#okay goodnight i think i need to shut up

[vrachis]

yk if past chief and chief w the new outfit were like- clones and the current is an actual person.... omg the most earth shattering and mind blowing foursome would happen

[clancyycat]

just wasted so much time going through that article thats like “1000 books you may have actually read” that gets passed around on here every once in a while and um. the list kinda sucks

[peachcitt]

it’s about to be june everybody :)

[milo-is-rambling]

Weight talk tw I guess idk how to describe the post sorry im a little high

It’s so weird being around people who talk about weight problems (IOP) and like idk it brings up weird shit in my brain almost anxiety that I should feel bad about myself somehow like I’m doing this wrong being confident idk. Weird self doubt thing that happens when you’ve loved yourself (hmm. Rephrase. I don’t care about being fat. let’s say that.) and then you’re in a room full of people having a group discussion about how they avoid living their life in happy ways because they don’t want to become like you. But you love yourself. But everyone in your life since you were little has been dieting and talking about weight and specific numbers (someone was anxious about gaining seven pounds! SEVEN. If they saw my scale they would shit themselves. I put on seven pounds taking a big bong rip Jesus fucking Christ seven pounds. I wanted to rip my hair out.)

Next time weight issues come up in IOP I’m stepping out of the room. Like idk how to explain it cause it’s like not a trigger but I guess it is ? But it’s just so weird like the way I’m triggered makes me want to cry why does the world hate me for being fat what the fuck !!!!

[classyrbf]

VOICEMAIL! — GOJO SATORU

bf!gojo who misses his baby so dearly while he’s away on a mission. He’s thinking about you all day, missing you voice and your touch. He’s always talking about you to his colleagues because he loves you so much that he can’t stand being this far from you. So it’s no surprise when he’s back in his hotel room, scrolling through your photos in his camera roll while his dick strains against his sweats. He’s rubbing himself through the fabric, biting on his plump lip as he stares at your innocent pictures. He get so pent up, scrambling to pull his sweats down, right hand gripping the base of his dick while his left hand hold the phone. He’s whining for you, dick throbbing and his swollen tip leaking pre cum.

He decides he can’t take it anymore and presses a few buttons to call you. With the phone to his ear, he prays that you pick up, wanting to hear your pretty voice. “Mmph, please pick up, baby,” he whimpers. His brows furrow when he glides his hand up and down his shaft, squeezing a little tighter when he reaches the tip. Eventually, it goes to voicemail and Gojo figures you’re sleeping, but he decides to leave a message for you anyway.

“H-hey, pretty girl—mmph—just wanted to let you know how much I miss you,” he slightly pants, chest heaving up and down. His hips buck up into his hand, eyes squeezing shut. “Miss you so fucking much, thinking about you got me hard, you know that? F-fuck, baby.” His breath hitches. His hand moves faster, the wet noises echoing through the hotel room. “Can’t stop thinking about you—ah, fuck,” he moans. “I want you feel what you fucking do to me, baby,” he groans when he runs his thumb over his slit, gathering more pre cum.

His eyes roll back, jerking his dick faster as his abs tense up. “I, uh, wanted to call to check on you, but I know—mmmph—I know you’re probably sleeping,” he moans through his words. “I love you, okay? I…love you, baby. So fucking much.” He sounds so desperate, voice cracking with each whimper. “Just…call me when you wake up, please, baby? I need to hear your voice.” His body shivers and his abs tense up the faster he goes.

His eyes flutter shut and his jaw goes slack, imagining fucking you into mattress while you scream his name, thinking about the way your pussy grips him so tight. “I need you here right now. Need you so fucking bad you don’t understand,” he breathily chuckles. “I—fuck—such a fucking mess, all because of you,” he whines. “I’m sorry, baby…s-shit…I can’t stop.” His hips roll into the bed as he grows closer to his orgasm. “I’m gonna fucking cum just thinking about you, looking at your pictures…my god.” He opens his eyes, fixated on the way he’s jerking his dick, wishing it was you doing it instead.

“Fuck, fuck, yeah. Oh my god,” he whimpers, voice growing higher, his breathing sporadic. “Baby, baby…I’m gonna…I’m gonna fucking cum. Oh, shit, I’m fucking cumming, I’m cumming!” His hips twitch as spurts of his cum shoot from his swollen tip, landing on his hands and stomach. “Fucckkk!” He grunts, tossing his head back. “Yes, yes,” he moans loudly, drawing out his orgasm. He breaths heavily, slowly stroking himself as he comes down from his high.

Few seconds of silence goes by before he speaks, “see how much I miss you? Call me as soon as you hear this. Goodnight, pretty girl. I love you.” He kisses the phone before hanging up, left laying there in his mess.

[erwinsvow]

“stay away from her, rafe,” his sister’s voice comes from behind.

rafe resists an eye-roll, staring out across the pool of tannyhill and in particular, you, his sister’s friend, sprawled out on a beach chair with your nose in a book. he’s seen you before, around the house, usually unable to meet his eyes and flushing at anything he’d say. he didn’t pay much attention before, since you were almost painfully shy and skittish to the touch— definitely too shy for him—but he’s starting to change his mind. 

he watches you lower the book to your chest, covering your flimsy blue bikini and looking up to see where the noise is coming from. you catch rafe’s eye for one second, taking in the fact that he’s staring right at you, and you panic, bringing the book right back up to hide your face. he smirks, until sarah speaks again.

“seriously rafe. don’t even look at her. she’s way too nice for you, anyways.”

“shut up. not doing anythin’, and i don’t have to listen to-”

“sarah!” ward’s voice comes from inside. she walks back inside, telling rafe to leave you alone one last time. he stays out there, minutes passing by quickly, until he notices you glancing up at him again. you walk over in his direction, and even in your demeanor he can tell sarah was right, that you’re so shy you can’t even find the nerve to approach him, and you hover in front of the backdoor, trying to peer inside to see where your friend went.

“need somethin'?” rafe asks you, and he notices your entire body tense up. you turn around slowly to face him, but you stare at your feet while you speak.

“um, i’m sorry. sarah was gonna bring me home.” you look up quickly and then look back down. he thinks it’s cute, though he’s sure he once thought it was annoying. he wonders if you’re like this with everyone. “it’s almost curfew so i should-”

“well sarah’s occupied.” you meet his eyes finally, your own wide like coins, taking in his words. “get your stuff, kid. i’ll take you home.” 

“oh, you don’t have to-”

“get your ass in the car. come on. i don’t have all day.” you comply quickly, gathering your book and bag, not even looking for sarah again, which he likes a little too much. you climb into the passenger seat of his truck, but keep your gaze locked out the window. it’s not until he pulls infront of your house that you speak.

“thanks, rafe,” you mumble quietly. he turns to look at you, but you’re sniffling with quivering shoulders.

“you cryin’?” he’s actually confused—unsure of what he did, if anything. he thought driving you home was something that would make you happy.

“no,” you get out, in between a sob. “i didn’t mean to bother you, or m-make you mad.”

“mad?” he asks, staring at you curiously. rafe thinks maybe he should have expected this, or seen this coming. gears start turning and clicking into place, the way you play with the hem of your dress and keep your head down. you were more messed up than he thought. he chooses his next few words carefully. “and what did i say…to make you think that? hm?”

“y-you said you didn’t have all day. and you sounded upset.” rafe tries to think back, but he hasn’t felt upset with you at any point in the last hour. he exhales, laughing a little. he thinks he could have a lot of fun with you, with the way you behave around him. the very thought of you talking to some other guy like this makes his blood boil. 

“well, m’not. not mad or anythin’ else, okay?” you look back up through watery eyes.

“really?”

“no, kid. not at all. you walk around thinkin’ everyone’s mad at you all the time?”

“i-i don’t know. i guess. you just scared me.”

“well i’ll try not to. get inside. i’ll see you tomorrow.” you climb out, picking up your bag and adjusting your dress. before you turn to head back, you peer in through the open window at rafe. your gaze darts around, finally settling on him.

“tomorrow?”

“yeah, tomorrow. i’ll swing by. g’night, kid.”

“goodnight, rafe.”

[punkkture]

how i view simon riley

for a second, let’s just forget everything about him that actually is true and let me lie . . .

simon riley is 6’5” and is chubby with hella muscle underneath. hes got a lot of tattoos covering his arms and hands, and one on his torso thats battered with scars. i like to think he has dark brown hair, its just my type okay? his eyelashes are sooo long and his hands are always washed, he hates having dirty hands.

simon is a good leader, he kind of has to be. he is an amazing man when it comes to his job and his teammates, but when he gets home, thats the only chance he has to just let go. there isnt some persona he has to put on when hes home. his temper gets the best of him sometimes and hes lwk toxic asf.

“baby c’mon you know i didnt mean to, ‘m sorry” — ���dont be dumb sweetie you know im busy right now, go somewhere else and leave me alone” — “stop acting like this, im tired of you right now”

but he will always come to bed with you. always kiss you goodnight. always fixes the covers back over you when he gets up in the morning. its not his fault that he just has some anger issues he never got over when he was a kid. simon is either a big teddy bear or a stone wall. hes hard to read on most days but his tone will always give it away. mf has an awful tone problem when hes having a bad day. simon’s words are often harsh when hes having a bad day but his physical nature says the complete opposite.

“just shut up baby, you sound so stupid” he’d groan at you, but at the same time he’d pull you closer into him, kneading your soft skin in his hands gently. as if he is always apologizing after every mean phrase that comes out from those parted lips. and when that hurt whine comes from your lips hes already ‘shh’-ing you and rubbing your side.

my simon riley is infatuated with his sweetheart being all dolled up and dumbed down. he loves himself a stupid dumb girl that just cant do anything by herself. of course he knows hes needed for work, but simon has never felt needed outside of his job title. even if he’d never admit it without some emotional talks, he could cry over the fact that you need him. that something as precious and pure as you needs a man as rough and battered as him. he knows deep down youre not a stupid girl, youre bright and just curious, as he likes to put it. he loves being able to explain simple things to you, loves that you call him because you forget how to turn the oven fan off and how to cut a mango. hes so thankful that hes not needed for life or death situations with you like he constantly is for work.

my simon riley is obsessed with the idea of getting you pregnant. he is a sucker for breeding. when hes left alone in thought he always, without a doubt, thinks about you having his babies and forever being in his life. he just knows you’d be such a good mom. you are the only person he can even picture caring for his own. your sweet and kind nature on the daily shows how maternal you are and it just makes that soft spot in his heart swell and get bigger every time he pictures it. hes also smitten with your waist line. oh god dont even get the man started on your back dimples and the curves of your hips. simon’s lips are always on your abdomen and tummy.

“gonna have my babies in here one day sweetie, youre gonna look so pretty all knocked up” he mumbles in between warm open-mouth kisses right under your belly button. his heavy fingers digging into the dips of your back as he pulls you inexplicably closer to him.

he really is such a sensitive man under all that scar tissue and bulky muscle. in my head simon is an april taurus sun, pisces moon, and rising gemini. so basically, the taurus in him showcases he has a very rough exterior that is great at displaying leadership and grounding skills, but the pisces on the inside makes him sensitive and he has a lot of emotions, then the gemini in him makes him come across as independent and deceitful at first. i could go on forever about this mans astrology chart.

simon riley who always brags about you to his friends. he’s very careful with talking about you at work though. he would most definitely set the world on fire if anything bad happened to his sweet angel girl. when he’s back from deployment, out at some shitty pub with johnny . . he can’t keep his lips sealed about you.

“i know ‘m gonna marry that girl. i know it, gonna give her my last name and at least four kids . . you wanna know what she made for dinner when i got home from the last deployment?” he rambles to poor soap who just wanted to get out of his apartment.

[peppermintquartz]

Tommy has just turned the light off and settled in for a night of strained sleep when Evan says, almost accusingly, "Tommy, you forgot something."

Frowning, Tommy sits back up again. "What did I forget?"

He's got Evan his ibuprofen, his ice pack, fluffed his pillow, made sure... Oh, water. His water bottle must be empty. With a sigh, he flicks the light on again, and Evan is now pouting at him. Spoilt brat, Tommy thinks fondly, and gets up.

"Alright, gimme the bottle," he says with a huge, jaw-cracking yawn. He really needs to sleep.

"I still have water," Evan tells him, tilting his face up expectantly. When Tommy doesn't move, Evan scowls. "You forgot my goodnight kiss."

"Ah, of course. My bad." Tommy leans down and presses his lips to Evan's lips, deepening the kiss just a touch, and then kissing the tip of his nose and then his birthmark. "Go to sleep, Evan. You really need the rest."

Evan smiles up at him, satisfied. "Goodnight Tommy."

As Tommy gets ready to sleep for the second time, he sees the faint light of the laptop reflected from Evan's face. His boyfriend is not going to go to sleep anytime soon, he knows. But it's okay. Evan has the day off anyway, and Tommy can get some shut eye and wake up early to make breakfast for his superstitious, stubborn, and absolutely adorable boyfriend.

[rafesangelita]

exbf!rafe calling reader at 1am about how much he misses her and how much he needs her pussy and he’s saying things like “i need your perfect little pussy wrapped around me” and shi

warnings: mentions of violence, slight fluff, dirty talk, masturbation

“what could you possibly want right now, rafe?” you sighed, your eyes heavy with sleep. “what? i can’t call you just because?” there was a teasing tone in his voice, which only indicated one thing; he was horny. “no, you can’t. you lost that privilege when you decided to be an ass and punch a hole in my wall, okay? i’m hanging up now.” just as you pulled the device away from your ear, you heard a muffled ‘please don’t.’ on the other line. the hold this man had on you was sickening, you hated that you weren’t strong enough to completely go ghost and ignore him.

“we’re not supposed to be doing this, we aren’t together anymore, remember?” you reminded him. “i know i fucked everything up, okay? i’m working out my shit because this isn’t the end for us, alright? i know you know that.” you shrugged even though he couldn’t see you. “just say you miss me.” rafe smiled at the sound of your soft laugh, looking over at his bedside table where a framed picture of you two sat. “i do. i miss you a lot.” rafe confessed, making your heart skip a beat. “i miss you, too.” he felt like a weight had been lifted off of his chest when you confirmed you had been feeling the same way as him.

“you wanna know what else i miss?” rafe hoped you wouldn’t end the call. “what?” you couldn’t help but rub your thighs together. “i miss feeling that perfect pussy wrapped around my cock every night, ‘been losing sleep without you baby.” you refrained from moaning at his words, feeling utterly pathetic. “i need to feel you again, its been too long.” his words came out a little breathless. with the last bit of resolve you had left, you told him; “use your hand, rafe. goodnight.”

you reached for your phone, pausing when he said, “ah, fuck- i am.” you paused. as if you couldn’t be any more sexually frustrated, he moaned into the receiver, making your eyes shut momentarily. “i know you’re thinking about it, too.” you were fighting with yourself at this point, ultimately losing when you laid on your back, your thighs separating ever so slightly. “just give me the word, y/n. i’ll go over right now and fuck you until you cry.” a particular stroke of his hand made him groan. you sucked in a breath. of course he’d do this when there was no one else in the house, the temptation getting harder and harder to resist.

“..no.” you knew your voice gave you away but you didn’t care anymore. “aw, i hear how bad you want it.” he laughed. “i’m sure there’s others you could call at this time. why don’t you ring them up and let them take care of you?” your fingers danced over the waistband of your panties. rafe scoffed. “y/n, i’ve been fucking my fist to the thought of you for the last three months. there hasn’t, and never will be, anyone else.” for the first time tonight, his voice was firm. “i need you so fucking bad, y/n, i’m begging you to let me come over.” you chewed on your lip, any restraint you had left melting away.

“the key is under the mat.”

[oshygoshy]

1:38 am

word count - 524 words

warnings - slightly suggestive

a/n - wow 2 whole writings?? yeah ik im spoiling my 23 followers...get ready for 4 months of radio silence from me after this though

"how would you describe me to the police if i went missing?" 

"...i'm sorry?"

miya atsumu, professional volleyball player (and who should be asleep by now...!) rolls over, unceremoniously plopping his elbow next to your nose. his shifting weight caused the bed to dip, and you felt your body tipping towards his (because of physics, not for any other reason...!!).

he squinted at you in the dark. "ya heard what i said."

"yeah, and it was stupid. and i'm tired. so please repeat it?" you say, holding back a yawn. "don't you have practice in like...4 and a half hours anyway-"

"hush, baby." (you'd be lying if you didn't get tingles from the pet name.) "jus' answer me?"

you rested your temple on his bicep, curling your body against his (again, physics), and hummed absentmindedly. what a strange question. 

"uhh...suspect has an ath-"

"suspect?? not victim???" he whispered furiously. in the dim moonlight, you could see his eyebrows furrow in mock anger. "whaddya mean suspect??" 

you smirked at his indignation. placing your pointer finger gently over his lips, you gently shushed him. "hush, baby," you mirror him. you could feel his lips twitch down in a frown. 

"ok let me start again. the suspect has an athletic build, is tall, and..." your eyes flit downward (respectfully, to answer his question. nothing more.) "'s pretty muscular."

"pretty mus-excuse me?? i'm very muscular-"

this time, you silence him with a kiss (to shut him up, not for any other reason!!) which works very effectively. he immediately stops talking and places his free hand on your waist. 

"yeah, petty muscular. strong abs-" you punctuate this statement by taking a hand and gently tracing his stomach under his shirt. you could hear his breath stutter, but pretend you don't notice. "great ass," you say with a cheeky giggle as your hand wanders, and he lets out a snort. "and a waist that would make any girl jealous. oh, and the best part?" you move your hand downward. his eyebrows raise but fall back when your hand stops at his thigh. "really nice thighs. like, really nice. they're really juicy, trust me, officer. you'd recognize them from an ocean away." 

your hand pats his thigh politely before you move it back up. 

"got me excited for a sec. yer hand was awfully close to something else for a bit," he mumbled into your hair. 

"whoops," you say, not very apologetic. 

"i don't like it when ya tease me," he continued. 

you push yourself back against his chest, looking at him with a raised brow. "oh, we both know that's a lie." 

he blushed, which you also pretended to not notice. "i don't like it when you tease me and do nothing about it. correction."

you sigh, setting yourself against his body. "well, i'm sleepy and you need to get up early. but.."

"...but?"

"i'm free this weekend," you say nonchalantly. 

he kissed the top of your head, grinning. "deal."

...

"so, who do you think is more muscular than me?"

"tsumu, please."

"it's bokkun, isn't it? it's ok, that's valid. he's really beefy."

"atsumu."

"okay, okay. sorry, sweets. goodnight."

[buckyalpine]

Bucky in blue pjs who is soft and shy and so cute but sometimes sleeps naked when it gets too hot - I really love a happy, cuddly, shy Bucky. I thought this was adorable, I refuse to not make you all think about it too:

Bucky who got the softest pair of baby blue pj's for his birthday and it's all he wears to sleep. It's his favorite thing ever. He blushed when he saw the letters JBB sewed on the inside; he has no idea who got it for him and he's happy to let it remain a mystery though he secretly hopes they're from you. He saw you sneaking a peek at the size label of his t shirt before scurrying off out the door.

He looks so cozy when he's lounging in them, usually tucked in some corner with a book, a glass of milk and some chocolate chip cookies. He was also given a new pillow; a firm one that wasn't too soft. At first he was reluctant to use it but now he can't go anywhere without it. Imagine how precious he'd look trudging around with it on a moving night because he's sleepy but he doesn't want to miss out either. He starts off awake but seconds later, his face is smushed into the pillow and he's softly snoring. You always make sure to tuck him in with the throw blanket and it never fails to make him let out a content little sigh. Him being a soft, shy little cutie is exactly why the next part is everything.

Him sleeping naked.

As the weather warms up, the AC is on full blast and thank god for Stark technology because it can get as cold as winter if needed.

However.

It wasn't perfect.

It conked out and it leaves everyone as grumpy as ever because no one can sleep and Tony keeps insisting he'll figure it out any day now. Everyone looks miserable except Bucky. He looks as happy as a clam coming down for breakfast in his favorite pj's.

"How on earth did you get any sleep Bucky?" You can't believe he looks so well rested, especially when he has the serum that keeps him extra warm.

"And you're in full on pajamas, you slept in that?!" Steve gawks from the side while you also continue to look at him curiously, his cheeks tinting pink.

"I-

What no one knows is Bucky sleeps naked as the day he was born when it gets too hot. His body did a decent job of regulating heat on its own but throwing off the extra layers didn't hurt.

Of course, he didn't want to tell anyone that part.

The part where when it gets too warm, he starts off by shucking off his shirt. Then eventually his pants. He could keep his boxers on but his door was locked and it just feel so freeing-

"Buck?"

"I slept fine!" He blurts out hoping you wouldn't pry anymore while his best friend stares at him suspiciously. He races out of the kitchen as soon as he has his coffee and he hopes to drop the subject.

But he isn't so lucky.

Because on a particularly exhausting night, he doesn't realize he didn't fully shut his door. You were on your way to your room, peeking in to say goodnight seeing as he hadn't closed the door yet but-

You squeaked seeing his perfectly toned ass, thighs spread apart, back muscles relaxed, all on full display, blinking frozen on the spot before quickly slipping out of his room and shutting the door behind you.

You're beyond giddy for the rest night, unable to shake the image of a very naked, sleeping Bucky out of your mind; his pretty face relaxed, the gentle snores, his meaty legs, his cute butt-

stop.

You will yourself to think of something else but how could you when he looked so perfect. The next day Bucky notices you acting jumpy around him while making breakfast which is unusual for you...

"Everything okay, y/n?" He asks so gently and you nearly melt on the spot, biting back a smile.

"I-I came by your room to say good night, thought you were still awake" You shrug, eyes flicking to his before looking back down at your feet, letting him piece together what you were hinting at. His brows furrow before his eyes grow wide, cheeks flushed down to his neck and up to his ears. You could have sworn you heard him squeak when he stammers out a response. Barely.

"Oh-I-when-what time did you come" He has no idea what you saw or didn't see but either way he knows you know. He hadn't even bothered with clothes the night before going right from the shower straight to bed, fuck what if you didn't want to speak to him again-

"I see why you're able to sleep so well now. It's our secret" You throw him a wink, giggling before running off and Bucky nearly faints himself, he thought he couldn't possibly fall in love more but-

Anyway idk what's wrong with me, my mind has been off the deep end somewhere.

[yukioos]

hii can you please write a angst fic with logan where the reader and logan are friends but she is jealous of jean with fluff at the end (sorry if i did some mistakes english isn’t my first language) tysm 💕💕

welcome and goodbye — logan howlett x reader

warnings: angst, cussing, insecurity, not proofread

summary: reader and logan are friends, but she thinks logan likes jean, causing her to feel jealous. logan and reader end up having a conversation about her feelings.

authors note: i love this request so much omg. sorry i haven’t posted in a while. i hope i did a good job ahdjdod enjoy!! 💗

word count: 2.5k

for the past three weeks, logan has constantly tried to attain jean’s attention, to no avail. he’s spent every waking moment with her when scott’s not around, except when he needs sleep. what’s irritating you is that he keeps updating you for every interaction he and jean have.

every word transmitted between them, every touch, every glance travels to you. you’re the first person who knows whenever they interact, though he won’t go on hour-long yap sessions about it. you’ve always thought it was strange how he denies being attracted to jean because everyone thinks he does.

jean seems to like you enough to have a one-on-one conversation with you, but not enough to tell you things about other people’s minds. you and she aren’t as close as you and ororo, who insists that logan isn’t romantically attracted to jean. for once in your life, you doubt her words, and your chest pains at the thought of logan being captivated by the redhead.

on some days, logan’s small mention of her, hearing her talk or her name gives you a headache. it’s not that she’s annoying, but because logan seems to have taken a liking to her, you’ve become jealous. you’ve convinced yourself you shouldn’t be jealous in the first place because you and logan aren’t a couple, but you know well that the jealousy comes from insecurity.

becoming in touch with your emotions and putting a name on them has been difficult for you. however, in this case, it was easy to tell how you felt about logan and jean’s relationship. accepting that you love logan was tough because you simply couldn’t see yourself with him. you now realize you thought that because you were insecure.

the thought that logan would stop talking to you entirely and replace you with jean has haunted you. guilt came and corrupted your mind, and the feeling of hopelessness doesn’t help. anxiety spreads to your body and mind, and a lump in your throat appears whenever logan comes into your view.

thoughts continue to override your mind as you sit at the island counters with a plate of pasta in front of you. you twirl the fork in your hand, picking up pasta. you bring it to your mouth and continue until your plate is empty.

footsteps are heard behind you, though you don’t have to turn around to know who it is. jean walks into your view and greets you before turning around and leaning on the counter in front of you.

she smiles at you and tilts her head, worried eyes meeting yours, “you’ve seemed stressed lately, y/n. are you okay? you know you can talk to me if anything’s up.” she pauses, you feel as if she’s staring into your soul, “i can feel your mind has been off lately. what’s going on in that head of yours?”

your body tenses, and you shrink at her gaze, directed and focused on you. your throat tightens, and your chest feels like it’s stabbed, a knife twisting deeper and deeper as she continues talking. your breathing destabilizes, and your eyes dart around as you keep your mouth shut, searching for objects and senses to keep you grounded.

she whispers, only loud enough for you to hear, “i’m not going to read your mind because you’ve asked me not to. but for your health, i’m asking that you talk to someone about whatever you’re going through. please.” she gives you a weak and sad smile, “i should be going now. goodnight, y/n.”

she walks away, and the guilt immediately eats you alive. you bite your lip as your throat starts to hurt, and your eyes sting. you shut them close and place your elbows on the countertop, cradling your head in your hands.

she deserves to be with logan, she’s sweet and smart and probably meets his needs better than you can. yet, you still want to be with him. you know what he sees in her because you can see it too. hell, if you were in his position, you’d love her as well.

but the thoughts never leave your mind. constant thoughts and worries occupy your mind even as people talk to you. you can’t stop yourself from feeling attracted to logan, though you think you’d be better off because he loves another. though, the amount of time he spends with her makes you feel warm and agitated.

“hey, y/n. what ‘re you doing here? shouldn’t you be getting ready for bed?” you’re taken from your thoughts when logan sits next to you and speaks clearly.

your heart aches at his words, his care. you were always skeptical of others, and now you wonder if his kindness has been fake. it always seemed he only needed jean to talk to, and that’s the only company he needed. you feel a wetness on your cheek, whimpering at the realization that you’re crying.

“sweetheart, why ‘re you crying? pretty girl like you shouldn’t be sad. can’t fix your problem if you don’t tell me about it,” he wraps his arm around your shoulder and rubs your arm, “jean told me you seemed off, said i should talk to you.”

you hesitantly look up at him and mumble, “what?”

jean storms down the hall, heels clacking with each step. she huffs as she opens doors into classrooms, trying to find logan. she doesn’t have enough energy to control his mind and make him come downstairs, so she searches the old-fashioned way.

she then stumbles into one of the classrooms, long, white hair catches her eyes. ororo sits at one of the desks, seemingly unaware and calm as she writes on a piece of paper, adding it to a pile.

“ororo,” jean calmly announces herself, causing her to jump and turn around.

she places her hand on her chest and grumbles, “what do you need?”

it wasn’t normal for her to act grumpy, nonetheless feel grumpy in the first place. she was naturally a calm person, not matching her alias ‘storm,’ but was a protective person. she always knew when to put on a serious expression and deal with a problem, she always protects her friends and the ones she loves.

jean keeps her hand placed on the doorframe, not wanting to intrude ororo’s space, “do you know where logan is?”

the white-haired girl finally looks back and shrugs, “probably in his room,” jean turns around to leave when ororo adds, “wait, why do you need to talk to him? aren’t him and y/n… you know…”

she hesitates, turning back and looking into the room, keeping her voice low, “y/n’s upset, i think she needs to talk to logan about whatever’s happening. he’s been wanting to talk to her too—“

“well then go and get him! they need to talk one way or another!” ororo shoo’s her away, causing the redhead to chuckle and close the door.

she then sighs and looks to the left, hearing you sniffle and shaking as your head lays in your hands. her face softens and she walks up the large flight of stairs, walking to the level where the instructors sleep. she then swings open logan’s door and crosses her arms.

he turns around and glares from his spot on the bed, “don’t barge into my room like that. who do you think you are?”

she rolls her eyes and stares at him, eyes sharp, “go talk to y/n. you haven’t talked to her in weeks, it’s past time. she’s in the kitchen.”

“don’t know what to say to her,” he mumbles, cleaning his claws with a towel.

“you love her, logan. you’ll know what to say to her.” she pauses, glancing around the room, “it’s obvious she’s stressed, there’s something up with her.” the silence makes her sigh, “she needs you, logan.”

he stares at her for a moment before standing up and retracting his claws. he glares at her and walks right past her, moving his shoulder so he doesn’t bump into her. he grabs the doorknob and pulls it hard, shutting it and nearly causing an earthquake that disrupts the whole mansion and everyone in it.

he walks down the stairs, in the direction of where the kitchen is. he could hear your sniffles from miles away and would love to be able to comfort you for years on end if he had to. he had a problem with distancing himself from others, he didn’t want to hurt you.

he thinks maybe he’ll hurt you one day if you’re too connected. somehow and someway, he always ends up hurting the people he loves. that’s why he sticks with jean, because he doesn’t feel as big of a connection with her as he does with you.

he can’t hurt jean because he doesn’t care enough. he worries and loves you, and apparently, in his mind, that’s what makes him dangerous. the fact that he cares about you makes him think he needs to stay away from you, he’s a danger to everyone he loves.

he slows down when he hears your gasps for air in the kitchen, he knows you’re about to cry. he needs to comfort you, and his heart aches when he sees you like this.

“yeah, jean told me you weren’t feelin’ well. decided to come check up on you.” he gives you a rare smile, a genuine one, yet his eyes are full of worry.

“don’t you like her?” you mumble, sniffling as you look back down at the counter again, lip trembling.

he chuckles, causing you to glare at him, “what? you think i like jean? you gotta be kiddin’ me, sweetheart. wouldn't like that girl in a million years. i’m stuck on someone else, anyway.”

you pause and stare at him, he just admitted he doesn’t like her, yet you still doubt his words.

you grumble, “why the hell do you spend so much time with her then? we used to talk every day and actually have interesting conversations. i haven’t heard a single word from you in weeks that isn’t about jean.”

he sighs and hesitantly answers, rubbing your shoulder, “thought i’d hurt you if i were near you.”

“what do you mean?” you ask, looking up at him with your teary eyes, hands fiddling on your lap.

“i hurt people i love. i don’t know why, i don’t know how, but i do, and i don’t want you to get hurt. that’s why i spend time with jean, i don’t care about her as much as i care about you. maybe if you thought i liked her, you’d stay away, so i wouldn’t end up hurting you.” he confesses, redirecting his eyes away from you.

“you didn’t even look at me when she was around,” you whisper, eyes tearing up again as your voice cracks, “i understand why you felt that way, but it still hurts.”

silence fills the room, and you continue to fiddle with your hands. logan bites his cheek as he thinks about what to say next, meanwhile, you wonder if you should say what you’re thinking.

“i’m sorry. i think i overreacted because i like you and i mean, i thought you liked jean so i didn’t reach out.” you mutter.

logan’s expression doesn’t change, but you can tell his mind is full of thoughts. he regrets not talking to you about other things. he wasted his time on jean when he could’ve been with you. you were better than her anyway, and she told him multiple times he’s a dick for acting this way to you.

even scott told him to get his act together. one reason was that he cares about you, the second was because he wanted logan to stay the hell away from his girlfriend. scott threatened to tell you that logan likes you but was interrupted when he suddenly had three claws to his throat.

“so i was upset over nothing?” you begin to doubt yourself, placing your head in your hands and rubbing your eyes, feeling tired as you slowly doze off.

he chuckles, “i think it was reasonable to react the way you did. i’d be sad if you did that to me.” he pauses, sighing as he sees you laying your cheek and arms on the countertop.

he smiles and stands up, gently picking you up and carrying you bridal style. his strong arms hold your delicate body as he carries you up the stairs, walking to your room.

he opens your door, and peeks to see if this is the right room. it looks just as he remembers, nights spent watching movies or reading books in one another’s presence. he then quietly closes the door behind him and lays you on the bed.

he slips off your shoes, placing them on the shoe rack next to your door. he then softly sits you upright so he can take your zip-up off, pulling the sleeves off your arms. he stares at your face and remembers when you told him once. you hate wearing a bra to bed.

he switches back and forth between ideas, whether or not he should take it off. it felt too intimate for him. a romantic partner should do that for you, not a person who hardly even talks to you anymore.

he then sighs and runs his hand along your back, trying to find the back of the bra. he then unclips it through your shirt, a decision so you’d be comfortable but so he wouldn’t make you feel uncomfortable when you wake up. pulling the covers down, he picks you up and places you directly on your bed, sheets draping over your body.

he brushes the hair out of your face, then turns around to leave before hearing your shy voice, “logan,” he turns and kneels at your bed, “can you stay? just for a little bit, at least?”

the way you’ve shown kindness despite how he’s treated you in the past breaks his heart. he smiles and nods, sitting on your bed, yet not under the covers to not make you feel uneasy.

you snuggle up next to him, feeling his body warmth through the comforter. he places an arm around your back, comfortingly rubbing up and down when he hears soft, muffled sobs next to him.

he pulls the covers up and lays underneath as you reach your hands towards his body. you wrap your arm around his midsection, tears soaking his shirt.

he whispers lovingly into your hair, “i’m sorry, sweet girl, i’m here now.” and places a soft kiss on your forehead.

the tension slowly releases from your body, and you feel less stiff. the rubs on your back lull you to sleep, and logan feels your breathing even out. he’s wary of falling asleep himself, worried about hurting you, but he can’t resist when he’s where he’s always wanted to be, comforting you as you lay in his arms.

[mrsmikaelsxn]

Drunk In Love

masterlist

pairing: harry potter x female reader

warnings: fluff, mentions of drinking

summary: harry got drunk and when his friend dropped him off to you, he forgot you were his girlfriend

a/n: i thought this was cute, currently watching poa while writing this

song: kiss me - sixpence none the richer

You were lying in bed with your pajamas while reading a book. Downstairs there was a Gryffindor party in the common room, but you had a bit of a headache so you decided staying in your dorm would be better.

Your reading was interrupted when you heard knocking on the door.

"Who is it?" you call as you place the book down and stand up.

"It's Ron... and Harry!"

You go and open the door and smile at two of your favorite people.

"Hello," you smile at them.

Harry's eyes were closed as he leaned on the door frame and Ron was holding him up with on arm.

"Hi, I came to bring Harry. He had too much Firewhisky and then started to shout about how he wanted you, so I figured it was best to bring him here before he embarrasses himself more," he quickly explains.

"Classic Harry, thanks for bringing him Ron," you laugh.

Ron pulls him and places him in your arms. You thank him again, he tells you to come get him if you need anything and he goes back downstairs to the party.

"Hi Harry," you say while brushing some hair off his forehead with your fingers.

"Ah! Don't touch my hair," he says in alarm with slurred words.

"Why not," you frown.

"Only my girlfriend can do that"

"Oh really?" you grin.

"Yep," he hiccups.

You sit him down on the bed and fix his glasses that were falling down his nose, you kiss his forehead and he lets out a shriek.

"My girlfriend is going to kill me," he mumbles in horror and wipes away your kiss with his hand.

"Who is this girlfriend of yours?"

"Y/n," he sighs dreamily falling back onto the bed.

"Wanna tell me about her?"

"She's perfect. She's so sweet too, shes like- like- a rainbow of happiness"

"A rainbow of happiness?" you giggle at his words.

"Mhm, she is like- so pretty that I'm jealous, and everyone loves her. She plays with my hair, and holds my hand everywhere, and I love kissing her. Her mouth is so amazing-" Harry smiles while he thinks of you.

You started to blush at his words and he continued to ramble about the things he loves about you.

"I'm going to marry her one day," he blurts out with red cheeks.

"W-what?"

"Do you think she would marry me? Oh! I need to start planning," he stands up and stumbles to the desk to find paper.

"Woah, woah, you can plan another time, and I'm sure she would be more than happy to marry you," you tell him as you bring him back to the bed.

You go to take his shirt off to change him into his pajamas, but he tugs his shirt back down.

"Don't look!" Harry exclaims, worry clear on his face.

"Fine, if I close my eyes will you change into these clothes?"

"Yes, turn and cover your eyes. No peeking!"

"No peeking, got it," you laugh.

He changes fast and he tells you that you can look again.

"Y/n is the only person who can see me like that. Not a random girl in my room- do you think she'll be mad at me because you're here?"

"Umm- lets just get your teeth and hair brushed"

"Okay," he sighs.

You bring him to the bathroom and hand him his toothbrush and watch him struggle to keep his eyes open.

You brush his hair and when you both finish you two lay on the bed.

His eyes are falling shut as you hand him water to drink. He spills it on himself when he misses his mouth. You laugh and say a spell to dry him and the bed.

"Night, mystery person. Tell y/n I said goodnight and I love her if you see her," he whispers drifting off to sleep.

"Okay, goodnight Harry," you kiss his head.

The next morning you had so much fun teasing him about the previous night.

[yanderambling]

omg i’m thrilled that y’all like him so much!!! and these ideas were soso tasty ugh your minds~ i had a lot of fun with this, maybe too much if you look at the wc lol, so i hope y’all enjoy <3 ALSO continuity note: since Adrian is so popular, i won't carry major events through different stories unless requested, that way everyone can have their own version of his story! but i'll be keeping general facts about Adrian the same unless otherwise specified, like his parents being rich because i find it funny~ thank you and goodnight <3 (and yes i switched this gif with the last part shhhh it’s okay)

pairing: Masochist Puppyboy!Yandere(m) x Bully!Reader(gn)

words: ~ 4.6k

you can read the previous part here!

CW: 18+, NSFW, yandere behavior, stalking, bullying, physical/verbal abuse, BDSM themes, poor BDSM etiquette but neither party minds

Adrian nearly choked when he heard his name read next to yours for the school project.

It took you a second to recognize his; you mostly just call him mutt. Once you realized, you loudly groaned at the prospect of spending the week with that pest.

Adrian couldn’t hear it over his racing heart.

As soon as class lets out, he's right at your side, yammering on about project materials and meeting arrangements and times and "we should really meet at one of our houses so we don't have to worry about distractions, I'm fine with coming to yours! It's closer to school anyway, right? It'll be more private- I just think it makes sense-"

You finally shut him up by making the executive decision that you’ll work at his house (you don’t need him shedding on your furniture, or potentially getting any personal ammunition against you; he is way too interested in being inside your home, and how does he know it’s closer to school?).

Adrian was crestfallen that he wouldn’t get to go in your house (and smell the pure you imbued in your furniture, and pretend he’s really your dog while you sit together- maybe in your bedroom!-, and snoop through your underwear drawer when you go to the bathroom, and snoop through your bathroom when he goes in right after you...), but he was still over the moon at the idea of having you in his space.

(He’ll just visit your window later tonight like usual, anyway- he'll still get high off that closeness alone. Win/win!)

Adrian doesn't think about anything else for the rest of the day, zoning through his classes and plastered to your side whenever he gets the chance, just alight with energy and anticipation and not shutting up about it- he's lucky there's too many witnesses for you to knock him quiet (oh, but he would feel so much luckier if you did).

You would totally bail on this project if you weren’t already failing this class, which is mostly on account of you bailing. You’re wondering if all those cut classes were worth having to work with this, but you’re not feeling hopeful.

The day seems to drag on forever for both of you, for vastly different reasons. By the time school lets out, Adrian is buzzing out of his skin and you're seconds away from ripping it off him.

As you two start the trek to his place, Adrian can't get over how surreal it feels to walk beside you. It's like you two are a couple, and you're walking him home for an after school study date!

He gets lost in the daydream easily, giving you a brief reprieve from his energy, and allowing you to absently notice his rapidly wagging tail almost propelling him down the sidewalk. You can't help but smirk a little at the image that conjures in your mind.

He's truly ridiculous, you can't really believe him sometimes. Doesn't that thing ever get tired? What does he think is gonna happen that's got him so damn excited? That he's gonna get in good with you somehow (hopefully) and you'll leave him alone? (never in his wildest dreams.)

Yeah, fat chance.

When Adrian stops at his house, you think he's joking. But then he walks right up the driveway of this random McMansion, motioning you along eagerly, and enters a security code before holding the door open for you with a clearly anticipatory smile.

...The fuck.

You did not count on Adrian’s family being loaded. He certainly doesn't dress or groom like it.

You consider berating him for not mentioning it, but decide against it for the risk of seeming stupid- to Adrian of all people. You do make a mental note for your future errand requests, though.

Adrian’s parents aren’t home, he tells you his mom is always traveling and his dad basically lives at his office. You’re relieved that you won’t have to put on a nice face for the folks, but there’s apparently still a live-in housekeeper that floats around (are you fucking kidding?) so you stay diligent.

Adrian suggests you two work in his room; you figure the further from watchful eyes, the better.

Despite it being his idea, Adrian can't help his giddy nervousness as you enter his room (he’d texted the housekeeper to make sure it was clean as soon as you decided to come over, lucky he keeps his souvenirs hidden away whenever he’s not admiring them).

The room is frankly ridiculous, easily twice the size of yours, a king bed in the corner, a desk and coffee table and two dressers, and yet adorned with piles of clothes and clutter and more genres of nerdy shit than you even knew existed.

"Yeah, okay, parts of this make sense."

Adrian cocks his head, opening his mouth to ask what you mean, when he suddenly chokes on air.

You've made a bee-line right to his desk, covered in books and papers for hobbies and school alike, but also holding a locked drawer at the very bottom in which he keeps his "school collection" (just discarded pencils with bitten erasers, torn up notebook paper he can still smell your hands on, old gym shorts you were probably gonna replace soon anyway, a bandaid here, a plastic fork there; nothing crazy).

He watches with bated breath as you sift through the contents of his desk, occasionally scoffing or chuckling at what you find. He lets out a sigh when you seem to grow bored, just for you to move on to his dresser and have his stomach doing somersaults all over again.

Maybe he should've asked the housekeeper to hide his stuff better and just braved the questions later...

You move throughout the room like you own it (you do, as far as the both of you are concerned), making little jabs at his various posters and figurines which make his whole body flush hot with pleasure because you're noticing things about him, but every other move you make sends his heart jumping into his throat in a completely different way.

It only takes a minute or two for the stress to get to him.

“Ah- hey! Uh, maybe we should- maybe we should start on the project, right?”

You bark a laugh and spin on your heel to face him, an incredulous half-grin pulling your lips and revealing a gut-twisting flash of teeth.

"We?"

Oh, yeah, he much prefers those intense eyes boring into him.

He starts spluttering placations immediately. "No! Well, uhm, I didn't mean- you, you don't- have to- obviously, I mean, I don't- I wouldn't-"

You roll your eyes and shove past him, effectively cutting him off as you flop down onto his abominably soft mattress. "Right, yeah, whatever. Let's get one thing straight here, okay?"

Adrian nods, his whole being drawn to focus at your entrancingly commanding tone. Although, it's incredibly hard to focus on anything with the sight of you on his bed right in front of him; he's already planning how to avoid that area so it'll retain your scent longer, he wonders if he could cut that part of the duvet out and keep it in an airtight container, maybe the sheets under it too just to be safe...

"This is not a "we" situation, got it? I'm not lifting a damn finger for this bullshit, that's what you're there for." Adrian has a purpose to you! "I am only here to make sure you're actually doing it, which shouldn't be a problem because if we get anything less than an A, it's gonna be your ass."

As tempting as it is to see what punishment you would inflict upon him, Adrian really really really wants to please you- and he's pretty good at this subject anyway!

You then cross your arms and lean back just enough to look down your nose at him. "Got it?"

Adrian can't answer fast enough.

"Yes! Yes, that's perfect! Awesome, good- great!"

But then he doesn’t make a move. Ha.

He looks a little lost, standing in the middle of his own room, barely biting down a grin and wringing his hands as he seems to wait for another command.

Apparently, you’ve trained him well.

You scoff and let yourself fall onto your back as you pull out your phone (Adrian's gonna need a bigger airtight container).

"Well, go on then, we don't have all day."

Adrian scrambles to get to work. He quickly positions himself on the floor by the foot of the bed and pulls the coffee table closer, emptying his school bag carelessly onto the carpet.

You huff a laugh at the sight, all this money and the kid's parents couldn't buy him any class. Maybe sloppiness is an inherent trait, like his apparent passion for service- nobody with this much money should be such a pushover. And yet...

Adrian couldn’t be happier, sitting on the floor while you lounge across his bed and periodically weigh in with (mostly incorrect) corrections or snide remarks, an almost alarmingly wide grin settled on his face as his tail taps a steady rhythm against his carpet.

It’s not an unpleasant picture, you muse absently as you look up from your phone, it’s almost comforting to have your little puppy on the floor, cheerily working away for you while you laze about. It certainly beats doing the work yourself, or having to threaten a student with an actual spine to do it for you.

Still, it doesn't take long for you to get bored. Bored enough to notice your empty stomach, at least.

"I'm hungry."

Adrian's head shoots up from the book he was hunched over, ears raised at attention and eyes glittering with something you're not sure you care to identify.

He's on his feet in the next second, knocking his knees on the way up loud enough to startle you yet showing no signs of even noticing.

"I-I'll ask Len to make something!"

He darts out of the room before you can tell him what you want, but you trust he knows your moods and tastes well enough by this point to predict. (Oh, he does, and Len's not going to be making anything- they don't know all the special ingredients!)

The second he leaves, you decide to really cure your boredom by snooping around in earnest. Certainly this creep has something actually weird hidden in here, you just have to look in the right places.

You waste no time in sifting through his bookshelf (nerd shit), closet (nerd clothes, some dirty), a dresser (nerd clothes, mostly clean), under his bed (dirty clothes, nerd shit in boxes)- the door opens behind you.

“Wha-? Oh! Ah- Wh-what- what are you doing?”

You don’t even bother moving from your crouch, most of your upper body shoved under the bedstand while the rest of you... is not.

Adrian’s mouth is completely dry for several reasons.

“What’re you, blind? I’m snooping.”

Adrian slowly comes further into the room, hesitantly setting the serving tray on the low table. He can’t stop his voice from cracking as he stutters out,

“Uh- yeah, okay, yeah, but- um, would you maybe mind- um, not?”

You snicker, at least he has some manners. “Yeah, I do mind, actually. What’s the matter, mutt? Got something to hide?”

“N-no!”

The answer is so immediate, so fervent, that it has you pulling up just to give him an unimpressed look. He stares back at you, eyes wide and frenzied.

“Jesus you’re a bad liar.”

Looking at him now, you can see sweat glistening on his face and his hands clenching by his side. His eyes dart toward the dresser you haven't checked yet.

Bingo.

You jump up from your position and stride across the room with purpose. You only make it a few steps before Adrian seems to materialize in front of you, making you stop short and almost yelp from shock.

“S-sorry! I’m sorry, I just-" he's waving his hands wildly, head ducked as his gaze rapidly flicks between your face and the floor, "You-you can’t- please, please don’t-”

“Okay, creep, I get the gist.”

You shove past him, and he wishes he could relish the firm pressure of your hands on him.

He whirls around and watches in horror as you approach the dresser. He needs to do something, he needs to stop you, but what can he do? You’ve clearly made up your mind, it’s not like it's his place to try and change it...

All he can do is watch, a high ringing in his ears and his body filling with static, while you meticulously sift through every drawer until his clothes are strewn about the floor and you're panting with frustration.

He's about to let himself take a breath when you suddenly squat down and stick your arm into the shallow space underneath. He nearly swallows his tongue when you let out a disbelieving huff and awkwardly slide out a long lockbox.

You look up at him triumphantly, eyes sparkling with glee, and he almost mirrors your smile just for how captivating it is.

"Open it."

"N-no-"

You lean up toward him and cock your head, he has to stop himself from being drawn in by the magnetism of your narrowed eyes. “The fuck did you just say to me?"

"I'm sorry! I didn't- just, I can't-"

"Oh, I think you can. Or you're not gonna like what happens next."

That's where you're wrong, and it only really strengthens Adrian's extremely shaky resolve. He tries to keep the grin off his face as he habitually starts to picture the punishment you might give him; a cuff on the ears, a knee to the stomach, a punch in the face-

But you just roll your eyes and groan, no longer in the mood now that something more interesting has presented itself.

Instead, your gaze floats down to the flimsy looking combination lock on the box, then it fixes on some heavy-standed figurine you'd knocked off his bookshelf earlier.

Yeah, good enough.

Adrian barely has time to flinch before you're snatching it up and breaking the lock with a sound crack.

Then you're lifting the lid.

"No!"

He starts to lunge forward, but your sharply raised hand halts him dead in his tracks.

Fuck.

It's too late anyway, judging by your wide eyes and slightly slack jaw (god how he wishes he could focus on the glorious curve of your open lips, or the way your perfect teeth peek over them, or how it might feel to have those teeth sunk into his skin-)

"What. The. Fuck."

"I-I can explain- It's not-!"

"I literally do not believe that you can."

Adrian's throat goes dry, he feels tears welling in his eyes. "I'm sorry- I'm sorry! I never meant- it's not like-"

You tune Adrian out as you focus on the stacks and stacks of photos arranged in the box before you. There even seem to be books underneath those, thick ones despite the shallowness of the container. You’d say there’s easily hundreds of pictures in here.

But, more concerning than the amount of photos… is their content.

They’re all you.

Undeniable, from every angle and range and setting you could imagine, it’s all you. There’s you at your spot with your friends, sitting in class, in the cafeteria, running errands in town, sneaking off to that private spot nobody else is supposed to know about, asleep in your bed- in dozens and dozens of iterations, like you could probably make a flip book of every scene.

It’s offensively redundant, honestly, a gross waste of paper. Maybe equally as concerning.

(Adrian needs to keep physical copies, and hard drives, and backup hard drives, and another box further under the dresser... What if something happens to his phone? What if he lost all his treasured photos forever? He doesn’t know what he’d do.)

"You're a bigger creep than I gave you credit for." You murmur, mostly to yourself.

Adrian never thought he'd feel anything but sheer joy from hearing that word leave your mouth. "N-no! It's not- it's not like that! I'm not- I don't-"

While Adrian's still blustering and working himself into a tizzy, you're just... processing.

It's oddly unsurprising, once you consider all the other factors together. Looking at it now, of course Adrian had more perverted reasons for complying to your cruelty, what else could he have been getting out of it? You guess you kinda always knew, on some level, but you never thought it would be like this.

But, since it is, you can't help but wonder just how far this perversion has gone, how far it will go...

This night has been boring enough that you're entitled to a little fun, right?

And besides, looking at him now- all wide eyed and droopy eared, his tail pulled between his legs and clutched in his trembling hands- Adrian actually looks a little bit... cute? In a pathetic, dirty stray caught in the rain type of way, of course.

The only real difference is that you'd be much kinder to the stray.

"Alright, shut it, stalker."

Adrian's mouth snaps closed, his tail trying to tuck further at your dangerously low voice.

"Obviously, this severe-" you flap a stack of photos at him, causing him to duck his head and whimper, "-invasion of my privacy can't go unpunished."

Adrian's eyes become impossibly bigger as they flash up to watch you stand. His ears suddenly perk, his tail tugs against his grip as it tries to hesitantly wag.

Jesus, he's shameless.

This is gonna be fun.

But first, a plan. You don't want Adrian getting too bold, so what better way to keep him in his place than by tying him there? Looking around his room, you don't have much to work with, but you're resourceful; a lace from his sneakers should do just fine (who keeps shoes in their room? what a creep).

"Alright. Sit."

Adrian is falling to his knees before his brain can process the words. When it does, he isn't quick enough to bite down on the high keen that builds in his throat.

You scoff, mentally scorning yourself for ignoring his shit for so long, then go to pull a lace. Adrian watches in rapt attention as you test its strength, your hands flexing so tantalizingly as you pull the string harshly several times over.

He holds his breath on instinct when your scrutinizing glare scans the room again.

"Okay, bed. Back to the headboard. Now."

Adrian scrambles up immediately, pulling some of the sheets off in his hurry, eager to obey before you change your mind.

You follow right after, kneeling up and leaning over him to tie his hands to the headboard above him. His dry throat click as he gulps.

You're so close, your heavenly scent filling his lungs like a sweet paralyzing vapor, he can feel the heat radiating from your skin despite the clothes between you, he could probably taste you if he just stuck out his tongue...

He whines as you yank the shoelace tight with a grunt before tying it off. You tug on his hands once more, forcing the string deeper into his skin, and your hum of satisfaction is drowned out by Adrian's low groan.

What a wonderful feeling, the sharp sting of the lace grounding him down like he needs to be; he can't help twisting and pulling until the burn intensifies, imagining it's your firm hands holding him so tightly...

"Jesus, freak, you're already getting into it?"

Adrian just whimpers, barely registering the question past your condescending tone as he continues to squirm.

You suddenly grab the front of his shirt and pull him forward until he's partially hovering off the mattress, the combined pressure of your knuckles under his chin and the shoestring grating his tender wrists pulls a breathy moan along with.

You lean in close, practically growling as you say, "Don't do my job for me, mutt."

You press a relatively fresh bruise on his arm just to see him twitch and bite his lip (it’s actually from a week ago, that’s how good he is at maintaining your marks for you!). It is pretty gratifying.

Almost as gratifying as the bulge you spot between his wantonly spread legs.

A breathless laugh punches out of you. It's oddly jarring to see, and you would later deny that it's slightly impressive, but it's not an entirely unpleasant sight.

"God, you're fucking pathetic. But you know that, don't you, you little creep?"

If your words weren't enough to have Adrian shaking out of his skin, you lean closer and nip his ear; he jerks back instinctively at the pain, which only makes its sting so much sweeter when you sink your teeth in and pull back.

He doesn’t bother trying to keep himself quiet.

“This isn’t even a punishment for you, is it? Is it, you fucking perv?”

Adrian is so far beyond saving face, he’s mostly beyond communication of any kind, so he just shakes his head fervently and grunts and hopes it’s good enough.

“Use your words, mutt.”

He gasps as you yank his throbbing ear, pulling his face closer to yours- oh dear god he can feel your hot breath against his cheeks, every detail of your perfect face so confident and dangerous and ethereal, your sparkling eyes look positively deadly and Adrian is ready to submit himself to their perils-

“Answer me," your sharp words make his lashes flutter, but he keeps his eyes wide open to stare at your taunting smile hanging just inches from his face, "are you getting off on this?”

He nods, he’s starting to get dizzy with all this nodding but he doesn't feel capable of much else, then you tug his hair back with the most glorious burn-

“Ah-Yes! Yes, I love- I love it, please- give me- more- please, I need- I need-“

He cuts off with a choked sound as your fingers slide up his throat and tighten, all too happy to oblige.

"That what you want? You happy now?" You taunt, your breath against the shell of his ear raising goosebumps all over his body.

He tries to nod against your grip, causing you to smirk and push further.

Oh god yes please-

Garbled moans fight their way from his throat as his eyes roll back in ecstasy, his straddled legs pressing tightly together as he thrashes desperately against the headboard, his whole body trembling and pushing up and up in search of contact- but you keep pulling away, putting more pressure on his neck to support yourself, bringing out the most pitiful little whimpers.

"Use your words, puppy."

Puppy.

Adrian chokes for reasons entirely unrelated to your hand on his neck. His tail, which had been beating a rapid tempo since you sat him down, starts flailing into overdrive.

It takes considerably more effort, but Adrian needs to please you- maybe you’ll even reward him!- so he coughs and gasps until he can force out,

"Y-Yes,” a strained cough, “Tha-agh-thank- you-"

A smile curls your lips unbidden. Such initiative! You let your fingers stroke over his throat as your hand presses in harder.

"There, that's a good boy."

Adrian's vision whites out.

He’s not even aware of the stream of whines and moans that force their way from beneath your fingers, he doesn't notice how his body squirms against the pressure of you on top of him, he couldn't tell the frantic thumping of his tail from that of his heart- all he can focus on is the red hot ecstasy filling every inch of him to bursting, the transcendent bliss of being so thoroughly claimed, so completely controlled, so wholly owned by you.

He's still hiccupping moans and thumping his tail when you withdraw your hand for fear of suffocating him, these needy little noises escaping his already bruising throat.

His head lolls back and his mouth falls open as you remain suspended above him, taking in your handiwork.

He’s so vulnerable, his entire body open and happily exposed to you, every muscle trembling in the aftershocks. His chest heaves as sweat and tears drip down onto his shirt, but he seems to pay no mind as his vacant eyes flutter up at you. He struggles to keep them open as a dopey grin spreads across his bitten lips, and you have to bite your own to stop from returning it.

Then, your eyes travel down to the steadily shrinking tent of his pants, now adorned with a dark wet stain- just like you expected.

Hot.

"Pathetic."

You sit back on you heels, seemingly alerting Adrian to your absence as his hand flies up to grab his throat with a high whine- but you cut that shit off right away.

"Yeah, no, I'm not trying to catch a murder charge tonight, thanks. Besides," your eyes pointedly flick down between his spread legs, causing his face to heat up though he makes no move to close them, "it looks like you got more than your share- frankly, you should be grateful for anything I'm willing to give you."

Adrian's voice is hoarse when he tries to insist, "I am! I-" he cuts off with a heavy cough, which only has you wincing with guilt a little. "I'm- I'm grateful. I am!"

You don't doubt it, especially looking into those watery, red-rimmed puppydog eyes of his. However, you do like to be cruel, and you did just get a bunch of texts from some of your friends about this 'super crazy thing you don't wanna miss and you gotta get down here right now!', (and you're maybe feeling a little uncharacteristically giddy as you fully process your situation) so...

"Doesn't matter, I can't reward this insolence."

You untie the shoelace with a deft tug and slide off the bed without another word.

Adrian just barely stops himself from whining again, the sudden loss of the pressure around his wrists leaving him feeling untethered. He has to dig his nails into his hands as he watches you collect your things (the covered platter lay forgotten on the table, insult to injury), just to keep from reaching out for you.

He wants desperately to follow you, but he can't make his body move for how relaxed and heavy it feels, and he knows it would probably just upset you more anyway- and not in the good way.

“Oh, and Adrian?” You slap the doorframe as you hang off of it, and your use of his name has Adrian's groggy head springing up to face you instantly, ears high and eyes hopeful.

“Next time you want a picture of me, just ask. That way I can knock some sense into you right away.” You tap the frame again, a crooked grin fixing your lips before you push off.

“See ya tomorrow!”

Still too fuzzy to move, and in fresh shock from that almost-genuine smile, he can only listen forlornly as your steps grow fainter and fainter until the door shuts downstairs. Then, he's helpless to do anything beyond replay the events of the past ten minutes in obsessive detail in attempts to permanently document every single sensation you gave to him.

He only manages to move about a half hour later, when his phone buzzes with a text.

He slowly leans over the bed and lifts his phone from the floor, blinking blearily as he reads... your name. Attached to a ludicrously extravagant lunch order for tomorrow.

The phone drops from his fingers like lead.

How?

His heart starts racing as he wracks his brain to recall when you put his number in your phone- then, his tail starts up again as he wonders if he'll be punished for already having yours in his (not for anything weird! he just likes to type out walls of text complimenting every part of you and telling you exactly the ways he wants you to destroy him and then deleting them- but maybe he'll send the next one).

It must mean something good if you want to keep in close contact with him, right? That must mean you aren't really mad at him, right? That must mean you like him, right? You still think he’s a good boy, right?

Another text lights up his phone. He scrambles to grab it back, hands shaking as he holds the screen close to his face.

[ur gnna b my bitch 4evr now]

A shaky giggle escapes him.

Those are easily the most beautiful words he’s ever read.

thanks so much for reading! feel free to send a request <3

check my pinned post~

[sturniqlo]

Here To Stay Forever- C.S

summary: when chris starts to turn cold towards his best friend, y/n, she thinks the worst. what happens when she starts to back off and chris is desperate to hangout with her and confesses something?

cw: slight angst, cursing, commitment issues, fluff

an: i've been OBSESSED with bff!chris lately so here's more!! | thank you to @monroesturnns for the idea💋

masterlist

-----------------------------------------------

Chris and Y/n have been best friends now for about four years now. As they spent more and more time together, Chris started to feel different about her. Not in a bad way, never that. Just different.

He started to picture a future with her. An, eternity with her. And it scared him, it really did. He's never felt like this towards anyone. Yeah he's has a few girlfriends here and there but, he never saw a future with them. It scared him that he saw forever with her and they weren't even dating.

Unfortunately, something in his mind told him to turn cold towards her. She doesn't like you back, she never will. He tossed and turned in his bed, trying to fall asleep. She needs someone better, you aren't it for her. He groaned, throwing the comforter off of himself and getting up. He goes up to the kitchen and serves him a glass of water, placing it quietly in the sink.

Getting back in bed, his phone buzzes on his nightstand. He picks it up and sees a message from no one other than Y/n. hey chris, sorry if you're sleeping already but are we still on for tomorrow night? They had planned on going to a fancy dinner. Someone they always joked about, dressing to super fancy and join the rich snobby people at a fancy restaurant. They'd been saving a good amount from their paychecks. sure, hopefully you aren't getting any cold feet about it? i was looking at the menu and holy shit is all i have to say. He types back. no cold feet at all, i'll see you tomorrow! goodnight:))

Her messages somehow gave him hope and he was able to sleep.

Over the next two weeks, Y/n has been getting treated differently by Chris. Whenever they hangout, he's quieter than usual and moody. It would hurt her from time to time when he would snap at her for something so simple. Chris never snapped at her.

Even his brothers noticed it. "Chris, why are you being so mean to Y/n?" Matt said once he heard the bathroom door closing signaling Y/n couldn't hear. "No I'm not?" He scoffed, opening the fridge to grab the leftovers from yesterday's dinner their mom had cooked. "Uh, yeah you are." Nick says next to Matt. "She's been telling me how you snap at her all the time. And five minutes ago you literally bumped her shoulder and didn't say sorry. I'd say you are being pretty fucking rude."

"Why the hell is she even texting you?" Chris says, retrieving the plate from the microwave. "If I remember correctly, she's everyone's friend, not just yours. You know what? I thought you had feelings for her." As Chris was about to respond, they all heard the bathroom door opening and he shut his mouth.

The following Friday, Y/n went over their house per Chris' request. It had been about an hour and Chris had spoken no more than ten words to her. She was feeling unwanted. She felt awkward and uncomfortable at the shift in his mood. "I- I think I'm going to head out." She broke the silence. "So soon?" Chris' heart dropped and he shut his phone off. "Yeah, my mom she- uh she needs some help with something." She waved her phone. "Oh, okay. I'll walk you out." She nodded and walked toward his room door.

Chris walked her down to the door and wanted to phone her mom and tell her if Y/n can stay for longer. "I'll see you around." She goes for a full hug but Chris only gives her a side hug. Her heart stung for a second. "Okay." He cleared his throat, shutting the door once she went down the steps.

"Y/n is gone already?" Both Nick and Matt magically appeared in the kitchen, snacking on the chips they had bought the other day. "Yep, I feel like shit though." He groans into Matt's shoulder. "What up, Kid?" Matt pats his back. "You guys were right, I've been such a shit best friend to Y/n."

"We've been telling you." Nick says from the sink. "I thought you had like major feelings for her." Matt looks at him. "That's what I said last time," Nick throws his hands up. "what happened to said feelings?" Nick adds on, he knew how much his brother had feelings for their friend Y/n. "Fine," He pauses before continuing. "I like her, but I cant help but act like such a bitch to her. I'm- I'm scared to tell her." He walks to the fridge to retrieve a can of pepsi.

"Scared of what?!" Nick yells, his eyes widen in disbelief. "Commitment? Rejection? It's all over the place!" He opens the blue can. "Have you seen how she looks at you? Her eyes turn into fucking heart anytime she looks at you. I doubt she'll reject you." Matt nods at Nick's words. "As for your commitment issues, you guys can take it easy, or you guys can be exclusive for sometime. It's up to you two."

The following week, Chris has noticed a change in Y/n's behavior. Something that has never happened. hi, do you want to hangout tonight? Chris waited patiently with his phone in his hands. The three familiar dots popped up before disappearing for a couple of seconds and popped up again. sorry, i can't tonight. Chris sighed. It was the third time this week she had said no to hanging out and it was only tuesday.

oh okay. tomorrow maybe? He replied. maybe He turned off his phone and threw himself back. "What is going on!" He rubs his face.

It was now Friday and they were finally hanging out together. Chris had managed to finally get some of Y/n's time. However, Y/n was home all week. She felt so guilty turning Chris' hangouts down while she was in bed thinking about Chris' cold behavior. She took some time to think and finally decided it was time to come out of hiding.

"Hey, get over here!" Chris said, grabbing Y/n by her waist pulling her towards him. "Oh- are you sure?" She's startled by Chris' sudden touch, something she hasn't felt in over three weeks. "Of course. I missed you this week, you know?" He kisses her cheek. "Sorry, I was uh- busy?" She stutters. "Why're you questioning it?" He giggles against her shoulder. "I wasn't actually busy. I was giving you space."

"Space? From what?" He pulls back. "I just- I thought- you were being so cold to me I thought you wanted some space. Thought you were getting tired of me or- or maybe you were talking to someone. I wasn't sure." She shrugs, playing with a loose thread on her sleeve. Chris grabs her and places her on his lap. "Hey, listen. I have to tell you something." She nodded at him.

"I'm sorry, about my behavior. I just- I- I love you. And, I was to- I was too scared to admit it. N' I thought if I were to I don't know. Mean? Cold? That my feelings were to go away. But I realized that they're never going to leave. They're here to stay forever. I love you, Y/n." At this point, Y/n is in tears. She's waited so long for Chris to admit something like this.

She knows how much his commitment issues have gotten away in the past. "What?" She says through a teary laugh. "I love you, Y/n. I fucking love you." He smiles and grabs her face to kiss her. Chris hesitantly leans his face towards hers and Y/n grabs the back of his head and locks their lips together.

"Mmph." He huffs in relief and grabs her jaw lightly. They finally let go of each other once they're out of breath. "I've been waiting so long to do that." He places one chaste kiss to her lips. "Me too." She moves the hair out of his face, staring at him with a smile. "I take it you feel the same way." He giggles. "Of course I do." She kisses the tip of his nose.

"I love you, Chris."

[courtingchaos]

Crosstalk

Undesired signal leakage from one sound channel or track to another.

Playlist (if you wanna play along at home.)

Eddie Munson x Fem Reader

Prompt: Eddie - I really like the idea of making him a naughty tape full of audio recordings of you playing with yourself for when he's out of town and you can't be together for a few days. But it's a surprise so you pass it off as a regular old mixtape and he doesn't suspect a thing until the first two songs end and then the real stuff starts.

Word count: 2k

Warnings: Masturbation, reader tattoo mention

A/N: I have a list in my notes of prompts and I don’t remember what ask this one came from originally so apologies for that.

18+ NSFW No Minors

Eddie digs through the bag he hastily packed that morning while the phone sits tucked between his cheek and his shoulder. “What kind of surprise is it? When did you even get it in here? Is it dirty?” He gasps into the receiver. He can feel you swatting his arm even from four hours away.

“It’s nothing wild, it’s just-“

His fingers close around something almost buried to the bottom and he fishes it out, slick plastic cassette case gleaming in the low motel light. “Did you make me a mixtape?”

“I told you it wasn’t anything wild.”

He knows you’re twirling your finger through the phone cord, your chin probably tucked into your collar in mild embarrassment.

“I love it.”

“Don’t uh, don’t go playing it for the guys though.”

“Oh so it is dirty.”

“No, I just don’t want them making fun of me for putting Linda Ronstadt on there three times.”

“Three? What are you, breaking up with me via music?” Eddie teases you while he reads the insert you lovingly wrote on, little hearts in the corners beside the 10 track listing.

“No! She’s just got a way with the language of love!” You whine into the phone and Eddie laughs.

“Okay, okay. I’ll keep it all to myself. Gives me something to listen to while I fall asleep.” Behind him the shower cuts off and he knows Gareth will be out to finish his tangent on getting bullied out of his terrible pizza toppings. “You gonna be okay if I let you go?”

“I won’t cry myself to sleep if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Oh shut up, I know you walk that widows peak night and day awaiting my return from…Detroit.”

“I don’t waste my time like that. I know you’re up to your armpits in groupies.”

Eddie looks around the old motel room and scoffs. “If you think four nerds are pulling groupies in the kind of room we have, I have a river to sell you.”

After saying goodnight five times and you finally hanging up on him being sappy he flings himself into the bathroom after Gareth and before Jeff and Frank get back with food. Four straight hours in a car with three other men makes him want to crawl out of skin so he watches the steam roll out from the behind the shower curtain with anticipation. Almost scalding water leaves red marks over his shoulders and down his chest, enough to make him feel clean again while he rinses his hair. He can hear muffled voices from the other side of the thin bathroom door and knows he’s been relegated to the small couch in their room.

“You know, it’d be nice to get the bed once in a while.” He says when he exits the bathroom and snatches two slices from the open box on the single king bed.

“If you didn’t try to spoon all of us we would.”

“Oh what, you bothered by a little cuddling?”

Gareth glares at Eddie hard and Jeff cracks up at the deep breath he takes in. “If it was just cuddling I wouldn’t think anything of it, but you turn into the world’s only land octopus! I’ve never been so sweaty in my life! I don’t know how your girl puts up with it, you’re a fucking radiator!”

“This is why I always take the cot.” Frank singsongs from said cot while watching the local news.

The bickering continues as Eddie makes his temporary bed on the too hard, too small couch and finally ends when Jeff just shuts off the lights. “I need everyone to shut the fuck up for the next five hours okay?”

Eddie only hums and fishes around for his headphones, cassette player tucked up under the blanket with him. With the tv flashing across the walls Eddie starts to drift off to the slow beat of “Blue Bayou”, a soft chuckle for your choice of intro, and by the end of it he’s almost out when he hears your voice.

“Okay, so uhm, this is actually your final warning to stop playing this for everyone because you never listen to me so I’m trying to save us both some face you ratfink.”

His eyes snap open in the dark and he pulls the player out from under the covers like it’ll tell him what’s going on.

“I’m pretty sure you’ll listen to me this time though if I put a warning on your mixtape.”

He slaps around beside him on the floor for the case and squints at it in the flashing tv lights to see if you wrote something he missed.

“Anyways though, I do miss you and I hope your show goes well. I’m sorry I couldn’t be there but there’s never much room in those motels, huh?”

He can tell you moved around while recording, the bumping of the tape deck clacking in his ears. He’s glad it’s dark so none of the guys give him shit for the blush he knows is dusting his cheeks.

“Hell, one day soon you’ll get your own room and then I can come out and I don’t have to do sappy shit like this.”

The recording cuts and jumps to Carly Simon’s “You Belong to Me” and Eddie can’t help but laugh and feel hollow at the same time. As small as this couch is it would be nice to feel your weight on top of him, your head smushed in next to his sharing headphones that might snap from overextension. The song cuts off a few notes early to shuffling sounds and then your strained voice.

“This is really hard to do one handed, I won’t lie, but I wasn’t just gonna whisper sweet nothings to you.”

One handed? He can barely make out your breathing but he can hear the gasp alongside your light laughter.

“I don’t know if you know this, and if you don’t I’m sure I’m just inflating your ego but-“

The long sigh that follows finally jogs his tired brain and keys him into what’s happening. He whips his head to the side to see the sleeping forms of the other three before he sits up and pays closer attention.

“You have amazing hands Eddie, and it isn’t just-ohhh-it isn’t just the guitar playing you know? You know just where that spot is. I think your fingers are longer, I don’t know.”

Suddenly Bonnie Raitt is in his ear and he’s fumbling for the buttons on the side of the player to fast forward because while he appreciates your mixtape skills, now is not the fucking time. You would make him wait through three more songs before he accidentally runs into the middle of your recording, a thin moan of his name that makes him stand and head for the bathroom.

“-and I just miss you a lot and you’ve only been gone f-for what, a day by the time you get this?”

His lighter clicks in the dark while juggles the tape player and his pack of cigarettes.

“You actually just left my place. We had dinner and I told you I wouldn’t fuck you because it’s like good luck or some shit. I heard boxers do it like that.”

You have a remarkable way of running your mouth while otherwise occupied, thoughts that zip between moans and even he has a hard time keeping up. In the bathroom he cracks the small window so he doesn’t set the smoke detector off and then locks the door behind him before turning the shower on full blast. When he finally sits on the edge of the tub he expects a little more from you before Bill Withers starts singing about missing sunshine and he has to fast forward again.

“You’d think I’d be a little embarrassed to do this but actually it’s-fuck-it’s kind of easier to rec-“

Eddie sucks on his cigarette until the cherry burns bright red and his lungs start screaming, the cut off voice in his ears lending to quiet sounds of your hand working fast to make your breath jump in your chest. He thinks about you probably laying on the floor of your tiny studio, right at the foot of your bed with that big boombox next to your head set to record. That pillow that’s too big for your tiny couch, the one that got relegated to a ‘floor pillow’, stuffed behind your head while your toes catch on the edge of your green rug as you try to brace yourself.

Eddie sits on the edge of the tub and breathes in his own exhaled smoke and chews on his lip till it goes almost numb. Sits there and listens to your gasps and whimpers, the far off wet slick of your fingers moving faster.

“You’d think…I was making you…a tape to send you off to war.” Your laugh is light, forced air before it chokes off on his name and he slides down to the cold tile floor. Cigarette tossed into the tub behind his head, he’ll fish the butt out of the drain when he’s done listening to your voice.

“Barely a long weekend and-and-ah shit!”

You’ve tranced him, hardly notices the dig of the tile against his bare skin, doesn’t give a shit that this floor is dirtier than he can imagine probably. He lets his vision fuzz with the steam filling the small bathroom so he can focus on your voice and try to picture you laid out in front of him. It’s just another lazy afternoon, weed haze ringing your apartment while he watches you from across the room.

“I miss you when you’re gone. It’s only four days but I miss you Eddie.”

Sitting on that tiny couch and mesmerized by the dance of your fingers over your own skin. Nails press lightly into lines of ink to trail up your thigh and over your hip, to press into the softness of your belly. You’d hold his gaze the whole time like a dare while your other hand kneaded at your chest. When those adventuring fingers finally dip between your thighs and you sigh so light, Eddie follows suit.

Through the headphones he can hear you closer now like your lips were pressed to his ear. Heavy pants and no more words, just breathing that stutters and climbs in pitch. He wastes no romance on himself, not here in this cramped bathroom, not when he can almost feel your breath hot and damp against his neck. With every hitch of your voice he speeds his hand up, didn’t even bother pulling his shorts down all the way. In his imagination you give him a chastising smile for it before your reddened eyes roll back into your skull on a moan and he uses both hands now, just like you would.

The next song started and ended maybe but his hair clings to him in the steam and his sweat. There’s a chord change he thinks that proceeds his stomach clenching and his thighs aching before it all cuts off with your loud moan. You must have slapped at the player too late, not catching all of your agonies for him. Not everything, sure, but the important part is there. Your voice chanting low as your pleasure ebbs, his name over and over until you giggle and gasp.

Soft hands, phantom and damp with arousal and sweat cup his face when he cums, the heel of his palm shoved into his mouth to stifle the high noises trying to escape his throat. The track clicks again back to music and it isn’t until Eddie hears Peter Frampton that he starts to crash back into reality.

“If I know you like I think I do, I’m sure you’re rolling your eyes at me.” You giggle again at the end of the cassette, satiated and melancholy. “I just wanted you to have a little something, though I am sorry I buried it all in some of the best love songs ever written.”

You leave him with an I love you and another I miss you and a little bit of a mess to clean up. In twenty minutes though, when he’s back on the couch having evaded being caught and sucking down another smoke, he falls asleep and dreams about that hazy afternoon he intends to give you when he gets home.