#my boyfriend was like ‘yeah but what if he comes back in like a sequel or something and he’s darth vader??? wouldn’t you be happy???’

[inkykeiji]

bnha manga spoilers!!!!!

EEEEEEEEE I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU!!!!!!!!!

his hair!!!!!!!!!!!!! his fucking HAIR!!!!!!!!! i just AAAAH i cannot get over it because !!!!! that is exactly how i picture touya-nii’s hair to look 🥹🥹🥹 just down/undone n fluffy n shaggy n soft <333

anyway i am sickly in love with him, i’m not surprised to see what he actually looks like after the war, but the fact that he’s still got his eyes makes me think that his blue irises must be so stark and vivid and just pop against the rest of his injured body—which makes me both swoon and sad, because goddamn you’d recognize those eyes anywhere, the very moment your gaze meets his…but enji still didn’t, not even when he first came face to face with them, not until they were thrust in his face and screaming at him ._.

[lunavrse]

WHAT YOU HEARD pt 2

LANDO NORRIS

summary ★ : streets are saying yn finally broke up with her loser boyfriend and guess who couldn't be happier? if you guessed lando, you'd be wrong, it's actually her (but lando's a really close second).

category ★ : smau.

notes ★ : as always times and dates are irrelevant and spelling mistakes are intentional. longer than the last part but worse 🫶. and when i use those harry styles and taylor russell pictures again, mind your business🤫 poll at the end!!!

pt 1

tagged: visavni

Liked by landonorris, monaspencer, zendaya and 1 154 748 others

yn_ln back to your regularly scheduled content of my face 🤗 did a fun little shoot with with a friend

View all 4 755 comments

user ugh face cardddd

user it's giving retro realness

user ur face card rlly is sum serious

visavni this was sm fun!

yn_ln thank u for always delivering

user always something amazing when y'all collab

user 1st slide is giving scream for some reason

user real "please don't kill me Mr Ghostface, I want to be in the sequel" vibes

user serving 70s editorial

user Already added to my Pinterest board 💞

user gagged, died, dead

user And I eat it up everytime.

landonorris real

user ofc instagram user landonorris on a yn_ln post

user not even f1 driver💀

user seeing different concepts from you is my absolute fav thing ngl

landonorris you look leng.

user anyone else side eye at this comment?

user honestly? not really, i'm sure he's said worse things

user legs are legging...

user what does this even mean

user the girls that get it, get it💋

user gah dam why are you legs so long🤤

user she's so overrated

user now why are you manspreading 🤨 do you want people to sit in ur lap???

user me wondering if that seats taken

monaspencer you've done it again! it's giving everything it's supposed to give🔥

yn_ln tysm ml🫶🏾

landonorris so she gets a reply but not me🫤

yn_ln now what was i supposed to say?

landonorris thank you?

yn_ln you're welcome.

landonorris oh that's no- ykw, you're right, i should be grateful

user damn right

user if he's not like this i don't want him

user He really said when a bad bitch tells me to shut up, I do it.

user i just know that ezra is somewhere sick to his stomach

user personally, I'd never recover

zendaya your shoots are always so good

yn_ln tysm queen. means a lot coming from you<3

user girl you do damage to me🥴

user amazing shoot 😍

yourfriend7 slenderman proportions🤩

yn_ln and if i kill myself, what then?

yourfriend7 😘

yn_ln spawning in your room🔜

yourfriend7 not beating the allegations pookie

user 😭😭😭

user love seeing your face pop up when i open insta

user the only reason people care about you is bc of ezra

user you're joking...

user you're delusional just like ur fav

user and yet here you are, on her page

tagged: landonorris, yn_ln

motormouth Lando and Y/n spotted out and about via friends and fans. New wag or just friends hanging out? Let us know what you think!

Liked by user, user, user and others

View all 854 comments

user tagging them is so messy.

user well it is a gossip page

user but still... the audacity

user man like lando norris yeah

user friends can't hang out?

user The way that one picture looks really romantic until you realise Mona's cropped out

user Ezra was right to dump her😒 She never deserved him and she's mid anyway. Never did and never will get the hype.

user stacy why aren't you watching your kids instead of commenting on things that don't concern you? user yeah stacy, why aren't you being a mom to your kids? user stacy is a man who, instead of paying attention to the kids he only gets to see certain times, is out here dick riding someone who doesn't know he exists. user damn, someone named a baby boy stacy? user Well, my mom wanted to be Stacy's Mom but only decided on having one kid, and unluckily for me, I was that kid user born in 2003, named stacy and has kidS (multiple!), yeah, no wonder he's on a gossip page instead of watching those kids.

user he really wasted no time

user i hope he knows he's probably a rebound

user the way y'all purposely hid the fact that mona was also there in the 3rd slide 😐

user this the type of timing i need to be on

user i just know that one twitter user is laughing rn

user she's just using him😕

user he's so weird for this, like she just recently got out of her relationship and now this??

user love the fact that they get to hang out more

user It's still too soon since her last relationship, so I'm thinking they're only friends.

user she probably broke up with ezra just to be with lando 🤢

user did she or Ezra tell you that? no? yeah, shut up

user and who would blame her? NO ONE

user mona erasure, i will not stand for this!

user the way he's looking at her😵

user fellas is it weird to hang out with your friends?

user only if your friends are the opposite sex, it seems

user they're probably laughing at this (if they even see it)

user i just know lando is giggling

user fr, like dating rumours with her?

user mans is kicking his feet

ezragallagher has uploaded to their story.

user: what you over here being messy for ???

user: bro move on!!!

user: i support you, toxic king🙌

user: ezra, baby, you can do better

sashabardot: really ezra? what the actual fuck is wrong with you

user: bros going through it

user: this is kinda pathetic don't you think?

user: someone's paying attention to their ex

user: babes this isn't your cf

user: don't you have work to focus on?

user: the way this would make me get back with you

user: ☕☕☕

user: this feels targeted

user if only i had half the confidence and audacity that you did🙂‍↔️

user: this is an... interesting song choice

user: see, me personally, i would never show my face on the internet but you do you💪

user: better as in you?

user: hope you guys get back together 🤞

user: God, I see how you've given some people the courage of lions😂

user: might as well have tagged her

user: just how i like my men... toxic and pettty 😍 *pretty but petty works just as well

user:

yn_ln has added to their story.

user: uhhhhh

user: is this what i think it is?

user: oh!

user: please tell me this is in response to ezra

user: beabadoobee mention!!!

user: I love this song.

user: the way fucking batman wouldn't be able to get this out of me

user: this is wild

user: stop being so cryptic! is this about ezra or not

monaspencer: messy asf😭

yn_ln: he started it, so idgaf also, it could've been worse

monaspencer: true, you could've posted to still your best

yn_ln: lmaooo, can you imagine💀💀

user: taste>>>

user: have you ever thought that maybe you were doing something wrong if he cheated on you?

user: oh no

yourfriend: do you ever wonder...

yn_ln: YOU'RE FUCKING SICK😭😭😭

user: You know what you're implying w this right?

user: publicizing the fact that you've been cheated on is insane

user: ezra fucking gallagher, count your days.

user: ok i alr know this is about ezra but who is the girl???

user: are you not embarrassed?

user: 🤨

user: ik you guys dated and everything but he wouldn't cheat🙄 you're just making up lies to slander him

tagged: lukacyr, yn_ln, landonorris and 3 others.

Liked by lukacyr, yn_ln, landonorris and others

monaspencer spent some time with some of my favourite people... and lando

View all 1 787 comments

user you and luka are so 🥺

lukacyr that's my baby!!!

monaspencer 🩷🩷🩷

user dare i say... couple's trip???

yn_ln hot girl alert!!!

monaspencer love youuu

user lando catching strays?

lukacyr so gorgeous, im so lucky🩵

monaspencer i love you pretty boy🩷

user wish i was that cat

landonorris and lando? damn i thought we were besties😔

lukacyr we all know she loves you

monaspencer 🤥

landonorris thanks luka, knew i could count on you for the truth❗

user wait, whose cat is that?

user love how they're all just living their best lives.

user oof uno w yn and luka? I just know there was lots of yelling

user them making up their own rules and frustrating those of us who play the game properly 😭

lukacyr sorry you guys are boring 😔

user ughhhh miss spencer you are looking teww damn foineee 🤤

user sprinted to this post when i got the notification

user mona + yn = the prettiest friends. ughhh, love them

user you and Luka make me feel so single and im in a relationship!!!

user that's -

user just smile and wave

user game night is back baby!!!

user adding the song to my playlist immediately

user slayyy

lilymhe can't wait for the next dinner!

monaspencer you and alex are hosting nexts babes

yn_ln i have a meeting that night

landonorris me too

lilymhe alex will be cooking

yn_ln i will be in attendance

lilymhe hey! i'm not that bad

lukacyr sureeee

alex_albon you are not talking, mr i once set fire to water

user how tf

user i love tht Luka buys her flowers whenever he can

user i have so many questions

user do you and Luka want a third?

user 🔥🔥🔥

user your nails in the first slide is everything to me

user not mona and yn having matching rings,,, i love them😭😭

user very on brand for them

user they all look so cool, I wish i was apart of their friend group

user real, they all look like so much fun

user TV girl>>>

user face beat is so FAB imo

user wait what's happening to me... 🧍‍♂️🚶‍♂️🧎‍♂️🐈🐾

user the dress from the last slide is EVERYTHING

Liked by monaspencer, landonorris, lilymhe and others

yn_ln 1st slide is me after thirdwheeling my (girl)friend and her boyfriend 😴 and the last slide is literally them, I'm sick😞

View all 1 853 comments

user girlll

user this said so much and nothing at all

user how can someone be so cute and hot at the same time???

monaspencer ik you're not talking lol

user what does this meannn

lilymhe i would never treat you like that bbg

landonorris don't you have a boyfriend? matter of fact ﹫alex_albon come get your girl

lilymhe snitch😒

alex_albon lily???

maxfewtrell dinner was great, sending mine and p's thanks again

yn_ln tell her she needs to join us for game night next time and you're invited too ig

maxfewtrell im starting to think you like my girlfriend more than me

yn_ln i do!

maxfewtrell fairs, i like her more than you

user last slide unlocked a memory

lukacyr and proud of it

lukacyr you're just mad she likes me more

yn_ln thats so funny considering she's in my bed rn

landonorris should've been me

user I jus know Lando took that 5th photo

user and you know this how...

user idrk but you can always tell when he's the one taking her pictures bc something about it just makes her look.. especially stunning ya know? like you can tell someone who's in love w her took the pic

user you're actually so right

landonorris a whole slide of just me? yeahhh you want me so bad

user i aspire to be this type of delusional

yn_ln oh absolutely

landonorris so glad you're admitting it to the world😌

user i cannae tell if this is sarcasm or not

user it's ok, neither can lando

user in the words of one troye sivan, "face card, no cash, no credit"

user when he sang "look, look at you", he meant her

user and when he sang " baby, I'm first in place" he was singing about Lando

user swear i saw you guys at that restaurant but was too nervous to make sure

user i would have said hello ngl

user i didnt want to disturb and like i said, i was so nervous.

user have i mentioned that i love everything that is happening here, bc i do

user genuinely thought the 2nd slide was y'all eating sushi and was amazed that you got lando to eat it

user same! but i didn't even question it and just scrolled

user would honestly be flattered if i was compared to arnaz and breanna, they were such a cute couple

user true but i still can't get over the fact that her dad was called Flex lmao

user eye cant get over the shows theme song, like i still think it's good

user not to mention Breanna was in her fashion bag, girlie was serving LOOKS.

user Check out my profile for art of your favourite artist's favourite artist!

user omg that's crazy haha, i have 10 lambo's btw, like i am super rich and you'd never be tired around me bc i'd make sure you get 10 hours of sleep (2 extra hours bc you deserve it, must be exhausting being so gorgeous)

landonorris this person literally set fire to my house and is stealing from their job. please report them so i can have some peace of mind🙏🙏

user YOOO, this is NOT TRUE, NOBODY REPORT ME FSTHSNTH

user idk man, why would Lando lie :/

landonorris exactly, for what reason?

user ik this is a lie but imma do it anyway lmao

landonorris why would i lie?

user bffr.

user: i know we're all focused on yn's beauty(and rightfully so) but can we take a moment to appreciate that picture of lando???

user: like hello, he looks so hot

user 💖

user LIVING it up

landonorris: you ever see someone so beautiful you start barking violently? cause thats me rn

landonorris: got me acting unwise❗

yn_ln: please calm down you freak

landonorris: mmm call me a freak again😩

user: what the

user: he's so real for this

user: jesus h christ

user: think i've had enough of instagram today, peace out✌

landonorris has added to their story.

user: mona's miss steal your girl well not really your girl🤣

landonorris: blocked

user: i want someone to look at me like that

user the art in the background is so pretty

user: damn, you're never making it to relationship status

user: she's wearing orange... interesting...

user: art and art/two masterpieces in one photo

user: guess i need to ask Mona and Yn if they want a third instead

user: i'd say deserved 🤷

monaspencer: you're both such liars

user: waitt,, the fits are eatinggg

user: they literally look like they're in love

user: women *sighs dreamily*

yn_ln: damn, i look good wait when did you take this picture

landonorris: yeah you do. orange is really your colour, you should wear it more often

monaspencer has added to their story.

user: not them getting "this you"-d💀

user: they are never beating the dating allegations

user: exposed in a single photo

user: you're an absolute legend for this

user: this just in, yn ln is a LIAR!!

user: i don't know why you're friends with her🙄

yn_ln: you make my ass itch

monaspencer: funny, i was thinking the same thing about you

yn_ln: why do you do this to me?

monaspencer: suffer x

user: my otp!!!

user: ugh, what a eyesore(i'm violently jealous)

user: They look so good together, they should just date already smh.

user: now it definitely seems like y'all went on a couple's trip👀

landonorris: send me this🙏🏻

whatyouhe4rd has posted a new article, based on your likes, this may interest you. check it out?

landonorris has uploaded a story.

user replied to your story: you're jokinggg, this is a joke

user replied to your story: you didn't actually post this, im clearly just seeing things im just gonna pretend that it didn't happen since you deleted it

user replied to your story: When I tell you I burst out laughing seeing this, I'm not lying.

maxfewtrell replied to your Close Friends story : you did not delete the 1st one just to post it on your CF

landonorris: it was an accident?

maxfewtrell: an accident that's going to end up on hundred's of gossip sites

landonorris: rachel is going to kill me, isnt she?

maxfewtrell: seriously surprised she hasn't already

yn_ln replied to your Close Friends story : Rachel is going to kill you

landonorris: i just told max the same thing, we're soul mates fr

yn_ln: i'm being serious

landonorris: so am i but did it make you smile?

yn_ln: yes?

landonorris: then it was worth it and i'll die happy

yn_ln: you're so cheesy🙄

landonorris for you i will be mozzarella, parmesan, chedda, gouda, brie, cottage, feta, swiss, burrata, cream, etc.

user replied to your story: this is iconic, lando norris, my fav malewife

randomfriend replied to your Close Friends story : i think you've been on tiktok too much

charles_leclerc replied to your Close Friends story : your head must be a fascinating place to be in, how do you do it?

landonorris: my brother in christ and racing, you can not be talking

user replied to your story: you're so right and you should say it

user replied to your story: Sometimes we don't have to share what's on our mind with the world

user replied to your story: I'm fucking creasing

⤷ end note ‧ ★ : heyyyy, how y'all doing🧍... sorry for the wait, i really did have most of this done and in my drafts but then writer's block hit and i left it for a while. also, i kinda suck at making articles lmao. thank you to everyone who reads and/or interacts with my smaus, ily<3.

taggingᯓ★ : @firelily-mimi and @appl3-0rchard

[erwinsvow]

𝐢 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞

summary: lying to rafe is never a good idea.

author's note: eeee! back to writing for my man <3 this can be seen as a sequel to suit the mood of my soul as it follows the plot a little bit but not really, as there's no direct mentions of pogue!reader in this! i just wanted to write a little about what rafe would be like if he find out you lied/what he would do... :) inspired by @princessbrunette for the dad/kid trope she writes about and this one!

now spinning: prisoner by the weeknd & lana

word count: 3.8k

warnings/tags: smut! rafe is a lil scary in this one but it's okay <3, gripping/bruising, face slapping as punishment, daddy/dad usage for rafe and reader is called kid a lot.

“So, what’d you do the other night?” Rafe asks you the question quietly, and he sounds different than usual.

You haven’t really noticed the change yet though, so you act like you always do around him—a little dumber, not as vigilant, and using your brain less overall.

That’s the best part of being with Rafe. He makes all the decisions for you, he figures out what to do and when to do it, and you really don’t have to think around him. At first you were confused, if not a little worried. Did he think you were stupid?

But then you realize this is how he is—so overpoweringly, overwhelmingly dominant that you have no choice but to succumb.

So you go on, unthinking, saying what comes to mind. 

“I was with you, Rafey, did you forget already?” It comes out with a laugh, making yourself comfortable against his chest.

He’d just come over less than an hour ago, after dinner with his family, he had said. He always spent the night after doing anything with his family, because they made him angry and you made him feel better. At least, that’s what he always said.

So it’s easy to attribute his difference in demeanor, the strangeness surrounding your normally nice boyfriend, to a bad dinner with his family. He must have been more upset than you thought.

“Hm,” he says, slowly, curtly. “Is that right?”

“Yes, Rafey, dinner and the ice cream? Remember it melted all over your hand?” Your face flushes even thinking about it—because immediately following that incident, you had licked his hands clean. 

“Yeah, I remember. You have a good memory, kid.” 

You beam at his praise for a second, leaning your head up to stare at your pretty boyfriend for a second. But he doesn’t look down at you the way he normally does. He doesn’t look at all, instead his gaze is still fixed on the television, which is still playing one of your silly rom-coms quietly in the background. 

“Rafe?” it comes out like a whisper, but he ignores you, his grip on your arm tightening while he continues to stare off, not at you.

“Try to remember something else for me, kid. Night before last, what’d you do?” 

You freeze under his touch. Your entire body goes rigid, eyes wide, lips parting. You want to speak, but nothing comes out.

Then, Rafe looks down at you. 

“Can’t remember now? Should I refresh your memory?”

You don’t need him to refresh anything. On the night before last, Sarah had asked you for help with something in the Tannyhill library. You had gone to help, because this was more than just Rafe’s sister, she was your friend too, but when you got there, you were confused. Sarah was there, but so were all the Pogues you had seen around town, seen with her before. 

They were all digging through the shelves, looking for something in the library, and Sarah called you over because everyone in the Cameron house was aware of the fact that you knew this library like the back of your hand. Months of babysitting Wheezie and not having anything to do had led to this very situation. Until you became Rafe’s, that is, because ever since then, you haven’t had to spend another moment alone. 

So then you helped them search for whatever it was they were looking for, and when your phone went off with a message from Rafe, at Sarah’s urging, you lied and said you were at home with your parents.

The Pogues found it eventually, after almost two hours of combing through shelves and trying your best to organize them the way they were. You went home, texted Rafe goodnight, and thought that was that.

It wasn’t a lie, you tried to convince yourself. It was a fib, really, because you just didn’t want him to worry even more when he had so much going on. And it’s not like you knew what Sarah was even up to, she said it was just a little project. 

You didn’t realize what kind of project until now.

“Um, Rafe-” you start, really quiet.

You falter when you get a better look at the expression on his face. It’s the first time you’ve ever been on the receiving end of that look—anger, disappointment, frustration.

Your eyes get watery, immediately. It’s just a natural reaction. 

“You think some tears are gonna get you out of this?” he questions, and you feel your breathing getting heavy, your cheeks getting wet.

You shake your head quickly. You don’t want him to think you’re crying for forgiveness.

“I’m sorry-” comes out before you can stop it, and you try to use the sleeves of your hoodie—Rafe’s hoodie—to wipe the tears away, thinking it’ll be better if he can’t see them any longer, but he grabs your wrist before you can.

You’re pinned in place, his hand gripping you and holding you down, the weight of his body on yours. It’s all you can do to look up Rafe with your wide, wet eyes and hope he listens to you. 

He’s never been mad at you before, so he doesn’t know how to react. You’ve always been perfect to him, for him, and he’s never had to do anything more than take your cheeks in his hand and lock eyes to make you realize you’re doing something wrong.

He didn’t think you could be capable of doing something to hurt him, to get in the way of everything he’s planning, not when you’re so compliant and docile and perfect all the other times. 

You have a collection of pretty dresses and skirts, ranging in lengths and sizes, and you always wear the right thing. Modest, longer dresses that stop above your knee and start just under the necklace you never take off—the necklace with his initial on it—when you’re invited to dinner at Tannyhill with his family.

Shorter, small skirts when he takes you to the club or the bonfire. Short enough that people are staring, not short enough to give anyone a view of what belongs to him.

In his bedroom, it’s just his clothes—shirts to sleep in, hoodies when you’re reading a book on his bed while he finishes his game at the desk, nothing more than one of your tanks and a pair of his boxers when you’re getting antsy and horny waiting for him to get back to bed when he’s on an important phone call. 

He’s never had to tell you any of that—you just do it, you just know it. He doesn’t have to tell you to go wait on his bed for him without complaining. He doesn’t have to tell you he doesn’t like when his friends are seeing parts of you they aren’t supposed to. But most important of all, he didn’t have to tell you to stay away from those dirty Pogues and his annoying sister. You were just supposed to know.

“You’re sorry?” he questions, and you know he’s mocking you. Rafe’s gone quiet, which you’re not used to because Rafe never gets mad at you. You didn’t even think it was possible.

He lets go of your wrist, which flails next to your side. His grip is replaced quickly as he squeezes your cheeks together, fingers pressing hard against your jaw.

“You’re sorry, really, is that all? You lied to me. You think that’s okay?”

Your breathing gets hard and fast under his touch. Your eyes get watery again, trying to say something but it’s silenced between Rafe’s fingers keeping your mouth shut.

You shake your head as hard as you can. You just want to explain yourself—it seemed so harmless when you were doing it. You didn’t want to worry him. You didn’t realize what you were doing. You’d never do it again if Rafe will forgive you.

Then you get scared, eyes wide and blank while your boyfriend stares at you, looking so upset and angry you wish you could reverse time and take it all bank. You worry that he won’t forgive you, that he’ll end things and leave you alone, and the thought itself is so frightening you start sobbing and shaking.

Rafe’s hand leaves your face because he gets surprised at your reaction—he thought you’d be telling him something he really, really doesn’t want to hear, but true to your perfect form, you say exactly what he does want to hear. 

“I’m so sorry Rafe, I’m so sorry, they asked me for help but I would have never done it if-if I knew it would hurt you or make you upset, I-I didn’t know-” It all comes out in a ramble, hurt coating your words and tears streaming down in rivulets down your pretty face.

He’s worried he might have gone too far, scared you too much, but you jump back in his arms the second he’s let go of you, face pressed against his chest and his shirt getting wet. 

“I’m so sorry, please don’t break up with me, I’ll never do it again, I’ll never even talk to them again, I swear, I promise-” 

It’s instinctual, Rafe wrapping his arms around you and holding you close. He wonders how he did this—changed the sweet, pretty girl he met on a trip with Wheezie to the library into the girl in his arms now—utterly dependent, crying because of him but not making a single move to defend yourself.

Instead you believe everything he says and you’re sobbing because you don’t want him to leave you. He wonders again, thinking about if he should regret what he’s done to you. 

He doesn’t.

“Shh,” he comforts, and you lean into him further. “S’okay, it’s okay.” He rubs your arms soothingly, ignoring the red down further on the limb, which is inevitably a bruise forming. “I’m not gonna leave you.”

When the words leave his mouth, you melt against his chest like butter, and he grips you tight.

“I’m sorry, kid, I am, but I have to make sure that-that, you don’t do something that could mess up everything I’m working on right now.” You mewl a noise of protest, but he quiets you down again. “Even if it’s an accident, baby, even by accident. You don’t know the things I’m trying to protect you from. I can’t let you get hurt like that, so when you lie to me about something like this, it just upsets me, because I’m working hard for you—for us, and you see that, don’t you?” 

He feels you nod your head slowly.

“I’m so sorry, Rafe,” and he lets out a heavy breath. You cling to his every word, wondering how you could have been so, so stupid, as to lie to your boyfriend. 

“It’s okay, kid,” his hand moves to your back, rubbing circles on the soft skin, hand tucked under his hoodie and above the waistband of his shorts that you’re wearing.

“Do you forgive me?” you ask, lifting your head a few inches to look up at Rafe, wet eyelashes floating up to reveal red-rimmed, puffy eyes.

He looks down, wondering just how much he’s messed you up.

“Of course I do.” Rafe leans down, pressing a kiss to your forehead. You let out a sigh of relief, too soon. “But you have to promise me a couple things, hm?”

“Anything, anything-” it spills out of your mouth, like you can’t get it out fast enough, looking back up at your boyfriend with big eyes, trying to use your hands against his chest to lift yourself up. 

“Promise me you’ll never talk to those Pogues again.”

“I promise.”

“And that you’ll never, ever lie to me again.”

“I promise, Rafe.”

“Good girl.”

He does that thing again, the thing that has you melting in his hands and allowing him to call all the shots. He reaches out to take the back of your head in his hand, leaning you in for a kiss, and you let him do it, just like you let him do everything. 

Rafe kisses you hard, his tongue in your mouth and trails of spit around your lips. When he lets go, you feel him bit down on your bottom lip, and you yelp against his mouth, but it’s silenced because he pulls you into another kiss.

You’re breathless by the end of it, crawling into his lap because you don’t want it to end, craving a lot more than just a kiss and the press of his hard dick against your clothed pussy. 

When he pulls away, you make another noise of displeasure.

“Really?” he questions, and you know it can’t be good. “Do you really think you deserve this dick now? After that shit you just pulled?” He holds you in place on his lap, stopping your grinding motion with his firm hand. Your face heats up immediately, because you know that you don’t. 

“‘M’sorry, dad,” your murmur against the soft skin of his neck. “You already forgave me…”

“Not getting out of this that easily, kid,” and he pulls you by the hair, making your shoulders tense up as you moan again in discomfort. “I think you need to decide your punishment, hm? You’ll get this dick once you get punished.”

You want to scream in annoyance, because Rafe always knows what he’s doing, and right now he’s doing it on purpose. You can feel his hard-on, and if he let you do what you wanted, you’d fall apart in minutes, but he won’t, because he never does.

So you don’t say a thing, because you can’t ever be a brat to Rafe, not for anything longer than five minutes, and you crawl down, off the bed, sitting on your knees on the ground while Rafe adjusts himself to face you from the bed. He looks down at you, perfectly in place, nose still a little red from crying. 

“So, how many?” he questions, watching you stare up at him with big eyes.

“Five,” you start, until you see how Rafe’s looking at you. “T-ten, sorry, ten.” 

“Good girl,” he says, stroking the side of your face with his hand. “Five on each side, hm? That’s what you meant to say, right?”

“Yes, dad,” you murmur back, in a daze at the feeling of Rafe’s hand on your skin.

The first slap, on your right cheek, is light, lighter than you’re used to. It was barely a tap, and you think quickly, while staring at your boyfriend’s face expectantly, if not a little dumbly, that it was nice of him. The next three are harder, and the final one stings. You’re sure it’s red where his hand was, a part of you even hopes it left a mark.

“Five left,” he says quietly, maybe more to himself than to you. You nod, a little too eagerly. “Yeah, kid, you like this? I knew you would. Little freak,” Rafe breathes out. You cling to each word like it’s praise. “Ready for the other side? Yeah?” You nod again.

He’s harder on the other side, maybe because he realized you can handle it. You’ve gotten much harder slaps than these before, but Rafe forgets sometimes, so he always starts gentle. On the ninth one, your eyes get watery. On the tenth, the tears roll down again. Rafe takes his thumb and wipes it across your cheek, like it’ll soothe the sting. 

You go to unbuckle his belt immediately after, thinking you should make him feel good first, as a part of your punishment, but he stops your hands before you get far, taking you by the shoulders and lifting you up into his lap again.

“What’re you doing?” you question quietly.

“I should ask you that.”

“Y-you said I don’t deserve it yet, so I was gonna make you feel good-”

“I didn’t say that, kid,” he says, pressing his big hand against your neck. 

“Yes, you-” he looks at you sharply, and you shut up mid-sentence. 

“No, I said you’ll get it once you’ve been punished. Punishment’s over, hm?” His hand slips underneath your hoodie—his hoodie—and he starts to lift it up. Your hands go up, helping him ease it off. Once it’s discarded on the floor, you lean in for another hard kiss, hands around his neck and legs wrapped around his waist. 

“Easy, easy,” he says, pulling away for a second. “Have to breathe, remember?”

You shake your head and whine, pushing your lips together again. Rafe moves you quickly, your back thudding against the bed and him hovering over you.

You scramble to get rid of your shorts—his shorts—but Rafe’s hands come up and stop yours before you can. Locking eyes with you, he takes them off himself, until you’re fully exposed and lying naked against his pillow.

Another kiss, another whine. You pull the front of Rafe’s shirt.

“Take it off, please,” you whimper, because you just want to get him naked and get on with it, but the tantalizingly slow pace he’s setting is killing you. 

“Really gonna tell me what to do right now? When I’m being so nice?” Your head shakes but you don’t know if you mean it. “Okay. If that’s how you wanna be, okay.”

He flips you over in one motion—your stomach hitting the sheets before you can process it. You don’t hear anything except the rustle of his hands on his belt, the clink of the metal falling, and a groan from Rafe.

And then you feel him—feel what you’ve been begging for this entire time, the nudge of his tip against your folds. Your whole body tenses and your walls clench in anticipation, but Rafe doesn’t move. 

“Rafe—!” the whine leaves before you can think about it. Rafe’s hand reaches out to grab you by your hair, pulling your head up, his mouth against your ear. You feel your nipples harden and pebble in the air, every part of your body craving something, some touch, some movement.

“Y’know, I thought you were gonna be such a good girl,” he starts, and you feel your walls flutter. “But you’re acting like such a slut today. But it’s okay, I’m gonna give you what you want. Then you’ll be good as gold, won’t ya?” You let a whine at the thought, before Rafe lets go and drops you back onto the bed.

In one thrust, Rafe pushes himself in, and your entire body tenses up at the feeling. The stretch of your walls hurts, no matter how used to him you get, and your bones feel like putty. You can hardly hold yourself up, when Rafe starts fucking you at the brutal pace he’s set. 

The stinging of your face disappears from your mind completely while Rafe batters your pussy, his hands on your back, pushing down while you arch up. Your cheek rustles against the pillow. Nothing comes out of your mouth except whines and moans, and the occasional cry when he goes even harder.

“Just needed this dick, huh, kid?” he chokes out, pressing your face into the pillow and watching his dick slide in and out of your pussy—coated in your cream, leaking down and making a mess of his sheets. “Ain’t that right? I asked you a question.”

He grabs your hair again, lifting you just enough so you can speak. 

“Yes! Yes, yes, yes-”

“That’s what I thought-” and he pushes your head down again. “J’needed to be set straight, hm? You won’t ever lie to me again—” Your voice is a mess of garbles and whines, not making any sense but wanting to agree with Rafe so badly. 

Rafe’s fucking you like he hates you, and you don’t have it in you to stop and make sure he doesn’t actually hate you, because the only thing you can think about is making sure he doesn’t stop.

“Or maybe you will,” he starts, in between thrusts. “Just wanna get fucked like this, don’t you? Wasn’t enough for you to get it gentle, right, kid? You’re my little slut-” 

Rafe’s hitting that part of you that makes you see stars—unrelenting, over and over again, but it’s all of those things together—the feel of your nipples rubbing against the bed, how full you feel inside, and especially the words he’s saying—that push you over the edge. You fall apart crying, body shaking, letting out a muffled dad, dad, dad against his pillow. 

He doesn’t stop there, though, riding you through it and then pulling out, just long enough to flip you back over. 

You’re sensitive all over, your walls clenching around nothing while you stare up at Rafe, and then back down to where the two of you were connected. He grips your cheeks again, pushing himself in and staring at your fucked-out face.

He’s way too close to still be fucking you—especially raw, like this—but it’s not until you start speaking that it’s a big problem. You sound all jumbled up since he’s holding your face way too tight, and when he loosens his grip, words fall out of your mouth and he realizes what you’re saying.

“Want it inside, dad, please, please, please, fill me up—” And he finishes, leaning over you and filling your pussy up, just like you asked for. He doesn’t stop for what feels like hours but could only be minutes—you mewl at the feeling and gasp when he pulls out, cum leaking out of your hole and spoiling the sheets even further.

Rafe’s breathless, collapsing beside you and in a much better mood, because he doesn’t complain when you fall against his chest and press your face into his neck. 

He lets you sit like that for a little bit, catching your breath and letting your heart rate return to normal. 

“We made a mess,” you comment, still feeling gushes of his cum spilling out of you. 

“We’ll get it in a minute.” 

He can practically hear your thoughts, buzzing through your little head at a mile a minute, wondering what to say, how he feels, if he's still upset, probably wanting water and a shower too.

You move a little, just to get more comfortable, when Rafe grabs your face again. The side of your jaw is red from where he keeps grabbing you. It’ll leave a bruise tomorrow. He doesn’t care because he’s not planning to let you out of his sight for the foreseeable future.

“Don’t lie to me again, kid. Got it?”

“Yes, Rafe,” you breathe out. "I got it."

“Good. Now let's finish this stupid movie." Rafe lets go of your face, and wraps his arm around you. 

[kaleldobrev]

Midnight Confessions

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Summary: You and Dean have a "heart-to-heart" conversation on the way to Stanford to pick up Sam

Word Count: 1k

Warnings: Cursing (1x), Fluff

Authors Note: I've been wanting to use this gif for something for such a long time and I finally found a way to use it | Takes place pre-season one | I've been really enjoying writing pre-season one fics lately! | Can be read as a “sequel” to Comfortable? or as it's own one-shot | If you liked this, don’t forget to like & reblog. I really appreciate it! Feedback is always welcome ♡

“Good morning Sweetheart,” Dean said, as he noticed your movements were starting to get a little bit more prominent than they had been previously when you were sleeping.

When you awoke, you were surprised to still be in the exact same spot and position as you were in when you had fallen asleep: your head in Dean's lap, and the soles of your boots pressed up against the passenger side door. "Morning Handsome," you replied back, giving him a soft smile. "How long was I out for?"

"Couple of hours," he said. "You were mumbling quite a bit. What were you dreaming about?"

"You're going to think it's stupid," you said all too quickly, slightly embarrassed of the dream you had just had. It was nothing awful or terrible by any means; it was actually one of the most peaceful dreams you've had in a while, well...at least the one you could actually remember at least. But part of the reason you didn't want to tell your boyfriend about it was because you knew how he felt about the white picket fence life. "I'd rather blow my brains out," he's told you on more than one occasion. But it was a life that you dreamed of — and dreamed of doing with him someday.

"I promise I won't think it's stupid," he told you, trying to be reassuring. He briefly looked at you, flashing you his charming smile that you had loved so much before looking back at the road again.

You sighed, before getting up from your position on his lap; moving so your back was now pressed up against the passenger side door. This way, you could have a better angle when you told him about the dream you just had — a better angle to see the disappointment and judgement from him. Because you knew, despite this promise of his, you knew him all too well, knew that he would just laugh. “I dreamed that me and you lived in one of those blue suburbans and I was baking you an apple pie while you watched a Cowboys game on the tv.”

Silence was Dean’s chosen response. At least he’s not laughing, you thought. But you hated the silence that he was giving you as well, because accompanying that silence, his hands started to grip the wheel, causing his knuckles to turn white. “Oh yeah?” He finally said, his tone coming off rather calmer than you had expected him to sound.

You looked down at your hands as you started twiddling your thumbs, almost embarrassed at the confession you had made. “I know it’s stupid, trust me.”

“It’s not stupid,” he said, briefly meeting your gaze. “It’s just…unrealistic for people like us,” his tone sounding much more disappointed now, like there was a part of him that had wanted that kind of life. And the truth was, there was a part of Dean that had wanted that life. Wanted a suburbia life. And wanted that kind of life to be with you. But he knew it was a life that he could never have. It was simply just out of his reach. “People like us don’t get white picket fences. We get broken bones and near death experiences.”

You knew that Dean was right; how unrealistic this dream of yours was. To others, it was their normal, but to you it was foreign, a fantasy. “You say that like it’s impossible,” you began. “We’re both still young Dean. We can still get out, sanity still in tact.”

“Y/N, hunting is all I’ve ever known. I’ve been on the road with Sammy and my dad since I was four years old,” his voice starting to sound full of hurt, but with a hint of exhaustion. “The only home I’ve ever known was burnt down and it took my mom along with it.”

“But this is your dads fight Dean, not yours,” you said, trying to be very cautious of your wording. “He should have never dragged you into this crusade of his. He should have given you and Sammy a choice in the matter.” When it came to Dean, he wasn’t very forthcoming with his background. You knew the basics about how him and his family had gotten into hunting, but you never pried as you felt like it wasn’t necessarily your place; his mothers death always being a touchy subject with him. Which you understood, as your own mother died in a house fire similar when you were six months old. But the difference was, your father gave you the choice if you wanted to be a hunter or not. A choice you made when you turned 18.

There was silence between the two of you as Dean refused to look at you, as he was too deep in thought. He wanted to scream at you, tell you to mind your own business. Tell you that you should understand. But he knew that there was no point in yelling at you, no point in getting upset, because as much as he hated to admit it…you were right. “You know, growing up, I wanted to be a firefighter,” Dean said, finally breaking the silence. “But I know that’ll never be in the cards for me.”

“It still can be,” you commented. “I think you’d make a pretty great one.”

You saw him grin from your comment briefly before his face turned stoic again. “I gotta find out what killed our moms first.”

“And then you’ll become one?” You asked, still entertaining the idea with him.

He shrugged. “Maybe,” he grinned again. “How about you? What did you want to do?”

“Veterinarian,” you confessed. “Animals are much better than people.”

“I heard you have to be really smart to do that,” he said turning to look at you.

“Well it’s a good thing I was an AP kid in school,” you grinned.

“Fucking nerd,” he said, letting out a small chuckle, before patting your thigh.

“But I’m your nerd,” you smiled.

“You bet your ass you are,” he smiled back, giving you a wink.

Tag List: @roseblue373 @beansproutmafia @queenie32 @deanwanddamons @missy420-0 @octoberclidan @kidwhofixates @crystal555 @hannahisthebanana @seamlessepiphany @jackles010378 @mrsjenniferwinchester @globtrotter28 @deans-spinster-witch @mrlonelycat @syrma-sensei @k-slla @justletmereadfanfic @deans-daydream @frozenhuntress67 If you'd like to be added to a tag list please follow this link

[upsidedownwithsteve]

PART OF THE ‘SEQUELS’ REQUESTS. READ SPOILED HERE

Steve Harrington x fem!reader

“Babe, m’tired.”

Steve’s voice was soft despite his rejection, but you still pouted. Your boyfriend was on his back beside you, enticing in just his black boxers, the band taught against his lower stomach, hips jutting from the elastic.

Your hands were greedy, roaming, less tired than Steve ‘cause you’d spent your day with Robin at the park instead of at work like the boy had. You’d missed him more than you wanted to admit, peppering him with kisses and attention between cooking dinner and eating it, hands sliding up his shirt as the movie played after. Steve had hummed at your touch, ran his fingers through your hair, nosed at your cheek and revelled in the affection.

But he had dozed off during the last half hour of the movie, sighed and smiled sleepily when you woke him with soft whispers and he clung to your hand as you led him up to bed. Steve had stripped off in the low light, tanned skin all golden, eyes dark and half lidded, day old stubble along his jaw.

It wasn’t fair, really.

You couldn’t be blamed for leaning over him for a kiss when he slipped into bed beside you, lips lingering, chest pressed to his, all bare skin and thin sleep shirt. Steve was happy to give you one, smile curling around the edges of it, all leftover cologne and mint toothpaste.

But then you’d dragged your hand from his jaw and down his neck, nails scraping over his shoulder and over his chest, following the trail of fine hair downdowndown—

“Baby,” Steve whispered. You locked eyes with him, lips downturned. “Y’can have all my attention in the morning, yeah?”

Normally, you would’ve smiled and said okay, told your boyfriend goodnight and curled against him. But you’d been wet and wanting since Steve had come to yours, stretching tall in the kitchen as you cooked, wrapping his strong arms around you and pulling you into him. His innocent touches had only left you more desperate, his mouth on your jaw, sweet nothings in your ear as he told you about his day, and asked you about your own.

And then, as you dropped your fingers a little lower, brushing over cotton, you felt his cock kick up in interest, half hard and waiting. You pouted down at him, saw the amusement shining in his eyes as he gazed back, trying to look stern.

“Baby.” It was supposed to be a warning.

“Handsome,” you said in response, voice soft and low, all tease and flirt. It made him swallow hard, jaw tensing as you hand crept over the thick length of him, fingers curling around what you wanted most. “I’ll do all the work. Promise.”

Steve huffed out a laugh and it made you grin, face pushed to his neck to hide it. His hands finally made their way out from where they’d been tucked behind his pillow and they pulled at your waist, bringing you closer against him. It took everything you had in you to not rock yourself against his hip, cunt covered in barely there sleep shorts. They were soaked.

“My pillow princess wants to actually do some work?” Steve cooed, fingers trailing down your thigh. “Are we in an alternate dimension?”

You shoved at him, weak and joking, deciding to throw a leg over him instead of arguing. It was nice to see his eyes darken at that, lips parting as his hands came to rest on your thighs, wide and warm and possessive as he held you there. You rolled your hips slowly, dragging yourself over his cock, smiling when you felt it harden more under your shorts, kicking up against your cunt.

“Please, Steve,” you tried again, a soft whisper that made Steve want to give in entirely. “Want you so bad.”

“You’re so spoiled.”

You grinned. You knew what that meant. You’d won.

“Huh, baby?” Steve cooed, guiding you over him with a strong grip, controlling how fast you could grind on him. “Just my spoiled girl, aren’t you? Always gettin’ what you want.”

You made an impatient noise, hands pressed to Steve’s chest to keep yourself propped up for him. “Just want you. Always want you.”

Steve’s breath hitched at that, eyes fluttering before he nodded at you, coaxing you off him just a little so he could pull his cock out of his boxers, smirking when you whined at the sight. It stood proud, needy and flushed, catching at the hem of your shorts and sliding against your thigh.

You were too eager with it, fingers dragging your pyjama bottoms aside for an easy entry but Steve tsked, shaking his head. “Take ‘em off, baby, c’mon.”

So you scrambled at your hips, pushing them down before you caught them on each ankle and kicked them off the bed. Steve snuck a hand up your shirt - his shirt - grabbing at your hips and bringing you over him again, the head of his dick pushing at the seam of your folds, catching at your clit. You were already panting, waiting on it, writing on permission.

“Use me,” Steve choked out, voice already ruined. “Spoiled girl, yeah? Take what you want then, baby.”

You didn’t need to be asked twice.

You loved the way Steve’s eyes slammed shut as you took him, his cock stretching you out slowly, a white hot burn that was eased with how ridiculously wet you were, the dirty noises barely covered by the way you both moaned. He grunted, head thrown back into the pillows, neck bared for you to kiss and lick at as you took him to the hilt.

“Good girl,” he breathed out, “so fuckin’ good, takin’ all of me, Christ.”

You keened, thighs pressed to Steve’s sides, panting at how full you felt, how close you already were. And then Steve was coming to life under you, impatient and too turned on to wait, hands trying to lift your hips off of him, wanting to slam you back down again.

“Ah, ah,” you tutted, catching his wrists in your hands. You pinned them to the bed, trapping them by his head on the pillow. “You said I could use you.”

Steve cursed something filthy, nostrils flaring and mouth falling open at your words. His cock twitched inside of you, making you clench down in return and you were positive Steve was already as close as you felt. You waited, needing him to agree.

He nodded, eager, desperate. “Shit, yeah babe. Yeah, yeah baby. Fuck, you can use me. Use me all you want.”

…..

[fae-of-prey]

what's your favorite scary movie? ༊*･

an all hallows eve spooktacular collab with my beloved moot victoria aka the lovely @rafesangelita ! check out the prompt i gave her here!

warnings: (remember, you are the only one responsible for your own media consumption, so if you don’t like it please just scroll!) smut MDNI ¹⁸⁺!; mutual(ish) intox; knives; blood; corruption; blink-&-you’ll-miss-it dacryphilia if you squint; a dash of size kink for good measure; sex tapes; binding rituals; “kid” pet name; *2630 words* (ao3)

camera flashes and your drunken giggles fill rafe’s bedroom as he snaps pictures of you, with your angel wings all askew from the way rafe had to manhandle your lightweight safely into his truck after a friend’s halloween party (not that you ever minded your boyfriends big strong hands on you).

click then flash 📸

“look at me babydoll” he cradles your face in the hand that isn’t holding the camera as you lean into him, practically purring and looking up at him with those big doe eyes he loves to capture on camera “there you go” another flash “good girl, aren’t you just fuckin adorable” more laughs follow as he leans down to give you kisses that get sloppier by the second in your drunken daze. 

your arms wrap around rafe’s neck while his hand moves from your face down your body to your waist to start grabbing at your hips, leaving you mewling in his grasp until he guides you to lay down instead and his hands travel upwards again, this time under your top to grope you. and when the feeling tickles your skin, you giggle deliriously once more.

it’s all very messy, the way rafe’s kisses hungrily trail from your lips, to your neck, all the way down to your chest to meet where he’s now pushed your top up to reveal your breasts; more skin for him to mark up. he isn’t even fully conscious of what he’s doing, it’s purely instinctual in his state of still halfway inebriated to almost sobered up, until he comes back up to behold your whining form once again and notices his purple marks blooming beautifully all across the skin of your torso (he even got down to your stomach in his trance).

you pout at the sight “rafeyyy“ but to him it’s a sight so beautiful he has to take a picture, so rafe picks up the camera again as he tsks affectionately “oh c’mon quit your whining kid, now why don’t cha hold ‘em together f’me?” still, ever his amenable little angel, you obey so he can get your picture.

📸 when the camera flashes again you can see an idea flash across rafe’s eyes as well, but before you can even notice it, he’s leaning down to kiss you again while the camera flashes more and more, not that you notice that either.

rafe breaks away to set the camera down next to you, with the lens facing you perfectly centered in the frame and caged beneath your boyfriend, as he turns back to you and rasps “why don’t we make our own scary movie?” an adorably tipsy smile spreads across your face cradled by his hands “i dunno, do i get to be in the sequel?” you slur bubbly making him grin “yeah… you’re my final girl, isn’t that right?” you nod with giggles.

• the fun might’ve been cut short by concern over the knife rafe pulls out from his nightstand if you were anyone else of sober mind, but honestly you’re mostly just curious about “what’s that for?” not even really all that concerned through your high daze.

“oh uh,” your eyes follow the buck 120 like a kitten as rafe just brings it to your chin gently guiding your gaze towards the camera now recording video with the little red light on while his eyes stay locked on you “don’t worry kid, it’s for our movie, yeah?” you nod with wide almost hypnotized eyes.

rafe holds the camera again to capture how he soothes the cold steel of the blade back down against your thigh before dragging the flat side up nice and smooth to hook under your bottoms.

with the sharp end pointed outwards, he slices right through both layers of your bottoms and panties, much to your dismay, though he quickly coos to shush you in between chuckles at your adorable little whines that make his dick ache “i’ll getcha new ones”

still you briefly mourn the flouncy white tatters now scattered on the bedroom floor; even if it’s quickly forgotten about the second rafe kisses your pout away in your drunkenly lost sense of object permanence and shortened attention span (shortened even more by your restless carnal impatience) as he places the camera back on the side of the bed next to you.

but soon rafe’s rushing to unzip his own pants to free himself, and guiding your hand with his own to wrap around his aching cock. rafe groans softly — lord you always feel like fucking heaven, even the smallest of your touches never fail to make him feel like no one and nothing else can (not even himself). he moves your hand up and down his shaft a few more times before rubbing the head against your weeping clit to soothe that itching sense of anticipation you‘re both growing increasingly impatient with. the foreplay is only momentarily relieving before you’re craving more — despite your inexperienced naïveté you were always an eager little one, even before rafe took your virginity not too long ago, but all that tequila just makes you that much more of an insatiable nymphomaniac at rafe’s mercy. until finally he pushes into your sweet cunt with his hands fully encircling your waist.

rafe lets out a drawn out “fuck” under his heavy breath — you were always so warm and inviting, he only makes it about a third of the way in your soft velvety walls inch-by-inch before he bottoms out completely when the overwhelming rush of pure desperate lust becomes too much to bear, leaving a bulge in your stomach to show for it while you huff and cry out whiny slurred mewls “shh you’re okay kid, jus relax huh? just like i taught ya” rafe picks up the camera again to zoom in on your tummy bulging with him deep inside your guts, before he smears a kiss to your dampened cheeks as your eyes gloss over on camera “don’t you wanna be my good girl?” you can take it, you're his precious angel in more ways than just your halloween costume, you can always take what he gives you. and rafe’s reassurance of such along with the lingering intoxication softens the blow enough to twist into pleasure.

after your breathing slows to a more normal speed, when he senses you’ve (somewhat semi-forcibly) reacclimated enough he drags back out, slower (and much more careful) this time. he’s just absolutely mesmerized by the way he can literally see himself pulling out through the bulge in your stomach slowly vanishing, it just sends all the more blood rushing straight to his dick.

“there you go, good girl” rafe soothes with a hand cradling your cheek while his other focuses the camera on you and a heavy breath when he’s only left the tip being squeezed in by your tight grip, even at your entrance and you already feel simultaneously empty and like you can barely take just the tip all at once. 

rafe takes a breath and gives you a chance to catch yours before starting to slowly push back in again — it’s a snug fit but you both make it work with sheer force of will and strength “nice ‘n easy kid, here” rafe wraps his arms around your waist to hold you to him while he sits up and against the headboard of his bed now as he sets the camera on the nightstand, careful to keep you in frame.

with you pulled onto his lap and his hands encircled around your waist again, he slowly sinks you down onto him while you hold onto his arms for dear life; gripping so hard your nails might be digging into him, but if so he never even lets it show.

you huff out a breath of relief when he’s all the way in again, you always feel so ineffably content when you’re so impossibly full like this; just the rushing amorous twist of passionate pleasure is hypnotic. but it’s moments like these when you feel the closest to rafe, like your souls are melting into each other. it even feels a little dangerous, in moments like this there’s not a thing on this earth rafe cameron wouldn’t fucking do for you, nothing he wouldn’t let you do to him, his adoration turned feral and (even more) obsessive, his attachment strengthened with a deep coveted need to keep you with him forever, and he feels it with a particularly significant intensity tonight as he groans under his breath again “fuck yu’re g’na be the fuckin’ death of me babydoll, you know that?” making a roguish smile spread across your face and a giggle escape your lips.

rafe brings his hand up to cup your face as you look up at him with those fucking big wide eyes he adores so much it hurts “you trust me, right angel?” his heart actually aches at how quickly you nod without hesitation, without even thinking first. his lips twitch upwards at the thought, you’re truly completely his, just as he is yours. and now it’s time to prove it.

“then i need you to do somethin for me” he reaches for your wrist to open your palm and close it again on the handle of the knife he’s placed in it, then ever so carefully tilts it up so the blade is now facing his open palm.

“here, just need a little cut, okay?” even with your keen zeal to be his good girl, of course you’re still hesitant at the thought of potentially hurting him! so sensing you need a little extra push, rafe digs the blade further into his own palm until enough blood is drawn, while still holding your hand to stay wrapped around the handle with his other hand.

you gasp softly with your eyes locked on the sight but he doesn’t even flinch, not even when he removes his hand from the blade to take the knife from your pliable little fingers or when he then takes your hand in his to position the blade on your palm. rafe’s much more nimble with you, making as small of a cut into your soft tender flesh as possible to draw blood and just as quickly soothing the sting it brings with gentle shushing coos and a sweet kiss to your temple as a high pitched wince falls from your lips.

with heavy breathing rafe sets the knife down next to the camera still recording on the nightstand, you’re breathing just as heavy as your eyes are still transfixed by the open wounds you both now carry while he brings his large hand to hold your smaller one and presses your wounds together hard, mixing your blood in the unspoken ritualistic process and binding you together forever. 

the slight sting is instantaneously worth pleasing that deep primal craving for intimacy — and suddenly, you can’t get enough of it. every sensation just melts together to mix into something addictive enough to turn you into a bloodthirsty little animal.

finally he kisses you again as a wave of gratification washes over rafe. your hands squeeze together as you continue kissing — it’s sloppy and desperate on both ends, almost  like you’re trying to eat the other whole with muffled moans.

rafe wraps his other arm around your waist to guide you down on your back again, never even breaking from each other once the whole time either, your joined hands still squeezing together as hard as ever right beside your head. with your legs wrapping around his frame which is eclipsing yours now and his hand on your waist, rafe thrusts into you again more purposefully this time, and with less mercy. the feeling sends you straight to heaven, leaving the pain to twist into pleasure and you to helplessly grab onto his muscly arm with one hand as you squeeze his hand still locked with yours like a girl getting a shot at the doctor’s in the other.

“all mine huh? forever. isn’t that right angel?” you nod fervently “on-only yours, always” you squeal softly — though you sound like you’re being fucking murdered (if these noises were coming from anywhere else the cops would’ve been at your door before you even got to cum, but anyone nearby who might’ve heard strange and violent sounds coming from a cameron’s house in the middle of the night would simply mind their business), a low feral growl falls from under rafe’s breath before his mouth on yours again grounds you. 

each blow feels even more sensitive than the last, your hand drops onto your stomach where you feel rafe actively rearranging your guts. your heart is thumping like a little rabbit, he’s getting sloppier, more desperate, but goddamn he never wants this to end, and neither do you.

it only takes a few more of those desperately craving thrusts before you’re squeezing and pulsing around him as your orgasm rushes through you. halfway through it drives rafe to the edge too, he staggers a few more thrusts as deep and hard as humanly possible, sure to fuck himself deep in your guts when he finally paints your velvety insides white with his spurting cum.

after your heaving chest calms down and rafe stills inside you both just lay like that, soaking in the orgasms washing over you and the feeling of rafe and his cum deep in your guts. your hearts beat back to normal when you catch your breath. eventually rafe pulls himself up off you, you whine sleepily as he groans a sighing heavy drawn out “aww fuck” when he holds your waist for leverage to pull out of your plush walls which cling onto him, almost just begging him to stay.

already you miss the fullness only provided by rafe, your only consolation is his cum slowly seeping inside you while he switches the camera off before leaving the room to clean up. you’re drifting off when rafe comes back with a bandaid, which he tosses on his nightstand while he grabs a t-shirt for you “hey, c’mon kid get up” he taps your knee so you sit up for him, taking off what’s left of your costume and briefly leaving you bare before rafe pulls his shirt back over your head “there ya go, now go pee, hurry up” he orders softly and pats your ass as you sleepily get out of bed and scurry off to the bathroom.

you’re promptly pulled into rafe’s lap when you return to his bed; you curl up into him while he takes the bandaid out of the wrapper. you wince faintly when he takes your hand to carefully smooth the bandage over your wound “i know baby i know” rafe smears two kisses in quick succession to your hairline then simply holds your hand in his after he’s done patching it up. 

“did so good for me babydoll, so fuckin’ proud of you” your nose reflexively scrunches from the familiar warmth of sunshine blooming within you. it’s strange, the sex tape you’ve just made is likely the only thing as hard proof that could ever convince anyone else who’s ever met him that rafe cameron can genuinely care for someone, that he can be gentle, that he has a heart, albeit one that beats just for you and no one else.

your yawning shortly prompts rafe to lay you both down and flick the light off, and sure enough you swiftly fall into a purring slumber almost instantly. the corners of rafe’s mouth turn up ever so slightly at the sight — you’re all his, forever. there’s no going back now, and there’s absolutely no escaping. with one more kiss to your pretty little head he whispers “happy halloween angel”

© FAE-OF-PREY 2024

[piarelei]

Scars

Once again, needed to write something low commitment. Can be seen as a Bullseye sequel. All you need to know is that Jake's dad knows about the Gay Thing, it's Hangster established relationship and that's it.

When he was 14 years old, Jake jumped the fence to follow after his big brothers and scratched his hip badly enough against a nail that he had to get stitches for it. His brothers told this story for every single friend that Jake brought home. Bradley, coming over on false pretense of needing to get away from California during leave, is no exception. 

Jake had hoped that Bradley would fit right in, home turf close enough to a locker room that it would still feel like familiar ground, but he didn’t expect how much. Jake, the ugly (queer) duckling, consequently felt a bit out of touch with his own family. 

“And then,” continued Dave over his siblings’ laughter, “he hid in his emo hoodie the whole way home, like we wouldn’t know he was crying if we couldn’t see it.” 

“Jake? Emo?” Bradley asked, scrunching up his nose. 

Jenny cackled. “Oh yeah! Big emo phase for this one.” 

“Come on, it was barely a few months!” Jake protested. He knew better than to deny it completely. 

“Please,” Sam said, punching Jake in the shoulder. “I spent several summers home from college trying to drown out your music. A few months, my ass!”

“Language,” their father corrected tiredly, watching over the chaos without participating. 

Bradley looked unfortunately delighted by the idea. “Does Javy know?” 

Jake made a face. “Yes, but I have enough blackmail on his ass that it’s never getting out.” 

“Language,” their father tried again, sighing. 

“Well, the emo phase stopped soon after Sophie Rivers joined bible study, didn’t it?” Dave pushed on, tongue in cheek. 

Jake shared a look with his father, who held his gaze with his usual gravitas. 

Jake cleared his throat. “Right, about that…”

“Who wants something?” asked their mother, coming from the kitchen with oven mitts on and something delicious between her hands. 

The clamor of yeses drew the moment away from Jake. He sighed forcefully and reached for a plate of peach cobbler. There would be other times. 

#

His mother, having an uncharacteristically full house, had profusely apologized to Bradley when she had announced that they would have to share Jake’s room. Jake had tried not to combust with maniacal laughter at the news. 

She would get a mattress ready on Jake’s floor, of course. Of course. 

The moment she had been gone, Jake had locked the door and pushed Bradley on his bed, feeling filthy with lust, but unable to stop the wicked desire of having his boyfriend in his childhood bed. It had been a short, but incredible bout of cardio. By the time his brothers had come back carrying a mattress and linens, they were red-cheeked but free of sin. 

At night, curled together despite the heat, Bradley traced the scar on Jake’s hip. 

“You told me you got this bull-riding,” Bradley said, words like a kiss on Jake’s collarbone. 

Jake hummed. “Well. I was following them to a rodeo.”

Bradley laughed. “There’s exaggerating and there’s that.” 

“Well, I couldn’t let you win with all your cool scars stories.”

Bradley snorted. “My scars don’t make me cool. They make me scared of dogs.” 

Jake blindly found Bradley’s head and patted his hair back, soothingly. “We’ll adopt a cat, then. Call him Whiskers.”

“Whisky, for short.” 

“Atta boy.”

Jake was falling asleep when Bradley spoke again. “I’m sorry you weren’t able to come out earlier.” 

Jake fought Morpheus to blink back into the darkness of the room. He sighed. “Well. You could still kiss me at breakfast.” 

Bradley snorted. “Sure, I’ve made bigger sacrifices. If that’s what it takes.” 

“This might kill my mother, actually.” 

Bradley’s arms tightened around Jake. “No reason. She loves you.” 

Jake snuffled Bradley’s hair, breathing in the comforting smell of his shampoo. “You don’t know the kind of stuff they say at church here.” 

“Your dad had no issue.” 

“My dad knows better than to decide things for me. He was never for the whole Navy thing, but he trusts my decisions… My mom, on the other hand, she wants to write the entire story.” 

Bradley caressed his back, his broad palm suffusing comfort. “Sorry.”

Jake remembered with a sudden sense of shame that Bradley still mourned the loss of gus parents. “God, who the fuck am I complaining to. This is stupid, forget it.” 

“No… Sometimes, I think it’s easier to not have any parents. Not often, but… I’ll never know, yeah? I’ll never know so I might as well.”

Jake hummed, shifting impossibly closer. “But you have Mav now, yeah?” 

Bradley smiled in the dark. Jake couldn’t see it but he knew. 

“Mav invented bisexuality. He has no opinion on us dating over than he’s grossed out by his kid having sex.” 

“Gross. Now I’m thinking about Mav having sex.”

“Please, this is nothing compared to my trauma. He gave me the Talk. Twice, when he found me kissing a basketball teammate.” 

“Fuck me, that’s something.” 

“Yeah. Well, it was useful, but it put me off any sort of sex for months.” 

Jake chuckled. “Well, you don’t seem scarred.” 

Bradley’s hands pulled Jake closer for a kiss. “Well, you know. Some things are just too good to resist.”

Hope you liked it, I needed to create something. Show some love with a reblog!

[aphrogeneias]

making it true — drabble

summary: you and steve go back to why it all started. a small sequel to "more than seven minutes".

word count: 630

warnings: making out, dirty talk, dry humping, mentions of riding. steve harrington using all of his charm on you.

The realization came in the middle of a heated kiss, "You planned this, didn't you?"

You didn't know how you found it in yourself to speak. It was hard to concentrate on your thoughts when you found yourself perched on Steve's lap, hips flush together as his hands roamed your body, leaving a hot trail on your skin.

"Planned what?" Breathless, he chased your lips as you drew away, tightening his grip on your back, and his desperation to feel your mouth on his again would have been adorable if you were not determined to make him admit something now.

"This," you pushed him back to have him rest his back fully on the couch you were sitting on, "the movie night, at my house? We literally never hang out here."

Steve, who had moved on to your neck, pressing wet kisses all over your heated skin, the sound of his lips only spurring you on, making it hard not to give in. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"The dream, Steve. C'mon, don't make me say it."

It'd been weeks since your confession at Tina's, and since then you've been inseparable. Not that you weren't before, but now Steve's delightful clinginess showed itself freely, spending most of your free time together, making up for lost time. You avoided talking about what had gotten you together, though.

Not Robin and Vickie's meddling, quite the opposite, you'd reluctantly thanked your friends in the aftermath. No, it was the dream that still made you embarrassed. You had no reason to, after all you'd said and done worse things than what transpired in your sleeping subconscious, but there was something deeply intimate about it that was difficult to share.

Your boyfriend — you were still not used to calling him that — however, wasn't going to let you have it your way.

"Maybe I want to hear you say it."

Eyes like honey, sweet and warm, met yours then. Deep with promise, just like his voice. His hands ran over your thighs in a soothing manner, but still provocative enough to have you shivering. It was in moments like these where the old Steve, cocky and self-assured, shone through, leaving you always wanting more.

You just couldn't get enough.

"There's nothing to say. I already told you all about it."

"C'mon," he coaxed you, delicately nudging his nose on your nose, like an affectionate cat looking for your attention, "I told you I was gonna make it come true, didn't I? I can't do that if you don't tell me the details."

His gentle tone shifted something in you. Sighing, you laid your head on his shoulder, hiding your face on his neck, finding solace in the small constellation of freckles there.

"There's no details, baby. You had me just like this."

A large hand took hold of your neck, slowly pulling you towards his mouth with a muttered c'mere, an almost desperate plea. Your lips met again, tongues hot against each other in a slow kiss. You could feel him all over, from where your chests met, rising and falling with each staggered breath, to where your hips grinded together, feeling his hard lenght underneath you through the damp cotton of your now soaked through shorts.

"I had you just like this?" He asked, pulling away only to help you out of your bottoms, which you eagerly obliged to, setting yourself back where you were before, only now the fabric of his tight jeans was rubbing deliciously against your bare pussy. "All pretty on my lap, desperate to bounce on my cock, yeah?"

"Yeah, baby." You panted, reaching for the zipper of his pants, anxious to feel him inside you. "Just like that."

"What are you waiting for then? Take what you need, honey."

[toomuchracket]

promises to keep (flatmate!matty x reader fluff)

matty made a promise to do something for you before you dated, and this is what happens when an opportunity to fulfil it arises once you're together - kinda sorta a sequel to this, but can be read standalone. day 4 of valentine's week. enjoy <3

“matthew? have you got a minute?”

shit. the full name. 

gritting his teeth in a grimace, matty puts down his guitar and follows your voice. “coming now, sweetheart.”

“much appreciated,” comes your tetchy reply. matty winces, wracking his brain in an attempt to figure out why you're not best pleased with him right now, but he comes up short.

he gets it as soon as he enters the kitchen, though; the french press in your hand - and the grumpiness on your pretty, sleepy face - reminds him of everything he needs to know. it also almost manages to stop matty from missing the fact you’re wearing his glassjaw hoodie, a pair of fluffy socks, and very little else. almost. “ah, fuck.”

“indeed,” you say, putting the cafetiere on the counter and frowning (quite adorably, to be honest) at your boyfriend. “actually, that was my exact phrasing when i came in here for a coffee, only to find that the grounds from the last cup hadn't been emptied.”

“m'sorry, baby,” matty moves to hug you.

you, however, have other ideas, and put your arm out to keep him back. “nope! no chance! absolutely not! you can't boyfriend your way out of this one, healy, this is a flatmate issue.”

matty sighs, but he can't exactly argue - the rules on emptying the coffee grounds have been finite since you moved in, the only way to ensure two caffeine-dependent people could cohabit in relative peace. “you're right. i really am sorry, darlin - let me clean it out now, and i'll make you a coffee, yeah?”

“thank you,” your face softens, into the cheeky smirk that never fails to make matty's heart feel funny. “would you make me a bit of toast, too, while you're at it?”

“it'll cost you a kiss, that one.”

“s'pose i could fork out for that,” you wrap your arms around matty's neck, hands sliding home into his hair to pull him down for a kiss. he dips you as you make out, like the two of you are lovers in an old hollywood romance film, and you giggle against his lips as he gently pulls you back to stand. “that was fun!”

“i was kinda scared i'd drop you, i won't lie.”

you laugh, ruffling matty's hair before taking a seat at the breakfast bar. “i would've dragged you with me if you had.”

“i'd expect nothing less,” he smiles, rinsing the coffee grounds from the press and holding it up to the light to check its cleanliness, before popping two slices of bread in the toaster. “what d'you want on your toast, by the way, babe?”

“hmm,” you tilt your head. “do we still have nutella?”

matty squints as he wracks his brain, then rummages around in one of the cupboards. “aha!” he emerges triumphant, almost-empty jar in hand. “enough for toast. but i'll need to get more before the weekend.”

“why? you don't even like it that much.”

“well, what else am i going to put on your valentine’s breakfast pancakes?”

you beam. “am i getting breakfast in bed?”

“course you are,” matty runs over to kiss your nose. “you're getting spoiled, sweetheart.”

“so are you. i was gonna keep it a surprise, but…” you pause dramatically. “i bought new lingerie.”

he drops the butter knife in shock. it hits the countertop with a clatter, and his head almost follows suit. “fuck,” he croaks out. “what colour?”

“dark red. your favourite,” you smile. “i look really sexy in it.”

“i bet you do, baby,” matty sighs happily, pouring coffee into your favourite mug. “can't wait to get into that hotel room and take it off you.”

“me either. and thank you for organising all that, my love. m’excited,” you smile, leaning up to kiss matty as he brings your breakfast over. “thank you for this, too. love you.”

“love you,” he kisses you again. “bring it to the living room? wanna cuddle.”

you nod, picking up your mug and plate and following matty through. he settles on the sofa first, arranging the blankets draped over it and taking your plate from you as you snuggle into his arms. with a kiss to your head, he flicks the tv on, and the two of you sit in contented silence for a little while - with the exception of you crunching your toast - watching animal park. 

matty nudges you when the camera zooms in on a pair of lions curled up together on a rock. “us.”

“really?” you snort, putting your plate on the coffee table. “you think we're lions?”

“yeah. you're the brains behind everything, and i just chill out and have really cool hair.”

you laugh, bringing his hand to your lips and kissing it. “you're an idiot, healy.”

“but i'm your idiot. and i'm right,” matty looks down at you, grinning. “and you've got a little bit of nutella on your lip. here, let me,” he leans down and kisses it away. “there.”

“thanks, lover,” you stretch, snuggling back into your boyfriend with a sigh. “the lions are boring me a bit now, though. what else is on?”

“hmm, let's see,” matty clicks through channels, watching each for a couple of seconds before continuing to search - only when a familiar shot of a girl curled up in a chair reading the bell jar appears does he stop. “oh! babe, look! 10 things!”

“aww, i love this film,” you curl up even further into him, playing with the neck of his t-shirt. “remember when we watched this together in my room?”

matty's voice is quiet when he answers, but you can hear him smile. “thought about it every day since we did, darlin.”

he grins bashfully when you turn to look at him, open-mouthed. you smile, too, so sweetly that it hurts his heart. “same. it was all i ever wanted, to be so intimate like that with you,” you reach up to stroke his face. “best feeling in the world, knowing i get to do it for real now.”

all matty can do is softly hold your face and kiss you, until he runs out of breath and has to pull away from your chocolate-flavoured lips; even then, though, he keeps his hands on your jaw, and murmurs against your lips. “my dream girl. m'so in love with you.”

“i love you so much,” you whisper. “d'you wanna keep watching this, then?”

“course. rite of passage, innit?” your boyfriend grins, tugging you onto his lap and wrapping his arms around you. you turn to kiss him softly once more, then rest your head against his chest and look at the screen. 

the time passes a lot like it did the last time you and matty did this, but instead of mutual pining and an undercurrent of sadness knowing you weren't really together, it's just completely… lovely. you press kisses to each other's heads and hands and lips, and just bask uninterrupted in the love evident between the two of you in the room. aside from the kisses, you don't even move.

that is, until the scene matty knows is your favourite begins. he grins, shifting you slightly further up on his lap so he can look at you properly, and begins to sing into your ear along with heath ledger onscreen. “you're just too good to be true, can't take my eyes off of you…”

your cheeks lift into a smile, and matty can practically feel the heat radiating off them. but still, you keep your eyes on the tv, the only proper acknowledgement of matty's singing being the way you softly squeeze his thigh.

“... you'd be like heaven to touch, i wanna hold you so much,” he continues, resting his head against yours and smiling when you giggle, then taking your hand. “at long last love has arrived, and i thank god i'm alive,” he moves his hand up to gently turn your head, singing the last bit to your adorably flustered smiling face. “you're just too good to be true, can't take my eyes off of you.”

you laugh joyously when he stops singing - the best sound matty thinks he's ever heard - and pull him into a kiss. “you're serenading me?!”

“you asked me to, first time we watched this,” matty smiles warmly, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “and i promised you i would.”

“i did?” your brow furrows so cutely. “you did?”

“just as you fell asleep. therefore,” he grins, taking a deep breath before literally belting. “i love you, baby, and if it's quite alright i need you, baby, to warm the lonely nights. i love you, baby - trust in me when i say…”

you beam, wrapping your arms around his neck and swaying as you join in the song. “oh, pretty baby, don’t bring me down, i pray,” the two of you giggle as you sing, and matty's never been so in love in his life. “oh, pretty baby, now that i've found you, stay, and let me love you, baby, let me love you.”

as your voices fade out, matty leans forward and kisses you chastely; he beams and caresses your cheek when he pulls back. “thank you for letting me keep my promise. and for singing with me - that was lovely. should get you on the next album.”

“no, i think i'm content with just singing to you at home,” you smile, playing with the curls at the nape of his neck. “thank you for doing that for me. always found it really romantic, that scene and that song. but you know how i am about pda, so what you just did was really perfect,” you kiss him again. “i honestly can't remember you making that promise, though.”

“i think you had already fallen asleep on me, darlin,” matty giggles. “but i wanted to keep it, anyway. and speaking of promises to keep,” his face goes a bit more serious, but still tender, as he picks up your left hand and kisses your ring finger - your breath catches in your throat, eyes widening and welling up. “gonna marry you someday. i mean it.”

you nod, a teary smile on your beautiful face, and pull him into a hug. “i can't wait.”

[stolasdearest]

if you do sequels, can you do one for Vox and the male!reader with anger issues?

i love that dynamic so much, and tbh, i think if you left that reader in a room alone with Valentino, they'd be at each other's throats in SECONDS. and when Vox comes in to break it up, they're totally asking him to pick sides.

poor Voxxy, having to deal with us AND Val lmao

VOX x Reader ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

I SO DO SEQUELS?? HELLO I LOVE THISSS

not proofread! Hypnosis (not on the reader) arguing, Valentino in itself is a red flag

! Val and Vox are not dating in this universe

Reader is male!

You had been chilling in the top of the Tower, on your phone just browsing on Sinstagram; legs kicked up on the table while your hand fiddled with a tassel on one of the pillows. A vein bulged in your temple as you already heard Valentinos whiny fucking voice, You didn't wanna deal with this today or him, Before getting another thought out the door burst open; Val stomping in and your boyfriend in toe, scowling on his phone

"can you BELIEVE the audacity of that Bitch! She can be so glad I didn't shoot her rancid face in!"

"uh-huh..Yeesh"

"ARE YOU EVEN LISTENING?!"

"Val, I gotta go do something. Baby?"

Your head snapped up upon hearing Voxs petname, Removing your feet from the table you sat up

"yeah?"

"can you watch Val for like, 10 minutes?

"I don't need to be watche—"

"leave him with me"

Vox smiled as he nodded, blowing a kiss to you, an electric heart floating over to you as he left, hands behind his back; the door shut and Valentinos tantrum immediately continued, This time directed at you

"what do you think you're doing?! I'm not some kid— don't even act like you're better than me!"

You rolled your eyes and stood up, knowing continuing to sit would just rile him up, thinking he's above you

"vox asked a favor of me, So I'm doing it."

Valentinos eyes sharpened as he stomped over to you, towering over you. His teeth gritting seeing no fear or intimidation in your eyes

"Youre not big shit! You're just Vox's boy toy!"

"oh yeah? Say that in front of him next time, piss baby!"

This continued for minutes, Each of you getting increasingly more wound up; hands at each other's throats with curse words and insults being swung around almost every sentence, until the door slammed open with a clearly irritated Vox

"I can hear you both from the end of the corridor! What the fuck"

Vox was used to you both fighting but it usually was a one time insult to each other before one of you walked off; now you two were one wrong glance away from jumping each other

"Vox! Let your little bitch to get off his high horse!"

"Vox tell your business partner to stop thinking his shit doesn't stink"

"oh you dumb bitc—"

"enough! Fucking Christ."

Valentinos attitude and mood instantly changed, the Overlord plopping himself down on the couch as he whined about it not being fair

"You must be insane if you think I'm going to back you up, Valentino"

You turned to him and a feeling of pride swelled in your chest, knowing your boyfriend had your back and defended you; you walked over to him and rested your forehead on his shoulder, finally taking a breather; your heart rate slowing down and your blood pressure going down

"thanks Vox"

He chuckled and placed a hand on the back of your neck

"anytime, baby"

Authors note! : I hope this was OKAYYY I did this while someone was talking my ear off so it might be a bit off 😭😭 STILL I hope you liked it thank u Anon!

[chokchokk]

since hard hours are open 🤭🤭

cannot stop thinking about possessive san taking the time to body worship you and make sure you know every single inch of your body is beautiful, loved, and only His. he doesn’t care how impatient you are or what you need — in that moment all he’s devoted to is making sure every piece of his love’s body is adored and tended to. possessive san spelling his name on your clit with his tongue, possessive san spelling his name on your neck with his tongue before he bites and sucks as he leaves hickies, just… possessive, devoted san .

FOR YOU(R) LOVE | choi san x fem!reader

a possessive!san hard thought and sequel to: "𝐅𝐄𝐄𝐋 (𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐌𝐄)"

"Leave yourself all up to me, love."

𝚜𝚢𝚗𝚘𝚙𝚜𝚒𝚜 : All of his desire is directed towards you, but sometimes, preferably all the time— San just wants you all for himself.

"All up to my love..."

𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚛𝚎 : hard thought, fluff, smut

𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝 : 1.2k

𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 : possessive boyfriend!san, tired girlfriend!reader, hickeys, love-bites, implied cunnilingus & orgasm denial; san wants reader bad and won’t hesitate to be bad

𝚊𝚞𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚛'𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚎 : okay babes first of all thank you for being my first ever hard hour entry !!! i really appreciate you sharing your (god damn scorching hot) thoughts!! second, because i am not over the "intimate, sexy, tender" yet and probably never will be, here's my gift to you that i started writing as soon as i saw it because i wanted to do something for you!!! xx

this is also an invitation for all of yall to share your hard thoughts with me so i can make a thing out of this lol!!! like come awnnnn "choy hardly thinks" is so funny is it not??? like pls entertain me. hard or soft. i'll be there for you !!!! <33 anyway, always grateful for likes, reblogs, comments and all kinds of feedback xoxo

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“Mmm, do you know what, sun?”, San murmurs, finally finished drying his wet hair with a towel from across the room, as you cuddle yourself deeper into the blanket side-ways, preparing to finally get some refreshing sleep, after you spent so much time in that putrid practice room. 

“What do I know…”

San throws the soaked towel on the clothing rack and then continues to throw his heavy body against your back, immediately enveloping your physique with his arms, one over and one under your waist, to push his face into the nook of your neck. Through his nose, San breathes in the scent of your shampoo, and inhales the sweetness of your skin, as he plants soft kisses onto it.

“I really like how my name sounds out of your mouth.”

“Yeah?”, you whirr, smiling delicately, getting your fingers tangled up in San’s red strands over your shoulder, not yet realizing that two hours after your last carnal embrace, or not even twenty minutes after you jacked him off in the shower, your boyfriend still can’t get enough of you, no, could never be satiated, always preparing to make more place for you in his throbbing heart, especially fill his mind with your voice. “You like it when I call you by your name, Sannie?”

“Mhm,” he hums, and it should have been at this moment you notice how greedy his hand is slowly disappearing below the oversized shirt he gave you to sleep in– little to your knowledge that your boyfriend just wants your scent on his clothing– and catch on the fact you are enamoring San by your mere existence.

“It sounds so pretty,” he lisps, his lips pressed against your shoulder, as he gently pushes you over on your back, “it would feel so pretty, too, sunshine…”

“We’re feeling a lot tonight, aren’t we, Sannie?”, you mumble, slowly feeling your body melt around San’s heated arm securing itself over your waist, his hands slithering down your abdomen, thumb catching every inch of skin to brush over.

San doesn’t answer at first, lets his fingers playing with the seam of your panties and gently groping your breast talk for themselves.

“Sannie,” you sigh out, but your lover has already made up his mind, or at least let his mind run freely. 

“Your skin is always extra soft when we’re done showering,” San tries to explain himself, his voice thickening warmly against your neck, and you have to suppress a whine at his fingertips simultaneously finding your clothed cunt and nipple. “Makes me want to touch it, you know…”

“I know, Sannie, I know,” you utter, but your boyfriend is already carrying on with his entranced adulation.

“Makes me want to run my hands all over your skin,” and San does so, by cruising around on your torso, gripping each tit with his calloused hands with an eagerness that makes you bite your lip, “and get a taste of how warm I make you,” you can hear the pecks of his kisses land on your jaw, “shit, Y/N, I want you so fucking bad, I don’t know what else to tell you.”

“S- Sannie,” you whisper, as your boyfriend playfully bites into your ear. “How do you still have the energy…”

“Oh, sunny,” San chuckles and grinds his building erection against your ass, emitting a grunt out of him, “for you I always make energy.”

You say, “I c-can see that,” and lie, because your eyes are closed down, nevertheless making you more sensitive to your lover’s touch, digit rotating on your slowly more and more wet panties. 

“It was a long week, wasn’t it?”, San asks and nibbles your earlobe.

“Yeah…”

“A long week of not getting to touch my Y/N…”

“Sannie…”

The man in question hums and gets his arms out, tussling himself away from your side pinning his arms over each side of your head. It makes you need to look up to him through your eyelashes and San looks at you, his so lovable girlfriend, with a hunger and greed you don’t know whether you are prepared for or could ever be prepared for.

“Can you take off your shirt by yourself or are you so tired I have to do it for you, sunshine?”, he asks, wearing a friendly smile that you can only weakly scoff about.

“Sannie…” Unaware that you whimpering out his name only gets him riled up even more, you pout. “Can’t it wait until tomorrow…?”

“It’s already tomorrow, sun,” San smirks, getting both of his hands under your shirt to pull it over and get it off your body, immediately getting his mouth at your neck, causing you to moan out and roll your head to the side, granting him more access to your skin. “I’ve got to make love to you right now.”

“Sannie…”

“Ohhh, Y/N.”

You whine at him parroting your worn-out tone, while San seems to be working his tongue into your neck until he can feel your precious heart pulsate through your throat, sucking red patches of his passion across your collar so you can wear his love like an accessory. You already look so pretty, San thinks, but after your boyfriend sees how his marks embellish you, he really wants you to know what he thinks of you— you, his gorgeous, beautiful, ravishing, ravishable, fuck, so fucking perfect girlfriend. 

“How do you expect me to close my eyes and sleep when you look like this, Y/N…”

“Sannie, please,” you murmur, but gulp, when he begins to kiss down your torso; the smacks of his lips linger warmly across your body and San can feel how your cunt clenches— he snickers once he does.

“Just relax and leave it all up to me, alright?” 

You press your head deep down the pillow to his words and feel how he’s sliding your panties down. He leaves a trail of deep, rousingly red love-bites that feel like San is drawing the curvature of his lips into you as if you were his canvas— and in many ways, you are— and as he sucks, your mind becomes heavy in both fatigue and pleasure.

“Alright?”, San repeats himself and you nod, floating in a world that’s drowned in your boyfriend’s love either way. Such a dreamy man…

“Yes, Sannie,” you breathe out, feeling San press his lips into your abdomen, ultimately losing the fight of cuddling him to well-deserved sleep tonight. 

“Leave yourself all up to me, love…”

Your lover grins, knowing that you will be kicking your feet and screaming at him in frustration at the end of this night, because oh, Y/N, if you thought your Sannie was just going to eat you out and call it a day, you’re so… wow, so… mistaken— San isn’t between your legs to give you a nice time, he’s here to free him from all the dammed up desire, let it pour down on you in the pattern of deeply red-painted roses, scatter them all over your body for him to admire and adore. 

It’s what you deserve, having your legs tremble, having your eyes tear up, voice whirring frailly in the air to finally let you cum, as San spells out a eulogy on your clit, pronouncing you his forever flame who will never fail to make him burn hot, ignite him until his muscles give into the heat and melt into your embrace. But until then… It’s a long time coming, sunshine. Haha.

“All up to my love…”

[zepskies]

Miss Professor

Pairing: Jason Teague x F. Reader

(Love triangle: Jason T. x Lana Lang)

Summary: Jason has to make a decision. You, or Lana Lang.

AN: Here’s the sequel to “Assistant Hottie.” Hope you enjoy!

Song Inspo: “Look at You” by Screaming Trees

Word Count: 5,200 Tags/Warnings: Angst, love triangle, hurt/comfort, fluff and a tinge of spice.~

Jason finds you in the bowels of the university library.

Out of four giant floors of books and computer labs at Central Kansas A&M (CKM), they just had to put the Writing Center in the non-proverbial basement. There you have to wear at least two layers at all times, despite the late-spring swelter outside.

Like now, when he enters the Writing Center lobby and finds you at your desk, tapping your red pen on your lip as you work on revising an essay. Jason smiles at the sight of your fuzzy red and green sweater over your jeans and ankle boots.

“You know, Christmas came and went, like, five months ago,” he teases.

You glance up at him as he steals a chair from your coworker’s desk. She’s conveniently been on break…for two hours now. Leaving you with a mildly enormous stack of essays to edit and leave feedback on.

“Yeah well, I’m running out of winterwear. It’s almost summer, for God’s sake,” you grouse. And yet, you shiver when another pass of the AC vent above your head hits your back.

Jason smiles, but he also shrugs off his jacket and drapes it around your frame. It’s lighter than what you’re wearing, but he hopes the added layer helps. You can’t help smiling up at him, though your brows end up furrowing.

“Oh, don’t do that, you’re gonna be freezing,” you protest. You try to take off the jacket, but Jason stops you by wrapping it snugly around your shoulders.

“It’s okay, I don’t plan on being here that long,” he replies.

You raise a brow. “Oh really?”

Jason grins. “You’ve got my British Lit. paper, right?”

You narrow your eyes at him, with a light grumble. “Some friendship this is. You only come to see me when you want something.”

Jason mock frowns at that accusation, but he plies you with raised brows and waggling “gimme” fingers until you relent. You reach back into your files with a sigh and hand him his ten-page essay, complete with your revisions and suggestions for the final draft.

“Here you go, freeloader,” you quip.

“Many thanks, Miss Professor,” Jason rejoins.

The nickname always manages to make your face warm a bit, no matter how you try to stamp down the butterflies in your stomach. It doesn’t help when he smiles at you like that.

His glinting green eyes soon dim, however, as he takes in the sheer amount of red marking up the pages of his essay. All 10 pages.

“Damn, woman. Was it that bad?” he asks.

“You’re actually getting better,” you say with a smile. “I’m seeing signs of improvement.”

Jason continues to flip through with a frown. “Right.”

Though when he actually starts reading your revisions, the familiar slopes of your handwriting, his disappointment begins to relent. You’ve made corrections here and there, but you’ve also written a lot of encouragements in the margins, like, “Good use of the word ‘solidarity.’”

And, “This whole paragraph perfectly explains your point. Just add a transition into the next section and you’re golden.”

Not to mention his personal favorite: correcting his typo on eggzagerate, and drawing a doodle of a fried egg above it. He doesn’t think you do that for all your customers. 

It makes him smile.

Though he looks up when he hears you yawn. You try to stifle it, but he can see clearly now that you’re tired. It’s almost 9 p.m.

“How long have you been working?” he asks.

“Since I got out of my last class at 5,” you admit. Finally, you spot your coworker coming back from her break (and she’s still on the phone, chatting away to her boyfriend).

“Have you even eaten dinner?” Jason asks.

You shake your head, with a pointed glare at your coworker. “No time. I’ve been chained to this place all night.”

The girl gives you a fake smile when she returns to her desk and grabs one of the thinnest essays from the pile. After shooting her one last narrowed look, you give Jason your full attention. He’s trying to temper his smirk.

“Come on,” he says, nudging your arm. “Let me treat you to the Central Kansas delicacy of Chicken Finger Friday.”

You laugh at that; the university food court leaves much to be desired. You still have plenty of work to do, but you’re willing to push it off until tomorrow and take him up on his offer, if it means a hot meal and spending some time with your friend. It’s been a few weeks since it’s been just the two of you, hanging out.

After grabbing your backpack and clocking out for the night, you and Jason walk together across campus. The evening air is warm. It begins to defrost you as you two venture down the sidewalk. You smile to yourself and playfully bump into his side.

Jason shoots you a grin and bumps you back, though he grabs your arm when the heel of your boot catches on the edge of the sidewalk. You both fumble a bit and laugh.

You tuck a wily strand of hair behind your ear. Part of you wants to ask what he’s doing this weekend. Maybe he’d want to go to the lake with you, hang out on the dock, or go for a swim…

But of course, that’s when his phone buzzes. He fishes it out of his pocket and his brows raise. The text is from Lana, asking him if he can come to the Talon.

I really need your help with something.

Jason lets out a breath and looks up at you apologetically.

You know that look.

“Your girlfriend?” you ask, trying not to sound too disappointed.

Jason nods. “I hate to do this to you, but we’ve both been so busy, I haven’t seen her all week.”

And this is the first time this week that Lana has reached out to him first, wanting to see him… Well, she’s also asking for a favor, but she wants to see him.

“You know, one of these days I’d love to meet this mysterious girl,” you remark, lightly shoving his arm.

Jason smiles, but inside he’s clamming up. For obvious reasons, he hasn’t told you that he’s dating Lana Lang. Though it doesn’t make it easy to keep it from you, to lie to you. Over the course of the school year, you’ve become one of his closest friends here in Smallville.

You encourage him to explore his interests and keep focused in school, and you’ve often been a listening ear whenever juggling his classes and helping to coach the Smallville High football team stress him out.

And he’s done the same for you. With your time split between being a teacher's aid at Smallville High and working in the Writing Center to make ends meet between classes, you've done your share of venting, sometimes through frustrated tears. Jason's been more than willing to provide a strong shoulder to lean on.

Now, you don’t know that dating Lana is part of his stress, but he just…can’t afford to tell you.

It doesn’t matter that Lana’s 18, and he met her months before he took this coaching job. This is a small town, and he knows how people will talk if word gets out that he’s dating a high school senior. Not to mention, he’d get very fired.

“I’m sorry,” he says to you. “This seems important.”

Again, you have to hide your disappointment when you smile at him. “It’s okay. I should probably get back to work anyway—”

“Uh-uh. No,” Jason says, grabbing your arm when you start to turn in the direction of the Writing Center. "You’re done for the night. I wanna see you marching full-speed for those dry-ass chicken tenders.”

He nods toward the campus food court, making you expel a sigh.

“If I must,” you lament.

“And you’d better not keep working on your laptop,” he warns. “If you so much as crack open that Mac, I’ll know.”

He levels a finger at you as he walks away. You roll your eyes and head to the food court, with the promise of food just beyond the glass doors. 

After a moment, you chance looking back at Jason. He catches your gaze, and he points two fingers from his eyes to your face in stern warning. 

You giggle and shake your head at him, but you keep walking toward the food court. 

Jason smirks in satisfaction. He continues on to the parking lot, and to his car.

When Jason gets to the Talon, he crosses paths with Clark, who’s just walking out. 

“Hey, man,” Jason greets, with a jovial pat on the younger man’s shoulder. Though he can’t help but wonder why the guy is here at this time of night. “Little late for a coffee fix, huh?”

“Hey, Coach T,” Clark smiles. “Could say the same about you.”

Jason blinks at that. He cards a hand through his short hair and laughs it off. “Yeah, I was in the mood for a slice of your mom’s coffee cake. Any left?”

Martha Kent supplied the Talon with its baked goods, and they were most certainly worth driving across town for. It’s a pretty good excuse, if he says so himself.

Clark nods. “Yeah, should be.”

“All right. G'night,” Jason says. Clark nods and waves goodbye before he heads to his red truck in the parking lot. 

Jason shakes his head and steps into the coffee shop, where he finds Lana alone. She’s cleaning up a large takeout bag from Gino’s, the Italian restaurant across the street. He silently takes note of it, but doesn’t yet comment when he kisses his girlfriend in greeting.

“Why’d you send up the Bat Signal on this fine Friday night?” he asks, wrapping her in his arms.

Lana smiles up at him. “Well, I’m probably going to be slammed all weekend with the shop, but I’ve got this huge speech for class on Monday and was hoping you’d help me practice.”

She pulls those doe-like hazel eyes on him, and Jason’s almost captured by them. This time, he lets out a small sigh.

“You know I’m always down to help you out. Always. But you know, we haven’t just hung out in a while now,” he points out.

Lana concedes to that with an incline of her head, but she still eases out of his arms to finish cleaning up.

“Yeah, I’ve just been really busy,” she says.

“I have too,” Jason replies. “But even with my crazy schedule, going back and forth from campus, don't I still make time for you?”

Case in point, he was willing to come out to her on the drop of a hat, late at night, and on the crunch week before his final exams. But he would be hard-pressed to remember a time when Lana went out of her way to see him.

Lana pauses, casting him a frown. "I'm trying my best, Jason. You know I'm graduating in a few weeks. Everything's ramped up to 11 this year."

Yeah, I know the feeling, Jason thinks, but after a moment, he caves with a nod, even though his gaze lingers on the Gino's bag.

“Have you eaten?” he tests. “Let me get us some takeout.”

He almost said, Let me take you out, somewhere nice. But he hadn’t been able to do that since before he got to Smallville. He’s beginning to wonder if he ever will again.

“Oh,” Lana says. Her eyes avert from his as she wipes down a table. “I already ate.”

Jason draws closer to her and dips his chin in order to catch her gaze. Eventually, she pauses and glances up at him.

“With Clark?” he asks.

Lana tightens up, just as he predicted. “Why would you say that?”

“I saw him when I came in,” Jason replies. He tilts his head at Lana, who never used to be a good liar. But ever since they had to start hiding their relationship, he’s noticed how good she also hides her thoughts and feelings around other people…maybe even to herself.

“Yeah,” she breathes. “He was here. But we were studying for finals, and we got hungry. That’s it.”

Jason shakes his head, but she grabs his hand with both of hers. He looks down at her tan, slender hands, and can’t help but be drawn back to her beautiful face.

“It’s not a big deal,” she says, as if that can dismiss the churning in his gut.

“Listen,” he says, rubbing at his face. “I know I’ve asked you this before, and I’m sorry but…do you still have feelings for him?”

“No,” she refutes, “I’m with you, Jason. How many times do I have to prove that this is what I want?”

She seems so annoyed and vehement that Jason has to believe her. He wants to, so badly.

Maybe too much.

The last straw comes just two weeks before the end of spring semester—with the coming of senior prom. Jason knows he can’t ask Lana, but she assured him that she wasn’t going. 

He has a late class that night, but afterwards, he promised to pick her up and get dinner together in Metropolis. A nice date, a long-ass way out of town, so they’re unlikely to be recognized.

On the Friday evening, just hours before a high school dance, you and Jason sit together in the one class you have together: Introduction to Mass Media. 

It only meets once a week, for three hours. Technically it’s an elective for both of you, but you’d told Jason to pick any class outside of his major that he was interested in. Anything to broaden his horizons, and you promised to join him. For some reason, he chose this one. 

He thought it would be easy. Just a study of pop. culture stuff, with a mix of social media, maybe a dash of sports, if he was lucky. He’d actually been surprised with how much he was enjoying the segments on videography and broadcast journalism. 

Right now, however, he's distracted. You can certainly tell, the way he keeps checking his phone.

“What’s wrong?” you lean over and ask in a whisper. He knows how anal Professor Jones is about cell phones in class. The man had a “contraband bucket” to collect them in, if he caught a student using one.

“Just letting my girlfriend know I’m gonna be a bit late,” Jason grumbles, though he’s looking at the screen. “Jones is droning on past the eternity mark, as usual.”

A man clears his throat above you and Jason. You both look up and meet the flat gaze of Professor Jones. He shakes the bucket in his hand with an arched brow. Already there's about three contraband phones inside.

Jason gives a wan smile. “Come on, Professor. We were supposed to be outta here 20 minutes ago anyway.”

The lines in Professor Jones’s face betrays one simple truth: he doesn’t give a shit.

“Bucket, Mr. Teague,” he says.

Jason’s lips press in irritation, but he’s forced to drop his phone into the waiting bucket. He doesn’t see two mixed text messages from his girlfriend.

You lay a comforting hand on Jason’s arm. “I’m sure she’ll understand.”

By the time Jason gets to the Talon, the lights are dark and Lana’s not home. Suspicion creeps in, making him feel a little crazy. 

He decides to get back into his car and drive down to Smallville High. There the gym is decked out to the nines in some kind of underwater theme. It reminds him of his own senior prom a couple of years ago, complete with the punch bowl and cheesy snacks. 

But soon enough, the nostalgia comes to a screeching halt.

A familiar ballad croons from the band on the stage.

"And how can I stand here with you, and not be moved by you? ...Would you tell me how could it be any better than this?"

He sees Lana on the dance floor, wearing one of the most beautiful dresses he’s ever seen. And she’s in the arms of one Clark Kent. 

Jason's never hated Lifehouse so much.

On Saturday morning, before the Talon even opens, Lana opens the door to Jason while still wearing her robe.

“Hey!” she says, with wide eyes, though she lets him in.

“You seem real surprised,” Jason notes.

“Yeah, I mean, it’s early for you on a Saturday,” Lana remarks with a short laugh. But she still leans up to kiss him. She only manages to get his cheek, since he doesn’t bend down to meet her like he usually would.

She frowns. “Is something wrong?”

Jason doesn’t answer at first. The words are stuck in his throat. He gestures for them to move away from the glass doors, where anyone can peek in. So they travel up to her bedroom and close the door.

It’s not the first time he’s been in her room, though not much has ever happened on her bed. He’s waited completely on her signals for that one. Though now, he’s actually kind of grateful that their relationship has never progressed that far. It makes what he’s about to do easier.

“Where were you last night?” he asks. He figures they’d better start there.

“I tried calling you,” he adds, when Lana doesn’t immediately offer a reply.

“Well, I didn’t hear from you. I figured you were busy with your classes, so…I went to prom by myself,” she says.

Jason sighs. “You didn’t seem all that lonely.”

Her eyes widen. “What?”

Her confusion looks so real. A perfect face, and a damn near perfect lie.

“Look, I saw you and Clark on that dance floor,” Jason finally says. “Wasn't that just the perfect Hallmark moment?”

“Jason…” Lana finally starts to break. She doesn’t want to admit what’s broken, her gaze falling to the floor.

“No, let me say this,” he says. “Lana, I really put my all into this. I did whatever I could to be with you. To love you, to protect you. But in your heart, I think somewhere down the line you decided you don’t want that to be me.”

Lana’s eyes flood with tears, but she doesn’t deny it. 

“I think it’s time to really call it quits this time,” Jason says, “for both our sakes.”

He can’t help but reach out to her. His thumb brushes her cheek. Lana’s watery gaze meets his as her lower lip wobbles. She grabs his hand.

“I’m so sorry, Jason,” she confesses.

He won’t say it’s okay, but he accepts that with a nod, and he kisses her cheek. 

It’s a goodbye that’s meant to last.

Once he’s back in the relative safety of his car, Jason lets out a deep breath. He grabs his phone from his pocket on some unspoken urge; in that moment, he needs something. Someone.

He needs you.

You answer on the third ring, sounding sleepy on your day off.

“You’d better be on fire,” you say. Jason smiles at the sound of your grumpy voice.

“Hey,” he laughs a little, though he's surprised that it comes so easily. “You doing anything right now?”

“Besides sleeping?” you toss back. “…No. Not really. My life is boring.”

“Boring sounds nice right about now,” Jason says, more seriously than he meant to. “Wanna take a drive or something?”

You hesitate, just for a moment. Then your voice greets him again.

“Let’s go.”

When Jason arrives at your house, you come out to meet him. He gets out of his car, and already he looks wrong. He looks drained of all energy.

“What’s wrong?” you ask in concern, grabbing his arm when you’re close enough. His eyes find yours.

“We broke up,” he says.

It takes your brain a second or two to compute. (You’ve just finished your first cup of coffee, after all.) But then, you’re moving to wrap your arms around his neck in the tightest, warmest hug you can give.

He holds you back for a while, and you relish in the feeling of his hands smoothing around your back and pulling you in close. His chin tucks on your shoulder, and you rub his back.

“I’m sorry,” you say quietly.

He hums in response. Sometimes, what is just is.

He lets you drive him out to the lake near your house, in your beat up Volvo. This lake is your favorite place in the world, you tell him, as you two sit side-by-side on the dock. Your sneaker-clad feet dangle over the edge, next to his longer legs.

“So far,” he corrects. “There’s a whole lot of world out there.”

You smile. “Yeah, you gonna show me? Got a magic carpet tucked in your dorm somewhere?”

Jason laughs, and you’re grateful to see his smile so soon.

“Yeah, along with a dusty-ass lamp,” he says.

You smile, but you tilt your head at him. “Are you okay?”

Jason’s grin slips a little. “Yeah, I think so…is that bad?”

You bite your lip. “Depends. What was her name? I don’t think you even told me.”

Jason turns to you, and he sighs deeply. It takes him a moment, but he eventually answers while looking you in the eyes.

“Lana Lang,” he says.

The name rings a bell…and as it comes to you, it blares like a foghorn. Your eyes widen and your mouth falls open in shock.

“J-Jason…she’s a student,” you stammer. “Not like, us students. Like—”

“I know. We met before I got the coaching job,” Jason explains quickly, before you can blow up at him. 

He can see you’re freaking out, trying to contain your reaction with a hand over your mouth. But the more he explains, the more you withdraw into a simmering silence. He can tell, however, that you don’t know how to feel about it. 

“Do you regret it?” you ask.

It’s not the first thing he thought you would say, but it’s very you all the same.

“Well, being outmaneuvered by my own quarterback stings like a bitch, but I still think I’m better looking,” Jason jokes. Because that’s what he does when he’s uncomfortable.

Too bad that was the wrong answer.

You roll your eyes with a disgusted huff, and you pull yourself up onto your feet. You start to leave him there at the dock, but Jason hops up as well and grabs your hand.

“Hey, wait,” he implores. “Look, I’m sorry. And I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. It was just…easier.”

“Why, because you didn’t trust me?” you challenge. “Or because you felt guilty about what you were doing?”

The truth is, Jason doesn’t feel guilty. Not for his relationship.

“I was trying to protect her reputation,” he says. “I know how smalltown people think. She’d be the talk of the damn town. And for what? Because we’re two years apart?”

“And I’m smalltown, is that it? I’m sorry I’m not as evolved as you, Mr. Metropolis,” you snark. “Forgive me for being a lowly country bumpkin with some morals.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Jason says with an angry frown, throwing up his hands in frustration.

You shake your head at him and start booking it towards your car.

Jason follows. “You know you can’t leave me out here, right?”

“Just get in the car, before I change my mind!”

He obliges you, and it’s a painful ride back to your house. He really can’t believe you’re being like this. It’s the first real argument he’s ever had with you. He knew you might get upset, but he did think you’d be a little more understanding…

“Look, we met in Paris last summer,” he admits. And a hint more vulnerable, “I just…couldn’t help but fall for her.”

“I get it, Jason,” you reply. Your voice is flat. 

“Just please don’t tell anyone,” he asks. “We’re done. She’s about to graduate.”

As mad as you are at him for lying to you, you begrudgingly see his point. You can also start to understand why he didn’t tell you. 

But, regardless of how you feel, you don’t want him to lose his job. You know it’s the only way he can afford college.

“I wouldn’t do that to you,” you say, before you can reign yourself in.

Jason turns to you with a hint of a smile. “Thank you.”

It’s still awkward when you two get to your house. He turns to you, like he wants to say something that’ll most likely soften you. 

You’re not ready for that. 

So you kill the engine and get out of the car without looking at him. Jason takes the hint; he doesn’t say another word to you when he gets into his car and peels away.

The next weeks that follow are hard for Jason. As a member of the staff, he’s forced to go to Smallville High’s graduating ceremony.

He watches Clark and Lana graduate together with the rest of their friends. The two of them hug after she gets off stage, looking at one another with a moment of blushing smiles. It’s an inevitable look.

It makes Jason feel sick. He leaves as soon as he can, going back to languish in his dorm room. He lays on his bed over the covers with his hands folded over his stomach and his eyes closed.

He thinks about you. 

He can see you in his mind’s eye, with a pen balanced between your teeth and your hair falling over to brush the pages you pour over.

He sees your fuzzy green sweater. Your smile. The shade of your hair, your eyes, your laugh, your furrowed look when you’re concentrating hard on revising a sentence.

The more he sees, the more he wants to call you. To hear your voice, even if you're just going to yell at him. 

Jason sighs. He sits up in bed and has a thought that soon takes hold of his body, and has him swinging his legs over the edge of his bed and pulling his backpack closer.

He pulls out a folder for one of his classes and finds an essay you revised. His eyes scan over the encouragements you’ve left in the margins, along with the stray doodles. They still make him smile.

And it reminds him of the first note you ever gave him, which he keeps tucked in a small drawer in his desk. He tosses the folder onto his bed and goes to that drawer, where he finds your hastily written haiku.

Assistant Hottie

You flatter me, see through me

Smarter than he thinks.

You don’t know that those words have kept his head above water in times where he’s wanted to quit school.

Or even worse, in those times when he’s wanted to go to his father, tail between his legs, to ask for money and a job doing anything easy.

So now, Jason realizes that he needs to make another decision.

He gets out of bed, and he goes to see you.

Jason travels down to the basement of the CKM library, to the Writing Center, where you’re sitting at your desk as always on a Thursday night. You have a pile of essays stacked high next to you, and your forehead is wrinkled while you read a problematic passage.

The smell of coffee makes you look up first, before you realize who brought it. Your eyes widen at seeing Jason, along with his small smile and peace offering.

“Hey,” he says.

His voice washes over you, his eyes that always manage to disarm you, even now.

Despite your better judgment, you take the coffee from him and revel at its warmth. It has to be 60 degrees in this damn room (you’re one step shy of bringing your winter gloves next time).

You sip at the coffee and hum in delight at the taste of caramel and cinnamon—a combination that only your family, and Jason, would know you loved.

Your gaze flits up to his, more begrudging as you sigh.

“What can I do for you, Mr. Teague?” you ask.

Jason grins and takes your coworker’s empty chair to sit across from you.

“I’ve got a little haiku for you,” he says, handing you a folded piece of paper. You eye him in confusion, but you set down the coffee on your desk and take his second offering. You unfold it and read something that genuinely takes you by surprise.

Hey, Miss Professor

I’ve got a question for you…

Want to get dinner?

You can’t help but laugh. It’s most definitely not a haiku, but you also know that it’s his best shot. His smile is sheepish, making yours deepen. 

“So, what’s your answer?” he asks. 

You glance down at the page, then back at him. You bite your lip, and your heart clenches. Is this it? you wonder. Is he asking you out, for real? You can’t quite tell what he’s thinking. 

“What kind of dinner?” you ask.

Jason’s grin fades. “What do you mean?”

“Is this our normal kind, where we roll out like we’re Thelma and Louise?” you ask, making him snort. “Or is this the kind where I need to change out of my dirty sneakers and brush my hair?”

He shrugs; his amused grin is back. “I mean, however I get you is all right by me.”

You nearly utter another sigh, but Jason surprises you yet again—by grabbing your hand. 

“But, uh…I’d like this to be the kind of dinner where we try something new,” he says, licking his dry lips. He looks a bit uncertain, you think, hiding the fear of rejection. “Maybe you’ll let me do my Cary Grant impression and get you some flowers. Box of chocolates.”

The corner of your mouth twitches. “Chocolates?”

“Whatever it takes,” he says. His tone is joking, but he seems serious. You know him well enough by now to spot the difference.

“Whatever it takes, huh?” you ask.

Jason’s hand tightens on yours, but his eyes never leave you. He really is serious, and it makes your heart stutter and trill with warmth. It feels a lot like hope.

He leans in, his head bowing towards yours…but you lay a hand against his chest.

It stops him, until your fingers curl into his shirt.

Your gaze slowly meets his.

When he reaches for your cheek, this time you let him pull you in. 

His kiss is sudden, but it’s still a gentle test. You take in a deep breath through your nose as your eyes fall closed. You press your lips against his, answering him. His fingers slide into your hair and drag down the back of your neck. It makes you shudder and tug him even closer by his shirt. 

Jason’s solution is gathering you into his lap, where you take his face with both hands and kiss him with unfettered passion. The locked doors of your heart are swinging open, and it’s a sweet relief to be honest with each swipe of your tongue against his. 

He’s gripping your hip, his fingers pressing into your thigh, while the other hand supports your lower back and presses you flush against him. As the kiss slows, so does your hand in his hair, more soothing now than gripping. 

When your lips eventually draw apart from his, it’s with panting breaths. You stare into his eyes, as yours brim with relieved tears. You touch his cheek.

“I better not be a rebound,” you warn him. “I can’t take that, Jase.”

Jason shakes his head, holding you a fraction tighter. “No, believe me. That's the last thing you are."

You bite your lip, and he encourages you to release it with his thumb brushing across your lower lip. You've been on his mind longer than he can readily admit. Since the first day he met you.

"I know I haven't made it easy, but will you trust me on this?” he asks. "I really wanna do this right with you."

It takes you a moment to decide, but you do. You trust him.

So you nod and brush your fingers along the apple of his cheek. 

“Okay,” you concede. "Let's do this."

Jason grins. “Oh, thank God.”

You giggle softly and hide your face in his neck. His chest shakes with a chuckle as he holds you back. It feels very right to hold you, he thinks.

Just as it's a relief for you to finally be in his arms.

“Where d’you wanna go for dinner?” he asks.

You laugh, a bit giddy as you cling to him and thread your fingers in his golden hair.  

“I don’t give a damn.”

AN: Haha, I hope you liked this! ❤️ These one-shots are kind of AU, in that I don't get into the Stones of Power arc of S4 just for simplicity's sake.

I do have one more one-shot idea rolling around in my head for these two...the reader meeting Jason's infamous mother lol (Genevieve Teague, played by the fabulous Jane Seymour)!

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[chukys-mouthguard]

kinda tempting pt. 5

part 4

3.6k words

featuring: mat barzal x female reader x matthew rempe

note: this is the final part of this series 🥲 i will be writing an alternative ending to come at a later date - there is the possibility of a sequel featuring just rempe 👀 if we want that?

i am not fully happy with the ending on this if I’m honest, but i wanted to leave things open for a possible sequel or more to come in the future

Rolling over you felt the cold space next to you, letting you know the space previously occupied by Matthew was now vacant. Tossing back the blankets, you headed to the kitchen, wondering why he’d left your side.

A small smile creeping across your lips as you walked in to find him putting together a plate of breakfast for you. His tongue nervously peeking from the side of his mouth as he carefully flipped the french toast out of the pan, not noticing your eyes watching him.

“Well good morning.”

Softly speaking, as not to startle him, he quickly looked up at you and smiled. Setting the pan back on the stovetop before grabbing you a fork, then placing your plate at a spot at the island.

“Good morning, I thought I could wake up and make you breakfast as a start to apologizing for yesterday. Not sure if you’re having any morning sickness yet or anything, so I hope this is okay?”

He’d clearly been googling to try and educate himself about pregnancy, which you found quite adorable. Though at this point you were still early on, so you hadn’t experienced much of the morning sickness or other symptoms yet.

“This is perfect, thank you.”

He leaned on his forearms at the island as he watched you try his cooking, nervous that you’d hate it. However you very much were enjoying every bite, not remembering the last time you had french toast.

“So, now that I’ve gotten on your good side, for now…can I ask a few questions?”

Shooting him a playful glare you nodded, knowing that he’d surely have his questions, there was no avoiding it.

“Okay, so, I’m not trying be an asshole or anything when I say this, but…how do you know for sure it, the baby sorry, is mine?”

Wiping some syrup from your lip you took a sip of your water, slightly laughing at your answer in your head before speaking it aloud.

“I mean, to be blunt…Mat pulled out and you didn’t.”

Matthew chuckled a bit himself before he’d continued with his questions. A bit surprised at the thought of your boyfriend being the one that would’ve pulled out rather than him. A blush coming over you as you felt embarrassed about the conversation, immediately feeling like this was now becoming your fault.

“Okay, so, were you not on birth control or?”

Setting your fork down, slightly pushing the plate away, you sighed. Matthew wasn’t wrong for his questions, but you couldn’t help but feel like you were being interrogated or questioned at this point.

“Look, I get it, okay? No, I wasn’t on birth control. To be honest, there were plenty of times Mat didn’t pull out and we didn’t have my scares. So, maybe it’s my fault for assuming that would be the case this time around. And yeah, should I have taken a Plan B or something to be safe. Yes, I should have. I get it. It’s my fault you and I are in this situation. It’s my fault I hurt Mat the way I did. It's my fault he hates me now. It’s my fault for cheating to begin with. It’s all my fault okay!”

You’d not even noticed you were crying until you felt the tears hitting the skin of your arm. Matthew immediately coming to your side as he held you, trying his best to calm you down.

“Y/n stop, absolutely not. Don’t even say that. Look, I don’t care that you didn’t take a Plan B pill. Everything happens for a reason, and maybe we don’t know what that reason is right now, but I wouldn’t change this. It wasn’t just you that cheated, it took both of us to do that. And, I’m sorry that I caused so much shit for you and Mat I really am. But please, you need to stop blaming yourself for everything. Remember that there were things Mat did that pushed you to that point. It wasn’t solely you, I played just as big of a role in this as you.”

You felt your breath slowing down as you relaxed in his touch, Matt always having something about him that could calm you. Hearing his words and trying to make yourself believe them, that this wasn’t solely your fault.

“I know, I just. God there’s so much to deal with now. I haven’t even thought about how the Rangers organization is going to react to this. My job is probably out the window the second they find out, if they haven’t already with that fight being so public last night.”

Matt kissed your head as he took a seat next to you, trying his best to let you vent while also trying to reassure you that things were going to work out.

“I can talk to them, we will figure this out. You’re not losing your job. And if you do, we can cross that bridge when we get to it. But please, just don’t feel like this is all your fault. If anything, we both are technically responsible for this.”

He smile as he placed his hands on your stomach, and you couldn’t help but smile yourself. The idea of Matthew Rempe, the 6 foot tall giant, holding a tiny baby in his arms making you giggle. But also warming your heart. Picturing the kind of dad he would be, seeing him as being more of a boy dad than a girl dad personally. Though the universe would ultimately be the one to decide your fate in that regard.

“Well, I hate to run out in the middle of this conversation. But I gotta get to the rink, coach asked to meet with me this morning.”

Your eyes went wide as you watched him gather his things. “Like, a bad meeting?” He shrugged, though you could see on his face it wasn’t going to be a good meeting.

“He didn’t seem angry, but with Coach it’s hard to tell. I can only assume it’s about last night. But don’t worry, everything will be fine.”

He gave you a hug and placed a quick kiss on your head. Though it didn’t calm your nerves. The last thing that needed to happen was Matt losing his spot on the Rangers to really just make this situation that much messier.

As Matt took a seat in Coach Laviolette’s office, he could feel his heart beating through his chest. Trying to tell himself it was nothing serious, though he knew it wouldn’t be a pleasant conversation.

“Rempe.”

“Coach.”

His voice was stern as he sat across the desk from Matt. His body language not giving away much as Matt could feel his hands getting sweatier by the second.

“You want to tell me what the hell that was last night? And I’m not talking about the fight, as far as I’m concerned that was normal hockey stuff. Not quite sure why one of their star players would drop the gloves with you, but that’s besides the point. I want to know why I’ve got an Islanders player getting in an argument with his girlfriend, our social media manager, and you outside my locker room last night.”

Matt nervously swallowed as he toyed with what to say, knowing that there was no good answer. But he couldn’t lie, figuring that it was better in the long run to be as honest as possible so he didn’t jeopardize either of your positions with the organization.

“Well Coach, I first want to say that I don’t want y/n to lose her job over this. None of this is her fault, if anything, that argument last night was because of me and it should not have happened publicly like that.”

He studied his coach's face for any sign of whether or not the conversation was going well, but he couldn’t read him. Continuing on as he was unsure of how to explain the situation.

“Y/n is pregnant sir. And, surely you can guess that Mat Barzal is not the father based on the argument last night. So, it’s been a rough last few days finding all of this out and trying to navigate things. But, I know that y/n and I could potentially jeopardize our positions with the organization if the news gets out about this. The last thing either of us would need right now is to lose our jobs with a baby on the way.”

Coach Laviolette slightly nodded his head, the room silent as Matt awaited a response. Unsure as to whether or not it would be one he’d like to hear.

“Well, I can make sure that neither of you lose your jobs, at least for now. I’m not sure if come next season that they wouldn’t want to keep you two apart should you be together. I at least assume you’re going to step up in that aspect for the child. But, what I’m going to ask of you going forward is to keep your distance from each other at the rink. I understand that will be hard with her job, but I think that will help your situation in terms of the organization possibly taking issue with this.”

Matt nodded, agreeing that it was probably for the best until things blow over from the argument the night before. Not needing anyone asking more questions then they surely would already be.

“The last thing I’ll say, and this is more man to man then coach to player. This is going to be a tough experience, but one that will be so rewarding. And you have a real opportunity right now, to work hard every chance you get on the ice to ensure that there is no reason we don’t put you in the lineup each night. You want to be sure you can provide for your child, that you have a spot on the roster, so take this as a sign to start busting your ass on and off the ice even more.”

“Yes sir, I appreciate that. I, I obviously want to work hard every night. And, I am so thankful for the opportunity here in New York. I really do want to work even harder to make sure I have a spot here, even looking ahead to next season. But I will make sure this doesn’t affect my focus here, and I’ll make sure any outside issues aren’t brought to the rink anymore.”

Matt could hear himself starting to babble, stopping himself before coach needed to. “Matt, I appreciate that. I can see it in you how bad you want this. And I have no doubt that you’ll continue to put the work in. This wasn’t a conversation to scare you or punish you, I just needed to know what was going on after last night. Now get out of my office and get ready for practice.”

He shot Matt a smile before sending him off, making him feel much better about things versus when he’d first sat down. A few of his teammates questioning him about the previous night’s events, to which he’d tried his best to play off. Not ready to announce the news to any of them, still processing it himself.

While Matthew was at practice you tried your best to make sense of the previous night's events. Hating that the argument happened so publicly, hating that Matthew even said anything to begin with. You wanted so badly to talk to Mat about everything, to let him hear things from you. Despite the relationship being beyond reaping at this point, you owed him that much to explain it all. At least you felt you did.

Surprisingly, you found after shooting him a text that your number wasn’t blocked. You’d asked if he would be open to talking to you, to which he said yes. He was still in the city, having spent the night after he’d apparently gone out with some of his teammates and gotten a bit too drunk.

You let Matthew know that Mat was coming over to talk, which he supported. Wanting you to have the opportunity to be the one to explain things this time around without him overstepping.

As you’d gotten the simple I’m here text from Mat, you felt your palms begin to sweat. Unsure as to what you’d say, how you’d explain things to him. Either way it was going to break his heart all over again hearing the details.

A soft knock at your door came and you thought you were going to throw up. Opening it to reveal Mat, his body language not very excited to see you. Sunglasses hiding his eyes, most likely due to a hangover. Though you’d find once he removed them that they were hiding a fresh black eye he’d gotten the night before at the hands of Matthew.

“Thanks for coming over.”

He walked past you and sat at the island, while you’d grabbed waters for the both of your from the fridge. “Sure thing. I know last night probably didn’t go how either of us would’ve liked.”

A slight chuckle left your lips as you couldn’t agree more. Your fingers nervously tapping the counter as you weren’t sure what to say or how to say it.

“Look, Mat. I never intended to hurt you like this. Believe me, I felt awful for cheating. But, I don’t think you understand how much you pushed me away. Despite knowing it was wrong, I didn’t care in the moment because I was so sure we were done. I had lost hope that things were ever going to get better. And then, you were trying. You were putting in the effort, and I wanted to marry you. I did. But the second I found out I was pregnant, and I knew it couldn’t be yours, I was torn. Because I didn’t want to lie to you that this baby was yours, and marry you and pretend like things were fine. But at the same time, I knew it had gotten to a point that there was no hiding what happened anymore.”

Mat tried his best to hold in his emotions, not wanting to cry, despite the fact that he’d cried last night over it all. Though he’d never tell you that.

“You know, when you told me you were pregnant. I even wondered myself. I knew that night we had sex there wasn’t a chance of us having a scare. But, it all seemed perfect. We’d get married, have a baby. I went along with it because I wanted it so badly to be us. But, you’re right. I wasn’t good to you, for a long time. I don’t blame you for thinking things were ending with us. I even questioned why you never left me yourself. So yeah, maybe I pushed you to hook up with him. I pushed you to look elsewhere for the things I wasn’t giving you. And for that, I’m sorry.”

The two of you sighing as you’d waited for the other to say something, not sure where you went from here.

“I, I just hate that it had to happen like this. For you to find out like you did, to get in a fight over this situation with Matthew, it all is not how I would’ve wanted it to happen. And, if you hate me now, I completely understand. I know you’ll have to explain why there’s no wedding, all of it. And I know your family is probably going to hate me too. I can accept that, I brought it on myself I guess. But, I never stopped loving you. And I’ll always love you Mat. I just need you to know none of this was intentional, or on purpose to hurt you.”

He smiled softly as you wiped away a few tears that were falling down your cheek, moving from his seat at the island to wrap you in a hug.

“I don’t hate you. Like I said, you were right and I pushed you to that point to some extent. And, I have to live with that myself. But, I don’t hate you and I’ll always love you too. And, if you ever are absolutely desperate for a babysitter, maybeee I’d volunteer.”

The two of you laughing as he pulled away, wiping a lone tear from your cheek. “Please, just, don’t be so hard on yourself about all of this, you don’t need that stress on top of everything else going on okay?”

Nodding you smiled back, before walking with him towards the door.

“And, apologize to Matthew for me. I, I know I said some things that, were shitty of me to say. He’s a good kid, and, I don’t know if you two are planning on getting together now or what, but, if he makes you happy then I’m happy for you.”

After Mat left your place, you’d felt slightly better about things, but knew it would take time for you to not be hard on yourself about the whole situation. His reaction was better than last night, and despite him understanding you could still see how he was hurt by it all. Surely not a situation he’d be over in just a few hours, and would have to relive if and when he had to explain the canceled wedding to his family and friends.

“I’m backkkk.”

Matthew playfully called out in sing song voice as he entered your apartment. Tossing his book bag to the side before he’d joined you on the couch.

“What’s verdict? Are you traded? Sent back to the minors?” He smiled at you while you sat nervously playing with the blanket that laid across your lap.

“Nope, and nope! It went decent, as good as to be expected really. He just wanted to talk to me about it all, he recommended we keep distance at the rink as much as we can. He can guarantee we won’t lose our jobs for now, but next season who knows.”

Your eyes went wide as you sat up, mouth slightly open as you were looking for what to say. “Matthew, you said it went decent! We might not have jobs next season now?”

He quickly took your hand in his, trying to calm you down and not stress yourself out too much.

“No no, he just, he’s just saying he can’t make us any promises. But he also told me not to give them a reason to take away my spot. It, it was actually a really nice sort of heart to heart moment. He told me to bust my ass and work hard so they have no reason not to put me on the ice each night. And, that’s what I’m gonna have to do. Gotta make sure daddy’s get paid the big bucks for his baby!”

Matthew leaned down and kissed your belly, earning a laugh from you as he looked up at you a bit embarrassed.

“Sorry, that was a bit much. I got a little too excited.”

He awkwardly ran a hand through his hair as he sat up next to you, but you shook your head reassuring him it was fine.

“Matthew, you’re allowed to be excited. Don’t apologize. I’m glad you’re excited, you think I want to go through this with someone who could care less?”

He smiled at you before heading into the kitchen to grab a water, resting his forearms on the island as he looked at you. His gaze making you blush as you tried to turn your attention to the tv, unsure as to why he was staring.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer!”

Holding up a pillow you blocked yourself from his gaze, only for him to come and snatch the pillow away. Sitting on the ottoman in front of you as he sipped his water.

“Okay, more questions for you.”

Rolling your eyes you muted the tv, turning your full attention to him as you sat with your hands folded in your lap. Unsure as to what in the world he could be asking you now.

“Yes matthew.”

He ignored your sarcastic tone as he mirrored the way you sat, making you smile as he continued on. “So, if we are doing this. Like, having this baby. What does that mean in terms of us?”

“Um, wow, just going right for it huh?”

His question caught you a bit off guard, not that you haven’t thought about it yourself, but you didn’t expect him to be so to the point out of nowhere.

“I mean, I just don’t want to think one thing and you’re thinking the other. I want there to be full transparency as we navigate this together. And whether that’s simply as coparents, or if we are testing the waters. I just want that to be established you know?”

“Well, I definitely would agree. I guess, we test the waters maybe? And just see where things go? I mean, I’ve never had a baby with someone before so you’re kind of in the same boat as me here.”

The two of you laughed as Matt nodded in agreement.

“Well, okay then. We test the waters in our same boat!”

“Oh my god not the dad jokes Matthew!”

Rolling your eyes you playfully kicked his leg as he sat next to you on the couch, joining you for whatever you had previously been watching.

“I promise, this is the last question for today, or at least for now. Is it too early to know if the baby is a boy or a girl?”

[imagineredwood]

okay but yandere!miguel with E from the prompt list? 👀

Prompt: E is for...Eradicate

"You don't need a job, baby. Your job is being mine."

"You're better off without them anyway."

"I removed the problem. You should be thanking me."

Warnings: Dark Miguel, kidnapping, forced imprisonment, obsessive behavior, violence/death, manipulation of the reader

A/N: This cooooould be read as a sequel to this story I wrote a while back, or standalone. I thought it would be cool to tie this one into that event like what follows after he takes her back home, but you could totally read this independently. Miguel will kill all the boyfriends regardless

Miguel sighed as he heard you sniffle from beside him. Your body curled in on itself, leaning against the car door to get as far away from him as possible. The shock had started to wear off and so was your adrenaline.

But the sight of your boyfriend dead on the floor, killed over pure jealousy and possessiveness, played over and over again in your mind. He hadn't done anything to deserve that. And with a trembling, raw voice, you said as much.

"You didn't have to do that. He didn't do anything."

Miguel scoffed, his voice indignant.

"He tried to take you from me. He tried to take you away from your home, the place you truly belong. He couldn't even defend himself from me, that means he couldn't have defended you. Imagine if something had happened to you. Imagine if someone had tried to hurt you, and he couldn't stop them."

You could see the anger flash in his eyes at the mere thought. Fire dancing in those warm brown irises. He was reaching out for you then, ignoring your whimper as he cradled your cheek.

"I removed the problem. You should be thanking me."

You shivered at his words and Miguel cooed at you, hands coming to rest on your shoulders, smoothing his palms up and down your bare skin. The pretty shawl you were covering up with had disappeared in the chaos.

"We're almost home, mi amor. Just a few more minutes."

You sat still in the war, water as Miguel lathered the shampoo into your scalp. Your face was wet, but you weren't sure if it was the bathwater or tears. You felt drained and limp, nearly boneless. Yet, you knew sleep wouldn't come easily to you tonight. Or maybe any night after what you had seen.

You blamed yourself. All your boyfriend had done was be with you and try to make you happy. That was his only crime; caring for you. and you couldn't shake the guilt that came with that, even though you knew it was Miguel's fault and his alone.

He was unstable. Cool as a cucumber and most would think he was unshakable. But that was what made him so dangerous. He was a man with seemingly infinite power, and his world would always be shaped how he wanted by his own hands. Bloody or not.

He massaged your scalp tenderly and you closed your eyes, if not only just to keep the tears at bay. He always harped on how he would never hurt you. And he never had, physically at least. It seemed he didn't think the mental torture and trauma this event would leave you with to be harmful.

"My friends will be looking for me. They know I had a date tonight."

Miguel hummed, unmoved by your words from behind you. His hands steady as he lifted the handle to rinse the bubbles from your hair.

"You're better off without them anyway."

You yanked yourself away from him, arms covering your breasts as you turned to face him, though he had seen them a million times. Your eyes were bloodshot and fierce as you stared at him, his face neutral, seemingly unbothered by the water you splattered on his crisp button up.

"Yeah, and my job? You think they're not gonna notice when I never show up again? Hmm?"

You were trying everything. That was what he loved about you the most. Your resistance. Your willpower. How headstrong you were. You weren't a woman who was easily tamed, and but getting you to belong to him would forever be one of his greatest achievements.

Miguel chuckled and shook his head, the sound rumbling in his chest as he rested his wet hands on the front of his thighs. He tilted his head, the look almost condescending.

"You quit. Sent your boss an email, saying that due to a new business venture of mine, you had to leave. Relocation difficulties."

You were about to argue, until he pulled your phone out from his pocket, opening the screen to show the email he'd sent, as well as your bosses reply saying that despite the short notice, he wished you and your husband well on your new endeavors.

Your eyes shifted from the screen to him and he grinned.

"I also told him that you decided to give our marriage another shot. Hence you coming with me."

Putting the phone away, he stood up from his squatted position and walked to the lavish counter, grabbing the expensive fluffy white towel and holding it open for you to step into.

You stared at him for what felt like an eternity before relenting and standing up from the bath, not a care in the world that your hair hadn't been conditioned. You stepped into the towel and felt him embrace you in it, a hand holding your head to his chest as he held you, stroking your hair.

"You don't need a job, baby. Your job is being mine."

Dark fiction taglist 

@whitetxilwxlf @kikijackson-blog @ben-c-group-therapy @ravennaortiz @mama-mischief @flowercrowns-goodvibes @shellofashadow @pekusofixus

[the-kr8tor]

Can you write a small thing of the reader(Gn! Reader please) finding out Hobie is Spiderpunk? I just really wanna see what you think would happen honestly.

It's a-okay if you don't! Thank you!

Thank you for requesting l! 😘

Pairing: Hobie Brown x gn! Reader/ Spider-Punk x gn! Reader

Tags: No use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, cw injury, a dash of hurt/comfort, Fluff.

Wrote this as a sequel to this fic

A/N: a sequel to my first ever fic? I have come full circle 🤣

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

You pace back and forth in your shared flat, the floors seem to leave indents of your foot falls from how much you're walking around. Your mind fails to wrap around the fact that Hobie and Spider-Man are one and the same. The familiar embrace and sturdy chest you fell on proves it. But you wouldn't know if your deduction is correct if you don't ask him yourself.

Not knowing how to react, you chew your bottom lip, your nose still aching from the impact. So you wait for him to finally get home, with the sound of keys rattling outside your doors, heart thumping loudly, you sit on the settee to calm your nerves.

Hobie doesn't waste time to come look for you nor take off his boots at the door, he speed walks over to you in a hurry after finding you sitting forlorn on the couch. Your eyes meet his, he immediately crouches in front of you, wrapping his arms around your torso, hiding you from the world. His palm guides your head over the crook of his neck, placing a weighted kiss over your temple; wishing, hoping the pain you feel will subside.

"Came as soon as I saw your message, 'm sorry. Are you alright?" He traces your spine with his hand, comforting and calming your lingering adrenaline. You feel the bandage over his hand through your thin shirt.

"Hobie?" You ask in a small voice.

"Yeah, love?"

You get to the point, there's no point in dilly dallying "Are you Spider-Man?"

His reaction wasn't what you expected, Hobie chuckles deeply like you just told him an inside joke only you two could know. You pull away slightly, hands still holding him, anchoring you.

"Figured me out, huh?" Hobie brushes his knuckles atop your cheeks, careful of your injured nose. "Knew you would notice"

"Why didn't you tell me?" Tears threaten to spill over. A hundred questions fly past your mind, insecurity filling you.

He reads you like an open book, "I trust you with my life, hey" Hobie wipes a stray tear, you sniff, paying attention to every word. "Didn't want you to get hurt because of me, someone might get wind of you, and I wouldn't know what I would do if something did happen to you. That's why I kept it from you, 'm sorry" your shoulders relax, sighing in understanding.

Hobie takes your hands in his, you feel the scratchy cloth over his palm. You rub your thumb over it softly, reassuringly.

"You saved me, twice." Your eyes trail over the bandages. "Thank you" you finally look up at him, eyes soft, leaning over to peck his forehead. You hope your love permeates through the kiss.

He sighs, eyes closed in content. You lean back to Hobie's dismay. "I won't stop you from being Spider-Man, just be careful. Come home in one piece?" You smile at him, in return Hobie kisses your knuckles, each kiss longer than the last.

"For you, I will" He gently guides you over with his hand on the back of your neck, meeting your lips for a proper kiss. You move in tandem, hand squeezing his.

Needing air back in your lungs, you pull away, eyes twinkling. "Can't believe my boyfriend and crush are one and the same, is that why you were never jealous whenever I gush about Spiderman?"

"You were inadvertently feeding my ego."

You laugh, placing your forehead against his in affection.

[cameronspecial]

Before The Last Petal Falls (Part 1)

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: Talks about sex and drugs.

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 2.4K

Summary: Coming home is supposed to be a happy occasion, but it's hard to be happy with your ex-boyfriend lurking around the corner.

A/N: This is a sequel series to Thorn In My Side, Rose in My Hand series.

Masterlist

Going back home is the last thing Y/N wants to do right now. The Outer Banks is full of memories from a heartbreak she does not want to remember. However, she is no match for the force known as Cassie and Marvin, and that is how she finds herself on a plane back to North Carolina. For the past five years, Y/N has done everything in her power to not step foot on the island again and now, it is all for nothing. “Please fasten your seat belts, we are preparing for landing,” the pilot’s voice stirs Y/N from her slumber. She can’t believe this is actually happening right now. The elderly lady beside her smiles at her, “First time going to North Carolina?” “Uh, no. I actually grew up there, in the Outer Banks, but I haven’t been back since I left. It feels a little weird,” she answers honestly. 

“Ahh, so you were running from something.” 

“Yeah, I was. But it looks like I can’t anymore. I just hope that something isn’t there anymore.”

The plane lands and Y/N gets her bags from the carousel. She waits for Mason in the pick-up area, running towards him when she spots his car. Mason crushes Y/N in a hug, “It’s so good to see you back on American soil. This is long overdue.” Y/N pats his back while returning the hug. “Yeah, yeah. It’s good to be home. Did Lace get Sparky here okay?” Mason picks her suitcase up and packs it into his trunk, “Yep, he’s probably being a little energy ball in our living room as we speak.” They both laugh at the joke and then hop into the car. “So how’s your internship at the architectural firm? Is it different from the one in Toronto?” she asks her brother, bringing her hand to the locket around her neck. Heading back to the Outer Bank is causing her to be anxious and playing with the locket calms her down. It doesn’t go unnoticed by Mason that she still wears the necklace and is playing with it. 

“It’s going well. Most buildings that people look into getting built here are a different style than in Toronto. OBX wants beach boxes, while Toronto has a wide range of styles. It’s really fascinating watching how my boss’ designs still match to look different from one another.”

“That’s cool. I like the name beach box. It sounds fun. Like a giant sandbox. And are you enjoying it?”

“Yeah, I really am. Although, I do want to see if I can get an internship in an Asian country afterwards. They have a different style that’s interesting. How is the bookstore coming along?”

“A little stressful right now to be honest. Juggling my book edits and what I need to change or add so that the building is up to code and now being here. It’s all just a little too much. At least, I have a name Bookkeeper. It’s gonna confuse people who actually know what that career is but I think it’s funny.”

“It is a good name. It’s very punny.”

“Ugh, that was so bad.”

———

One of the worst places to be is her childhood bedroom. The countless days they spent cuddling on the bed haunts her. The love they expressed physically all over the room is practically engrained in her brain. She had never been able to feel that way again. She unpacks her clothes into her closet and goes to check on Sparky downstairs. He was left down there because she didn’t want him sitting on her suitcase like he did when she was packing her bags in London. He has gotten bigger and he has a little bit of an attachment issue. He doesn’t like being very far from his Mommy for very long. Y/N’s heart drops to the pit of her stomach when she sees the open front door and bolts out of it in hopes of catching her dog before he gets too far. 

She follows his barks like a trail of breadcrumbs to the sidewalk. If her heart wasn’t already giving her problems, it certainly is now. The sight before her is one she never thought she would see again. Rafe Cameron is kneeling down and petting Sparky. Beside him is a beautiful woman in a sundress. Her long black hair cascades down her shoulders and her brown almond-shaped eyes show such warmth behind them. Her makeup is done to absolute perfection. Y/N slowly approaches the trio without hesitation. She doesn’t want to go near Rafe, but seeing as it doesn’t look like Sparky is nowhere near going home, she had to go get him.

 “Hey Sparky, long time no see. It’s good to see you again, Bubba. I’m sorry I couldn’t be there for ya. You’ve gotten so big,” she hears him greet. As she approaches, she accidentally steps on a stick and the crack alerts the others to her presence. “Hey,” she awkwardly begins. “I’m just here for my dog.” Rafe nods and stands up, moving to wrap his hand around the woman’s waist. “Uh, yeah. I remember a time when he used to be my dog too.” Sensing the tension, his companion introduces herself, “Hi, I’m Blythe Katsumi. I’m Rafe’s fiancée.” Blythe sticks her hand out for Y/N to shake, which she does. “I’m Y/N Y/L/N. Rafe’s- uh…this is Sparky.”

“It’s okay. I know you were his high school girlfriend. He told me about you.”

“Right. And he didn’t tell me about you.”

Rafe rolls his eyes and huffs, “Yeah, well it’s not like we were doing a lot of talking in the last five years. What are you doing here, Y/L/N?” 

“You mean besides looking for my dog, in front of my house? The better question is what are you doing here Rafe?”

“I have every right to be here because unlike you, I’ve been coming back home.”

Before Y/N can retort, Blythe stops the conversation from going any further. “Well, it was lovely meeting you, but we need to go. We have to get some stuff ready for the engagement party.” Blythe waves goodbye and takes Rafe’s hand to walk away. This draws Y/N attention to Blythe's left hand with the giant diamond engagement ring. This causes a stabbing feeling to shoot through Y/N’s heart. Her hand shoots up to her locket and she begins to rub it for some comfort. This action doesn’t go unnoticed by Rafe as he catches it from the corner of his eye.

———

Everyone has their own vices. Cheating. Gambling. Alcohol. Lying. Rafe’s is drugs. There was a period of time in his life when weed was not the outlet he turned to when in need of getting out of his own head. That one blissful year he had with her was his escape instead. But after the breakup, weed was the only thing that made him forget about her. Eventually, he became numb to the weed and he needed something stronger, so Barry introduced him to cocaine. Mason didn’t know that Rafe had stepped it up in the drug department because if Mason knew, he would’ve found some way to get Rafe to stop. And Rafe didn’t want to, he needed to escape the feeling of being consumed by her. 

Before today, Rafe had managed to go a month without thinking about her at all. It was his highest record in the past five years they had been apart. There was no bookstore he walked by with a girl quite similar to her standing at the window. No hard kombucha in Mason’s fridge to indicate that she had been there. No caramel ice cream at the parlour that she would beg him to buy. It was like the universe was giving him a break from being haunted by Y/N. It seems the universe is done with giving him that gift because as he drives to Barry’s house, he is drowning in thoughts of her. He loved seeing Sparky, of course, but why did she have to come back? He couldn’t get the smell of her hibiscus body wash out of his mind. The sweet but gentle tropical scent she wore contradicted the foggy and rainy place she had moved to. Her hair is held back in a claw clip he used to play with whenever she would leave them around. 

And the thing that had really caused him to spiral is her hand still holding the locket he had given her for their first Christmas as a couple. Has she been wearing it for the past five years? Had she worn it while she let other men make her feel good, but nowhere near as good as he can make her feel? Would she wear it when she told them she loved them? But most importantly, how dare she come back to what is now only his island and wear it as if she cared for him? She hasn’t been back in years or talked to him; she doesn’t get to pretend like she’s thought about him. It is driving him crazy and he needed something to stop him from going too deep down this rabbit hole. 

Barry hears Rafe’s motorbike and is waiting outside for him. “Well, well, well, look who came back from the dead. Thought you went sober on me for a second there, country club. What can I get you for you?”

“However much you got. I got a feeling that I’m gonna be needing it more often.”

He knew he would need whatever he got his hands on to help him forget about her because if he didn’t then he would remember. And it would probably kill him to remember just how his heart almost leapt out of his chest when he saw Y/N Y/L/N right before his eyes.

———

When they broke up, Mason told both of them that he would not be used as a source to find out more about the other. He said it was for his own sanity in not wanting to be caught in the middle of his sister and best friend, but it was also in hopes that it would cause discourse between the two that would lead to their reunification. So it made sense that Mason would keep an engagement from her. But she still needed more information that she would give Mason no other choice but to give her. “How long have they been together, Mace?” Mason closes his eyes in a silent prayer that he isn’t about to have this painful conversation with his sister. He lifts his head from his laptop and turns towards her, “A year and a month. They’ve known each other for a year and a half.” 

“How long have they been engaged?”

“Four months.”

“Did you help him propose?”

“He didn’t ask.”

“How come you didn’t tell me?”

At this, Mason can hear the sadness in his sister’s voice. He knew no matter how much she says she is over Rafe, it isn’t true. It’s why she still wears his locket after all. He knew she needed to know though. 

“You know I don’t want to get in between you two. Also, I just didn’t know how to tell you. I didn’t want to tell you something that would hurt you so much. I love you and I want to protect you from that pain.” 

“Yeah, I get that. It just would’ve hurt less if it came from you,” she whispers, not knowing what else to ask or add to the conversation. She turns around and goes to her room, where she finds Sparky waiting for her. He gives her a pouty look, asking how come he couldn’t go with his Daddy. She sits down on her bed beside him and places his head on her lap, “I’m sorry, Bubba. But I did what I had to do. Breaking up with him was necessary. I mean I set him free and look at him now, he is getting married.” It hurt. It hurt that he was okay with marrying Blythe before he turned twenty-five. He wanted to speed up his life plan two years earlier just for Blythe. How come he was willing to do that for Blythe but not for Y/N? Was Blythe really that much better than her?

Doing what any other girl would do, Y/N resolves to some internet sleuthing. It wasn’t that hard to find Blythe’s Instagram. She has a public account and Mason is following her. She has an impressive 500K followers; probably because she is the heiress to a popular Japanese hotel chain. All her posts have her makeup done to perfection and her clothes are all designer. One of her saved reels is of her and Rafe partying on New Year's Eve. At least Blythe can keep up with Rafe on that level. Y/N moves her search to Google and finds Blythe’s Wikipedia page. She was born in New York and raised there. She attended UNC for fashion. From multiple tabloid pictures, she can tell that the party scene is one Blythe frequent but she is also a sweet girl. In one picture, she is giving her jacket to a homeless person along with some money when she is returning home from a party. She helps out at soup kitchens and takes children out on shopping sprees. Y/N supposes that Blythe could just be doing it for the media attention, but the look in Blythe’s eyes tells her it isn’t true. 

After finding out possibly everything she could find out about Blythe, Y/N turns all of her electronic devices off to stop her from spiralling on social media anymore. She heads over to her bookshelf in need of a bookish escape. Her eyes glance over the different titles until her eyes find one particular book she had not thought about it in a while. She pulls the book off the shelf and opens it up to the title page with the inscription on it. The copy of The Lightning Thief that Rafe had annotated sits before her. She had left it here when she went to university because it felt too hard to bring with her. It held too much meaning. As she sits down on her window sill, she begins to read the book with a special focus on the inscriptions. She reads for hours, allowing herself to feel every bit of emotion that passes through her. God, it hurts to be back home.

Taglist: @sublimepenguinpeach-blog @gillybear17 @f4ll-for-you