#idk I didn’t watch the last movie so maybe he is

[qveerthe0ry]

My Man 😌 - four characters who make you yell MY MAN MY MAN

Tagged by @perotovar thank you bby 😘❤️

As I do this it has become glaringly obvious that I have a type. If you have big sad brown eyes and the weight of the world on your shoulders— steer clear or you will also become my man.

I already annoyed a bunch of people today with a tag game so anyone who sees this and wants to do it, I’m tagging you! 💕

[galariangengar]

💭

[chelseeebe]

just a taste

18+. mdni. smut. kinda perv!eddie x fem!reader. he is a lil freaky in this i'll admit.

a/n: i just love the idea of the citrus six all living together lol idk i think it’s so nice also i have never watched cheers i just googled 1991 american tv shows and picked one at random LMAO ++ for the movie, i thought it’d be a nice lil easter egg for them to watch something with winona in:,)

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:

eddie doesn’t know who you are or why you’re coming to visit or why exactly it was him that was being made to vacate his room for the two weeks that you were here. 

“c’mon eddie,” robin pleads, nay, demands, “you sleep on the couch most nights anyway, what’s the difference?” 

“uh, maybe because it’s my room? i don’t want some random girl in there touching my stuff,” almost flabbergasted that she’s even asking. 

“she’s not a random girl,” robin frowns, “she’s my friend and she needs somewhere to stay.” 

“tell her there’s a great hotel in town,” rolling his eyes, trying to leave the conversation before she breaks out the puppy dog eyes. "i'll even give her a ride if you ask nicely," no longer interested in entertaining this conversation.

“i’ll give you fifty bucks,” robin deadpans, using her last resort.

this was bribery of the highest order but eddie's not stupid. fifty bucks is fifty bucks.

“now?” 

she sighs, sliding her wallet from her pocket to reluctantly hand over the bill. she stops just before it touches his palm, “promise you’ll clean your room.” 

eddie goes to grab the paper but robin’s faster, jolting her hand into the air, “and change your sheets.” 

“okay,” he huffs, holding his palm outstretched. 

she graciously places the note down, smiling wickedly as she does so before skipping off back to her own room. 

he can only roll his eyes, turning around to the shit hole that was his room, wondering if fifty dollars was worth having to tackle it. 

-

eddie’s sat on the couch when you arrive, barely looking back as robin begins to fuss, talking loudly about your journey. he doesn’t really care enough to involve himself, besides, elvis presley had just given sam a very important message. 

“eddie,” robin hisses, standing in front of the screen, “don’t be rude, say hello,” her hands firmly on her hips like she was his mother or something. 

he looks up at the looming figure by the couch, hoping his eyes hadn’t given his immediate shock away too much. 

you flash him a sheepish smile back, waggling your fingers in a short wave. 

two weeks on the couch didn’t seem so bad now. 

not if you were sleeping in his bed. 

it’s just a shame that he wouldn’t be in there sharing it. 

“hey,” he stands, hoping to indiscreetly catch his breath, “i’m- uh, i’m eddie,” offering his hand out, though he regrets it as soon as it’s done. 

who shakes hands now? christ. he needed to get a grip, and badly. 

“hey,” you reply, your name dripping from your tongue. though you do shake his hand, not bothering to hide your confusion in the process. 

“eddie very kindly said you could have his room,” a bright, big sarcastic smile on her lips. 

“yeah.. no biggie..” christ, he’s almost panting. “do whatever you want in there.. or you know, just- just make yourself at home.” 

his desperate pleas for the earth to split open and swallow him whole go unanswered. instead, robin shoots him a concerned glare before ushering you away from his weird, longing gaze. 

'pull it together loser' she mouths before disappearing, leaving him to reflect upon how utterly hard he had just fumbled that entire situation. 

-

when everyone’s home from work and you’ve exchanged niceties and greetings with the rest of the house, robin brightly suggests a movie. 

eddie usually hated movie nights in the house. 

jonathan would want to watch some indie cult classic that no one else had ever heard of, steve wanted to watch some dumb comedy that only he’d find funny and then nancy and robin typically opted for the romance genre. 

leaving eddie and argyle with absolutely no choice but to sit in silence as they bickered. 

tonight it’s different, you get to pick. 

and now he’s not saying that whatever you choose will forever change the way he views you but.. well, that’s actually exactly it. 

you land on edward scissorhands. 

not the worst choice you could’ve made, and hey, his mom used to call him edward when he was in real bad trouble. 

in the end, it doesn’t really matter what you had picked because eddie can’t muster up enough energy to actually care about the film. not while your thighs are peeking out from underneath your oversized shirt. he can’t help but wonder what they’d feel like wrapped around his ears. what previous sounds would fall out of your mouth in response.

at some point during the movie, you stand up and walk out of the room to the kitchen but that doesn’t stop him. staring through the open door, marvelling at the way the hem of your shirt lifts, exposing the tiny shorts you had on underneath. 

he’s practically hanging over the back of the couch to get a look, craning his neck at a ninety degree angle just to get a glimpse of your soft, pillowy skin. pinching himself as he tries to resist the urge to just sink his teeth into your inner thigh.

robin jabs her elbow into his ribcage, drawing his eyes back to the room with a grunt and a harsh glare thrown her way. 

“you’ve been staring at her all night,” she whispers angrily into his ear, “stop it, or next time it’s your balls,” a harsh warning he didn’t find entirely necessary. 

you sidle back into the room, drink in hand and eddie can’t help but let his eyes wander over again, short glances that robin hopefully wouldn’t pick up on. 

he can’t help it, some magnetic force swaying his gaze in your direction. he wishes so badly that he could just crawl out of his head and tell you how much he wanted you. 

unfortunately for eddie, he’d instead spend the night dreaming of your ass and all the ways he could have you if he’d only grow a backbone. 

-

living alongside you is an entirely new feat eddie’s not sure he’ll survive. 

it’s torturous. 

testing the limits of how ridiculously horny one man can get without self-imploding. 

so close and yet so far. each night you’d tuck yourself into his bed, doing god knows what in between his sheets all without eddie getting a look in.

of course he’d made up a hundred different scenarios to fall asleep to each night. 

his favourite being the one where he walks into his bedroom to find you mouth open, legs apart, too encapsulated in your pleasure to notice him. only until you do, inviting him closer, between those supple thighs of yours, a forbidden nirvana he’ll never get to know. 

though more often than not he’s cruelly forced back into reality by robin ripping the curtains open at the ass crack of dawn, blaring sunlight on his face as you slip away from the grapples of his dream land. 

now is his opportunity, the house quiet, bar the muffled giggles of you and robin upstairs. he’s safe for now, he thinks, rather foolishly. it’s late, the rest of them asleep or too busy in their own rooms to catch him in the act. 

eddie’s never done anything like this before. it’s disgusting, perverted to the core. 

good grief, this is prosecutable behaviour. 

tiptoeing down the hall to his room, the door open just a crack, enticing him in further. he can still hear you on the floor above, giving him enough confidence to push it open a little more, edging inside with a quick glance back down the hall, just in case. 

gratefully it seemed that you were just as messy as he was, your clothes strewn across the floor. his eyes immediately turning to the peeking of lace from under the pile. glancing one last time at the cracked door, ensuring that absolutely nobody would see him. 

reaching down to gather the fabric in one quick swoop, bunching them in his palm as he lets out a quick sigh of relief. 

oh fuck. they were so soft, fingers spreading to really get a feel. he wasn't even going to take them, he'd just wanted a little look, something to help his overactive imagination get all the important details right.

“what are you doing?” startling him in this precarious position, the lace of your underwear entangled around his fingertips. 

eddie freezes, he can feel the heat rising through his chest, all the way up to the tips of his ears. scarlet red. 

“uh.. i..i-i don’t know..” he hasn’t done anything like this before, he swears. 

your mouth is open in a sort of half-smirk, half-perplexed gawp, closing the door before he could bolt. 

you move around the mess, creeping closer until he can feel you brushing against his side, peering over into his hand. 

“oh wow..” you remark, breath hot and sweet against his cheek, “what were you gonna do with those?” 

eddie feels sick, trying not to projectile vomit across his room. there’s no way you wouldn’t tell robin. fuck. he could hear you now, voice full of disgust, robin laughing at how pathetic he was. 

“n-nothing i swear..” stumbling through his sentence, “i was just..” excuses fail to come to mind, “i was uhm.. looking for something,” the absolute best his flustered mind to muster up. 

“oh really?” reaching around to untangle them from his hand, “you sure about that?” 

there’s no anger to your voice, but he doesn’t dare turn around to look at your face. afraid of what he’ll find. your eyes pitying, sad that he has to root around your dirty laundry to get off. 

“i’m- i’m sure,” though the crack in his voice gives him away. 

you hum, coming around to stand in front of his gormless face, “so you don’t wanna keep these?” holding the evidence up to his face, the hem just barely grazing his cheek. 

eddie’s knees almost buckle, his breath shuddering as any semblance of composure he had left, floats right out the window. 

“here,” reaching forward to tuck the baby blue fabric into the waistband of his sweatpants, your eyes never once leaving his as you do so. “you keep those.. but next time just ask, okay?” 

he nods like an obedient dog, lapping up the scraps you were throwing him. he could stand here all night long, keeping up the weird little power game you’d started. 

“goodnight eddie,” you smile, giving him a gentle nudge, a sign for him to get the fuck out. 

you were the master, he was just the lap dog, eager to please. 

-

at breakfast the next morning, he struggles to even keep his eyes open. having spent an embarrassingly long amount of time on the couch last night shamelessly sniffing the lace you’d gifted him. 

you don’t even acknowledge it, or him for that matter. happily chatting along with nancy about some news article. 

“oh and eddie,” robin begins, flashing him a stern look, “i don’t appreciate finding your fucking panties in between the couch cushions,” 

he chokes on his mouthful, his knife clattering against the table in shock. a multitude of eyes turn to stare at the spectacle he was making. 

“they’re- they’re not mine,” clearing his throat as he clears his name, though he doesn’t dare look in your direction, terrified that he’d absolutely lose his mind if he did. 

“well whoever’s they are, i don’t care, stop leaving them on the couch.. i’m sure our guest doesn’t want to sit amongst dirty underwear,” she bites, calming down now she had gotten her point across. 

if only she knew. 

eddie must’ve fallen asleep with them still attached to his hand, thanking his lucky stars that no one had walked in on him with them pressed to his nose.  

he keeps his head low, focusing on the plate in front of him. nothing had ever been as mortifying as this. not even the time he had slipped off the dinner table in the middle of the cafeteria. 

cutlery scrapes and clinks against the china, uncomfortable silence until argyle clears his throat, “gnarly meal robin, thanks dude,” seemingly settling the tense atmosphere, for now. 

everybody hums in agreement, getting back to their food without another word. but your eyes peek up, meeting his with an indescribable glint. and really, the worst part is that eddie would sit through this horrific situation a hundred more times, just for one more measly sniff at your panties. 

-

eddie can’t take it anymore. 

he’s never been so pent up in his entire life. and he’s tried to hold on until he could move back into his room but he couldn’t last any longer. 

but he’s careful, waiting for everyone to trundle on off to bed, listening carefully for the muted click of the light switch and even then, waiting another hour to be sure. 

the clock glares an alarming 1:04 by the time his belt clinks and his jeans come down, the first of them would be awake in just a few hours, ready to take you on to the airport. 

he wishes it would’ve played out differently, that he wouldn’t be sat here on the last night of your stay alone. but alas, eddie’s never been particularly brave and especially not in regards to hot women. 

your panties wrapped around his right hand as he spits on his left, wrapping around his stiff cock while his fingertips play with the lace in his other hand. 

“ohh fuck,” he hisses, wanting nothing more than to start hollering the house down. 

robin wouldn’t be too pleased if she ever found out what he’d done. and he can’t really afford to get the entire couch dry-cleaned so he really must be careful. 

thinking quick, he shoves his t-shirt into his mouth, muffling the chorus of grunts and groans threatening to spill over into the dark room. the muted light from the tv illuminates his face, breathing loudly through his nose 

he hadn’t heard the door open or the soft sound of your feet padding down the hall, only made aware of your presence when he reopens his eyes, near enough jumping out of his bones. 

how long had you been there watching him shudder and whine?

“fuck,” he exclaims, fist still wrapped tight around his throbbing cock, too aroused to care about it too much. 

“you want some help with that?” 

eddie looks at his dick, then back at you, mouth hung open in a mixture of awe and confusion. 

it’s not very clear but you move closer anyway, sinking to your knees and nestling in between his spread legs. 

“okay?” maintaining eye contact despite how difficult it was, eyes bright and eager. 

he nods, unable to comprehend what was happening. knowing he’d wake up from this twisted dream to some soggy boxers and a whole lotta shame. 

your palm wraps around the base of his cock, shooing his hands away to make room, smiling as your lips wrap around the already leaking tip. were you a psychopath? were you placed on this earth to goad and tease him?

this isn’t real. this isn’t real. the voice repeats around his head though it’s quickly silenced by your tongue swirling circles around the tip of his cock, readjusting his t-shirt to bite down harshly on the fabric. 

eddie’s hands lay useless on his thighs, twitching to intertwine with your hair, still doubting the reality of the situation. this could all be a dream and the second he touches your hair, you’d disappear from in front of his eyes.

the t-shirt falls from his lips, “fuuck,” grunting into the tense air, gritting his teeth so as to not expose your precarious position to the rest of the house. 

the wet sounds of your lips wrapped tight around his cock make his toes curl, his hands find your hair, not without prompting from you. tugging gently at the tendrils as his head starts to spin. 

when your eyes look up to meet his, eddie thinks he might just cum right down your throat then and there. he can see that troublesome glint in your eye, a roaring fire that he so desperately wants to keep stoking. 

your fingers slide up his thigh, finding his neglected balls and with a slight smirk, you grab ahold, gently fondling them as his brain melts out of his ears. 

no one had ever, ever made him feel so good. collectively losing brain cells when you hum on his cock, getting just as much out of this as he was. 

“oh yeah, fuck- shit fuck, i’mcummingi’mcummingi’mcumming,” eddie’s mouth rushes, louder than he ever should’ve been. bright flashes of light fill his peripheral, using your scalp as leverage to keep himself on the couch. 

his hips stutter, thrusting into your mouth with his fingers tight in your hair, yanking harshly in an effort to get your lips off of him before he came everywhere. 

you don’t budge, nails digging into his thigh as his release seeps down your throat, his eyes squeezing shut as his fist instinctively comes up to muffle his mouth, moaning into his clammy palm instead of alerting the entire house. 

eddie’s other hand lets go of his strong hold on your hair, allowing you to get off of his dick, panting happily as you sit up between his knees and with lips glistening with his release, you kiss him. all soft and gentle while his brain fails to compute. 

it should be gross. but eddie just can’t find it in himself to care, because in reality, this was the hottest thing that had ever happened in his measly little life. 

“please let me taste you,” he begs between kisses, grasping desperately at your waist, the fabric of your shirt slipping between his desperate fingers.

you giggle, pulling back to look at him through the dimmed light, “not now,” you hover just above, constantly teasing and unobtainable

“well when?" jutting his bottom lip out in hopes it'd convince you to change your mind.

"when i'm back," letting him down gently. eddie'd count the seconds till you came back if that was what it took to get even a tiny glimpse of your pussy.

“what time do you leave?” he pants, chasing your lips. eddie was nothing if not a chancer, though if it hadn't happened already, there's a miniscule chance of it happening now.

“seven,” whispering back, a hint of annoyance that this build up had only crescendoed now, just as you were about to leave. he'll blame robin for that, poking her nose in and trying to turn him off. it shouldn't have worked. he should've been braver.

“but it’s your turn,” an awful sadness and regret overcoming him. someone better, someone like steve, would've had you pinned to that couch by now, his head between your thighs and your slick dripping down his chin.  

“next time,” only repeating yourself, smiling coyly before you plant one last kiss to his longing lips before standing fully upright and disappearing back off to his room, leaving him reeling with a story nobody else would ever believe.

[moonieandi]

snapshots pt. 8 | stanley pines x f!reader 

summary: you and stanley go fishing 

warnings (TW): swearing, panic attack/panic-inducing scenarios, slight gore/violence 

tags: mutual-pining, fluff, angst, action, affection

notes: idk anything about ice fishing so pls don’t get my ass for this okay, this was v different to write than my usual long drawn out heart gutting character analyses that I love (not that that is NOT here) but all the movement was deffff hard so it took me a minute but hey this is what I wanted imma do it ya know 

Also i configured this chapter in like three separate ways in my head and it was so hard to chose? But i think the one i did end up writing is most true to their dynamic so far. To be of note for the v stubble reference im giving here but yall know The Kiss by painter Gustav Klimt? Ya… that…. Thats here (spot it if you can) as always thank you for the kind messages and notes and comments, love yall <3 also comment below if you'd like to be on a tag list I should maybe organize that hehe

word count: 6.5k

| masterlist | ix |

January, 1987

She had found them both nice fold-out chairs at the flea market just that last season, along with fishing poles the nice old man insisted went with the seats also. Talked her ear off about how he used to go ice fishing with his son, before said son went off to college. 

Now he wouldn’t be home during the ice fishing season, so he saw no use for his chairs or his poles. But she did. 

Stan would tell her flippantly about his youth from time to time, usually if not always said stories incorporated Stanford in one way or another. It seemed that the two barely, if ever, separated during their youth. Something that upset her more, that her friend had never spoken of his brother to her in the six years they had known each other. She didn’t think he would speak of it all as fondly, these memories, considering he never confided in her about Stanley, to begin with. 

Stan would speak of the shoreline in New Jersey, of the sharp sand beneath his feet and hidden caves along the coast they both would trek through. Talk of the setting sun, of racing his brother home in the dark down paved streets back to their shared room. 

He spoke most fondly of a boat though, one that had taken both twins years to configure. 

She figured the fishing poles could be some sort of link, at least in her mind. 

That and they spent some of their summers down by the dock at the local lake anyway. Splashing in windy tides off the dock and watching boats go by until sunset was a great way to cool off. That or revisiting the pool, where Stan would insist upon ice cream for the short drive home. 

She figured he would wait for the season opener to go fishing. Considering she gave him the poles and chairs in December, a quick wave to Christmas, a holiday he laughed off on the regular. He would routinely celebrate it with her, just for the holiday cookies and cheesy movies he wouldn’t admit he loved. But he was Jewish, after all. At least raised in a Jewish household, he told her flippantly, after opening his gift this last December. Laughing at her blushing face, and flabbergasted stuttering, asking him why he would bother with all this. She sat straight when he said it was for her. Because she wanted to, so he would. Not that he was a religious man, anyway. 

He found it amusing this holiday season then, to find her struggling to make some traditional dishes his mother would make each year come December for the holidays. Nothing he necessarily missed, but something he found endearing nonetheless. Her usual attention to detail, and odd need to ensure his comfort. 

The fishing poles were a welcomed gift though, and he lit up at them and the differing tackles the nice man at the flea market had also gifted her. Hugged her into his side, while he ranted and raved about being able to fish off the docks come summer. 

But he didn’t want to wait. 

Something she thought rather glumly in the very early morning that January weekday. The sun not even having made its appearance, she had stumbled out of her bed around 4 a.m., having promised to reluctantly go ice fishing with said enthusiastic man. They stood before the porch door now, while he knelt in front of her, lacing up tall winter boots and pulling over her snow pants. Tucking her in, layer upon layer. Putting to use some winter clothes they both had rangled out of donation bins that very first cold season. The snow pants and boots had only ever really been used when they would trek through the outskirts of the woods, searching for clues to Stanford’s other journals. 

She was still half asleep on her feet, falling forward into Stan’s bent shoulder in front of her to groan. For some reason, he was wide awake, and grinning like a fool despite it being 4 a.m. That dumb look on his face reminded her why she even crawled out of her cacoon of blankets. He was beyond happy to be able to go fishing. Something he couldn’t even wait for a warmer season to do. 

He seemed a smidge like his younger self when he was closest to water. Some of his favorite memories are those ones with Stanford by his side and sand intertwined in his hair. His skin dark in the sun and his toes were deep in the tide of the sand. 

It seemed more distant now, as distant as Ford was to him now. He wanted to ground himself here too, and some of his new favorite memories are of them hanging at the end of the dock. His feet in the cold water of the lake, and her nudging his shoulder. Teasing him, edging him off the docks’ wood and into the cold water with her. He preferred the summer to the snowy winters, but he figured they could make some new memories by the water now also. Even if they were colder ones. 

So he more or less begged her to join him. Promising that he would handle the fish after she made a disgusted face at the thought of stripping the fish of their skin and bones for the meal they would make of the catch. She agreed though, happy to tag along if it pleased him. 

He stood from his knelt position in front of her, standing to reach behind him to grab his red coat from the coat rack. Turning back to her to fold her arms into the coat also, her eyes still blurry as she smiled at him slightly giddy. 

He had a gift for her that last December also. A coat folded into shitty wrapping newspaper he had thought to repurpose. She smiled at the blue coat but quickly became confused when she pulled it out of the wrapping to find it was far too big for her own physique to be for her. He had quickly pulled out another present for her, presenting her with another newspaper-wrapped gift. Which she tore open with haste, and rocked up quickly to her feet to dance around their small living room, his old red coat in her arms. 

It was hers now, and she reveled in the shitty coat. His smell still lingered in the seam line, and when she leaned her head far back into the hood she could pick up on his shampoo. It kept her warm, despite also not fitting her physique. 

He had woken up earlier than her that morning, putting the appropriate supplies for ice picking into the trunk next to their foldable chairs, the tackles, and the fishing hooks. So they made their way out into the dark, ducking into the car next to each other to make for the lake in the early morning. 

She hummed along to the radio as per usual, random songs interspersed in between the local morning forecast. She stopped though now, picking her head up from the back of the seat to look over at Stan. 

“We missed the entrance to the dock.” 

“Nah there's another one we can go to. Farther down, less people.” 

She hummed, smiling over at him. What he actually meant was there would be no lake office to report to. So no need to register them for the lake that day, and no stupid state fee to pay for fishing on the lake. Amused at his shortcuts, she turns back to watch the pine trees pass out the car window. 

It was a sharp, nose-burning 10 degrees Fahrenheit that day, according to the radio forecast. Only made worse somehow with the creeping darkness from the horizon line. The sun slinked slowly in the coldness of January. 

He made his way out first, the car’s cabin light flashing on as he grinned over at her. Securing his blue coat closed quickly before getting out to stomp a path in the fresh snow around the car. Pulling around the sides to pull open her door, before chugging around to the trunk to unload the supplies he claimed they needed. 

She knew how to fish, but had never ventured into ice fishing. Mainly because the cold was beyond unappealing to her. But the thermos Stan had presented to her before making out the door that morning heated her hands enough to dismiss the onslaught of negativity thrumming through her. And partially woke her up on the drive over. Stepping out into the crunchy cold snow to help Stan gather supplies. 

He shuffled her chair into her hands, slugging everything else into his own broad arms. He could reasonably carry everything, stomping forward in the snow to make a path for her to follow in. 

They had made a spot on the ice, the snowy shoreline a good bit away. Stan claiming the best spots must be farther out. Because the farther out, the bigger the fish. She sat, glancing around the empty ice. When Stan meant fewer people he meant no people. A frozen dock far off near the shoreline also, its wooden structure covered in ice. She watched him now, the fishing poles cradled in her lap, and the thermos warm in her hands. He’s bent in front of her, his mittened hands working an ice auger to break a solid hole through the thick layer of ice. 

Grunting, he stands back up, hands on his hips admiring his work. 

“Is the ice too thin here?” She observes. 

He tilts his head left, turning to her now. “No, doll. Perfectly fine right here. We’ll only be here until a little after sunrise anyway.” 

He sits in his own foldable chair that she had set up for him while he was finagling with the ice. Their chairs positioned side by side, a little distance between them and the whole he had just made. He reaches between them, opening up the tackle box to shuffle around drawers, looking for something in its depth. 

“Close your eyes, hun.” 

She rolls her eyes, closing them, while shuffling the thermos between her thighs to hold out her hands in wait. He places something in her mittened hands, it’s slightly heavy in them now. 

“Open ‘em.” 

She opens them to see an odd black contraption in her hands. Two knobs, a dark screen, and a long antenna on what she presumes is a battery-powered electronic. Almost too dark to make out what it was, but it hit her and she gasped. 

“Ta-Da!” 

“A radio!” She sings, clutching it closer to her chest and swinging in her seat to knock her knees with his. Clawing at his shoulder to fold herself into his neck and coat’s furry trim. She wouldn’t question where he got it, just revel that he had thought to, for her. 

“I know you weren’t too eager to go fishing with me, doll. But I figured this could make up for some of it.” He chuckled, readjusting his hat on his head after they pulled away. Knee’s still knocking between them. 

“I’d do anything with you Stan.” She hums, unthinking, as she looks down at the device in her hands. Tweaking around the knobs and the antenna to turn it on. She misses his flush next to her. 

She gets it working quickly, the music faintly staticy in the background of Stan attempting to put lures at the end of their poles. 

He gets her’s ready first, leaning forward in his seat to situate the pole in her hands. Pointing out the slack line and the type of lure he put on the end of her pole. She’s too distracted, like she always is when he’s probably explaining something vaguely important. 

The music hums between them, perched on the tackle box he had closed. His cheeks flushed from the cold, his hat slumping down the back of his head, hair peeking out around the rim and sticking to his forehead. He leans in closer, his knee and thigh along her own. His own covered hand reaching for hers, folding it around the pole for her to hold. 

They enjoy each other's company until the sun peaks up along the horizon, a good hour in. As they pass the coffee-filled thermos back and forth, she hums to the radio. Enjoying stories Stan told about tourists from the end of the last season. Telling her about their ridiculous questions he had to work around last minute. 

“Then he asked me if they were extinct!” 

“What you tell him?” 

“Well he couldn’t have been more than eight years old, and he got all teary-eyed when he asked me.” Stan waves his hand around, drumming up the memory of when a child had asked him if the fake displayed plady-beaver was the last of its kind. 

“Annnnddd?” She hums, sipping on the last of their shared beverage. 

“And I may or may not have said they were not.” He shrugs. “Was easy to convince the kid’s dad to buy him a plushy.” 

She laughs, thinking about the stupid merchandise she’s still not used to, that she sometimes restocked in the front of the house. But of course, Stan didn’t have the heart to really crush the kid’s spirit. Sad kids equaled less money probably, in his mind. That and he had a weird affinity of being about to communicate with them like no other. 

There’s a tug on her line suddenly, not the first in the hour they’d been at their spot, but the first real strong one she’s ever felt. Jerking her pole, bending it forward. Both her hands met the pole, yanked straight in her seat suddenly. 

“Woah!” He says, sitting forward and reaching for her pole also. His hands encased hers around the pole. “Hold it tight, hun.” Grunting in her ear. 

But the pulling got worse, had them both standing from their chairs. His arms around hers, helping her reel back the pole, pulling it back towards his left shoulder. His arms encasing her, pulling her flush with his front. 

“I gotcha.” He grunts again, close to her ear. 

“Do you?” Gasping at the strength of the pull along the pole. 

It seems to drag them closer and closer to the ice hole he had put in the ground not even an hour ago. His feet planted firm, yet scrapping against the ice. Hers fumbling, dipping under the strength of being pulled forward. Her hands tight, beginning to sweat and ache in the casing of her mittens. A heat around the ring of her hat. He’s hot behind her, warmth seeping out from his coat and onto her back. He feels firm, and yet they both continue a slow crawl forward. 

Until it tugs. It tugs so hard that she instinctually releases her grip. Her hands were still steady against the pole though, still beneath Stan’s own hands. 

The jerk has them both flung forward, his feet no longer steady, flipping against the ice. She’s still between his arms when they fall forward, inching towards the hole. He turns them somehow, taking the brunt of it on his right shoulder. 

Her head swims, having met the ground rather suddenly. But she’s between his arms, her hands having let go of the fishing pole. He’d let them slip from the pole, his arms tight around her, trying to take the force of the impact. 

“Stan.” She mutters, mushy between them. Her head pounded for a minute, as they continued to slide against the ice. His chin propped on her head, warm around her still. 

He doesn’t respond, because he’s given no time to. Another harsh tug on the pole sent him forward quickly towards the hole. He thinks fast though, bending his arms, hooking his feet along her legs, and pulling her out of his grasp. 

She slides along the ice and snow, his push along her legs and waist burned. She turned, pushing herself up on her hands. Grasping at the snow to get some balance. She had run into the chairs and tackle box. All their supplies scattered along the ice. The radio was static behind her. 

It had all happened so fast, her voice cracking in the cold air. Calling his name but not finding him. One moment he was there, the next gone. The water still. 

They had been pulled forward so suddenly, a quick five-second span between the tug and her head meeting the ice. And he was gone as soon as she had lifted herself again, the ice cracking along the sides of the former small hole. 

“Stanley!” Scrapping, crawling towards the hole. The surface wet and slick from the cold lake water that had seeped through the cracks along the hole now. Stan’s visage far from view, the top of the water dark. 

She stares in what feels like forever but is only quantifiable in the movements of the sun. It’s rising now, around her. Sparkling on the ice and water around her. Something she’d marvel at, have her grasping at Stan’s shoulder. Nudging him to see as she does. 

She thinks only briefly before shucking off her hat and gloves, beginning to unlace her boots. She’d follow him, into the dark depths. 

A deep continuous thump. Running along the ice. First near her feet, then farther and farther from her. It has her racing towards it, the vibrations along the ice guiding her along. It must be him, must be that something that pulled him into the dark murky water. The rhythmic thudding has her racing back to the supplies. Fumbling for the axe Stan had packed to help pick out the ice in the hole. 

Running full force back, the ice cracking beneath her legs. Shoelaces dancing around her feet, her fingers nippy and uncovered around the wooden handle of the axe.

It cracks, sickenly loud and sudden. Water bursts beneath her shoes, seeping up and around her. The ground opens up in front of her, splitting along the horizon line. A flash of blue precariously balanced in the large maw of a blurred creature. 

It shakes the ice, splintering and fracturing it below her feet. The weight of the creature resting the front of its body along the ice. Shaking the striking blue figure in its jaw, trying to subdue it. 

She stands still in the ankle-deep water, trying to make out the blurry figure in the maw of the anomaly. It strikes her then that it could be nothing else but Stanley, confirmed by the sputtering grunts the figure heaves, coughing up cold water from his lungs. 

She stands frozen only until then, stepping forward into the slowly sinking ice bath. Ax swung behind her shoulder, ready to slice along the neck of the beast in hopes it would release her husband. 

He clamors in the cage of teeth above. Raised his large hand into a well-practiced fist, blindly throwing said fist to meet the eye of the beast. 

The hit startles the beast, cracking open its jaw to release Stan, a sudden sharp screech creeping up its large neck through its throat. Rattling her bones as she leaps forward in the ice and water, bringing the ax into the meat of the beast's neck. 

It crawls back further, slinking back into the dark cold waters. She stumbles back through the ice and the water until she feels snow beneath her unlaced boots again, the ax gone from her grasp and embedded in the skin of the anomaly. The beast is there and gone in a flash, scrambling back beneath the water. 

Stan has the air knocked out of him, having landed on his back. His head cracked against the ice and water below, the cold creeping in through his clothes. He opens his mouth to groan but finds only his shallow breath and the puff of heated air leaves his mouth. The sun creeping above the horizon now, something he can only gauge by the heat on his face. The rest of him rock solid and shivering under the weight of his wet clothes. 

A sudden eclipse above his head, the sun, and shadows shaded by a beautiful face. Her face shadowed by the sun, her hat gone and her hair spilling all around her head like a halo. Her cheeks flush from the cold, from the adrenaline. It could be the cold or the way the light looks around her head, but he swore she must have been an angel. 

He’s muttering when she finally reaches him, stumbling through the cracked ice and wet water. Her only thought was getting to him. He was beyond sense when she did make it to him, clutching at his tattered and soaked blue coat. He was soaked, drenched to the bone. His hat gone and his hair icy along his head, his gloves gone also, a boot missing from his left foot. And he’s drenched. It all stuck to his body, freezing quickly in the icy temperature. She had to get him home, get him out of these clothes, and heat him up. 

She runs her hands along his coat first, checking for punctures, for blood. He had been dragged several yards under the water in the toothy jaw of said beast. But no punctures and no blood made themselves apparent through his coat. Something she’ll have to access later. 

A thump along the ice has her whipping her head around. The vibration rippling along the ice and the shards of the broken lake surface. The beast lingered in the area, waiting for them to be off guard again. 

She wastes no time, lifting Stan’s large arm up and above her shoulder. Leveraging his body up to be leaned against her side and her back. All those stories about mothers and daughters and adrenaline ring in her head, a truth to the stories of women and abnormal strength in times of strife. She would ache tomorrow, and be glad of it anyways. 

He unconsciously shuffles his feet, and she makes note that he’s somewhat conscious. The ice helps her slip them both along the good hundred yards she has until they reach the shoreline. Their supplies the least of her worries, and the anxious thought of the beast meeting her back out there in the wreckage of it all. She does not turn back to look when abandoning it all. 

It’s harder folding his stiff body into the passenger seat. His legs flopped into the car last. She curses, reaching over him to buckle him in and then making for the driver's side. She rarely drove them, it was more of a special occasion between the two of them. She had only ever driven once in the winter and had been deeply scared of the slipping ice and heavy snowfall. But the sky was clear and she’d put the thought of ice away for a long while. 

She curses again, reaching over to Stan to feel up the inside of his coat pockets for the keys. He stirs at the movement, shrugging off her touch, shivering in his seat. 

“Not Doc’.” He mutters, his head spinning. 

“What?” 

“You’re not Doc’.” He grunts again, his lips loose. His head hurts like a motherfucker. 

“I am!” She hisses, hands pushing his away, reaching for his pockets again, looking for the keys. 

“Oh.” He looks back, eyes blurry under the odd pressure along the back of his head. This person sounded like his wife, he’d admit. Shifting his head to lean against the back of the long bench, making out the flush on her face and the halo of hair around her head. He thought this was his angel? He guessed it was the same thing in his mind, anyway. 

She’s still ruffling through his soaked half-frozen jacket. “Hi, angel.” He says, smiling down at her frusstrated face. Why was she so frazzled? 

He’s grinning like an idiot, and he just acted like he didn’t know who she was. Like she wasn’t her. Calling her angel? He’d only ever done that in her dream. That achingly sick dream she had of them, of them in this very car. Of his weight above her, of his breath along the crook of her neck. Of his kiss. 

She shakes it off. Finally finding the keys folded into a very frozen and flat pocket along his chest. Turning back to the wheel, starting the car up, and peeling out of the parkway backward. Leaving the same way they had come in. 

She races home, glancing over at Stan stiff in the passenger seat. His eyes hadn’t left her figure but seemed distant. His thoughts far beyond him, and his coat and pants were frozen against him. His hair melts off his head in the car, still wet but no longer frozen to his scalp. Messy wet hair tucked around his big ears. 

She parks and throws open doors as quickly as she physically can. Slipping in the snow, tripping over her loose boots. Fingers frigid when she reaches for him to move him out of the passenger side. 

She knows the signs of hypothermia. Knows the dangers of prolonged exposure to cold, and dropping body temperature. Doing math in her head, hoping he had been exposed short enough for her to physically raise his temperature before his heart began to slow. Before blood began to sludge its way through his veins. 

He looks as blue as his coat, his arm slugged back over her shoulder as she attempts to get him up the stairs. The slurred speech, the confusion, the dulled skin. It made her heart race, taking steps two at a time to drag him to the upstairs restroom. To the bath. 

She sets him against the open door, running and slipping along the tile, turning on the bath to its warmest temperature. The water would be scalding against his cold skin, would sting and tingle in contrast to his wet clothes, but it was the only way she thought to raise his temperature. 

She rushes back to him, kneeling in front of him, grabbing at his coat and pants to pull the wet clothes from him. He’s smiling again, giggling at her attempt to uncloth him. 

“Could have asked hun.” He jokes, but she cries. He’s so out of it, so gone from this reality and it shakes her bones. He’s here and not all at once. 

He thinks he sees her clearer here in the yellow bathroom light, hot fog swelling around them from the facet. She has her hands all over him, eager to get him out of wet clothes that stick hard against his body. Didn’t she know? That all she had to do was ask and he would shed any layer to get closer to her? He giggles again, leaning into her hot hands against his cold blue body. 

She manages to get everything but his boxers and socks off him, a flush to her face. Not for lacking of trying though, but Stan would laugh and shake her hand away. Muttering under his breath between them when she would reach for the waistband of his usual blue loose boxers. So she luggs his wingspan along her back again, leveraging him up to move him to the scalding water. Heat bubbling up in clouds around the water. Bruises along his chest have begun to form from the pressure and weight of the beast's teeth and jaw. They’d turn purple and swell soon, a good sign she sighed. A swell meant blood was flowing fast still.

He hisses, his head rocking back along the edge of the clawed tub when he finally is able to sit in the water. It’s hot, too hot. It hurts to breathe in the heat, and he attempts to lift his lungs above the water to gain air again. The muggy water hurts his skin and burns him. But her hand meets his chest, pushing him back into the scalding water. 

“Stay.” She commands, eyes wavering when she looks at him now. Melted into the porcelain of the tub. He’s still shivering. He doesn’t even register it but his body has been shaking, vibrating, this entire time. Moving his muscles in an attempt to warm him up. 

She reaches to turn the hot water back on, cursing, beating her hand along the rim of the tub when the water comes out cold. It’s all gone. She looks down at him again, her hand moving along his chest, trying to generate heat where her hand was. “Stay, Stan. Stay in the fucking water.” 

“Yes ma’am.” He mutters, still smiling at her like an idiot. God, she was pretty, god her hand felt nice along his cold bitter skin. She was out the door so quickly. Was it possible to miss someone who was just in the other room? 

She’s barreling down the stairs, flipping on every gas burner in her wake on the kitchen stove. Stumbling to the cupboard, pulling out saucepans and the like to put water in. She’d boil it, damnit. Like her grandmother used to do for her when she was preparing her bath. 

She doesn’t breathe until every corner of the stove is full. Leaned over the countertop next to the burners. Her hand rubbed along her chest, along her heart. Self-soothing, the purpose of the continuous motion above the erratic beating. She had tunnel vision up until now, suddenly noticing that she hadn’t even flicked on the kitchen light. Hadn’t even closed the front door. 

She had been scared. Still was. Shaken beyond something she knew. It pained her to be in the next room, afraid of looking over her shoulder and not finding him there. She’d never lead them through crowds again, never let him stray far from her peripheral. Because then he would be gone, could be gone. 

Ice seeps in through her snow pants, and she tugs off her boots too. Socks wet against the kitchen tile. Her hands shake as she pulls her boots loose. 

She had almost lost him. Lost him for good. It was a shell shock beyond her, beyond her imagination. For the last five years, it was hard to conjure up adventures and trips without him. The thought of flippantly leaving him behind never crossed her mind. Hadn’t ever left her mind. Not after storming in through the shack's door, not after his confession to her across the dim kitchen table, across their kitchen table. 

She sits there now, feeling like it was a lifetime ago, but knowing she could blink and mistake the past for the present. He had reached across to her that night, across the table. Held his palms face up when he asked for help. When he confided in a four-second mistake he had made. She had hesitated then, to reach for him. To reach across and find assurance between them, to fold her hands into his own. She had judged initially. But they had both made mistakes. Both made mirror image mistakes, it felt. She didn't want to hesitate to reach for him ever again. She just feared he would be gone before she could. Feared he would disappear along her shoulder line. 

She had thought it was obvious, the unspoken agreement between them. That they both meant something to the other. That her dreams threaded into a deeper reality, and that the jokes they shared weren’t some passing balm to deal with it all. That the late nights in front of the T.V. analyzing movies were for the thrill of each other's company, and that their yearly poker game was a silent promise of convergence. That the shitty driving lessons weren’t so she could drive away from him someday, that chalkboard lessons were so he wouldn’t scoff when she said he was smart with her whole chest. That the yearly diner dates were just that, just dates. Not something flippant, not something as unkind as the upkeep of an image. That he opened doors for her for a reason and tucked her below his chin because he cared enough to. That he reached across tables, palms up, because he never feared her hesitation. 

Something unwritten between them she believed, everything shared in everything but words and letters. She was a calculating woman throughout her years and didn’t know how to trace the beginning of the feelings she had amassed all the way to the end of it. She didn’t know how to explain that her heart clenched when he leaned over the seat to buckle her in or explain how her hands shake when he reaches for the chalk from her now in the middle of a lesson. It was inconsequential, improbable, and entirely unexplainable to well… explain the sum of him to her. It felt little in comparison to his constant devotion. 

The two front pots begin to boil over, she lifts her head, turning off burners and carrying a stem to a pot in both hands. Taking the stairs two at a time again, uncaring about the burning water running down her arms in her haste to make it back to him. 

He’s still the same shade, but he lifts his head to look at her when she enters now. His smile less doppy, more genuine. His hair beginning to dry along his head, no ice to be found in its dark strands. He’s still leaning heavily along the back of the tub, not yet able to hold himself up. Color coming back to his cheeks, to his face. She kneels beside the tub, the floor wet as it seeps in through her pants. She pours in one pot at a time, swiping the water around to acclimate it to the bathwater. His hands move unconsciously, grabbing a strand of her hair to fold behind her ear. To be able to look at her more clearly through the fog of hot water. 

She begins to pour the next pot into the tub, but he tugs her forward, folds her body against the rim of the tub. Something in her makes her stand, lifting her feet into the tub. The way he looks at her, so disorientated and shivering still. It moves her forward, has her crawling into the tub completely clothed just to lay her cheek against his chest. To make sure it continues to rise under her. Like when she sleeps, and he lulls her back to sleep by simply being there. She wants that, for him to lull her racing heart now. Make her forget about his disappearing visage and still water. He does that, hums like he always does, folding her head under his scruffy chin. Comforting her despite his weakened figure. Hoping she wouldn’t notice how cold he still was against her. 

Something unwritten she believed, something she had never had to say out loud because she had never felt this weird depth before. But he was slipping from her grasp now, heavy against the rim of the tub. And so very quiet it made her sick, made her heart chase up her throat. Made her anxious beyond words, because the thing she meant to say to him would stay unwritten. If he was gone she’d only voice such fantasies in her dreams. The dreams she had of him as hers, those other realities her mind conjured where he wore a golden band and called her his. Where she was his. 

“You're mine.” Her voice was unwavering, something unwritten between the syllables of her words. It blooms and bursts from her throat, a growth that had sprouted long ago, stumbles out of her mouth searching for light. Still folded under his chin, along his chest. Her shirt wet from the water, bunched up along her waist where he had put his hands. 

He gets that look in his eyes despite her intensity, a joke on the tip of his tongue. Something to soothe her racing heart, to stamp down the distant look in her eyes. How she had looked in the car scared him, the rush of her chest but the focus of her eyes. Like they had been driving in the dark, through a neverending tunnel. But she chases it away before he can open his mouth, her hand meeting and cupping his scruffy jaw, pulling back from her comfort to look at him. Turning his eyes to her intense ones, ones that held something unspoken. 

“No.” A shake to her voice, eyes blurry. “You’re mine.” 

He nods, his voice stuck in his throat. Running his hands up her back, his warmer hands. 

“Y-you aren’t allowed to leave me like that, Stanley. You can’t l-leave me all alone like that.” Flashes of a towering beast are nothing compared to turning over her shoulder. Of searching the horizonline. Like she does for Stanford, eyes drifting to tree lines. She wouldn’t, couldn’t compartmentalize doing such a thing for Stanley. She’d take back hesitancies and reach across tables palm up if it meant he wouldn’t leave her again. 

“I promise, angel.” He takes her again, tucking her back to his chest. Her racing heart fluttered against his warming chest. “I won’t leave.” 

Her hand fall into that crook in his chest, the other clutching along his back, trying to bring him closer, trying to make the space between them disappear. She sniffling, from the cold and stress, against his chest and he doesn’t think twice about his words. Thinking of reaching for her, of meeting her across bridges and tables and in tunnels to meet her open palms, her warm hands. Unfurling her from his chest to lean down and place his lips near her ear, something unspoken between syllables. 

“You’re mine, too.” 

His lips traveling to her cheek, hovering against the flush skin before tracing her warmth. Kissing the apple of her cheek as she leans into the front of him. His lips warm against her cheek, like she had dreamed of. He had never been this close in the waking world, something she craved more with each passing day. She never pulled away, sniffling as he brings her forward again. No hesitation to be found in the nod of her head along his scruff, a nudge, and nestle of agreement. Something unspoken, unwritten. 

She forgot about the pots and burners. 

[zegrasdrysdale]

[ photograph ] j. drysdale

paring : Jamie Drysdale x fem!reader

summary : (Y/N) decides to fly out to Philly for Valentine’s Day after watching Jamie say in an interview that he’ll probably be spending the day alone

warning(s) : just some tooth rotting fluff with no angst for once, a heavy makeout

author’s note : this is just a (not so) lil fluff filled thing bc i wanted to write something for belated valentine’s day. sorry or you’re welcome (idk)

༺═──────────────═༻

“Yeah, uh, I don’t actually have any plans tomorrow,” he explains to a reporter through the screen on her phone. “Everyone I know here does have plans and everyone else I know is across the country so I’ll most likely spend the day putting together furniture in my new apartment.”

That was the moment she decided that she was getting on the first flight she possibly could to Philly so Jamie didn’t spend Valentine’s Day alone. No one should have to spend the day alone. She doesn’t have any plans and she’s off from work for about two weeks because they’re doing renovations so a little trip to Philadelphia doesn’t sound like the worst thing in the world.

Last year he spent the day with Trevor on the couch and watched movies in their shared apartment. This year, he is in Philly and Trevor actually has a girlfriend. Not very ideal for Jamie.

She isn’t Jamie’s girlfriend, but she is one of his best friends and could never let him be alone on Valentine’s Day. Especially not after hearing what his actual plans are for tomorrow. She’s going to at least help him put furniture together in his apartment.

A flight out of LAX is scheduled for 10 that night. It’s six so she has about two hours to pack for a week long trip to Philly. She even buys a ticket for Saturday’s game at MetLife since she wants to see Jamie play a game while she’s in Philly.

By eight, she’s out the door with a suitcase that’s packed full of clothes and non-liquid toiletries. The jersey Jamie sent her about a week after the trade is neatly folded with the rest of her clothes. She orders an Uber to drive her to the airport.

While in the Uber, she debates texting Jamie and telling him that she’ll be at his new apartment early tomorrow morning since she’ll be landing a little before six in the morning. It’ll probably take about 45 minutes after she lands before she’s on Jamie’s doorstep.

Maybe a surprise wouldn’t be the worst thing so she puts her phone away until she has to pull out her plane ticket.

Getting on the plane takes an hour between getting past TSA and buying snacks for the nearly five hour flight. She boards the plane twenty minutes before it takes off so she has time to get comfortable.

She’s asleep before the plane even leaves the ground.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

All the snacks she bought before the flight are going to be the snacks she eats while she’s in Philly because she slept for the entire flight. It didn’t feel like she slept for 5 hours but she did.

By six, she’s at baggage claim and grabbing her suitcase. She orders an Uber to Voorhees while she waits for her things. The car is waiting for her when she get outside.

It’s a lot colder out than she thought it was going to be. All she has on is a Ducks hoodie that Jamie gave to her the year before and a pair of leggings with Uggs on her feet. Her feet are warm. The rest of her is not. She shakes as she puts her things in the trunk of the car.

She gives the driver Jamie’s new address and she’s off to surprise her best friend.

The closer she gets to Jamie’s, the more nervous she gets. What if he found someone after moving to the Philly area? What if the whole putting furniture together comment was a lie so he didn’t announce to the entire world he was in a relationship? What if he doesn’t want her there in general?

Maybe a spontaneous trip across the country without at least letting Jamie know she was coming wasn’t the best idea she’s ever had.

A call comes through from Trevor. Confused, she answers the phone. “Good morning?”

“Are you in Philly?” he asks.

“Maybe,” she slowly replies as she watches the Philly skyline pass. “Why? It’s like three in the morning.”

“Not for you apparently,” he retorts. “I looked to see where you were because Mason said you weren’t replying to his texts so I wanted to make sure you were okay and I see that you flew across the country.”

She smiles and shakes her head. The way Trevor would find out she’s in Philly is by checking her location. He and Jamie are the only ones that have her location because she’s closest with them.

“Just wanted to surprise Jamie,” she tells Trevor. “That’s all. Tell Mason I’ll call him later because I’m about ten minutes away from Jamie’s apartment.”

“You gonna tell him you love him?” Trevor questions. She opens her mouth to object but he keeps talking. “It’s so freaking obvious so don’t even lie to me.”

A nervous laugh passes her lips. “We’ll see,” she replies. “I’ll talk to you later, Z.”

“Tell me how he’s really doing,” he tells her. “I worry about him sometimes.”

“Will do,” she says as the driver pulls up to Jamie’s place. “Talk soon.”

The line goes dead and she looks out the window at the apartment building. Jamie’s somewhere in there asleep and she’s about two minutes away from calling him to come let her into the building.

She gets her things out of the trunk and thanks the driver before he drives off to pick someone else up. She sighs and pulls up Jamie’s contact.

When she presses the ‘call’ button, it rings about four times before Jamie answers. The entire time, her hands are shaking and she isn’t sure if it’s because of the cold or if she’s nervous to see Jamie for the first time since the trade.

“It’s like four in the morning,” he croaks when he picks up. “Are you okay?”

She smiles at the sound of his morning voice. “Actually it’s almost seven in the morning and I’m currently freezing my ass off outside your apartment building so if you could come let me in, that would be great,” she says.

It sounds like Jamie falls out of bed when she says that she’s outside of the building. If he broke anything then she’s going to have to explain to Torts why Jamie will be out for six weeks.

He isn’t holding any body parts when he swings the door open and blankly stares at her from the top of the steps of the building. He blinks a few times like he’s trying to decide if he’s still dreaming or if he’s awake. She waves and a barefoot Jamie runs down the stairs to hug her.

A laugh passes her lips and she wraps her arms around his torso. “You’re actually here,” he says against her ear. “I thought you were lying to me.”

“Nope,” she replies. “I’m here. I didn’t have anything else to do so I thought I’d come surprise you. Help you put together some furniture for Valentine’s Day.”

Jamie pulls back from the hug just enough to look at her. “You saw that interview?” he asks.

With a nod and a smile, she replies, “It sounded like a very boring way to spend Valentine’s Day so I thought I’d come keep you company. Maybe watch you play at the outdoor game this weekend. I have another week off from work and spending it in the Philly area with my best friend didn’t sound like the worst idea.”

“You are actually insane for buying a plane ticket without knowing if I’d be here or not,” he tells her. “I could’ve left for Toronto before you got here since we play them tomorrow.”

“Yeah I know how your travel schedule works,” she retorts. “That’s how I knew you’d be here.”

He shakes his head and grabs her suitcase. “You have some of the best timing because I took a maintenance day today so I have a day off from practice, but I leave tomorrow morning for Toronto,” he says to her as they walk into the building together.

“Listen, I’m spending a week in the area,” she replies. “I get to watch you play at the outdoor game on Saturday when I wasn’t planning on being on the east coast at all. If you’re gone for a day or two then it’s fine.”

The smile that forms on Jamie’s face makes her heart do somersaults in her stomach.

She can tell how excited he is that she decided to visit him. She knows how much he has been missing Anaheim so she brought Anaheim to him for a week.

When Jamie opens the door to the apartment, she is very surprised by how decorated it is and how much of the stuff he had in his Anaheim apartment has made its way to this one. It still needs some work done, but that is why she’s here. She’s here to help him finish putting it all together.

“I need to build some shelves,” Jamie tells her. “And put together the guest bedroom. The frame still needs to be built for the guest bed too. This is what my plans were for the day.”

She turns her head to look at him as he closes the door behind them. “So it wasn’t come ruse so you didn’t have to admit to the world that you had a secret girlfriend?” she questions.

If she should expect Jamie to have a girl over then she might as well get the girlfriend question out of the way early on in her visit.

“Uh, no,” he replies. “No secret girlfriend. I’ve been so busy that I haven’t had any time to find a girlfriend. Yorky has tried but he’s not the best wingman.”

She can’t help but laugh. Jamie smiles and rolls her suitcase to the unfinished bedroom.

She decides to make some coffee for the two of them so they can get started on the day’s plans. They have to put together the guest room and build some shelves. It can’t be very hard to do either of those things. Right?

Wrong.

It turns out that Jamie can’t follow simple instructions to save his life. She has had to refrain from throwing whatever is in her hand at him so many times because he can’t read a piece of paper.

“Jamie, what am I supposed to do with this screw?” she asks as she holds up an extra screw. “Do I have to put it in your head so you can use your brain or something? You missing one in there? Do I need to get Trevor on the first flight out of LAX to come help you figure out how to read the instructions?”

Jamie looks up from his spot on the floor and throws the instructions at her. “Here, you try to read this and tell me if it makes any sense,” he retorts. “It’s all confusing. My parents helped me build shelves when they came to visit a few weeks ago. I didn’t have to do this. Maybe it’s just an extra.”

She grabs the pamphlet and reads the directions. The screw was supposed to be put in when putting the shelves in place. A shelf is missing a screw.

“You dumbass,” she says. “It’s not an extra screw. It was supposed to be put in on the bottom shelf to make sure it is secure and even. You now have an unsecure shelf in your guest room.”

Jamie flattens out on his back on the carpeted floor with a groan. “This is why I’m a hockey player and don’t work in home improvement,” he says as he rubs his eyes. She laughs and tries to keep her eyes on his face instead of on the sliver of skin that peeks out between what is a new Flyers t-shirt and pajama pants. “This is so dumb. I am not about to take that whole thing apart to put one screw in.”

She walks over and slaps the pamphlet on his stomach. He gasps and sits up with the paper in his hands. “Then get it together, Drysdale,” she tells him. “We have a bed frame to build.”

“Fuck the bed frame,” he sighs as she grabs the box in the corner and drags it into the center of the room. “You don’t need a bed to sleep in tonight.”

With a light laugh, she teases, “If we don’t get it set up then I’m gonna be sleeping in your bed until we get it put together.”

Jamie mutters something that sounds like “would be okay with me” but she pretends she doesn’t hear it. She can’t hear it or else she will just say “fuck it” and sleep in Jamie’s bed the entire time she’s here instead of putting the bed together.

The mattress is sitting up against the wall next to where the box with the bed frame was. He has everything he needs to put this bed together and he hasn’t done it yet. Not even over the All Star break when he had a few days off before going to Mexico with the Flyers.

Putting the bed together takes less time and a lot less arguing back and forth. Within an hour, the mattress is on top of the bed frame. Five-foot-eleven 185 pound Jamie flops on the mattress to make sure it’s secure and won’t fall apart if someone were to jump on it.

They do not need to have another shelf problem with the bed that she will most likely be sleeping on while she’s in the area. If it is like the shelf and it’s not safe to sleep on then the couch is in the living room for a reason.

The two of them stand in the doorway and look at their work when they decide the bed is secure. “We make an amazing team,” she comments. “Aside from the shelf.”

Jamie groans and walks down the hallway to his own room. “Shelves are stupid anyway,” he replies. “Who is actually going to use them in this room aside from me just putting a handful of books and pictures on them?” She laughs and goes to unpack her stuff now that it’s safe to do so without stepping on wood, metal or a screw on the floor.

The Flyers jersey that he sent her gets hung up in the closet along with her shirts, hoodies, and nicer pants. She’ll pull bras, panties, and socks out of the suitcase as needed. The beanie she brought to wear on Saturday is put on the bedside table.

Then she pulls out the gift that she brought for Jamie. It isn’t much but she’s hoping that it means as much to him as it does to her. The pictures she brought were taken at such important moments in Jamie’s career and she hopes that he doesn’t mind having a few pictures of his best friend around the apartment.

She walks down to Jamie’s bedroom and knocks gently on the door. There are footsteps behind it before the door swings open. “I, um, had these printed and framed in case I ever came to visit you,” she tells him as she holds out the three picture frames. “Thought you might need some décor.”

Jamie looks down at the pictures and shifts through them.

One of them was taken on Jamie’s Draft Day. He has on a Ducks jersey and she has on his Ducks hat. He looks so happy. He has an arm around her shoulders while he holds up six fingers and is smiling at the camera. She has a smile on his face and is looking up at him with a proud look on her face. Messy ponytail and all.

The second one was taken the day Jamie made his NHL debut and scored his first goal. It’s a selfie she took of her, Jamie, and Trevor at dinner that same night. They’re both holding their pucks because they went right from the arena to a restaurant to eat.

The third one was taken during the 2021 World Juniors tournament where Canada placed second. She’s putting the silver medal back around his neck after he had given it to her. “Silver just means you lost” is what he had said to her a moment before this was captured. She had told him that she was a winner to him and put the medal back around his neck. There is heavy eye contact between the two of them in their matching jerseys.

It was as the third picture was being taken she realized that she loved Jamie. The first two pictures, she knew she had feelings for him, but the third was when she realized that she wanted to be there for him as more than just a friend.

“I had no idea you had any of these,” he says after he’s done looking through them. Jamie looks up at her. “All at different points of my career.”

“Been with you since day one,” she replies with a smile on her face. “You didn’t think that I wouldn’t be here with you while you succeed in a whole new city, did you?”

Jamie laughs and shakes his head. “Absolutely not,” he tells her. “You always make sure you’re a presence in my life.” He pauses and looks right at her. “It’s one of the things I love most about having you in my life.”

She could almost cry when he says that.

There have been so many times over the years where she thought she was annoying or that he wanted her out of his life. She followed him to California when he started playing with the Gulls then the Ducks. He asked her to come with him, but she thought for months it was out of pity.

He has erased years of insecurity with one comment.

“Thanks for keeping me in your life,” she replies after a brief moment of silence.

“You’re like Trevor,” he teases. “You’re always around. It would be hard for me to get rid of you.”

She smiles up at him. “Except he would never fly across the country to see you,” she retorts. “Especially without at least telling you he was coming to see you.”

Jamie laughs. “No, he wouldn’t.”

They look at each other for a second before he walks past her. He has the picture frames in his hand as he walks into the living room. She follows him even though she is confused with what he’s doing.

He puts the picture of himself, Trevor, and (Y/N) on the coffee table under the lamp next to the couch. It’s the most public place in the entire place so it makes sense that that’s the picture that is put in the living room.

The picture of the two of them on Draft Day goes on a little table that leads to the hallway with both bedrooms and bathrooms. The table is under a little mirror that’s been hung up. A little less public but it also joins the other pictures that were taken that day. It looks like it belongs.

Jamie glances at her and walks back into his bedroom. She follows right behind him and stands in the doorway of his room. Her eyes are on the picture of the two of them at the 2021 World Juniors as it’s placed on Jamie’s bedside table.

“This one means the most to me so it deserves a little more privacy than the others,” Jamie tells her without a look in her direction. “You were there for me and picked me up when I was down. I didn’t want anyone else there but you. You were the one that convinced me silver was okay. The team worked hard to get to that moment. The medal was very well deserved because we did everything we could to make it to that game. I did everything I could to get the team to that game. We just came up a little bit short.”

She pouts and walks further into the room. He finally looks over at her. “I didn’t know you felt that way,” she softly says to him. “I didn’t know that I was the person that convinced you it was okay to wear silver around your neck.”

“I needed silver because my gold medal was you,” Jamie shakily admits. His voice is soft. “You’re my gold medal.”

His words have her speechless. Her jaw drops in surprise. She has no idea why he’s saying this to her now.

He reaches out to her and brushes a loose strand of hair behind her ear. She takes a step forward and feels her heart race in her chest as she looks up at him. Her body shakes as she realizes that their relationship is changing.

A line that she never expected to cross is about to be crossed. She can see it in Jamie’s eyes as they examine her face, landing on her lips.

“Can I kiss you?”

She nods because she doesn’t trust herself to speak. She is afraid that she’s going to admit how long she’s been in love with him if she says a single words.

So she nods, and Jamie leans down to capture her lips in a soft, hesitant kiss. He’s testing the waters to see if she’ll push him away.

She’ll never push him away.

Not when she finally has him like this. Not when she finally knows what it feels like to kiss Jamie Drysdale.

When she feels him begin to pull away, she wraps her arms around his neck and leans more into him to deepen the kiss instead of Jamie breaking it. Her fingers find a home in his hair.

She is scared he will regret it if the kiss breaks, and she doesn’t want that. She doesn’t want to see that look. It might break her if he looks at her like that if the kiss breaks.

Jamie cups her cheek and brushes his thumbs over her cheekbone. She melts against him with a sigh.

“(Y/N),” he mumbles after a second. “I need to breathe.”

That’s when she lets him pull away. The sight of his red, swollen lips and unruly hair is almost too much for her. There’s a hint of a smile on his face and something overcomes her.

“I love you,” she tells him. “I’ve loved you since that was taken.” She points in the direction of the picture on his bedside table. “It’s always been you, Jamie. That’s why I flew across the country on Valentine’s Day. I wanted to be with you today because I miss you and I love you.”

Jamie smiles and brushes his thumb over her own lips that are as red and swollen as his are. “I love you too,” he says. “I think I’ve been in love with you since I saw you at my first NHL game in my jersey. I’m very happy you came to the east coast to watch me play in the Stadium Series game this weekend. I was going to probably fly you out anyway.”

She laughs and shakes her head before burying her face in his chest. They’ve been in love with each other for years and are only now saying something about it after Jamie was traded to Philly and she’s stuck in Anaheim for right now.

“Only took me bringing you pictures to finally kiss me,” she teases.

He rolls his eyes. “Shut up and come here.”

Their lips meet in a heated kiss. Everything they’ve been feeling is coming out in the kiss. Jamie tugs her until she is sitting on his lap while he’s sitting on the mattress. She drapes her arms over his shoulders.

It’s that moment when she realizes they put together a whole bed for no reason because there is now no way she is getting in that bed now.

She pushes him down until Jamie is lying flat on his back and their chests are flush against each other. Her hair creates a curtain around their faces despite his fingers curling in her locks.

“Wait, hold on,” Jamie says. She pulls back from the kiss. “Have something to ask you before we get distracted.”

“Hm?”

“Will you come to family skate on Friday before the game at MetLife?” he asks. “As my girlfriend?”

The biggest smile forms on her lips. “You’re going to have to give me skating lessons because despite watching you play hockey for years, I have no idea how to skate,” she tells him.

“I will give you skating lessons,” Jamie laughs. “You’ll come though?”

She nods and kisses him. “I’ll come.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

yourusername

liked by jamie.drysdale, philadelphiaflyers, and 193,872 others

yourusername life recently w my 🤍

view all 15,982 comments

fan1 JAMIE HAS A GIRLFRIEND ????

masonmctavish23 ig i forgive you for not answering my texts last week

yourusername we can hang out when i get back into cali on wednesday

masonmctavish23 good. i’m mad that jamie stole you from us

fan2 oh my god. this is so cute

fan3 you were at metlife ??? i think i walked past you at one point

yourusername i had on the drysdale jersey

trevorzegras oh this is all i’m gonna hear about when she gets back

leocarlssoon it’s about time. i was praying this would happen bc the way jamie talked about you was insane

jamie.drysdale let me live !!

philadelphiaflyers Thanks for coming out

jamie.drysdale skating w my girlfriend for the first time was the best feeling 🩵

yourusername being your girlfriend is the best feeling

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[fictionalreads]

Could you pls do an Armando X reader angst where he shoots her instead of Mike🙈 Idk what their relationship is so you decide lol LOVE LOVE LOVE UR WORK!! I hope I make sense😭💗

AWE THANK YOU! This made perfect sense to me, and I just hope you like it.🥰 Title is from Goodbye by Victoria Monet. Don't forget to comment, like and reblog. Let me know how you guys like it.

After You, I'll Never Really Use My Heart The Same

Pairing: Armando Aretas x Reader

Fandom: Bad Boys Movies

Warnings⚠️: Angst, canon typical violence, like one or two cuss words

You’d been in love exactly one time.

You found being vulnerable, opening yourself so intimately and trusting them to accept and celebrate you as a person, difficult. Which was crazy because your job as an undercover cop meant you had to allow parts of yourself to show. The only way to truly fool someone is to stick as close to the truth as possible. You were good at it, faking the openness and trust. But maybe it being fake is precisely why you found it so easy. 

It wouldn’t mean anything.

Armando Aretas was different. He saw through the facade you’d adopted while in Mexico, working on a joint task force. He’d made his way past your usual defenses, no one else in your life ever bothering to try to truly know you as deeply as he did. It was like he saw straight through you, through all the hurt, through all the bullshit and pushed you to be the most honest you’d been in a while, even to yourself. 

The first time I love you's had been exchanged, it had been a fight. You didn’t want to admit it and he refused to let you hide and not face how you felt. You tried to tell him it wasn’t true, but he just told you he was just as afraid as you were and you could be scared together. You knew it was doomed, you were an undercover cop and he was poised to be a big name in the drug world, but you couldn’t stop it any more than you could stop a plane crash. You were meant to love him and he was meant to love you. Even if it had an expiration date.

So when the shot came, you knew exactly who had done it.

You had been waiting almost a year for him to find you and confront you. You knew betrayal was a sore topic for him so your betrayal would run deep. It would anger him and the longer he went without addressing it, the more it would fester. The longer he went without contacting you, the more you looked over your shoulder. You had signed up for this life, knowing that by showing criminals your face you were putting a target on your back, but you usually handled it well. This, like everything else with Armando, was different. You were genuinely afraid.

You had gone out to celebrate Marcus Burnett’s grandson being born. Lately you had been staying in, avoiding crowds out of an abundance of caution but Marcus had been a great mentor to you and you missed going out. After a couple drinks you felt more relaxed, even agreeing to be the endpoint in the ridiculous race Mike and Marcus were doing in an effort to prove they still had it.

One minute you were watching Mike and Marcus get set for the race and the next you were staring into the eyes of the man you loved. He had his visor flipped up, no doubt so you’d know exactly who it was that did the deed. You saw the anger, the betrayal in his eyes. You also saw the hatred that masked the love and hurt in them.

You knew what was coming next, but it didn’t help you prepare for the searing pain you felt. The bullet ripped through your chest, the feeling of fire in its wake. You watched as he watched you fall from the impact before speeding off. For a minute it was like everything had stopped. You couldn’t hear anything, couldn’t see anyone else. It was just you left behind like nothing. You turned your stare to the dark sky, too polluted for stars and wondered if this was the last thing you’d ever see.

Slowly, the world started to creep back into your senses. You felt the hard, cool ground beneath you. You saw the group of cops standing protectively around you, holding guns as if the attack would continue. You smelled Mike’s cologne as he hovered over you, pressing into the wound in an effort to stop the blood. You tasted the metallic blood in your mouth, knowing that was a bad sign. You heard Rita screaming, asking if anyone had eyes on the shooter.

Even in this state, you knew they wouldn’t. Armando was good at what he did, he’d be long gone by now. Oddly, you were okay with that. Despite everything, current situation included, you were glad he managed to get away. Maybe it was because if he was caught he’d tell the people you worked with the truth and you didn’t want to face their judgement. Maybe it was because you still loved him and the thought of him in a cage hurt.

By the time the ambulance got there, you were fading fast. Marcus kept telling you to keep your eyes open and you tried but your eyelids were so heavy. You were okay with dying. You were okay with this being your end, with knowing they’d never find the connection between you and the shooter. If you lived, you would have to come clean, face him again and you weren’t sure you could do that. Death was easier.

Death at the hands of Armando was forgivable.

[lustnhim]

‘ little sister. ‘ — elvis x fem! reader

note: based on ‘little sister’ by elvis (obvi) + requested / warnings: MDNI, non-specific age gap (elvis is 26 but idk abt the reader lol),  innocence kink, purity kink, cheating (kinda), p in v sex, fingering, no protection, car sex, panty stealing elvis cause’ i'm self indulgent. / summary:  elvis is dating your big sister, but after he sees you much you’ve grown– he can’t help himself.

Elvis couldn’t believe what he saw. A grown girl in place of the little doll he knew before. Upon walking into your house for dinner, he didn’t even realize it was you till you took your place at the table. His breath was caught in his throat, he couldn't even focus on what your sister was saying– every other word, in and out. Like nothing. Sure, he thought your sister was pretty, and it was true he loved her, but something was different. Something about you just..stirred something in him. Elvis' heart raced as he took in the sight of you. You still wore your hair in pigtails. Smirking to himself he nodded mindlessly as your father started talking about his work, he watched as you took small bites of your food, your head was downcast, your pretty lil’ eyes, god. He wanted to see them so bad. ‘Just raise your head, yittle un.’ He thought letting out a breathy groan. 

“You alright, El?” Your sister said, his mind went blank. Snapping back to reality he looked around the table, seeing that you had finally raised your head up, confusion etched on your soft features. “Ah, yeah m’ alright. Just tired, the Colonel’s got me workin' like a dog.” Elvis joked, and your father laughed. “I’ve heard that, seems like everyday you’re in the papers.” Elvis felt his heart flutter as he made eye contact with you, trying to act casual, but his nervousness was palpable. You didn't seem to notice the tension between the two of you. Your sister, however, did. She could tell something was off, she could tell from the moment ya’ll sat down for dinner. “Can I go to the movies with sis?” You asked your father, and Elvis swallowed hard. Your voice was as sweet as sugar and as smooth as silk, that pretty innocence lingering in your voice. “Course’ honey. If that's alright with them of course–”  Your father looked over at Elvis who nodded in compliance quickly, making your sister scoff. “What? C’mon- I don’t want her to go.” Your sister complained and Elvis looked over at her, his tone gentle. “Oh c’mon honey, let er’ go…she won’t bother us.” Elvis cood, taking his hand and placing it over hers in desperation.  Elvis could tell your sister was annoyed. The way she shot glances at you showed that. Jealous of her younger sister…and rightfully so. A different beauty entirely, perhaps it was the innocence that radiated off of you, your full lips, those sun kissed freckles from bein’ outside, those long eyelashes, and the softness of your skin…things your sister had all but lost. Lost from runnin’ around. It was no secret to anytone that your sister liked to get around, Elvis had known for weeks what she had been doing but he never bothered with it. Too busy. But now you were here, you were somethin’ new and he wanted you. 

Your sister rolled her eyes and pulled her hand out from under his, pulling her hand out from under his she crossed her arms over her chest. "Fine, you can come. But don’t bother us!”  She gave a small huff before turning her attention back to the last little bit of food on her plate. As you all finished eating, your father took Elvis into the living room, showing him the new guns he had bought while your sister started tidying up. In the bathroom, you stood in front of the mirror brushing your hair when your sister came in. “Elvis was jus’ being nice,” She said, smiling cruelly. “But then again, he won’t pay you no mind anyways.” She chuckled and walked to the living room, sitting down on the couch. Scoffing you fixed your hair back-up in your pigtails and smiled in the mirror, feeling pretty. Maybe your sister was right, maybe he was just being nice. But that was beside the point. You still liked him. As you walked into the living room, Elvis drank in the sight of you, smiling as he spoke. “You girls ready?” You nodded, a shy smile playing on your lips as you walked over to Elvis. "Ready when you are, Elvis." Your sister rolled her eyes, but you ignored her. "Alright, let's go then." Your sister stood up, and grabbed Elvis hand, leading him out the door. 

The theater was packed, you recognized a few people you knew and some of your sister's friends who she chatted with before the three of you went to take a seat. Elvis took a seat in the middle, between you and your sister. The lights dimmed, and the movie began. Your sister chatted with Elvis throughout the movie, making jokes and laughing. You watched the movie, enjoying it but also feeling a bit left out. You wanted to talk to Elvis, to get to know him better, but you felt intimidated by your sister's presence. Halfway through the movie, Elvis leaned over to you, his arm brushing against yours. "This is a great movie, isn't it?" He whispered. You smiled, feeling your heart race. "It's amazing." You whispered back. He gave you a small smile before turning his attention back to your sister, who had been jerking on his arm so he could look back at her.  During the intermission, Elvis stood up, stretching his legs. "Want anything from the concession stand?" He asked, looking at both of you. Your sister shook her head, but you nodded, biting your lip. "Um, could I get a coke and some popcorn, please?" Elvis smiled, nodding. "Sure, be right back." He winked before making his way out of the theater room.

Walking to the concession stand Elvis could feel how shaky his legs were, how fast his heart was racing, and how disappointed he was that your sister was hogging him. He should’ve just ended stuff with her a long time ago, but she stayed. In a way, he was glad. He wouldn't have been able to see you as much as he did, let alone spend any time with you. Ordering his two cokes and a large popcorn he started to head back to the theater room before hearing a familiar giggle. Your sister. Peeking around the corner he saw your sister and some fella, he had her in a corner, his arm raised above her head as he leaned close to her. Elvis watched as they kissed, a short sweet one before he took her hand and the two snuck out the backdoor. Elvis was mad, in short. She had run off with another man mid-date, shaking his head and taking a deep breath as he walked back into the theater room, finding you sitting alone. “Elvis- uhm she said that she felt sick n’ had one of her friends take her home…I-I told her that she could wait on you n’ you could take us home but she didn’t listen to me!” You explained and Elvis laughed gently, “Don’t worry bout’ it little. I saw her, she done run off.” He said, handing you one of the cokes. “Oh…m’ sorry…” You whispered, seeing genuine hurt in his features. “Ain’t your fault, she's been doin’ that for a good while.” Elvis said softly, looking over at you. “You wanna just head ta’ the car?” Elvis proposed and you nodded. Standing up and walking out of the row of seats Elvis took your hand in his, leading you out.

Truthfully, Elvis was curious. Curious about what he could do with you. The idea of revenge came to mind, get back at your sister for sleeping around. But that would be wrong. It wouldn’t be right, he didn’t want to use you like that. But god. He wanted you. Opening the passenger car door Elvis let you get in before moving around to the side of the car, hesitating before opening the door. He could try. That’s all he could do. “We can just hang out here for awhile, if you’re wantin’ too.” Elvis said, turning to look at you. You looked so pretty, in that white dress n’ those frilly socks…bows in your hair too. “That's fine with me,” You said, crossing your legs in your seat. Elvis swallowed hard, a majority of your thigh exposed. He could see just a sliver of your panties but that was enough for his pants to get uncomfortable. He hated how you made him. All desperate, worked up, needing you so bad but it was just so wrong. “We’ve never been alone together before.” You said, looking over at him, scanning his face- trying to figure out what his expression was. “I guess that’s true, little.” As you both sat in the car, Elvis tried to keep his cool. He was so close to you, so close that he could smell the sweet scent of your perfume. It was intoxicating, and it made him want you even more. He knew that he shouldn't be thinking like this, that he should be focusing on getting you home safely, but he couldn't help it. He was drawn to you, and he wanted you more than anything. You, on the other hand, were feeling a bit nervous. You were so close to Elvis, and alone with him. No sister to stop you from talking to him or batting your eyes at him. “I’ve never been alone with a boy before.” You blurted out, your face flushing a deep shade of red from embarrassment. “Oh, well that’s alright…” Elvis replied, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “You look purty.” He finally said, waiting for your reaction. Elvis' words made your heart flutter. "You- You think so?" You said shyly, looking down at your lap. Elvis chuckled, "Aww don't be like that little, you're very beautiful." He said, putting his hand on your thigh. You felt a jolt of electricity as his hand touched you. "You’re…you’re really handsome." You said, a blush spreading across your face. The two of you seemed to stare forever at each other, you hadn’t noticed that the two of you had gotten closer to each other, your noses almost brushing together. “Uhm, Elvis..? Can I- Can I kiss you?” You asked, your heart pounding against your chest. Elvis was taken aback but didn’t hesitate, his hand cupped your cheek as he pushed you closer to him, your lips meeting in a slow, soft kiss. You were shaking, so was Elvis. And neither of you knew why. The bulge in Elvis’ pants became more evident, the fabric of his jeans rubbing him uncomfortably tight, he cursed god as he pulled away from you. Your eyes were wide and your cheeks pink. “How was that..?” Elvis asked, his hand still resting on your thigh, drawing circles on your soft skin. “Nice..” You muttered, biting your lip. “I’ve never done that before.” You confessed, and Elvis chuckled, shaking his head. “Well, you’re a natural.” He said, kissing your forehead. The two of you sat in silence, the two of you heard the faint sound of the movie theater in the distance, the music from the film playing. Elvis looked down at you, his eyes soft and gentle. He couldn’t help but feel that this was wrong, but the way you looked at him, the way you kissed him…it was hard to resist. “Do..do you wanna go to the backseat?” He asked, his breath caught in his throat. Hesitating slightly you nodded, and the two of you moved to the backseat.

“ Hi…” You whispered and Elvis laughed gently, “Hi there, little.” You were so innocent, so pure, and he wanted to keep you that way. He wanted to protect you, to keep you safe from the world. “You’re different from most girls.” He whispered, his hand finding its way to your waist, pulling you closer. “Can I kiss you again?” He asked, and you nodded, you could feel yourself shaking. “You sure? We ain’t gotta do nothin’ if you don’t wanna.”  He prefaced and you took a deep breath. “Elvis please..jus’ kiss me again.” Elvis didn’t hesitate, pulling you closer he kissed your jawline. You let out a small moan, your body responding to his touch, wanting more. Elvis could feel your heart racing, and he knew that you were as affected by him as he was by you. He pulled back, looking into your eyes. “This is so wrong.” He whispered, his hand moving to your hair, tucking a strand behind your ear. “I don’t want to take advantage of you.” You smiled, a small and innocent smile. “I want this, Elvis.” You said softly, your hand moving to his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart. “I’m not a little girl anymore, I’m grown.” Elvis looked at you, his heart aching for you. He wanted to take you home, to keep you safe, but he was also drawn to you like a moth to a flame. He couldn’t resist you, you were too pure, too sweet, and he wanted to savor every moment with you. “Alright, little.” He said, kissing you again, this time more passionately. His hand moved from your hair to your back, pulling you closer, feeling the curve of your body against his. You wrapped your arms around his neck, feeling your heart race as his tongue danced with yours. His hand snaked up to your chest, gently groping your breast with his hand causing you to squeal into the kiss and Elvis pulled away, “Fuck, was that too far?” Elvis cursed, his heart dropping. “No, do- keep doing it.” You begged, taking ahold of his hand and placing it back on your breast. Elvis let out a shaky breath, his heart pounding in his chest. He couldn't believe how far things had gone, but he couldn't deny the desire that was burning between the two of them. He started kissing you again, his hand massaging your breast, kneading it between his fingers, his other hand slowly moving under your dress. You let out a soft moan, your body arching into his touch. Elvis' hand started to explore your body, his fingers tracing the curve of your hip, moving lower to your panties. He could feel your heat through the fabric, and he knew he was getting dangerously close. You bit your lip, your breath hitching as tugged on the edge of your underwear, hooking his fingers underneath and pulling slightly. 

Elvis looked up at you, searching for consent– when you nodded he Elvis pulled them down your legs, taking them off and holding them in his hand for a moment before stuffing them in his pocket. You couldn't help but laugh when he did so– “A keepsake.” He joked before leaning over you and hiking up your dress. Elvis' heart raced as he exposed your delicate, untouched skin. He couldn't believe he was doing this, but he couldn't resist the temptation. Your eyes were closed, your body trembling with anticipation. Elvis' finger traced the outline of your folds, feeling the wetness that coated them. He bit his lip, his breathing heavy as he slowly inserted one finger inside of you. You gasped, your eyes shooting open as you looked at him, a mix of surprise and pleasure evident on your face. “Can hardly fit my finger…” Elvis noted, moving his finger in and out of you, feeling your walls tighten around his digit. You arched your back, your moans growing louder as he continued to pleasure you. He added another finger, the two of them working in perfect harmony. Your breathing grew heavier, your body trembling under his touch. Elvis could feel your impending climax and he sped up his movements, wanting to push you over the edge. You let out a loud moan, your body convulsing as you came. Elvis watched you, a sense of pride and satisfaction washing over him. He slowly pulled his fingers out of you,the wetness coating them a testament to your pleasure.”God…” He said, admiring his fingers before placing them on his tongue. You looked at him, your eyes hazy. "Elvis..." you whispered, your voice soft and quiet. He leaned in to kiss you, allowing you to taste yourself on his tongue as his hand moved to the front of his pants. He was hard, throbbing for you, and he couldn't wait any longer. Elvis unzipped his pants, pulling out his erection. You looked at him, your eyes wide with curiosity. “Spread your legs, little.” He coached, as you parted your shaky legs wider. He positioned himself at your entrance, and with a gentle push, he entered you. You let out a small yelp, the sensation of being filled by him unlike anything you'd ever experienced. A short, sharp pain causing you to slam your eyes shut, “Ah! E-Elvis…it hurts.” You whined, feeling his continue to ease into. Taking your hand he held it close in his hand, “I know, little..squeeze ma’ hand.” He says, groaning as he struggles to fit into you. You’re so tight, unbelievably warm and so, so wet. Elvis moved slowly, giving you time to adjust to his size. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer to you. Slinging your arms around his neck, Elvis gently let go of your hand and gripped onto your hips as you sunk deeper onto him. “So fuckin’ tight.” He groans as he begins to move you up and down onto him, each thrust drawing a soft whimper from you. Elvis' heart thudded against his chest, his eyes locked on you as he watched your reaction to him. He could see the pain, but also the pleasure that you were experiencing, and it was enough to make him want to take you over and over. He began to move faster, his thrusts becoming more urgent as he felt his own pleasure building. You cried out, your body responding to his movements, your walls tightening around him.

"Elvis..." you moaned, your voice catching in your throat. He leaned down, kissing your neck, his breath hot against your skin. "Cum for me, little." He commanded, his voice low and gruff. You could feel your orgasm building, the sensation overwhelming you. "Elvis...I...I'm gonna cum..." you gasped, your body trembling. That was all the encouragement he needed. Elvis increased his pace, thrusting into you as hard as he could, his own climax approaching. "Fuck, little..." he groaned, “I’m gonna fill ya’ up. Make you feel all full…You want that?” He said, his eyes locking onto you. Watching you nod frantically, wanting nothing more. Elvis’ thrusts became more frantic as you rested your head against his neck as his fingers dug into your hips. You let out a shaky gasp,  feeling the warmth of his release as he filled you. He moaned out, pulling you close to his chest as he tried to catch his breath. Elvis pulled out of you, his spent cock leaving you feeling empty. 

Still holding you to his chest, he stroked your hair as you shook in his arms, his cum dribbling out of your swollen cunt. As you caught your breath, you clung to Elvis, the aftershocks of your orgasm still rippling through your body. He kissed the top of your head, his hand moving to your hip as he looked at you with a satisfied smile. "You’re so perfect little." He whispered, the words sending a shiver down your spine. Whimpering in response Elvis smiles at you, adjusting himself before pulling your dress back down in place. “Will you be mine baby?” He asks, planting a soft kiss on your forehead. “Mhm…” You smile gently, and he tilts his head curiously before yanking gently on your pigtails. “You gonna be mine forever just…” Elvis starts looking out the window of the car which had humorously fogged a bit. 

“don’t you do what your big sister’s done.” 

i tried alternating perspectives, give more on what elvis’ is thinking— so i hope it makes sense :3 this was really fun to write tbh, i listened to the song like 7 times while writing 😭 hope y’all enjoy!

taglist: @hooked-on-elvis @atleastpleasetelephone @lola-1013 @indiatuck @eptodaytommorowforever @suspiciousmindsxo @tupelomiss @myradiaz @i-r-i-n-a-a @elvispresley1956 @sisssygirl @your-nanas-house @callieselvisobsessed @eapep @auntbee22 @wildhorseinkansas @elvisiana @spookyeagleflower @ladelinee @jhoneybees @elviswhore69 @sissylittlefeather @dontfeedthebigbadwolf @louisejoy86 @elvisalltheway101 @cherrycolaride @sloppyzengarden @faeolwen @slayingjd

if you wanna be added or removed lmk!

[cannibalizedlove]

jus stumbled on ur acc and IM IN LOVE I jus read the stalker!donnie fic and was wondering if there's a scenario where reader actually knew the entire time and is equally obsessed (basically self inserting LOL). but anyway idk if u write smut so maybe reader teases him abt it when they're having a lil makeout sesh in the couch and readers all like "its kinda hot" and says some crazy shit that makes donnie. whos as deep in the pool of obsession as you gets hellaaaa flustered EEEK I'm going crazy I fucking love donnie

Thank you for the request!! I think this is such a good idea, mutual obsession is just.. chef kiss. I hope you enjoy <3

The feelings mutual.

Information and warnings — smut!*, part twoish of “watching you”, male reader, donnie and reader being horny messes, donnie’s first time so you ruin him :((, reader being a kinky freak which is perfect for him, heavy corruption kink, donnie being a loser bottom bitch (affectionate). this is so long, i apologize ahh, i just love him so much.

You had been going with Donnie for about three months now, and you were infatuated with everything about him.

You loved hearing him talk about whatever new conspiracy theory he bought into, and you were always there to help him during his hallucinations.

Donnie was completely and utterly obsessed with you, he did everything for you. Even though you were perfectly capable of doing your homework, Donnie would always snatch it from your backpack and do it for you, he never let you lift a finger. It was crystal clear that you had him whipped.

Before the two of you got together, Donnie was just as obsessed with you. The huge perv was constantly watching you through your windows, following you home, and of course, stealing your underwear. What Donnie didn’t know is that you were completely aware of his stalking, and how you were completely turned on by it.

The two of you were sitting on his couch in the living room, his parents and siblings were out to dinner while Donnie was supposed to be at his therapy session with Dr. Thurman, but skipping it one time wouldn’t hurt, right? Seeing how you were like his medication, except you actually worked and didn’t just make him drowsy.

The two of you were watching a corny horror movie, you had already connected the dots and figured out who the killer was, though, it didn’t matter anyways because neither of you were paying attention. You were leaned against his warm body while Donnie was squeezing and touching every inch of you that he could grab.

You let out quiet moans as he began to kiss behind your ears and onto your collar bone, reaching up and softly running your hands through his short hair. The two of you had never gone farther than this before, and it was slowly killing Donnie.

He needed you more than he needed air, you were the most angelic thing he had ever seen, he wanted nothing more than to ruin your pure image.

“Donnie, I know a lot about you.” You softly spoke, your words interrupted by little moans and laughs when his lips would tickle your neck.

“Yeah? Like what, angel?” Donnie smiled against your skin, drawing invisible circles on your exposed skin.

“I know that you have extensive knowledge on time travel.. and that your favorite cartoon is The Smurfs..” You chuckled at the last part, earning a playful eye roll from the boy and a gentle push; “..and I also know that you like to steal my underwear.” You finished your sentence by grabbing his jaw.

Donnie instantly froze and his heart sank into his stomach. His eyes were wide and he swallowed thickly before coming up with a lie on the spot.

“I don’t know what you mean, I wouldn’t do that.. That’s a total invasion of your privacy!” He began to breathe heavily, he felt like an animal caught in a cage with no way out.

“Oh, and you would never invade my privacy, right? You would never follow me home.. or sit by my window and watch me?” You had moved positions from laying on him to now straddling him sitting on his lap. You drew out your words softly into his ear, feeling him shake from anxiety.

Donnie knew he couldn’t lie his way out of this, he knew he was caught, and he was terrified. Was this the end? Were you completely disgusted with him and you were just stringing him along to hurt him? He couldn’t believe that, you were too sweet, too perfect, he didn’t want to lose you over his uncontrolled attraction to you.

“Do you.. hate me.. for it?” Donnie looked up at you with glossy eyes, trying to swallow his fear but failing miserably.

You couldn’t keep playing with him like this, you didn’t want to hurt his feelings, but you couldn’t help but find him attractive with his quivering voice and worried eyes.

“Oh, Donnie.. I could never hate you.” You lifted his chin to hold eye contact with him, and ran your free hand through his hair. “If anything,” You paused, letting his jaw go, and leaning forward, leaving your lips just an inch away from his.

“It’s kinda hot.” You finished your sentence, pushing your lips into his with a hard kiss, leaving Donnie completely surprised.

He couldn’t believe it, he was afraid of you being horrified of him, yet here you were making out with him because of it. Donnie knew he wouldn’t be able to hide the tent that was growing in his pants.

The kisses were only broken by the loud moans that left both of your mouths, the two of you couldn’t get enough of each other. You began to grind down on his crotch, pulling on his hair. Donnie bit down on your lip, resulting in a sharp moan from you. He latched onto your neck, attacking it with bites and wet kisses. You were in complete bliss, the only things you could think about were Donnie’s teeth pulling on your skin and his hand creeping up to your throat.

Donnie pulled away, placing his hand on your throat harshly. Both of your lips were swollen, and Donnie’s face was completely flushed, he smiled as he watched you pant like a dog, and he began to palm you through your jeans that had become 2 sizes to small, enjoying every moan that you cried out.

You looked incredible like this, he thought, your eyelashes wet from the tears that welled up from Donnie’s painful bites, your hair completely unruly, falling perfectly infront of your face, every bit of your sight was driving him crazy. It honestly amazed him how he was able to keep himself from ripping every bit of fabric off of you and making you cry, but Donnie didn’t wanna scare you off; so he kept his composure, at least this time he would.

You began to roll your hips into his hand that had a tight grip on your painfully hard bulge, moaning loudly into his open mouth, holding onto his wrist of the hand that was on your throat, causing him to squeeze ever so slightly harder. You felt amazing, but it wasn’t enough, you needed to feel him.

“Please.. Donnie.” You said breathlessly with your eyes screwed shut. Donnie didn’t know if this was real or a hallucination, he had thought about this moment every time he masturbated with your stolen underwear, but now that it was actually happening, he felt wildly intimidated.

“I’ve never.. I’ve never done this before.” Donnie halted his movements, hanging his head low in embarrassment, worrying that the fact he was still a virgin would turn you off; only to find out that it made you want him ten times more, if that was even possible.

“That’s okay.. I can teach you, I promise.” You grabbed his chin, lifting it back up to your gaze, watching his already red face turn brighter.

Donnie nodded wildly, biting the inside of his cheek as he watched you stand up in front of him, taking your jeans off. He swore that if you looked hard enough, you could see a pool of drool forming at the corner of his mouth. When you had finally gotten your jeans off, which felt like years to the poor horny mess, you sat back down on his lap, kissing his forehead gently.

You gestured to Donnie to lift his arms up, and he instantly followed the command, lifting his arms up and swallowing thickly as you took his shirt off. Your lips ghosted over his as you ran your hands down his chest, taking note of how he bucked his hips subconsciously when you ran a finger over his nipple.

“We can start off simple, is that okay?” You smiled sweetly as you wrapped your arms around his neck, watching his every movement to make sure you didn’t cause him any discomfort. “Yeah.. yeah that’s okay.” Donnie said, completely out of breath, his hard on becoming increasingly more painful.

You brought his hand down to your bulge once again, giving him a soft kiss as he circled your tip through your boxers. “You can take them off — please, take them off.” That simple command was all it took for him to completely rip off your plaid boxers, exposing your dripping cock to the cold air of the boys house. Donnie gripped you instantly, running his thumb over your slit with a half swallowed moan escaping his mouth.

“Fuck, Donnie..” Your face was buried in the nape of his neck, kissing it every once in a while to try and stifle your increasingly louder groans. Donnie had his free hand on the back of your head, holding you close to the sweet spot behind his ear you kept attacking. “You’re so fucking pretty..” He cried while continuing to work your length, he could feel his own pre completely soaking through his underwear. You began to roll your hips once again, feeling like you were on cloud nine, but just before you could come undone in his hand, he pulled away, holding your waist tightly.

“Can I.. you know…” Donnie whined, despite the fact that he had the nerve to stalk you, and break into your home, he couldn’t bring himself to utter the words ‘fuck you’, it was pathetically adorable.

You chuckled and nodded your head, kissing his cheek before sitting on your knees and helping Donnie remove his jeans. Something about you doing everything for him, and teaching him how to fuck you was deliciously exciting to him. He loved the idea of him being completely tainted by you, even if he had originally dreamed of the roles being reversed. With his jeans now removed, you kissed him one final time before curling a finger in his waistband, pulling his boxers down to his ankles.

Donnie looked away bashfully, his length twitching quickly, leaking pre like a hose. You bit your lip, taking a mental photo for use later. You hovered over him, holding his hard cock tightly as you lined it up with your hole.

“Are you okay?” You asked softly, kissing the top of his head, making sure that he was ready to be taken like this. Donnie whined out in frustration, he was never good with patience and it was on full display here. You laughed at his needy response, and slowly began to sink down onto his dripping length. Donnie instantly threw his head back, grabbing your waist and digging his short nails into your skin. Your mouth hung open, sinful noises filled the room from the both of you as you bottomed out onto him.

Donnie’s eyes began to water from the sheer pleasure, and he held you like his life depended on it. It took you a second to adjust to his size, but you started slowly moving up and down, making Donnie completely loose it. His quiet demeanor was totally lost at this point, nothing but whines, cried out moans, and loud “fucks”, and “please’s” left his mouth. Nothing filled his mind except the feeling of you wrapped around him, and your pretty facial expressions. The poor boy was totally overwhelmed, fat tears began to fall from his eyes as he got closer to his climax.

The sight was enough to push you over the edge, he looked completely wrecked, and it was a gorgeous sight. You pushed yourself forward, latching onto his lips and grabbing his face tightly, his tears transferring onto your cheeks as you kissed. You became undone onto both of your chests, thick ropes covering Donnie’s frail body. Donnie broke the kiss with a loud cry, hitting his climax and losing himself inside of you. He held you tightly to his body as he pumped you full.

After a few moments of silence, that let both of you gain your composure, you let out a breathy laugh, kissing your fucked out boyfriend all over his face. You watched as his chest heaved up and down as he blinked tightly, trying to regain all of his senses. Donnie kissed your lips softly, wrapping his arms around you in a gentle hug.

“Hey.. how did you know all that stuff? Have you like.. done this before?” Donnie said, a thick sense of jealousy flowing through every word.

“No, I just watch a lot of porn.” You chuckled, a devilish smile running across your face.

Donnie let out a breathless moan as he flipped you onto your back, just the idea making him ready for a round two.

[imtherain]

Why We Wake

Heyo

Fun fact about me, my first love in life was Hugh Jackman as Wolverine, so as one would imagine, I'm taking the new movie, EXTREMELY well and I am SO normal about it.

Here's the first fanfic I've finished for him this time around. Just a little fic, but I said I'd post it if people liked my last post, and I am nothing if not susceptible to that brand of peer pressure.

Anywho...

Warnings: None really, it's pretty short and kinda cute. There's a storm, there's no smut, reader is jealous/avoidant of her feelings because of Jean... I guess it's vaguely friends to lovers? idk

[Masterlist]

[Logan Masterlist]

Plot:

Where it's storming and you go to wander the mansion because you can't seem to sleep. You run into Logan, who also can't sleep, and he was looking for you. 

It had been stormy most of the afternoon, distant thunder and sheets of rain. While the mansion was awake, the noises didn’t bother you. Most of the time, even when it was quiet, storms didn’t really affect you much either. But tonight, as the mansion fell silent and the storm built outside, you found it impossible to settle for the night. You dozed for maybe five whole minutes, but kept finding yourself awake. You tossed and turned until eventually, you gave up.

Like most of the night dwellers, you found your restless feet circling the common areas. Someone was in the lounge flicking through the tv. A couple of the teenagers were whispering in the library as you peaked in and passed by. You figured, since you couldn’t sleep, might as well make the rounds in case someone asked what you were up to. You were supposed to be one of the responsible adults after all.

You weren’t sure why exactly, but after you finished the normal route around the school, your feet took you down the opposite side of the living spaces, causing you to come around the long way on your way back to your room. You really didn’t know why you even bothered to go back towards bed, you would have had better luck sleeping somewhere else. It didn’t matter much though, because your feet stilled outside a door that wasn’t yours.

You and Logan had circled each other for a long time.

But you’d seen the looks that had passed between him and Jean too many times to ever feel like there could be room in his heart for you. You figured you might settle for room in his bed, but you’d never really been the casual type. So all this time you had wanted, and yet, you had stayed, quite purposefully, away. 

But it never prevented the way he flirted with you.

And it never prevented the ache you felt for him.

The door in front of you suddenly swung open and you found yourself face to face with the man himself. He wore a pair of gray sweatpants and a sweatshirt. From the way he had half zipped it, you could tell he hadn’t bothered putting a shirt on underneath. 

“Hey,” His voice was gravel and surprise. “What are you doing up this late?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” You smirked back. He grinned to himself and nodded.

“Storm’s too loud,” He said. “Was going to go see if you were awake. Maybe ask you to sing me a lullaby.” You felt that familiar heat bloom in your chest. Logan often said things like that to you, and if you didn’t know better, you might have even believed he meant it. 

“Sure you were,” You rolled your eyes at him.

He probably said the same things to Jean when he bumped into her.

“What are you doing down this far?” Logan asked, eyebrow raised now. The heat from your chest grew as he watched you blush. “As I recall, your room is on the other side,” 

“It is,” You agreed. “I was walking rounds,” Logan crossed his arms and leaned against the door frame to watch you squirm. 

“In the teacher dorms?” His stupid face was so full of mirth you could almost forget the gnawing in your ribcage. 

“Teachers need to be checked on too,” you snapped back, crossing your arms defensively. 

You hadn’t been doing anything wrong, so why did you feel so guilty?

“Find anything good?” He was smirking at you and you wanted to look away but you couldn’t. You liked it when he smiled at you like that. Even if at some point, the moment would end and you’d be alone again.

“What?”

“On your rounds. Find anything… good?” You weren't sure you understood the pause or why it felt loaded. 

“Not at all, a few kids in the library, a straggler here and there,” You told him. “And you,” he hummed at that.

“Wanna come in?” Logan asked with a nod of his head to signal the room behind him. You'd been alone with him before, and had been in his room plenty of times for a moment or two. 

“Yeah, sure,” You agreed easily. If nothing else, just spending some time with him might help you relax. It usually did, though you would never tell anyone exactly why. 

And you didn’t pay any mind to the little thoughts in your head that spoke of the sorts of sordid things people could do behind a closed door on a stormy night. And while you knew Logan flirted, you also knew he wasn’t going to do anything to you that you wouldn’t like or want or ask for.

Logan moved to push the door open enough that you could slip under his arm and go inside his room. He followed, closing the door behind him. 

The room looked almost identical to yours in form, but you had decorated yours to fit you. Logan’s room looked like no one had lived in it yet, other than the jacket thrown on a chair, a couple pairs of boots, and the fact it smelled like him.

How a room could smell just like him surprised you, but only because he didn’t seem to have been in any one place long enough to leave that sort of trace behind. But he had been at the school far longer than you, so maybe it shouldn’t surprise you.

You watched as Logan made his way back to his bed and slid himself under the covers. He remained sitting up, back against the headboard, as he waved you closer.

“I won’t bite,” Logan’s smile said he might if you asked. You were ok risking it either way.

“I’m not afraid of you,” You teased him, joining him under the blankets. Just like friends at a sleepover. You were surprised at how warm the bed was already. Surprised too, at how you were chilled from your little walk.

“Shame,” Logan mused, shifting so that his arm was around you. You felt the heat from your chest swell again, but you were desperate not to notice it. Not to read into things. “What do you say to spending the night here?” 

“Here?” You mused. You knew Logan could hear your heartbeat speed up. Honestly, it wouldn't have taken enhanced hearing to notice.

“I think the company would do us both some good,” He continued. It was your turn to raise your eyebrow.

“Are you afraid of the storm?” You ask, incredulous.

“Not afraid, it’s just… really loud. I’d rather listen to something else,” You could feel him watching you but you weren’t brave enough to meet his eyes. This could go a couple of ways, and most of them ended with you crying in your bathroom tomorrow.

“Do earplugs not help since your hearing is so good?” You asked, trying to dispel the tension.

“Pretty much,” You jumped when you felt him press his lips to your bare shoulder. You weren’t sure if you were glad for your tank top or not. “You ok with this?” 

“More than I should be, yeah,” Your chest felt tight. It was nerves and it was that ache that always seemed to show up when Logan was nearby.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” His breath fanned against your neck, but he paused in his movements.

“I’ve seen the way you look at Jean,” You told him. “I don’t want to be your consolation prize,” You didn’t have the strength to stop him when he shifted to rest his forehead into the crook of your neck.

“Then you haven’t seen the way I look at you,” His voice was a whisper against your skin. You shivered as he pressed another chaste kiss there.

“I guess I haven’t,” You agree, equally soft. You wondered how you never made the connection that anytime you did look at him, his eyes always happened to be on you. Did he really look at you like that? 

“I can hear your heart racing,” Logan chuckled, his lips on the shell of your ear. “Tell me you don’t want this,” 

“Tell me that you do,” You countered, eyes screwed shut.

“I do,” He almost purrs. “God, I’ve wanted you since the first day you walked into this mansion.” Another kiss against your jaw and you couldn’t help but move so he had better access to kiss your throat. “With your giant ass wheeled suitcase… and that fucking sundress,” He groaned when he felt your hand on his arm, squeezing him in response to the memory. You had always been so busy trying not to catch his eye for fear of finding him looking at someone else. “I’ve dreamed about you in that dress…and you cruelly haven’t worn it since,” 

Turns out you really had missed him looking at you.

“It didn’t seem as appropriate once I got here,” You manage around the blood racing through your body. Your heart was working overtime, beating so loud you couldn’t even hear the thunder anymore.

“Maybe you should wear it for me when I get to take you out,” Logan chuckled as your ears turned pink. He was so close to you, shrouding you from the night and the storm outside. It was so different than you expected it to be, but you welcomed it either way.

“You want to take me out?” 

“If you’ll let me,” He sits back to look at you. “Though if you just want to fuck, I guess that’s fine too,” 

You were surprised at the way his eyes hardened at the thought that this might just be carnal. You may not have known everything that had happened to him in his life, but it wasn’t hard to guess that there had been a number of times when people just wanted to use him. For fighting, for fucking, for whatever, his own feelings be damned.

You never wanted to make him feel like that.

“I’d love for you to take me out,” You told him, reaching out to cradle his face in your hands. Logan grinned, leaning into your touch. Before you thought better of it, you leaned forward and covered his mouth with yours. 

Logan seemed pleased by this, adjusting so that he was over you, working you both down the bed so that he could settle himself with his hips cradled in your welcoming thighs. His lips never leaving yours.

“When are you free next?” Logan asked, panting after the long kiss broke for a moment. 

“I don’t know,” You roll your eyes at him. “We’ve got other things to do right now,” You couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped you as he knit his brow, seeming to wonder what you meant. You just pulled him down to kiss you again.

Eventually, you both settled in for the night, exhausted all at once. Logan was using you as a pillow, his head resting just above your hip, one arm reaching up between your thighs so he could tease the skin around your navel with his strong fingers, tracing circles and nonsense into your flesh. Holding you like his favorite pillow.

You were resting comfortably amongst his pillows, one hand reaching down to the back of his head to play with his hair.

“I think the storm passed,” You muse, not really meaning anything by it.

“There’s more coming,” Logan told you. “So if you don’t mind, I’m going to stay right here and listen to you instead,” you felt him nip gently at your hip and you squirmed.

“I don’t mind at all,” You smiled at the ceiling while Logan adjusted himself around you.

“Good,” He mumbled, already halfway to sleep. You couldn’t help the grin on your face as you felt his breathing even out. 

Maybe you woke up just for this.

Either way, you were more than happy to play pillow, and soon enough, you were just as asleep as he was.

[Masterlist]

[Logan Masterlist]

Likes/comments/reblogs directly correlate to how much fanfiction/fanart you see ;)

[fictionalwh0ree]

the gang dating a stoner hcs

warnings: mentions weed and alcohol

a/n: as someone who's a lowkey stoner, i wrote this with the reader being someone who doesn't look like they'd be a stoner.

johnny cade

definitely doesn’t mind that you smoke

he’s maybe tried it once but never enough that he felt anything

one day he tries it with you

he immediately understands why you do it

johnny has a lot of issues and has a lot of baggage, smoking weed helps him calm down

you’re happy that it makes him happy

but that can also be dangerous

you worry about him getting hooked to the feeling, so you make sure he only ever does it with you

thankfully its illegal and since johnny is kind of skittish, he doesn’t go after it on his own

smoking with him is a mix of calm and paranoia

hes paranoid while you’re smoking

worrying about the smell, who’s around, your eyes, etc

but once its done, he’s calm

you spend many late nights just dozing off in each others arms after smoking

also many deep talks

overall, he’s grateful for you (and it) and he accepts your habits

dallas winston

he LOVES that you’re lowkey a stoner

there’s something about how you look when your eyes are all droopy and red that turns him onnnnn

(he also finds you being able to roll hot, idk why)

he definitely does it here and there

but he loves to smoke with you

on a rare night, you two will get crossed at bucks and will probably end up fucking

high sex is his favvvvv

he’ll take you to the drive-in after you smoke

those are probably the only times you’ll pay attention to a movie around him

he’s very rebellious so he doesn’t worry about you getting caught very often

he’ll even steal snacks for you

he lets you crash in his bed if you’re super slumped

you love cuddling with him if you’re high

something about the warmth and skin to skin just feels so much better

he definitely finds it funny when you’re high

he’ll laugh about you demolishing your food

he definitely laughs when you start sharing your high thoughts with him

and he finds it especially funny when you find something funny and can’t stop laughing

you’ve definitely been caught in some dumb ass situations where you look at each other and have to find a way to hold in the laughter

ponyboy curtis

definitely has never smoked

he knows its illegal, so he was definitely surprised to find out you do it

at first, you kept it separate from him

you know his brother would kill him if he tried

you didn’t smoke around him and were never really high around him

until one time you were headed home after a smoke session with your friends and you ran into him

he invited you to the drive- in with the gang

steve and dally could definitely tell

ponyboy could tell something was off but couldn’t pinpoint it

he bought you a popcorn and you couldn’t shut up about how much better it tasted

“has this popcorn always been this good?”

“it doesn’t taste any different than the last time we had it”

“are you sure?”

“are you okay”

dally definitely broke the news to him and it hit him quick

after that, pony started asking you questions about weed

“what does it feel like to be high?”

“does food actually taste better?”

“does it taste like a cigarette?”

you asked him if he wanted to try it one day so you waited until a day where his house was completely empty and smoked

after one hit, he was coughing like crazy

no amount of cigarettes could’ve prepared him for that

he couldn’t smoke very much because of the coughing but he got high and finally understood the food thing

tore apart any food available

he really loves to watch the sunset when he’s high

he thinks the colours and scenery are so much more detailed and pretty

he’s the type to turn into a poet when he’s high

but in the end the coughing was not worth it so he only does it very rarely (and only with you)

its a very special occasion when pony smokes, so you always make sure its a good experience and you do everything so darry will never find out

sodapop curtis

he’s definitely tried it before

he was not a fan

(he wasn’t inhaling it right so he never felt it and thought it was pointless)

he was very surprised when he found out you smoked

he always makes sure you’re careful with it

he takes extra care of you when you’re high

he makes sure you don’t have to talk to anyone

will take you to go get whatever you’re craving

he’s also a fan of the high eyes

he thinks its cute when you laugh at dumb things you wouldn’t usually find that funny

he’s very observant so he can definitely tell when you’re high and even if you’ve smoked at all

you taught him how to inhale

unfortunately he’s a bit of a paranoid high person so you don’t smoke with him

he always feels his senses heightened

this boy will hear a cop car coming from five blocks away and then panic as if you’re not sitting inside his house

however he is the type to EAT when he’s high

he’s like a bottomless pit

but hes also sodapop curtis so he’ll stay skinny anyway

darry curtis

darry definitely tried weed in high school

i mean he was on the football team

but he’s not a fan

too much risk not enough reward

so when it comes to dating a stoner

he’d probably rather not

but if he is

you just have to keep it separate

you don’t smoke around him and you’re never really high around him

he doesn’t mind the habit as long as you don’t let it affect your ambition

darry is a workaholic, he looks for a partner with drive

so as long as you smoking weed isn’t interfering with your job its fine

he would never date someone who is always high

he’s okay with it if its more of a couple days a week type thing

once you’ve been dating a while, he makes it clear that you can smoke and be high around him

because he’d rather you do it around him then alone or out on the streets

he thinks its cute when you’re high

he likes how you’re giggly

he’ll cook for you

and he likes how affectionate you get

he smoked with you ONCE

he, like sodapop, is the type to eat like there’s no tomorrow

after it was done, the entire gang unexpectedly showed up at his house

they could tell

darry’s eyes were practically bloodshot red

ponyboy took advantage of calm darry and got to stay out late

“get him high more often y/n”

they tried to keep their laughs to themselves but it didn’t work

two-bit especially could not contain himself around darry and couldn’t look at him without laughing

you definitely fucked after and the high sex was almost enough to get him to smoke again

but he could never EVER let the gang see him like that again

he only got high with you again after you learnt how to make edibles

two-bit matthews

two-bit loves that you smoked

funniest couple ever

you love smoking with and around him because he makes you laugh so hard

funny sober = super funny high

you two will laugh until you’re clutching your stomachs in pain

he’ll finish a whole chocolate cake high

two-bit is not a sit down and relax type of high person

there’s two potential reasons

a) he’s just like that

b) he’s always a little drunk so he just ends up slightly crossed

he’s super social and bounces off the walls

so sometimes you have to let him just go out with his friends

once he comes down from it all he’s super tired

you guys WILL take naps together

you’ll sleep from 11am-4pm

or you’ll go to bed at 2am and wake up at 1pm

it all depends but the two of you are heavy ass sleepers after smoking

the house could’ve blown up and neither of you would notice

steve randle

he has also tried smoking before, but never too much

he had basically forgotten it existed until you

he doesn’t like it when you smoke alone so if you’re not with friends, sometimes he’ll smoke with you

it actually helps him focus a lot

if he can work on a car high, he will

it becomes the only thing that matters

gets you dx discounts on snacks

he’s pretty quiet high so the two of you will often spend your time watching a move with his arm around your shoulder

he’s lowkey strict with it because he doesn’t want you to get caught

so he doesn’t let you smoke in very public places or in broad daylight unless you’re somewhere safe

doesn’t let you meet your dealer alone

he’s protective of you when you’re high because he thinks it makes you a bit more vulnerable

he’ll do all the talking

he doesn’t like people who spend their entire day high

he’s okay with it as long as you’re not a bum because of it

[elaofarc]

I'D LIKE TO MEAN IT WHEN I SAY I'M OVER YOU | 𝑔. 𝑠𝑎𝑡𝑜𝑟𝑢

๋࣭ ⭑⚝⭒— 𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘮𝘦. 𝘮𝘢𝘺𝘣𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘥𝘪𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘢𝘤𝘤𝘦𝘱𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘵, 𝘰𝘳 𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘱𝘶𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘦𝘧𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘸𝘪𝘴𝘦.

๋࣭ ⭑⚝⭒ 𝑎/𝑛 planned this to be something soft and sweet and short. turned out to be a cheesy, slightly angsty one but then kind of hot and messy. and long, ofc. i'm exhausted so please excuse any mistakes. rbs and comments are appreciated!

childhood friends & marriage of convenience + hurt/comfort(maybe?idk) + desperate satoru + mentions of fucked up family relationships + dare i say childhood friends to somewhat strangers-but-not-exactly-strangers to lovers + car sēx + f!orgasm + breedīng + pūssy slāpping + unprotected sēx + overstim

The reason for your distress is either the unbearable heat of summer or the young man sprawled on the armchair in your living room with his legs stretched out on the coffee table—you are not sure which. The only thing you are sure of is that you feel unbearably suffocated. It is as if a pair of hands is greedily squeezing your throat more and more, their fingers burning your delicate skin, pressing on your throat until they steal your last breath. You want to close and open your eyes and wake up, but this is not a dream; it never was a dream. Your life has never been like a dream, even though it might seem that way to outsiders. The most vivid proof of this is the man in your living room, watching you with his chin resting on his hand. Despite the sunset and the orange and pink hues of the sky overshadowing him, his bright blue eyes never lose their brightness as they fix on you; you are not sure if you are restless or upset. You are not even sure which book you are holding in this moment; the only thing you know is that you are drowning in a sea of thoughts that drive you into almost madness.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” you ask, his gaze so intense that it makes you want to run and hide. Of course, that's not the main reason; you can easily see the mocking look in his eyes. The corners of his lips curl up in an almost arrogant smirk, as if he is watching a movie he has seen countless times. He has an indifferent yet knowing attitude, which makes you squirm uncomfortably in your seat for some reason. You are torn between throwing the book in your hand at his head and quietly leaving the room, but you know that neither is a suitable solution for the problem at hand.

“Like what?” he responds, the faint pink and orange hues of the sky reflecting off his white hair, making his pale skin seem to glow slightly. Dressed in all black, he is still the brightest thing in your living room; Gojo Satoru. You are not sure how his presence makes you feel; he is real enough to slap you with how pathetic you are and arrogant enough to mock the situation you have fallen into.

“Like that,” you say, shrugging your shoulders. “You know how you're looking. Stop looking at me like that.” You hurriedly avert your eyes from him and turn your gaze to the book, deciding it’s a good idea to sit as far away from him as possible. Perched on the other end of the large and comfortable couch, with your legs pulled up to your chest, you feel your hair sticking to your neck and forehead with sweat, even though the weather isn’t that hot.

“You’re holding the book upside down,” Gojo finally says. “I didn’t know you could read an upside-down book, you must be quite the bookworm.”

The room temperature suddenly rises, or maybe your face starts burning—you feel tears welling up from embarrassment and sink further into the couch. Without turning the upside-down book, which would only embarrass you more, you barely manage to direct your gaze at him. There are those intense eyes that overwhelm you again, mocking and arrogant and perhaps a bit haughty but definitely over-confident… causing your stomach to churn and your head to spin. You close the book and slowly place it on the coffee table—responding to him would only entertain him more, but you can't help yourself, and with a furrowed brow, you part your lips.

“There are many things you don’t know about me,” you respond to him annoyingly. “So maybe it’s best if you don’t comment. What do you think?”

Knowing this is just one of his games, that he enjoys making you angry, and that your expressions entertain him, you get mad at yourself for not being able to stay silent—but it’s clear that Satoru has this effect on you. If you are Pandora’s box, he is the only one who thinks opening you is fun. Everything about you fascinates him more than he understands; when he’s with you, he acts on impulse rather than calculated responses and behaviors.

“That’s why I’m here,” he says, stretching where he sits and running his fingers through his hair. His shirt rides up a bit, and you immediately look away to another part of your house as if he isn't there. “To get to know my fiancée better, right? You know, nobody stays a child. I’m sure you’ve changed a lot after all these years.”

“Of course,” you say with a clearly insincere smile. “You can be sure that the only thing that’s changed about me is not being an asshole like you, Satoru.”

“Thank you,” Satoru replies; his voice this time is low and husky, as if he stumbles over a few words and manages to say only these. “As kind as always.”

“I don’t like you,” you say in one breath. The house is quiet, so quiet that you can easily hear each other's breathing. Neither you nor Satoru comments for a while after your words; you sit in a pitiful silence for a while. You can’t help but think how bearable he is when he keeps his mouth shut.

“Is that why the necklace is still around your neck?” Satoru asks, but this time without a mocking tone; instead, he seems to need a few words to fall from your lips.

“Yours is still around your neck too,” you quickly, almost panicked, reply.

“I never told you I didn’t like you,” Satoru says calmly. His calmness makes you feel more restless and suffocated; how can he be so calm? Why is he so calm? Just like you have no say over your own life, you have no say here either; you are getting married because of decisions made without considering your feelings and private lives. You knew it would happen sooner or later, but you always wanted to believe in that rebellious part of you that refused to accept it—but now the ring shining on your finger, your childhood friend sprawled in your living room, and the necklaces hidden under your shirts around your necks drag you into a whirlpool of complicated emotions. “I never said such a thing to you.”

You open your lips to respond, to say something, but you have no idea what to say—you have dozens of questions you want to ask, dozens of questions you need answers to… yet you betray yourself and swallow all the words, biting your tongue and staying silent.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Satoru asks this time. You feel like you’re about to cry; not because you hate him, no, definitely not. You don’t hate him, you never hated him… you just envy and resent him for being able to adapt to your parents’ lives built on money and business so easily. It should be easy for you too; it’s unfair, you should also be able to stand up to your family with a careless attitude. But you were always the girl who voiced injustice, who became aggressive like an unclaimed dog when it was necessary to protect her boundaries; the first person to make you feel a sense of belonging now sits before you, and in your eyes, he is no different from the family that never taught you what belonging means.

“Like what?”

“Like that,” Satoru pauses a bit. “Like you’re about to cry. Do you hate me that much?”

“It’s not about you,” you reply with a mocking laugh. “Why do you think everything revolves around you?”

“Am I wrong to think it has something to do with me? You’re going to marry me,” Satoru says, lowering his legs from the table and leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, watching you carefully. His eyes roaming over you make you feel caged; does he look at you so carefully because he has forgotten everything about you?

“I can’t believe you’re staying silent about this,” you finally say, standing up and looking at Satoru with wide eyes. You can’t help but feel betrayed; why didn’t he speak up? Why did he agree to everything that was told to you? Is he that cowardly? That despicable? Is he…is he like them? You realize at that moment, standing against Satoru, what really scares you. That he is like them. The possibility that he has become as despicable an adult as your parents, who would do anything to gain a little more profit, a little more money, to control the media, terrifies you to death.

“Come on,” Satoru says, leaning back in the armchair, folding his hands in his lap, and tilting his head back, watching you carefully. “Did you ever believe you’d marry for love? Really?”

Feeling the warm sunset sunlight, you feel completely detached from the situation. Since the moment you met him, he's integrated into your life as if he is an essential piece for your being. No matter how many times you try to escape him, you always find yourself returning for some sense of comfort. "I mean, yeah," you say, feeling both disappointed and surprised by how easily he accepts everything. It is almost paralyzing; he believes you never wanted to marry for love, thinking you two are destined to be mere pawns for your parents' companies, soon to be merged. "And you didn't? I mean, you really haven't thought like that?"

"Love?" Satoru echoes, reverting to that annoying-asshole version of himself. "You think I ever believed I would marry for love? Please." His tone hints at something else, something familiar yet elusive. "Love is a made-up concept, and you should know that too. Life isn't like your little books, you know."

It feels like glass shattering in your ears—almost deafening as you stand before him, disappointment evident in your eyes. Is that it? Is that all he has to say for himself or this entire situation? With red cheeks and glossy eyes, you straighten your posture. Feeling threatened, you stand upright, shoulders tensing even though you want to curl into a ball and disappear.

"I say you're as materialistic and soulless as our parents. This career, wealth, and company success have colored you blind," you say, sitting back on the couch, as far from him as possible. Everything you believed crumbles before you, slipping through your fingers—you feel too tired, too consumed to hold onto them. "And it upsets me because I thought you were different. I truly believed we could break this cycle."

"What cycle, for God's sake?" His voice is not low this time; it sounds like he is on the brink of madness. What other choice does he have, really? After spending nearly ten years with you, holding your hand while sleeping, going to school with you, loving you so desperately that he stood up to his parents countless times—how can he not accept this? Isn't this his only chance to be with you, even though you are clearly upset? Satoru cannot find the strength to explain what he has been going through all these years, he does not have the heart to—but he wishes he could. If only he could, you would understand him. You truly would. But he fears your reaction, especially now that you are being forced to marry him. If he had acted on his feelings earlier, if he had opened up to you sooner, maybe this would be a marriage for love. But he is too late, and he knows it all too well. Despite his nonchalant and carefree facade, everything stops for Satoru when it concerns you.

Your words hit him like a ton of bricks, pinning him down where he stands. Satoru feels his head spinning. It is clear you are awaiting a response, holding onto the smallest hope you have left about him—but he just doesn't know any better.

"Okay, you may be right. But I still have more personality than those old geezers," he says, the corners of his mouth twitching slightly, almost forming a twisted smirk. Your eyebrows furrow, pupils dilate, and eyes widen, lips parted in utter disappointment beyond the point of return. "Don't be a dick, Satoru," your voice drips with disappointment as you speak. You shake your head and reach for your book, feeling lost about what you should do—or can do—in this situation. Opening your book to signal that you want to end the conversation, you hope to cut off any form of communication with him, though you know it is impossible. "At least I can blame them for not having a personality, but you go on boasting about yourself and still end up as soulless as them. I think that says something about you."

As you flip open your book, Satoru lets the room fall silent. He lets you read, pretending he isn't planning to restart the conversation after giving you a little break. After only a few moments, he speaks again.

"You're pretty sassy today, huh?" he muses, watching you read. "Did I ruin your day of self-care? I'm sorry. Maybe I should make it up to you—like you said, we have the whole rest of our lives together, hmm?"

"Oh, shut the fuck up," you say, clearly annoyed but aware that you're doing what he loves: talking back, giving him the attention he craves from you. You reopen your book, trying to read, but thoughts about the marriage consume you, keeping you awake at night as you toss and turn in bed. You can't believe you'll be sharing a house with him in a week. Maybe you can suggest living separately; you wonder what his reaction would be.

Unable to focus, you put your book down and get up, walking to the kitchen. After a minute or two, you return with another cup in your hand and hand it to Satoru without looking at him. "This will keep your mouth shut. Drink, and don't talk."

After actually doing as you say and taking the coffee mug from your hand, Satoru manages to keep silent, while you sink into the corner of the couch, lifelessly staring at your book. There are so many things you want to tell and ask him, but it feels like everything would fall apart, so you absentmindedly look at the first page of the book—not a single word sticks in your mind, you just try to cope with the horror of realizing how wrong you were about him all this time. But you are not going to be the winning side; knowing you never will be, you don’t want to fight against anything anymore. Maybe staying silent and accepting is the right thing to do; after all, Satoru is your childhood friend, you could have been forced to marry someone else, right? That would be worse, but this doesn’t feel like the best option either. Several times you open your lips as if to say something, but no words come out, and you sit there on the couch with an expression Satoru can’t name; your back against the corner of the couch, knees pulled to your chest, arms wrapped around your knees, watching him carefully. You have no idea when or where you put down the book. You can’t take your eyes off the chain of the necklace around his neck, why is he still wearing it? Why are you still wearing it?

“You’re lying,” you finally say, and at that moment, Satoru involuntarily straightens up in his seat and coughs nervously.

“What?”

“You’re lying, Satoru. I’m not stupid, I know you’re lying.”

“About what?” he says, with no trace of the indifference that has become the most important part of his personality; his bright blue eyes are a bit darker, his lips slightly parted, and his full attention is on you.

“You believe in love,” you say slowly and quietly, and Satoru realizes that your gaze makes him feel even weaker. “If you didn’t believe…”

Your fingers find the necklace hidden under your shirt, playing with the flower petal pendant, while your eyes are fixed on the necklace you know is hidden under Satoru’s shirt. After a few minutes of silence, your fingers grasp the necklace a bit more firmly, and just then, Satoru quickly gets up from his seat, kneels beside your couch, and gently removes your hand from the necklace.

“Don’t.”

“If you didn’t believe, you’d stay silent,” you say, your voice now completely a whisper, and you realize this feels safer. You remember the times you always whispered out of fear as a child; how some things stay the same regardless of age. Your hand slowly moves toward the side of Satoru’s neck, and when your fingertips touch his skin, both of you shudder as if struck by electricity. Your fingers slowly slide down his skin, finally reaching the necklace and pulling it out from under his shirt; it’s still as bright as the first day, making you want to cry. You slowly tug on the necklace, knowing it could break at any moment; Satoru, worried, takes your hand in his large hands again and gently moves it away from the necklace.

“Please,” he murmurs. “Don’t.”

“You’re a liar,” you say, but your voice lacks an accusatory tone; instead, there’s a sense of relief from finally discovering the feelings Satoru couldn’t name. “Gojo Satoru, you’re a terrible liar. And also a coward.”

His soft lips touch the knuckles of your hand, placing feather-light kisses on the back of your hand—as if he needs this to reveal everything he’s tried to hide from you, to feel you.

“You could have been honest with me,” you whisper, gently playing with Satoru’s hair with your other hand, while he continues to kiss your hand and wrist. He stays silent, kneeling there, and you remember his childhood self; how he always sought refuge with you despite being older. The times he knelt in front of you like this, resting his head in your lap, desperately seeking your warmth. “You could have been brave,” you gently tug on his hair to lift his head, making him look at you. “You should have known that I would support you. I would always, against everyone, support you.”

“It’s not that easy,” Satoru says, his lips still placing kisses along your wrist and even up your arm, and you realize both of you are breathless. Your eyes watch him carefully; you can see how Satoru seems torn between needing to touch you and being gentle enough not to scare you away. His butterfly kisses trail along your arm, and your body feels like it melts into the large, comfortable couch—as if it’s fused with it. At some point, he’s leaned slightly over you, one of his large hands gently caressing the exposed side of your waist where your thin shirt rides up.

“What’s not easy?” you ask.

“Seeing your reaction,” Satoru murmurs against your arm. “You’ve always opposed everything just for the sake of opposing. If I had opened up to you… if I had told you about my feelings, I couldn’t have married you.”

“Fool,” you say, making him lift his head and look at you as you offer a barely-there smile. “You couldn’t have known without saying it.”

So that's how even before your marriage, you've proven him that love exists—and it's not only present in your silly little books.

Perhaps if it were truly a marriage of convenience, there could have been an insurmountable barrier between you—a situation where you'd sleep in separate rooms, living like strangers under one roof. Perhaps the only thing that would bind you together would be the comfort of being childhood friends, who knows…

But now, as Satoru's large, warm hands roam over your skin left bare by the deep back neckline of the outfit you wore to the opening ceremony that you didn't even know it's purpose, you realize that this was never possible from the start. Satoru worships you; what you're wearing, whether you've put on makeup or not, or anything else doesn't matter. Somehow touching you, feeling the softness and warmth of your skin against his palms brings Satoru peace.

The flashes of cameras continue behind you as Satoru places one hand on your bare back, accompanying you, and leaning in to whisper something absurd yet amusing about how all these paparazzi are already the lapdogs of your combined family businesses; you straighten his slightly askew tie as you listen to him. If there were an award for the youngest couple at the event, it would likely have been presented to you, so slipping away from the scene quickly wouldn't seem strange to anyone.

"We shouldn't have left so early," you say, but Satoru, as if not hearing you at all, takes your hand and guides you towards the car. His steps are firm and hurried, and he can feel his hands tingling and his heart pounding in his chest like a determined sparrow wanting to escape.

"As if it's so important," says Satoru as he opens the car door, almost throwing your body into the car. Although you appear calm and indifferent, his urgent and eager attitude further indulges you; as you fasten your seatbelt, Satoru presses the gas pedal with all his might, and the car leaves the parking lot with a deafening roar. You're not sure where you're going, the only thing you know is that one of your spouse's big hands is exploring your legs as if they've never had this chance before.

"Satoru, are you hearing me? I'm talking to you.'"

"Believe me," he says, taking off his tie with one hand while the other is on the steering wheel, throwing it onto the back seat. "The only thing I can think of right now is getting rid of these excesses."

That's how after minutes, he has your trembling legs spread apart and thrown over his broad shoulders on the backseat of the car—your silk dress pushed up and, curled around your waist as his tongue desperately lap against your pussy; he's way too impatient to get rid of your clothing, your panties are pushed to the side as he experimentally pushes a finger inside your cunt. "Fuck—Satoru," you whine, body jolting forward as your hips buck against his mouth even more. Satoru hums, clearly enjoying the way you grind against him as he eats you out on the backseat.

"Couldn't think of anything else all night," he murmurs, completely drunk on your pussy—your juices drip down from his chin to his expensive shirt, lips glistening as he hooks his hands around your inner thighs and pulls you even closer to his mouth; the bridge of his nose rubbing against your sensitive clit as he runs his tongue along your folds over and over again, driving you to the brink of madness. "So fucking gorgeous, my pretty girl."

You cry out, his husky voice shakes you to your core as you press your legs together—caging his head in between your trembling thighs. You have no idea if hours or minutes passed—all you know is that he'll try to rip one after another from you. You tug on his hair desperately, whimpers and moans fill the car as Satoru lets out a guttural sound; making you grind against his mouth more and more desperately. When he pulls back breathlessly, you see how wet and messy he is—it's embarassing, but he look so good. “You’re making it hard for me to hold back, pretty girl...” He lowly murmurs, sucking a hickey onto that sensitive skin of your inner thighs.

A soft yet loud yelp falls from your parted lips, hands quickly and weakly try to push Satoru's head away—yet, he does not yield. "Shh, it's okay baby," he cooes, as if making fun of how messy and needy you are underneath him. "Just gotta taste you on my tongue, don't be impatient now."

"Fuck you," you breathlessly reply back. "You're the impatient one here."

Instead of replying, you hear Satoru spitting on your pussy as if you're not wet enough already—and before wasting any second, he lands a slap. Not too rough, but it's enough to rip the sweetest moan from you. As he pushed two fingers into your clenching walls, both of you groan—the feeling of being wrapped so tightly gets Satoru dizzy. As his fingers plunge in and out of your cunt, his other hand lands another slap. It makes you sob this time, body jerking and squirming under his steel-like hold as his fingers lazily fuck your pussy.

"Satoru—," you whine, hips moving in circles, grinding against his hand as you cry and moan from the intense feeling. "Don't—"

"What? Can't handle that? This sweet pussy of yours, too sensitive to be used like this? Huh? Answer me, baby."

You want to say something, anything, to match his cockiness—yet the way his thick fingers are able to reach places that you can't is enough to make your head spin. He adds the third finger before landing another smack on your pussy, his hardened cock twitching painfully in his pants as he absentmindedly grinds against the backseat; it doesn't take him long to rip the first orgasm of the night from you, your back arches off from the backseat as your nails dig into his hair—his deep groans become faint noises in the background as his fingers keep fucking you through your orgasm—without giving you a break, he makes out with your pussy, getting lost and high on your taste.

"Fuck, fuck—fuck, Satoru, stop, give me a min—," your pleas fall on deaf ears as he makes you lay on your back completely, one knee resting on the backseat as he swiftly undoes his belt; pushing his briefs and pants down before he gives a few strokes to his painfully hard cock. Your eyes hang heavily on the sight before you, pre-cum oozing from the tip as he lets it drip in your pussy, it makes both of you moan—the windows getting steamy, the car shaking with how much you're shuffling inside.

"Too sensitive," you whine, wet eyelashes feel heavy with mascara as the blackness of it stains your red cheeks—Satoru adores this sight of you; all ruined and pliant for him, ready for him to fuck you again and again until your walls greedily clench around his cock. "Hmm?" Satoru hums, probably unaware of what you're saying, so focused on your glistening fold that he can't help but push the tip of his cock, sliding up and down painfully slowly as your body tries to escape underneath his strong body.

His hand comes up to your mouth, thumb forcing your lips open as he presses on your tongue—almost making you gag, he loves watching the way your eyes get glossier and your mouth hangs open, saliva dripping down to your chin. "Spit," he orders, his voice low and deep as he watches you with his full attention, his gaze follows the way you immediately spit in his hand. Satoru doesn't waste too much time, using your spit as a lube—as if he needs it, you're dripping wet all over the backseat—, his now wet hand giving his cock a few pumps before he slowly presses the tip of his cock to your entrance.

A low and deep moan coming from you fills the car, your back arching and your eyes rolling back—you need to escape from his hold, yet you realize that even though he's ripped an intense orgasm from you and you're still sensitive, your walls clench around nothing, begging to wrap around your husband's dick. "Shit—hey, hey, babe, calm down a bit—fuck," he breathlessly whispers, pulling back to playfully slap your pussy, his eyes burning with desire and desperation. At this point, you're unable to utter a word; all you can do is to look at Satoru through your heavy eyelashes with your glassy eyes as he finally sinks deep—the tip of his cock brushing against your cervix as he stays still for a moment.

"Shit, you're gonna make me cum," his voice feels like it's coming from afar—a distant groan as you feel him moving. Filling you up, making you shake and cry and push yourself down on him as your hands helplessly hold onto Satoru's thick biceps. Once he starts thrusting into your weeping cunt, you're a mess; Satoru has to push a finger inside your mouth to get your voice a little bit lower. Don't get him wrong, he loves hearing your voice—but he loves being the only one who hears your voice. You suck on his finger as he mercilessly pounds into you, hips rutting against you as if he's been holding it back for so long—it has been a few hours since the night has started, actually. "Such a greedy pussy," he murmurs, those blue eyes resting heavily on you as he fucks you with an almost brutal pace. "Sucking me in—fuck, you're gonna make me cum."

Something between 'please' and 'yeah' falls from your lips as Satoru's thumb presses against your tongue—he leans down, and you're ready to kiss him, but all he does is to spit in your mouth before he smears it with his thumb. God, he's filthy—he loves watching you messily lay underneath him, all wet and stuffed.

"Satoru," you whine, your whimper slowly dying down as your nails dig into his thick biceps. "Gonna cum again, hah—fuck," your desperate voice combined with your pussy all slick and greedy for him does it for Satoru, really. He leans down after pulling his hand back from your mouth, his wet thumb drawing circles on your abused clit as he mindlessly fucks your sensitive cunt. "Yeah?" He says in one breath, feeling his cock twitch while being wrapped by your warm and velvety walls. "Give me one more, sweet girl—go on, you can do that."

You can't even hear him when you cum all around his cock, your second orgasm leaving you out of breath and jelly as Satoru's big hands grab you by your sides—moving your spent body in sync with his thrusts. "That's it, that's it, pretty," he says even though you just can't comprehend what he's saying, all your senses are clouded as his thrusts become sloppy—deep and slow, hitting your sweet spot, making you cry and tremble in his big hands. You try to push him back mindlessly, the feeling of his thick cock brushing against your walls, the tip brushing against your cervix—getting ready to pump you full of his cum.

"Satoru, wait, I can't take it—," he is quick to shush you, face immediately buried in your chest as his tongue swirls around your sensitive nipples, teeth teasingly catching the perked up nub.

"Shh, you can, love, you can—just let me, fuck, let me fill you up, yeah? Gonna cum in this pretty pussy, fill you up as you deserve," your desperate cries push him over the edge as he speaks, his body jerks forward, hips pressed against you as he just slowly rocks, hot and thick stripes of his seeds filling your abused cunt as he handles your body as if you're just a doll; making you grind on him by holding your waist, not letting a drip of his cum go to waste. He pulls back only when he catches his breath, two fingers gathering the cum dripping from your cunt and pushing it back again, fucking that back into you even though you're just sobbing, overly sensitive as your husband's thick fingers do the job just right. "You're gonna keep it for me, huh? Such a good girl you are, maybe I should cum inside you until we're sure that you're filled to the brim—until all you can think of is me breeding you, over and over and over again." You can't even protest at this point, already too dumb on Satoru's cock, still feeling full and stuffed even though he's just using two fingers.

None of you talk as you two try to somewhat regain your consciousness; all Satoru does is bring those two fingers up to your lips, soaked with his cum mixed with yours. You clean his fingers, and he helps you, too! Kissing you, licking into your mouth as your tongue laps against the pads of his fingers, tasting yourself mixed with him—practically, he does the same.

"I'll take a hot bath once we get home," you breathlessly murmur as Satoru fixes your dress, knowing his cum dripping down from you as he pulls your panties up gets him all hard and twitching again, yet he has to keep it cool until you two get home. "You're not allowed anywhere near me tonight."

All Satoru does in return is to give you a slight smirk; a knowing look, too—because he'll be even more insufferable once you two get home.

[cursedcatchild]

Ok, so I watched TOTTMNT and I am here to rant. Also, SPOILERS ahead!

So First of all, if I had to sum up my thoughts into a single sentence it would be: For the love of God, put those turtles back together, where they belong!!

I didn’t hate the show, but I didn’t come to like it either. And no, I did not have any prejudgment just because it was a new iteration. Honestly I was super hyped for this version, because the movie was a blast. Yea, I ended up being disappointed. But let me just elaborate on that:

First let’s take a look at our turtles from worst to best in my opinion.

Mikey:

Yepp, ladies and gentlemen so far I have never seen a single iteration where I didn’t come to like a Mikey. He’s always among my favs. But this version felt super shallow. He had just as much screen time in the series as his brothers and yet I still have no idea who this guy really is. His jokes were lame not really landing, I couldn’t really point out any particular goal or insecurity that anyone could relate to. Also, the guy is super oblivious. Like he took ten minutes to realize he walked into a robbery when he went for groceries. Heck he was having a casual conversation with the robbers. 

Leo: 

Another kinda shallow guy. Sure we seen a bit of insecurity, he literally quoted Rise Leo saying “ I’m nothing without them!” but it felt irreal. Because Rise Leo had a reason to think that, he wasn’t as much of a functional member of the team and he was always taken for jokes. But right from the beginning of TOTTMNT we see Tales Leo commanding his brothers, they listen to him  and even say it multiple times how planning is Leo’s thing. So at this point this Leo is just fucking blind. ( Also April slaps instant self confidence into the boy.) 

Raph:

Ok, this is also the first time, but I never really took a liking to a Raph before Tales Raph. Boy is filled with anger and sass, yet he’s not coming off as a total jerk like 2012 Raph. And of course he's not a super softie like Rise Raph ( I don’t hate Rise Raph for being a softie, he's my second favorite Raph) either. He had some fun pipe up and overall a personality I got. I think he’s the most perfect Raph I have ever seen. 

Donnie:

The best character of the iteration in my humble opinion. He was relatable, funny, honestly he was stealing Mikey’s job as the comic relief, but at the same time he’s the smart guy. The boy is ranting about not being the IT guy and then goes reprogramming an evil robot. Oh and he saved so many lifes, because he stopped a fucking train crash. He’s epic, I swear.

(My fave screenshot ever 🤣🤣)

Now story wise:

🔥What the fuck was this dumpster fire?! 🔥Who thought splitting up the turtles would be fine?! 😑Especially in a 12 episode season? Look, I don't mind solo or duo time. There were plenty of good ones, for example Rise. I adored the Mikey vs Leo cook off episode or the Gumbus one, but for the sake of my sanity Rise had twice as many episodes and the turtles were not split up for the majority of the story.

Like I'm not joking when I say they were together in 4 episodes intotal.😨😨

Now I heard rumors left and right that the fact that they need to make a show was thrown at the team at the last minute ( IDK how true is that) , but goodness gracious even if I was presented with the task with a “ Due tomorrow label” I could still write a better story. Especially with the goldmine what the writers decided to ignore.

Yes, something that would've made TOTTMNT be really unique….. School people! We were promised that we will explore the turtles from the teenage side. Ummm….Hate to break it to ya all but I think there is no better way to do that than putting them into school.

It would’ve been fire to see them trying to fit in, balancing all the cool hero stuff with school life, maybe wrecking the school, seeing how other teenangers adjust to the fact that now giant talking turtles are their classmates. It wouldn’t be some crazy mind blowing plot, but I swear it would've been amazing.

Now don’t misunderstand me. Despite the story feeling like being all over the place it wasn’t that super bad, but I’m pissed that it could've been better with ease.

Also another thing that bugged me, is the feeling of something missing. IDK if anyone else who watched it felt like this, but I legit felt like if we just grabbed the for example farm arc from 2012 TMNT and aired it as season 1. The fact that the turtles were split and they kept mentioning that they have always been fighting together made me feel like I should’ve seen them do that.

Anyways, If I did not take your will to watch it away, go and check it out. It's not horrible but not great either. I’m disappointed and I'm gonna need Rise back, thank you very much!

[gh0stsp1d3r]

Hello! I LOVE your Steve/William fics so far and I saw your requests are open. I was thinking a younger William when he first started killing and like after he got done with his first murder the reader found out and is offended that he didn't ask for help. kinda like a murder couple duo from your fic partner in crime, maybe like a origins story? idk, I'll leave that up to you!

Have a good day!

hi! I love this sm. I’m using Stu as a young will because duh

ℬ𝓁ℴℴ𝒹

Warnings- Insane couple again, mentions of blood, blades, murdering children yk the usual

“Hey, honey.” He mumbled, kissing the crook of your neck, nuzzling his face in it.

“Hey. You got off work early.” You giggled, not even realizing he had come inside.

“I know. Decided to wrap things up early. Think I’m gonna go out tonight.”

“With who?”

“Henry.” He lied.

“Mmm.. okay. When are you gonna go?”

“Later. But right now..” he put a hand on your chin, kissing your lips and smiling against them.

—————————————————————-

The knife in his bag was weighing heavy. Would he really be doing this tonight?

You knew of his plan with the pizzeria. You knew of it when you had gotten together. You wanted one thing, and that was to be in on it. It intrigued you, the idea.

He knew you’d be pissed if you found out he did it without you. But, he wanted to test the waters first.

It was the middle of the day, a time where no one would suspect much. He was walking around in the woods, waiting for any unsuspecting kid.

He hid deep in the bushes, where he caught a little boy roaming around, giggling. He seemed to not see William, until William grabbed the boy. He was covering the blondes mouth, and put a knife to his throat.

William snuck around, quietly taking the boy back to his car and speeding away before his sister realized he was gone.

The boys hands were tied now, he screamed for help but William just rolled his eyes at the boy.

“Shut up.” He groaned in annoyance. Oh well, he’d have to get used to it.

Once he reached the pizzeria, he made sure no one was around. He walked in, grabbing the kid roughly by the arm while doing so.

William forced the boy to lay down, strapping him into a metal like confinement.

The blades of Williams creation started to move. He smiled sadistically when the boy turned his head, whimpering and trying to escape this fate.

“Sweet dreams.” He laughed, as the boy yelled in pain, blood splattered around the floors, and hit William, who was continuing to laugh madly.

—————————————————————

You snuggled up on the couch, grabbing pieces of popcorn from your bowl while watching a scary movie.

He came in rather loudly, this time. You looked back and smiled, but something was off with him.

“Hi, baby.” He mumbled, walking up to you and leaning down to give you a kiss.

“Hi. You have fun?” You asked, holding him by the back of his neck, rubbing up and down.

“Yeah. Yeah. I think I’m gonna go take a shower, okay?” He spoke quietly, he wanted you to keep focusing on the movies so you didn’t notice the blood stains currently on him, and the knife tucked away in the bag.

“Okay.” You said back, giving him one last kiss before he left. You turned back to the tv, when you realized something out of the corner of your eye.

You furrowed your eyebrows, turning to the bag on the table. He had walked in the house, and grabbed his shoes with him, which is something he never did. And you noticed a silver little thing reflecting in the dimness, hidden away.

You walked towards the bag on the table, picking up the object that caught your eye. A knife, stained with blood. Your eyes widened, had he gone killing without you?

You put it back into the bag, deciding to wait until he left the bathroom.

He left with a towel hung low on his waist, he entered the room and threw his clothes under the bed. He looked back, seeing you standing behind him.

He jumped at you, not expecting it.

“Holy- don’t scare me like that.”

“Care to explain?” You dropped the bag in front of his feet.

“What are you talking about?” He pretended, asking in a confused tone.

“The knife! Did you go without me?”

“Wh- baby… why would I-“

“Don’t lie to me, Afton.”

He sighed, sitting on the bed. He pulled out his clothes from underneath the bed.

“Fine. I just wanted a little taste, I promise-“

You groaned “Will! You said we would do it together.” You complained.

“I’m sorry.” He said, and genuinely had meant it. You sighed, sitting next to him.

“Did I make you upset?” He asked quietly.

“Yes. I’m offended.”

“Oh, c’mere.” He grabbed your shoulder, pressing your body against his as he rubbed his hand up and down your arm.

“Promise not to without me next time?”

“I promise. As a matter of fact, I’ll let you do it by yourself.”

[bakugoushotwife]

kinktober day eighteen: cockwarming kink

>>> idk why shiggy and cockwarming are like peanut butter and jelly to me...like i only have cravings for him when i'm deep in the caverns of my mental illness but...this is yummy? and i don't think it counts as cockwarming but shut up!!!

>>> starring: tomura shigaraki x curvy!f!reader >>> cw: cockwarming, established relationship, degradation, exhibitionism, fingering (fem receiving), p n v, creampie, implied multiple rounds. >>> wc: 3.1k >>> event masterlist

it was league tradition at this point. not even when the members were scattered to the winds to gather intel and work official villain business did the group miss weekly movie night. some members may or may not be there some weeks, sometimes you were all together, coupled off into platonic and romantic pairings to view whatever your leader picked out. whenever you were there, he let you pick, but it’s been quite some time since you’ve been back home. shigaraki regrets sending you so far out of reach. this assignment had taken you much longer than he would have liked, way longer. correspondence had grown slower, each message shorter than the last. you were tailing hawks to make sure he was trustworthy and it seems it was giving you a great deal of trouble. 

or maybe hawks was loyal to the heroes like shigaraki suspected and had gotten to you with his agenda, turning you into a double agent. well, no, that couldn’t be it. if that were so, you would do a better job of acting normal to keep him off your case. did you need help? no, again, he knows you would just tell him that too, so what was going on with you? were you mad at him? had he done something before you left? 

he thinks back a couple of months—the unbearable length of time you’ve been gone—trying to think of any reason you could be short with him. you didn’t have any big fights, he didn’t forget any anniversaries or special occasions, and he went easier on toga like you asked him to. the only possible thing he can think of is the fact that it was saturday, aka movie night, when you left— and he fell asleep watching the movie you picked—meaning he didn’t get to spend your last night with you or give you any goodbye-and-good-luck dick. he sighs aloud at the realization. you were absolutely petty enough to hold that against him, but he hoped you wouldn’t prolong your mission just to prove a point. 

this is the first time since the league started this little routine that he’s wanted to call it off. the rest of the league missed you too, if not because you were their friend, it was because tomura had grown so intolerable and irritable in your absence that they were begging nightly for your return. when saturday rolled around, and you still weren’t back, they watched their fearless leader sulk around like a kicked puppy all day. each member dreaded the nighttime. shigaraki was prone to throwing tantrums when he saw any of the league members get too friendly with one another in your absence, so it looks like they’ll all have to sit spread out for movie night. 

was he to be held accountable for the things he said and did while busy wallowing in his grief? some may say yes, but he was a strong believer in live and let live—you were certainly his better half. but you’ve been away for close to three months, and your effects are wearing off. he was incredibly snappy as he set the theater room up, the shitty little projector dabi stole was clearly running on its last legs. he was in no mood to pick out a goofy movie, not whenever he was wondering if you were even coming back at this point. he barked at twice to find something to watch—and the man was heavily influenced by toga’s opinions, so suicide squad seemed to be the answer. what a trash pick, he thinks. it’s why he’s in charge, and why only your opinions can influence his own. you would never have allowed suicide squad. 

that’s not the only reason tomura misses you, of course. he misses working on your own missions together, decorating the hideout to make it feel more like a home, the way you’d sit with him as he plays video games in his room, or how you two would cuddle as you’re falling asleep with his glove-clad hands all over you, and of course, your drooling pussy sucking him in over and over again. it’s been nearly three months since he’s gotten to see your face, inhale your familiar scent, or get anywhere close to cumming. he can’t even use his own hand anymore—you’ve spoiled him. he’s always been a shitty sleeper, too, but your body in his grasp was the magical cure—so of course he’s been getting next to no rest without you. he’ll never send you on a mission again. 

when he hears several bustling voices and a relieved “thank whoever put us on this flaming pile of shit” from dabi, he knows you’re home. mr. compress and kurogiri escort you into the movie room, where he waits for you. tomura nearly shouts, either at you for being gone so long or in relief that you’re finally home, he’s not sure. the corner of his mouth slides up in a reserved grin, but everyone can see the light return to his eyes. god forbid a world where you didn’t come back to him. 

“sorry i’m late for movie night everyone! i missed you!” you sing out to greet the room, but you’re only looking at your exhausted boyfriend. though he always carried a certain tired stress, he looked worse than usual, and you know that he hasn’t slept through the night since you’ve been gone. you’re on the love seat next to him immediately, jumping all over him and tightening your arms around his neck. his grin spreads, and kurogiri plays the movie to keep everyone else from having to watch in on your reunion and sickening love fest. 

he slides his arm around your back, humming sleazily in your ear. “finally. took you long enough, babe.” he huffs, taking that deep inhale of your sweet smell and sighing his relaxation quietly. his mood is relieved just by holding your frame and feeling your soft hair tickling his cheek. you giggle and sigh too, and he feels the weight of your body slump into his. 

“don’t i know it, was beginning to think you hated me for sending me out there for so long.” you pout, releasing him from your grip to gain sight of his face. he rolls his eyes at you, shaking his head with a tiny amused grin donning his features. 

“you’ll never leave this hideout again. i missed you.” he pinches some of your hair between his fingers and curls the piece around his digits as he looks over your face, gazing at your soft eyes and gentle lips, full cheeks, and everything else he’s missed for what feels like forever. you hum in intrigue at the ‘threat’ and kiss him. you can’t afford to go too hot and heavy with all your friends in the room, but you wanted your boyfriend to know you missed him just as badly as he missed you. your nights weren’t spent sleeping comfortably and every day you felt more and more lost without tomura’s logic keeping you on task. you nibble at his bottom lip, laving your tongue over him with a little moan. he grins, you’re the extrovert, but he’s not shy about making you noisy in front of the others. you feel him smile against your lips before he pulls away, trailing kisses over your cheek until he can bite the lobe of your ear. you gasp sharply, and he’s tossing a blanket over your hips for modesty’s sake. 

you smirk knowingly, lifting your skirt over your ass as the blanket falls in your lap. “oh so my little slut did miss me..” he whispers, licking over your jawline as he reaches under the blanket. the pads of his first two fingers swipe over you panties, tracing the outlines of your lips with a nasty little grin. he can feel your wetness pooling against the fabric already, your desperation making his cock rise against his sweats. he casts his eyes around to make sure no one’s watching, but he’s trained his league better than that. he slides his hand under your waistband, finding your clit automatically. you feel your stomach flutter in response to his touch, the fabric of his mostly fingerless gloves scratch against the inside of your thigh as he presses his sinewy finger in circles around your bundle. you fall against him, head rolling around on his shoulder within seconds. 

he knew you like he built you himself, and he knew that after a trip away—the both of you were insatiable—but you were all too easy to work up. you would tell him all about the mission later. there would be plenty to catch up on after he gives you all you’ve been missing here lately. tomura would be lying if he said that watching you stifle your noises and wiggle against the cushions didn’t affect him, his dick was crying for you. fingering you in front of the league was one thing, fucking you was another. but his body was growing too hot to bear, and he could tell from the need in your eyes that even having him inside you would relieve some of your ache. that should be fine, they wouldn’t look at you no matter what—they knew better than that, but he still didn’t want them hearing your sweet sounds. that was just for him. but with your hips bucking into his hand, and yours clamping down over your mouth as he shoves you over the edge with his fingers—he knows he’ll need to feel you. 

he’s pulling himself out of his sweatpants before he can argue with himself too long about it. his cock stands straight up in wait, and before you know it, tomura’s hands are on your hips and he’s pulling you into his lap. your brain was still mush, veins coursing with the pleasure of being reunited and under his spell. you were so focused on not making any noises that you didn’t even give your needy boyfriend a look of disapproval. he pretends like you’re the problem as if he would be able to sit here with his hands to himself, but you know the truth. shigaraki is just as helpless as you are, hence his finger curling around your panties and hooking them to the side so he can lower you on his waiting cock. 

he makes you sit all at once, and he clamps his free hand over your mouth before you can react to the stretch. then he snakes his arm around your waist, pulling you back to meet his chest. “keep quiet and sit still.” 

you nod vigorously, though you know you’re agreeing to something impossible. you were crazy with need, his fingers only unlocked the gate of your desire. you hadn’t had this dick in you for too long, and now that the length is fully sheathed in you—you’re ordered to sit still? it burns, your hole needed to be stretched back open to accommodate his sizeable length, long curved shaft angled just right against the spots you needed him most–but it wasn’t enough. you needed movement, you needed to hear him grunt and moan and speak unimaginable filth in your ear. you whine out softly, when the movie was loud enough you thought only tomura would hear.

he can feel you squeezing, and despite his orders, you wiggle in his lap irregardless. he should have known you wouldn’t be able to handle obedience after so much time apart, but it’s nothing he can’t remind you of. truth be told, he’s losing his cool too. he missed your wet cunt gripping him like this—how could he be angry at you for needing him so badly when he’s no better? he couldn’t, really, he could only be amused with your affection for him even if it assuaged every worry he had about you leaving him all that time you were gone. his hands dig into your fatty hips to use them as his own personal stress ball, kneading and squeezing on his whim. he can feel everything, every nerve on his body was acutely aware of every labored breath you took and each pound of his heart. he didn’t know if he could be strong much longer—and he knew you wouldn’t be able to keep your mouth shut. 

“you guys have your own room—why do we have to suffer through this?” dabi huffs out, clearly aware of what was going on in the room. twice clasps his hands by his cheek, disagreeing with his teammate. 

“young love! they just missed each other! at least he isn’t pout—” 

“out.” tomura hisses, cock jumping from knowing you were caught. you just clamp around him in answer, just as shameless as your boyfriend. “don’t speak—get out.” 

the other members gave mixed reactions, some rolled their eyes and huffed their way out the door, the others chuckled knowingly—they would rather deal with this shigaraki than the one that misses you any day of the week. when the door shuts and you two are left alone, a mixture of fabric and skin taps against your jaw. tomura held your face in his grip, fingers dancing along your bone in a teasing way. 

“my slut forgot how to listen, hm?” he asks rhetorically, sliding his grip to your neck. he squeezes with just the right amount of pressure to make you dizzy and open your mouth—though he can’t see your skanky face right now. you’re lucky he was just as needy right now or he was liable to leave his dick in you until it went soft without ever moving—but tonight? tonight he needed to reclaim his slutty little cunt until the sun came up. 

“been so long since i had to take orders.” you huff, maybe you were annoyed with him after all. 

he snickers. “attitude, little slut.” he says with a harsher squeeze to your neck. tomura can’t deny his entertainment–you got your nickname from your neediness, after all. “are you really mad at me?” he asks, and you know he wants a real answer. 

“annoyed—why’d you want me gone?” you huff, and he angles his hips up into you without warning. you gasp sharply at the stab, leaning forward to hold onto his knees. 

“didn’t want you gone, brat.” he sighs, letting off your throat in favor of holding the natural handlebars of your curves as he pushes your back forward to watch his dick plow in and out of you, his grip your only guidance. your moans start immediately, and he can’t help but smirk. “you’re my right hand, you’re the only one i can trust with some shit.” 

you purr at his explanation, bouncing along him on your own accord. he’s massive, filling every gap your pussy had to offer unapologetically. he presses against the entrance of your cervix without any movement at all, much less the animalistic style your boyfriend liked to fuck in, it was brutal. but so so good. it burns and sends shooting yet blissful pain through your body with every stroke, you slip forward a little, growing unable to hold yourself up. he grabs a fistful of your hair, pulling you back up without remorse. 

“where you going, slut?” he teased, slamming up into you. it was unfair, he was gifted with such a huge dick he didn’t even need a good angle to absolutely wreck you. he was mesmerized by the sight of your cute little hole puckering around him, swallowing him whole and letting him slide back out. you would squeeze down with every thrust, making him slow down to pull himself out and speedily shove back in. “can’t even take good dick anymore?” 

you mewl out in response, your fingers digging into his thighs as your back arches deeper, only encouraging your boyfriend to speed it all up. it’s like you can feel him in your throat, your entire body being used and abused by the man you missed desperately. shigaraki treats you like his prized treasure any other time, but especially after a trip away—you love being his slut. you moan and through your ass back, making him groan out at the conflicting paces. 

“so nasty. fucking you stupid and look at you—like a bitch in heat.” he chuckles, though it’s all so pornographic to him. no other pussy in the world would feel like yours, your cute clamping and sticky wetness could never be beat. and your insides practically beat into the shape of him, he knows no other dick would have your toes curling as you bounce  and squeal. 

“tomura—” your breathy moan makes his balls hurt. he didn’t care how quickly he came this time. he’ll keep you spread open all night until he’s satisfied with the amount of cum seeping out of the hole made just for him. he wanted you to cum twice as many times as he does, so your sweet moan of his name and your fluttering pussy only tell him to snake his arm around your hips so he can rub your puffy clit again. he loves these gloves you got him, the mesh fabric makes it easier for him to feel everything without fear of quirk activation. he can feel your pulsing need under his fingertips, and he smiles at your sensitivity. you were such a gift to a man like him. 

“what? use your words.” he huffs in disinterest, though you know it’s anything but. your gut lurches, feeling like you stepped on an escalator that was moving too fast. 

“wanna cum, can i please, tomura?” you ask sweetly, calling his name just how he liked and everything. he had every intention of drawing this out—but he supposes he can have that during your next round. 

“do it now.” he orders, gruff voice telling you that there would be no punishment if you didn’t—unless you considered taking him all night a punishment. the sound of him groaning and feeling your body made it easy to follow his orders, your hips still even as his continue their assault. you shake from head to toe, the orgasm so intense after such a long time without cumming on his cock. you squeeze down so hard he sucks in a deep breath, knowing he was going to shoot his load like mount vesuvius. you hum happily, wiggling back on him to milk all the warmth he gave you. he slows his hips to a stop, panting only a little as he pushes you carefully off his lap and onto the love seat. “want to see my slut’s nasty faces this time.” 

he grins as he spreads your legs again, ready to stain the cushions beneath, when someone knocks at the door. twice pounds on the frame again, pouting. 

“can you guys at least pause the movie?” 

[tiredofthehumanlife]

Exquisite bedding and a loving married couple

Part two

Barbie dolls: husband! president!Coriolanus Snow x gn! Reader

Word: 3.4k

Summary: you grow closer to your husband (of who you were forced to marry 😱) also you have chronic pain/ a disability in that area it's left vague so everybody can enjoy and not just me

Warnings: I won't lie to you he's a good amount ooc but this is because I wrote this before I finished the book and before I watched the movie so I only knew academy coriolanus, so maybe just pretend like everything worked out for and became president nicely idk, you have chronic pain/ a disability that makes your body hurt idk just roll with me, forced marriages, you like art now it's like all you do, non sexual nudity, you make friends with the Avoxes that work for him, you cry, you say you're defective and coryo is like "hey hurumph dont do that🙅", yeah that's it really

Coriolanus didn’t exactly know what was expected of him during a forced marriage. He didn’t hate you, but he didn’t exactly like you very much either. He didn’t even know your favorite color and now you both shared a house, bed, and a last name. What is he supposed to do? 

You didn’t seem to like him very much either. You barely spoke, only saying a few words to the Avoxes and even fewer to him. Sometimes he questioned if you were an avox yourself, and then you’d mutter to yourself and it was crossed from his mind.

You rarely looked at him, often just floating around the mansion like a ghost and glancing at him when he tried to ask you a question. Coriolanus doubted you even knew his name at this point.

Sometimes you’d leave him notes clipped to his hanger holding up his suit for the work day. They were never anything of substance just a question you had about the house or a question about the things you were allowed to do. Coriolanus had no idea why you were asking him if you could go on a walk, he didn’t really care what you did ever as long as you made it back to the mansion in one piece and didn’t spread rumors about him.

You did share a bed and that was about as close as you two got. You slept on either side of the quite large bed and pretended the other person didn’t exist. 

As time passed you seemed to settle into the new house and new life. You had fluffy, useless conversations over dinner. It wasn’t much but it was better than the silent treatment. You learned every Avox’s name in the mansion. You started leaving notes asking for utensils that he assumed were for your hobbies.

He didn’t know any of the names but he still took the list to a craft store and let an employee handle it. Coriolanus left it in the sunroom you had claimed as your own. You spent all your time in there, staring out at the gardens in the backyard. He wondered why you didn’t just walk in the gardens but he wasn’t pushing it.

A small hint of a smile graced your features when you sat in that room and it was the happiest he’d seen you in the mansion so he wasn’t asking you any questions. He left the bags from the craft store on the rounded wooden coffee table. Coriolanus left a card with his initials on it in front of the bags. He hoped it’d give him some positive credit in your heart. 

The next day when he came home from work he peaked into the sun room to see it had been taken over by your presence. Art supplies and half-finished works were scattered everywhere.

You were sat on the luxurious chaise with a pattern that reminded him of the Grandma’am’s dresses. You had color and white streaks on your face, your hands were filthy, and you were fanning yourself with a piece of paper like the excitement made you break a sweat. All that mess would’ve made him upset. Imagine if you got that paint on the furniture. All the negative thoughts he conjured up washed away the second he saw the happy and relaxed look on your face. You looked at home. Coriolanus left it and slipped away from the door without gaining your attention. 

After that, he felt like you truly getting comfortable. Especially with him. He thought you might even like him more than an acquaintance. You started leaving compliments on his hangers instead of questions and lists.

Coriolanus still remembers reading the first one and blushing like a schoolboy. He shoved the note into the top drawer of his dresser and ignored the burning on his cheeks. Strangely enough, he started to find your art everywhere. He found a new small vase on his dresser one day. It was very small. It could hold maybe three or four flowers but it wasn’t the size that caught his attention. On the white background of the ceramic vase were little engraved roses. He thought of you being observant enough to notice him wearing them.

Coriolanus wasn’t sure how to thank you. He took a page from your metaphorical book and left a note to you on your dresser. He spoke of how he wanted to thank you but didn’t know what would bring his message across. Initially, he had thought of buying you some fancy jewelry on the ride home but it didn’t seem like something you would enjoy. He suggested an art thingy you really wanted. 

You thanked him for the note over dinner and started rattling off all about the art supplies you loved and all the art facts you knew. He couldn’t understand a word of what you said but still nodded along and hummed. A smile and sparkle in your eye had found your face. Coriolanus didn’t realize your face could make that expression. Halfway through one of your sentences your face fell. You stopped speaking and looked down at your plate. Coriolanus stared at you, wondering what could’ve provoked you to lose all of your energy like that. You shook your head like you were disappointed in yourself. 

“Sorry, I know you probably don’t want to listen to me talk all night. How was work?” You said, keeping your eyes on your plate. Coriolanus’ brain worked a thousand miles to catch up with yours. He sat back in his chair, wiping at the corners of his mouth. 

“I was listening. I was quite enjoying it, actually. That French painter used to eat yellow paint? Right? And I’d rather not speak of my work. It’s draining enough there much less coming home to talk about it.” Coriolanus said, making you lift your head. Your smile hadn’t returned but your defeated shoulders left. You looked him up and down. 

“He was actually Dutch. He just lived in France.” You muttered. He actually didn’t mean to mess his facts up but he was glad it got you talking again. You straightened up, a quarter of your spirits returning. “Also he didn’t eat the paint so he could ingest the happiness, as many believe. He tried to poison himself with it.” You said. Coriolanus scribbled down on his mental notes about you; you could not stand an incorrect art fact. He knew how to get you talking now. 

He thought everything was going so well too. The day had been pretty good. There was a note on his suit that complimented the tie he set out. Work was work but today felt less grueling with your simple compliment stirring in his head all day. He found a tiny ceramic cat snoozing away on top of his dresser. That he quite enjoyed.

Coriolanus said so over dinner as well. Your energy was lower, only answering with short responses. He tried to raise your energy by asking about what art project you worked on today but even that couldn’t pull you out of your slump. He assumed you must’ve had a rough night. Though he didn’t remember you tossing and turning. 

An Avox had ran you a warm bath after dinner. Though after you had slipped into the water, they started helping with the work in the kitchen. Coriolanus personally wouldn’t spend so much time in the bath but he wasn’t you so what did he know?

After he finished dressing for bed and setting out his suit, he maneuvered his way to your shared bathroom to brush his teeth. Sure he could’ve walked a few feet down the hallway to another unoccupied bathroom but strangely enough he missed your presence. He raised his hand to knock on the door but paused when he heard sniffling on the other side. Coriolanus wondered if the right thing to do was to go hide in the bedroom until you left the bathroom, go use the other bathroom and ignore your struggles, or knock. 

He rapped his knuckles against the wood, leaning his ear towards the door. Coriolanus raised his voice so you could hear him, but his tone remained soft.  He said he needed to use the sink and would be in and out in a few minutes. He waited for you to answer. You called for him to come in.

Coriolanus gently pushed open the door and tried to meet your eyes. You were sunken low into the bubbling water, only your face from the nose up present. You stared at the bathroom wall, avoiding his gaze. Coriolanus moved to the sink and brushed his teeth as fast as he could without disregarding their health. When he finished he turned back to the tub, feeling strange just standing there staring at you in the bath. 

“Are you okay?” He whispered. You sniffed and splashed the bubbles against the bathtub wall. You nodded, making waves in the soapy water. 

“Are you sure? I heard crying from outside the door.” He said, pointing over at the closed door. Your chin surfaced over the water. You turned to face him. Your eyes were red and it was entirely evident you had been crying for a long time. 

“Nosey.” You said, just barely passing over a breath. Coriolanus sank to his knees next to the edge of the bathtub. 

“I can help. Promise. I just don’t know what’s wrong.” He explained that like you didn’t get it. You fully understood without his help. You sighed and dropped your head back against the bathtub wall. 

“Promise you won’t judge me?” You asked, peeking an eye at him. Coriolanus tried to think of something that would cause you to cry in the bath and make him judge you. He came up with nothing. He shook his head. Your hand splashed out from the bubbles, holding out your pinkie towards him. Coriolanus intertwined his pinkie with yours, shaking it slightly to signify the deal. 

“Sometimes my body hurts. Really bad. So bad I stay up at night crying because it won’t stop. It makes just living really difficult. Sometimes I feel like I can’t move because I know if I do it will hurt more so I just plop myself into one spot and don’t move.” Coriolanus was shocked he hadn’t been able to deduce this before. No wonder you didn't walk in the gardens or meander about the mansion. You found a room and stayed there. He really wasn’t observant apparently. Coriolanus slipped his hand into the water, soaking his pajama shirt sleeve. Coriolanus’ hand found yours immediately. He intertwined his fingers with yours, running a thumb over the back of your hand soothingly. You sniffled again, glancing over at the wall before looking back at him. 

“Earlier today it started to flare up but I thought it would be manageable. It started really hurting at dinner but I knew I just had a few more things to do and then the day would be over. But now I feel like I can’t move, it hurts so bad I can’t stand up. I can’t even call Mavvy because she's in the kitchen. It hurts, so much I don’t know how I can get out of this stupid bathtub.” You said. Your frustration boiled over and slapped your other hand against the water. It splashed Coriolanus on the cheek. He was going to say that was quite rude of you but you slumped against the side of the tub in such a pitiful way he couldn’t bear to say anything mean to you.

Coriolanus wasn’t sure who Mavvy was but he could assume she was one of the Avoxes that work in his mansion. He hummed and reached for your face. He gently brushed away a tear from your cheek though it didn’t matter much because all your skin was wet. 

“Let me help you out,” Coriolanus said, squeezing your hand under the water. You straightened your head, staring at him with a strange expression. 

“Are you sure? I can do it. I can. It will take me a long time and a lot of tears but I can do it. You don’t have to. You’d have to change your pajamas and everything.” You said. Coriolanus lifted your hand from the water and gently pressed his lips to the back of your hand. 

“I don’t mind. Let me help, I want to.” Coriolanus said. You huffed and nodded. You slowly pulled yourself up into a sitting position. You clenched your teeth in the process. Coriolanus wondered how badly it burned just to sit up, but by the look on your face, he didn’t want to find out. Coriolanus slipped your intertwined hand over his head, pulling your arm over his shoulder. He pulled his arm around your waist and tugged you closer to his body. You’d need all the support you could get to leave the tub. 

“Ready?” Coriolanus whispered. You sucked in a deep breath and nodded. Coriolanus counted down from three before pulling your body up. You groaned in the process and clutched his hand tighter. Your legs shuffled and you finally pressed your feet to the bottom of the tub. Coriolanus tried to pull you higher into a standing position. You gasped and flung your free hand out to brace against the wall. 

“Stop. Stop. Just wait a second.” Pain pulled at your words and he wondered if you were going to cry again. It hurt holding his half-standing half-squatting position but he knew it couldn’t hold a candle flame to your pain. The way you were gasping like a fire was set to your skin every time he moved a centimeter made him wish he was a stone statue. You steadied your breathing and knocked your hand against his chest. He took it as a signal to continue. Coriolanus tugged you up onto your feet and you were finally standing in the tub. You let out a shaky breath and pressed your head against his shoulder. 

It took a lot of time and effort but eventually, Coriolanus was able to pull your wet body into your shared bedroom. He helped you sit down on the edge of the bed, a few curses following after you. He skittered into the bathroom and brought a towel back to you. You tried to argue against it but he waved you off and sank to his knees in front of you. Coriolanus dried off your body. He tried his hardest to move your limbs slowly, to not cause more harm. Your body was dry after a few minutes and he flung the towel away, helping you shuffle up towards your spot on the bed. Coriolanus helped tuck you in, apologizing when his wrong move made you groan. 

Coriolanus sat next to you on the bed, caressing your face in hopes of it soothing you. You hummed and leaned into his touch. You opened your eyes and looked at him sadly. 

“Sorry.” You whispered. He wondered if it hurt to talk louder but didn’t want to ask you questions about it. You had enough going on right now, evidently. 

“For what?” Coriolanus asked, rubbing his thumb over your cheekbone. You shrugged, wincing after. 

“Being defective, I guess. You should’ve gotten a better deal with this whole marriage thing.” You leaned your head against your pillow and stared at the sheets. Coriolanus felt his heart squeeze. It was preposterous. Truly. For you to think this way about yourself. He shook his head, leaning down to put his face in your line of sight. 

“You are not defective. I wouldn’t want anyone else to marry. Just because you have any disability or health problems does not mean I’m itching to send you away. I know our marriage wasn’t exactly out of passion but I’ve grown to care for you. I want you to be happy and comfortable. I’ll carry you for the rest of my life if it brings a smile to your face.” Coriolanus brushed his knuckle against your temple. You leaned your face into his hand, closing your eyes. Coriolanus leaned down and pressed his forehead against yours for a moment. 

“Thank you, Mr. Snow.” You whispered. Coriolanus pulled back and snorted. You glared at him, turning your head away from him. 

“Please, Coriolanus.” He thought about telling you to call him Coryo but he decided he should let you warm up to him more. You nodded and slowly moved your hand towards his and held onto it. 

That night he was sure that you two were sleeping closer. You were both on opposite sides of the bed but you were still latched onto his hand. In the large space between you two, that he once visualized as a brick wall, were your clasped hands. You didn’t move in your sleep, still in the position he helped you into last night when he woke up. Coriolanus wiggled around in his sleep but his hand was still with yours when his alarm went off. 

He gently pulled his hand away from yours and slowly sat up. Coriolanus worried if he moved the mattress too much it would cause you more pain. It hurt so bad yesterday that just him moving your leg up from the floor made you wince. Coriolanus doubted one sleep would make it better.

Coriolanus turned off his alarm and sat still on the edge of the mattress with his back turned to you. He wished he could just fling himself back into bed and never leave again. He wondered if he could call in sick, his partner was sick.

Coriolanus sighed and rubbed his face, hoping it would brush away the fatigue. He was startled when a hand ran down his back. Coriolanus turned his head back and saw you staring at him. Your face was evidence enough of your long night. Your eyes were droopy and you looked at him in a way that made him sure you had plenty of struggles falling asleep with pain coursing through your body. Coriolanus leaned to the side, taking your hand away from his back and into his palm. 

“Thank you.” You whispered, sleep still pulling your words into the sheets with you. Coriolanus shook his head and rubbed the back of your hand again. 

“I don't need thanks. I wanted to help you.” He said. Coriolanus leaned over the bed next to you. Your eyebrows pinched when the mattress sank under his weight and he mentally smacked himself for it. You nodded in acceptance of his words. He gently brought your knuckles to his lips again. When he pulled back he found your eyes had shut. Coriolanus reached up and gently brushed your temple with his thumb. Your eyes opened and you stared at him. 

“Take it easy today, okay? Don't push yourself.” He whispered, his lips still close enough to your hand that you could feel his breath. You nodded and slowly scooted further down the mattress. It didn't look like it caused too much pain but you squeezed your eyes shut all the same. 

Coriolanus didn't get a note on his hanger today, though he wasn't surprised. Apparently, you couldn't let him leave the house without a compliment to think of during the day because your quiet voice called out to him as he reached for the bedroom door. Coriolanus turned back and raised an eyebrow at you in question. You complimented how the suit brought his eyes with your cheek pressed against your pillow and your eyes falling shut despite the fight you put up. He thanked you and headed for the front door.

On his path there he ran into an Avox. He told her Mavvy needed to be within calling distance of you at all times today. Her lips twitched for a second before she schooled it that told him he was talking to Mavvy. The Avox nodded in understanding and he left for work. 

When he returned from work, you were still in bed. You had changed positions in bed, laying on your side with a book open. In the corner of the room was the Avox he spoke to this morning, sat in a wooden chair and reading her own book. You lifted your head when the door opened, smiling at Coriolanus brightly. It must've been a really boring day if you were this excited over seeing him.

Coriolanus spent the rest of the evening in bed with you. He asked Mavvy to tell the rest of the maids and butlers that dinner was going to be served in the bedroom that night. He liked eating dinner with you at the table, but he liked this much more. Coriolanus felt like you two were actually a loving married couple. You were more relaxed this way, laughing and cracking jokes that made him snort.

If he didn't know you barely liked him as a friend, he would've kissed you. Coriolanus was okay with this though, laughing with you and eating your dinner in the exquisite bedding.

Part two

[redsummermoon]

Hello, I have one! What if the reader (female, if possible) and the rest of the poets are all supposed to hang out, but one by one everyone gets busy or caught up. So at the last second it just ends up being the reader and Meeks, and they’re alone watching TV. He talks about just leaving to study for a test (so they don’t have to be alone, because he secretly likes her). Then maybe a kiss scene or something comes on tv, and they try to laugh it off because it’s kinda awkward. Then I’ll let you finish it from there, lol.

It doesn’t have to be just like that, of course. But anyway, have a great day!

Meeks was my fav character before Charlie... might have to start writing for him too.. idk

A Lovely Night

Steven Meeks x reader CW: use of Y/N, female reader, modern day college [2.3k words] 

Y/N stared at her phone, thumbs hovering over the screen, before typing out a message to the group.

"Remember Dead Poet hang out, my dorm at 7 if anyone’s still interested!" she texted, hitting send.

She had been looking forward to tonight all week, hoping the Dead Poets could all come together to watch La La Land. The movie had been on her list for a while, and she thought the others might appreciate the film. As the minutes passed, her phone buzzed one by one with responses. Most of them excuses.

Neil: "Sorry, Y/N! Todd and I are heading to see this local theater production. Catch you next time?"

Cameron: "Test in a month. Gotta start prepping now. Maybe next time."

Charlie: "Double date tonight with Knox! I’ll tell you how it goes after. You’ll survive without me, promise."

Y/N sighed, a small laugh escaping her lips. Of course, Charlie had something going on, and Cameron, well, she expected that response from him. But now, it looked like her movie night was going to be smaller than she hoped. There were only two left unaccounted for: Pitts and Meeks.

Meanwhile, Meeks sat on the edge of his bed, staring at his phone with wide eyes. Y/N had invited him (and everyone else) to her dorm, and while he had been excited at first, the idea of being alone with her, even just for a movie, was terrifying. His crush on her wasn’t a secret, at least not to himself, but it was something he hadn’t quite figured out how to handle yet. Being around Y/N made his thoughts scramble, and he didn’t want to do something awkward.

"Pitts!" Meeks called across the dorm room, his voice tight with nerves.

Pitts looked up from his laptop. "Yeah?"

"You’re... you’re going to the movie night with me, right?" Meeks fidgeted, his hands twisting together as he waited for his friend’s response.

Pitts raised an eyebrow. "Wasn’t planning on it, but I’m free. Why? You need me there?"

Meeks nodded rapidly, his face flushed. "Please. I... I can’t go alone. Not with Y/N. I... I don’t want it to be weird."

Pitts gave him a knowing grin. "Ahh, I see. You’ve got it bad."

Meeks groaned, burying his face in his hands. "It’s not funny. I don’t know how to act around her."

"Relax, I’ll go," Pitts said, chuckling as he closed his laptop. "I won’t leave you hanging."

Relief washed over Meeks as he grabbed his phone, quickly typing out a message to Y/N.

"Hey, Pitts and I will be there!"

Y/N smiled and set her phone down. Her roommate had gone home for the weekend, giving her the whole dorm to herself, but it could use a little cleaning. She wiped down the already-clean desk, fluffed the pillows on her bed, and adjusted the blankets, making sure everything was perfect. Even if it was just going to be Meeks and Pitts tonight, she wanted things to feel cozy and welcoming.

A part of her, though, secretly wished it could just be Meeks. She felt a flutter of nervous energy at the thought, biting her lip as she arranged her bed so it could double as a seat for watching the movie. The TV on her dresser was angled just right, ready for La La Land.

Y/N had been nursing a crush on Meeks for a while now, though she’d never admit it to anyone. There was something about his quiet intelligence, his awkward but sweet way of talking, that always made her heart race. But every time she thought about doing something like flirting or even just being a little more open, her nerves got the best of her. She could never quite bring herself to act on it, afraid that maybe she’d misread the situation or make him uncomfortable.

But tonight, she couldn’t help but feel a little giddy. Maybe something would be different. Maybe, with Pitts there as a buffer, she could relax and enjoy Meeks’ company without worrying too much.

At the same time, the thought of being alone with Meeks excited her. She knew he made her nervous in the best way possible, and she couldn’t figure out how to balance that. Y/N glanced at her phone, checking the time, feeling that familiar flutter of anxiety and excitement.

“Okay, it’s just a movie night,” she muttered to herself, taking a deep breath. “Nothing to freak out about.”

Still, her heart pounded a little faster. Maybe tonight would bring them just a little closer.

Meeks and Pitts made their way across campus, the cool evening air doing little to calm the pounding in Meeks' chest. He clutched his phone nervously, re-reading Y/N's text and hoping that tonight wouldn’t be a disaster. Pitts walked beside him, chatting easily about something Meeks wasn’t quite paying attention to. His thoughts were entirely on Y/N.

When they reached Y/N's dorm hall, Pitts slowed down, glancing at Meeks with a sly grin. "You know, I, uh... just remembered, I’ve got this thing I have to do."

Meeks froze. "What thing?"

"You know, a... uh... a thing. Class stuff," Pitts mumbled vaguely, already stepping back from the door. "But, hey, you’ve got this, Meeks. Have fun."

Before Meeks could protest, Pitts raised his fist and knocked on the door, then bolted down the hall with a quick, "Good luck!"

Meeks stood there, speechless, as Y/N’s door opened. His face flushed bright red as Y/N appeared in the doorway, smiling brightly at him, though her eyes quickly darted behind him.

"Meeks!" she said happily. "Hey! Where’s Pitts?"

Meeks swallowed hard, his throat dry. "Um... It’s just, uh, me," he stammered, shifting awkwardly from foot to foot. "Pitts had... something come up."

Y/N’s smile faltered for a split second. "Oh... I see."

Her voice was soft, a hint of nerves creeping in. She quickly tried to cover it, but Meeks caught the slight change, and his heart sank. He interpreted her hesitation as disappointment. Maybe she didn’t want to be stuck alone with him.

"I-I can go," Meeks said, stepping back, his voice stumbling. "I should probably be studying for that test Cameron’s studying for too."

Before he could make his retreat, Y/N’s hand shot out and grabbed his. The warmth of her fingers sent a shock through him, and he froze in place, staring at her hand holding his.

"I really want you here, Meeks," Y/N said, her voice more certain now. "Let’s watch the movie. Just the two of us, okay?"

Meeks blinked, his face burning, but he nodded slowly. "O-Okay. Yeah."

Y/N smiled, pulling him gently into the room. The door clicked shut behind them, and the sound seemed to echo in the sudden quiet. They stood there for a moment, Y/N letting go of his hand to straighten the pillows on her bed.

"Go ahead and sit," Y/N said with a soft smile. "I’ll grab snacks. I’ve got popcorn and some candy."

Meeks nodded and awkwardly sat on the edge of her bed, glancing around the cozy dorm room. His heart raced, knowing they were alone now, and the thought of just the two of them watching a movie together made his palms sweat.

Y/N returned a moment later, arms full with a bowl of popcorn and a variety of candy. She set them down on the small table next to her bed before pausing. "Do you want to share a blanket?" she asked, her voice casual, though she seemed a little nervous.

Meeks nodded again, quietly. "Sure."

Y/N grabbed a large, soft blanket and threw it over both of them, the fabric draping across their laps. She settled in beside him, her shoulder lightly brushing his as she grabbed the remote to start La La Land. The movie began, and for a while, they sat in comfortable silence, occasionally making small talk between bites of popcorn. Meeks was too nervous to make a lot of conversation, but Y/N’s presence beside him was both calming and nerve-wracking. He tried to focus on the screen, but every time she shifted slightly next to him, his mind raced.

Then came the planetarium scene. The stars swirled on the screen, and the music swelled as Ryan Gosling and Emma Stone began to dance, spinning in slow, dreamlike circles. Meeks could feel his pulse quicken as the characters drew closer, the tension building until they finally kissed.

Meeks nearly jumped at the sight, his body stiffening as a wave of embarrassment washed over him. He could feel the heat creeping up his neck and to his face, turning bright red. Y/N, noticing the movement, glanced over at him, catching his flushed expression. A small smile tugged at the corner of her lips, but she stayed quiet, her own nerves making her play with the hem of the blanket.

Neither of them said anything, their mutual awkwardness filling the space between them. Y/N glanced back at the screen, deciding to ignore the moment for now, though her heart was racing just as much as Meeks’.

They watched the rest of the movie in near silence, both pretending the earlier tension wasn’t lingering. When the credits rolled, Y/N let out a soft sigh.

"I loved it," she said, reaching over for some of the now-cold popcorn. "But... I hated the ending."

Meeks nodded in agreement, still a little red. "Yeah... they were in love. They should’ve ended up together."

Y/N smiled at him, their earlier awkwardness fading slightly now that the movie was over. "Exactly. It’s just... sad. It wasn’t supposed to be like that."

Meeks felt a little braver now, glancing over at her. "Maybe in a different version of the story, they do."

"Maybe." Y/N smiled softly, still thinking about the movie. She glanced at Meeks, her expression becoming more serious as she spoke, almost dreamily. “I want that someday.”

Meeks blinked, looking at her with curiosity. “Want what?”

“To be in love,” Y/N said quietly, her eyes meeting his with a sincerity that made his heart pound.

Meeks felt a surge of panic and excitement all at once. He swallowed hard, trying to muster the courage to respond. “I think I can help with that.”

Y/N’s eyes widened, a mixture of surprise and excitement washing over her. “You can?” she asked, leaning in slightly, her voice full of hope.

Meeks took a deep breath. “I-I love you, Y/N,” he admitted, his voice shaking slightly. “I’ve been scared because I’m so shy, and I didn’t know if you felt the same. But you… you’re everything to me. I think the world of you. I want to give you everything you’ve ever wanted.”

Y/N’s heart fluttered at his words. She smiled warmly, reaching for his hand. “I’ve always admired you, Meeks. I think we’d be good for each other.”

Meeks’ face lit up, and for a moment, they just stared at each other, the weight of their confessions hanging in the air.

Y/N then smirked, her mind drifting back to the movie. “You know, that kiss scene... maybe we should try it sometime.”

Meeks, still a little dazed, blinked. “What, flying?” he teased, a shy smile tugging at his lips.

Y/N rolled her eyes, playfully nudging him before leaning in and pressing a soft kiss to his lips. Meeks froze, his mind racing. The kiss was brief but sweet, and when Y/N pulled away, Meeks felt like he was going to implode.

“T-thank you,” Meeks stammered, his face a deep shade of red. Without thinking, he jumped up, nearly tripping over his own feet as he headed for the door. “Goodnight!” he called out, rushing out of the room.

The door clicked shut behind him, and he stood in the hallway, breathless. After a moment, he realized something important. He knocked on the door again, his heart pounding in his chest.

Y/N opened the door, her face filled with curiosity. “Meeks?”

“Does this mean we’re dating?” Meeks asked, his voice a little shaky but determined.

Y/N’s smile widened, a soft laugh escaping her lips. “I want it if you do.”

Meeks’ nerves melted away as he stepped forward and kissed her again, this time with more bravery, letting himself savor the moment. When they finally pulled apart, he grinned. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Goodnight, Meeks,” she whispered back, watching him leave with a smile still on her face.

As Meeks made his way down the dorm hallway, feeling lighter than air, he opened the building door only to be met with the grinning faces of all the Dead Poets waiting outside. He stopped in his tracks, his eyes wide with surprise.

“How was your date?” Pitts asked, leaning forward eagerly.

Meeks, still flustered and red-faced, managed to stammer, “W-we kissed.”

The entire group erupted into cheers, whoops, and laughter. Charlie patted him hard on the back, grinning from ear to ear. “That’s our Meeks!”

Todd and Neil exchanged knowing smiles, while Knox nodded approvingly. Meeks blinked, still processing everything. “Wait... how did you all know?”

Charlie chuckled, throwing an arm around Meeks' shoulder. “This was a plan to set you up all along, buddy.”

Meeks looked around at his friends, realization dawning on him. “You... you set this whole thing up?”

“We knew you two liked each other but were too shy to do anything about it,” Neil added, his eyes twinkling. “So we helped things along.”

Meeks smiled, feeling warmth spread through his chest. “Thanks, guys.”

“Anytime, lover boy!” Charlie teased with a wink as they all laughed and walked back to their dorms, leaving Meeks with the best night of his life.