#me? obsessed with this asshole? nah

[keylana-dragon]

okay gow fandom i really need to make some shitposts lemme make some shitposts

maybe i will delete it later maybe not

(oh also hi hermes fans)

[gremlingottoosilly]

I met a guy in the Summer (dilf!Konig x fem!Reader)

Your boyfriend is an asshole. Luckily, his hot dad just returned from deployment. CW and Tags: Cheating, dub-con, size kink, daddy kink, age gap(reader in 20s, Konig is early 40s), Konig is a pervert, slightly obsessive Konig, love(and lust) at first sight, fingering, dom!Konig Word count: 3713 AO3

“Just one more game, babe, don’t be a buzzkill. I don’t want to end at a loss.” You didn’t want to be a buzzkill, of course. You simply wanted to be a good girlfriend, have some domestically cozy date, and for your boyfriend to at least try to put an effort into being with you. It wasn’t much to ask for, really. You hoped so, at least. You didn’t want to be an annoying, nagging girlfriend who only ever waits for another reason to yell at him, but your patience started to run thin. 

You spend the past three hours either listening to his apathetic rambling about the shows he watched – really, you wanted to invest in stuff he liked, but an abnormally large amount of animes he talked about had 1000-year-old girls who looked like they were 10, wearing inappropriate outfits, and you started to raise the alarm. 

You also watched him play – and also listened to his rage quitting and angry voice messages to his team that, honestly, made you slightly anxious. You never liked loud people, people who were so easy to rage about something as silly as some colorful video game with too many characters to look after. 

So, like a good girlfriend would – you wanted to be a good girlfriend, he was such a nice guy before you started dating, and you need something to think about besides the tremendous amount of study work you are doing for college – you decided to go and look for snacks. Maybe bring something for him as well. 

— I’ll find something to eat, alright? 

He didn’t respond at first, so you shook his shoulder. Your boyfriend took off his headphones with annoying look on his face, half-turning to look at you. You gulped, suddenly feeling like a child in front of the principal – not a feeling that you were supposed to feel around your partner, but with him, you somehow constantly felt like you were being judged. 

— Nah, stay here. I don’t want my father to see you. 

— Ah…your father is at home? 

You never heard anyone else being at the house – big house, you must admit, and it’s embarrassing almost how you never thought about his family. He lives with his dad, apparently, and the depth of your relationships can only be judged by the fact you literally didn’t know what his father’s name was. 

— Returned from his fucking deployment. He’d ask too many questions about you. 

— You didn’t tell him about me? 

Ah, now you’re hurt a little bit. You knew it wasn’t anything serious or too committed yet, but you intended to make this work. To try and fix all the problems you can without ending things abruptly. 

— He never asked. Not like he cares too much, but…

An apathetic dad, huh. 

You started to slowly piece together the puzzle that was your boyfriend’s horrible boyfriend skills. Now, you want to meet the man who conceived him and kick him in the nuts for creating such an unlovable human being who somehow captivated your chronically lonely heart. 

— If you don’t want me to come and meet him, I can go home. 

He doesn’t answer because his queue is finally coming to another match – you simply nod, knowing everything you need to. You can grab a little snack for yourself, fuck off to your dorm and rethink your life choices while your roommate is getting pounded by some gruss British bloke with an accent that makes your ears bleed. 

You have dignity, and right now, it has asked you to get some snacks from the kitchen. 

*** Now, the only thing König wanted after returning from deployment was to take as many hot showers as he could, shut his bastard of a son up, and get some delicious food waiting for him in the freezer. He was already home for a few days, but adjusting is always hard when you basically fucking hate living at your own house. Of-fucking-course, his son was watching the house while he was away – and now he can’t even think of a good excuse to set him off to his mother. Too old to do this, and split custody never really worked when not even one part of the relationship wanted to take care of the kid. 

König closes the door of the refrigerator – of course, his son took every good thing that he stashed for himself. With a groan, the colonel fights the urge to finally throw him out of the house – a thing he needed to do a few years ago, just when he celebrated his 18th, but some sentimental part of his heart instead promised to help with finding a place close to the college. No good deed goes unpunished. 

With a groan, he takes a few steps from the fridge – and then he almost stumbles across an angel. 

Scheisse

Now, König never thought of himself as a predator who prefers running after college girls who might as well be his daughters. He never thought of himself as a gut who liked them young – his wife, god forsake her name, was his age when they started dating, and he hardly had any sexual encounters with a person under 25 in the past few years. Well, not like he had any sexual encounters in the past years, but…

The thing is – he never thought he liked girls with wide eyes, pouty faces, and trembling hands who were holding a bag of his cookies that he carefully stashed away from his son. 

You are wearing something cute, a nice skirt and an adorable pink cardigan that looks so cozy and warm and soft, and he fights the urge to grab your skirt and simply lift it, You’re dressed up for a cute coffee date, and König has to double check if he isn’t dreaming and no one has decided to play a prank on him and send him a cute callgirl. 

— Oh! Sorry. It’s yours, isn’t it? 

You give him his cookies back – but not before your fingers fished another salty caramel goodness out of the bag, and you bit it. He looks at your teeth, at your lips, and glimpses of your tongue – god, he is an old, dirty bastard because even his baggy pants aren’t enough to hide his boner. You have no right to look this pretty for a man who hasn’t seen a woman in three months and hasn’t had sex in the past few years. 

You lick the crumbs from your fingers – it’s such a deliberate action that he can’t believe he actually sees it, and it’s not even something from porn he used to like. 

— Ja. You can have it. 

He would give you the code to his bank account if you asked for it. 

— Thank you, sir. I’m…well, I assume if Paul didn’t introduce me to you…I’m his girlfriend. Nice to meet you. 

You lick your lips and take a step back, pressed against the counter. He looks at the sway of your hips, a bit of crumbs on your shirt, and almost brushes it away with his hands. It would be a good excuse to touch your chest – but he can’t be like this, he has to keep his urges under control, or else his son will never forgive him. 

Yeah, like he needs a better reason to throw his useless son from his home. 

— Girlfriend? He never spoke about you. 

You look sad, and he immediately curses under his breath. For a moment, you look too fragile – too real. He can’t handle this look on a woman, especially as pretty and young as you are. You bat your eyelashes, even involuntarily, and he already prepares to give you the keys to his home just so you’d stop with such miserable expressions. He has a spare bedroom. 

He has his bedroom with a bed that would be enough for both of you. 

— Ah. Um. We’re…I guess we’re not at this stage yet. 

— Knowing him, you’ll never be, Schatz. 

You look at him immediately – you’re offended, angry, and sad at the same time. There is a certain stubbornness in your eyes that immediately makes him want to simply scoop you in his arms, lift you, and drag you straight to the altar – and here he thought that his impulses over getting married would be over after his first divorce. 

— What do you mean by this, sir? 

You look uncertain now, he can see this in your eyes – and really, knowing his asshole of a child, he is almost sure that Paul never once got you off, either physically or emotionally. 

Now, König never once considered himself to be a good man. He has killed countless people, overthrown many governments, and made shitty jobs for shitty people way more than saving hostages to help the good guys – and in the romantic field, it’s even worse. Wife, unsatisfied with his controlling tendencies and inability to feel normal love for a human being – and a son who hates him because, in fact, he never once wanted to have a kid. 

He looks at you and sees a pretty young thing, still in college or freshly out of, probably without a stable job and normal social standing – a good girl won’t be with his son if she isn’t stupid or extremely desperate for a relationship. 

The thing is, König is also extremely desperate for another warm body next to his, to feel a woman beside him, to love and obsess over someone – he looks at your pouty lips and shaky hands, at the way you bite the corner of your glossy mouth, and he almost wants to drop you on this very table and fuck you until you’re crying under him. He can’t do just that, of course. It would probably make you extremely uncomfortable and scared, but…well, quite frankly, his son doesn’t deserve you. 

König is. 

— I won’t sugarcoat it, Schatz. My son is a Scheiß Arschloch…fucking asshole, that is. I’m surprised he brought home someone as cute as you. 

You feel embarrassment collecting in your body. Paul’s dad is a…interesting man. 

Tall, broad, very muscular – even his baggy house clothes aren’t really concealing his extremely interesting physique from your eyes. He looks yummy and tasty, and you fight the urge to eye the bulge in his pants because you’re a good girl, you don’t look at your boyfriend’s dad like this. 

König has greying ginger hair, locks already curling slightly at the lack of cutting, and you fight the urge to sit on the counter and get your palm in his scalp, massage his head gently, and pull him closer for a kiss. You feel like a dirty, horrible woman – your boyfriend is in his room, probably enjoying his time on your “date” while you’re lusting over his father. 

Then again, this date already felt like a disaster. This relationship, too. 

— Paul isn’t all that bad, sir. 

“He at least has a nice dick,” you wanted to add but stopped yourself. Paul is tall and somewhat strong – if he weren’t sitting at his computer all day, you would call him even muscular. And he has a nice dick, yes, even though he had no idea how to use it. You liked the idea of laying with him, of spraying your jaw trying to fit all of this in your mouth, but his kinks and his sex skills being directly taken from porn…not really your thing. 

You look at König and wonder if they are similar in all of the places. He is his father, after all. 

König catches your gaze locked on his bulge and smirks. 

God, if he knew his son had such a cute girl, he would ask her to come earlier. He is two weeks off deployment and probably won’t take another long contract for a few months because they just upped his retirement payings, and he can afford to slack off a little bit, only visiting the home base for some training and instructions for rookies. 

He can afford to retire and never worry about money again – but he needs someone to make his days less boring, right? 

You look like a good candidate. 

— I’m sure my son was convincing, but I know him better than anyone. He doesn’t deserve you, Schatz. 

He is shitty at flirting, it’s not his forte – he can flaunt his money, maybe, show you in his wallet and bank account face first. He can just straight up ask you to be his sugar baby and suck his cock instead of doing your studies, but he can’t flirt and manipulate to save his life. Lying isn’t something he is good for, this is why his wife has left. 

— I…not sure we should be having this conversation here. 

You’re a good girl, and it’s infuriating. He knows that having someone in his bed shouldn’t be the end goal for his leave, but he wants you, and by the look on your face, you aren’t opposed to the idea. König doesn’t understand if he likes that you’re so reserved about it or if he wants you to be a bit more slutty – but he captures you in the space between the kitchen counter and presses you with his body. 

— You want to see the bedroom then?

Pushes you so close his knee gets between your legs – it might look involuntary like he didn’t exactly want for it to be placed here, but you aren’t dumb, you know what he wants from you. Like a good fucking girl, you’re too shy to give it to him right about now. God, sometimes he hates being so nice to people around him. 

— Sir, this is very…

He got you caged in his hands, body trapped in his embrace – you jerk your head upwards a little bit, staring at him like a small bird in the hands of a predator. He isn’t a strong man in regard of morals, he doesn’t see anything wrong with fucking his son’s girlfriend – if the girl is up to it. And if she isn’t…well, he better make sure she is. 

— What is it, Schatz? Paul won’t hear us in his headphones.

You know just how wrong it is, and you almost want to escape – his dick grinds on your pelvis through his pants, and you’re horrified to see how big it is. Excited too, of course, he is bigger than your boyfriend ever could be, and you don’t want to be a slut, but, oh well, not like you were in a committed and serious relationship anyway. 

Paul was seeing your friends more than you ever saw them – it’s probably a sign that you should settle for someone older. You did enjoy Lana Del Rey's songs, after all. 

— I don’t want to break his heart. 

— He doesn’t have one. 

You’re lost when he pushes his lips to kiss you over and over again – a surprisingly good kisser, and you give in because it was the first time in forever a kiss made you feel this good. His lips are sending electricity down your spine, you want to moan just from his knee, pushing on the softness of your cunt through that adorable skirt you liked so much – you feel so small like this, so tiny in his hands, you…

God, you feel like a slut, and you like it. 

Soon enough, you answered the kiss, your lips meeting his in a dance that made you feel hot, that made you feel like your boyfriend never could. Never thinking of yourself as someone who can fall so easily into the hands of an older man, now you know that he got you right where he wanted. 

You push your hand on his pants, trying to get the control back – but he stops you, a giant hand enveloping your wrist and pushing you back. With a surprise on your face, König just wants to kiss you all over. God, you’re adorable, and he knows that you deserve way more than being fucked on the rough kitchen counter while your so-called boyfriend is too busy dickriding his friends in some useless online game. 

— Not now, princess. You deserve better than being fucked on the kitchen counter, ja? It can come later. 

“Later” sounds like a promise, and you bite back your moan when he keeps pushing his knee against your cunt, making you throb and clench on nothing. He is such a gentleman, you can’t help but compare him to his son – and his fabulous ability to make you feel dirty after fucking you in the backseat of his car and tossing you to your dorm with your pussy still wet and messy after you didn’t cum. 

You sob, not from sadness, but from pleasure mixed with some weird, unnatural for you emotions – you feel weird, strained here like this, but you hug his neck and whisper something in his ear. Something, dangerously sounding just like “daddy, please” 

König is blushing, and he looks fucking adorable. 

— Daddy, ja? God, you’re dangerous, liebling. Going to get me in trouble with my son later. 

He laughs when he kisses you again, his hand slipping in your panties only to find them completely soaked – he knows you deserve a nice pillow and soft sheets under your body, and he pushes you up so you can hug his waist with your legs. You rely on him like a cute pet, and you’re so perfect in his hands he curses himself for not seeing you before. 

He is going to ruin you for anyone but him. Put so much cum in you, it will make your tummy bulge – make you his precious sugar baby, pay for your dumb college and make you move to his bedroom instead of some shitty dorm you probably share with four other people. 

He can be good for you – but he will ruin you for anyone else, anyone appropriate, every guy your age who clearly doesn’t know how to treat a lady right. 

— So wet for me…such a filthy thing, I didn’t know my son dated a whore. 

— N…not a whore, please…

He kisses you on your forehead, silently apologizing. You feel his crooked, scarred smile, and you push your face up to kiss him – you want to touch him so badly it makes you feel stupid. 

— Sorry, Schatzen. Not a whore, a good girl for her daddy, ja? So nice for me, too fucking young…

— W…we really shouldn’t… — Tshhh, don’t think about it. Thinking will only hurt your pretty dumb head. — I’m not…

— Quiet, little one. Let daddy handle everything.

He kisses you over and over, his fingers playing with your pussy – meaty digits digging in your hole, making you whimper from sudden intrusion. He is big, bigger than anyone else, just two of his fingers are enough to spread you as much as normal cock would, and even though you’re used to taking Paul’s size, you just know that his dad would be much, much bigger. He is going to split you open, and you will love every fucking second. 

It feels so wrong, you still aren’t sure if you want him to touch you like this. 

It feels so right, he is experienced and eager, pushing every button to make you squirm in his grasp. Your orgasm comes embarrassingly quick – maybe because you haven’t gotten off in ages, only miserable masturbation sessions and poor attempts at faking your orgasm made it feel real. Paul never cared enough to actually get you off – but now…

You aren’t ready for him. You squirm in his grasp when the pressure becomes too much, and he soothes you, two fingers still buried in your soaked cunt. You feel so dirty, so wrong right now – you are cumming on the fingers of your boyfriend’s absent father, and you love every second of it. 

Post-orgasm clarity makes you whiny and sobby, and you whimper in his shoulder when he gently lifts you in his hands. God, you’re adorable, and he knows that he just scrambled your brain with that orgasm – it’s good, really, he might just want to keep your pretty head nice and empty for him. Not like you would ever need to think in his presence, the colonel can handle everything in- and out- of bed. 

König holds you close, not allowing you to scramble away no matter how embarrassed you are. You are his precious thing, with a pouty face, and he will do everything in his power to make you squirm on his fingers again and again before he makes you his wife for good. 

So impulsive, maybe this is why his son is such an asshole – taking the worst traits of his father. 

— Don’t cry, Schatzen. You’re okay, it felt good, didn’t it? 

— W…we shouldn’t have. Shit. I’m sorry, it was a m…god, I need to tell Paul. 

— I’ll tell him. 

— No! — I will tell my asshole of a son that you’re my girl now, ja? And then I will take you to the bedroom, so we can fuck. 

— I need to return to my dorm. 

— And then I will dine you properly, okay? Sorry, Liebling, I know I should court you before all of this…but we can afford to go a bit off board, ja? 

He is smiling, so smitten and obsessed over just having you cum on his fingers once – you don’t have the heart to say no. Never did. You’re a good, proper girl, and Paul was never treating you right anyway. You feel dirty, yes, but somehow, it is almost right. 

He peppers your face with kisses, like a dog lapping its tongue all over your skin – you’re so concentrated on the warmth of his strong, seasoned body that you don’t even look in the direction of the doorway to the kitchen. 

Paul, however, looks straight at you, disheartened and shocked. 

— W…what the fuck, dad?! König laughs, kissing you once again – deep, hot, with tongue and loud, sloppy sounds of your mouth pressing into one another. You’re stuck in place, still caged in his arms like a precious little pet you are. 

— She’ll make a good step mom, ja? 

You don’t even register his hands slowly caressing your fingers as if he already tries to check the ring sizes. 

[alchemistc]

i present my latest offering of an au first meeting: the poker game.

Big Blind

Tommy's been on plenty of bad dates in his time, but this one might actually take the cake for worst first date he's ever had. They're just -- not right for one another, and it's clear they can both feel it, but for some reason Jeff just -- keeps talking. About his border collie rescue, and his sixth fourteener (this year), and the his upcoming promotion and the Cybertruck he's thinking about getting wrapped in matte black --

"Jeff," Tommy cuts in, when he starts in on Tesla stock talk. "I'm gonna pay the check and head out. It's been..." he gestures. Considers calling Stout right here at the dinner table to tell him no more blind dates with his stock broker brother-in-laws friends, no matter how gay they are.

He's gonna get shit from Stout's wife the next time she stops by with a casserole, but honestly a half-hour tirade on politeness from Heather Alexandra Stout sounds better than learning how much of an Elon Musk fanboy Jeff really is. Jeff looks like he might be offended by the implication that he wouldn't have paid, but Tommy's already waving down his server and gesturing to the bar by the time Jeff even thinks to reach for his wallet.

"You have a good night."

Andrea slides his check under his elbow with a raised brow and doesn't say a word when he hands her his card immediately, but he can tell she's judging him. Third date in a month he's barely contained his disdain for long enough to pay up, although this is the first he's outright ditched before the bill was even paid.

Gary slides a beer across the bar to him and refuses the cash Tommy tries to give him for it. "Do I look that pathetic, Gary?"

Man of few words, Gary just taps his nose and tips his chin to his date, who is doing a terrible job of trying to sneak out the door.

"You're too good for him, anyway," says Andrea, back already with his card. He tucks an extra twenty into her folder and downs the beer in silence while they watch through the window as Jeff seems to get into an argument with the Uber pulling up in front of the restaurant.

"Maybe it's me," Tommy says, and Gary hums in commiseration. Or maybe he just has gas. "Maybe I'm the problem."

It's been a string of bad dates, and before that a relationship that'd gone up in metaphorical but nearly literal flames. Tommy's spent a lot of introspective time wishing he could kill Gerrard with lasers so that he doesn't have to blame himself for staying in the closet so long that blind dates and Grindr meetups were his real introduction to the dating scene.

"Someday, Tommy, you'll meet someone who can't get enough of your morbid humor and your pessimism and your obsession with haunted cars."

"One car," Tommy argues, although that's beside the point. "I think maybe I should give the search for love a break, Gary."

Gary hums, again.

Tommy drinks the rest of his beer in companionable silence and pulls up his phone to order an Uber himself. Jeff is, thankfully, long gone, and Tommy's halfway through confirming his home address when he remembers the invite he'd received last week that he'd hesitated scheduling a date around. He shoots off a text instead, and updates the address before he slides from the bar stool.

Gary shoots him a look. "Headed home?"

Tommy shifts on his feet. Shoots a look behind the bar. "Nah. Gonna try to hit up a work thing. Pour me a shot of Tullamore for the road?"

Gary accepts the twenty this time and doesn't make a comment about the way Tommy downs a sipping whiskey, which Tommy appreciates.

He's halfway to his destination, enjoying the chat with his driver, when the text comes in from Lucy.

Had to bail, but you should go if the date went that badly. Williams will enjoy slowly ruining the remainder of your night.

Tommy taps his phone once, twice, three times before he makes up his mind not to be the asshole who changes his destination halfway through the ride. Worst comes to worst, he'll tap out early and Venmo Mehta the rest of his stake.

Better than moping at home with the pint of freezer-burned Ben and Jerry's.

-----

He's fairly rushed down the stairs once he's in, because apparently Williams is on some sort of time crunch, or something, and he's fairly certain the drinks are catching up to him as he takes in the table. Mehta and Wilson are regulars, and he's seen Rosen around, but there are two new guys settling in across the table and Tommy has to take a long, long moment to remind himself this is technically a professional setting before he can look too closely at either one of them.

Yeah. Shit, he'd definitely drank most of that second pitcher by himself, listening to Jeff talk.

"Kinard. We weren't expecting you." Rosen's eyes glimmer with amusement. He'd caught maybe six months of her probationary year, but every time she sees him she likes to remind him of the first time she'd seen him post-transfer, at a gay bar in WeHo, and introduced him to the first guy he'd dated seriously in his entire life. Tommy returns the favor by reminding her exactly how terribly that had ended for all parties. "Poker night dress code usually includes more buttons than date night," she jabs, finger circling the olives in her martini glass, and Tommy contemplates tossing one of Mehta's chips at her. Her grin goes wide.

With the momentary distraction, Tommy feels a little more prepared to face the two men now eyeing him curiously.

"Tommy," he says, leaning over the table, hand out to shake. Turtleneck raises a curious eyebrow when Mr. Red Velvet Smoking jacket practically leaps across his lap to shake back. "I'm over at 217."

"This is Eddie," Red Velvet introduces, and Tommy's gaze dances between them, curious. "I'm Evan. We're with the -- wait, 217 -- Chimney's Tommy?"

Tommy's brows dance up the same time as Eddie's do. He is still shaking hands with Evan. Or - holding is more accurate, he supposes, but for the sake of his sanity and the possible date Evan and Eddie are on, if he's reading the introduction or any of the vibes right (they're both stunning and Tommy is smarting from another shitty date, so who knows), Tommy keeps it to shake in his mind. "Well I don't think Howie can claim ownership of my person, but -."

"Sorry, no, I just meant..." Evan's gaze drops to their clasped hands, still now over the felt of the poker table. He gives one more firm pump and drops Tommy's hand. "We're both at the 118. Pretty sure you helped save this guy's ass once." He tips a thumb sideways to indicate the man he'd introduced as Eddie.

Tommy's eyes drift. He's had a few drinks, and up until about halfway through the date he'd been expecting a very different outcome for his night, so he's maybe not keeping a lid on things the way he normally would in a work setting. He's guessing the ass he's purported to have saved would look great, if it weren't firmly planted in his chair and out of view. The rest of the view ain't bad, either.

And.

Shit.

Williams is giving him a look, which means he's not being even a little subtle. "The gas main explosion," Tommy finally gathers from the cobwebs of his brain, and wouldn't it be his luck to transfer out of the 118 just in time for two annoyingly attractive men who may possibly be boning each other to take his place.

Evan grins. Beams, more like, and Tommy slides firmly into his own chair and tries not to be blinded by it. Or entranced by it. God he needs to get laid. Get this - whatever this is - out of his system.

Tommy's cool. Tommy's calm and collected and he hadn't even had that much to drink, actually, so why is he having such a hard time behaving like he's had forty years of experience dealing with attractive men?

Tommy sorts through the memories.

Eddie he can pinpoint fairly easily -- he'd shot off a message to Chim the moment they'd learned one of the 118 had been shot, and had been happy to break the news of his recovery to an anxious Harbor station in the tense days after it had all gone down. Evan, though - he doesn't have a clue who that could be. He's still got a few buddies from B Shift he talks to on occasion, but he doesn't remember any stories about an Evan from them, and Howie hasn't mentioned one, either.

Of course, it's not like either one of them does a great job of keeping in touch.

The mystery is solved a moment later when Williams tips her head at him. "Feels like we're being overrun by the 118 tonight," she says with a grin, but her gaze slides to Evan, rather than Tommy. "And we've got an honest-to-goodness legend tonight."

"You know I still can't believe you survived that, Buckley," Mehta says, and the puzzle piece slots itself into place. "Uh, although we're all glad that you did."

Buckley. Tommy shifts. Reassesses. Eyes the glance between Diaz and Buckley like he's gonna figure out their deal while he's already four and a half drinks deep into the night and hasn't already heard the larger than life tales of this duo from half-a-dozen gossipy paramedics. According to some, there's a secret torrid love affair going on behind the scenes of their codependent friendship. According to others, the ones he more or less trusts not to stretch the truth too far, they're friends -- closer than most, and maybe a little weird about each other, but friends all the same.

Buckley's a shark. Or, if Williams is to be believed, a bit of a cheat.

As the game goes on, and the conversation drifts from the morbid details of Buckley's three-minutes-seventeen-seconds of lifelessness, past the special skills near death experiences are rumored to cause, past the time out where they'd all admired the pictures of Buckley's Lichtenburg scars ("They faded pretty quickly," Evan says, with a soft little frown like he's a bit disappointed not to have any physical proof beyond a few shots of his naked brick shithouse of a chest.) Tommy can't help but admire the shift from bashful to smirking and smug as Evan keeps racking up monumentally improbable hands. He's a bit of a brat, actually, and Tommy can feel Rosen's eyes burning into the side of his head every time he ups the ante just to watch the flicker of triumph aimed in his direction every time Evan wins a hand Tommy raised.

Tommy's no slob with cards, on a normal day, but he's too busy trying not to read anything into the way Evan's eyes keep drifting to the v of the shirt he hadn't buttoned back up just to spite Rosen, or the way he keeps licking his fucking lips every time Tommy takes a sip of the whiskey at his elbow to really care as his chips dwindle to nothing. Tommy can't be entirely sure, but it seems like maybe Evan pouts, a little, when Tommy pushes back from the table to join the rest of the losers crowded around to watch Williams, Mehta and Buckley battle it out.

He's trying to think of a subtle way to ask Howie if Evan Buckley is just like that with all the men in his life when Eddie slides in beside him with a refill on his whiskey. Tommy grimaces. "I shouldn't."

"Thought you were trying to drink away a bad date?"

Tommy shoots Rosen a glare over Eddie's shoulder, but she's too busy chasing her straw with her tongue to notice.

"He was a Tesla fanboy," Tommy intones, and the braces himself for the reaction. He's used to it, now -- the constant cycle of coming out and waiting to see which new acquaintances bow out of getting to know each other any better. This is... earlier, than he usually drops it, but he hasn't been in the mood to lie about it in years, and Eddie had asked. He gets a raised brow and a grimace.

"Don't tell me you didn't know ahead of time," Eddie says, and Tommy loosens the grip on his glass.

"Hazards of blind dating."

Eddie's look is commiserating. He tips his beer bottle against Tommy's rocks glass. "Yeah, my tia keeps finding reasons for me to run into the eligible daughters and granddaughters of all her friends." Which Tommy supposes is answer to half of the question that's been plaguing him since he sat down.

Buckley gets cocky a few times, but it's clear the night is going his way even before Jeshan Mehta's pot gets swept up in Evan's arms. Williams holds out as long as she can.

"Beginner's luck!" Buckley crows, when Williams' last chip is added to his pile. Eddie's been supplying him with a steady flow of drinks for the past thirty minutes, and his smile is crooked as he tilts backwards in his chair for a fist bump. His eyes flick to Tommy's once he's received his congratulations from Eddie, and Tommy pretends he's not a little bit fascinated by the pull of his jacket over his arms, or the way his closed hand lingers near Tommy's even after Tommy has smacked his knuckles against his as well.

Evan Buckley is frustratingly adorable. Tommy's had too many drinks for any kind of decent decision making. He bows out while Evan and Eddie are collecting his winnings.

-----

Tommy's eyes flick to the readout on his phone. He doesn't recognize the number, but it's a local area code, so he picks up on the forth ring. "Go for Kinard."

"Uh - hey, hi. Hey Tommy." The voice is familiar, sweet and low. "It's Buck - Evan. Evan Buckley. I uh -- I got your number from Chim, I hope that's alright?"

Tommy's got a solid fifteen minutes before he has to leave for work, a raging headache that has thus far refused to accept electrolytes or Advil as tribute to his overindulgence the previous evening, and a full understanding that he's going to spend his shift listening to Donato swear up and down she's the better option for finding him a man, but the voice on the other end of his phone might at least give the headache a run for it's money.

"Evan. Hi."

"Hey. So -- you dipped before I could ask -- which is fine, obviously, I'm not -- uh..." He pauses. Tommy can practically picture the way he wets his lower lip while he searches for the right words. "Anyway I was wondering -- would you maybe wanna grab a beer, sometime?"

Tommy spends about fifteen seconds rearranging his entire schedule in his mind. Says, cool, calm, collected: "Sure. When are you free?"

Evan's voice goes distant for a second -- he's putting Tommy on speaker. "I, uh -- I didn't expect you to say yes so quickly. Actually I didn't expect you to answer -- who answers unknown numbers, anymore?"

"Who calls expecting to get sent to voicemail?"

The brat rises up immediately. "Uh, literally everyone. The missed call is just an excuse to text. It's basic phone etiquette, Tommy."

Tommy likes the way he says his name. Soft, sweet and slow, rolling over his tongue like molasses. This feels incredibly like flirting, but he can't get a fucking read on this kid. "Clearly I've missed out on an important cultural shift. I can hang up and we can do this the right way, if you want."

"No!" It's sharp -- louder, like he's raising the phone back towards his mouth. Tommy can't hide the grin leaking across his face. "Uh -- no, it's fine. Too late, anyway, I already know you don't know phone rules."

"Hopefully that doesn't change your opinion of me too much."

"I could be convinced to ignore it, with the right incentive."

"I'll buy first round," Tommy says, and wonders if he's got any other shirts he can play off as fitting better with three buttons undone. The flirting should be enough, but -- Tommy's still not sure drinks isn't just drinks.

"Wednesday night," Evan says, voice further away again. Tommy has a sudden, desperate urge to see what his Google calendar looks like. For all that he'd cut loose at the poker game, Tommy bets it's color coded by type of activity. "If that works. Or Saturday, any time, really. I'm uh -- I'm free then."

If Tommy bows out of trivia on classic car week Cynthia will have a whole ass bitch fit. And it makes him seem a little less eager, to boot. "Saturday. I've got a shift early Sunday, though, so maybe something in the afternoon?"

"Yeah -- yes, th-that works." The stammering isn't something Tommy can get a read off of. He'd done it just as much with Eddie as he'd done with everyone else. "There's a new brewery just off Pico and Prosser -- Chim said you were a fan of craft beer?"

Sounding more date like by the minute, but -- some guys toe the line. Could be Evan Buckley just wants to know more about flight operations, for all Tommy knows. "Text me the details. Look, Evan, I'd love to stay on this rule-breaking phone call and chat but I've got to head in for a shift. Just -- let me know the plan." He's got five minutes to brush his teeth and rue the moment he'd asked Gary for his first whiskey of the night. He's also rolling back his last few sentences and cringing at how abrupt he'd been. "And yeah -- good to know Chim hasn't forgotten the three facts I ever told him about me."

Evan laughs, just a soft little huff but Tommy already knows the grin behind that sound is all sorts of knee-meltingly sweet. "Cool. So. Yeah, I'll text you."

"I'll talk to you later, Evan."

"Yep. Talk to you -- talk to you soon."

Tommy waits a moment in silence. The call doesn't end. "Goodbye, Evan."

Evan huffs out another awkward laugh. "Yeah. Bye, Tommy."

The call disconnects just in time for Tommy to press his forehead into the cool tile beside his bathroom mirror. He might be monumentally screwed if this isn't a date. He hasn't been this fucking charmed by a man since -- well, it's been a while.

Tommy's phone buzzes in his hand. It's a pinned address from a number he doesn't have saved. Tommy swipes into the contact and updates it before the next text makes it through. Saturday 3PM?

Tommy brushes his teeth, downs the rest of his preworkout in the hopes that it'll ease some of the nastier parts of his stupid decision to keep drinking liquor past midnight, and stares at the text all the way out to his truck.

See you then, Tommy sends back, and he has to toss his phone into his passenger seat when he gets a series of incomprehensible emoji's almost immediately in response.

He holds up a hand to Donato the moment she catches his gaze, halfway across the parking lot. The brow goes up, the hand slots to her hip, and she rolls her tongue over her teeth, clearly ready for her speech about how Stout doesn't have a clue how to find Tommy a proper date. Tommy has other problems.

"You worked with Evan Buckley, for a while, didn't you?"

Her head tilt rights itself. The second brow dances up to meet the first. Whatever she'd meant to say disperses behind her eyelids as she seems to work through something in her mind. "Oh, this is compelling," she says, and practically skips forward to loop her arm in his.

[lottiies]

THE S. STANDS FOR SLUT

⇢ Leon’s been a horndog over every single one of his coworkers except for you. Your pent up anger finally pays off after you finish a mission with him

CW: MDNI, fem!reader, fucking in a forest, unprotected sex, creampie

WC: 1k

NOTE: i won’t be able to get any other fics out until like after a week from now. feel free to send ideas for bots…kind of need some. hopefully the video as a header works in the tags if not i’ll change it (ㅠ‸ㅠ)

MASTERLIST

︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶

Employee of the month? Nah. More like (wannabe) whore of the headquarters. That’s what you deemed Leon to be.

Okay, maybe he didn’t fit your description perfectly, though. It’s not like he got any pussy or dick because they all turned him down. Either way, you couldn’t stand him. The man was practically flirting with anyone who had a developed frontal lobe and yet he had never once made a move on you.

Had it been any other man, you’d be over the moon about it because hello? Who wants a guy who’s trying to get into everyone’s pants? But it’s Leon…the same one who makes a sticky river gush whenever he glances your way.

The fact he didn’t even compliment you made you upset. It wasn’t in a depressing ‘what do they have that I don’t?’ type of way. You were pretty pissed, actually. Maybe he was trying to tick you off on purpose.

Being sent on a mission with him was your last straw.

The tension was palpable. He was such an asshole for messing around with you even during a life threatening scenario! Pinning you against surfaces like you were some damsel in distress, which he knew you weren’t, he’d smirk all smugly when you shoved him off and scowled at him. All the banter got him riled up. What a woman you were. His type to a tee. Felt blood rushing south whenever you handled your gun with expertise.

Like, he wanted to fuck you raw until you needed his help to walk but he also wanted you to slap him around and yank on his hair until he was reduced to a begging mess. Talk about duality. One thing at a time, he must be patient.

He’s not a moron when it comes to your feigned indifference at his antics. If he lacked observational skills, he wouldn’t be here in the first place. You gave him an ego boost. It’s almost like he could see the steam coming right out of your ears whenever he was buttering someone else up, bonus points if it was the receptionist.

Sometimes you got the urge to smack his earpiece comm. Only then would you be spared from Leon's pathetic attempts at flirting with Hunnigan. She’s not interested, Leon!

Anyways.

Mission accomplished. Chopper? Late like usual, what’s new? Here you and Leon were outside in the middle of fucking nowhere, sitting on a log like you were on a camping trip. Yeah, well the tent and high spirit is missing.

You were on edge, and Leon’s idle whistling broke you. God, what a tiny thing to get upset over.

“Can you shut the fuck up?” You were so done with him. Why was he sitting so close to you when there was tons of space on the log? His knee was brushing up against yours.

Leon let out an amused huff, giving your forehead a flick just to spite you.

“So uptight, bet you haven’t gotten dicked down in a while. That’s what you need to blow off some steam.”

“You’re one to talk, when’s the last time you got laid? Last time I checked, your attempts at whoring around have been completely unsuccessful.”

“Ah, so the princess has been keeping tabs on me? How cute. Consider me flattered.”

“I wasn’t.“ You rolled your eyes, glaring at him. “It doesn’t take much effort to figure it out, you just wanna get your dick wet.”

“What, are you obsessed with my dick or something? Jealous?”

“No! Ugh…you’re so fucking gross, Leon.” Giving him a shove on the shoulder didn’t move him at all. He curled a hand around your waist and brought you closer, his lips right against your ear.

“Maybe I don’t have much game, but at least I’m not being a little bitch about it. You just need someone to fuck all that sass outta ya, sweetheart.”

Okay. Wow. Maybe his voice was his superpower because that’s all you could focus on now. Were you really in a forest if you could no longer hear the rustling of tall and mighty trees or the distant buzzing and yapping of insects and birds?

And maybe his voice was hypnotic too because you don’t know how the hell you ended up on your fucking hands and knees. Ouch, your fingers hurt from the way they dug into the dirt but the way Leon was hitting your sweet spot made up for it.

His right glove was all damp from the way he had ground his palm against your clit just a couple minutes prior.

You were both still clothed, just having your pants down enough so you could get to the point.

There was a reason Leon liked you so much, you weren’t all that high maintenance, and you were actually fun. Would any of those receptionists with freshly manicured nails and keratin treatment on their hair be okay with getting dirt and leaves all over them? No! They’d want to fuck in a lavish bedroom with candles and shitty romantic songs playing. Instant boner killer.

His dick wouldn’t get hard for any woman who wasn’t you after this. He didn’t wanna waste a single load, no, they all had to be dumped into you.

“If you wanted to fuck, you could’ve just asked. Could’ve been going at it like rabbits ages ago.”

“I like it better when you don’t talk.” You gritted in response, reaching a hand back to slap the one he had on your hip. He liked the way you bit back, yeah, it had him twitching inside you.

“That right? Your pussy has a mind of its own then, got allllll nice and tight around me right now. She’s begging for me.”

You had always been Leon’s wet dream, but that fantasy felt nowhere as good as the real thing. He has no issue letting you know, either, he’s always had a big mouth.

“Your pussy feels so fucking good, bet I’m the first one to stretch it all out.”

“Been looking at your tits all day, don’t they hurt after bouncing from all this running?” He snaked his hand up your shirt and squeezed your chest, rolling the flesh between his fingers before giving one of your hard nipples a pinch.

If you weren’t losing grasp of reality you would’ve been able to notice the distant sounds of rotor blades whirling around.

“Hear that, sweetheart? We gotta hurry.”

Yeah you’d rather die than be found getting fucked by Leon Slut Kennedy. You always thought those facial expressions pornstars made were unrealistic, but now you were mimicking it without much effort. If you snapped a shot of it you’d be famous on Twitter. How embarrassing, or maybe flattering?

“Atta girl, you like it nasty huh?” His hand wrapped around your throat like it was your personal collar and his murmured growl of your name had you seeing stars. He came inside you, pumping you with everything and slapping your ass before pulling your panties up so his load was trapped with you.

What a bastard.

The chopper ride back to HQ was uncomfortable with his cum plugging you up like a damn toy.

“You, me, hotel room after this?” Leon asked all cheekily as he nudged your shoulder, too busy looking at the way you had your legs crossed instead of the pretty view outside the window.

Maybe he’d finally get a good old slap to the face from you like he deserved while you rode him.

[sexilene]

kinda need some 80s slasher jj pleaseee!! like maybe he tries to apologize but like reader avoids him and that gets him mad!! thank you angel!

oooh! absolutely!! i literally love anything 80s you have no idea, i love talking about it!! (ignore the spelling mistakes, i'm exhausted lol)

₊ ⊹ warnings! 18+ - non con, cock warming, blood, death, violence, obsession, squirting, slight breeding kink, gun mentions, dark!jj - ₊˚⊹

"it's almost 1 in the morning jj, go away!" you whisper yell at him, lightly pushing his shoulder to get him to leave and climb back down your balcony.

"i tried to talk to you all day. you kept walkin' away from me…what's up with that?" he whisper yells back, not budging, he walks closer to the balcony window as if he's going to enter your room.

"i was about to go to sleep jj."

"nah, your light was on." he shakes his head.

"go away please!" you plead with him, hoping it is enough to just leave you alone.

"hey, you're not scared a'me? are you? cause, you don't need ta'be. i'm still the same jj."

"you killed someone!" you back away from him, placing your hand on the handle of the balcony door.

"well okay, but i apologized that day in the car and i've been trying to talk to you and apologize again, you were the one who kept avoiding me." he reasons, holding the door open with his hand.

"i accept your apology, now please go!" you whisper yell again.

"nah nah nah…you don't mean it, i need you to know that i fucked up n'i'm sorry."

"that you killed danny?"

"no, that you saw that i killed danny…look your my frie- no your my girl and i had to do somethin' cuz that asshole was just-" you put your hand up to get him to stop rambling "jj stop." but he just takes the opportunity to push past you and walk into your room.

"never saw your room before…y'like janet jackson?" he laughs softly and points to the poster on your wall and then looks over at the cassette tapes on your dresser. "…and madonna huh?"

"jayjay my parents are gonna freak if they wake up and find a boy in my room!" you grab onto his arm, trying to drag him back out.

"ya' got any dirty movies?" he diverts his attention over to your little tv on the other side of your dresser.

"seriously! beat it!" he sighs dramatically and lets you walk him back over to the balcony. "fine. see ya tomorrow then?"

"yes. yeah…you will, goodnight," you assure him, watching as he nods, satisfied with your answer he climbs back down the side of your house.

you tried you best to smile at him when you happened to cross paths or make eye contact but you just couldn't help avoiding him, i mean he did still totally freak you out. you had just about survived the day without having to talk to him but then on your way back to your house you see him leaning against his truck, parked on the side walk. you decide to just pretend you don't see him and walk right past him.

"hold it." he grabs onto your arm tightly, stopping you from walking away. "…listen, i don't know if i was a total dip for apologizing cause the whole point was t'get you to stop ignoring me, and clearly the message was not received. " he squints, obviously not very happy with you.

"i was just super busy and i had a major test to study for so thats wh-"

"no no hey, don't worry about it babydoll, i know how you can make it up t'me," he loosens his grip on your arm and gives you a charming smile, dimples showing and everything.

"o-ohkay…what did you have in mind?" you begin to relax at how his demeanor has changed, hopefully, you think.

"rented this gnarly tape n'i wanted to watch it with you. your folks home?"

"no…they don't back tonight till 3 in the morning…big dinner benefit thing, they usually get drunk and stay really late into the night…" you ramble.

"right. great. i'll drive you home."

"ohkay jayjay…thank you," you respond shyly as if you two had just met and he was asking you on a date.

"so which movie did you rent?"

"its a surprise, think you'll reaaaally like it."

"i like most movies…want anything from the kitchen? water, beer…"

"m'good, i just put the tape in, cuhmon, i'll be gentle with you." he sits down on your bed and pats his lap for you to come over and sit on. you nod slowly and sit right next to him, so he grabs your waist and scooches you over onto his lap, your ass right up against his gradually hardening bulge.

"jj…what are you doin'?" you take your eyes off the tv and look down at his hand coming to flip your skirt up and feel that you're not wearing any panties, giving him full permission to rub on your pussy.

"shshsh, just focus on the TV, princess." you ignore his actions like an idiot and figure at least he's being gentle with you and focus back on the TV, the camera in a POV angle following a guy with his hands up defensively.

"what are we watching?…" you whisper, trying to push jj's hand away from your pussy, but obviously that doesn't do anything. he smacks your hand away and goes right back to touching you.

"it's a movie i made…see there that's your ex-boyfriend, talked him into the role," he whispers back, clearly very interested in what's on the screen…and playing with your pussy. the next thing you know you watch as your ex-boyfriend gets shot in the face and then shot more times in the chest, blood going everywhere.

"ohmygod jay-!" you scream, shutting your eyes and covering your mouth with one hand, while the other tries to get his hand away from you so you can get the hell off of him. he ignores your attempt and tightly wraps his other arm around you to keep you in place.

"holyfuck you're so wet." he laughs, dipping two fingers into your embarrassingly wet cunt, the intrusion making you mewl and turn your head away from the screen and the gory mess being shown.

"nah uh, keep watching." he tuts, moving his hand away from your princess parts and over to his jeans to pull his dick out to put inside you.

"i don't want to watch this anymore! i don't wanna-"

"don't care whatcha don't wanna do, worked hard to do this for you babe…so you're gonna sit here on my cock and watch the fucking movie i made for you." he grunts, lifting you onto his dick, the stretch and fullness you feel is unreal, you have no choice but to sit there and soak his fat cock.

"no!" you cry, tears starting to gather at your waterline.

"yeah…she's likes it, she's squeezing me reaaaaal good baby. jj presses a wet kiss to your cheek and wraps his arms around you again to keep you there.

"turn it off, please! please!…"

"y'gonna quit ignorin me, cupcake?"

"uh huh…i swear just please!"

"it's almost over, keep watchin." but you just can't, squeezing your eyes shut you try to block out all the noise and just focus on not cumming on him, not wanting to give into him. yet, there's no use, cause now he's got his three fingers pressing down on your little clit, rubbing it fast and hard.

"jayjay!" you squeal, digging your nails into his arm that is around your waist, as you cum hard around his dick. when you blink your eyes open the tape has finished and you notice all the liquid sprayed on your sheets.

"oh ho…there she is, squirting on my cock like a dumb slut.” he smiles and presses a little kiss to your neck.

"not on birth control are you?" you can barely hear him over the ringing in your ears as he continues to softly rub your clit.

"yo, i'm talkin to you." he spits, slapping your cheek a few times with this big warm hand to get you to respond. a few more tears spill down your face and respond with a weak whisper. "no, m'not…m'not…"

"maybe y'should be." he grunts softly before dumping his huge warm load in you just from cock warming.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

Am I the asshole for calling my boyfriend out after a party after he very Frenchly insulted our cooking?

I (25M) am dating J (27M), and we live together. For the most part he's wonderful, super sweet, and perhaps the most French man living today. He's a walking stereotype, right down to the sexiness. He's Parisian (we live in the states) and has a huge obsession with wine and cheese, and I'll be honest, he can be pretty snobby. He was raised by some well to do old money family that disowned him when they found out he was gay and it shows. He has a few antiquated ideas of what America is like, especially when it comes to food. Anything that has roots he doesn't recognize gets criticized. It's a classism problem, we recognize that, and he is trying to work on it. He slips up sometimes.

We went to a housewarming party two nights ago. It was a potluck deal and I brought a beef chili I had been working on for like two days, it was my pride and joy, and J didn't even have anything bad to say to me about it.

Anyway, an hour or so into the party we went to get food. He had a few glasses of wine, so he wasn't quite thinking straight. It turns out somebody brought homemade Frito pie (and pretty fancy frito pie too, with jalapeños and sour cream and pico de gallo, it was amazing and delicious and I am still dreaming about it), I'm southwestern and it was a staple for me growing up so I tripped over myself trying to get at it. He noticed how eager I was and scoffed at me. I asked what was so funny, and he said it was baffling that I'd go for that first since it was "comically American, down to the fried chips riddled in it." I rolled my eyes and ignored him.

Turns out the friend who made it was standing a few feet away and overheard him. She told us that she worked super hard on making the chili and cooking the pie, and if he didn't like it, he didn't have to have any. I was so fucking mortified I felt like dying. I apologized on his behalf and we stayed for a bit longer, but I was so embarrassed and angry that we left about an hour after that. I couldn't make myself have a good time. As a bit of an apology I left our friend a container of the chili I made and said if she wanted to make a pie out of it I'd be honored, and she happily accepted.

This is where I may be TA. As soon as we got in the car I blew up at him. I told him that he disrespected my culture, my cooking, my taste, and worst of all, embarrassed me in front of a friend and insulted something that brought her joy. I said "if you see Americans as so lazy, stupid, fat, and disgusting, then why are you even living here? Why the fuck do you even wanna be with me? Am I just the only good one to you?" I was laying into him for about 5 minutes. It was the worst fight we'd ever been in, not that we get in many.

He got really quiet after that and just muttered out an "I'm sorry." We were silent the ride home and we went straight to bed when we got there. I even heard him sniffling when we were trying to fall asleep, which was heartbreaking and started to make me feel like I'd fucked up, too. He's been distant for the last few days and I feel like I need to apologize.

Do I? Was I TA? I just got so upset that I couldn't take it anymore. I really love him and I just keep worrying that any second he's gonna say he wants to break up, and I never want that to happen. Any advice is appreciated.

[sushiyuzu]

warning: smut — satoru is obsessed with your tits. minors dni!

my backup acc: @sushibelle

you can feel the weight of gojo's gaze on you, those piercing blue eyes tracking every little movement as if he’s starved for you. you’re sitting in his lap, the weight of his hands gripping your waist, keeping you pressed against him. his touch is warm and possessive, like he’s afraid you’ll slip away if he loosens his grip even a little. the tension between you is thick, palpable, and no matter how much you try to ignore it, you can’t escape the pull.

"why are you squirming so much?" his voice is soft, but there's a needy edge to it, like he’s trying to hold back. "you can’t sit still for me?"

you roll your eyes, even though your body betrays you, heat building in your core as you shift slightly in his lap. you’re not about to let him have the satisfaction of seeing how worked up you already are. "maybe you’re just uncomfortable, satoru," you reply, your tone teasing, but your heart is racing as his hands slide up your sides.

he lets out a soft, frustrated groan, pulling you tighter against him. "nah, i think you’re just trying to drive me crazy." his lips brush against your neck, warm and needy, and you shiver despite yourself. "you like teasing me, don’t you?"

"me? teasing?" you raise an eyebrow, your voice dripping with sarcasm. "never."

his laugh is low, but there’s a dark, obsessive undertone to it. "you’re such a brat." his hands slide up, cupping your breasts through your shirt, his fingers rubbing your nipples in slow, deliberate circles. "but you love it when i touch you like this, don’t you?"

you bite your lip, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a response, even though your body arches into his touch. his fingers are maddening, teasing and just rough enough to make your skin tingle, and you can feel him hardening beneath you as you grind unconsciously against him.

"you’re such a liar," he murmurs, his breath hot against your neck. "i can feel how much you want this."

you scoff, even as your pulse quickens. "you’re delusional."

"go on, keep pretending," he says, his voice dropping lower, more possessive. "but i know the truth." one hand slides down to your thigh, squeezing hard, his grip almost painful, but it only makes you squirm more. "you’re mine."

you feel his teeth grazing your neck, and you gasp as he nips at your skin, not gentle but with a need that borders on desperation. "satoru—"

he doesn’t give you a chance to say more, his lips crashing against yours in a kiss that’s all teeth and tongue, rough and possessive. his hand slips beneath your shirt, pulling it up and over your head in one swift motion. "i’ve been waiting to do this all day," he mutters, his voice rough with need as his hands move back to your breasts, cupping them with a groan of satisfaction.

"waiting for what?" you ask, breathless, even though you already know the answer. he’s obsessed with your body, with every inch of your skin, and he’s never shy about it.

"this." his mouth descends on your breast, his tongue swirling around your nipple before he sucks it into his mouth, hard. you can’t stop the moan that escapes your lips, your hands flying to his hair, gripping tightly as his mouth works on you. he’s relentless, needy, his tongue flicking over your sensitive skin before he bites down lightly, sending a jolt of pleasure through your body.

"fuck," you gasp, your hips grinding down against him as you try to steady yourself, but the heat is building quickly, and you can’t control it.

he chuckles against your skin, his voice vibrating against your breast. "what’s the matter? can’t handle it?" his eyes flick up to yours, full of lust and something darker—obsession. "you look so pretty like this."

you glare at him, even though the flush creeping up your neck betrays you. "you’re such an asshole."

he laughs, pulling back just enough to speak, his hands still kneading your breasts. "maybe, but you’re still here, aren’t you?"

before you can retort, he pulls you down again, his mouth latching onto your other nipple with a groan, sucking hard, almost bruising. his hands are everywhere, rough and greedy as they explore your body, like he can’t get enough of you. and god, you hate how much you love it, how much you crave the way he’s touching you.

"you’re squirming so much," he murmurs against your skin, his teeth grazing your nipple again, making you whimper. "i love seeing you like this."

"shut up," you hiss, but the breathlessness in your voice makes it clear you’re losing control. your hands tighten in his hair as he sucks harder, his tongue flicking over your sensitive skin again and again.

"gojo," you manage to gasp, trying to keep some semblance of control, but it’s slipping fast. his fingers pinch your nipples now, pulling slightly, and the pain mixes with the pleasure in a way that makes you moan.

"say it," he growls, pulling back slightly to meet your gaze. his hands move to your hips, gripping you tightly as he grinds you against his hard length. "say you’re mine."

you bite your lip, refusing to give in, even though your body is screaming for him. "i…"

"go on," he urges, his voice rough and needy, his hands sliding down to grip your ass, squeezing hard. "say it."

"fuck you," you snap, but it’s weak, breathless, and he knows it.

his grip tightens, his hands pulling you down harder against him as he thrusts up slightly, the friction making you gasp. "oh, i will," he growls, his lips finding your neck again, sucking hard enough to leave marks. "but first, i want to hear you say it."

you shake your head, even though your body is practically begging for release. "you’re not the boss of me."

he laughs, but it’s dark, possessive, full of an intensity that makes your heart race. "oh, but i am." his hands slide back up to your breasts, squeezing them roughly before he takes one nipple back into his mouth, sucking hard. "you just don’t want to admit it."

you try to hold back a moan, but it slips out anyway, and he grins against your skin, his fingers pinching your other nipple at the same time, sending a wave of pleasure crashing through you. "satoru—"

"say it," he growls, pulling back just enough to meet your eyes again. "i want to hear you say it. say you’re mine."

you glare at him, trying to hold onto the last shred of your defiance, but your body betrays you, your hips grinding against him as the heat builds, and you can’t stop it. "fine," you breathe, your voice shaking. "i’m yours."

his grin is wicked, possessive, and you can see the hunger in his eyes as he pulls you down for another bruising kiss. "that’s right," he murmurs against your lips. "you’re mine. no one else can have you."

his words send a thrill through you, even though you hate how much you crave the way he’s claiming you. his hands are rough and possessive as they move over your body, pulling you harder against him, and you can feel how much he needs you, how much he’s desperate for you.

"satoru," you gasp, your hands gripping his shoulders as his mouth moves back to your breasts, sucking and biting with a need that’s almost overwhelming. "please—"

he pulls back slightly, his breath hot against your skin, his hands still gripping your waist as he looks up at you with a dark, lustful gaze. "please what?" he teases, his voice low and rough. "you’re going to have to be more specific, baby."

you bite your lip, trying to hold back, but the words slip out anyway. "i need you."

his grin widens, and you can see the satisfaction in his eyes as he leans up to kiss you again, his lips rough and demanding against yours. "say it again."

"i need you," you repeat, your voice trembling with need, and he groans, his hands sliding back to your ass, pulling you harder against him as he grinds up into you.

"fuck," he mutters, his breath hot against your neck as he kisses you again, rough and desperate. "you drive me crazy, you know that?"

you laugh softly, even though your body is trembling with need. "you’re the one who’s obsessed."

"damn right," he growls, his lips finding your neck again, sucking hard enough to leave another bruise. "and i’m never letting you go."

you shiver, his words sending a thrill through you, even though you know you should probably be worried about just how possessive he is. but right now, all you care about is the way his hands feel on your skin, the way his mouth is driving you insane with need.

"gojo," you moan, your hands gripping his shoulders as his lips move back to your breasts, his teeth grazing your sensitive skin again. "p-please—"

he grins against your chest, nipping at your skin before flicking his tongue over your nipple once more, teasing you just enough to make you squirm. his groan is a low rumble, vibrating against your skin as his hands roam over your body, gripping you like he can’t get enough.

you bite back a whimper, trying to keep control, but his teasing is relentless, each flick of his tongue sending sparks of pleasure straight to your core. “please, i need you.”

he hums in satisfaction, pressing you down harder against his lap, his hands gripping your hips tight enough to leave bruises. "see? was that so hard?" he shifts beneath you, letting you feel the hard length of him pressing against your inner thighs. "i like it when you tell me what you want."

you try to glare at him, but the heat pooling between your legs makes it hard to focus on anything except the way his hands feel, rough and possessive. "you're so cocky," you manage to say, though your voice trembles with need.

"go on, keep trying to resist." he bites down on your nipple, hard enough to make you gasp, before soothing it with his tongue. "but we both know how this is gonna end."

his hands slide down to your thighs, spreading them just enough to make you squirm against him. the friction against your clothed core is maddening, and you feel your resolve slipping with every rough, needy movement. "fuck, gojo," you whisper, your voice barely a breath as you press yourself closer to him, desperate for more.

"that's more like it." his hands slide back to your ass, squeezing roughly as he grinds up into you again, his lips curling into a wicked grin. "look at you, already so needy."

"shut up," you hiss, though your hips betray you, rolling against him in a rhythm that makes him groan.

"so sassy," he murmurs, his eyes gleaming with lust and amusement. "but you're already mine, aren’t you?"

you try to hold onto your defiance, but his hands are everywhere, teasing and rough, and the heat between your legs is unbearable. "maybe," you manage to say, breathless, even though your body is aching for more.

he lets out a low laugh, his hands gripping your hips tighter as he pulls you down harder against him. "you can pretend all you want," he growls, his voice rough with need. "but i’m gonna make you admit it. you’re mine. only mine."

before you can respond, he captures your lips in another bruising kiss, his tongue demanding and possessive as it explores your mouth. you moan against him, your hands tightening in his hair as you grind harder against him, unable to resist the heat building between you.

"gojo—" you gasp when he pulls back, his lips trailing down your neck, leaving a trail of hot, wet kisses as he moves lower. his mouth finds your breast again, sucking your nipple into his mouth with a groan that sends a shiver down your spine.

you arch against him, your body trembling with need as he devours you, his tongue and teeth driving you crazy. you whimper, unable to hold back anymore.

he pulls back slightly, looking up at you with a dark, possessive gaze that makes your heart race. "my baby," his voice is low, teasing, but there’s a rough edge to it that makes your breath catch.

his grin is wicked, and he leans up to kiss you again, his hands roaming over your body, rough and desperate. "good girl," he murmurs against your lips. "you’re mine."

a/n: check out my fanfic books if you're interested!

[tonyboneysblog]

MOTHER HEN: PART SEVEN

parings: hawks x mother!reader

wordcount: 3.2k

warnings: none

notes: daddy’s…home? genuinely so excited to write the next chapter cause if you notice the timeline, something big is coming😈😈

summary: you, the mother of Fumikage Tokoyami, are just a simple nurse! Who caught the eye of a certain pro.

You haven’t gotten a text from hawks in the past four days, which puts you in a sour mood.

technically it’s a little bit of your fault for kissing his forehead- but if the little shit would have just let you explain…

what’s even worse is that your unable to watch the sports festival- fucking hospital job.

And when you finally get home from that hellhole, Fumikage will be sassy cause you weren’t able to watch him.

He wouldn’t be angry just..slightly disappointed?

Then when you cuddled up in your nest yesterday you see that damned hawks plush you spent 30 dollars on…

So here you are at this amazing place of work! against your will of course.

Currently you’re at the water station- until you were rudely pulled away due to a pro hero getting hurt…as usual.

You open the door to see a younger, dark skinned woman with white hair and the cutest bunny ears on her head.

She looks at you and starts waving happily…your heart would feel warm if it weren’t for the blood on her face.

“Names Mirko!” Oh, you know her! Your sister used to be obsessed with her…well for a short period of time but still obsessed no the less.

“Mirko, how you feeling today?”

She sends you a thumbs up, “terrible!”

You chuckle softly and walk over towards her, accompanying another one of the doctors.

“What’s her condition?”

The doctor sighs, “nothing too serious, we ought to check her for a concussion though..and she’ll have to at least spend one night here.”

“With those injuries it should be longer no?”

The doctor shakes his head, “can’t keep Mirko tied down for too long.” Then proceeds to just…walk out.

But Mirko doesn’t let it stay too quiet.

“So, your name is?”

You smile softly, “ Y/N Tokoyami.”

Mirko looks like she’s pondering for a moment..looks as if she knows you from somewhere.

“I swear I’ve heard that name before..” she says quietly.

You smile again, “you probably have, so is there anything you need?”

Mirko puts her attention back onto you, “nah, I’ll be alright.”

“Really, Why’d the doctor call me in then?”

“Because I complained my ass hurt, I’ve been laying in bed all day.”

You chuckle, “that all?”

She nods her head quickly.

“Well, let’s hope you don’t get a bed sore kay?” You shoot a thumbs up towards her, same she did to you earlier.

Then you walk out, wondering why she even needed you…

But Mirko knew why, hawks told her you were nurse and she wanted to she what all the fuss was about.

Truthfully, he’d been talking about you every time she saw him while on patrol.

She supposes his ramblings are correct, you’re cute.

Then again Mirko has never really pinned hawks as the mamas boy type, and you echo the motherly type.

But you’re sweet, maybe that’s why he’s so attracted to you?

So, Mirko pulls out her phone to bother hawks about his little high school boy crush.

she took it the the group chat though, little asshole.

BEST PROS.

carrot foot

Found ur gf hawks

caw caw bitch

what

caw caw bitch

where

jorts

who?

carrot foot

Hospital

INCOMING FACETIME CALL

Mirko sighs and answers it.

“Where is she, she look cute?” Hawks says frantically.

Mirko shakes her head, “again hawks, get a grip.”

Mirko can hear the wind howling into the phone, of course hawks is flying while on the phone.

“Answer me.” Hawks says sternly.

Mirko immediately starts rambling about the very small amount of information she has on you, “Damn you got a mommy kink or something, cause that woman is a MILF. I mean M.I.L.F.”

“What- what the hell does…no?” Mirko can pick on hawks confusion through the phone.

“Hawks, man, that woman echos mother. Here she is mothering throughout the halls of a hospital!”

“Mirko, what’s your point here.”

“I mean she’s hot dude, get your head in the game…or in her i don’t-“

Mirko can then her hawks yelling loudly out of shock, “GROSS MIRKO, DONT MAKE JOKES LIKE-“

If he yelled any louder you could probably hear him in the halls.

Mirko laughs loudly, “Don’t get your panties in a twist, I’m joking.”

Then there’s an uncomfortable silence on the phone, a little too long for comfort.

but then of course hawks breaks it- as him usually does.

“I mean, I wouldn’t mind…”

Mirko starts laughing again, “aha! Damn dirty bird- go get your wings ruffled elsewhere man!”

Hawks responds quickly, ignoring Mirko comment.

“I gotta go- I see a best jeanist and I’d like to go pull his ear.”

Mirko huffs, “fine, but he isn’t your wingman-I am.”

Hawks laughs softly and hangs up, leaving Mirko in silence.

Until you walk in.

“Oh, there’s my favorite nurse!” She beams.

“Do you mind if I watch the sports festival in here? My kids in it..”

Mirko nods her head, “I don’t mind- need to look for recruits anyways.”

So, there you and Mirko sit watching the sports festival together.

Many times throughout it you had to put a hand over your mouth to keep yourself from screaming and alerting the others your not technically working at the moment.

but during every break in the sports festival, you rushed and did your actual duties as quickly as you could.

Then when you came back, and the 1V1 battles have already started.

And of course your gorgeous boy conquers and destroys the competition.

One after another, what was most surprising to you was seeing todorokis and midoriyas fight, aggressive and raw.

made you vividly remember that was the boy who tripped on his own ice..

You were a little scared that’d he have to face your Fumikage.

Instead it was Katsuki Bakugo who faced him, and after that fight he’ll be the only kid who doesn’t get your end-of-semester cookies.

I mean cmon! Grabbing your son by the beak?! Unbelievable…angers you to your core because who does he think he is?!

But it’s fine.

Fumikage would’ve won if it were anyone else.

But Fumikage still got third, and you can shove it in all your friend’s faces that your son is awesome and that they could never.

Because Fumikage is one of a kind.

You look over to Mirko after jumping for joy for your son’s new shiny medal.

“He’s a good fighter, y’know I know someone all birdy like that.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yea, hawks.” She says bluntly.

You can feel the color drain from your face, hawks low key, high key broke your heart after your last interaction.

“Oh… well I’m sure Fumikage will consider an invitation from him.- if he wanted to work with him.” You say while tapping your fingers together.

Mirko pulls out her phone, typing something, you don’t know exactly what but…it’s whatever.

carrot foot

yea your cooked bud

caw caw bitch

what

Mirko seats down her phone next to the table, where you can hear it buzzing loudly…

“Uhm are you gonna check that?” You say nervously.

“Nah, he’s fine.” She says as she finally relaxes into the bed she had been complaining about all day apparently.

“Ah…okay?” You then hop out of the seat, making your way back to your work.

You should get him an apple pie to celebrate, or maybe just straight apples cause Fumikage will go crazy either way.

Hawks briefly crossed your mind again, what was his favorite again? Wasn’t apples you know what…it was probably something dumb- just like him…

dumb, dumb, dumb man.

enough of him, you have work to do…

right after you call Fumikage!

It rings, but he doesn’t answer? Which is weird because Fumikage always answers his phone unless it’s dead.

Yes that’s probably why, he’ll call you right back when it charges.

But Fumikages phone was in-fact not dead, he was just…distracted?

Fumikages eyes squint slightly, “What could you possibly want.”

It’s hawks he’s being so standoffish with, but hawks just sends him a soft smile.

“It’s the sports festival, of course I’d be here.”

“You decide to stalk me instead of my mother?”

Hawks goes quiet, his carefree smile faltering.

“Not exactly..we got in a small spat.”

“If you’re trying to get me to talk to her for you, it’s not gonna work.” Fumikage starts to walk away before hawks grabs his shoulder.

Then dark shadow comes out.

Hawks steps off slightly, “that’s kinda freaky…”

“Kinda like your face.”

Dark shadow looks over to Fumikage, “that wasn’t even a good comeback.”

“Shut up dark shadow.”

Dark shadow scoffs and folds his cute little shadow arms with what looks to be a pout on his face.

Hawks face completely loses the carefree smile, “I’m serious when I say I’m not here for you…well not technically.”

“What do you mean by that.”

“Yea, what do you-“

“Dark shadow…”

Hawks lets out a small breath, “I was interested in you being my sidekick due to the skills you showed off on the fie-“

“Not interested” Fumikage says curtly.

Dark shadow whips his head over to look at Fumikage with surprise, whispering something in his ear.

“He’s number three- you can’t just reject an offer from him!”

“I can, and I just did.”

Then it’s silent, Fumikage doesn’t mind though.

Hawks sighs softly, putting back on the smile Fumikage hates so much.

“Well if you ever rethink it, my agency will always be open.”

“I hope retribution comes for you in the darkness of your home.”

Hawks stays quiet but then his face twists into confusion, “what does that even mean..?”

Fumikage huffs and if he had hair he would most likely flip it whilst walking away.

Fumikage leaves hawks standing outside, utterly confused in what Fumikage was even talking about.

Maybe that’s what you meant when you said Fumikage was unique…

speaking of you, you were still at that darn hospital.

Fumikage was aware of that, you always worked a lot but the times that you weren’t working you tried your best to spend them with him.

Until Mr. Pro-Hero decided to come into your life..

The first time Fumikage really noticed your relationship with hawks was when you had the talk on the balcony.

He knew he wasn’t going crazy when he thought someone was under a blanket, a blanket you don’t even use may he add.

Then the next day when he went up to your balcony, the blanket was in-fact no where to found.

Then he caught him in your kicthen, Fumikage debated on even eating the cookies because maybe hawks terrible aura rubbed off on them.

They were delicious but that’s not the point!

Then hawks wanders into Fumikages home, which was locked, uninvited looking for you.

Only time Fumikage could tolerate hawks was when he had to save you from the bar.

But then his tolerance shot down when he walked in on the two of you coddling each other.

Then he heard the “little spat” you and hawks had which is why he rushed into your room so fast.

Honestly, who does that damn fowl think he is?!

Fumikage explains all of this to poor dark shadow, who truly just wanted to watch a movie with him.

“Sounds rough.” Dark shadow says quietly.

Fumikage huffs, “It’s worse than rough dark shadow, it’s appalling.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t be so…extreme with hawks- Momma seems to like him.”

“Correction, liked, my mother will never participate in any romances with that man again.”

Fumikage ends the conversation there, but dark shadow would like to expand on the topic.

“It was nice of hawks to offer you that side kick position.”

“well being nice doesn’t cut it.”

Finally, the conversation about hawks is finished, Fumikage only ranted for 4 hours this time!

And he’d finished 3 movies in that time as well…maybe the hospital will let you off early.

So Fumikage and dark shadow fight the urge to rest, which they both utterly fail and fall asleep on the couch.

You come in around 5:30 so they never stood a chance, not after the day Fumikage had.

You walk into the door, spotting only Fumikage.

You stumble over towards him, sitting on the floor and brushing your hand through his feathers.

Fumikage is knocked out, so he won’t wake up if you pick him up.

You use all your remaining strength to pick Fumikage up, making your way towards your bedroom.

It’s been a minute since Fumikage got cuddles from his mama.

And also you seriously doubt you could carry Fumikage back to his room, then walk back to yours without passing out onto the floor.

You place Fumikage under the warm covers, then yourself.

You then wrap your hands around Fumikage as tightly as you possible could, as if someone would take him away if you didn’t.

Then you rest, same as Fumikage.

Same as hawks.

And hawks truly needs to thank you for whatever you did to make him stop having those nightmares.

barely dreams now, and if he does it’s always weird shit.

usually has you in it too.

nevermind, you probably cursed him and overrode whatever put that nightmare spell on him.

a curse that just makes him dream about you.

Now he really wishes he talked Mirko into getting a picture of you, he misses you bad.

Maybe a text wouldn’t hurt? No, too risky- you’re probably still mad at him.

Maybe he could worm his way back into your life with that weighted blanket, if his plan worked he could probably steal it back anyways.

It still smells like you, which is weird because he’s had it for awhile.

That’s probably his favorite part of the day now, getting home, taking a shower, cuddling into his mostly bare bed and just sniffing that shit like it’s coke.

Kinda like how some people spray lavender onto their beds to get sleepy, he just smells the hell out of that blanket.

He wishes he was able to snatch another item from your house that smelled like you.

Fumikage doesn’t really smell like you, he noticed.

He smells kinda like wood? And also a little fruity too.

You wouldn’t really guess fruits and flowers from looking at him but maybe your scent rubbed off on him too.

Honestly, hawks kinda feels like Edward when Bella first walked into that classroom though- hawks wouldn’t be covering his mouth to avoid the smell, he would be INHALING that smell.

He would never admit that the night that he comforted you out on that balcony he didn’t even go home and change, he kept that uniform on.

The coat didn’t truly smell like you, but the under shirt did.

Maybe he’s going a little crazy, sure he’s real kept together most the time but- the things you do to that poor man.

And Mirko- peacefully sleeping in the hospital, she may be hawks wingman but she needs her rest too!

And when you wake, you’ll have to go right back to the hospital.

doesn’t men’s you can’t talk to your son before you leave though.

“Mama.” Fumikage says sleepily, awoken from you moving all around the room.

You perk up now your son’s awake, “Fumikage?”

Fumikages eyes a still closed, fighting to go back to sleep.

“Did you see me, in the sports festival?”

You run your hands through Fumikages feathers, “Course’ I did.”

Fumikage smiles softly, “guess who talked to me after..?”

“All might? I saw it on-“

“No it was hawks, invited me for an internship.”

You jaw slacks slightly, “did you accept?”

“No, not after what he’s done.” Fumikage says with a little rasp in his own voice.

“You should’ve.”

“What?”

You sigh, “hawks is number three- doesn’t matter what he did to me Fumikage.

Fumikage stays silent, suddenly now regretting telling you.

“But…”

You kiss his temple, “thank you for thinking about how I’d feel though. Don’t let my emotions or relationships get in the way of your future.”

Fumikage nods, understanding your point of view.

“Are you leaving for work?”

“Yep, it’s not a long shift though.”

You open your bedroom door, “I’ll see you later, Fumi.”

Then walking out of your own house, making your way to the hospital.

Once you walk in, your infact greeted with Mirko!

and hawks.

“Ah, my favorite nurse!” Mirko cheers excitedly.

“Mirko! Shouldn’t you still be on bed rest?”

Mirko chuckles, “glad you’re worried about me toots.”

You gasp a small bit at the nickname, “Oh!”

Mirko places her hand onto her hip, “Hey, didn’t I see you hear like 7 hours ago, why you already back?”

“Duty calls?”

Hawks chuckles at that, wasn’t even funny.

Mirko throws an arm around hawks, “this was the birdy boy I was talking about!”

“We’ve met.”

suddenly there was an awkward silence.

Hawks wanted to throw himself out a window, you wouldn’t even look at him.

Mirko taps her foot nervously.

“Hawks…” you say his name softly.

His head perks up form Mirko hold, “yeah?”

“Sorry that Fumikage rejected you…I know how he is.”

Hawks can feel his heart beating in his ears, “it’s all good- doors always open.”

You nod softly, looking away.

The three of you just stand there in silence, Mirko foot tapping repeats.

Then she breaks, “Mrs Tokoyami, sorry for holding you up-You got a job to do!”

You jump in surprise, “ah- your right, it was nice talking to you both!”

You quickly walk away to clock in, Mirko and hawks make there way outside.

She scoffs, “had the perfect opportunity.”

Hawks rolls his eyes, “I wasn’t gonna apologize to her in a hospital.

“I’m going to put you in the hospital/ what the hell even was that back there?!” Mirko exclaims.

Hawks pushes her arm away, “I was nervous.”

“Doors always open!” Mirko mocks him.

“Oh quiet down.”

“I’m your wingwoman- giving you a perfect chance and you fuck it all up.”

“It wasn’t that bad-“

Mirko smacks the back of his head, “Hawks, shut your trap.”

Hawks doesn’t reply, walking next to Mirko throughout the less populated areas of town.

Mirko snaps her fingers, “You know what, I can fix this.”

“You can?”

“Of course I can, I’m Mirko.”

Hawks groans softly, already annoyed by the days events.

Mirko starts her plan, “clearly she cares a good bit about her son-but there feeling are mostly separated for different things.”

Hawks nods along.

“So instead of getting all cushy with her son again, you need to fix it with her- clearly your not gonna getting through with her son based on what you told me earlier.-“

Hawks interrupts, “her son is always home though.”

“Don’t interrupt me, he goes to U.A. I bet they have some trip for passing the exam.”

“How are we supposed to find that out?”

Mirko groans, “let me talk, I’m always going to that hospital for some reason- I’ll find something out…she likes me unlike you.”

Hawks looks away with a pout, “Don’t say that…”

“I’ll say whatever I want, I’m your wingwoman.”

Hawks and Mirko continue their walk up until they get to his agency, since Mirko doesn’t have one.

Though Mirko continues walking, “See ya later, Hawkey.”

“Where are you going?”

“To my house?- don’t fuck up anything else while I’m gone.”

Hawks huffs lightly, walking into his own office.

He has so much paper work to do, then the commission will be badgering him later for “doing it wrong” according to them.

He can’t wait to just be home.

Be home next to you.

or…your blanket at the very least?

…he really needs to fix this.

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[nyxxxatnite]

Poison

Plot: it should’ve been known that just because you slept with him, doesn’t mean anything changes. And you can’t help but fall for his words every time

Pairings: asshole!Wally Clark x loner!fem!reader, alive!wally x alive!reader

warning(s): SMUTT!!!! Heavy angst at the end, reader gets used for sex, semi-public sex, p in v, unprotected sex (WRAP IT), no happy end, wally bullies the reader, wally is an absolute asshole unless he’s fucking the reader, fingering, degrading, tbh this is shit, NOT PROFREAD

a/n: YALL. okay so i recently binged Hazbin Hotel and this smut is based on a song from the show called Poison. I’m obsessed with it! Anyways. Lets get TO IT!

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

the sound of the bell snaps you out of your day dream, making you look up from your notepad. Students are standing and making their way out of the classroom to hurry to their next class, leaving you by yourself. As you begin to pack your things you noticed a folded piece of paper tossed between the pages of your notepad. You grab it gently and open it, immediately recognizing Wally’s sloppy handwriting.

“Meet me in the janitors closet during our free period ;)”

you roll your eyes and crumple the paper up, tossing it into the trashcan as you walk out of the already empty classroom. You wouldn’t fall for his shit this time. The last time you did your heart got torn into shreds. But at the same time…god you’ve never had an orgasm like the one he gave you. It should’ve been a one time thing, well no, it shouldn’t have happened at all. You only went to his house to help him out with homework like he had requested and one thing led to another and you were pressed face down into his mattress as he ruined your insides.

the second time it happened? Well, honestly that was your own mistake. It was after school and you wanted to find a place to smoke in peace, so you wandered to the football field. Low and behold there he was, running laps by himself. In your defense you did try and leave but he’s a football player for crying out loud. He caught up quick and stopped you, starting to tease you about your habits. And one thing turned into another and you were riding him on the bleachers with your skirt bunched at your waist.

you hated him and he hated you but fuck his dick game was too good. But you wouldn’t let it happen again, especially when you realized about a week ago you like the football player. When you fully figured it out you avoided seeing like like he was a solar eclipse. Which made him pissed off, so when he noticed you spaced out in class he thought it the best time to give you the note.

before you could even fully wander down the hallway, you were being pulled into a small space. And when the chemicals hit your nose you knew exactly where you were. You ripped your arm from the quarter backs grasp and glared up at him.

“what the fuck Wally,” you snapped and stepped back to the door. Effectively, he blocked you in and pressed himself to you, against the door. You knew if you tried to leave you’d out the both fo you, and you’d hate to have everyone mock you

“you’ve been avoiding me, asshole, what the fuck,” he sneered and leaned down to be closer. The closer he got the more his scent encapsulated your sense. Fuck he smelt so nice.

“no shit, i fuckin’ hate your guts,” you sneered back and glared up at him. The only response you got was a snicker from him.

“nah, the only guts in this equation are yours while i’m fucking ruining them,” he whispered and gently placed his lips to your neck. You shiver and try to flinch away but his hand in your hair stops you from moving. You try to free your poor hair from his grasp but he grips harder and glares down at you.

“admit it, you love when i dick you down. You’re a fucking whore who loves to get pushed around by the star football player. Which isn’t a surprise, seeing how much of a freak you are.”

you should’ve been upset by his words but all you felt was arousal, that familiar hear between your legs. Why was this turning you on so much? Without too much thought behind it, you swung your arm back a bit and up. With a loud smack, your hand lands on his cheek, a harsh slap erupted in the small space. His face turned to the side from the impact, but that wasn’t what deterred you. The smirk rising to his lips made you lean back a bit in surprise and then the sudden impact on your chest settled in as he spun you around. With a harsh push, he’s pinning you to your front against the door, arms locked behind your back.

you hiss at the contact and try to snap at him but are cut off by the harsh yank from your hair along with the smack that landed on your ass. You let out a yelp and squeeze your eyes shut at the harsh sting hits you like bricks. And within seconds you’re feeling the cold air hit your already soaked cunt. He’s all but careful as he shoves his ring and middle finger into your hot cunt, making you moan out. His free hand is slapping over your mouth as he pumps his fingers in and out of your aching cunt at an aggressive speed, curling them every now and then to hit that perfect spot inside of you.

with his hand muffling your moans, you let them fly. Small pants are given from the dark haired boy as he pressed his hard cock against your plush ass that still stung from his assault earlier. Your eyes roll a bit from the harsh pace, already feeling a small knot build in your gut but it was easily ruined as he pulled his fingers out abruptly. You wanted to cry out in protest but the sound of his belt being undone made your heart leap in excitement.

He’s grabbing your hips and pulling them back a bit so your ass is out more for him. You jump a bit as you feel his tip prod at your entrance, gathering whatever wetness he could before he pressed into you. The stretch always felt a bit tight but you knew you’d be feeling like heaven in moments.

but he sat for a second, stuffed to the hilt inside of you. You turn your head a bit to look back at him but he grabs your hair and forces you to look away from him. Your confusion is dissolved as he starts to pull out only to slam back into you. You bite down on your lip to keep your cries in, loving the feel of his dick deep inside of you. His pace is all but sweet as he starts to fuck into you like a dog in rut. The soft groans coming from him were like heaven, along with the loud sounds of your squelching cunt and his balls slapping against your clit and his pelvis smacking into your ass.

you try and reach back to hold onto some part of him but he quickly slaps your hand away, keeping his hand in your hair to keep your head stabilized. And for some reason you feel like he’s trying to keep himself distant from you. After he had just bitched about you avoiding him as well.

your thoughts are interrupted as you felt that knot in your lower abdomen build up again. You whimpered softly and reached down between your legs, rubbing your clit quickly to help. Wally’s hips keep pistoning into you, trying to chase his own high as well. Within a few more thrusts he’s shooting his cum deep inside of you, painting your walls that milky white color. His finish triggered yours making you spasm a bit, feeling your liquid leak down his dick and your own thighs. You were thankful you were wearing a skirt, clean up would be easy.

after taking a little breather you started to get yourself together. You turn your eyes up to the boy, seeing his eyes clouded with thought. You stepped closer only to be pushed back, “we can’t do this again. If people found out i was fucking you my reputation would be ruined. Just stay the fuck away from me from now on, freak.”

with that, he’s moving around you and darting out or the closet, leaving you alone. You’d fallen for it again, and this time his poison hit its mark leaving you with a broken heart.

[princessbrunette]

moony mentioned pope enjoying being edged on her blog and it’s got me thinking about drummer!pope who is an obsessive perfectionist who forced you to test his stamina and endurance by edging him. it’s almost like torture at this point. self inflicted harm.

he always saw sex as something like pounding out an hour long non stop drum solo, full on whiplash 2014 style. your arms are aching, at first its this pleasurable sort of tingle that sparks all down your spine and dwindles in your biceps, pushing you to slam harder against the drums and smash the cymbals like your life depends on it — but as time goes on, you look for moments of relief. you start to really ache, and that was his weakness. what kind of musician would he be if he constantly yearned for the break? the relief? you told him it was okay to give yourself moments to recover. he responded that he wanted to be perfect. you told him it was his virgo placements. he nodded like he understood. pope was always more of a science guy anyway.

so there he is on his back, jaw clenched in determination as you milk his cock dry of precum, unsurely taking your hand away each time he’d tap you.

“nah, keep on going.” he strains, squeezing his eyes shut because each time he looks into your doe eyes that border on concern, he’s pushed closer to eruption.

“pope…s’okay to let it go. want you to—”

“shh, shush… please. i’m sorry just… i need to focus. please keep jerking me… yeah, just like that.” you’re instantly silenced, both hands wrapped around him starting to move once more. your knuckles are all slicked with his precum and then added coconut oil you were jerking him off with— the wet schlick-schlick-schlick sound of the moment making you shift around in arousal, your panties wet and neglected.

you take one hand off him to massage his balls. “s’so heavy popey.”

his eyes are closed and his hips roll upwards, fucking into your hand. he looks concentrated, but replies anyway.

“mhm, practically blue, i know it.”

“wanna lick every drop of it—”

“don’t.” he warns in practically a whimper.

“wish you’d just do it inside me. m’so wet for you, popey. want it in me…” you complain as he pants, squinting an eye open with his brows furrowed.

“m’tryin’ to— baby you gotta stop talking—”

“jus’ want it leaking out of me ‘til my pussy is all fat n’ sore ‘cus you fucked it all night—”

“ssssshit, fucking shit!” he practically yells, before his jaw drops with a devastating groan and he shoots ropes all over his bare stomach. you keep twisting your hand around him until he’s twitching in overstimulation, unable to catch his breath like he’s having an asthma attack. when you roll the flat of your tongue over his tip to taste him, he throws a hand over his mouth, squeezing his eyes shut and groaning against his palm. eventually, he musters the strength to bat your hands away. “you killed me. you just fucking killed me.” he speaks, hilariously monotone as he catches his breath.

“you’re not the only horny one, you know.” you mewl pathetically as he opens his eyes.

“and i’m a selfish asshole. c’mere. i’m eating you out.”

[mustainegf]

➜ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐓

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟏 — ❝ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐀𝐒𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 ❞

I would have never thought I'd be stuck in this dank, moldy basement of a rundown rental house smack in the middle of El Cerrito, California surrounded by four metalheads. Honestly, I am not sure how it is that I ended up being here, but I guess it really all started with Kirk. He's been a brother to me for as long as I could remember, long before Metallica, long before "Ride the Lightning," long before any of this madness.

Me and Kirk go way, way back, man. We were those kids that took every other weekend going to see each other, playing pranks, and diving into his endless collection of horror action figures. He was obsessed with those things, creepy little monsters with claws and fangs and bulging eyes. We used to spend hours on his bedroom floor making them fight each other in these elaborate battles. Always making mine talk like they were in some kind of cheesy B-movie.

Now? Well, now Kirk's a guitarist. He's spending his days jamming out with Metallica, and I'm… well, I'm not quite sure what I'm doing.

It was about a month ago that things really went sideways. My landlord back in Oakland decided my rent had to go up, way up, and there was no way I could afford it. Not on what I made at the record store. I had two choices: live out of my car or call in a favor. So I called Kirk.

I finally appeared, and Kirk embraced me as if I had been away for years. His lanky arms wrapped around me. "You sure about this?" I asked, standing weirdly in the doorway with my duffel bag slung over my shoulder.

"Of course, I'm positive! What's a few more people in the house?" Kirk beamed at me, but from inside, I could hear Lars yelling something at James, Cliff laughing in the background.

I sighed. "Well, you know you're pretty much adopting me now, right?"

He laughed. "Nah, you have always been like a sister. It'll just be like old times."

Old times my ass, this was no quiet suburban weekend of playthings and running around the neighborhood. These guys were living like rockstars, though they were not quite there yet. The house was actually a mess, and the energy was relentless. It seemed like there was always something going on, an argument over music, records blaring, or drinking way too early in the day.

But the real problem? James Hetfield.

James.

The second I walked into the house, the two of us started butting heads. He was leaning against the counter in the kitchen when I arrived, an unlit cigarette dangling from his lips, looking at me like I was some kind of trespasser.

"Oh, so this is Kirk's little friend," he muttered instead of hello.

I gave him a sideways look. "Nice to meet you too, James."

He snickered, his eyes never leaving me. "Don't get too comfortable, princess."

"Don't worry, I won't."

And with that, it was on, the beginning of what would be the most ridiculous back-and-forth of my life. It wasn't that James was arrogant, it was how he could get at me with just the look or just the words themselves. I couldn't help but shoot back, and before I knew it, we were day in and day out at each other's throats, lobbing insults like hand grenades.

He was calling me "princess" like a joke; I was calling him "asshole," usually he laughed it off.

The basement Kirk set up for me was, well…let's just say it was "rustic." The mattress was lumpy, the air was damp, and I was pretty sure there were mice living in the walls. A single window high up on the wall let in just enough light to remind me I wasn't completely underground.

It was more bitter, cold than it had any right to be in California. Each night I burrowed under the blankets, trying to shut out the chill that seeped into my bones. But no matter how uncomfortable it got, at least it was better than the streets, so really I had nothing to complain about.

Besides, the guys were all right, more or less. Kirk kept me supplied with what I needed, whether it was just a cup of instant coffee in the morning. Cliff was mellow, and we'd sometimes sit out in the backyard, smoke a joint, and talk about stuff, music, whatever. He was one of them guys that never took anything too serious.

"Just go with the flow, man," he'd say, blowing out a stream of smoke. "Life's too short to get worked up."

Yeah, well, tell that to James.

"Hey, princess!" James yelled out one afternoon when I sat on the back steps flipping through a book.

I didn't bother to look up. "What do you want, Hetfield?"

He strode over, shirtless, of course, and stood before me, blocking the sun. "You look bored."

"And you look like you need to shower," I shot back wrinkling my nose at the sheen of sweat on his chest.

"Oh, charming as ever," he said with a quick, sardonic grin. "Kirk said you used to play guitar. We need a fifth opinion on this riff we're working on."

"I haven't touched a guitar in years," I muttered trying to go back to my book.

He didn't budge. "Come on. Like you're reading some sort of novel in there."

I rolled my eyes and slammed the book shut. "Fine. Can we just get this over with?"

It was more of a garage than a studio anyway. The place smelled from sweat and stale beer and cigarettes, but the guys had managed to turn it into a practice area of sorts. Lars was already planted behind the drum kit, tapping along on his snare, Kirk and Cliff fidgeting with their instruments.

"What are we doing?"

"We're working on this track 'Creeping Death.' I need you to tell me if the riff sounds too… I don't know, repetitive."

I cocked an eyebrow. "That is a very vague request."

James shot me a look. "You'll know it.”

First, Lars shot into the heavy thump of the drums that filled the small space, Kirk then entered with his signature melodic riff, followed by Cliff's deep, thundering bass line. When James joined in, the whole garage shook.

Not being a metalhead, I could still appreciate the way they played off one another. Visceral, almost, like something base and animalistic.

"Alright, what'd you think?" James said once they were done, eyes locking onto mine, daring me to find fault with him.

I wanted to say something that would get on his nerves. "It's not bad. Needs work, though."

He scowled. "Of course, you'd say that."

"What? You want me to lie and tell you it's perfect?" I shot back, crossing my arms.

Kirk snickered from across the room. "She's got a point, man. It's not done yet."

Mumbling, James didn't say much else. He lit a cigarette and stormed out of the garage.

That was James for you. Always quick to get pissy, but there was more to him, behind that tough guy thing. I didn't know what yet, but I had a feeling I'd find out eventually.

There was something almost comforting about waking up to the sounds of Lars yelling at someone, or watching Kirk shred a solo while Cliff nodded along in approval. Even James, for all his faults, had moments where I almost didn't want to punch him in the face.

Almost.

Nights were tougher, though. That was when the quiet set in, and out there in that freezing basement, I was left with my thoughts. I'd lie on my back staring up at the ceiling, listening to the muffled sounds of guys upstairs, and wonder how much longer this would last. It wasn't my world really, it was theirs, heavy metal, tour vans, and beer soaked rehearsals.

But for now, this was my world too I guess.

I pulled the blankets up higher on my body and sighed. Far from ideal, but it would suffice.

One evening, when at last all were tucked in, I heard a knock on the door downstairs. With a groan, knowing I was just not in the mood for whatever. I called out, "What?" and sat up.

The door creaked open, and James was standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame. "You awake?"

"Obviously," I muttered. "What do you want?"

He paused a moment before stepping into the room. "I was just… I don't know. Couldn't sleep."

I raised one eyebrow. "So you thought you'd come bother me?"

He shrugged as he sat down on the edge of the bed. "I guess.”

I sat and stared at him, waiting for the inevitable snide remark or jab. It never came. He just sat there, staring down the floor.

The silence continued for quite a while until I let out a sigh. "You're weird, you know that?"

A small snicker escaped his lips. "Yeah, I think I have heard that somewhere before."

I said nothing at the time, having nothing to say. I merely lay back and drew the blanket up to my neck.

For several minutes longer James remained where he sat, silent as before. Then, also without word, he rose and left the room, his exit as noiseless as his entrance.

Perhaps this wasn't such a horrible place after all.

[themeraldee]

Reader who's a loner, regularly has hallucinations that they just sorta deal with. One night they were on the roof of a skyscraper, kinda high/drunk (whichever your more comfy with) they hallucinates homelander, the convo kind goes like this

H: *clenching fist* wasn't expecting to see another person up here.

R: OH SH- hiii omigosh sorry you startled me, but hey how ya doin?

Homelander had come up there for some peace and quiet but was pleasantly surprised that this person didn't just annoy him, but actually had a good heart to heart with him, as they related to each others loneliness, he feels a sense of comradery he hasn't ever felt, making him emotional. homelander pulls out the old "I should go now, I have to fight crime." Excuse so he can go home and think about it. Over the span of two weeks he couldn't stop thinking of them. He didn't even know their name but hes like "their the one." Leading him to tracking them down. Now remember in the first half when I said they hallucinated him? Well It turns out they weren't hallucinating, he was completely real and they were actually talking to him that night, thinking "this HAS to be a hallucination". But no, now they have to deal with an obsessed homelander.

One of my favourite tropes is Homelander falling for someone with absolutely zero thought. He doesn't need a slow burn or get to know them better. Nah, he's all in. Whatever it is that clicks with him takes no time to settle and he's pursing them full throttle STAT.

The idea of reader continuously thinking that he's a hallucination would lead to some funny moments. Of course he's not real, this Homelander is a jerk, a real crude asshole. Only you would come up with something like that. Nothing like the sickly sweet persona they parade on the TV. And of course Homelander would be getting increasingly frustrated because you should be getting yourself just as obsessed with him! And you can't do that if you don't think he's real!

"Of course my hallucination of Homelander is a more fucked up version of him."

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

"Well, look at yourself. You're a little crazy. Don't act like you do on TV. And that's a good thing really, so my hallucination gets a 1, real Homelander 0."

"For the tenth time I'm real!"

"Yeah yeah you've said. Still not done anything to prove it though."

So naturally, he kisses you, like he's been itching to do. And what was that if not a blanket permission.

"Woah woah woah, what the hell?!"

"You wanted proof. You got it."

And because your hallucinations never felt corporeal before you start freaking the fuck out. Because what do you mean it's been the real Homelander all along that you've been making yourself a fool in front of??

[loganofthenorth]

Every time I think about Mulan, I get obsessed with how awesome these three are. So I’mma take a few minutes to rant about it.

This three good balls, bad asses, loveable idiots. They’re fricken adorable and I love them. And like, as a kid, I used to not understand how they became friends with Mulan. I thought they were sexist assholes that only trusted her because, well, you know, she saved China.

But I analyzed the movie as an adult, and honestly? I think they knew Mulan was a girl the whole time, and just kinda, accepted it. Still treated her like one of the guys, wanted to see how long she could keep this up for. Yao and Ling most certainly bet on it while Chien-po was probably like: “Shouldn’t we just… tell her we know so she has people to trust?” And the other two were like: Nah this is funny.

I also think Ling and Chien-Po knew instantly since Yao was too mad to be like: Huh… hmm… something’s off here.

They probably told him later. Like:

Chien-Po: You know, it isn’t nice to hit a lady.

Yao: Wow, didn’t think you had it in ya to be such an ass. I mean, he’s a wimp but sheesh.

Ling: *falling over laughing*

Yao: What the hell’s his problem?

Chien-Po: *whispering* I mean and actual lady, Yao.

Ling: And no one tells! Got it? No telling anyone else. Only us three know. I wanna see how long this goes on for.

Chien-Po: Also… They’ll kill her if they find out, and… She’s our friend now.

Yao: Friend’s a strong word… But sure, I’ll keep it to myself. Besides, only I’m allowed to kill them now.

So yeah, when they later heard that Mulan was alone in the bath pond thing, it was too good an opportunity to miss. I don’t think these himbos even considered how weird it was. They were too distracted with how fricken hilarious it’d be.

I mean

Come on

That smug smile and Chien-Po’s: This is fine.

They know exactly what they’re doing.

Then with ‘A Girl Worth Fighting For’, Ling brings up the song to cheer everyone up because they’re sore, didn’t choose to go to war, and need something, anything to keep them going. Then once Mulan’s line comes up it’s like: “Oh, right. Forgot about that. Whelp, time to continue messing with her.”

Like: Ight, guys. Whatever she says, probably describing herself. So, whatever she says, say Nah. It’s funny.

The main thing that sent me on this tangent, was this scene

Their shock, their surprise, this reaction isn’t an: “Oh shit, we trained/hung out with/bathed/etc with a girl.” Reaction.

This is a: “Shit they caught her and now they’re gonna kill our friend!” Reaction.

Which, yeah, of course it would be. They have their priorities checked out.

However

If memory serves me right there was no hesitation

There was also no hesitation to trust her when no one else would

Because they didn’t have the feeling of betrayal Shane had for being lied to

And they were totally down to dress in drag

They really just couldn’t care less about Mulan being a girl

And I love them for that

This tis the end of my tangent. I love these three gentlebros

[dumplingsjinson]

List of “I fucking hate them (or maybe I just like lying to myself)” prompts

“Don’t deny it. You were staring at my lips just then. You wanna kiss me that bad?” “Piss off, you wanker.” “You didn’t say no.” 

“Kiss me.” “Oh, fucking gladly.” 

“You liked that, didn’t you?” “I did not.” “Hm, then why can’t you look me in the eyes?” 

“They’re the biggest fucking assholes known to mankind, so why the hell would I ever let their stupid face and stupid smile and stupid laugh and stupid everything consume my brain on a daily basis?”

“Is that a handkerchief? Why are you offering me a handkerchief?” “Because you’re crying and everyone else is ignoring you and seeing your pathetic tears makes me mad. So wipe them away with this; they’re hurting my eyes.”

“Who hurt you?” “Why do you care?” “Because no one gets to make you look like this other than me. I’m going to break their nose for this.” 

“Here. Thanks for the handkerchief. I washed it and everything.” “I didn’t tell you to give it back to me.” “If you’re worried that I left my snot on there then—” “That’s not why. I just thought… I wasn’t expecting you to give it back to me, let alone remember that it was me who gave it to you. It has been a few months, after all. Have you been thinking about me this whole time?” “…How in the ever loving fuck did you come to that ridiculous conclusion?”

“I came to apologise. Even though we all make mistakes and you’re definitely the one in the wrong, I’m going to be the one to make amends. I’m sorry.” “…What’s the point of this apology if you’re going to be a dick about it?” 

“Are you actually blushing because of me?” “I’m not! It’s just really hot in here and the air-conditioner is broken.” “Oh, that’s weird because this place is quite cool and the air-conditioner might be working a little too well.” 

“The world doesn’t revolve around you.” “Oh, but your world revolves around me since you seem to be so obsessed with me.” 

“Okay, so we might have fucked a few times, and very passionately at that, but that doesn’t mean I’ve caught feelings.”

“What do you mean I stare at them with heart-eyes? That is quite literally the opposite of how I stare at them — not that I do stare at them, by the way.” 

“Looking at you is making me feel an insurmountable amount of rage so I’m going to kiss you to cease that rage, got it?” “Wait, what the fuck—”

“Telling myself that I hate them is the only way I can ground myself, because I know if I admit I’ve fallen for them, then there will be no one to catch me.” “So, you’re going to continue to hate them even though, deep down, you know that’s the opposite of what you really feel?” “…Well, denial is blissful. So they say.” 

“You know you can talk to me, right?” “I’d really rather not, but I guess I don’t have a choice in the matter, do I?”

“Admit it, you think I look good.” “Nah. You look like a clown.” … “Did you see them? How dare they look so fucking good? This isn’t fair, God has favourites and they’re clearly one of them.” “Didn’t you literally tell them they look like a clown?” 

“I’d rather you regard me with hate than pity, because pity coming from you makes me feel like a pathetic piece of shit and affects me more than it should.” 

“You’re so clumsy and stupid. When will you learn how to stop tripping over your own two feet?” “Until you stop tending to my wounds like you do now.” “What?” “…It’s the only way I can think of to get you to give two shits about me.” 

“You literally don’t have to do anything to catch my attention because my eyes have never really been on anyone else other than you.”

“They say to keep your friends close and your enemies even closer, but I think I might have kept you too close.” 

“You keep ruining all of my fucking relationships. What the hell’s wrong with you?” “Maybe because I feel like you could do better than some asshole who doesn’t appreciate you?” “Oh, then drop a few names, I’ll gladly go on a date with them if it means you’d stop interfering like some meddlesome bitch.” “Well, there’s [name] for one.” “…Isn’t that your name?”

“You do that again and I’m going to throw you onto the bed and… And…” “And?” “…cover you with a blanket so you don’t catch a cold when you’re asleep.” “There are other ways to keep me warm, you know?” “…Don’t give me ideas.”

“So I had a nightmare.” “Ooh. Interesting. What was it about?” “It was a wet dream about you.” “…That’s… Pardon?” 

“Why are you doing this to me?” “Doing what?” “Making me like you. Stop it, God damn it, I’m not supposed to— I’m supposed to not— this goes against every morals I’ve ever set for myself!” 

“I think I kind of knew I was fucked the moment I admitted to myself I never really hated you.” 

[vitentia]

MEDDLE ABOUT .lıllıl.

pairings ━━ street racer!ellie x fem!reader

warnings ━━ TOTALLY AND ENTIRELY inspired by the movie Culpa Mia bc I am obsessed, jealous!ellie, illegal street racing, questionably dangerous circumstances, fighting, use of a gun (not against anyone)

synopsis ━━ ellie williams, notoriously infamous street racer, wanted in many countries both by law enforcement and desire. desire for her car, her skills, her money, and especially what she could do with those hands beyond driving. luckily for you, her favorite grid girl was the only the only one she ever wanted.

playlist ━━ literally any chase atlantic song ever

Your friends excitedly pulled your arm, ooo-ing and awing at everything under the neon lights. A girl friend squealed into your shoulder as an attractive racer walked by and gave her a wink.

“Holy shit! You never told me you had such sex symbols walking your job like an all you can eat buffet.” You snorted at her and shook your head.

“All you can eat maybe but I actually have a job to do.”

“Oh, please, you mean to tell me nobody in here has tried to get with you? That you’ve never been tempted?”

You shrugged, “I never said that.”

Walking your friends over to the gathering crowd, you provided them front row seats to the open road arena and stepped away to lean your head into your favorite car.

“Williams.”

The short haired girl whistled lowly. “Aha, there’s my favorite girl. You gonna be shooting for me tonight?”

“Nah, Dina wanted to do it today.”

Ellie clicked her teeth. “Damn, I was hoping I’d see you in something sexy before I race this asshole.” She nodded her head in the direction of her opponent.

Cameron, upper middle class douchebag who thought he could win every race by being reckless and owning expensive cars. He winked at you from outside his car before sitting inside, no doubt trying to rile Ellie up.

You rolled your eyes and faced her again, “Ignore him. His fancy little cars are no match for this baby.”

“No match for my baby, you mean.” You made a confused face. “Hop in the passenger seat.”

“Woah hold on, you don’t let anyone in this car.” You responded, shock and surprise laced in your voice.

She smirked. “I’ve let you on top of it.”

Both anxious and excited, you bit your lip and looked at her blood red car. “Are you sure?”

“No time like the present, baby. Get in.”

You squealed and ran around the front of the car to get into the passenger seat, your friends shouting sexual jokes at you from afar. Once your bottom hit the plush leather seats you nearly moaned, flipping down the upward mirror, opening the dashboard, all of it was just so…exciting.

“You have been in a car before, right?” Ellie said sarcastically, watching your enjoyment.

“Yeah but never your car. It’s like a spaceship.” You gleamed, she smiled at you and shook her head, resting her arm out the window as Dina sauntered over between the two cars.

She read the basic rules and the promised dollar amount to the loser, roughly around 7k and spoke to each person in the car. When she came around you and Ellie, you leaned on the elbow rest and called out to her from the window.

“Your ass looks great in those jeans, D!” She turned around, hair whipping behind her and gave you a wink as Ellie scoffed.

“Why didn’t you tell me my ass looks good?” She asked, offended.

“It looks good, not as good as Dina’s though.” Your smirked.

Right then, she revved up the engine, hands sitting properly at the wheel and her plan already in motion. Dina stood between the two cars, raising the gun high in the air before finally breaking the tension and letting out a shot.

Before you could even blink, the car was already swiveling through the air. Your heart felt like it was in your throat as you grabbed onto the upper handle for support, but your mind was ecstatic over the adrenaline rush you got.

You didn’t even realize you were smiling and laughing until Ellie broke her concentration to admire you.

The moment fell short when Cameron’s sports car bumped roughly into Ellie’s from behind, sending you forward in your seat with your seatbelt forcing you back.

“What the fuck?” She cursed, bracing herself on the steering wheel before craning her eyes in your passenger side mirror to see.

Cameron pushed into the back of the car again, this time, his smirk visible for both of you to see.

Ellie tilted her head menacingly at him through the rear view mirror and revved up her engine, her knuckles turning white against the steering wheel as she prepared for a particularly sharp turn. You clasped the upper handle harder than before and prepared yourself for the increase in speed. Wind blew about the car dramatically and once the car finished its straight illegal turn, your butt planted on the seat and you finally allowed yourself to breath.

Ellie didn’t say a word nor look in your direction, her eyes pointedly eyeing the finish line with vigor. If you weren’t so attracted to her angry face, you’d be slightly worried.

Cameron expensive car rolled up on its side once Ellie made it past the finish line and it’s owner came out of it in anger. He slammed the door shut uncaringly and stomped over to you and Ellie like a child. You slipped next to Ellie but she lightly pushed you behind her and stood to her full height against the prissy boy.

“You fucking bitch!” He cursed

“Calling me names doesn’t help you, upper side. My money is owed.” She responded calmly, scarier than if she yelled back.

Jesse ran up in the middle and inserted himself between them. “Let it go, man. You lost fair and square.”

Cameron scoffed, unbelieving. “I ain’t giving you nothing. You or your little prostitute, Williams.”

Ellie swore her vision turned red as she revved up her arm for a mean right hook before abruptly being interrupted by Jesse holding her back.

“Not now, Els.” He whispered to her.

Cameron chuckled at her reaction and looked you up and down, sending a shiver up your spine. “Maybe I will pay for you, how much you charge a night-“

As soon as the boy started talking, Jesse mumbled something under his breath and promptly let go of the seething girl in his arms, raising them up to his sides and pressing his lips into a thin line. Without anymore resistance, Ellie swung her fist across Cameron’s jaw and a jaw dropping crack was heard from feet away. You gasped and slapped your hand over your mouth as she pushed him to the ground and pressed her black and white converse into his freshly cracked jaw.

“You’ll hear from my lawyers, you bitch.” He coughed out, barely eligible.

Ellie smirked and leaned down, hand against her knee. “I’ll be glad to tell them all you’ve been up to, Cameron Trevor Mallard Jr.” She roughly pulled her foot away and nodded towards Jesse. “Collect my money and bring it to me by tomorrow.”

No words were exchanged as she took your hand in hers and directed you to the passenger seat, opening the door and buckling you up herself before moving to her side and driving away from everyone. You looked back through the window, jaw agape.

“I’ll tell Jesse to make sure your friends get home safe, okay? I just- I just didn’t want to be alone.” She said, breaths shaking alongside her hands.

“Hey, come on, pull over. You can’t drive like this.” You said gently, putting your hand on her shoulder.

Listening to your words, Ellie pulled over to the side of a gravel road and took a deep breath. Your hand slipped under hers and examined the cuts on her knuckles, kissing them softly.

“You shouldn’t have-“

“No, I should have.” She finally looked at you. “Besides, I’ve been wanted to do put that kid in place for ages. You just gave me good reason.”

You smiled and averted your eyes from her intense gaze, but she leaned forward in her seat and brushed her nose against yours, forcing you to look at her.

“Thank you.” You whispered

She smirked, “Ah, you’re such a sap.” Ellie pressed her lips against yours, undecided on whether she wanted to swallow you whole or take it slow. With the moonlight bouncing off her tinted windows and the darkness of the night shielding you both from any prying eyes, she finally decided to do both.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

WIBTA if i talked to the school councelor because i suspect one of my friends is autistic? 👁️

(note: asshole is probably a strong word - what i’m mostly asking is if it would be a good idea)

I (17) have a friend (17) we’ll call Alex. I’ve been friends with Alex since we were in first grade, because our parents knew eachother. We kind of grew up together. Our entire lives, they’ve always been “weird,” they’ve never picked up on social cues well, they’re obsessed with chickens and know an absurd amount about them, they describe themself as a “creature of habit,” they struggle to understand when people are joking vs serious, and they are really bad at spelling, just to name off the top of my head. Now, any of these thing in a vacuum wouldn’t warrant anything necessarily, but all together i’m pretty certain they have undiagnosed autism.

Some added context, im not autistic myself, but i do have ADHD and i have an interest in psychology and how the brain works. In doing my own research to see if i was autistic, i noticed a lot of similarities between what i was reading and how i’ve known Alex as a friend my whole life. I’ve had the idea of them maybe being autistic rolling in the back of my head for like, two years now? But haven’t ever said anything about it, because i was afraid I was wrong or overthinking.

Now, here’s why i’m worried about bringing it up to anyone. Their parents are very… “nuclear family” ish. they’re very catholic, and have six kids with a seventh on the way (we live in the suburbs) and a part of me feels they don’t believe in mental health/illnesses/disorders or anything like that. They’re also transphobic, but you didn’t hear that from me. I just fear that telling a counselor would spread the info to parents who either wouldn’t understand, wouldn’t care, or would try and “cure” it. Alex already isn’t doing well mentally (they’ve talked about feeling textbook dysphoria and are in denial about it - i think they’re a transmasc egg) and i really don’t want to bring it up if it will cause problems.

BUT. I talked to my mom about all of this (we’re very close and i knew she wouldn’t make a big deal out of it) and she recommended talking to the school counselor, and im just wondering if it’s a good idea. In the best case scenario, the counselor would work to get them a diagnosis and HOPEFULLY a therapist (oh my god do they need a therapist), but in the worst case? in the awful world for autistic people we live in? i just don’t know if it’s wise. So here i am turning to tumblr, the most neurodivergent site around. WIBTA if i talked to the counselor about my friend who i heavily suspect is autistic?