

She feels guilty about it and thinks that Eddie would rather go to the party.

But in reality, Eddie is super excited about their halloween date at home. He has a lot of decorations, snacks and a few movies. He also planned to cook for her.

He adores the idea of cozy evening with his loved one and not at loud party where he went to not be alone during halloween night as a single and ends watching some guys talk to her while he wasn't brave enough to confess.

With a happy end pretty please ❤️

A bit late, my bad. But I think it's cute! So I hope you enjoy it. Thank you for requesting 🫶🏻

Halloween night

Y/N was excited to spend Halloween with Eddie for the first time as a couple. They usually go to Halloween parties with Eddie's friends but this year they wanted to be alone. They agreed on a movie night at the trailer, something cozy and warm.

Y/N didn't think anyone would have an issue with it, but she was wrong. As she waited for Eddie to finish collecting his things after his gig, she overheard a few of the band members talking.

"I can't believe Eddie isn't going. Like why do boys get so lame once they have a girlfriend."

"I know. I don't understand why they both can't join us, it's only been the tradition for years."

"Probably Y/N. No way Eddie would ditch the party if he had the choice."

Y/N felt her stomach turn sour. She was friends with these guys and they were talking behind her back. It seemed like Eddie loved the idea of being alone, but maybe he'd rather be at the party?

"Ready to go?" Eddie asked, throwing his arm over her shoulder.

"Yeah, let's go," Y/N said, putting on a fake smile as they walked out of the bar.

~~~

Y/N wanted to forget what her friends said, but she couldn't. She didn't want Eddie to ruin his relationship with his friends because of her. With everything weighing on her shoulders, it was easy to tell she was in distress.

Y/N showed up to his trailer, nervously knocking. Eddie opened the door with a huge smile and let her through. She stepped in and her negative mood vanished. She took in the orange and purple lights, the Halloween blankets on the couch, and the coffee table covered in snacks.

"What's all this?" she gasped in awe, turning around to see him. She smiled at the proud look on his face.

"Date night!" he smiled, "dinner is in the oven. Take off your jacket, and anything else you want," he said with a small wink, "and get comfortable on the couch. I'll bring your plate right over."

Y/N took off her jacket, throwing it over the couch. She took a seat, cuddling under the warm blanket. Eddie walked over with a plate of food and took the seat next to her.

"What? Does it look gross?" Eddie asked nervously, watching her face as she scrunched her eyebrows.

"No! It looks great, Eddie," she said, but he didn't look convinced.

"Is something else wrong?"

Y/N sighed, this was the time to talk about it. She set down her plate and bunched the blanket in her hands.

"You know how we usually go to parties with the boys?"

Eddie nodded, setting down his plate. His full attention was on her as he listened.

"Are you disappointed we didn't go?" she asked, nervously looking at his face.

"Not really. I never had much fun at those parties anyway," Eddie shrugged, "Do you want to go?"

"No! I love being alone with you," she said, moving closer to his warm body. She slipped on his lap, and he wrapped his arms around her. "I love the decorations and all the work you put into it."

"I love being alone with you too," he smiled. Kissing her cheek before he pulled away to look at her again. "So why do you ask?"

Y/N let out a deep sigh, making Eddie rub her back for comfort. "It's just I overheard our friends talking about how they were disappointed you weren't going. And I worried you might have wanted to be with them."

"You want to know a secret?" he whispered, she smiled and nodded.

"I dreaded those parties, hated every second of it, but you were there so I knew I wanted to be."

"Why did you hate it? You always seemed to be having fun with the guys."

"Yeah with the guys once I got drunk. But I spent the first few hours sitting alone and watching everyone flirt with you. Watching guys make their moves when I was too scared to say anything."

Y/N's heart warmed. She never knew Eddie watched her all those years. She was never interested in any of the guys that came up to her, her heart was set on Eddie.

"I didn't know you did that," she blushed.

"So fuck the guys. I want to be with my girl, without fighting for her attention," Eddie laughed at the end, a cheeky smile on his face.

"Never have to fight for attention," she said, pecking his lips softly.

Eddie kissed her back, her lips never failed to make his stomach flutter. He waited until she pulled away, letting her lips move off of his.

"Feel better?" he asked

"Yes, let's eat dinner and watch our movies," she smiled, sliding off his lap. She picked up her plate, smiling to herself as he turned on the movie.

@bmunson86 @mxcheese @ladymunson @michaelfuckinglangdon @z0mbie-blah @biittersweet @mirrorsstuff @somethingvicked @micheledawn1975 @ago-godance @magnificantmermaid @tlclick73 @hargrovesswifee @cityofidek @silky-luxe @lokiofasgard616 @loving-and-dreaming @eddiemunsonsbitch69 @ashlynnkennedy @strangerthingsstories5255 @harringt8ns @pleasinghellfire @whoscamila @stusdollface93 @gretavankleep37 @bellaisswagger @arlxt @ineedmentalhelp123

[procyonloser]

"You fucking kidding me right now?!" Adam yelled, dropping his bags, though his guitar case stayed firmly in hand.

Across the front of his van, someone had painted the word, CHEATER, and that was just the first offense he'd noticed. They'd keyed up the paint job, which was a super fucking awesome duochrome that shifted from gold to orange to purple - fucking ruined now. On the side were a litany of worse insults, saying he had a small dick, that he was a man whore, that he was a shitty musician.

He knew who'd done it, and he wasn't even fucking dating the bitch. She was just a groupie he'd fucked a few times on the road; yeah, he'd fucked a few other girls, so what?

"I'm so going to take you to court, you stupid cunt." Adam hissed to himself, getting in the driver's side. But, the van wouldn't start at all. It wouldn't even try to turn over. It just did nothing. She must have fucked with the engine too.

Which left Adam standing on the sidewalk, fuming, as he waited for an Uber to show up. He didn't even fucking live here! He was just on tour! People all over wanted to hear him play, or they would after they heard him at least!

An unremarkable car pulled up along side him, and the passenger window rolled down, and a blond man in the driver's seat leaned over to smile up at him. "Need some h-"

"Fucking finally!" Adam complained, getting a startled look in return. "I've been waiting for you for like twenty goddamn minutes." Adam waved his Uber app at the man, and told him the code.

"Please, get in. I'm Lucky, by the way." The man said with a wide smile. "I have water in the back, if you'd like."

Adam was still fuming, but he tossed his stuff in the back seat, grabbing out a water bottle and jumping into the passenger seat. Yeah, he knew ubers didn't like that, but he didn't do back seats. He was always in front.

He chugged the water, and crushed the bottle, before tossing it out the window.

"Charming," Lucky said, in not so subtle distaste.

"Fuck you, you don't know the night I've had. Some cunt ruined my van, my gig went shitty, cus the bar was like, no you're supposed to pay me. Like shit I'm doing that. Fucking pussies. Chick run, obviously. Can't do anything right." Adam huffed, reaching down to adjust the seat, pushing himself back and getting a bit more leg room. "So suck a dick and just take me to my hotel, shorty."

"Sure," Lucky said, barely even blinking at the insults.

Adam closed his eyes, and began to feel increasingly drowsy. Well, he'd had a long night. "Wake me up when we get there," he mumbled, before sleep took him.

Adam woke up to a not so gentle slap across the face. He startled upwards, eyes wide, finding himself unable to move. He was restrained, cuffs around his hands and legs, and he was entirely nude.

"W...what the fuck? Where am I?" Adam whispered, horror setting in. He'd woken up with some hard 4s before, after getting drunk, but nothing like this.

"Morning," a voice called, and Adam looked up to find the cabby sitting beside him, smiling brightly.

"...Lucky?" Adam asked in confusion.

"Oh, my name is actually Sam, but the news calls me Lucifer." He reached down, caressing Adam's cheek with heavy lidded eyes, not caring that Adam tried to jerk back and away from him.

"I'm a serial killer, sweetheart. And from what I can see, no one particularly likes you, your girlfriend dumped you, your car was ruined, your band is a joke... It would make sense that you'd just...go missing? Wouldn't it?"

Adam's blood went cold, horror began to set in, even though he wanted to scream and shout and curse the man. He tried pulling on his cuffs, but nothing budged. His attention was drawn back to Lucifer as he pulled out a very sharp looking ritualistic knife.

"W- wait, wait! I can...I can help you!" Adam got out, and Lucifer raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, I can help you! I don't like people either! So, I'm not going to say anything about this, you know, I could even tell you about...I don't know, people alone in bars and shit!" Adam tried to persuade him, but he knew it sounded more like begging. "I can...I can be useful, I promise."

Lucifer hummed to himself, appraising him. "You'll be a good boy for me?"

Adam swallowed hard, nodding his head. For some stupid fucking reason, he started to get slightly hard from that.

"Maybe I'll think about it," Lucifer said, but Adam's relief didn't last. "But I can't have you getting away in the meantime. I need to clip your wings."

[gugapuppy]

Abortion - Part 3 (A!Ghost x O!Soap)

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3

═══════════════════════════

A little confort today, but the next part one will hurt a little. Be advised.

CW: Implied abortion

═══════════════════════════

Soap was sitting in a coffee shop sipping an espresso, far from the base and the memories there. Looking out of the window, Soap could see various people passing by and going about their lives, street animals wanting food and affection, and happy children holding hands with their parents. It made Soap's breath shake.

He'd texted Gaz to meet him at the café, he trusted the beta to help him, knowing that Kyle wouldn't abandon him, or at least he hoped he wouldn't abandon him.

After a while of waiting and his espresso running out, Gaz finally arrived to greet him, the two exchanged a few words and random topics such as games he was playing, upcoming missions, series coming out, until finally a small silence hung over them both.

"So, what's been bothering you Tav? Ghost and you..." -Kyle began.

Looking out of the window, observing the scenery, Soap decided to be direct instead of winding things up. "I'm pregnant, Kyle."

Soap notices Gaz opening and closing his mouth out of the corner of his eye. "Oh...congra-"

"I want to abort."

This time, the silence is longer, and Soap comes round after a while to face Kyle, who is wide-eyed and has his hand over his mouth. 

"Oh..." -Gaz says, taking his hand away from his mouth and closing it on the table. "Does Ghost know about this?"

Soap swallows dryly, his eyes starting to water with each blink, but he keeps a straight face. "He knows."

Gaz looks between his hands quickly before getting up from the side of the table he was on and sitting down next to Soap, putting his arms around him as he shakes him slowly from side to side. "That's why you were acting strange..."

Soap nods and leans into Gaz's warm touch, purring his first way through weeks of tears and stress. "I don't want to do this alone, help me, please?"

"I'm not leaving you alone John, does anyone else know about this?"

"No, they can't know." -Soap tightens his grip on Gaz, holding on tight. "Price and Laswell will try to stop me or tell me to wait for Simon to come back... I can't wait for Kyle."

"Okay... let's go to my place, from there I'll call Price to give me and you a week off."

Soap looks at Gaz, a sad smile on his face. "Thanks bro."

The two then leave the café and take a taxi to Kyle's flat. As they go, night falls over them and the city, only streetlamps and buildings with LED signs illuminate the surroundings.

And as Kyle said, Kyle did. Calling Price, he asked for a week off and the captain quickly gave them both three weeks off, probably realising that Soap needed it after the weeks he noticed the sergeant had experienced.

Afterwards, they both ordered pizza for dinner, a purr echoing from Johnny at receiving one of his favourite foods. Gaz always knew how to please him. 

Over dinner, Gaz told him that his sister was a doctor and there had been cases where she'd had to help with abortion operations, so he offered to call her, something that Soap accepted with certainty.

Some time after dinner had finished and Gaz had called his sister, Gaz sat down on the sofa and told Soap that Kyle's sister had made an appointment at the clinic for the following day. 

On hearing this, Soap felt anxious and began to tremble. Gaz hugged him as he stroked the omega's back.

Soap lay on top of Gaz until his panic subsided and the few tears that fell dried up. "Can we watch something?"

"Of course, anything specific?" -Gaz asked as he searched for Netflix.

"The second season of a series I like just came out..." -Soap said as he found a comfortable position for his head on Gaz's chest.

As soon as Gaz put the series on, it wasn't long before they were both asleep before the second episode had even started. 

And for the first time in weeks, Soap felt that someone cared about him.

═══════════════════════════

Now, the angst begins, and idk how much will hurt...

[ofstarsandvibranium]

In Stitches

Fandom: Marvel (Mob Boss AU)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Summary: You and Bucky used to be so in love and so… ignorant of the roles you had to play, which lead to you breaking up. But that didn’t seem to keep you away from each other since you now act as Bucky’s nurse whenever he gets hurt. Based off my mini fic here.

Warnings: depictions of violence

Stitched Together | Pull the Thread | Bucky Barnes Masterlist

He'd won. He came out broken, bloody, and bruised, but he won. At just eighteen years old, technically a man, but still a boy at heart, James Buchanan Barnes was thrown into a cage fight to prove to his father that he can be strong enough to take over the family business.

He came out of that fight looking at his father and a shine of love and pride reflected back at him.

This was Bucky's new reality. Life filled with pain, bloodshed, and darkness. He couldn't bring you into it, especially when his dad said Bucky could use you to get info on what your dad and the department knows about the business. No. He can't use you like that.

He couldn't bring himself to break up with you either so he played the part that everyone expected of him. He became cold and callous, which lead to you breaking up with him. He told himself it was for the best and it was to protect you from his new reality. He loved you and always will, even when he grew up to be someone most thought incapable of love.

___________________________

Bucky: can we swing by? two of our guys got shot.

You read over Bucky's text and you sigh. You pause your favorite rom-com movie and kick off the blanket you had draped over you.

As you head to your bathroom for your med kit, you text back:

You: yup. come on by.

Bucky: ETA is 15min

You: [thumbs up]

It'd been four months now of being a nurse for Bucky and his people. You've come to notice the ones who get hurt often, their bodies littered with various scars and stitches all over their bodies. Bucky, more often than not, came with them. It always surprised you because you figured he'd have other stuff to take care of, but, as he's mentioned to you once:

"These people are under my care. I wanna make sure they're taken care of."

Which made your heart swell a little bit and throw you back to how Bucky always felt protective of those he cared about.

You push your furniture towards the edges of the room and set up the cots for your incoming patients. You were tired of cleaning out the bloodstains on your couch cushions.

A knock at your door, you scurry to pull it open. Four guys trudge in. Two, dragging the other two inside.

Bucky comes in last with a shy smile, "Evening."

"Hey," you say with a nod, letting him in and then closing the door behind him.

"You doing okay?"

You nod, "Yeah. Wasn't doing much when you texted me. Just watching a movie."

"Rom com?" he asks you with a teasing smirk.

You roll your eyes at him in response, "Shut up."

"I wasn't saying anything!"

"You're judging me, Barnes! I know how you look when you're judging, so don't even deny it!" you poke his chest and turn on your heel to go attend to your patients.

___________________

Your patients had left your home, not wanting to take advantage of your generosity further despite your protests. That left you alone with Bucky. He was nursing a glass of whiskey and you a glass of wine while another movie played on the tv. He didn't leave with the rest of his guys. His excuse being that he wanted to finish the movie that you played while you worked on his men. A part of you hoped it was because he wanted to spend some alone time with you. Then you mentally scold yourself for hoping for such a thing.

You clear your throat when the movie ends, "So, you like rom-coms now, hm?"

He chuckles, placing his glass on your coffee table, "Just because I watched one rom-com, doesn't mean I like rom-coms."

You scoff, "I'll convert you, Barnes, just wait." You stand and grab his glass, "You want more?"

"Nah. I, uh, I should go."

You nod, "Right," you turn and head to the kitchen, placing the glasses into the sink.

Bucky follows, placing a small stack of bills onto the counter, "Your pay."

"Thanks," you mumble, not turning around to face him.

There's some sort of tension in the air and Bucky doesn't know why. He wants to poke and see what happened, if he'd done something somehow. But he doesn't. Despite you two being in each other's lives again, albeit in a small capacity, he still feels insecure and unsure about where you two stand now. Because he is still head of a crime organization and you're still the daughter of the chief of police that's trying to bring him down. Your lives keep being woven together, but will it result in the same heartbreaking end?

Bucky hopes not. He's older now. His father is gone and he's more in control of his life now. Right?

"Get some rest, sweetheart," he murmurs before exiting your home.

_______________________________

You're called up to the reception desk during your shift. When you head to the first floor, you see your dad waiting for you.

"Everything okay?" you immediately ask with concern.

"Everything's good, Bug. Figured you'd wanna have lunch with me?" he holds up a paper bag, 'Stan's Diner' logo stamped on it.

You break out into a smile, "Let me just let my charge nurse know I'm going on lunch. I'll meet you in the cafeteria."

"Sounds good," your dad gives you a thumbs up and heads in the direction of the cafeteria.

You head back upstairs, letting the charge nurse, Sharon, of you going on lunch. You punch in your ID number to start your lunch and then go back to your dad.

When you reach the cafeteria, you snort. Your dad is already eating without you. You sit across from him, unwrapping the burger he set out for you, "Couldn't wait?"

He shrugs, "I was starving!" He takes another bite of his burger and then takes out the two cups of fries. He flattens the paper bag and pours all of the fries out. The setting is reminiscent of your childhood. Every Friday, after your dad picked you up from school, you two would go to Stan's Diner. You'd always order the same thing, and your dad always combined the fries in the middle for you both to share.

"Been a while since we had lunch together. You sure things are okay?" you ask him with a hint of skepticism.

After your dad washes his food down with a can of Diet Coke (he's trying to cut back on the sugar), he clears his throat, "Well, uh, I did want to mention something to you."

You fidget in your seat, hoping and praying that he didn't find out that you've been helping nurse Bucky and his people for the past few months.

"So some of my patrol guys mentioned they started seeing more of Barnes' guys around your neighborhood."

You look at him with fake surprise, "What? Really? I haven't seen anything or anyone suspicious, but then again, I'm hardly home and when I am, I'm usually asleep."

"So far, they haven't done anything to be concerned about. Just that they've been showing up around your side of town lately. I just wanted to see if you've seen or heard anything, but most importantly to be cautious and careful."

You gulp, "Do-Do you think Bucky would hurt me?"

He sighs, "Bug, I'm honestly not sure what to believe, but that man isn't the same kid you were friends with back then. He's different now, capable of dangerous things. I just want to you to be careful."

"I will be, dad. I still carry my knife and pepper spray you got me."

"Good. I was also thinking of sending more guys to watch your specific area."

You shake your head, " I'm sure there are other places that need your attention."

"Maybe, but maybe I'll just station one guy on your street to keep an eye on things."

"I'll be fine. Trust me-"

"I trust you just fine, Bug. It's Barnes, I don't trust."

He wipes his hands and mouth with his napkin, "I'm gonna use the bathroom real quick." You give him a nod and watch as he heads to the cafeteria's bathrooms.

Once he's out of sight, you immediately pull out your phone and bring up the text chain between you and Bucky.

You: you guys need to be more careful. dad just told me his patrol guys have been seeing your people around my neighborhood more. he's thinking about having a guy stationed on my street.

Bucky: fuck.

Bucky: thanks for telling me.

You: you're welcome. maybe tell everyone to do their best to not get shot or stabbed for the next few weeks.

Bucky: can't really guarantee that considering our line of work.

You: at least try!

Bucky: will do, sweetheart.

You: stay safe.

Bucky: same to you, sweetheart.

You slip your phone back into your pocket when your dad exits the bathroom. You continue to eat your lunch and chat with him, acting as if you just didn't tip off his biggest enemy.

[primus-why]

I Feel TFOne Could've Handled This Better...

Hot take but I feel like folks have been really generous with the take that OP was unable to find ~the perfect words~ in the heat of the moment (and thus should be given some grace) when he told D to stand down and "not be like Sentinel"... namely cuz I don't feel that the narrative supports this?

Like-- after all is said and done, OP doesn't reflect on that part of their split. He doesn't have a moment where he seeks validation or voices his regrets over the choice of his words, it's actually cut-and-dry. The narrative (as it stands) supports that OP saw D-16 acting up, so he called him out and stood on business, down to the last scenes where he's basically like "yeah it's a shame but y'all knew I had to do it to 'em."

It didn't have to be much! I'm not saying to absolve Megs, just show OP looking at things from a different perspective/contemplating a bit on that tough choice and the morality of the moment. Some examples of what I wish we had:

B-127 straight up blurting the obvious by later chatting with Orion like, "Wait so you told your best friend that he was acting just as bad as the guy who enslaved us for our entire lives and was torturing him like an hour ago? Oof. Seems kinda harsh." Then have some of OP's regret show on his face.

OP asking Elita-1 after Megs is banished if he did the right thing. Have Elita back his choice up, saying, "You should have seen what he did after you were... gone. It was terrifying. I know it was tough, but you made the right call." OP is grateful for the support, but a conflicted look still flashes across his face before he steels himself to look out towards the horizon... and the future.

Have OP walk past other mechs/former miners who didn't go with the High Guard saying stuff like, "Wish I could've given Sentinel a piece of my mind!" "Yeah, but I'm glad he's gone for good." "Ugh I miss everything." "Oh, it was crazy! Megatron picked him up and then he rrrrriiipped-- oops, hey there, Mr. Optimus... Prime... sir?" And have OP wave hello, looking a bit sick when they leave.

Post-credits scene with Starscream going on and on, asking Megs when they'll be back to teach the upstart Prime a lesson. Megs grabs his face to shut him up. "Patience, Starscream. The Prime thinks I'm no better than Sentinel... but I'll show him. He wants Iacon? He can have it. In the meantime we'll take the rest of the planet! Then I'll come back, crush Prime under my heel, and we'll take Iacon too. Sentinel's reign will barely be a footnote, because I'm about to become Optimus Prime's worst nightmare." The vocal performance would really need to sell this-- like picture Megs saying something like that from a place of anger and hurt, not so much a place of genuine evil or malice.

Basically instead of Orion's assertion being backed up as black and white/good vs bad, I wish we had some different opinions/reactions from the characters sprinkled in there. Like you can't tell me out of allllll the miners who weren't strong enough/willing to go with the High Guard and ended up sticking around that NONE of them were like "eyyo honestly?? Kiiiiinda glad Sentinel is dead. Wish I could have helped, tbh." like come onnnnn...

And you can't even argue that he's not an active threat-- I don't think everyone would see things that way! It's not just about the threat he physically has, but the threat he represents and is very likely to act upon if given the opportunity! He has a proven track record of not only being sneaky and conniving, but also capable of dealing some serious damage/killing people bigger and stronger than him, plus he has the backing of the Quints. All he'd need to do is wriggle his way out of jail and run off to his sponsors, then he'd probably be back to hurt more people! (If the Quints didn't just kill him out of incompetence lmao). There's a lot of "ifs" here, but I think it's a valid argument that not everyone would agree on what is the right or wrong way to handle Sentinel once he was down long enough to, like, do something about him.

I feel the situation needed a bit of nuance. In some way I wish they had kicked the can and had D and Orion bicker while Sentinel escaped, then have D get frustrated enough by the loss of Sentinel to point fingers (and his fusion canon) at Orion, who then falls and becomes OP. (Megs could still show some of thar emotion/remorse right after he does it too.) Not only would this open the door for a sequel, but tbh the Quint might have just killed Sentinel anyways and sought to deal with the miners uprising themselves lol. (Maybe that could have been an after credits scenes too instead of the B-127 bit??)

Would love to see a moment in a sequel where they have a calmer moment after arguing for a bit. Have OP mention how Megs was out of line, that it hurt and even scared him to see him act that way, and Megs can quietly point out "you said I was as bad as Sentinel... is that really how you see me? After everything we went through?"

Then OP can fumble the bag again lmao like "D, I... I'm sorry, that didn't come out right... but you still took things way too far..."

"Why am I not surprised-- your opinion is what matters the most! Maybe that's why you became a Prime, since you're so good at acting like the world revolves around you--!"

*gets interrupted by someone else before another yelling match ensues*

[househrt]

House MD 20th Anniversary Fanfic Gift Exchange!!

Want/Deserve/Receive is my gift for @irenespring for the @housemdanniversary gift exchange (it's also below the cut)

Wilson and House start dating and Wilson freaks out because he isn't convinced he's allowed to feel happy or be selfish*.

*To Wilson, selfishness means pursuing his own desires and having good things in his life because of course it does.

Wilson spends his first week of dating House in a state of low-grade anxiety. It's not the big gay freakout that House predicted that first morning after, when his limbs were strewn across Wilson's body, sapping his body heat and possessively holding onto him.

“If you insist on proposing tomorrow,” House had said, voice deliciously rough from sleep, “I'm not changing my name.”

“Liar,” Wilson said, pressing a kiss to House's forehead just to watch him melt. “You'd love being the fourth Mrs Wilson.”

No, he's been surprisingly well adjusted in that regard. It's hard to deny the reality of his feelings when his chest fills with warmth every time House smiles at him or tugs his tie to pull him in for a kiss or sits on the couch beside him like they've always done but this time their thighs are touching and House's hand is on Wilson's leg or curled around his shoulders.

Dating House is a lot like being friends with House. Wilson knew that years ago, seeing how he acted when he was with Stacy. House isn't one to censor parts of his personality for the sake of whoever he's dating—that'd be too much like lying to him and would undoubtedly lead to a rant about hypocrisy.

That applies to his friendships too—or it would, if he had more than one of them. The only real difference in their relationship dynamic now is the level of physical affection.

The reason he's anxious has less to do with House and more to do with himself. Much like he knows what House is like in relationships, Wilson knows what he's like in relationships.

He goes through the motions, hits all the important Good Boyfriend standards, then he finds someone new who needs him more and he convinces himself he's okay with his decisions, pretends he's happy. He lives with it.

He doesn't want to do that with House, but that doesn't mean anything. It's not like he wanted to cheat on his previous partners at the start of the relationship, back when he thought he'd finally found someone to be happy with.

And House wouldn't want Wilson to be the usual boyfriend-Wilson. But Wilson doesn't know how to be anything different. What is happiness meant to look like for him? Is he supposed to learn how to be in a happy relationship with House? Like an experiment? What if he doesn't figure it out in time?

God. He's never dated a man before either. Navigating his newfound sexuality, trying to unlearn his every dating instinct, hoping he doesn't mess up either bad enough to lose the only good thing in his life.

He should've known he isn't meant to be happy. Happiness is for other people.

House had a patient for the past week, so they haven't had much time together outside of exhaustedly climbing into bed together in the early hours. Now that his case is solved, there are no distractions from their relationship.

And Wilson is terrified. He's falling off the cliff of denial, ready to resign himself to the reality waiting for him at the bottom: he's going to screw this up. When, not if.

House, naturally, thinks he's an idiot, judging by the argument they've been having for the past half hour. House keeps deflecting, diverting the conversation back to his position and dismissing Wilson's.

“I'm going to ruin this,” Wilson says, spelling it out so House can't willfully misinterpret his point this time. “And when I do, I can't show up at your door.”

“Sue you can,” House says, “it's not far to walk, even I could do it. And if it leads to mind-blowing breakup sex, even better.”

Wilson groans and pushes his shirt sleeves further up his forearms. Arguing with House always makes his body heat increase, and seeing House passionately angry always has the same effect, although for different reasons.

“I'm trying to be serious,” Wilson says.

“I know.”

“So, what, you don't care?”

House just looks at him and raises his eyebrows. Yeah, bad question.

“Fine,” Wilson says. “You care. I just can't—”

Wilson has other words at the ready. While he was at work, he rehearsed his side of the argument, coming up with the perfect way to convince House that they made a mistake.

They should stay friends, remove the physical affection from their dynamic and go back to how they used to be. Wilson could cope with that, he thinks. It would hurt now that he knows what it's like to be soft and vulnerable with House in a dating context, but that's okay. Wilson's used to hurting.

His mouth is open to say something, but then he meets House's gaze. House, whose expression is guarded, projecting nonchalance, while something in his stance reveals the thread of anxiety underneath.

Oh god, he's already ruining this.

He wants to take everything back, make promises he can't keep, be the good people-pleasing boyfriend he's always been. But House hates it when he isn't real with him.

He's stuck. His breaths come in short quick bursts and his skin is suddenly too tight. Legs shaky, he stumbles. Distantly, he hears House say his name and he sounds so concerned and genuine that it stings.

House loves him and Wilson knows that he won't be okay when Wilson follows the expected pattern. Wilson can't be responsible for that. The consequences for everyone at PPTH would be bad enough, but the way House will undoubtedly implode…

“I can't,” Wilson says as House’s hands push him towards the couch to sit down. “I can't, I can't, I can't.”

He doesn't realise he's hyperventilating and repeating himself over and over until House tells him to shut up and breathe. It's far from the gentle shushing he might've expected from anyone else, and it works to pull him out of his head a little.

They're both sitting on the couch. House’s hand is pressed against Wilson's chest and he wonders if House can feel his galloping heart rate. He doesn't want to lose this point of contact.

“I can't lose you,” he says, voice cracking.

“Then don't,” House says simply.

“It's not that easy.”

“It could be.”

House says it with an air of easy confidence, as if he hasn't bothered to consider the alternative because there's no chance it'll happen.

“I'm not…good at this,” Wilson says. “Being in a relationship, being happy.”

“And you think I am? Where have you been? I don't do happy, Wilson.”

He flounders for something to say, but he can't think of a way to get House to understand.

He blinks and his vision blurs with tears. House's palm slides up Wilson's chest to rest on his cheek and the underside of his jaw. Tilts his head towards him.

“We can't do this,” Wilson says. “If you don't do happy, why risk being unhappy? When this might crash and burn and kill us both?”

House moves closer, prompting Wilson to turn to face him properly.

“Because you're worth the risk.”

And it's not enough, because Wilson can't imagine anything will ever be enough to convince Wilson that he's allowed to want this, but it's something.

House is willing to risk everything for Wilson. As supposedly carefree as he's trying to appear, Wilson knows he too is fighting the instinct to let himself have something good.

Wilson doesn't know how to respond. He's never been good at reacting to nice words or compliments because a large part of him doesn't believe the words.

But this time, he'd like to.

House tugs at Wilson’s arm, pulling him across the couch until he gets the hint and swings his legs over House's until they're facing each other, Wilson sitting in his lap, knees on either side of his thighs.

“I'm probably going to freak out again later,” Wilson says, settling his hands on House’s waist.

“I know.”

“And I still don't believe you that this won't end badly.”

“Then let it end badly,” House says. “But don't end it now because you're a coward who's allergic to happiness. Be selfish, Wilson. Take what you want.”

“I don't know how,” he admits.

“Do you want to kiss me?”

He nods. He always wants to kiss House.

“Then kiss me.”

Wilson leans down until their lips meet. It's warmth and soft noises and gentle hands and everything that Wilson never thought he'd get to have with House.

When they pull apart, House says, “Not bad. But next time, do it because you want to and not because I told you—”

He cuts him off with another kiss. And another. Each one chips away at Wilson's defenses. It'll take a lot more to break them down completely, but that's okay.

He's not planning on stopping any time soon.

[changingplumbob]

CW: Low level sim spice - Guide to content warnings

Silver: This is the part where you hold my hand right? For the barrier spells

Glenn: Yes, for the barrier spells. Which I can't concentrate on if you're talking

Silver smiled and used his thumb to rub the back of Glenn's hand, imagining it was another part of him.

Glenn: Yeah that's not helping either

Eventually they got through the spells and Glenn let go so he could focus on running. He was mostly able to keep pace with Silver, but he had a suspicion the werewolf was going slow for his benefit. Nearing a part of the path where the river was blocked off the pair slowed down.

Glenn: Wow

Silver: What is it

Glenn: Oh nothing. I just... sometimes nature just takes my breath away. This is one of those times. You see how the deciduous trees are mixed amongst the evergreens? And there not a cloud in the sky. The colours are magnificent

Silver: It is a nice view but there used to be more

Glenn: Really?

Silver: Yeah, they thinned it out a century ago to make it easier to reach the river

Glenn: Well that was stupid

Silver: Agreed

After the run the pair grabbed some fishing gear and headed to one of the fishing spots along the river.

Glenn: So you like fishing but you don't carry a fishing rod with you

Silver: Not normally. A few of my base camps around the place have rods stashed but otherwise I just watch and jump in at the fish

Glenn: That's a joke right

Silver: Why would it be a joke

Glenn: I mean wouldn't that be messy? You'd get drenched for starters not to mention the mud and silt at the bottom of the water

Silver: I hope that doesn't mean you object to getting messy

Glenn: Not generally, watcher knows I get messy working in the garden. But I do like looking nice

Silver: Mission accomplished, you look very nice. But...

Glenn: But what

Silver: I shouldn't, it's crass

Glenn: I can handle crass

Silver: *smirks* Fine. One day Glenn, I am going to get you very very messy

Glenn: What does that mean

Silver: It means we're going to have some fun and you will definitely want a long shower afterwards

Glenn felt butterflies in his stomach then, and a few a little lower as his pants got tight.

Glenn: Were you always so direct with your intentions

Silver: No. Back when romance was more a focus for me there were a lot of societal rules about what you could or couldn't say to someone you liked. You weren't even allowed to take a lady for a walk alone, and as for men... well that was still kept very hush hush

Glenn: Have you been with any since it was less hush hush

Silver: What happened to not discussing ex's

Glenn: That was only for people you could imagine having feelings for. I said nothing about what could be discussed with someone you do have feelings for

Silver: Something tells me the rules are the same

Glenn: Look at you, learning societal rules already

Silver: I just... I didn't always make sensible choices

Glenn: It's love, no one makes sensible choices

Silver: Love is debatable. It was definitely woohoo though

Glenn: Sounds like you'd be a good time in bed

Silver: *teasing* Why do you assume I did it in bed

Glenn: *flustered* Well it's just... I mean humans normally, you know... I mean you're a werewolf obviously but... oh wait I've got a bite!!!

Silver: Nice way to interrupt my conversation fish

Glenn pulled the line in carefully and was delighted to see a fish at the end. He really didn't want to be fishing up seaweed in front of Silver.

Glenn: Oh look it's a... I don't know what it is

Silver: *shrugs* treefish?

Glenn: Maybe. It's a cutie though, I don't think I could eat it

Silver: You know the point of fishing is food right

Glenn: Maybe but just look at him beefcake

Glenn: He's too adorable to eat, surely

Silver: So hang him on the wall

Glenn: Hang him on the wall?

Silver: Yeah. Loads of pubs have the biggest catches up on their walls

Glenn: But... I think he'd be lonely

Silver: Well he'd be, you know, unalive. He wouldn't feel lonely

Glenn: Hmm... maybe I'll just keep him

Silver: Keep him?

Glenn: Yeah! I could get him his own little fishbowl. Of course I'd have to shrink him with magic a bit to get him to fit. What shall we call him?

Silver: We?

Glenn: I mean there's the obvious names like River, or we could be ironic and go for something like Robin or Sage

Silver: I am not naming our fish

Glenn: That's okay, I'll just ask the watcher

Hey watcher, watcher! Look what I caught That's pretty impressive for barely level 3 fishing skill Ha! I knew you were there still. So, what shall I call him? How about... Oakley? Because he looks like a tree! I love it

Silver: What did the watcher say then

Glenn: You didn't hear her just now?

Silver: No. I didn't hear anyone

Glenn: Well she said he should be called Oakley and I agree

Previous ... Next

[shaunamilfman]

the ghost you dressed up as [7]

pairing: Jackie Taylor x Shauna Shipman x r summary: "Things may have gotten a little out of control. Time to deal with a few loose ends." note: GRAPHIC depictions of violence. I'm backkkkkkkk masterlist

You really hadn't intended for things to go as far as they did. It hadn't even been a thought in your mind when you made that snarky little comment about Travis, but before you knew it, the whole school was repeating it. The words had been twisted, exaggerated, and shared through so many mouths that they barely resembled what you'd initially said, but they were undeniably your words. 

Mari was definitely to blame for a lot of it–she was always the first to start gossiping, to spread a rumor. You should have known she'd spread that little piece of information all over the school by the end of the next day, but you hadn't been thinking clearly. It was almost impressive the way she stirred the pot just to watch it boil over. You'd handed the ammunition right to her. You shouldn't be surprised at what she's done with it. 

It was a knee-jerk response, an irritated quip in response to his stupid little comment. Yet, in just two weeks, he's effectively taken your place as the school pariah. Not that he's seemed to notice much, in all honesty. He walks around with that same broody expression he always does, sneering at all the same people. Maybe he didn't care, in truth. It finally gave some credence to the way he walked around the school like nobody understood him. He finally got that isolation he'd obviously been so desperate for. 

You wouldn't wish that on anyone, but he's certainly one of the people that you wouldn't go out of your way to stand up for. You wouldn't say he deserved it, no one did, but you certainly weren't losing sleep over it. You've had more than your fair share of unfortunate run-ins with him while he waited for Coach Martinez to be done with practice. 

Then there was Jackie. Your wonderful, conniving girlfriend who jumped on the chance to turn the blame away from you. Shauna was a driving factor in it, but you suspect her involvement has as much to do with protecting you as it does with making Travis pay for insinuating only a man could be the killer. As the one who'd done the majority of the kills, she'd taken personal offense to that comment. So now Travis would have to as well. 

You're sure it had started with Shauna simply losing her temper, but Jackie had turned it into something devious. They'd made sure to be overheard talking just a little too loudly about it while waiting for you to get out of class. Everyone knew Shauna tended to stay out of gossip if she could, which didn't bode well for Travis. If even Shauna Shipman was saying something–if she was getting involved in it–then it had to be true, right? 

Poor Travis had no idea what was coming for him until it was too late. 

You can't find it in yourself to be too concerned about him, especially as Shauna starts to climb over the center console into the backseat with you. The car rocks back with her movements, nearly causing her to face-plant into the floorboards before she manages an ungraceful crash onto your lap instead. 

Shauna glares at you, half sprawled across your lap, as you can't help but laugh. She mutters curses under her breath until she fully settles onto your lap. 

“Shut up,” She mutters, her usual venom softened by the faint blush on her cheeks and the way her hair falls messily around her face. Her eyes burn with the slightest hint of embarrassment, softening slightly as you reach forward to brush the hair out of her face. 

“You good, Shauna?” You tease, resting a hand on the small of her back to keep her from leaving. Sure enough, she almost immediately starts to pull away as the words hit her ears. She rolls her eyes, another irritated huff leaving her lips. 

“Do I look good?“ She snaps, but there's no real heat behind it. Especially as she makes no move to try to leave your lap again, how she makes no move to brush your hand away. She stays in place, her head tilting slightly as she weighs the benefits of allowing you to keep her like this. 

Shauna's all embarrassed. You grin. The sharp edge of her glare starts to lessen as she watches you. 

“You always look good.” 

Shauna opens her mouth before promptly closing it, clearing her throat slightly as she looks out the window over your shoulder instead of replying. Sometimes, it's easy to forget that this is the same girl who gutted several teenagers when she acts like this–soft, almost unsure of herself. 

You love when she gets all shy when it's just the two of you. You're sure she probably does the same thing with Jackie, but you don't often get to catch Shauna alone. Waiting in the car for Jackie to finally finish getting ready makes up a lot of those times. 

She's just Shauna, staring out the window at a loss for how to respond to something as simple as a compliment. 

“What are you thinking about?” She asks finally. 

You shrug playfully. “You.” 

Shauna looks pleased at the answer but quickly shakes her head. “Before, I mean. You were thinking too hard.” The way she says it almost makes it sound like an accusation. Her fingers trail down your arm, stopping by your hand as her thumb strokes across your wrist. It was one of her favorite places to touch you, to feel the fluttering of your pulse just beneath the skin.

You're guilty of something in her eyes, but you can't help but enjoy her intensity. You almost want to laugh–Shauna Shipman, accusing you of thinking too much? Now you've seen everything. She’s so intense as she looks at you, as if she’s trying to read the answer off your face before you even attempt to answer her.

“Was I?” You definitely were, not that you'd admit it. Your mind was racing thinking about everything going on, everything you were going to do tonight. Everything had been happening so quickly lately, and it was a struggle for you to keep it all straight in your head. You wonder if Jackie or Shauna ever had that problem, but you quickly shake the thought off. Shauna wouldn’t care enough to dwell on it, and Jackie wouldn’t think to.

“Maybe I was just wondering when you were finally going to get around to kissing me,” You add.

She watches you for a moment, like she’s debating making you wait. You note the surprised twitch of her lip, the way her eyes flicker down to your lips before she forces them away. There’s something about the way she pretends that it hadn’t been her intention the whole time that makes you feel unspeakably fond of her. Shauna can try to hide it behind jealous accusations, but you know what she really wants. She just wants to watch you squirm first.

“You're lucky Jackie's taking so long.” Her voice is dry, almost amused, but she shifts enough in your lap that it gives her intention away long before she leans in. Shauna’s lips ghost against yours, her warm breath brushing against your skin, before her lips finally meet yours. The kiss is firm, as grounding as always. Her hand cups the back of your neck, holding you in place while simultaneously daring you to look at anyone else besides her, to think of anything besides the way her fingers curl into your skin. She digs her nails in–not enough to hurt, but enough for you to feel the claim she’s leaving.

There’s a surety to her in moments like this that doesn’t often surface in other facets of her life. A calmness so unlike her usual intensity that it’s almost a little jarring to look at. Jackie hadn’t seemed all that different from who she presented as and who she was when you first befriended her–what you saw was what you got–but Shauna was something else entirely. A puzzle that she didn’t want solved. You live for those moments when that all-consuming fire within her is just warming to the touch instead of burning, letting you get close enough to really look at her.

She’d hate it if she realized you noticed. It’s a secret that you have to keep, only ever spoken in soft voices when you and Jackie are sure she won’t be able to hear. 

Her thumb strokes a spot behind the back of your ear that you hadn’t realized was sensitive until this very moment, and you can’t help but shiver under the touch. The corner of her mouth twitches up as she pulls away, a hint of a smirk replacing her desire as she revels in the effect she’s having on you. It’s maddening, the way she always seems to know just what to do with you. You want to respond, maybe to say something smart in return, but she leaves no thoughts for anything in your brain besides her. It makes you feel so dumb–she always does–but she certainly doesn’t mind.

“Yeah,” Shauna murmurs. “Not thinking about Jackie anymore, are you?”

Was that what she thought you were doing? Poor Shauna, convinced you were daydreaming about Jackie in the backseat of her car. You’re charmed by the thought of her climbing all the way back here just to reclaim your attention. As if she wasn’t sitting up there in the front seat, presumably complaining about the two of you in her little journal in the first place.

“Who’s Jackie?” You ask, almost too innocent. Just enough to tease.

She breathes out a laugh, resting her head against your shoulder to hide her smile before pressing a kiss against the side of your neck. “Cute,” She whispers, barely audible. Shauna lingers there, breath hot against your skin as her hand slides up the back of your neck to fist in your hair as she tugs your head back to look at her. “Say her name again.”

“Jackie,” You say slowly, in that same breathy tone you’d use to encourage her.

Shauna scoffs, tugging at your hair in reproach, but you don’t miss the way she shifts against you as it leaves your lips. She tips her head, her nose brushing against your jaw before her lips start trailing a path down your neck. It’s gentle at first, small little kisses that soon turn into nips, leaving a trail that feels like a brand across your skin. She tilts your head back however she pleases, silently urging you this way or that with a burst of pain. Her other hand slides up your chest to rest against your heart, fingers splayed out possessively as if to claim it for herself.

She nips at a spot just above your collarbone, soothing it with her tongue for a moment before biting down even harder. Shauna squeezes your legs tightly with hers as you try to jerk away, using every bit of her leverage to hold you back against that seat.

“Again?” Shauna asks, but the hint of anticipation in her voice betrays her intentions. She wants it so bad. Wants you to give her a reason to do this, just so she has a reason to sink her teeth in a little deeper, to hold you tight enough to border on bruising.

“Jackie–”

A knock on the window interrupts you, the two of you almost jumping as both look over to see Jackie leaning down against the car, one hand braced beside the window as she gives you a little wave with the other. Shauna immediately starts to pull away, climbing back over into the driver's seat as she unlocks Jackie’s door for her. 

Jackie climbs in the car with a wide grin, clearly enjoying the leftover tension as the two of you try not to even look in the other’s direction. She almost kneels in the passenger seat as she leans over to give you a kiss, pouting until you finally lean forward to close the distance. After a moment she pulls away, brushing a stray hair out of your face before she turns around in her seat. Shauna looks over at her expectantly, and Jackie just shrugs.

“Oh, did you want one too, Jackie?” Jackie teases. Shauna goes bright red, turning the key in the engine and starting the car just so she can pretend nothing happened. Jackie goes scrambling for her seat belt, knowing better than anyone that Shauna was about to peel out of here.

…

You sigh as Jackie's lips brush your jaw teasingly, her fingers ghosting over a small mark Shauna's left on your collarbone. You already knew you'd probably end up with a matching mark before the night ended, neither of them completely able to treat marking you as anything other than a competition. 

It's not like it's a game you don't enjoy playing–the way Shauna had looked at you when you left a mark on Jackie's thigh on top of hers had featured front and center in your mind for days. That dark, simmering anger–along with a begrudging respect–was enough to tempt you to provoke her a hundred more times. 

But you don't have time to think about that right now. 

You don't really have time to indulge Jackie either, but you'll make do with what you have. Still, as excited and raised voices sound from downstairs, even Jackie starts to pull away. You can just barely make out the sounds of garbled voices through the floorboards. 

“Coach Martinez… dead…” 

A flicker of a grin passes across Jackie's face, eyes widening with a delight she can't quite contain. 

“... head on a soccer ball…” 

She grabs your wrist tightly–whether to ground you or herself, you aren't sure. She squeezes tightly in her excitement, her breathing speeding up as she lets herself get absorbed in the moment. 

“…let's go before…” 

You barely have time to adjust before Jackie leaves your lap, pressing her ear up against the door to try to make out more of the conversation. 

You look over at Jackie with wide eyes at the sound of pounding footsteps and then the door slamming closed behind them. Instead of reflecting your shock, Jackie just looks intrigued and a little flustered. 

Freak, you think fondly. 

Jackie grins over at you in the cramped closet you're hiding out in, reaching over to grab your mask and slip it over your head. Her fingers linger along your jaw much longer than strictly necessarily. She adjusts it with care, straightening it out till it sits just perfectly before pulling away. You don't have the heart to point out how quickly it'll get messed up when you get down to business tonight. 

She slowly opens the door, keeping to a crouch as she peeks her head around to look down from the top of the stairs. 

“They're all gone,” She confirms, giving you a thumbs up. The silence of the house seems louder than ever now that the two of you are mostly alone. 

Shauna's idea of a distraction had worked wonders, you had to hand it to her. The second it had reached the ears of Jeff's little party, the last of his friends had cleared out to go see the carnage before the police could get it all cleaned up. Just like Shauna said it would. She was probably almost here by now with how long the news presumably took to reach them, but Jeff was left up to you and Jackie to kill. Shauna was mostly the getaway driver in this one. 

Jeff was alone up in his house now, having passed out on the couch at least an hour ago from your estimate. You weren't quite sure, but that was about when his obnoxiously loud voice stopped echoing up the stairs. It was a little disappointing after everything to have it be this easy to kill him. He was asleep on the couch, mouth slack and probably drooling. He wouldn't even be able to put up a fight, completely oblivious to everything the three of you had planned for him. 

Shauna would've found a way to wake him, you knew. Would've knocked a lamp off of a side table just to get his attention or bumped into a chair just to make the leg screech against the wood flooring. The hunt was so much better than the act itself, at least as far as Shauna's concerned. 

Jackie would've too, but that's not surprising: they tend to be more similar than they are different. She likes to taunt them, likes to beat them to all the exits, and watch as the hope leaves their eyes. It's an almost playful cruelty to it all, a slight hint of a smile tugging at her lips while her eyes shine with malice. 

Aren't they dreamy? 

You had no qualms about killing Jeff in his sleep. Anything to get it over with, to get back home for the celebration. The way they practically fell over themselves to get you into bed after was your favorite part. They're always their most violent right after a kill, and you'd be lying if you said you didn't love that predatory gleam in their eyes as they backed you up against the nearest surface. You're simple like that. 

Jackie's hand brushes across your knuckles, quickly drawing your attention back to the moment. Back to her. You know her well enough to catch the look of disappointment on her face, one that you're quick to mirror behind your mask. You know what she's thinking as she glances back out of the closet door without her even needing to say anything. 

“Jackie-” You start. 

“Please,” She draws out, lingering on the e long enough that you start to get irritated. She squeezes your hand imploringly, her thumb gently caressing your skin. God, you hate when she does that. 

“Jackie, no.” You shake your head in an almost pitiful attempt at being firm, but even you can hear the way your voice wavers. It was just so hard to tell either of them no. Usually Jackie would jump on the weakness you've so obviously presented her, but this time is different. Jackie seems to feel bad enough, pity maybe, that she relents. 

“Fine,” She mutters with a sigh, not looking at all happy about it. Almost like a child that's just been denied a cookie before dinner. Jackie tilts her head in contemplation, and you can almost see the gears turning in her head. That rarely spells good news for you outside of a soccer field. It means she's found a loophole, or a small chink in the armor she can exploit. 

“Jackie…” You warn, but you can already feel your resolve cracking.

“I'll be right back. Don't worry, you've got this!” Jackie plants a quick kiss on the cheek side of your head through the fabric before starting to pull away, like she’s leaving you to finish a group project she never cared about.

I'll be right back? What the fuck does that mean? 

“Where are you going?” You hiss, grabbing at her arm. Jackie looks back at you with a feigned innocence that makes you want to shake her.

“Relax,” Jackie says confidently. “I just have a little something I need to do.” 

“A little something?” You ask frustratedly. 

She just grins, shaking her head. “I have a plan. Jeff’s asleep.” Jackie gestures vaguely toward the downstairs living room. “Just a quick little addition. You’ll be fine!” 

“Jackie,” You plead, more exasperated than you feel comfortable admitting. She always has to go and do stupid stunts at the last moment. More likely than not they worked out, at least when it came to this, but it frustrated you the way she set her mind toward things sometimes. You didn’t bother to argue with her, knowing that any real fight wouldn’t stop her anyway. 

“I know, I know,” She placates, but she’s already rising to her feet and out the door before you can raise another argument. You grip the knife tighter in your hand, trying to quell your rising irritation before you finally make your way to your feet. 

“Un-fucking-believable,” You mutter. At least you could channel that anger into something productive–killing Jeff. The thought of him still lying prone and unresponsive on that couch does little to soothe your nerves. Part of you wanted to watch the realization in his eyes as you sunk the knife into his chest, but it was too late for that now. Shauna has her distraction at the soccer field, Jackie has her addition, and you have Jeff asleep on the couch. 

Teamwork with the two of them often felt like trying to domesticate feral cats. 

Only, as you make your way down the stairs, Jeff doesn't seem to be on the couch any longer. You couldn't see Jackie anywhere, but part of you already knew it was entirely her fault. You have to take each step down the stairs carefully now, cautiously testing it for a squeaky floorboard that could be your undoing. Your frustration is sharper now, mind racing with every way Jackie could've botched this by waking Jeff up on her way out. She wouldn't have left you here alone with him if she was aware she'd stirred him awake, but that was little comfort now that you were left to complete the job by yourself. 

You half expect Jackie to jump out from behind every shadow in the corner of the room, the coat rack looming large in the back of your mind, but you know better. Still, your nerves are high enough that even the mundane feels threatening. You can't help but let your mind wander for a moment, wondering if that was the last thing people felt before Shauna was on them. The thought shouldn't be as exciting as it is.

There wouldn't be a call for this one, you knew. Jackie had told you as such earlier, but you hadn't thought to ask her why. Even now it felt more like their thing than yours, even if Shauna would roll her eyes at you saying such. They wanted Jeff's death to be noticeably different from the others, something to do with making it stand out. You suspected it was probably something to do with setting Travis up now that he made such an easy target for it, so you appreciated being left out of it. You weren't his biggest fan by far, but it left a bad taste in your mouth to think about ruining his life like this.

Oh, you realize suddenly. Jackie was probably off planting evidence or some stupid shit like that. 

It wasn't anger, exactly, that struck you at the realization–just a maddening sense that you'd once again been left to pick up the pieces when one of their plans went off the rails. Their thrill-seeking would be the death of you one day. Sooner rather than later at this rate. 

You hear the pantry door slam closed, then bumbling hands dropping something to the ground with a loud thud. Jeff curses under his breath, barely loud enough to be heard from the kitchen in the echoing silence of his house. You wonder what's going through his mind as you sneak across his living room. Has he noticed that everyone's left? Or has he just assumed he passed out long enough to miss his party? 

He probably did. Always one to accept the simplest excuse. 

You wait for him to turn his back–wait for him to present you with an easy target. You'll embellish the story when the two of them ask about it, tell them about the way you valiantly chased him across the house. Maybe you'd give yourself a bruise or two before Jackie returned, just in case. His waking up could be to your benefit if you played it correctly, remembering how disappointed Jackie had been by an unmoving target. It could be fun to guilt trip her just a little about leaving you alone with him. She would certainly do it to you, after all. 

Jeff's got his head resting in his hands as he leans against the counter with a groan, disoriented and still more than a little drunk after his nap. You carefully step closer, knife raised above your head in mocking imitation of Shauna. You've only seen her in her element twice now, but there was something a little absurd about watching her move when you weren't the one running for your life. An undeniable grace, but an intense focus that makes her unaware of just how wild she looks. 

Jeff turns around suddenly, eyes widening as he catches sight of you looking large behind him. He almost drops the bottle he's loosely holding in one hand, mouth agape. You're both frozen in this moment, his eyes focused on the small holes in the mask where your eyes are. His reaction isn't anything like you were expecting–not fear, not shock, not even anger. There's an almost thrilled amusement on his face that you're not sure what to do with. He's grinning like an idiot, either oblivious or unconcerned by the knife in your hand. 

He laughs suddenly, relaxing back against the counter as he gives your shoulder a little shove. It isn't that hard of a push, not something that would usually move you at all, but in your shock it's enough to send you stumbling back into the kitchen island. 

Your back hits the edge of the counter hard enough that it takes a concentrated effort not to cry out in pain, already aware of the beginning of a bruise forming from the dull ache pulsing through you. Well, at least you wouldn't have to give it to yourself. One less thing you'd have to lie about when you tell the story. You're definitely leaving this part out. It's getting embarrassing. 

“Dude,” Jeff says, eyes alight with excitement. “Where did you get that? I thought they stopped selling the costume after–” He waves his hand around vaguely. “You know, everything.” 

You shrug, almost comically, making a show out of holding the knife loosely in your hand. 

“God, people would go nuts if they saw you walking around like that,” He says, waving the bottle around to emphasize his words. Jeff laughs again, clearly entertaining himself even if no one else. “Oh shit, wait! Is everyone else still here? You were all in on it, right? Scaring me?”

You watch him for a moment, almost in disbelief, before nodding. The ease at which he's accepted this surprised even you. Whether he's still pretty drunk, or just that stupid, you're not sure. Either way, you have no complaints. The part where he was too thick to realize he was in danger? You'd definitely be leaving that out in your recounting of the night. 

You slowly raise the knife before pointing the tip of it in the vague direction of upstairs. Jeff nods eagerly, almost looking like a bobble head as he starts stumbling to the stairs. “Hiding in my room? Smart.”

He stops, hand on the banister as he turns around to look at you with narrowed eyes. Your heart starts to race, beating rapidly in your chest. Is this it? Is this when he finally realizes–

“Someone's going to jump out at me when I get to my room, huh?” He accuses smugly, like he guessed the punch line to your joke before you could finish it. Your jaw clenches beneath your mask in irritation, but you stay quiet. You didn't want to risk him hearing your voice. With your luck he'd immediately catch on. You feel your shoulders relax as the tension leaves as quickly as it came. 

You glance down at the ground, as if you were embarrassed, giving him exactly what he wants to see. He just laughs. 

“Don't worry, man. I'll pretend I didn't know.” He gives you an encouraging look and a quick thumbs-up, chuckling as he heads up the stairs. 

You tighten your grip on the knife as you follow silently up the stairs after him, steps light enough that he keeps glancing behind him to see if you're still following. You wave the knife encouragingly as he turns around again right before his bedroom. A thrill washes over you as he reaches for the door handle, an almost giddy feeling rising in your chest as he pushes the door open to find no one in there. 

He glances back at you with a frown, then his face lights up as he reaches for the light switch and walks inside. You stand in the doorway behind him, watching as he slams open the closet door–as if to catch someone by surprise. 

“Dude? Where are they?” He whispers, shifting almost anxiously at your continued silence. 

“What are you…” He trails off, almost disappointed as you don't take the mask off. 

His smile fades as he catches on–finally–just a little. Just enough that his body starts to close off, that he starts to shift to stand just a little steadier as he turns around. Not quick enough, however, to stop the knife from sinking into his back as you lunge forward. He cries out, hand reflexively trying to reach back for you, but you manage to sink the knife into his back another two times before he hits you hard enough with a desperate swing of his arm to send you stumbling back. 

Gasping, he stumbles too, hand clutching uselessly at his back where blood seeps out of his wounds. His shirt is already darkening where the blood stains it, the fabric already beginning to stick to his skin. There’s the look of disbelief on his face as he catches sight of his fingertips, his face ghostly as he tears his eyes away from it. Jeff takes a step forward, as if to strike out at you again, but collapses down to his knees as his legs give out beneath him. 

Your hands are still raised, knife gripped tightly between your fingers as you wait to see if he'll stand again. The adrenaline pumps heavily through your veins, almost daring you to make a stupid mistake, but you dig your feet in, muscles poised. 

His eyes are unfocused, dilated and hazy as he looks up at you. The look of betrayal on his face is shocking, up and until you realize he still thinks you're one of his friends. You're fine to let him think that, in all honesty. His breath comes out in wheezy, pathetic gasps as he leans heavily against the wall behind him. You watch the way his chest moves as he breathes, slower and slower as the blood loss starts to catch up to him. 

You tense up as he starts to slump over, but still you wait, watching as it dawns on him that he’s going to die here. This is the end. His lips part uselessly, like he’s trying to form words that will never come to him. It looks like it takes all he has in him to let out a sound barely above a whisper, lost beneath the gurgling of his throat. Jeff’s shoulders slump slowly, whether in exhaustion or resignation you’re not sure, as his head droops forward enough to brush against his chest.

His face slackens, recognition fading in a way that has you sure he’s either gone or close enough that it wouldn’t matter. Still, the hollow look in his eyes catches your attention even as you try to look away. The utter emptiness looking back at you reminds you suddenly of Allie. It had only been a few months ago that you had first looked upon death, but it feels like years ago now as you look back at Jeff with a detachment you never could have predicted. 

You wonder if this is how Shauna felt looking down at Allie, but quickly decide it wasn’t. You can’t imagine Shauna not being exuberant as she stares down at the results of her hunt. It’s not that you were upset, but it was something different than the looks you’d seen on either of your girlfriend’s faces.

If he was ever afraid it was fleeting–you try not to focus on how strangely disappointing that realization is. A part of you wants him to cry out one last time, anything to feed that growing numbness inside you, but he remains silent. You’re almost insulted, in a way. Blood pools around him on the floor, slowly spreading out, almost crawling across the floor in a way that’s nothing short of mesmerizing. For a brief moment it looks alive in a way that it could never be.

You cross the distance between you, grabbing a fist full of his hair as you drag his head up. He moves far too easily, limp as you expose his neck. With a deliberate slowness, you drag the knife across his throat, feeling the skin give way beneath the sharp steel. The blood pours down his neck, soaking into the front of his shirt to match with bloodstains already marking his torso.

The metallic scent of blood fills the room as you let go, his body collapsing in on itself like a puppet who’s had its strings cut. It might have been overkill, but that’s something you couldn’t care less about. You could never be too careful, no matter what Shauna would have thought about the subject. The emptiness remains even now that it’s done–a dull ache that staring down at his corpse doesn’t quite fix.

Your head shoots up at the sound of footsteps approaching from the hallway, the knife in your hand raising defensively until you catch sight of the swishing robe in the doorway. Those empty eyes stare back at you through the slits in the mask as she stares down at the body at your feet before giving you an approving nod. You can’t help but grin despite how silly it makes you feel.

Her head turns to the closet, as if half-expecting someone to jump out of it, but it stays empty. She takes a few cautious steps forward, looking around the room searchingly. Finally, she just sighs. She reaches up, as if to pinch the bridge of her nose in exasperation, before stopping suddenly as she remembers the mask. It’s more charming than you wish it was.

“Where’s Jackie?” Shauna asks, her voice a mixture of irritation and inevitability. You just shrug.

“That sounds about right,” She continues dryly, an ever present fondness underlying her exasperation.

[redocity]

Well, we know that Buck thrives off of praise. So imagine him during sex!!! God he'd be a whimpering mess, and just begging you for everything and anything oml

LIBIDO — E.BUCKLEY

Buck’s a sex freak.

evan buckley x fem!reader | 1.4k | smut | masterlist.

WARNINGS | this post is 18+, MDNI. kitchen sex (bc buck is a freak), unprotected piv (freak buckley), begging + mild praise kink (buck obviously bc freak), buck eats his own cum off his fingers (freakkkk), buck is just a sex fiend what can i say?

a/n — this is kinda mid, sorry 😔

You had half the mind to submit Buck’s libido as an object of study to Psychologists. Or Biologists, or Sexologists, or honestly whoever would take him.

Because Evan Buckley was rabid when it came to his sexual urges, and it was honestly baffling, even after so many years being on the receiving end of it.

The second you stepped through the front door, Buck was on you in less than a second. His lips were on yours, his tongue exploring your mouth, and he was grinding his hips against yours.

He practically forced you up against the kitchen island, his hands roaming down your body; you could feel just how hard he was through his uniform.

“I need you.” he mumbled huskily against your lips. He was already panting as his hands moved to the hem of your pants, pulling at them impatiently. “Need you now.”

He spun you around so that your chest was against the counter, pressing his front against your back. You could feel his growing erection nudge against your rear as he continued to kiss and nip at your neck and you had to take a moment to ask yourself how you even got here.

You’d literally done absolutely nothing, and yet Buck was acting like you’d stripped naked mid shift just to taunt him into a reaction.

“Been thinking about you all day.” He muttered, his hands moving to unbutton your pants, “Can't wait. Need you now.”

He made quick work of the bottom half of your uniform, pulling everything from the waist down out of the way, leaving you exposed to him.

And at some point, he'd apparently managed to undo his own pants, because next thing you knew, you felt the tip of his erection against your thigh, slick and hard and leaking.

“Gonna make you feel so good. You have no idea—“ Buck groaned, rubbing the head of his hard cock against your entrance, “I was going crazy imagining you all day. Couldn't get you out of my head, god please babe— Need you so bad.” He said with a desperate tone, his voice low and gravelly. “Need to be inside you right now.”

Who were you to refuse him that? When he was so eager and desperate for you?

“I'm all yours.” you gasp out, and any and all restrain completely disappears from his rational mind.

He slides into you in one fluid movement, a low moan escaping from his throat. “Fuck...” Buck groans, the stretch almost too much for you. “You’re so tight, baby—”

He pauses for a moment, letting you adjust around his size, before slowly rolling his hips into you, his fingers digging into your hips. “So good for me.” He moans, his breath hot against your ear. “So good, so good—”

Buck increases his pace almost too eagerly, shifting from a slow rolling pace to pistoning his hips into you. He's panting as he grips onto you, his moans growing louder.

“God, you have no idea how good you feel—” He gasps out. “How perfect you are—”

He shifts, angling his hips just slightly to aim for that spot, and your eyes roll back in pleasure. “Right there, baby?” he groans breathlessly when he hears you cry out, almost like he’s seeking reassurance. “You like that? Yeah? Is it good for you?”

“Yeah— yes—” you gasp out, you’re gripping at the countertop, his name on your lips. “Buck—”

He lets out a deep moan at hearing you say his name, his pace not slowing down. “God, yes, baby, please keep saying my name like that—”

His pace is becoming frantic, his thrusts losing their rhythm, he can’t seem to get enough of you. “Need you. Need you so bad—” He moans out.

“Feel so good—” his breathing is ragged, his chest heaving against your back. He’s starting to lose control.

“Please.” He moans, “So tight, baby, so good for me—”

He's getting close, and you can tell just how close he is from the way he's moving, the way he's biting and sucking at your neck, the way his breathing is becoming more and more erratic.

“You close? You gonna come for me, baby?”

He's pumping into you faster now, his rhythm all but gone.

His grip on you is almost painful—but it's a good pain. “I need you to come for me, please—” He pleads. “Need to make you feel good, need to— god, baby, please—” He's thrusting frantically, he's desperate, but he's also so careful with you, making sure to make you feel just as good as him.

He's so close, he can't hold back any longer.

“Please, please, please—” he groans, his voice almost desperate.

“Please, baby, I'm so close—” his voice is almost pleading. “I'm gonna come, baby, I'm so close-”

His thrusts are becoming erratic, he's losing control, he's on the edge. “Please, please, please—” he's moaning into your ear. But he's holding back, he's not going to finish until you do. He's too desperate to make sure you feel just as good as he does.

He shifts his hips again, aiming for that spot, and you're practically seeing stars. “Is that good? Is that it, baby? You're gonna come for me, right? Right—”

“Yeah, yeah —” you manage to gasp out, “Please, I'm so close—” You can tell he's holding back, his muscles tense, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

“Come for me, please—” he’s begging, and it's driving you over the edge, “I need to feel you—”

“Please—” you gasp out, your orgasm growing closer and closer, “I'm gonna—”

“Come for me—”

And then he thrusts into you one last time, and that's all it takes to send you over the edge.

“Yes—” he moans when he feels you clench around him, “God, yes—”

He's right behind you, unable to hold back any longer. “Please, baby—” he gasps, “Can I—”

“Buck—”

“Please, baby, I need to—” he’s begging, “Inside— can I—” But you know exactly what he's asking, and you're nodding your head, giving him the go-ahead.

“Oh thank god—” He groans. “Thank you, thank you—” He thrusts into you a few more times, before stilling, his body shaking as he comes inside of you.

“Oh god—” he moans, his voice barely above a whisper, ��thank you, thank you—” He's panting, his face buried into your shoulder.

He's holding onto you like he's afraid you'll disappear, his body warm against your back. “Feel so good, baby, so good—” he mumbles into your skin, his breathing still erratic.

His orgasm is so much, that despite his cock plugging you full, his release seeps through the gaps to run down your thighs anyhow.

“So good, so good—” He repeats, his voice shaky, he’s panting. He slowly pulls out of you, his legs unsteady and his mind spinning as he watches the pool of cum that follows out of you and onto the counter.

A shiver of pleasure runs through him, seeing you like this, seeing what he's done to you, and he pulls you close, holding you against his chest, his heart still racing.

“So good,” he murmurs, planting kisses onto your throat, your neck, your collarbone. “God, baby, you're so good. So perfect.”

He lifts you up, sitting you on the countertop, your legs splayed wide while he stands between them. He looks down, at the mess he's made of you, and it’s almost enough to make him hard all over again.

His fingers move instinctively to catch the drips of him that escape you, pushing it back into you with little resistance.

“Mmm,” he moans, his voice still gruff with sex, “That’s a pretty picture, baby.”

He brings his fingers up to his mouth to lick the excess off of his fingers, tasting himself, tasting the mix of both of you.

He groans, his eyes never leaving you as he does, “God you're perfect.”

[lucifermorningstxr]

The humiliatingly honest truth of the situation was that Lucifer Morningstar, the actual Devil himself, was afraid. Petrified, in fact, of losing Chloe. The weight that had been lifted from his shoulders in the parking garage earlier that afternoon fell crashing back onto him, landing directly on his head this time, as Kinley spun his tale, and Eve's presence made it so his hands were tied with the Detective for the time being. His only salvation was how good of a person she really was, and her response to his honest display was reassuring, to say the least. He nodded at her words, leaning into her touch as much as possible without outwardly disrespecting the woman he was still officially committed to. That didn't mean he wasn't still planning to end it though, nor did it mean he didn't want to hold Chloe tighter than he's ever held anyone in his eternity. It just meant things were stalled a bit while this whole mess was sorted. All of that being said, for the time being, he'd keep his reply honest yet brief. "Thank you, Detective. I... I promise I'll tell you everything i know. Thank you for having my back again." Not meant to be pointed, it was as genuine of a gratuity as the Devil could ever offer. Through thick and thin, they'd always seem to have each other's back. It was something so unusual for him, but he liked it. He loved it, in fact.

It pained him inside to go from confiding into the Detective to entertaining Eve. At first, he felt genuinely terrible for the first woman. Imagine spending your entire eternal existence having to be something you're not only to track down your 'first love' only to be smacked with the realization you don't really fit in, then compound all of that with the prophecy; it's a dreadful reality for anyone. Even the Devil has a heart, and he couldn't help but feel it squeezed a wrong way when the news that was shattering his world was building hers up. He moved to loosen his grip on her in that moment, but then she jumped all over him with her excitement. He couldn't lie but was being totally honest right here, right now what was best for the situation? His initial goal was just to smile and giggle with his girlfriend, feeding a bit into his carnal desires to distract from the heaviness of his reality, but when the Detective took what he knew looked bad even worse than he'd imagined, he was left to quickly reroute. Their reconciliation would not be in vain, not for nothing, not even his 'first love.'

He led Eve swiftly as he could after Chloe, being slowed by the maintenance of his eternally immature girlfriend. "Detective! Wait!" Lucifer would try to get her attention, but it seemed Eve was the real draw, and not in a good way. The suggestion of blatant disrespect to the woman he cared most for by the woman who had turned his life upside down was too much to bear. Yet, he'd try to contain himself. After all, this was a prison parking lot, wherein the building was held an insanely evil priest who would do anything to prove his 'true colours.' What's more is that this is the Detective's reputation. He'd been better behaved when working with her until Eve showed up, and he intended nothing less than respect for her. Channeling his strongest feelings into a cool, stern tone following the Detective's rightful upset, he'd turn to Eve and take one last stab at convincing the petulant first woman to behave. "Eve, darling, the Detective is right. Can't the sex wait? It's just a short drive back to the precinct anyway, and you know I last too long to make it." Not knowing what else to say that was honest in the moment, he tried to put a proverbial bandaid over the situation.

Any additional attempts he'd make to offer an apology to Chloe on Eve's behalf, or even address what was said on his own accord, were thwarted by Eve's remark. Chloe was the one not letting him be his true self? Chloe was the bad influence? Very well. If it's Big Bad Devil that Eve wanted, it'd be Big Bad Devil that Eve got. No more placating, no more games, and if that meant no more aquarium sex, then so be it. He was going to show both of them exactly where he stood, to Hell with the rest of the nonsense.

"The Detective is the bad influence!? Eve, do you even hear yourself?" With each word, his voice got louder as he got angrier. "The Detective is the only one who's consistently been there for me. You want to talk about my true self? Let's talk about it! Thanks to the Detective, I know I'm NOT the monster society has painted me to be! I know I'm NOT evil incarnate like every other human has believed me to be! Like dear old bloody Dad cast me to be!" He'd even flashed his Devil eyes a few times throughout his explosive tangent, typically in punctuation, but isn't that what Eve wanted? His nastier side? "My true self? You don't know who I am anymore! You know my body, but you clearly don't know me. Did you even stop for a moment to consider how the prophecy affects me!? All you have to do is be my 'first love' while I'm the one unleashing evil into the world by simply existing! By daring to think for one moment that I might deserve love. Maybe I don't, because I certainly don't feel loved. Not by you anyway, Eve. Sit where you want, but you'll be sitting by yourself."

As he huffed from his tantrum, turning to storm away from his 'girlfriend,' Lucifer gazed over at Chloe with a deeply honest pain in his eyes. "Please forgive me for my outburst, Detective. You don't have to deal with all of this anymore."

Lucifer was trying to balance his urge to comfort both women with his own self-preservation, trying not to crack under the anxious pressures brought on by what he'd just witnessed. He knew that it didn't matter whether he exploded in anger or got defensive because either would give Kinley's baseless claims too much credit. And it wasn't that he feared Chloe's rejection alone, as he himself was battling his own self-image in real time once more. He wasn't evil. Not like humanity said, and not like Kinley had just painted him out to be. Luckily, his spiral of thought was interrupted by the Detective's impeccable timing as she pulled him aside. Lucifer had to make a split-second decision on how to react, and Chloe's gentle approach combined with his own vulnerability led to the obvious answer; honesty as always, but soft communication. Not only to not rile Eve, but to demonstrate a composure and show that he's changed not only in eternity, but in the four years he'd been working with Chloe. The best four years of his existence to date.

"Detective, I have to tell you... you're doing an awfully good job handling all of this for a human. I... I want to talk to you about this. I need to talk to you about this..." He paused for a moment, motioning in the direction of Eve with his eyes. "But I don't think here is the best place. You still trust me, don't you? Do you trust me to be alone with you? To talk?" The Devil's mouth was shaky once more, his eyes set on the woman in front of him. "I'm not evil, Detective. I punish Evil, but I'm not evil. And... I don't want to be evil."

As their conversation was cut off, Lucifer couldn't help but reach out and pull Eve into his side. He'd wanted to do the same to the Detective, but it didn't seem appropriate in the moment, not in front of Eve, and he knew that if she accepted his offer, he'd have plenty of time to comfort her too. He gave her a look that said 'Please, don't be hurt. She needs this right now' as he soothed the uneasy first woman. If the prophecy was even a little bit true, then Eve likely had more than a small part in it. The least he could do was comfort her in this time of uncertain strife.

[littletrumpetcat]

i hate being so noise sensitive because of my shitty upbringing*. the people above me, who's minds are physically incapable of thinking of other people, were blasting billie eillish and i was instantly just unable to think or focus on anything except for How Painful This Is To My Ears. i can definitely blame my university for being incredibly cheap when designing these apartments back in the 60s because there's very little soundproofing and that's a whole separate issue regarding the for-profit education system and the university's decades of neglect regarding these complexes. but i think if u need to blast your favorite albums through your bluetooth speaker in order to be happy or get housework done, you need to live with other people for a little bit.

[writersdrug]

Simon "Ghost" Riley is the kind of man who:

In your shared home, always sits with his legs spread. Manspreading king. Adores it when you cross your arms and give him a disapproving look, saying there's no room for you. "Course there is, luv. Jus' sit between my thighs."

Refuses to let you do simple tasks around the house, like making tea, folding his underwear, or putting away the dishes. One might think it's a sweet, husbandly gesture - but he's just super picky. You made tea in the microwave once, and now you're banned from ever touching his tea stash. Likes his underwear folded in a specific way, and you don't understand the importance of it. He got tired of you stuffing his underwear in his drawer, so now he folds it himself. And the dishes? Couldn't stand how you put them away. "There's no rhyme or reason to 'em." "I didn't think there had to be, Si-" "Just gimme the damn bowl." Fewer chores? You aren't complaining.

Looks like he's always on edge - and he is, kinda. When he's out with you, he can't help but be alert and watchful, and extremely protective of you. You've tried to get him to loosen up - it's the supermarket, what could happen? - but have just come to accept it as his nature. Plus, you get that giddy feeling when you see other men look straight down at the floor, avoiding Simon's stare as the two of you pass.

Is the grumpiest, poutiest, and most indignant man ever when he gets sick. Doesn't want you doting on him in case you catch whatever he has. But, wait - where are you going? "Get your ass back in this bed - 'm cold." Grumbles like a child when you force him to let you get up to grab him soup, tea, or medicine. And no, he doesn't care how sick he is, he's not wearing that stupid, floppy ice pack hat.

Brings Johnny over unannounced, and you've grown used to it. The moment you hear that Scottish yapping out the front door as the key unlocks, you grab a third plate for dinner - he insists you don't need to feed him, but you always make extra for Simon's lunch the next day regardless, and the last time he'd said that, he ended up grabbing an extra fork and picking from Simon's plate. Which, of course, had Simon up at 1 am making instant ramen because he was still hungry, but didn't have the heart to ask you to make him a decent meal. So, yes, Johnny would be fed.

Loves spoiling you on your birthday. What is a man if not someone who spoils his partner rotten? Orders in food from your favorite bakery, sets all your presents neat and nice on the table (the excellent wrapping job done by yours truly, Gaz), flower petals sprinkled on the ground and the table top (also Gaz's idea), and a seat on his lap so for you while you open your presents. Loves watching your face light up, and each little "you remembered?!" fall from your lips as you open each gift. Scoffs and shifts in his seat. "I's not that much of a fuss, luv..." as you squeal excitedly, but you know he's biting back a proud smile. The blush, he can't even attempt to hide.

Is somehow a magnet for your young nephews. Every time he comes along to your sister's place, he's either making conversation with her husband in the living room, or he's interrogated and cornered by her two sons. And, lord help him, he doesn't understand it either. He'd always expected kids to look at him like a monster, but, especially with these two, that was never the case. They'd ask him for stories about "being in war" - half of the time, he'd make up some not-too-gory adventure, sparing them the details of real war. The rest of the time, he'd talk about "Soap, my mate who blows everything up." And they'd listen with wide eyes and jaws on the floor.

Has scared you unintentionally, more than too many times. He'd come home at three in the morning from a mission, and all he wanted was to quietly peel his dirty uniform off and slip into bed with you. His main intention was to avoid waking you up, because you'd force him to shower before joining you in bed - and he was too tired for that. However, you'd been rounding the corner, up for your 3 am glass of water - you screamed as you saw the hulking, dark figure by the front door, launching your phone at him. He'd caught it effortlessly and shoved it into his back pocket. "What've I told ya 'bout using the bat?" "I was just getting water!" "I coulda been anyone." "Well you're not." "Missed ya, luvie." "Missed you too- but you're grimy. Go take a-" "No." He grabbed you and threw you over his shoulder, ignoring your protests as he hauled you back to bed.

[lxnarphase]

━━ ❝ sweet, sticky, thick, and pretty ❞

☾₊‧⁺...synopsis : toji wants to give you another baby

☾₊‧⁺...cw : toji fushiguro x fem!reader, smut, penetrative sex, pre-established relationship, overstimulation, unprotected sex, breeding kink, dirty talk, rough sex, begging, smug and cocky reader, feral toji

☾₊‧⁺...a/n : this is a post from my old blog but i revamped it and i really wanted to share this again because i was really proud of it. and yes, it's another breeding kink + pregnant kink. consider it a part two, since it takes place after megumi is born

toji never thought he’d get off on the idea of having another kid with you.

yet here he is, dick hard in his sweatpants as he thinks about you carrying his baby again...how you'd start to fill out all over again, that cute chubbiness coming back, how he'd have an excuse to dote on you whenever you complained about the simplest of things.

it starts off with how he sees you coo over megumi, calling him your sweet baby. you're such a good mother, too, it's clear you'd likely be the favorite parent to that little brat.

but god, does he find it attractive just seeing you be a mom to the kid that he gave you.

the day you ask megumi what he wants for his upcoming 4th birthday at dinner, neither one of you is prepared for the words that come out of your son's mouth.

“i want a baby sister,” he states bluntly as he chews on the steamed carrots, looking at you and toji. it was clear from how confident the little guy is that he's put a lot of thought into this.

“but, i don’t want her to look like daddy. he’s ugly, i want her to look like mommy.”

little brat. you straight up choke, trying to stop the laugh-coughs as toji looks at his son, offended. this really is his son, because who else but you and the kid he made with you could have the nerve to say shit like that to him?

“twerp, you look just like me, you realize that, right?”

megumi huffs, looking at his dad in the cutest little glare. “that’s 'cause i'm a boy, though," he explains as if it's obvious, his precious little cheeks puffed up as he stuffs more of his food in his mouth.

"my sister has to be like mommy. you’d be an ugly girl, daddy.” toji just rolls his eyes, pinching the cheeks of the mini him, ignoring his protests. as the two bicker, you think. would it...really be that bad to have another baby? you always wanted a girl, after all, and toji took such good care of you and megumi...it couldn't be that bad. “well, uhm,” you begin, catching the attention of toji, an unfamiliar smile on your face.

there's a mischievous look on your face right now, his eyes narrowing as he waits for your response. whatever you're about to say is either going to haunt him for the next few days or make him roll his eyes at you.

“i'm sure daddy and i can work something out for you, 'gumi, but let’s think of some other things, too, m'kay?” 

ah.

you went the haunting route.

ignoring the little cheer his son let out, toji can't hide the disbelieving look that crosses his face when he processes what you just said.

'daddy'?

you've said the word, sure, usually when you talk to megumi about him. but something was different about how you said it, the way you looked at him when you said it, the barely visible flutter of your eyes...a silent promise there'd definitely be a deeper conversation about it later.

the very day megumi has a sleepover with the neighbor's kid, yuuji, toji is mentally cheering. he loves his son with all his heart, he truly does, but having a toddler in bed meant limited contact with his pretty wife.

it's only been 3 days since that little comment you made and it's been on toji's mind constantly. every time he tried to bring it up with you, megumi would interrupt and toji was not being the reason his son ended up traumatized because he overheard mommy and daddy talking about making babies in the kitchen.

"bye, gumi! make sure you behave for mr. nanami, okay? have fun with yuuji," you coo as you press two kisses to your son's cheeks, snapping toji back to the present.

"see ya, kid, be good," toji says, giving a nod of acknowledgement to nanami. megumi barely says goodbye before he runs after yuuji to the car, his run a bit awkward because of his overnight backpack.

waving goodbye to nanami, you shut the door, turning to look at toji with that smile as you.

"hi, toj."

you think you're so cute, don't you?

"hey, mama."

toji can't even lie, you are. wearing his t-shirt and sweatpants? yeah, your the cutest thing he's ever laid eyes one. his hands rest on your hips, pulling you flush to his chest. fuck, you weren't even doing anything but he could already feel himself getting hard just from looking at you.

he's never been so whipped in his life.

"d'you wanna talk," you murmur lowly, your finger running over the thin silver chain on his neck. "we could go to the bedroom...and talk about the baby thing."

toji's eyes darken at the suggestion, knowing exactly what would happen the moment you both go into the bedroom. "yeah. think it's 'bout time we talked about it," he hums as he grips your wrist, tugging you to your room.

as soon you both step foot into the bedroom, toji hungrily presses your lips against his, letting out a deep groan. "had me thinkin' about knockin' you up again all fuckin' week, mama," toji sighs against your lips, tongue running over your lower lip.

"wanted to stuff you full so fucking bad."

feeling you sigh so prettily into the kiss, his doesn't hesitate to shove his tongue in your mouth, hands busying themselves as they push your (his) sweats down off your hips before guiding you back to the bed.

you knew he would get excited over your comment, but you didn't think it would be to the point where he was rutting into you as he practically devoured you, feeling your back hit the bed.

“you want to give our 'gumi a sister? wanna be a mommy again," he questions, breaking the kiss to press his forehead against yours. one of his hands slithers up under the oversized t-shirt to cup one of your tits and roughly knead it, his thumb just barely grazing over your nipple.

"wanna have another kid with big, bad toji? tsk, poor cunt missed gettin' stuffed full of cum?" 

you just hum a little breathless. your hand comes up to cup his cheek, looking from his lips back up to his eyes. he's so handsome when he's over you like this, his chain dangling right in your face.

“maaaaybe. megumi just made me think about it, 's all. you've been a good dad t' him, how could i not want to give you another one,” you coo, guiding him closer so you can press a kiss against the scar on his lip. 

“besides…”

toji grunts when he feels your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him flush against you so you can feel the thick, heaviness of his arousal through his sweatpants.

“don’t you want me to make you a daddy again, toji? c'mon, knock me up, big guy.”

after those words leave your pretty little mouth, toji is on you as he realizes that you're 100% going to give him the worse breeding kink ever.

"'m gonna fuckin' ruin you," he growls into your ear. you aren't given a second to protest before he's ripped your panties off, complaints falling on deaf ears. the tips of his fingers gently run over your puffy pussy lips, your slick wetness coating his fingers.

"fuck, mama, you're soaked already." his eyes are focused on your face as you squirm and whimper when he swirls little circles into your clit, an evil smirk on his face. "can't wait to fill you up 'til you're dripping with my cum, doll."

you can't stop your hips from trying to grind into his hand, eyes rolling back when he teased your entrance. "toji, c'mon, baby, i need you s'bad."

"baby, you know you can't take me without prep," he coos at you. he can feel how hot and slick you are, finally, finally slipping two of his fingers inside your cunt. and oh, the way you arch your back a little bit with a pleading whine of his name is so, so pretty, you're so fucking cute.

"mmn, maybe y'don't need prep, you just sucked my fingers right in," he says huskily before pressing a little kiss to the corner of your mouth. "you wanna try, mama? wanna see if you can fit my cock in you? really gonna feel that stretch, though, babe," toji warns, knowing you can't give a sensible answer when he starts pumping his fingers in and out.

when it seems like your about to answer him, the only thing that escapes your mouth is a shaky moan, his thick fingers curling to hit just the right spot inside of you that has you gushing. unable to form words, you tug on his shirt and nod frantically, just wanting to feel toji stuffing you full.

"yeah? you wanna try?" toiji pulls his fingers out of you, chuckling when you whine at the sudden feeling of emptiness. he pops his fingers in his mouth, cock throbbing at the addictive taste of your cunt on his tongue. "c'mon, we're both wearing too much, let's get you outta that shirt, ma."

you waste no time throwing the shirt off, not even giving him the chance to undress you. but once your shirt is off, you're practically ripping off his stupid black t-shirt that made his pecs look fucking delicious and those damn sweatpants and boxers that hid your prize.

as you fuss over his boxers, toji takes a moment to look at you spread out on the bed before him. you still had a bit of chub on you, tummy nice and soft and cute, just how he likes it. if he knew where his phone was, he'd take a picture of you right now; frustrated, horny, naked, and pretty. all for him.

"tojiiii, stop staring and kick off your stupid boxers, you're getting on my nerves!"

you can't even look him in the eye as you say that because you're too busy staring right at his cock, a thick bead of precum formed at the tip. the lick of your lips told him everything he needed to know, but he wasn't fucking your mouth, not tonight at least.

"what? i can't look at my own wife," he asks with a raised eyebrow, biting back a laugh when you swat at his hand that pinches one your puffy nipple. "tch, so rude, doll."

before you can snap back at him, he brushes the swollen head of his cock against your slick folds, smearing your wet over the tip. that shuts you up quickly and toji has to hold back another laugh. always so fussy until he finally gives you what you want. he's spoiled you rotten.

"toji," comes a soft whine, so soft he nearly misses it. your eyes are focused between your legs, lower lips between your teeth as he teases you with his cockhead. you huff, pushing your hand against his chest to give you enough space to shift positions, knowing exactly what would get him to stop teasing you.

once you roll over, you shift so that you're face down, ass up, you hand slipping between your thighs to spread your sticky pussy open, slick dripping down your fingers. "tojiiii, please? please, baby, stop teasing an' put a baby in me...please, hubby, give your wife what she wants."

any other whines or begs are interrupted when his hand comes down hard on your ass. he was going to give you what you wanted, what you both wanted. he was going to fuck you, fill you up with all his cum and whatever leaked out? he’d make sure to push it back in, whether with his fingers, mouth, or tip of his dick. 

when he finally pushes into you, he just lets out the most wrecked groan you’ve heard from him yet, each inch sinking into you stretching those tight walls just a bit more.

"holy shit...fuuck me, baby, too fucking tight, you're strangling my cock," he hisses, fingers digging into the fat of your hips as he gave you inch after inch.

god, just the thought of fucking you not just to feel good, but to fill you up, get you to take his seed deep inside to give him another kid? it's fucking with his head, his wife was gonna be the death of him.

both of you moan once he's all the way inside. you feel so full, his cock is too fucking big it doesn't make any sense and you genuinely think you should've let him fully prep you...but shifting your hips just a little bit has his tip pressing against something sinful. you whine and reach back to grab at one of his hands on your waist, turning to shoot him a mean glare as you demand, “stop stalling n’ knock me up, toji." 

who is he to deny what his wife asks?

using a hand to steady himself on the headboard, his hips begin to move slowly, pulling out just an inch and pushing forward again. "so tight 'n' warm..." each thrust hits deeper and more powerful than the last as toji begins to pick up speed, the thickness of his cock hitting every deep part of you.

it's almost too much, but you don't want him to stop, especially not when toji started running his mouth.

“shit, look at you, baby…takin’ it like a champ.”

now you really wish you stayed on your back, then at least you could've slapped a hand over his mouth to shut him up. you drop your head down against the mattress with a moan, starting to move your hips to match his thrusts, the room filling with the sound of skin slapping on skin.

“fuuck, c'mon, throw that ass back on me, thaaaat’s it, good girl.” 

he starts pounding into you harder when he feels you tightening up on him. the sweet moans and adorable words of “gimme more,” “baby, please,” or “s’ too good, toj,’” only pushing him to get even deeper, to get you to cum so he could stuff you full.

he coos when he sees you starting to scramble up further on the bed, away from his relentless fucking. he knows that he found that sweet spot that would have you creaming in minutes.

"tsk, you just never fuckin' learn, huh? 's always gonna be too much for you, isn't it," he huffs as his hand finds its way into your hair, tugging your head back to keep you from moving more. “hey. hey, nonono, don’t run away from it, lemme have it," he coos at you, following you up the mattress.

you never change, always swearing up and down that you wouldn't run from his cock, that you'd be able to take him. you wanted this, you wanted your precious husband to fuck another baby into you, t'give 'gumi a little sister, s’ i’m gonna give it to you.”

toji may sound like he’s still put together, but he’s just thankful you can’t see his face since yours is pressed into the pillows at the top of the bed.

you can’t see how he’s barely holding himself together, trying his hardest not to let himself go too much. the last thing he needs is to cum before you, knowing that while you wouldn’t mind, he’d be annoyed for breaking his streak.

he’s brought back into the present when you manage to turn your head a little, able to look him in the eye, and god, does he love what he sees.

your mouth is open as you moan for him, eyes lidded and focused on only him. he sees the little tears gathered in them, not quite spilling over but the fact that they’re there tells him he’s the one making you feel that good. 

“tuh-toji, ’m gonna cum, gonna cum—!”

"yeah?" hearing you moan so sweetly for him only makes toji smirk, fingers digging into your hips as he helps you meet each thrust. “gonna make a mess f'me already? poor little cunt can't handle gettin' fucked so good? mmn, shit, 's okay, baby. let go for me, mama, cum on daddy’s cock.” 

"t-tojiiiii," you shakily moan, nearly ripping the sheets as you cum suddenly. it was his voice, the way he tried to sound put together but you could hear how desperate he was to feel your pussy clamp down on him and get his cock nice and messy.

toji's deep, guttural moans mix with your cries when he unexpected is pushed over the edge, the way you desperately grinded back against him causing him to swear under his breath as he lost his pace, groaning your name as he emptied into you. it felt so hot, the pulsating warmth of his tip nudging against your cervix paired with his thick cum filling you up dizzying the both of you. 

you expect some kind of snarky comment from toji, trying to catch your breath so you could reply when he said it. but nothing comes (you have to stop yourself from laughing at the pun). you turn to look back, sighing when toji pulls out of you. usually he stayed inside, leaning down to tease you for cumming so fast...but he didn't.

something was wrong and for some reason, you felt like your pussy was in danger.

“toj…?”

he didn’t answer. he probably didn’t even hear you, not with the way he was looking so intensely at the mess between your thighs. the mess he made. toji doesn’t know what comes over him, his hands practically moving on their own as he moves you over onto your back, then moving his hands down to your sensitive hole and spreading. 

the scene in front of him just breaks him. you let out a soft whine, hips gently rolling into his hands. his eyes stay stuck between your legs—sharp and focused—as they watch the thick globs of his hot cum drip out of your hole and down onto the bed sheets.

the groan that leaves him is sinful, and once you make eye contact with him, you realize how fucked you are. he’s hard again, almost making you believe he didn’t cum if it weren’t for the creamy sheen of his cum on his throbbing dick and the hotness of his dripping out of you. before you know it, toji’s climbing over you, making sure your legs get pushed over to his shoulders as he pushes you into a mating press.

yeah.

you're fucked.

you keep making eye contact, and now that he’s so close to you, you see how crazed he looks. his eyes, completely black due to his blown pupils, have an unhinged look in them, and the half smirk on his face only makes you worry about your ability to walk the next day.

“t-toji, if you need a break to calm down, then-oh!” 

he shuts you up by pushing himself inside you, loving how your eyes cross so prettily. he has you now, you can't run away from the overstimulating feeling of him fucking you in this position. and when you feel his hands come up and lock together on your head to really keep you in place, you feel yourself gush all over his cock at the simple display of how strong he was compared to you.

you're so fucked.

all you can do is moan and cry out his name, hands grabbing whatever part of him they could reach. but he doesn't let you break eye contact, keeping you close to his face so he could see every little expression. and fuck, does he like what he sees.

“t-tojiii, t’ deep, t’ deep!”

“wan’ me t’ stop? t’ stop fuckin’ this messy hole?”

“fuck, y-you stop, and I’ll c-choke the shit out of yo-ouh!”

“that’s it, take it, take daddy’s cock, mama, lemme breed you.”

everything about this position is driving both of you crazy.

the closeness has you reeling, the way toji just cannot bring himself to break eye contact, needing to see what he was doing to you.

his thick cock is hitting deep, almost too deep, with the way each thrust of his hips causes the tip to press into the sweet spot inside you every. single. time. 

he has you for the whole day and the whole night, he's going to make sure you're stuffed entirely and doesn't plan on stopping until either you tell him you need a break or until he can't cum anymore. and even then, he doesn't think anything will be able to get him out of your cunt.

but with the way he just moaned into your mouth, thick spurts of more cum coating your insides…and the way he didn’t get soft, instead pressing you even deeper into the mattress as he began to pound into you with a groan of how much he loved your pussy…

you were sure it would be a while until he was done with you.

all rights reserved © lxnarphase | do not repost, copy, translate, or alter my work

[dolcekissy]

doll face , ღ

: ̗̀➛ bsf!rafe being obsessed with bunny!reader. poor boy is obsessed with his best friend ;(

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ main masterlist | bunny!reader x bsf!rafe masterlist

disclaimer // 18+ content. this story includes mentions of sex, fingering, oral, and yeah.

─────────────────────────

rafe being obsessed with his best friend would definitely consist of him basically fighting demons the entire time he's with you. poor baby just wants to fuck you sooo bad :(

sucking on a lollipop? his dick is hard the moment you started pulling the wrapper off the lollipop. sitting in his bed with him while scrolling on instagram? his dick is hard the moment you sat on his bed.

definitely fantasizes about the time you finally do let him hit. he's not gonna be a weirdo and beg ─ have you seen him? he's not one to beg for pussy, he'll make mfs work for his dick imo.

rafe would definitely want you to go everywhere with him ─ to the point if someone sees rafe out somewhere ─ you're definitely somewhere trailing behind him.

golfing with top? you're there. running errands? you're there. at a party? you're there. you're always there with him.

"do i really need to go get gas with you?" rafe nods his head, grabbing your arm and his keys as he shoves you into the passenger side and shuts the door. "it takes two seconds to pump your gas and go back home... what am i going fo─"

"shut up."

rafe would definitely be up your ass too ─ he's with you 24/7 too. you don't mind it but sometimes he does a little too much, like when he follows you to the bathroom when you have to pee or when he'll check your location and see your at the store ─ he'll just pop up out of nowhere.

"fuck! you scared me! how did you know i was here?" your eyes are wide ─ your hand resting over your chest to calm yourself as he looks at everything in your cart.

or when you're taking a shower, poor boy just can't leave you alone.

"rafe. i'm taking a fucking shower, get out!" you yell as he patiently sits on the toilet seat ─ your towel and clothes sitting in his lap as his foot taps against the floor, completely ignoring what you were saying as he starts talking about something random.

he lowkey just wants to take a peek at your naked body too.

wait whaaat, who said that?

rafe cant sleep without you ─ so if you're out late, your parents know your sleeping at rafes.

half the time he's trying to calm himself down because he's hard as fuck seeing you in a tank top and pink, satin shorts. he's mentally fanning himself with his hands as you back your body up into his ─ praying you don't feel his hard on.

turning the other way immediately, his back facing yours the second your ass presses up against him. "hmm, m'just gonna face this way ─" he says it so awkwardly too, leaving you confused but also you couldn't give a fuck less.

rafe would be over the moon the second you let him hit. i wanna say he'd cum so fast like a teenage boy but i feel like he would also wanna savor the moment.

he'd take it so serious, finger fucking you, eating you out, kissing and licking your tits ─ literally everything. then he'd fuck you sooo good ─ just so you know this is what you've been missing out on this whole time.

─────────────────────────

[ode2rin]

new boyfriend rin would never ever, under any circumstance, admit that he likes the pet names you call him. well… unless you would stop doing it. (also me pushing the bffs to lovers pipeline)

You must be upset with him, Rin is convinced so. It’s the only logical and sensible explanation behind this unusual behavior. 

And he's going mad about it. Itoshi Rin is going mad any second now if he can't get to the bottom of this, he’s certainly convinced.

Every instinct screamed that your recent behavior was a reaction to something he'd done, but what? Was it the late replies to your text messages? No, you knew he was at practice and you told him you didn’t mind. Was it about the souvenir he brought back home to you from Paris? Sure, you teased him about its impracticality, but nothing that warranted this icy distance.

Or maybe it was something he said now? It must be, right? Everything boils down to his reckless poor choice of words, he supposes.

Slowly, Rin approached you by the couch you’re seated in. With your attention preoccupied by the selection of shows you’re browsing, you settled on looking at him briefly through your peripheral vision. Amused by how he’s slightly tiptoeing around, you let out a half-suppressed laugh to yourself. 

He looks like a cat sometimes, you thought from the sight. And acts like one too. Like a big black cat who would hiss at you if you looked at him funny, or one that would bite your hand if you stopped petting him to sleep. Funny how Rin could be like that too.

The moment Rin settles into the plush comfort of the couch, he gazes at you through lowered lashes, trying to read the play of emotions on your face, if there’s any. 

There’s nothing worth noting, and he doesn’t know if that should assure or bother him.

“Are we… alright?” he drawled.

What the fuck. He did not just sound like that. 

He did not just ask that and sounded like an anxious pathetic wet cat who just had a new home waiting for its owner’s permission over anything (highly specific because he’s a bit dramatic). Just what kind of loser have you reduced him into, really.

Oblivious of the internal turmoil in Rin’s mind, you turn to him, “Hmm? Yeah? Why’d you ask?”

“Nothing,” he grumbled. It’s enough that he already humiliated himself for the way he asked if the two of you were cool— doing it again by exposing himself that he thinks you’re mad plainly because he hadn’t heard you call him a pet name (like you always do) would be mortification in its final form.

“Okay, Rin.”

That’s it. This needs to end. Forget humiliation. He would rather choose to feel pathetic over any day than continue with this charade.

“Are you mad at me?” 

“Why would you think that?” you asked back instantly, shocked and extremely confused because of your boyfriend’s question. You’re literally just looking for a movie the two of you can watch— how is that any indication of being mad at him?

“Just answer the question,” he fumed, impatience settling on the furrow of his brows.

You said in the beginning of your relationship that you didn’t appreciate the silent treatment and guessing games, so don’t you think it’s hypocritical of you to do the same to him? (You’re not, but he just doesn’t know that.)

“I’m not mad at you, Rin.”

“You so are!” 

“I am not! But you, yelling and instigating it are making me right now!” you countered, voice hinted with irritation, “What is your problem, Rin?”

There it is again. Rin rose from the couch to face your sitting form, as if standing would better prove his point. “See? You’re calling me Rin!” he blurted.

“Well, maybe because it’s your name?!”

“Not to you, it’s not!”

A beat of surprised silence. Until your lips grew to such a wide smile that made Rin physically feel his heart melting. 

Yet, in Rin’s true fashion, he’ll never let you know how much air you knock out of him because of your beaming smile. Instead, he’ll say something along the snarky lines of, “Stop smiling like that.”

“Did my big bad grumpy Rinnie here thought we’re on a fight because I hadn’t call him baby?” you ask, purposely stressing out the words to disarm him more.

With a feigned exasperation, he comments, “I forgot how annoying you are.” 

“And I forgot how childish you can get sometimes,” you countered.

“I’m not childish.”

“You don’t mind me calling you Rin then?”

Rin rolled his eyes at you, but you know better than to put meaning to it. He lowered himself onto the couch beside you. With a swift tug, Rin pulled you closer, closing the distance between you effortlessly. His arm found its way around your waist, drawing you snugly against his chest.

“But I don’t see why you need to…” Maybe he could be a bit childish.

“I thought you didn’t like it,” you shyly muttered, drawing shapes in his arm. “The pet names, I mean,” you clarified, sensing the confused look he’s probably giving you behind.

“What the hell are you talking about?” He is baby. He is Rinnie. Fucking hell, that’s so loser of him to even voice it out in his own mind. 

“What? You call me by my name!” you defensively pointed out.

“Doesn’t mean I don’t like your nicknames of me,” he mumbled, the words barely audible.

The pet names— they were more than what they served. It was important to him more than what he would admit. 

They were a secret language, a way you marked him as yours. A reminder that he wasn't just Rin anymore— just your friend.

He was now something more, something special.

A ghost of a smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “Besides… I love your name,” he whispered, his voice velvet against your hair.

It’s tender— no, it makes him tender. Saying your name has been the softest, kindest, and most tender way he’s used his words for. 

Maybe it’s a little pathetic, feeling this undone by a name. But then it’s you. 

It was your name— a name he could whisper with adoration, a name that belonged only to him to claim. 

You melt to his words, leaning deeper into his chest. A contented sigh escaped your lips, the sound swallowed by the warmth of his embrace.

Looking up at him, your eyes held a softness he often found himself getting lost in, “I love your name too, but I also like calling you pet names. Is it okay?”

“Whatever you decide.” He’s yours, either way.

note. this is basically rin being "my nameeee is whatever you decideeeee and i'm just gonna call you mineeee i'm insane but i'm your baby!!!!" yeah that song basically.