#cause I know I’m a mess he doesn’t wanna clean up | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

princessbrunette · 1 year ago

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rafe with crybaby reader cause my heart 😍 shes real nervous to leave his room when she’s over even tho they’ve been together for ages but he’s tapping her butt and telling her to be a big girl and to do what she wants. so she goes to get water and little miss clumsy drops something and it breaks. maybe wards been having a bad week or smth so he comes out of his study and yells a little and she just cries her eyes out. rafe would loose his shit I know it ‼️

goddddd this !!!! i relate to this so hard bc i am a huge cry baby :( i don’t think ward would yell but i think he’d be an asshole in his own intimidating, highkey terrifying way.

you cringe as the glass shatters, eyes instantly welling up as you gasp — wanting to slap yourself. you’re a guest in the cameron’s home and you’re already messing things up and breaking things, how ungrateful could you be? almost instantly you hear quick and heavy footsteps, not rafes— no, he didn’t walk like that, you knew what his footsteps sounded like. this was ward.

he stands in the doorway, mouth agape a little, just staring at you like ‘seriously?’ and you wanna sink into the ground.

“i’m so sorry, mr cameron it was totally an accident. i’ll— i’ll buy a new—” you start, jumping into action by squatting and carefully trying to pick up the shards with your fingers. you knew it was dumb, but you panicked and wanted to make things right as quickly as possible.

“just— out of the way please. don’t touch it.” he holds up his hand, cutting you off making your mouth shut quickly. he used a very clipped tone with you, different from the usual welcoming and kind voice he spoke to you in. you stay quiet, stepping aside as you anxiously bite at your finger nail, watching him open a closet and pull out a broom.

you don’t know why, but even though you felt totally guilty you expected him to sweep it up— however he pins you with a stern gaze and holds the broom out. “c’mon, you’re gonna clean it up. okay?” his tone isn’t gentle, leaving no room for suggestion, more threatening if anything. you swallow, nodding frantically and take it from him, sweeping up.

he leans on the counter with his arms crossed watching you as you gather the shards. “you know, i welcomed you into my home sweetheart and this is just… you see how it might irritate me right? i’m not being unfair?” he tilts his head, gesturing that he wants you to look at him.

“no sir, i really really am sorry, i would never disrespec—” you will the tears to stay inside.

“its just… i’m having a rough day, i come home, i gotta listen to my son fucking you for what, an hour straight, with no regard for who might hear, and now i just wanna relax, and you’re smashing my good glasses in the kitchen. i don’t even really know why you were reaching for these glasses, honey, the regular glasses are right there like it’s common sense...” his voice doesn’t raise once, but your lip is wobbling, avoiding his eyes due to how stern and intimidating he was. you had no idea ward could be like this, he seemed so kind at first.

“respect is important, yeah? just try and remember.” he finishes up, running his hands under the tap before sparing you one last disapproving glance and walking to the kitchens exit. at once, rafe appears in the doorway in his sweatpants, coming to see what was taking so long. he glances at you with the broom, and then his dad, brows furrowing in confusion.

“whats going on?”

“just maybe teach your girlfriend some basic house training or respect rafe, i don’t know i’m tired…” he trails off, walking past his son back into the hallway. rafe is quick to react as usual, face screwing up in disgust and swivelling his whole body to follow his dad.

“excuse me? no, the fuck did you just say?” he asks, voice a little raised. you sigh, swiping your tears on the back of your wrists and pouring the shards into the bin before following.

“don’t make this a thing son, she broke my good glass so she’s cleaning it up, go to bed.” he waves him off but rafe storms infront of him.

“are you serious? she’s a guest in our home, what you — you’re always fuckin’ telling me to treat the guests with respect so what— the same doesn’t apply to my girl? fucking… apologise, now.” he demands, making his dad simply scoff. rafe didn’t didn’t like that. he stares him down, pushing his tongue into his cheek before flickering his eyes up at you. “go back to my room, baby i’ll be up soon. clearly i gotta have a conversation with my old man.” he drawls, eyes fixated back on his dads face, beaming with anger.

you do as he says, as always. the tears fall freely once you’re back in his room, sat on his bed, face in your hands sobbing and mewling. all you could do was curse yourself out internally. logically, you knew it was just a glass but it felt like a huge deal to you, never wanting to disrespect anyone let alone your boyfriends father. you hear the familiar footsteps of your boyfriend eventually, and you don’t even try to compose yourself— continuing to cry even when he opened the door and re entered.

he sighs, anger and sadness flooding him at the fact that his father had made his baby cry like this, so soon into knowing eachother. he watches you for a moment, trying to let the anger subside, itching his head before slowly coming to sit beside you on the edge of the bed.

“i’m really, really sorry about that baby.” his voice is a warm comfort, slightly soothing your hurt.

“how have i already messed up so bad? he hates me now.” you whine and he shushes you with a frown, wrapping a strong arm around you to tuck your head beneath his chin, cheek to his chest.

“hey, hey, shh. my dads just an asshole… but he doesn’t hate you. he’s just having a bad day and decided to take it out on you for whatever fuckin’ reason. you’re all good. it’s just a glass, right? means nothin’.”

“it didn’t seem like it meant nothing to him.” you pull away to look at him, eyes watery and puffy bottom lip pouted. he sighs once more, both hands rising to wipe his thumbs beneath your eyes, caressing your cheeks.

“and like i said, he’s just an asshole. don’t let him get to you baby. yeah?”

you sniffle. “yeah.”

“good, show me that smile, c’mon.” a hand drops down to your waist, digging his fingers in a little, threatening to tickle. you can’t help it, even just a threat of a smile on rafes lips makes you grin, which only mirrors in his expression. “there y’go. that’s my big girl.”

#anon #rafe cameron prompt #rafe cameron drabble #rafe cameron fluff #rafe cameron blurb

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nctsplug02 · 1 year ago

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I Wanna Make You Scream j.j

GENRE: smut, second chance

WARNINGS: cnc, ghost face (scream) mask, kissing, no foreplay, breast play, dry humping, doggy-style, missionary, unprotected sex, hair pulling, cheating, deceiving, and spanking.

“yeah,” you set down the piping bag and sigh. “i know, babe. i’ll see you in a bit?” your boyfriend, mark, says a yes and i love you before hanging up.

“i gotta finish this cake up,” you tell yourself and pick the piping back up, again.

you color in the black eyes and ask alexa to play your music. “you hear a creature creepin’ up up behind. you’re out of time— ‘cause i got this thriller!” you sing and bob your head.

“thriller night— there ain’t no second chance.” you take a step back and look at the cake, giving a smile when seeing how nice it looked.

“now for writing,” you sigh and switch to the piping bag with a smaller tip. “don’t fuck up, y/n.” you tell yourself and begin to pipe out a sentence that matched with the cake.

thriller ends and another song plays.

“i…” you emphasize and write cursively. “wanna…” you stick out your tongue and squint your eyes. “make…” you rearrange your placing on the piping bag. “you—fuck!” you hiss when the frosting pops and explodes a bit.

take your time, y/n.

you nod and refocus on the cake before mark got to your place. “you…” you pipe again and ignore the small mistake.

the cardboard platter it was on was already black so it didn’t matter since it blended in perfectly.

“scream…” you finish off and set down the piping bag with a huff. “finally,” you groan and start cleaning up your mess.

after cleaning, you turn back to your cake and the blob of black frosting has you staring at it for a good minute. “my OCD says not tonight.” you grab items that are small enough to clean your mistake.

you gasp as your song plays, “lock me up and throw away the key, you know how’da get the best outta me. i’m no fool for the world to see, trade my whole life just to be.” you sing and hum the beat after kim jennie finishes her line.

you gasp when feeling hands on your hips and a bulge against your lower back. “mark,” you giggle and continue to clean the mess. “you’re early. why so?” he doesn’t answer.

you turn to see your boyfriend wearing a ghost face mask. “what? babe, i thought we agreed to be cops and robbers, no?” you laugh and smack the chin of the mask.

you shake your head and turn back to the cake. “can you go sit in the living room? you aren’t supposed to see the cake yet!” you chuckle and attempt to hide the cake.

the grip on your hips return. “ow, mark,” you wince with a half giggle when feeling the grip on your hips tighten. “you’re hurting my hips, babe.” you stand and place the piping bag next to the cake.

you go to turn but are pushed forward and against the counter. “mark,” you firmly state the slight pain in your hips. “i said you’re hurting me!”

the bulge grows bigger as you try to shove him away. his bulge rubbing against your ass as he grinds his hips against you.

“mark, stop being weird and let go!” you scoff when being pushed onto your chest. your toes barely holding your weight as he bends you over and grinds himself shamelessly against your clothed ass.

“mark,” you breathe out.

your jaw drops when feeling your jeans begin pushed down to your knees. your ass hanging out bare. “what—“ you try and turn your head but immediately, you’re shut down.

“why are you being so rough? you’re never like this!” you let out grunts as the male grows rough with you.

“oh!” you gasp and slap a hand on the marble counter when feeling a cock being pushed into you. “fuck,” you exhale and clench around the thickness. “you’re so fucking thick, mark.” you moan, eyes falling shut.

you groan when feeling your head being tugged back. tight strains on your scalp as the large hand yanks your hair back. with a hand on your lower back, the thrusts begin.

it doesn’t start off slow or anything, the man gets right to the point.

his thrusts going rough and fast, the sounds of his balls beating against your folds and your moans mixing together.

a harsh slap on your ass has you arching up with a moan. “fuck!” you cry out and clench tighter around the thickness that was sucked by your insides.

the large, soft hands rub in the same area before slapping the other cheek. it leaves a hand print that quickly turns red.

you manage to bring a hand below your hips and your fingers find themselves on your clit.

you were dripping.

you moan louder when feeling a shock of pleasure shoot down your spine after rubbing a small circle on your clit.

“i’m gonna cum,” before you can say anything else, you’re yanked off the counter and turned.

you’re caught off guard when seeing the mask but remembering it was just mark underneath.

he lifts you and sits you on the counter where he pushes you on your back and shoves himself inside you.

“fuck, when’d you get so ripped?” the deep rack of chocolate like abs has your eyes stuck. “have you been sneaking off to the gym on your free time?”

you lightly gasp when your the male pulls off the rest of your jeans and tosses them behind him. “that was sexy, baby.”

he hasn’t said a single word to you and it was making you grow frustrated. this wasn’t like mark.

you sit up and grab the collar of the mask. “take off the mask and kiss me, baby.” he yanks his head back from you and snatches the mask from your hold.

you’re shocked when he chokes you, his hands squeezing your throat and then smacking you on the cheek once.

“i—“ you suck in a gasp and roll your eyes when feeling his cock hit your g-spot. “oohh, fuck,” your moan shakes as he fucks you roughly.

his hips slamming into yours while he holds your neck in place. his head spinning in circles as he pants and grunts in the mask.

“fuck,” the male whispers and releases your neck, his hands pulling off the mask and revealing jeong jaehyun.

his dark black hair together in strands of sweat, his gold necklace falling in place and his mouth gapped as he takes deep breaths.

“what the fuck?!” you scream and sit up.

“surprise…missed me, baby?” jaehyun licks his lips and heaves with a smile.

your eyes well up. “j—jaehyun,” you gasp. “and, here i thought you forgot about me.” jaehyun frowns and rubs your thighs.

“how are you here? w—why are you here?” jaehyun smirks and grabs your waist so that your legs are wrapped securely around his waist. “i wanna make you scream, baby.”

jaehyun begins fucking into you, again. ignoring your questions and demands.

“m—my boyfriend is almost here! he’s gonna—he’s gonna kick your ass.” you pant and ignore the pleasurable feeling. “is he now?” jaehyun chuckles and shakes his head.

“let’s make it quick then, why don’t we?” you shake your head and slap a hand over your mouth.

eyes rolling back and mouths slipping through the gaps of your fingers.

“c’mon, baby. i wanna hear how pretty you sound, don’t hide yourself now.”

fuck it, you’ve only been dating mark for a month and a half now. what’s there to lose?

you remove your hand from your mouth and allow your moans to fill the room. “‘s my girl,” jaehyun chuckles and rubs your clit.

“oh, fuck.” you cry out and allow jaehyun to abuse your cunt like he’d done before in the past.

jaehyun was the only one who knew your body the best. how to get you cumming in minutes, finding your g-spot like it was the easiest thing on the planet and knowing how to get your nipples sensitive from just a singular rub, lick, and flick.

“cum for me, princess.” your cunt swallowing him whole and giving jaehyun a whole show as it does.

“fuck, im cumming,” you sigh. “that’s it, princess. do as i say.” legs shaking and squeezing jaehyuns tiny waist as you cream all over the thick cock.

“uh-huh, baby.” jaehyun bites his lip and grunts, giving one last slow thrust and cumming inside you.

his hands grabbing your cheeks and forcing you into a sloppy kiss with him. his teeth gnawing at your bottom lip before pulling away with a sexy moan.

“you taste exactly how i remembered,” jaehyun chuckles and bites his lip. “so fucking sweet.” he gives you one more kiss and pulls up his black sweats.

as jaehyun helps with your panties, you speak up. “jaehyun,” he hums and fixes your jeans that are inside out. “how’d you get in?”

a smirk forms on his lips. “you know, princess,” he sighs and helps one foot in. “i would say this is a lesson for you but, i’m glad this happened.” he looks up at you. “really.” he puts the other foot in.

jaehyun helps you off the counter and pulls up your jeans. “you should always keep your doors locked.” as you stand flabbergasted, he buttons up your jeans and pats your hips when finished.

“i’ll see you next time, princess.” jaehyun kisses you once and grabs his mask off the ground, turning and leaving with once last wink over his shoulder.

it takes you a good ten minutes to take that all in. “wow,” you stand against the counter and put a hand over your mouth, rubbing your lips and jaw. “wow…” you shake your head.

KNOCK KNOCK!

now, that was mark.

AN| this was SO last minute. i wrote this 6 minutes before halloween. SIX MINUTES BEFORE MIDNIGHT OF HALLOWEEN DAY! so if there are any mistakes, just enjoy and imagine and read and take in everything like you know what i said. i love you and trick or treat safely. 🩷🩷🩷

AAN| i am so sorry if this fic made any of you readers uncomfortable! there was an anon who reached out to me and explained who they felt and what i should’ve added in the warnings so i fixed it! please always reach out to me whenever i’ve made a mistake! it’s always embarrassing when i make mistakes but i like to go by the quote that “mistakes are meant to be learned from.” i love you so much, anon, thank you for reaching out to me! i am so very sorry that i made you uncomfortable, i really didn’t intend to! 🩷

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lacedinweb22 · 6 months ago

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I don't wanna let you go ❦︎

inspired by Enhypen’s “Bills” - Miguel O'Hara x fem!reader (angsty chapter from my Wattpad series Vampire Next Door)

‧₊°♱༺𓆩❦︎𓆪༻♱

Miguel’s mother wasn’t gentle. His personality attests to that.

She was abusive, resentful, lacked any empathy, just overall shitty. Not much of a mother at all.

Miguel didn’t thrive at home, but he did thrive at school.

Though he was sarcastic, talked back to any authority (to be fair, he usually had a point), and had a hell of a mouth on him, his teachers gave him the validation his mother didn’t—academic validation.

He was a genius, really, and school was his distraction from the hell hole he lived in.

High school was far too slow-paced for him. And university, he found slightly challenging, but when he looked around to see everybody else was really struggling, having breakdowns, begging for his tutoring, he realized he found his courses quite easy. He realized he was different…

socially and academically.

He’s only ever had three friends, Vel being one of them.

He surprisingly found a friend in the hard-shelled vigilante, an acquaintance, someone he could banter with, argue, fight. They were there for each other.

Is it impossible to turn back time? No time.

So when he realized in addition to you possibly being hung up on some girl you used to live with, his own acquaintance had made a move on you, he came in swinging.

He reflects, remembers:

“I know you already hate me… already don’t trust me, but I need to tell you something else,” you muttered.

“Dios, what?”

“Vel… has been flirting with me. When you left, after she hurt herself, she… she kind of admitted her feelings to me.”

“Vel? Vel. Vel as in Velvet, Vel as in—”

“Yes, Mig. The only Vel we both know.”

“Vel?”

“Oh god.”

“After I cleaned up her messes, after I patched up her knee? After I—”

“I know.”

“And you did what? You said what?”

“I was kind of in shock, and I know— I can’t believe I didn’t see it coming… I just, I said I wanted you, and that’s when she brought her up. She said you were in the way like my roommate’s boyfriend was. Struck a nerve, struck several, so I left.”

One day, the invoice that you stuck on me, the pain that became my share,

He nods.

“Funny. Thought you were still hung up on her, thought you were going to abandon me and move back with her, meanwhile, the only real threat was my own fucking friend. Adds up.”

I’m sure I paid for it.

He shakes his head, forehead resting on his own big hands. He doesn’t look up at you.

****

He realizes he has mommy issues, abandonment issues, every issue in the book really.

Getting closer to you scared him. He worried he was a burden, that you’d have to deal with all of the weight that came with him. But you were reassuring, seemed like you could handle it, like you wanted to handle it.

You made him trust again, made him a better person.

He sits on the fire escape, slouched, head hung in thought.

It takes everything in him not to go to your bedroom window, just right there, he wouldn’t argue, he’d just embrace you. It’ll fix everything he thinks.

But he doesn’t. Instead, he sits, continues to think.

He never really had space for insecurity, or reason for it really, being at the top of the class with no threats ever, made him secure in himself, gave him a strong sense of confidence.

Besides… maybe the insecurity stemming from the rejection and neglect from his mother—but he refused to count that. He accepted their fucked relationship at a young age, and decided he’d become smart, build his way out of there. Fuck her. He didn’t need her. It was a lost cause,

but you, he could never give up on you. He does need you.

New emotions, love, being loved by you, this, however, brought forth a new sense of insecurity.

For once, he didn’t have control over everything, over himself.

He seeks your love, attention, wants to make you feel loved, understood, and the idea that you could find someone else to do that, made him insecure, made his heart race, body temperature hot.

Maybe his mom did have something to do with this, Vel always said so anyway. Maybe for once she was right. He feared you’d abandon him—emotionally, physically—the way the one person in the world who was meant to love him abandoned him.

He wonders how he—

Your window slides open. He turns back to see you. You look exhausted—he hates to think he’s to blame—tired, and still beautiful.

“Y/n.”

“Miguel.”

The sad way you say his name makes his stomach drop. You sit on your window sill, fiddling with your jacket.

“I’ve been thinking.”

I thought about it, it’s not paid.

He looks up at you, desperate to know what you think.

“Maybe… maybe we need a break, maybe we just need time apart,” you say, weakly.

He exhales, like he’s been punched in the stomach.

You continue, “Maybe I’m still not healed from her, and I know—I see that it hurts you.”

You sniffle, tears rolling down. You rest your head against the brick wall.

“I don’t want to let you go,” you sob, gently.

He wants to hug you, but it’ll only make this harder.

The price of parting keeps getting more and more expensive. I just wanna let it go.

Maybe he deserves to be abandoned. Maybe you’ll both hurt less this way.

Why don’t you just let me go?

He wonders if this is permanent, if it’s really the end, but it only makes him feel dizzy. He stands up, wipes the tears he didn’t realize were falling, and gives you one last look,

“If that’s what you want.”

The right price I only learned through tears.

｡‧₊°♱༺𓆩❦︎𓆪༻♱

ughhh angst

anyways yeah shocker I'm an Engene ❀*ੈ go stream Romance: Untold

time-skip chapter coming soon ₊ʚïɞ

#miguel o'hara #miguel ohara #miguel ohara x reader #spiderman2099 #miguel o hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x y/n #atsv miguel #miguel o'hara imagine #enhypen #engene #enha #enhypen vampire au #bite me #dark blood #miguel x reader #spiderman x reader

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heartpiratedrabbles · 1 year ago

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Misunderstandings Part 3

Part 1 Part 2 ~

NSFW

Crocodile X Fem Reader

“This isn’t our room,” You mutter as you sit on the bed of a suite Crocodile had led you too. It was much less charming than the penthouse you have lived in for the past year or so.

Crocodile shrugs off his fur coat while blowing smoke in your direction, “That’s because they’re probably raiding our place right now.” His words were tired at the thought of having the clean up a mess but your heart pounded when you heard him use the word our. “Now Princess. Do you want to explain to me why you caused a scene today?” His voice changed to that of amusement and annoyance.

You flop onto the bed, turning your face to bury it into the comforter, “You wanna explain who that hussy is?” You knew back-talking him wasn’t the smartest idea but your frustration and anger were still alive and well even if your body had become tired. “I thought you were replacing me.” The pout came out with a small whimper as you kick off your shoes before curling your legs onto the bed.

You felt the bed dip on either side of you, and see his good arm support himself next to your head. “You think I’d want someone who doesn’t even know how to dress herself properly?” The accusatory tone came out with a huff of disbelief and you can’t help but smile a bit as you turn to face him. His hook was loosening his tie as he looks down at you, “Who do you think I am? I’d never replace a precious jewel,” He mutters placing a kiss on your temple.

Still pouting you decide to push him a little more, “You didn’t call this entire time.” He looks down at you and you feel some tears brim your eyes that you try to blink away. He switches arms, letting his hand brush your cheek and a thumb wipe a tear away as he kisses your other temple.

“I was on a mission Princess… Any contact with you could’ve put you in danger.” The sweet words run through your ears and you had to admit the more he said the happier you felt, you nuzzle your face into his hand. And despite your high emotions you couldn’t help but to lick his hand daring him to go further. Seeing you calm down, and feeling the mischievous invitation, he leans in closer to your ear, “Don’t think I’ve forgotten how you acted on the floor you Brat.” Your ears tingle at his sharp tone as you bare your neck to him out of habit, “Don’t pretend to be a good girl now.” He nips at your neck, trailing down until he’s at your dress line.

Crocodile sits up and you smirk up at him, “I plead my innocence. I was a single lady when I did such things.”

His brow furrows at you, “Oh? Then perhaps I should train you rather than punish you.” His words make your heart skip a beat. You know the difference well enough when it comes to Crocodile, it’s the difference between pain and release or hours of begging and pleading.

He stands up, shrugging off his vest, and you watch as he delicately puts it to the side, only sparing you a small glance, “W-wait. I’m sorry.” Crocodile doesn’t say anything as he sits down in a chair across the room, “Sir, I didn’t mean it,” You stand up and saunter over to Crocodile, trying to choose the lesser of the two punishments.

He hums, taking a long drag of his cigar while staring at you, “So you know what you did was wrong?” You kneel down between his legs, nodding your head before resting it on his knee, looking up with pleading eyes. He runs his hand through your hair before gripping it, pulling you up. You quickly place your hands on his knees to support yourself as the dull ache of your scalp brings your attention fully to crocodile. “Take off your dress and bend over my knee Princess.” His words blowing smoke into your face before he releases your hair.

You barely catch yourself before standing back up, your back turned to Crocodile as you slide each strap off your shoulders. You glance behind you, slowly turning to face him before peeling the dress off, your breasts bouncing slightly as they’re released from the tight fabric. You bend down, further pushing the dress off before stepping out of it entirely, his eyes taking in every inch of you. You take a step towards him before you stop, “Do you want me naked sir?” You timidly ask, slowly moving your hands to the edge of your panties.

Crocodile seems to consider your question for a second before patting his leg. You nod your head before bending over his knees, adjusting your boobs underneath you before bracing your hands on his thigh. You feel the tip of his hook caress your back before dipping below you neck, sweeping all your hair to one side. His hand rubbing gentle circles on your ass. “Now Princess, what are you sorry for?” His voice is accompanied by a harsh grasp,

“I’m sorry for causing a scene in front of your guests,” Your hands grip his thigh, waiting for an impact, but instead you feel a hook under your chin, tilting your head up to make eye contact.

“What else?” He hooks a finger under your waistband, slowly pulling it up. You gasp at the feeling, lifting your ass to relieve the pressure.

“S-saying I was single,” He hums, releasing your panties with a snap. You let out a small squeal before feeling a hard slap against your ass, “O-One. Thank you Sir.”

“Good girl, I see you haven’t forgotten your manners” He gently kneads your ass to comfort the rough sting, and just as the pain went away another loud slap came. You yelp out, counting as you do. Another comes swiftly after, harder than the last two that makes tears comes to your eyes. You quickly let out the number three along with a thank you.

Another 4 spanks have you crying outright. But it’s the 8th slap that causes you to lose your grip, falling forward, hair a mess as you let out a sob. “Have you learned your lesson, Princess?” Crocodile muses above you, trailing his fingers up and down your spine in a comforting motion.

The throbbing pain only adding to your pleasure as you nod your head begging him to forgive you. He gently places his hand on the red skin, kneading circles to help with blood flow, as he watches your body shake. “Lay on the bed,” His sultry deep voice had you standing up on unsteady legs before doing as your told.

You look up from your position and watch as Crocodile slowly undresses, folding his clothes and placing them on the chair as he goes. He glances over at you, “Prepare yourself Princess.” You reach down to take your panties off, noticing how wet you had become in the movement as you spread your legs and reach down.

Sliding a finger around your own clit before sliding it over your entrance. You bite your lip to hold back any needy noise you could make as you slide two fingers in right away, raising your hips slightly to try and reach deeper inside yourself. Your other hand fondling and gripping your breast. Curling your fingers to try and hit the perfect spot, letting out a small whine at how empty you still feel.

Your let your eyes wander over your lovers’ body, noticing his standing erection as he watches you. You meet his gaze and feel yourself throb around your fingers at the darkened eyes turned towards you. “C-crocodile Please. I want something bigger,” his eyes flashes over your body with a smirk playing on his lips before he kneels on the bed.

“Not even asking properly Princess? That’s not how I taught you,” He tugs at your wrist between your thighs, your fingers leaving the warm space with a string of slick still connected to the entrance. He brings your coated fingers up to his lips, licking you clean as you moan at the sight. It’s only when he’s fully tasted you that he glances up at your eyes, “Well? If you ask politely, I may reward you.”

You brush you hand against his shoulder, your fingers tips ghosting over his chest, “Please Sir, I want to be filled by you ‘till I can’t think anymore.” He grunts in approval, positioning him self at your throbbing entrance, you try to inch closer to the pressure you love.

“Impatient, I see,” Gripping your thigh as he pushes into you at a torturously slow rate. You moan at the feeling of being filled but slowly your breath hitches, “Did you forget how big I was Princess?” Crocodiles teasing laugh rings through your ears as you stretch wider, “Didn’t you touch yourself while I was away?”

Your hands grasp at his shoulder, pulling his chest closer to you as you take his length. “It never feels good without you,” You whimper, burying you face into the crook of his neck. You whimper quickly changes to a full-blown cry as Crocodile thrusts his hips to be flush against you. You wrap your arms around his neck as your body shakes into his body.

His hooked hand snakes behind your back, pulling you closer to him as his fingers brush through your hair, sitting up while shushing you with sweet words of encouragement and praise for taking all of him. It isn’t until Crocodile makes sure your ready that he starts to rock in and out of you.

You eventually gain the courage to meet his thrusts, bouncing on your knees slowly while Crocodile places gentle kisses along your neck, praising every moan that escapes your lips. The stretch of your pussy taking all of Crocodile being an addicting burning pain that you try to burn into your mind as you roll your hips to feel him as different angles.

It's when you started to feel the pressure building that you heard the Den-den Mushi ring. You whimper slightly, knowing Crocodile won’t let up his pace as he reaches over to answer the call. You can hear talk of a hostage situation gone wrong and business partners willing to agree to anything, but frustration grows in you as Crocodile stops stroking your back with his hook, instead leaning onto the bed while continuing the call, still maintaining his pace in you without a though.

Shame leaving your clouded mind, you start to moan loudly and without restraint, picking up your own movements as you feel his chests and stomach, his dry scarred skin sending tingles through your fingertips. Crocodile flashes you a warning glare that you decide to ignore when you lean down and lick at his adams apple, nipping slightly at the sensitive skin of his throat.

You hear the click of the den-den mushi before your head is ripped away from him neck, the sting of the hair pull only making your mind go crazy, “Did you forget your manners here too? That was an important call Princess.” His gruff tone was music to your ears before he shoved his tone down your throat, his hooked arm keeping you in place as he pounds into you at an insane pace.

The pressure building and the lack of air making you crazy, you feel yourself tighten around his dick before he rips you off his lap entirely, pushing you to the ground. You whimper at the lack of an orgasm as you reposition yourself between his legs, relaxing your jaw as much as possible before he shoves your head around his throbbing member.

“Only good girls get to cum darling,” Your tongue flattened as much as possible as you feel him hitting the back of your throat, spit overflowing your mouth with each movement. You hum as a weak apology around him while you grip his thighs to try and stay steady.

There is no warning while he slams your head down, not letting you come up as his warm cum hits your throat. You try to relax as much as possible before he pulls out, pumping a couple more spurts onto your extended tongue before you close your mouth, pressing your tongue to the roof of your mouth before swallowing, savoring the salty flavor before showing him you’ve swallowed everything.

His hook under your chin as some spit from before if still dripping and tears staining your face while he looks pleased at the sight in front of him. “Is this what you wanted? It’s not much of a punishment if you wanted it princess.”

“I’ve missed you so much, I couldn’t help myself,” You whine out, hoping he won’t actually punish you.

“I guess I have neglected my pet recently…” He hums in agreeance as his thumb cleans your face slightly, “Why don’t we wait until you’ve fully calmed down before continuing?” His almost gentle voice brings you back, to your slightly dizzy tired state, “Miss. All-Sunday didn’t cut you off and you haven’t a single tolerance to allow you to drink that much.” His hushed tones now slightly scolding you as he pulls you onto the bed.

“Only cause I saw you next to that girl,” You pout slightly, “Get rid of me before finding someone else, it’s too painful to watch.”

“Didn’t you hear me earlier? I could never replace you, Princess.” You let a small smile fall on your lips at hearing the words escape him, but still stay silent. His sighs next to you, “I can’t promise I won’t do something similar in the future. But I’ll at least let you know before hand alright?” You let out a dissatisfied hum while he rubs your back.

“Only if you let me choose the girl next time. This one was too haughty to be by your side,” He sighs at your demand but agrees.

#One Piece #One Piece X Reader #Sir Crocodile #Crocodile X Reader #Part 3

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cheynovak · 2 months ago

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Between power and freedom

Part 13 - Final

Characters: Dean Winchester x Y/N Shurley Female character

Summary: Y/N, the ambitious daughter of a powerful CEO, grapples with her father's choices, while she secretly takes a job with Dean Winchester, the rugged CEO of a rival company. Sparks fly between Y/N and Dean as they navigate their growing attraction amid corporate rivalry and family pressure.

Warnings: nothing explicit

English is not my first language

*Please do not copy my work, reblog/comments/likes are appreciated*

I had to convince Dean I had nothing to do with Charlie’s accident. I rushed home, hoping to gather the photos and papers so I might have a change against Chuck. But when I got there, my heart sank.

The front door was wide open, and my apartment was trashed. Everything was gone. Either my dad—or rather, Chuck—had sent someone to clean up the evidence, or Dean had come back in a fit of anger. I sank to the floor, overwhelmed by the chaos and the weight of it all.

Tears streamed down my face as I tried to piece together what to do next. After what felt like hours, I forced myself to get up. I couldn’t stay here.

Grabbing my keys, I climbed into my car and drove straight to Bobby’s place.

When Bobby opened the door, his face softened with concern as he saw my tear-streaked face. “Y/N?” he asked, his gruff voice filled with worry. I didn’t say a word, just stepped inside. Karen appeared behind him, her maternal instincts kicking in immediately.

She pulled me into a comforting hug as I broke down in her arms. “What happened?” Bobby asked, his tone now sharp with anger. Through my sobs, I managed to get out, “Chuck… Charlie... Dean knows. And he thinks it was me.” My voice cracked, the words spilling out in a jumbled mess.

“I don’t want anything to do with Chuck anymore. I won’t be a bargaining chip. I just want Dean to understand—it wasn’t me. It was him. Please… I just need help.” Karen rubbed soothing circles on my back while Bobby’s expression turned stormy. He muttered something under his breath, probably cursing Chuck.

“Alright,” Bobby said after a moment. “We’ll figure this out. But first, you need to calm down. Karen, get her some tea.” As Karen led me to the couch, Bobby grabbed his phone. “I’m calling Dean over. You’re going to explain everything to him.”

I hesitated, my voice trembling. “He’s so angry, Bobby. What if he doesn’t listen? What if he…” My words trailed off as I remembered the fire in Dean’s eyes earlier. Bobby’s gaze softened. “Listen, Dean might be hot-headed, but he’s not unreasonable. If you tell him the truth, and I’m standing here backing you up, he’ll hear you out. But,” he added with a wry smile, “just to be safe, you might wanna move your car. You know how he gets when he’s mad.”

I gave a weak laugh, though it was tinged with sadness. “I don’t care if he breaks it, burns it… I don’t want anything from Chuck. I just need Dean to believe me.” Karen handed me a warm cup of tea, her voice gentle.

“Sweetheart, he’ll believe you. He loves you. He’s just hurt right now. But love doesn’t go away that easily.” Her words gave me a flicker of hope, and I nodded. I wiped my face, steeling myself for the confrontation to come. All I could do now was hope that Dean would give me the chance to explain and see the truth in my eyes.

While we waited for Dean to arrive, I sat in silence, staring into my cup of tea. The weight of everything pressed down on me, and I finally found the courage to say it out loud.

“I know Chuck isn’t my biological dad,” I whispered. Bobby’s head snapped up, his brows furrowing. “You know?” he asked softly. I nodded, my voice shaky but resolute. “He told me today... I don’t want anything from you, Bobby. I don’t want to make things complicated or cause more trouble. I just want this mess to be over.”

Karen, who had been sitting quietly, leaned forward and cut me off before I could say more. “Don’t be foolish,” she said firmly. “You where family since the day you walked through that door. If Chuck hadn't hide you we would have welcomed you earlier into this family .”

Her words made me smile faintly, I had no idea what happened between Bobby and my mom, had he know Karen, where they on a break? I wasn't planning on asking, but the peace didn’t last.

The unmistakable growl of the Impala’s engine reached my ears, followed by the screech of its brakes. My heart leapt into my throat. Dean stormed in, his expression hard and his movements tense. The moment he saw me, his green eyes flashed with anger.

“Oh, hell no!” he spat, striding toward me. He didn’t get far before Bobby stepped in front of him, his arms outstretched. “Calm down, boy!” Bobby bellowed, his voice filled with authority. “She’s innocent.”

Dean glared at him, his voice dripping with disbelief. “How do you know that?” Bobby's voice softened but stayed firm. “Because my daughter wouldn’t kill, and I trust her.” Dean’s face twisted in confusion. “Your daughter?”

I swallowed hard, trying to steady my trembling hands. “Dean,” I said, my voice shaking but determined. “Please. Please just listen to me.” His jaw tightened, and for a moment, I thought he might storm out. Instead, he pointed toward the door. “You want to talk?” he said coldly. “Fine. Outside.”

Before I could react, Dean grabbed my elbow and started guiding me out of the house. His grip wasn’t rough, but it was firm, and the tension in the air was palpable.

As we reached the Impala, Bobby’s voice boomed from behind us. “You better bring her back in one piece, or I’ll find you, idjit!”

Dean didn’t respond, but his shoulders tensed as he opened the car door and gestured for me to get in. My heart pounded as I slid into the passenger seat, unsure of what would happen next.

Dean gripped the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles turned white. He kept his gaze fixed on the dark road ahead, his jaw clenched. The silence in the car was suffocating, and the tension made my chest ache.

“Where are we going?” I asked cautiously, breaking the stillness. “Don’t know,” he replied curtly. “I’ve been driving all night. Blowing off steam so I don’t do... something crazy.”

The rawness in his voice sent a chill down my spine. His admission scared me, but I knew I had to push through the fear. “You wanted to talk,” he bit out. “So talk.” I swallowed hard, gathering the courage to tell him everything.

“Dean,” I began softly, “I need you to know the truth. Chuck isn’t my dad, not really. He’s been using me, just like he used John, just like he used you.” Dean’s grip on the wheel loosened slightly, but his face remained cold. “At first, yeah, he told me to get close to you,” I admitted, my voice trembling.

“But that changed, Dean. I fell for you, really fell for you. None of this was supposed to happen, and I swear, I had nothing to do with Charlie.” Dean pulled the Impala into the empty lot of an abandoned movie theater, the car coming to a halt with a soft crunch of gravel.

He didn’t say a word as he leaned back in his seat, rubbing a hand over his face. We sat there in silence, the air heavy with unspoken words. I studied his rugged features, the tired lines etched into his face. He looked worn out, like the weight of the world was resting on his shoulders.

I couldn’t take it anymore. “I love you,” I whispered, my voice barely audible. I needed him to hear it at least one more time, even if he didn’t believe me. Dean exhaled slowly, his hand falling from his face. “I don’t know what to believe anymore,” he said, his voice hoarse with exhaustion.

His green eyes, filled with disappointment, finally met mine. Tears welled in my eyes as I pleaded, my voice breaking. “I’m telling the truth, Dean. Please. Break my car, burn my house, cut my heart out and stand on it—hell, do whatever you need to do. But please, please believe me when I say I had nothing to do with Charlie.”

For a moment, he just stared at me, the silence stretching between us like an insurmountable wall. The look in his eyes told me he was at war with himself. Finally, he shook his head and turned away, staring out the windshield into the night.

“God, I want to believe you,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

I moved closer, my hand touched to his shoulder. "I beg you." My lips kissed his shoulder. I could feel him tense. He turn to look at me. My lips still on his shirt. "Please believe me. I'll do anything Dean, but I can't lose you too."

His rough hand grabs my hair on the back of my head. I gasp afraid he might hurt me but he doesn't. Instead he kissed me. First I was in shock but then I stiffened a moan.

Dean’s shoulders trembled beneath my hands as he pulled away and pulled me closer, straddling his thighs, he burying his face against my chest.

His grip was firm, desperate, like I was the only thing anchoring him to this moment. I felt his hot tears soak through my shirt, and the soft sound of his sniffles broke something in me.

He was crying, the strong man, who could burn the world was holding me and crying.

“Dean,” I whispered, running my fingers through his hair and along the nape of his neck. I pressed a kiss to the top of his head, cradling him.

“I’ve got you... I’ve got you.”

His body shook as he let himself go, years of pain, frustration, and guilt pouring out all at once. I held him tighter, murmuring soft reassurances over and over.

“I’m here."

"I’m not going anywhere.”

We sat like that for what felt like hours, wrapped in each other, the world outside forgotten. My hands moved gently, caressing his hair and back, soothing him as best as I could.

His cries gradually subsided into deep, ragged breaths. When he finally lifted his head, his red, tear-streaked eyes met mine, and my heart broke all over again.

“I want to hurt Chuck, he has to pay.” he said, his voice raw with emotion. “We will,” I promised, cupping his face with my hands. “We’ll get all the evidence you need. I’ll help you bring him and his empire down, Dean. I swear it.”

His lips found mine again, desperate and needy, tasting of salt and sorrow. I kissed him back, pouring all my love and determination into it, letting him know I wasn’t going to leave him. No matter how hard it got, I’d be there for him.

“I need you,” he murmured against my lips, his voice a quiet plea. “I’m not going anywhere,” I said firmly, pressing my forehead against his.

We stayed in the quiet cocoon of the Impala, holding each other as the weight of our promise sank in.

Chuck’s empire would fall, and we’d do it together, no matter what it took.

I'd watch the world burn by his side if that's what he needed.

Why?

Because I love him.

Taglist -> Click here to add

@jackles010378 @libby99hb @winchesterwild78 @suckitands33 @mostlymarvelgirl @deans-baby-momma @ancles @tulipsvanilla

@thesilmarillionblog @jays-bonnie-on-the-side @kr804573 @kamisobsessed @hobby27 @globetrotter28 @kindollss

@muhahaha303 @shadysoulangel @lyarr24 @spxideyver @impala67rollingthroughtown @panickedbitch @deansimpalababy

@livya99 @yvonneeeee @ladykitana90 @stoneyggirl2 @imsiriuslyreal @panickedbitch @roseblue373 @n-o-p-e-never

#fanfic #jensen ackles #x reader #jensen fucking ackles #fluff #dean winchester #spn #smut #supernatural dean #deanwinchester #dean #sam and dean #sam winchester #dean smut #spn smut #spnfandom #supernatural fandom #supernatural

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steviewashere · 3 days ago

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Little Town Bar Bathroom

Rating: Teen and Up CW: Minor vomiting in the beginning, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Use, Steve is tipsy for a good majority of this fic Tags: No Upside Down AU, No Supernatural Elements, Modern Setting AU, Hurt/Comfort, Mostly Comfort, Fluff, Bartender Eddie Munson, Tipsy Steve Harrington, It Starts in a Bar Bathroom, Steve Harrington Needs a Hug, Steve Harrington Has Self-Esteem Issues, Down on His Luck Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson is a Sweetheart, Eddie Munson Takes Care of Steve Harrington, Countdown to New Years, First Kiss, Implied Getting Together, Happy Ending Also here on AO3, because this one is over 5k words 😬

🎆—————🎆 Working at a bar had its perks. There was a consistent stream of regulars that he constantly talked to. He could change up the specials menu whenever he wanted—adding his own flare to the mix, if he so pleased. Sometimes, he had reign over the music. And, more often than not, he was allowed a free drink by the end of his shift.

The downsides, however, were long and weary. Customers who didn’t know what they were ordering, who swore him to Satan’s asshole if he got something wrong, and tried to barge their way in with fake IDs (as if he wasn’t going to check them). Oftentimes, the bar was packed and too hot and made him sweat like nobody’s business—hell, his shower had a run for its money the other night from how pervasive his musk had been. The last major issue he had took place in the bathrooms.

Given that this is a bar he works at, the stalls often fill with every drunk imaginable. The quiet ones that need a moment to breathe, the guys who can’t keep their hands to themselves (who Eddie has to often throw out), a few who are completely sober and just there to piss, and then the oddball loner. But since they’re drunk—well, the bathroom is often the majority of their custodial staff’s paycheck. Eddie doesn’t handle all that vomit bullshit well, despite tending the very thing causing customers to do that.

It’s tonight, though—New Years Eve, forty minutes to midnight, forty minutes to 2023—that the very thing he hates leads him to the only thing he unconditionally loves. He’s cleaning up the spilled beer on his countertop when he gets the innate, incredible urge to pee. The bar is crowded, so he wrestles in another tender, and speeds away to the men’s restroom. Everything’s going according to plan, as much of a plan as there is when it comes to using a public bathroom, up until he hears it. Somebody in the stall adjacent to him, retching up their entire soul in the toilet bowl.

He winces, just finished drying his hands off, anxiety teeming like water about to boil over, and moves on autopilot to knock on the door. “Y’alright in there, man?” Looking at the bottom of the door, he spots only one pair of sneakers—some Nike Cortez that are roughed up and peeling, falling apart from how much they’ve been used—assuming is easy; the guy doesn’t have any buddies in the bathroom with him. “Noticing there’s nobody else but us in here right now,” Eddie comments. “Can I fetch somebody for you? Help you get home?”

The guy jerks with another sound, moaning miserably once he’s done. He flushes the toilet, but makes no other move. “Alone,” he musters, “she just left me here.”

Eddie bites his tongue. Failed New Years date. Oh, boy. He sighs quietly. “Do you, uh, have someone you can call? Or…uh, I could see if my manager’s free, she could order you a Lyft? They should be free tonight, considering everybody’s drinking.”

“I…I’ll be fine,” the stranger croaks, “been in here a while. I’m sobering. Barely had anything to drink, honest.”

“You think you’re done with the worst of it? Make your way outta the stall?”

“Why? So you can berate me for making a mess of your bathrooms?”

Jeez, this guy is defensive. “No, man. So that I could get you some water, a ride home, maybe some food?”

He groans in the stall, still hunched over the toilet. “Don’t wanna go back out there. Got a fucking headache, all the booze and shit will make it worse.”

Eddie rubs a tired hand over his forehead. “My shift’s over in literally five minutes. Would you…would you feel comfortable enough to go to the diner next door with me? I’ve got some Advil in my employee locker. And I could get you a cheeseburger.”

The guy goes completely quiet and still.

He goes to try and shimmy around with the door, maybe get it off its hinges or something, make sure he’s not choking or—

But then he sniffles softly. “That sounds really nice,” he says, “you’re really nice. What’s…what’s your name?”

“Eddie, and yours?”

“Steve,” he breathes. “Sorry I’m such a sack of crap. Wasting your time.”

“Mm, you’re making it easier for me to clock out, actually. Wasting my time would be somebody trying to return a drink that’s been remade correctly five times. That’s when somebody should be sorry.” He peers down at his watch, right on the money to clock out. “I’m gonna get myself out of the schedule and I’ll come back to get you, okay? We’ll just hang out at the diner. And…I’ve got Lyft on my phone, I’ll call you one when you’re feeling a bit better.”

“Okay,” Steve sighs. “I’ll be waiting.”

He makes a quick turn out of the bathroom, rushing back towards the break room before he can get caught and berated by the other bartender he left to attend to customers. It’s as easy as 1-2-3, punching out, putting away his apron, and grabbing for his things inside his locker. Thankfully, there’s still a bottle of Advil. Granted, there’s only enough for one dose and he typically needs to take one after his shift for his sore feet, but he’ll make do this one time. This one exception—Steve.

Once back in the restroom, the stall that Steve occupied is now empty. Though, standing at the sink and lazily washing his hands is probably the most gorgeous stranger Eddie’s ever seen. Blue jeans and a deep red sweater, hidden under a tattered, brown leather jacket. Lean and tall, broad shoulders, big hands; moles dotting every square inch of bare skin, pink lips, droopy hazel eyes, and a nose that could rival every statue masterpiece. Then, he makes direct eye contact with Eddie.

Caught out. Stilled. But then he chuckles awkwardly, trying to ease some sort of tension—a tension Eddie can’t see. “Managed to get away from the toilet,” he says, “room’s spinnin’ a little.”

Quickly, Eddie’s coming up beside him, placing his left hand on Steve’s back. “How much did you drink, man? Somebody should’ve cut you off.”

“Only a few shots and a beer,” Steve mutters. “Guess I’m more of a lightweight than I thought I was? I don’t know…don’t know…it’s been a while. Usually come here when I got someone to sit down with.” His head lolls back down towards his hands, scrubbing at them loosely under the water. There’s a tired, defeated, sad glint in his eyes. “Been striking out,” he mumbles, “people looking for…for situationships. I don’t even know…what does that mean? I wanted a date, not sex.”

Eddie sighs through his nose and eases his hand up and down the curve of Steve’s spine, petting him as if to soothe him. Which, he supposes, that’s exactly what he’s doing. It’s not the first time he’s met a person out of their luck, crying into their drink. But the look in Steve’s eyes physically hurts. It reopens a hot chasm inside of him, bubbling like magma.

“Just take a minute,” Eddie murmurs, “let the room settle.”

Steve nods, slow and tired. Heavy. “Sorry, Eddie. I swear I’m better than this.” There’s a flash of a smile at those words, one that falls away just as quick as it came. He sniffles again, wet and unmistakeable. “Gonna be ringing in the new year alone, though. And I’ve got a headache. But…hey, I met you. Highlight of my night.”

When he chances a new look of Steve’s face fully, Eddie notes the fresh tracks of tears staining ruddy red cheeks. He coos softly under his breath, pressing his hand more firmly into his back, and stretches out to grab a distant paper towel. The water is still streaming from the faucet, and so he dips the napkin’s edge into the warm pour. Gently, he shifts Steve to face him better and brings the damp corner to his cheeks, patting over the tracks, rejuvenating the color in Steve’s skin so that it all matches.

For a moment, he’s caught out by the still watering hazel eyes on him—damn gorgeous they are, even like this—but they blink at him and he feels it, the stretch of Steve’s small smile. He returns it, of-fucking-course he returns it.

“Let’s get you cheered up, baby,” Eddie says softly, “the sky’s too full of fireworks for you to be sad.”

His palm strokes over Steve’s back, a heavy sweep of warmth. There’s the lulling rise and fall of his lungs, each breath unwavering and strong now, and not as nasally as it had been only moments prior. A hand sets on Eddie’s left hip, secure where it rests, fingers tightening into his belt loops.

“You always hang out with random strangers from the bar?” Steve questions quietly. There’s a hint, a little bit of something coating those words. A tidbit of heartbreak, if he had to give a name to it.

This close, Eddie can smell the last dredges of alcohol on Steve’s breath. There’s also the scent of his cologne, even as stale as it’s gone when he’d been hunched over the toilet, but it lingers. Peppery and warm and decadent like a slice of apple pie from the diner next door. He’s already getting that Steve’s as sweet as one, just needs to be righted slightly so it stands tall on the center of the plate.

The next words out of his mouth are tender and quiet, “No,” Eddie whispers, “you’re the only one.”

Steve hums, soaking up just as pie crust does. His hand tightens again on Eddie’s side. And then he sways them, half-steps, knees knocking. The sink is still streaming and there’s red rimming Steve’s honey eyes. It’s all so private. It’s almost just theirs.

“Saying I’m an exception?” Steve then murmurs.

His words land like gentle pecks to Eddie’s lips. And they’re closer than before. And he’d let them get even closer, if there was room.

“Why, you wanna be?”

“Mhm,” Steve buzzes.

The restroom door opens, a foot sandwiched in the gap of their space and the entire world. Eddie doesn’t let go, even if he was supposed to. Steve does, wearily aware. He finds himself not disappointed, though, not even in the slightest.

“You wanna be an exception over burgers now? There’s apple pie, too.”

“Yeah, Eds”—and oh, how that makes his chest flutter something incredible, his heart a newborn bird eager to take flight—“I wanna be your exception.”

If he wasn’t intrigued and swooning before, he most definitely is now.

But as it is, he simply pats Steve on the back and leads him out towards the bar again. Zipping through crowds of girls and forcing his way between boys about to brawl. There’s beer spilling out onto his clothes, that he hopes isn’t getting on Steve’s—doesn’t want to tarnish the absolute darling beauty he’s managed to rescue from the swamps of a muggy bar bathroom. Though, maybe it’s unavoidable. Maybe it’s just what is meant to happen.

Because something about Steve, his hand gripped tight in Eddie’s, the bounce of his step, his glassy eyes and loose smile when Eddie looks over his shoulder—something about the Steve of it all feels as close to myth alive as he’s allowed to believe. And, well, if there are more than three religions and some people don’t believe in any of it at all, then he can hold onto whatever the hell he wants. If Steve at his heels, chest slamming into his back as the cold outside air finally whips them in the face, is destiny, then…Eddie finally believes in destiny.

When the bar’s doors slam behind them and they’re overcome with the noise of distant fireworks and cars rolling by on crowded asphalt, Eddie begins to let go. Though, Steve grips to his fingers a smidge tighter than before.

“Wow,” Steve breathes beside him.

Eddie looks to him. His profile. The sharp angle of his nose, droop of his eyes, and curve of his easy smile. He follows his gaze, up to the sky.

A spattering of stars, only broken by the even brighter bursts of twinkling fireworks. Pinks and yellows and whites travel stark across the sky, each ember firing like a shooting star going home. He places his right hand over his chest, the beating of his heart a tumultuous, daunting thing. And he sighs, panting a short breath—

Let me keep him, he wishes, after tonight, let me have him. Please?

Steve squeezes their hands together, fingers sprawling so they can intertwine. His palm is sweaty, he’s shaking slightly. He laughs, though, a sputtering, unbelievable sound. “Thank god I’m outta there,” he whispers. Eddie gazes at the stretch of his neck, how his Adam’s apple resettles after bobbing out each individual word. There’s moles dotting there, too. Constellations, even more wonderful than the stars above them.

At least, Eddie thinks so. Objectively, he’s correct. Won’t hear anybody else on the matter.

He sinks his teeth into his lower lip and turns his eyes back to the sky. “Yeah,” Eddie murmurs, “you can only take so much being cramped in there. Everything’s a little more…”

“Sobering?”

“Real,” he corrects. “Everything’s more real.”

Their fingers are pretzeled together still. And as if to punctuate Eddie’s point, Steve makes him feel the pressure of their hands. As if to say, “We’re a little more real out here, too.” He supposes they are. And he supposes the budding warmth in his sternum—where he’s believed his soul to be his whole life—is real, too.

Eddie blinks, watching white streaks dissipate through the sky. His stomach grumbles, though, and he’s reminded with a back-handed slap why they’re out here. There’s plenty of time to watch fireworks later, but he’s only got such staggering minutes with Steve. And he promised food.

Maybe it’s too honest and maybe it’s a lot stupid—considering Steve is still such a stranger, an enigma to his brain—but he’d promise a whole lot more if he was allowed.

For now, he starts to drag them towards the diner. Only met with minor resistance from Steve’s stance. He relents quickly, though. Following after Eddie like a lost, scruffy puppy. Through the next burst of fireworks, he hears Steve’s stomach give a low grumble, too.

The greasy air of the diner hits him in one strong gust. Salt and cheese and a sprinkling of cinnamon. Pink bubblegum, too, as a hostess greets them at the door and leads them to a booth in the back right corner of the restaurant. The vinyl must be sticky when Steve bounces onto it, grimacing as his fingertips stay stuck like paw-pads on ice. Eddie finds out a second later when he saddles in right across from Steve, collecting the menus from the edge of the table as the hostess struts away to her bored stool at the coffee counter.

He hands over one menu, Steve taking it from him gingerly. With a passing, soft, “Thanks.” His eyes fall to the plastic sheet in his hands, seemingly enthralled by everything there is to choose from.

Eddie already knows what he wants, choosing to gaze ahead.

There’s a tiny pout to Steve’s lips, subtle an gentle, but definitely present. He’s muttering under his breath, thumbs tracing down the margins of the menu, half-formed sentences like, “Cheeseburger…tomatoes…lettuce—hmph—bacon optional, sounds good.” Steve takes the sleeve of his jacket and brings it up under his nose, wiping hastily at its tip. His face isn’t puffy or red anymore, just tinged with exhaustion. Even like this, slumped over a menu and recovering ever so slowly from the cold that had seeped into their bones and the roller coaster of emotions that had worked through their combined blood, Steve’s beauty is magnetic. But his thinking face? His consideration? His marveling wonder outside?

Aside from his looks, the rest of him still draws Eddie in.

Or maybe Eddie’s easier than he thought he was.

Or…or…Eddie knows what he wants.

“Oh, shit,” Steve breathes, “they’ve got fucking onion rings.”

“They’re pretty good,” Eddie amends.

Steve slams his menu to the surface of the table, hands spread, eyes wide insistently. “Of course they’re fucking good! They’re onion rings!” he softly exclaims. “Ooo, get ‘em with barbecue sauce and a Dr. Pepper? That right there is the champion of all meals.”

“Is that what you want?”

The menu’s picked up again. “Mmm…it does sound good…nah,” Steve says, eyes intense on the choices, “I’m still lookin’.”

Eddie snorts indignantly and greets their waitress. Ordering a basket of onion rings for the table, a couple waters, and a Dr. Pepper for “The man of the hour” with a half-gesture at Steve still muttering under his breath. It’s endearing how long it takes for Steve to finally settle on something, even if their combined grumbling stomachs get louder and louder, roaring over the tinny television in the opposite corner to their booth.

“You better pick something soon, else Anderson Cooper’s gonna blackout before the ball drops,” he gently teases, head nodding to the television. Steve looks to it, snorts, and glances back down at the menu. “I could also just pick something for you, if you’re too indecisive?”

“Chicken tenders,” Steve decides, “with crispy fries and a side of ranch.”

“Are you twelve?”

“Hey,” he objects defensively. “I happen to be a man of taste, thank you very much. It just so happens that I’ve got a young soul ’s’all.”

Eddie hums, face betraying him as it splits with a shining smile. Jeez, this guy is endearing. He leans over the table a bit, resting his chin in his hand; Steve mirrors him, smirking. Soft and low, he asks, “You still got a headache, Stevie?”

“Yeah,” Steve sighs. “It’ll probably stick with me tomorrow morning. Which sucks. I should’a left the bar as soon as my date stormed off. Would’a saved me a lot of trouble.”

But then you wouldn’t have met me, he wants to say, and that would suck worse.

“I’ve got Advil when the water comes. It’s the last dose in the bottle, but it should help. And also the Dr. Pepper. Caffeine might be good.”

“I don’t wanna take the last of your pills, man. You probably need it more than I do. Been working all day on your feet, I’m sure.”

He merely shrugs. “Yeah, well…I wanna help you. It’ll bring me some comfort if I can make you feel even a bit better, y’know?” Steve doesn’t say anything to that. Just looks at him like a confused, lost dog. Like he’s being offered scraps from a hand that doesn’t shake when he sniffs it. “But if it really bothers you,” Eddie continues, “then we can figure out a way for you to make it up to me.”

Steve cozies deeper into his hand, blinking long at Eddie. “That sounds good,” he breathes. “Say the word…”

“We’ll figure it out before you go home, okay? Not something for you to worry about now.” He fishes the bottle of Advil from his pants’ pocket and opens it swiftly, spilling the tablets into the well of his palm. Steve’s other hand is flopped over on the table, atop his menu, relaxed. Eddie places the pills in his hand and closes his fingers. No argument. “After you eat, I’ll order your Lyft. And then…maybe I can get your number?” He’s cautious about the conversation, though the words hit him at once. Failed date, New Years Eve, situationship. Eddie rushes to add, “Just so that you can text me when you get home safely, that’s all. Don’t…I don’t wanna come off as, like, preying on you or something. Y’know, after the whole…Yeah. Just. Wanna make sure you get home safe.”

As soon as the breath rushes out of him, it’s like Steve breathes it in, responding with a syrupy, tired giggle fit. His hand fists the Advil tablets tighter. A flush colors his skin, travels down his neck as he loses himself to his laughter. The stretch of his smile and sprawl of his giggles make his nostrils flare. And Eddie doesn’t know how, after seeing the same on so many other guys, but the way Steve’s face simply moves with his joy stirs something in him. Awakes a part that had been hiding in a seemingly unending hibernation.

Shit.

Catching his breath and wiping the tears from the corners of his eyes, Steve resettles. Breathes, “You were so worried!”

“I was!” Eddie exclaims. He makes a dramatic show of crossing his arms over his chest, pouting his lips. “I didn’t wanna overstep. It’d be un-gentlemanly of me.”

“Oh,” Steve sighs, breath finally caught. There’s a big, goofy smile on his face still. His eyes glassy with—what Eddie assumes to be—happy tears. “You’ve already treated me way better than ninety percent of the dates I’ve been on, man. Don’t worry about…about being careful when asking for my number.” He rests in his palm again, his posture growing tired, slumping into the table. “I was gonna give it to you anyway.”

“Ninety percent? Who the hell do I need to fight?”

“People who are…unimportant and too full of themselves? I don’t know, Eds, it doesn’t matter. I’ll probably just…I don’t know,” Steve murmurs. He shrugs half-heartedly again. “I’m gonna go home after this and go to bed, wake up with a raging headache, and probably wish that you were still sitting across from me. Feel like you’d know how to make it better.”

Eddie hums. “Well,”—he positions himself better, sitting up in his seat and folding his hands on the table—“tonight, I’m gonna make sure you ring in the New Year happier than you are right now. And then, when you get home, you’ll text me that you did. I’ll tell you to have a goodnight’s sleep. In the morning, when you wake up, I’ll text you again, ask if you want some coffee. Maybe, if you’re comfortable, I could bring it over to your place and we could have a simple breakfast?”

“You’d do that?”

“If you want me to.”

Steve goes silent, noticeably contemplative. His eyes adrift to the table. In the mean time, Eddie orders their food and passes over the drinks when they arrive. He nudges Steve to take his pills and points out something that Anderson Cooper’s doing on the television.

But he doesn’t bring up tomorrow morning, not right now at least.

Because maybe he’s overstepping this. He’s putting himself in a position Steve doesn’t want him in. Only thirty minutes ago, they were complete strangers in a bathroom bar, groaning and grumbling at each other for being so defensive and combative. Maybe Steve’s got a friend waiting for him back home? Waiting to let him back inside and take care of him in the secret way only true friends know how.

They aren’t anything more than mere acquaintances. No matter how many half-lidded flirty glances Steve passes his way. No matter how many times Eddie’s eyes wander to Steve’s mouth as he gobbles down his serving of onion rings, a wish ringing out in his head, words caught star-bound in his throat, admiring.

He’s allowed to admire.

Not allowed to have, though.

And maybe he won’t ever get there. This will be it. A late night dinner, wishing Happy New Years, jokes tossed across the table like clumsy frisbees taking flight, and an aching in his chest. Feelings blooming in his sternum so suddenly, so abrasively, they’re thorns staggered sharp into his lungs.

He breathes, his chest seizes, and the whiff of Steve’s stale cologne burrows inside him. He blinks, his eyebrows shoot up his forehead, and Steve’s strong shining summer smile brands to the deep crevices of Eddie’s brain. He laughs, their giggles blend, and the process starts all over again.

Is this what sunflowers feel like? Soaking up the sun, all that they can, and then begin the brittle early death of wilting into oneself? They have to wait so long to be born again.

Eddie doesn’t want this to be a one time thing, dead in the middle of winter, dead before it could be alive.

Steve will have his number, though. He’ll have a weakened headache in the morning now that he’s had some caffeine and begun processing a couple Advil. From there, though, the future is possible, but unseen. He’s not sure if he’s even something Steve could be looking for.

Wishful thinking, he tells himself, hopeful wishing.

“Dude, try this!”

He blinks back to himself, presented with a chicken tender thrusted into his face. It’s dripping in ranch, so Steve’s hand is cupped underneath it, trying to save the table. Eddie gapes, looking to Steve’s face.

The chicken tender is pushed into his space harder. “These are the best tenders I’ve ever had in my fucking life, and I need you to support me on this. Try it.”

At Steve’s request, he gingerly takes a bite. For some odd reason, he finds himself holding their intent and intense eye contact, unwavering. It’s just a chicken tender, nothing to write home about. Not like it tastes any different than the ones he can pick up from the Dairy Queen by his apartment, but if Steve’s saying it’s the best one he’s had…

“That’s pretty fuckin’ bomb, Stevie,” he says. It’s not a complete lie, but it’s not the complete truth. But it does earn him bright eyes and warm cheeks, a side by side dance in the booth across from him, and a pleased little grin. So…maybe these chicken tenders are the best, especially if they get a pretty boy like Steve to look at him like that.

“Told you,” Steve says around his next bite—half of a chicken tender and two folded onion rings. “You ever dip ‘em in gravy, though? That would blow away your socks, blow up your mind, and suck your dick.”

“You, uh, you really don’t fuck around when it comes to chicken tenders, do you?”

“I don’t fuck around with anything. I’m a set-in-stone kind of guy.”

The seriousness in his tone makes Eddie involuntarily choke on air, his eyes drifting away, flush high on his cheeks. He takes a few, quiet bites of his cheeseburger. It’s mediocre and spilling with grease, the bun is stale and the ketchup is weirdly cold, but he savors it. At least it isn’t another basket of tortilla chips and jarred salsa from the bar—he’d probably rip out his own stomach if he had to eat any more of those.

Steve tries to offer him another chicken tender, but Eddie pushes it back gently towards him. Tries not to coo over the soft, sad pout that the gesture earns him. “It’s your food,” he says, “I wanna make sure you eat it, sweetheart. You need it more than me.”

“But I wanna share it with you.”

“Stevie,” he murmurs, “I’ve already got my”—

He’s offered the chicken again. With a very forceful, “Take a bite. You worked for hours, I can tell from how tired you seem, and I want to share this with you.” And then—the bastard—adds a puppy-eyed pout to say, “Please? It would help me feel better.”

Eddie sighs dramatically, leaning forward and taking another bite. He raises his eyebrows, gazing at Steve as he rescinds his food offering. “Happy now?”

Steve nods, smiling as he does so. “Very.” He pops a fry in his mouth and crunches down on it, his grin as big as the Cheshire Cat’s. And then, his focus goes back on his basket of food, none the wiser to Eddie’s openly affectionate adoration.

He forces himself to look away, to stop getting caught up on the Steve of it all, this night. Probably one of the best New Years Eves he’s ever had. Eddie takes a deep breath, though, and looks to the television.

Forty seconds to midnight.

How’d their night drive by so damn fast?

“You gonna count down with me?” Eddie asks, interrupting the lull of silence that filled between them.

“Mm, among one other thing, yeah.”

“What other”—

“Don’t worry about it,” Steve quickly adds, dropping his food into his basket, “how much time do we have?”

“Fifteen seconds.”

He watches Steve wipe his fingers on a nearby napkin, counting aloud with “Fourteen.”

And as the numbers go down, Steve pushes himself closer over the table. Eddie can only match with him.

Ten.

This close, Steve no longer smells like his cologne. Just barbecue sauce and onion rings, the grease from chicken tenders, and a lighter thing that he can’t quite place. Something happy, whatever it is.

Eight.

“Anyone ever tell you that you have nice eyes, Stevie?”

“Don’t think anybody’s really taken notice.”

“Well…”—Eddie breathes gently—“you have really nice eyes.”

Five.

Steve slides his hand across the table, gripping for Eddie’s left. Their fingers tangle, pretzeled together. Warm, even there. His smile is warmer, though, and Eddie begins melting at the sight of it. He wonders if Steve is thinking the same thing.

Three.

“Two,” Eddie breathes.

He squeezes their hands. “One,” Steve sighs. And with it, he surges the last few inches over the table, pulling Eddie towards him, planting a delicate kiss on his lips. It doesn’t carry longer than a couple seconds, but it lingers. Lingers like the decadent, sweet scent of apple pie. They’ll have to get slices before parting.

The diner fills with cheers, whoops and hollers. There’s a burst of multi-colored light outside, painting the left side of Steve’s face with pinks and blues and yellows. Maybe it’s all so cliche. Maybe Eddie tripped and fell, went into some head trauma-induced coma where he can only dream of a picture perfect world waiting for him.

But Steve squeezes his hand again, fingernails pinching into his soft skin.

Eddie knows he’s awake.

The haziness has cleared from Steve’s eyes, replaced with romantic determination. And Eddie knows he must be mirroring something like that, too.

“Happy New Years, Steve.”

“Happy New Years, Eddie,” he murmurs—the breath ghosts over Eddie’s lips, close enough to kiss them—“best night I’ve had in a really long while, thank you.”

He wants to kiss him again, so he does. Gentle and quick, sweetly though, and drenching.

If a night could last forever, he’d pick this one right here.

“My pleasure,” he says and means it to the core of his soul.

“Can I take you up on that coffee tomorrow? I have donuts back home, we could make a morning of it.”

Eddie swallows, sure that Steve hears him. His palm sweats and the thing inside him, stirring and rolling the whole night, is finally, finally alert. “Of course, sweetheart”—it fills him with giddy pride the way that nickname brings a flush to Steve’s cheeks—“what time?”

“I’ll call you when I’m ready. I wanna hear your morning voice.”

“You flatter me.”

Steve raises their joined hands to his lips, kissing the back of Eddie’s. His lips are sticky, somehow, but sweet. The next time they kiss, he hopes Steve tastes like pie. “Good,” Steve whispers, “you deserve to be flattered now.”

And maybe it wasn’t the most romantic start to their relationship…

But Eddie wouldn’t have it any other way.

🎆—————🎆

#stranger things #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #modern au #hurt/comfort #mostly comfort #bartender eddie munson

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fictionalcharactersaremypassion · 6 months ago

Text

Broken Furnace

The heat in the whole apartment building was out. With it being winter and a couple feet of snow on the ground, it made for a miserable time.

Ian was curled up on the couch, a blanket thrown over him. Thank God he didn’t get cold easily.

“Mick, come on! You’ll miss the movie.”

“I’m coming, hold your tits!” Mickey’s voice floated out in slight irritation. “Jesus, how long did she say until it’s fixed? It’s fucking freezing in here.”

“Don’t know,” Ian replied, not taking his eyes off the screen. “She just said she hopes it’ll be back on soon.”

There was some unintelligible grumbling from the other room which Ian barely paid attention to. “We could go back home if you want,” he said. “Lip won’t mind.”

“I’m not staying where Philip is anymore than necessary.”

“You know that everyone knows you two don’t actually hate each other, right?” Ian rolled his eyes. They just tended to throw barbed insults at each other for the fun of it. It wasn’t unusual to find them on the porch sharing a joint and talking.

Mickey came around the corner, and Ian had to bit his tongue so he wouldn’t full on grin at how fucking adorable his husband looked.

“Doesn’t mean I wanna see him on my day off,” Mickey said, oblivious to Ian’s expression.

He was wearing Ian’s hoodie, for one. It was a bit big on him, falling down on his thighs. The sleeves went past his hands too, had to be pulled up so they weren’t covered. That, plus his black sweatpants and thick socks.

“Move over,” he said gruffly.

Ian could have, but messing with his husband was much more fun. “No.”

“What?” Mickey said, surprised.

“I’m comfortable,” Ian shrugged. “If you want, you can sit on my lap.”

“Sit on your-no, why are you trying to be so gay, man?” Mickey said, disgruntled. “Just move the fuck over.”

But Ian just smiled sweetly, and alright, a little smugly too. “Fine, if you don’t wanna sit in my lap, take one of the kitchen chairs.”

Mickey stared at him in disbelief.

“Come on, Mick. It’s just us here. No one’s going to see you.”

He wasn't actually going to force Mickey into it. There were only so many things his husband tolerated before he was uncomfortable. But Mickey must have accepted his fate, grumbling under his breath while plopping down in Ian’s lap. The red-head let out an oof, adjusting himself so he wouldn’t get a cramp.

“This doesn’t leave this fucking room, got it?” Mickey scowled.

Ian circled his arms around his freezing husband, feeling him start to relax when the warmth came over him. “Got it.”

Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad, Ian thought. He could handle a little bit more of this now that Mickey was cuddled up in his arms. If he wouldn’t risk his husband’s temper skyrocketing, he would’ve tried taking a picture.

He still might.

“You know, you look pretty damn sexy in my hoodie.”

“Fuck off,” Mickey said, the tips of his ears going red. “It was the only thing clean since you didn’t do the fucking laundry.”

Ian would be generous enough not to point out that Mickey’s own hoodie was clean and hanging up in the closet too. Instead, he’d focus on his legs which were currently suffering with the circulation being cut off by the added weight of his husband. “Turn around for me, Mick.”

“Why? If this is you tryin’ to get a picture, Gallagher, you got another thing coming-”

“This is me trying to get the circulation back in my legs, asshole,” Ian cut him off. Mickey stared suspiciously, causing him to sigh loudly. “I’m serious, Mickey.”

He took hold of Mickey’s shoulders, maneuvering him so his back was against Ian’s chest, their legs stretched out and his arms loosely around his husband’s frame. The whole time, Mickey was kind of stiff, so Ian said,

“If you want me to move, I can.”

“No...” Mickey said, voice a bit tight. “S’fine.”

“You sure?” Ian said, a touch of concern creeping in his own voice. “We don’t have to do this.”

Mickey nodded, nearly knocking into Ian’s chin in the process. “It’s fine.”

“Okay,” Ian nuzzled in his hair. “You know, you should grow your hair out again.”

“Fuck no,” Mickey said with a slight laugh. “That was a one time thing, Red.”

“You sure?” Ian whispered near his ear. As predicted, he was rewarded with a shiver from Mickey that had nothing to do with the cold.

“I ain’t gonna be able to concentrate on the movie if you keep that up.”

“Fine by me,” Ian said with a pleased grin.

“And I ain’t taking any of this off. Too fucking cold for that.”

“You don’t have to,” Ian tilted his head, kissing down along his neck, hearing the sharp hiss from his husband. He felt Mickey grab onto his knee, squeezing it hard, leaning his head to the side to give him more access.

They didn’t often leave marks on each other where it could be seen and with the way he was going, it couldn’t be guaranteed that it wouldn’t be seen.

And really, it was all thanks to the broken furnace.

#shameless #gallavich #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #ian and mickey #ian x mickey #shameless fanfiction

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winniefrezcomics · 22 days ago

Note

Why does dev hate ved so much?

Also did ved have his own versions of dev’s au-pairs

No to the second part, actually! Ved lived a surprisingly quiet, humble life with his father Elad (who I’ll post some more info about in a different ask :3c)- he’s actually not even the prince of the anti fairies, Due to the fact that Elad simply isn’t that ambitious lol. (Unlike his dork-ass son, who is absolutely HELLBENT on taking over fairyworld, but keeps that on the dl uwu )

(Rough Elad concept, will finish later)

…The ruler of the anti faires in this au is actually still completely undecided tbfh, lemme know if yall have suggestions for who would make the most sense! :3c (it may have been Vicky at one point but her ass is for SURE in abracatraz atm)

As for the first part- Trust me, it is EARNED. The reason Dev’s hatred for his anti seems so blown out of proportion to everyone else is because Ved has INTENTIONALLY made it look like Dev hates him just for being an anti-fairy, to discredit anything Dev says to try and make Ved answer for the chaos he so loves causing.

(Longer explanation below)

(Dale is a WELL-KNOWN hater of anti-fairies, due to a certain experience with one named Vicky, so everyone just assumes that hatred was passed down, making Dev’s opinion very biased)

However, Because Dev is well aware he himself only PRETENDS to be mean as a defense mechanism , and actually cares very deeply for his friends and family, Dev can only assume that means Ved’s niceness is similarly fake, and he doesn’t really care about the wellbeing of others at ALL. Ved proves this to be true CONSTANTLY by harming and traumatizing bystanders of wishes- (always Indirectly enough to not break da rules) inevitably making Dev clean up his messes every single time. Aaaand As much as he hates it, Dev always does so, because if DEV messes up, he’s done with fairy godparenting for GOOD, and will have no choice but to crawl back to his dad (Perry is his “last chance” godkid, because he’s failed to help -or even just get along with- SO MANY in the short few years he’s been godparenting coughincludingIriscough)

Anyway, due to Dev and Ved’s mutual understanding of one another’s personalities (mostly through process of elimination tbfh) Dev is the ONLY fairy who has EVER seen Ved without his “mask”- something Ved has meticulously constructed to earn the trust of both faires and anti faires alike- saying and doing whatever he needs to in order to creep closer to his eventual goal.

But underneath all the fake niceness, all the goofy mannerisms, Ved has made it no secret to Dev specifically that he’s a MONSTER, and actively delights in the fact that no one will ever believe him.

Ty for the question! Lemme know if yall have anything else you wanna know about Ved lol- he specifically has been giving me TERRIBLE brainrot as of late ☠️☠️ (ngI Might eff around and rewrite set two and three so I can bring this freakass in early bc I’m honestly love him even tho he’s the WORST 😂 idk I like irredeemable villains I guess 🤓)

Sidenote: The first time they ever meet, Ved literally HUGS HIM as a power-move, looking to outsiders like a genuine gesture, but he was actually just getting close enough to whisper a taunt/ threat directly into Devs ear ☠️☠️ (will RB w that comic if I get around to finishing it lmao)

#drabbles #Elad #dale dimmadome #fop au #fop swap au #fairly normal parents au #Ved #fairly oddparents #dev dimmadome #divination Dimmadome

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gilverrwrites · 8 months ago

Note

Has anyone requested the NSFW alphabet for Boomerang yet? 👉👈 If not, then please? 🥺

You’re the first! I had a lot of fun with this one, hope you enjoy.

As always; take what you vibe with, leave what you don’t, and most importantly, have fun with it 💙

Captain Boomerang NSFW Alphabet

18+ MINORS DNI

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

He's awful after sex, cause he's almost immediately ready to sleep straight after. It’s like a routine, sex, roll-up, sleep, repeat.

He likes to hear you talk after though, it’s like the only time he shuts his trap, watching you through half-lidded eyes, cig between his lips, listening to your pillow talk as he drifts off.

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

For him: This man has more to give than he thinks. We know he has a big dick, he knows it too. And his hands are so skilled, so dexterous and fast. He works hard to maintain that broad shoulder to skinny waist ratio that drives them crazy. He’s never gotten a tattoo that he regrets…

But I genuinely believe his favourite part of himself is something silly, like his left ear-lobe, cause whenever he rubs it for luck before a heist it always goes well.

For his partner: he’s a tit man. He likes a nice jiggly ass, likes kissing soft lips, likes feeling your hands on him, but nothing beats rubbing his dick between a nice big, cushiony pair of breasts. He’s not biased, no matter the size or perkiness, he’s not listening to a word out of your mouth cause he’s too busy picturing how much they will or won’t bounce when you ride him, what your nipples feel like on his tongue, he likes all tits, but he especially likes the ones big enough to envelop his dick when he fucks them.

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

Digs is fucking messy, I’m telling you. There’s nowhere on your body he doesn’t want to cum on. Your chest, your hair, your pretty face. Loves when you don’t wash it off straight away, when you let it sit and dry and soak into your skin until he can really smell it on you, that’s hot.

If you’re more adventurous, he’s always down. You want him to cum in your morning coffee, into your open eyes, you want to snort that shit? He’s down. He laughs, says “An people think I’m the dirty one, you’re somethin’ else girlie” as he shoves his hand down his boxers, fisting his already half-hard cocky

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

It’s no secret that he’s a thief, big-time or petty. But he doesn’t tell you that he likes to ‘steal’ your dirty undies. When you’re not around he jerks himself to them, pressing the crotch up to his nose, holding them between his teeth and sucking any remnants of your juices out as he fucks his hand. Sometimes he tries them on, wears them under his sweats all day.

When you come home to clean laundry, you’re happily suprised and none the wiser, if not frustrated that your waistbands seem to be wearing thin and loose too often

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

Not a playboy, but still experienced. He's not so good at chatting people up or the dating part, so few people get his sense of humour. But he’s not bad-looking, and he’s pretty good at being in just the right place at the right time to be picked up for a one-night stand.

He’s also pretty good at the ‘hate me so much you wanna fuck me’ kind of seduction with other rogues, he doesn't know how to be classically flirty and romantic, but he knows how to push those sexual frustration buttons.

He knows what he’s doing in the bedroom, although, a lot of it comes from muscle memory and dutch-courage. Throw him stone-cold sober into bed with someone he really likes and he’s a nervous mess, forgetting everything he’s ever done until the two of you get onto the same wavelength.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Hear me out: reverse cowgirl, on the couch, so you can both watch TV.

But also, cowgirl - so he can watch your tits sway, and cause you look so hot above him.

And The Captain/V for victory, unironically.

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

Digs hasn’t taken anything seriously since, well, he can’t remember. His dad must have knocked the memory right out of him.

No, but really, he’s so goofy all the time, sometimes it’s related, sometimes it ain’t.

He’ll be buried between your legs, your sex still in his mouth when he asks what you had for dinner, cause he thinks he can taste it.

Grinding on the couch when he tells you “Before you ask, that is a boomerang in my pocket. But he’s happy to see you too.”

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

Not well groomed at all, he has a delicious little russet happy trail that leads to a bush around the base of his cock, and on his balls. He always intends on keeping it trimmed down but he just forgets to do it.

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

It’s a healthy mix, for Boomer, sex is a fun pastime. It’s a chance for you both to feel good, to service each other and make each other laugh, which is definitely romantic and intimate in its own right, but it’s not always like that.

Sometimes he drinks too much, or has a shitty run of jobs, or both, and he uses your body as a stress relief, or sometimes he pushes you too much, riles you up with the intention of you getting rough with him; sometimes he just wants it to hurt, othertimes he wants a fight, whatever it is, it’s not healthy or romantic

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Nobody ever taught Boomer that it’s rude to touch yourself around others. He really doesn’t see the issue. If you’re not around, or not in the mood, he’s gonna do it himself.

If you tell him not to he’ll get all petulant and keep ‘rearranging’ himself, or complain about blue balls.

Anyway, if he’s hard and you’re not fucking him, he’s fucking himself, end of.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Boomer will try anything at least 3 times, cause 3rd times the charm an all, maybe more if he’s not done it with you before.

The stuff he knows he likes: Piss (pissing and receiving), face sitting, impact play (again giving and receiving), role play, public sex, maybe a bit of breeding and somnophilia.

L = Location (favourite places to do the do)

Anywhere, any time. He likes doing it in private where you can take your time, drag it out, and be as loud as you like, but there’s a certain risk factor to public sex that really gets him going. Something about the potential humiliation, the time limit, the forcing each other to keep quiet as you bang it out in secrecy.

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

Literally the drop of a hat. He wakes up every morning with a hard-on that he’s gotta relieve, and then he’s done for a couple of hours while lil’ Digger catch’s-up. He knows he’s ready again when he sees you bend over, or he catches a glimpse of your cleavage, when he remembers that banana you ate for breakfast 2 weeks ago, remember that? That was sexy, wanna eat my banana?

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

The obvious: no animals or children.

I don’t think he actively seeks out scat or emetophilia but if it happens it happens, it’s only shit/sick, we all do it from time to time, no use crying about it, you know?

He’s into impact play, but I reckon he’s really not into doing it with a belt, or being put over someone’s knee.

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

It took the longest time to convince him to try eating you out. Yeah, he’ll try anything, but like, men don’t do that. He’s always been surrounded by toxic masculinity, his dad, other criminals, etc

But man once he tried, you had the opposite problem of trying to get him to stop. Something so illicit about the way you taste on his tongue, something intoxicating about the way your body reacts to every little move, “fuck darl’ you taste better than my first tinnie, we’ve gotta do that again.”

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

Slow and sensual isn’t out of the question, especially if it’s a) late at night and you’re both too drunk for anything else. b) early in the morning and you’re both too hungover for anything else.

But any other time it’s fast and rough. He’s snapping your hips together so hard they slap, grabbing and groping all your softest spots. He fucking loves it when you dig your nails into his back, or when you pull the hair at the nape of his neck.

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

Yes! See L = Location. But it’s not limited to risky public sex in alleyways or public bathrooms. Sometimes he wants a quickie cause one of you is leaving and he just has to be inside you, even for a moment before you’re separated. Sometimes he’s so desperate and you’re so tired, he promises he’ll be real fast, he just needs you, he’d do it himself but you feel so much better.

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

Always game to try new things. Loves risk (again L=location), loves to do it in places with a high risk of getting caught.

If you’re also a thief/rogue, just imagine, robbing a jewellery store with a few minutes to spare, so you hop up on a counter and make love amongst your I’ll-gotten gains, in front of the CCTV before making your getaway.

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

Mid-day is when his stamina is at its peak. His brains too fuzzy in the mornings, he gets pussy drunk and cums almost instantly. Then he spends all day drinking, and it feels like nothing cause it’s just beer, but if he has enough he’ll hit a point where he struggles to get it up no matter how bad he wants it.

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

Again, he’s down for anything a few times. He’s a fan of:

anal toys (again, super into you receiving again, hard sell on flipping the script until he tried it and loved it),

impact toys,

and those remote control vibes that he can set off while you’re out in public, again it’s the risk factor, but he also learned he can deviously use it to his advantage for other things.

“No Digger I’m not buying you an- OH, uhhhh.” “Sorry babe, don’t know what you’re sayin’. I’ll get two.”

“Oh look, there’s Snart, we should go say hhhhhhhhhhh.” “You sure you wanna do that?”

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He’s not a tease in the physical sense, because denying you would mean denying himself and he’s a glutton.

He is a verbal tease though, and likes to make fun of you. “Awh, you’re cute when you’re cock drunk.”

“Fuck, you like that don’t ya? Yeah? Say it or I’ll stop.” - he won’t stop, it’s an empty threat.

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

Does not shut the fuck up. Chats such shit the whole time, just to hear the sound of his own voice until it feels too good to say real words, and then he makes the prettiest little whimpers and cries as he chases his orgasm.

Examples: “fuck, you’re so wet, sure you haven’t pissed yourself? It’s okay if you did.”

“Ooohhh shhiiiit, darl’ you feel so good, take it all, take it all, yeah yeah yeah.”

“I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum, where do you want it, baby? Tell me where to cum? Hurry baby it’s ah-“

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

Would love if you could come to some kind of cnc somnophilia agreement. His work keeps him out late, sometimes for days, weeks, months at a time. When he comes home he just wants to lose himself between your legs either with his tongue or his cock, but you look so peaceful, and he knows you’ve probably barely slept since he left, too worried about him. It would be perfect if he could just have his way with you while letting you sleep.

Great fantasy but in practice, he’s too rough and sloppy and noisy, you’d be awake in no time. Not to mention there’s no way he’s bottoming out inside you without help.

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

As previously mentioned, hairy. Bigger than average, around 8-9 inches, and thicker than you’d expect because he’s uncut for sure.

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

High, like he’s not inhuman, he physically can’t have a boner all the time, but he can and will get it up as much as he possibly can.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Almost instantly, even if it's just a quickie in the middle of the day, he gives it his all and then he's ready to wrap you up in his arms and conk out.

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