#i know this sounded way too fucking eloquent to be me

[spencerreidenjoyer]

please, please, please | spencer reid x reader

wc: 2.8k, rating: explicit/18+

tags/warnings: office sex, professor!spencer/student!fem!reader, age gap (20 years?), rough sex, blowjobs, unprotected sex, vaginal sex, title kink (being called sir), questionable relationship, dubious consent (they both want it but again it’s teacher/student so…)

a/n: read too many professor!spencer fics and decided i had to throw my hat in the ring. i feel crazy and i need him desperately. pls go crazy with me too. (ao3 link here!)

It doesn’t take an FBI profiler to notice how Dr. Spencer Reid fails to hide the way he stares at you in his lectures, his eyes always lingering on you even when he’s addressing the entire classroom. 

Maybe you’re just sensitive to his gaze, because he’s an extremely intelligent man whose attention you’re more than happy to have on you, given the fact that he is insanely attractive.

Maybe you’re just as attracted to him as he seems to be with you, because you absolutely preen at the attention Dr. Reid gives you in class, words of praise over your ideas often free-flowing from his lips.

Maybe because you know how hot you are, you shouldn’t have come into Dr. Reid’s office in a low-cut top and a short plaid skirt asking to discuss your final essay in his Criminal Psychology class. 

Both you and Dr. Reid know you’re more than capable of acing this paper, your in-class ideas clearly brilliant enough to impress Dr. Reid himself. And yet, you’re in his office, seemingly worried about how to get your thoughts across on paper. 

It doesn’t take an FBI profiler to notice how you’re positively bluffing, a little too eloquent to sound truly uncertain of yourself in your work for Dr. Reid’s class.

It doesn’t take an FBI profiler to notice the way Dr. Reid is staring at your tits in your top, eyes only flicking back up to your face when he realises he should be looking at you while you speak instead of at your… assets.

“Sir, did you catch what I just said?” You prod, very aware he most definitely did not hear you. You note how his eyes widen when you call him sir. 

“Um– Well, I–” Dr. Reid starts, but it’s no use. 

You stand up, putting your hands on the desk as you sigh, “Dr. Reid, I’m sorry if I’m boring you with my thought process.”

Your arms frame your tits just right, and you catch the way Dr. Reid’s eyes inevitably flit down to your cleavage. It’s so obvious when he looks back up at you, and you see his face redden. You quirk an eyebrow at him as a challenge of sorts, and he looks somewhat apologetic. 

Dr. Reid clears his throat. He avoids your eyes for a moment, as he moves to take off his blazer. “I apologise. I’m just… distracted at the moment.”

“I wonder why that is,” you hum, twirling a piece of your hair with your index finger, like you’re deep in thought. Then, like the already-obvious answer just hits you, you add, with a pout: “Oh! Do I distract you, sir?” 

“What are you doing?” Dr. Reid asks, and you can hear the way he’s trying to keep his voice steady, calm.

“I don’t know, sir,” you shrug. “Maybe you should share your thoughts with me.”

Dr. Reid blinks at you, takes the sight of you in. “Well, you’re giving me a hard time right about now.”

“Why?” You cock your head to the side. He closes his eyes and breathes in deep, just for a moment. 

Your professor’s tone biting, he answers candidly, “Your revealing clothing choice makes it difficult for me to focus. I didn’t expect you to dress like a slut when you were coming into my office for a simple consultation.”

Your sharp inhale is audible in the pindrop-silent room. Dr. Reid meets your eyes. He pauses for a moment, and you watch his tongue dart out to wet his lips. His eyes are dark. With a flick of his finger, he says, “Come here.”

You think of leaning over the desk just to fuck with him even more, but Dr. Reid looks so serious you think you might be in actual trouble. You scurry over to his side of the desk, standing next to him. He turns his chair towards you, and you can see the bulge in your professor’s pants. He’s big.

“You want this?” Dr. Reid says gently. It’s a loaded question. 

Pulling your lower lip between your teeth, you nod. “Yes, sir. I want you.”

“Good. Then get on your knees.” It’s a command, in a deep voice you’ve never heard from Dr. Reid in the past three months in his lectures. You hope your knees won’t bruise from the way you fall to them in a heartbeat.

“I didn’t think you would be such a slut.” Dr. Reid smirks, and it makes a shiver run down your spine. His hand reaches towards you, cups your cheek. He slaps your cheek gently, but the suddenness makes you gasp. “Fuck, you drive me crazy in class, but now I have you like this? I must have done something amazing in a past life to have you on your knees for me now.”

“Sir,” you exhale shakily. His touch is soft, his thumb stroking your cheek with a surprising sweetness. 

“Let’s put that mouth to good use, hmm?” Dr. Reid says, his tone warm, syrupy sweet. He reaches for his belt, the metal clink as he undoes it making heat quickly pool between your legs. The belt gets tossed aside and he unzips his fly, pulling his half-hard cock out. You watch as his large hand wraps around himself, as he strokes his cock absentmindedly. His eyes are only on you. Your body flushes hot with arousal.

Dr. Reid beckons you closer with a finger. You look up at him, and you take his cock in your hand. His eyes tell you everything you need to know. You lean forward to take him into your mouth. You wrap your lips around the head of his cock softly, the warmth of your mouth probably feeling like heaven as Dr. Reid moans quietly as you do. You swirl your tongue over his tip, tasting the saltiness of his precome.

His hand comes up to the back of your head as he watches you suck his cock. You’re kitten-licking at his tip, which doesn’t seem like enough for him. Dr. Reid pushes your head down on his cock, forcing you to take more of him into your mouth. He’s big, so the sudden fullness of your mouth coupled with the way he hits the back of your throat makes you choke slightly. You glance up at him. He’s smirking. 

“I’m sure you know how to suck cock, don’t you? Like this, sweetheart.” His tone is close to condescending, as the fist in your hair drags your head up and down on his cock. While it’s not like you don’t know how to please a man, Dr. Reid treating you this way makes you swoon – his teacherly mannerisms turning you on impossibly. 

You gag as Dr. Reid fucks your face down onto his cock, his groans mixing with your wet, choked noises. He clearly seems to enjoy this, using you how he pleases, uncaring of your own arousal. It’s so hot you feel like you might explode. You hope you’ll get more out of this than just sucking your professor off, because if he doesn’t reciprocate you might have half a mind to report him for unprofessional conduct.

But Dr. Reid is moaning into his fist, eyebrows furrowed as you blow him, and you’ve always wanted to please your professor; be it in class or right in this moment.

You reach up to grab Dr. Reid by his wrist, tapping his arm to get his attention. His eyelids flutter open, revealing his gorgeously deep brown eyes. He looks at you, slightly concerned. “What’s the matter?”

You swallow hard. “Sir, I– Will you fuck me? Please? I want- I want to feel you inside.”

Dr. Reid closes his eyes for a moment, breathes through his nose. “Holy fucking shit,” He murmurs to himself, before he says, louder, “Okay. Yes. Fuck, you’re so sexy.”

You don’t get up from your knees, not just yet. You look up at him, hands in your lap, waiting for him to tell you what to do. You smirk up at him. Dr. Reid sighs, rubbing his face with his hand, and says, “You little minx. Get up on my desk.”

He extends a hand to help you up, your legs shaky from being on your knees. You look behind you to figure out how to get yourself onto the desk, but Dr. Reid is also on his feet now, and he hoists you up onto the desk, easily getting between your spread legs. You steady yourself by placing your hands out behind you, and shudder when Dr. Reid’s big, warm hands grab at your thighs. He squeezes at the flesh, before one hand comes down to your clothed pussy. He swipes his thumb over your clit, over your hole, and he tuts. “You’re so wet already. You must be desperate.”

You shudder. Dr. Reid’s touch is not enough to feel good, as he barely teases you over your panties. “You should do something about it, Professor.”

“I will,” he says. Dr. Reid exhales, looking down between where your bodies are pressed close, his hard cock pressed against your cunt. “Look at what you’ve done to me. You’ve ruined me.”

“Sir,” you say sultrily. “You should fuck me now.”

“I will,” he repeats, his hand on your hip. He looks you up and down, and then Dr. Reid’s hand is sliding across your thigh, his fingers slipping up the hem of your skirt. You feel calloused thumbs teasing at the waistband of your panties, feel them dip past the elastic to pull them down. 

Cool air hits your cunt, as Dr. Reid slides your panties off your legs. He’s looking down at you, between your legs, clearly enjoying the view. You clear your throat, and he looks up at you, almost sheepish. He says, his voice cracking slightly, “You’re gorgeous.”

You smile. “You’re not so bad yourself, Dr. Reid.”

“Yeah?” He laughs. “I’m glad you think so.”

As you talk, Dr. Reid has mindlessly started to rut his cock along your leaking cunt, your steadily-flowing slick making the slide easy. It’s so good, even just the friction of your professor frotting against you. You hold back a moan, looking up into Dr. Reid’s eyes.

“Sir– Oh, fuck,” you moan, as his cock slips inside of you with the way he grinds against you, your hole letting him in too easily. You’re so wet that he’d just slipped in. The feeling stuns you both, wet heat around Dr. Reid’s cock. He’s still rocking his hips back and forth, which pulls him out of you and pushes him back in. The head of his cock pushes back into you, and you both moan. You cry, “More, Dr. Reid.”

Dr. Reid steadies himself as he starts to fuck you, the movement of his hips shifting as he thrusts into you proper. There’s a practised ease in his thrusts, confident as he takes you on his desk. Your head falls forward, hair in your face, as your body takes in the feeling of your professor’s cock buried inside of you.

“You feel so good,” Dr. Reid grunts, his cock fucking in and out of you. He’s filling you up just the way you need it, his thickness stretching you out so deliciously. You clench around him at the praise, and his hips stutter. “So tight for me, sweetheart.”

And then, you can’t explain what you do next. You can’t help yourself, as you wrap your arms around him and bury your face into his neck, smelling his musky perfume and sweat. You whimper. You feel so good you don’t know what else to do with your body, but Dr. Reid doesn’t push you away. One of his arms wraps around your waist, his hand on the small of your back feeling so warm through your thin top, even though you’re feeling so hot you could explode. 

You feel yourself being pushed onto your back onto the heavy wooden desk, Dr. Reid’s weight pressing down on you. Like this, you feel his cock press inside of you impossibly deeper, and it’s so good you feel like screaming – you don’t, obviously you can’t, but you muffle a moan into his shoulder instead.

“Such a good girl,” Dr. Reid murmurs softly, his cock punching deep inside of you. Each of his thrusts sends electric pleasure up your spine, through your nerves, and you’re tearing up from how good this feels. “Fuck, I wish I could hear you scream for me.”

You whimper, a broken cry pressed against his neck. “Dr. Reid–”

“Oh, I know, sweetheart,” Dr. Reid coos softly. “You’re doing so good, keeping it down for me. So good for me.”

You don’t like feeling so pathetic, but Dr. Reid makes you feel safe even while you’re vulnerable, while he’s fucking you on his office desk. You sob, “Dr. Reid, it’s too good– I’m gonna cum, I– please–”

“Come on,” he grunts, his voice laboured as he pants. “Cum for me, my darling.”

Your gasp is louder than you’d like it to be, in a professor’s office of all places, but you feel too good to remember to keep it down. You shudder through your orgasm, unable to control the way your body reacts to all the pleasure given to you. 

“Fuck,” Dr. Reid blurts, his cock sliding out of you faster than you expect. You whine, but Dr. Reid is cumming all over your cunt, thick, hot spurts all over already-slick skin. “Oh, shit. Fuck.”

You’re thankful Dr. Reid didn’t cum inside, only because he didn’t have a condom on. You feel like a mess, but Dr. Reid’s looking at you like you’re a goddess. You feel his softening cock resting on your thigh. You want to go again, to feel him inside of you again, but perhaps that’s too desperate. 

When his head is clear, Dr. Reid is quick to step back, reaching into the desk drawer. 

“Sorry, let me just–” The commandeering, dominant Dr. Reid you just met is now gone, back to his slightly silly, bumbling self. He takes two wipes out from the packet of wet wipes he had pulled out from the drawer in his haste, but his hands are gentle when he wipes you clean. His touch is soft, sweet, and you feel so special in his hands. “I’m sorry I made a mess of you.”

You chuckle. “Dr. Reid, I’m more than okay with it. I think it comes with the territory.”

He smiles, albeit a little awkwardly. “Yeah, you’re right. I just don’t do this often, I suppose.”

“Oh, please. As if you don’t have other students throwing themselves at you too, Dr. Reid,” you laugh, waving him off.

“I do, but I’ve never done anything with them. Even if they try to proposition me, I tell them to leave my office. I’ve only… It’s just you.”

You’re stunned for a moment, blinking up at him. “You… Seriously?”

He frowns slightly. “Does it seem like I sleep around with my students often?”

“No! No, I just– I didn’t expect that. I thought you would be more… experienced? Considering how readily you let me… seduce you. I guess.”

“You’re definitely convincing,” Dr. Reid smiles. “Besides, I think you’re really special. I’ve never had a student like you.”

“Oh,” you say, because what else can you say in this scenario? Should you say anything else? It’s starting to hit you now, the implications of what you’ve just done walking into your professor’s office like this. “That’s… flattering.”

He tilts his head, brows furrowing. “Your pause seems to imply you don’t really mean that.”

“Oh, no, Dr. Reid, not at all, I–” You shake your head. “I’m really flattered that you think I’m special, I just– I’m not sure how I can navigate this. We’ve had sex, and it’s really hitting me now that I should not have seduced my professor because that’s definitely a violation of conduct, and–”

“Hey, relax,” Dr. Reid says, putting his hand on your shoulder. You breathe in deep. Dr. Reid looks at you warmly, and says, “I know we probably shouldn’t have done this, but I couldn’t resist you. And besides, it’s already done. We’re close to the end of the semester anyways. If you– I– If you want to continue this… outside of campus, I’d be more than happy to.”

“Dr. Reid,” you gasp, shocked that your professor would even be interested enough in you to suggest something like that. A relationship, outside of class? Or whatever it is he was thinking of. Frankly, even if Dr. Reid wants to meet once a month just to fuck, you’d take whatever you could get, especially with a man as gorgeous as him.

“Call me Spencer. Please,” he smiles. “Outside of class, at least.”

You grin. “Okay, Spencer.”

[loveinhawkins]

It’s Dustin who saves Eddie.

He doesn’t try and carry him back to the trailer, nothing like that—if he could manage that on determination alone, then he would, but his throbbing leg has other ideas.

So he stays by Eddie’s side. Throws off his hoodie and starts to rip any piece of his clothing that he can, because he’s come a long way from when he once stuck bandaids on Steve’s beaten up face.

“What… what are you doing?” Eddie says in between gasping breaths.

Dustin would laugh if he wasn’t so scared. “Buying more time,” he echoes. Then he looks Eddie right in the eye and adds, voice wavering, “I’m really fucking sorry in advance.”

He takes a deep breath and presses the material to Eddie’s chest with force.

Eddie screams.

Dustin grits his teeth. Keeps going.

He creates makeshift tourniquets for Eddie’s arms, keeps tearing at his shirt, then takes it off entirely to use as a larger bandage, ignoring the shock of cold against his skin; the only thought in his head is that he has to stop the bleeding.

Eddie’s hand finds his bare shoulder. Squeezes weakly. “Tha’s enough,” he slurs. “D-Dustin, stop.”

And Dustin only does what he says because it doesn’t look like any more blood is soaking through the material. He keeps pressure on the worst of the wounds, tries to keep his elbows locked, as if that will stop his relentless shivering.

And when he looks up, he sees a tear fall from Eddie’s eye, down his temple, into his hair—and Dustin somehow knows that it’s not from pain alone, that Eddie’s crying just because he can see how cold he is.

“M’sorry,” Eddie whispers. “Never meant for… for you to—”

“Shut up,” Dustin says, then hastily amends, “Actually, don’t shut up, just—just stay awake. They’ll be back soon, okay, Steve and Robin and Nancy, and they’ll—”

“Steve,” Eddie agrees. His voice goes up and down, like a little song: “Steve, Steve, Steve.”

“Yeah, he’ll—hey, Eddie, eyes open.”

“Mm-hmm,” Eddie says faintly. “Eyes… oh, forgot to… you were right, H-Henderson, he’s… a badass. S’got pretty eyes, too, like wow. Pretty, pretty…”

And…

Well. That’s a development.

“You can tell me all about Steve’s pretty eyes if you keep yours open.”

And Eddie’s eyes do jolt open at that, like he’s received an electric shock. He groans in mortification.

“Jesus Christ. Didn’t mean to—fuck, feel like I’m drunk, man, I can’t… just kill me.”

Dustin thinks he probably would have found that request funny if Eddie wasn’t saying it through teeth flecked with blood.

Still, he does let out a strangled, hysterical giggle when he says, “I know how to keep you awake now.”

Eddie groans again. “Spare me the—”

“He sings in the shower, like, full blown Elvis impression, all that jazz. And he denies having lucky socks, but he wears the same pair whenever Lucas has a basketball game.”

“Huh?” Eddie says eloquently.

“Pay attention, dude, you need to know what you’re getting into! Oh, he said when he went to see The Fox and the Hound, he cried.”

Eddie chuckles. “That’s… oh, that’s sweet.” He smiles, eyes bright, and Dustin suddenly knows that they’re gonna be okay. “Keep going?”

Dustin does. He talks about how Steve always says, “Two for joy,” even when he sees a singular magpie, because he reasons that the second one is always just hiding. How he eats ice-cream too fast, does a comical hop in place when he inevitably gets brain freeze. That whenever he happens to pick up Dustin from school, he almost always has a Simon and Garfunkel tape playing, sings along to At the Zoo as he turns out of the parking lot.

Dustin doesn’t mention the Farrah Fawcett spray; a promise is a promise.

Eddie seems pretty damn well entertained with what he’s been given, anyway. He keeps smiling, lets out breathy chuckles that give Dustin hope: that he still has enough energy to laugh.

“Okay, okay, I’m awake,” he says, “I’m so awake, jus’… you just relax.”

And it’s only when Dustin stops talking that he realises his teeth have been chattering the whole time.

Eddie gives an unhappy sounding hum, and his hand comes up to clumsily rub at Dustin’s forearm.

“Your lips are blue.”

“I’m f-fine.”

A sudden desperate yell splits through the air; Dustin didn’t know that Steve could sound quite like that.

“Here!” Dustin shouts as much as he can.

He hears three people running; Steve gets there first.

Eddie’s eyes go wide. “Steve,” he says, and Dustin’s seen enough movies to think that this could be it, the big moment, or at the very least that Eddie’s about to give another wandering speech on Steve’s eyes.

But instead—

“Steve, Steve,” Eddie repeats, “Dustin’s cold.”

“Jesus Christ,” Steve says; he’s already taking off his jacket, shoving Dustin into it with this frantic mixture of urgency and care.

Dustin’s shivers get even more pronounced as the jacket’s zipped up, as the warmth from Steve’s body heat hits him.

“Think E-Eddie’s—b-bleeding stopped,” he says, accidentally biting on his tongue thanks to his chattering teeth.

Steve looks over Dustin’s handiwork, eyes shining. “Yeah, you did good,” he says, choked, rubs his hands down Dustin’s forearms more effectually than Eddie had. “You did so good.”

“You must’ve been wearing your socks tonight, Harrington,” Eddie says.

Steve stares at him. It’s only when he starts to laugh that Dustin realises he’s crying at the same time. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Shh, s’okay,” Eddie says. “I cried at th’movie, too, don’ tell anyone. S’not fair what… s’posed to be a happy endin’…”

Steve catches Dustin’s eye, says, deadpan, even with a tear-streaked face, “Doc, I think we’re losing him.”

Dustin whacks him on the arm, because it’s so stupid, it’s so Steve, and, God, they're really gonna be okay.

“Dustin’s th’best doctor,” Eddie chants, “best, best, best…”

“Yeah, he’s a goddamn superhero,” Steve says sincerely.

There’s a look Steve has on his face while he lifts Eddie up, a fleeting softness right before he goes back into planning mode, scanning the trailer park in case of any more threats; where Eddie’s fingers curl around Steve’s neck, and Steve smiles down at him, and…

Dustin would put a bet on Steve thinking Eddie has pretty eyes, too.

At least, he would if he could stand up.

When Steve clocks his leg, his jaw works a couple of times before he speaks. “Hey, Robin, Nance?” He raises his voice, looking to some point in the distance. “Could you—help Dustin up, I’ve—uh, kinda got my hands full.”

His tone is light, but his chin trembles just a bit, like he might break down at the thought that he can’t carry Dustin out of here, too.

“Okay, c’mon superhero,” Robin says, suddenly by Dustin’s side; she counts down, and then Dustin’s being carefully lifted up, an arm flung around Nancy, too.

“I’m okay,” Dustin feels the need to say. Robin and Nancy are out of breath, and he can’t help noticing the vivid red marks around their necks.

“Yeah, you will be,” Robin corrects.

“Is—is Eddie—?”

“Look, he’s right in front,” Nancy says. “Steve’s got him.” She lowers her voice and when she says, “You were really brave, you know,” Dustin has to swallow a lump in his throat: for a moment feels thirteen years old, her hand in his at the Snow Ball.

And she’s right; Eddie is right in front. Dustin can see him trailing a hand up and down Steve’s arm, slow and soothing, and he’s talking, just too far away to be heard.

For a few steps, Dustin thinks that Eddie must be spilling more of what he’s learned, regurgitating the anecdotes.

But then Robin and Nancy pull him a little closer. And he can read Eddie’s lips.

He’s okay, Eddie is saying, looking away from Steve’s face to find where Dustin is. He’s right behind us, sweetheart. He’s okay.

[minnaci]

fushiguro toji x gn!reader · nsfw · wc: 1.4k

no pregnant, just breed.

contents: HEAVY BREEDING KINK (no pregnant, just breed, as the title implies), cumming inside (reader receiving), heavy daddy kink (reader calls toji "daddy", no age-play), penetrative sex (reader receiving), unrealistic cervix stimulation (reader receiving), one (1) brief check-in, self-aware over-the-top dirty talk (which both toji and reader semi-begrudgingly enjoy), gratuitous descriptions of cum, it's just self-indulgent smut i am cringe but i am FREE

reader details: reader has a vagina (referred to as a "pussy"), a clitoris, and a cervix. they are physically unable to become pregnant, which is implied to be a deliberate choice.

a/n: thank you to my beloved monty @shibaraki for sponsoring this truly self-indulgent flash-fic through @ficsforgaza! i got a little carried away... this was supposed to be around 500 words... ahsdkjf gg no re

"i don't wanna get pregnant, daddy," you choke the words out through every devastating, soul-wrenching thrust. his cock throbs inside of you. ah, there it is— toji's ever-reliable breeding kink.

you both know you can't get pregnant. it's no longer biologically possible for you, nor does toji actually want another kid. but damn if pretending you don't want to be bred full and heavy doesn't get toji going.

"mmm, i know, baby, but your body is just begging for it..." he pushes your thighs further against your chest, making your muscles ache with the stretch and letting him get impossibly deeper. the tip of his cock kisses your cervix, and you yelp— a real one, a pained one, nothing like the sugary-sweet sobs you fake when you really want toji to wreck you.

toji pulls back immediately. your pussy gapes, mourning his loss. "color?"

"green," you say. the loss of his touch sends tremors through your skin. you reach for him, and he comes to you easily, blanketing you with his weight and pressing a sweet kiss to your temple. "why? you?"

"you sounded like you were hurting, but i'm green if you are."

"you know i like when you hurt me," you say, letting your breath wash over the shell of his ear. you can feel the way his spine shudders, arches into you— all that power, all that desire, brimming under your hands. "and you were so deep, daddy, you were fucking my cervix. it hurt so, so good."

there's a tense silence. the beginnings of embarrassment make your cheeks warm. did you finally reach the limits of toji's depravity? was the dirty talk finally too cringe?

"baby," toji growls— a real, actual growl, what the hell— and captures your lips in a bruising kiss. "you're so fucking hot. what the fuck. why was that so fucking hot?"

with an internal sigh of relief, you mentally check "cervix kink" off on the list in your head. bingo.

"can you please kiss my cervix again?" you pout and cup his face in your hands, playing up the part of sweet, spoiled pet. "it misses you, daddy."

if his hands weren't occupied with lining his cock up with your needy entrance, you're sure toji would be pulling his hair out. he makes a hopelessly aroused noise— something close to a whimper, though you're sure he'd deny it if asked— and sinks back into you, inch by unyielding, unforgiving inch.

the tip of his cock finds your weakest spot again without much trouble. you can't help but clench tight, muscles contracting against your will as he circles his hips.

"there," you gasp, chest trembling. "right— right there, again, yes yes yes—"

his gaze sharpens as you sob and writhe on his cock. honestly, it's almost concerning how easily he makes your brain go fuzzy. pleasure clouds your consciousness, and you melt around his cock. any semblance of an act dissolves into nothingness as he fucks you with deep, devastating thrusts. "are all of those pretty noises for me, baby?"

"nnngh," you whimper through a truly devious roll of his hips. you're so full you can hardly stand it.

"mhm, very eloquent," he says, an amused crinkle at the corner of his eyes. for all that you know how to push his buttons, he know how to push yours right back. there's a deliciously patronizing edge to his tone when he speaks again. "there's my baby, using their big, smart words, like 'nngh' and 'ungh'."

"stop," you whine, protest breaking on a pitchy moan. it sounds enough like toji's mocking imitation of your noises that your cheeks flush with warmth. "you're being mean."

"i am, aren't i?" he purrs. the rough pad of his thumb finds your clit. your body instinctively tries to move away, overwhelmed by the sensation, but toji's weight keeps you trapped underneath him. there's nothing you can do but accept it— accept the firm circles against your clit, the aching pressure of the tip of his cock against your cervix, the heavy slap of his balls against your skin. "but you like it."

"no, i— i don't." an obvious lie. you both know it, based on the way toji grins at you, all teeth.

"silly thing." he tilts your hips up a bit, enough to bully his way deeper inside of you. "of course you do. look at you— just a few mean words and you're making a mess all over the sheets."

he's right— you're dripping. the slick, lewd sounds of your pleasure fill the room every time he moves his hips against yours. it's messy, filthy, wet— a perfect cocktail of hormones and arousal that makes your brain melt and leak out of your needy pussy.

submission comes easily enough when all you can think of how good toji is to you, how grateful you are to have a lover who knows your body even better than you know yourself. toji tears you apart with the hunger of a feral wolf, and the parting of your flesh under his fangs is sweeter than sin.

"feels so hot, daddy—" you gasp, clinging to him. heat pools between your legs, burning through the last of your sanity. he's your lifeline, your rock, the only thing preventing you from getting lost in this wildfire of pleasure. his cock is thick enough to rub up against every sweet spot you have without trying, but the sensations only grow more intense when he grinds his hips, stirring up your insides. "please, 's too hot, 'm gonna—!"

"go ahead, honey. give it to me."

his thumb catches against your clit just right, and the heat in your core boils over. you tumble over the edge, mind whiting out and eyes rolling back into your skull. toji's cock is big and heavy inside of you, and your pussy milks him shamelessly. the tip of his cock presses against the hungry mouth of your cervix in a lewd, aching kiss.

toji fucks you through your orgasm, letting you grind and ride out all of your shakes and shivers on his thick cock. he huffs a laugh as you finally flop back into the pillows, gazing up at him with a sweet, tired smile, even as your pussy flutters around him, aching for just a little more. "there you are. there's my baby, going all soft for me. you gonna let me breed you now?"

his cock feels so good that you can hardly think, much less speak, but raw, unfettered greed claws at your ribs, loosens your tongue just enough for you to mewl out a soft, "please, daddy."

to your dismay, he pulls out, leaving just the tip of his cock inside. he strokes the part of his shaft that he can reach, using your cum as his lube. the wet sounds are sickeningly hot, and your pussy reacts, kissing and milking at his fat cockhead as if to try and coax him just a bit deeper.

"fuck." his eyes lock on place where your body welcomes him in, still so eager, so wet. his stroking speeds up, a lewd little fap-fap-fap as his jaw hangs slack. "baby," he gasps, hips trembling. "baby."

"please," you say, mustering the strength to cup his face in your hands. he looks at you, looking nearly drunk on his pleasure. the sheer bliss in his dazed expression nearly makes you cum again. "please, daddy, please cum in me. my pussy needs it."

"fuck," he groans, capturing your lips in a messy kiss as his cock throbs out spurt after spurt of cum into your wanting pussy. with the way his cockhead sits at the mouth of your pussy, you can feel his cum leaking in deep, dripping down your walls to warm your aching cervix. finally, some fretful, restless instinct inside you settles, appeased by the warm, creamy dribble of his seed.

"so good." he squeezes his cock in his fist, milking out the last drops of cum. his fingers tremble as he guides his softening cock inside of you, using it to push his cum even deeper inside. "look at you, so sweet now that you've been bred. i should keep you like this all the time— spread open in my bed with my cum in your fucking womb. would you like that?"

"no pregnant," you say a familiar sort of sweet, post-sex giddiness washing over you. you giggle. "but okay."

he laughs, sounding a bit delirious himself. "of course, baby. i know. no pregnant. just breed."

networks: @houseofsolisoccasum @interstellar-inn

[captainquake42]

> ♡ °. INKED UP

♡ part one

☆ kwon jae sung x fem!reader

> summery:

you go to robby and dimitri’s room hoping to have your twin brother robby come with you to get a tattoo unaware that they lost their room to kwon.

OR kwon struggles with his normally good english in front of a pretty girl

> notes:

never get a tat if you are going to sweat a lot in the next two ish weeks, like at a karate tournament, you don't want it to get infected.

also, this is my first x reader, so if ya'll would let me know how I did :)

if you feel a part two // part three

also posted on my ao3

> 1.4k written by:

S A R A H

You adjusted your high ponytail, your fingers tugging at the elastic band to secure it in place. The hallway of the hotel was quiet, save for the soft hum of the vending machines around the corner. Your sneakers barely made a sound as you bounced lightly on the balls of your feet, excitement buzzing under your skin.

This would be perfect. Robby had been moody since he saw that Tory had joined up with Cobra Kai again.

You opened up your notes app to make sure you had the right room. You already had it memorized but double no triple checking never hurt anyone. You looked up from your phone and yep, the numbers matched up.

You knocked your knuckles against the door and immediately heard a muffled voice and shuffling noises. It was probably Dimitri stumbling around to get decent. Your lips ticked up thinking about it.

You had Robby go with you to get your first tat, mostly because of where you were getting it but also because you didn't wanna go alone. It became tradition after that, every time you went to get a new one he would go with. He didn't get to skip out just because it was a little impromptu tat in barcelona, or because he was pouty

The Sekai Taikai Tournament had been interesting so far and it was only night one. Eli already got in a little pissing match with the cute male cobra kai captain who's name you didn't know.

Speaking of, the door opened and your brother nor teammates were on the other side, instead the cobra captain stood there in a black compression shirt and gray sweats.

If your weaknesses was an outfit it would be that. The shirt made his arms and shoulders look nice. His hair was styled in a way that reminded you of a character from a volleyball anime you watched, which might be a little racist to think since the guy was asian but whatever that's not the point.

��� Um,” You said eloquently, showcasing your intelligence. “ I don't suppose that you became friends with my teammates, did you?”

He made a face. “ No. You lost?” His korean accent was thick and hardy.

You look down at your phone again. “ Nope, this is my brother's room unless he was fucking with me by giving me a random one.”

He looked thoughtful, his head tilted while he stared at you. Then “ was.”

“ What do you mean?”

He looked at me. “ Your brother, miyagi do's captain?” He asked.

“ Yeah that's him! Robby.”

“ Then was. Made bet. He lose. I win. I got room.”

That son of a-. “ He lost his room in a bet?”

Now he looked a little smug, his mouth quirked up.“ Yes.”

“ I can't believe him, fucking dumbass.”

The hallway seemed to stretch longer as you processed that. You couldn’t believe Robby. The sheer stupidity of losing his room in a bet? You huffed pressing your lips together and crossing your arms. You were never gonna let him live this down.

The Cobra Kai captain leaned casually against the doorframe, his smirk firmly in place, he was enjoying this far too much. His arms crossed in a way that made his already broad shoulders seem even more imposing. His compression t clung to his torso like a second skin, and his sweats hung low on his hips, leaving a bit of skin revealed completing a look that made your traitorous brain short-circuit for a split second. But only for a second.

The guy’s smirk grew, and his gaze flicked to your face with something like amusement. “ You mad?”

“ Mad?” Your brows raised wondering where he got that from.

“ Your cheeks are pink.” He offered. “ Mad, no?”

You couldn't help it, you laughed. “No. It wasn't my room, I just think he's stupid.”

“ You say it.” He shrugs. “ Not a good bet taker.”

“ You think he sucks at betting.” You grinned.

He nodded proudly. “ Yes, sucks.”

You watched as his ears turned pink when you laughed. “ I agree.”

“ Here for room or just brother?”

“ I was gonna make him come with me to get a tattoo but since he's not here it looks like i'm going alone.” Something you weren't very fond of, but it was already getting dark and you didn't have time to go hunting for your twin. “ I'll see you later.”

You turned to leave but stopped when his voice reached your ears. “ Wait.”

You looked over your shoulder. “ Yeah?”

His expression shifted, his confident smirk slipping, his brow furrowed like he didn’t like the idea, and his next words came out haltingly. “ You… no go alone.”

You blinked, startled by the sudden concern in his tone. “ What?”

“ Not good. Alone, not safe.” He stumbled slightly over the words, his composure cracking. “ I go.”

“ Don't think I can handle it?” You asked curiously.

“ I don't doubt you, but you small, men are not.”

“ So you want to, what? Protect me?”

“ Yes.”

“ You?” You couldn’t hide your surprise. “ Why would you do that? Aren’t you, like, Cobra Kai’s big bad captain? Shouldn’t you hate me or something?”

His eyes rolled, his earlier confidence returning. “ Not hate. I bored.” His smirk reappeared, though his ears stayed pink. “ Plus, beats sitting in here.”

He pulled on his hoodie, shrugging. “ You want to go alone? Get lost in city? Not smart.”

You couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped you. “I think I can manage to find a tattoo parlor without getting lost.” You shook your phone at him. “ Directions on my phone and all.”

He raised a brow, clearly unimpressed with you. “You sure? Phone say this your brother’s room. Was wrong.”

Your jaw dropped, cheeky little-. “ No fair.”

He shugged and his hands slipping into the pockets of his sweats while he leaned closer. “ Nervous?”

“ Nervous?” you echoed, narrowing your eyes at him. “ About what?”

He shrugged, the movement casual but the teasing shine in his eyes was anything but. “ Pretty girl, late night, strange city. Many reasons.”

“ Pretty girl?” you repeated feeling your cheeks pull up in a slow smile before you could stop yourself. “ You think I'm pretty?”

His cheeks turned pink, but his grin didn’t falter. “ I say what I say.”

Your chest felt warm and the corner of your mouth quirked up despite yourself. “ You’re something, you know that?”

“ I know.” His confidence was borderline infuriating, but there was something endearing about the way he wouldn't look you in the eye when he said it. Like your words had affected him more than he wanted to admit.

“ Alright, Captain,” you said with a mock sigh of defeat, “ if you’re so worried about me getting lost, maybe you should just come with me after all.”

“ Good idea,” he said immediately, pushing off the doorframe and stepping into the hallway.

You blinked. “ Wait really, you actually want to come?”

“ You invite,” he said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“ I was joking!”

“I wasn't,” he replied, slipping on a pair of sneakers that were sitting next to the door. “ What tattoo, you getting?”

“ I'll tell you what. I'll tell you what I want, if you tell me your name.”

“ My name?” He looked at you like you should know it. “ It's Kwon Jae Sung. Call me Kwon. And you?”

Like the song? “ You don't know my name?” You teased, sticking your hand out.

He looked at confused.

“ Oh duh.” You said to yourself resisting the urge to palm your forehead. “ In america we shake hands to greet each other.”

Kwon smiled and made a noise of understanding and let you take his hand. Immediately you could feel his calluses.

You shook his hand sharply, your dad always told you that having a strong grip was important. “ I could just call you, so-yeon.” Kwon said.

“ What's that mean?”

“ No fun if I tell you.”

You made a face and scoffed. “ That could mean bitch in korean for all I know.”

He shook his head, smiling and put his hand over his heart. His eyes wide and innocent. “ I would never.”

You told him your name, “ The tattoo I'm getting is gonna be really small, I'm putting it on my wrist it's a little panda.” You opened up pinterest, to show him a picture of it.

“ Cute,” he hummed. “ Like you.”

The line was cheesy but had you blushing anyway.

[haleswallows]

coming at you live, with a news series.... Promises, Promises

Part 1: Cross My Heart (Hope to Die) Fandom: DC x DP Crossover Pairing: Dead Tired (Danny Fenton/Tim Drake) Rating: Teen

Teaser:

"Are you really doing the 'FBI, this is our case now' shtick? What are you, a cop?"

Phantom makes a retching sound. "Sorry, reflex. Any sort of implication I'm government adjacent, can't help it."

"You know being Justice League makes you government adjacent," Red Robin helpfully points out. He weighs a net-launcher in his hand. "If not affiliated with the UN, the League works with the organization often to be called an ally."

"Not me," Phantom says with cheer, pushing a narrow cylinder towards him. "That's essentially a light saber, by the way. Nah, they keep me pretty far from the UN shit. I'm not built for it. I'm there to hit things real hard and share tech."

A light saber? Hell yeah. Tim grabs it and wonders if he can keep it.

"Can I keep it?" he blurts out, because why not?

Shrugging, Phantom says, "Sure, I have like five more. This one is green, but I think I can change the color. Red would match your like —," he waves expansively at Red Robin, "Vibes and aesthetic. Very cool branding, by the way. The cape is dope."

Huh. Tim didn't expect the compliment. He chooses to ignore it, mostly because he just doesn't know what to say in response. 'Thanks, I like your cyber-gothic vibes too'?

"Green's fine, I always wanted to be a Jedi." A red light saber would infinitely more on brand, but Tim would never consider being a Sith. Wait, absolutes. Shit.

It fits perfectly next to his bo staff on his bandoleer. Which, sick and feels like a divine happenstance, as if Red Robin was meant to have the energy blade. He helps Phantom reload the bag, though the ghost keeps the thermos out before pushing the entire duffle back inside his chest.

God, that's even weirder up close. Tim examines Phantom's torso, mind spinning through possibilities on how it works.

"Alright," Phantom's voice breaks his concentration, Red Robin snapping to attention. A truly feral grin spreads across Phantom's face as he lifts into the air, hair swirling and catching the last dredges of sunlight. "Let's go ghost hunting."

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

They're wrapping up in one of Tim's more 'civilian' passing safe-houses. Mostly because it was the closest, and Phantom said something about 'ley lines' and 'easier to open a portal'. Cool, whatever. Tim wanted to burn this safe-house soon anyway.

Tim, as always, gets himself into trouble. Chronic Thinking Too Much Disease, they really ought to make a cure for it. He reflects, paused in the middle of writing the report and watching Phantom eat Cheerios right out of the box. Phantom perches on the counter, looking like he belongs there, shoveling cereal into his mouth with the relic sitting innocently at his hip.

When the fuck did Tim get Cheerios?

There's no denying it. Tim likes working with Phantom. The guy is good in a fight, doesn't rely on his powers too much, and kept up with Tim. Not just physically, but intellectually. And he's shockingly earnest when he isn't being a trash-talking little shit.

So. Tim gets an idea.

"Hey," he says before he's even thoroughly thought it out, "we should date."

Phantom pauses, gloved hand suspended in the middle of shoving another handful of cereal into his mouth, wide eyed and gaping. Attractive.

"Huh?" he says eloquently.

"Not for real," Tim scrambles to explain. "I mean fake dating. Just hang around some, be a bit performative, nothing out of masks. We can say we're taking things slow and break up amicably. Nightwing keeps trying to set me up with a date. This will get him off my case."

"Oooooh." Phantom resumes inhaling cereal. Why a ghost needs to eat, Tim would like to know, but it's probably rude to ask. Slowly chewing, Phantom seriously thinks it over. "You know, the council has been bugging me, too. About dating. This could work out for both of us."

Council? Tim would like to know why a council is interested in Phantom dating. So he asks.

Phantom sighs explosively. Finally, he sets the Cheerios down. "OK, so like, this is need to know basis only. I haven't even disclosed it to the League. And like, Nightwing only knows because he's my friend and the Observants crashed one of our missions and outed me. Hard to lie about why a floating eyeball showed up to demand I actually show up to the next council meeting, instead of blowing them all off again to play heroes with my living friend."

Pulling a face, Phantom waves an arm in an arc over his head. A crown appears, spinning and shooting off beams of light like an Aurora Borealis.

Tim doesn't gape, because Red Robin doesn't gape. But, you know, that's unexpected.

"I'm the Ghost King. It's a whole thing, no I am not taking questions on it at this time. Well, technically, I'm the Prince of the Infinite Realms because I'm too young to take the throne. So, there's a council and a regent. Whatever, not important!"

Phantom claps, getting himself back on track. "What that means is there's a council and Observants that are really interested in my personal shit. Including who I date. But like, I'm enjoying my brat girl summer and being single right now, not that they care."

Tim blinks. Then blinks again, slotting the new information in place alongside everything he knows about Phantom. That's... something.

"That sounds annoying," Tim says, instead of one of the approximately 23 questions in his head that are quickly spawning more by the second. "Fake dating would solve both of our problems."

Because Tim is a professional, they make a contract.

Phantom watches with great interest as Tim bustles around the apartment, setting up shop at the kitchen table. He doesn't think he's ever actually sat at this table. Mostly, he's used this apartment to sleep, a crash-out spot that has a nicer bed and isn't as sparse as the other Bat-affiliated safe houses.

As soon as Tim sits, stretching out his wrists, Phantom kicks off from the counter to hover around Tim's shoulders. The box of Cheerios balances precariously on the ghost's stomach. Tim eyes it briefly. Then sets to it.

"So, uh," Phantom starts, arms folded behind his head. "How casual is 'casual'?" Under the weight of Tim's judging eyebrows, Phantom defends himself. "I'm just asking! Like, how far are we both willing to go to sell it? Are we exclusive? Facebook official?"

"Facebook official," Tim echoes, typing. "Christ, is anyone Facebook official? Do ghosts have Facebook?"

"I don't know, I could get one. If, like, you think it'd help." Absurd, this entire thing is absurd. But they're here and committed to the bit. Or committing to the bit. There's 'selling it', and then there's…. whatever Phantom is saying. Facebook, what year is it?

"Red Robin doesn't have a Facebook, and I refuse to make one." Tim barely manages to keep from sounding snide.

"I won't mog on you referring to yourself in the person, even though I'm really tempted." How gracious. "Alright, so just. Seeing each other, feeling it out, not seeing other people."

[mondaymelon]

— 𝗮𝗵, 𝗽𝗶𝗰𝗸 𝘂𝗽 𝗮𝗹𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝘆 …! ♥

:feat~ xiao, kazuha, wanderer x gn!reader:

⤷ just fluff and reader being dense af

ᴛ��ɢʟɪꜱᴛ (open!) : @manager-of-the-pudding-bank, @iamdedinside, @ilyuu, @achlysis

When you're dense as fuck and not picking up on any of their hints...

XIAO is clearly not one to show emotion often.

Yet, when it comes to you, he tries to convey his feelings properly in the best way he can... it's just that-

You seem to be so impossibly oblivious?

That's not really a bother to the aloof man, since he can't exactly read emotions well either. He knows where you're coming from, and will try to give you the time you need.

Xiao's advances on the other hand... are... well, let's just say interesting. Ever since he had quietly asked Zhongli for some relationship advice, the man had been entangled in the two of you's association ever since, giving Xiao the most bewildering advice... to him, at least.

So now, every morning, the two of you drink tea together and watch the sun rise above the mountain peaks, per request of the adpetus. You didn't think much of it - it was more of an excuse just to spend more time with the man, and so you were happy to oblige.

Still, waking up every morning, this early... you can barely keep yourself from dozing off.

"Come to think of it, do you like the sunrise, Xiao? You must have a reason for constantly inviting me to meetings like this... ah- but I enjoy them, I promise you...!"

Xiao let a ghost of a smile play across his face. No, He wants to say to you. I do this because I want to see you. "Yes, the sunrise is beautiful indeed."

"Aha, I knew it! I never took you for someone as sentimental as that, but it's a welcome side of you!"

"...Mhm." But you are much more beautiful.

The silence that comes after is somehow comforting.

He doesn't know where these emotions have come from, or how they blossomed, but just by being in your presence they are nurtured, and by the day they grow.

And because he can't express it himself, he'll wait until the day you realize it. ♥

KAZUHA is someone whose words float like birdsong.

So when he quietly shows you all the poems he's written about you, face flushed merely think it's because of his eloquent language that you don't understand his feelings. After all, he does use quite the number of elaborate metaphors, so it would only make sense, right?

Yet, when he attempts to convey his feelings in a more blunt manner, that seems to somehow fail as well.

"Ah, you're so beautiful that I feel flustered." He lets out a quiet laugh, smiling at you.

"Thank you Kazuha! You're also very beautiful!"

"...Mhm."

And even...

"Hey, I like you."

"Aww, Kazuha, I like you too! We're really the best of friends, aren't we?"

The only thing that comes out of the male's mouth is an awkward laugh. Needless to say, now the truth grows apparent.

You're just really, really dense!

The white-haired male tries to show you through actions instead - holding your hand, walking you home, even going out on "dates", yet still nothing seems to work. All his hints have failed him, and there's only one choice left.

To tell you, directly, again.

"I love you."

"I love you too, Kazuha!" You smile so obviously.

"Romantically."

"...What?" You glance up at him with a dumbfounded expression, eyes wide.

"It's as simple as it sounds."

"Ah- W-w-wait- uhm-" You're stammering hard, now, and the heat that's rising to your face burns. "You... like me??" You voice comes out as an airy whisper.

"Yes, dove, and I'll say it as many times as it'll take." ♥

WANDERER is a little pissed off - which is reasonable.

He's clearly making it obvious, how can you be so stupid?? At this point, surely you're just playing stupid to make a mockery out of him, aren't you?

Playing games with him, of all people... well, that irks him even more than he already is.

And the fact that you seem to be completely unaware of his rage, somehow, makes it even worse!

He doesn't have many friends, but surely regular people don't keep "friends" as close to their heart as he does with you? You call him by his real name, and he treasures your being, but with the way you're acting so blissfully oblivious... he's just about fed up with your antics.

The last straw is when he accompanies you to do some commissions in Sumeru, one of them being to guard a package delivery from Gandharva Ville to Port Ormos. As the two of you walk up to the agreed meeting spot, the commissioner spots you and waves.

"Oh, there you are!" He grins, and something about the way he's acting all buddy-buddy makes Wanderer clench his fists silently. The tanned man turns to the other, wearing the same expression. "Haha, and you didn't tell me you were bringing your lover along as well!"

...What?

And just like that, all of his unexpected rage disappears as he shoots his gaze up, indigo eyes wide.

You laugh whole heartedly. "Nono, this is my best friend-"

"No, I'm their lover!"

You stay silent for the count of three, before speaking awkwardly. "Kuni, what are you-"

"I LIKE YOU, OKAY? UGH, WHY WON'T YOU GET IT ALREADY!! I THINK YOU'RE REALLY NICE AND REALLY PRETTY AND I WANT TO BE YOUR LOVER-!!" He's shouting, now, voice angry as heat rises to his cheeks.

Ah, the words just slipped out of his mouth.

The silence afterwards is suffocating.

The delivery man is the first to break it, clearing his throat before smiling awkwardly. "Uhm, I'll give you guys some space," before hurriedly running off.

"...Kuni, what was that you just said?" It seems the truth has begun to dawn on you, apparent through the way your cheeks are flushed and you won't meet his gaze.

"Dummy- you heard me!" ♥

(a/n) wanderer is so silly

[tacticaldiary]

Frightened Of The Fall

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

"Simon." He rasps, grip tightening around her arms. "Call me Simon."

Her smile widens and it makes something in him break with a need to let her light smooth over his jagged, broken pieces.

"I love you, Simon."

Masterlist

Baby birds are born with an innate fear of falling. Frightening little things, skittering over to the edges of their nests and peering down, curious but never brave enough to take a leap. It's their mothers that nudge them along, shove them over the edge knowing that they'll come out unscathed.

Simon remembers the soft look on his mother's face when she used to read to him at night, locking the door and draping his bedsheets over their heads like a little makeshift tent.

It's one of the clearer memories in his head, but nothing in his life comes completely untainted.

His father always got tired of yelling and banging on his door. He'd find the master key somewhere and click the lock back open, ending her attempts to distract him on the worst days.

His father had shoved him off the edge too soon, not accustomed to a mother's intuition and only driven by the cruel need to see him flail and fall as he hit the ground hard.

                               · · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·  

"Does pasta sound okay?"

Ghost hums into his cup of coffee, skimming over a document he'd put off till the last minute to review. Their kitchen table is littered with files and folders belonging to them both. "Thought you were going out tonight.?"

Working in the same division of the military means their privy to the same confidential information, luckily.

"I was," She nods, setting down the packet of pasta. "But I cancelled. Thought some time alone with you would be better..."

He nods, and the knot of unease that's been tightening in her chest for the past week makes an appearance again. He doesn't say anything, he hasn't been saying much at all these days, and it's making her more than uneasy.

Ghost wasn't an overly silent man, especially not with her, so this behaviour has been out of character enough to raise some flags. A little frustrated at his lack of interest, she walks across the kitchen to join him at the table.

"Is something wrong?"

Sometimes, Ghost sees the gentle nature of his mother in her.

When she smiles at him like he's hung the moon and the stars for doing her a simple favour. The quiet nights together spent soaking in company that he hasn't had the chance to experience in years...

"Nothing's wrong."

"You're angry at me."

He glances up at her, raising an eyebrow. "You'd know if I was mad at you, love."

"Then what is it?" She pushes, "You've been so...so disinterested lately." She really tries to word it eloquently in a way that's not too intense. "You don't join me for any activity apart from work, you barely say a word to me if I don't initiate a conversation!"

She's certainly got his attention now.

"You didn't even ask where I was going when I told you I had plans tonight, it's like...it's like you don't care anymore." She finishes, pushing out the last part of her sentence in a voice wrapped with hurt. "If you don't...don't want me, I'd rather you just say it. I'll understand, but it's not fair to keep me at arm's length when-"

"Stop." He cuts her off loudly. "You think I don't want you anymore?" The papers lay on the table, completely forgotten as he pushes himself to stand up next to her. There's an urgency in his movements that she hasn't seen before.

"You sure make it seem that way."

"I don't." His gaze flickers across her face and his stomach sinks when he sees nothing but raw honesty and hurt. "Of course I want you-"

"Then why don't you talk to me?"

That shuts him up.

"I was thinking." He clenches and unclenches his jaw. "About everything. About...us." When he sees devastation flash across her face, he's quick to correct her misunderstanding. "Fucking hell, not like that." He assures her, taking her arms in his hands and stepping closer. "Never like that, darling. Shouldn't have made you doubt anything, didn't mean to." Ghost presses her face to the crook of his neck, loosening a sigh of relief when she doesn't push him away and nestles there instead.

"Then what is it?" She draws in a shaky breath. "If it's not me, why are you pulling away?"

It's a beat before he answers.

"I've always wanted a family." He squeezes her arms briefly. "Never thought I'd have anyone else to call that." His gaze is fixed firmly on the wall behind them, even when she tilts her head up to peer at him.

She doesn't push him, doesn't beg for details. Patient as always, and the knowledge that she would not force him to tell her anything he couldn't is the very thing that drives him to bear his thoughts to her.

Ghost tells her about coming home to a house of cold bodies. He doesn't spare any details, she's not frail or fragile. Hell, she's drawn just as much blood, just as viciously as he had, so he lays it all out as it happened. He tells her about his mother, about the good in his life ripped away by a fate that he dragged across their doormat.

"You're afraid it'll happen again." She whispers when he finishes.

"I'm...cautious."

"It's okay to be afraid." She smooths a hand over his hair much more gently than a man like him deserves. "You're human, Ghost. You're alive, they would be glad that you made it out alive."

"Shit luck I brought them, though." A hoarse voice he lets mingle with the loathing he's carried ever since he could remember.

"It won't happen again." His gaze flickers down to her at the declaration, "It's in the past, baby. Unless you let me go, I'm not going anyway."

"I don't." He tightens his grip instinctively. The very idea of being the reason he's lost the best thing that's ever happened to him is revolting. He intends to keep her for as long as she'll have him.

"Good." She cracks a small smile. Her fingers ghost over the scars on his cheek, marred with years of memories. "Neither of us are good people." She whispers. "Not with the things we've done, the things we've seen. But we're good for each other. You're so good to me and nothing in your past is going to take that away. Not even you."

Earnest and honest and determined, there's no protest Ghost can make that would strike her words untrue. He takes in an unsteady breath instead, letting himself sink into her promises.

"Let me in." She whispers, soft and pleading. "Build a life with me. Let me take care of you, Ghost."

He loosens a shuddering sigh out of his chest, a feeling so viscerally overwhelming washing him inside and out. It grows and expands, sheds lights on the corners of him untouched by love and safety.

Always shrouded in caution and fear, the sudden light is bound to sting the eyes of someone who's kept in the dark. The warmth is enough to burn someone kept in the cold.

She searches his eyes for something, for anything. A hint of agreement, a crack in the iron walls she can take as a sign to start chipping at.

"I love you."

And he believes it.

"Simon." He rasps, grip tightening around her arms. "Call me Simon."

Her smile widens and it makes something in him break with a need to let her light smooth over his jagged, broken pieces.

"I love you, Simon."

And she can see the light shining through.

Reblog, Like and Comment!

(28/11/2023)

[slutforsilverfoxes]

Breaking Free

[A/N: I’m driving home for my externship (and Thanksgiving!) so you know what that means- too much time on the road to daydream 🙃 Pls enjoy Gibbs being an infuriating slut]

Pairing: Jethro Gibbs x female reader

__________

You repeatedly pat your boyfriend’s arm, pointing to his left at a sign that’s sure to snag you the win of your road trip competition. It’s become an annual tradition to pass the time by finding the most outrageous billboards on your way to Thanksgiving with your parents and Jethro’s father in Pennsylvania.

“That’s gotta be the best one,” you say confidently. “It even has a handcuff reference for you!”

The large sign promises that if you’re Shackled by LUST? then Jesus can FREE you.

Jethro grunts by way of acknowledgment then poses, “You scream oh my god a lot when I’m inside you- d’ya think that counts?”

“Not, like, a lot a lot,” you protest ever so eloquently, incensed by the smirk blooming on his face and his clever avoidance of admitting defeat.

Clearly your darling boyfriend takes that as a challenge.

The hand resting on your denim clad thigh begins creeping higher and you cut your eyes over to Jethro to find his focus is still dutifully on the expanse of highway ahead. “Whatcha doin’ there, Jay?”

“Driving,” he answers easily, hand moving higher yet. The corner of his lips visible to you arches upward when he meets the cool metal of the button on your jeans, but his smile falters when he fumbles to get it open. “Little help here?”

Raising one eyebrow, you counter, “You wanna prove a point, you put in the work, mister.”

He huffs out a breath, then twists his wrist and finally succeeds in popping the button open with a triumphant laugh. Jethro doesn’t even bother to try with the zipper after that; he simply shoves his hand into your pants so the zipper gets forced down its track.

You gasp when his fingers slide through your folds, and Jethro produces a quiet growl in the back of his throat when he finds you already wet for him. That sound alone has you moaning out a low, “Oh my god,” and your boyfriend outright laughs at you while his middle finger circles your clit. “That was only once- oh fuck, oh my god- okay, twice, you jerk,” you feebly defend yourself.

Jethro sinks two fingers knuckle deep into your pussy with an amused hum, and you slap your palm against the roof of the truck while crying out a third iteration of the deity-invoking phrase. “I can’t- oh fuck me- stand you sometimes,” you bite out, lifting your hips to help Jethro’s fingers slip in and out of you with ease.

“Good thing you’re sitting then,” he fires back, chancing a glance away from the road to smirk at you.

You draw your bottom lip between your teeth in a feeble attempt to muffle your cries, but Jethro brushes his palm over your clit while curling his fingers and another breathy, “Oh my god,” slips out of your traitorous mouth.

“That’s it, baby,” your boyfriend praises you, no longer bothering to mask his delight. “Free yourself from those shackles.”

A laugh punches out of you that morphs into a wanton moan when he curls his fingers again, and your cries rise higher and higher in pitch until you’re clenching around Jethro’s fingers, calling out a litany of curses with a healthy dose of his name mixed in. You drop back into the seat, boneless, with a final, “Oh my god.”

Jethro slips his slick-coated fingers out of your still throbbing cunt and points out your window to another billboard flying by, then runs his sinful tongue along his fingers, groaning at your taste. “I’m always right,” he asserts with a content hum, “and I win.”

__________

LJG tags 🖤 @ilovemark1951 @doctorwhofan24

[makeyoumine69]

Degration kink, choking. Pet name, doll face. Noncon.

Know Your Place

PAIRING: Patrick Bateman x Fem!Reader

SUMMARY: If you can't admit you're a slut, Bateman will make you.

CONTAINS: Non-con smut, unprotected vaginal and anal sex, choking, spanking, creampie, mild overstimulation, manhandling, Degradation Kink, pet names, dirty talk, and maybe something else.

WORDS: Less than 1k🥴

A/N: Thank you so much for your request, I hope you like it! 💕

LINKS: [MASTERLIST]; [2k CELEBRATION MASTERLIST]

"Where's Bateman?" Timothy Bryce asked another yuppie, shaking the ash from his cigar and eyeing the club — the endless number of blonde bimbos was fucking unbelievable.

"I think he decided to get some privacy with that hot chick," Craig McDermott remarked before taking a drink. "The one we met when we first got here."

Tim, Craig and David exchanged eloquent glances, the haughty smirks never leaving their faces. After all, what could be better than having fun with a pretty girl like you.

A heavy beat of electronic music rippled through the bodies of the dancing crowd, making them look like a perfectly functioning mechanism. Thanks to the club's noisy atmosphere, no one could hear the obscene sounds you two were making behind the doors of the VIP area.

"How many times... do I have to tell you that I hate to see you... argh... flirting with other guys?" Patrick grunted, thrusting brutally into your supple body from behind, almost fucking you into the wall.

"I...I wasn't flirting with anyone," you wriggled desperately in his strong arms, your beautiful cocktail dress crumpled into folds at your waist. "Aww, please ... stop, i-it hurts!"

"Shut up, you liar," he husked into your ear, grabbing your throat and pulling you back a little. "I saw the way you smiled at Paul…" a quick, hard slap fell on your ass, forcing you to whimper and stop twitching for a moment, surrendering to his dominance. "That bastard was eating you up with his hungry eyes!"

Without saying anything in reply, you clung to his solid hips, wrinkling the soft fabric of his loosened pants as the pace became even more violent, your soaked pussy struggling to accommodate his beefy girth that mercilessly ripped you open more and more with each hard stroke.

"Pat-Patrick..." you mewled in a shaky voice as his grip on your neck tightened — the mild asphyxiation almost causing you to pass out, but as soon as Bateman saw your rolling eyes, he pinned you flat against the wall, causing your engorged nipples to rub harshly against the raw surface. "This...this is too much, please...ahhh!"

Another smack landed on your hip, leaving a searing sensation on the sensitive skin. "Pathetic little whore...you can't even take your punishment," Patrick snarled into the crook of your neck, lifting your leg and pulling out with a loud pop. "You wanted to test me," he drew you closer, encircling your throat again as he slid his throbbing dick along your swollen folds, teasing your overstimulated clit and making you squirm along his massive body. "Just admit it ... admit that you're a fucking slut who likes to be fucked senseless," he squeezed your neck, forcing you to look up at him, your wet eyes only eliciting a devilish chuckle from his smirking lips. "Say it!"

"I —" you hiccupped from the relentless friction between your legs as his cock rubbed intensely against your tender flesh. "I'm such a slut...for y-you."

"Louder, doll face," Bateman demanded, poking several times at your swollen pussy, leaving sticky ropes of his warm cum as he slowly pumped himself. "Make me believe you."

"Mmhm ... please use me like your fucktoy," you begged, almost choking from the lack of air and heavy cramps in your womb from the approaching orgasm. "Do...whatever you want to me!"

Bateman couldn't help but snicker at how miserable you sounded. "Whatever I want?"

Biting his lower lip, he aligned his beefy shaft with your tight asshole and before you knew it, he began to sheathe himself into your most intimate area.

"Pat-Patrick, a-awww—" your loud cry of pain was muffled by his ravenous mouth, consuming all of your wanton sounds as he continued to ram into your tight channel, alternating between squishing your throat and fondling it ever so gently. "So big ... It's s-so big!"

Shaking erratically from the crazy mix of pain and pleasure, you clawed at his hand on your neck and arched your back without even noticing while his large palm sneaked down your hip to stimulate your feverish little bud as Patrick sensed your impending climax.

"Uh, my doll face loves to be fucked really hard," Bateman taunted with an arrogant smile, speeding up so that his heavy balls slapped against your ass. "Look at you, so ruined and overwhelmed ... Falling apart from the way I fuck your pretty, tight ass!"

His perfect dirty talk became the final detail of the sinful puzzle, pushing you over the edge and leaving you nothing more than a trembling, wet mess beneath his strong, broad figure as Patrick never ceased to hammer his firm hips into yours, until he had spent himself inside your ass, plugging it with his pulsating dick, but even so, you could feel his warm cum running down between your quivering legs, marking you in the dirtiest and most intimate way.

Slut.

P.S. Thank you for reading until the end! I don’t have a taglist. You can follow my side blog @makeyoumineagain and turn on notifications to know when I update!

[i-write-word]

Based on this ask from the minds of @blindmagdalena and @letthenerdsleep; I had to.

CONTENT WARNING: SWEARING, HOMELANDER

"I just don't get what's so damn brilliant about that green. It's just fucking green."

You pause in your coloring, damp paintbrush still in hand. You narrowed your eyes at John who was gazing outside the penthouse window at the horizon. He was slumped across the couch like an old Victorian painting as he waited somewhat patiently for you to pay attention to him.

You took a deep breath, knowing full well you would regret asking but you had to know. "...What?"

John huffed at you as if you were being unreasonable. "The green." He gestured vaguely to the paint tubes beside your palette. "What make it brilliant?" He asked as he folded his arms behind his head.

You blink at him, trying to process the question.

"And royal blue. What makes it royal? Like, royalty never had anything to do with blue. It'd make more sense if it was royal purple but what gives blue that title?" He mused.

You were gobsmocked, staring at the supe with your jaw open.

"Magenta too. Who lookaed at it and said, 'yeah, that's magenta.'" He floated up slightly off the couch so he could gesture the arc of his imaginary rainbow before settling back into his original position.

You set your paintbrush into the mug holding dirty paint water, your bottom lip folding over your teeth so you didn't burst out laughing. "John. Love of my life. My darling hero. Is this about the color thing again?"

The color thing, as you so eloquently put it, was about the time Homelander had decided to raid your collection of art supplies while he was bored and you were dedicating too much time to your hobby. He had combed through every pencil, paint tube and cake and even the forgotten box of crayons, reading each and every name before coming to you in a rage that he had no colors named after him.

He turned to you with blue eyes widened too innocently. "Look, I'm just saying! My name, as a color? That's brilliance right there." He turned his head to smirk up at the ceiling.

You shook your head fondly. "What color would you even be then?" You turned to face him now, crossing one leg over your knee. You drummed your fingertips against a blue splatter on your skin.

John blinked before sitting upright, hand to his chin as he carefully considered his options. "Hmmm, well.... I can't just be one color."

You snorted, regarding his Americana suit. "Obviously."

He grinned at you, that sweet little playful tilt of his lips that drew you in the first place. A soft puff of air escaped him as he realized you were playing along. "I can't even be two."

"Oooo, getting greedy"

He floated over to you as if he were magnetized. A daring hand rested on your knee. "I don't even know about three." He whispered conspiratorially, those sapphire blues sparkling with mischief.

You snorted again as you burst out laughing. "Oh, my God, you're impossible." You cupped his cheeks as you pulled him in closer. A warm smile had crossed your lips as you nuzzled your nose against his and John couldn't help but melt and bask in your joyous love.

"Yeah... but you like me best that way." He weaseled his way into your lap, careful to keep most of his weight off of you. He wrapped both arms around your neck and shoulders as you rested a hand on his waist.

A happy hum escaped him as you hugged him as tight as you could. "A man could get used to this." John sighed as he pressed his face against your neck.

You chuffed quietly as you rubbed your cheek against the top of his head, ruffling the dyed blond locks. "You're already spoiled enough." You teased before leaving a quick peck on his temple.

"You could spoil me more though." John rebuttled as he gave you his own gentle squeeze. "A whole lot more. Gimme allllll your love, sweetheart." He purred, as content as a cat in your lap.

You laughed louder at that and Homelander beamed at the sound. You both were well aware of how greedy he was, how starved he was for any affection you dared to give. He loved that you never grew tired of giving, no matter how demanding the supe became or how much time he consumed.

He hummed again as he pressed a kiss to your throat, feeling the thrum of your heartbeat through your jugular. He focused on the harmonies your body provided, from the percussion of your heart to the woodwind of your lungs. The soft gurgling of your digestive acids within your stomach accompanied your busy veins and arteries to provide the perfect background melody.

You struggled to keep him in your lap as John relaxed further into you, drunk on your sounds. "Geez, you'll fall asleep on me." You halfheartedly complained.

It wouldn't be the first time the hero had deemed you his napping place but he usually chose places more comfortable than your desk chair.

"You'll live." He mumbled against your skin, relishing in the jump of your heartbeat and the goosebumps raising the hair on your flesh.

You rolled your eyes and he snorted upon sensing your compliance.

"Juuuuust give in to me. You don't have to do anything else, lovely." He murmured as he started to drift off to sleep.

[7ndipity]

Take a Chance on Me

Yoongi x Plus Size Reader

Summary: You and Yoongi met during his enlistment and quickly became friends, but what happens when your friendship begins to grow into something more?

Word Count: 1.3k

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of insecurities and anxieties

A/N: A massive thanks to @bethanysnow for requesting this idea and for obsessing over it with me!😘 I’m so excited to work on this as a drabble series, I hope you’ll all enjoy it!

Masterlist

Requests are open

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

‘Okay, you can do this, it’ll be fine.’ Yoongi repeated to himself, fingers drumming anxiously against the steering wheel as he waited to pick you up from work, trying to quell his nerves before he spotted you jogging across the parking lot towards his car.

“Hey, Min.” You greeted him as you slid into the passenger seat.

“Hey, Y/n.” He said, feeling a smile tug at the corners of his mouth in spite of himself, your presence alone managing to calm him, if only a little bit.

It was remarkable almost, how in just a few short months, you’d come to be such an important part of his life.

When you’d first met following his public service assignment, he’d been a bit hesitant of getting too close with anyone around him too quickly, but you’d managed to worm your way into his heart almost instantly.

He still remembered the first time he realized how much he liked you; he’d made some dry, sarcastic remark that no one else had really reacted to, unsure if he was being serious or not, but you had let out a quiet burst of laughter that had immediately set everyone else at ease. It was just a little thing, but it had played over in his head for the rest of the day.

He hadn't even known that much about you at the time, except your name, your department, and that the sound of your laugh was one of the best things he’d ever heard.

Before long, he had started finding more and more excuses to come by to see and talk to you, even if it was just for a minute as he brought some forms for somebody else to sign, eventually asking if you wanted to hang out together outside of work as well.

You’d known who he was of course, in your own words it was impossible not to, but you’d never treated him differently because of it, something he’d come to appreciate more and more as you’d gotten to know each other.

You were so bright and warm and funny, and had a way of putting him at ease that few others had ever managed, he found himself easily charmed by you, and it was honestly your friendship that had made the rather jarring shift between his lifestyles bearable, if not almost pleasant.

But more recently, he’d begun to realize that his feelings towards you had grown beyond those of purely a friend.

Yoongi craved you, he wished there was a better word or phrase to convey his feelings for you, but that was the best he could come up with. He craved your presence, your comfort, the sound of your laugh when you found something he did cute or funny. He found himself missing you constantly, even if he’d just seen you, wanting to wrap his arms around your plush figure and keep you close at all times. It was like he was addicted, and frankly, it scared the shit out of him.

“You okay?” You finally asked, pulling him out of his thoughts. You’d noticed he’d been quieter than usual, having barely spoken the entire car ride to your place, stirring up your concern for him.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I-uh, wanted to ask you something.” He started, scratching at his palms nervously.

“Okay.” You said, eyeing him curiously, making him fidget even more.

Fuck, it would be easier if you weren’t staring at him with those fucking eyes, he thought. They’d been one of the first things he’d noticed about you, one of the first things to put a chink in his armor.

He had spent the previous night laying in bed, trying unsuccessfully to come up with a more eloquent way to put his feelings into words, but as soon as he looked up at you, everything seemed to shrivel up and drift away, like leaves on the wind, leaving him with only the simplest of thoughts and question in his mind.

“Would you… go out with me?” He asked softly.

Your eyes went wide. “What?!”

“Will you go out with me?” He repeated.

“But, w-why?” You asked, flabbergasted.

“Why do you think? I like you, a lot.” He let out a huff of laughter, running a shaky hand through his hair. “Fuck, honestly? I think I might even love you, but I know that’s way too much out of the blue. I just know that I want to be with you, as more than friends, if you’ll have me.” He finished, glancing down at his feet awkwardly.

It was quiet for a long moment as you stared at him, stunned, letting his words sink in.

“I don’t… get it.” You said slowly.

He blinked, “What do you mean?”

“I mean, why me? I’m not exactly your type.”

“You don’t know that.” He interjected.

You scoffed. “C’mon, Yoongi, be serious,” You said, skepticism clear in your voice.

“I am being serious.” He said, looking at you with utmost sincerity. “You’re one of the most amazing people I’ve ever met.”

You shook your head in confusion. You’d seen the type of people that Yoongi spent time around in his line of work, and they were very different from you; thin, beautiful, perfect. Not that you didn’t think you were pretty in your own way, but compared to the idols that he was typically around, the idea of you and Yoongi just didn’t make sense to you.

“But I’m just… me.” You said, the last part coming out almost as a question, not understanding his logic.

He smiled. “That's why I like you. You're open and honest and kind, you don’t hide behind some front or mask, and you don’t put up with anyone’s shit. You’re smart, and funny, and beautiful-”

“But I’m-” Your hand went as if to gesture to yourself, but he was quick to catch it in his own.

“Hey.” The sudden sharpness in his tone caught you off guard. “Don’t you dare try to sell yourself short, you hear me? When I say you’re beautiful, I mean it.”

You bit your lip, mind racing. You wanted to believe him, but there was that nagging voice in the back of your head that kept saying it wouldn’t work, something was going to go wrong.

“I thought you weren’t supposed to date though?” You pointed out. “What if someone finds out?”

“They’ll say ‘good for them’, otherwise I don’t give a fuck.” He said firmly. “What I do outside of that building is none of the company’s damn business.”

You smiled at that, but said nothing, still thinking.

“Look,” He spoke again, this time much softer. “I realize that this is a lot all of a sudden, and you don’t even have to answer today, you can take however much time you want to think about it, I’m just asking for a chance.”

It was quiet for a moment before you spoke again, softly. “Okay.”

He looked up at you. “Okay?”

“I’ll go out with you.” You clarified.

“You will?” His eyes lit up.

“Yeah,” You nodded, grinning at him.

He beamed, letting out a relieved sigh before leaning across the center console and pulling you into a hug. “Thank you.” He mumbled against your hair, wrapping his arms around you tightly.

“I like you too, by the way.” You said.

“I was kinda hoping, given your answer, but thanks.” He chuckled, smirking at you.

“Ugh,” You shoved against his chest lightly, but he was giving you no room for escape. “You could’ve just said it back.”

“I’m sorry, I’ll do better next time, okay?” He asked, grinning at you.

“Fine.” You grumbled, feigning annoyance.

“Can I make it up to you?” He asked.

“Maybe. What did you have in mind?”

Instead of answering, he leaned closer, pressing his lips softly against yours.

[unfinishedslurs]

matchmaking gone wrong (steddie)

“So,” Murray says, smarmy little smirk in place. Steve kind of hates him. “How long have you two been dancing around each other?”

“What?”

“What?”

“Oh, come on, now,” he says. “Everyone can see it. Or, well, maybe they can’t, but I can. Small town boys, both fighting against the odds. Alternate dimensions bring people together in the strangest ways, don’t they?”

“Hey, now,” Steve objects, shooting a panicked glance next to him. Eddie hasn’t moved a muscle since Murray opened his big mouth. His pose reminds Steve of a frightened rabbit, frozen in the eye of a snake. 

“Hey, now,” Murray mimics. “Real eloquent, Steve.” He says Steve like he’s saying something else. If he’s not careful, Steve is going to punch his fucking teeth in.“I gotta say, when I met you, you managed to take me by surprise. I really thought you were gonna be different. Small town rich boy, right? Big house, no parents, thought I knew the type. But you’ve managed to turn it on its head, haven’t you? Still, you’re lonely. Must be nice, having all those kids in your house. Less empty with them around. And Eddie here, too. I bet it’s real nice with him around.”

“Dude,” Steve says, prickling. He doesn’t know what eloquent means, or what that has to do with anything, but he really does not like what this guy is putting down. What business does this washed up mess of a conspiracy theorist have digging into Steve’s personal life? He chances another look at Eddie, who has unfrozen in favor of straightening up and glaring at Murray. 

“What the fuck do you know?” he spits, vicious in the way he only ever is when he’s defending someone. Steve is touched, really. 

“I know a lot,” Murray says, smile growing ever wider. “Like that you sleep in his bed, even though there’s…what, three perfectly good guest rooms here?”

“Two,” Steve corrects automatically. “The other one is Max’s.” Unofficially, of course, but she sleeps here enough that everyone else knows she’s claimed it. Technically it’s one and a half, given that Dustin is slowly taking over the one next to hers, but Ms. Henderson is actually responsible so he only stays the night occasionally. Robin just sleeps in Steve’s bed with them.

He realizes his mistake when Murray’s smile grows even wider. “Two!” He exclaims. “Two guest bedrooms, and yet you sleep in his bed, wake up next to him, end up with his pillow lines on your face. I bet it’s nice, huh? To have him soothe your nightmares, to fall asleep knowing he’s there. We like Steve, indeed. How could a man possibly resist? Tell me, Eddie, is that handkerchief in your pocket just for show? I’d have thought masochism was more your style.”

“Hey!” Steve barks. Eddie jumps next to him, and Steve puts his hand over his unthinkingly. Murray’s eyes track the movement, but Steve speaks before he can open his mouth. 

“Not cool, man,” he says firmly. Eddie’s hand is trembling under his, and Steve thinks that Murray is lucky that he cares more about comforting Eddie than he does about punching the smug look off his fucking face. 

“What’s not cool?” Murray asks. “Telling you two to get your shit together, for the betterment of us all?”

“You barely fucking know us,” Steve snaps. “There’s no ‘betterment of us all,’ Jesus. You can’t just…you can’t…” he lowers his voice, like he can protect Eddie from hearing it if he tries hard enough. “You can’t just out people, man. You should fucking know better.”

Eddie’s frozen again. Steve doesn’t look at him, instead staring Murray down like a challenge. The man does lose steam with that, wilting like a weed in the heat. “Ah,” he says. “I…ah, hell, I thought you knew.”

“What I know doesn’t mean shit if he’s not the one who told me,” Steve says. Eddie makes a sound, slowly sliding his hand out from under Steve’s. Steve lets him, resisting the urge to grab it back. He knows Eddie won’t run away from him, even if he wants to. “And what if you’d been wrong about me being cool, huh? Seriously man, aren’t you supposed to be smart or something? Act like it.”

Murray opens his mouth again, but Eddie interjects. “As fascinating and eye opening as this has been,” he says, clapping his shaking hands together, “I need to be gone, like, before this conversation ever happened. I appreciate your attempt to get me into golden boy’s pants over here, really, but, uh, yeah. I think the whole being straight thing kind of puts a damper on that, don’t you?”

“You’re straight?” Steve blurts out, hurt and embarrassed all at once. Well, shit, there goes whatever Steve thought they were hurtling towards. And after Steve just confessed he thought Eddie was gay. Is that discrimination? He’s going to kill Robin, dammit, she’s the one who pointed out Eddie’s hanky in the first place. 

“What?” Eddie asks. “No, you are.”

“I am?”

“Yes!”

“Uh,” Steve says, extremely confused. Is Eddie coming out as straight for him? He’s pretty sure this is supposed to go, like, the opposite way. “Since when?”

“Since—“ Eddie’s mouth drops open. “I thought since always, Harrington, what the fuck?” 

“Me what the fuck?” Steve sputters. “You what the fuck! You thought I was straight?”

“Of course I did!” Eddie throws his hands up. “You’re, like, the epitome of straight jock!”

“Oh, yeah,” Steve says. “Because my painted nails and affinity for sucking cock scream heterosexual man.”

Affinity might be a stretch given that he’s only ever sucked one dick in his entire life, but hey, a little embellishment never hurts. He wasn’t awful at it. The painted nails weren’t actually his choice, either, thanks to El’s killer puppy eyes, but still. He’s been blatantly flirting with Eddie for months now. Would it kill him to notice?

Eddie doesn’t seem to have a response for this, mouth opening and closing without sound. 

“Well,” Murray says at last. Steve and Eddie both jump, having completely forgotten about him. “I guess you needed my help after all.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Steve says, rounding on him. “I don’t need your help for jack-fucking-shit, alright? I am a grown-ass man. I am not repressed, I am not in denial, and I am not thanking you for this. You messed up my plan!”

“Your plan?” Eddie asks. 

“Your plan,” Murray repeats, amused. 

“Yes, my plan,” he hisses. “You’re not smarter than everyone else just because you don’t like the government, asshole. None of us like the fucking government, we’re just not about to go off the rails and become total shut-ins about it. We fucking get it, you’re lonely and have no friends. We don’t need you to tell us our own business for us, okay? You want to talk about getting help? Go to a fucking AA meeting and leave us alone.”

The skin around Murray’s eyes tightens. Steve might feel bad, if it weren’t for the fact that he’d fucking outed Eddie. Mistake or not, it doesn’t matter that Steve already knew if Eddie wasn’t ready to fucking tell him. 

Eddie’s hand on his arm stops him from saying much worse. 

He doesn’t turn around, just stares Murray down like a warning. Murray looks back at him, seemingly unimpressed, but Steve can see shame in the line of his shoulders. There’s apology in his eyes when he breaks Steve’s gaze to glance at Eddie. 

He’s not a bad guy, Steve knows. Joyce tells them fondly about how he helped her and Hopper get their shit together. How they’d both be Russian chow ten times over if it wasn’t for him. Nancy, too, has some good things to say about the guy. He was the one who helped her get word out about Barb’s death. He helped her get with Jonathan too, even if that didn’t exactly work out. 

And it’s not like he blames Murray for Nancy cheating on him. She’s her own person, and makes her own decisions, even if they’re shitty, hurtful ones that he’s still not sure he’ll ever fully get over. 

Jonathan said it best, once. He’s weird, and nosy, and annoying, and I don’t really like him. But I think he really just wants to help, in any way he can. Plus he’s a really good cook. 

Steve breaks.

“Just get out of my house, man,” he says, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Joyce will be happy to host you for the night, they’ve got a spare room there. Tell her my house was too ‘rich kid’ for you, or something. But you’re not staying here anymore.”

Murray nods, accepting this at face value. He gets up from the table, pausing to snag the vodka. “For what it’s worth, I am sorry,” he offers, and disappears before either of them can reply. 

“So,” Eddie says, after a considerable length of silence. His voice shakes slightly. “That was, uh, enlightening.” 

He huffs a tired laugh. “That’s one word for it,” he says, finally turning to look Eddie in the eye. He’s shifty, eyes flitting around the room, hands playing out guitar chords against the counter. Steve takes one in hand. 

Eddie stills, finally looking at his face. Steve won’t force eye contact, but he needs to know Eddie’s focusing on him and not whatever shitty thoughts are flying across his mind.

“I’m sorry,” he offers quietly. “I didn’t know he’d try that shit with us, when I told Hopper he could stay here.”

Eddie resumes his finger chords. “It’s not your fault he’s an asshole.”

“I know,” he says. “Still, that wasn’t how I wanted this to go.”

“Go? ‘Go’ what? What’s going?”

Steve shuts his eyes. “Us. I wasn’t going to say anything yet. Not until after you told me you were…”

“Oh,” Eddie says quietly. “Right.”

“Yeah.”

“I can get out of your hair, man, if it makes you uncomfortable.” 

“What?” Steve‘s eyes fly open. “No! I’m not kicking you out, what the fuck?”

“You’re not?”

“Literally what part of that conversation made you think that’s where this was headed?” He demands. 

“I dunno, man,” Eddie confesses. “Good things don’t really happen to people like me.”

“And I’m a good thing?” Steve tries to joke, raising an eyebrow. 

Eddie doesn’t take the bait, just briefly meets Steve’s eyes and lowers his voice. “Steve, you’re, uh. You’re kind of one of the best things to ever happen to me.”

“Oh,” falls weakly from his lips. 

“Shit, was that too much? That was totally too much, sorry, I’m not good at this. You can totally kick me out now, fuck, that’s so embarrassing—“

Steve kisses him. 

“Honestly, I’m not that worried about it,” Eddie says, laying with his feet on Steve’s pillow and head hanging off the bed. 

“Really?”

“I mean, like, it was a dick thing to do, but what’s he gonna do? Tell the whole town? They all know about me anyway.”

Steve kind of shrugs at this, because as much as he wishes it weren’t true he’s right. He’s walked past fag sharpied on Eddie’s locker enough times to know that unlike Steve, he never really had the luxury of hiding it. 

“People always just knew,” he tells Steve. “Don’t know how, don't know why. I’m not sure I‘ve ever actually come out to anyone except Wayne, and that was more of a bitter, self-loathing explosion than anything. It backfired, obviously. Instead of kicking me out, he told me he loved me and I cried so hard I threw up. Totally embarrassing. But even with Wayne…I didn’t have to. It’s like it was tattooed on my forehead, or something. Too soft, too close with other boys, too obvious. So I leaned into it. Learned to fight, ‘cause getting beat up might end in something worse. Let my freak flag fly, let ‘em focus on the DND and the devil worshiping because somehow that was better than being queer.”

Steve, who’d also known about Eddie long before Eddie had told him, bites his tongue. 

“I think he’s safe,” Eddie finishes with a nod. “He really did seem like he wouldn’t have said anything, if he’d known I hadn’t told you. Which is hilarious to me, by the way, because I’d just kind of assumed I didn’t have to so you might have just waited forever. Plus I think he and Hopper have, like, a vibe.”

Steve chokes. “A vibe?”

“They’re not fucking,” he clarifies, “but they have fucked, yanno?”

“You’re fucking with me, right?”

“Nah, man. I bet that’s why Hopper asked us to host him, instead of offering up his spare room immediately. Your ex and your new squeeze living together?” He whistles lowly. “Awkward.” “I don’t want to know this,” Steve declares, flipping face first into his pillow. He pushes Eddie’s stinky feet away from his face, ignoring his squawk. “Why would you give me information? Now I have to look Hopper in the eye knowing that his taste in men is Murray.”

[holylulusworld]

Good girls punch hard (1) - Kinktober 7

Summary: You. A baseball bat. An admirer.

Pairing: Raymond Smith x fem!Reader

Warnings: light violence, lust at first sight, stalking vibes, mentions of drugs/weed

Kink: Lust at first sight

Kinktober vs Flufftober 2024

Raymond had better plans. A cup of tea, a good smoke. Maybe he’d indulge and have a glass of his favorite wine.

Instead of enjoying the fruits of his labor, he’s walking along a filthy hallway. Raymond scrunches up his nose, asking himself why he must play babysitter for a junkie.

Push Pete and Bunny follow him hot on his heels. They were prepared to use force if they must. They are silent on their way toward the apartment.

“We go in, get the girl, and get back out,” Raymond makes sure the men know he’s not up to violence. This should be an easy job – junkies and a princess in need—a classic.

“Open the fucking door or I’ll tear it down!” The men stop in their tracks watching you yell at the closed door. One of the bastards dared to slam it in your face. “I know Jasmine is in there. Send her out, and I won’t smash your skull!”

“Boss?” Bunny asks. “What do you want us to do?”

Raymond dips his head. It’s been a while since he found something amusing. He smirks when you swing your pink bat, hitting the door with full force.

“Wait. Let her have her fun. We’ve got some time,” Raymond smirks as you kick the door. The man gasps as they hear a cracking sound. You kick it again, and the door flies open. “Whoa, she’s stronger than she looks like.”

 “Lady! What the fuck!” One of the junkies jumps up to block your path, but you use your bat to shove him out of your way. “That’s my home!”

“That’s a rat-infested and stinking shithole!” You snarl in his direction before turning your attention toward Jasmine. One of the other guys tried to push a needle in her arm, but you grabbed his wrist just in time. You twist it until he screams in pain.

“Aunt Y/N,” Jasmine mutters. “I only tried to have fun and get a little high. You partied too. For once, I wanted to be cool.”

“If you want to get a kick, do it like everyone did. Smoke a big fat joint helping you relax and make you feel good. No one shoots that kind of shit into their veins to try. You’ll get addicted and end up like those assholes.”

“It wouldn’t have gotten addicted,” she whines. “Why do adults always have to ruin all the fun for me?”

You grit your teeth. Jasmine isn’t the smartest, but she was a good girl before she met the losers shooting dirt into their veins.

“Do you want to waste your life, youth, and brain to get addicted to stuff making you go crazy, or offer your ass to the next best guy for the next shot?”

That makes her flinch. Her eyes flick toward the guys promising her a good time.

“She wanted to be a big girl and get dick, mommy!” One of the junkies’ snickers. “Good girls don’t get dick.”

You swing the bat, almost hitting his head. “I was a good girl too, asshat. I got the best dicks in town because smart and eloquent guys know a good girl’s worth. She doesn’t need a limp dick to ruin her first time.” You snap at the guy, making Raymond and the others chuckle.

You twirl around, to face the men entering the dingy apartment, instinctively shoving Jasmine, behind your back to protect her. The leader furrows his brows. He looks at your niece behind your back and then at you.

“Whatever business you’ve got to do with these crackheads, it’s your turn. I’m done here. I haven’t seen you, and you haven’t seen me.” You look the leader straight in the eyes, not showing any sign of weakness.

“Does she have anything to do with these,” the leader scrunches up his nose as he looks at the boys, “people?”

“No,” Jasmine blurs out. “They wanted to show me a good time, and make sure I’ll be cool soon but…I didn’t mean to…”

“Got it,” he says and nods toward you. “What’s your name?”

You size the man up while tightening the hold on your baseball bat. “I told you; I’m done here. It’s your show now. We shouldn’t exchange pleasantries, Sir.”

“Sir, huh?” One of the boys laughs as you shove Jasmine toward the door. “I bet she’s a good little bitch if you give her the good shit.”

Raymond backhands the boy. He gets a wet wipe out to clean his hand before turning his attention toward the girl they came for.

It doesn’t take Raymond long to convince the missing princess to agree on following them out of the shithole.

“So, now that the princess is gone I got one more question for you,” he points his index finger at one of them. “What’s the aunt’s name?”

They glance at Bunny, a fridge of a man standing behind Raymond.

“Do I stutter?” Raymond gets a little louder. He pushes his glasses back up his nose and huffs.

“No, but we know Jasmine’s name, and I took a picture of her hot aunt,” Raymond snatches the phone out of the grinning boy’s hand. He narrows his eyes because it’s a picture of your ass and legs.

Raymond pockets the phone and turns around to leave the dingy apartment. After being here, he’ll disinfect his whole body and burn his clothes.

“He’s not so useless after all,” Raymond talks to himself as he looks at the picture of you on his laptop. Your car is in the picture too. He can see the license plate.

Raymond leans back in his expensive armchair, debating whether to find out more about the woman swinging the bat or not…

“I thought we agreed on forgetting that we met.” You glare at the man standing in front of your door. “Did you not listen?”

“We didn’t agree on anything,” Raymond replies with a smirk. “I let you and your niece go because you didn’t have anything to do with these creatures.” He steps closer, stopping you from closing the door with his foot.

“What do you want here?” You glance at the baseball bat standing next to the door. “How did you find me?”

“I have my ways,” he casually replies. “I thought we could go for tea. I know a nice tea house not far away.”

You blink a few times. “Buddy, did you hit your head?” You question. “We met at a junkie shithole, and you come here to ask me out?”

Raymond adjusts his glasses. He looks at you, waiting for an answer. “Which sort do you prefer?”

“Sort?” You furrow your brows.

“Tea.”

“I don’t even know your name. Why would I agree to go anywhere with you?”

“Name’s Raymond,” he holds out his hand. “If you come with me, I don’t have to follow you around town.”

You sigh. “You’re another love-sick puppy, huh? Is it the baseball bat?” You dip your head to look him up and down. “Fine, if you pay for my tea, I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt.”

Tags in reblog.

[souperbloom]

strip. [A.I.]

you know i had to do it to em. i know we were all thinking it. ur welcome.

Ashton’s been hard at work on his upcoming album, and you want to let him know you’re still his biggest fan.

a/n: this was lowkey so rushed but idc i needed to get it out of my system.

CONTENT WARNINGS: smut!, pet names, dirty talk, unprotected sex (yeehaw), biting (???).

WORDCOUNT: 3.1k

⋆⭒˚｡⋆

"Ash, food! Come and get it!"

It had been days since you last saw your boyfriend.

Okay, maybe not days. But it had definitely been more than a few hours since the last time since he had actually spoken to you.

Despite time passing, all of your days had been meshing into one; since they all started and ended the same.

Ashton wakes up; eons earlier than you have ever dreamed to. He kisses you on the forehead, stirring you slightly awake from your REM sleep. He then goes downstairs to make himself a coffee, washes the single mug he dirtied and after all’s said and done; he’s off to the home studio for the unforeseeable future.

You would love if he had, just once, let you do all of the things you still adore doing for him. Like making him breakfast, or playing music from your joint Spotify playlist while you tend to the houseplants and he jots lyrics down in his tattered up notebook.

But things have changed since the beginning stages of the album-making process. There were no more laid back days; no more idea bouncing sessions with his mates or trips to Mars on your outdoor patio after sharing a joint or two. It was all just work, work, work.

If you were more honest with yourself, you’d tell him it annoyed you.

But you loved him too damn much to care.

"Ashton! Dinner!"

You try your luck again at shouting to him, but eventually realize that the sound barrier between the kitchen upstairs and the studio downstairs was far too widespread for him to hear you.

With a disgruntled huff, you grab his dinner plate, and trot your way down the stairs into the abyss, as you so lovingly nicknamed it.

"Ash, dinner’s ready," You start your sentence before you round the corner and hop down the last few steps, making sure not to drop the plate of piping hot food. But when you enter the studio, you don’t see your sweet boyfriend hunched over the soundboard with a guitar pick in his mouth as you typically would.

Instead, he was lounging on the couch. The little leather loveseat that the two of you had picked up off the side of the road and got sent out to be cleaned. You figured it’d be a great addition to his workspace, while he was a bit apprehensive at first.

But after a month or two, he started to love his little leather loveseat. He’d use it to take breaks; or, in those rare moments where he’d share the music he’s been working on, it would be your place to sit.

On the couch, Ashton’s body was strewn. With his heather green guitar lazily rested on his hip, he mindlessly plucked a work-in-progress bass line. You swallowed at the sight of him, stopping in your tracks.

"You know, we have a perfectly good couch upstairs for you to be hammering out bass lines on."

Ashton’s eyes lock into yours, his steely face of concentration lifting upon seeing you. Yet, his fingers still slid up and down on the fretboard, as if not to lose his train of thought.

"This is my thinking couch. Can’t get shit done up there with all those windows. Makes me feel like a bat when I’ve been down here all day."

"I think you’re more like a vampire," you chuckle, setting down his food on the table beside him, "But still, it’s fucking lame."

"I admire your eloquence, baby… Lame how?" His eyes had reverted to the neck of his guitar.

"Lame, as in, you’re down here all fucking day and I miss my boyfriend. Sue me for being selfish but, I think my feelings are justified."

Ashton’s lips tug to the side, while his eyes remain glued to his musical progress, "Really? I thought having me down here was a nice little break from all the bangin’ on pots and pans we used to do. I’m workin’ on the real shit now."

"Screw the real shit. I miss you. It’s dumb that you have to be down here all the time."

You toss your hands in the air in faux frustration before planting them on your hips. But his gaze doesn’t waver. He knows you’re standing in front of him yet can’t seem to divert his attention away from whatever he’d been working on.

"Hellooooo…?"

He acknowledges you slightly, like a dog whose ears perk up when you call out its’ name.

"Mhmmm?"

A wry chuckle falls past your lips, "This is ridiculous. Y’know what—"

Out of pure frustration, and with lack of sense to do anything else, you take off your shirt. You weren’t sure of what possessed you to, but it seemed to be the right thing. Ashton’s mossy eyes popped up almost immediately.

You toss your borrowed t-shirt, stolen right from his closet, onto the ground.

"Well, glad I could get your attention," you gaff.

"You’ve always had my attention, baby. Just didn’t wanna lose my place."

A small smirk sprawls across your cheeks as Ashton fully sets down his guitar. It’s now lying horizontally across his lap.

"Don’t you ever get bored down here?" You ask, subconsciously crossing your arms as you remember that you’re now shirtless.

"I won’t lie, I do. And sometimes when I do, eventually, get bored, my mind likes to wander."

His reply is proceeded with a chuckle, one that’s laced with something you couldn’t quite put your finger on. But his eyes continued a trail down your body, stopping at the waistline of your sweatpants, then back up to you.

"Oh, really? Where does it wander off to? God only knows what you think about when you’re locked away in the abyss."

"If I was a liar, I’d sit here and tell you that I’m only thinking about the shit that’s in front of me. But baby, I’m an honest man; you know exactly what I think about."

"Hm," you hum, challengingly, "Can’t say I do."

Ashton’s arm moves slowly as he leans back and rests his head on his palm. The star tattoo on his bicep flexes beneath the ambient lighting of the studio, and you can’t help but just stare.

"She’s standing right in front of me."

Your face tinges pink at his words, rubbing your arm bashfully as if he was some sort of pickup artist and you were being swept off your feet. It didn’t matter how long it had been since the day you two met, his charm never faltered.

"She’s in here? Right now? Wow, I’m starstruck." You try your hand at jabbing, to ignore the warm buzzing feeling in your stomach.

"Don’t play stupid, baby. You know you’re the only one capable of grabbing my attention like this."

Ashton shifts in his position comfortably. His legs spread a tad bit wider, and the hand not holding his head was now drumming rhythmically against his thigh.

He was taking in the sight of you as if he had never seen you before.

"Really?" You ask a question, already knowing the answer.

"Yup."

"Interesting…"

As your sentence trails, a thought bounces around in your mind for a moment:

Would it be the worst thing in the world to ‘put on a show’ for your boyfriend, who had spent the last six months of his life devoting his time, energy, and soul into an album for the world?

Would it be wrong for you to think about how much you knew he’d enjoy it? How much you’d enjoy it?

As the thought plagues you, rendering you momentarily useless as your stare darts around his dreamy frame, Ashton reads your mind.

"Strip."

"What?" Your mouth hangs slightly at your boyfriend’s bluntness.

"You heard me, baby. I said, strip."

That slack jaw of yours morphs into a wicked smile, wordlessly obliging to his command.

Ashton’s relaxed body sprawled out on the couch guffaws at you, as you hook your thumbs onto the waistband of your sweatpants.

You slowly start to sway your hips, matching up with the rhythm of some imaginary song. The band of your underwear peeks out over the top and once you notice that he had gotten a good look, you swiftly pull your pants back up.

It was called a strip tease for a reason.

Repeating the motions from before, you eventually shimmy out of those sweatpants, and are left solely in a frilly bralette and boy-shorts.

"Pardon the underwear selection," you giggle, "didn’t realize I’d be putting on a show today.

Ashton’s body language had changed slightly; you noticed the bead of sweat that had formed and began rolling down his forehead, merely at the sight of you. He swallows harshly before he replies.

"You could’ve walked out here in a paper bag. Wouldn’t matter a damn’ thing."

Your bottom lip gets caught between your teeth at his compliment. He never fails to make you nervous, even after all this time. His eyes alone were one of the most intimidating things about him. You could feel them searing into you as your gaze drops down to your feet, momentarily stopping your motions.

"Finish your show, baby," his words snap you out of your trance, "you wanted my attention, right?…I’m all yours."

As his legs spread wider and his head dips back comfortably to rest onto his palm, the confidence within you fronts again. With a cheeky smile, you reach behind your back, twisting around to show him your hands fiddling with the clasp of your bralette.

You hear rustling from behind you as you eventually free yourself from the fabric, wiggling out of it and letting the strap hang on the tip of your finger. You shoot a glance at him, over your shoulder.

"How’s that?"

He sighs, "Perfect."

With a flick of your hair, you turn back around, fully topless. To raise the stakes, you take it upon yourself to run your hands down the front of your chest and over your breasts. He groans lowly at that motion, grabbing his guitar by the neck and gently resting it at his side.

Now, at the most intimidating part of your show, your hands linger above the band of your underwear. Ashton gazes at you hungrily, slickly moving his hand towards the crotch of his jeans.

It takes everything inside of you not to whine as you notice his hand slowly starting to palm his bulge, held captive by fabric. It catches you off guard, and you freeze yet again.

"Nobody told you to stop."

Almost as if his demands were a form of hypnosis, you resume what you’d started. The band of your underwear hooks effortlessly around your thumbs as you gently tug them down, slightly showing off your bikini line.

His eyes draw in like a magnet, seemingly becoming less and less in control of his senses as you move.

Your underwear pools at your ankles; body completely stripped bare in front of your still, fully clothed, boyfriend. Something about his sultry looks almost felt humiliating, although that wasn’t something you were necessarily upset with.

It still drove you the same amount of crazy.

"Fuck," Ashton mutters, breaking the tense silence that had been lingering over your heads, "you’re a sight to behold, baby."

His hand was still squeezing at the hard-on in his jeans, the notch in his forehead growing increasingly more prominent as he fought to hold back his urges.

Without another word, you traipse over to him slowly; attempting to enchant him with the sway of your hips and the glittering of your skin beneath the studio lights.

"’Been missing you a lot." Your voice holds a certain innocence to it, acting as though you had no clue of the absolute turmoil your actions were subjecting him to.

"I miss you too," Ashton coos, "I bet my girl gets so lonely upstairs without me, doesn’t she?"

A chill runs down your spine as he slowly sits up from his slouched position, and anchors his hands on your waist. He guides your naked body gently onto his lap, letting you straddle him comfortably.

"Mmh, ‘does get lonely without you. Can’t think straight, sometimes."

"Oh, you poor thing… I’m sorry, my sweet girl."

The back of his hand reaches up to caress your cheek, words dripping with tender loving care, before he’s straining his neck to wrap you into a kiss.

The kiss starts off slow; gently nipping at one another and feeling the motions of your lips entwined. But as your hips subconsciously start to grind down into the hardened length in his jeans, something primal washes over you.

Your tongue slips into his mouth without any regard for savoring this moment, heating up the kiss instantly. The grip he has on your waist gets tighter, as his fingers dig into the soft flesh near your hips.

Nipping at your bottom lip with his teeth, Ashton groans, "Can’t wait much longer, baby… Been— been wantin’ to fuck you since you walked down here."

A smirk plays on your face as his neediness overpowers any other emotion present in the room. His mouth wanders down to your neck while he struggles to blindly undo his jeans.

While enjoying the trail of wet kisses inching down to your collarbone, you aim to help him free himself from his pants, fumbling with his fingers and the buttons with a soft giggle.

"Slow down, baby—" your words ring barely above a whisper, "I’m not going anywhere."

Ashton’s head pops up from your clavicle once he finally gets down his zipper, "Better not be."

To your surprise, Ashton was going about this a lot more unhurried than you had anticipated. His words read as frantic, yet his actions felt as though he was savoring each and every feeling of you. You didn’t want to disrupt the already perfect rhythm he had been keeping; so you let him continue on as he wished.

He scoops up your idle hand that had been resting towards the waistline of his jeans and moves it to the pocket of his briefs. Your eyes find his briefly, and a knowing glance is shared.

"Gonna start slow, yea? You okay with that? Wanna savor it… Haven’t been inside you in a while. Missed my girl…"

Swallowing back the excited lump in your throat, you nod, "That’s fine, baby. No— no rush."

Your eyes widen as he guides your hand, freeing his throbbing cock from his underwear. A sigh of bliss tumbles past his lips the moment you wrap your hand around him.

"Lean back, baby… ‘Wanna see—"

Following is command, you lean back, resting your hands just above his knees. You lift up your hips while gazing at him through hooded eyes, waiting for him to adjust.

It’s not long before he’s swiping his tip against your clit, bringing the both of you into a collective, melodic sigh.

Ashton was right; he hadn’t been inside of you in a while. The two of you had been so preoccupied with life that you had barely made enough time for each other. You’d almost forgotten what it felt like until he was guiding himself inside of you.

Expletives and moans immediately begin filling the room as you lower yourself down onto his length fully. His breath hitches, eyes glued down to where your bodies met.

"Fuck, baby… Missed watching this… Missed watchin’ that pretty pussy swallow me whole… Fuckin’— missed you."

With a slack jaw, you start your rhythm of slowly bouncing up and down, the feeling of him filling you up made you complete in more ways than you could fathom. Your walls tightened with each stroke, one more rough than the next.

Each time you lower yourself down to meet his pelvis, he bottoms out, snapping his hips up to meet yours and making you cry out in pleasure. His eyes can’t seem to decide whether or not to watch your face, or his cock disappearing inside of you.

"Ashton, please— Need more… More, please…"

He grunts at your gentle tone, still keeping that slow pace. He had mentioned wanting to savor this moment, but the look in his eyes said otherwise.

"C’mere," he pants, motioning with his head for you to lean forward. You, of course, oblige, wrapping your arms around his neck with a sigh.

Rather than you doing the work, Ashton had resorted to restarting that pace by snapping his hips up to meet yours. Your name rattles off of his tongue in grumbled mutters as his hold on you tightens, the sounds of skin slapping together engulfing his words and making them inaudible.

You allow him to fuck into you without any complaints, letting your eyes roll back into your head with each upward slam. It was obvious how difficult it was for him to keep his composure.

"Christ, baby," he growls lowly, "drivin’ me fuckin’ crazy."

Another loud moan is released from the back of your throat as Ashton abruptly stops his rambling by sinking his teeth into your shoulder. You yelp on impact, yet slowly ease into the sharp pain as he continues to bottom out inside of you.

"Ash, oh my god," you whine, overwhelmed with the sensation of your impending orgasm meshing with the pleasure of the pain.

He grunts beneath you, each thrust rougher than the last— you could tell he was close by the sloppiness of his strokes and his grip on your waist loosening.

His jaw clenches on your shoulder before letting go as he looks your disheveled face in the eye.

"Gonna cum… Gonna’ cum real’ soon… Please, baby… Let me fill you up— gonna’ make you feel so good…"

You nod without a second thought, your bouts of praise turning into incoherent mumbling as your orgasm creeps towards its peak.

"Cum inside me Ash, please… Let me feel you baby— fuck!"

Your body betrays your senses as your orgasm rumbles through you, Ashton following suit shortly after as he releases inside of you with one last buck of his hips. Your bodies collapse onto one another, the sweat and heat igniting a spark between you.

With a gentle comb through your hair, Ashton’s hand traipses down to the back of your neck. You could faintly hear his heart beating through his chest as he holds you, the two of you simultaneously collecting your breathing.

"Thanks for the show, baby," Ashton chuckles, petting your back as you regulate your vitals; his cock still buried deep inside of you.

You can’t help but hum, satisfied with the thought of letting your dirty fantasies dictate your actions.

"If this didn’t prove how much I’ve been missing you," You pop your head up to place a gentle kiss on the tip of his nose, "I’m not sure anything will."

⋆⭒˚｡⋆

[sqrkyclean]

I’m now thinking about like, cis women who are not fitting the Eurocentric beauty standards and how many ppl see them and believe they fail at being a woman. Like, they’re Afab and transvestigators still get their dicks in a twist about them.

I don’t have the brain power to say this in a super coherent way. It really sucks though, yknow? Like. Transmisogyny is a poison. At the risk of sounding like a stoner ass hippie, why are we hating people for trying to feel happy?? Trying To feel at home in their own bodies? And at the core of it is, really , a lot of things. White supremacy is a big part of it. Huge even.

I’m getting rambly again. I haven’t eaten more than a bowl of macaroni in nearly two days. I should fix that soon, but sorry if I’m incoherent.

But yeah. The whole “even AFAB people get targeted!” Thing doesn’t usually sit right with me, cuz I get the sentiment and I do agree it’s deeply racist and fucked up, but the purpose of a system is what it does. What it does is punish and isolate women who aren’t conforming to what white men in power want women to be. In the eyes of these people, anyone who isn’t putting down trans women the same way they are is a failure, too. There are a hundred people out there who have said all this waaaay more eloquently than I can, but yeah.

I’d rather ally myself with all of the incredible trans and gnc people i know and love, and protect them with my life no matter what than ever ally myself with someone who would let even the “worst” of us get thrown under the bus. Does that make sense?

[italiansteebie]

steve was expecting a nice vacation.

a nice vacation, with rob and nance, and the kids tagged along too.

but three am rolls around and someone is in his house, singing, and wailing and generally acting a fool. and what a wonder that anyone would do this since they know super girl is way crabby when she's woken up. especially at three am.

so he hauls himself out of bed and trudges to the kitchen where the ruckus has traveled.

"dude."

there's a man stumbling around his kitchen, eating his left over pizza, and drinking his fucking coors light.

if he wasn't so pissed at this guy making himself at home, he'd think he was kinda cute. he had long hair, and chains and leather. and forget 'kinda' this guy is downright delicious, but the bottom line is, he broke into steve's house.

"get the fuck out of my house."

the guy drops the pizza and whirls around, "what?" the guy sounds properly devastated. "get out of my house, dude!" steve yells.

"wh- why? i- im here with the- the band?" the guy is stumbling around, slurring his words and looks like he's seconds from dropping. steve sighs, "alright man. just- cmon. lay down on the couch, i'll get you a blanket." steve leads him to the couch, turning him on his side, making sure he doesn't choke on his vomit.

he scrubs a hand over his face, just his luck that some drunk guy wanders his way into the house, has no idea where he is, eats his pizza, and he's gonna let the guy pass out on his couch. whatever.

he'll deal with it in the morning.

---

when eddie wakes, he's got a major headache, and he thanks his lucky stars that one of the guys put a trash can in front of his because he would NOT have made it to the bathroom.

once he's right side up, he takes in his surroundings.

shit.

this is not the labels beach house they put them up in.

"good to see you in the land of the living."

his head turns to meet the voice, and shit. he's gone and broke into hercules' house.

"uh- what?" he says, ever so eloquently.

the guy sits down next to him. "you broke into my house last night. well- not exactly, someone left the door unlocked but. you walked in and ate my pizza. and i didn't feel comfortable sending you back out because you had no idea where you were. you slept on my couch."

eddie nodded dumbly, "s-sorry. i- im here with my band, right down the road. uh- i'm. i think im still drunk and you're very pretty."

the guy laughed, and damn, if eddie wasn't already in love, he was now.

"im steve, i can walk you back to your place when you're ready. there's some sandwiches on the counter over there if you're hungry." the guy- steve, says, before standing.

"sandwiches for breakfast?"

"it's 2pm, dude."

o h.

"do you wanna... i mean. you wanna have like, lunch or something?"

"are you hitting on me?"

"if i say yes, do i still get a sandwich?"

steve laughs again, "yeah," eddie raises his eyebrows at this. "yes to the sandwich or yes to the date?" he asks, smiling cheekily.

"hmm. what kind of food are we gonna have?" steve inquires, leaning closer to eddie. eddie smiles again, "what's your favorite?" steve pretends to think, making a whole show of it.

he's just about to respond when.

"steve! are you really flirting with the criminal?"

"robin!" steve groans, waving his hands at said person. eddie turns, "you think im a criminal?"

"well, technically...." robin trails.

"rob get outta here. i was about to land a date." steve whines, shooing her out. she saunters out with a grin on her face, "he like italian food" she singsongs before walking out the door.

"so. the pizza place? tomorrow at 1?" eddie asks, eyes flicking down to steve's lips, "sounds good," he breathes. it's only a matter of time before their lips meet in a feverish kiss, eddie's hands tangled in steve's hair.

they pull away, "we should- we should get you back so your friends don't freak out." steve says, breathing deeply. eddie nods, chest heaving, "cant say i'm not disappointed, though." steve sighs, raising a hand to cup eddie's face. "there's always tomorrow."

---

when eddie finally gets back to the right house, gareth is all over him. "where the hell have you been, man?!"

"oh, okay. so. i broke into someone's house accidentally, and then scored a date. now i'm here." he shrugs, before plopping down on the couch.

gareth sighs, "only you, ed."