#little adam was metal as shit

[adamshallperish]

i will be honest here, discovering the dove cameron genie in a bottle cover when i was naught but the tender age of ten likely did irreparable damage to my psyche

[deadghosy]

MORE OF TRAILBLAZER!READER PLS PLS PLS PLS PLSSS, WHAT DOES THE ANGELS THINK OF TRAILBLAZER!READER???

HAZBIN HOTEL ANGELS X TRAILBLAZER! READER

prompt: how they viewed you in heaven was something no one excepted an angel like you to act.

I just gotta say. You are a fucking menace.

When you first appeared in heaven as the most beautiful thing with your golden eyes and two pair of wings….you weren’t the most nicest as you were too blunt.

“Is this a flash bang? Why the hell is it so bright here.”

everyone gasped at the H word as if this was kindergarten all over again

*cue you need to leave sound*

Sera had to put a few rules in your face. Literally a whole ass rule book as you sat there with a blank face saying. “Are you effing Fr?” Sera nodded and left leaving you with this HUMONGOUS ASS BOOK THAT REMINDED YOU OF FAIRLY ODD PARENTS

Sera founded you as a troubled youth that needs to see the rules all over again to see the true potential for you to stay in heaven.

Emily didn’t think of you being a troublemaker, she found you quite cool as you explored around heaven having the bravery to speak your mind and not let anything bring you down.

Emily and you got along great and fine as she calls you her little collector as you call her…just Em.

It was a late heavenly night as you stood up from your bed as you did a barrel roll for your balcony as you were starving for some digging. You rummage through the dumpster to find a nice old pearly necklace and a bracelet. “Emily would love this…” you said as you smiled not noticing a blonde haired lady watching you with an asumed smile.

The blonde haired lady from afar found you mysteriously cute and attractive as you roam the streets of heaven. 

ADAM HATES YOUR FUCKING GUTS😭😭

It all started when you was digging in trash. It was basically flirting for you to dig through it. *cue fuck boy face* AND THEN ADAM HAD SNUCK BEHIND YOU READY TO INSULT YOU-

But you kicked him straight in his fucking chin-

That horse ass kick gave him a bruise on his chin for legit 2 weeks

You once blasted music in your apartment…I mean shit it was good music you got from the human world you use to live in. You got so much noise complaints but thanks to Emily, she made it seem like you weren’t causing issues.

Lute has no opinions on you, she just doesn’t have time to even look at you. Even though you sometimes break in her place to eat all her food like the raccoon you are.

One day you actually caused trouble in heaven just because you decided to dig in a lady’s trash bin from outside.

“HEY GET OUT OF MY DARN TRASH BIN YOU RACCOON!” An angel yelled from her window throwing her boom at you as you swung your metal bat at her that you totally didn’t find in the trash nights ago…..

The lady screamed ducking as the bat went back into your grasp like a boomerang. “THATS IT! IM CALLING THE GUARDS!”

And so that was your cue to run as if your life depended on it as you thrown a rotten banana peel you found in your pocket. You still had one in your mouth.

And that’s how your 1 month trial ended because you fought bitches for your trash.

[atimeofyourlife]

Sugar and Spice and Everything Nice

written for @steddieholidaydrabbles warm up round: bakery au rated: t | wc: 840 | cw: none | tags: pre-steddie Eddie never got involved in the upside down, he and Steve meet again a few years later in a bakery in Chicago

The bakery was Steve's pride and joy. It was something that he had accomplished and built up by himself, without the input from his parents. No financial assistance from them, no help in learning how to manage a business. It had been a lot of trial and error, and incredible support from his friends, but he had succeeded. He'd brought the small unit in Chicago using most of the hush money payment over the Upside Down. It needed a lot of work doing to it before he was ready to open it, but once it was open it just took off. Constantly selling out of most of the bakes by lunchtime each day, having to take on extra staff to keep up with demand.

After nearly two years, he had a number of very loyal regulars, the ones who would come in at the same times and same days each week, always ordering the same things. The local workers that would always come in before work or on a morning break for a sweet treat everyday. The older couples that would come in twice a week, once for a dessert for their weekly date nights, and once for treats for their grandchildren. The college students that were adamant that Steve's pastries were infinitely better than the ones they could get on campus.

But the newest regular, one his staff had nicknamed 'Mr Metal,' Steve had yet to meet. From the name, Steve assumed that he worked in the new record store that had opened across the street, but the man always managed to be in and out while Steve was still working in the kitchen, setting up the next batch for the oven or decorating what had just finished cooling.

One Friday morning, he was carrying out the boxes ready to restock the counter, when he heard the voice of Zara, one of the cashiers.

"Uh, I'm not sure. Give me a minute, I'll just have to ask the boss."

"Ask me what?" Steve asked as he rounded the counter, the stack of boxes obscuring most of his vision.

"Please tell me that those boxes have lemon cream cheese pastries and apple pie cookies in them." She replied, sounding a little stressed.

"Yeah, lemon are in the top box, apple in the bottom." Steve replied as he put the boxes down on the side, and started unstacking them. He glanced up at the customer, a vaguely familiar, handsome man, and from the long hair, piercings, and the Black Sabbath t-shirt, this had to be the Mr Metal that all the staff kept mentioning. "How many of each did you want?"

"Two of each." The man replied, staring hard at Steve.

"Uh huh." Steve worked quickly to box them up. "Are you aware of our Friday five for four offer? Five bakes for the price of four, so you could get another of your choice at no extra cost."

"I get them for me and my coworkers, theres four of us so I don't think we can split a fifth four ways without fighting over who gets what."

"I can always bag it separately, so you can slip it in your pocket. They don't have to know a thing about it." Steve offered with a wink.

"You drive a hard bargain, Harrington. I'll take another apple pie cookie."

"I-" Steve looked at the man, confused. Unsure how he knew his name. "Did you go to Hawkins, then? I'm sorry, I don't think I remember you."

"You got a table round here? I could climb up and start talking about jocks and conformity." He looked Steve up and down. "Though, you don't seem to conform to the jock image any more, big boy."

It took another moment, but the name hit Steve as he was bagging the extra cookie. "Munson. Used to buy weed off you."

"I don't know if I should be honored that the king remembers me, or wounded that it took so long."

Steve rolled his eyes at the dramatics, it reminding him even more of high school. "I don't remember most people now, too many concussions."

"Shit. But now you're boss of a bakery. How life changes."

"Yeah. It only took three serious concussions, two major disasters in Hawkins, and one disownment after getting caught behind The Hideout with Matty P. But then I realized that this is what I want to be doing."

"What were you doing behind The Hideout with Matty P? Smoking weed or something? I know you never hid about that."

"We had been smoking, but at that point my mouth was, uh, otherwise occupied." Steve admitted.

"Oh, shit." Eddie choked back a laugh, then looked at his watch. "I'd love to hear more about that, but I've got to get back to work."

Steve quickly wrote his number on the bag with the extra cookie, before handing it over. "Call me sometime, maybe we could spend some time together outside of work."

"You're on, Harrington." Eddie winked at Steve, before leaving the bakery.

im not the happiest with the end of this bc it was rushed after my brain turned to mush from migraines

[coryosbaby]

top adam x bottom fem reader? tumblr is lacking 💔

—ᴀᴠᴀ ᴀᴅᴏʀᴇ !

Adam Stanheight x fem! Bimbo! Reader

✯ Content Warning . semi public sex (in an alley), club scene, choking, vaginal fingering, cunnilingus, mild anal, p n v, degradation & praise, creampie, a lil bit of punk Adam with nipple piercings <33

Staring off across the room could not have been as helpful as it is right now.

A man’s hands are grabbing your hair, pressing you between his warm body and a brick wall behind you. He smells good, like some cheap cologne and soap but in the best way possible. He’s got some kind of eyeliner on his lower lashline and a curve hugging t shirt that makes you swoon. You had watched him from across the room under the strobe lights. He had saw you, approached, talked. His name is Adam.

You don’t know him— not really. You know who he is, thanks to a news article you read a few months ago. You know what had happened to him, after he had escaped a viscous serial killer and somehow got out alive. You know that taking a girl in an alleyway is probably his way of blowing off steam. But he was nice enough to strike up conversation before he jumped your bones— even asked to take your picture.

“Trying to remember the scene,” he had said, chuckling nervously. “especially you. You’re the prettiest view here.”

And after that, you had both somehow made your way to the back alley and he had set his camera down and sooner or later you had shoved your tongue down his throat. And okay, so this seems a little trashy, but so what? You would’ve fucked him either way, whether it be at home or at his apartment. And besides— something about this boy has you willing to be fucked like a cheap slut in the middle of an alleyway. And who can blame you, honestly.

If you didn’t know any better, you would ask Adam out.

But you don’t think about that possibility right now— can’t think about that. His crotch is grinding up against yours, his lips consuming you until he pulls away.

“Are you sure this is okay?” He asks. He wants you, but he wants to make sure that being fucked in an alleyway is something you’re into.

Nodding, you ignore the pain in your heels as you lift on your tippy toes in your stilettos. Biting teasingly at his neck, you let out a small breath of air.

“‘S perfect. Now why don’t you shut up and fuck me?”

His eyes are glazed with lust, and his hand reaches down to grab the flesh of your ass.

“Yeah?” He mutters. “Right here?”

At your nod, he shakes his head and chuckles.

“Never met a chick like you before.”

He dives back in for another taste of your lips. His tongue strokes your bottom lip, wet and filthy and oh so delicious. You run your hands up his shirt, feeling the warm skin and the light patch of hair on his chest. Running your hands over his chest, you’re met with the sensation of cold metal.

Nipple rings.

“Been wanting some of these,” you mention to him, and he grins against you.

“Hurt like a bitch. Wouldn’t recommend if you have a low pain tolerance.”

“Mmmm..”

You continue to kiss him again, this time flicking over his nipples and playing with the barbells. It drives him crazy, and he becomes more sex crazed and desperate. After a moment he pulls your face away from him. Without warning, he turns you around and shoves your face against the wall. Letting out a tiny gasp, your pussy aches as he pushes your legs apart with one of his own and moves down to his knees. He kneads your ass with his hands, lifting up your pink latex dress to expose your soft ass to him. Groaning, he takes notice of the tiny black thong that’s settling in between your cheeks.

“Shit,” he whispers solely to himself. You smirk. You knew that the lace would come in handy if you got laid tonight.

“Like it?” You say, amused. His hands move up to spread your cheeks. The slightly chilled night air makes your eyes scrunch shut in pleasure.

“So fucking sexy.” Adam praises, and he leans in, using his thumb to move away the thong’s string. Watching your dripping pussy from this angle, his cock is so hard that it hurts. Your little clit is settled between two swollen lips, hole clenching and unclenching. Adam takes sight of you under the street lamp a distance away that serves as your only source of light. He thinks you’re beautiful.

He brings his lips to your clit; pressing a soft kiss there, he lets out a small mewl. He kisses all over you, moving up to the globes of your ass to leave wet ones in a trail. And unexpectedly, his finger finds your puckered asshole, running it along on it. He slips his thumb in, gentle, and with his other hand he reaches around to play with your aching pussy. He finds your hole and he probes it with the tip of his tongue, while his finger slides inside your ass. He thrusts one, in, out, in, out, and it’s not long before he adds a second as he begins to devour your cunt like a man starved. Groaning against you, he makes sure to get your pussy nice and wet, makes sure to drool and spit on it as much as he can. You like boys like this; boys that are desperate and messy but still manage to somehow make you submit. Because this whole time, your mouth is spewing so many vulgar phrases, begging, pleading.

“Please! ‘S good, Adam, it’s so good, wanna be good for you…”

“Want you to make me cum, want your cock…”

And Adam’s got this hunger as he hears these words, as your hole feeds him your delicious arousal. He wants to fuck you until you stop breathing.

It’s not long before he presses down on your clit and rubs while his tongue is still probing your walls. Instantly, white hot heat licks up your spine and you can’t help but cum all over Adam’s pretty mouth. You shove your wrist in your mouth to keep quiet but it’s so hard. You haven’t had your pussy ate like this in a while.

Wiping his mouth, Adam grins from behind you as he lifts himself back up to his feet. He begins to undo his belt, the skull shaped buckle glinting in front of his eyes. He unzips his fly, pulling out his hard cock. He strokes himself as he watches your ass grind back desperately against him.

“Still so needy…” He grunts. “God, you’re a slut, aren’t you?”

You mewl, hands reaching behind to spread your cheeks and present yourself to him again. You’re like a bitch in heat for this perfect stranger. He takes notice, instantly shoving his cock against your clit and tapping a few times. He’s being such a tease.

“Adam, cmon..” you whine, trying to adjust your hips so his mushroomed head can catch on your dripping seam. He just shakes his head, rubbing his cock up and down your folds.

“Beg for it,” he whispers against your neck. “Beg for this cock.”

“Please,” you instantly moan out. “Please fill me up. My pussy needs your cock so bad…”

And Adam isn’t a patient guy, so of course he gives into your demands and slides his throbbing cockhead into your entrance. He tilts his head back, mouth falling open, as he enters your warm canal. You mewl against him. He’s big, not too much that its incredibly painful but just enough to give you that delicious stretch.

Adam’s face buries itself into your neck, small sounds leaving his throat as he finally sinks in to the hilt.

“Fuck,” he moans. “Are you always this tight?”

“Mhmmmm,” you say, feeling confident. Your hands reach behind you to run through his dark hair. “Been needing a cock inside me for weeks.”

He thrusts into you a bit harsher now, nipping at your jugular with his teeth.

“Yeah?” He breathes. “Should’ve met me sooner baby,” and then, with a much darker tone, “Could fill up this pussy every day if you’d let me.”

And now you know you need to ask for his number. Because you’ve never felt this needy and this hot for another human being in your life. Maybe it’s love at first sight— or fuck at first sight. It doesn’t matter. He’s beginning to pummel your guts like you’re a fuck doll, grunting into your ear as his hips slap loudly against yours. His hands wrap around your hair and he pulls you back towards his awaiting thrusts.

“Clenching so tight. Making my dick so wet, baby, fuck.”

Squirming in his grasp, you let out a squeak when he bites down on your neck harshly. Like a fucking vampire, the boy begins to suckle up the blood into his mouth. As he pulls away, his pace speeds up impossibly quick.

“Who’s making you feel this good?” He coos. “Who’s fucking this cute little pussy this good?”

“You!” You gasp. “All you, Adam, ‘m yours— shit!”

You’re about to cum embarrassingly fast once again. Just one little flick to your clit and you’ll be spilling all over his cock. Adam takes your ass in his palms and spreads you again so he can watch as you take him.

“Such a good girl,” he breathes. “Such a good, pretty slut. Gonna make you cum so fuckin’ hard on me.”

Your eyes roll back, and he reaches around to rub your clit with his fingers. You seize up, letting out a choked sound, as you cum all over him. He whimpers as he feels your pussy spasm around him, and his fingers on your hips become bruising. You can’t help but have the desire to be filled up with his spend; it doesn’t matter if he might leave you after this, you want him to leave you used and dripping in his cum. You press your hand to his lower stomach from behind you, working your hips hard against him.

“Cum inside me,” You plead, overstimulated. “Need your cum to fill me up. Please, I need it—“

“Shit!” His hips begin to stutter, and with one last stroke he’s cumming.

He rides out his high until his cum is dripping down his balls, his eyes shut and a montage of delicious praises spilling out of him.

When he finishes he gently pulls out of your gaping pussy. Tucking himself back into his pants, he pulls your underwear up with gentle hands. He turns you around, fixing the straps on your dress.

“Okay?” He asks, and you smile as if you’re doped out and nod.

“Never better.”

He laughs, a light flush caking his cheeks now.

“Good,” he says, then chuckles awkwardly. “Uhm— thanks. For..”

He gestures to your body, fumbling with his hands.

“No problem.” You reply. “It’s late. I should be getting home.”

“I can walk you to your car,” Adam says quickly.“I mean, if you want.”

Something tugs in your chest, wondering how the once rough boy is so shy now. You lean up to him, planting a kiss to his cheek.

“I would love that, Adam. Thank you.”

Adam grins, helping you balance on your shoes as you wobble towards the parking lot.

“So… I was wondering if I could get your number?”

You’re relieved that he asked first. You look up at him, his neck caked in hickeys and bites from your own kiss bitten lips.

“Definitely.”

[2kmps]

NIGHTFALL

elk god x reader | wc 746

synopsis: you're a ranger always volunteering to take on the nightshift and no one wants to know why.

a/n: just a little practice piece. not proofread. no pertinent warnings. @vincentvalenfine , ty for the request!

No one dared to ask questions of you when you had volunteered to take up the lonesome night shift at the ranger’s station.

Workplace superstition wasn’t one to discriminate, whether that meant you were tweaking a bullet out of someone's chest in the operating room; sterile gowns splattered with carmine like a rorschach inkblot, adrenaline dampening the noise in the room while the surgeons honed into that sweet spot of impenetrable focus, or you were reclined in a creaky wooden chair, prodding agitatedly at your phone screen with a thumb because the service had turned to shit for the fifth time that night.

The reason why you were so adamant to burden the staggering quietness of the Atticus Forest behind aluminum walls that'd amplify the whispering winds and long claws of trees’ appendages trying to gain purchase into the metal went unchallenged, incurious—if no one knew why, they would be spared of knowing about you, bonding with you, catching your eye and expected to act in sympathy if you were to ever change your mind about the arrangement.

You, however, used the cover of nightfall, the endless shroud of darkness produced from a sprawling canopy of lush treetops to roam freely, uninhibited by the daytime shuffle of campers and hikers and other rangers scouting the trails for no-good-doers.

Every night you wandered out some ways from the station, somewhat nettled by the fact you were leashed from going far from the radio, needing to standby in case of contact, and whistled tunefully. It was a sweet sound that aroused the owls and sleeping doves, sometimes the tree frogs would chirp after you, suddenly turning the vast, placid place into a euphony of colorful sounds.

Only when the forest was at its noisiest did he come out from hiding. He did not know shame or fear of the sun, nor quail at the concept of walking among humans, but he preferred to share the forest with the untamed creatures and your company alone. 

“Orruth,” you greeted the lumbering thing as he came away from the trees; the gray of his skin, and gleaming white elk skull were a seamless blend in the inky black all around. “Are you in the mood to walk tonight?”

He did not speak any human tongue, not any that you were aware of at any rate. You were no linguist, but the things he said couldn’t have been mistaken as latin nor some other dead language from forgotten empires and cultures buried by concrete and gentrification. They were guttural, strong echoes that anchored you with awe, overwhelmed by power, the unfathomable words of an ancient who always tried so desperately to converse with you. There could never be a middle-ground between what he said and what you understood because you were never meant to know.

So, he whined instead, lowered his hulking form close to the ground for you to reach his face. You felt the fissures in his long nose, how dry and brittle the bone felt under your fingertips and observed the glowing pupils within hollow sockets staring back at you. Apart from his arms and legs, which were long, sinewy, and gray, his head floated mysteriously by a thick vapor you had ever shied from touching and he seemed to not want you to touch.

“I heard a complaint about a fire about eight kilometers away. I'm hoping it's just a few campers thinking they're above the law of the land, but we can never be too sure.” You explained this while he tucked the flat bone of his nose into your chest, mindful of the sprawl of his antlers as you adjusted to petting him around the eye sockets. “We keep finding animals—gored, disemboweled, almost ritualistically at some campsites. If your old followers keep this up, they may try to ban people from camping out here at all.”

He would probably like that, you thought in hindsight once he had had his fill and pulled away from you. In his own tongue, he tried to say something else. It remained indecipherable to you, but you could have from how he nearly flattened his body to the ground that he was offering you a ride.

“Just try not to throw me into a bunch of tree branches again, yeah?” you sat on the broad shelf of one of his shoulders, arms wound in the network of forks and beams of his antlers as he rose to full height, walking onward off the trail and through the trees towards distant piles of smoke.

[miirohs]

antics [b.c]

pairing: Model!Bang Chan x GN!Reader wc: 0.9k cw: lowkey suggestive. an: oh he wounds me oh how i want this man!!!! jail for bang chan for these, jail for a thousand years!!!

“Stay still, i just wanna see them up close,” you whined, pulling Chan in closer by the delicate chain loosely hanging on his neck as you surveyed it closely.

“Careful, those cost a lot more than you think baby,” He chastised softly, watching through hooded eyes as you fiddled with the necklaces, trying to pull them off his neck, “If you wanted to see them, you could’ve just asked me.”

“Okay, then,” You rolled your eyes playfully, “you should take them off.”

“I should’ve known you were up to no good as soon as you texted me about visiting me,” He groaned, adam’s apple bobbing as he tipped his head back on the chair, closing his eyes, “Wouldn’t have allowed you to come here if you were going to act like a brat.”

“Well, it’s not like you’re on total duty anymore.” You said, cracking a small mischievous smile.

“Well then, what do you want? I know you didn’t just come here making small talk baby.” He tilted his head at you as you shifted in his lap, making yourself more comfortable.

“For you to tell me about your day. I just really missed you, it’s so lonely without you in my mansion.” You giggled, earning a scoff of suspicion from Chan.

“No. You’re going to do something else, I can feel it-“ He tittered, jolting as you leaned down to his face, hands on his chest. The cool metal pressing into your palm had a nice contrast to the heat rolling off him.

“So you can be a top model but not my boyfriend Channie?” You pouted, simpering at him as he attempted to move you off of himself, even if it was to no avail. “Not on the job, it’s unprofessional- baby, stop.” You snickered at his command, landing a quick kiss on his jaw. 

“Watch it.” He warned you carefully, narrowing his eyes at you. “I want you to take a long, hard thought about what’s going to happen if you…” He trailed off, letting out a broken grunt as you kissed his throat.

Leaning against him, you settled your head in the crook of his neck, moving the fabric aside to allow you more access.

“Be gentle Y/n, I-“ Chan jolted as you bit down, a quiet moan slipping from his lips. 

He was flustered, staring at you with glossy eyes as you gave him a quick kiss on the lips, returning back to what you were doing.

He clutched the armrest of the chair as you sucked at the spot, earning a series of soft gasps from him. 

Looping your hand in one of the long forgotten necklaces, you pulled at them as you mindlessly moved from one patch of skin to another, bruises slowly forming around his collarbone and neck from your relentless attacks. 

As you attempted to move to his adam's apple, he pulled you back by the shirt, whining as you ran your fingers through his disheveled hair. “You’re obsessed with seeing my bare neck, aren’t you, you little freak?” He panted, gingerly massaging the spots you had abused. 

"Maybe I am a little obsessed," you admitted, pulling his shirt back up, covering up as many of the bites as you could, “but you're just so...” Still, you could see them peeking over his collar, satisfaction filling you at the thought of what you had done.

“So what?” He challenged, a knowing look in his eyes as you both got closer, nose to nose.

A knock interrupted the both of you, forcing you away from him, eyes on the door as the doorknob jiggled.

“Chan?” He also turned around, a wide eyed look on his face as the knocks on the door started again.

“Who is it?” He forced out, narrowing his eyes at you as you stifled your fit of laughter at his peeved expression.

“Oh I do wonder, who else could it ever be?” The voice outside deadpanned, and you could almost imagine the bored look on the face of Chan's manager, Minho. 

“What is it?” A brief pause, and he sighed. “The photographer wants you to come and review the photos so you can pick which ones you like most for the campaign. Finish up whatever weird shit you’re up to and come out.”

His footsteps led away from the door, and you looked at Chan.

“Now look at what you’ve done!” He gave you a slight stink eye, hand unconsciously reaching up to his neck. “How am i going to go out and explain this?”

“Hey! Don’t look at me like that, you agreed to it!” You exclaimed, yelping as he pulled you closer to him.

“You’re lucky I find your antics cute,” Chan chuckled, his fingers tracing over your face before suddenly gripping it.

“H-hey!” You stuttered, blanking as he pulled you flush against him, kissing you deeper than before. His teeth scraped against your bottom lip and he bit down gently, earning a surprised yelp from you. You grumbled at the sudden lack of contact as he pulled away, pulling you off him before you’d realized it in your blind struggle to get him back in your grasp.

"Fine, leave me here all alone," You mumbled, a mischievous glint still lingering in your eyes, "I guess I'll just have to entertain myself until you get back.”

“If you behave yourself, I might be back sooner than you imagine.” 

You huffed, rolling your eyes at him.

“Fine, I hope you enjoy running around looking like you got burnt on the neck.”

“Acting like you weren’t the one to do this to me baby.”

[florvaine]

pretty kitty.

Hobie is a little a little too excited to see you at another robbery. (afab! black cat! reader)

genre: fluff, nsfw mentions

warnings: nsfw mentions, teasing, swearing, stealing, throat grabbing, binding (is that the right word?).

-—- “WE AIN’T DOIN’ THIS AGAIN, DOLLFACE,” His raspy, London accent rings around the large jewellery store, “We both know you don’t like hidin’ from me, yeah?”

With his mask now pulled off of his face, wicks bouncing free from the confines of the spikey-mohawk on top of his mask, he looks around with his hands in his leather jacket’s pockets. He twitches his nose, spinning around in his spot a few times - slowly surveying the area.

Hobie was, as much as he didn’t want to admit it, waiting for another call in of a robbery. With the chance of it being you that he had to ‘take down’. Something in the way you seemed almost fueled by his remarks, or the way your hips swayed with each calculated step, he knew why you were called ‘Black Cat’.

Sly, quiet, flexible and complete and utter bad luck.

But if you were bad luck, why weren’t his senses going haywire?

A silky voice responds, “But where’s the fun in that? I’d rather hide in plain sight and watch you try find me like a little puppy.”

Hobie has to stop his lashes from fluttering close, looking up to meet eyes with you. Underneath the black latex mask (that he regularly made fun of; ‘why have a mask if it doesn’t cover anything?’ He’d say) your e/c eyes crinkled as you smile.

“C’mon, as much as I love the idea of takin’ from the rich, you gotta return that shit.” Hobie points at the black velvet bag dangling from your belt.

You pout, and the man almost feels bad, “I thought you liked our little run-ins, you seemed pretty eager to come,”

Hobie’s mind goes straight into the gutter; he suppresses a groan.

You drop down from the ceiling, upright and running a finger along his jawline from your close proximity, “What about a chase, hm? You like those.”

Hobie’s held tilts in the direction your finger runs, a thin, silver point making it’s way along his supple skin and tracing his adam’s apple, whilst your e/c eyes look up at him. His tongue runs against his lip ring, the hoop shifting slightly.

“Will that get you to return everything, kitty?” His eyes lower to your lips, back up to your eyes and then they closed tightly with a hiss as you left a miniscule cut beside his adams apple.

His burnt-auburn eyes open again, and now you’re in the doorway across the room, leaning against it with the velvet pouch in your hand. A golden-banded ring with a large diamond in the middle is plucked between your thumb and pointer finger. Your eyes drag across the shimmering jewellery and flicker up to him.

The ring is now back in the bag, and you take of running with a chuckle. It’s around this time Hobie sighs, a smirk on his lips as he yanks his mask back on, a web sticking above the doorway to accelerate his speed.

The jewellery store is open, but practically everything inside is fragile. He notes this, a few extra layers of precaution filter through his body, checking his movements before he does anything.

A streak of black from your form-fitting suit dances across his vision through the door to the left of the hallway you were previously in. The sound of a hollow metal rings through his ears before he enters after you, and he stops at the sight of three metal barrels on the floor.

Ahead of him, turning around from him with a grin on your face, you turn around and continue running away from him. A flight of stairs ascends from the end of the hallway, exactly where you’re headed.

He huffs, vaulting over them, “Really? Barrels? God, that’s cliché of you.” He snarks quietly, outstreching his hand as a thick string of web shoots out towards you.

The web misses, splatting against the wall to the right of your body at shoulder height.

“All you got, Hobie?” You say. His name rolls off the tip of your tongue, and it sounds like music to his ears.

The man bites back a quip, aiming and shooting another web in your direction

The thwip of his web is the first thing you hear, and then it’s the feeling of it latching onto your forearm as your tugged backwards.

A small sound is released from your lips and you lean backwards to try break, but only to go against the his web on the other side of you. The bag is clutched in your free hand, and the drawstring to the pouch is quickly moved to dangle out of your teeth as you use the silver claws on the tips of your fingers to cut the web.

It works, but rather slowly as Hobie’s a lot closer to you now. You pull the drawstring back into your right hand, turning back around and dodging another web that he shot your way.

“We always do this, Y/n. It always ends the same.” He calls, and the exciting thing is you knew exactly what it meant.

With extra fuel, you reach and open the door ahead with ease, looking back to see Hobie just seconds away from the door. He slings yet another web in your direction, but you close the door just in time.

The web hits the doorframe and the door, sticking it together - and with all the speed he had gained - Hobie couldn’t slow down in time.

A loud bang follows you shutting the door, and you wince, jogging up the stairs with the clicking of your chunky heeled boots. The jewellery clinks with each step you take.

Hobie’s spitting curses as he pulls at the webbing on the door, and a thought passes your mind. Eyes looking back at the door at the bottom of the stairs, you smile.

The taller of the two of you finally manages to pry the door open, his mask discarded in his pocket as blood drips down from his right nostil.

He takes a breath, then bolts up the stairs with something new shining behind his eyes.

“Kitty,” He calls once he passes the open door that lead to the roof.

It’s a clear night, and the jewellery store is beside and opposite over taller buildings with less pretty exterior. The stars are bright, the moon in a waxing crescent. Fresh air and the sounds of cars below filter through the air.

His hands aren’t in his pockets rather dangling at his side, and there’s blood spilling from his nose, running over each indent and crack in his lips and smudged at his chin. Eyes squinted slightly, he catches sight of you crouched on the edge of a railing.

You turn to run, but his web is faster. A new force applied to both of your wrists drags you back, a squeal leaving your mouth as you’re pulled towards him. Your back meets his chest, and you huff with a small smile, trying to hide your enjoyment.

His hand raises to your throat, a gentle squeeze that left your mind running circles. His tilts your head upwards, and you meet his gaze.

“You see what ya’ve done, hm?” His eyes scan yours before they move to your wrists bound behind your back.

Something about that picture causes a reaction in his lower stomach.

You hum, “I can see it, looks pretty hot to me.” Voice husky and low, you reply.

“Might look hot but it hurts a lot, dollface.” He trails his other hand across your forehead, moving a few loose strands back behind your ears.

“You should see someone for that, get some painkillers.”

“Why don’t you distract from the pain, huh? I don’t have any painkillers on me now, but you’re right here. Plus, you did this to me.” His hand lowers from your throat to the base of you neck, and with your wrists still bound, he lowers his head down to the place where your shoulder and neck meet.

His lips kiss gently at the skin, before he bites and nibbles at each free spot of skin you had on show above your collarbones. Each time his lips meet the flesh of your neck you let out a sound - a groan, a breath or a light moan.

Through your rushing thoughts and whispered sounds you speak, “You know the bag is in the stairway, right?”

He hums against your skin, tongue running over his most recent hickey like a cat grooming itself.

“I did, I saw it,” His mouth moves up to your ear to whisper, “I just wanted you.”

His lips meet yours, and the taste of metal fills your senses. His lip ring is cool against your warming connection, and you can feel his tongue sliding against your lips to tease you. You can feel his hips roll forwards into you, and you activity have to stop yourself from whimpering as you feel him.

“This is gonna be a long night, ain’t it, kitty?” He whispers against your lips.

-—-

[tigertales9]

Ice Ice Baby

Pairing: Joe Burrow x Reader

Warnings: 18+ / Smut

Description: You and Joe attend a 4th of July party at his parent's house

A/N: I wrote 90% of this porny nugget yesterday after having a few too many adult beverages 🥳

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

July 4, 2023 - Athens, Ohio

You step out onto the back patio and fill two cups with ice before closing the cooler. You pour raspberry lemonade in the cups and hand one to Joe's mom. "We're getting a little low on ice," you say, taking a swig of the tangy beverage while she makes a concerned face. "Crap," she mutters, taking a sip of her drink while she watches the guys play catch in the backyard. "I knew we should've stocked up a bit more, but Jimmy thought we had enough."

"I'll go get a few more bags," you offer, waving Joe over to ask for his key fob. You hand him your glass of lemonade when he jogs up, watching his prominent Adam's apple bob as he guzzles the cold beverage. "We need more ice," you state. "I'm gonna run to the store real quick."

"I'll drive you." He finishes off the drink before handing the empty cup to his mom. 'We'll be back in about twenty minutes," he says, grabbing your hand and heading through the house to the front door.

"Don't trust me to drive the Porsche?" you tease, sliding into the passenger seat when he opens the door for you. He holds his tongue until he slides into the driver's seat. "You're a better driver than me," he smiles, leaning over to give you a quick kiss before fastening his seatbelt. "I was just looking for a reason to get you alone," he continues, giving you a wink before reversing out of the driveway.

Ten minutes later he pulls into the nearest convenience store, leaving the car running as he hops out. "Be right back," he says, striding into the store like a man on a mission. He exits just a few minutes later carrying three large bags of ice in one hand, his biceps bulging in a way that causes you to squirm in your seat. You watch him in the side mirror as he pops the trunk and stows the ice inside. "Sexy motherfucker," you mutter to yourself, giving him an innocent smile as he hops back in the car. "All set," he grins, quickly reversing out of the parking space and heading for the exit.

Just as he pulls back onto the highway a few fat raindrops hit the windshield. "What the hell?" he grumbles. "We only have like a 10% chance of rain today."

You grab your phone out of your purse as the rain intensifies, pulling up your fav weather app. "Damn," you whisper, watching the ominous red blob inch ever closer on the radar screen. "Looks kinda bad." You notice there's a 'severe weather warning' and quickly click it. "Oh shit," you mutter. "What is it?" Joe asks. "This storm is creating up to golf ball size hail. It's gonna be right on top of us in just a few minutes."

"Fuck," he grumbles, whipping a u-turn and heading back in the opposite direction. He floors it and you're pressed back in your seat for several seconds before he slows up a bit and exits the highway, quickly pulling into a covered carwash stall. He turns off the windshield wipers and gives you a grin, smiling even bigger when the first pings of hail hit the metal roof of the carwash. "Just in time," he gloats.

"Good job, babe," you praise while turning your attention back to your phone, your eyebrows creeping upward when he places a big hand on your thigh.

"Have I told you how gorgeous you look in this sundress?" he murmurs, sliding his hand up your skirt until it's dangerously close to your crotch.

"Yeah a couple times, but I don't mind hearing it again." You give him a smile before glancing at your phone, shaking your head as you watch the storm develop on the time-lapse radar sequence. "This huge thing just popped up out of nowhere," you marvel.

"Speaking of huge things popping up," he purrs, giving you a loaded look when you cut your eyes at him.

"This is a fast moving storm, Joseph. It'll be done in like fifteen minutes."

"And we'll be done in like ten if you hop on my lap," he counters, patting his thick thighs with one hand while teasing the edge of your panties with the other.

"Are you serious?" you ask, a shiver of anticipation flowing through you at the feral look in his eyes. "What if somebody sees us?"

"I doubt if folks are out walking around in a thunderstorm with golf ball size hail raining down."

As if on cue, the sound of the hail hitting the metal roof of the carwash intensifies, creating a cacophony so loud you can barely hear yourself think. "Come here," he urges, smiling when you drop your phone in your purse, kick your sandals off and hike your dress up, smoothly crawling over the center console before straddling his lap.

He cups a big hand behind your neck and pulls you in for a kiss; his tongue tastes like raspberry lemonade and he moans deep in his throat when you give it a thorough suck. "You taste good," you whisper, repeating the action while grinding your crotch against him, his impressive erection easily discernible through his slinky shorts.

You eventually rise up onto your knees. "Push your shorts and undies down," you order, waiting until he does your bidding before lowering yourself back down, moaning when you feel his hard length through your flimsy panties. He slides a hand down to tease your clit through the wisp of lace, his mouth on your sensitive neck gently licking and sucking in a way that causes a gush of liquid heat between your thighs.

"So good," you murmur, your breath catching in your throat when he slides two fingers inside your drenched panties, playing with you for several minutes in a way that makes your toes curl before pulling your thong to the side to expose your wet slit. "Yeah," you urge, digging your fingers into his broad shoulders while he drags the tip of his cock through your slick folds before pushing inside, both of you groaning as you slowly impale yourself on his throbbing erection.

"Fuck, baby," he hisses when he's fully seated, his eyes sliding closed in pleasure as you start to move -- slowly at first -- moving just a few inches up and down before getting in the groove. He plants his feet against the floorboard and thrusts his hips up as you grind down; an electric sizzle races up your spine when he bottoms out, the pleasure/pain combo causing you to cry out as your core clenches his thick length.

"You okay?" he mutters in your ear, his big hands on your ass slowing your downward progress as you try to grind down against him again. "Yeah," you whimper, "don't stop!" He slides one hand down between your plump buttcheeks, teasing the edge of your fully-stretched pussy as you take him deep over and over, your breathless whimpers segueing into louder moans as he uses his other hand on your clit.

"Oh my God," you whine, reaching up to grip the headrest for leverage as you grind down against him, his hot breath whispering delicious filth in your ear causing every nerve ending in your body to throb in unison. You dig your fingers into the padded black leather as you feel a coil of pleasure building in your core, whimpers spilling from your lips as he works your body in all the ways he knows you love. "Oh…my....…God," you repeat, your cries of pleasure drowning out the storm as your climax hits; he continues to thrust up inside you as you ride out the intense orgasm, finally coating your core with hot spurts as he follows you over the edge.

You pant hard against his fragrant neck, your head spinning a bit as the aftershocks of your climax continue to fire, squeezing his slowly-softening erection as he presses kisses on your flushed cheek.

"Thank God we ran out of ice," he croaks, both of you laughing as you try to catch your breath.

"I think the storm's passed," you eventually mutter, leaning back to give him a smile just as his phone rings.

"That'll be Mom," he snorts, grabbing his phone and checking the display. "Yep," he confirms, answering the call and putting her on speaker. "Hey Mom, we're fine."

"Oh thank goodness!" she says. "That storm came out of nowhere!"

"Sure did," Joe agrees. "We rode the storm out in a covered carwash stall. Y/n saw the storm developing on radar, and I was able to pull in just before the hail hit."

"That's great! Y'all be careful driving home. There might be some tree limbs down in the roads."

"Okay. We'll be there in about fifteen minutes." He ends the call just as you give a lusty chuckle. "What's so funny?" he asks.

"We rode the storm out?" you purr, bouncing on his lap. "Freudian slip?"

"Maybe," he shrugs, giving you a cocky smile and squeezing your ass before helping you crawl back into the passenger seat.

[cienfleurx]

𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐍𝐈𝐂 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄. ⁰⁰¹

✑ GENRE: slowburn. angst. nsfw 18+.

✑ WARNING: explicit language. mature themes. topics of violence and murder. stockholm syndrome (not the reader). sexual tension if you squint. reader is an executive. other bonten stuff. strictly mdni.

✑ SYNOPSIS: platonic love is a type of love that is neither sexual nor romantic; something that the executives have been feeling towards you for the past few years - or so they would like to believe.

(📂) ⇢ masterlist. 〡 (📂) ⇢ next chapter.

CHAPTER ONE | PLATONIC LOVE.

“No, because I’m gonna kill your fucking whore if you don’t give him to me!”

First thing in the morning and it was already a mess.

“Let’s just hope Boss gets here early.” one of the them muttered, as they heard another gunshot followed by the sound of what was most likely an ancient vase shattering. Poor Takeomi, he'll be furious to see his million-dollar vase broken into pieces by the four executives wreaking havoc on the first-floor corridors.

The majority of the personnel in the lobby couldn't help but sigh as they witnessed the present predicament occurring at the headquarters. It was just another day, another round of chaos from the foolish executives who had been attempting to murder each other for the nth time in the preceding years. Supposedly, these individuals were the said top dogs of the syndicate, but seeing all of this happen before their very own eyes had them doubting at the back of their mind, but not to the point of questioning their position as higher-ups.

The reason? Peluda, your Foldie Cat, had been kidnapped by the Bonten Trio yet again, as you chased their tails with a loaded Glock; a sight that did not even surprise them anymore.

“You.” the receptionist flinched when all of a sudden, you called for his attention, his Adams apple bobbing from your nerve-wrecking presence. You darted a glare at him as you motioned your head. “Get that fucking woman here. I’ll sample that son of a bitch why he should never mess with me.”

Sanzu came to a halt as he heard the command. Ran and Rindou, who had been tossing the Foldie Cat back and forth, are in the same boat. His emerald eyes fixated at the receptionist, glowering at his trembling frame when he caught sight of his movement ready to leave as if he was about to heed the woman's order.

“Don’t you dare.”

“You heard me.” you taunted the man, heading towards him with the cold metallic weapon in your grip. “I’ll bury a bullet on your head if you hesitate once more.”

“Goddamn chill, woman. Mikey will be furious if you touch Himari.” Ran tried to alleviate the tension, but you only shot him a look, positioning the pistol towards his direction. 

“Shit wouldn’t happen if you just give him back to me.” you spat.

Rindou rolled his eyes, plopping down the fluffy cat on the floor as its furry self rushed towards you, its paws trotting fast away from the devils that made him undergone the worst traumatic experience so far in order to rest in your arms, its quivering figure calming down a little when you stroke the base of its ears. “Okay, fine. Geez, can't even take a joke.”

You snarled at him, firing a bullet close enough to graze his cheek.

“Fuck!”

“Your dick is coming next if you fuck with me again.”

“No shit sherlock. This is why cats are the only bitches you have.” Rindou retorted, causing Sanzu and Ran to laugh like maniacs when your face contorted into some sort of displeasure before retreating into the endless corridors.

Truly, the executives couldn't go a day without feeling the satisfaction of holding your suffering in their hands.

Shit has been too hard ever since you became one of the notorious executives in Bonten; it didn't help that these jackasses were always picking on you, making you almost regret taking the title that Sano Manjiro had bestowed on you. They made it a thing to annoy you on a daily basis. Either with the ultimate love of your life being thrown in the air; the ball of sunshine disguised as cats, or with the set of difficult tasks they assigned to you, which almost led to a meeting with the grim reaper if it weren’t for luck backing you up.

Not once did they leave your presence alone; always treating you as if you were a toy who amused them each time you retaliated with your renowned Glock 19 in the clutch, and bothering you every day until all you see is red, firing bullets in the corridor until Takeomi scolds you for damaging his invaluable porcelains. 

However, despite the escapades and monkey tricks that they been pulling so far, best believe that there was not an actual bad blood happening between the both of you. This is just a daily occurrence of how the executives showed their love on one another. You, pointing their gun to them, while they made a run for it. You, threatening their lives, while they indulge in the satisfaction at the sound of your furious clicking heels stomping hard against the glistening marbles.

Surely, things would have been easy if only there were a bunch of Kakucho roaming around the organization, or if the other executives shared the same build as him — respectful, well-mannered, and real mature. He was one of the few gentleman who is courteous to women like you despite being a notorious criminal, and he earned your respect for that.

Just like right now, Kakucho Hitto was being a huge help and you couldn’t be anymore thankful to him for existing in this embodiment pit of hell.

“God. That’s the spot, Kaku. Push it more right there.” you groaned at the feeling of his thumb pressed against your shoulder blades, giving your tense muscle a light squeeze now and then as you relished under his massage. Today was one of those days when you and the navy-haired shared paperwork in his office, and as usual, Kakucho would lend a helping hand by massaging your stressed shoulder after too much documentation processing. Didn’t even help the fact when he found you worn-out in his doorstep, knowing the mess that you had probably just encountered with the Bonten Trio, Kakucho knew that you badly needed some relief over your exhaustion.

“Did I do it right?”

“Yeah. Just squeeze it like that.”

Kakucho did what you told, and you couldn’t help but hum.

“What the actual fuck.” Kokonoi exclaimed under his breath, eyes judgy at the scene playing in front of him. “For a second, I thought you guys are doing the thing.”

Kakucho blushed, because he too, agreed that when you moan like that, it sound like he was pleasuring you.

“Shut the fuck up, Hajime.”

“Can’t blame me. You just fucking moan, alright. Moan.”

“Moans doesn’t always need to be sexual.” you grumbled. 

“Whatever. Kakucho,” Kokonoi called out the navy-haired who seemed to be in a trance until the following words of the silver-haired reached his ears. “Himari’s in Sanzu’s office. You joining?”

You inaudibly sighed at what Kokonoi meant.

So, they were at it again.

Himari Ukishima; the poor woman you had threatened to take life earlier was out there, in Sanzu’s office yet again to pleasure all these executives’ dick.

The woman wasn’t even a whore to begin with. Mikey just found her enticing enough when he passed by a university, and decided to let the Bonten Trio kidnapped her and took her into the headquarters, and she’s been here for what? Almost a year now? Fucking and taking care of their cocks like the good girl she was.

She was basically a girl what the executives wanted; someone they wanted to corrupt and strip off their innocence, and they were no doubt successful from it. It’s Bonten — the worst criminal organization in Japan, what can you say? They fucked her dumb enough for her to develop Stockhold Syndrome. Crazy, you must say. She was one of those victims of their sensual gratification who had fallen deep into the lion’s den to bother escape or even ask for you help, which didn’t surprise you anymore as you think she’s also enjoying the feeling of five cocks in her body whenever you heard her pleas and whines.

“Quiet down, or I won’t hold back putting a bullet through her brain this time.”

You threatened, yet Kokonoi merely let out a smug grin, crossing his arms. The type of woman you are; all bark and no bite. He knew you would never do that. Himari Ukishima is Mikey's most-prized possession. Killing her means defying him, and you weren't one to disobey his orders.

Despite portraying the cold demeanor, Kokonoi knows how much of an obedient woman you are to Mikey.

He was your King; much like to how Sanzu worships him.

“Jealous cause you got no bitches?”

You scowled, growing tired of their old joke of teasing how you got no men to pleasure you. “What’s with you and the others flocking over my bitches?”

Sure, there were some of them, particularly from the clubs you own, though they weren’t like like Himari who had remained the longest period with them. Your sex drive was crazy; no man was able to withstand it and had always been the first one to pass out of consciousness before you could. Therefore, as naturally as you would, you had them dispose and let it be a memory of a one-night stand instead of keeping them by your side. 

However, Bonten would like to think you were just bore in bed that’s why you have no whores in your side. Little did they know, though.

“Well, maybe if you find a man who can last with you then we can stop. Though, I doubt you can find anyone as good as us.”

You raised a brow, intrigued.

"You implyin' something, Hajime?"

He hummed, something within his eyes flashing an emotion you couldn’t quite recognize in your years of being so-called friends.

Instead of responding, Kokonoi only brushed off the question with his right hand, leaving you on Kakucho's office to think if he actually meant something behind his words or he was just messing around with you to rattle your emotions — well, that is, until one by one, you heard sinful groans, whines, and skin slapping from the office next door that made you bury your face on your palms, damn interrupted from thinking and even working from the paper works.

"Stupid fucks, I told them to quiet down." 

✑ NOTE: let me know if you wanted to be added on my taglist ! <3

[loveinhawkins]

Part 1

Dustin half-expects the phone to ring in the evening—that maybe Eddie will have said something to Steve about how he’s been a dick to him—but no such call ever comes.

So he pretends like he’s busy with homework, times heading to dinner carefully, so that his mom’s got her back to the stove when he limps over to his seat.

At night, he waits until he hears the click of her lamp going off, then manages to smuggle a bag of peas out of the freezer without being noticed. He wraps it up in a dish towel and places it on his ankle, under the bed covers.

He doesn’t sleep.

-

If the weather’s not bad, he usually rides his bike to school, but he pretends to oversleep and gets the bus instead.

The day drags, but it’s fine.

It’s fine until he decides to go to the bathroom during the tail end of last period—reasons that so long as the receptionist doesn’t catch him, he can head to the bus stop early afterwards.

He thinks he’s alone.

But then as he’s drying his hands, he hears a stall door open lightning fast, and he’s suddenly pinned up against the wall, so close that he can see Aaron’s nostrils flare.

“The thing is, Henderson,” he says, as if they’re just picking up from where they left off; he’s got that tone, Dustin thinks, that ‘good people of Hawkins’ tone. Hiding behind a mask of respectability. “Folks seem to think that the buck stopped with Munson, huh? But I know he would’ve passed his sick shit on.”

It takes a moment for the penny to drop.

“You think I’m leading Hellfire,” Dustin says. He almost laughs. A surge of adrenaline briefly overtakes the fear, and maybe he feels like he’s borrowed a little of Steve’s daring, a little of Eddie’s sharp tongue when he says, “Oh, you’re fucking stupid.”

It happens very quickly.

Cold metal pressed to his throat.

He freezes. Thinks of Sattler Quarry again, of a switchblade, a threat to cut his teeth out.

“They say he took Chrissy’s eyes first,” Aaron says. “Gouged them out.” He presses a little harder. “I could do the same to you.”

Dustin grits his teeth, tries to hold his breath. Feels the ridge of uneven grouting digging into his back.

The school bell shrieks.

And he’s falling.

He only just stops himself from hitting the ground, bangs his knee against a sink. Left alone, he coughs and coughs as the stampede of people leaving class rumbles on outside.

Saved by the bell, says a wry voice in his head. It sounds a bit like Eddie.

Eventually he manages to look in the mirror. There’s a line across his neck, almost touching his Adam’s apple; tiny beads of blood from where the knife was pushed hard against his skin. He cleans it up with paper towels, tries not to gag.

Steve had a mark like this, he thinks; he remembers seeing it when they first discovered the gate in Eddie’s trailer.

Steve never flinched.

-

His mom’s packing for a wedding out of town, which means he’ll be spending an ‘extra long weekend’ at Steve’s, Thursday through to Monday—something he’d ordinarily be looking forward to.

But right now he can only focus on hiding his neck. He keeps his coat zipped up when he enters his house, all casual, then changes into an old sweater that covers the mark if he folds the turtle neck just so.

As his mom triple checks her case, he relies on her distraction and steals an old tube of foundation.

He dabs it on his neck, wincing at the abrasion.

Another sleepless night.

Why is this so hard? After everything that’s happened, this is nothing.

It should be nothing.

-

He almost misses Eddie’s van completely, even though it’s parked obnoxiously at the very front of the parking lot. It takes Eddie honking the horn for an embarrassingly long time until Dustin notices him.

“Steve’s picking me up,” he mumbles.

“He took Robin’s shift, she’s sick. So you get me,” Eddie says, complete with the world’s most passive-aggressive jazz hands. “You know, if that’s okay with you and all.”

Dustin doesn’t have the energy to bite back—sure, Eddie’s snippy, whatever—so he just huffs in acknowledgement and gets in the van. His head aches with fatigue; he can barely even feel relief that the day passed without incident.

Lucas had passed him a piece of paper with a comical stick figure during History: ‘Are you okay? You look like your brain is melting through your ears.’ He didn’t even have time to enjoy the stupid drawing, because the teacher busted them for passing notes soon after.

“What’s up with you?”

Dustin starts at the question—only then realises that he’s been pressing his forehead hard against the window as Eddie makes a turning for Steve’s house.

“Nothing. What’s up with you?”

And it should land on just the right side of petty for Eddie to give him shit about it.

But instead, all he hears is the uneasy drumming of rings against a steering wheel, a soft, “Right, right.”

Eddie isn’t angry anymore; he’s worried. Guilt twists Dustin’s insides.

He heads straight upstairs for the bathroom when they reach Steve’s, uncaring of the fact that Eddie can probably see him limp up every step.

The problem is that he doesn’t think—he just does.

Throws off his coat. Turns on the faucet. Splashes cold water in his face.

It helps, but his eyes still itch. Maybe he can pull out the mountains of homework card again, camp out in the guest room and sleep until Steve—

A faint knock on the other side of the door.

“Hey, uh. Just checking you haven’t died, man.”

And Dustin hates that he’s made Eddie sound hesitant.

“Yeah, I’m so dead. Oooo.”

Eddie chuckles slightly. But then he says, “Listen, did I do something? Like, tell me to fuck off, if so.”

“Fuck off,” Dustin says, not convincing in the slightest.

In the silence, he can practically hear the cogs in Eddie’s brain turning.

“You didn’t run track.”

It’s not a question.

Dustin rubs at his eyes. “I got tripped.”

“…Tripped,” Eddie echoes. “Dustin. Come on.”

“Fine. I… got in a fight.”

“You?”

“What, is that hard to believe?” Dustin snaps.

“Yeah. Yeah, it is, actually.”

There’s something in Eddie’s tone that makes Dustin’s eyes threaten to burn. It sounds like I know you.

“Well, go on. Gimme the details. What, did you place bets in the cafeteria about who would—”

“No-one else saw,” Dustin says, then immediately cringes at the fact that he’s walked right into Eddie’s trap and given answers.

“Oh, well fucking done,” Eddie says, and maybe it’s meant to sound sharp, but Dustin can only hear how it’s tight with anxiety. “So someone started shit, and you decided, in your infinite wisdom, to settle it alone, when anything could’ve—”

“What the fuck was I supposed to do? Just let them keep saying—”

“You run,” Eddie says. “Jesus Christ, Henderson, I don’t give a flying fuck what they were saying. You run like hell out of there, and you don’t look back, do you fucking hear—”

“You didn’t run!” Dustin says.

He hadn’t planned on saying it at all; the words feel like they’ve been ripped out of him, his voice wrecked.

Silence.

The door opens. Eddie looks completely floored.

“Was this about me?” he asks very quietly.

Dustin looks away. “He—he just—you didn’t hear what he was saying. Eddie, it was. Bad.”

And I’ll never repeat it, he thinks. I’m never using that fucking awful word.

“Hey, what’s that on your…?”

Eddie’s eyes narrow, and Dustin realises too late that he’s staring at his neck.

“Are you wearing make-up?” Eddie says, faintly baffled, and Dustin sees the exact moment that he recognises the mark for what it is, because his eyes widen. “Oh, Jesus.”

Dustin uselessly tries to cover it up with his hand. “It’s—it’s fine, it didn’t even—”

But his words die away at the sight of Eddie’s rapidly paling face.

Stop it, Dustin almost wants to say. Between everything that Eddie and Steve have… this is nothing.

He doesn’t expect Eddie bursting into tears.

“Oh God,” Eddie’s saying, and his breathing’s all wrong, “Dustin, please, please don’t—” But it’s like the words are choking him, like he can only stare at Dustin’s neck as if the world is ending.

The front door opening. Steve’s voice echoing, calling out a questioning greeting.

“Hey? You in the kitchen?”

Dustin moves quickly, shoves past Eddie.

“Dustin,” Eddie says again, loud in his panic, “d-don’t go, come on—”

He knows precisely when Steve can hear the fact that Eddie is crying, because his footsteps are rapid on the stairs, speech just as quick and frantic, “What happened, what happened?”

Dustin briefly feels Steve’s hand close around his elbow, “Hey, hey, what’s—?”, but he wrenches himself free. Runs down the stairs as fast as he can, stumbles on the last step.

He feels his ankle give way, and his heart is suddenly pounding like he’s back in The Upside Down—and he lies there, guilt and embarrassment in every heaving breath he takes.

[fhrlclln]

What about older mechanic eddie being invited over for dinner as a Thank you for helping your dad fix his car. The whole time he's eye fucking you and making little innuendos about you. You hope they are about you but you don't wanna get your hopes up since he's older and has barely spoken to you. This is obviously before they hook up. But like thought of reader pinning for him and thinking it's one sided. Her never ever telling him bc even though she likes him he kinda intimates her too.

older! mechanic! eddie x fem! reader

you have blessed me with dirty thoughts anon, and i love you for it. 😫 also, sorry for the wait !! had a conflict the past few days with my schedules.

here’s pt. 1 that’s connected to this imagine!!

suggestive themes under the cut

｡･:*˚:✧｡

“the car’s been fixed, honey?” you heard your mom from the kitchen ask your dad who’s just arrived from the mechanic shop along with the following of other footsteps by the front door. you guessed it was a problem with the engine or something, you didn’t really care. absently watching the tv as your ears picked up your dad’s reply.

“yeah. munson did a great job on this one. and he charged cheaper than that one shop up downtown.” your dad’s cheery voice caught your attention with the familiar name. you tried not to think of him as you continued your attention to the shit being blasted in the tv.

“that’s great, honey! he’s such a sweet man.”

“he is. i’ve invited him for dinner, darling. as a thank you.” your dad smiled as your eagerness turned to the max.

“oh, he’s here?” your eyes widened as the footsteps from the front door came in. you could distinctly smell of his cigarettes as your cheeks turned warm.

“munson! you can come in now, don’t be shy. my wife’s smitten with ‘ya.” your dad laughed as your mother chuckled, you remained silent seeing as mr. munson came in with a huge smile on his face. greeting your mother with a kiss on her cheek, your father patting his back. god, did he look good. in a leather jacket with jeans on, a tight shirt underneath it and his familiar stubbed jaw in view. as much as he looked intimidating, you knew your mother was hesitant about your next door neighbor, he looked very— metal, as what you can describe. your dad, however, didn’t care, he was open to him the moment he knew mr. munson owned a mechanic shop. let’s just say that they got along talking about cars. typical.

you’ve seen mr. munson from time to time. well—usually, you knew him from the moment he had just sat on his porch. you could remember that day very clearly. he had move in his trailer five months ago, you were a curious gal, you had heard from your dad that there’s a new neighbor that just moved next in. you would usually dismiss that, not wanting to be inclined with anyone, let alone another old grumpy neighbor you’ve reckoned from the start.

well, no.

he sat there, smoking, a cigarette on his pink lips. beard freshly shaved, still a stubble but so very hot. almost like that movie moment wherein this slowmo scene starts, the main character’s eyes would widen and slowly utter the word ‘wow’ in slow motion. you were almost like that except that was in your stupid mind. he looked good, so good with his knees spread apart while he sat on the chair in his porch. looking serious and calm. puffing away with his tank top on and work overalls tied to his waist. sweat glistens on his biceps, and god those tattoos. finger-cladded rings held the tiny cigar as he blew a smoke out, gulping afterwards as his adam’s apple bobbed deliciously.

and you wondered what he’d be like when fucking. is he rough? demanding? gentle? experienced in tongue and fingers due to his matureness and probably his previous relationships? it’s shameful to presume he’s a sex god, and you did wondered what size of his cock was underneath those dirty and grease stained overalls. you didn’t know but he looked like a guy who would capture anyone’s gaze. certainly he had catch your innocent ones. would he corrupt you perhaps? call you his girl? make you his?

you would’ve bended your knees for him right now if he wasn’t a stranger. well, that didn’t matter anyway you’d still suck him off. slut yourself out for a man you barely knew. a man who probably doesn’t go for girls like you. he certainly looked like he was a rocker, metal kind of guy. he’d go for women like pamela anderson or michelle fucking pfeiffer. bombshell girls! you were none of that. you’re just his neighbor. and as intimidating as he is to talk to— which you never did, you’ve never denied you have a massive crush on him, you thought it would go away after a month. but no, surprisingly. he just has that charm. and you couldn’t understand why. you’d just wallow this stupid feelings up knowing the thoughts in your mind will never happen.

“it’s nice to meet you, mrs. y/l/n.” mr. munson smiled as your mother let out a giggle. his voice was 100% better hearing in person. you could dream about this later.

“gods, if i knew my husband would be bringing you here for dinner. i would’ve cooked something more for the occasion!”

“there’s no need for that! i’m flattered, mrs. y/l/n. i already heard from your husband you’re a great cook. been dying to taste your dishes.”

“you’ll love it, munson!” your dad roared, kissing your mom’s cheek as she chuckled.

“you’re very charming, mr. munson.” your mother blushed as you rolled your eyes. even though he looked intimidating, at least he was very attractive. the conversation lasted as you didn’t want to pry at them. only it to be broken once your name was called. fuck.

“oh, and my daughter, y/n. i’m sure you’ve seen her.” your dad added as he immediately eyed you from the couch to greet the guest. you stood up, a little nervous as you shyly walked over to them, mustering out a small hello to the man. he seemed to find you cute as his grin widened.

“yes. i’ve seen her. pretty girl.” his voice lowered, as you met his eyes for a moment. pretty!? your cheeks went warm seeing his gaze stay on you as your dad roared out stories of you to him. he absently licked his lips, you swore you could’ve died right there and now. he just looks so hot. you averted his gaze, shameful already thinking about a man who’s a decade older than you. very shameful indeed.

and he called you pretty. you’d hope it was just not for kindness but to be true. you didn’t want to be that desperate knowing if it was true.

“y/n, honey, why don’t you set the table? and get a beer for your dad and mr. munson.” your mother requested as you obediently nodded. the evening transpired as the dinner table was loud as ever, your dad roaring fatherly laugh joining in as mr. munson seemed to charm him of his stories and jokes. you quietly ate your food, glancing at him from time to time to admire him. get a nice closer look at your girly crush.

he was seated next to your mom, your dad was seated always on the end of the table. you were seated in front of mr. munson, next to your dad, getting a nice view of him. he seemed nice, complimenting your mother’s cooking now. and he hasn’t talked to you which was no surprise. the older adults were talking and you’d guessed that he’d be focused on your parents.

“and i tell you this, munson—“ your dad roared as you munched on the peas and meatloaf. kinda boring you couldn’t do anything. the peas were a little sweet to your liking, probably your mother added a little too much sugar when she cooked it in salted butter to balance it out. you let out a quiet sigh, seeing the salt and pepper shaker in the far middle, you were about to move and grab it, yet a large hand came to view and handed it to you with ease. oh god, you’d have to thank him now! he grinned as you accepted it from his hand, blushing a bit seeing him eye you.

your gaze lifted up to meet the man’s eyes as you quietly thanked him in a shy tone. he still looked a bit intimidating to hold eye contact. “t-thank you, mr. munson.”

“no problem, sweets.” he says, winking. you weren’t sure if you felt your lungs being grip out but your heart was surely beating too fast. and under your shorts, you felt damp as ever. god, this man!

throughout the whole dinner, you’d be talking a bit as your dad would tell your childhood stories to his neighbor, who’d look at you from moment wherein you’d be glancing at him. it was embarrassing to think how many times you’ve met his eyes, chocolate brown orbs that would have a glint once you’d notice him staring back at you. your panties felt wetter, the shorts you were wearing were feeling tight. the whole room felt warm and you were slowly breaking in the inside.

“sweetie, grab a cold beer for mr. munson, will ‘ya?” your dad smiled as you nodded. standing up, a little aware of your shorts sticking to your ass. you should’ve changed earlier but that didn’t matter as you rounded to fridge just right behind you.

“you’re not married, munson?” your dad asked.

“no. still single. unfortunately.” he chuckled.

“oh, heaven’s why? you’re too handsome to be without someone, isn’t that right, honey?” your mom quipped as you opened the refrigerator, sighing at the gust of cool air brushing against your skin as you bended down to grab the beer in the far corner.

“well, i haven’t really settled in with someone yet. nothing really clicked back then.” his eyes stared at your ass, you grabbed the beer with a snicker seeing it in the far corner. unaware of the set of dangerous pairs of eyes staring at you with heat. your parents asked why as he replied, feeling his jeans tighten underneath the table,

his voice lowered as he gripped his fork tighter. “just waiting for the right one, i guess.” he replied, gulping seeing you stand up now. your ass still deliciously being hugged by those goddamn shorts. your parents unaware of their own neighbor eyefucking their daughter’s ass. you sat back down, giving him the beer as he gratefully grasped it, fingers brushing against yours. you looked at him seeing his gaze become somewhat hungry as you shied away. his touch sparking something inside your belly.

“thank you, sweetheart.” he grinned, you nodded, averting his stare, feeling a little naked in his gaze. that hungry aura to it, you didn’t know if you were overthinking or not but it must be all in your head that he’s being overly flirty without actually flirting.

“obedient is she?” your dad laughed as he patted your back as you smiled awkwardly. “she’s always been a good girl to us. helping us out even if she’s busy in college right now.”

“really? a good girl? haven’t broke rules yet, sweets?” he joked as your parents chuckled. you shook your head embarrassed as mr. munson licked his lips.

“nope. n-not yet.” you replied, still a little shy. even though it was a partial lie. you’ve rebelled only once and that was with a boy back in prom. usual teenage horniness. your parents didn’t know shit about that.

“keep it that away, sweetheart. you never know when you’ll be tempted to break some.” he added, smirking seeing you blush furiously knowing the meaning. your parents agreed to it as he never tore his gaze from you. intent to make you feel hot in your spot. it was so cute to see you squirm in his eyes, now he’s wondering if you’ll squirm and wriggle the same once your under him for real next time. your sly glances and stares were not so sly now seeing as he confirmed his suspicions the past weeks. he’s got you in his trap. but for now,

he’ll hold on to your obvious crush on him ‘til you get the courage to ask him for a good fuck that he’ll gladly agree.

｡･:*˚:✧｡

DAMN SEXUAL TENSION!!! 😫

[libby-for-life]

Ok how about yandere Lucifer trying to woo Adam in Hell with presents and Adam’s favorite meals

You are a good idea machine! I am nothing but a humble writer!

Adam sat uncomfortably on the sofa as Lucifer hugged him. His head was on the former archangel's chest and he hummed as he ran his fingers through Adam's hair. The image was probably comical considering how tall he was.

"Adam! I almost forgot! This is for you!" Lucifer let him go and Adam took his chance to sit up and away from the devil's embrace. Adam's jaw dropped. Lucifer was holding an electric guitar made out of red metal. It even had flames on the side.

"That looks fucking sick," Adam said before gazing at the former angel with a frown. "This is for me? What's the catch?"

When Lucifer nodded. "No catch. I mean, I wouldn't be opposed if you played for me, but overall it's for you." Adam couldn't keep the grin off his face as he held the guitar. He could play music now. Lucifer chuckled and gently cupped his face but Adam pulled away with a frown. He may like the gift, but that doesn't mean he liked all the forced proximity.

Lucifer bit his lip sadly but allowed him to stay away from him. "How about we get that all plugged up so you can rock on it?"

Adam sat at the table and squirmed a bit. Lucifer said that he was making dinner but he was a bit skeptical of it all. He had never seen the angel cook so he had no idea if it were good or bad.

Suddenly, Lucifer teleported into the spacious dining room holding a plate of steaming meat. "Ribs!" Adam cried out shocked. He hadn't had a good plate of ribs in a while. It smelled so good. Lucifer smiled as he set the plate down. Adam was well aware he was being stared at as he ate but he couldn't care less about that at the moment.

"Oh, you have a little something right there," Lucifer said pointing to his cheek. Adam shrugged and tried to wipe it off with his hand a few times but he must have kept missing because Lucifer just laughed.

"Let me." Instead of grabbing a napkin, Adam sat frozen as deceptively delicate fingers brushed his cheek and came back with BBQ sauce. A blush exploded on his face as Lucifer licked his thumb obscenely, long tongue wrapping around the appendage and sucking the sauce up slowly.

Adam let out a breath, ribs momentarily forgotten, as he watched the former angel suck on his thumb before letting go with a resounding pop. "Tasty." He said before standing up. His eyes were hooded. "I'll leave you to your meal. Give me a call if you need me."

Adam stood outside on a balcony, watching Hell's lights with a contemplative look. For once, it seemed quiet. Well as quiet as it could be in Hell, but Adam was just reveling in the silence of the night.

"I thought I might find you here," Lucifer said. Adam hummed but didn't say anything as the devil leaned against the railing next to him.

"You know, Hell doesn't look too much like a shit hole right now when we're this high," Adam commented, looking down below with a critical eye.

Lucifer laughed. "It has its moments." Lucifer turned to him with a gentle smile. "You look beautiful in this lighting." Adam blushed at the compliment. "Of course I do. I'm fucking Adam."

Lucifer bit his lip before leaning in closer. A hand found its way to his neck and brought him down to his level. Adam's eyes widened, his breath picked up and he let out an embarrassing whimper when he felt Lucifer's lips at the shell of his ear. "Can I kiss you?"

"Yes," he breathed out, and then Lucifer gave a bruising kiss. Tongues intertwined with each other but Lucifer soon took control and Adam moaned as he felt fingers brush his bulge. How was he already hard?

"You have no idea how beautiful you look," Lucifer murmured sweetly as they broke.

Lucifer felt happy. Finally, Adam was returning his touches and kisses. Charlie had suggested the whole wooing Adam. If all else failed, then he would have resorted to drastic measures to make him reciprocate his feelings. He didn't want to force his little lamb, but if it came down to it, a few love potions wouldn't have hurt.

He hugged Adam closer who grumbled in his sleep. It's a good thing he didn't need to use them.

[warnersister]

Show Me The Way Home, Honey

Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x Simpson!Reader

Summary: The men at top gun love a bit of sweetness, turn out a bit of helicopter honey was just the right amount.

Warnings: mentions of injury, head injury, parental death, angst, allusions to smut, fluff, parental fighting, plane crashes, it's a happy story i promise.

Flashbacks In Italics -> not my gif

All the aviators were gathering by the pool table, each wondering why their peers from years before surrounded them at the Hard Deck. Hangman had just taken a shot against Coyote before standing up, having recognised a familiar head of hair.

“Well if it ain’t Honey!” You stood at the bar, chatting with Penny while sipping on your second beer. You were famous at top gun, being Beau Simpson’s daughter after all. You were training at top gun around the same time as the rest of the pilots in the room, however flying the Air Ambulance and mountain rescue helicopters.

You turned around to the unforgettable voice, the face you were expecting stood before you, smirk adorning his tanned lips. “Hangman, you got old.” A few laughed at your remark but he just chuckled, pulling you into a hug as you embraced him tightly. “Didn’t expect to see you here, darlin’.” He hummed. “Could same the same for you, Jake.”

Your fame here in California wasn’t necessarily due to your father’s rankings, but the name you had made for yourself. It was your own decision to join the Navy, despite your fathers wishes to keep your feet safely planted on terrafirma - away from the dangers of the sky. But after almost a decade of your adamance and training, you were off, deployed on battleships or costal air bases - send to retrieve wounded or stranded fighter pilots when their missions had been unsuccessful.

God it must’ve been a decade since you’ve seen everyone, but these naval aviators couldn’t forget a face that easily - at least not yours.

You were 24, fresh from your required nursing training and now ready to earn your wings. You were accompanied by your father on your first day, getting a prologued lecture that you had yet to start paying attention too. “And watch out for those fast jet pilots. Don’t take no shit off of ‘em.” You raised a brow. “Why what’s wrong with fighter pilots?” You queries, your walk nearing to a close. “Long story short, the think with their dicks.” You scrunched your nose. “Jesus, dad couldn’t you have phrased that better?” He just shrugged and turned your shoulders to face him properly. “But I’m serious, if they try anything come tell me.” You nodded, a small smile on your lips. “Have a great day sweetie, I love you.” He kissed your forehead and gave you a big hug. “I’m starting pilot training, not kindergarten - I’ve been through two years of naval training and six of nursing.” You laughed, just still reciprocated. “I know, but your still my little girl, the only person I got.” Your mum died a while back, it still stung but you both knew you could always rely on the other. “I know, Cyclone.”

You started walking towards the hangar, but heard behind you “it’s admiral to you, lieutenant.” You shook your head, and headed for your first day - the first step into the rest of your life.

The hangar was decorated accordingly, at least ten sparkling and fresh F-18s sat, just waiting for their aviator to fly it. You continued walking, silently passing an ongoing lesson as you spotted your own adjacent to the helipad.

The clicking of boots was loud against the floor, echoing off of the metal of the hangar - the curious minds of the navy’s best fighters looking behind them to find the cause of the sound and god, they weren’t disappointed. There you walked, a stern look on your face, hair trailing gently as a slight breeze blew through the build, aviator glasses sitting atop of your head, and eyes glittering with adoration as you examined the aircraft.

Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin was one of those watching you, a low whistle exerted his lips. “What have we here?” As he said that, Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw lowered his glasses to get a better look than he was already getting. “Now she is mighty fine.” Hangman continued, but Rooster couldn’t say anything, the only thing leaving his mouth was a trail of drool - he wasn’t alone, quite a few of the trainees now distracted, rather than listening to their instructor.

There were three of you training to fly the copter. A girl called Darla and a boy named Simon were both in your shoes. Your first day you were taken for a ride by your own teacher, Hurricane.

You had heard a few of the students mention a nearby bar that was overly friendly to the top gun pilots, so you assumed it wouldn’t hurt giving it a once over that evening. “Penny?” You asked, and the bar hostess turned around at the sound of her name, eyes lighting up when she spotted you. “Oh my god I haven’t seen you since-” She trailed off when she ran over to hug you. “My mum passed, yeah… been off training I’m officially an aviator now.” She raised her brows. “Beau Simpson allowed his daughter to join the navy?” “Not really, but not got much’ve of a say in it now!” You laughed. “Make sure those fast jet pilots keep it in her pants.” She raised her brows. “Damn are they really that bad? Thought my dad was just being dramatic.”

Penny swung back around the busting bar and asked what she could get you. “Just a beer, please.” “Coming up, sweetie!”

You took your drink and headed to the juke box, opting for ‘you've lost that loving feeling’ by The Righteous Brothers. You always loved that song, your dad playing it you when he spoke about when he himself was a top gun graduate. “You lost that lovin’ feeling, sugar?” You heard from beside you. There stood a tanned man, broad shoulders and toned arms that he was definitely flexing, a Hawaiian shirt and a pair of aviators to accompany the moon beyond the windows. “Ain’t lost it just yet.” You replied, taking a drink from your glass. “Names Bradshaw, call sign Rooster.” He offered his hand. “Simpson, call sign Honey.” You took it but instead of shaking it, he brought it to his lips and kissed it gently. “Mhm, sweet light honey, I get the name.” You laughed at the man. “Good to meet you, Bradshaw.” “Whatcha flying?” He asked. “How’d you know I’m flying?” “Saw ya in the hangar.” “Stalking me now?” “Always been drawn to the gorgeous ones.”

You eyed him, before replying. “Helicopters. I’m a nurse, you?” “F-18s, honey.” These were the ones you were warned about, the fighter pilots. But still, you were your fathers daughter - never one for really listening to instructions. “Using my call sign now? Could've at least bought me a drink first.” “Ain’t a call sign more like an observation. PENNY! ANOTHER FOR THIS MIGHTY FINE GAL, PLEASE!”

“How ya been?” He leant his arm against the bar, trapping you slightly. “I’m good hangman, I’m very good, you?” He chuckled and hummed in agreement.

you had been a member of top gun for a few weeks now, and you were enduring a PT session, courtesy of Hurricane. "Up, down." Push ups were gruelling after a full day of strength training, you'd been training so long even some of the fighters were calling it a day. through your peripheral you noticed someone perch beside you and you could only guess who it was when they started doing push ups at double the rate that you were going. "Give it up, Hangman." you huffed, pushing yourself down again. "Come on honey, double time!" and he nudged his hip against your own, sending you off balance. "JAKE! FOR GODS SAKE!" you groaned, keeling over and hitting him.

"Stay away from my pilots, jet boy." Hurricane grunted. "You're dismissed Honey, great work today." "Thank you, captain." Hangman offered his hand once you had gotten your breath back and you took it, heaving you up. he pulled you so close that your chest smashed against his. "Woah if you wanted to kiss you, just had to say darlin' after all, you're looking mighty fine." You rolled your eyes and pushed him off - "In your dreams, Seresin." "You're certainly in my dreams." He slung an arm around your shoulder and winked at you, escorting you to the showers before he had to leave you.

"You finally shake off the leach?" A woman also in the showers asked, a sarcastic smile on her lips. "Only thing stopping him was the female sign on the door." You replied and both shared a laugh, "Phoenix, you must be the famous Honey." "That's my name," You grinned. "You gonna be down at the Hard Deck tonight?" You thought for a moment. "Sure, see you there."

"Well how-howdy little, lil lady!" A voice exclaimed from behind you and you spun around at the voice. A little boy wearing a small pair of western boots, belt wrapped around his waist about three times to hold up the flared jeans he was wearing, vest and a pink Hawaiian shirt hanging open. He tipped his cattleman hat, and lowered his aviator glasses that were about a hundred sizes too big for him, almost falling off of his nose when he moved to rest his hands sassily on his hips. You knelt in front of the boy and gasped, raising your hand and fluttering your eyelashes as you feigned flattery. "Well hello handsome, don't you look nice?" He dropped his facade and giggled, stomping his little feet. you grabbed the boy as you stood up and sat him on the bar, keeping your hands on his waist so he didn't fall.

Hangman cleared his throat. "Who's this?"

you were stood at the pool table playing against Coyote while he was actively trying to flirt with you, just humming when he was bragging about some trip himself and hangman had managed to pull off on their flight today, before you were saved by Phoenix brining you a drink over. 'Life saver' you had mouthed to her, and she just nodded with a wink, pulling you away when you had won the game, Coyote much too busy trying to swoon you to realise the eight ball had already been played. "Hey, darlin'!" You turned to see Rooster, smirk adorning his face as he approached you. "Hey Brad," he began to engage in conversation before everyone's attention was drawn to where Penny's voice directed. "Beau, didn't think I'd see you anytime soon!" He laughed and hugged her, "Still human Pen, just getting better pay." All top gun members throats went dry, their relaxed evening seemingly turning into a drill session within seconds. he looked at the group and waved you over with a smile, everyone's jaws hanging open when he pecked your forehead and started up talk. "Hey dad!"

"Holy shit." Payback groaned. "Simpson, of course." Bradley said. "Well, you know what they say - get the father to like ya, get the daughter." Hangman said as he began approaching the two of you. "No one fucking says that, Bagman." Phoenix remarked, but he was away before he could be stopped.

"Admiral!" Hangman laid a hand on your shoulder and grinned at his superior, your fathers eyebrows shooting up as he looked between the two of you. you did a small eyeroll before shrugging the hand off of your shoulder and looked on, amused as he tried to sweettalk your dad.

you were soon distracted, though by a sweet tune emitting from the bar's ancient piano. you looked to see Bradley playing the starting chords to an infamous Jerry Lee Lewis song and you ran along to join him, pushing across the bench with your hip to simultaneously sing.

"GOODNESS, GRACIOUS, GREAT BALLS OF FIRE!"

"What'd I tell you about fighter pilots? They're bad news." Your father grumbled under his breath as he drove you back to your temporary home. "They mean well." you hummed, but turned your head against the head rest to look at him. "I'm also not stupid- humouring Hangman is just funny." There was silence for a moment. "What about Rooster?" "What about him?" "I've seen those eyes he looks at you with." "What eyes, dad?" You scoffed with a laugh. "You know, those ones." You turned back to face the darkened road. "They're the only eyes he's got."

Before you could respond to Hangman, the boy groaned loudly. "Mama, I'm thirsty!" He thumped his boot against the bar slightly with a pout at those quivering lips. "Hey, what'd I tell you about stomping?" You hummed, tone gettng sterner. "Don't stomp the foot unless i want a boot in the but." He giggled at the final word. You smiled at him, glad he listened to you at his little tantrums. "You're just like your daddy." You rolled your eyes. "Now what can i get my little cowboy to drink?" "Orange juice please, mama!"

"Mama?!"

After thirty weeks of aggressive training, you had finally been out on several 'dummy' rescue missions. "So today, pilots we'll be focusing on-" The siren which had laid dormant since you arrived at top gun started bleating loudly with an iterative red beacon, accompanied by a female voice overing the neighbouring intercom. "Requested: lieutenant Simpson, Honey, lieutenant Pierce, bear, lieutenant Shirley, Temple, two F-18 fighter jets down at Toro Canyon Park, immediate medical backup required." The Captain looked at you guys. "Show time pilots, show me what you've got." And before you knew it, you were in the air and navigating your way towards the billowing smoke. You landed just off of the treeline, and managed to find the wreckages rather quickly - but it wasn't the planes you were concerned about, it was the pilots.

Two parachutes 100 feet away from one another, seemig like a collision below the allowed guidelines, you were guessing a mock dog-fight, "I've got this one." You ran towards one of the victims and your peers headed to the other, each carrying your medical bag.

you peeled to parachute away from them, and gasped when you saw a knocked out Rooster laying motionless on the grass. "Bradley!" You shook his shoulders, seeing no signs of response so moving him into the recovery position. After checking there was no obvious nor outstanding damage to his head, you removed his helmet to see a nasty gash bleeding right above where his helmet had cracked. "Brad," You kept talking, attempting to make him conscious. "Stay with me, Bradley." you began to apply pressure to where the bleed was, making a make-shift bandage covering the top of his skull until you could get him back to base.

"Hey Honey" you heard his voice rasp as he attempted to raise to his elbows but you pushed him back down. "Hi Roo, just gotta stay there for me, got a nasty gash on your head here." You explained, resting his head against the ground. "You're fuckin' gorgeous." He giggle, looking at your eyes with a dreamily-dazed expression. "Okay, Brad seems like a concussion." "No, no, you're the prettiest woman I've ever seen, wanna marry ya." He continued to blurt out. you tried to ignore the fluttering of butterflies in your gut, just shaking your head. "You don't know what you're sayin' Brad, just gotta stay still for me." You secured a neck brace. "No i know what i'm saying, i wanna take you out and propose and fuck ya so hard that you scream, then ill make love to ya so we have our own little Bradshaw-" He continued to mumble. you breath faltered and your heart skipped a beat at the thought. "There you go, Bradley. Ready to get you home." You secured him as Temple came over to help you, heaving up the other end of the stretched, and moving back to the helicopter, Bradley shutting his eyes in the meantime.

"Who was the other?" You asked. "Hangman" she replied with a scoff mixed with a laugh as you joined her. "Shocker. He injered too?" You asked and she shook her head no. "Was sat up awake when we got to him, damaged ego but nothing else - still taking him to medical to get a once over though." You nodded in response, giving the thumbs up Bear when Rooster was secured. Hangman took a sip of his complementary water, "Hey, Honey" You nodded. "Hangman" "What's up with Bradshaw?" "Concussion, head trauma, need to get back to medical to confirm anything else." he leant forward and placed a hand on the centre of your back and surveyed Rooster. "Back off, Hangman." He raised his hands with a chuckle, before moving backwards and allowing you to work.

You'd worked some overtime that day to wait with Bradley and make sure he could get discharged that evening so that's why you were sat beside him, having just replaced his glucose drip feeding into his arm. The clocked ticked over to eight but you didn't mind, you were move than happy to watch the sunset outside of the window in silence, especially beside Bradley - even if he's knocked out cold.

A sudden cough withdrew you from your thoughts as Rooster's eyes fluttered open. "Hey, sweetheart." "Don't you dare sit up." You warned with a glare, noticing the way his arms shifted below him and he relaxed again with a small smile. "Now this is a view I could wake up to everyday." He said. "Yeah, the sunset's beautiful-" "No, I mean you, I could wake up to you everyday." He spoke softly and cut you off, looking at you with a gentle stare.

"How are you feeling?" You ignored his statement. "I'm okay, seriously, just a bit tired." You smiled. "I stitched up your head, so no flying because you also suffered a concussion-" "I meant what I said." You stopped talking and gave him a questioning expression. "I'm in love with you." "Bradley-" He reached up and kissed you softly and you relaxed into it. "You been growing a moustache, Bradshaw?" "Do y' like it?" You hummed as you nodded. "Good 'cause it's stayin'."

"Yes, I'm his mom, aren't I baby?" You pinched his cheek and asked Penny for an OJ "Oh my! I didn't realise there was a big scary cowboy in my bar, here's your juice box, sir." Penny curtseyed at your son. "Much obly-obul- oby-lysed obliged, ma'am" He smiled, blowing bubbled into the carton through the small straw.

"Who's his dad-" "Nick! Buddy, what'd I tell ya about running from the truck!?" voice bellowed from the doorway, you turned to your husband, who's eyes softened at the sight of you when he removed the aviator glasses from his face. He walked over and grabbed you waist, pulling you flush against his body and leaning down you kiss you lovingly. "Oh I get it, you saw a mighty fine lady and decided she was more important than sticking with your poor old dad, I get it." He said to your son, nipping at your neck with his teeth.

Hangman gritted his teeth and forced a smile and acknowledged you husband, "Rooster."

You spent the next three months sneaking around with Bradley, hidden winks, ghost-like touches, stolen kisses, and honestly a few on-base fucks. All secret until one day your dad had decided to visit your medical station, where you were laid on the bed against Bradley's shoulder while he left kisses in your hair and drew shapes on your hips. "Hey hon-" You father walked in and the two of you immediately jumped off of one another. He froze in the doorway, "What the fuck!" He about-turned on his heels, slamming the door shut behind him before storming off. "Oh god-" You stood up, but was pulled back by Bradley. "He was gonna find out eventually," "He's gonna disown me, Brad-" You had never seen you father that mad before.

"Bradshaw." The group heard from behind their lesson. "Admiral," Rooster turned to see him, and the group hollered like a group of school-kids teasing the man as he was lead away from the hangar and towards Admiral Simpson's office. They sat in silence momentarily, Cyclone staring out of the window and taking deep breaths, assumingly trying to calm himself.

"What're you playin' at, Bradshaw?" He asked after a while. "Excuse me, sir?" He turned towards Bradley - crossing his arms over his chest. "My daughter, seriously?! My only fucking daughter?" His tone of voice rose with every syllable. "With all due respect, sir-" "No, you do not get to talk. My daughter if the only thing I have in life and the only thing I can really protect her from now she joined the navy is scum like you." "Scum?" "You fast-jet pilots are all the same. Can't keep your dicks in your pants, well I'm telling you now - you stay the fuck away from her-" Bradley cut him off. "If I'm not mistaken, you were once, too a fast-jet pilot and that means you lived up to your own assumptions, and I know she's the only one you got because your wifes's gone," "Shut your mouth Rooster, and listen-" "No-" Rooster stood up, his chair being shoved abck against the wall behind him. "You listen. We may not've been together that long, but I fucking love her and I wanna marry her whether you like it or not, maybe you should look at yourself as a fahter, she's been stayin' with me, balling her eyes out for the past week 'cause the only person she's got left ignores her calls and pretty much disowns her! That's your fuckin' problem, now if you dont mind, Admiral, I'm goin' home to the love of my fuckin' life and you have absolutely no authority to stop me." Bradley spat with venom, slamming the door shut behind him and heading home to you.

Cyclone gained a lot of respect for Rooster, that day.

"Hello," Your dad walked into the hangar where you were with Bradley and the two of yours conversation end quickly as you look towards your father with a blank and unreadable expression. "Sweetheart I'm so sorry," "I don't want your apologies, dad." You grunted. "Want me to leave, hon?" Bradley asked, but your father answered him instead "no, i need you here too." "Look since your mom died your the only thing I have I'd live in rags on the street if it meant you were happy, i couldn't stop you joining the navy and i was so scared, what if something happened to you? And i knew from working here for nearly a decade what the aviator reputation was. When i saw you with Rooster i felt I'd failed the last part of you i could protect. but i know, you're not a little girl anymore and I shouldn't have reacted that way, I'm sorry."

You said nothing, but stood up and hugged him tightly, tears apparent in your eyes. "It's alright, sorry for going against your wishes." You reciprocated, "You are a Simpson after all." You both laughed, and your father held out an arm. "Come on Bradshaw, I can deal with you as a son-in-law, I guess."

"Bagman." You husband nodded, mouth pursing into a thin line. "He yours?" Bradley grinned, cockily. "He sure as hell is, aint ya, Nick?" "Yeah, dad!" The boy giggled.

"Er, I think Coyotes callin' me." And he walked away, to absolutely no one as Bradley chuckled victoriously and snaked his arms around you. "You scared him off, Brad." "Good, shouldn't even be lookin' at ya, you're all mine." He pecked your cheek, pulling yourself and your son along with you, and towards the piano, still sat in its spot in the Hard Deck.

It was graduation day, all the top gun graduated gathered to celebrate, Bradley raising his trophy above his head smugly, showing it off to his fellow pilots and the accompanying civillians.

"Bradshaw, congrats on getting top gun." Cyclone approached him. "Thank you, Admiral." He thought for a moment. "Can I have your blessing?" Cyclone looked at him, confused. "Can I marry her?" He was nervously sweating, gulping on his saliva and pulling at the collar on his neck. Your father immediately smiles and shook Bradley's hand. "Of course you can."

Your wedding day was like no other, a runway close to the ocean, a flyover from Phoenix and a few others from Top Gun, your dress was gorgeous, Bradley cried as you walked down the isle, when your father gave you away, when you said your vows, he never stopped crying. God, he was over the moon happy. "I love you, Honey." "I love you, Rooster."

even your honey moon was pure bliss, although the resort was gorgeous you hardly left the hotel room, Bradley too busy fucking you into the sheets and trying to put a baby to you just like he had promised when you had recovered him from that botched training exercise.

Now here you were, perched on the leg of your husband, your four year old son singing along to the tune as Bradley sang to him, playing the piano simultanous to circling your waist.

"GOODNESS, GRACIOUS, GREAT BALLS OF FIRE!"

and Nick had called it a night, you and Bradley said goodbyes to your friends at the bar who had also been called back to top gun, you saying goodbye to Maverick when your husband wasn't looking, you headed to the truck. "How about we get home and I fuck another baby into ya'?" Bradley asked against your lips, between desperate kisses. "Take me to bed or loose me forever, Rooster." "Show me the way home, Honey."

And the men all stood there in silence, sickened to their stomachs, their sweet Honey stolen away by no other than Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw. Damn.

[upsidedownwithsteve]

Hi! Sorry if I'm double dipping here, but can I PLEASE request going down on camp Eddie for the first time? They're just so infatuated and so in love and I know he'd be just totally in awe of Michigan 🫠🫠🫠

oh cheeky

18+

It was bold of you, that was for sure.

But the last week of camp was a busy mess of games, tears and helping kids pack. The summer was at its warmest, afternoons spent by the lake with kayaks and too many bottles of sunscreen, zipping kids into life jackets and trying not to stare at Eddie when he took his shirt off, running down the dock with Steve to cannonball into the water.

He grabbed you after he emerged, soaking wet, curls dripping, silver chain glittering in the sun. He was more tanned than the beginning of camp, July making sure he was sunkissed and all freckled, rosy cheeks and sunburned nose. You let him pull you into him until the kids squealed and yelled, dodging his incoming kiss for the sake of your audience, your face too warm when he grinned and laughed.

It didn’t stop you staring at him for the rest of the day though, hooded eyes and lips all red from how you’d chewed at them, restless and itching to get the boy alone. And it certainly didn’t stop you from catching him after dinner, a rushed goodbye waved to Jonathan and Chrissy as you excused yourselves and grabbed the boy by the hand, ignoring his questions of “where are you taking me, woman?”

Your cabin was too far. Eddie’s was filled with Steve and Hawkins, and god, you really didn’t have the patience to try to find Eddie’s van in the dark. So you dragged him behind the gym, derelict and hidden by the shadows the late evening brought, the sun lining the sky with red and pink at the lowest point of the horizon.

Just barely enough light left for you to not trip over the logs and forgotten beer bottles that littered the back of the huge building. You pushed Eddie against the wall, corrugated metal vibrating with the force of it and Eddie grunted, barely able to ask what was going on before you were on him.

Hungry, impatient, a different kind of kiss than you’d shared before and Eddie let you do what you pleased, groaning wildly into your mouth as you rugged at his hair so he’d bend down for you. His hands snuck their way up the sides of your staff shirt, wide and warm, fingers spanning the dips between your ribs, thumbs rubbing circles under your breasts.

You were making little noises for him, needy sounds that were driving him insane and when you pulled back to let you both suck in a breath, Eddie’s chest was heaving and his eyes were wide.

“Not that I’m complaining, like, at all,” Eddie rasped, hands still kneading the dough of your hips, making sure you didn’t stray too far from him. “But what did I do to deserve this?”

You grinned, a bright, pretty look on your face and Eddie would have sworn he saw some kind of determination set in. You shrugged, too casual. “I dunno, I just missed you today.”

Eddie smiled, eyes soft and fond on you. He swallowed, Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat and shit, you wanted to nip at it, get your mouth on every part of him. “Yeah? Fuck, you’re too sweet—”

You dropped to your knees.

“Oh fuck, shitshitshit, babe, Jesus, I—” Eddie had never suffered from heart problems but he was pretty fucking sure this is what cardiac arrest felt like. “What’re you doing?” He stammered it out, voice shot, cracking in the middle and you huffed out a soft laugh, ‘cause wasn’t it obvious?

“I was gonna show you how much I’d missed you,” you explained, letting your hands press gently to his hips. They bucked under your touch and you bit down on a smile. “But I don’t have to, if you don’t want me to.”

Eddie had taken care of you in his cabin and you’d yet to really return the favour, barely any spare time being able to be stolen. You really wanted to return the favour. You smiled up at him, soft, patient, fingers running gently over the waistband of his jeans, nails tapping on the metal button.

“Shit, you don’t have to,” Eddie swallowed audibly, and he didn’t seem to know if he wanted to keep staring down at you on your knees for him, or let his head drop back onto the gym wall. “S’okay, I don’t need— fuck, I’m not expecting—”

You leaned in, hand hitching up the hem of his camp shirt so you could press a kiss to his hip bone, admiring the trail of hair across his tummy, the lines of muscles and soft skin there. “I want to,” you told him simply. “Can I?”

You waited, fingers curling over the button, eyes on Eddie’s and he looked pink in the cheeks, flushed and already fucked out, brown eyes darker in the shadows. He nodded, let out a weak noise that sounded like your name and a moan mixed into one.

He lost it when you got your mouth on him, the soft heat of your lips and tongue making his head fall back and drop to the wall and with a thud. You looked up through your lashes, watching the way his jaw tensed before falling slack, neck bared and eyes clenched shut. His hand were white knuckled fists by his side and you took one palm off his thigh so you could guide his to your hair.

Eddie looked down then, fingers curling into your stands, loose enough that he wasn’t pulling, only holding and he whined, a desperate sound that came from the back of his throat and had you clenched your thighs together.

“Christ, oh fuck, oh fucking hell,” he was babbling, staring down at you with glazed over eyes and lips that were parted, breathing heaving out of him in heavy puffs. “Look at you, you’re unreal, how’d I get so lucky? Huh? Jesus Christ, your mouth, baby, shit.”

You curled your tongue around his head and sucked, making him groan something filthy and you pulled off of his cock with a dirty pop, only to grin and shush him, hands pinching at his thigh. “Teddy, you gotta be quiet,” you laughed.

“Awh, god, no—” his knees almost buckled when you wrapped your lips back around him, his cock hard and slick with your spit, doing your best to take every inch of him. “Don’t call me Teddy when you’re doing that, fuck, you’re gonna kill me.”

You hummed at his words, hand gripping his thigh tight as you wiggled closer, the tip of his cock nudging the back of your throat. You swallowed around him, smug.

He was done, gone, dead, weak. He cried out, hands gripping your hair a little tighter than before, his expression one of bliss and absolute amazement. “Holy fuck,” he declared, still too loud, “you actually want to kill me.”

….

[scekrex]

Ok.

Adam X Male Reader (ofc).

But.

Reader erotically dances or just pole dances in revealing clothes for Adam to get off to.

While music blasts in the background.

Okay so the song I chose for this fic is 'Shut Me Up' by Mindless Self Indulgence bc I thought it fits, the cursive written shit r the lyrics blasting in the background.

Make me cum

pairing: Adam x male!reader

warnings: language, pole dancing, sexual dancing, lap dancing, hand jobs

note: not beta read bc fuck you I don't have beta readers

The bass, the rock, the mic, the treble / I like my coffee black just like my metal

Adam’s golden eyes were glued to your body, in admiration he watched as you moved your body ever so fluently, so smoothly. There you were, kneeling on the floor as you thrust your hips up into nothing but air and the brunette did not understand how you managed to make something simple as thrusting your hips up into nothing look so fucking sexy. In a fluent motion you got up from the floor, with a look in your eyes that made Adam feel hunted, that made you look like a predator who just spotted his prey. You stepped closer to the first man, rounded the armchair he was sitting on, then stopped behind him. Your hands grabbed his shoulders firmly and you pulled the backrest of the chair flush against your barely covered chest, that caused a surprised yelp to fall from his lips and the back of his head hit your sternum. Hazy eyes looked up at you, hazy eyes filled with lust and desire and yet they managed to hold so much love for you as well. The hand on the first man’s dick stuttered as your breath hit his ear and you whispered, “Enjoying yourself?” Because fuck yeah, he was enjoying himself, he was enjoying the show you gave him even more though. He wanted to grab you by your waist, pull you in, bury his dick deep inside you and push you over the edge with him - but you had made it clear that if you were to give him a dance like that, a show even, he was not allowed to touch you in any form or way, the only person allowed to touch were you.

‘Cause I can’t wait for you to knock me up / In a minute, minute, in a fuckin’ minute

Your hands roamed over his chest, lightly pulling Adam’s chest hair, you drew a delicious sounding moan from the brunette and he arched his back in such a pretty way for you, it was truly a shame that this would get him nowhere today. Because today he was at your mercy, he would cum when you allowed him to and not just verbally, this time you had to physically push him over the edge first, the only assistant Adam had was his hand, the rest was yours to take care of. And let’s just say that you knew quite well what you were doing. “Fuck, Y/N,” the brunette breathed out heavily as his eyes locked with yours, the wicked grin on your lips was something he wasn’t quite sure if he liked yet but when your hand covered the hand he had wrapped around his dick, when you squeezed lightly, he lost the strength to keep his eyes open for any longer.

I can’t wait for you to knock me up / In a minute, minute, in a second

The music that was blasting through your apartment was loud enough to swallow Adam’s moans for the public - especially for those fucking noisy kind of neighbors you had, but not for you. You heard every little sound he made. You withdrew your hand from Adam’s erection as quick as you had been to wrap it around the first man’s hard on, making the brunette whine at the loss of friction. Adam was used to teasing, he had been your boyfriend for a fucking while, of course he was used to teasing, but there had never been teasing without an reward so whatever it is that was happening, Adam wasn’t able to wrap his mind around it fully. The only clear thought that his mind was capable of producing was ‘Get him in your lap and fuck him mindless’. And he wasn’t very subtle about his thought as his hands reached behind him, clawing on your shoulders, trying to get a proper grip on you so he could lift you over his shoulder and get you to sit in his lap, his brain had completely forgotten about the no touching rule you had made so clear in the beginning. He had been created to reproduce, it was in his nature to get his dick wet - at least that was what the leader of the exorcists kept telling himself.

I can’t wait for you to shut me up and make me hip like badass

You pulled away from his grip instantly, slapped his hands playfully to remind you of who was in charge of all of this. “No touching,” your voice sounded so firm, so dominant that Adam was quick to drop his hand. He wanted you to keep talking, wanted you to step into his view again and continue to dance for him, he wanted whatever it was you were offering and drown in it. So when he felt you stepping away from the back of the chair and you appeared on his left side, he thanked God for listening to his wishes. “If you touch me again, I’m off of you for good. No more dancing, no more touching. Then you simply won’t cum,” and the eager nod Adam gave your words was telling you all you needed to know, the man was desperate, too far gone to actually speak words, too far gone to disagree because he wanted to climax so badly, felt like he would die if you would deny him his orgasm. So all he could do truly was to agree to the words spoken by you.

I can’t wait for you to shut me up / Shut it up

You swung your leg over Adam’s and your naked asscheeks were quick to meet his bare thighs, the brunette’s head lulled backwards, hit the top of the armchair’s backrest as it did and a throaty moan fell from his slightly parted lips. “Touch me and all of this comes to an end, and trust me when I tell you,” you once again grabbed a hold of his shoulders, a harsh pull forced the first man’s upper body to collide with yours and he felt as if the air got knocked out of his lungs. You moved your hips a little, trying to find a position that was somewhat comfortable. That position was found when Adam pulled his hand off of his dick and his erection found its place right between your asscheeks. Good. “Holy fucking shitballs,” the brunette underneath you cursed under his breath as his eyes watched your every move. His hands had gripped the armrests of the chair and he was digging his nails into the soft fabric in order to keep himself from reaching out for your body. He wanted to touch you, to make you experience the same amount of pleasure you were giving him, he also wanted to simply lift you up and carry you over to the couch and fuck you silly. HIs mind was telling him to do all sorts of things to you that he knew you would like, but he wasn’t allowed to and you weren’t complaining about the boner in your underwear. So he remained seated and kept his hands to himself, even though that was fucking hard to do.

I don’t buy your body right now / I’m almost over my body right now

And then you started grinding your hips against his, you were giving him a lap dance. And Adam had to admit, he understood why people were barely able to keep it together during those, because he himself was struggling hard with the no touching rule you had laid out. It felt like torture and a blessing at the same time, though he was sure it would feel even better if he were allowed to grab your hips and guide them a little. This way the only active thing he was allowed to do was meeting your thrusts, matching your pace and watching you move your body in the most divine way Adam had ever seen. Because you didn’t just stop at simply moving your hips against his, no, that would be boring to do so. Like before, you were putting on a show for the first man, you stripped out of the bit of fabric that had been just long enough to cover your nipples and as soon as that was off you roamed your hands over your body in ways that you knew Adam would do. It was visibly driving the brunette insane and you had to admit that you liked teasing him so much more than you had thought you ever would.

I’m on my way to the party right now / I don’t buy your body right now.

And just when Adam thought you had settled for a position that you would stay in until he would eventually orgasm, you pushed yourself off his lap and went back to fully dancing for him. And don’t get him wrong, he appreciated your dancing, especially because you made it look so easy and sexy at the same time, but he also appreciated friction. Friction that you had just taken away from him without the slightest bit of a warning. A whine of your name fell from his lips as his eyes continued to watch you - it was this moment that he fully learned to like the pole you had convinced him to get installed a couple months ago, this was the first time he actively watched you using it. And holy fucking shit, your dancing before had been good, magnificent even, but seeing you poledancing? Yeah that was truly something else entirely.

I’m almost over my body right now / I’m on my way to the party right now

The brunette’s hand was back on his dick in an instant and you couldn’t hide the soft chuckle his quick reaction caused, not that you had tried very hard anyway. “C’mon big guy,” your voice sounded playful, inviting and yet taunting at the same time and the first man was so overwhelmed by everything going on that he found himself unable to respond. “Show me how much you appreciate my skills and my effort,” the taller male that was watching you knew that you just gave him the verbal permission to cum and while he would’ve loved to do so, he needed a little something to push him off the edge, just a little more than he was able to give himself. A little something of you, preferably.

Because the break, the break, the break

Your legs wrapped around the ple tightly as your hands let go, you bent your body backwards until your palms were pressed firmly against the ground. That’s when you untangled your legs and pushed yourself off the pole, stopping right in front of Adam. Your hand traced up his inner leg in a teasing manner and yet that was enough to cause the first man to fall apart completely. With a loud, throaty moan of your name, that sounded more like he was cursing you out if you were honest, he spilled his load and came undone. He covered his milky skin with the white fluid that kept spilling from his dick like he hadn’t orgasmed in weeks - which wasn’t the case at all. But Adam was simply the type of guy who would be able to fill buckets with his cum, God had created him to reproduce after all. “That’s my good boy,” you hummed with a sly grin on your lips and Adam simply turned his head away, facing the wall instead of you as he mumbled a weak, “Eat dick.” And usually you’d drop to your knees and do him the favor, but the first man seemed kinda spent at that moment so instead you gave him time to recover as your wings wrapped around the taller male to push him off the chair and into your arms.

[katsukikitten]

Adam invites you to a rock show of one of his favorite bands. He doesn't buy your ticket, he doesn't pick you up, doesn't wait for you by the door of the venue, doesn't buy you a drink, doesn't make sure you're protected from the mosh pit either. What he does do is start to corral you to the bathrooms near the end of the set when they "play the shit songs" he doesn't like. Grabbing onto your jaw so he can keep his mouth melded to yours as he walks you backwards into the men's restroom, into the only stall there. It's dirty, smells like beer and piss, the mirror is broken and floor to ceiling is covered in stickers and sharpie. He turns you around and flips up your pretty skirt, hushes over your "no not here" each time you say it. Cranes your neck cradles your jaw and keeps his hoppy and smoky tasting tongue in your mouth. Metal clacking against your teeth from the barbell of his tongue ring that you're starting to think is for aesthetic only and surely not for pleasure.

He doesn't prep you, doesn't touch your clit or scissor your cunt open to take him, nothing to prepare you for his thick long cock that he shoves into you with one brutal thrust. Swallows your yelp and coos at you that you'll be wet soon and his only mercy is a slow rock of his hips until you're soaking his thick happy trail. Groaning when he can finally hear the squelch of your cunt as he thrusts into you with enough force your skin claps against his. He doesn't care when other men come in, doesn't slow down or stop. Does little to swallow your moans and you start to wonder if he fucks you harder when he hears someone enter.

When the drunk men jeer and hollar about how lucky that guy is as you're on tip toes grabbing onto the sticky wall as he fucks you stupid. Think his free hand reaches lower between your bodies when you make eye contact with a few of the men peeking in through the slats of the stall.

"Dont look at 'em." Is his only growl, forcing your neck to crane even more so to make eye contact at him, "You look at me when you cum."

Letting his long fingers abuse your clit until you're spasming around his cock before he's spilling inside of you, pushing against his final sloppy ruts before the realization hits you, makes your heart sink into your stomach like a fucking brick.

That Adam probably went in raw.

And he doesn't help clean you up, doesn't fix your underwear or your skirt. Just hits the stall door to scare off the peeping tom's before he's exiting.

He doesn't wait for you by the doors, doesn't look for you in the crowd as the encore happens, he doesn't walk you to your car, and he doesn't text to see if you got home okay.

But he does text you at 3am a week later

u up