#boy sure loves his denim huh

[zabrozo]

my favorite 15 yr old ever

[nativegirltapes]

⸻ ┊͙ car sex with toxic!rafe !

warnings: sex, reader being a brat, rafe tryna be nonchalant bf …. boy please

you weren’t sure why you agreed to let rafe pick you up and take you out for dinner, especially given the severity of the arguement you both shared last week. but there you were, forgetting that all ever happened, enjoying rafe’s company and telling him all about your day. everything from what you had to breakfast to how your nail appointment went.

“you wore that to your nail appointment?” rafe slouched in the driver seat, making it hard for your to focus. it was like his lap was just calling for you to come sit on it.

“yeah.” you looked down at yourself, realizing how little your top left to the imagination; it was a silky white spaghetti strapped tank top with pink detailing. “you don’t like it?” you pushed your tits together.

“okay. enough.” rafe scoffed, desperately trying to act annoyed at your actions, but you could tell he was turned on. the growing bulge in his jeans wasn’t helping his case.

“what? touch them if you want.”

rafe wanted to touch them, lord he wanted to touch them and suck on them like it was his first time all over again, but he didn’t want to be the first one to give in. because usually it was you to be the first one to give in.

“cmon,” you rolled your eyes, grabbing one of rafe’s hands, ready to place it into your tits. “i’m asking you to.” you smiled at him, he wasn’t sure if it was the way the moon shined down on you through his truck windows but you looked so fucking good and he couldn’t say no to you. “please.”

rafe caved in, swiftly bringing both his hands to your breasts. small moans left your mouth as rafe toyed with your breasts over your shirt. his big hands felt so good playing with you.

rafe pulled your tank straps to the side, letting your shirt fall below your chest, revealing your naked breasts. rafe smirked when he seen the hickies he’d left on them just a few days before.

“do you want to have sex?” you hummed out between your soft moans. “like…. here?” the bluntness of your question took rafe aback. he wasn’t sure what got into you tonight, but he was loving it.

“yeah silly. where else?” you grabbed rafe’s hands, pushing them away, waiting for him to make the next step.

rafe obeyed, pushing his seat all the way back. “cmere then.” he patted his lap, waiting for you crawl your way over to him.

after nestling into rafe’s lap you took no time unbuckling his belt and pulling his pants down to his thighs. he lifted his hips to help you. rafe giggled at your eagerness. did one week of no dick really have you that desperate? “that cock hungry?” rafe teased but still wasn’t doing anything to exactly slow down your eagerness, so really he wasn’t any better than you.

“yeah. how’s it feel to be used like this?” you gave his dick a few strokes, using your spit as lube.

“pretty good. haven’t had to listen to your bitchin’ and complaining just yet.” rafe looked at you, waiting for some sort of sassy look back, but was left surprised when you just kept stroking his cock. you really were just horny.

“yeah. not yet.” you pushed your denim mini skirt up so it was just above your hips, positioning rafe’s tip for your entrance.

“no panties today huh? you really are just a slut.” rafe’s dick got instantly harder thinking about how you were just sitting in his passenger seat with no panties, practically just waiting to be fucked.

“didn’t take much for you to give it up either,” you moaned as rafe’s cock finally slid inside.

rafe chocked back his moan, not wanting to give you the satisfaction he knew you were searching for. he watched as you bounced on his cock, the look of pure pleasure on your face made his mouth fall agape. he was making fun of you for begging for some dick, but there he was hard as a fucking rock just because of the mere look on your face while riding him.

“keep….. fucking talking.” you panted out, despite always arguing back, rafe’s mean words hit you in the bottom of your stomach in the way you loved.

“aw? need me to walk you through riding my cock? is it that good baby?” rafe groaned, he couldn’t even handle the absolute euphoric feeling he was experiencing. you were perfect in every way.

“more.”

“i love you.” rafe grunted out, you felt his cum fill up your insides. he never came first.

“aw? rafey? don’t get all soft on me now.” you smiled to yourself, finally rafe was the first one to give in.

“fuck you.”

[formosusiniquis]

This one goes out to that old guy I saw at walmart yesterday loading up his pioneer woman cookware onto his motorcycle while enter sandman played

steddie | G | WC: 1154

---

“Hey baby, can you?”

“No.”

Steve's sweet tone sours immediately returning to the much more familiar gently bitchy tone Eddie knows and loves. “You don't even know what I was gonna ask.”

“Twenty-five years of marriage, lawful and not, Sunshine. I know when you're about to ask me for some shit we don't need.”

“Why would I be calling you if we didn't need it?”

“Because if you needed it you would have told me about it when I said, ‘Stevie, sweetie, light of my life, sun to my dawn,’” he looks around trying to figure out where the hell they moved the oranges and why the produce section is never in the same configuration anytime he comes here. He makes eye contact with a kid wearing an artificially faded printing of his own tour merch looking at him with a starry eyed look of recognition not of the celebrity but of family.

“Did you forget where you were going with that old man?”

He decides he might as well put on a show, both halves of this conversation already know he's going to do what he's told. “‘Stevie, my one truth north, my muse, my reason to continue living, my dearest husband, I'm going to Walmart,’ I told you not but thirty minutes ago and asked if you needed me to get you anything and you said no.”

“Oh, you aren't going to monologue for your adoring public all the sweet names I called you?” Steve is amused, he can tell, he's always been able to tell. He's accepting this as his penance for not giving Eddie an actual grocery list when he left.

“Well dear heart I am in public, but if you think we can find another grocery store to go to after getting banned from this one. I guess there is the Kroger on the other side of town.” The kid laughs, tries to hide it behind their hand, but if Eddie has had anything in this life it's experience with teens eavesdropping on conversations they shouldn't be.

“Oh you're really hamming it up, huh, Teddy. Can I tell you what you're getting me yet or do you still have a couple minutes in your set?”

He's given up on oranges, moves on to the onion he actually came here for, the lone ingredient for dinner that he'd forgotten from his clicklist. If they want to actually have the roast tonight it needs to start soon. “What is it that you remembered we needed, oh song of my heart.”

“I already sent you the link so you get exactly what I want.”

It's just ominous enough of a non-answer that he pulls his phone out of his pocket, juggling it and the five things he'd already grabbed that weren't on his one item list. He doesn't have the time to regret not grabbing the cart he was sure he hadn't needed when he sees what he's been sent.

“I'm on my bike! Where am I going to put that?”

“I'm sorry, am I hearing you correctly? Was I right when I said, ‘Teddy bear, my stars, my bard-’”

“You aren't on speaker.”

“My beloved damsel in distress, maybe the motorcycle isn't the most efficient of midlife crisis vehicles. Aren't you going to want something with more trunk space, why don't you get a Caddy or a Bimmer for old times sake. And what did you say?”

“I don't recall.”

“Probably for the best wouldn't want you banned from Walmart, what would the tabloids say?”

“Nothing that would match your wit, Sweetheart. Does it have to be this one?”

“Yes, the plaid matches the kitchen remodel, so be a good boy and strap it to your bike. And remember we've still got one kid to put through school if she decides to go, don't bring home any strays with you. Do you need to do your encore now, baby?”

“I accept your quest, my dashing prince. I shall return home with my bounty posthaste.” Encore complete, audience still enraptured, Eddie dips into the sincere. It's been nearly thirty years together and he's not once ended a call without saying, “I love you.”

“Love you too, my knight in denim battle vest. I'll see you when you get home.”

The call ends with the usual dull toned beep beep, the playlist the call interrupted starts to filter back into his earbud. He realizes he's going to have to walk right past the kid to get to the side of the store with Steve's Instant Pot.

“Hear they're about to have a reunion tour,” he says gesturing down at the reprint of their Came Back Wrong Tour shirt. The faux-fading has left a crack through his own face at the bottom making him unrecognizable, not that he looks the same now as he did at 25. “Those old bands just don't know how to retire.”

“I think it's smart that they're playing up the recent tik tok fame.” The kid says, “No one's even seen their lead singer since the 90s and after their first national tour he'd started wearing that mask.”

It hurts a little bit the way the kid says 90s like it's some bygone era lost to time. Tries to appreciate instead how good the mask idea had been, he'd really been an innovator. “That was a pretty sweet gimmick, you think he'll bring it back? It's kind of Orville Peck's thing now isn't it.”

The kid slumps, managing the impressive feat of looking desolate while standing over the tomatoes. “Probably, not that I'll see it. I couldn't manage to get a ticket.”

That is something he can fix, “Here,” he manages to grab ahold of his wallet, “as luck would have it, I've got a couple spares.”

The kid looks torn between fear and elation, it's likely at least the second strangest thing to ever happen to them in a Walmart. “Oh I can't-”

“No strings, I got it through work for my sister-in-law to go with my husband. She asked why none of the good bands ever have reunion tours so… not going obviously. And my husband insists he's too old to be that close to the stage. You'd be doing me a favor really.”

“If you're sure,” they say, the hesitance more a mannered necessity than real.

“Sure as shooting. Seriously, here give me your name so my husband knows who to make the thank you note out to.”

“Aspen, thank you really!”

Twenty minutes later when he’s got a kitchen appliance bungied to the back of his bike he’ll appreciate that something good came out of this. Three weeks later when he’s standing at the front of a sold out arena he’ll mostly appreciate another chance to be dramatic, “This next one is for Aspen who didn’t laugh when an old man tried to flirt with his husband in the produce aisle. Gareth, count me in.”

[honeyryewhiskey]

birthday fortune

cupid!reader or, you, sam and dean settle around a little campfire for a quiet celebration of the birthday boy. you brought your new deck of tarot cards to read dean's fortune for the year ahead cw!! fluff, sitting in dean's lap, sam third wheeling 'two idiots in love' trope sorry, sammy 1.9k words

The crackling fire warded off the sharp chill of January's air, its warm, flickering glow stretching into the night sky. Shadows of the flames dance across your bundled figure, your breath curling into faint clouds as you shuffle the deck of tarot cards in your lap. You tried to focus on their weight, the whisper of them shifting, but your attention kept slipping.

It always drifted to him.

Dean sat across from you, a picture of ease wrapped in layers of leather, plaid, and denim. His shoulders settled low, and his long legs sprawled wide, his posture lazy but solid, owning the creaky folding chair beneath him. The amber firelight played over his face, catching in his bottle of beer as he tipped it for a slow, unhurried sip.

Your gaze trailed lower, catching on the spread of his knees. He seemed to fill the space effortlessly, like he always did, leaving no corner of the seat unclaimed. And, God, he just looked so warm. Your head tilted slightly at the thought of just sliding right into that space. Onto those well-worn jeans. He was broad enough, sturdy enough, that you were sure you’d fit perfectly curled against him. It had to be warmer than the sagging fabric of your own chair, the cold of the night still managing to sneak through every stitch of your layers.

Dean’s head turned slightly, and you knew before his eyes lifted that he’d caught you. He always noticed. A slow smirk teased the corners of his mouth, and you froze, heart skipping. There was no hiding from him—not out here, not with the firelight dancing in the space between you, and definitely not when he always seemed to know what you were thinking before you did.

“What’s with the pout, lovebird?” Dean’s gravelly voice rolled easily over the soft crackle of the flames, rough and teasing in the stillness of the night. He lowered the bottle from his lips, the faint clink of glass cutting through the air, and swiped his tongue across the corner of his mouth to catch a stray bead of beer. His eyes—sharp, green, and unrelenting—pinned you in place, carrying that mix of teasing amusement and uncanny insight that always left you feeling exposed.

“I’m not pouting,” you mumbled, shaking your head, though the shaky conviction in your voice betrayed you. You dropped your gaze to the cards in your lap, focusing on their worn edges and the faint scent of smoke that clung to your gloves. But like a magnet, your eyes found their way back to him, drawn to the warmth and intensity he radiated effortlessly.

Dean huffed a low chuckle, the sound warm and rich, curling around you like the heat from the fire. Setting his bottle down with a muffled thud beside his chair, he leaned forward slightly, his movements languid but deliberate. “Uh-huh,” he drawled, unconvinced. His cheeky smile felt almost like a taunt as he motioned with two fingers, a slow beckoning gesture, while his other hand patted his thigh. “C’mere.”

Your breath caught, your grip on the cards tightening as the fire popped and hissed, sending tiny sparks spiraling upward. “What—why? What are you doing?” Your voice wavered, soft and wary, but there was no hiding the flicker of a smile tugging at the edges of your lips.

Dean leaned back again, a maddening ease to his relaxed expression as his eyes flickered over your face, watching you simmer under his toying and teasing. “Getting to the bottom of that weird little stare you’re doing over there,” he quipped, the humor in his tone doing nothing to disguise the intent in his gaze.

Before you could muster a reply, a voice broke in from behind, carrying a note of amused exasperation.

“Dean, don’t be a dick,” Sam called, his tone light but pointed, cutting through the tension with the ease of someone used to his brother’s antics.

Dean barely glanced back, his grin undeterred as his eyes flicked to yours again, the firelight catching the subtle shift of green in his irises, watching and waiting.

She’s fine,” he called over his shoulder, dismissing Sam’s interruption with a wave of his hand. Then his attention slid back to you, his smirk as steady as the glow of the flames. “C’mon, sweetheart. Cards aren’t gonna read themselves, and I’m not sitting here all night watching you pout like somebody kicked your puppy.”

You huffed, your breath visible in the chill air, though a small laugh escaped before you could stop it. “Fine,” you said, rising from your chair. The uneven ground beneath your boots crunched softly as you stepped toward him, the crackle of the fire a steady soundtrack to your movements.

Dean’s lips curling into the softest smile as you lowered yourself onto his lap, his hands instinctively coming to rest on your hips. Your shoulder brushed against his chest as you shifted to sit sideways, your legs folding and tucking to the side, finding their place against his thighs. His grip was steady, firm but easy, and the warmth of his touch seeped through your layers, chasing away the night’s lingering chill. You settled into him, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath you, grounding you in the soft heat of the moment.

“There we go,” he murmured, his voice lower now, smoother, as if you were the only person in the world who could hear him. One hand slid to rest on your knee, his thumb brushing in slow, thoughtless patterns that sent little shocks up your spine. “Now, let’s see what you’ve got for me, Cupid.”

You raised the deck of cards, shuffling them again, the edges catching lightly against your gloved fingers. But it was impossible to focus. The heat of Dean’s body against yours, the scent of leather and smoke that clung to him, and the weight of his gaze—all of it distracted you, pulled you away from the task at hand.

Dean huffed a quiet laugh, his lips twitching as if he could read your thoughts. “Where the hell did you even get those?” he asked, nodding toward the cards. “Better not tell me you’re turning into a witch. You know how I feel about witches—gross.”

You swatted his arm lightly, your laugh slipping out and mingling with the rhythmic pops of the fire. “Relax, grumpy. Sam found them in the bunker and gave them to me.”

Dean’s head snapped toward his brother, a mix of disbelief and exasperation spreading across his face. “Really?”

Sam strolled back into view, plopping down in his chair with a smug grin and a shrug that screamed unapologetic. “She asked. Figured she’d have fun with them.”

Dean muttered something under his breath, shaking his head as he leaned back, his hands still anchored on you. The firelight flickered across his features, softening the hard lines of his usual scowl. His eyes flicked to you, their warmth matching the heat that rolled off the flames. “‘She asked’, my ass,” Dean mocked with a scoff. 

Rolling your eyes at their banter, you returned to shuffling the cards. A few slipped from your grasp and fluttered down, landing softly in Dean’s lap. He let out a soft grunt as he picked them up, his fingers brushing yours for the briefest moment. The contact sparked a quiet thrill that traveled up your arm, but you buried it behind a casual smile.

“Alright, birthday boy,” you coo, holding the deck out to him. The firelight glinted off the smooth edges of the deck, fanned out in between your hands. “Pick a card.”

Dean’s brows rose, a flash of curiosity crossing his face, but he complied, tugging a card free with a slow, deliberate motion. He glanced at it, then looked up at you and Sam, the faintest hint of disbelief on his face. “Great,” he chuckled, holding the card up for both of you to see. “Death.”

Sam, who was lounging comfortably in his seat by the fire, let out a soft laugh. “Yeah, that tracks.” The warmth of the fire danced across his features as he grinned, the crackling flames the only sound weaving through the air of slight unease. Both brothers trying not to think too deeply into a tarot card. 

The cool night air pinched at your cheeks and nose as you stared at the grim illustration, but the warmth from the flames kept you grounded as you racked your brain, trying to remember the meaning from the lore book Sam had lent you. The soft rustle of the cards falling into a pile between yours and Dean’s laps was the only sound as you concentrated.

When the realization clicked, a spark of excitement brightened your face, and your eyes lit up. You turned the card toward Dean.

“No, no, it’s not bad!” you said, your voice soft but confident. “It means a transformation is happening to you this year! That’s good, right?”

Dean let out a short, humorless laugh, his gaze never leaving the card. “Yeah, the transformation of my body into salted ash.” He rolled his eyes, his smirk barely visible in the dim light.

Sam, who had been quietly observing, quirked a brow and gave a slight nod, his expression a mix of amusement and agreement.

“No, Dean, gosh,” you grumbled, your fingers tapping the card impatiently. “If you die, we’ll just ask Cas to raise you from the dead again.”

Dean leaned back, the soft crackling of the fire punctuating his words. “Somethin’ tells me that was a one-time get-out-of-jail-free card.”

You shot him a mock glare, shaking your head. “Then I’ll raise you from the dead myself.”

Dean’s chuckle rumbled deep in his chest. “You sure the blood and torture of hell won’t scare you off before you even get to me, sweetheart? Hell’s no place for an angel like you.”

From behind you, Sam’s voice interrupted, light but sincere. “Hey, I wouldn’t doubt her on this one.”

“Oh yeah? Why’s that?” Dean counters.

Sam chuckled, his eyes flicking between you and Dean with a quiet amusement. His gaze lingered a little longer on you than usual, before he turned back to the fire, taking another swig of his beer. “Nothin’,” he said, his tone light but carrying a subtle undercurrent that wasn’t lost on you.

“Shut it, Sammy,” Dean muttered, but there was an edge to his voice, one that suggested he caught something more in Sam’s tone than he let on.

You raised an eyebrow, your curiosity piqued. “Why do I feel like I missed part of the conversation?” you asked, glancing between the two of them.

Sam laughed, the sound easy and warm in the cool night air. “Because you did.” His eyes brewing a mischief you can’t quite decode as he glanced at Dean. “It’s nothing.”

Dean shot his brother a sharp look, while you stared between the two, sensing a shift in the air. There was something unspoken passing between them, a silent language of shared looks and knowing glances. A language you hadn’t quite cracked yet, but one you could always feel in the quiet spaces between their words.

Dean’s fingers brushed against your cheek, then pinched your nose gently, breaking your thoughts. “Quit thinking so hard,” he chuckled softly, his voice rumbling in your ear, warm and familiar.

You glared at him, but the playful tension in your chest melted away as you gave in, a small laugh escaping you. You settled into him, your head finding its way to his shoulder as you nuzzled into the warmth of his chest. The fire flickered softly before you, casting a gentle glow on the three of you.

The night stretched on quietly, and it didn’t take long for the moment to break, falling back into the rhythmic banter of Sam and Dean.

i am so in love with this pairing its not even funny dude like wtf

[keery0s]

pretty boy

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

prompt: steve isn’t used to the reader’s compliments

warnings: smut (18+) • masturbation (m) • handjob • sub steve (kinda) • friends to lovers sorta

word count: 1.4k

notes: this is kinda rushed srry

You can’t help but giggle as Steve struts out of the dressing room, his ego much larger than you anticipated. You had dragged Steve to the mall, convincing him a new wardrobe would finally get him the girlfriend he’s been so desperately searching for. You didn’t mean to make fun of his stride but you always saw right through the facade. The man was much dorkier than he looked, his ineptness masked by beauty.

“I knew you were fucking with me!” He pouts as he struggles to tug the denim vest from his shoulders.

“Steeeeve I’m sorry!” you laugh as you spring to your feet, trying to get the garment back onto him. “It looks good!” You truly meant it, though the smirk across your face didn’t help him believe that.

“The constant tormenting really isn’t good for this friendship.” He quips.

“I mean it Steve! You look pretty.” you smile, patting him on the shoulder before sitting back down. Steve scratches his head, confusion now replacing his previous annoyance.

“What?”

He raises a brow at you as he places his hands on his hips.

“What do you mean pretty?”

“You stupid, Harrington?

He met your gaze with a puzzled expression, not quite used to your compliments. Steve had been called many things but pretty was not one of them until now. He felt a little strange, a flutter in his stomach growing as he sat down.

“Pretty like….a girl, pretty?”

“If you wanna take it that way Steve! Now are you gonna buy that or what?” You sigh, sick of his fixation on a single word. He huffs, taking the vest to the register before making his way out of the store.

“Whatever…”

-

Steve gulps as you start your car. For some reason he felt a little weird about you driving him home, mind still stuck on that one word. Your mutual silence and hum of the car’s engine filled the air with an unspoken tension. He felt uneasy, not wanting to look you in the eye as you nudged his arm.

“Hey, what’s up with you?” you question, slightly alarmed by his silence. You knew how much he loved to run that mouth of his.

“I just…” his voice trails off, "what did you mean by pretty?” he glances at you before placing his eyes back on the road.

“Jesus you're still thinking about that!?” you laugh, “You must’ve liked it huh?” you tease.

“N-No!” he protests, voice shaking with uncertainty. He wasn’t sure if he even believed that answer himself, face heating up as he fidgets with his fingers in his lap.

“You like it when I call you pretty, Steve?” you prod at him, amused by his nervous state.

“S-Shut up…” He breathes, face going red as he shifts uncomfortably in his seat. He couldn’t help but feel his cock twitch in his jeans as he replayed your words in his head. He wasn’t used to your praise, your dynamic usually consisting of playful insults and teasing. He wasn’t sure if you actually meant the compliment, but he certainly enjoyed hearing it come out of your mouth regardless. He was thankful you weren't onto him, not noticing the bulge quickly starting to form in his pants. He lets out a shaky breath as you pull up to his house, placing his hand over his crotch to conceal his unwanted excitement.

“Can I hang out for a little? We can watch a movie or something.” you suggest as he unfastens his seatbelt.

“Nope! I’ve got an early shift at work tomorrow.” he lies, blinking nervously.

You barely have a chance to say goodbye before he slams the passenger door closed and heads for his front door, clearly in a hurry to get home. Weird.

-

Steve pants as he struggles to get out of his clothes fast enough, kicking off his shoes while simultaneously unbuttoning his pants and yanking them down his legs. He gets his shirt stuck over his head, falling to his bed blindly before successfully getting it off and throwing it across the room. He felt guilty, cock aching at the thought of you. He didn’t know why one stupid word got him so worked up. It felt so good hearing you say it…he wanted more. What else could you call him? Maybe you could touch him too, make him feel good. He finally wraps a hand around his cock, grunting as he squeezes himself. He moans your name, too caught up in his own thoughts to hear his door open.

“Steve you left your-” you gasp as you see him leaned against his headboard, dick in hand.

“What the fuck?!” He yells, throwing his blanket over his lower half. His face goes red….did you hear him?

“I- Um-” he stutters.

You toss his forgotten vest on the floor, squinting as you think about what you had just heard.

“Did you….say my name?”

“What?! No! That’s so weird that you would say that!” he scoffs. What a shitty liar. You walk over to his bed, sitting beside him. You watch as his chest rises and falls, breathing heavy from his alone time being cut short.

“It’s okay if you did Steve. It’s fine.” you reassure him. You had a strong feeling you caused this.

“Why?” he whispers as he holds his head down, struggling to make eye contact.

“Is it because of earlier?” you ask, grabbing his chin to make him look at you. A blush spreads across his face as his eyes focus on your lips. He nods,

“Yeah.” he breathes, voice quiet and cautious. he sucks in a sharp breath as you press a hand against his chest

“Tell me what you want Steve…” you whisper. You watch closely as he leans into your touch, desperate and docile. He wasn’t used to being asked what he wanted. He wasn’t used to someone being so gentle with him. He was completely in the palm of your hand.

“You want someone to take care of you Stevie?” you ask, caressing his cheek. He leans in to kiss you but you back away, leaving him unsure of what to do next.

“Lay down.” you instruct.

He leans back, head resting against his pillows as he looks up at you. His lashes flutter as his breathing quickens with anticipation. He had never really thought about you this way, but it all seemed to happen so naturally. You pull the blanket from off of him, marveling at his size as a grin tugs at your lips. You go to wrap a hand around his twitching cock, precum beading at the head. As he feels your touch, his hips immediately buck up into your grasp, a whine falling from his lips.

“Such a pretty cock, Stevie…” you tease, making his eyes squeeze shut in response to the adored word. He writhes against the bed as you stroke him slowly, back slightly arching as he tries to drive himself deeper into your hand.

“Feels good huh?” you ask. He nods in response, letting out a choked moan as he tries to speak.

“Use your words Steve.”

“Yeah…feels so good.” he breathes as he grips the bedsheets.

“Look at me.” you demand, grabbing his face with your free hand. His eyes open slowly, tears welling up in them as the pleasure grows overwhelming. You pump him faster as your eyes meet with his, a cry coming from him loudly.

“Do you wanna cum?” you ask as you wipe a tear from his cheek.

“Please–p-please” he begs, his release approaching quickly with each word from you.

“You wanna cum Steve?” you repeat in a whisper, stroking him faster as he struggles to thrust up into your hand. He’s almost over the edge, cock pulsating from his near climax. You take your hand in his as you continue to jerk him off with the other. He squeezes desperately as he finally hears it,

“Cum for me Stevie.” you plead, grip around his length tightening as he bucks into your hand one last time. His body goes tense with pleasure as the bliss of his orgasm washes over him, a cry escaping his lips. You wipe up the rest of his cum on your hand with your fingers, licking them clean as he watches you in awe. He pants as he stares at you, in shock of what had just transpired.

“Thank you…” he manages as he runs a shaky hand through his hair.

“You’re welcome, pretty boy.”

[ch4rrykisses]

rafe would so be the type to purposely turn you on in front of your friends, just to not do anything about it til’ later :((

tw: mature content!! browse at your own discretion :)), exhibitionism (??), almost semi-public sex, rafe being a meanie, semi-proofread

˚⋅. ˚⋅. ˚⋅. ˚⋅. ˚⋅.

just imagine being at a party, some year end kook party before summer starts, and when school ends. rafe, the ever so loving boyfriend he is has been keeping an eye on you all night, making sure you weren’t accepting drinks from strangers, no drugs whatsoever either, he wouldn’t let his pretty angel ever do those, no. not even if he supplied them. didn’t even trust himself.

it wasn’t long after that third drink that he had you clambering on his lap, back against his chest. a little tipsy mess from the alcohol that was ingested. one of his large hands on your thigh, cooling the hot skin with the pretty gold adorning his fingers. had your attention captured to them for a little while. the boy was inching his hand up slowly, much despite you knowing, distracted with talking to topper and kelce about the upcoming golf tournament they were attending. so, it almost looked like he was rubbing your supple skin.

you felt it before you had properly glanced, his fingers dipped nonchalantly under your pretty denim mini skirt. no one else noticed, why would they? wasn’t like he had you splayed open while he plunged his digits in you. no. just a secret display only you and him would know of. he could feel his lips tug into a smirk, the way you had began squirming on his lap the second he came in contact with your panty-clad clit.

you wanted to whine, really, make some sort of noise that indicated you needed so much more than you were getting. but you couldn’t, and you didn’t. moments later, the eldest cameron’s lips were grazing the shell of your ear, making it seem to all the bystanders that you two were having a conversation over the blaring music that was playing.

“y’like that, baby? shit, can practically feel you gushin’ out onto m’hand through those panties,” he mumbled, curtain bangs against his forehead. he was almost speaking through a groan himself. “maybe i uh, maybe i should take you upstairs, huh? think everyone will know what we’re up to then?” he questioned, almost knew he wouldn’t get a response. not like this. when your brain turned to mush all because of what he was doing.

his nasally tone barely registered in your brain, not when the pads of his middle and ring finger were shamelessly rubbing against you. almost as if he wanted to put on a show. but then, out of random, he stopped. dragged those fingers back to rest on your thigh, which had caused a sheepish whine to slip from your glossed lips.

“don’t be fuckin greedy now, a’ight? gonna make do with what you got until we’re done here. got it?” he nudged at your shoulder slightly, partially snapped you out of that haze. cunt throbbing, pulsating with desire and need while rafe sat with that smug look on his face. smirk nearly reached his eyes. he looked at you expectantly, waiting for a response.

“mkay, daddy. whatever you say.” it flowed right out of your mouth with no other regards as to what you were saying. melted right back into the boys chest, though every now and then, a little squirm on his lap was just enough to get that right amount of friction on his khaki shorts against your nub. he was just so mean sometimes :((.

˚⋅. ˚⋅. ˚⋅. ˚⋅. ˚⋅.

[chukys-mouthguard]

surprised nobody wrote anything about cowboy rempe at the stampede. he looked 🙃. would love a written concept on bumping into him there and maybe he spills a drink on you but you end up getting dragged away and he catches up to you later on in the night and you end up dancing and maybe he even wins u a goofy prize playing ring toss or a corny game.🤠

step right up

1.7k words

pairing: matt rempe x female reader

genre: fluff

warnings: none

note: i didn’t not proofread so i apologize for any mistakes 🫶🏼

Spinning around the dance floor, you grabbed a hold of your cowboy hat, holding it tight to your head as you swayed along to the familiar line dancing song. Trying your best to pick up the steps from your friend as she was the expert of the group, always prepared to break out any line dance she can at the drop of a hat.

Throwing your head back laughing you opted for doing your own thing, moving to the music as you sipped your drink. You had forgotten just how fun the Stampede could be; drinks, live music, fair food and games. It was the highlight of the summer.

“Oh shit-”

As you’d done one too many spins you found yourself crashing into a taller boy, towering over you as his chest was smacking you in the face. Your drink spilling all over your shorts, thank god they were black denim and it wasn’t too noticeable.

“I am so sorry, oh my gosh. Are you okay?”

You smiled up at him, laughing as you wiped your hand on your shorts, drying it as best you could though it would do nothing for the stickiness that would remain.

“I’m okay, honest. I’m the clutz not paying attention to where I’m spinning. Are you okay?”

Looking up at him you’d not noticed before how handsome he was. His black denim jacket just tight enough to show off his build, paired with a black t-shirt and blue jeans then topped off with a cream colored cowboy hat. He had a mustache that you’d found fitting on him, though you normally weren’t a fan. Perhaps it just looked good with his choice of outfit for the night.

“Me? Yeah, I’m great, no complaints. Um, sorry about your drink, and your clothes.”

You shrugged it off, little did he know you’d not paid for the drink so you didn’t mind. As the boy went to offer you a replacement your friends were pulling you off into the crowd as a familiar song began playing.

Waving him goodbye he softly smiled, mentally punching himself for not being quicker to speak and get your name. As he watched your figure fade into the crowd he sighed, hoping that somehow he’d cross your path again.

“Matt, dude, you good?”

Ty appeared at the boy's side, offering him a beer as he tried to pinpoint what his friend was looking at. Not seeing anything but a sea of people he gave up, now standing in front of Matt to try and get his attention.

“Sorry, um, yeah. I’m good.”

Matt made a point to keep his eye on you, hoping he’d have another chance to make up for his clumsiness. To get your name and drink order, perhaps even your number. But as he saw you and your friends heading for the door, he knew that window of opportunity was closing.

“Ty, let’s head out, yeah?”

Ty didn’t bother questioning Matt, assuming he’d grown tired of the bar they were at and wanted to make the rounds. Matt’s strides were swift as he maneuvered through the crowd of fairgoers, Ty having to rush to keep up. Unsure as to why Matt was in such a hurry, with it only being eight o’clock and the fairgrounds open until at least one in the morning.

Suddenly Matt came to a halt, Ty finally catching up to him as he followed Matt’s eyes. Seeing you and your friends crowded around a carnival game that surely was rigged. The objective? Knock down the milk bottles without them falling off the pedestal, practically impossible.

“Ohhh, I see. You’ve got your eyes on a girl huh?”

Matt smiled, slightly embarrassed as he tried to shrug off his friend’s comment. Watching you point out a stuffed animal elephant holding a peanut that you so desperately wanted. The only way to win that prize was to be absolutely perfect in the game, but with several drinks in your system, Matt could tell by your first throw you weren’t leaving a winner.

“I spilled my drink on her Ty, I wanted to try and repay her, but she left the bar before I could.”

“Soooo you’re stalking her now to buy her a ‘sorry I’m a tall lanky clutz’ drink?”

Matt shot Ty a glare at his comments, leaning against a nearby building as he continued watching your failed attempts at winning your desired prize.

“Not stalking Ty, simply a man after something he wants. And I hate to say, I want her number. She’s beautiful.”

Ty flicked the brim of Matt’s cowboy hat, rolling his eyes as he found a spot against the wall to reluctantly join him. “Okay lover boy, so what’s your master plan to get her number? Star at her from afar all night and hope she notices your eyes burning a hole in the back of her head?”

You’d handed another ten dollars to the worker, getting another three chances at the prize you’d been listing over. A smile on Matt’s face as he watched your friends giving you a pep talk, laughing at how hard you were working for this prize. Though he admired your persistence for the plush that surely wasn’t worth the money.

“Well, that’s thirty bucks down the drain. I need another drink!”

Matt watched as you and your friends made your way across the path to a new bar, finding a place at the counter to order a round of drinks. Once the game had been available and reset, he walked up to the counter to take his chances. Ty rolled his eyes with a groan as he joined Matt at the booth, praying that he’d somehow get lucky and win so that the boys could get back to drinking.

“I do not come to the Stampede for carnival games dude, and you’re twenty-two years old by the way. Trying to win an stuffed animal elephant for a girl…who if I had to guess-”

Ty glanced back at you and your friends tossing back shots at the bar, turning back to Matt as he studied the baseballs to find the perfect one to throw.

“She’s definitely at least twenty-one, maybe if we are lucky she is older and can get you to act your age for once.”

“Newsflash Ty, she was just playing this same exact game so shut your goddamn mouth for five minutes so I can concentrate.”

Matt took a deep breath, stretching his arm a bit as if he was getting ready to pitch the final game of the World Series. Ty just shaking his head, praying that no one passing by was catching a glimpse at how embarrassing this scenario was becoming.

“Fuck!”

Matt’s first throw not even close to the tower of milk bottles, a soft chuckle coming from Ty as he tried not to add to his friend’s frustration. Simply giving him some halfhearted words of encouragement as Matt picked up his next baseball.

As you finished your second drink at the bar, you glanced out at the crowd passing by, a tall figure catching your eye at the booth of the game you’d just thrown thirty dollars at. Only for you to realize it was the culprit who had spilled your drink at the previous bar, mainly since he was the tallest man at Stampede and was too hot not to notice.

You watched as he handed over another bill to the worker as he was handed three more baseballs, his friend clearly fed up with having to watch the taller boy failing continuously at the game. Chuckling to yourself you’d ordered another round of drinks for your friends, keeping an eye on the two boys wondering how long they’d keep at it before calling it quits.

The next ten or so attempts continued similarly to the first, only getting slightly better as Matt had managed to knock over a maximum of two of the three milk bottles, though they’d not stayed on the table as was the point of the game. Ty had grown restless as he watched Matt reach in his pocket for another ten dollar bill, patting him on the shoulder as he decided to head over to the bar you were occupying and grab a drink.

“Hey! Is he having any luck over there?”

You smiled at Ty as he shook his head, throwing a shot back before he leaned against the bar to see Matt still trying his darndest to win you a prize.

“Well he’s doing it all for you, you know? He’s dropped like almost fifty bucks all to make up for your ten dollar drink he spilled on you back at the other bar.”

Your eyes went wide as you looked at Matt, seeing him hang his head as he’d thrown away another ten dollars in failed attempts. Needing to put a stop to things before he dropped a hundred dollars trying to win you a no more than fifteen dollar stuffed animal that you did not need in the slightest.

“Hey, cowboy.”

Matt turned to see you now next to him, a smile on his face as you were the last person he expected to see at his side.

“What the hell are you doing over here?”

“Isn’t it obvious, trying my luck at becoming an MLB pitcher.”

You laughed at his sarcasm, seeing a ten dollar bill in between his fingers and quickly reaching for it. Tucking it in the breast pocket of his jean jacket, leaving him with a confused look on his face.

“While I appreciate you embarrassing yourself at this carnival game that is surely rigged just to repay me for a drink…did you ever think of just buying me a drink?”

Matt scratched his head as he’d realized that would’ve been the logical thing to do, despite Ty telling him several times it had only gotten through to him coming from you.

“I mean, that would’ve been the more obvious route to take. But, I wanted to stand out I guess? Be different than just another guy offering you a drink?”

Nodding your head you smiled up at him, his smirk causing you to blush but luckily your cowboy hat hid your cheeks from him.

“And how did that go? Wanting to be different and all?”

“Wanting to be different ran me about fifty bucks.”

He awakedly rubbed his hands together, watching as you reached towards his pocket pulling the ten dollar bill from it and flashing it at him between two fingers.

“Well, lucky for you the drink I like will only cost you less than ten.”

[number1jeonginstan]

Ok, so sry to be bothering you... AGAIN😭Guess who's back with some more hard thoughts~?

But this has been on my mind all weekend

Lee Know asking if you wanted to hang out with him and the boy who r also bringin their girlfriends. He gives you the context of amusement park or arcade. You're like, I know the perfect outfit. It's a collared crop-top and a pleated skirt(idk what colors ill let you decide on that) The skirt just hugs your waist so nicely that it gets him hard. So he purposefully throws his glasses to the other side of the bed(It's against the wall), when you're not looking and asks so sweetly, "Hey, Baby? Can u get my glasses for me." And when you do what he asks he can see your cute little cotton panties and he can't help himself. He pushes you on the bed and devours you While he's fucking you, he's like, "Who were you dressing up for huh? Such a little slut with that tiny skirt. Trynna flirt with my friends?" He knows you would never but he's just too riled up

But, idk, just hard thoughts

-🥠

A/N: THIS WAS SUCH A GOOD REQUEST. I loved writing this, because Lee Know is definitely very protective, and seeing you in that short of a skirt would make him go feral…

WC: 1.9k

Minors don't interact, 18+

Pairing: bf! Lee Know x afab!Reader

Warnings: Lee Know calling reader a slut, unprotected sex, one ass slap, spitting… 

It was finally the weekend and you were excited to relax and do nothing with Minho. You were upside down on your bed, scrolling through your phone when he barged into your shared room. 

“Babe!” he yelled, running towards you, Soonie following behind him, swishing his tail. “Yeah what’s up?” you replied, rolling over onto your stomach to look at him. “Okay so, you know that new arcade that opened,” he said while sitting on the bed. 

Soonie followed suit, jumping and curling into a ball next to you. “Yeah?” you replied, unsure where he was going with this. “Well, the boys wanted to go with their girlfriends, and they invited us.”  

You just giggled along as he continued to explain. “Well, he rented out the place for us to play, so do you want to go?” He flopped onto the bed next to you, arms behind his head waiting for your response. 

“Yeah, how long do we have though, we can go get lunch beforehand.” You said, slowly getting up. “We have a couple hours, it’s only 11, and they were thinking around 5 so we can go out and watch a movie after.” 

“That works for me, let me go get ready.” You fully got up from the bed, giving Minho a kiss as you went to take a shower. 

Before you got into the bathroom he yelled at you. “Are you sure you don’t want me to join!” in a teasing voice. You stuck your head out of the bathroom sticking out your tongue to him and locking the door. 

You were only wrapped around in a towel as you got out of the shower, your body still a bit damp. You got out of the shower to meet Minho’s eyes tracing your body in the towel “Do you want to go in while the water is still hot?” you asked him. 

He put down his phone, rubbed Soonie’s chin, and walked up towards you. “You really should have taken my offer and showered with me,” he said, kissing your lips and heading to the bathroom. 

You just giggled, turning around and heading into your shared walk-in closet. You wanted to dress comfortably, but also cutely for the arcade. Thankfully, it wasn’t too cold, so you could get away with wearing just a skirt. You looked through your closet finding the new shirt you had just purchased, a mint-green collared shirt, and a pleated denim mini-skirt that worked perfectly with the shirt you chose. 

Minho was still in the shower as you began to do your makeup. Sitting at the vanity mirror in your shared bedroom, you were contemplating doing just light makeup because you guys weren’t going anywhere special. 

Minho had gotten out of the shower, towel still on his hips as you were applying your concealer. “What shirt should I wear?” he said from behind you, looking at you through the mirror. “I think a hoodie would look good, don’t you?” 

He just nodded, kissing your temple, not fully seeing the outfit you were wearing, too occupied thinking about his own. As he finished finding an outfit, he placed his glasses on the bridge of his nose, laying on the bed waiting for you. 

His back was towards the headboard, scrolling through bubble asking stays what he should eat for lunch as he finally looked up at you. You had gotten up to wet your beauty blender, what you vowed perfected your dewy makeup, which he always laughed up. His eyes roamed your body, taking in every inch. He had never seen that shirt before, or that skirt. 

The skirt hugged your torso perfectly, flaring out on your smooth thighs. The shirt on the other hand was his favorite color. He could see the outline of your bra, and he could feel himself getting hard.  You had been holding out on him, and he wanted you right there and then. He started thinking about what colored panties you were wearing under your skirt. How easy it would be to bend you over and see them. He put his plan into action. Before you came back, he threw his glasses to the other side of the room. You would be a good little girlfriend and receive it for him if he asked.

As you sat back down, he was trying to think of a way to get your attention. You had finally finished your look, applying mascara to your lashes, and you looked at him through the mirror. “Where did your glasses go?” you asked, taking note of the frames no longer being on his face. “I sneezed and now I don’t know where they are.”

“Do you want me to find them for you?” you asked, getting up from your chair and walking around in search of them. He just nodded, getting up as you bent over on the floor in hopes of finding them. They had ended up under the bed, as you bent over, trying to get them, Minho had rutted his crotch on top of yours, throat around your neck. 

He pulled you off the floor, putting your back directly against his chest, and whispered in your ear. “Who did you dress like such a slut for?” 

Before you could say anything, he threw you on the bed. You squealed in surprise, Minho was dominant, but he had never done anything like this before. “Fuck, look wearing white panties and acting all innocent while dressing like a slut.” 

“Do I need to remind you who you belong to?” Minho said, opening your mouth by pressing it together with his hands. “Take my spit like a good girl okay? Let me mark you.” 

You stuck out your tongue, waiting for him to put his fingers in your mouth, but instead, he spit into it. The string of saliva still being there as he told you to close your mouth. “Stop gaping at me like a fish, and swallow.” 

You just nodded, closing your mouth and swallowing his saliva. “Good kitten, now turn around I wanna see your pussy.” 

You did as he asked, turning around, your ass facing out as your face was slightly faced into the bed. He could already see a wet spot on your panties, “What a whore, already wet from me just spitting in your mouth. Maybe I shouldn’t even prep you?” 

You just whined at his words, begging for any sort of stimulation, and began humping the air slightly. “Fuck, can’t even wait for sir to make you feel good. Maybe I should just get off by myself?” 

“No please, will be good, will be good for you Sir.” you pleaded, you needed him. “Then be a good girl, and listen at once.” 

He smacked your ass, eliciting a moan from your lips. “Fuck, gonna eat this pussy like it’s my last meal.”

He kissed your thighs, slowly going up to your covered pussy, kissing the fabric. He slowly took the fabric off of you, letting out a sigh of contentment when he saw how wet you were for him. “Sir please” you moaned, feeling the cool air coming in contact with your bare cunt. 

“Shut up or else” he groaned into your cunt, wanting to enjoy the moment. You quickly became quiet, covering your mouth with your hand as he began to lick a stripe in between your folds. He flipped you around, wanting to be face-to-face with your cunt. 

You began to try and take off your skirt, but he slapped your hand away. “Wanna fuck you while you are wearing this skirt. Want to make you cum in this so it reminds you of who owns you whenever you wear it.” 

You just nod your head, placing your hands on your face as he begins to suck on your clit. Licking it and sucking on it as he began to slip one of his veiny fingers into your cunt. “Fuck baby, taste so good, only for me right?” 

You moaned as he began to thrust his finger inside of you, still sucking on your clit. “Take off your shirt and your bra, I want you to play with your tits.” 

You did as he asked as he still ate you out, barely able to comprehend anything as you felt the fabric of your bra shifting off your nipples. He looked up from your cunt, your juices splayed against his chin as he leaned in to kiss you. 

You could taste yourself on him, moaning as one of his fingers came to pinch your nipple. “Be a good girl and play with them for me okay?” He said kissing your lips another time. You nodded, bringing your fingers to them, as he began to take off his shirt. You could feel his cock rub against your thigh as he was doing so. 

It was getting to be a bit much, you were soaked and you needed him inside of you. You pawed at his pants, trying to get them off faster. “Fuck baby, that’s why you wore this skirt, because you want my cock that bad?” 

You nodded, “Can I please have your cock sir?” you begged. He obliged, reaching over to get a condom, but you stopped him. “Want you in me raw today” and he groaned out loud. “Fuck baby, want to wake around with my cum? Want everyone to know you belong to me?” 

You nodded, “want everyone to know that I’m your Sir.” 

“So my baby isn’t a slut for my friends, she’s just a slut for my cock,” he said, kissing your lips again. 

He began aligning his cock with your cunt, slapping your clit a few times with his tip, trying to get you to squirm underneath him. “Please sir, I need it” you moaned, wrapping your legs around him trying to get him to put it in already.

He finally obliged, slowly putting his cock into you, inch by inch. “Fuck kitten, you are so tight, I need to fuck this cunt more often then? Get you nice and stretched out for me so I can use you anytime.” 

“Yes sir, please fuck me anytime, where ever you want, will be good for you.” 

He fucked into you like a madman as soon as you said that, his cock disappearing under your skirt and into your tight pussy was all he needed. “Fuck baby, this cunt is squeezing me so tight.” 

He could feel your cunt squeeze around him, fluttering, so he brought down his hand rubbing your clit as he sped up his place a bit. “Are you close kitten?” 

“Yes sir, need your cum, please need it in me.” Your pussy was convulsing around him and you could feel yourself reaching your peak, especially because he was hitting the spongey spot inside you. “Fuck kitten, cum for sir, cum on my cock.” 

That was all you needed to cum around him, moaning his name over and over again. That was all Minho needed to cum inside you. 

He slowly pulled out, watching your pussy dribble out the mixture of both your cum onto your skirt, ruining it. 

“Fuck baby, sorry if that was too much,” he said, trying to fix your hair a bit. You just giggled, falling back into his arms. “At least this time we won’t be too late” you giggled into his ear. He just laughed, you still in his arms, 

[erwinsvow]

you write rafe so good and like you get me like sometimes i’m reading and i’m like “how’d they know😦” so HEAR ME OUT lifeguard!reader (bc i’m a lifeguard at a few country clubs) and i think rafe would be drooling and kelce and top would make fun of him and they’d like break all the rules like back flipping off the diving board just to get readers attention

oh my god first of all i completely adore you!! im so glad yess we must be little brain twins <3 i would love to know which parts made you think that! but here is the best i could come up with for a lifeguard au which is soooo cute but imagine.. its a pogue reader...

rafe knows every pretty girl who frequents the country club, he's made a point of making sure he does. so a fresh face in the crowd stands out pretty easily, especially one like yours.

you're pretty without trying, hair tugged behind you in a ponytail and a simple red one piece, the bottoms covered with denim shorts. it's not the usual kind of outfit for the club, but maybe you're headed out by the pool or something.

he can only see you from the back, though when you turn around, he sees the white cross on the front of your swimsuit. then he sees the boy in matching red trunks next to you, the whistle around your necks and a little first-aid box in your hands. a hot life guard, it doesn't get much more stereotypical than that.

you look around the club, following the boy who can only be giving you a tour of the facilty, with curious eyes like you've never been here before. it's only then a comment from top snaps him into a frankly startling realization.

"can't believe they hire pogues for this shit. wouldn't be surprised if shit started going missing by the pool deck."

rafe thinks normally he'd throw another line in, laugh at what top's saying, but he can't find it in him today. so he keeps watching, the sweet way you smile at a little girl who stopped you to ask for a bandaid, the way you nod while taking in something else in your training.

"alright. you've been staring at that pogue girl for twenty minutes. what gives?" kelce asks finally, after rafe ignores what they've been saying to him for the third time.

"huh?" he snaps back, tearing eyes away from you to look at his idiot friends.

"don't tell me you got hots for the lifeguard. what're you, thirteen?" they laugh, but rafe doesn't.

"shut up." he stands, downing the rest of his drink. "m'goin' to the pool. you loser can come and shut up or stay here and yap."

when he finally gets out there, you've shed the shorts, looking over the kiddie section of the pool with a watchful eye, taking the responsibility of watching brats seriously. he doesn't hesitate, jumping into the deep end with a huge splash, one that gets your attention.

you walk over, making sure whoever that was didn't just fall in, when two boys yell over.

"hey! lifeguard! our friend needs help!" you turn to look back at the boy who's been training you, wondering if you should dive in or wait since you're still in training, when you hear them again.

"not him! you! in the red. hurry!" you don't hesitate, though you're confused, jumping straight in and swimming over to the boy. he doesn't look like he needs help, in fact, he looks like he's floating.

"um, excuse me-" that's all you get out when you get close to him, because he scoops you up like he's rescuing you, carrying you out of the pool like a bride. you kick your feet, yelling out. "hey! put me down! you're not even drowning!"

he sets you down, and you wipe your face, staring up at pretty blue eyes and an arrogant face, once you recognize, one that your best friends hate.

"oh. you. i should have known."

"me? yeah, heard about me, have you? only good things, i hope."

"yeah, no. what the fuck was all that? i thought you were drowning."

"yeah, i was. thanks for the help." confused, soaking wet, and not appreciating his two little sidekicks snickering behind you, you try to get away, when rafe follows.

"so, uh, how long you been working here?"

"it's my first day."

"yeah, i thought so. i never forget a pretty face, so-"

"are you serious?"

"dead serious. and yours is definitely pretty."

"rafe," you say, leaning in closer so he can hear you clearly. "stop hitting on me. i have to work. some of us actually have to work."

"know my name already, huh? what else have you heard-" you roll your eyes, he laughs.

"i heard you're a good swimmer," you say, taking another step closer.

"yeah. from who?"

"i don't know. i'm about to find out." with one hand, you push his chest, and he falls backwards into the pool, the water splashing around your feet. you laugh, watching him bob in the pool, his friends laughing too. "good talk. hope we never speak again."

rafe gets out of the pool, pushing his wet hair back. he calls out after you.

"yeah we'll see about that."

[hyuneskkami]

✮⋆˙ 𝐏𝐀𝐏𝐄𝐑 𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒

⤷ leo valdez x daughter of poseidon!reader

masterlist | event m.list

♡ fandom | the heroes of olympus

♡ includes | songfic (sort of), daughter of poseidon!reader, leo and reader both have glasses in this fic (YES i’m fulfilling my own delusions, leave me alone), ALL CHARACTERS INCLUDING READER ARE 17-18 pls don’t come at me for getting them married 🙏, leo x reader wedding, pre-established relationship, fluff, comfort, beautiful no nonsense kissing and happiness, tbh this is retribution for my previous emercy angst, HAPPINESS, third person pov for like five seconds, not proofread

♡ in which | leo and reader get married <3

♡ a/n | ok shiit. this was supposed to be a newlyweds prompt, but I wanted to write a wedding scene before that, so I completely missed the prompt that was requested ☹️ I still hope this fluff makes up for it a bit, and i'll try to work on a part 2 for a newlyweds drabble (tho I can't promise i'll actually end up writing it, sorry 💀)

♡ wc | 1.3k

✮⋆˙ y/n’s pov

“i’m way too nervous, my hands are shaking and what if I drop the ring? he’ll think i’m stupid! and he’ll leave me right there!”

“n/n? respectfully? shut up,” annabeth sighed.

“this is leo we’re talking about, man, and if there’s one thing I know for sure about him, other than the fact that he loves marshmallows, it’s that he’s whipped as fuck for you,” will’s voice rang out, walking into my cabin.

“trust!” piper’s voice came out of my closet, where she was looking for something decent for me to wear.

“okay… but, now I don’t have anything to wear. that’s another problem,” I whined.

“you could walk out there, and get married in your camp clothes, and it’d have the same effect on him either way,” piper rolled her eyes. “his mouth would like, hang open, and he’d make heart eyes at you—”

“shut up,” I grumbled. “what am I going to wear, pipes?”

“don’t you worry, darling, I got you,” she said, and winked at me, and handed me a denim-leather jacket.

✮⋆˙ leo’s pov

“what if I trip and fall in front of her? will she leave me—who am I kidding, of course she’ll leave me!—”

“she loves you, stop crying about it,” jason said, rolling his eyes.

nico walked in with a red tie and black leather jacket in tow, and told me it was one of the other kids who lent it to him (clearly not).

“oh. thanks,” I smiled.

“yeah, sure. uh, listen, valdez,” nico started. I narrowed my eyes at him. “if you ever hurt her, or make her cry, or anything, I will know. and I will come for your blood. and your organs, because the market is amazing for livers these days—”

“same here,” percy said. “if I see my little sister sad because of you? you’re done for, fire boy.”

they walked over to me, throwing their arms around my shoulder. “got it?”

“obviously,” I rolled my eyes. “and if she’s ever sad because of me, I think i’d kill myself.”

✮⋆˙ 3rd person pov

percy walked with his hand in y/n’s. she walked down the aisle in a black crop top below her unbuttoned white shirt, and a denim-leather jacket strung on top. in that moment, leo could only comprehend how much she looked like herself.

she was fidgeting nervously with her belt while walking towards him.

she looked up, shocked, to see him almost matching with her: white shirt, red tie, black leather jacket, and even the playboy grin.

I like shiny things, but i’d marry you with paper rings…

uh huh, that’s right…

watching him smile at her melted away her anxiety.

he wouldn’t leave her, of course not. they were in this together, forever.

a lopsided grin creeped up her face, setting his heart on fire.

she would always love him, he realised. never would she even think of leaving him.

darling, you’re the one I want, and…

✮⋆˙ y/n’s pov

percy let go of my hand so I could walk further towards leo, leaving me a thumbs-up.

“hey handsome,” I whispered, stopping in front of leo.

“hey beautiful,” he whispered back, still smiling at me.

“even after so many years, you know how to get my brain to stop functioning, it’s unfair,” I groaned, as he chuckled. his hand slipped into mine, lacing our fingers together. his thumb stroked the back of my hand as we turned to chiron, who was officiating our wedding.

he asks all our friends—dressed in shades of either blue or orange—to take their seats. we watched the youngest demigods, who were less than ten years old, walk around the chairs, giving out flowers to everyone.

“dearly beloved,” chiron reads out of his pocket notebook. “we are gathered here today to witness my two little kids join together in holy matrimony.”

everyone laughed and then quieted down.

“you can do your speeches or vows,” he prompted.

I exhaled and started first. “mia cara, thank you. I can’t believe today’s, well, finally here. I remember the, um, first day we met. we were both caught planting something for a prank in coach hedge’s bag, and spent a day in detention together,” I laughed and went on. “well, that was pretty much the day I fell in love with you. i’m so happy I have a boyfriend—well, almost-husband—and a best friend, both in the same person. so, I guess what I want to say is… I love you, leo.”

I hate accidents except when we went from friends to this…

uh huh, that’s right…

his eyes were glossing over, and a tear escaped down his cheek. I wiped it away, and smiled at him.

“oh my god, that was so sappy,” he rolled his eyes at me.

I hit him in his shoulder, and he laughed. “anyway, I think I never told you this, but I knew you before that day.”

I gasped a little bit and my eyes widened.

“it was the day you transferred to that wilderness school, probably around a month before we met. you were wearing the same jacket you’re wearing today, and your hair was in tiny braids, and oh my god, I remember thinking, ‘if I don’t talk to that girl soon, i’ll never forgive myself’ but I waited a whole month because I was too nervous.”

I laughed, “you were nervous for a month?”

“shut up bro,” he groaned. “you were just so beautiful and I thought you looked smart, which, I mean, you are. but then, I found out you were planning some prank for a bet, and I figured that was my chance.”

darling, you're the one I want…

“who knew that the first pranks we pulled would bring us to get married, huh?” I chuckled.

“I knew,” he said, “that was obviously why I did it. anyway, I wanna end this speech or whatever by saying what I thought of you the first day we met: I love you, y/n, and you’re stuck with me for life!”

“I better hope so, you’re not allowed to leave me ever, anyway,” I rolled my eyes.

chiron laughed at us, and called the ringbearers. “it’s time for you to exchange your rings.”

an eight-year old apollo camper and his twin brother walked up to us with matching boxes. each one gave a box to one of us.

we opened the boxes, got the rings out and held them.

leo pulled our interlocked hands up and let go, to slip his ring on my finger. I grinned at him, and placed mine on his finger as well. he smiled when he realised they were the first rings we had bought together after we snuck out of camp for the first time.

“with the power vested in me,” chiron started. “I now pronounce you man and wife. you may kiss the bri—”

before chiron could even finish, leo’s hands were on my waist, bringing me closer, our mouths colliding.

in paper rings, in picture frames, in dirty dreams…

oh, you’re the one I want…

our glasses hit each others’ twice, but neither of us cared. his hands were squeezing my waist, as if it were the end of the world if he let go. my hands wrapped around his neck, and I pulled him in closer than humanly possible.

his kisses were rarely soft and sweet, so today wasn’t a surprise.

tongues colliding, my hands in his hair, and grinning against each others’ lips.

“till death do them part!” a voice rang out from the crowd, everyone else laughing.

“even death won’t do us part, mi vida,” he pulled back, smiling and whispered.

kozumesphone © 2024 | don’t repost my works onto other platforms, or edit and post them even on tumblr, without asking me first • don’t steal my works, steal my heart instead • reblogs and comments are more than appreciated !

[fuctacles]

He's so cute when he howls

for @stevieweek Day 5: AU | T | 633 | Steddie | age gap, trans Stevie, mutual pining, concert, idiot4idiot | Eddie ver | Ao3 Stevie Week: Day 1 | Day 2 (art) | Day 3 (art) | Day 4 | Day 5 | Day 6 | Day 7

It was a happy coincidence that Eddie's band was playing on the weekend Robin was visiting, sparing her the awkwardness of going out alone. The Hideout was holding a live music night to celebrate the Spooky season, and the groups of alternative people dressed on par with the theme made her feel out of place even with company.

"You look fine," Robin told her for the tenth time, hanging off her elbow. "Your boy is gonna love it."

"He's not my boy!" Stephanie hisses, looking around as if they could be heard over the commotion inside. 

"Uh-huh." Robin nods along. "Just point me which one is him."

She knows the name of his band - Corroded Coffin - but doesn't know the order of the line-up. She's determined to stay the whole night if needed because she told him she'd see him play if she ever got the chance, if only to prove she's not that old, not too old for a rock concert. 

And to see the hot college student shred on his guitar.

She's wearing a Blondie t-shirt from a couple of years back, and dark jeans. It doesn't stand out, but Robin blends in much better in her borderline punk layers and jewelry. Everyone around them looks more than ready for the Halloween month.

They order their drinks and find a good spot to observe the stage, where a  few people are adjusting the equipment. Someone jumps up on the platform, wild curls flying, and Steph taps Robin's arm.

"That's Eddie."

Robin stares at him without shame, of course, studying his heavy boots, denim vest, and long hair.

"Didn't know you were into the bad boy type," she says, raising her eyebrows. 

"He's not a bad boy," Stephanie protests. "He just... dresses like one."

"Not protesting that you're into him, I see," Robin smirks. 

Stephanie rolls her eyes, looking away from Eddie who's speaking to someone from the staff, one hand draping through his hair and exposing his neck. 

"You wouldn't believe me anyway."

"No I wouldn't," Robin agrees happily.

It turns out that Corroded Coffin is opening, and soon the lights around them dim, focusing on the stage instead. Stephanie is not surprised to see Eddie approach the mic. His energetic persona screams 'frontman'. 

He introduces the band and she's trying to remember the names - Gareth, Jeff, Doug - and then breaks into a howl, with his bandmates joining him close by. 

"It's a full moon tonight. C'mon guys, get wild with us." Eddie grins at the audience. 

She doesn't feel drunk enough to do it but doesn't want to disappoint Eddie, so she throws her head back and joins in as one of the few audience members. Robin looks at her in disbelief but follows suit, giving a loud melodic howl. Show-off.

Eddie looks in their direction, but she's not sure he can even see her under the lights. She didn't tell him she'd be here either, not sure until the last second if she could make it. (If she dared to make it.) The drum sets the beat, the bass joins right after, and the howls become more intent, blending into the opening notes of the song. 

"I'm going to need these howls again for the chorus, okay?" Eddie asks with a smile, starting to play his part. His eyes fleet back to where Stephanie and Robin are standing, and he leans closer to the mic, almost caressing it with his lips. "Thanks, Steph," he croons, before throwing his head back in a loud howl that properly starts off their first song.

Her cheeks grow hot, her knees wobbly, and she has to ignore Robin's pointed gaze for the rest of the song. She's too busy howling with Eddie anyway.

How can he make something so stupid be so cute?

[icu-now]

18+ switch!eddie? but mostly sub!eddie x dom!reader, gn!reader

so ... eddie wears boxers, agreed? like he's such a boy ass boy wearing boxer shorts. he has ones with green and blue plaid; or red and navy gingham; and his fanciest pair he owns is plain denim blue (but all bought in value packs). and what you love about them more than getting to take them off heehe is how they peek out of his waistband when he reaches for something above the fridge. the shirt that already sits pretty at the edge of his belt loops with his arms down; lifts just that little bit, and the ruched cotton has you licking your lips at the tuft of hair it flattens. eddie chuckles before you can catch yourself and spill half a spoonful of cheerios and milk on the table.

okkkkk starting to scream now bc getting to take them off ... . . . you two have been making out on wayne's lazy boy for about half of a random def leppard album eddie got a boot leg of. cranked high in his room to hear it comfortably in the living room, you love it how the groans between each of his heavy breaths are amplified as you kiss down his neck. you make sure you've locked his eyes before sliding between his legs, steadying yourself on his quads. you've been palming at the denim around his thighs, hips, and crotch for about two and a half songs now and obviously for eddie that's been ages. he's whining into his shoulder and his knuckles are white clenching at the sides of his thighs wishing you'd touch him. and it's quite embarrassing how loud he gasps when you pop the button of his jeans with just your thumb and forefinger. you trail your fingers between elastic and skin until they meet at his tailbone. and u can feel how giddy he is when he does that little hip lift thing, only for you tug at his beltloops, loosening his jeans anchored by his body weight and leaving his boxers mostly on.

rightfully, you earn a, "babe--heh baby..." from eddie. kneeling between his lap, your hands meet at the crease of his hips, finally touching his hard bulge and you're smirking. you feel his thick cock heavy against his thigh and squeeze a little harder, enjoying how with each pulse of your fingers, eddie thrusts his hips into your chest.

he couldnt hold his hands at his sides anymore and tried palmed himself over your hands, but you tsk'ed them away before he could get any meaningful relief. "aw, honey, how do i know what you want if you don't use your words, huh?" you spit his own words he used on u just last night back at him, revelling in how it feels to be on the other side. eddie is so cute when he's flustered and can't think of anything he wants more than your hands under his boxers. "d'you want me to..." you cup at his balls with one hand, and bring your other to his waistband. "touch you..." you hook a finger under the elastic this time, "under here?" he can't come up with an answer for you other than a furious nod of his blushed face. you release the elastic you pulled taut and it dully snaps back onto the yummy path of hair on his lower stomach. god he's whining so loud and you fucking love how close to tears he is, you throw him a bone and sit up on your knees, kissing his jawline up to his lips. you slip a hand under his boxers as soon as your lips touch, and he almost screams. you massage at the base and slowly work your way up his shaft, preoccupying you, letting eddie slip his tounge past your lips. almost feeling bad about your cruelty, you let him kiss you sloppy as you start to spread his precum over the head of his cock. once you did that, he almost jerked you off of his lap, and that's when you've had enough. you take a step back from the lazy boy, admiring the pair of green and blue plaid he put on today, and yank the cotton clean off his hips to bunch at his knees with his jeans. you look at him through your lashes, biting a smile, and his giggles are delirious in response.

:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧

not proofread! sorry wayne ill get u a new lazyboy!!

a/n hiiiiii this is the first fic ive written in years and my first smutty fic! ive been a long long long time reader and always wanted to write fics to bam first post heheeh ALSO im taking requests! if anyone is reading this lol here's my inbox :)

pls lmk if u liked this :*

[slutforsilverfoxes]

Mr. Fix It

For a man who refuses to don a hat unless he’s in uniform, Steven J. McGarrett sure wears a lot of them. A decorated Navy SEAL, leader of the governor’s task force, expert pilot, sport pro, amateur (although he’d argue with you on that) mechanic, occasional ukulele player, son, brother, friend, uncle, husband, dog dad, and now race car-bed-putter-together. The man’s talents clearly know no bounds.

Leaning against the doorway of Charlie’s bedroom in Danny’s house, you can’t help but admire the view before you. Your husband has traded in his usual cargo pants and t-shirt for a pair of form fitting jeans that hug his lower half in all the right places and a plaid button up that shows off his muscular back and arms. A tool belt is slung low across his hips, and a few dirty jokes featuring the hammer and screwdriver tucked into their designated slots pop into your head unbidden. Steve slides the pencil out from behind his ear to make a mark on the wood, then grips the writing implement between his teeth to free up his hands. That draws your attention to the scruff currently dotting his cheeks and the sexy patch of gray along his chin that’s been steadily growing with every birthday that passes. He bends over to fit two pieces of the bed frame together, and your promise to Danny to not fool around in his house is suddenly dangerously close to being broken.

Passing Steve on your way to collect more wallpaper, you gather two handfuls of denim in a firm squeeze and appreciatively murmur, “Nice ass, stud.”

Your husband lets out an amused grunt, straightening up to his full height and tucking the pencil back in its rightful spot before turning to you with one eyebrow raised. “What was that, you cheeky little brat? Huh? You objectifying me again?”

“I said,” you emphasize as you climb the ladder with your next few feet of racing stripe wallpaper, “that’s a nice brass stud!”

“Yeah, okay,” Steve says, eyes twinkling with mirth. “Hey, lemme ask you something.”

“Yeah?”

“You think Danno could fit in this bed, too?”

You turn to your husband, trying and failing to bite back your laughter. “You’re objectively the worst. And I’m telling him you said-”

Steve’s phone ringing interrupts your threat, and he brandishes his cell with a playful grin. “Speak of the Jersey devil.” He answers the phone, the smile melting off his face at whatever he’s hearing on the other end. After a few tense moments, he ends the call and then walks up to you on the ladder with a sigh.

“Duty calls?” you ask knowingly.

“Sorry, baby,” he pouts, leaning up to kiss you three times for I love you.

“Don’t get hurt, Steve!” you call to his retreating form down the hallway, getting a confident, “I won’t!” in response.

“I’m serious,” you yell louder as his footsteps grow quieter. “You’ve reached your allotted hospital visits for the month!”

__________

Later that night, you find yourself in the same position as this morning at the entrance to Charlie’s room, this time admiring the way the space has transformed into a little boy’s dream and enjoying the Indy 500 animatedly playing out before you.

“…and the crowd goes wild,” your husband declares, whisper-yelling cheers as Charlie grins proudly beside him. Steve tucks a victorious Charlie into bed before smoothing the little tyke’s hair down and pressing his lips to his forehead with a quiet, “I love you, buddy.” He joins you in the doorway, and your heart swells at Charlie’s voice sleepily calling out, “Goodnight, Uncle Steve! Goodnight, Auntie!”

“Goodnight, bubba, we love you,” you respond softly, flicking off the light switch and leaving only the glowing CHARLIE’S ROOM on the opposite wall as a nightlight. 

“Hey, race you in the morning?” Steve asks, head tilted in question. Charlie nods enthusiastically and his uncle reciprocates his excitement with a resounding, “Boom.”

Steve pulls the door shut behind you, and as you make your way down the hallway, you wrap your arms around his waist and lean into his solid form. “Should we make one?”

Your husband looks down at you, one eyebrow raised, and squeezes your hip. “You want a little race car bed, too?”

“Steve-” you groan, but he carries on with, “I mean, sure, but I’ll smoke your ass every time, babe.”

Laughing, you grip his face in one hand and smush his cheeks together until his nose scrunches up from a smile. “No, you doofus,” you correct him, “I meant should we start trying? Make a mini you?”

Steve’s eyes shine with adoration, and he shifts your hand to his mouth to press kisses against your palm. “You want to have a baby?”

“I think being a daddy would suit you well, Commander,” you purr, trailing your fingers down the sliver of skin peeking between the open buttons of his plaid shirt.

“That turn you on?” your husband teases in turn, taking note of the glint in your eye.

“I mean…” You trail off, looking up at him with a suggestive smirk. Using the collar of his shirt as leverage, you tug him closer and confess, “Uncle Steve with his kiddos is a hottie, don’t get me wrong, but Daddy Steve? One baby tucked up in each of those arms?” Your hands glide along his muscular biceps and you let out a hum of appreciation.

Steve’s eyes go wide, and he stills your wandering hands. “Woah there, two? At the same time?”

“Well, we can’t have one of your biceps getting bigger than the other,” you clarify. “You’d look dumb.”

“Oh, of course, of course,” he acquiesces, nodding. “You really want twins?”

“Steve,” you tut. “Don’t tell me the big bad Navy SEAL is afraid of dealing with two tiny humans.”

“I’m not afraid, I’m just, y’know- one is- is a lot already. Joanie could be a handful, so think about two of ‘em, two at the same time would be-”

“Hey,” you cut off his rambling, pulling him down to your level for a sound kiss. “How ‘bout we go home and get some practice in, and we’ll talk more about this tomorrow?” Steve’s hands glide down your body until they settle on your backside with a firm grip, and you take that as a yes. Pressing your lips to his again, you murmur, “Sound like a plan, McGarrett?”

He fixes you with a devilish grin in response. “Hooyah.”

__________

[A/N: I 👏🏽 love 👏🏽 this 👏🏽 man 👏🏽👏🏽👏🏽 My McGarrett obsession is somehow reaching dangerous new heights sos 🥵 And the thought of Daddy™️ as a daddy? Jesus take the wheel]

[ragingbookdragon]

Soap was definitely a jeans and t-shirt type of man. Hated penguin suits for the life of him. But when the team saw him come in with a clean pair of dark denim jeans, a forest-green plaid dress shirt, and a dark brown buttoned vest with tan leather straps, they knew something was up; he’d even gotten a new pair of dark dress shoes. He was running a hand through his gelled hair, a little longer than usual, but clean-shaven head and face, the scent of wintergreen aftershave wafting around him, mixing with the smoky, tobacco and cedarwood cologne he was wearing.

Price looked up from his deck of cards, looked down, then back up in shock. “Soap?”

The sergeant blinked, fixing the button of his vest, before fumbling with the gold chain that connected from his button to the watch in his pocket. “Yeah, Cap?”

“Uh…where you goin’, son?” he asked and Soap flushed a little, clearing his throat as he shifted on his feet.

“Got a date.”

Ghost snorted. “With the lass he’s been head over heels about for the last six months.”

Gaz shook his head. “You’ve been dating someone?”

“Won’t shut up about her,” Ghost answered, and Soap crossed his arms over his chest.

“I just wanted to make sure she was legit first. We’re not that serious.”

“Uh huh,” Ghost shot back. “Show us your phone background then.”

Soap blushed and shoved his phone in his pocket. “Fuck off,” he griped and looked at the captain. “I’ll be back by eleven. Call me if anything happens.”

Price waved him off. “Go have fun.” As soon as Soap disappeared, he turned on Ghost. “You didn’t tell me he was seeing someone.”

“It’s not my business,” he retorted.

“Of course, it is. Look at ‘im. He can’t be left alone to his own devices.”

***

The night had gone amazing. The food was wonderful, the atmosphere was even better, and Soap was on cloud nine as he walked with her hand in his down by the water. He felt like a teenager again, his heart beating a mile a minute in his chest and as they came to a bench, she pulled him towards it.

“Can we sit?” she asked, and he nodded.

“Of course, love,” he said and sat down with her. She seemed nervous, fiddling with her hands. “Love? You alright? Look like you’re sweatin’ bullets.”

She sighed and nodded. “Yeah, I just need to tell you something. It’s…really important and I think it might define the rest of this night.”

Now, he was nervous, and he took her hand, gently rubbing his thumb over her knuckles. “Love, whatever you need to tell me, I’m listening.”

“I appreciate that,” she answered and took a deep breath, looking into his eyes as she said, “John, I’m not a biological woman.”

He blinked. “Huh?”

She gestured below her. “I’m not a biological woman. I was born a biological male. Y’know…male parts. Boy. Man.”

Soap nodded slowly. “So…you’re transgender? A male to a female?”

“Mhm.” She pulled her hand away, resting it in her lap. “I had my top and bottom surgeries a few years ago, and I’ve been on medication since I was a teenager.” Her eyes seemed sad. “I just…wanted to tell you this before things went farther. I know I waited a little longer than usual but I…I didn’t want to ruin things between us.” Tears gathered in her eyes. “I really like you, John. I mean, I really like you. And I want to keep seeing you, but if you aren’t comfortable with this, I understand a-and I won’t hold it against you if you want to stop seeing me. Some people are okay with dating people like me, and some aren’t. I just…needed you to know.”

Soap was quiet for a moment then he reached over a put his hand on her cheek, turning her face to his, thumb brushing away the tears on her skin, then he took his other hand and did the same before tilting her face up and down, side to side until a startled laugh escaped her.

“What are you doing, John?” she questioned.

He smiled at her. “Looking for all those wrinkles you must’ve gotten from frowning so much thinkin’ o’er how you were gonna tell me this.”

She laughed pitifully, a grimace coming over her lips after. “I once ended up in the ER for not telling a man I was seeing. Not that I think you would do something like that to me, I just, y’know…needed to be sure.”

Soap’s face turned uncharacteristically serious, and he promised, “Love, I will never lay my hands on you. For any reason.” He wiped her tears away. “And whether you are a biological woman or not doesn’t matter to me. I love you exactly for who and how you are. You’re perfect. In every way. I love you.”

She blinked, gaping at him. “You…you love me?”

Soap swallowed thickly, cheeks crimson as he pulled away and scratched the back of his neck, awkwardly stretching like he did when he was flustered. “I mean, I care about you greatly. A great deal. A large extent. Quite a lot.”

“You love me,” she repeated as she nuzzled into his side. “It’s okay, John, I love you too.”

He melted, wrapping his arm tight around her, squeezing her against him. “You make me really happy, love. And thank you for trusting me with this I know it was something important and I’m even sorrier if I made you feel like you couldn’t tell me.”

“John, you make me happy,” she answered, looking up at him. “And I told you this because I trust you. You have nothing to be sorry for.” She smiled. “Do you maybe want to spend the night at my place tonight?”

“I’d love to,” he said. “But do you want me to come over? I understand if you don’t want me to.”

“I wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t sure.” She smiled. “Besides, I want nothing more than to sleep next to you.”

“You won’t be next to me, love,” he said, standing from the bench, and pulling her with him. “You’ll be in my arms where you belong.”

Her smile rivaled the moon above and she wrapped her arms around his neck. “John MacTavish, you are a real catch, you know that?”

“Nah,” he said, shaking his head. “You are.” He pecked her lips. “I love you, lass.”

“I love you.”

[avatarmerida]

Boyfriend Material

Can be pre Thanks to Them or post canon, take your pick ✌️ Short Huntlow fluff.

———

“Oh! There’s the craft store!” Hunter pointed out excitedly as he and Camila excited the show store, their arms full of shopping bags. “Would it be okay if we went in real quick to grab some fabric?”

“Si mijo, of course.” Camila said with a smile, following the excited boy. “What kind of fabric did you need? I can help you find it.”

“Do you think they have any boyfriend material?”

Camila stopped in her tracks and look at Hunter with a raised eyebrow, stifling her laughter. “What was that?” She asked slowly, wanting to ensure she had heard him right.

“Boyfriend material.” Hunter repeated.

“Oh, that’s what I thought you said.” Camila said, flipping through the racks. “Where uh where did you hear about this material, mi amor?”

“Oh, from Willow.” Hunter replied, reading the labels on some colorful spools of thread. “The other day I was showing her the jacket I made and she said it looked like it was made of boyfriend material. But I told it wasn’t, it was just denim.”

“Okay…” Camila said, easily picturing the scenario and the flirtation flying right over Hunter’s head.

“And then she said ‘I dunno, the way it looks on you it really looks like boyfriend material.’ So I read the label, just to be sure. But it was just denim. So I wanted to get some and make her a jacket as a surprise, since she seems to like it.”

“Why isn’t that sweet of you,” said Camila, shaking her head endearingly. She thought about expanding the sentiment to him, but felt it best that he figure this one out for himself. “I’m sure she’ll love whatever you make for her.”

“I hope so, but I really think she had her heart set in boyfriend material,” said Hunter, digging through another bin. “I’m guessing it’s similar to denim, but I wonder what makes it different?”

“Oh, I think Willow can help you figure that out,” said Camila. “Why don’t you just pick something in a color she likes, huh?”

Hunter immediately went over the greens, finding the perfect shade to compliment her eyes. “Oh this is perfect!” He beamed. “I can make her a jacket for flyer derby, and I can spell her name in patches on the back and put some flowers on the sleeve and add extra pockets on the inside for her to keep seed packets and then…”

His mind starting racing with the possibilities of how to make the fabric worthy of the plant witch. Normally, Camila would advise him to pace himself before he put too much on his plate but she knew it was a labor of love and there was no stopping him when something involved his Captain.

“Oh shoot, I dunno if there is enough to make it with long sleeves,” said Hunter.

“Oh, that’s okay we can ask for more up at the counter.”

“Perfect!” Said Hunter, dashing over that way. “Oh wait, I know the color but what type is it?”

“I think the tag said ‘girlfriend material.’” Camila chuckled, mostly to herself.

“‘Girlfriend material?’” Hunter repeated, giving the phrase some thought before chuckling. “Huh! What are the odds? Wait until I tell Willow!”

Sequel

[miasmaghoul]

honestly something i’d absolutely love to see in your style of writing would be mountain and one of the other ghouls having a relaxing day potting plants in the greenhouse :) maybe they’re talking about something deep, maybe they’re exchanging gossip, maybe they’re working in comfortable silence, but whatever it is, they’re having fun, they’re soft and chaste, and they’re so so in love <3

yes uh huh yep absolutely lets go

soft boys below the cut

Dew sways in place, humming a tune to complement the raindrops pattering against the glass walls surrounding him. A springtime sunshower that makes him feel refreshed, makes his skin buzz and his gills flutter. He's tempted to sneak away, just long enough to get his fins damp and his hair frizzy, but it's a fleeting thought.

Dew's tail swishes aimlessly on the ground, stirs up fallen leaves and withered petals. The result of one of Mountain's seasonal repotting days, of hours spent pruning and stripping and checking for root rot. Of lugging around countless pots and sacks of dirt and the putrid fertilizer Mountain swears by. It's lousy work, really. Delicate but backbreaking, especially for a ghoul of smaller stature. Exhausting.

Dew's been here since just after sunup, and there's nowhere else he'd rather be.

It's been hours now, the sun hanging high where it peeks through the rainclouds. He has at least six different kinds of soil caked under his nails and streaked across his face, muddy smears covering both his apron and the garbage pair of jeans he'd yanked on this morning. They're more stain than denim at this point, and Dew wears them exactly four times a year. The little ghoul stretches his arms over his head and relishes the way his spine pops.

He's sore all over, truth be told, but it's a kind of good sore. The kind that comes from manual labor, from hard work and dedication. Dew catalogs the places he'll need to ask Aether to rub later, a little quintessence analgesic that he'll definitely have earned; his shoulders for sure, they're starting to crunch when he rolls them. His fingers too, Dew knows his knuckles will be all swollen up otherwise. Probably his legs and feet as well, but that would be better saved for -

"I'm back."

Dew's ears perk up when a deep voice calls from across the greenhouse, accompanied by the telltale squeal of the heavy glass door. Booted footsteps follow, wet soles squeaking against dirty concrete, and Dew hops off the stool he's been perched on just in time for Mountain to round a nearby pallet of exotic ferns.

"Don't get up on my accout," he chuckles, smoothing wind-mussed hair back between his antlers. Dew can just barely see misty droplets clinging to those auburn strands. "Besides," Mountain adds, holding up a paper bag, "I brought you lunch, and you don't want to eat standing up."

Dew's stomach growls mightily the moment he says it, loud enough that they both look down at it.

"Good timing," he says, poking at his belly. Dew hops back up onto his seat and scoots it closer to the filthy bench he's been working on. "Any longer and I might have started consuming things with no regard for signage."

Mountain laughs, but it's true. Dew hasn't eaten anything since he and Mountain found each other in the kitchen this morning. Even that wasn't much, a couple pieces of toast and a container of some weird coconut yogurt he'd found on the bottom shelf of the fridge.

Dew has these four days memorized at this point - three days before a solstice or three days after an equinox - but Mountain still always seems surprised to see him stroll into the common room in his work boots and crusty jeans. Dew supposes that has something to do with the fact that he usually sleeps until at least noon, but that's neither here nor there.

"Wouldn't recommend that," Mountain rumbles, setting the bag on the table for Dew to pounce on. "Last time Ifrit did that I couldn't keep him off me for a week."

"Woe is you, " Dew laments, collecting his prize. "I'm sure you suffered, what with his huge dick and endless stamina."

"It was a struggle like no other," Mountain deadpans, slipping his apron back over his head. He'd hosed it off before Terzo had called him for an unexpected meeting, and Dew had taken the liberty of pulling the moisture from it while he was gone. Left it in dark stains on the floor below instead. "I smelled like him for two weeks."

Dew snickers, opening up the bag. Pulling out a hefty container that's still warm to the touch and a real fork. There's a drink in there too, a bottle of coffee in Dew’s preferred mocha, and a paper-wrapped fruit pie the size of his hand. He looks up at Mountain with a quirked brow.

"What's all this?" Mountain tips his head while he secures his apron, makes a questioning sound. "You said lunch, I figured I'd have a sandwich or something. This is like," Dew gestures vaguely, "this is a whole thing."

Mountain shrugs, rolls up his sleeves. Dew definitely doesn't stare at his forearms for the second or two it takes to open the container. For the smell of it to hit him - roasted salmon with creamy polenta, along with a small pile of green beans flecked with garlic and lemon zest. His mouth waters immediately, and his stomach gives another loud complaint. Dew grabs his fork and gathers up an oversized bite, and it's halfway to his mouth when Mountain answers.

"I stopped by the mess after my meeting," he explains with a casual shrug. "Got there at the right time, I guess."

Dew freezes mid-bite, looks over at Mountain with his mouth still hanging open. He's in the middle of hauling pots onto his own bench, a cart of miniature rose bushes in the process of being repotted sitting beside it.

"You went to the mess?"

It's a well known fact that Mountain can't stand the parts of the abbey that attract swaths of humanity - it takes real effort to even get him to attend mass - and Dew can't imagine him braving the mess hall on his own. Again, Mountain shrugs.

"It was on the way back from Terzo's office," he offers, collecting a bush from the cart. Setting it on his worktable and brushing a few stray leaves to the ground. "You've been working hard, you deserve real food."

Dew's face goes unbearably warm, but he doesn't argue.

"Thank you," he murmurs instead, soft but genuine.

Honest.

Mountain's tail sways up to pat at his arm in response, the tufted end ticklish against his exposed forearm. Dew finally pops that forkful of food into his mouth, and the taste of it is exquisite. He groans, his eyes fall shut, his shoulders curl, the whole shebang. Surely an overreaction, but in fairness he's really hungry.

"Fuckin' hells, that's good," Dew sighs, popping a green bean into his mouth. "Say what you will about Sister Agata, but that old broad makes damn good food."

Mountain scoffs, shoots him a dramatic, offended look.

"Better than mine?"

Dew snorts, shoveling another mouthful of polenta. He makes a wavy gesture with his hand, a silent ehhh, maybe that Mountain responds to with a shocked gasp. Dew rolls his eyes, flicks his tail at Mountain's calf.

"'Course not," Dew assures him, spearing a bean on each tine of his fork. He gives the other ghoul a wink. "No one burns popcorn like you, Mount."

The end of Mountain’s tail whacks the back of his head, right above the knot he's tied his hair into. Dew waves it off, but makes a happy little sound when that tail settles on his thigh instead.

They fall into comfortable silence, Dew watching Mountain unearth a bush from its home and set it on his table. Munching away while he follows the way Mountain starts gentling its roots apart, spreading them out to better suit the large pot at his feet. No matter how often Dew does this, he can never get enough of seeing the way Mountain gets lost in his element.

If Mountain were anyone else, Dew would've asked where his lunch was, why he was eating alone. But there would be no point; Mountain has a certain philosophy when it comes to food, something that must have come ingrained in his vessel. He believes in only eating what he grows or catches himself - be it fish from the lake and streams, animals from the forest or even the odd, wandering sibling. He wouldn't eat mess hall food if it were the last thing Above.

Plus Dew's pretty sure he can photosynthesize, so there's that too.

Dew polishes off his meal quickly, while he watches flowering vines curl their way up Mountain's antlers. Speckled with tiny pale blue blossoms that Dew knows match his eyes. He's quiet, but his lips are moving like he's speaking to the plant in his hands. Dew imagines him encouraging it, coaxing life back into any fading roots. He's tossing back the last of his coffee by the time Mountain's hoisting the new pot onto the workbench, already lined with rich, black soil that will keep that little rosebush happy for months to come.

"What color will that one be?"

Full and re-energized, Dew slides from his seat and sidles up beside Mountain, observing the way he meticulously shake the old dirt from that mess of roots.

"Pink, supposedly," he mutters, brow gently furrowed. "That's what the label said, at least. Hard to know with these, though. Ivy did a lot of crossbreeding in her younger years. These could be black for all I know."

Mountain settles the little bush into its new home, carefully aerating the new earth with nimble fingers. Dew reaches forward out of habit, helps to redistribute that soft dirt and get those roots covered up nice and snug.

"I hope they're white," Dew chimes in, focused only on the task at hand. "The white ones are my favorite."

"And Zephyr's," Mountain hums, tapping the back of Dew's hand when he's happy with the plant job. Dew pulls back obediently, gives Mountain the space to fluff up its leaves. "Guess we'll just have to wait and see."

"Guess so," Dew sighs, leaning his elbows on the table while Mountain adds a layer of topsoil to the pot. "My turn now?"

"If you'd like," Mountain offers, standing back. "Unless you want to wait until they're all potted first."

"Nah," Dew straightens, cracks his knuckles, "I already walked all the way over here, might as well."

Mountain laughs, a brief but rich sound that Dew treasures every time he hears it. Dew extends his hand, takes a deep breath through his nose and exhales between his fangs. The tips of his fingers tingle, cool in the temperate heat of the greenhouse.

"Soil or leaves?"

"Both," Mountain replies, and with a nod Dew twists his wrist.

This is his favorite part, of course. When it comes time for the watering, for Dew to make himself useful and earn a pat between the horns for his efforts. He holds a flat palm towards the bush and manipulates the moisture hanging around them - in the air, consensed on the glass walls, even the few droplets still clinging Mountain's hair. Channels it all into a fine mist that he's sure to apply to every last leaf and burgeoning bud. Dew hums to himself while he works, cupping his hands once he's happy with his coverage and letting the water fill his palms instead.

"There," he says, pleased, pouring a few modest handfuls into thirtsty soil. "Good enough?"

Dew steps back so Mountain can check his work. He wipes both hands on his apron, smears around the caked on dirt that'll take a chisel to remove by the time the day is done. Mountain rumbles his approval after a moment, and Dew preens from the sound alone.

"Very well done," he lilts, and Dew rolls up onto the balls of his feet just in time to meet Mountain's hand. It rests perfectly between his mother-of-pearl horns, ruffling the loose hairs that have escaped their ties. Dew purrs, Mountain chuckles, and they part once more.

"One down," Dew says, peeking around Mountain at the remaining plants on the cart. "How many to go?"

"Eight," Mountain replies easily, already hoisting the next bush up to work on. "Of these, at least. I think the new guy is almost done racking the orchids, so those will be next."

Mountain looks at him from the corner of his eye, like he's waiting for Dew to complain. To whine about this taking too long, or that it's too boring. The look he gives him every time Dew volunteers to help him with this. Dew gives him a fang-filled smile instead.

"Sounds good," he says easily, striding back to his own work station. "I'm here as long as you want me, big guy."

Mountain chuffs, eyes sparkling. Dew can't believe how much more obvious the gold flecks in his emerald irises stand out on these days. He looks so...whole. Mountain's fingers dance over what will one day be a rose, now just a green bud, and Dew doesn't miss the way his ear flicks.

"Hey, Dew?" His voice carries something deep, something real.

"Yeah?"

There's a long beat of silence, and all Dew can hear are fading raindrops. The sun's getting brighter now, fewer clouds to hide behind. He can see Mountain’s freckles in the warm light, and the streak of copper in his hair. Then,

"I'm...really glad you're here."

Everything around them seems to soften. Dew smiles, unabashed and open, his tail drifting over to tangle with Mountain's just because he can. He huffs our a deeply amused laugh, staring down at his tabletop to hide the way his cheeks flush. Force of habit.

"Nowhere else I'd rather be," he replies, easy as anything, and he really hopes Mountain believes it. "Now gimme something to pot, my fingers are gettin' itchy."

Mountain snorts, shakes his head, but doesn't hesitate to grab another bush and a pot, depositing them on Dew's table. Dew busies himself scooping fresh dirt into the terracotta vessel while Mountain checks the plant for anything that requires pruning.

"This one's even supposed to be white," he says, not missing the way Dew perks up at the words. "Take good care of it, yeah?"

He will, of course. And in a few months, when these plants are hale and hearty and flush with springtime blooms, a bouquet of them will appear in Dew's room. Perfectly trimmed and never wilting, wrapped in silky green ribbon that Dew will save in a secret place behind his sock drawer.

For now, Mountain returns to his own table, and together they work. The silence doesn't last nearly as long this time, broken by Mountain humming a folksy tune that Dew has heard enough times to harmonize with. So he does, the sound bouncing around them and accompanied by the gentle rustle of leaves swaying in a nonexistent breeze. The plants singing with them, Dew thinks. Peaceful.

Soon enough, one of them will speak again. Will break up the monotony with talk of music or recent happenings, or maybe even indulge in a little gossip regarding Terzo's newest summon. He's a hybrid, Dew heard, fire and earth and supposedly just enough quintessence to make him a Problem. Dew wonders if that's what Mountain's meeting was about, but he doesn't ask. Not yet.

For now, all he needs is this.