#fucking christ he is handsome though

[saraminia]

Noah Reid as Tommy Cummins in Murder in a Small Town (2024–) S1E08 "Sleep While I Sing"

[avocado-writing]

Hi gorgeous could I request a Deadpool x reader x Wolverine smut where it's basically the car fight in the movie and the reader is in it? Reader can regenerate just like them but during the fighting things for a turn? Also female reader :)

sure - I’ve seen a few takes on this, so here’s my brief one too! (I am not an action writer. I am a smut writer. Be kind).

words: 2k

rating: explicit. minors dni. spit roast; oral (reader giving); p in v sex; violence as foreplay; excessive use of the word ‘fuck’; a LOT of dirty talk

If you could trade all your powers for the ability to make Wade Wilson shut the fuck up, it would be no contest. You wouldn’t be a mutant and Deadpool would be silent. 

Fucking hell, how many holes has his mouth dug you into? He’s a dear friend, of course - one you’ve definitely not been nursing a crush on, don’t look at that too deeply - but come on. The guy’s an idiot. You don’t know how he managed to get someone as ruggedly handsome and emotionally constipated as the Wolverine to come along with you (not that you’re complaining, he’s pretty good eye candy too. You’ve had a thing for the idea of him for probably about a decade and, though this particular variant is as rough as they come, he’s still hot) but there has to be a time limit to this success. This is only accentuated when Logan slams the brakes on the Odyssey, throwing you forward from your position in the captain’s seat. 

“Fuck!” you mutter. You definitely just broke your nose from the way you slammed into the cup holder. Turns out seatbelts are made to be worn, who knew? As you focus on twisting it back into place, feeling the cartilage heal and blood congeal, you’re vaguely aware of the argument happening up front. 

Logan’s finally cottoned on to Wade’s bullshit, and it giving a pretty savage monologue about how much of a fuckup he is. You frown. 

“Come on, dude, chill out, he was only trying to —”

“You can shut the fuck up too! You’re just as fucking bad as him! Jesus Christ he may be shoe-in for the world’s biggest asshole but you’re the one trailing around after him with the fucking puppy dog eyes,” Logan snarls. You see Wade frown from under the mask, letting Logan’s vitriol towards you sink in.  

“Don’t you dare talk to her like that.” His tone is serious. Deadly. Logan laughs. 

“Or fuckin’ what, mouth?”

He does not see the sucker punch Wade throws, and then his nose is bleeding. He lunges for your friend with his teeth bared. A wild animal.   

“Stop-!” you shout, darting forward to grab him. An elbow collides with your already sore nose and you yelp in pain. Wade has a knife in his hand immediately and is sinking it into the soft meat of Logan’s thigh, who hisses and extends his claws. One set goes through your calf, the other into Wade’s chest. 

“You fucking cunt!” you scream, grabbing your gun from your belt and unloading it into Logan’s centre mass. The force makes him retract his hand but doesn’t stop him from grabbing your hair and slamming your face into the console. 

“Shit!”

“I told you that you needed a haircut, pookie,” sighs Wade as he shoves baby knife into Logan’s jugular, having to reach over your body to do it. You shoot him in the kneecap. 

“Ow! What the fuck, I’m on your side!” he shrieks. 

“Don’t talk about my hair Wade! It’s a very! Sensitive! Subject!” You punctuate your sentences with fists to the Wolverine’s abdomen. He doesn’t even seem fazed. Instead, Logan lunges for your friend, pressing his groin into your face - and that makes it very obvious that he’s having a… reaction. 

“Holy shit,” you whisper, not loud enough for anyone to hear. 

Logan throws Wade out of the car, the sound of breaking glass a symphony behind you. Some of it decorates your hair. The two of you are left with a second alone; when you reach forward he goes to punch, but when you cup him through his suit he freezes. 

“What…?” Logan snarls, half taken aback, half turned on. 

“Sorry, old man, all the fighting working for you? Surprised you can even get it up any more…” you breathe. From the way his pupils dilate the answer is yes. Pain shoots from your chest as his claws stab you through the heart, but you grin and reach in to lick a line up the side of his face, burying your tongue in his beard. 

“Fuck… you…” he manages, growling when you bite the shell of his ear a little too hard. 

“We don’t have to fight, Lo.”

The door is ripped off Wade charges back in, throwing you into the back so that he can get at Logan. Clearly he mistook your flirting for fighting, when it was definitely the other way around. He unloads a clip into the other man’s stomach, but you grab his arm and redirect, sending a spray of bullets through the Odyssey’s ceiling and grazing your shoulder. 

“What are you—?” asks Wade, but then his face is in your hands and you’re kissing him over the mask. A pause as he registers what’s happening. Then he buries his sword through Logan’s chest to keep him pinned as he wrestles with the fabric, freeing his mouth so that he can kiss you back. 

“I don’t understand,” Wade breathes, taking you in, eyes wide and breaths heavy. 

“Don’t try to,” you argue, pulling his blade out of Logan and cleaning the blood off it with your tongue. Wade clearly isn’t entirely sure what’s going on, but from the way his mouth drops open, he’s never been so horny for something so weird his whole life. 

You turn to Logan and kiss him with his own blood on your lips. He grunts beneath you, sinking a claw into your hip to keep you in place. It hurts, but also…

“Fuck. Sadistic old man,” you breathe, sinking your nails into his face.  

“Little fuckin’ freak,” he replies, biting your lip so hard it bleeds. 

“Holy shit, is this happening?” Wade asks. You manoeuvre so you’re aimed towards his lap, grabbing Logan’s arm and forcing it out of you. Your blood spills down your flank. 

“Stop commenting about it and fuck me, Wade,” you sigh.

He looks across the length of you to Logan who gives a curt nod. 

“Put your fuckin’ money where your mouth is, bub,” he hisses. This is all the permission Wade needs. You hear him tearing at the belt of his suit, positioning himself so that he can free his cock. There’s no time to strip. This is going to be rough and dirty and mostly clothed. 

You’ve never been so glad to dress in a two piece in your life. 

Your fingers work with Logan’s at the fly on his suit as Wade’s hands drag your pants down; he traces the cheeks of your ass, kneading your flesh and giving a running commentary of how fucking pleased he is. 

“Holy shit, baby, look at you. Thought honey badger was the kinky one here but you’re dripping wet,” you hiss as he slaps down on the meat of you, throwing a look over your shoulder at him. He shrugs as if to say, what did you expect me to do? Logan’s hand on your jaw quickly guides you back. 

“Eyes on me,” he growls, finally able to pull his cock from the confines of his suit. It bobs in your face, thick and heavy and delicious. The fingers still cupping your face press down, popping your mouth open for him. When Logan’s thumb presses inside you suck on it so hard that his eyes go wide; it tastes of blood and dirt and fuck you can feel yourself leaking down your thighs as Wade rubs his length against your folds. 

No more encouragement is needed as you open your mouth and swallow as much of Logan down as you can fit. He groans above you, hands burying into your hair. 

God, he’s big. Fucking threatens to dislocate your jaw. Oh well, you could click it back into place anyway and keep going. It’s the sort of thing you’re willing to compromise on if you can keep getting him to make those noises - filthy, laboured, desperate. Bucking his hips upwards into your mouth to make you take more of him. You moan around him and the rumble of your throat makes him hiss, pulling your hair so tight he threatens to rip it out. 

You don’t care. 

You wonder why Wade hasn’t pushed inside you yet, and your question is answered when you hear him spit. You’re aware of the feeling of saliva dripping down your cunt, thick and halfway to sordid. Wade rubs it into your clit, marking you as his, before finally sheathing himself with one thrust. 

Ohhhh fuck. Yeah. There it is. 

You moan around Logan’s dick as Wade stuffs you absolutely to the brim. You’ve never been so full. Your mouth is stoppered and so is your desperate pussy, and when Wade starts to piston himself inside you it only serves to force you forward into the older man’s lap. The hair at the base of his cock presses deliciously against your lips and he makes a choking sound that could be your name. His hand, still present, is less strict now. He holds you in something akin to a caress. 

“Fuckin’ look at you…” he breathes. You want to roll your eyes at him pretending this is anything other than gratification. You leave his cock with a wet pop. 

“You just want something warm and tight to cum in, old man,” you say, letting your hand take over for a second while your jaw rests. 

Wade laughs as he holds you even tighter, but there’s something tinging it. Bitterness?

“You should see the way he looks at you when he thinks you don’t notice, pookie. Looks like our Wolvie is smitten.”

You glance up at Logan from where you’ve started kissing the length of his cock, and he looks… disgruntled. Oh shit. Wade’s hit a nerve there. 

“She’s clearly fuckin’ in love with you, you idiot,” he snarls. 

Wade’s hips stutter as he’s pistoning in and out of you, this unexpected revelation interrupting his pace. 

“You are?”

Aww man, this isn’t the time for this, but it looks like it’s happening anyway, huh?

“I like both of you,” you say, simply, because you do. “That’s why both of your cocks are inside me. Now put them to work.”

There’s a beat as they digest this information; then Wade starts fucking you twice as hard, lifting his leg up on the gearstick for leverage, and Logan pulls you mouth-first back into his cock. You make a pleased noise as they fill you, happy to let yourself go brainless for a moment as they use you however they want. There’s a warm feeling building in the pit of your stomach and you can feel an orgasm wanting to crescendo. 

Soon you hear Logan begin to breathe heavily, and you’re pretty sure he can’t be far. You make a show of looking up at him with your biggest, most fucked-out eyes. 

“Cum in my mouth,” you say, pulling back and sticking out your tongue as a target. He is powerless against that, spilling down your throat as you grin at the taste of him. 

“Oh fuck, you’re so fucking filthy, so fucking hot, holy shit, holy shit,” Wade breathes, thrusts getting erratic. Suddenly Logan is lifting you up by the shoulders, pushing you into Wade’s embrace.  

“Make her cum or I will,” he says, and you’ve never heard an orgasm be used as a threat before but fuck it does it for you. Wade’s hand scrabbles to your clit and it only takes a few desperate circles to have you coming all over his cock as he fills your cunt with his spend. Logan manages a boneless grin at the show. 

You collapse between them, and they support you. For a moment there is nothing but the sound of breathing and the smell of sex.

For a moment. 

“Are we a polycule now?” asks Wade. You roll your eyes fondly at him and slap his arm where it’s slinked around you. 

“Shut up,” you and Logan say in unison. 

“Okiedokie, guess we can address that if there’s a part two.”

taglist: @falsewordz @malfoys-demigod @belilwen @mildly-salted @tvwebs @childeslegstrap @getmeoutofhell @s1eep-o @just-a-beatlemaniac69 @yrthr @momopad @sugarplumz100 @captainjinkx @madspads @acrosstheunivcrse @yeethaw13 @na-is-salty @florduarte @hunterispunk @starfleetteddybear

[mywritersmind]

SAVIOR - LN4

summary : When y/n’s absent neighbor shows up, causing her great annoyance with smoke and repetitive beeping, she marches over to tell the man off but is met with a handsome face and strong hands that are in distress.

listen up : no warnings!! lando’s hands>>

word count : 631

⋆｡‧˚⋆

The sound won’t fucking stop.

I hadn't been worried before, just sitting back with my ice cream and gossip girl, until I smelt the smoke.

I groan, yeah sure there may be a fire but nothing is more important than the thanksgiving episode! I pull in a baggy off the shoulder shirt to cover my bra and walk out into the hall.

I slam my knuckle against the door. Who the fuck bakes at this time of night? I knock again and within seconds I hear feet pattering against the floor before the door clicks open.

I don’t mean to look surprised.

But when a hot man opens the door when I was expecting an old rich guy with a mistress, I raise a brow, “I’m so sorry!” He says quickly. There are oven mitts on his hands and I almost laugh because he looks like a cartoon character in distress.

“Are you okay?”

He is not, indeed, okay. As his body turns, I realize his kitchen is filling with smoke and something is still beeping. “I am so sorry!” He repeats again as I walk in.

I open the windows first, idiot. Then while coughing, I fiddle with the oven to make it shut up. I hear him audibly sigh behind me.

“You’re saving me here.” his smooth accent cuts through the burning smell.

I stand, “From a fire, yeah. Don’t really want my apartment building to burn down.” I shrug and take the mits right off his hands, placing them on my own and opening the smoke filled compartment.

I swat the air and hurriedly take out the pan. When I place it down on the counter, I laugh.

“I’m not a good baker, I know!” He crosses his arms.

“Cupcakes?” I smile, the smoke slowly leaving through the windows, “You don’t seem like the type. Especially at half past one.”

He shrugs and I finally take him in, with dark curls and stunning eyes, he’s got a familiar face. He's in pajamas of sorts, with bright orange slippers.

“Couldn’t pick a dinner option honestly…” He glances at the burnt baked goods, “I really appreciate it… I’d offer you something but- I don’t want to poison you.”

I smile and he looks proud that he made me do anything that’s not coughing, “Not a problem.”

A second passes before he speaks up, “I haven’t seen you around.” He says as I take the mits from my hands.

“Probably because you’re never around…?” It’s true. I love living on this floor because my neighbor is barely ever in. It is a bit strange now that I think about it.

He laughs, “Right. My work, and all…” okay mafia boss energy. Though his kind face and wall decor tells me differently.

I nod awkwardly, “Well… if you don’t need any more saving, I'm gonna go.”

“Of course! Thanks again. And if you ever need anything I'm here- I mean… I do owe you now.” I hand him the mits and as he grabs it my eyes stray to his hands.

Christ he’s fit. How have I never seen him before?

I look away from the veins and smile politely, “See you around…” I don’t know his name.

“Lando.” He smiles and the way his eyes meet mine makes my knees go soft.

“Y/n.” He shakes my hand, quite sternly might I add.

“Well Y/n… pleasure having you in my apartment and saving us from an evacuation.” He opens the door for me.

“Stay safe, Lando.” he winks.

NOTE : don’t forget that my requests are open!!

[roanniom]

i can’t stop thinking about virgin! eddie being so embarrassed about coming after like 3 seconds and he keeps apologizing and says he wants to make up for it😩😩

Okay for You

Virgin!Eddie Munson x fem!reader

Warnings: NSFW, 18+ ONLY, PIV / unprotected sex, uncertainty but it resolves

“Jesus fucking Christ, holy mother of fucking god,” he’s stuttering as you lower yourself down on him. His fingertips dig into the meat of your hips so hard you can most certainly count on bruises tomorrow. He’s a lot to take but it feels good as you sink down, giving him a wincing grin.

“Didn’t know the town satan worshiper was so religious,” you tease, lightly sliding the tip of your index finger up and down the naked expanse of his chest in the shape of a cross. “Do you wanna be absolved of sin or do you wanna cum?

“Fuck, you can’t just–,” Eddie bucks up into you harshly and you laugh. Your laugh gets brighter when you notice the furrow in his brow and the desperation in his eyes.

“Choose sin, Eddie. I know you wanna cum.”

“Quit talking about cumming, I’m gonna fucking bust,” he whines out. You roll your hips, once, twice.

“Cum on the dark side, Eddie. We’ve got pussy.”

You’re straight up giggling at your own absurdity and at how far gone he is in under a minutes. His eyes roll back in his head and his mouth drops open in a heady groan, hips stuttering upwards as he spills deep inside you. You ground your hands on his shoulders and bear down on him so that he feels fully encased and snug through his orgasm.

Eddie, it turns out, is fucking beautiful when he cums. Pink tinges the high points of his cheeks, getting darker around his ears and flushing crimson down his neck to his chest. His wet lips are open as he gasps down air, eyelids shut tight against the intensity of his release.

It takes him a minute, but the second he realizes what’s happened, his hands are off your thighs and covering his face in mortification.

“Oh my god. Oh my god.”

“That good, handsome?” you ask smugly, not quite noticing the tonal shift yet.

“No its…well yeah but I didn’t…that was too…fuck I’m so sorry.” When he finishes rambling he sits up and pulls his hands from his face, revealing an almost teary eyed expression. Your eyebrows shoot up in response.

“Hey, hey! What’s wrong?” you ask, suddenly a lot softer, your hand curling around his forearm to pull him so he stops biting at a nail.

“I just blew my load in 0.5 seconds like a fucking virgin.”

You stare at him for a second before breaking out into hysterical giggles. He looks affronted at first, but as you keep laugh the corner of his mouth quirks a little.

“What?”

“Eddie, you are a virgin,” you clarify, though you immediately amend it. “Were a virgin. I kinda expected it, to be honest.”

Eddie huffs a laugh but sits a bit straighter. He’s still inside you, growing soft, but you like the closeness so you don’t get up just get.

“What? You didn’t think I’d be a mind blowing lover?” he asks and your glad he’s back to making jokes. You shrug.

“You’ve got a big dick, so you’re not that far off to begin with. If we work on your stamina you could be blowing my back out in no time.”

You watch him short circuit as he stares at you and you definitely don’t miss the way his dick twitches inside of you.

“Yeah?” he asks. It’s hesitant. You lean forward and give him a kiss that answers all his questions - bruising and wet and probing and dirty - and his lips chase yours when you pull away.

“You’ll be Fabio in no time,” you promise with a cheeky smile.

“I wanna make you cum,” Eddie replies earnestly. His hands are back on your thighs, smoothing up and down. “I’m so fucking pissed I didn’t make you cum. ‘M sorry.”

“Eddie, don’t be sorry,” you reassure him. You go to kiss him again and he melts, mewling desperately and leaning into the affection. It turns you on so much that this scary, beautiful man is putty beneath you. So much so that you feel yourself growing needy and snake a hand down between you to start playing with your clit.

The friction causes you to squeeze around his rapidly re-hardening cock. He jolts at the feeling.

“What’re you…?” he breaks away to ask you, eyes trailing down to your ministrations. “Oh fuck are you…are you touching yourself?”

“Mhm. You’re making me feel good, Eds. I kinda have to,” you confirm with a chuckle. He watches you for a moment before he slides his hand down your abdomen tentatively.

“Can…can I do it?”

You’re panting a bit at this point. Worked up again from the lack of satisfaction the first time around.

“You wanna?” you ask, kind of hoping he’ll say no so you can get yourself off before he cums prematurely again. You can feel his hips beginning to cant lightly, teasing you with the pressure.

“Please,” he practically whispers and you can deny him so you pull you hand away. What you aren’t expecting is for him to grab it and wrap his lips around your wet fingers. Your eyes blow wide and your pussy clenches around his cock, making him groan around his mouthful.

“Eddie…” you say quietly. He blinks at you before pulling your fingers from his mouth with a pop and reaching down to press his own circles into your clit.

It’s juuuuust off. Another millimeter and you’ll feel great. You roll your hips to try and get him where you need him, but unfortunately the slide of his cock inside of you distracts him, making him freeze up and moan. So you take matters into your own hands, literally, grabbing his wrist and pulling at him so that he’s on the right spot.

“Yeah? Right there?”

He’s seeking genuine reassurance, but your brain hears the questions as dirty talk, making you roll your hips again.

“Fuck. Yeah. Yeah right there.”

You begin grinding on him in earnest while he continues to play with you. After a few moments you grab his free hand to bring it from your hip to grope your breast. His eyes practically bug out of his head.

“Oh wow,” Eddie says.

You want to laugh at how easy he is. But it’s starting to feel really good, and you’re so pent up at this point you decide just to chase it.

“Say something,” you breathe out. Eddie looks confused.

“Like…like what?”

“Just - fuck. I don’t know. Talk dirty.” You’re doing your best not to ride him fully, because you can see the way all of his muscles are starting to tense. You hope that by giving him a task it’ll distract him long enough so you can cum.

“Uh you’re…you’re just like…so fucking beautiful—,”

“Eds,” you let out a frustrated chuckle. “That’s not dirty talk—.”

“So f-fucking beautiful on my cock,” he continues as if you hadn’t interrupted him. “Want you to cum. You’re so wet, bet you need it so bad.”

Well shit.

Recently de-virgin-ed Eddie had found your weakness and it’s condescension. Your pussy squeezes him and you let out a moan that has him grinning through a hiss.

“You need it, huh? Just desperate to cum, huh baby?”

Baby is a new pet name and you love it. You nod and his finger picks up it’s pace on your clit, his other hand following your earlier lead by playing with and tugging at your nipples.

“Need it, Eds.”

“Oh I need it, too, baby. Shoulda happened the first time, but I need you to feel good now, ok?” There’s a sincerity behind the lightest layer of teasing. He can’t really tease fully. Not when he’s on the brink of cumming again as it is.

But the laser focused eye contact he’s locked you in is doing plenty for you.

“Ok.”

“Ok,” Eddie repeats in a hum. His free hand goes to the back of your neck and pulls you down to him so he can grace you with a wet, sucking kiss. He bites your plush lower lip and lets his free hand tighten in your hair.

“Oh god, Eddie,” you whimper against his lips.

“Fuuuuck, I’ve been waiting to hear you like this,” Eddie groans.

You’re basically just cock warming him at this point with a little humping mixed in. But you’re really impatient at this point, so the constant roll of your hips is taking you further than it usually would.

Eddie’s free hand slides from your hair down your back to grab a a handful of your ass. He guides your gyrating hips up and down your cock just that much more and now you’re panting.

“Eddie,” you whine. “I’m close.”

“Holy shit. Seriously?” Eddie asks, his eyebrows shooting up. Clearly shocked.

“Yeah, handsome. You’re fucking me so good.”

You both know it’s an exaggeration. But you’re impatient to cum at this point and eager to praise the beautiful man beneath you. He preens and licks his lips.

“Yeah? Gonna fuck you so good, baby. Wanna make you feel so good. Please, just let me baby. Wanna…oh fuck…please.” He’s rambling at this point and you know he’s close. You bring your hands to either side of his face, framing his jaw.

“Look at me, handsome,” you breathe. You’re so close at this point. His hazy eyes find yours.

“Baby…” he says, eyelids fluttering. He looks just so absolutely destroyed - that’s what ultimately gets you. That this man is losing his damn mind over you but holding out as long as he can so you feel pleasure.

That pleasure washes over you in that moment, along with a cry of Eddie’s name. You collapse over him and cling to him as your pussy spasms around his aching cock. It blows Eddie’s ever loving mind to feel your body reacting to him so strongly. His last bit of resolve snaps like a fucking twig and suddenly he’s clutching you to him and fucking up into you.

“Baby-oh fuck. Baby, yes. God.” He’s gasping and panting and then his hips are stuttering. He goes still, cumming inside you for the second time tonight.

You’re so full. Two loads of cum and his already oversized cock. But even better is how he holds you. Big arms surround you and keep you grounded against his body, even as twitching aftershocks rock him.

It’s a few moments before you’re properly able to do anything other than relish in the feeling of his overwhelming presence. It’s the persistent ache in your muscles that spurs you into action.

“Eddie…I’ve gotta move…”

“Oh fuck, sorry!” He’s quick to release you, letting you peel yourself from his sweaty skin and gingerly climb off of him. Before you can move any further he jumps up. “Wait let me just…”

He’s back in a moment with a wash cloth - warm, you notice in the back of your hazy mind. He lightly cleans you up, missing the heart eyes you direct his way from the sheer gentleness of his movements.

Eddie is so caring. So sweet and bumbling and eager and awkward and you can’t help but beam back at him when he sends a smile your way. He settles back on the bed with you hesitantly.

“Was that…was that okay for you?” he asks.

“I should be asking you that,” you counter, slapping at his arm. He’s having none of it, though, instead grabbing you and pulling you into his arms.

“Well I fucking came twice so I don’t think it’s really a question, baby.”

“Hmmm I like when you call me baby,” you coo. You’re a boneless mass of gooey feelings now, encased in Eddie’s arms. The skin around his eyes crinkles and his dimples deepen.

“Oh yeah? You like being my baby?” You don’t miss the way his flush gets deeper but you relish in the newfound confidence in his voice.

“I love being your baby, Eds.”

~*~

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Thank you for reading! Please reblog and comment to let me know what you think

[roosterforme]

Mr. Right Now Part 2 | Hangman x Reader

Summary: As soon as you decide that Jake is the one you want for your first time, he's very clear that you'll be playing by his rules. You're ready to get this over with and get on with your life, but he's determined to make you admit that you're allowed to feel good. And maybe you want to enjoy this with him.

Warnings: adult language, mentions of sex and virginity, sexual touching, 18+

Length: 3800 words

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Female Reader

Why is Jake on my masterlist!? Mr. Right Now masterlist

"Jake," you whispered as his soft hair glided through your fingers. You liked his name. He was handsome. He was older. His lips tasted delicious. He had green eyes.

Why had you been so focused on Rooster? Oh, right. Because your roommate, Kylie, said he was good after she slept with him. She told you all about the Navy bar and the different guys with call signs, and you made it a point to remember that Rooster was the one who she said was the gentlest. 

You froze. Jake had his hands around your waist, his hips pressing his semi hard length against you. Those pretty green eyes were locked onto yours, and you knew it would be a long shot to get him to agree, even now. But something else was bothering you about this whole scenario. You suddenly wondered if Kylie and Jake ever had sex.

For some reason, that idea alone was enough to piss you off. Going blindly after Rooster would have been no big deal, but Jake seemed to actually give a shit about you. He just took the time to make sure you were really twenty, and he kept questioning you as to why you were here in the first place. In this bar where you apparently stuck out like a sore thumb.

But you wanted Jake specifically for your first time, whether he had already fucked Kylie or not. You leaned in and kissed him again, and he seemed more than willing now. You hoped your little skirt and tight shirt weren't going to fail you after you made it this far. He just needed to take care of this one, basic thing for you, and you'd be on your way. Then you could go out with Cooper who you were actually so ready to date, and you wouldn't completely embarrass yourself with him.

You let yourself touch Jake's hair again as you asked, "What's your call sign?"

His hand felt huge against your butt, and you went willingly when he pulled you even closer. "Hangman," he said in that cute Texan drawl. That didn't sound familiar at all, and Kylie was pretty proud of all the call signs she'd managed to collect. Maybe she hadn't gotten to him yet. Or maybe she wasn't his type. That thought alone made you smile even more as he continued to touch you.

"Okay, Hangman," you whispered against his mouth in the middle of this crowded bar. "I'm ready for you to take me to your place."

He kissed you gently and shook his head. "Let's go out to my truck, and I'll drive you back to your apartment or dorm."

God, he was such a good kisser, but he was really grating on your nerves at this point. You were a little nervous that he would keep saying no and then ruin your chances with Rooster or one of the other guys in attendance tonight, even though they would be clear backup options now. You whined in annoyance. "Come on, Jake."

"No. I'm not taking you home with me," he replied firmly. 

You stomped your foot; you really wanted to lose your damn virginity, and you couldn't give it away. "You don't even have to take me back to your place. We can fuck in the parking lot."

"Jesus Christ, Darlin'. That's not happening either," he said, looking scandalized. "Definitely not for your first time. And a leather mini skirt is an impractical outfit to get fucked in anyway."

You tipped your head back and groaned. "Well how was I supposed to know that?" Then you looked at his handsome face, pretty much ready to call it a night and try again tomorrow at a different bar. "I'm doing everything wrong."

He had the nerve to laugh at you again. "No. You're really not. The skirt is just going to make guys want to work harder for it. And honestly, somehow the sneakers are doing something for me?"

A small glimmer of hope flashed inside you as you ran your fingers along his stubbled cheek. "Yeah?"

"God. Damn. It." He was practically growling now as he started to haul you toward the exit. "If we're doing this, then we're doing it right."

"Okay!" you replied immediately, not really sure what you were agreeing to as he led you outside to the dark deck, letting the door close behind the two of you. The loud interior of the bar was a thing of the past now as he took your chin between his thumb and fingers and kissed you a little rough with the ocean as the new soundtrack. 

You almost dropped your purse as you tried to wrap your arms around his neck, already wanting more of him. "If you really want to do this," he said between kisses, "then you're playing by my rules." You were practically whimpering as his lips found the side of your neck, because why did his words sound so sexy?

"Absolutely," you whispered. "Jake's rules."

He half carried you out to the dimly lit parking lot as he muttered, "This is a terrible idea." He squinted at your face and added, "You seem like the type who never learns her lesson."

"I resent that," you said, running your lips along his ear even as your feet left the ground. "I have a 4.0 GPA. I always learn my lessons."

He grunted as he helped you into what you assumed was his truck before standing outside the door with his hands on his hips. "Like I said, you're a real smartass. Now listen up. I'm going to be as gentlemanly as I possibly can during this whole thing."

"Whole thing?" you asked, wondering what he could possibly mean. He just needed to get completely hard, shove his cock in you for a little while, and then call it a night.

"Yeah," he grunted, his green eyes a little wild in the glow from the truck's dome lights. "I'm going to make sure you come. I'm going to be as sweet as I can be. But you need to be clear if you're not having a good time, or if you want me to stop. If you can't abide by those basic ground rules, we're absolutely done here."

Oh. He was really taking this seriously. You chewed on your lip, and his face became more apprehensive. But you weren't debating with yourself whether or not his ground rules would work for you. You were actually trying to figure out why he was already being better than anything you anticipated tonight. Anticipated ever.

"Oh, my god," you gasped. "Are you married?"

"What the fuck kind of question is that?" he shouted, looking angry now. "Of course I'm not married!"

You reached out to him and grabbed his hand. "Sorry! It's just that you're sweet, and you seem to be taking this really seriously! I was just checking!"

Jake scowled, and his tone was one akin to hurt. "I'm not letting you make yourself believe that all you deserve for your first time is a careless fuck in a bar bathroom or a parking lot, and I'm certainly not letting one of those drunk assholes maul you apart!"

The more you thought about it, you really didn't want to be manhandled or have to pull your skirt up in a bathroom stall to make the best of things tonight. You squeezed his hand which you were still holding as you softly said, "Thank you."

He ran his free fingers through his soft hair and muttered something that sounded like, "Yeah, don't thank me yet." Then he kissed your lips and said, "Buckle your seatbelt," before he let go of your hand and closed the door. 

-------------------------

You were pretty quiet on the drive back to Jake's place, but you didn't seem as nervous now. If anything, he thought his nerves were ramping up while yours were calming down. He couldn't remember how many condoms he had left in his bedside drawer, and when he tried to estimate how many he might use tonight, he almost missed his turn. Was he really going to do this?

"You live by the beach," you remarked, playing with the hem of your tiny skirt while you looked out the window.

"I do," he replied, mentally cancelling his morning run if you were going to stay over. The implications of letting you spend the night were creeping up on him, but kicking you out was absolutely not going to be an option. You likely had the entirety of the rest of your life to be disappointed by men, but he wasn't going to set that precedent. 

"How old did you say you were?"

Jake felt a little dirty now when he said, "I didn't. But I'm thirty." He tapped the brakes when he was about a block from his house. His truck already smelled sweet like your perfume or shampoo, and he glanced at you when he turned onto his street. "Let me take you back to your place."

You laughed softly as you leaned a little closer to him. "Negative, Hangman. I have a twin bed and a nosy roommate. I think we're better off doing this at yours."

"Come on, Darlin'. That's not what I meant, and you know it."

He coasted up to the stop sign on the quiet side street; he could see his little, white cottage on the next block, but he turned to look at your face in profile as you crossed your arms over your chest. You were looking straight ahead, chin proudly held high as you said, "If you really don't want to have sex with me, then turn right and head back toward Pomona Avenue."

It wasn't that he didn't want to. You were all pouty lips and feminine curves and perky tits, and yeah... he did want to fuck you. And he wanted to make it so good, you'd ask for more. He wanted to take his time and pull that first orgasm from you while he gave it to you exactly how you needed it. When he didn't turn his truck back toward Pomona, you looked at him and whispered, "It's okay if you're not into it, Jake. You can take me home. You don't have to worry about me."

He made a noise at the back of his throat and licked his lips. "That's not it." He wanted to say more, but for now, he answered your concerns by moving his foot to the accelerator and driving straight through the intersection. You visibly relaxed in the seat next to him, and a few seconds later, he was pulling his truck up to his house. You were looking out the window toward his cottage, and when you reached for the door handle, he let his hand rest on your bare knee. You turned his way immediately, and he said, "You never agreed to play by my rules."

"I agree."

He shook his head. "Then tell me what my ground rules were."

You bit your bottom lip, and he could feel you squeeze your legs together as you whispered, "You said you'd make sure I come. And that you would be sweet. And that if I tell you I'm not having a good time, you'll stop." Jake let his hand slide a few inches higher, and you responded by easing your legs apart and telling him, "I agree with the ground rules."

Jake nodded once and said, "Looks like I'm stuck with you now."

You kissed him. Somehow you caught him off guard every time you did it. You were tentative and inquisitive, and when you moved closer, his hand eased up your thigh. "You're stuck with me," you murmured between kisses. "For probably at least a half an hour." Jake started laughing, and you pulled away slightly. "What's funny?"

"Darlin', you're playing by my rules. You want me to teach you about sex? Half an hour isn't even going to be enough to get you warmed up."

You looked surprised as you reached up to run your fingers through his hair. "Teach me about sex? I thought you were just going to fuck me and call it a night."

Jake moaned. "Definitely not. Now let's get started."

--------------------------

You found yourself in Jake's living room, eyes darting around, trying to figure out what to focus on first. He was an actual adult with award commendations from the Navy and a massive TV. You felt small in his space, and some of your bravado melted away as he chuckled and said, "I'd offer you a drink, but, you know."

You tapped the toe of your sneaker against the hardwood floor and said, "According to my ID, I'm the same age as you. I like white wine, thanks."

He was trying not to laugh as he walked into his kitchen, and you followed along behind him, watching as he reached for a wine glass and filled it with ice water. "Enjoy your chardonnay, Darlin'," he drawled, and now you were also trying not to laugh.

"Thanks," you whispered before taking a sip. You tried to set your purse on the counter, but the clasp caught the edge, and both of your IDs came sliding out along with a strip of three condoms. When Jake met your eyes you said, "I made sure I was prepared before I left my place. I'm young, not stupid."

"But the Hard Deck?" he asked, closing the distance between your bodies. "Not your smartest move, parading around in there with a fake and some condoms. The guys that hang out there wouldn't know their ass from a hole in the ground when it comes to making sure a woman enjoys herself."

"You hang out there," you told him with a little eye roll, and his fingers came up under your chin. He tilted your face up until you were staring into his pretty green eyes, and your core clenched with need.

"I don't make promises I can't keep," he told you, and you absolutely believed him. "Now, you said you're a virgin, but why don't you go ahead and tell me how experienced you are."

You swallowed hard, chin still held in place by those rough fingers. "Is that really necessary? I'm ready to go, Jake." You set your glass of water on the counter next to the condoms and reached out to touch his solid abs through his shirt.

"There's a little more to it than that," he told you, stroking your jaw with his thumb. "Let's talk and get to know each other a bit."

The last thing you wanted him to know about was your complete lack of experience with guys. "We don't have to do that." 

"Yeah, well I want to," he told you, finally releasing your chin.

"You're very old fashioned," you said with a smirk, and your hands settled on his belt.

"I'm a lot older than you, smartass. Humor me." Instead of responding with anything about yourself, you held eye contact with him while you yanked the end of his belt free from the belt loops and started to unbuckle it. A smile danced along his lips, and he said, "Fine. I'll start. I'm a Lieutenant in the Navy. I grew up in Texas, but I've lived all over the country. My favorite food is chili. I love running on the beach in the morning before it gets too hot out. I have four sisters. And I'm a Scorpio."

You had the button of his jeans undone, and you were easing his zipper down as you said, "You do seem like a Scorpio, Lieutenant Jake." His green eyes were still on yours as you officially went further than you ever had with a guy by letting your fingers run along his impressive length through his underwear. He licked his lips as you reached the tip and then dipped your hand inside his snug boxer briefs. He was warm and velvety soft while also getting harder by the second, and you gasped at the look in his eyes. "Does this feel good?" you asked softly as his pupils widened.

He nodded once, and his voice sounded raspier as he told you, "Yes."

"Good," you mused out loud, unable to contain your smirk as Jake grunted softly. "If you like it, then the guy from my physics class who I want to go out with will probably like it, too."

Suddenly, Jake's hand was on your wrist in an iron-tight grasp, preventing you from stroking him. "What?" you gasped, his hand tightening incrementally as something dangerous flashed in his eyes.

"Lesson number one. When you're with a guy, and you have your hand wrapped around his cock, you shouldn't be talking about a different guy."

You pouted up at him and said, "I already told you earlier that part of the reason I wanted to lose my virginity was so it would feel good when I get with Cooper."

"And I'm telling you right now that you're done talking about him," he grunted. "Got it?"

A chill of delight ran up your spine as you whispered, "Yes. Understood."

His grasp on your wrist released immediately, and he leaned in, kissing you softly one time. "That's just a surefire way to get a guy jealous," he informed you, and another little chill ran through your body as you considered that maybe you just made him a little jealous. 

When you ran your hand along his length again, his lips were back on yours immediately, and he moved you so your leather covered butt was pressed against the edge of his countertop. Then he took your hips in both of his big hands, and you whimpered into his mouth. He teased you, pulling away slightly just so you'd chase him for more. He was throbbing against your palm as your other hand found his hair once again. 

He was sexy. Even the rough stubble on his face felt delicious as it rubbed your chin and cheeks. Then, just as his lips started to migrate along your jaw, he carefully reached for your wrist again, withdrawing your hand from his jeans. "Yes, it feels good, but this isn't about me, Darlin'."

When his lips skimmed down your neck before settling on your pulse point, you whimpered his name. Then he sucked gently on you there while he toyed with the zipper at the side of your mini skirt. He was big and strong, and he smelled good, and as he worked your zipper down, inch by painstaking inch, you shifted so you were rubbing against him.

As soon as his fingers dipped inside the elastic of your underwear, it felt like you were clenching around nothing. Usually you had to use your fingers for a while to get that kind of result, but he hadn't even touched you there yet. Then you realized you were wet. Really wet from his lips and his touch. Your thong felt damp against your skin as your skirt started to slide down your hips, and your voice was a little too loud as you gasped and said, "Okay, I'm ready. I'm definitely ready. Let's do it. Where's your bedroom?"

Jake's lips released your neck. He brought his mouth up to your ear and told you, "Absolutely not. Not yet."

Your skirt slipped a few more inches as Jake ran his nose along the shell of your ear. "God. Do you need me to ask nicely or something? Please?"

"You're playing by my rules. Did you forget? We're not rushing through this." Your skirt dropped to the floor at your feet as Jake pulled away and looked at your face. "Unless you're not having a good time, Darlin'. Say the words, and I'll stop."

You had no control of your body as your head tipped back, a low moan escaping as you said, "I don't want you to stop." You panted as you rubbed your wet panties against the open fly of his jeans. "It feels so good. But I want more."

Jake's hand found the back of your head, tilting it forward until you were looking at him again. "What do you want me to do to you?" he asked as one of his calloused fingers played with the lace trim along the top of your underwear.

"I want you to fuck me," you whispered with a moan, nodding your head as he smirked at you. 

"Really, pretty girl? You sure that's it? Because it sounds more like you want me to make you feel good." His fingers stroked up to your belly button and back down again as you bucked against him. "I think you know by this point in our conversation that you're allowed to enjoy this. And I can tell that's what you really want." 

"What could possibly feel better than getting fucked?" you asked in desperation. "I want you to fuck me!"

"No, you don't," he whispered, voice harsh and needy. He kissed you hard on the mouth two times before adding, "You want me to make you feel better than you've ever felt before. You want me to touch you with more skill than you can touch yourself. And none of that has to do with me fucking you. Tell me I'm wrong."

You bit down on your lip as his hand reached around to your butt, and suddenly you knew for sure it wouldn't have been like this with Rooster or any of the other guys at the bar. They would have fucked you and unloaded into one of the three condoms by now. Maybe you wouldn't have even gotten wet for them. You'd probably be back at your place in bed, planning on seeing Cooper on Monday morning with a new outlook on life. But it wouldn't have been like this.

Jake wanted more than that for your first time, and now you were starting to see that you could have more as his rough fingers kneaded into you. If you were already about to come just from rubbing yourself on him, then playing by his rules and letting him take his time was sounding better by the second.

You took a deep breath, let your lips brush against his and told him, "I want you to make me feel good."

"That's more like it, Darlin'," he crooned. "I'll take care of you."

----------------------------

Jake is about to show you that he's a man of his word. He keeps his promises, and he's already made some to you. Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 3

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[n0thingbutlov3]

need you now | 2 |

in which readers true feelings are revealed.

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader warnings/tags: angst again (whoops) miscommunication (it’s short dw) fluff, reader is hungover lol, spencer is handsomely disheveled (moans) mentions of blueberry muffins being readers favourite type of muffin (sorry for not being vague but also if you don’t like blueberry muffins??? why) some tears, some swearing, some kissing, suggestiveness at the end of you squint (WHOOPS *evil smirk*) no use of y/n!! wc: 2.1k a/n: call me slim shady because i am back!!! i procrastinated writing this because i was scared everyone was secretly judging my writing and actually hated it and a second part would be a stupid idea but THEN i realised that was a little bit silly so im here B) part one got over 1000 notes (INSANE) all the support has been so so lovely—every note, reblog, and comment means the world to me, thank you!! i hope this part is okayy, feedback is always appreciated :) i hope you enjoy it you choose to read!!! <3 p.s kissing scenes are so difficult to write, i think i done absolutely awful!!!so let’s ignore that…. if you haven’t already and you’d like to, you can read part one here!

Your eyelids twitched as the early morning sun filtered through your bedroom. What was usually a calming wake-up call now felt like being blinded.

You burrowed your face into your pillow, squeezing your eyes shut in an attempt to dull the throbbing in your head. This is why you didn’t drink often.

Asides from the obvious headache and nausea, you always seemed to wake up with a sense of dread; ‘hangxiety’—a friend had called it once. It was creeping up on you now, and even though you weren’t sure exactly what you had done, you knew it was bad. You flipped onto your back, fixing your gaze to the ceiling as if it could tell you what irreparable mistakes you had made last night.

It couldn’t, of course. The only thing you had realised is that you should probably coat it in a new layer of paint soon.

“How’re you feeling?”

You shot up, eyes widening at the sight of a man in your doorway. A man whose sleepy voice and disheveled hair threatened to make you melt, but a man who should not be in your doorway, nonetheless; Spencer.

Your brain was quick to supply you with information then, your memory coming back in hazy remnants. You were upset so you…called Spencer for the first time in months. Yikes. He didn’t answer so you turned to a bottle of high end whiskey instead—yikes, again—and passed out on your couch, only to wake up to your ex-boyfriend in your apartment. Cue more sobbing, a pathetic attempt at asking—no, more like begging—him to get back together with you, and that was it. Well, mostly. There was also the promise of discussing your breakdown in the morning. The morning, which was now.

What the fuck.

“Like I’ve been napalmed.” You weren’t sure you were just referring to your raging hangover.

That prompted a raspy kind of chuckle from him and Jesus Christ—you really shouldn’t have called, because it was going to be infinitely harder to watch him leave when he inevitably told you you were sad loser who needed to get a grip and move on—except, he’d be a lot nicer than that, wouldn’t he? Because even if things were over between you, he was still the sweetest person you had ever met and he’d never say anything to intentionally hurt you. Maybe things would be easier if he did. If he wasn’t so sickeningly perfect—if he just insulted you in the way you were certain you deserved, then maybe you’d get over him quicker.

“So, I-ah-uber’d breakfast—“

Your inner turmoil came to a screeching halt at those words.

“You uber’d? You?”

He scoffed, a light blush dusting his cheeks.

“The team’s been very into it lately and I always finish my paperwork first so it only makes sense that I—stop laughing! I can uber!”

“Sorry! I just can’t imagine the great Doctor Reid stooping to the levels of a fast food delivery app. Do you ever order to the wrong place?”

“No.” he said, unconvincingly. “Well, only once—“

You were laughing again.

He whined, turning on his heel.

“Just take your aspirin and hurry up!” He grumbled petulantly as he left the room, but you could hear the smile in his voice.

After a quick freshen up and taking the pills placed on your bedside table—as per his request—you padded through to the living room, joining Spencer on the couch.

You gasped delightedly as he pulled out muffins from a brown paper bag. To be more specific, blueberry muffins; your favourite.

“Did you know that blueberries are good for fighting hangovers? They’re rich in vitamin C, which helps break down and metabolise blood alcohol. Muffins too, they—what? Do I have something on my face—“

“No! No, sorry,” You had been caught staring—ogling, more like. “I just missed…that.”

“What? My incessant rambling?” He was joking, but you could hear the insecure twinge in his voice—the one that told him he was too much. Over the course of your relationship, you had showed him that he didn’t have to think like that around you—that he was never too much; he was perfect in your eyes. You hated that he doubted that now.

“Yes, actually.” You tried to keep your tone light, unserious. But there was nothing unserious about just how badly you had missed the man sitting beside you. How you could hear his voice in your mind when you drove late at night, giving you statistics on accidents. Or how on other late nights, you swore you could feel his hands ghosting over your skin—only to find out it was your imagination.

If he could see how truthful you were being, he didn’t acknowledge it, turning his attention back to the coffee table.

“I’ll, um, save you the facts on how beneficial coffee is for hangovers, anyway.” He smiled awkwardly, shuffling a paper coffee cup to where your muffin sat.

“Thank you,” you mumbled, “for the coffee, not the withholding of information—i’m a real fiend for coffee facts…especially when they’re related to curing hangovers!” You said a little too cheerily, trying to alleviate the awkward tension. Although, that only seemed to make it worse.

Spencer just huffed out a little laugh in response, taking the wrapper off of his muffin.

The rest of breakfast went by in silence. Not the comfortable silence you always seemed to have with Spencer—when you were together, you reminded yourself—but a strained one. The kind of silence that occurs when there’s something left unsaid, and you’re just waiting for someone to spit it out.

Spencer broke first.

“So we should probably talk…about last night.”

You finished the remainder of your coffee, setting the empty cup down before turning your whole body to Spencer, tucking your legs up underneath you.

“Right, yeah…”

A beat passed, Spencer’s eyes darting around your face—assessing you.

For someone who had imagined this conversation in your mind countless times, you certainly weren’t saying much.

“I—uh…was very drunk.”

Something in him shifted, like he was putting up imaginary walls.

“So you didn’t mean…any of it?” His brow furrowed, his nose twitching slightly.

“Well no, but I—“ You what? Meant every word you said and more? You couldn’t just say that. You had just got a small part of Spencer back and you didn’t want to ruin it by coming on too strong.

He waited for you to add something, anything, to show him that maybe, maybe there was a tiny part of you that still wanted him as badly as he wanted you. But you didn’t. You just sat there, playing with the fabric of your—his—t-shirt.

He couldn’t do it.

He was so tired of loving people only for them to leave like he had meant nothing to them. Was that all he was to you? Someone you could call when your inhibitions were lowered, looking for comfort? He would do anything to be back in your life again, but he couldn’t be a person of convenience; someone you only wanted when you were lonely.

He ran a hand through his hair, swallowing down the tightness in his throat.

“You were drunk and you got carried away, I get it. I think I better go though—“

“What? No, I—“ You bobbed your mouth like a fish, trying to find the words necessary to keep him here. There were too many of them and yet none at all. None except for three. Three words that you wished you had the courage to say months ago, or weeks ago, or last night. But you never claimed to be a courageous person, and you weren’t about to spill your heart out again only for it to end up in rejection.

Spencer stood, making his way to your bedroom to grab his shoes and coat. He didn’t care about his other clothes, he could buy more—he just needed out before he broke.

You sat dumbfounded on the couch, willing yourself to do something, say something. It was like you were frozen. And you stayed frozen. As Spencer shuffled around your bedroom, as he returned to the living room—completely avoiding your gaze—even as he searched for his keys. You hadn’t realised he had driven over here. He didn’t usually drive unless he had to get somewhere urgently. Were you someone worth seeing urgently to him?

He picked up his keys, heading for your door and only then did you realise how dire the situation was. If he left now you weren’t sure he would ever come back.

“No—wait, Spencer!” You stammered, lunging off the couch to try and stop him. He unlocked the door, moving to leave when you grabbed onto his jacket sleeve.

“Please don’t—I love you!”

“What?”

He turned to face you and you noticed just how wrecked he looked—not at all dissimilar from how you had for the last few months. Had he looked like that the whole time?

You must’ve been staring because when you came back to your senses he was calling your name exasperatedly.

“Do you mean it?”

You were fed up living like this; harbouring so much love for someone and not being able to express it. Even if he didn’t love you back, even if he was over you, you couldn’t go another moment without at least telling him how you felt.

“Yes,” you heaved, “I love you—I never stopped loving you, I was just…” You knitted your brows together, unsure how to phrase what you were feeling.

“I’ve never loved someone the way I love you and that’s…terrifying. I thought the way I felt was wrong, like—when you were on cases, I missed you so much, more than I thought humanely possible and—well, I never wanted to be the kind of girl to base her happiness on another person because that’s how you get hurt. So, I thought the only way to combat that was by…distancing myself. I thought if you weren’t in my life anymore then I’d be able to get a grip and become more independent—“ you huffed, trying to stop the wobble of your voice. “but it didn’t work, because then I was just missing you twice as much, except I couldn’t see you at all—“

“You could’ve answered my messages, we could’ve—“

“So you could return your key? Then things would actually be over. Why do you think I ignored your messages?”

“Why do you think I kept messaging? Angel, I was never going to return that key—at least not willingly—I just wanted to see you, to see if you were doing just as horribly without me as I was without you. You know, I couldn’t even focus on cases—Hotch even suggested I take some time off.”

You frowned, your voice impossibly small. “I’m sorry.”

He took a step toward you, cupping your cheeks in his hands.

“Don’t apologise, you were dealing with your emotions in the best way you knew how. I just wish…” he swallowed, his adam’s apple bobbing. “I wish I hadn’t let you go so easily.”

His eyes were shining and—God, you wished you could take it all back. All the pain you had caused him, caused yourself, just because you were too scared to talk about your feelings.

“I wish I hadn’t left.” You blinked away the tears that were threatening to spill from your eyes. “Y’know, I read a book on astrophysics because it reminded me of you. I didn’t understand any of it but I couldn’t put it down. I still—“ you let out a watery chuckle. “still have it in my bedroom somewhere.”

Spencer smiled, swiping under your eye at a tear that must’ve escaped.

“Yeah? Maybe I can read it to you—help you understand it.”

“I’d like that.”

You didn't know much about celestial bodies or the ultimate fate of the universe, but you could've sworn you'd seen the stars pictured in that book in Spencer’s eyes when he looked at you.

“Say it again.” He mumbled, tilting his head down so that your faces were just inches apart.

“I love you.”

And then his lips were on yours, impossibly soft and everything you had been missing since you had broken up. He kissed you like you were the oxygen he needed and all you could do was sigh into him because you knew the feeling.

He leaned back all too soon, resting his forehead against yours.

“Well, I should probably go—“ He smirked, but you cut him off before he could continue his teasing.

“You’re not funny.”

He narrowed his eyes, sucking his teeth.

“I don’t know, I—“

You pressed a firm hand on his chest, bunching the cotton of his t-shirt into a fist.

“Stop. Stay—we can have a pyjama day and maybe for dinner, you can show me just how tech savvy you’ve become and uber us some food—“

He rolled his eyes, kicking the door shut before pressing his lips to yours with more force this time.

“Stop talking.”

[hairmetal666]

Eddie's at a party, lunch box in tow, and he's making a fucking killing.

He sets up shop in the crowded kitchen, but that doesn't stop him from spotting King Steve in the living room. Harrington's face is still fucked up from the fight with Hargrove, and he's tipping a cup almost vertically into his mouth. He's not too surprised when--the next time he spots the jock--he has a can of beer in each fist.

More customers flood up to him, and he can't help but be a little grateful for the distraction. Harrington is one unrequited crush he just can't kick.

Lunch box cleaned out, Eddie heads outside for a smoke. He's fishing his cigarettes out of his jacket pocket when he hears a snuffling sort of shuffle that sends his heart racing.

He edges forward, just enough to make out the heap of a person half-heartedly sitting up against the house. A person in fitted blue jeans, tight polo, and Member's Only jacket; swoop of chestnut hair catching in the flash of fire from Eddie's Zippo.

"Harrington?"

The guy startles, stability wavering, eyes blinking too much. "Munson?"

"You alright, man?" He asks, though he can already tell that Steve is most definitely not.

Steve shrugs. "Why do you care?" It's not mean, sounds genuinely curious.

Eddie gets it. He has no reason on earth to show concern about King Steve. In answer, he taps his boot against Steve's sneaker, giving him a small smile. "Not sure. But I'm here, so..."

"Just needed some air. Clear my head."

"How much have you had to drink?" Eddie asks.

"One or two,"

"Dozen?"

Steve laughs. "You're funny. Has anyone ever told you that?"

"I've heard," Eddie says, can't help but laugh a little too. "Wanna talk about what's going on?"

Eddie thinks that'll be a "no," but then: "Nancy dumped me."

"Yeah, big news."

"Ugh, people are talking about it?" Steve whines. It's really cute and Eddie hates himself for noticing. Hates himself more when Steve loses his balance, tips onto Eddie's shoulder, and Eddie doesn't tip him back.

Eddie can tell that Steve isn't fully with him anymore. He's a little afraid to leave the guy alone, so Eddie talks about the latest Hellfire campaign. Sober Steve Harrington probably has no idea what dnd is, but the drunk version is kind of a rapt audience.

He's just explaining about owlbears when Steve's voice, soft and sad, says "I just want someone to love me, you know?"

The admission renders Eddie speechless for a second, his chest fucking aching for the jock. He says "Oh, Stevie," knows he sounds too sad, is sure of it when Steve's nose wrinkles (it's cute; it's so fucking cute. Eddie hates himself for noticing).

Before he can backtrack, Steve slumps over, body going limp as he passes out. "Jesus H Christ," Eddie barks.

With a heavy sigh, and way too much fondness, Eddie stands. "Let's get you home, sweetheart."

He gathers Harrington up in his arms--dude is heavy--and carries him around to his van.

---

Steve wakes up, head throbbing and tongue fuzzy, with no idea how he got home and into bed. Can't really recall anything after he stumbled outside, aside from talking to Eddie Munson. But maybe that was a dream? Either way, he's home, not really any worse for wear. It's enough to let him forget all about it; what's one drunken party in a life full of them?

That Wednesday, he opens his locker after the final bell, and a Hershey bar falls out. He picks it up, flipping it over to see a note on the foil wrapping, "thought you might need something sweet to cheer you up." It's not signed, and Steve slips it into his backpack, knowing he's got a silly smile on his handsome face.

The little gifts continue to show up once or twice a week. Candy, plastic vending machine toys, sketches of the school grounds, caricatures of classmates and teachers. Sometimes they even come with a note in handwriting he doesn't recognize.

Along with the little treats, he starts seeing Eddie Munson kind of everywhere. And it's not like Steve hadn't seen him before--guy was hard to miss--but he was never around this often. Wasn't around this often and he and Steve had never shared a smile, a quick bob of the head, a quiet hello.

It isn't long before they're talking. Nothing much, nothing serious. Complaining about teachers, about classmates; sharing weekend plans. Only now Steve can't pretend to not notice the way Eddie dimples up when he smiles, the subtle muscles that bunch under the sleeves of his Hellfire Club shirt, the long litheness of his legs. Steve knows he's attracted to other guys, it's just that he didn't realize he'd be attracted to Eddie.

The gifts keep coming. Once, he opens his locker to find a plastic ring fashioned into a golden crown and a note that says, "made me think of you, Stevie." There's something about the "Stevie" that catches deep in his brain, but he can't make it connect to anything.

A few months later, Steve opens his locker and pulls out a drawing. This one--it's of him. He's gazing out into space in a way that managers to be dreamy and wistful. The Steve in the drawing is lovely, and it makes something clench deep in his gut, that someone sees him like this.

Steve tries to be more aware of the people in his surroundings, to figure out who his admirer is. He's not very good at it, even as more sketches of him--all depicting him as a gorgeous, ethereal thing he definitely isn't--show up in his locker. Especially when, so often these days, the person he sees the most is Eddie.

---

The presents in his locker continue into April, and would probably last until the end of the school year, but Steve's got a migraine starting. He keeps aspirin in his locker, gets a hall pass out of English to get some.

When he reaches his locker, though, someone is already there, with the door open. Someone in ripped black jeans, heavy black boots, a black leather jacket, and patch covered denim vest.

"Munson?" He asks. His heart beats so hard it reverberates in his ears, making it hard to hear.

Eddie jumps back, hands fluttering, face flushing bright red. "Ste--Harrington! I--uh--," he's backing up, his hands held out from his body, like he's pushing Steve away even though they aren't touching.

"Were you--?" Steve tries to ask, but the words won't quite come. There's familiar warmth low in his stomach, a twisting that has nothing to do with his impending migraine.

"I wasn't doing anything, I swear," Eddie says. He's breathing hard, eyes too bright, and Steve thinks he might be about to cry, but then the metalhead is turning away, starting to run.

"Eddie, wait!" Steve calls, chasing after him without much thought. "Please!"

Eddie doesn't stop until after they've crashed out one of the side exits, are alone outside.

"It was you? Leaving the--?"

Eddie nods, presses his hands to his eyes. "Sorry, I'm sorry, Harrington. I just--"

"Don't be sorry," Steve begs. "It's been--I liked it."

"Even now that you know they're coming from the freak?" Eddie spits. He still hides his face behind his hands.

"It's sort of been the best part of my year, if I'm being honest."

Only now does the metalhead remove his hands, blink back at Steve, dark eyes wide with shock. "Really?"

"Yeah. It made me feel-- important, I guess? Like, maybe someone saw me as something more than King Steve."

Eddie smiles now, looks down at the pavement. "I just didn't want you to think that you weren't--" he stops then, presses his mouth tight.

"Didn't want me to think what?"

"That you weren't loved, Stevie."

The statement hangs between them, Eddie's face pinking again, as the words wrap their way around Steve's heart. Loved. That he's loved. It clenches at every part of him, and he surrounds himself with the truth of it, what all those little presents were saying without words.

"Eddie, I--" he's overwhelmed by the gesture, the meaning, the reciprocal buzz in his chest, because Eddie Munson, Eddie Munson, loves him, and this fact is turning Steve's world on it's head in the best way.

"I'm sorry, Steve, really. Please don't hate me, or--or--"

"It means so much to me," Steve says, his voice a little broken. He reaches a hand out, slow, telegraphing the movement. "Can I?" He whispers.

Eddie nods, and Steve strokes the skin of his face with his thumb. "Thank you."

The metalhead nods, leaning into Steve's touch, they shift close, until their foreheads meet, until they share the same air. They stand that way for a while, long enough that they hear the bell ringing, and only then does Steve break their quiet. "Eds?"

"Yeah, Stevie?"

"You wanna hangout some time?"

Eddie laughs. "Yeah. I really, really do, sweetheart."

[hannieehaee]

18+ / mdi

content: perv!wonwoo (not super pervy but i tried my best 🫡), smut, f reader, penetrative sex, established relationship (situatuonship is mentioned but idk lets assume they're exclusive just bc i can), he's kinda a dick, etc.

wc: 905

masterlist

streamer!wonwoo perv!wonwoo whose audience believes him to be a golden boy. simply a polite yet charming guy whos into video games, who just so happens to be insanely handsome. his thick rimmed glasses and wavy hair almost covering his eyes, accompanied by those wide shoulders, was able to catch the attention of all of those looking for a pretty face to look at while consuming content from their favorite video games (although many keep their eyes glued to the tiny view of wonwoo on the corner of the screen rather than the game itself).

the people watching him through the screen dont even see the half of it, though, not knowing how much of a perv he is when in real life. not so much a respectful and charming guy, but a degenerate who keeps up the act for appearances. after all, that is how he first got to you a few years back, when you, one of the few who had been a loyal viewer since before his channel blew up, decided that you just HAD to have the pretty nerd rambling about league of legends on stream.

after a few (okay, maybe more than a few) attempts at catching his attention through leaving various suggestive comments, wonwoo finally decided to take a look at your account, noting an instagram linked on your bio. after seeing that the desperate commentator he had taken a liking to seeing always punctual in his streams was a pretty girl in his area, his mind went straight to the gutter, finding his hands moving on their own to send you a message detailing his interest.

a few months later and you found yourself in a months-long situationship with the streamer, having him hit you up almost every other day when he needed 'something warm warm to stick his dick in', as he so nicely put it as he had you sitting on top of him, cockwarming him while he gamed (off-stream, of course).

having a such a well paying stay at home job had many perks, including the ability to take any day off he wanted to fuck you into his bed, somehow managing to never scare you away with his very obvious obsession with your body, drawing orgasm after orgasm out of you with little to no regard for the exhaustion you'd feel after a few hours with him. somehow the roles had reversed, with him now being the one to continuously pursue you under the vice of getting under your pants every second he could.

"n-nonu fuck. slow down, i-" you whined as he senselessly bounced you up and down on his dick, rhythm completely lost a few rounds ago.

he practically growled at your complaint, "you asked for this when you showed up wearing that tiny excuse for a skirt while i was on stream."

"you asked me over-"

"for moral support, baby. not for you to parade yourself around me knowing i wouldnt be able to hold back from taking this pussy," he breathed out, angling you slightly differently, now causing you to whine even louder at your clit being stimulated by the friction.

"does your audience know how m- agh fuck. how much of a perv you are? leaving mid stream to get your dick wet?"

your brattiness causes him to disconnect your bodies, flipping yours over to put you on your hands and elbows and ramming himself into you with no warning.

"be thankful i'm fucking you of all people baby. be thankful this pussy has such a grip on me to get you on my bed every night," he sped up as he spoke filth into your ears.

wonwoo had a special way of making you feel like an object, something which you only enjoyed when it came to him. despite being such a fucking perv, you enjoyed the dynamic you had built, allowing him to play with your body however he saw fit as long as he made you cum. and jesus christ, did he.

"fuck," you felt the end coming near and began to push yourself back against him, grinding into him as much as you could despite his clammy hands having such a tight hold on your hips.

"im gonna make you cream all around me and then im gonna fill you up. okay, baby? then im gonna go back on stream while you keep my bed w- ah fuck. warm for me. if you're a good girl for me, i'll fuck you to sleep afterwards," he rasped out, losing his rhythm even further as he neared his own high.

a few more harsh thrusts later and you were creaming around him, tightening up so much that he, too, reached his peak, filling you up and letting go of your hips, causing you to fall flat against the mattress.

"fuck. baby, never show up like that here again. i almost died," he breathed out as he tried to do a decent job at cleaning you up a bit and tucking you under the covers.

despite his perverted treatment of your body, wonwoo was always sweet to you when his mind wasnt filled with sex (which admittedly wasnt often).

"you act as if i forced you to fuck me," you retaliate despite knowing you did wear that skirt with a specific purpose in mind.

"just shut up and go to sleep, baby. you'll need your energy back soon."

n/a: this is ass im rlly bad at writing men who r not obsessed with their s/o im sorry </33

[zepskies]

Just saw a TikTok where a woman says that her husband uses the dyson air wrap he brought for his wife more than her, why can I see Ben also acting like that 🤣

Lmfao oh, anon. That's really funny to imagine. 😂

I feel like Soldier Boy (Ben)'s been surrounded by hair stylists for most of his life, so might not be as well versed in managing his own hair. But he absolutely would be one to shave for himself, since that's more of a right of passage for men, especially one of his time.

However, when his S.O./girlfriend/wife comes into the picture, he'd probably start to get used to at least figuring out how to style his own hair at home... That's where the Dyson hairdryer comes in. 🤣

Imagine Soldier Boy (Ben) Using Your Hairdryer:

At first, Ben's intrigued and bewildered looking at this "stupid fucking thing," trying to figure out how it works with all these weird attachments.

Muttering to himself, "Looks like one of her dildos, for Christ's sake."

That thought might make him hesitate on actually trying it out, but when he finally manages to switch it on, it's like a lightbulb goes off above his head. Something inside him has just gotta try this thing.

He doesn't dare experiment while you're at home though. He's going to wait until you're out of the house, for at least a few hours.

He's going to try and fail a few times to actually do what he wants to do with his hair (a simple blow-dry). But eventually, "Ha!" He's done it.

You notice something different about him when you get home. You squint your eyes at him, looking at the gentle, downright shiny swoop of his hair to match his well-trimmed beard.

"Did you..." you trail off.

He raises his brows, feigning ignorance. "What?"

"...Never mind," you say, but you do tell him he looks handsome today.

Of course, his vain ass smirks in a way that says, I look handsome every damn day. (You roll your eyes in amusement.)

You do eventually catch him using your hairdryer. He's humming while he grooms himself in the bathroom, expertly maneuvering the various attachments as he sees fit.

It's the biggest struggle of your life to contain your shock (and laughter). You're torn between leaving him be to practice some healthy self-care...and your instinct to sneak a pic or two. Maybe even a quick video that you might just send to Annie and the rest of the boys later.

That's when Ben catches sight of you in the mirror. His look of concentration melts into a surly, frowning mixture of surprise and embarrassment. He switches off the hairdryer and lays it down on the counter. For a moment, he just stands there, knowing he's caught, bracing himself for your teasing.

Biting your lip, you go over to him and raise up on your toes, leaning one hand on his shoulder so you can sift your fingers through the soft brown strands of his hair.

You smile. "Looks good, babe. Good job."

Slowly, his lips form a familiar cocky smile.

"Damn right, it does."

AN: LOL I didn't intend for this to be a full-on headcanon/imagine, but that's basically what happened. 😂

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[swordsandholly]

Steel Magnolia

Part 1 - paused

Simon “Ghost” Riley x fem!plus size!reader

No use of y/n

Rating: Mature/MDNI

Word Count: 2.1k

Author’s Note: I just recently got back into fandom spaces and reading fanfic again and looooove the uptick in fat Y/N characters. Ofc as a big girl myself I wanted to try my hand at writing one too.

Hopefully I’ll post this on AO3 soon. Whenever I get my invite so I can make an acc.

“Oh! Darlin’, did ya see those boys next door?” Mrs. Duprey gasps as you swipe the last of her Bubble Bath OPI polish across her fingers.

“Next door?” You cock an eyebrow. “No one’s been next door since Adam and Eve.”

“I saw them on the way in!” She grins, the corners of her eyes wrinkling pleasantly. “Strappin’ young men - y’should talk t’ ‘em.”

You roll your eyes. “I’m sure I will sooner or later, ma’am.”

“You’ve been single too long.” The nosey old bat contributes. As much as you love her she truly cannot leave well enough alone.

“And I’m perfectly content as such.” You give her your warmest smile.

The trailer home across from you has remained empty for as long as you can remember. It’s well kept - sometimes you see random gardeners mowing or going in an out with tool bags - but no one lives there permanently. You’d think in a beach town it would at least belong to some snowbirds. A timeshare, maybe. It’s none of those things, though. Just a well-maintained, perfectly empty husk.

There’s a metaphor in there somewhere, probably.

Sure enough, as you walk Mrs. Duprey out of your little single wide trailer, you spot a black SUV parked out front of the neighboring double wide. One that is definitely *not* a repair man or worker’s vehicle. She coos at you to make sure to talk to them before waddling off to her own car. She really shouldn’t be driving at her age. You wonder briefly - futilly- if she’d sell you her car in exchange for rides.

You suppose she’s right - even if it is for the wrong reasons. You’re not particularly interested in flirting with the new neighbors. After all, don’t fuck where you eat is a saying for a reason, but it wouldn’t exactly be neighborly to not introduce yourself. Especially with all the people coming and going from your home for your nail tech services. The old Yankee’s catty-cornered from you still believe that you're a drug dealer. At least they only come down for a couple months of the year.

Despite your staunch decision not to flirt, you still find yourself adjusting your clothes. Maybe the sports bra as a top is a bit much…

Fuck it. If they live here now they’ll see you in worse.

You fix your lipstick and throw on your platform sandals. The ones that clip-clop as you walk. Maybe it will help announce your presence.

The screen door wraps quietly as you knock. You take two steps back on the front, wooden porch so as not to come off too aggressively. As the seconds tick by you debate on knocking again. Maybe they’re out. Or busy. They did just move in today, most likely. Maybe you should-

The door creaks slightly as it opens. A very, painfully handsome man pushes the screen door until it clicks in place. “Afternoon, lassie.”

You blink stupidly as he crosses his strong arms and leans on the doorframe. His eyes are a striking shade of blue - somehow both sharp and soft. His dark hair is shaped into a slightly grown-out, un-styled mohawk. It fits him oddly enough.

“I, uh,” you take a deep breath. Christ you need to get laid if just *looking* at a hot guy has you this off kilter. “I live across the way. Just wanted t’ say welcome t’ tha neighborhood.”

That lopsided smile on his face grows into a grin. You don’t miss the way his eyes catch on your chest. “Aye? Nice tae meet ye. Names John MacTavish. M’friends call me Johnny.”

He gives your hand an extra little squeeze after shaking it. That accent might as well have you on the floor. You continue to blink dumbly, watching the at the scar on his chin stretches as he speaks.

Christ almighty, you’re pathetic.

“Nice to meet’ya.” You give him a warm smile, tilting your head to the side slightly. “Ya’ll here for vacation? We don’t get many Europeans ‘round here.”

He chuckles. It’s low and rumbling and would probably feel wonderful with your ear pressed to his chest. “Little bit o’ business, little bit o’ pleasure. This an’ tha’.”

“Hello, there.” Another man pops up from behind Johnny suddenly. Fucking hell, he’s gorgeous too. Older, for sure, with a uniquely cut beard that would probably look rather silly on anyone less handsome. At it stands, he manages to make it appear dignified.

“Ah, jus’ about tae call fer ye, Cap. This is our neighbor.” Johnny gestures toward you.

“John Price.” The man steps forward to shake your hand. It’s firm and professional and thank god your grandad made you practice a good handshake as a kid or you’d be painfully embarrassed.

“Are all UK men named John or is this just some sorta cult?” You blurt, unable to stop yourself from snickering at them.

Older John chuckles at you fondly, his facial hair giving him a pleasant U-shaped smile. “Be easier to remember that way, wouldn’t it? No, we’re with two others. Kyle and Simon. They’re out at the moment.”

“Kyle and Simon.” You repeat, nodding. Johnny, John, Kyle, Simon. “Are y’all in town long?”

“Indefinitely.” Is all Price gives you. It’s a tone that even someone as dense as you can recognize as ‘don’t ask more.’

You clap your hands together and smile a little wider, ready to make your exit. “Well, I’m not here t’be a bother, just wanted t’ welcome ya and, uh, let y’know that I have a lot of people over throughout the day - I’m a nail tech. They shouldn’t bother ya but y’know.”

“Ye can come bother us anytime, bonnie.” The Scot hits you with that grin again and your face suddenly feels far too hot.

A loud, whining screech sounds off from down the road. You check your watch. Holy shit, three-thirty already. You begin to back off the porch. “Ah, nice t’ meet ya again! See ya ’round!”

As you jog down the little dirt road of the trailer park another black car passes you. It’s smaller, a sedan. You make very brief eye contact with a blonde wearing a surgical mask and another man with the sharpest golden eyes you’ve ever seen - even through the tint of the window.

*Kyle and Simon,* you think.

You make a mental note to greet them at some point and continue down the street. The school bus slowly stops at the entrance and you take up your spot in the small crowd of parents. IT’s a shabby old bus - chipping paint and break pads that sounds like they’re about ready to snap. It’s all they’re willing to send out to your little section of the city, though.

Shelby meanders over in your direction, her usual Camel Crush lit up in one hand and the other teasing her already well-lifted hair. “Afternoon. Saw there was some new folks across from ya.”

“Hm?” You keep your eyes on the bus. “Ah, yeah. Just vacationers, I think.”

“Lookers, though.” She chuckles.

“They’re from the UK.” You offer.

“No shit!” Shelby stamps out her cigarette as the bus doors open. “Accent and all?”

“Yep.” You grin.

Shelby tsks and fiddles with her hair again. “I best go over an’ make myself known, then.”

“There’s an older fella with a neat beard. Think you’d like ‘em.” You snicker.

She hums. “I’ll bring a pie.”

The children practically burst out of the bus doors, as always. Ready to be home and shuck off their backpacks to their respective adult. Shelby’s son almost knocks her over, offering a little “Good afternoon, ma’am!” to you before heading off with his mother.

You nod to him, shoving a hand in your pocket as you wait for yours. She’s always the last. Always caught up in a book or something and doesn’t realize it’s time to get off of the bus. Sure enough, the driver has to call back to her before the little girl comes dashing out. She jumps off of the bus steps, despite being told time and time again not to, and kicks a rock on her way toward you.

You bow low for her. “Welcome home, Lady Sophie.”

She giggles, dark curls bouncing as she skips over. “Ni-ni!”

You take her bag from her. The thing really does dwarf the poor six year old. Her hand slips into yours easily. Soft and round and somehow always so much warmer than yours.

“My nail color chipped!” She announces, holding up her ring finger on the opposite hand.

“Oh! Now we can’t have that. I’ll fix it tonight.” You smile, waving at old Mr.Chester as the two of you pass.

“Well now!” He calls. “How blessed am I to see two such lovely ladies!”

You both giggle, continuing on your way. He’s a good landlord - spotted you more than a few times when Sophie was a baby and you couldn’t work consistently. Honestly, as you look around, the little community that he’s managed to build in this shitty corner of the world should be praised. Housing just enough snowbirds to cover his property costs while keeping rent low for the full time locals. Maybe you could convince Natalie at the paper to run a little story on it or something.

As you pull up to your own home, the blonde man is outside leaning on the front of their double wide. Seeing him standing at full height makes your blood run cold. The man is built like a damn barn - tall and wide. Beyond solid. *Brick shithouse*. It’s a bit weird that he’s covered in clothing head to toe but whatever. Weirder things have happened before. The mask still covers his face, you wonder if he had taken it off before you came up or just flipped it up to smoke.

“Sophie, head on in. I’ll catch up.” You push her toward the door. She scampers in, the screen door slamming behind her as you march up to the brick shithouse of a man in front of you.

“Which are ya? Kyle or Simon?” You smile, holding out your hand to shake.

Dark eyes rake over you, stopping briefly on your hand, before moving back to meet yours. He stomps out the half smoked cigarette. “Simon.”

You let your hand drop. Bit rude, this one. “Nice t meetcha.”

The other man pops his head out of the trailer. Kyle, you assume. “Oh. Hello.”

“Hi.” You smile as warmly as you can, giving your name. “I’m assumin’ yer Kyle.”

“Yeah.” He chuckles. “I’m guessing you’re the neighbor Price mentioned.”

You nod, about to speak again but Simon shoves past you, marching his way up the steps. “Let’s go.” He grunts, pushing the other man back into the trailer despite his protests.

You wrinkle your nose at him. What an asshole.

“Who’s tha’?” Sophie asks over the back of the old, worn couch as you let the trailer door slam behind you.

“New neighbors.” You say simply, glancing out the window. “Don’t go over there without me, yeah?”

“Okay!” She agrees, sitting back on the couch and bouncing, beginning her usual post school chant. “Bluey! Bluey! Bluey!”

You drop her backpack down beside the small coffee table. “After yer homework.”

“Nooo!” She pouts.

“Then no Bluey.”

Sophie pouts harder but crawls down in front of the coffee table and pulls out her little work sheets. At least the school doesn’t over run them too terribly with homework toward the end of the year. You glance at the calendar. Wednesday, May 22nd. Damn, she really only has about a week left. Though, you’d be lying if you said you weren’t looking forward to this summer break with her. She’s old enough now that you can take her places like the arcade without having to wait on her so much. You’ll actually be able to play some of the two-player games.

Plus, this year, you actually have a little more pocket change to make it fun.

You turn to look out the window once more at the new neighbors. Their curtains remain closed, cars neatly parked out front. The door opens slowly, the hot Scot and rude blonde wander to the Sedan. Simon’s shoulders shake at something Johnny said - you think he’s laughing but its hard to tell with that mask. Johnny’s head turns, blue eyes meeting yours through the shitty glass windows of your trailer. You squeak and duck to sit next to Sophie, praying that he didn’t catch you staring.

[sugawarassoulmate]

someone else tries to get with them

feat: bully!osamu, best friend!iwa, and rich bf!sakusa inspired by

part 2

cw: fem!reader

bully!osamu

you wanted to be anywhere but here right now, listening to this girl act as if she was your friend. you'd much rather be home, or at work, or at the library—quite literally anywhere but in front of this person you barely knew.

"i just think that osamu is a bit more extroverted and you might be too shy for him!" she said in a shrill, condescending voice. "he's always going to all these parties and i always see him talking to people...maybe he should date someone that's a more like him, you know?"

she must not know osamu all that well. he only goes to those parties because his brother or one of his friends drags him there and he spends the entire night blowing up your phone. as for talking to people, osamu can barely remember the name of his own lab partner, so it wouldn't surprise you if he got into meaningless conversations with people just to pass the time.

but on the surface, it looks as if one of the most popular guys on campus decided to date his weird, quiet childhood best friend and some people appeared to have a problem with that.

you tried to walk away from the conversation but the girl was persistent, not letting you leave until you vowed to leave osamu alone.

"don't you think it's selfish to stay with him when the two of you are so different?"

before you could respond—what you were going to say, you still had no idea—you were yanked into a solid figure, one you immediately recognized as your boyfriend already huffing in annoyance.

"been lookin' everywhere fer ya, jesus christ," he chastises, planting a quick kiss on the side of your head. "c'mon, let's go home—"

"samu! hiiii, i was actually just talking about y—"

osamu doesn't pay the girl any mind, rolling his eyes as he continues talking to you. "who the fuck is that? this is why i can't leave ya alone, babe. yer always talkin' to weirdos, let's go."

osamu pulls you away to talk about plans for dinner, leaving the strange girl dumbfounded by what she just witnessed.

best friend!iwa

"do you know if iwaizumi is seeing anyone?" the girl asked as she approached you on campus. it wasn't uncommon for random girls to come out of the woodwork to ask you about your best friend—he's a sweet, respectful, incredibly handsome man.

most of these girls figured that if they could get on your sweet side, they could get closer to their dream man. little did they know you were judging them every second they spoke to you.

when was the last time she even bothered washing her hair? or ew, her voice is annoying, haji would hate that. you let them get through their whole spiel, how they've liked iwa for ages but didn't know how to approach him and how they have a whole date planned, only for you to throw down the proverbial hammer.

"i'm sorry, haji isn't actually interested in dating anyone right now. he's really focused on his studies," you said confidently, watching the light in their eyes die.

"oh, but—"

"yeah, i would really give up if i were you," you shrugged, walking away before she could get another word in.

if anything, you were doing iwa a favor. there was no way he'd be interested in a girl like that. besides, if he got into a relationship now, he'd be too distracted to spend time with you.

"who were you talking you?" iwaizumi asks a bit later, noticing the weird interaction you had with a girl he didn't recognize.

"ugh, just another bimbo asking me about oikawa again," you lied so easily, throwing your legs over iwaizumi's lap as the two of you sat in the campus lounge. "you'd think they'd give it a break already."

iwaizumi doesn't question it. why would he? as far as he knew, you had nothing to gain by lying to him.

rich bf!sakusa

sakusa told you he had to take an important phone call and stepped away, leaving you in the shop. though, you weren't left alone for long. a few moments later you could hear incessant giggling behind you and after a while, you got the feeling it was about you.

turning around, you see a face that you're sure you've seen before but couldn't exactly place where. she must have known you, though, as she had no issue judging you with her eyes. "so kiyoomi does leave his little pet unattended. it's hard to recognize you when you're not in his shadow."

she was flanked on either side by one of her equally pompous, identical-looking friends, who both laughed at her cruel joke.

"excuse me?" fully turning around, you finally got a good look at the woman and realized that she was the daughter of a colleague that sakusa's father knew. you vaguely remembered your boyfriend complaining about having to entertain his father's guests during a boring gala a few weeks ago.

it wasn't uncommon for women to flaunt themselves at sakusa. he was the son of a prominent ceo, the heir to a successful company, and is absolutely breathtaking when he bothers to put his face mask down.

"it's just cute that kiyoomi still bothers to keep you around but he's always loved doing charity work." you weren't sure what was worse, her pathetic attempts to get a rise out of you or the shrill laughter of her air-headed friends. "our fathers are very close so don't be surprised when i'm the one on his arm whenever he gets tired of you."

"i'll be sure to remember that," you shrug your shoulders, turning your attention back to the rack of stupid clothes sakusa wanted you to try on. another day, another stupid business dinner with more spoiled brats of his father's stupid colleagues.

you tried to ignore the constant snicker, how they loudly wondered if you could even afford the clothes you were looking at—of course, you couldn't but sakusa loved to spoil you despite your attempts to dissuade him.

the teasing gets the better of you and you're about to snap back at them when the noises finally stop. you weren't sure when sakusa walked back into the store but he's by your side, staring daggers at the girl and her clique.

"and you shouldn't be surprised if my father never does business with yours again," he says curtly. his features soften the second he locks eyes with you. "here, babe. this gown will look perfect on you. go try it on for me."

the other girl tries to get a word in but she's stopped dead in her tracks by sakusa's harsh gaze returning to her. "you can go. i don't associate with trash."

the trio of mean girls drop the pieces they were looking at and scurry out of the store before they could embarrass themselves yet again. "do we still have to do this dumb business dinner?"

sakusa snorts, pushing you towards the dressing room. "of course, love, don't be foolish. you're going to be the most beautiful woman there.”

©sugawarassoulmate 2023 all rights reserved - please do not repost/translate my work on other platforms!

[rafesbabygirlx]

I Love Him Though

Masterlist

Toxic Rafe x Kook Reader

Contents: NONCON/DUBCON, smut, breeding kink, oral (m+f receiving) name callings turns into pet name calling, daddy kink, degradation, physical abuse mentions. Unsuccessful offering (prostitution) Rafe is back and forth with emotions. Ward is dead but I still picture curtain bangs S2 Rafe when he’s ’toxic.’ That should be everything.

Not read over

Word count: 2.6k

A/N: someone let me know if I’m using warnings right. Please also I’m working in better dialogue and hope it’s improving. :)

You were the quintessential heiress princess, born into OBX’s most prominent family. The youngest of four brothers and your parents’ only daughter, you just graduated from USC in California with a business degree and returned to the island, stepping into the role of Chief Operations Officer, second only to your father. Your beauty was legendary on Figure Eight—admired by girls and desired by boys.

Alongside you was your boyfriend, Rafe Cameron—handsome, irresistible, and undeniably complicated. He went to UCLA for business. Not his first choice but he’d be damned to let you be across the country on your own. You started dating sophomore year, and despite the ups and downs, you stayed together, much to your parents’ dismay. They had warned you about the Cameron family, especially Rafe’s drug and anger issues. But the relationship felt like the one thing that was truly yours, and you didn’t care.

Not when he slapped you in front of your friends. Not when he tried to offer you to Barry as payback for a debt. (Thankfully, Barry had some decency.) Not even when he ruined a family dinner, barging in during a coke-fueled rage. You excused yourself to take care of him, understanding that it always came back to his issues with his father. This all happened during his downward spiral and issues with the Pogues. All this you heard from Sarah and not the supposed love of your life and yet you still stayed. None of these behaviors changing in LA at school.

You thought Rafe would change after his dad passed—become softer, more loving, and respectful. Instead, it pushed him deeper into anger and bitterness. While you thrived at work, earning the admiration of your family and employees, Rafe’s messages grew increasingly hostile throughout the day. You couldn’t understand how he had the time for this, given that he had taken over his father’s company. But not shocked how he just rode through it without care.

╰☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆╮

Rafe 8:50 AM: “Hey, are we getting dinner tonight?”

Rafe 12:00 PM: “Are you fucking kidding me? Three hours?!”

12:30 PM: 7 missed calls from Rafe.

Rafe 2:00 PM: “Why do I even bother with a stupid bitch like you? I could fuck anyone I want.”

You 2:05 PM: “We’re still on for dinner. Jesus Christ, Rafe, I’ve been in meetings since 7:30 AM. Do you not have anything better to do?”

Rafe 4:00 PM: “You’re questioning me about what I do? I work hard to keep my dad’s legacy alive while you probably have your daddy’s help. You’re pathetic, and I should slap some sense into you.”

Rafe 5:00 PM: “What time are you gonna be home?”

You 5:05 PM: “Six.”

╰☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆╮

Moments like these, unfortunately frequent, made you regret ever giving Rafe a key to your apartment. Even after all this time, you refused to move in with him at Tannyhill. You loved him, but the thought of living together was unbearable until he got his issues under control.

As expected, when you arrived home, Rafe was already in your kitchen. You didn’t even have a chance to put your bags down before he started. “What the fuck is your problem?!” His face was red, fists clenched.

“Rafe, I’m not doing this. I work—I actually work—and you harassing me all day with your bullshit is no—”

Before you could finish, he slapped you, grabbing you by the hair and dragging you to the bedroom, throwing you onto the bed. Your mind spun as your face burned from the sting.

Rafe's hands were rough as they tore at your clothes, leaving you exposed and vulnerable. You tried to struggle against him, but he was too strong, pinning you down with ease. His grip on your throat tightened, and you felt the sting of his words as he spat, "You wouldn't have to be treated like such a whore if you weren't such a bitch with a mouth on you."

“Fuck you Rafe, get off of me!” Your protests fell on deaf ears as Rafe's grip only tightened, his voice low and menacing. "Go ahead, finish telling me what you think," he growled, his teeth bared in a snarl. He dragged you up the bed, your head hitting the headboard with a thud, before climbing over you and trapping your arms beneath his knees. “Just be a good girl for me. Alright?”

His hand stroked his hardened length, the tip brushing against your lips as he smeared precum across your mouth. You tried to resist, but Rafe's anger only escalated. "Fine, I guess we can do this the hard way," he sneered, his grip on your throat becoming a vice.

You struggled for breath as Rafe's hand closed around your throat, his grip tightening until you could barely gasp for air. Just as you thought you would suffocate, Rafe thrust himself inside you, his hands gripping your hair as he pumped furiously. He didn't care about your comfort or your well-being; all that mattered was his pleasure and your punishment.

╰☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆╮

You were suffocating, your airway constricted by Rafe's girth and your own helplessness. His cock felt like a vice around your throat, choking the life out of you as he thrust deeper, his grunts echoing in your ears. "Open up and look at me, let me know who your daddy is," he growled, his voice low and menacing.

You struggled to open your eyes, but the discomfort was too much, and tears streamed down your cheeks, blurring your vision. Rafe yanked your hair, the pain searing through you, and slapped you hard across the cheek. "LOOK!" he bellowed, his voice echoing through the room.

You complied, your eyes watering as you gazed up at him, your vision a blurry mess. Rafe's eyes lit up with perverse pleasure. "Yeah, there are those pretty eyes, my pretty fucking slut looks so good choking on me," he crooned, his voice dripping with sick satisfaction.

His thrusts became sloppy and erratic, his cock slipping in and out of your throat with a wet, slapping sound. Drool pooled at your chin, his balls slapping it making the drool drip down to your chest as you struggled to breathe. Your body felt numb, your mind foggy with pain and fear.

Rafe didn't seem to care, lost in his own pleasure and power trip. He gripped your hair tighter, his hips bucking wildly as he continued to thrust, his cock jamming deeper into your throat. The pain was unbearable, but you knew that stopping would only make it worse.

And so you lay there, trapped beneath him, your throat ravaged by his cock, your body broken and bruised, as Rafe continued to throat fuck you like an animal, his pleasure the only thing that mattered. Finally with one final thrust he came down your throat. The warm liquid somewhat soothing the sting of pain that’s there.

╰☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆╮

He moves back to in between your thighs and his hands gripping your hips. Your arms now rushing with blood again are limp next to your body, no feeling to them and Rafe sat on them for what felt like an eternity. Your breath comes in ragged gasps as you try to push him away, but he holds you firmly in place. "Please, Rafe, stop," you beg, tears streaming down your face. He ignores your pleas, his eyes filled with a mix of anger and lust.

He kneels there, not moving. You sit up to look at him better through tears as you cry. His hands still grip your hips tightly, holding you in place. You try to wriggle free, but he doesn't budge. His face is inches from yours, his breath hot on your skin as he glares at you. You just want him away from you.

"You're mine," he says, his voice low and threatening. "You'll learn to stay in line." He doesn't move, just sits there, his body a heavy burden on yours. You're trapped, unable to escape his grip or his gaze. He hands you his undershirt to wipe your face of the drool and tears. You just cry into it.

The silence is oppressive, the air thick with tension. You sob quietly, trying to break free, but he holds you firm. Time seems to stand still as you lie there, helpless in front him. His eyes never leave you.

He finally breaks the heavy silence, his voice low and hesitant. “I’m sorry, baby girl. I love you so much, and I don’t want to be without you, but sometimes you need to learn your lesson.”

Tears stream down your face as you clutch his shirt, your voice trembling as you respond, “Rafe, I can’t do this anymore. You’re possessive, overbearing… and it scares me. Why can’t you understand that?” Your voice cracks, the words carrying years of frustration and fear.

He brushes off your plea, offering a half-hearted, “I know, I know. Let me make it up to you, show you I care.” His eyes are distant, his apology empty. He doesn’t understand. He never really listens, and deep down, you know he’s counting on you not doing anything about it.

Without acknowledging the depth of your pain, he lifts your chin and kisses you��deep, consuming, as if that alone could erase everything. His hands move with practiced ease, guiding you back onto the bed. His lips trail down your neck, planting soft kisses, sucking in your nipples, down your stomach and to your thighs, but the tenderness feels misplaced, hollow.

His thumb starts tracing gentle circles on your clit, while the rest of you is screaming, begging for him to stop. But the weight of his presence, the years of manipulation, pin you down as surely as his body does. He peels your panties off, his breath hot against your skin as he licks up your cunt, but it all feels wrong. It feels wrong but you can’t help but moan.

He begins to devour you, his tongue working magic on your sensitive clit. You're telling yourself no, but all you can get out are moans when you buck your hips up into him. He keeps working, sucking and licking at your pussy as he slides two fingers into you. "Oh my god, Rafe, right there," you force out between pants, your body trembling with pleasure. He looks up at you, a wicked smile on his face as he takes in your contorted expression. He loves this power he holds over you, and you can't help but be consumed by it.

Finally, he releases his fingers and mouth from you, climbing over you like a predator stalking its prey. He stares down at you, his eyes burning with desire, and you look up at him, your heart pounding in your chest. For a second, he doesn't look like the evil man that terrifies you. "I want you to be happy, to be loved," he whispers, his voice low and husky. "Can we please be happy together, no more of these crazy ways?" You ask. He smiles, rubbing his thumb over your cheek, and without saying another word, he lines himself up and thrusts into you, hard and fast. His eyes lock onto yours, and you feel like you're being consumed by him, body and soul.

His pace is relentless, your body shuddering beneath him as he pounds into you. Your eyes roll back in your head, but he grabs your chin, pulling your gaze back to his. "Look at me, baby, look at who does this for you," he growls, his voice low and demanding.

You obey, staring into his eyes as he continues to fuck you. "No one can make you feel this good," he says, his fingers digging into your hips. "This pussy was made for me, I should fill you up and get you pregnant. What would your parents say if I knocked you up, huh? I know they hate me, hate who I am. But you love me, I know you do. Ugh, you wouldn't be clenching me like this if you didn't."

You don't reply, your eyes locked onto his as he continues to thrust into you. You know he's right; you'd love to have a family with Rafe, to feel him inside you, to know that he's the one who made you pregnant. "Tell me who you belong to," he demands, his fingers pinching your clit.

"You... I belong to you daddy," you whimper, your body trembling with pleasure. "I'm all yours."

"That's right, baby," he says, rubbing circles into your clit with his thumb. "When you listen, you get a reward." You lift your right leg over his shoulder knowing you’d get him at the perfect angle to hit your G-spot.

"I'm so close, Rafe," you cry out, your body arching off the bed. "Keep going."

He grins, his eyes burning with desire. "Me too, sweet girl," he says, thrusting harder. "Tell me where you want me. You want what I said? To fill you up, get you pregnant?"

"Yes, daddy," you moan out a lie, your body convulsing around him. "Fuck, fill me up."

He groans, you cum hard and he follows suit. His eyes rolling back as he cums deep inside you. He stays like that for a moment, before pulling out and watching his cum drip from you. Then he’s sticking a finger inside shoving the cum back in. "Gotta make sure it sticks, mama," he says, using the endearment that makes you shudder. He confuses it as a good one.

He leans down and kisses you, his tongue thrusting into your mouth as he holds you close. You can feel his heart pounding against your chest, his body still trembling with passion. You know that this is just the beginning, that Rafe will keep pushing you, keep taking you to new heights.

“Y’know I love you right?” All you can do is nod.

╰☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆╮

You’re trapped between what you want to feel and what you know—caught in a cycle you’re terrified to break.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, Rafe pulls away and silently rises from the bed. You lie there, motionless, feeling broken, battered, and emotionally drained as his absence fills the room. Curled up on your side, you stare at the wall, your mind numb, listening to the sound of him turning on the shower. The water runs, but it does nothing to drown out the hollow ache settling in your chest.

This has become your reality—a constant 360 with Rafe, a never-ending cycle of hurt, apologies, and hollow promises. Round and round, you go, lost in this whirlwind of love, control, and regret. You loved him once, loved him deeply, and you still find yourself missing the boy he used to be. The one who made you laugh, who held you like you were the only thing that mattered. But that boy feels like a distant memory now, replaced by someone who uses love as a weapon.

You convince yourself that he must love you—he has to. Why else would he want you to feel this way? He wouldn’t go to such lengths to make you feel good if he didn’t care, right? It’s a lie you tell yourself over and over, a story that comforts you even when the truth is painfully clear. You know it’s a manipulation tactic, one he’s used time and time again, but it works every time.

And you let it work because the idea of leaving, of being without him, despite your parents pleas, is scarier than staying trapped in this vicious circle.

[golden-rolling-hills]

More Autistic Pony and Darry Headcanons

these took me a few days but here y’all go

*scatters headcanons likes they’re birdseed and runs away*

Pony has literally no sense of danger, bro ran into a burning church for christ sake he doesn’t understand danger at all. this scares the fuck out of Darry and Soda

Pony is a chewer, he has a chewy necklace that he uses when he’s at home but at school he literally devours the ends of pens like om nom nom

Pony is much more prone to meltdowns than Darry and he can get pretty aggressive during them. his stims when he’s upset are very self-injurious but if Darry or Soda did something to cause him to meltdown he will hit them

Darry was the kind of kid to heavily mask all day at school and break down as soon as he got home

he’s very routine oriented and if his schedule and routine get messed up then he doesn’t know how to cope

his meltdowns look a lot different than Pony’s. Pony’s are much more stereotypical autistic meltdowns but Darry’s are more yelling at people and stomping around. he’ll usually go off to his room alone and let himself cry and stim but he doesn’t let other people see him like that unless he’s so upset that he can’t hold it in

Pony had the worse sensory issues out of the two of them, he hates tags and seams but he especially hates long sleeves, this is why he cuts the sleeves off of all his hand me downs

he actually likes that most of his clothes are hand me downs because that means they’re already soft and broken in

Darry is the most literal thinker in the world, he can’t understand metaphors or analogies or sarcasm like at all, Pony doesn’t struggle with this as much though and it makes Darry lowkey upset

Pony has a really hard time with routine and time management. he needs to be guided through getting ready for school everyday or else he would just show up late and still in his pajamas

Pony has absolutely zero filter. he says every single thought he has out loud. his social skills are so unbelievably non existent. he really struggles with making friends and the only real actual friend he’s ever had is Johnny

Darry has always masked his autism a lot and he was actually pretty popular in school. if he wasn’t so handsome and athletic then his awkwardness probably wouldn’t have been as well received but since he was then people found his quirks charming and endearing

Pony is very particular about food, he likes to eat the same exact things every day and he’d rather starve than try something new

Darry definitely has alexythmia, he has no clue how he’s feeling ever and emotions make no sense to him

Pony and Darry were diagnosed in the same year, pony was 2 and darry was 8. Pony’s pediatrician noticed signs in him early has referred him to a specialist to be diagnosed and after going through the diagnosis process with pony, the Curtis parents were like “wait, hold up a minute. this all sounds like it applies to Darry too.” so they had him assessed too.

after a meltdown, Pony just wants to be cuddled. he loves deep pressure so tight hugs and weighted blankets are his best friends. Soda is always his go to for a good bear hug, not just because he’s his brother but also because Soda is the master of hugs

Pony always has his headphones on, he’s usually listening to music but even when he’s not he doesn’t take them off

Soda is not the token neurotypical sibling though, he canonically had the most textbook case of ADHD that i’ve ever seen, argue with a wall

[willowser-but-nsfw]

and if i said incubus bakugou. what then.

because think about coming home after a long, infuriating day of work; you're tired, your back hurts, you're hungry, you're sick of being in these stinky work clothes — and all you want is a shower.

so you go to run yourself the hottest one known to man, tossing your clothes haphazardly on the floor because you're irritable and want to be a bit of a brat because you couldn't be one at work. you get all the way through washing your hair, are rinsing the soapy suds off your body when you're finally starting to calm down. thinking about what to eat for dinner, if you'll get that takeout you've been thinking about all week. you think you deserve it.

and then a heavy hand is banging against the glass of the shower.

"jesus christ!" you hiss, curving into yourself as if he hasn't seen you naked multiple times now. on the other side, bakugou is glaring at you, his own arms folded like the GROUCH that he is. "what the hell is wrong with you?"

he ignores the question. "y'gonna let me in?"

the sight of his stupidly handsome, supernatural face has you gritting your teeth, mouth twisting into a scowl as he yanks the door open anyway. "since when have you ever needed my permission to do anything?"

bakugou bares his little fangs, temper flaring like the black wings that threaten to stretch out behind him. you hope they don't; you're tired of having to pick up everything he knocks over. "hah?" he hisses, crowding you into one side of the shower because of how big he is. "don't act like you ain't been begging me to fuck—"

"alright!" you snap, cheeks heating. his own nose scrunches up — in disgust, maybe — and you can't stand to look at how horrifyingly beautiful he is, so you turn away. after a minute of awkward silence, with him just looming behind you, you ask, "have you figured out how i can get rid of you yet?"

several bottles clatter to the floor.

"you're the one that fuckin' summoned me here, brat—"

"and i was trying to summon up some goddamn money!" you turn to glare at him over your shoulder, eyes dipping down when you see his totally normal and equally as handsome human form, as he collects your shampoo and conditioner from the ground. "it was an accident."

"yeah," he grumbles, "so you've said."

you turn away again as he rises back to his full height — still otherworldly, despite his disguise. the deep red in his eyes always makes you shiver, both terrifying and oddly sexy. "well," you pout, though he can't see it. "don't act like you haven't been enjoying it, too."

"that's my whole point, shitty human!"

you're demon-handled around rather roughly, as is typical, and he's got you spun to face him, back pressed against the shower tile as he gets all in your face. his blonde hair is flat against his head, dark eyelashes heavy and sticking together, making his eyes seem that much bigger and brighter.

you take the chance to commit his face to memory; most of the time, you either can't keep your eyes open to look at him or don't want to, because he's so incredibly infuriating.

— but so up close, you see the deep, unhappy lines of his face, how far down his eyebrows arch. his lips tremble, just the slightest, in their frown.

"that's my whole fuckin' point," he tells you again, quietly. "'s'all 'm good for."

it's startling enough that you feel — bad. guilty, like you're taking advantage of him in some way, though it's always him that's appearing on his knees in your kitchen or waking you up in the middle of the night with his hand in your underwear. you feel like you should offer some kind of comfort to him, despite the menace he's been, because you have found relief from the world with him. many times.

but the moment passes and before you can think of anything to say, bakugou's eyes are hardening and he's pressing his mouth to yours, as his hands begin to trail down your body.

[bandgie]

As Above So Below

MDNI 18+ | fem!reader x Jongho x Seonghwa

warnings: freeuse (f!), dom Jongho, pussy eating, orgasm denial, sub (f! and hwa!), 3some, rough boob play, light clit play, brief mentions of face riding, exhibitionism

2.2k words

When you first brought up the idea of free use, Jongho seemed hardly interested. 

"But I already fuck you when I want. I don't see the point," he mindlessly had said when you mentioned it. "Okay but..." you remember fiddling with the hem of your shirt. "Like, I mean I could be doing anything. Anything and you could be touching me, using me. Like is that not hot to you?" Jongho shrugged at this, but you could see the hidden smirk on his lips. "I don't mind trying."

It's been nearly a month since the conversation and Jongho acted how he always did. Few butt grabs here, jiggling your tits there. Sometimes he'd stand behind you while you sat on the couch and leaned down to play with your pussy. Rubbing circles over and over your cunt before pulling away, leaving you bucking your hips and whining. 

He didn't use it like you wanted him to, but you weren't necessarily disappointed by it. The days carried as usual, and Seonghwa happened to be over at your apartment, talking about how he got into it with his roommate. 

"He keeps touching my stuff," Seonghwa crinkles his nose in disgust. "And he doesn't even put it back right! I'm sure he's broken one of my figurines and just glued it together." He huffs and crosses his arms. 

You set your mug on the dinner table down, crossing your legs as you try not to laugh. "Seonghwa...I don't think you should move out just cuz of that." You bite back your smile at his frowning face, "Did you ever just tell him not to?"

Seonghwa looks at you ludicrously, "Did I- Of course I did! You think I'm just gonna let this slide? No! I paid for it and I built them and it's just rude in general! Next time I see him, I'm going to-"

The front door knob jiggles, clicks and turns. The sounds make the two of you look in the direction of it before it opens. 

Jongho enters, peeking his head in and eyeing the area. "I thought I heard someone. I could hear Seonghwa crying all the way from the car." He chucks his shoes off and replaces them with slippers. Seonghwa pouts beside you, "I'm not crying."

You giggle, watching your boyfriend set his coat on the couch and make his way to you. He kisses the top of your head and smiles, but something about it sends shivers down your spine. 

"How was work? Are you hungry?" Jongho only shakes his head at your questions, "Work was stressful. Had to train the new guy, you know how that is." You hum at his answer, "Did you wanna try taking a nap? Maybe that'll help you relax."

That sinister smile appears again, but he shakes his head at your suggestions to try and mask it. "I think I'm fine here. What was Seonghwa crying about again?"

Jongho takes his place behind you, resting his hands on your shoulders and Seonghwa desperately claims he is not crying. 

"His roommate Dan-"

"It's San."

"Sorry," you apologize, rolling your eyes at Seonghwa's correction. "His roommate San is giving him a hard time. Touching his things and going in his room unannounced." 

Though you can't see, Jongho nods at the information. His fingers gently begin to kneed into your shoulders, going up to your neck before traveling back down. His touch is cold from the outside, but still soft. You involuntarily shiver. 

"Sounds like he is giving you a hard time," Jongho gives a deep sigh. "Did you tell him to stop?"

Seonghwa makes a sound of frustration. "Jesus christ you two are the exact same! No shit I did. But he thinks he can wiggle his way out of trouble just cuz he's handsome."

"Still, it can't be all bad. Don't you have like what...two? Three roommates?" You ask, ignoring how Jongho dips his fingers underneath the top of your shirt. The tips of his fingers brush against the swell of your breasts before going back up. Seonghwa's eyes briefly drop to your chest before locking eyes with you. It was so quick, had you blinked you might've missed it.

"I...Yeah, one other roommate. Totally opposite," he swallows thickly. "He's fine, it's just San I can't stand."

Jongho gets brave, opting to slide his hands over your clothed breasts down to your hips. He squeezes your flesh then travels up, slowly making his way until his palms cup over your tits again. He pushes them together and jiggles.

Seonghwa and you give the same reaction, gasping wide-eyed. You take hold of his wrist with one hand while your other grips the underside of your seat. "J-Jongho what are you..." He moves your mounds up and down, squeezing and giggling at your shocked state. 

"What do you mean?" He gives a gummy smile. "I'm just doing what you asked me to."

A particularly harsh clutch makes you whine. Your hips lift from the chair for a second, as if trying to get friction in the air. Shyly, you look Seonghwa's way to see him in a quiet state of shock. Still, you catch the way his tongue pokes from his mouth. A habit you noticed he does when he sees something he likes. 

"I can go," Seonghwa gulps nervously. "I-I should go." Before he has the chance to stand to his feet, Jongho shakes his head, "Go? Weren't you just talking about your roommate? Don't you wanna get that off your chest first?"

"I...I no...my roommate..." Seonghwa's words die in his mouth when your boyfriend moves his hands to lift your shirt over your chest. Jongho places the hem in your mouth, a silent instruction for you to bite down on the material. You listen dutifully as Jongho then spills your tits from your bra. 

Your nipples are already hard from how roughly Jongho was playing with them. Your boyfriend pinches your hardened buds and rolls them between his thumb and forefinger. A soft whimper leaves your lips. 

"Oh my god," Seonghwa's eyes look like they're going to pop from his sockets. "Why are you- Is she okay with this?" He painfully tears his eyes away from your bare boobs to look at your face. Seonghwa inspects for any signs of discomfort, but he only finds your cheeks flushed. You bite your lower lip to suppress your moans, but his intense stare makes you want to fold. 

Jongho laughs at the innocent questions. "Did you hear him? He's asking if you're alright." You feel Jongho lean down until his mouth is at your ear, warm breaths ghosting over your skin, "Why don't you tell him whose idea this was?"

You turn your head the other way, unable to meet Seonghwa's eyes. Jongho smiles against your neck and tenderly pecks your skin. The soft nips and bites send shivers throughout your body, and the throbbing in your cunt begins to get unbearable. 

Maybe if you ignore the burning humiliation and listen to your boyfriend instead, he'll reward you. 

Timidly, you pick your head up and look at the overly aroused Seonghwa. "It was my idea. I...I just wanna be a good girl for Jongho. Use me whenever he wants."

Seonghwa's lips part at your confession, his eyes darkening. Jongho's smile turns into a wicked grin. It feels like you're a deer caught by two lions, only you're hoping to be eaten. 

"Dirty little thing I have, huh?" Jongho turns his attention to Seonghwa. "I bet her pussy's all wet. You can take off her underwear." Jongho kisses the sensitive part under your ear, "Put your legs up on the chair baby."

You pick your legs up and place your heels on the edge of the chair. There's hardly any room, but you keep your knees tucked as Seonghwa carefully slips from his seat. He moves slowly, assessing the situation. If he moves too fast, he thinks he might scare you away. But that's hardly an option for you when you see him bend to his knees, lifting your skirt higher until your panties are exposed. 

He sucks in a sharp breath, eyes going to yours then Jongho's.

"Well?" Your boyfriend raises an eyebrow at Seonghwa's reaction. There's a sense of panic that runs through you. Is he not really in the mood? Did he snap out of it? Does he not like it? Your worries are settled when Seonghwa's lips turn to a shy smile, cheekbones poking out. 

"She's so wet. I can see it through her underwear." Seonghwa gently traces the crease of your outlined pussy. The soft touch makes your hips buck, and a loud moan is finally released. You didn't realize how much you needed to be touched. Jongho laughs at your trembling state, hips chasing Seonghwa's hand. 

Just when Seonghwa hooks his finger on the side of your underwear. Jongho stops him. "You know what Hyung," Jongho's lips turn to a pout as he thinks. "Keep it on. Just touch her like that."

You whine at his change of instructions. "Jongho..." You tilt your head back to peer at him. "But I'm being good." Your boyfriend keeps his lower lip jutting out as he responds, "You don't get whatever you want just because you're being good."

You're about to argue when Jongho squeezes your breasts. You moan and arch your back, twisting your head down to Seonghwa who patiently waits for the green light. A small nod from your boyfriend is enough permission. 

He uses his thumb first, running it up and down your slit. Even through the underwear, he can feel the hotness of your cunt. When Seonghwa reaches your clit, he presses down.

"Oh!" You shake at the pressure. Your thighs threaten to snap on his head, but you keep them open. Soft whimpers and pretty gasps leave your wet lips when he rubs his thumb in circles over your nub. Jongho mimics the movements on your nipples, rolling and twisting until you're panting. 

"D-do you like it?" Seonghwa can't help but ask. Even if your body obviously shows the great amount of pleasure you're in, he needs to hear it from your own mouth. 

You nod manically, hair getting in your face. "So much. I like it so much, Hwa."

The praise gets to his head, and cock, more than Seonghwa would like to admit. It's all too much for him, your breathy moans, the way Jongho plays with your pretty tits, your covered cunt displayed in front of him. He licks his lips again, looking up to the man squeezing those perfect breasts. "Can I lick her?"

You throw your head back at the question. You know the type of tongue he has, the length, how pink it is. Even if you don't have the energy to speak, you beg Jongho with your batting eyes. Your boyfriend looks between to two of you before signing defeatedly, "Just keep her underwear on."

It's Seonghwa's nose you feel first. The tip of it brushing against your clit while his lips run over your swollen ones. They're so warm, so soft even if your underwear is in the way. He lets his bottom teeth graze over your cunt, making you squeal.

His burning tongue finally laps over your slit. Starting from the bottom, and going up. You sob, both in frustration and desire. It feels good, more than you could have ever thought was possible. But that thin layer of fabric gets in the way of you really feeling it. Feeling Seonghwa's salvia mix with your arousal, his tongue raw on your cunt. 

"Seonghwa please," you beg. "Take it off. I need to feel you."

Jongho pulls one hand away from your breasts before you feel it connect again rather harshly. You cry out at the slap, but he gives you no time to recover. He digs his fingers into your tender flesh to hear you weep more. 

"Didn't I say that's not allowed?" He questions you with a tut. "What a waste. I was gonna let him make you cum too."

"No!" You feel your eyes welling with tears. "I'm sorry! I didn't mean it! It was an accident, Jongho, please. I didn't mean it I swear." You try and apologize your way out of it. But Jongho's grip doesn't let up. He smacks your breast again, pretending to act as though he's disappointed.

"And you're lying to me. I don't think you're a good girl after all."

The sob that wrecks through you is genuine. It even makes Seonghwa stop to look at you, making sure you're not truly in distress. There's a soft look in his eyes, somewhat pitiful. He looks up at Jongho who only looks down at him. "If you let her cum, I won't let you play with her again," he threatens. 

That's enough to make Seonghwa obey. He gives you a sheepish look, "Sorry."

His muted kisses resume, this time harder. It seems like Seonghwa enjoys the idea of teasing you, even if he has a false look of sincerity. All you can do is try and ride his beautiful face before he pulls away at the last second. He watches you vibrate with ruined orgasms, watches those tears fall down your reddened cheeks, and looks at how your boobs begin to bruise with Jongho's fingers. 

You don't know how long it lasts, you don't even know if the sopping arousal between your thighs is really from you due to the sheer amount. But you do know that when Seonghwa leaves for the night with a throbbing tent in his pants, Jongho still won't let you cum.

And he'll make you wear that underwear for the rest of the day.

a/n: first long ateez fic whhaaa kinda nervous about ittttt, tell me how you liked ittt (hopefully)

[petrichorium]

the merman is back.

it’s a little weird how used to him you’ve gotten. he’d only shown up for the first time a few months ago, but when you’re largely alone out on the boat or in your oceanfront lab there’s no shortage of ways for him to visit with nobody around.

he’s yet to tell you a name, but after the first few weeks of silence he suddenly revealed a passable understanding of english; when he speaks it's rudimentary, but he clearly understands everything you say, even if he doesn’t listen half the time.

you haven’t gotten the nerve to get in the water with him. in fact, you haven’t gotten in the water at all since he arrived, even when your colleagues are around and he’s notably not. he’s massive, his tail alone being well over two meters long and possessing the torso of a man who would tower over you on dry land (a handsome man, you're begrudged to admit, with those broad shoulders and blood red eyes and that ash blond hair that somehow looks good immediately coming out of the water). he’s assured you in his blunt, curt way that of course he doesn’t want to eat you but you still have anxieties about getting out into the open water you’ve always loved and being pulled under by a fucking sea monster.

he’s getting bolder, though. when you take the boat out today, he follows it, like the dolphins used to back when you operated out of the keys; that sleek black body would be terrifying just from the size, like seeing a fully grown orca bump up against the hull.

and when you weigh anchor, almost immediately, the boat keels aftward when he pulls himself onto the deck.

you shriek and he immediately pins you with a steely glare. he’s never done that before. it’s fucking terrifying, though he’s not managed to drag his whole body up and you’re a little comforted by that. it’s just his arms—two massive, heavily muscled things that are flexed and crossed in front of him, holding his head, shoulders, and much of his human-like torso up out of the water with ease. that enormous tail trails behind him and it’s still terrifying to see, your heart skipping a beat every time the shimmering orange markings catch your eye.

you don’t know what you’ll do if he decides to come all the way onto the boat. he wouldn’t be able to maneuver that well, but where the fuck would you go? into the damn water?

“fucking christ!” you yelp. “don’t just do that, motherfucker!”

“calm,” he snaps as he rolls his eyes.

the urge to flip him the bird is overshadowed by the knowledge that he wouldn’t understand, and you’re too frazzled to explain what go fuck yourself means. instead, you turn back around to clean up the cabin that he’s managed to mess up.

“oi, human, come.”

you huff, shouting your name at him and pointedly refusing to turn away from your task. he’s clearly annoyed at that, and you belatedly realize that perhaps if you’re really that terrified of him coming onto the boat you shouldn’t provoke him. luckily, rather than heaving himself up, he jerks the entire hull.

it’s a smooth motion for him, gripping the stern and rolling his tail so that the boat moves with him. it’s like being out in a storm, and though you’re well aware that it’s just your needy visitor, your sea-hardened stomach still lurches at the familiar feeling.

you stumble out of the cabin, careful not to be thrown over the edge. “i’m out! holy shit, i have a damn job you know, i can’t spend all my time catering to your whims.”

he stops as soon as you get back on deck. “calm,” he tells you again, and you're really starting to hate the word, “too loud.”

“who’s fucking fault is that? don’t rock my damn ship.”

“sit,” he demands rather than apologizing.

there are a plethora of reasons not to. you won’t be able to get away quickly if you need to, you shouldn’t be encouraging his demands by obliging immediately, you really do have a job to do instead of… whatever this is—instead of listening to any one of those reasons, you ease yourself down with your legs crossed a little ways away from where he’s holding himself.

he snarls, baring a mouthful of sharp teeth. “closer.”

“no,” you snap. “not if you’re threatening me.”

his mouth shuts immediately, brow furrowed and lips pouting in an expression that’s less pleading or apologetic and more contemplative.

“not a threat,” he seems to settle on saying.

you roll your own eyes. “yeah. okay.”

“come here.”

“why?”

“wanna feel you.”

that throws you for a loop. what could he mean by that? you realize that perhaps he’s as fascinated by you as you are by him.

you’ve caught him staring at your body in the past. he’s never reacted like you’d expect—if you’d caught a human looking at you like that and then turning away when you caught his eye, he’d have been checking you out. but when it’s an apex predator of a different species, there’s an entirely different context, one you’re even less enthused about.

you’re standing before you’ve fully thought it through, fully freaked and ready for him to go. you barely get to uncross your legs, however, before he lunges.

it’s far faster than your not-normally-hunted-because-you’re-a-modern-person mind can follow. a cold, clawed hand snaps out to latch around your ankle and yanks you downward, slamming your back into the boat’s coarse deck and then dragging you towards the edge. there’s not even time for you to shriek.

this is it, you think. he’s going to eat you now; he’ll drag you under and rip you apart, or maybe he’ll drown you first as a mercy. you hope he doesn’t want to play with you further, drag you into the water and let go to make you swim because he wants a chase.

the moment your ankle hits the water he stops.

you’re breathing heavily, free leg still braced on the deck, arms finding purchase on a pole nearby. his whole body is underwater aside from his eyes and the very top of his head, but you can still see that massive dark shadow—only little flashes of that pretty orange-gold patterning visible as his scales glint beneath the sun—and it sends a thrill through you. he’s so ungodly enormous.

that hand is still around your ankle, but it’s looser now. his mouth is beneath the waves so he doesn’t speak, but his eyes are soft and almost regretful as he regards you.

“okay…” you move slowly, getting to a better position. it pulls your captive ankle from the water and the movement causes his grip to tighten as if he’s reluctant to remove it—he doesn’t stop you, but he doesn’t let you go. you’re forced to sit on the edge of the deck with your feet dangling over the side.

“let me feel you,” he tries again, as if he’s giving you a choice.

“ask,” you decide upon demanding. his words have made you realize, with a burst of shame and a promise to never tell anyone in the future, that you’re not entirely opposed to the strange rude merman feeling you.

you’re gifted a growl, not unlike the snarl from before but lacking the teeth. he’s learning, you realize, not only in not baring those terrifying weapons at you but also in removing his hand from your ankle.

“can i… touch you,” he spits out, like the words and your request are insulting.

and again you think there are far too many reasons to give in just like that. you’ve been around enough children to know that rewarding problematic behavior is hardly the way forward, but there’s a certain part of your brain that’s in control right now and it’s not particularly interested in breaking him of his demanding attitude (quite the contrary, to your chagrin, this very annoying part of your brain is enjoying it).

“are you sure you’re not going to eat me?”

“no eating.” he huffs, wrinkling his nose.

“what, i smell bad or something.”

he regards you, approaching a little closer, and you resist the urge to pull your legs up to hold your knees to your chest.

“smell good,” he says, “not like food.”

all right.

“fine, then. if you’re not going to take a bite out of my calf, then… sure. feel me, i guess.”

he’s just as fast as before, not even waiting for you to finish your sentence before he’s lashing out and grabbing your leg again. this time, he’s not looking at your face; he’s focused entirely on your feet, those big hands inspecting them thoroughly.

it’s rough, and you’re a little glad because if he’d been gentle it would have likely been too ticklish. he’s still careful with his massive claws; you’re sure they’re sharp enough to pierce your skin with ease, and he’s clearly skilled enough to avoid it. you’re more than thankful, because you’ve seen how he hunts with them (he’s dropped disemboweled fish in front of you before as strange gifts) and you don’t want your legs to end up like his prey even if he doesn’t eat you.

he moves on from your feet, both hands latching onto one calf and almost massaging it in reverence. his face is even closer now; you really ought to be more worried by the proximity of those teeth to your skin, but the fascination on his face is so enthralling.

by the time he reaches the back of your knee, you're tensing. while before he’d been mostly in the water, he’s very nearly at your height now, holding himself up by his grip on you and an awkward hold on the deck with his spare hand.

and then he’s at your thigh, and your breath is heavy.

because he’s basically laid out on your lap, one arm wrapped entirely around your upper leg such that his large palm rests flush, fingers spread, against the plush flesh of your inner thigh. and he’s no less fascinated, expression no less sincere, as he pulls further up to get closer.

“warm,” he says, more to himself than you. he blinks, as if shaking away a daze, and his eyes jump up from your thighs to look at your stomach. “soft…”

his head drops. you jump, caught up in the strange haze he's brought with him but snapping out of it as he lays his head on your lap. your heart thumps erratically, your breath long bated. he’s not looking at your thigh anymore, and not your face either—he’s locked on your stomach, your loose t-shirt having ridden up slightly to reveal more bare skin.

you ought to see it coming, really, but when that big, cold hand moves from your thigh to your torso, sliding smoothly beneath your shirt and running up your bare stomach, you yelp and jolt back.

he startles, and then he’s gone, slipping back off you and disappearing down into the murky water. you’re left panting, with nothing but a very wet body and the ghost of his touch on your legs…

and the heat of your face at the knowledge that, while you’d been surprised, you kind of wanted him to go further.