#he deserved every bit of it the idiot

[spawksstuff]

The De Completionist Checklist Part 14

1964

Note on the dates: I will mostly be going by when a show/movie was shot rather than its release date. Variety Magazine will be given first priority.

My score: 2 / 3

Need To Find: Slattery’s People - Question: Which One Has The Privilege?

Favorite Movie: Town Tamer

Favorite TV Show:  N/A

Favorite Quote (Exchange):

Conder: You go tell him [Rosser] to look at that fancy horse of his in exactly 10 minutes.

Guy (De): I’m not an errand boy.

<Very next scene>

Guy (De) to Rosser: That horse of yours, better go take a look at it.

<Which is funny enough but then>:

Rosser: What’s wrong with him?

Guy (De): How do I know I’m no horse doctor.

[huntingrays]

i physically cannot write valgrace without making jason a huge simp for leo

[aajjks]

Stuck With You. (m)

synopsis. Imagine being stuck in a room with a walking nightmare who really wants to fuck you.

genre: crack, 18+.

pairings: jungkook x fem reader.

warnings: stûck în â rôôm tôgêthêr trôpê, crîngê jûngkôôk, hôrnÿ jûngkôôk, tsûndêrê ÿn, sêxûâl jôkês, ônê bêd trôpê, hê jûst wânts tô hît ît wîth ÿôû ând lîvê hâppîlÿ êvêr âftêr.

note. If this flops- oh well. But if this becomes a hit, I will make it a series hehe, gif credits to owner, found it on Pinterest. OMG ENJOY!

pt 2 on high demand.

You are absolutely going to lose your mind. Not because you’re stuck in a room—

no, that part isn’t even the problem. It’s who you’re stuck with.

“Don’t look so mad, babe. You’ll get wrinkles,” Jungkook says, leaning lazily against the wall with his arms crossed, looking every bit like he owns the place.

His black t-shirt clings to his annoyingly perfect body, and his smug grin stretches wider every time he catches your glare.

“You’re the reason we’re stuck in here, you idiot,” you snap, pacing the room. “Who even breaks a doorknob while trying to open the door?”

“It wasn’t my fault!” he protests, throwing his hands up. “The thing was loose—like, super loose. I barely touched it.”

You stop pacing and point at him. “You yanked it like you were in a strongman competition!”

Jungkook shrugs, like being accused of destroying things is just another Tuesday for him. “Maybe. But hey, at least we’ve got… each other?” His grin turns into that stupid wink he loves so much.

You groan and flop onto the bed. It creaks under your weight, and you make a face because this feels like the start of a very bad rom-com. “I can’t believe this. I have work tomorrow.”

Jungkook leans against the bedpost, towering over you with that annoyingly pretty face of his. “Relax, princess. I’m sure someone will fix it soon. Meanwhile…” His eyes trail down your body in that blatant, shameless way that only Jungkook can pull off. “…you’re looking pretty comfortable.”

“Stop staring at my tits, Jeon.” You cross your arms over your chest, even though you know it won’t stop him.

This is seriously ridiculous.

“I wasn’t,” he lies, biting back a grin.

“You were.”

“Okay, I was,” he admits, laughing. He flops down onto the bed beside you, making the mattress bounce slightly. He’s so close that you can feel the heat radiating off his body. “But you can’t really blame me. They’re right there.”

You grab a pillow and smack him with it, hard enough to knock some of the smugness out of him. He lets out an exaggerated groan, clutching his chest like you’ve mortally wounded him. “Abuse! yn, you’re abusing me!”

“You deserve it!” you say, your voice rising with every word.

you like being evil.

“Oh, come on.” He shifts closer, so close his shoulder brushes against yours. His voice drops, teasing and low. “Admit it. You’d miss me if I weren’t here.”

You scoff. “I’d celebrate.”

Jungkook gasps dramatically, his hand flying to his chest. “Cold. That was cold, yn.” He shakes his head, his messy hair falling into his eyes. “You’d be crying without me to entertain you.”

“I’d cry tears of joy.”

“Sure, sure,” he says, his grin widening. Then he leans in, his voice dropping again. “But… if you’re gonna cry, you might as well do it on my shoulder, babe.”

You hate the way your stomach flips at his tone. His big, stupid eyes are focused on you, and for once, they’re not looking at your chest.

You roll your eyes to hide how flustered you feel. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re irresistible,” he fires back, leaning in even closer. His breath tickles your skin, and you shove him away before he gets any ideas.

“Don’t even think about it.”

“What?” he says, feigning innocence as he lays back on the bed, his arms tucked behind his head. “I wasn’t thinking anything.”

“You’re always thinking something,” you say, narrowing your eyes.

“Maybe,” he admits, his lips twitching up into a smirk. “But if I told you, you’d probably hit me again.”

“You’re not wrong.”

He laughs, loud and carefree, and it’s so annoying that you can’t help but smile a little.

Even though he’s so fucking annoying.

Time passes slower than it should. You’re lying back now, one arm thrown over your face to block out the overhead light, trying to focus on literally anything other than the fact that you’re stuck in a room with Jeon Jungkook.

“yn,” Jungkook says after a while, his tone softer now.

“What?” you ask without looking at him.

“I’m bored.”

You sigh. “And what do you want me to do about it?”

“I don’t know… entertain me?”

You pull your arm off your face and give him a deadpan look. “What am I, a clown?”

His grin returns, and you immediately regret your choice of words. “You could put on a show for me, babe.”

You groan. “Shut up, Jeon.”

“Or,” he says, his voice dipping lower as he rolls onto his side to face you, “we could play a game.”

You narrow your eyes. “What kind of game?”

“Truth or dare.”

“No.”

“Oh, come on, don’t be boring.”

“I’m not playing truth or dare with you, Jungkook. I know how your brain works.”

He pouts, and it’s so absurdly dramatic that you almost laugh. Almost. “You’re no fun, yn.”

“Good. I don’t want to be fun.”

Jungkook sits up suddenly, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Fine. Then let’s make a bet.”

“A bet?” you repeat, suspicious.

“Yeah.” His grin turns wicked. “If we’re still stuck in here after another hour, you have to go on a real date with me.”

Your jaw drops. “What?”

“You heard me.” He shrugs, like this is the most normal thing in the world. “Take it or leave it, babe.”

You sit up, crossing your arms. “And what happens if we get out of here before the hour’s up?”

Jungkook’s grin doesn’t falter. “Then I’ll stop making inappropriate jokes for a week.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “You’re lying.”

“Scout’s honor,” he says, holding up three fingers.

You stare at him for a long moment, weighing your options. Then, finally, you sigh. “Fine. But you’re going to regret this when we’re out of here in twenty minutes.”

Jungkook just smirks, his confidence radiating off him in waves. “We’ll see, babe.”

And as much as you hate to admit it, you kind of hope you lose.

You stare at him, his stupid is grin practically glowing in the dim light of the room. He’s lying on his side now, looking way too comfortable, while you’re still sitting upright like you’re waiting for a rescue team.

“You seem a little tense,” he says, his voice dropping into that low, teasing tone that always makes your eye twitch.

“I wonder why,” you deadpan, gesturing to the locked door. “Maybe it’s because I’m stuck in here with a man-child who thinks ‘truth or dare’ is an appropriate solution to boredom.”

Jungkook props his head up on one hand, his biceps flexing in a way that feels intentional. “I’m just saying, if we’re stuck here, we might as well make it fun. And let’s face it, yn, no one else makes you laugh like I do.”

You snort, leaning back against the headboard. “You don’t make me laugh. You make me want to scream.”

“Same thing,” he says with a wink.

You roll your eyes, but you can’t fight the small smile tugging at the corner of your lips. You hate that he’s right.

As much as you want to throttle him half the time, the other half? You’re too busy laughing at his ridiculousness to care.

“Okay,” you say suddenly, sitting up straighter. “Let’s play your stupid game.”

Jungkook perks up immediately, his eyes lighting up like a kid on Christmas morning. “Truth or dare?”

“Truth,” you say, crossing your arms.

He doesn’t even hesitate. “Do you think I’m hot?”

You blink at him, stunned by his audacity, before letting out a disbelieving laugh. “You’re unbelievable.”

“It’s a valid question,” he says, his smirk growing. “Come on, yn. Be honest.”

You narrow your eyes at him, your cheeks heating against your will. “Fine. You’re… decent-looking.”

He’s very hot, but he doesn’t need to know that.

“Decent-looking?” He clutches his chest like you’ve just stabbed him. “You’re breaking my heart here.”

“Good,” you say, fighting back a grin.

“Your turn,” he says, recovering quickly. “Truth or dare?”

You pause, considering your options. “Dare.”

His smirk turns dangerous, and you immediately regret your decision. “I dare you to sit on my lap.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Come on, it’s just a dare,” he says, his tone deceptively innocent. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

“I murder you in cold blood, for starters.”

Jungkook laughs, leaning back against the pillows like he’s got all the time in the world. “You’re no fun.”

“You keep saying that like it’s a bad thing.”

He grins, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “It is when you’re this cute.”

You throw a pillow at his face, and he catches it effortlessly, laughing as he tosses it back at you.

Another twenty minutes pass, and you’re lying side by side now, both of you staring at the ceiling.

“You know,” Jungkook says, his voice softer now, “this isn’t so bad.”

You turn your head to look at him, your brows furrowing. “Being locked in a room?”

“Being stuck with you,” he says, and for once, there’s no teasing in his voice.

Your stomach does a weird little flip, and you quickly look away, your cheeks heating. “You’re such a sap.”

You Kind of like it, but…

“Only for you, babe.”

You groan, shoving him with your shoulder. “Stop calling me babe.”

“Why?” he asks, rolling onto his side to face you. “Does it make your heart race?”

“No,” you lie, glaring at him.

Jungkook smirks, leaning in closer. “Liar.”

“Idiot.”

“Hot,” he counters, his grin widening.

You don’t dignify that with a response.

Eventually, the tension breaks when the doorknob jiggles, and a muffled voice calls from the other side.

“Are you guys okay in there?”

You spring off the bed like it’s on fire. “Yes! Get us out!”

Jungkook stays lying down, his arms tucked behind his head, looking as relaxed as ever. “Take your time!” he calls out.

You glare at him, your heart pounding for reasons you’d rather not analyze. “Get up, Jeon.”

“Nah, I’m good here.”

“Get. Up.”

He sighs, sitting up with an exaggerated groan. “Fine. But only because you’re cute when you’re bossy.”

You grab the nearest pillow and whack him one last time, just for good measure.

[screampied]

can you do soft sukuna after an argument vegas for fluff pretty please i think we deserve it after all you've done to us

໒꒱ ₊˚ ‘ MAYBE I’M THE PROBLEM﹒⺡ SUKUNA RYŌMEN. ’

sum. gn! reader, angst with c-comfort, he’s a softie at heart, fluff, petnames, ty lucy for beta'ing <3

“what’s with you today?” sukuna furrows his eyebrows, and he lightly grabs your wrist. you face him only to briefly look away with a stubborn scowl. “you didn’t have to do that. i can take care of myself.”

he was referring to earlier…how careless you were, at least from his perspective. throwing yourself in danger just for sukuna. perhaps it was stupid, but at that particular moment—you didn’t have a thought that crossed your mind.

“well, i did,” you mumble, and sukuna bites his tongue from the inside of his cheek. his nostrils flare before he grabs your shoulders.

“what are you not getting? and if you died trying to protect me, then what?” and for a brief moment, it was dead silence. you stared at sukuna, and you can’t remember a time he looked like this. sukuna was … scared. the more you looked into his dark eyes, once full of arrogance and wit — instead, his pupils dilated and widened. his thumbs gently pressed into your skin, and then he continues to speak. “how can you even be calm about something like that?”

“i wouldn’t have to do things like that if you’d just be more careful,” you chastise, a sudden wave of gloom spraying over you. sukuna kept pausing every few seconds, as if he was carefully thinking of what to reply with.

sukuna’s almost got a glare before he sighs. “i told you. i can take care of myse—”

“no, you can’t sukuna. you know how many times you’ve almost died? the countless days where i’d be worried sick about you. if anyone’s reckless, it’s you. and you wonder why i act like this, it’s because i’m in love with you, you idiot.”

you don’t even register your words, it’s as if you’ve been yearning to get that out for ages.

sukuna grows mute, trying to figure if he actually heard what he’d just heard. you…you were in love with someone like him?

the awkward silence was deafening, a single tear strolls down your cheek before sukuna’s face suddenly softens.

he brings a thumb up to your cheek, swiping the tear aside before muttering in a raspy, “you love me?”

“i thought it was pretty obvious,” you grumble, avoiding his eye contact. your heart ached, never in your life have you felt this vulnerable. saying it out loud only made you flustered immensely quick. a soft smile goes against his lips — you didn’t answer his question, but he knew the answer. you loved sukuna. “but whatever.”

“oi. don’t ‘whatever’ me,” sukuna mutters, cupping both sides of your face. he has you stare right into his eyes, the eyes where most see a cruel villainous person, you see the softest eyes imaginable. reserved only for you. “look at me,” and you finally meet his gaze, a smug grin slowly tugs against the corners of his mouth. “you’re in love with me.”

a weird tingly feeling crept up inside your stomach, and you give sukuna a glare. “you know,” he keeps speaking, a soft finger stroking your cheek. “instead of almost dying for me, you could have been normal and just said, ‘i love you’.”

“…shut up,” you grouse, entirely abashed. he found it cute seeing you like this. in the midst of your mini tantrum - sukuna hums to himself, leaning down to kiss your forehead.

“hmpf. well, i suppose i love you too, brat,” he utters, watching your face briefly light up at his words. sukuna saying it back couldn’t have made your heart swoon even more, but it did. “and i’m sorry for being so careless.”

you felt butterflies collide inside your tummy before you blink, ears perking at his first initial words and you pout. “you suppose?”

sukuna looks down at you before he awkwardly pats your head. “i … love you,” his voice was a mere soft rasp. studying his stare, sukuna started to grow a tad bit embarrassed. even more than you. as his fingers softly roam through your hair, he leans up close to your face and scoffs. “happy now?”

“i love you more,” you smile, feeling more relieved. he’s taken aback once you hug him. sukuna’s always been so stiff at something as simple as a hug. your frame held his waist tightly, and he’d never admit it but it was adorable.

sukuna scowls. “…. you’re squishing me.”

“shut up and hug me back.” you sigh, only taking this as an opportunity to squeeze him tighter. he was so warm.

usually…sukuna wouldn’t let anyone get this close, yet alone do this. a simple affectionate hug.

he groans, slowly wrapping his arms around you. “you’re so annoying,” and as your head rests against his chest — you look up at him, a soft smile goes against your lips. “pain in my damn ass.”

“talking about your ass isn’t romantic, ‘kuna.” you raise your brows . . . obviously kidding, but he groans.

with an eye roll, sukuna does the unexpected and pulls you up close towards his face. with a perplexed grin, you watch as he grabs you into a chaste kiss. it takes you by surprise, your hands remain flat and still before you wrap your arms around him. sukuna’s soft with you, you made him soft—and he hated it, but a tiny part of him secretly loved it too.

abruptly, he pulls the kiss away before glaring at you. “i love you.”

“i love you too, kuku.”

“…..call me that again and see what happens.”

[deebris]

The Misteryous Visitor 6

Batfamily x batsis (platonic!)

Synopsis: Being alone with Damian after so many years didn't lead to the ideal conversation you two should have had, but every little word seemed to have helped you two get closer at least a little bit. However, the chaotic turbulence of the night returned when your mother decided to leave.

Warnings: Family discussion; mention of kidnapping; maternal possessiveness;

Word count: 4k

Note: I wanted to post this and part 7 together, because they are the last two, but it didn't turn out as planned. I hope you like it.

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6

Damian walked to the end of the hallway and turned right, heading toward the living room. His only goal at the moment was to find you and try to prepare you for the catastrophic revelation he knew would come at some point. He was already tired of seeing you so unaware of everything; you weren’t an idiot and didn’t deserve to be treated like one.

But it seemed he didn’t have to try too hard because as soon as he turned the corner and walked a few meters, he abruptly stopped upon seeing that you hadn’t disappeared. In fact, you were there, sitting on the floor next to an old portrait of Martha, your grandmother, curled up as if just waiting for someone to come and get you. Someone who wasn’t your brother, apparently.

“There you are.” He took a few steps back and made no effort to crouch to your level; instead, he stood staring at you with a reproachful look that made you pull your legs even tighter to your chest. “Get up, quickly. The floor is for rats.”

He was trying to ignore the tension, but you were giving him the silent treatment, which made him uncomfortable, though he would never admit it to himself. You had done this to him many times before, but it was always over silly reasons, so he never minded.

You also could never hold a grudge for long, and when you were younger, within an hour, you would have forgotten any disagreement between the two of you and would then come to annoy him again. But now you were older, it wasn’t a tantrum anymore, and the reason was much more complex than any other. You weren’t ignoring him because you were simply irritated, and he feared it was different now.

Damian couldn’t ignore the irritation he felt seeing how ashamed of yourself you seemed since he first saw you. He hated that trait of your personality, always very aware of everything and everyone around you, though it was contradictory to your incredible ability to do unthinkable nonsense.

From where you both were, he still had a view of the bedroom door. The boy couldn’t help but glance over there, curious about what kind of discussion your parents were having. At the same time, he was contemplating various ways to say something or maybe try to fix the awkwardness between you two now, but your guilty voice caught him off guard:

“I didn’t mean to cause harm.” You sounded hoarse, and you two stared at each other, and unlike his sharp eyes, yours were wavering. He gave you a hard expression, but not because of the aversion you thought he had for you, but out of confusion.

It was a pity that Damian’s feelings weren’t easy to read, so you thought he was angry because that night you found out Bruce was someone very important to your brother now. “I didn’t mean to hurt Mr. Wayne. I really don’t know what I did to make him like this. I’m sorry.”

So you thought you had done something wrong to make your father that way, Damian concluded. He hadn’t reflected on how you might feel that way, and fighting against his own callous nature, he made an effort to relax his posture and crouched down in front of you. Damian didn’t dare sit the same way you were, balancing on his toes and leaning his torso forward.

“It wasn’t anything you did.” You’re not sure, but you risk saying this was the first time you heard your brother so soft in your entire life. Damian had always been very loud and was almost always yelling or offending someone, but now, combined with the gravity his voice had gained with puberty, it was tender.

He was going to say something else, but suddenly a strange noise sounded. It was muffled, but it seemed like something had fallen, and you both could feel the ground vibrate. It came from the bedroom, which made you become alert. You started to get up, worried, but your brother’s firm hand on your shoulder stopped you.

“It must have been nothing. Don’t worry about them.” The tenderness had been replaced by harshness, but it wasn’t directed at you.

Sliding your back against the wall again, you rested your chin on your knees while admiring your own shoes, and just like always, you couldn’t maintain your silent treatment with Damian for long:

“I think I bothered Mr. Wayne by coming here. Mom will be mad at me for this later, I know she will.” You were obviously nervous, seeking refuge in Damian as you always did when you had to face her. Your mother didn’t have a good relationship with Batman, and now having to deal with you for disturbing his evening would make her furious. The little relief you felt earlier had vanished, suspecting she had only been affectionate before not to show Bruce.

“Mom is mad all the time.” He tried to calm you down. It would be unbelievable for someone who knows Talia only through her assassin image to hear such a thing. She was a cold and calculating woman, but you both knew when she was upset. She didn’t express it in a conventional way, and Damian had already gotten used to it. Your mother’s mood didn’t concern him much, but it was still scary for you.

“You were mad…” Your statement made him sigh because it was true. A few minutes ago, he had reacted that way, but there was context he couldn’t immediately explain to you. “Maybe I can apologize to him? If he forgives me, I promise I won’t do it again, and then mom-”

“Y/n.” Your brother cut off your frantic speech sharply; you were almost hyperventilating. “No one is mad at you.” He said it as a statement, leaving no room for you to contest him.

“He was calm.” you started to ramble, picking at the fabric of your clothes with your nail. “He read something he took out of his pocket and started feeling sick, I was trying to help…”

Damian frowned. He had seen Dick give a small piece of paper to his father downstairs. That idiot wouldn’t have been stupid enough to write on it that you were his daughter, right? What a wonderful way to tell something like that.

“Idiot.” Your brother muttered aloud without meaning to, feeling immense anger at the thought that Dick had done that. And only after he blurted out the word did he realize you were still beside him, listening. “Not you.” He tried to explain hastily, still with a furious expression on his face.

It was strange for him to talk to you that way. He had called you an idiot many times during childhood, and you used to call each other much worse things, as siblings do. But your relationship now was delicate, like a strand of cotton candy, since that intimacy you once had was lost.

“By the way, Bruce is just stressed about Strange.” Damian analyzed your reaction at the mention of the name. To you, Strange was just another enemy of Batman, never suspecting that the man who appeared at your house years ago could somehow be him.

The League of Assassins had many enemies scattered across the globe; at that time, you thought it was just another one of them. You also never asked or wanted to talk about it, which was unusual for how chatty you could be sometimes. For you, Hugo Strange and the person who kidnapped you back then had no connection.

“There must have been something about our investigation there. I’m sure it was Dick who gave him that card. You didn’t do anything.” He said.

Your heart returned to its normal rhythm, but it grew heavy again as you understood the facts. Damian was blaming Dick for that thing Bruce was holding onto, but it was you who had given it to him in the first place. Bruce became distressed when you mentioned the gift and quickly pulled it out of his pocket. That must have been the object Strange gave you.

“Dami.” He heard the nickname leave your lips, and a flicker of hope hit him. There was still a certain closeness between you there. “I was the one who brought the card here; it’s not Dick’s fault. Strange gave it to me to give to Mr. Wayne.”

Damian abruptly stood up, returning to an upright posture. “Strange did what?” Neither Tim, Dick, nor Jason had mentioned this. They said they were telling the whole story, but none of them mentioned any kind of message. Was that why Tim had been acting so strange when he arrived? He remembers seeing him throw a box in the trash and getting all nervous when Damian got irritated and asked what it was. “Was it a small gift box, by any chance?”

“Yes, the same size as the card.” You made a square with your thumbs and index fingers, trying to show the shape of the object. “Just like this. But Mr. Wayne didn’t let me read it; I acted badly by trying to see what was in there too. I shouldn’t have been nosy.”

So Bruce didn’t let you know on purpose? Maybe he just didn’t want you to find out this way. He should have told you. Damian was about to open his lips to take the initiative, but the sound of someone approaching stopped him.

Alfred paused for a moment, finding it odd to see the two of you here. He had returned to make sure you were okay once more and then leave you alone until later in the day. “Master Damian,” He said the boy’s name as a form of acknowledgment, “I thought you were asleep.” The butler added, addressing both of you.

“Alfred!” You got up and walked over to him, who rested a hand on your head expectantly. He saw the way you looked hesitantly at your brother, seeking some kind of approval before returning your attention to him once more. “Something bad happened to Mr. Wayne; he wasn’t well.”

Alfred's eyes widened, looking at Damian for an explanation or just confirmation that it was true. He was obviously tense and speechless for a moment but quickly composed himself.

“What happened, dear?” He asked, and once again you sought your brother’s approval, who took the initiative to explain in your place.

“He…” Damian began, trying to find a way to say it. “Bruce discovered something about Strange.” He said with a suspicious tone and the butler quickly understood the underlying implications.

“Where is he?” Alfred asked, worried.

Damian wasn’t planning to answer, knowing Alfred’s aversion to Talia, but you jumped in: “He and my Mom are talking.”

The butler was obviously displeased and furrowed his brow. He had planned to tell Bruce privately about his supposed daughter, but apparently, things had moved ahead of him. But Alfred knew Bruce well and understood that despite his instability, he would handle things as rationally as possible. Or at least he hoped so.

It was unsettling how a simple night so suddenly turned into yet another Wayne family drama.

“Well,” he sighed, “It seems it’s too early for breakfast, but also too late to go back to sleep.” He gave your hair a gentle tousle with the hand that still rested there, and you appreciated it. Indeed, the sky was already beginning to lighten. “How about some tea to start the day, miss? Or maybe coffee?”

“That’s fine.” You said, accepting that he would guide you through the mansion once more, but stopped when you realized your brother wasn’t making an effort to follow. “Damian, aren’t you coming?”

Your hopeful tone made him huff and approach to follow you. “Let’s go then.” He joined you, heading downstairs.

Damian was deeply irritated by how easily you let your emotions come and go. To him, it was inconceivable that you weren’t resentful, even hating him, as he had presumed you would be just moments ago. The way you let your emotions dissipate so easily bothered him, and he couldn’t understand how you could forgive so simply.

This behavior had always been the target of Damian’s criticism, as he didn’t have the same ease with forgiveness. What ate him up inside, however, was the certainty that even if you found out everything he and Talia had done, you would still be able to forgive them.

Damian suspected that this readiness to forgive came from a lack of options. Throughout your life, you had only him and your mother, and breaking away from either of them would be devastating. Perhaps that was Talia’s greatest fear; even if she tried to convince herself that she kept you hidden for your own good, away from the League and Batman, Damian knew that deep down, she wanted to ensure a safe harbor, someone who would always be emotionally supportive.

Although you might appear to be an very naive girl, your morals were unwavering. And incredibly, Talia managed to keep you loyal to her. Both of them knew that you secretly hated criminals and dreamed of a perfect justice that would never exist, at least not in Gotham City.

Damian knew that his mother’s real fear was that you would find someone else beyond her, people with whom you could connect, not out of obligation or lack of other options, but because you genuinely wanted to. This emotional dependency, nurtured by Talia, made you more spoiled than Damian, who in turn always confronted Talia with stubbornness and resistance.

“Do you like any fruit?” Pennyworth asked you, who were with your arms crossed on the counter, while your brother sat at the end of the table, just keeping watch over your figure.

“All of them.” You replied, and Alfred laughed contentedly. It was nice to hear something like that, especially as he opened the kitchen cupboard and saw the colorful cereals inside, all from Tim’s never-ending stash of treats.

“Master Damian?” The butler asked the boy.

“No, thank you.” He declined with a grimace.

You watched with curiosity as Alfred grabbed a bunch of colorful fruits and began cutting them. There was some kind of dough resting in a container nearby, which you noticed when he moved a cloth to check, and it smelled so good. It was comforting to see him there in the kitchen, even doing something as simple as cutting fruits.

Talia was a very busy woman, and cooking definitely didn’t suit her elegant demeanor. Housework was not part of her routine, so you often ended up eating at expensive restaurants. That’s why every move Alfred made captured your attention, and he noticed.

“Do you want to help me, miss?” He asked, intrigued.

“Can I?” You asked back, already moving to stand next to him with excitement. The butler nodded and instructed you to wash your hands in the sink on the other side of the kitchen.

You were distractedly scrubbing soap on your hands and far enough not to hear Damian whisper: “Bruce isn’t going to let Mom take her home.”

Alfred looked up, not at all surprised by the news. “Does your sister know, Master Damian?” He kept his voice at the same low tone as the boy’s.

“No, Pennyworth. That’s why I’m telling you.” Damian checked to see if you were still far, seeing you drying your hands and hurrying: “When they both come out of that room and Mom leaves, she’s going to make a fuss.”

“What should I do?” You came back, interrupting their conversation and asking for instructions.

Alfred set you the task of removing the stems from the strawberries until a noise from upstairs alerted all three of you. It sounded like glass, and it didn’t take long to hear Talia’s voice calling for the butler, who moved to go to her.

“I’m leaving,” Talia said with a firmness that disguised well the inner turmoil she was facing behind her attitude.

You were stunned, and a rising panic took hold of you. Alfred hadn’t noticed you had followed him until you heard: “I’m going to get my shoes and coat.” You declared. Your mind was spinning with the idea that your mother was angry with you, seeing how she was acting.

Talia turned slightly to you, but the look she gave was impassive. “You’re not coming,” she said. The coldness in her voice wasn’t unfamiliar but struck deep in your chest. “You’re going to stay here with your brother.”

“But…” You tried to process what was happening, needing to look at Damian next to you for a moment until reality hit you back. “Why?” You asked with a trembling breath, already approaching her and grabbing your mother’s hand in desperation.

“For heaven’s sake, Y/n. Isn’t this what you wanted?” She rolled her eyes and looked at you with impatience. “You and Damian will get to spend time together again.”

“But what about you, Mom? Why can’t we all be together?” You clung to her hand even tighter, trying to keep her there forever, but all you received in return was the look she gave when you upset her.

“I’ll send your things with someone. Be obedient.” She said, but her real desire was for you to be rebellious, especially towards Bruce. Your mother crouched to your height and pinched your cheeks with her hands while whispering so the other two wouldn’t hear: “But remember, you’re mine daughter, understand? Your mother will always be here for you. I’ll get in touch.” She gave you a strong kiss, leaving a perfect lipstick mark, and grabbed the coat that was already in Alfred’s hands with haste.

“I want to go with you!” Talia felt your arms around her waist and sighed.

“You're old enough to be acting like this, Y/n. Let go.” She tried to wriggle free on her own, but your grip was so strong that her fingers barely moved. “Y/n, enough!” She shouted genuinely furious, and you jumped back in fear. The sight made her wilt, but she still suppressed it and opened the door.

You were in shock, never imagining that your actions could have led to this. It was as if she hated you for it, and you felt a pressure on your forehead, unsure if it was from the anger you felt at how your mother treated you or from the desperation.

“Don’t go after her,” Damian ordered, knowing you would do it anyway, which is why he held you in place.

You couldn’t accept it. The idea of being left behind, the feeling of being rejected by the only family you knew, was overwhelming. “Mom!” You shouted, struggling to free yourself from Damian’s grip in fury, the sadness totaly replaced by a burning rage. “Don’t leave! I’m sorry for disobeying! I didn’t mean to do anything wrong!” you screamed. “Why are you like this with me?!” You shouted louder, not caring about making a scene.

Talia’s feet were already buried in the snow, trying to hide the pain she felt, but your muffled voice didn’t help. The sound of the door closing was like a final blow, and her heart sank even further. She didn’t care whether Bruce was right or not; she hated him like hell now.

You were sobbing and gasping, the pain of rejection still present in your chest. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to disobey. I didn’t want you to leave…” You murmured lower, feeling your throat ache.

As she took more steps towards her own car, her thoughts raced. She knew that sooner or later you would need to know the truth, and deep down, she wished the news had come from her.

She tried to keep her mind clear during the brief walk to the car, passing by a snow-covered tree where ravens had gathered to rest. She was so distracted for a few seconds that when she felt an arm pull her back, she instinctively threw the stranger away, who hit the trunk and caused the birds to start flying erratically while cawing discordantly.

“What the hell is this!” She shouted furiously, shocking the boy who immediately began to apologize while getting up, feeling pain.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Scare me?!” She was outraged by his assumption. As if she would be scared by a kid like him. “And which of Bruce’s little pests are you?”

“My name is Tim.” The boy assumed a serious tone now, abandoning the polite courtesy he had before.

“And are you going to stand there like an idiot, or are you going to tell me what you want?”

Despite her hurry, Tim stared at her and looked back, checking if there was anyone outside the mansion and taking a few seconds to do so. Talia’s arrogant look didn’t intimidate him, and he spoke firmly:

“A few years ago, in that alley…” The phrase made her eyes widen, but she still took a deep breath to compose herself. “It was you.”

Talia never thought she would have the opportunity to face that boy again after that day. When Strange fled, she followed him and caught up with him. She remembers how she grabbed the man by the collar when she didn’t see you there. After wringing the truth out of that pathetic man, Talia had to let him go as she rushed desperately to where you were, but not before leaving a beaten face as a gift. But that night, that boy... Tim, had heard your call for help.

“So, you were the Robin.” She let out a curious laugh, looking Tim up and down. “And so what if it was me?”

“You tricked me. Pretended to be a helpless person.” He frowned while narrowing his eyes at her. “I remember the little girl I saved; it was her.” Tim turned his face towards the mansion again, as if to point at you.

“You just had the luck of arriving before me. And what did you expect me to do? Tell you who I was?” She took her gloves out of her pocket and began putting them on. “Do you think you could have caught me, kid?” She laughed sarcastically this time, belittling him.

“You could have told me the truth. You had the opportunity to tell Bruce about Hugo Strange all this time. We could have protected her.” Tim’s eyes moved around, trying to process. “After I left there, Bruce and I continued on patrol and found him passed out. If we had known who he really was, he might be in jail now.”

“Spare me your laments, kid. She’s going to stay here, isn’t she? So what else do you want?” Talia said, and Tim wasn’t surprised by the information. He had already assessed the scene while waiting to approach her outside. He had jumped through the bedroom window, having not been able to sleep after recognizing your face.

Tim remained silent. It seemed that Talia had a very concrete idea about everything, and it made no sense to try to circle her with assumptions about how things could have been. He couldn’t help but feel foolish, realizing that you had been so close to him at some point, and he couldn’t do anything for Bruce since he didn’t know.

“Listen.” Talia’s surprisingly soft voice caught him off guard. “Thank you for helping, even though I didn’t exactly need it.” Despite trying to be understanding, she couldn’t help but emphasize. “She means everything to me, you understand? Put some sense into your father, or I’ll find a way to take her back, and I promise you’ll never see her again.”

Tim swallowed hard at the mention of Bruce but snorted indifferently soon after. “He’s not as bad as he seems.”

“I noticed.” She murmured with irony and turned to walk away, with Tim not interrupting her this time. The boy watched her go to the car, but suddenly she stopped at the gate. She ran her fingers over the electronic lock, and suddenly some loose wires became visible. Tim found it strange, and Talia looked at him with a smile, which even from a distance, he could see.

“I think you’re going to need someone to fix this.” She shouted for him to hear, and for a moment, Tim thought if she had done it, but only now did he wonder how you had gotten past the front gate. It seems that your innocent face hid some skills. “Don’t pamper her, and tell your father and Pennyworth not to let her eat too much sugar.” She let the wires go while grumbling, slamming the car door, and driving away.

Tag list:

@lafrone @sylum @mileskisser @belowbreadcrumbs @riddle-me-im-sirius @rafa-the-beautiful @shehrazadekey @fairuzwhat @bedeater @arianapjs @idonthaveanameforthisacc @azulawayne @nciolisa @lovelywritersgarden @spideybv28 @faimmm @cherry-peach-flavored @godknows-shetried @randomrosie01 @whatsupstark @paastaboi @m3ntally-unstable @masterradd-28 @justanormalpersin @6000-fandoms @fennecspage @homan-oid @fluffy-strawberries @animegirlfromvietnam @tamsyien @ari-sama21 @kataraluvr @boatempollstriper @lokisgoodboy @enjisthings @thereeallink @lumalesa-kadichizho @fyodorssimp1 @shintax-error @lara20aral @sulatsadark @notahappystan @nebuluma @thetiredtoad0-0 @tmt-alexis @anuttellaa @strawberrymangoes @lorastone-000 @starryhiraeth @worldussysblog @urminebutidontwantyou @herondale-lightworm @nyra-42 @ohnoivefallen @an-introverted-nishinoyasimp @ellie-x0xo @blkmystery @formula-space @sparks0918 @cosmicqueenieb @rukia-uchiha-98 @leeleecats @camilo-uwu @phoenixgurl030 @rosegardenpatsu @nickey-diano @wpdarlingpan @xxrougefangxx

@m4chine-girl @kellyyn02 @urminebutidontwantyou

[pucksandpower]

I’m Gonna Wife You Up

Max Verstappen x best friend!Reader

Summary: in which your best friend wins his first World Drivers’ Championship, proposes through text, and confesses his feelings for you … in that order

It’s just after 2 am when your phone buzzes on the nightstand. You groan and roll over, squinting at the bright screen. A new text from Max. You can’t help but smile as you open it.

Ik im drunk but listen

Im gonna wife you up one day

Thats all

Good night

You laugh out loud at the drunken confession, shaking your head fondly. Leave it to Max to make even his most romantic statements sound completely ridiculous.

The two of you have been inseparable since you were kids racing in karts together. As his career skyrocketed into Formula 1 and global fame, you were always there by his side as his best friend and perpetual voice of reason.

Well, most of the time anyway.

As you type out a teasing response, another text comes through.

Wait no

Im coming over

You barely have time to process it before your phone starts ringing, Max’s goofy grinning face flashing on the screen. You accept the FaceTime call and he immediately starts rambling.

“Y/N! Y/N listen. I just won the fucking World Championship! Can you believe it?”

“Yes, I can actually,” you chuckle. “I was there, remember? Sitting right in the garage.”

“Of course you were! You’re always there,” he slurs, words running together. “My biggest supporter. My good luck charm.”

“I think you might be overestimating my involvement a tad there, buddy.”

He shakes his head adamantly. “No way. I couldn’t do any of this without you, y’know? All those years of you kicking my ass in the karts, pushing me to be better ...”

You scoff. “Oh please, you were always the better driver. I just got a head start.”

“That has nothing to do with it! You’re just crazy talented. Why d’you think I’ve kept you around all these years?”

“Gee, thanks.” You roll your eyes, but you’re smiling. Drunken banter with Max is one of your favorite pastimes.

Suddenly, there’s a loud banging on your door. You jump, staring at it in confusion.

“Y/N? Y/N you home?” Max’s muffled voice calls from the other side.

You glance back at your phone to see he’s now wandering down the hallway, FaceTiming you from outside your hotel room. Of course the idiot wouldn’t think to simply text you a heads up.

“Max! I’ll be right there, just stay put for once in your life.”

You hurry to the door and swing it open. There he is, leaning against the wall in a rumpled dress shirt and loosened tie, phone raised as he grins at you proudly. You can’t stop the grin that spreads across your own face at the sight of your best friend, for once totally carefree after years of endless pressure and scrutiny.

“Hey champ,” you tease, stepping aside so he can stumble into your living room. “Need me to give you a hand there?”

“I’m good, I’m good.” He waves you off, somehow managing to trip over his own feet and crash onto your couch. You wince as he lets out a groan.

“Yeah, you seem totally fine.”

“Shut up,” he mumbles petulantly, making you laugh.

You move to stand over him, arms crossed as you drink in the sight. His dress shirt is untucked and half unbuttoned, tie completely askew. His carefully styled hair is now a tousled mess, a few stray strands falling over his bright eyes. Despite his drunken state, an almost giddy smile plays at his lips.

“What?” He asks, catching your fond gaze.

You shake your head. “Nothing, I’m just … I’m really proud of you, Max.”

His grin widens and he grabs your hand, tugging you down to sit beside him on the couch. “I did it, didn’t I? I actually fucking did it!”

“You did.” You squeeze his hand, hardly believing it yourself. “World Champion at just 24 years old. You deserve this so much.”

He sobers a bit, blue eyes shining intensely as he holds your gaze. “I couldn’t have done it without you though. You’ve been there every step of the way. Through all the good times and the bad ...”

You open your mouth to protest, but he cuts you off.

“No, shhh. Let me say this.” He takes a deep breath, seeming to struggle to find the right words. “You … you always believed in me. No matter what. Even when I didn’t believe in myself, even when everyone was writing me off and calling me arrogant or reckless … you were always there to pick me up and set me straight.”

His gaze drops briefly before locking with yours again. “You don’t know what that means to me, Y/N. To have someone like that, someone who’s always got your back no matter what. Who calls you on your bullshit but also hypes you up more than anyone. I honestly don’t know if I’d be here without you.”

Your throat feels tight as you blink back unexpected tears. You’ve never seen Max be this open and vulnerable before. You reach up impulsively to brush that stray lock of hair from his forehead, making him catch his breath.

In a burst of uncharacteristic boldness, you decide to be just as honest with him. “Max … you have to know how I feel about you after all these years. How much you mean to me.”

He swallows hard, eyes flickering down to your lips for a moment. “Then show me.”

You search his gaze, trying to gauge if this is really what he wants, if he’ll regret this in the morning when he’s sober. But beneath the alcohol-induced haze, you see only sincerity and a longing you’ve secretly shared for so long.

So you lean in slowly, cupping his stubbly jaw in your palm as your lips finally meet his in a kiss you’ve dreamed about for years. It starts soft and tentative, exploring each other in this new territory. But it doesn’t take long for the heat to rise between you, years of built up tension boiling over.

His hands come up to tangle in your hair, pulling you closer as he angles his head for deeper access. You let out a soft whimper against his lips, reveling in the feeling of finally having Max like this, all yours. He inhales sharply at the sound, like he can’t quite believe this is real either.

You pour everything into that kiss — your friendship, your inside jokes, and countless shared memories. All the pride and protectiveness, the unspoken words you’ve held back for so long.

And Max gives it all right back to you tenfold, kissing you with an undeniable hunger and passion reflective of the fierce determination that’s shaped him into a World Champion.

When you finally have to break apart for air, you’re both panting softly, chests heaving. Max rests his forehead against yours, eyes shining with an unmistakable tenderness.

“I meant what I said, y’know?” His voice is low and gravelly. “I really am gonna wife you up one day.”

You let out a watery chuckle, feeling deliriously happy and overwhelmed all at once. Only Max could make a drunken proclamation like that somehow sound so sweet and natural.

“Is that a promise?” You murmur against his lips.

He captures them in another searing kiss, sending tingles down your spine.

“It’s a goddamn certainty, schatje.”

Max wastes no time in deepening the kiss, his tongue slipping past your parted lips to explore your mouth hungrily. A low groan rumbles in his chest as your fingers tangle in the short hairs at the nape of his neck, pulling him even closer.

“Max ...” you breathe out between heated kisses. “We should … move this … to the bedroom.”

He answers by nipping at your bottom lip teasingly before trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses along your jawline.

“Bed … good idea ...” he mumbles against the sensitive skin just below your ear, making you shiver.

Before you can protest further, Max is clumsily maneuvering to straddle your lap on the couch, never breaking the fevered kiss. You can’t help but giggle at his drunken lack of coordination as he nearly topples the both of you to the floor.

“Smooth moves there, champ,” you quip breathlessly.

He leans back with a devilish smirk, blue eyes sparkling mischievously. “You know me, schatje. I’m a regular Casanova.”

You snort at that. “Is that what they’re calling it these days?”

His grin widening, Max suddenly lurches forward to blow a raspberry right on your neck, making you squeal with laughter.

“Max! You’re too drunk for this, you idiot.”

“Never too drunk for you,” he husks in that low, rumbly tone that sends tingles down your spine.

Before you can formulate a response, his nimble fingers are stumbling through undoing the buttons of his shirt, pushing the fabric aside to bare his toned chest to your roaming gaze. You can’t resist reaching out to run your palms over the skin, relishing in the firm muscle and light sprinkling of hair.

Max’s eyes slip closed, head falling back slightly as he savors your touch. “That’s it … been waiting for your hands on me for years.”

You swallow hard, suddenly very aware of how real this is, how you’re both finally crossing that line after harboring secret feelings for one another for so long. Before you can overthink it, Max is tugging insistently at the hem of your t-shirt.

Meeting his heated gaze, you raise your arms obediently to allow him to undress you. His hooded eyes darken further as more of your skin is slowly revealed to him, lingering reverently on your body in a way that makes your cheeks flush. You’ve never felt so wanted, so desired.

Once your shirt is tossed carelessly aside, Max leans in to capture your lips in another smoldering kiss, hands roaming across the newly exposed skin of your lower back and sides. You sigh into his mouth, arching shamelessly into his touch like you’ve been craving for ages.

In one fluid motion, Max hooks his arms beneath your thighs and stands from the couch, your legs instinctively winding around his waist as he hauls you up against his chest. You can’t help the startled laugh that escapes you, breaking the kiss.

“Max! What are you doing?”

“Taking you to bed, of course,” he rumbles, already stumbling in the direction of your bedroom. “Can’t very well have my way with you on that tiny couch, can I?”

You shake your head at his forwardness, kissing along the sharp line of his jaw. “Is that so? And just what did you have in mind for this bed of mine, Mr. Verstappen?”

He shivers at your teasing tone, finally reaching the edge of your mattress and unceremoniously tumbling you both down onto the plush comforter. You let out a rather undignified squeak as Max lands half on top of you, quickly rolling to pin you beneath him.

Any snarky remarks you may have prepared immediately die on your lips when you take in his appearance — shirtless and slightly disheveled, those incredible eyes dark with undisguised want, pink lips parted enticingly. He’s never looked more gorgeous.

“You really wanna know what I have in mind?” Max’s voice is low and husky, making something deep within you tighten with anticipation. He leans down to trail scorching kisses along the sensitive column of your throat. “I’m gonna take my time exploring every single inch of you, liefje. Mapping out all those gorgeous curves of yours ...”

He punctuates the words by rolling his hips firmly against yours, allowing you to feel the unmistakable evidence of his arousal pressing insistently against your core. You can’t stop the whimpery moan that falls from your lips at the delicious friction.

Max grins wickedly against your neck. “That’s it, make more of those pretty sounds for me ...”

You tangle your fingers in his tousled hair to tug his mouth back to yours, unable to resist tasting him again. The kiss quickly turns heated and desperate, all tongue and teeth, both of you pouring out years of built up longing. Your hands roam feverishly across the broad expanse of Max’s back, committing every ridge and plane of muscle to memory.

Growing impatient, you begin tugging impatiently at Max’s belt buckle and zipper, making him break away with a breathy chuckle.

“Fuck, you’re eager tonight, aren’t you?”

“You’re one to talk,” you shoot back cheekily, finally popping open the button and shoving his jeans down over his narrow hips. “Pretty sure you proposed to me, like, thirty seconds after our first kiss.”

He sobers somewhat at that, eyes shining with sincerity as he holds your gaze. “I meant that. I really do want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

Your heart flutters wildly in your chest at his words, suddenly finding it difficult to breathe. “Max ...”

He cuts you off by capturing your lips in another bruising kiss, effectively robbing you of coherent thought. When he rocks his hips again, you realize with a start that the last shred of his clothing has disappeared at some point during your heated exchange.

You break away with a shaky gasp, drinking in the sight of his fully naked form above you. Despite having seen him undressed countless times in a purely platonic context — in his driver’s rooms before races, passing showers when staying over at his apartment, that one incredibly awkward encounter in the Red Bull cold tub after the Singapore Grand Prix earlier this year — you’ve never truly taken the time to appreciate Max like this, to openly admire his body and all its lean lines and toned muscle definition.

“See something you like?” His teasing lilt snaps you out of your dazed reverie.

Cheeks flushing hotly, you lick your lips unconsciously before nodding slowly. “Very much so.”

His gravelly chuckle makes something low in your belly stir. “Then let’s get you out of these.”

Max tugs at the waistband of your leggings, helping to shimmy them down your legs and tossing them carelessly aside. You instinctively move to cover yourself with your arms, suddenly feeling very exposed. But Max just shakes his head slowly, emerald eyes raking over your body with naked reverence.

“Don’t,” he murmurs huskily, gently pulling your arms away. “You’re fucking stunning, every last inch of you.”

His worshipful tone makes you feel beautiful and powerful in a way you never have before. You keep your eyes locked on his, feeling utterly weightless as Max leans down to trail hot, open mouthed kisses along your collarbone and down the valley between your breasts. He takes his time exploring and tasting every inch of newly uncovered skin, relishing in the breathy whimpers and moans he draws from you freely.

But as his mouth moves lower, lavishing attention on the soft curves of your belly and hips, you begin to notice a subtle change. His movements are growing slower, more sluggish, those previously sharp nips and licks turning sloppier.

And when you tangle your fingers in his tousled hair to provide some gentle guidance, Max lets out a long, low grumble of contentment … followed swiftly by a rumbling snore.

You blink down at him in surprise, hardly able to believe it. This absolute idiot, this drunken oaf of a World Champion … has fallen straight to sleep on top of you, fully nude and still nestled between your parted thighs.

A burst of laughter bubbles up from your chest, loud and borderline hysterical. You shake your head slowly at the ridiculousness of it all, hardly caring that the moment has been completely ruined.

Because somehow, of course this would happen to you. Only Max could seduce you to within an inch of your life before passing out entirely mid-foreplay.

Typical.

Still, you can’t quite smother your fond smile as you gaze down at his slack, boyishly handsome features, completely relaxed in peaceful slumber. Even sloshed and wasted, he looks almost unbearably sweet like this — finally free of the perpetual weight of stress and pressure he usually carries on those strong shoulders.

“Oh Max ...” you murmur affectionately, smoothing back the tousled chestnut strands from his forehead. “Only you could make me go this disgustingly gooey, even when you’re being a drunken mess.”

With a rueful shake of your head, you began the arduous task of gently maneuvering Max to roll off of you and onto his back beside you on the bed. He lets out a disgruntled grumble at the movement, snuffling adorably into the pillows as you tug the comforter up over his naked form.

Once he seems as settled and comfortable as he’s likely to get, you study his slumbering features for another lingering moment. God, he really is beautiful, inside and out. And he’s all yours now, in a way you’ve only dreamed of for years.

Smiling to yourself, you scoot closer until you’re nestled against his side, head pillowed on his muscular chest. You revel in the feeling of Max’s strong arms instinctively wrapping around you, holding you close even in sleep.

With a contented sigh, you let your eyes drift closed, safe in the knowledge that you’ll be able to wake up like this tomorrow — and hopefully every day after that for the rest of your lives.

Just before slipping into peaceful dreams yourself, you can’t resist pressing one last featherlight kiss to the hollow of Max’s throat.

“I love you, my World Champion,” you whisper against his skin.

Max just smiles that brilliant sunny grin in his sleep, pulling you tighter against him. And really, that’s all the answer you’ll ever need.

[space-invading-pigeon]

Hellfire Adopts Steve Pt. 2

Pt 1

Eddie may be repeating his senior year, but he's no idiot. He's intuitive, a quick thinker, and generally, he's an excellent judge of character. Which is exactly why he protested Gareth's decision to drag Steve Harrington, the former King of Hawkins High and current King of Don't Fuck With Me, to lunch with Hellfire.

Jeff and Freak are both genuinely terrified to have His Royal Highness picking at subpar mashed potatoes in the uncomfortable plastic chair across from them; to his credit, Steve Harrington seemed unbothered by the situation, even as Princess Nancy Wheeler and her own little pet outcast Jonathan pass him on the way to their own table. Eddie watches with growing interest as Steve boredly ignores Nancy's attempt to catch his eye (it's almost hilarious- he'd been at the Halloween party last month where Nancy got absolutely shitfaced and then screamed at Steve in front of the entire student body, and yet here they are, Nancy trying awkwardly to speak to Steve and Steve resolutely going about his business).

Gareth stammers through a story about their latest DnD campaign, his round face practically glowing with excitement as he uses the peas on his tray to illustrate what their party had been up against. Eddie fully expects Steve to say something rude, dousing Gareth's smile and deserving every bit of ire Eddie can muster, but Steve just smiles at Gareth and ruffles his hand through the unkempt curls Eddie's been trying to get Gareth to take care of.

From there it only gets weirder. Steve seems to have taken a real shine to Gareth and is nothing short of a perfect gentleman to Jeff and Freak, but he loves to bicker with Eddie. Honestly, Eddie's impressed at just how much Steve seems to like bitching at people.

Steve is also surprisingly responsible? After that first lunch, Steve is around all the time; he shows up to Hellfire meetings with his backpack full of homework and a Tupperware full of something delicious (Eddie had nearly cried the first time he took a bite of Steve's macaroni), only to completely ignore their entire session to study. Occasionally, the walkie Steve carries with him whenever they aren't in school will crackle to life, and Steve will make himself scarce pretty quickly.

Overall, Steve is awesome. Eddie hates to admit it, but watching such a prim and proper guy emotionally destroy someone for commenting on Freak's size, and Eddie just knows that the damage done to Tommy Hagan's car after Gareth showed up to Hellfire with a busted lip and glassy eyes was Steve's fault.

========

Steve is actually really enjoying his time in Hellfire. He doesn't really mention it to the kids, and both Nancy and Jonathan are still avoiding him, so Steve sees it as a win: he gets to make friends who haven't seen him get his ass beat by interdimensional horrorterrors that have ruined dogs and flowers for him forever, he gets to learn more about the game his new little brother is obsessed with, and innocent kids don't have to bear the brunt of King Billy's reign of terror.

Gareth decides almost instantly that he likes Steve; not only because he saved Gareth from bullies or brings them food better even than Wayne Munson's, but because Steve always listens to his DnD stories. Jeff and Freak (who Steve will only refer to by his Government Name, Melvin) grow to like him as well, not at all encouraged by the food Steve brings or (on one memorable occasion) the incredibly realistic melee weapon, straight out of a flick like Red Dawn, that they found under his seat one day.

[daenysx]

tangerine x fem!reader, fluff/comfort ♡

-tangerine has this habit of crawling back to you.

cw; soft!tangerine, this man yearns and he's not ashamed of that, tangerine being a bit dramatic, exes to lovers (?), title is from do i wanna know by arctic monkeys, kissing many many times, my first time writing for him- please let me know what you think

wc; 1.5k

CRAWLIN' BACK TO YOU

It's not healthy to do this every night, is it?

No, because Tangerine doesn't know how to stop and it bothers him. It bothers him more than Lemon's insistent talks about Thomas the Tank Engine, so this is serious. He's a strong man, but- you sigh in content and he's glad to be witnessing this.

He really should stop watching you sleep.

You look peaceful like this. Happy, blissfully unconscious. Your pretty lips let out tiny breaths and he swears he will collapse. Something squeezes his poor heart. He wants to be closer, you look warm but are you really warm? He wants to drag his fingers on your skin, to touch you like he used to. Stained fingers, red with blood. He washed them before coming here, but it doesn't matter. He'll never be pure enough to touch you.

"Pretty girl," he whispers in the dark. You don't hear him. He gets encouraged by that.

He takes a hesitant step towards your bed.

"Look at you, sleeping so deep," Tangerine whispers again. "Always in peace when I'm not here, aren't you?"

Technically he is here, but you don't know that, and that's all he cares. He doesn't try to be a creep, he's just in love. He swears this is the only reason why he keeps coming back to his ex's apartment. He promises this is the only reason why he lies to his brother as he crawls back to you.

His fingers ache to reach out and touch you.

If he could be a better man, he'd be in your arms right now. He'd be kissing your collarbones and his rings would collide nicely with the soft fabric of your tank top. He's a coward, really. He's glad you're the only one who knows this side of him. It would be terrible for his job options otherwise.

You take another breath. Tangerine watches the softness of your cheeks move when you curl your lips in your sleep. You must be dreaming. He hopes you see him being good for you in your dream. Being the man he never could be in reality.

He really should stop using the keys you gave him months ago.

"I wish I could be-" he starts saying some stupid shit again. Oh, come on. He rolls his eyes at himself. "Pathetic. I'm being pathetic."

"You really are," you turn to your side. Fuck. Tangerine flinches.

"Wha- Fuck me-" he takes a step back. You were sleeping two seconds ago. He's shy all of a sudden as if he's not the man who keeps coming back to his ex after breaking up with her by saying 'you deserve better, love'.

You blink, looking so exhausted as you do that. Leaning on your elbows, you look up to him. His hair is messed up, his blue eyes are wide open. It's a good look on him. Objectively.

"You really did think I wasn't aware of you coming back here every night, didn't you?"

"Um- then why did you-"

"You really are being pathetic, Tangerine," you say. "Do you think I'm an idiot?"

"No, of course not-"

"I know you still have the keys," you say. "I knew you'd use them at some point, you never offered to give them back."

Tangerine finally manages to close his mouth. Clever girl, aren't you? He feels poorly, now that he can't call you his.

"Why didn't you say anything?" he asks.

You blink a few times. "I waited for you to say something first."

"Sorry to disappoint, love," he says, genuine this time. "I've been acting too cowardly around you."

You sigh, you really want to sleep. You wish he could just stop with this pity party and come to bed. Silent promises ring in your head, you want him back. He kept saying he's doing it for you, breaking up because he doesn't want you to get hurt. He swears even telling you what he does for living was the toughest shit he'd ever gone through. Who wants a guy like him anyway?

"Will you please- come here? Let's just talk about this in the morning, I'm so tired."

He blinks a few times. You have a death wish, don't you? Why the hell would you want him to get close if you don't?

"It's 'cause I know you still love me," you answer. Shit, he asked it out loud. "I know you're trying to make a stupid decision for both of us, still, but tonight I want none of that. Come here."

You pat the empty spot next to you and Tangerine obeys. He has no choice, his entire body feels like it's on fire with the distance between you. He takes off his suit jacket, lets himself be bare in front of you just like how you always want him. No unnecessary clothes in bed, you once said. I want to know you're here.

He lies next to you hesitantly. For a brave man, he's acting pretty fearful tonight. You wrap your arm around his chest, your fingers touch his skin as you draw a small circle right there.

Tangerine takes a breath. It's good, being here. He finally feels like he's where he belongs. You snuggle closer to him, always the bold one in the relationship. Many would expect it to be different, he knows, but he feels entirely yours and this is something he can't explain. He'd let you do anything you want, if you want to cuddle him, kiss him in public, or snuggle to his chest like a cat, so be it. He wraps an arm around you.

"Oh," he breathes. You smell wonderful. "My girl."

Fuck, he missed this. He melts right there, how can he be stupid enough to let you go? He turns to his side to hold you better, you put your head to the curve of his neck. His cologne hits you like an old memory, but that's nonsense. You never let him go.

"Missed this," he says. "Missed you."

"You're an idiot."

"That's what I am."

You tangle your legs with his, he kisses his way on your neck all the way to your shoulder. You close your eyes, let yourself be okay now that he's here. He can finally admit that he never left, he couldn't do that if he tried. He yearns for this, for every bit of affection he can have.

"I'm sorry," he whispers. He doesn't think he can wait until the morning to tell you this. You must know how sorry he is for even trying to go out of your life, how desperate he's been since the day he told you he wants to break up. How angry he made Lemon (even Lemon) because he's been a restless bastard and he doesn't even know what he's doing. "I'm so sorry."

You lift your head to see his eyes. Under the soft moonlight in your room, they sparkle. Just a deep blue, you've always loved his eyes. He's genuine and he's only a man. He looks like he can beg for forgiveness on his knees.

"It's okay," you say gently. No need for arguments, the bed is warm and he's here. You'll find the right time to talk about this. For now, though, you choose to put your head on his chest and listen to his heartbeat.

Tangerine kisses your head. You like having shower before bed and he can smell your shampoo. He holds your hand under the covers and slides his hips to get closer to you. The pillows are soft and inviting beneath his head, he closes his eyes.

"Will you stay for breakfast?" you ask. He can stay forever if you want. Fuck, yearning turned him into a fucking romantic.

"Do you want me to stay?" he asks instead.

"Yes," you reply, getting closer to his pulse point. You put a small kiss on the tiny spot under his ear. He lets out a quiet hiss when you bite there playfully.

"Or maybe I should crawl back here with flowers in my hand," he says, adjusting his neck to give you more space to kiss. He can feel you smile against him.

"You really should," you tell him. "Later. Not tomorrow."

Your sound unsure. Hesitant with your loving as if he scared you. He did, though, didn't he? Tangerine is a man of sin and he really needs to atone for some of them.

"I'm not gonna leave," he promises. "Not again."

You nod, his loving girl. You could give him hell, but you're exhausted. He tightens his arm around you and lets you settle down on him.

Your breath is nice to feel against his neck. Tangerine relaxes. You fall asleep in the next minute or so, he isn't sure when. He just knows that this feels like home, and he'd been the biggest fool in the history for trying to leave it as if he actually could. He has to get you those flowers just as soon as he can.

[monstersholygrail]

Do Hybrid!Readers count?

I’m thinking of a monster Reader being kept for research purposes and catching the attention of the newest hire. Cheeky, beastly Reader with an awkward, nerdy scientist who unsuccessfully tries to hide his infatuation. He stares for too long, finds pathetic excuses to work overtime, and pretends to be deeply interested in whatever topic involves Reader. Lately, he’s been spotted reading a book about Reader’s kind, particularly mating habits. For, uh, science, mind you.

Alternatively, it can be a human Reader in a monster lab. I just found the dynamic funny. :)

Aaaah, yes yes! It definitely counts, I love this sorta dynamic. It can be really hilarious and a ton of fun ^_^

None of the Scientists in the lab could really figure you out. You were a giant beast who appeared naturally incredibly threatening. So all the scientists had been a bit hesitant to get in close and really figure out what kind of Hybrid you were exactly.

But they just had to. Because for some reason, some idiot had accidently leaked to the press that they had you in custody. Before they knew it there were countless pictures and articles plastered all over the internet about you. People wanted answers and they sadly had to be the ones to get them. So they brought in a specialist.

The young Scientist stared up at you in awe the first time he met you. He couldn’t actually believe he was meeting you up close. He didn’t know how to react. In fact, he didn’t know anything at all when it came to you. You see, he wasn’t actually a hybrid specialist. He was a scientist, that part was true! Everything else may have been a slight exaggeration on his application.

He just wanted to see you so so bad. He had to. The moment he saw those pictures of you he knew the two of you were meant to be. You were the reason he had never totally clicked with humans, couldn’t keep a partner, and had never fallen in love. His heart was waiting for you.

And now that he was with you, he needed to know everything about you. Not only to sate his own desire but also, ya know, to keep his job. Or else some foolish human might try and separate him from you again. It left him fawning over you constantly, watching you all day everyday, always staying late just so he could be alone with you for a couple hours, and butting in whenever someone tried to talk about you. Because of course he knew you best.

His growing knowledge of you left him convinced you were nearing your heat. Your restless behavior. The way you kept banging against the glass trying to get to him. Over the weeks you had noticed his interest and his care and yours had grown just as much. You had chosen him as your mate and he wanted to be there for you.

The only thing he could think to do was read books on mating behaviors. Of just about every single Hybrid species you could possible be.

Stacks of books surround him in the lab. His interest of you hadn’t gone unnoticed by the others. Not by a long shot. But they brushed off his strange behavior if jt kept him closer to you and them farther away. They avoid him now too, looking at him like the absolute freak he is as they realize what he’s reading.

Their worry doesn’t decrease when he later explains how you need to mate soon in order to keep you in check. They look at him like he’s truly gone insane and maybe he has. The wild look in his eye has only grown more intense the more he’s been around you without truly being with you.

He convinces them with the idea that you’ll be better after you’ve mated. Easier to handle. More open to having experiments done on you while your body is sated and exhausted after being fucked for hours on end. While in reality, from what he’s studied, the opposite is true.

He doesn’t plan on letting them go anywhere within a mile of you. Not with injections, chemicals, and especially not with their grubby little hands. No, only he can touch you. Only he deserves to be near your beauty and grace.

After you mate with him you’re going to be even more wild and destructive, your instincts inflamed and ready to fight. He’s gonna use that to get you two out of that lab if it’s the last thing he does.

Meanwhile the other scientists don’t suspect a thing as they stand a safe distance away from the cage as it opens to let the young scientist inside. The metal door snaps shut once he’s inside and he feels like he can finally breathe now that there’s nothing keeping you two a part.

Mirroring smirks grow on your faces, your expressions speaking of a secret just between the two of you. And as you both finally meet each other in a passionate embrace, you know this will be a wild night that will end with your freedom and a mate by your side.

[the-acid-pear]

okay speaking of dikx, some fun facts: well its more like, trivia and future plans, but i want to make two characters that hang around him: a scientist that gets full funding for him to fuck around because dikx loves seeing the fucked up shit he makes, although they have a bit of a love hate relationship; and dikx right hand arm man, his everything, his confidant, his silly rabbit (''is that what he calls you?'' ''no ♥''), this big guy who is blindly devoted to Dikx and honestly does most of the leg work and actual politics and shit.

The reason why neither has a design is because for the life of mine i cannot think of how they would look OT2

[yueebby]

all mine — gojo satoru

synopsis. It’s the exchange event and gojo doesn’t like how that kyoto boy is looking at you. 

contents.  fluff, jealous!gojo, minor male oc, loosely based on that one jujutsu scroll, satoru is really insufferable and problematic but in his defense he is lovesick

gojo satoru is seething. he knows that you’re good looking, but he doesn’t need the entire world to know that either. if it were up to him, your beauty would be for his eyes only. 

especially not that kyoto third year who has been eyeing you since your arrival.

it was sickening, really. and to add salt to the wound, you have been oblivious to it all. one moment, gojo has his arms draped around your shoulders, and in the blink of an eye, you were being whisked away by that third year.

“please don’t do what i think you're trying to do,” shoko’s unamused voice breaks his train of thought. her knowing gaze made gojo chuckle.

“who, me? why do you assume i’m plotting something?” gojo feigns innocence, hoping his friend couldn’t sense the vicious wave of cursed energy that was leaking out of him. 

shoko doesn’t bother telling him that his usual sky blue eyes were darker, clouded with annoyance or whatever angsty emotion he was dealing with. suguru snorts at his best friend’s silent torment.

“he’s kinda cute,” shoko places a hand on her hip while she observes you conversing with the brown haired third year from kyoto. he was probably a clan kid, judging by his traditional kimono design for a uniform. “you think [name]’s into him?” she eggs gojo on with a smirk on her lips. 

suguru bumps his shoulder against hers as a silent warning.

it takes a moment for satoru to process shoko’s conclusion, the realization evident on his face as his eyes slowly widened. 

“like hell she is.” satoru’s fist clench and he thinks that he will explode if you keep entertaining that stupid kyoto boy. why waste your time with a weakling, when satoru, who was much worthier of your attention was standing just a couple of meters away in the same courtyard? satoru glares at you from above his glasses, hoping you can feel just an ounce of the anger he feels. 

you don’t. 

he thinks he dies a little bit on the inside. in fact, he thinks you’re purposefully messing with his mind with the way you playfully smack the kyoto boy’s shoulder with the same soft hand that gojo has dreamed of holding since his first year. 

“stop being dramatic and let's warm up. we have team battles today.” annoyance is evident in suguru’s voice. yaga had warned the duo that if either of them acted up during the exchange event, the consequences would be dire.

“dramatic?” he scoffs, his glare not wavering. “she has the audacity to look beautiful in the presence of other men. she’s doing this on purpose.” his arms are crossed now.

exasperated looks are exchanged by his two friends.

screw whatever yaga said. without wasting another moment, satoru forced his way in your direction, ignoring suguru's attempt to stop him. shoko, however, held suguru back. "don't," she said, her eyes fixed on gojo. "i want to see what this idiot will do."

suguru sighed, acknowledging that gojo deserved whatever was coming his way.

you realize that perhaps you are too lenient with gojo satoru. you have forgiven every stunt he has pulled, but the look on his face right now as he approaches you with a wide grin makes you sense that might end now.

“wifey!” he closes the space between you. you furrow your eyebrows at the unfamiliar pet name. “how could you leave me for some kyoto scum?” 

you choke on air at his blatant insult to the boy in front of you. 

“ah, i apologize, i couldn’t help myself but steal her when i saw her. i’m ishikawa daisuke–”

“what a bold statement to say to her husband!” gojo doesn’t spare ishikawa a second glance, choosing to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. too shocked to move, you let gojo relish in the intimate action. 

you’re equally as surprised as ishikawa at satoru’s declaration, a strangled noise escaping from your mouth. the idea of gojo as your husband… it was enough to make your brain short circuit. where did he even get the idea from?

ishikawa’s eyes are blown wide, any semblance of self confidence thrown out of the window,  “i-i apologize for the misunderstanding. i wasn’t aware you were already married so young.” he stutters, bowing deeply to gojo who is smirking with a hand on his hip. 

“damn right we are. i knew i had to tie the knot with this beauty the moment i met her.” satoru proudly exclaims, his gaze softening when it returns on you. the initial shock is starting to wear off and you are shooting gojo your harshest glare. satoru’s antics seem to never end.

“isn’t my wifey the cutest?” he coos down at you, tapping your nose with a single finger. you are tempted to bite it off. 

“gojo satoru, you are the most insufferable man that i know,” you point at his chest angrily. “the most delusional too.” you mutter.

 he places a pained hand to his chest,  “you know other men? you’re killing me sweetheart.”

ishikawa coughs awkwardly, reminding you of his presence. you give him your best sympathetic look.

satoru, annoyed that your attention is off of him once again narrowed his eyes at the brown haired boy, “shouldn’t you be practicing with the rest of the kyoto weaklings? i recommend you to do so if you don’t want to be killed on the battlefield today.” satoru’s voice is an octave lower. 

“satoru!” you’re startled by his indirect threat, quick to defend your senior who looked like he was moments away from pissing his pants. 

“i-if you will excuse me.” ishikawa bows deeply once again before scurrying away without another word. you watch him hopelessly. the moment ishikawa is gone, satoru’s intimidating aura is replaced with a pout as he crosses his arms bitterly. 

“if you wanted my attention you could’ve just asked.” satoru exhales forcefully with a hmph. his arms are still crossed and if it weren’t for the fact that he had acted utterly out of line, you would almost go as far as calling him cute. 

“excuse me?”

“you were trying to get my attention,” he points out. “you don’t have to y’know.” my eyes are always on you. the words die on his lips.

a scoff leaves your mouth, disbelief is evident on your face, “i don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“you do!”

“are you jealous or something?” the idea that the great gojo satoru was sick with envy amused a cruel part inside of you.

“who? me? what could that country bumpkin have that i don’t?” he sounds almost offended at your accusation. 

“he’s nice.”

“i can be nice!" satoru whines. there is desperation in his eyes. "i bought a can of tuna for that stray cat the other week, remember?”

“yeah, but he’s nice to people. he’s also polite and-”

“alright i get it! you don’t have to keep talking about him.” satoru's eyebrows furrow in sync with the way his bottom lip slightly juts out. “i just didn’t like how he looked at you.”

“and how did he look at me?” 

satoru grumbles. was it not obvious enough? “his gaze was devouring you like you were his or something. honestly, what a loser. he’ll have to get in line.”

frustration laces your words as you challenge him, “you can’t just march around scaring off all of the guys that i talk to. i want you to admit that you were jealous."

satoru's jaw drops.

"you can't be serious." he protests, cerulean eyes widening. "i'm starting to think you like torturing me." you smile at his comment. you were indeed doing this on purpose.

"oh but i am completely serious," you reply with faux innocence, eyes blinking at him. “satoru.” you enunciate each syllable of his name, dealing the finishing blow.

he folds. you were being so unfair.

"i was jealous." he confesses petulantly. your grin widens as he admits his jealousy. the victory, however, is short-lived as satoru seizes the opportunity to sneak in another flirty comment. “it’s not my fault my dream girl happens to be everyone else’s.”

a groan escapes your lips, and you take your hand, lightly flicking his forehead. satoru accepts the physical contact happily.

"when will you give this bit up?" you retort, raising an eyebrow. 

“when i finally put a ring on that finger,” satoru winks. you regard his words with skepticism, oblivious to the fact that he was dead set on it.  gojo satoru was going to make you his, or at least die trying.

remember spring days masterlist

extra notes:

prior to the exchange event, utahime actually warned ishikawa that you were off limits. she didn’t elaborate why.

poor ishikawa seemed to be the target of most of satoru’s attacks during the team battle.

tokyo won the event by an overwhelming amount.

“i deserve victory kisses for carrying tokyo to victory, right [name]?” satoru had teased you on the way home.

you pretend to think about it, “hmm i think suguru’s curses were quite helpful. he’s the one that deserves the kisses.”

satoru had never moved faster in his entire life to cover your mouth with the palm of his hand and whisk you away from his best friend who had joined in your joke.

[cheonstapes]

Nothing in my mind but nerd! Miguel and titties.

I'm going back to sleep.

miguel o’hara stars in… ‘YOUR BOOBS LOOK HEAVY, LET ME HOLD ‘EM FOR YOU” ƪ(˘⌣˘)ʃ

a/n ~ i am so downbad for nerd miguel, what the fuck. titties, titties, titties, titties, rocking everywhere! thank you nonnie!!!! love you !! creds to @nymphomatique 💗

summary; you let miguel sleep over for the first time, and it definitely won’t be the last.

wc; 1.3k+

pairings; nerd!miguel x fem!reader

cw; SMUT!!, titties, body worship basically, switch!miguel, switch!reader, reader has pierced nipples, spanking, anal play, slapping, anal fingering, breeding kink/impregnation kink, cumming in pants, cumming kinda untouched?, biting, dry humping, they’re in love idc, nawt proofread - why did this take me like a week

miguel had been such a good boy for you, making sure you passed all your exams for this semester - you decided that he deserved a little treat

you invited him over one weekend to your dorm, telling him he was allowed to sleep over

he’s never moved faster with the way he packed up his bag and ran to your dorm which is on the other side of the campus

when he got there he was all sweaty n panting heavy, it was a little pathetic how eager he was but you let him in, making sure he went a took a shower asap

to be honest, you didn’t expect it to be hard for you to keep your hands to yourself, especially when your little boytoy is walking around your dorm in that combo - grey sweats and a tight wife beater, you can even see the outline of his abs

he followed you around like a lost puppy, it was cute at least. he couldn’t go two seconds without latching onto you in some way

he was just so excited! getting to spend time with his not-yet-but-almost girlfriend, seeing you in all your natural glory. you thought you had it bad? try hiding a hard-on whilst the woman of your dreams is walking around in booty shorts and a braless cami

speaking of that, miguel could just about make out your puffy, little, nipples through the fabric of your thin shirt - hello kitty barbells piercing your nipples

fuck, he was hard. and those sweats he was wearing weren’t making it any less obvious

miguel loves your tits. period. kneading the soft flesh, sucking on then, biting them. sometimes, whenever he cums inside, he imagines them filled up with milk - he would do anything to get you knocked up

you knew how horny he was, you could be wearing a trash bag and he’d still be as smitten for you as he is every second

so you made a decision - you told him to sleep on the floor.

you almost felt bad, almost

he looked like a kicked puppy, your 6’9 almost-boyfriend pouting like a child

i mean, you gave him a pillow and a blanket at least - plus, you have heated floors. it’s not that bad

he slept right on the side of your bed, making sure to face you directly so he could watch you sleep (not in a creepy way, he just loves you T^T)

you even made sure you were hanging just a little bit over the edge of your bed, an arm hanging over the side - a silent invitation for him to hold your hand

he was sleeping fine for a good while, hands still laced tightly with yours - but he was getting restless not touching you for so long

he stood up, as quietly as his huge ass feet would let him, walking round to the other side of the bed and sliding in

it creaked loudly but you were fast asleep anyway, so he moved closer

he wrapped a beefy arm around your middle, hand coming to rest on your chest

oh. yeah, your tits.

now he was hard again

he pressed himself against you, completely spooning you, large hands sliding under your cami and groping your tits

you weren’t an idiot though, you knew this was gonna happen - having calculated every possibility before he came. you would rather die than admit you were a bit nervous about him sleeping over too

you purposely wore the cami cause you knew it would rile him up, n he always took such good care of his mommy’s pretty tits

you turned to look at him, smiling teasingly - “why’re you in my bed, hm?”

—————————————————————————————————

miguel felt like he was in deep shit, he knew how easily you could flip on him despite that pretty smile. he immediately retracted his hand, stammering as he tried to sit up. “s-sorry, i just missed you. i…i couldn’t sleep, ‘n you just look so gorgeous when you sleep and i couldn’t help myself-“ god, he always talks so much. with a tight grip on his bicep, you drag him back down to the bed, pushing him down on the plush pillows as you straddle his waist.

he was so pretty beneath you. glasses laid somewhere on the floor, curly hairs framing his face. his hands gripped your ass, whining quietly as he ground up against you. “mommy…” you placed your hands on his chest, keeping him pinned to the bed as you leaned forward. he felt like he couldn’t breathe, your tits were resting just above his face, hard nipples grazing his lips. yeah, he was definitely gonna fuck a baby into you one day.

his hands moved up to your hips, squeezing the flesh before he placed a hand on your upper back pulling you down completely. miguel’s tongue snaked out to lick at your hard nipples, the sensation of the cold barbells on his tongue making his hips jerk up against the crotch of your tight shorts. “shit...when d’you get them pierced?”

you rolled your eyes, lifting up your shirt and grabbing the back of his head - pushing his mouth to your tit, grinding salaciously against his clothed cock. “none of your fuckin’ business. if you wanna suck on my tits, then shut up and suck.” you didn’t have to tell him twice.

he sucked hard, unable to resist imagining them filled up with milk, all swollen and heavy, you round with his kid- SMACK. his head whipped to the side, lips slipping off your spit-soaked nipple as he stared up at you in shock. his cheek was stinging, but his cock was straining even harder against the fabric, twitching as his face thrummed with pain. “stop thinkin’, and suck harder. you should even be grateful i’m lettin’ you sleep here, so worship mommy’s tits like you mean it.”

miguel grasped your ass once again, large hands digging into the flesh as he caressed your soft skin through your skimpy shorts, sneakily pulling the waistband down as he ran his fingers down to your cunt. ‘course you were wet, slick staining his sweats. he collected some on his fingers, dragging it back up to your puckered hole, thrusting two wet fingers inside as other hand controls your movements.

“f-fuck, wait, you dickhead.” he continued to suckle on your breasts, flicking and teasing your nipples, tugging on the barbell’s softly as his fingers sped up. your body was quivering in pleasure, his free hand spanking your ass occasionally whenever you would pull yourself away from his mouth - massaging the reddened flesh soothingly afterwards.

his mouth and tongue were downright sinful. the sensation racking over your whole body as your orgasm steadily approached, the swirling fire in your lower belly lighting up. you weren’t the only one, though. miguel was hardly keeping himself together, thick thighs trembling as he tried to keep himself from spilling out his cum in his boxers, the tip of his cock peeking out of his waistband. all he wanted to do was see you writhe in pleasure, see that beautiful face of yours glowing in ecstasy after your release.

you would always let out this adorable, whiny moan when you were close, lips parting, small breathy pants - he knew you better than he knew himself. he was more motivated than ever, fingers moving a bruising speed, tongue relentless. he tugged on your piercing hard, a hand coming to rub your engorged clit through your thong. “m-miguelll - shit, baby - ugh.” creamy liquid coated your panties, not your cum - but his. the red tip spurting out thick loads all over his stomach, the sticky mess tangling with his happy trail ‘n pooling in his navel.

“t-thank…fuck- thank you, mommy.”

you pushed him back to the floor, curling up in the blankets - cheeks heating up as you muttered. “yeah, whatever. shut the fuck up and go to sleep.”

“goodnight, sleep well p-pretty.”

“…night, miguel.”

yeah, you were falling for him - hard.

- my titties are small but he’d hold them like they weighed the world

[emmcfrxst]

lumberjack/farmer logan getting you in the back of his truck. that’s it that’s the ask

he got his windows tinted specifically for this and he’s got a small, rolled up blanket in his glovebox for when you two have sex in his truck because he categorically refuses to make you lay down on something that isn’t soft and clean— his reasoning is that you’re soft so you deserve to lay upon only the softest surfaces (unless he’s fucking you against the dining table or the kitchen counter, but even then he’s a gentleman and will try to cover up the roughened edges with his discarded shirt or even his own hand) —and god, despite the restricted space, he’s nothing if not passionate; grinding into you, getting as deep as he can, gripping your hips to manhandle you into whatever position he thinks might feel best for you (and to be honest, he’s quite partial to having you on all fours because he loves your ass— but he’s as enthusiastic about missionary and cowgirl because he loves to watch your tits bounce with every thrust) and he is not stopping until your legs are shaking and you’re babbling nonsense, tears running down your cheeks from the intensity of the pleasure washing over your body and it has happened more than once that you two got caught fucking in the back of his truck and he does not even slow his pace by a single millisecond while raising an eyebrow at whoever is interrupting and going “Bit busy here, bub. Would appreciate if you fucked off.” in a growly voice and if the combination of his dangerous tone and steely glare isn’t enough, he WILL let go of your hip to unsheathe his claws, silently threatening whatever fucking idiot would ever even dare think about watching his girl get fucked stupid.

[biblicallyaccuratemeat]

A Firm Hand

MDNI!!!

A/N: I posted this on ao3 a little bit ago, so I figure why not post it here too! Beta read by @teaflavoredwitch Bucky Barnes x female reader, past Steve Rogers x reader implied/referenced, cheating, alcohol, kind of dub con if you squint, p in v sex, dom!Bucky, protective Bucky, dirty talk, kitchen sex, spanking, fingering, drunk sex, size kink, friends to lovers, angst and porn, shamelessly self-indulgent

Word Count: 5.3k

Steve Rogers is a jackass.

Captain fucking America, mister cherry pie and morals, was a self-righteous prick. Bucky had never felt more pissed off at Steve in his one hundred plus years of living than he does right now. You curled up in his bed, bawling your eyes out and practically chugging some cheap magnum bottle of whiskey. 

Steve, who apparently didn’t believe in too much of a good thing, when he decided to stick his patriotic dick in Sharon Carter of all people. Of course, you found out. Steve was a terrible liar despite having the balls to actually cheat on you. You don’t know why you immediately go to Bucky, but you do. In the year you’ve been dating Steve, you became rapidly closer with the former Winter Soldier. Perhaps it was the forced proximity, or maybe you were just kindred spirits.

Bucky, of course, falls for you. Hard and fast like an idiot. Forced to pine after his best friend’s girl as if his life wasn’t already a fucking sob story. Always the dutiful friend, listening to you vent about the pitfalls of your relationship with Steve and trying to offer sound advice. Bucky learns to tame the green eyed monster inside him, finding contentment as your friend and confidant. 

When you show up on his doorstep at eight o’clock on a Saturday night, he knows Steve fucked up. He knows it without you even having to say a word, because he knew this would happen. He knew, on some level, that Steve didn’t deserve you. Not that Bucky deserved you either, god knows he was even less deserving. But you went to him, so that has to mean something, right?

The intensifying of your sobs pull Bucky out of his reverie, head snapping in your direction again. Some commercial blares on his shitty little TV in the corner of his bedroom, Even the Nights Are Better playing in the background on some allergy medicine ad. 

“T-this was our song!” You wail, burying your face in a pillow as your body shudders with the force of your sobs. The bottle of whiskey remains clutched in your hand. If it weren’t for your inconsolable state, Bucky might’ve been impressed and slightly turned on at the way you chug the whiskey. A woman after his own heart.

Bucky grimaces, perched next to you, stock still, “Okay, dollface, I think that’s enough whiskey.”

He feels awkward and stilted, like his skin is on too fucking tight and the room is too warm. He feels way too self-aware, he’s tuned in to every little sniffle and hiccup.

Seriously, fuck Steve for this. Not only for breaking your heart, but also creating the perfect storm. You, vulnerable and drunk in his fucking bed of all places. A wet dream come to life, if he’s being honest.

He needs to get the whiskey from you. He practically has to pry it out of your hands, amber liquid sloshing inside the nearly empty bottle. Fuck. He should have cut you off way earlier. He grabs the remote, clicking the mute button, “Honey, let’s take some deep breaths, yeah?”

Bucky tries to smile reassuringly but it’s tight and stretches over his teeth in a weird way that makes him look more machine than man. You peer over the edge of the pillow smushed against your face, doe eyes blinking owlishly at him, “Deep breaths?” You echo, incredulously, “You want me to take deep breaths when I walk in on my boyfriend tongue deep in that blonde bitch? Are you fucking for real, Bucky?”

Bucky’s mouth opens and closes rapidly, like a fish out of water. He sure fucking feels like one, incredibly out of his depths. He’s not equipped for this, a tornado of hormones and heartbreak. His stupid silence somehow seems to agitate you even further, angelic features twisting and morphing through every stage of grief in a matter of seconds.

Your anguish quickly gives way to fury, chucking the pillow across the room, “Has he always been like this? Huh?” 

Bucky blinks taken aback, “What? Steve?” He sighs, running a hand through shortly cropped hair, “No, doll, he hasn’t always been like this. I’ve known Steve since we were kids, and he’s never been a saint but he’s not usually an inconsiderate, lying, cheating asshole either.” Bucky’s voice is hard and contemptuous.

Bucky takes your dainty hand in his, squeezing reassuringly, “Hating Steve isn’t going to make this better. It’s not going to erase the pain he caused,” He pauses, pursing his lips as he tries to find the right words, “You gotta let yourself feel this, dollface. Feel the anger, feel the hurt, the betrayal. Don’t suppress it, because that’s just gonna make it fester.”

His jaw clenches, teeth grinding together. Bucky silently attempts to work through his own feelings on the matter. On one hand, his never wavering loyalty to Steve, his brother in arms and every sense of the word. On the other hand is you. Heartbroken, far too lovely for his comfort and the odd, delicate bond between you two. Bucky swallows, his mouth filled with a metallic taste as he fights down the ever growing urge to hunt Steve down and beat him within an inch of his life. 

He realizes you’re staring at him, gaze hard, “Why didn’t you warn me?” You ask in a quiet, hollow tone that makes Bucky feel like his heart is going to shrivel up in his chest.

Running a hand down his face, Bucky huffs, “Warn you?” He echoes, “Honey, I… I didn’t know.” He implores, clenching his fists in his lap, “I swear to God, if I had known he was being such a fucking prick, I would’ve put a stop to it, I would’ve beaten the information out of him myself.”

“You didn’t know?!” You throw your hands up in the air, gesturing wildly, “You didn’t have a single fucking inkling? I don’t believe that for a second, Bucky,” You hiss, movements jerky and agitated as you tousle your hair, “You didn’t think to say, “Hey doll,”” You begin to mimic Bucky’s voice, “‘You’re about to date the goddamn devil!’”

Holding his hands up in a placating gesture, Bucky scoots back. Your accusation stings, hitting a nerve he hadn’t known was exposed, “Hey, hold on just a damn minute,” He says, his voice rising in defense, “I’m not fucking psychic, dollface. I knew Steve could be an inconsiderate ass sometimes, but I didn’t know he was straight up cheating on you.”

Bucky scoffs, a mixture of shock and anger coursing through his veins, “I’m not going to apologize for not knowing what my so-called best friend was up to behind your back. That’s not fucking fair.”

His gaze softens slightly, his voice lowering to a more conciliatory tone, “Listen, I’m sorry I didn’t see the signs earlier. I’m sorry you got hurt. But don’t think for a second that I would’ve ever encouraged you to be with someone who would treat you like this. You mean too damn much to me for that.”

You’re still pissed, of course. Feeling self-destructive, though Bucky’s heartfelt declaration hits deep. Your chest rises and falls rapidly, a feral kind of rage filling you, “Oh yeah? Well… you’re… You’re an ass!” You shout, a half-hearted insult. You weren’t really trying, you just wanted to burn bridges. You push yourself out of the bed, stomping out of the room. Slamming the door for good measure, the sound echoing through the apartment like a gunshot. Storming into the kitchen, you begin digging through Bucky’s sparse cabinets for more liquor.

Bucky stared after you, stunned and hurt by your somewhat childish outburst. Your accusations burned like salt in a fresh wound. He stood there for a moment, anger and confusion warring within him. Then, with a fierce scowl, he stalked after you, his long strides quickly closing the distance between his bedroom and the kitchen.

The floorboards creak under his heavy footsteps as he follows the path down the hallway. When he reaches the kitchen, he grabs the doorframe, leaning in. “Hey, wait a fucking minute.” He all but growls, his voice a deep, dangerous rumble. “I know you’re hurting, but you don’t get to just accuse me of being an ass and then stomp away like a fucking toddler.”

He steps further into the kitchen, a breath away from crowding you against the counter, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Steve being a prick, but I won’t accept you throwing blame at me when I'm trying my goddamn hardest to be here for you!”

Bucky leans back against the counter, scoffing, “We both know you’re better than this, sweetheart. Don’t let Steve’s mistakes make you forget that. I’m not the enemy.”

You snatch a bottle of vodka out of the cabinet, there’s no more than a few sips left. You down it in one go, sighing tiredly, “I don’t need you to be here for me. I don’t need you to fix me, Bucky. I’m not some little dolly for you to glue back together. You don’t need to make your fucking amends with me.”

Bucky’s expression hardens, snatching the bottle from your hands, “Watch your fucking tone,” He whispers, cornering you against the counter. There’s a glimmer in his eyes, you see it. The Winter Soldier lurking in the back of his psyche. It sends a perverse thrill down your spine.

“I’m not trying to fix you. You’re not some damn doll, I know that. I’ve always known that.” He pauses, taking a deep breath, “I’m here as your friend, to listen, to support you. But I won’t allow you to take your anger out on me, honey.”

You’ve never been good at knowing when to quit, it’s never been your strong suit. Now is not an exception, you double down on your brattiness.  

“Don’t tell me to watch my fucking tone, I’m not a child.” You hiss, scowling up at him. He towers over you, all muscle and man. Damn him for being so fucking tall, built like a skyscraper. You damn near have to be on your tiptoes at this point, it’s ridiculous. 

He grasps your chin hard, cheeks smushing up and lips forced into a pout, “Watch it, little girl,” He murmurs lowly, licking his lips, “You can be mad. You can scream and shout and curse until you’re blue in the face. But you don’t get to talk to me like that.”

Those sapphire eyes flashed with a mixture of anger, frustration, and a hint of something else, something that made your insides feel molten and heady.

“I’ve taken a lot of shit for the people I love. I’ve been beaten, tortured, and turned into a fucking weapon. But damn if I’m going to stand here and take your anger when all I’m trying to do is be here for you.” Slowly, deliberately, he leans in closer until his breath is hot against your pursed lips, “I know you’re hurting. I know you’re angry. But I won’t let you push me away, dollface. I won’t let you be self-destructive.” His voice drops to a fervent whisper, “You fucking try me, sweetheart. I’ve dealt with terrorist threats and mad titans. Fuck, I’ve been a terrorist. You think a little thing like you is going to scare me off?”

Bucky’s hand snakes around to the back of your neck. You whirl around, the world spinning, and he pushes you face first into the hardwood. You all but shriek in surprise, eyes comically wide. Your left cheek squished on the cool flooring, shoulders pinned down. Your knees prop your ass up in the air, curving your spine into a sharp arch. He has you right where he wants you, submissively positioned. An offering, your perky backside up in the air invitingly. Your body betrays you, a fucking shiver of pleasure wracking through you. You can feel your cunt leaking eagerly at Bucky’s manhandling. 

You wonder if he realizes the effect this is having on you. All thoughts of Steve and his betrayal fly from your mind as your pussy throbs in time with your rapid heartbeat. Shame and arousal burn your cheeks, you squeeze your eyes shut, trying to will away your body’s traitorous reaction. 

This is Bucky. This is fucking Bucky. Steve’s best friend, your weird friend-ish acquaintance. You know him because of Steve. This is a bad idea, horrible. You need to put a stop to this immediately before you actually let him have his way with you on the kitchen floor. Because you’re heartbroken, you’re pissed, and you’re far wetter than you’ve been in months. You’re too vulnerable and fucked up, not to mention drunk to make a sound decision right now. And you know, you fucking know if Bucky asked to rail you within an inch of your life… You’d say yes.

So, “Bucky, uh,” You begin to protest meekly, all the fire and spit on your tongue moments ago evaporating.

The hand that is now pressing down in the middle of your back and pinning your sternum to the ground increases in pressure fractionally. A silent warning of the consequences of pushing back even further.

The words die on your tongue, you focus your gaze on a piece of lint by your face and huff. 

But then, slowly, deliberately he brings his hand down on your upturned ass. Delivering a sharp smack that echoes through the room. A surprised shriek of indignation rips from your throat, equal parts horrified and aroused. The stinging pain radiates across your tender flesh, a stark contrast to the coolness of the floor beneath you. “What in the fuck are you doing?” You demand angrily, scowl deepening.

“Keep testing me, honey, and I���ll show you exactly what happens to bratty little girls who don’t listen,” Bucky punctuates his words with another sharp smack to your ass, watching as the flesh and fat jiggle and redden beneath his organic palm.

He drapes his muscular torso across your back, leaning over your bent form. His breath is hot against your ear, his body a heavy, unyielding weight pressing down on you. It’s a comforting contrast from the rough treatment your butt is receiving, like a warm weighted blanket. 

Despite your best efforts to stay quiet, a tiny breathless noise escapes your throat. Halfway between a moan and a squeak, the flush staining your cheeks darkens further. You bite your bottom lip hard enough to draw blood, simultaneously mortified and turned on.

Momentarily caught off guard, the super soldier freezes, his vibranium hand resting on the curve of your hip. A look of shock and disbelief crosses his handsome features. He had expected anger, perhaps even more fighting back, but never in a million years did he think you would react so unabashedly with desire.

For a moment, Bucky simply stares down at you, taking in the pretty flush of your cheeks, the way your lips parted around that sinful little noise. His cock, hard and heavy, strains through his jeans and presses into the curve of your ass. That all-consuming hunger that HYDRA tortured out of his system returns with a fucking vengeance. His blood sings in his veins at your little noises and rushes to his dick. 

A low, strangled groan escapes his throat as Bucky tries desperately to grasp at the last vestiges of self-control. His hand digs into the fat of your hip, squeezing and kneading almost unconsciously, “Fuck, honey…” He murmurs, his tone ragged with the overwhelming heat consuming you both, “Are you… are you getting off on this?”

Bucky moves impossibly closer, chapped lips brushing against the shell of your ear, “‘Cause if you are, honey… I’ll fucking wreck you and I won’t be held responsible for it.”

“Shut up,” You whine weakly, your shame and arousal fighting for dominance. Despite your half-hearted protest, you arch your spine deeper. You’re soaked, you know it. Embarrassingly soaked, probably through your fucking sweatpants at this point. Your cunt aches, feeling too empty. Bucky’s dark promise of wrecking you? Fuck if it doesn’t make you clench around nothing, needy and debauched. He’s barely touched you and you’re sure if he so much as brushes past your clit, you’ll cum harder than you ever have in your life.

Bucky’s eyes darken with lust as you arch your back, presenting your ass to him like a cat in heat. A low, approving growl rumbles deep in his throat. The hand on your hip slides back to palm the globe of your ass, sinking into the fatty flesh. You hope it bruises, god you want him to mark you. You want that vibranium arm to rip you into pretty little chunks and remake you into something new. Something Steve’s never touched, never kissed, never held.

“Shut up? Honey, the way you’re acting, you don’t want me to shut up,” He taunts, his voice a deep, seductive murmur.

That rips a pathetic whimper from your throat, eyes fluttering shut, “I’m too drunk for this.”

Bucky hums, “Yeah? You’re a big girl, you know how to say stop.”

You shudder, all but melting beneath him, “I’m too sad for this.”

Smack!

This time Bucky’s metal arm meets your ass cheek, you jolt, gasping. You’re panting openly against the hardwood, eyes screwed shut and blushing like a virgin. The intoxicating mixture of stinging pain and molten pleasure are far more powerful than the whiskey in your belly.

The former Winter Soldier all but rips your sweatpants down, bunching them around your knees. The cool air against your newly exposed skin makes you shudder, a perverse shiver racing down your spine. The rough, calloused pads of Bucky’s fingers dig into the tender flesh of your ass cheek, kneading and squeezing the malleable muscle possessively, “Fuck, baby, look at this ass… you’re fucking perfect,” He groans approvingly, hips rocking forward to grind his clothed erection against you, “Steve was a goddamn fool to ever even look at another woman.”

Without warning, he brings down his palm hard against your bare ass, the sharp crack of skin against skin filling the otherwise silent apartment. The biting ache blossoms across your nerves, quickly followed by a rush of heat and traitorous surge of arousal, “Maybe this is what you need, honey. You need to be manhandled, huh? I gotta slap that bratty attitude of yours outta your ass?” Bucky coos mockingly, dragging his blunt nails down the rapidly reddening skin.

You breathe shallowly, fuck it feels like you’re barely breathing as is. This is a side of Bucky you’d never dreamt of seeing, not even in your wildest dreams. He was always so stoic, quiet. It was like you were friends with a brick wall that used to be a sleeper agent. But this? Domineering, taunting, merciless Bucky? You were fucking drenched.

You hum in agreement, wiggling your ass back, too far gone now. Any sense of decorum or boundaries flies out of your little bird brain. All you know is Bucky’s punishing hand and his rock hard dick pressing against you.

He shifts, maneuvering your wrists to hold them firmly over your head with one large hand. He brings the other down on your backside in a series of sharp, biting slaps. A red handprint blooms across your skin, a brand. The pain gives way to a dizzying liquid heat that has you squirming and whining under him.

“Fuck, listen to you… making all those pretty little noises for me,” He pants, hips grinding slowly against the curve of your butt. Bucky was throbbing in his pants, achingly hard and straining angrily in the confines of his jeans, “Keep making those noises and I’ll bust in my fucking pants, honey.”

You can feel it now, how soaked you are. The cotton gusset of your panties clings to your puffy lips like a second skin. The evidence of your arousal is impossible to miss, the dark spot growing rapidly with each slap and taunting murmur. You rub your thighs together needfully, desperate for some kind of relief. Bucky’s gaze narrows in on your needy display, grinning wolfishly, “Fuck, honey, you’re absolutely soaked through,” His lips brush against your ear as he speaks, rolling his hips teasingly into your backside, “Is this what you need, doll? To be put in your place, spanked until you’re a needy, desperate little thing?”

Holding your wrists firmly above your head, his vibranium hand slides around your hip, fingertips brushing teasingly along the sticky fabric of your underwear. The material clings to your swollen, aching folds. 

“You leaking just for me, honey?” Bucky murmurs, nipping at your ear. He brushes the edge of his nail across the swollen bundle of nerves at the apex of your thighs. It’s so light that you almost don’t feel it, but you do and you sob in relief at the slightest touch. Your legs tremble, threatening to give out under you.

Bucky continues his maddeningly light caresses, “So fucking wet and ready for me…”

He circles your clit with the pad of his thumb, cool vibranium meeting feverish, swollen flesh. It swells and throbs under his ministrations. His fingers continue their unhurried exploration of your pussy, a single digit circling your entrance. You feel it push in slowly, sinking in one knuckle at a time. Your pussy flutters and clenches around the invading pressure, eager to be filled.

“This is what you needed all along, isn’t it honey? To be touched like this, to have someone take control and make this needy cunt drip?” He slides a second finger knuckle-deep into your dripping hole, pumping them in and out of your clinging heat as his other hand delivers harsh, biting strikes to your backside, “That’s it, honey, fucking take it.”

The thought of Steve’s vanilla, lackluster lovemaking paled in comparison to the passionate, almost feral way Bucky was claiming your body now. And his dick wasn’t even out yet. He could feel every inch of your silken skin trembling and quaking with need, your breathy cries and whimpering music to his ears. The tender, almost gentlemanly approach Steve usually had taken with you had left you wanting, craving something far more intense and fulfilling.

Bucky eases his fingers out and peels your panties from your sticky cunt, shucking the fabric to bunch it around your knees with your sweatpants. He reaches out once more, his calloused palm cupping the warm, plush flesh of your ass. He could feel the heat radiating off your skin, could feel the way your muscles clenched and trembled beneath his touch. His fingers sank into the giving flesh, squeezing. 

“If you don’t fuck me right now, I think I’ll die,” You whisper, needy with shame burning your cheeks. And in that moment, it may as well have been true. To drive the point home, you wriggle your ass back against his groin, a clear invitation.

Bucky groaned, the sound torn from deep in his chest. His cock throbs and jumps at your needy words, desperate to be balls deep in your tight cunt. Faintly, he realizes he should hesitate, take a moment to think this through. But the way you presented yourself so wantonly to him made every logical thought fly out the window. He couldn’t resist, not you, not like this.

His hands flew to his belt, working it open with shaking hands. He quickly shoved his boxers and jeans down his thighs, freeing his aching cock. It sprang up, long, thick, and flushed a deep, angry red. The swollen head was leaking pre-cum, a bead of moisture rolling down the shaft. He wrapped a hand around it, stroking himself a few times, before shifting closer to you. Bucky sweeps the tip of his cock through your folds, from hole to clit, coating himself in your sticky slickness. 

You gape at his dick, eyes wide as you peer over your shoulder. He’s fucking huge, because of course he is. Thick and girthy, this is going to hurt, you realize. And though that should deter you, or at the very least make you anxious, it only makes you wetter.

“Fuck,” You whisper, struggling to form a coherent thought, “You’re fucking huge. That’s… that can’t fit. It’s physically impossible.”

The bastard smirks, rubbing the small of your back, “Oh, it’ll fit, honey. I’ll make sure of that.”

You already feel your inner muscles tensing up, trying to force out something that isn’t even breaching you yet. A high-pitched keening noise rips from your throat as the bulbous tip sinks into your wet heat.

Bucky shudders as he feels your tight little cunt clenching and fluttering around just the swollen head of his cock. Fuck, you were so goddamn small, so fucking tight. He could feel every inch of your silky walls squeezing him, trying to push his thick tip out of your needy hole. It took every ounce of control not to just slam forward and bury himself to the hilt in your scorching heat.

He grit his teeth, his breath coming out in a low growl as he forced himself to hold still, to wait for your okay before he fucked into you. His hands gripped your hips hard enough to leave bruises, holding you in place as he fought for some semblance of restraint. Where was all that goddamn self-discipline that HYDRA beat into him? His dick was barely inside you and he was already a slave to your nubile body. 

He rocked his hips slightly, just barely, letting you feel the thick, spongy head of his cock kiss your entrance with each shallow thrust. “Tell me to move, honey.” Bucky pants, sounding utterly wrecked, “Let me move.”

All you can offer is a small, pathetic whine in response. 

That’s all the confirmation Bucky needs. He starts to move then, his hips rocking in shallow little thrusts as he eases inch after inch of his monstrous dick inside you. His grip tightens on your hips, digging into the plush flesh of your ass as he keeps you in place for each teasing thrust of his cock.

“God, honey, I’m gonna fuck this needy hole just like you want,” He growls, sweat beading on his forehead from the effort of holding back, “Gonna rub this thick fucking tip all over this slutty pussy until you’re dripping and begging for my cock. Fuck… you’re so goddamn tight. Squeezing my cock so fucking hard.”

“W-we shouldn’t be doing this,” You gasp, screwing your eyes shut against the onslaught of sensations. You’re already feeling overstimulated, too warm and too full. Part of you screams to crawl away from the excruciating sensation of being impaled on such a thick cock. You try your best to breathe through it, willing your body to relax. Your cunt weeps, rivulets of slick dripping down and around Bucky’s dick. You feel the little droplets running down your thighs, mixing with your sweat.

Bucky hisses through clenched teeth as he feels your arousal dripping obscenely down his length, your thighs trembling. He loops an arm around your hips, holding you up as he watches the way his dick is swallowed up by your tight hole. He could see you struggling, hear the conflict in your whimper, the way you whispered this was wrong even as your body screamed for his touch. He knew he should listen to the voice in both your heads telling him to stop, to pull away before they crossed a line from which there could be no return… but fuck, he was so goddamn close to the edge already.

His hips rocked faster, fucking his cock in and out of your clutching heat with rough, rapid thrusts. A wet, obscene symphony of squelching and skin slapping against skin fills the room, mixing with his labored breathing and low, strained grunts of pleasure.

“We… fuck.. We shouldn’t…” He repeated your words dumbly, but even as he said it, his cock kept moving. You could feel the tip kissing your cervix with each throbbing, leaking thrust. “But fuck, honey, you feel too good… too goddamn good. We can’t stop now,” Bucky leans forward, pressing his chest against your back, his lips brushing down the side of your neck, “Fuck, gonna make this pretty cunt mine. Fill it up real good, honey.”

“Oh, god,” You gasp, a fresh wave of arousal flooding through you at his words. Your toes curl, fingernails scraping across the floor, “I want that, please. Wreck me.”

The desperate, pleading tone of your voice shatters the remnants of Bucky’s already frayed control. His eyes roll back at your words, groaning. He feels your velvet walls clench and ripple around his throbbing dick, grasping him like a hot fist. Without warning, his hand slides from your hip to your dripping sex, rough fingers finding your swollen, aching clit.

He teases the sensitive bundle of nerves, rubbing tight circles around it with the pad of his thumb as he fucks into you hard and fast. His hips rock faster in tandem with the finger on your clit, each thrust pushing a gush of your juices around his cock and down your thighs. 

You feel like you’re on fire, every nerve alight and singing Bucky’s name. You bite down on your fist, attempting to hold back the shrieks of pleasure bubbling up in your chest, “Right there, god, please!” You squeal, trembling with the burning need to cum, “God, don’t stop. Please don’t fucking stop, right there.”

Your whiny, wanton moans bring Bucky’s climax hurtling at him like a freight train. He ducks his head down, sinking his teeth into the meat of your shoulder and shudders. The feeling of your slick little cunt gripping his dick was maddening, and the needy, desperate sounds spilling from your lips were pushing him closer to the edge, “Fuck, honey. Just like that, keep screaming for me. Gonna blow my load in this hot little cunt.”

You whine in response, Bucky’s rough treatment of your clit sending you careening over the edge. Your cunt clamps down violently, slick release gushing out of your hole. Lips parting in a silent scream, you shudder, shattering beneath him. Bucky lets out a guttural moan, his voice raw with pleasure as you cum hard on his cock. A puddle of sticky wetness forms between your legs on the floor, dripping down the fat of your thighs. Bucky can feel his own orgasm building fast and hard, his shaft throbbing and pulsing as he caresses your clit through your aftershocks.

“Yes, fuck! That’s it, honey. Soak me, pretty girl, gonna- fuck!” He grunts, his hips slamming forward and burying his thick cock to the hilt in your spasming pussy with one hard thrust. He groans long and low as your sex milks him for all he’s worth, his hot seed flooding your insides.

Bucky shudders, hips jerking as he empties his heavy balls inside you, thick ropes of pearlescent cum coating your fluttering walls. He presses his hips tight to your ass, grinding against you. That’s enough for your legs to quit on you. His eyes widen as your legs tremble and then give out, your body going boneless and pliant in his arms. He tightens his grip on your hips, hauling you back up onto your knees. Bucky’s heart races, a wild bird in his ribcage, as he struggles to catch his breath in the aftermath of his intense orgasm.

Slowly, almost reluctantly, he eases his softening cock out of your well-used hole. A river of his thick cum oozes out after him, dripping down your inner thighs, joining the puddle of slick on the floor. Bucky can’t help but feel satisfaction at how fucked-out you look, sporting his bite mark on your shoulder. His hands slide around to cup the soft swell of your belly, his palms splayed across the gentle curve. He could feel the heat of your skin, the way it flushed and erupted in little goosebumps from his touch. His gaze heavy-lidded, dark with lingering lust as he murmurs in your ear, “We can’t do this again, right honey?”

[kaisaerinlover]

inspired by @twijaxx take on the kaiser scene at the end of ep 14 😍😍😍

imagine kaiser booked a nice little hotel getaway for you both to get a way for a bit on his break, a really rare occurrence for him. he barely ever gets a break from football so it’s nice to escape once in a while and have some normalcy. berlin is a really nice city too, and kaiser’s pockets are deep enough to afford the best of the best. that’s why you’re both sitting on the balcony after his shower, sipping at champagne worth more money than either of you could have envisioned a few years ago. kaiser likes treating himself to the luxuries of life; expensive champagne, 5 star hotels, designer robes, exquisite jewellery. but most of all you. you are the greatest luxury of them all.

and you know how to use that nice little mouth you have on you as well - so almost every single night like this ends with you on your knees sucking his cock, taking it so well.

and tonight isn’t any different, he’s a bit drunk, you’re sober. he throws you that charming smirk that no girl can resist, not even you, and you know what he wants. the city is so beautiful at this time. it’s a shame your view is obstructed by his cock, or not, you like the sight and he knows you do. he has you on your knees beneath the opaque table, has you at his feet exactly where he likes you, almost spoon feeding you his length. and you open your mouth so meekly. so willing and so obedient for him just how he likes it.

you know you’re doing a good job the way his hand is tangled in your hair and he’s pushing your head down on his cock so hard your nose is smashed into his pubic bone. but neither of you care; you’re both as disgusting and perverted as each other. “keep going f’ me baby” he breathes out. and he feels like he’s about to cum, he really does, until his phone vibrates on the table. you expect him to not answer because of the way he growls in such an irritated manner, until you hear him breathe a sigh of relief. before he can even answer you stop sucking him and look up at him with big pouty eyes. “micha are you really gonna answer at a time like this?” god he wants to destroy you, he really fucking does. looking at you with saliva coating your pretty pink lips and teary eyes whilst you’re on your knees looking so desperate to have his dick lodged in your throat again, you’re a sight for sore eyes. but he just rolls his eyes and snaps at you “obviously, if i was going to press answer before you stopped sucking me, stupid whore” you’re used to his chastising at this point. so you just whine up at him, before he shuts you up again with one thrust of his cock back in your mouth. you’re mad, you look ridiculous with your angry pouting face and his shaft in your mouth. he does a shushing motion to you before he starts speaking on the phone.

he knows you won’t do anything against him, so he just leaves you to cockwarm him whilst he talks. you’re dumb and malleable, so he knows the call doesn’t need to be made in private. every so often he leans down and smacks your cheek affectionately, but god. the wait is so fucking agonising. it really feels like it’s been an hour. you just want to taste his cum, feel his cock, have his fingers inside you, anything. but you’re forced to sit on your knees whilst he makes some stupid call.

so you do something a little unprecedented, especially for a girl who kaiser thought was so obedient. you stand up from where you were originally kneeling and sit yourself down on his cock. and boy is he mad, he’s never shoved his hands over a phone speaker so fast. “what are you doing you fucking idiot?” his words are sharp and he hisses them at you. you just whine back at him. “you’re making me wait too long- don’t w-wanna wait- ah” he wants to fucking punch you right now, wants to grab your jaw and break it. he really fucking does. thank god he’s holding his hand over the speaker or they’d hear those precious moans that only HE deserves to hear. kaiser is really angry at you, but this call is important, so he simply brings his mouth to your ear and whispers, “fine stay like this then, but you better be a good fucking girl yeah? behave or you won’t cum tonight.” and you’re elated, you really are. you feel so full with his cock inside you. kaiser just dead eyes you and goes back to talking with whoever is on the other end. some boring football stuff, you suppose.

but god, this is even more agonising than before now; you stupid horny little thing. it’s even worse now, you wanna bounce on his cock so bad. you want him to fuck you so hard oh so desperately, but if you move you know you’re in trouble. he has one hand holding his phone to his ear as he talks and the other twirling pieces of your hair around his finger as he stares off into the serene view of the city. god you hate this, you hate it so much. you hate how sweetly he’s playing with your locks, how the city is so fucking peaceful and boring, and how he’s not doing anything. kaiser is a man who knows how to control all of his stimuli, he’s toying with you, you’re too stupid to realise it. he wants to laugh at you and your pathetic state, but he can’t; he has matters to attend to!

your pretty little head is filled with nothing except thoughts of how hard you want him to bang you on this stupid little table. how you want him to just bend you over and fuck the living shit out of you. but he’s still talking. you’re so desperate, poor stupid you, you contemplate moving despite his words. but that won’t end well. but i called you stupid for a reason, you did it anyway! you try to do it as lightly as you can; you really swear! you’d never want to anger your boyfriend on purpose. but it’s on his fucking cock you idiot. you think he can’t feel it. he growls in your ear, getting agitated now “listen you fucking whore, if you can’t even wait a few minutes for me to finish talking what does that say about you?” he’s insulting your self control. it’s true you’re so pathetic. but he keeps going to your surprise, having muted his end of the line to give you this scolding. “pull that shit on me again you little bitch and i swear to fucking god i will leave you like this and i won’t touch you ever again. understand?” he’s angry, and you gulp. kaiser’s wrath is not something anyone would ever want to face. but you’re so desperate, you beg, you plead for him to reconsider “p-please- can’t wait more- i can’t micha i can’t i can’t i ca-“ and god does your sweet begging just make him even harder. pisses him off even more. he has your throat in his tattooed hand now. “i said, do you understand, don’t make me ask again, engelchen” engelchen, what an ironic nickname for what you’re doing right now. “mmmhm- micha-“ he slaps you a bit. “use your words or i might not know what you mean, baby” he’s such a fucking tease. it’s so hard to speak without moaning, and you know if you get him in trouble he’ll be super pissed. that’s a line you don’t wanna cross for sure. “u-understand micha-“ and he glares at you. but he releases his grip, picks up his phone and praises you before he unmutes himself again. “good girl, wait a few more minutes yeah? then i’ll give you what you want.”

those few minutes were the most painful minutes of your life. even torture couldn’t compare to this. you want him so fucking bad, you’re like a bunny in heat, and he forced you to wait and sit still the entire time. if you so much as moved he shot you a look so cold and mean it could probably kill the average person. you’re used to it; and you hate the fact it turned you on even more. you’re literally foaming at the mouth, bless your poor soul. you don’t even realise when your boyfriend finally hangs up the phone until he grips your waist again and takes a swig of his champagne. ready? and you’re so ready, oh you’re so fucking ready, you nod so eagerly - when you hear the glass clink on the table and feel him picking you up off his lap you know what’s coming.

it’s like heaven when he bends your sweet little ass over the table and fucks you into oblivion. you whined so much, god your moans are music to his ears. the neighbours probably thought there was an early christmas choir with all the slapping and the noises. no; that’s just you and your boyfriend’s disgustingly crude display of love. kaiser is a rough fucker, and today is no different; well, yes it is. he’s mad at you, he’s so mad, you can tell from the way he’s holding your head down against the table and smashing his fat girth so hard into your little cunt. you might just split open. it wouldn’t surprise you. but who cares? this is like heaven.

all of his rage from your stupid, impatient, slutty antics is poured into each thrust. after he was nice enough to let you sit on his lap? “you fucking slut, you- ah- deserve this so much-“ he condescends you as he pounds your little backside. your pussy is aching and his cock is filling you up and hitting the right places so well. he pulls your face up by the hair just enough for you to be able to respond to him. he wants to hear you. “m-michaaa- hard-der- more- micha- ‘m sorry- love you- love your cock- love you lo-love you-“ your cries are so cute. he loves your teary face and your desperate whines. with a final hard thrust he finally finishes inside of you. and just the feeling of his hot cum in your womb is enough to give you an orgasm too. the feeling of him inside you is incredible. you’re kinda like a jigsaw puzzle; you want to laugh at that thought. that would be a really disgusting puzzle.

when he finally pulls out, your saliva from before and his cum drip out of your pussy. there’s slick rolling down your legs and your hair is all messed up. he doesn’t like seeing his essence leak out of you though, so he roughly pushes it back in with two fingers and leans down to peck your forehead. “today i was nice, you and me both know that. fix up your act, prinzessin” and all you can do is nod, you both know nothing will change, you’re a cockdrunk little slut. but you can pretend, you’re both good at that. all you can do is pant as you feel him lift you into his arms and lean into his chest.

tonight’s sleep is gonna hit so different.

[drytacomeat]

𝐈 𝐖𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐖𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧’𝐭 𝐆𝐚𝐲 𝐒𝐨 𝐖𝐞 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐌𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐎𝐮𝐭

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐩𝐥𝐮𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐳𝐞/𝐜𝐡𝐮𝐛𝐛𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐭𝐲𝐩𝐞: 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥? 𝐞𝐱𝐡𝐢𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐠𝐚𝐲 𝐚𝐜𝐜𝐮𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 (𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐲 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐥 𝐠𝐚𝐲 𝐭𝐛𝐡), 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐚 𝐡𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐲 𝐩𝐮𝐬𝐬𝐲 (𝐢𝐝𝐜 𝐢𝐭’𝐬 𝐡𝐨𝐭) , 𝐛𝐢𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐩𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲

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(not super proofread sorry)

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“Alright, Ed. I need your opinion,” you sigh as you and Eddie walked into your room. He threw his book bag onto your bed and gently took yours from your shoulders.

“Why, you know I am always most delighted to offer my opinions! It is what I’m known for after all,” he dramatized.

“Thanks, Eddie,” you smiled widely at him.

Eddie couldn’t help but blush a bit. Your plush cheeks and pretty smile were seemingly the light of his life. He had to stare at your face every chance he got, taking all of you in like it was his first time meeting you all over again.

“Eddie?” you spoke breaking him out of his trance.

“Yep?” he responded, trying to feign casualty before clearing his throat.

“Alright, so I wore this lingerie set today. You’re a guy, so tell me if you think it’s sexy or not. I thought it was, but this guy I’m supposed to be hooking up with didn’t even bat an eye at the sight of the bra strap,” you pouted as you tugged at the hem of your shirt.

Eddie’s fist clenched at the mention of this “guy.” Of course he knew who the guy was. It was some guy on the basketball team. Eddie hadn’t known his name, but he knew that he was in Jason’s douchebag entourage. He knew those types of dudes would never appreciate you, or any woman for that matter, because their heads were either up their own ass or in “laundry baskets.”

In his opinion, nobody deserved you except for him, and he, himself, may be pushing it.

Nevertheless, Eddie swallowed thickly and nodded at your request. He figured you’d have just showed him your bra strap or a small sliver of the thing. Surely you would just keep it modest. You guys were best friends, and Eddie shouldn’t even began to think of you as anything less.

Poor boy was in complete shock when you began taking your shirt off.

His eyes grew comically wide as your bare, plush stomach and fat tits covered in dark green lace came into view.

His jaw dropped and his mouth ran dry as you had completely removed the shirt and began adjusting your tits in the bra.

Pinch him because Eddie swore he must’ve already died and been in heaven.

You continued to observe yourself in the mirror, waiting for Eddie’s response, but it never came.

The silence caused you to grow nervous. You were quite confident in yourself, but the lack of praise or taunt was starting to irk you.

“Okay, so is it…sexy?” you smiled nervously, your confidence withering a bit.

Eddie had to squeeze his eyes shut and think about the most gnarly situations possible for his dick not to get hard. The last thing he wanted was to make you uncomfortable. He opened his eyes and looked at your timid stance. God, you were beautiful.

He nodded rapidly, albeit a little late.

“Yes! Uhm…so sexy indeed. Yep, I don’t think I have ever seen anything sexier,” he rambled as his curls bounced with the rapid nods of his head, hands waving to and fro.

Your nerves calmed down immediately as you visibly loosened. Your smile grew wider again, and you began posing in a silly manner, now feeling better about yourself. Eddie always had that effect on you. It really sucked that he would never feel anything romantic towards you or any girl really.

“Right! I guess my hookup was just an idiot,” you shrugged and turned away from Eddie but towards your mirror.

Eddie’s throat was incredibly dry, so he grabbed a water bottle from your bedside table, quickly downing it.

“Yeah, well, I may be a two time senior year repeater, but those athlete characters are the real idiots at that school,” he complained and rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, whatever. These things are uncomfortable anyway. No point in me dressing up for that dick,” you rambled as you began unfastening it, “I mean, they’re cute, but they provide like no support.”

Eddie finally moved his line of sight back to you just as you dropped your bra completely, bare chest completely on display through the mirror. Eddie whimpered and began to choke on his water.

You turned around startled.

You quickly moved over to Eddie to grab the water bottle from his hand and began to pat his back soothingly.

“You okay, Eds? How did you even manage to choke on water?” you joked.

Eddie was now having a coughing fit from the proximity of your tits to his face. He could feel his dick growing rapidly inside his tight ripped jeans. He was sure he was leaking, and if you got any closer, he would possibly cream his pants.

“Yep, nope. I’m fine! Just peachy!” he chirped and gave a big, fake smile.

You stood back up, looking down at his face for assurance. Once you figured he was in fact alright, you sauntered back over to the mirror.

“Sorry, Eddie, can you hand me my bra? It’s like right beside you under the covers. It’s so much more comfortable than the lingerie,” you reasoned.

He swallowed trying to compose himself. He was panicking because if he stood up, his hard cock would be on full display, and it was definitely noticeable. He was a bit of a grower after all.

“Yeah, I’ll hand your royal highness thy brassiere,” he tried to joke but it came out stiffly. He reached for the bra, subconsciously fingering the material in his hands, imagining he was the one taking this off of you. Instead of getting up, he leaned forward awkwardly to hand you the bra.

You turned around with a smile, your tits bouncing with the movement, and took the bra from his hands.

As you were putting it on, you murmured, “You’re just sweet as pie, Eddie. Sucks that you’re gay.”

Eddie made a face of confusion.

“What?”

You turned to him and made your way over to the bed to slip your shoes off.

“I said that it sucks that you’re gay. I mean you’re so sweet to me, so I think you’d be a great boyfriend. Quite the lady’s man,” you explained as you went to get comfortable in your bed, pulling out a magazine. “But I suppose you’d be a good boyfriend to a man too.”

“Excuse me?” he spoke in shock, cutting you off, “Y/n…I’m not gay?”

You put your magazine down quickly.

“What? You’re not?” you asked a bit confused.

“No? I- why would you think so? I never told you I was gay!” he continued.

“But-I mean…everyone called you a, y’know, queer,” you reasoned, “for about as long as I can remember. You’ve sucked guy’s dicks?”

“Oh, Jesus! I have not! Out of all people, I wouldn’t have expected you to believe that bullshit!” he said frantically, sounding hurt.

“Oh fuck. I’m sorry, Eddie. I knew I shouldn’t have believed that shit. I guess I just didn’t want to judge,” you whispered. You felt shame overtake you.

“I know I’m quite the dramatic, but c’mon…gay? Really? Well suppose I’ve never led you to believe anything else, have I?”

Eddie did consider he never talked about girls in a romantic way, and he did talk about the boys who gave him a hard time more than one would deem normal. That was justified though! He just hated them so much. If he didn’t talk about it almost 24/7, he would surely explode.

“Not really! And I have…been so provocative with you. Hell, I just put my tits in your face! That’s borderline sexual harassment. I mean I guess it would still be if you were actually gay, but I just figured since there’s no way in a billion years that you would be attracted to me-,” you rambled on before Eddie quickly cut you off with a rushed kiss.

Eddie was not sure at all you were into him beyond just being friends, but here he was, laying all his cards on the table and taking a chance. He cradled your chubby cheeks in his hands, savoring the warmth of them.

His lips were plush and a bit dry, but they were nice. So, so nice. He was a gentle kisser, taking his time, and clearly outdoing your endeavors. You assume he must’ve had a good deal of experience.

You pushed him away, despite not wanting to break the kiss, but you needed an explanation and a breath of air.

“What was that?” you asked as your chest rapidly moved with your heavy breathing.

“Look, you said I could never be attracted to you in a million years, just wanted to show you that that was most certainly was not the case, my liege,” he smiled. “And it physically pained me to watch you date all those dipshit men who didn’t appreciate you. You don’t know how much I’ve thought about just kicking their asses. However, if anything, I thought you would never be into me. Now, I know it’s just because you thought I was gay?”

He couldn’t help but chuckle at that, and you had to cover your face out of embarrassment.

“I’m a shitty friend,” you groaned from behind your hands.

He moved your hands away from your face, placing a peck onto your lips. “None of that!”

You leaned into him, wrapping your arms around his neck. You were intertwined, moving liquidly.

This kiss grew heated quickly, tongues hastily bullying each other into submission and when you inevitably had to pull away for breaths of air, Eddie trailed kisses down your neck.

“Smell so good, always wanted to smell here. You have no fucking idea.”

You let out a bit of a whiny moan at that.

Eddie trailed his hands up and down your back, gripping your waist and pulling at the hem of your shirt.

“This okay?” he huffed as his forehead met yours and looked into your eyes.

“Eddie, I was just half naked in front of you. Take it all off. I literally do not care.”

Eddie wasted no time in pulling your shirt over your head and unfastening your bra with quickness and ease.

As soon as your bra dropped off your shoulders, Eddie paused. He had saw them earlier, but he didn’t let him self really look. Now he was completely taking you in, eyes fixated on your chest.

Eddie bit his lip before he bent down to kiss and suckle at your breasts.

“Pretty, fat fucking titties. Always wanted to feel them in my hands, on my tongue,” he huffed before he dived in to take your nipple into his mouth, massaging the other.

You were left breathless.

Eddie was so entranced with your breasts. He took his time licking and nibbling. He spit onto your right tit and watched it dribble down before licking it up from the areola and suckling harshly onto the nipple.

“So fucking good at that, Eddie,” you moaned. You could feel the vibrations of the whimper Eddie let out at the praise.

Of course the town freak had a thing for praise.

“I need more, Eddie,” you sighed, growing restless at the minuscule teasing at your nipples.

“More?” Eddie sprung up, “Oh I can definitely do that. Might need to get more naked for that though.”

He had a smug smile plastered onto his face as he shrugged. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes.

Shimmying off your pants was no problem considering you had exposed your large tummy that came with a few gag gifts of rolls, stretch marks, and cellulite with no hesitation. So yeah, showing a little leg was nothing.

Eddie didn’t seem to find any problem with them either. He gripped your meaty thighs, rings indenting on them. He was obsessed with them. He adored every part of your body and getting you this close and bare was surreal to him.

He took his place back buried into you, kissing roughly over your cheeks, neck, and chest, you mewling in response.

His hands slowly made their way down to your stomach, and much to your satisfaction, they didn’t linger there longer than they did on any other part of your body.

With past hook ups, it was seemingly all they would care about, gripping the fat there excessively, resulting in you feeling uncomfortable. You knew it was likely a fetish thing, or just shitty curiosity. It hurt, but you had excepted it, expected it. With Eddie, it was different.

Eddie treated every part of you with the same care and respect. You admired him so much.

He settled one hand at the small of your back and allowed the other to trail it’s way down to the waistband of your underwear, deep green and thick cotton sitting warm atop his fingertips. The bra and panties were not a matching lace set because you didn’t enjoy the itchy lace against your pussy, so you opted for the same color. You leaned back, and Eddie signaled for you to lay your leg atop of his lap so that you would be more spread out.

“Can I?” he asked as he breathed heavily down your neck. You gulped and nodded, head dropping down to look at the hand in your panties.

He trailed lower, marveling at the feeling of the thick tuft of hair over your warm, wet pussy.

Eddie was straining in his boxers, sweat beading on his forehead. Now he’s fingered girls plenty, ate pussy galore, but he’s never gotten to second…third? base. Eddie was still a raging virgin, and on top of all that, this was you he was involved with now.

He wanted to impress and make you feel like you’re getting the best fuck of your life. It just wasn’t helping that he felt like this was his first ever wet dream, or he’d finally became conscious and touched his dick for the first time.

Nevertheless, he lowered his fingers, feeling the wetness sticking to the skin and hair there.

You bit your lip, eagerness coursing through your veins. Eddie circled your clit with his middle and ring finger, eliciting a shuddering moan from you.

He continued to rub tight circles around it as you squirmed in your spot, until he suddenly pulled his hand away.

You looked at him in confusion until he brought the two fingers up to his mouth, sucking your wetness right off of his fingers.

You stared at him in awe, chest heaving. He maintained direct eye contact with you as his plump lips suckled onto the fingers before he pulled them out with a juicy pop, winking teasingly afterwards.

You couldn’t help but chuckle at his shamelessness.

“Taste so fuckin’ good, honey,” he smiled. Your face ran hot at that. You couldn’t help the smile that came across your face, so you pulled him into another deep, passionate kiss, tangling your fingers into his hair and gripping his chin harshly.

You could pick up on his impatience as he nipped your lip too hard one too many times and began to squirm. You yanked him back by his curls and looked deeply into his shiny, chocolatey eyes. He stared up at you with his mouth open, caught off guard. Your entire demeanor changed.

“So pretty, Eddie,” you smiled.

“Thank you,” he huffed, “I uh, I want to put my fingers in you, if that’s alright with you? I mean, I’m pretty good at what I do, but everybody’s different. You might not prefer that.”

He was rambling, but you were so unarmored by it. It was so special how considerate he was.

“Want your hands on me everywhere, Ed. Especially in me.”

His smiled widened.

“Well then, take these off for me will ya?” he instructed, pulling the waistband of your panties from your hips and back onto your skin.

You moved your leg from his lap and slowly pulled your panties off.

Eddie eyed you with hunger. The girl of his dreams was right in front of him, all in your naked glory. He could die happy now, and he would die with the image of your naked body on his mind.

“Perfect,” he murmured and beckoned you back to the bed.

You leaned back onto your arms for support as Eddie moved in closer to you, placing your right leg over his lap and having you prop your left leg up onto the bed.

“You’re so beautiful,” he spoke.

“Perfect face,” he placed a soft kiss to your cheek.

“Perfect smell,” he continued, words being muffled by your neck as he peppered kisses there.

He reached up to your tits again to tease your nipples. “Perfect tits.”

He pressed kisses to them as he moved his other hand back down towards your now soaking and throbbing pussy.

You were a bit self conscious at how hairy your pussy was now that you were really seeing it. You’d never cared before in all honesty as you were confident in every aspect of yourself, but you couldn’t help but wonder if Eddie liked it or not.

“So perfect down here,” he couldn’t help the smile showing on his face as he bent down to get a good look at where his hand played with your stiff clit.

Your tummy rolls made if hard for you to see yourself, but you could see his hands moving, and that was hot enough.

His skilled fingers gathered slick drooling from your hole and traced your entire cunt with it.

“Can I go inside, honey?” he asked, looking into your eyes with his own deep, chocolate ones. “You’d make my fingers oh so warm and cozy.”

You nodded with your mouth open in a gasp. Eddie looked at you, enchanted. A small smirk came to his face, and he was reminded just of how hard he was in his tight jeans.

He pulled his lip between his teeth in concentration as he slid his slick middle finger down to your hole.

“You ever played down here?” he panted as he circled your hole, becoming more confident.

“Y-yeah, you know that, Eds,” you managed to joke.

“Yeah, I did know that, but did you ever make yourself cum so hard that you saw stars?”

Now, that question left you speechless.

You could only shake your head “no” in response.

Eddie clicked his tongue and smiled at that, “Thought so.”

He began to circle your pussy hole.

“Bet those dumbass laundry tossers never made you cum either, hm?” he taunted. It was hot, and goofy, but you were impatient!

“Eddie, honestly, if you don’t get your fingers in me right now!”

Eddie smirked and slid his finger down to the knuckle inside you.

“Aw, fuck,” you gasped.

Eddie smiled widely, “So bossy. I love it when you boss me around baby, but you already know that.”

He began gently thrusting his finger in and out of you.

“You’re so wet. Wettest, prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen.”

“More, Eds,” you gasped.

With that, he sped up the thrusts of his finger.

“You want more, baby? I’ll give you more, sweet thing,” he swiftly slid his one finger out and reentered you with two.

Your back arched up more and Eddie placed his other hand on the small of your back to support you.

He was in complete awe of you, hands moving on pure instinct inside you because he could not mentally think of anything else besides you.

“Mm,” you let out as he curled his fingers in you.

Eddie began to place kisses onto your plush neck, speeding up the movement of his fingers inside you.

By now, you were so turned on. Eddie was so fucking talented with his fingers. You figured it was either from other hookups or the fact that he was a guitar god.

The slickness of your pussy, and the speed of his fingers created a delicious squelching sound.

“Your pussy’s speaking to me, honey,” Eddie teased, “Oh, I love when she talks dirty to me.”

You took your bottom lip between your teeth. Eddie’s big, brown, round eyes roamed your body, taking you in.

“Oh, I know, baby, I know.” he smiled and went to twist at your nipple.

“Eddie, fuck. How are you so good at this?” you huffed between moans. Eddie used his forearm to force you back closer to his chest.

“Dunno, just talented like that I guess,” he kissed your cheek, “You sayin’ I’m good?”

You groaned and rolled your eyes, preparing to make a snarky remark.

Eddie pressed his thumb to your clit, quickly circling it.

“Aw fuck!”

The roughness of his thumb sweetly colliding with your hard clit felt utterly delicious.

“Yeah,” he taunted, “What was all that talk, huh?”

You mewled in response, unable to form words. Your cunt smell filling the air of the room.

“Smell so good, wanna eat that pussy. You’d let me? Let me lick that fat pussy? Fuck you with my tongue?” he breathed into your neck.

“Yes! Fuck! Anything!” you squeaked and ground down onto his fingers. He was nibbling at your earlobes.

“Yeah, so good. Just take what you need baby,” he growled and began to hump against the seam of his tight jeans, needing some type of friction.

“Eddie, I’m gonna!”

He quickly fucked his fingers into you, trying his best to keep that and the rhythm on your clit in tact.

“Yeah, baby, let it all out okay? Want your cum,” he gritted, “Just give me that cum. Only me, yeah?”

He slammed against your g spot harshly, pressing down onto your clit.

“Yes! Fuck, only you, Eddie! My pussy is yours!” you rambled in the horny daze.

You squeezed your eyes shut tightly feeling your body heat rise, and your pussy began to clench down tightly onto the boy’s fingers.

You felt your climax unravel, completely taken by it.

“Fuck!” you screamed, squirt leaving your cunt and soaking Eddie’s fingers.

Eddie watched your pussy in awe. He’d never made a girl squirt before, and this knocked him on over the edge. He spilled into his boxers, groaning lowly into your ear, but he never slowed down or lost the rhythm of his fingers inside you.

You had a dopey smile on your face from the intensity or your orgasm, all sound, and majority of sight gone momentarily.

Eddie eased you through your orgasm, slowing the movement of his fingers gradually when he figured you were mostly done cumming before removing them completely. He slapped your cunt softly after, making you flinch and whine.

Eddie placed a kiss to your cheek.

“Never seen that before,” he smiled. You blinked longly before looking back at him confused.

He looked down at your bedsheets, you followed his eyes. Oh! It was…wet.

“Oh, I didn’t know I could do that,” you said genuinely surprised.

Eddie shrugged.

“Didn’t know I could make a girl to that,” he shrugged and popped his ring and middle finger into his mouth once again, sucking them is if they were a cock. *Was he sure that he’s never sucked dick before?*

“Eddie,” you groaned, “You’re nasty!”

“Eh, I don’t think so. You taste pretty good,” he shrugged sucking the tips of the fingers.

You shook your head and leaned in for a small, kiss before pulling away.

“So…want me to return the favor?” you smiled at the boy.

Eddie’s face reddened quickly, and he nervously scratched the back of his neck.

“I kinda came in my pants watching you,” he chuckled nervously.

“Oh!” you smiled widely at that before your own face ran hot. “Okay then.”

“Yeah.”

Silence filled the room as you continued catching your breath, Eddie mindlessly stroking your arm.

“So you were never gay?”