#so fucking good so fucking good i'm gonna freak out I BEEN WAITING FOR THIS SINCE 2019 BABYYYY

[incorrectbatfam]

Hi! You seem like a good person to ask. I'm working on a fic and I heard that Americans in the North are meaner than the South? Is it true? How do I write it?

From a New England perspective:

We're not mean, we have a different standard of courtesy. And this is also an urban vs. rural divide along with North vs. South.

Life in the South moves at a more lax pace. Of course it varies individually and you have big cities like Atlanta or Dallas, but in general, there's more space for towns and populations to spread out. For a number of people, the only interaction they might get all day is when they drive to the bank or grocery store, where the employees are probably also their friends and neighbors. Over there, curtness is rude and uncaring. (I also noticed this in rural areas in the North, like Montana.) In a fic, the grocery store in Smallville might only get 10 customers per day, so the owner will come out and ramble on about all the freak tornadoes they've been getting. Because outward politeness is the norm, people are also more passive-aggressive in order to avoid rocking the boat—we've all heard the "bless your heart" coming from a suburban evangelical.

Up North, especially in the mid-Atlantic and New England states, it's the opposite. We have a ton of people packed into a smaller geographical area and our cities are closer to each other (a lot of people live in New Jersey and work in New York). Life moves faster, so our directness and tendency to keep to ourselves is our way of saying, "I care about you and I know your time/energy is valuable, so I'm not gonna waste it." You'll see it in cities like Chicago too. It's rude to start a conversation with the barista when there are 20 people waiting in line behind you. So if you're writing a story set in Gotham, it's perfectly acceptable for the Batburger cashier to be like "What do you want?" In that same vein, we don't beat around the bush when we're upset. If you're being an ass, I will tell you to fuck right off.

[loveesiren]

Doing It All For Us (Pt. 10)

Masterlist

Rafe Cameron x Reader

Summary: Rafe is safe for now, and their crazy kinks come out once again

Warnings: Language, fighting, smut, blood kink, pregnancy

Word Count: 4.4k+

And just like that, your world came crashing down around you.

You swallow hard, trying to comprehend what Rafe has just said to you. He's staring at you, waiting for you to say something but the words just wouldn't come.

Rafe tried to hold back tears. This was it. You were going to leave him. He was going to prison and he would lose you and his baby and everything that brought him any ounce of happiness in his life.

"Y-you...shot..."You muttered. "I-is she dead?"

"I don't know," His voice was barely above a whisper.

You squeeze your eyes shut and take a deep breath. "What happened, exactly, Rafe?" You finally managed.

"She was going to arrest my dad. S-she had the gun pointed at him. I-I had to save him, Y/N." He was crying again.

"What? Why was she arresting your dad?"

"John B said Ward killed his dad."

"What the fuck?" You whisper to yourself as you lean back against the frame of Rafe's bed, leaning your head in your hands.

You knew something had happened when Ward took John B fishing. He had come back with a gaff hook wound on his arm claiming John B attacked him. You really didn't stick around to listen to what happened. You were trying to keep your stress levels down but that obviously wasn't happening anymore.

"Where's your dad?"

"He was still at the tarmac. He told me to bring Sarah home. She saw everything..."

"Shit."

"I'm so sorry, Y/N. I fucked up. I panicked, I didn't want my dad to get hurt and I-"

"Shh, baby. I know." You tell him, pulling his face to yours. "I know."

"A-are gonna leave me?" His voice was so pitiful, cracking as he spoke. The sound broke your heart.

"No. I told you, Rafe. Forever. You and me against the world." You told him before pressing your lips to his.

He brought his hands up, tangling his fingers in your hair as he pulled you deeper into the kiss. He couldn't believe it. The fact that you were still here. Still here after he just made the biggest mistake of his life. One that could land him in a jail cell forever.

"Listen to me," You told him as you pulled away. You were way more calm than you should have been, but seeing Rafe freak out somehow helped you to keep your head on straight. "We need to talk to Ward. Find out what happened after you left the tarmac."

Rafe nods between your hands. "Okay."

"We'll figure something out, okay?"

"I-I can't lose you and our baby."

"You won't. I promise you you won't."

-

You and Rafe sat silently in Ward's office as you waited for him to return home. Rafe looked over old photos and awards hung up on the walls, smiling as he ran his fingers over a photo of him and his father.

You watch him sadly. The hold Ward had over him. Rafe just wanted to be accepted and the lack of love Ward had given him has now landed him in the worst possible situation.

Rafe sat down beside you with the picture.

"You look so handsome," You tell him, resting your chin on his shoulder.

He smiles at you. He always blushed when you called him handsome.

Ward walks in the room and your stomach drops. He stares at you both for a moment before sighing and closing the door. You're trying your best to remain calm but your head was flooded with anxiety. Flooded with thoughts of all the worst possible outcomes.

"Is...she alive?" Rafe asks.

Ward shakes his head.

"No?"

"No."

You clench your jaw and take in a deep breath.

"Okay," Rafe said, trying to calm himself as he could feel the anxiety return to his body. "Okay."

You place a hand on Rafe's bicep, rubbing his skin lightly to try and calm him down.

"What did you tell the cops? Are they coming here?" Rafe asks.

Ward walks to his desk, pouring himself a glass of whiskey before responding. "I told them John B did it."

"Told 'em John B did it..." Rafe repeated his father's words, pondering the idea. "That's good. Yes, that could work!"

You bit your lip as you watched Rafe start to get manic.

"Rafe. I need you to go to your room. Take a shower okay? Get cleaned up. If anyone asks, you were here all day okay? You were doing maintenance on The Druthers." Ward says, glancing to you. You nod your head in agreement.

"No. No, Rose knows I wasn't here." Rafe argued.

"I will talk to Rose."

"What-what about Sarah?" Rafe asks, standing up now.

"What about Sarah?" Ward asks.

"Sarah, listen, Sarah has a big mouth okay?"

"You're sister isn't going to do anything to hurt us."

"No, no, no you didn't see her in the car okay? She was freaking out!" Rafe argues back. You could hear the stress in his voice. "I have a suggestion-"

"Rafe! Stop it! I don't need your help. I didn't need it then and I don't need it now. I just need to think! So please, go clean up!" Ward was yelling now. You could see the pain on Rafe's face.

"You understand, right? Rafe said sadly. "You understand?"

"Understand what, Rafe?"

"Why I did it."

You sat silently, biting back tears. Ward turned to look at Rafe once again.

"You were in trouble and I was protecting you. Okay? Me, dad. Rafe. Not Sarah, okay? It was me!"

You couldn't help but cry now as you watched tears spill from his eyes. This wasn't his fault. You couldn't blame him for what he did. He was so broken.

Rafe backed away as Ward walked towards him. "Sorry," Rafe said softly, nervous of what his dad was going to do next.

Ward slowly pulled Rafe to him. "I know, come here. Come on, come on, bud."

You watched Rafe's face. He was shocked at the fact that his dad was hugging him. But he hugged him back tightly.

"Come on, bud, I'm sorry. I love you. I love you, Rafe. So much."

Rafe smiled at his dad's words. You couldn't help but watch them with sorrow in your eyes. The way his father's approval made him glow. How could Ward not see how special his son was?

"Listen, everything is going to be okay. We will figure it out." Ward promises.

You stand up and grab Rafe's hand. He wraps his arms around you tightly.

"Y/N-" Ward begins.

"Maintenance on The Druthers." You nod. "I'm all in."

Ward offers a sad smile. He's obviously upset that the three of you were now involved in this mess. But he was going to protect his son at all costs and make sure he gets the chance to be a father himself.

-

You and Rafe move in silence. The events of the day heavy on your mind. He pulls you into the shower with him and the two of you just stand there holding each other as you let the warm water wash away your worries.

The feeling of his skin on yours had you crying silently. You don't know what you'd do without him. He trailed the tips of his fingers over your spine and you drag your acrylics up and down his back.

Rafe moved a hand to your stomach, brushing over it softly. You didn't need to speak. Neither of you did. You could feel how much Rafe loved you and your unborn child. You clung to him tightly, reminding him you were still there. That you and Wolf were still there.

Rafe turned the shower off and wrapped you up in a towel, drying you off before he grabbed your favorite lotion and made sure he rubbed it over every inch of your body. You melted under his touch. The way his fingers traced the contours of your skin. The way he worshipped every part of your body, placing kisses all along your limbs.

He scooped you up and carried you to his bed. He went to his dresser and pulled out a shirt for you to wear. You slid it on, clutching the fabric tightly because it smelled like him.

He pulled on some boxers and climbed into bed beside you before grabbing his remote and flipping through the horror movie section.

He decided on Sinister, knowing it was one of your favorites. He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close. You snaked your legs between his and clung to him like a Boa Constrictor.

He ran his fingers through your wet hair as you concentrated on your movie. He never cared for horror, but he loved watching you get so focused. He worked on detangling each knot in your hair, silently praying that everything would turn out okay. He'd just murdered someone today. A cop. The Sheriff. And somehow, you were still here in his arms.

"You're with a murderer." Rafe whispered against your forehead. The guilt was starting to set in.

"I'm with Rafe Cameron." You responded. "A man that protects what he loves at all costs."

You could feel his tears fall on your face as he hugged your closer.

"Me and Wolf will always be safe with you." You reassured him. And it was true. Rafe loves with his whole heart. If he could get past your flaws you could get past his. He killed someone, yes, but to protect his father. You know he'd kill for you and his baby too.

You felt 100% safe wrapped up in Rafe's arms. Nothing would take you from him.

-

You woke up early. A lot earlier than Rafe. You crawled out of bed and pulled on your jeans. You placed a kiss on Rafe's forehead before sneaking out of his room, desperate for some food. The baby was hungry to say the least.

You could hear Ward and Sarah talking down the hall. You stood outside Sarah's room and listened.

"He shot her!"

"You have to pick between John B or your family!" Ward responded. "Nothing is going to happen to Rafe."

Ward walked out of her room, closing the door and locking it. He spotted you, giving you a look of concern.

"Let me out!" You could hear Sarah pound on the door.

"Why are you locking her in there?" Wheezie asked as she rounded the corner.

"Listen, there was an accident and your sister is very upset so we need to give her some time to calm down." Ward told her.

"Did something happen to the baby?" Wheezie asked, turning to you.

"No!" You told her. "The baby, is just fine, Wheeze." You smile at her. "Let's go have breakfast, yeah?" You ask her, leading her downstairs. You glance back at Ward with a warning look. Telling him he needs to get Sarah under control.

You and Wheezie sit at the kitchen table, nibbling on bacon and talking about the boys in her class.

Rafe rushes into the kitchen. He'd managed to put on sweats but no shirt. He lets out a sigh of relief when he sees you.

"Baby, where'd you go?"

"I'm having breakfast with Wheezie," You say, pulling him in for a kiss. "Baby was hungry."

He sits beside you, wrapping an arm around your stomach and the other around your neck. You offer him a piece of bacon and he takes it in one bite.

"Ew, do I have to be like you guys when I start dating?" Wheezie scoffs.

"You're not dating anyone, Wheeze." Rafe snaps.

You chuckle. "No. Never let a boy do something you're uncomfortable with."

Rafe was nuzzling into your neck now, placing wet kisses along your skin.

"Yuck," Wheezie scoffs. "I hope guys aren't like this."

"They are!" Rafe shouts as Wheezie gets up and walks away. "No boys!"

"You know, being all over me like this is gonna have her thinking all guys are like this." You scold.

"They are."

"Maybe at our age, but not at hers."

"No boys."

You roll your eyes as Rafe lays his head in your lap and wraps his arms around your waist, kissing your belly.

"Rafe, this is the kitchen," Rose scolds as she walks in the room.

Rafe groans and leans up. You laugh and go back to eating your breakfast, feeding Rafe some as well as he still keeps his hands on your stomach.

"They're looking for John B." Ward states as he walks in the kitchen. You and Rafe both look up. "There's a reward out for him. $25,000."

You smile. The island was buying it. John B killed Peterkin. Rafe was safe.

Rose knew. She knew Rafe had done it. But she'd never do anything to rat out this family. Especially since Rafe was going to be a father.

You and Rose had actually gotten quite close. She had a miscarriage at a young age. It was hard. But she was more than happy that you were pregnant and she was dead set on making sure you were eating good and taking care of yourself.

She loved her step children like her own. But Rafe was crazy, Sarah wanted to be a Pogue, and Wheezie spent a lot of time on TikTok. But you always gave Rose the time of day. You liked helping her water her flowers and discussing baby stuff and preparing dinner.

-

John B was almost caught the night prior when you, Rafe, and Kelce tried to smoke out the bell tower. But Topper chose to pick his undying love for Sarah and let John B and Sarah get away.

You had found Rafe outside in the morning, starting up his bike and talking to himself.

"Baby, what's going on?" You asked him, forcing him to calm down and look at you.

"Stay here, Y/N!" Rafe snapped at you before hopping on his bike and riding off.

Oh fuck no.

You ran inside and grabbed the keys to his truck. You hopped in, backing out of the driveway quickly. It wasn't long before you spotted Rafe. You slowed down, trailing behind a bit so he wouldn't notice you. You watched as he pulled into Barry's house.

"Goddammit." You muttered to yourself. You were not wanting to see Barry after what happened a month and a half ago. You were in your second trimester now. Pulling into this house gave you anxiety.

You park the truck and sigh. Finally pulling yourself out of the vehicle and heading inside.

"I'm 100% fucked man!" You heard Rafe yell.

"What the fuck is happening?" You ask as you swing open the screen door.

"Y/N," Rafe said. "Why the fuck are you here?!"

"Don't fucking snap at me, Rafe!"

Rafe shut his mouth. You scoffed and went and sat on Barry's couch.

"Look, how long do you think it's gonna take for them to find John B?" Barry asked. "And when they find him, he's gonna start snitchin'."

"You know it was John B that stole that 25k from you right?"

"Exactly my point, Country Club. The hammer's comin' down on them Pogues."

"Let's go get your fuckin' money then." You say, standing up from the couch.

"Y/N-" Rafe starts.

"Rafe, I swear to God, I will knock your ass out." Your hormones were making themselves known.

"I don't got time for you two to argue. Let's go!" Barry yells.

Rafe glances at you and you give him a stern look back before following him outside. He gives you his helmet as you climb on the back of his bike and wrap your arms tightly around him.

After riding around for a bit you stopped at an intersection as you watched a ton of cop cars drive by. "Shit, they're looking for him." You mutter.

"Yo, is that Kie?" Rafe asks as you see a familiar SUV drive past.

"There goes that lil bitch ass now!" Barry said and you all kicked off and followed Kie's car.

You all hopped off the bikes as you pulled up to an old garage. "Alright you two go around that way and I'll take 'em from over there." Barry says, directing you where to go. You nod and follow Rafe.

"Hey, there. What's goin' on? How you guys doing?" Rafe says as he enters the garage and walks towards Kiara. You stand off to the side and cross your arms, eyeing their movements as Barry holds a gun up to JJ.

God you wished you could fucking fight.

Barry took JJ down easily and you watched Rafe drag Kiara away. "It's not you we want, Kie, okay? Where's John B?"

"I don't know!" She screamed as she slapped him hard across the face.

You started forward, it took everything in you not to attack her.

"I know what you did! You murdered Peterkin!" Kiara yelled at him.

Shit. She knew. John B must have told her. You were too distracted by Kiara and Rafe to notice Pope sneak up behind you and hit you in the back of the knee with a tire iron.

You let out a loud cry as you feel to the floor, catching yourself just before your stomach made contact with the cement.

"Y/N!" Rafe yelled, but before he could get to you, Pope was hitting him.

JJ had tripped Barry, causing him to drop his gun and Kiara was quick to grab it, pointing it at you as you looked up at her from the ground.

You clenched your jaw angrily as you held your hands up in surrender.

"Don't touch her!" You could hear Rafe yell, trying to fight off Pope. "She's fucking pregnant, please! Please don't hurt her!"

Kiara's eyes went wide as she lowered the gun. "Pope, Pope! He's had enough dude!" JJ was yelling, trying to get Pope to release his grip on the cord wrapped around Rafe's neck.

"Rafe!" You cried, trying to get to your feet but the searing pain in your leg was preventing you from doing so.

"Pope, look at me!" Kiara screamed, finally getting Pope's attention as he let go of his hold on your boyfriend. "Come on, we gotta get out of here!"

You were crying now, crawling over to where Rafe was laying covered in blood. "Rafe, baby, are you okay?" You asked, holding his face in your hands.

He was breathing heavily and coughing, pulling you close to him. He clung to you, trying to catch his breath, placing a protective hand over your belly.

"I'm okay, Rafe. I promise." You tell him, cradling his head. "I'm okay."

After a few minutes, Rafe's finally able to sit up. "Where'd he hit you?" He asked.

"In the back of the leg. He didn't hit the baby. I promise." You reassure him.

"He's fucking dead."

"We'll get them, Rafe. Right now we gotta make a plan." You glance over to where Barry was picking himself up off the ground. "You good, Barry?"

"Yup!" Barry groans as he stands up and walks over to help Rafe up.

Rafe helped you up and wrapping his arm around your waist as you limped beside him, leading you out to the bikes. Rafe sat down and you wedged yourself between his legs as you looked over his injuries.

"Sheriff Peterkin, huh?" Barry laughed. "You're better than I thought, Country Club!"

You shoot daggers at Barry and he shuts up. You could tell he wanted to say some dumb shit but he bit it back.

"Look, we're gonna get John B, aight? I'll be in touch." Barry says before walking off towards his bike.

"Hey, baby, look at me." You say, taking Rafe's face between your hands and forcing him to make eye contact. You could tell he was on the verge of a break down.

"I let you get hurt. I put you in danger. I put our baby in danger." He said as he bit back tears.

"No you didn't Rafe. I'm the one who wanted to come. I was the one not paying attention."

"I'm supposed to protect you." He leans his head on your shoulder, pulling you closer by your belt loops.

"Rafey, you do. Shit happens sometimes."

He shakes his head.

"Hey, look at me!" You say again, forcing his head up. You bit your lip as you looked at him. The blood coating his skin did things to you. You wrapped your fingers through his hair at the base of his neck and pulled his head back. You ran your tongue up his neck to his chin, licking off the fresh blood that dripped from his wound.

You heard him groan at the sensation, tightening his grips on your hips as his shorts tightened.

You pressed your lips to his, letting your tongue slip into his mouth as you enjoyed the metallic taste that lingered there.

"Take me home, Rafe." You whispers against his lips.

-

Rafe pulled into your driveway and helped you off the bike. You'd been staying at the Cameron's for so long you were happy to be home.

You also didn't want to walk into Tannyhill bloody and limping, knowing there would be a plethora of questions about what happened.

You limped to your front door and fiddled with your keys.

"Baby, let me help you." Rafe says, taking your keys from you and helping you stand up.

Once you were inside Rafe picked you up and carried you to the couch. You both groaned in pain as you sat down.

"Do you feel okay?" Rafe asks.

"Yeah, baby. Are you okay?" You run your hand over the bruising on his face. He nods. "Take your shirt off."

He does as he's told and you examine the bruises forming on his back from where Pope had hit him with the tire iron. He winced in pain as you lightly pressed his skin.

"Sorry baby..." You said.

"It's okay," He mumbles. You bite your lip as your eyes scan his body. The bruising, the blood. You hated seeing him hurt but it fucking turned you on. "What?" He asks with a smirk.

You suddenly felt shy. You felt your cheeks blush as you smile up at your boyfriend. "Tell me what you need, princess," His voice was low as he smiled and moved on top of you, placing soft kisses on your neck.

Your breath hitched at the sensation. "You want my blood, huh, pretty girl?"

"Mhmm," You moan.

Rafe grabs your jaw, forcing your mouth open. You stick out your tongue as he lets his bloody saliva slip from his lips to yours. "Swallow." He demands and you happily oblige. You could feel the warmth at your core. "Good girl."

Rafe tugs at your shirt, pulling it off over your head, leaving you exposed to him. He brings his lips to your collar bone and sucks at your skin, surely leaving bruises.

"Fuck, Rafe..." You breathe.

He brings his hands to your breasts and massages roughly, flicking your nipple between his fingers and you could feel your need for him growing between your legs.

He left a trail of blood and bruises as he sucked and bit his way down your body. He stops at your stomach, placing a gentle kiss on the small bump starting to form. "You're so amazing," He whispers against your skin. "Carrying our baby."

You smile down at him lovingly, running your fingers through his shaggy hair. You watch as he unbuttons your shorts and slides them down your legs along with your panties. "I'm gonna make you feel so good, mama." He whispers, trailing bloody kisses up and down your thighs.

You gasp as he runs his tongue up the length of your core. He gets to work, circling your clit with his tongue. He pushes two fingers inside you and curls, hitting you in just the right spot as he pumps them in and out of you.

"Oh my - Rafe, fuck!" You cry, reaching your hands back to grip the top of the couch as you tried to steady yourself. Wrapping your legs around his head, you're sure he's suffocating but he just seems hungrier.

You could feel the knot form in the pit of your stomach as he flicked his tongue over your clit just right. He looked up and smiled as he watched you come undone. "Cum for me, baby girl."

The vibration of his words against your most sensitive area sent you over the edge. You couldn't control the way your legs shook as squirted in Rafe's mouth. He didn't stop, swallowing everything you offered him and licking you clean, sending you into overstimulation.

You laid speechless, trying to catch your breath. Rafe looked up at you with a shit eating grin, proud of himself for making you feel so good. Knowing he's the only one that's ever made you feel that good.

He crawled back on top of you, picking you up by they hips and laying you down on the couch beneath him. He sat up, quickly undoing his belt and shorts. You watched him, still trying to catch your breath from the intense orgasm you just experienced.

"You're my girl, you know that?" He asked you, grabbing your legs and pulling you towards him. He leaned over, lips hovering above yours as he lined himself up at your entrance. "My girl. Carrying my baby. Yeah?"

He was being possessive. Dominant. His eyes were crazy and you melted under his spell. "Yours." You promised.

He wrapped his fingers in your hair, cradling your head as he pressed his forehead to you. "My family..." He whispered, pushing into you slowly, allowing you to adjust to his size. "Mine."

You moaned, digging your nails into his shoulders. "I'm yours, Rafe. I'll always belong to you."

He groans into your neck as he pulls out and thrusts into you again. "Say it again,"

"I belong to you, Rafe Cameron."

He looks into your eyes as he thrusts into you harder. Small whimpers escape your lips as you stare back at him. The feeling of him inside you made you want to cry. Not in a way that it hurt, no. In the way that this was the closest you could possibly be and it still wasn't enough. The way he made your entire body tingle. The way the two of you fit together like a puzzle. It was the fact that you both knew you would absolutely die without each other. Like the world would simply stop turning if you were apart. And it was the way the love you had for one another created something new. The life growing inside you, belonged to you and Rafe and it was sacred. Something you would protect at all costs.

You didn't realize you actually were crying until Rafe's tears fell on your face. You were both crying silently as he continued to make love to you. The feeling of him sliding against your inner walls was pure ecstasy and you could feel yourself reaching your high once again.

You wrapped your legs tighter around his waist and pulled him into you. You felt his cock twitch as he spilled inside of you, your walls pulsating around him as you came too.

You both sat silently, trying to catch your breath and stop crying. Rafe cupped your cheek and placed a kiss gently on your lips before pulling out of you and rolling to your side, pulling you tightly against his chest. You were both overwhelmed with emotion. You laced your fingers between his and brought his hand to your lips, kissing his skin softly.

"I love you forever," You whisper before drifting off to sleep.

Let me know if you'd like to be tagged! :)

@outerbankspov @torturedtypewritersdept

[manheeiim]

Nothing Lasts Forever - JJ's Arrest

ᥫ᭡ link to nothing lasts forever masterlist

I'm once again with JJ and his friends, minus John B, and we're all gathered in Pope's family's shop. Pope's dad, Heyward, as JJ called him, but that I found out was actually just Pope's last name, Pope himself, was actually a very nice and welcoming man.

I was helping Pope's dad with something at the counter when he leaned in, speaking lowly, "Listen, kid. I can tell you're a sweet girl but I need to warn you." Heyward started.

"About what?" I asked politely but in a confused manner.

"JJ is trouble." Heyward told me. "Love the kid but he's bad news. You've got your whole life ahead of you and you shouldn't fuck it up by getting involved with his family's shit." Heyward added.

I'm silent for a few moments, "Oh... okay." That is all I say.

Was JJ really that bad? Sure, we've gotten into some type of trouble or did something we weren't supposed to be doing basically every hangout. But, he really was so sweet and I really did like him. I had even more feelings for him now after the kiss at the movie night the other night, so everything was very conflicting for me.

Heyward had gone outside for a moment to take care of something while I stayed inside, tidying up one of the aisles in the front. Pope was still very worried about the encounter at the movie night and honestly, I didn't blame him.

"Don't let them get in your head, bro. There's three of them and two of us. That's some typical Kook shit right there." JJ tells Pope.

"Hell, yeah." Kiara agreed as she worked behind the counter.

"What was your thought process, using your head?" JJ then asked Pope.

"I don't know, man. I just kind of acted off instinct, alright? I was a cornered animal." Pope told him.

"Hey, Pope, someone here to see you." Pope's dad called out as he walked inside the shop again. A cop then walked into the shop and JJ was immediately looking over at Pope, in fact, we all were.

“Evening, officer.” Pope said.

“I have an arrest warrant for felony destruction of property.” The cop said and Pope was looking back at JJ. Fuck. What did they do? “Keep your hands on the counter where I can see ‘em.” The cop said as he walked over to Pope.

“Woah, woah, woah, woah- wait. Shoupe, what’d he do?” Heyward asked as Shoupe cuffed Pope up.

“Take a look at the warrant.” Was all Shoupe responded.

“You’re arresting him?” Kiara asked in shock.

I walked over to JJ and watched nervously. Everyone was freaking out as we followed Pope and Shoupe outside of the shop where Shoupe led Pope to his cop car.

“It wasn’t him!” JJ suddenly yelled and everyone looked over at him. “It was me.” He said. JJ started to walk forward, “He tried to talk me out of it, but I was made because he’d just been beaten up.” JJ explained. “I was so sick of those assholes from Figure Eight that I lost my shit. I can’t let you take the blame for somethin’ I did. You’ve got too much to lose.” He said.

“JJ, what are you doing?” Pope asked and then, I realized that JJ wasn’t telling the truth. He was doing this for Pope.

“I’m tellin’ the truth. For once in my goddamn life, I’m gonna tell the truth.” JJ countered. “I took his old man’s boat too.” He then added.

“What the hell, JJ.” Heyward said.

“JJ, come on.” Pope said.

“Shut up, Pope! Just shut up.” JJ told him before looking at Shoupe. “He’s a good kid. You know where I’m from.” JJ told the cop.

“Yeah.” The cop agreed.

“This was all me.” JJ said.

“That’s the whole truth?” Shoupe asked Pope.

“Whole truth, swear to God.” JJ said.

Shoupe looked at him, “I know what you think, damn it, I’m asking Pope.”

Pope looked at JJ for a few moments before slightly nodding, “Yeah, that about covers it.”

As Shoupe uncuffed Pope, JJ looked back at me, giving me a slight nod of reassurance. I couldn’t find any words as I just looked at him, watching him get into the back of the cop car before Shoupe drove off, leaving us all standing there, thinking; what the fuck?

[adamparrishdyke]

HOME IS WHERE!!!!!!!!!(donate to zebra coalition, equality florida, and jasmyn or else)

[probablybadrpgideas]

Number of Goblins, ranked

One Goblin - That's just a goblin. He's probably just getting his groceries or something. Leave him alone, you asshole.

Ten Goblins -- That's a fairly normal amount of goblins. There's generally around ten goblins in any given situations. They're just here for aesthetic, so you know it's a fantasy world. Remember to tip them when you leave.

One Hundred Goblins -- Ok this is too many goblins, but this is a reasonable amount of too many goblins. Like, this is maybe an army of goblins or something? My point is that they're probably here for a good reason. Best not to mess with them, they're likely load-bearing in some way.

One Thousand Goblins -- This is probably a goblin town, in which case this is really more a case of One Human, which is a completely different list only available on goblintube. If not, all these goblins are lost. Return them to the goblin town. The orcs are worried.

One Million Goblins -- A million goblins? I'm not sure I've even seen a million things in my life , and now there's a million goblins? That's, like, all the goblins. Why are you at a convention of all the goblins? Are you a goblin? Actually, no, that would make sense. Yeah, that's probably what's going on here. Sorry you had to find out this way.

One Billion Goblins -- Ok, look, at this point you have clearly been sent to a future time where humanity is extinct and goblins have inherited the earth. I can think of no other explanation for a billion goblins. This sadly means that you're the weirdo, and you have to go be a cryptid now. At least you can find a phone and read the goblin creepypastas about you.

One Trillion Goblins -- How? What is happening? This is more goblins then there are birds, and they'll all in your house? How is your house this big? Wait, forget the goblins, how is your house this big? Are the goblins here to guillotine you? Probably! Move out of your stupid mansion and let the goblins have it, you weird rich bird-hoarding freak.

One Quadrillion Goblins -- One quadrillion? I'm only like 80% sure that's even a real number! Luckily, you won't have to deal with a quadrillion goblins for long, because soon they'll collapse together under their gravity, forming a far more manageable single planet-sized goblin. Picard's not gonna be happy about this one!

More Goblins -- Fuck off, you do not have more then a quadrillion goblins. Why are you lying? Are you worried I won't like you if you don't claim to have an implausible number of goblins? Don't worry. Your worth is not dependent on your goblin numbers. Go back to the actual number of goblins secure in the fact I love you, no matter how few goblins you have <3

[goldenlikedayl1ght]

...ready for it? - j.l. howlett

a/n: hi! here's a full version of a blurb i wrote a few days ago that got so much love so quick that i wanted to give yall a full version! the beginning is literally just the blurb but after that it's all new! like many of you wolverine brainrot has hit me hard, so here's graphic smut about him. leave a comment or a reblog if you enjoyed :) warnings: SMUT!!!!! some dumbification, use of pet names, reader is fem, reader is a mutant and able to control plants, lots of cursing, lots of grotesque fliritng/fantasies, some soft moments, some sort of primal sex, oral (fem receiving), some of the setting is probs inaccurate but whatever. let me know if i missed any big ones!! word count: 4.9 k summary: well, you had to find some way of entertaining yourself at charles xavier's school for gifted youngsters. and you have always liked an emotionally unavailable, absolutely hung, challenge. pairing: logan howlett x mutant!reader now playing: ...ready for it? - taylor swift "in the middle of the night, in my dreams/you should see the things we do, baby/in the middle of the night in my dreams/i know i'm gonna be with you, so i take my time"

You are absolutely enthralled with him. It’s actually sort of pathetic how your fingers twitch at the sight of him, at how the mention of his name or god forbid the sound of his voice makes your head snap up, attention deficit disorders be damned!

Funnily enough, you had no damn interest in Xavier’s stupid mutant school, because to you, you’re not an outsider because of your mutant abilities (that don’t have much of a physical apparition, at least one that you can’t hide) but because there’s never been much of a place for you to fit in.

But, you were behind on rent and of course, you fucking hate your job, so why not? You’d be able to be slightly less of a freak, and you’d get free room and board in the process! (Where Charles gets all of his money, you do not know.)

And because you’re a little older, Charles doesn’t force you to sit in a class room to learn about basic arithmetic and grammar lessons, so you really only do some training around three times a day, you have your own room (with a dusty box under the other bed, you also suspect your room used to be the ‘sex’ room) and you have the weekends off.

So for a twenty something year old with few ambitions, the social skills of a Martian with autism, and a huge crush on every older emotionally unavailable man you meet, it’s a pretty good set-up.

You’re waiting for time to pass in the garden, just reading a rather interesting book that Charles had recommended after he noticed you needed something to pass time before you started making bad decisions.

You hear his heavy footsteps on the gravel before you see him. Your heart beats faster, but you will yourself, do everything in your power not to glance up at him. And you let out a breath as you succeed, keeping your head down.

“In your natural habitat, are you, spitfire?” Your head darts up to him—There’s no way he isn’t talking to you, you know you’re the only one in this garden. And you can see his lips twitch up and you want to crawl out of your skin!

“My-My natural habitat?” You laugh, closing the book you’re reading because your attention is locked to him now.

“Yeah, seems like it.” He saunters on up to you and sits on the bench next to you.

And let’s make something very clear—

Logan Howlett does not sit.

This man poses, as if there’s always some invisible camera capturing every frame of movement, from the way his legs spread out, to the way his chest lifts when he inhales.

Fuck, you think you might die if you can’t suck him off right now.

“And what exactly is my uh.. habitat?” You question.

He takes out his lighter and a cigar, placing the cigar in his mouth as he gestures to the space around the two of you, lighter in hand.

“A garden.” He says, matter of facility, as his voice is muffled only the slightest bit by the cigar.

And you just sort of look at him before asking,

“Oh, you enjoy being boiled down to your mutations, Claws?” You question, and as he goes to light the cigar, he smirks.

“Alright, you gotta admit though, it is cliché!”

You are absolutely in agreement, there is zero doubt you are as much of a walking, breathing, real life living, stereotype.

“It is not!” And the pair of you give each other this look, like you’re both shocked at how whiney that statement is!

“Uh-huh, sure, Spitfire.” It sounds almost like he’s purring at you.

When he lights his cigar, he’s sort of eying you for your reaction, whatever you might say.

“You know, smoking is not only bad for you, it’s awful for the environment.”

“You’re probably the most cliché little freak around here.” Which.. honestly..? Shouldn’t possibly turn you on as much as it does.

You just stare at him for a minute, and he smirks.

“Cat got your tongue?’

And maybe it’s stupid and maybe it’s immature but your hand just comes over to fiddle with the pointed part of his hair.

“We’ll you certainly look the part.” He just looks at you, and honestly? The way he’s looking at you, it’s like he’s proud of you for teasing him.

“Aw, there’s my little spitfire,” He teases, just to see how red you get. And red you are— it’s embarrassing. And here’s the kicker—You are young. Exceptionally young, and what’s insane about that? How horny it makes both you and Logan.

The idea of fucking your innocent cunt, tight and all his, drives him genuinely mad. And you are, quite literally, a whore for the idea of riding this older man’s dick. You know he’s big—sometimes you see the outerline of it when he walks away from you all huffy and puffy.

“You’re a tease, Claws.” You respond, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Says you,” he raises and eyebrow, leaning closer to you now, “You’re the one laying around in the sun, looking like that.”

“Looking like this?” You scoff. You’re wearing a muscle tee and a pair of ripped jeans, but the gaps are huge and he can see your thighs. He wants to devour you, and you would let him if he only asked.

And let’s be clear—he is fucking you with his eyes. There’s no way to go around it.

“I think you’re just.. horny.” You tease, and he just growls. Seriously, this man who is undressing you with his eyes, growls, because he does want you and he is horny!

“I think you’re onto something.” He purrs, and you want to just.. god. You don’t know how to express the pit of desire that grows in you. “I would fuck you until you couldn’t think, right here among your pretty flowers. Would you like that, baby?” he asks, his hand finding your thigh.

But you just cough on the smoke from his cigar, before frowning.

“You really shouldn’t smoke.”

“Aw, I’ll make it up to you.” He smirked. “Promise, spitfire.”

He’s very close to you now, so you take a second to just breath and you know that he knows that he’s got you—hook, line, and sweet, sweet sinker.

And then you realize what exactly it is that you’ve gotten yourself into. And what a nightmare it is—Or maybe a dream if you listen to the pathetic part of your brain, but you are into this an in a way that is concerning for your own mental wellbeing and desperately want to avoid him having all the power in this situation.

“Oh, I am sure you will.” You assure. You lean forward, plucking the cigar from his lips, and placing it on the ground, squashing it beneath your heel. With a flick of your wrist, vines and grass grow over the cigar, composting it. And from the vines, grows a small little buttercup flower.

You lean down and pluck the flower from the grass, before tucking it behind Logan’s ear.

“You should take care of that hard-on you have, Claws.” You hum, before standing up, and walking away. And for a minute, he just watches you go—partly to because you have an amazing ass, but partly because you have absolutely flabbergasted him.

And have made him want you even more.

• • •

The next time you see him is the next night, in the woods near the mansion. Because the literal sixteen year olds you go to ‘school’ with do not know how to do anything on the weekend except drink, fuck, and smoke.

Honestly, you kind of fit in great.

So here you are, nursing a mason jar of.. some fucked up concoction, and you’re not too sure what’s in it, but you have drunk two of them and are on your third. You think you might live forever, until you glance up and see Logan, in these fuck me jeans and this burnt orange flannel and a wife beater.

Instantly, you know that you’ll die tonight if you don’t have him.

He approaches you with this cocky smirk as if he hasn’t realized your intoxicated state yet.

“Now what’s a little spitfire like you doing all alone on a Friday night?” he questions, tilting his head. His smirk is deadly. And you roll your eyes.

“Here comes the big bad Wolverine, all bark and no bite.” You scoff, and his eyes flash with surprise. Only for a second, but even drunk, you notice the way his eyes shoot up in surprise.

“All bark and no bite? That’s quite the accusation.” He hums.

“Well, we’ve been.. eye fucking each other for a few weeks now, and you haven’t even kissed me yet. I get being into foreplay and edging, but holy shit, Claws, throw a girl a bone once in a while.” You scoff, and for a moment, he just looks at you.

“Are you.. drunk?”

“Do you think I’m drunk?”

“Yeah, you’re drunk.” He sighs. You respond by taking another sip of your drink, but before the bitter liquor hits your tongue, he snatches the bottle from you.

“Let me take you home.” You’re sure your eyes look like hearts, so, dreamily and a little love struck, you respond,

“’Kay.”

And he chuckles a little bit at that.

“We’re not gonna do anything, I’m just gonna walk you home, spitfire.” He starts, and your face falls a little bit, but in an effort to hide it, you respond,

“..’kay.” And he sees right through you. You’re pretty much an open book. And the alcohol doesn’t help. His pointer finger and thumb comes to your chin, and he gently rubs his thumb against your lip.

“Don’t be like that, pup. It’ll happen soon. Just not tonight, okay?” He assures.

“’Kay.” You answer softly, and you think he smiles at you but your vision is sort of blurry. Then, you blink, as a gust of wind moves through the trees, sending a shiver down your spine. He sighs, and wordlessly takes off his flannel, before wrapping it around you. Your arms slip into the sleeves, and you almost cry because it’s like, the best hug in the entire world. “Won’t.. you be cold, then?” you question, and he just shakes his head.

“Let’s get you home, spitfire.” He holds a handout to you, and without a second thought, you take his hand. He wraps his arm around you, and you lean against him like it’s something the two of you do often. If you were sober, you might short circuit. But, you’re not, so it feels right.

The walk home is quiet, but Logan’s thumb gently rubs against your shoulder. He wants to do more, but he knows he shouldn’t, since you are in fact plastered.

You ignore the giggles and whispers from teenagers making their way past you to the party or to their rooms, and you even ignore the way their giggles stop when they meet Logan’s gaze.

When you get back to your room, you take a second to lean against the door, and he takes a second to admire the way you look in his clothes.

“Ready for bed?” he asks gently, and you just smile at him.

“You’re really pretty.” He just does the half scoff-half chuckle that you’re obsessed with. Then, he wraps his arm around you again, opening the door to your room, and guiding you inside. He gets you to your bed and sits you down, before kneeling in front of you to untie your boots. “Has anyone ever told you how good you look on your knees?” you ask.

He just gives you this smirk.

“One or two pretty girls back in the day.” He says, “None as pretty as you though, spitfire.” He says, and you groan, leaning back and laying on the bed, as he pulls off your boots.

“You’re awful.” And you need him.

“Yes, I know, baby.” His voice is almost condescending, and it turns you on. But then he stands up, grabbing the folded blanket from the edge of your bed, and laying it over you. He finds his place kneeling next to you again as you stare at him, cozy in bed. His hands gently brush hair from your face. “Do you need anything else?”

“You.”

“Soon. But not yet, pup. You’re too drunk.” He says softly.

“Thanks for walking me home, Claws.”

“You’re very welcome, Spitfire.” He purrs, leaning forward and kissing your forehead gently. “I’ll see you in the morning. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Logan.” You mumble as you drift off to sleep. He sits there for a few minutes, just looking at you for a long time before he gets up and creeps out of your room.

• • •

The next morning, you sit in the cafeteria, drinking a large coffee, and nursing the worst hangover, possibly of your life. Made even worse by the fractions of memories about what happened last night.

You rub your eyes, flinching when you hear the clatter of a plate on the table, and someone sitting across from you. You peek through the gaps of your fingers to see Logan sitting across from you, a smirk on his face.

He opens his mouth to say something but you beat him to it.

“I hate you. Shut up.”

“I didn’t even say anything!” he laughs. But he sees how much pain you’re in, and slides two pieces of sourdough toast to you. “Truce?”

“Truce.” You agree, taking a slice and biting into it. You feel better.

And after a moment of silence, he asks,

“I’m never getting my flannel back, am I?”

Truthfully, the flannel has been folded neatly and tucked into your drawer, for the next time you need some comfort.

You tilt your head, looking right into his eyes.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

• • •

Weeks go by like this.

You spend your days either going to class or hanging out—okay, it’s more like flirting with a side of hanging out, with Logan. The pair of you become quite close, and maybe that’s why you haven’t fucked yet.

Oh, the two of you want to, and it’s obvious to everyone (Charles has called you out for being distracted more times than you can count, and you remind him not to probe your mind, and he tells you he does not need his mutant abilities to see that your thoughts linger elsewhere.) but you’re.. afraid, at this point.

Which is odd, because you’re no virgin, you know he wants you, but.. what if everything changes after that? Maybe he’ll start to avoid you. Maybe you’ll start to avoid him. And you’ve really become good friends, and don’t want to lose it.

And then, there’s the fact that half the time, he’s away on dangerous missions, and even if he can regenerate, you worry about him. But he hasn’t been on any lately, so it’s like waiting for the other shoe to drop.

You’re sitting in the garden when it happens.

He finds you, and this time, you do not even try to hide the way your head picks up and gazes at him.

“Hi, Spitfire.” He grins, and you smile a bit at him.

“Claws, what can I do for you?” And he sits next to you, and for some reason, maybe because he doesn’t say anything at first, you know that there is something wrong. And you know what it is.

After a few minutes, you glance to him.

“You’re leaving, aren’t you?” Your voice is quiet, as if you’re scared that if it gets any louder, everything will fall apart.

“Yeah. Charles has me going on another mission.” He doesn’t say it, but you both know this isn’t an involuntary thing.

“Cool.” You cringe at your reaction.

“I guess.” He laughs weakly, as if he knows he’s twisting a knife buried within you.

Silence fills the air. It’s not necessarily uncomfortable, but it isn’t the relaxed silence you’re used to with him. Confessions dance on the tips of your tongues, and you’re so close to saying it, that when you turn to each other suddenly, you just need to look at each other for a second.

“Be safe.” You say quietly. “And hurry back.” You request, and you try not to sound like you’re begging.

“Of course.” He says, like it perplexes him that you even have to request. “I can’t leave you here yearning for me forever, can I?” He teases, and for a moment, you have this flash of an alternate universe where he does die on this mission and you are trapped in this garden forever, waiting for him. Like a lost puppy, or worse, a lost lover. The mere thought of it fucks with your head.

“No. You can’t. I won’t allow it.” You explain, “If anything, I’m the one that should be haunting you.” He just smiles. A real, not at all awkward smile.

“I’m sure you will, spitfire.” He says, and his head comes forward so that his forehead is resting against yours.

“When do you leave?” You ask gently, and he sighs. His breath smells of mint and cigar smoke, maybe even a hint of lemon.

“An hour. I have to pack quick and then debrief.” He answers you.

And just as love struck as you were the night of the party, you answer,

“’Kay.” You smile weakly at him. And he just.. looks at you for a few minutes before sighing again. He pulls away and leans up to kiss your forehead again, before standing up. He turns a few steps away from you just to tease you.

“Don’t miss me too much, okay?” he requests softly. Before you can stop yourself, you stand up, and wrap your arms around him. He only pauses for a half a second before he returns your embrace, and it becomes apparent that you both needed this moment. You stay like this for a few minutes before you pull away.

“Bring me back a souvenir.” You try, a soft smile on your face.

“Yeah, don’t worry. I’ll bring you something great from the great city of Tulsa, Ohklahoma.” He grins.

“Deal.”

“Deal.”

• • •

For the next week, you feel like this must be what it was like for housewives when their husbands went to war. You knew all too well that that statement was extremely dramatic, but you simply cannot help yourself.

You think you might die by day three.

It’s like you’re going through withdrawals and it’s making you go genuinely insane.

You have worn this man’s flannel for almost the entire week, because at first you’re a little self-conscious of other people noticing your repeating outfits, but only at first. By day four, you have decided you don’t give a single fuck.

Day eight you’re just laying in bed, quietly making a list of all the positions you want him to take you in. It’s a long list. You’re brought back to reality by a knock on your door. You’re about to snap, knowing that you’ll tell whatever child has been sent to bother you to scram, but when you open the door, you grin widely.

Logan stands there, looking tired, but he’s smiling and holding up a shot glass that reads ‘Tusla’, and has skyline on it.

“Didn’t I tell you I’d get you a souvenir?” He asks, and you can’t help but wrap your arms around him, pulling him in. He hugs you back, making sure to squeeze you just a bit—your feet barely come off the ground.

He pulls away, and you grin up to him.

“You came back.” You say it as if you can barely believe it, and just for a moment, he feels an emotion he can’t quite place, but he ignores it.

“Of course I came back, spitfire. All in one piece too, as requested.” He grins, and you’re just.. amazed at the look of him. “What’s that look for?” He asks gently, tilting his head.

“I just..” you start.

And then you break.

You lean up and kiss him gently, those stupidly delicious sideburns making your stomach flip. He doesn’t waste time, kissing you back, his arms around your waist. After a minute, you pull away.

“Sorry. I’m kind of done playing that game of waiting for you to kiss me. I just got the first hit of you I’ve had all week, and I feel fucking amazing.” You confess, and sure, it’s not a big grand love confession with tears and poetry, but your words make him kiss you so intensely that you start backing into your room, his hands exploring your body as you tug off his leather jacket, a new flannel for you to steal coming off soon after.

He keeps kissing you as his hands come down to your jeans, unbuttoning and unzipping them, before gently pushing you to sit on the bed. He kneels in front of you, and begins to tug off your boots again, then, on your jeans.

You grin.

“You know, I’m getting the oddest sense of déjà vu. Something about you looking great on your knees.” You tease, and he just tugs off your jeans in one strong swoop, before leaning in to bite your thigh. You gasp, your hands coming up to tug his hair.

Then, he begins to tug at your panties, and you tilt his head up, glancing at him.

“What are you doing?”

“Well, before I was interrupted, I was about to eat you out.”

“Wait, really?”

He blinks, confused.

“Yeah. Is that a, uh.. problem..?” He hasn’t gotten any complaints yet.

“I just.. I didn’t think guys actually did that, I thought it was just.. a porno thing.” And at this, the man who is about to burry his face between your thighs, laughs. And not just a chuckle, this man hollars. “What’s so funny, claws?” You ask, a little suspicious.

“Nothing,” he promises, “I am just going to take such good care of you, pup.”

“I’m holding you to that, claws.” And then, he leans in and begins to kiss your thighs, gently biting down here and there. Then, he licks a stripe along your cunt, and you let out this loud moan, and your hand comes up to clamp over your mouth, but he reaches up to grab your hand, lacing his fingers with yours.

He pulls away to lecture you. Lecture you. On his knees. Head between your thighs.

“Nuh-uh, I wanna hear all the pretty noises you can make for me.” Then, softer, he adds, “Never been eaten out before, fuckin’ travesty.” He mumbles, before leaning in to lick your cunt again, beginning to lap his tongue over your throbbing heat.

His nose rubs against your clit, and it’s enough to drive you genuinely crazy. You’re unsure how you’ve gotten to this point in your life without having your pussy worshipped like this, but with him around, you’re pretty sure you’ll never go another day without it.

His tongue continues to work magic on your cunt, as his nose presses against your clit, stimulating you to the point of making you see stars.

Your hands tug at his hair, and the moan that it elicits from him is enough to send vibrations through your cunt through your stomach. Your head leans back as you moan, and for a moment, you hope there is no mutant in this mansion with super hearing.

His free hand grips your thigh as he bends your leg back to get better access, as he continues to eat you out. The mere taste of you is enough to drive him crazy—He almost wants to start thrusting into the side of your bed, he’s so hard, but he ignores that urge to continue to eat you out.

“Mm—Lo, I—I’m gonna—”

He just hums into your cunt, giving your thigh a gentle squeeze of approval, before his tongue moves even faster (if that’s even possible, though, he is an amazingly surprising man), and suddenly—

You feel a release you have been waiting for weeks, and it is fucking phenomenal. And the Wolverine just licks up all your cum, even if it makes your thighs shake, but honestly, he doesn’t care and neither do you. For a moment, you just listen to the sound of your own pants.

After a minute, you are able to look at him, and he just looks up to you with the same smirk that has been torturing you for all of those weeks. And you just have to pull him up to kiss you, like it’s the only way you’ll be able to live.

As you kiss him, you pull off his wifebeater and then your hands rest on the sides of his face as he pulls off your shirt as well, before his hands begin to make quick work of his belt, wanting to skip all of the pleasantries and just fuck you.

But when he finally gets his jeans off, you pull away, and he stares at you like you’re crazy.

“What the fuck could possibly be more important than me fucking you stupid?”

“Will you just.. let me look at you?” You scoff, your eyes flickering over him to just memorize every square inch of his body. He humors you for a few minutes, standing there with his hands on hips before he leans in and cages you in with his arms.

“Show’s over, spitfire.” He purrs, leaning in to kiss you, slowly making his way closer to you so that you’re laying back on your bed. At some point during the kiss, his boxers come off, and when you feel his cock against your cunt, you moan into the kiss, and you can feel his smirk against your lips.

Oh, you could kill him. But, you suspect maybe he’ll get to you first.

After he kisses you for a few minutes, he pulls away to tell—not ask, tell you, “I’m going to fuck you now.” And you know your line.

“’Kay.” He grins at this and kisses you again, before lining himself up and starting slowly. He just has the tip inside of you, and you begin to moan, your grip on his shoulders tightening. You already feel entirely too full, and he slowly agonizingly slowly pushes into you, and he sees how his size makes your face twitch,

“Shh, shh, I know, pup. Deep breathes for me, bub,” he says softly, such a stark contract to his rough movements, as he bottoms out and has his entire cock inside of you. And he gives you a second, watching as your face relaces, adjusting to the size of him. “Okay?” He asks, and you nod.

“’Kay,” You assure, and he kisses your forehead.

“’Kay.” He responds, and before you can tease him for it, he begins to thrust into you, slowly as first, but he continues to quicken his pace. Your nails begin to scratch on his back, and he lets out this angelic moan—You must’ve died and went to heaven.

As his thrusts quicken, the lines quickly blur between quick ruts and an animalistic need, manifesting itself in the way he fucks you. You know you won’t last long, especially when his fingers find your clit and begin to rub it again.

“Fuck! Oh my god—”

“I know, baby, I know,” he coos, his free hand coming to your thigh to lift your leg up, only for better access to your throbbing cunt, “God, I love the feeling of you around me.. Worth the wait, I promise.” He grumbles, as he thrusts into you, his only goal to make you cum.

You want to respond to that—To tease him, to make him feel as shy as you do, but he has completed his goal of fucking you stupid.

All you can do is respond, “Fuck—I’m gonna—”

“I know, baby, go ahead, cum for me,” he requests softly, leaning in to press a rather jarringly sweet kiss to your lips.

As you cum around his cock, he shudders, the look of you, laying there fucked dumb, is almost too much for him to bear.

“I’m gonna fill you up, pup,” he tells you, and all you can do is moan in response, which makes him come that much closer to the edge. After a few more thrusts, with a euphoric moan that will haunt you forever, his hot cum fills you up, leaving the pair of you clawing at each other, wanting more.

When you’re both finally finished riding out your high, Logan lays next to you, keeping you close. His grip on you is tight—possessive. When you finally find your voice, you ask,

“You’re not gonna turn me into a booty call, are you, claws?”

And he laughs.

“No,” he says, pressing a kiss to your head. “You’re gonna be my best girl, Spitfire.”

“Does this mean I get to steal another of your flannels?”

“I’ll give you my whole fucking wardrobe to see how many times I can make you cum.”

[himbosandhardwear]

Eddie has a bad habit of picking at his skin when he's nervous. Not, like, shy nervous or stage fright nervous, but the real kind of nervous, not-sure-I’m-gonna-survive-this kind of nervous. Like while he was alone in the boat house, he'd shredded every one of his cuticles. That time Hopper caught him behind The Hawk, very obviously selling his wares, he'd bitten his lips bloody.

Tonight he's picking a scab off his knee. It's practically healed already, so it won't bleed, he just needs to feel something on his body come loose before he does.

“You good, dude?” Steve asks, so in tune to Eddie's nervous disposition. Such a good guy. What a friend.

Eddie lets his head hit his knee caps with a thunk.

“Yup.”

Steve snorts. “You don't look good. I mean… You know what I mean.”

He smiles, tilting his head to look at Steve, always happy to give him a hard time.

“Oh, absolutely. You think I look good, don't cha, Stevie?”

He gets a couch pillow to the face for that, but they're both laughing so he doesn't think he's crossed the line yet.

Yet, yet, yet.

“Seriously, what's up with you? You've been quiet. It makes me want to call the squad.”

“Har har,” Eddie mumbles, but he does uncurl himself, sitting back against the couch again. “I'm trying to work up the nerve to ask for advice but it's-” Christ, he doesn't even want to admit to being embarrassed, that's how embarrassed he is.

“It's what?” Steve asks, the picture of earnest encouragement. “You can talk to me about anything, man, we're, like, bonded in blood or whatever.”

“Right. Yeah. Except this has the potential to get real awkward, real quick, and I'm not sure we're at that level of friendship yet.”

“Well,” he drawls, “if you ask me whatever it is that's got you all flustered I'm sure that will level us up. Right?”

“I'm not flustered.” God damn his red fucking face. Steve just laughs at him. “It's just, I don't have anyone else to ask about this. Jonathan probably doesn't have this particular problem, cause he's got- Uh. Sorry.” Steve waves it away, so Eddie goes on. “The kids are too young and the band guys don't understand what we went through-”

“Eddie, just spit it out.”

“Fuck! Okay, fine! You asked for it.” He takes a giant breath, steels his spine and just says it. “The Trauma is affecting my ability to get laid and I don't know how to fix it. Every time I get close to it I freak out and have to bail.”

There. All out now.

He looks over at Steve, and it's so much worse than being laughed at or pitied. He just looks sad.

He shakes it off quickly, hair barely moving, Eddie notes. He finds Steve's hair routine both endearing and ridiculous.

“Yeah. Okay. That's super common, just so you know,” Steve assures him first. “Robin says it's all connected, your mind and your body, so trauma can, like, get trapped in weird places like that. I can't play baseball anymore. Cause the memory of beating demodogs to death.”

“As you do,” Eddie quips.

“Right. But your thing. Uh. Yeah, it took some time before I could relax enough to even attempt getting laid, let alone actually do it.”

“So?” Eddie drawls, waiting. “How did you get over it?”

Something is off. Steve's not known for being skiddish about sex, but his hesitation and his inability to look Eddie in the eye is setting off alarms.

“Hey, if this is too weird for you-”

“No, I'm good, it's fine. Just, I'm the only person you have to talk to about this, so I'm gonna try to be helpful but, uh,” he scratches at the back of his head awkwardly, “in all honesty, I haven't been laid since before Vecna either. Way before. So. Yeah. Not sure I should be giving out advice on anything.”

That's crazy. Like actually crazy. He can't even compute Steve Harrington not absolutely dripping in women. He must have some look on his face because Steve gives a dry sort of laugh, self deprecating, and leans back against the couch with him.

“Weren't you on a date with Brenda Mulligan the night- Vecna’s first attack?”

Steve shoots him a look. “Y- Yeah, but that didn't go anywhere. We weren't, like, compatible or whatever.”

Oh, yeah, it was weird that Eddie knew that at all, let alone remembered it nine months later. “That's too bad,” he replies lamely.

“Yep.”

He feels terrible for dragging down the whole night, it would've been better if he'd just kept his mouth shut. But that's never been his strong suit, as evidenced by him blurting out, “If the hottest guy in Hawkins can't find a suitable date, what fucking chance do I have.”

Steve snaps, “Don't say that. What the fuck?”

Great, now he's gone and made it weird. Good job calling your straight friend hot, you fuckin’ dipshit.

They sit in the awkward silence, out of things to say or out of useful things to say. Either way it's them breathing, the clock ticking, and the M.A.S.H. rerun playing softly in the background.

Steve clears his throat. “Whatever, let's get back to the point. You don't have to tell me if you don't want but…what do you think the specific reason is for your…issue?”

He thinks about it. Has been thinking about it, for a while now. “My dick still works, if that's what you're wondering.”

Steve chuckles, high and surprised. “Good for you.”

“Yeah. It's more like, I can't get out of my head. I start worrying about my scars, explaining them if someone asked. I think about how even though I don't want anything long-term, I wouldn't be able to do long-term anyway, because I'm a fucking mess. If it's really bad, I'll get flashes of Chrissy or Patrick's bones snapping, as a little soundtrack to the fun shit happening outside my head.”

Steve looks sad again. Maybe it is pity but it looks more turned inward, like he's dealing with his own shit more than Eddie’s.

“You hooking up with strangers then?”

Eddie blinks at Steve. “Well…duh. Right? Not like I have guys lined up around the block here in Hawkins.”

Steve is full blown scowling at the TV. It's weird.

“What if-”

Eddie waits but Steve doesn't finish his thought.

“What if…what?” He prompts, giving a little nudge with his foot.

He's still avoiding eye contact, not even turning his head to look in Eddie's direction.

In a soft voice, almost too quiet to hear, he says, “What if we helped each other out?”

He must've heard that wrong. Or he's misunderstanding.

“What?”

“What if we help each other out? Like, a mutually beneficial arrangement.”

That can't be right. No fucking way. It's a test. Like as soon as Eddie agrees, Steve yells ‘Aha! I knew you wanted to molest me! Goodbye forever!’ and runs out the door.

“What, exactly, do you mean? Like, what are you getting out of it?”

Steve finally looks over. “Well, I would think that was obvious. If you're willing.”

Eddie's legs are starting to go numb.

“Okay, so I blow you and you blow me, except when you're doing it I have to watch you take it like you're being force fed liver and onions at Grandma's house?”

Steve slowly shakes his head no.

“Oh, okay, so you're going to blow me and enjoy it,” he snaps sarcasticaly.

Steve nods once.

“You want to blow me?”

“Mmhmm,” he hums without moving a muscle.

“Since when!” Eddie brings his octave down from the upper atmosphere. “Since when, Harrington? This is insane behavior. Should I call the squad for you? I'm serious. I'll do it.”

“You don't have to say yes. I was just offering.” He says it like Eddie isn't one green flag away from stomping on the gas.

He starts nervously laughing, which makes Steve flinch unfortunately, but he can't stop.

“It's cool, just forget I said anything.” He moves like he's about to get up and leave, which is fucking insane because it's his living room. Eddie stops him with a tight grip around the bicep.

“Don't you dare. If you're even remotely serious, we have to have a much longer conversation. Sit.”

Steve drops like a sack of bricks. Which is…something.

“Right. First off, this is uncommon behavior in a straight friend. Is there something you'd like to tell me, so I don't think you've been body snatched?”

He pinches at the top of his nose, like Eddie is inconveniencing him greatly. Too bad.

“I'm probably bisexual.”

“Probably?” Eddie asks with a raised eyebrow.

“I'm an inexperienced bisexual,” he amends through clenched teeth.

“Good. Great. Happy to hear it.” His heart may explode from his torso à la Ridley Scott's Alien but sure. “Second on the agenda, what do you mean help each other out? What's on the table? Mutual handjobs and then we never talk about it again?”

“No,” Steve answers immediately. That's good. “I'm open to…whatever you're open to.”

“Steve.” He has to clear his throat. “You dont even know what you're agreeing to.”

“I trust you.”

Fuuuuuck.

“Okay, right, uh, let's circle back to that later. Third thing, what, uh, what is your level of commitment with this?”

He just stares at Eddie, all doe eyed. It shouldn't work, Eddie fucking invented that look. It's gotten him out of more scrapes than he can count. Now it's being used against him but to what end? Does Steve want to get bundled up in a blanket and tucked into bed? Because Eddie can make that happen for him.

“Whatever you want, I guess,” he finally says. “I mean, like I said earlier, friends who help each other out. Casual. I'm not interested in looking for Mrs Harrington anymore and you're having a problem relaxing around guys who don't understand what you went through.” He makes a gesture like ‘Ta da.’

He's not wrong. It makes sense. But…

“Fourth thing. Is this just an experiment for you? Cause I'm all for you exploring your sexuality but, historically speaking, friends are a bad place to start.” AKA ‘it will break my fucking heart if you decide you're not that into it and it's because it's me.’

“Eddie. Look.” He gets more comfortable, facing Eddie straight on finally. “What you're going to provide is practical knowledge on what has only been theoretical up to this point, but the theory has already been well established.” He taps his head. “Understand?”

A smug confidence melts Eddie into the couch. “You liiike me,” he sings. “You think about me naaaked. You wanna-”

Steve lands on him, lacking any elegance or grace, and nearly caves their skulls in with his Jay Garrick approach to kissing. Eddie doesn't say a fucking word. He does wonder at the fucking majesty that is making out sober. What a revelation. Steve keeps making these tiny, almost wounded noises, to the point where Eddie tries to back up and do a check in but Steve doesn't let him, he chases him down and latches back onto Eddie's bottom lip like he's Hannibal Lector. It's stupid hot.

Everything is going great until Steve lets out a sound that legitimately has Eddie worried he's upset about something.

He pulls back and asks, “Are you okay?”

“Oh fuck, I'm sorry. I just can't, I can't believe I got this fucking far. You're so hot I'm losing my fucking mind.”

“Me?” Eddie snaps. “Dude, you're out of your mind.” He pokes Steve in his meaty chest. “Literal. Prom. King.”

“Fucking stupid high school shit, are you kidding me?” He sits up, straddling Eddie's hips, which is boner enhancing to say the least; he's got Steve's thighs in his grasp immediately. “You don't get it, I'm gone on you. I've got it bad, man. I was playing it cool earlier-”

“At no point tonight were you in any way playing it cool.”

“-but, fuck it, guess I'm ruining it, cause I can't be cool about this. I don't want casual. I don't even want to date you,” and before Eddie can even worry about that, he says, “I wanna skip straight to boyfriends, man. I know you said you didn't want long term with anyone but-”

Eddie interrupts again, this time by pulling Steve back down horizontal and kissing him like he just bravely declared himself as all in.

If this is a pod-person, well, that's a problem for Tomorrow Eddie. Tonight Eddie just landed Steve Harrington as a boyfriend.

[alchemistc]

You never let me in, Buck sends, two of three sheets fully winded, and when he kicks his leg over the coffee table he nearly knocks over three empties.

They do this thing, right? Buck gets upset and before the tears can fall, because he's cried too many fucking times already, he makes himself angry. Picks at something that has come up every time he's done a post-mortem on the last six months.

And then he sends that shit to Tommy. Because - because who the fuck else is he supposed to talk to about it? The guy who'd sucked him off in the hallway of a nightclub two weeks ago? The woman who'd spent an hour quietly helping Buck understand that yeah, he was very much bi, and yeah, some people did not like that shit? Maddie, or Chim, or Hen or Eddie, who still might interact with him on the job? Bobby? Fuck, not Bobby.

Bobby who'd blinked at Buck and offered platitudes and apologized to Buck like it was somehow his fault Tommy was good people but he was the kind of good people who just walked out on something that could have been something.

I should have pushed more. I know I should have. I just thought since I was trying to share everything, you were too.

My mistake.

Three months and Buck isn't over it. He's far enough into the mourning process that he thinks this one is always gonna sting, and not for the reasons Tommy thinks.

That's not fair. I'm sorry.

The texts get delivered. Tommy reads them. Buck's had read receipts on since the first time Tommy went quiet on a call and Buck freaked out a little - but back then they were still working towards something. Back then, sometimes Tommy would pull out his phone and open the thread just to give Buck sign of life.

He was always doing that. Heading shit off at the pass.

Buck had just never realized he'd be able to do it to hurt him, just as well as take care of him.

Every four weeks like clockwork Buck gets a response. He has no fucking idea why it's four weeks, what the third Thursday of the month has to do with Tommy feeling gracious enough to give Buck some clarity. He'd never known enough about Tommy, is the thing he's coming around to. He'd done everything he could to bring Tommy in, make him a part, and Tommy had let him. Tommy had distracted him with quippy words and a clever tongue and with being so fucking willing to be integrated into Buck's life that Buck just - hadn't noticed.

No one will say it, but he Bucked It Up in the worst kind of way.

He's waited until Third Thursday to send these texts. He actually hasn't sent anything at all, until this moment, and he wonders if Tommy noticed. If he cared. Tommy picks and chooses from Buck's random thoughts, parses out details like he's reading from a manual and Buck is off topic two thirds of the time. Buck doesn't actually know why he's been answering, all this time. He wonders if, in the last four weeks of silence, he thought he was finally done with Buck.

He wonders if it had hurt.

Buck sets his phone down to stand, skating across to the kitchen in his socks for the pizza rolls in the oven.

His diet is shit. His body feels like crap. He's one more drunken nights sleep on the couch away from emptying the rack in his fridge down the drain and giving sobriety a try. The last person he'd slept with had hinted that they'd prefer not to use condoms and Buck had almost let them.

Buck has worth. He knows he does. It's just sometimes when he remembers that every person he's ever loved has either walked out on him or let him walk away when he needed them, he struggles to find that worth.

His life has meaning, and all that jazz.

Buck sort of wonders if Tommy hasn't finally blocked his number, as he tosses a too-hot pizza roll in his mouth and huffs on the lava cheese burning his tongue. After the last message Buck had sent, three weeks ago, he wouldn't exactly be surprised.

(This is basically just an unhinged grief journal with an unreliable second narrator. Do you know what it's like to realize you're still in love with someone who never let you know them?)

There's been no response to that. Fair. Buck hadn't even actually said the words. No, he'd jumped right into the sharing a life part, cart before the horse as always when emotions were high.

The pizza rolls get tipped onto a plate and are immediately swimming in the heavy pour of ranch he'd prepared after he set the oven to preheat.

It cools them off a lot quicker than popping a hole in each seam and waiting.

It's been eight years since Buck has really even thought about that little trick.

When he opens his phone there's no response. No receipt. Just stark words waiting to be acknowledged.

I gave you my family, Tommy. You didn't even introduce me to your team at Harbor.

It's startling to realize after the fact. He doubts Tommy had meant it that way, but he'd basically spent six months being love bombed only to have the rug ripped right out from under his feet.

And yet. Months later and he still wants to know. Know why. Know how he could have done it, with tears in his eyes, with full awareness that it was already gonna hurt. Know Tommy - anything he'd part with, really, that wasn't something every random acquaintance also knew.

Cool, he'd been jealous of what Buck and the 118 had. (Buck had tried to give him that. Or at least he thought he had.)

Great, he didn't talk to his dad and Gerrard was a shitty captain. (Buck had spent an hour once explaining the first time he and his dad had spoken about Daniel without screaming at each other. Tommy had listened to the rants about Gerrard and offered physical comfort and a 'sounds like him' and Buck had just been so relieved to have an ally amongst the 'life is just like this sometimes' crowd that he'd never examined that.)

He was a Kinsey six who'd been engaged to the first woman Buck had ever really loved and they'd never dug deeper than that.

And Buck had apparently interpreted some of the shit he'd said that night wrong, but he still doesn't think it's fucking fair that Tommy can't trust him to know his own fucking mind well enough to know he hates sleeping around and he'd found the sort of connection he was looking for. He'd found it. Even with the lack of reciprocation. Even with the quiet behind Tommy's eyes that he'd never let Buck in on. Even with the -

His phone buzzes on the coffee table.

Can we talk?

Buck kinda hates those words in that order now. They'd been the start of something twice, but they'd always been leading to an end, if Tommy had his way.

Once every four weeks, apparently, Buck sends back and takes a vicious bite.

His phone chimes with an incoming call.

Buck stares at the name he hasn't had the stomach to remove the little heart from. Lets it ring through to voicemail and then shoves three more pizza rolls into his mouth and doesn't care if they burn off his taste buds.

His phone rings again.

"What?"

"I'm outside your building. Didn't want to make any assumptions that I'd be welcome without asking first."

Buck can feel his ribs cracking under the lurch of angry laughter. "What the hell?"

"Well the parking around here is miserable again, so I figure that's a sign."

"Are you driving right now?"

"Hands off. I'm on Bluetooth. So. Should I circle the building a fifth time or call it now and go home?"

Buck gets stuck on fifth time.

There's no way he hadn't been driving since at least before Buck sent that first text.

Buck sighs. There's absolutely no reason to be hopeful about that. For all he knows, Tommy has just decided dousing any residual flames is just another thing he has to do in person.

"My Jeep's in the shop. I'll buzz you into the garage."

Tommy's silent for a long, long moment. The quip comes anyway. "I keep telling you that thing is a money pit."

"I'm not really feeling the flirty banter, right now, Tommy, so maybe just let me know when you're at the gate."

He does. He hangs up the phone twenty seconds later with a plain "See you soon."

Buck doesn't have time to change. Fix his hair. Hide the sheet pan with half a dozen pizza rolls still laying on it, because he'd cooked way too many again.

(He could absolutely do one of these things but if Tommy's gonna throw this at him, he's getting every little slovenly habit Bucks's picked up since he walked out that door.)

The knock comes while Buck's shoving the last two rolls on his plate into his mouth.

He's still chewing with his mouth open to blow out the steam when he swings the door open, and Buck feels the first inklings of pleasure ripple through him at the sight of Tommy.

He looks like shit.

"You look like shit."

Tommy's brow ticks up. He stares pointedly at the glob of not-cheese that's going to absolutely ruin this sweatshirt.

"That tends to happen when you spend an hour in an armchair two sizes too small picking at trauma you've been hiding from your therapist for six years."

Buck opens the door wider. Holy crap. Tommy might legitimately be more fucked up than Buck.

Tommy's smile is strained. "Can I come in?"

Buck holds his gaze. His eyes are a little red. He's got a red spot along the side of his neck, like he's been rubbing at it. Buck only recognizes it as a comforting motion because he's replayed him doing it half a million times right before he ended things.

"Depends. Is this the last time you respond to my mean, rude, asshole texts for an hour after therapy rubs you raw?" Third Thursday Therapy, is apparently what does it. Buck is - god. He just wants -

"God, I hope not," Tommy says, and Buck takes a step to the side to let Tommy in.

[cregansdingdong]

dingdong hear me out, cregan and reader going through the honeymoon stage of their marriage in winterfell where he just cant get off her and they get it on (she gets on should i say 😜) EVERYWHERE and ANYWHERE. im talking in the stables just out of earshot of the lords in the courtyard, in the wolfswood surrounded by the beautiful northern countryside, in the council chambers, on the table, EVERYWHERE. I KNOW this man gets hot knowing anyone could catch them and that they couldn’t do anything about it because he is their lord. PLEASE GIVE THE PEOPLE WHAT THEY WANT 🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏

- fellow cregan worshipping anon xo

I HAVE THOUGHTS. THE GEARS ARE TURNING. I FEEL THEM TURNING. SEND HELP ANON.

Let's get something perfectly clear, my beloved, the honeymoon stage never ends with Cregan. Now, it might slow down after the birth of a few kiddos ten but in no way, shape, or form will your Lord Wolf ever be satisfied. That being said, you have my prayers, sorrows, and congratulations also my envy ofc if you both are ever caught getting your freak on. It's gonna go a little something like this...

ʜᴏɴᴇʏᴍᴏᴏɴ. (thoughts ver.)

NSFW stuff under the cut. 18+ only. I'm not responsible for the content you choose to consume. ty.

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

"We're going to—"

"I don't care." He grunts. Skirts lifted up the curve of her ass, his hips rutting into her at a pace desperate enough to bruise. They were both frantic, fucking like it was their last day alive. The council room was empty—which it usually was; only really filled when Cregan felt the need to call on his vassals. If it had been a regular day, Lord and Lady Stark wouldn't have had anything to worry about.

His wife presses her cheek down on the table, holding onto the oak edges for dear life, mewling of course, as he rocked into her like a man possessed. Controlled entirely by his need, by her whines for him, Cregan thought he could die a happy man right there in her snug cunt. He could. He wanted to, in a way, the last sensations in the living world being her velvety walls, clenching around him with every swift thrust.

They were loud as they always were—unintentionally. It was too good to remember any restraint. Not that it mattered to the Lord Wolf, he was the Lord paramount of the North. Who was going to tell him he couldn't make love with his wife? No one, but he could at least make an effort to lock the door first. Rabid grunts and the sound of his hefty balls slapping against her flooded the corridor as the entrance to the council room was opened. "Seven Hells—"

His bannermen. His vassals. The meeting. Gods. He forgot about the meeting. Torrhen Manderly turned right back around, narrowly avoiding whatever it was that Cregan flung towards the door—thankfully fast enough to stop the other men from following in after him. "Get out!" The door was promptly slammed shut, right as his wife lifted her head from the table, face flushed red in mortification. "Were we just cau—fuck!" Lord Stark still didn't care, reaching around to rub at her pretty clit as his cock resumed pistoning against her ass. And as she came for at least the third time that morning, the realization of getting caught was quickly erased from the front of her mind, Cregan's teeth latching on to the curve of her shoulder as he chased his release.

okay I can't help myself so here's a bonus bit:

Redressed and thoroughly embarrassed some twenty minutes later, Lady Stark emerges from the council room, expecting her handmaiden to be waiting—no. Gods. They'd waited. They'd actually waited. Seven bannermen, each one avoiding her eye more than the last, probably in an attempt to maintain whatever was left of her dignity. They made not a single sound as she walked sprinted by, nodding stiffly in respect to their Lady.

Cregan, however, did not share that same sentiment. Satisfied for the moment, smug, and seated lazily at the head of the table, legs spread comfortably as he sat back against his chair. He exhaled quietly through his nose once his vassals entered the room, the smallest of smirks written on his face that said more than his mouth ever could. "Where did we leave off last time?"

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

[boowritess]

notsobaddasssoldier!reader who is kinda a cunt

reader who just doesn't give a shit about the 141 rank or title.

"you think just cause your captain of some lil task force i'm gonna bend over backwards for you? be serious."

"cool you're lieutenant...and.... anything else interesting? like how you think halloween is 24/7, or...?"

"oh so it's a big accomplishment you're sergeant at your big age? tell someone who cares."

you're just so... eh about their ranks. but they get some power trip when you call them said rank. makes them feel some sort of way that depsite your snark, you still call them by rank. showing the clear difference of inferiority and superiority between you and them.

till you notice and shut that shet down.

"your so fucking stupid. it's like if i met The Pope. I'm gonna call him Pope because he's The Pope. I still don't give a shit though."

"or like meeting a Doctor and calling them Doctor. I don't give a fuck that the persons a Doctor. I'll still call em it."

"better yet. hate the king. hate the queen. but i still call them the queen and king. because their dumbassary is just linked to their 'ranks'. if you keep annoying me the same is gonna go for you."

you have so much sass and snark that it becomes a truly humbling experience. and it's like - damn. they could put you over their knee and really put you in your place but reader takes things from 0-100 real fucking quick.

"you wanna what you fucking freak?"

"excuse me-?"

"you're so fucking dumb. get a braincell dumb bitch. do it and fucking find out what happens."

"shot me in the head and watch my corpse not give a fuck because I don't."

and when the guys get a lil too fucking serious about putting reader in their place. reader suddenly has a gun pointed at their face. you see what I mean by taking things to 0-100 real quick?

"dummy. really tryna fuck with me when we're surrounded by guns? fuck outta here with that bullshit."

"matter fact I'd just kill myself-"

"NO!" *141*

it's obvious you may be young and perhaps a little too mouthy for your own good but it's clear you're not going to be pushed around.

but it's obvious you ain't here for the 'greater good' and just doing the work to get the paycheck. while the guys find your snark to be really fucking annoying.

it turns out that you definitely have some perks.

you may not be able to hold yourself very long in battle, just a very basic solider with basic skill sets- your mouth and attitude can really work wonders on people.

in particular, the egotistical rookie who things they're all that. taking their sweet time with basic tasks, belittling other recruits who can do the bare minimum. just in general, an asshole. that's when you step in.

"you ain't shit bitch cause at the end of the fucking day turdface, you ain't bullet proof. i can shoot you right now, and all your running and yapping will cease to exist. your corspe will rot. people will stop knowing you as the loudmouth rookie, and you will just become nothing. infact. you are nothing."

*the recruit opens their mouth. you interrupt.*

"Nothing."

*recruit tries again.*

"Nothing."

it's an endless cycle that ceases when your hardened glare doesn't stop and you pick up a rock intending to throw it at the recruit. the blank, dead, serious look in your eyes showing you are more than fucking serious.

what really works wonders though, is they way you aren't worried about putting a superior in their place. the other 141 have basically been beaten in and to not question anything. they have been made to believe they are weapons more than human.

that gets shut down real quick.

you all have just come back from mission, that was grueling. a couple of you were injured. everyone looked worse for wear. dirts, scratches, blood. someone no longer had their vest. a few lost weapons. barely had any inventory. needing food, sleep, and then a long shower shower.

but instead waiting for the task force, was a superior officer, holding the next mission file. a mission they were supposed to be getting ready for and practically leave as soon as they got back.

before price could grab for it, you intercept. grabbing the mission file and throwing it at the superior officers face.

"you giant fucking anal peice of dried solid dog shit. we're not fucking doing that. we just got back from hiding in a fucking forest for three weeks with enemy surrounding us to get intel from a camp- THAT WASN'T FUCKING THERE. so you better turn and take those pretty polished shoes to another task force."

"what is your name, soldier?" *superior officer growls.*

"Dolly Parton. Now Dolly has just worked longer than a nine to five and Dolly ain't got the patience for dealing with a man like you. i got two bullets left. one for you and one for me. and if you think i won't do it- well we can put it to the test now-"

perhaps it was the utter dead look in your eyes, or the gentle yet seething venom in your tone. the superior officer simply growls and turns on their feet, leaving the task force.

it's funny cause you do get the respect, you are barely a good soldier but dang you can get shit done when need be. so price doesn't transfer you. he still keeps you close.

ghost is the one who loves the feral little shit you are. gaz and you talk mad shit about everyone on base. soap just absolutely adores you, you're the little sibling he's always wanted.

a/n: inspired by the feral nature of gen z.

[valentinaagarcia]

twisted wonderland characters as things i've heard in the locker room

(im speaking in the boy locker rooms, im on the boys football team as a chick and i might be called a pick me for it but there was no girls football team💔)

(btw "yuu" is what i responded to what i heard)

-----

floyd: uhm.. you guys i might've ate raw salmon and i shit myself

ace: right now??

jamil: i fucking can't with you floyd, last week you made out with a boy and now you got fucking tapeworms or some shit

-----

kalim: sorry i'm late guys, how is everyone?

jamil: i'm gonna puch you so hard that your dick is gonna go up your throat and your gonna choke on your cock and die!

kalim: so glad i asked

-----

ace: some guys get off from other guys fingering their asses, who knows

yuu: what the fuck is the context to that?? i went to the toilet for TWO MINUTES

-----

yuu: well duh i have boobs? what the hell is wrong with y'all i'm not an actual dude

ace: i can tell you have boobs now, i'm looking right at them

-----

epel: okay i need to be honest with you all, i used to masterbate with motor oil

deuce: wait i used to do that too until my ex saw me when i was whacking off and tried to lit my dick on fire

-----

ruggie: come on guys we're gonna go play football! no teams

leona: pretty sure you need two teams to play football

jack: yeah that's the whole fucking point

-----

ace: i neehd.. the uh, the thing that you ball kick around

yuu: are you high?

ace: hi

-----

floyd: WHOOP WHOOP yeah us upperclassmen win another round!

jamil: did you even measure it?

floyd: yeah with my dick

-----

yuu : can you guys stop messing around for five minutes please? i'm trying to make us a plan

floyd: why u never match my freak

-----

kalim: yuu your a girl right?? this cute girl i've been talking to is so sweet and i wanna buy her something

yuu: not a car

-----

leona: remember when coach benched you because you were "too good"?

ruggie: yeah?

leona: he was lying, you fucking sucked

-----

floyd: okay everyone take off your shirts!

yuu: no thanks

ace: why not?

yuu: i'd rather not flash you all

ace: good call

-----

jade: i can't believe i have to perform infront of everyone..

floyd: just do the whip and you'll be fine

-----

epel: GUYS.. GUYS MY....... INNER EGOIST ARRGHH

jamil: we're not even playing right now???

-----

floyd: coach is such a boomerrr...

lilia: boomer? more like fossil

-----

ace: okay everyone important announcement, i have to make a powerpoint on sexual education so can i demonstrate on deuce infront of you all?

deuce: and you say your straight

epel: i don't think deuce likes the idea of public sex

-----

yuu: i just saw a pad stuck to the ceiling in the girls bathroom

floyd: did you lick it?

[xxknockoutxx]

Izuku

(this is just something to put out for fun but I take heavy inspiration from Glitched they're freaking amazing! I hope they are doing well ❤️‍🩹🥦)

It was another day of sitting at home without a care in the world. Waiting for your husband to come home, this was the one day where you weren't working or out doing chores. The giant house that you and your pro hero husband inhabited was so intimidatingly big, that seeing the house so quiet and empty kinda scared you but in a good way. Like a really secured way.

It wasn't all that lonely I suppose with your husband texting you every once and in a while with memes or compliments or how much he misses you. He's gotten the hang of One for All and is the number 1 hero. All this sounds pretty good for you guys but it's not...

The stronger your hunk of a husband gets, the longer he'll be working and that means less time for you too. This was probably the 3rd day he'd been vacant from the house this week so you were tired of it. I mean who wouldn't be?

I'm just gonna have to make him forget work when he comes back. you thought. Sure it was a lot easier said than done but you are Y/-fuckin-N! Ain't nobody or nothing gonna stop you from getting what you want✨

*Bzzz* Your phone buzzes and you find out it's your husband.

🥦My hero🥦: Hey baby I got some good news! 😁

I'll be home either tonight or next morning! I can't wait to see my precious little Bunny💚

Your heart swelled as you read the text you eagerly texted him back showing your excitement before going back to brainstorming. Shit.... Now you're on a time limit. With little time you began thinking about a dinner; one with a huge table full of different foods and of course dessert but will that be enough for your busy husband to stay home?

Annoyed and stressed, you just focus on that one thing, preparing food. You walked into the kitchen and searched the full fridge for things to cook. thankfully you had the ingredients to try some viral recipe you saw on Pinterest.

After cooking and laying everything out on the table you decided to change into something more anticipating you changed into some tiny pajamas and black lingerie under it. Surely it would do something to him to see those thin, black and green panties.

"Bun! I'm home!" Your heart froze up before running to the front door and hugging and kissing the breath out of Izuku.

"baby! Hiii" "Hey bun... You look so....- He takes in the way that the shirt you were wearing hugs your curves. The way that it just barely shows the outline of your hardening nipples. —Good..."

"I made you a little sumthin-" You help him put his stuff down and drag him towards the kitchen. This food is gonna be so fucking good that he's gonna eat this and then eat me- wait.

As Izuku takes a seat and looks in awe at all the food on the table. After working 22 hour shifts for 3 days straight you get kinda hungry. He waited for you to be seated as you walked to the table with his plate of healthy servings.

"thank you so much, Bunny. I love you."

You smile and join him at the table, in your rightful chair or throne rather; Izuku's lap.

He begins to chow down on all of his food rather quickly, while spouting his compliments about you and the food. "Wow this is so good, Bun" and "You look so pretty today" and "Did you get all dolled up for me?"

At the end of the meal you carefully bring him upstairs and take off his hero gear. Making sure to be slow and to add a sway to your movements. At this point Izuku's eyes were lidded and he still had that same smile of adoration but it seemed almost suspecting.

You pushed him back on the bed and slowly took off the pajamas. (Deku merch obviously) Under it you had your dark green and black lingerie.

"wow.. you were ready for me, weren't you bun?"

He cups your cheek and pulls you onto his lap. You feel his warm, calloused hand touch your face as a familiar sensation of Izuku's bulge rubbing against your sweet spot.

You lean in for a kiss and start playing with the zipper on his hero suit pants. As you do he slips a hand on your waist and deepens the kiss while helping you loosen his pants and takes off his suit.

"lemme help you with that bun..."

✩.･*:｡≻─────────── ⋆♡⋆ ───────────.•*:｡✩

"F-fuck! Wait! Izu...." Of course after working for so long and so hard your husband is gonna be a little pent up. Not being able to come home to see his pretty, loyal wife. The only way to solve that? A fucking mating press. Nothing can compare to the satisfaction of a good fucking. Especially passionate, rough and deep sex.

I mean if you aren't screaming his name at the end is it even considered a good fucking? Clearly he isn't putting in enough effort if you give him a reaction that's anything less than a moan of his name, unintelligible mumbles, or praises. So he'll go for a couple hours. Maybe he'll be satisfied after a few positions, some breeding, and marking. Just to make sure you know you're his.

And right after he would take a shower with you cuddle with you and make sure you were at 100 percent and then only then would he go to sleep with you in his arms. An unbreakable grasp.

Then he'll do the same thing next week.

⏤͟͟͞͞☆𝐊𝐧𝐨𝐱.

[rogueddie]

Runner / End Of Beginning

Steve has never seen his father as upset, as furious, as he was when he got home with his final exam results. He'd known- suspected- that his father would flip when his results came in...

His father got angry at small things. Hearing that he'd had a party while they were away, that a girl went missing at that party, had been the closest Steve thought he'd ever get to recieving a beating.

But when he came home with his grades... when his father realized that his son, his supposed prodigy, barely passed...

Steve has never ran as fast as he currently is.

As soon as he'd seen an openning, a clear line to the door, he'd stumbled to his feet and bolted. He'd picked a random direction and ran. He isn't going to stop running until he physically has to stop, knowing that his father is most likely in his car, trying to find him.

He can't stop. He has to keep running.

Eventually, he has to pause. He has to catch his breath.

He leans against a trailer, panting. He prays that no one thinks to look outside and spot him. He prays that no one will-

"Harrington?"

"Fuck." He hisses, squinting up at- "Munson?"

"What the fuck happened to you?" He says, eyes widenning when he finally gets a look at his face. "Second round with Hargrove, or what?"

"Nothing happened, I'm fine."

Munson eyes him for a moment, frowning. "Is someone after you?"

"What do you care?" Steve heaves a deep breath, forcing himself to stand up straight. He brings his knees up in a few knee highs, gearing up for another sprint.

"Ugh. Just- you can come into my trailer," Munson says, sounding as though Steve is forcing him to make the suggestion. "No one would think to look for you there. You can, like... I don't know. Drink some water? You jocks do that, right?"

"Wh- I don't need your help!"

"I'm not waiting for you all day, come on, let's go!" He makes a wide, exaggerated gesture for Steve to follow.

"You just assume I'm gonna follow?"

"Yeah."

He sounds so confident, so sure, that Steve can't think to do anything other thank blink and say, "fuck it, yeah, alright."

Steve is a little surprised at how much space Eddies trailer has. It's cramped, but in a nice way- the way a home gets when people actually live in it. When the people inside are actually happy and chase those joys.

Munson does get him a glass of water, mumbling at him to "sit anywhere", before flopping onto the sofa himself. He turns the TV on, focusing on that.

"Thanks," Steve eventually mutters, awkwardly sitting down.

"Wanna talk about it?"

"Nothing to talk about."

"Sure."

"There isn't," he insists, despite how casual and accepting Munson is acting. "It's my fault, anyway. I deserved it."

"Did you?" Munson turns to him, eyebrow raised. "All us freaks and losers can talk about these days is your change of heart. King of Hawkins High turned lame boytoy."

"Thanks, that makes me feel so much better," Steve sneers.

"Even Jeff thinks you're alright now," he barrels on. "Said he bumped into you, pretty hard, knocked all your shit down, and you apologized. Said his coffee ended up on an essay, or something. Thought he was about to get his ass kicked and you just..."

He waves his hand at him, as though that's explination enough.

Steve doesn't know a Jeff, but he's pretty sure he knows who Munson is talking about, and; "I wasn't looking where I was going. If anything, we were both at fault."

"See?" Munson waves his hand at him again, a little more pointed. "Don't doubt you've got a long way to go, but you're not half-bad. You didn't deserve whatever the fuck happened to your face."

"Whatever."

They fall quiet, both pretending to watch whatever is on the TV. Steve is so zoned out that, when someone clears their throat, he flinchs.

"Sorry to startle you boys," the man chuckles. But the humor quickly teeters out, once he gets a good look at Steve. "You alright, kid?"

"I'm fine."

"He's not," Munson grins wide when Steve glares at him.

"Staying the night?" The man continues, only looking at Eddie now.

"If I can convince him," Munson shrugs.

"I can't stay the night," Steve tries.

"Good," the man nods, as though Steve hadn't said anything. "I'll start making us all some dinner." He finally looks to Steve. "You got any allergies?"

"I can't stay," Steve tries again, insisting.

"No," Munson answers for him. "No problems with meat either."

The man gives Munson a thumbs up, heading through to the kitchen.

"I can't stay," Steve repeats, turning to Munson. "Really. I have to go back or... I have to go back."

"What will happen if you don't go back?"

Steve grimaces. "Nothing. Just- I can't stay here."

"Why not? They gonna hit me too?"

"You know what, Munson? Yeah, probably. And your- your dad?"

"Uncle," Munson snorts, standing, stretching. "No one messes with us though. We're too scary." He wiggles his fingers in Steves face as he passes by. "And call me Eddie."

"Why?"

"It's my name."

Steve awkwardly follows him to the kitchen, hovering a good distance from the two of them, watch how they move around each other with so much comfort and ease. It makes something in Steves chest ache.

"Oh, hey, you like football right?" Eddie asks, pointing to him.

"Uh, yeah, kinda. Not enough to have, like, a team." Steve shrugs.

Wayne turns around slowly, eyebrows raised. "You don't got a team?"

Talking football with Wayne is so easy that, until he's halfway through the dinner he cooked, Steve doesn't notice how fast the time is going. He can't bring himself to be bothered though. It's too nice.

Plus, Eddie is almost bouncing with joy at how well Steve and Wayne are getting along.

Someone starts banging on the door, loud and aggressive, as they make their way to the kitchen.

"Alright!" Wayne calls, rolling his eyes. "Hold your horses."

Steves stomach drops when the door opens and his father is on the other side. He smiles at Steve, sickly sweet and dangerously calm.

"Oh, thank God," he sighs. "Steve, your mother and I have been looking all over for you. When you didn't get home-"

Wayne blocks his way when he tries to step inside. "Who are you?"

"Robert Harrington," Steves dad sniffs, leaning back so he can physically look down at Wayne. "I'm here for my son."

"He ain't here."

Robert Harrington splutters, face tinting red with anger and frustration. He points to Steve, voice raising as he says, "he's right there! And he's coming with me."

Wayne turns, slow and casual. "Huh. That's odd. Don't see him."

"Steve," he snaps his fingers at Steve, like he's a dog. "Come on. We're going home."

Eddie shifts so he's standing slightly in front of him.

It's enough reassurance for him to finally snap back; "I'm not going anywhere with you."

"Steven-"

"Get off my property," Wayne snaps.

His father glares at them, waiting, as though he expects them to back down. When he doesn't, he snarls; "this is kidnapping."

"He's 18," Eddie drawls.

Grumbling, he stomps off.

"Asshole," Wayne mutters. He shuts and locks the door, sliding on the chain too.

Steve has to sit down, with how much his legs are shaking.

"You alright?" Eddie asks, hesitantly sitting beside him.

"Yeah," Steve says. He's surprised to find he means it. "Yeah, I'm good."

"You can stay here, long as you need," Wayne offers. "You'll have to bunk with Eds though. Not a lot of room."

"Why can't he use the sofa when you're-"

"Nope," Wayne cuts him off. There's a glint of mischief in his eyes that has Steve squinting in suspicion. "And you'll need those cuts looking at. Eddie, why don't you go with him. Medkits in the bathroom."

Steve goes ahead when Eddie points the way to the bathroom.

Eddie tries to give Wayne a warning look but he's unbothered and, with Steves back turned, he gives Eddie an encouraging wink.

[sunrisesfromthewest]

First Encounter Part 4

|Warnings|:Marcus Freaks out😭,Steamy Make out sesh with your boy Armando tho😌,Reader has a kitten,sorry puppy lovers,it’s for the plot

Here's all the parts I have so far: 1 2 3 4 5 6

|Enjoy✌️|

_____________________________________________________________

Gazing up at Armando you feel his form tense up, upon hearing that, Mike eyes trace over his sons form as he says. “Who is this," already knowing who the possible speaker could be. 

 “I think you already know who I am, Mike... the real question here is your boy or your Wife...” Hearing the man pause you hear screams knowing that he’s hurting Christine. Seeing Mike face Harden, he goes to speak but is cut off by McGraths deep sharp voice,"Be at Gatorland by noon or your precious little wife want live to see another day." As Mike calls for Christine through the phone, the line is disconnected. 

Seeing Mike walk outside, you feel Armando release your hand following after him. Watching your dad walk out as well, you look back at Dorn and Kelly with a solemn expression. ” Shit just got real." you say heading to your purse to grab your phone and car keys. Noticing this Kelly walks over to you, eyebrows screwed together. "Where do you think, you're going Y/N.”  

Crossing her arms she waits for your reply, "Kells I gotta go home and grab something.... it’ll be quick." Hearing this Dorn walks over as well”Y/N,did you not just see what happened on the monitors, the Hell wrong with you.” 

Gazing at your friends you see them with firm expressions on their face, arms crossed.”Guys, I'll be fine you think Reggie is the only one that knows how to kick ass.” 

Before they can say anything else Mike cuts in, "I need you two to go help Rita, I think Lockwood has been up to know good.” 

 Hearing this they move to put on their respective gear, and weapons. Realizing that they are distracted you make you way out the door, but before you could sneak to your car you hear Mike call your name, which makes you freeze. 

Turning around slowly you see him looking at you crazy, "Now where the Hell, you think you going Y/N/N!” Watching as your father walks up as well, Armando not too far behind, you see them giving you the same facial expression. Pointing behind you, you say “I gotta run to the house real quick.” 

Seeing Mike and your father face screw up they both begin to yell "THE FUCK WRONG WITH YOU-, DID YOU NOT SEE WHAT JUST HAPPEN!,Y/N/N YOU GONNA MESS AROUND AND GIVE ME ANOTHER HEART ATTACK," Standing their silently you watch as they both go off on you voices combining as they question your actions. Moving your gaze to Armando, you see him shake his head in disapproval muttering some words in spanish, questioning you as well. 

Dorn and Kelly pass by quickly shooting you a look as they head towards their AMMO Van. Getting annoyed you shout ”Calm, the FUCK down, I just need to go grab some of my shit.” Not waiting to see their expression you turn back around heading towards your car.  

Hearing footsteps you hear a deep accented voice say, "I'm coming with you then." Stopping you look up wanting to disagree but the face he was making left no room for discussion. Huffing you say fine and move faster to your car, not realizing you were giving Armando the perfect view of your ass. 

Making it to your car you unlock your doors, but before you could enter it you hear your father yell. "Armando take care of my baby!” looking up to reply, you hear a sly voice say, "Don't worry she’ll get well taken care of!" Quickly moving your eyes to him you see him smile and wink at you, making you feel warmth in your stomach. 

Closing the door, you start the car and proceed to back out, choosing to roll the windows down since it was night time. 

Mike looks at Marcus chuckling to himself, "I don’t think you just realized what you done.” Looking at Mike, Marcus frowns, "What you talking bout Mike?" Shaking his head he walks back to the dock, "You just let your baby girl leave with Mike 2.0” 

Pausing Marcus face drops before, he starts yelling running after the car,”Y/NNNNNNNN, NO BABY, DON’T FALL FOR IT," Dropping to the ground dramatically, he looks up to sky saying, "WHY DIDN” T YOU SHOW ME THIS IN THE VISIONNN, OOHHHH LORDD!” Mike stands by shaking his head at his partner, "Boy get your old ass up before you give me a panic attack.” 

Blasting your music you have no clue, of your father freaking out, turning it down, you glance at Armando asking if he heard something, he smirks and say no. Shrugging you turn your music back up, proceeding to speed towards your apartment complex.

“What the hell is at your apartment, mamá?”, Armando says wondering why you risking your safety. "You guys might need my medical assistance, I already got a bag ready just in case of emergencies and plus I need to check up on my baby." you say keeping your eyes on the road. 

Turning to look at you eyebrows raised he said "Baby...... you got a kid?" Hearing his confusion you shake your head, "Not an actual child, but I got a kitten." From your peripheral vision you see Armando sit back, and release a sigh. Smirking to yourself you say “What scared of kids?" Turning into your apartment complex you hear him say, "No.....Just thought someone beat me to the punch.” 

Slamming on the breaks you fly forward slightly but force yourself to look at him jaw dropping. You sit there studying him giving you a smug look like he didn’t just ‘threatened’ you with pregnancy.

 “Close your mouth princess, I ain’t done nothing to you...... yet." he says amused by your reaction. Just as you lean over to hit him, you hear a cark honk behind you, making you realize that you haven’t parked yet. Closing your mouth, you bite your tongue as you quickly pull into a parking spot. 

Turning the car off, you get out slamming the door, while pressing the lock button on your keys two times. You make your way towards your apartment not bothering to look back to see if he was following. Giving a quick wave and smile to the receptionist you make your way to the elevator pushing the up button. 

“Y/N....I know you not mad, mamá.”Armando says leaning against the wall, while he stares at you, arms crossed against his chest. Shooting a quick glance at his tan muscle arms, you hear the elevator ding, barely giving it a chance to open you walk in pressing your floor number. 

Walking in as well Armando waits until the elevators closed to pull you against him. "You know that’s not funny." you said glaring at him, still in disbelief about his comment. 

Watching him lean down as he grabs your chin, he whispers, "Don't act like you didn’t like it.” 

Taking in his heavy gaze,your eyes flick to his full lips.

“Sometimes, you just need to shut up.", you say wrapping a hand behind his head.” And if I don-” Not even giving him a chance to finish you pull him into a searing kiss, moaning as he trails a hand to your ass gripping it. 

 Raising your leg to wrap around his waist he leans you back against the elevator wall grinding into you as he breaks the kiss, lips pressing against your jaw and neck. Breath, hitching you moan his name, repetitively,” Mando.....MmMando.......Baby ........Arma.....you" sighing as he reaches a spot on your neck.  

You pull him more into you, feeling him grip your hip as he drags his hips against yours. “He estado queriendo hacerte esto todo el día nena, tú también lo querías, ¿eh?(I've been wanting to do this to you all day baby, you wanted it too, huh?)” Armando says pulling away from your neck while running his thumb against your mouth.  

Not knowing what he said you just nod your head nipping and licking at his thumb. Letting out a growl as he feels your moist mouth wrap around his thumb, he mutters,” I knew you was a littl-”getting cut off by the elevator ding. He pulls his thumb out of your mouth with a pop, mumbling in spanish, grinding a little more before pulling away from you. 

Clearing your throat, you set your leg down, fixing your scrubs as the elevator opens. Walking on to your floor body feeling like its vibrating, you look back to see him suck on his thumb before smirking at you. Shivering you hurriedly, walk up to your apartment door pulling out your keys. Gasping as you feel him press his hard length against your ass. 

He teasingly trails his hand around your waist to take your keys. Moving you behind him, you snap out of your drunken state, asking what he was doing. "Still gotta make sure no one here, I'll go in first. "Nodding your head, he opens the door entering with caution. Walking in you hit the light switch, looking around as well, checking if everything’s the same. 

As Armando does a quick sweep of your apartment you hear familiar little scratches against the floor.

Looking down to see your small fur baby running towards you,letting out cute meows,you smile happy that he’s okay.

Closing and locking the door behind you, you pick your baby up, rubbing at its belly. "There mama’s baby, what you been doing, huh?” you say smiling down at the kitty as you, set your keys on the table by the door.

Hearing it let out a small hiss, you look up to see Armando returning giving you a small nod confirming that the house is clear of any threats.Pausing he watches you play with your pet.

“What I can’t love on my baby?", you say walking past him to your room, still holding the kitten like it’s an infant. Laughing to himself his eyes scan your apartment, looking at all the photos and pictures you had hanging up. Spotting one of you he grabs it, eyes tracing over the happy moment of you that’s frozen in time. 

Making sure that you're in the room he slips it out the frame and sticks it in his pocket. Following in the direction you went; he sees you set a duffel bag and a pair of fresh clothes on your bed. 

Walking over to Armando, you hold out your baby to him, asking if he could watch him as you take a quick shower." Running his brown eyes over your body he says, "Need me to join you.”

Shaking your head you push the kitten against his chest. Saying that you be quick, as you enter your bathroom leaving the door cracked slightly. 

Armando looks down at the small kitty holding it against his chest,humming, he says, "I rather be playing with your mamá pus-” “DON” T BE TALKING NASTY TO MY BABY "you yell cutting him off from the restroom before hoping in the shower. 

______________________________________________________________

Authors Note:Now I know after this you guys gonna want some more action between Armando and Y/N.Y’all gonna have to bare with me now I ain’t typed no smut before,I just read them😭😭😭,so we’ll see in part 5 stay tuned✌️✌️(Previous Parts On My Page💓)

[poppy-metal]

the thought of patrick riding ur face after practice is gonna make me FAINT.

he literally would shove ur face into his musky scent until it’s all ur able to smell for hours

he’s so gross but he loves gross sex

my head goes dizzy thinking about it like he could shower but he comes to visit you and you grab his wrist as he starts towards your bathroom with that big eyed look and he grins - "what?" when you pull him to you "you want a kiss, what? hm?" knowing full well what you want, but wanting you to say it.

presses it even further by saying "m'all sweaty i should shower - you dont want me too? I'm really fucking swamped today, practice was hell." and you whine, you hate him you hate him because him talking about how gross he is just makes your mouth water. hes the one who turned you into a freak, why is he making you spell it out?

"patrick please - just -" you tug on the band of his nylon shorts. his skin is slick with sweat. his pubes peeking from the fabric, dark and curled with the humidity of being contained all day. "let me...."

"let you......?" but he lets you pull his shorts down. bites his bottom lip when his aching cock bounces free, fat and filling with blood. he's so clammy between his legs his balls are sticking to one thigh. "fuck, that feels good. been crammed in there all day - shit needs to air out."

you lower to your knees - back pressed against your bed. head craning up to look at him with submissive eyes that make him groan. he reaches down to grip himself. he's damp with sweat, his cock slick in his hand. he can feel how moist he is everywhere - wet with perspiration that's turned into a heady damp musk. he can smell it wafting from his crotch to where he stands, knows the smell will be hitting your nose soon enough and he really should shower, scrub his dick and balls and ass raw till hes squeaky clean and fresh for you. but you dont want that. he can see by the way you're nearly fucking drooling at the sight of him, clenching your thighs and waiting so patiently. you still haven't asked though.

he gives himself one long stroke.

"let me use your shower." he says. "then i can feed you this dick."

your bottom lip juts out. you shake your head. patrick bites his lip to hide a smile, pumps himself another time, squeezes his ripe head. "no?"

"please," your voice is small, whipser thin. you look near tears with embarrassment. you're so fucking hot. "i dont want you to shower. i want.... i want you like this i want.... i w- wanna put my face in it -"

his cock throbs in his hand. he's so hot he's almost a fucking furnace. he reaches down to squeeze his aching sack, "oh?" he groans, "fuck, that's disgusting, baby, you know how fucking rank sweaty dick is?" he licks his lips. "nah, but you're a slut, huh. bet you fucking want me to ride your face, make you gag on my dirty nuts."

you're nodding, whining as you reach up to pinch your own nipples, horny little minx that you are. "gonna give it to you, then." he grunts, approaching you till hes nearly standing over you. he spreads his legs wide enough that your body fits directly under him. from your view, you have a direct line of sight between his legs, all you can see is the underside of his thick veiny cock, his heavy drooping sack and the tangle of hair below it that trails between his asscheeks. your cunt leaks and you press the heel of your palm into it. "don't fucking beg for air when you asked for this -" and he squats down, bracing his hand against your bed to balance himself as he lowers himself against your face.

he doesn't spend time working you up to it, you'd done this plenty of times, you have a few seconds to gulp in air, breathe in the heady musk of his sweat, eyes stinging at how potent and ripe it is - and then his fuzzy sack is pressing against your face. his balls are so massive - full and plump - that they completely cover your nose and mouth, squishing against you as patrick basically uses your face as a chair. the weight makes your neck strain and you know hes holding a little bit of himself off you so you dont die but it still makes your muscles burn and ache with the strain. and that makes you fucking moan. your lips parting under the soft furry skin of his balls to tongue them.

patrick groans above you. looks down, but he cant really see you, so he reaches down to grip his hard cock which had been resting on your forehead. holds himself up so he can see you a little better, and "shit. " his balls twitch in your greedy mouth, one of the fat stones slipping fully into the open wet hole to be sucked. "give me those eyes. let me see you when you tongue bathe my fucking balls."

your eyes flutter up to meet his, though you cant really see with the water in your eyes, the tears slipping down your temples. one of his fingers rubs the salty tears away for you, rocking his hips against your face so his sack glides back and forth along your lips and tongue and nose. his other hand strokes himself lazily. he doubts it'll take him long to nut, with you breathing into his balls like that, gasping for air and finding none, just more of his sweaty flesh to invade your senses.

"you're so dirty - my dirty beautiful girl." god it feels so fucking good. he lets spit drip from his lips, lubes his dick with it and starts with the quick fast pumps. ones that have his nuts bouncing lightly against you. "lick me fucking clean - c'mon. - wanna feel that tongue."

you whine and the sound reverberates against his sack. your tongue comes out and you're licking greedily across the velvelty skin of him, rolling his balls against your muscle. when he lifts them a little you allow your tongue to dip lower, tonguing his taint and then his inner tighs. you suction your mouth and suck, feel his sweat pool in your mouth and you swallow it. you're so hungry for it. diving back into his fatty potent flesh and drooling around him, swishing him around on your tongue like mouthwash and patricks eyes nearly fucking roll out of his skull.

he pulls back - just to angle his cock down to your swelling pouting mouth, already open and pink inside. his tip is fucking throbbing and leaking steadily, flushed an angry viseral red that needs tending to.

"give me that mouth - oh yeah - that's it -" you take him so well. his rigid length slides in easy over your gyrating tongue - cramming himself down your throat with one languid thrust. "takes me just like that little pussy does - oh god. you're gonna make me cum -"

he slumps over you, your head trapped between his hips and the bed, neck extended as he humps down your throat with little to no consideration for your airway. your hands grip his slick hairy thighs. "open that fucking throat f'r me -" and you do. feel him punch at the very back of your esophagus, reaming you. your hand wildly flies to your own throat, petting at the skin. god, you can feel where hes extending the delicate skin there. you gargle around him, muscles spasming around his meat and he grunts - thrusts faster. his balls dancing on your chin tighten and pull close to his body. "fuck, you fucking gag on that shit - love it when you struggle on my cock - yeah. yeah, shit - fuck im coming - "

thick ropes of it plunge down your throat with his thrusts, pushing it down your stomach, leaving you no choice but to swallow the sour fluid. your eyes waters. your nose runs with snot. your mouth is drooling spit where its split obscenely wide around the cock filling it.

patrick rocks a few more times before he's slowly pulling free - a string of saliva connecting from his flagging tip to your lips. abused and puffy from a thorough face fuck. you gasp and pull in breaths, tears free streaming down your cheeks as you pant and heave.

you're so turned on your hands flutter over your cunt but you cant properly touch yourself, your brain is too fuzzy, you're too cockdrunk to think soundly. you're just throbbing throbbing throbbing. so fucking empty it actually hurts.

patricks hands go under your armpits, picking you up as easy as a limp ragdoll. he lets you flop back onto your bed and you're reaching for him, and hes coming down on you and his tongue is in your mouth sucking the rest of the spit there into his own and then he leans up. lets all that drool and saliva drip down onto his still hard dick - "nod if you're still with me," he pants, because sometimes when you get like this, you need to be cuddled and brought back to earth, not more sex, but you're rocking under him eagerly, legs spreading, the wet slit of your pussy swelled up with greed and your hole a wet sheath begging to be filled. you nod. "good, good. god, i need to fuck this pussy -"

he grips himself and guides himself in, in, in. you both groan. lips coming together in more of a sloppy mesh than an actual kiss.

its hard and intense immediately. hard pumps of his hips against yours, wet slaps filling the room. your bed rocks with the motion and your legs are rising, rising, rising, wrapping around his tuat flexing waist.

"yes." you babble over and over, "yes, yes, yes. i love you - oh god! - i love you, daddy fuck - fuck my pussy, yes-"

he tugs your bottom lip between his teeth, groaning loudly. he works into you harder, his skin gleaming with sweat from fucking you now, your whole bed is gonna be damp with your sticky lovemaking and he loves it, "love you. fuck, god, i love you, baby. love this tight little cunt on my cock -"

[ellebakers]

☆ Jealous boy | Part one (+18)

Ethan Landry x reader

PART TWO

Summary : if he can’t have you, no one else can, especially not chad.

Warnings : violence + mention of death + blood + mention of sex + voyeurism + y/n x chad + cheating.

Ethan had never wanted to kill chad so much as he did now. that asshole was in the next room fucking you. and you moaned louder and louder, but could he blame you ? no never. after all, you thought ethan was in class. and hearing you moan was the most melodious sound he'd ever heard. but it had to be him who had to make you scream. you should call out his name, not his roommate's.

after the woodsboro murders, you and chad got closer, after a while you became a couple, and since then, you have been living bliss.

"shit. chad i'm gonna cum."

"come on baby. cum for me."

ethan rolled his eyes. "baby" that guy didn't deserve to call you that, he's not good enough for you.

when ethan and chad became roommates, the meeks-martin’s son introduced you to each other. that day, ethan will remember it for the rest of his life, you wore a flowered dress that came above your knee, your hair fell in a cascade and you had blocked a pair of sunglasses in it. the brunette thought he was dead and in heaven you looked like an angel.

after that, the more the days passed and the more he fell in love with you. you were so nice to him, always a smile, always a kind word for him. for a while he thought he had a chance with you, until the day he saw chad kissing you. it was when he saw this that he went to his father's house and said "I want to do this, I want to avenge richie." his brother's revenge was just a pretext, he knew it himself, all he wanted was to watch that asshole chad bleed out. after that he could come and comfort you with his words and with his dick. you will be his forever.

one last moan louder than the others and he knew you had come. he never touched you, but he knew when you were done and when you were faking it. more than once he had heard you pretend. like when chad wanted to do it and you didn't dare say no to him, so you faked it to please him. but after chad left to take a shower, you finished the job yourself. ethan had heard you moan silently, and just imagining you touching yourself had made him hard.

that night, he had closed his eyes and then he had let his fantasies take over by jerking off. thinking of you.

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that's it. ghostface was back. your nightmare was beginning again. you had just gotten off work and were walking towards your car when samantha called you with the news. after hanging up with her, you got in and turned the key to start, but it seems that your car doesn't want to run.

you groaned and threw your head back against the headrest. you picked up your phone and dialed your boyfriend's number. it rang but no one picked up. you then looked in your contact list and called ethan.

on the first ring, he picked up.

"hi y/n."

you smiled without realizing it. you didn't want to admit it but his voice brought you comfort.

"hi ethan, i'm sorry to bother you, but my car broke down. i tried to call chad but he's not answering. i was wondering if you could pick me up."

"yes of course, are you at work ?" he asked you

"I'm in the parking lot in front of the building yes."

"I'm coming."

"thank you ethan."

"no need to thank me. wait for me in your car."

"ok."

he hung up and you put your phone on the passenger seat. it was about ten minutes by car from chad and ethan's apartment, you just had to wait ten short minutes, you'll be fine.

time passed and you started freaking out. at each outside noise you jumped. you took deep breaths but nothing helped your state. suddenly, a ding indicated a new message.

you took your phone and an unknown number appeared, followed by a photo and a message. "

Looks like chad has other things to do.

you pressed on the photo to enlarge it, but you quickly regretted your decision. chad, your chad was shirtless, his head between Tara's legs, on your bed in the Carpenter sisters' apartment.

you put down your phone and started crying. you had been stabbed a year ago, but it hurt even more.

again your phone rang, but to indicate an incoming call from an unknown number, without the slightest hesitation you picked it up.

you swallowed your saliva so as not to burst into tears.

"it's you, isn't it ?"

the deep voice that had traumatized you was heard.

"yes."

"If you want to kill me, then go ahead, I'll let it go. I'm sick of all this."

"you've had enough of what y/n ?"

you closed your eyes and let the tears flow. "amber and richie killed me a year ago, ever since i've been wandering around like a fucking ghost so i'm the one asking you. kill me."

there was a long silence, as if the person on the other side of the phone was thinking. "no. I'm not going to kill you. you're going to live, and live for yourself, not for those assholes you call your friends who don't deserve you, and especially not for that son of a bitch boyfriend."

then he hung up. It was the most honest exchange you've had in a year with anyone.

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that evening, ethan arrived, seeing your face streaming with tears, he asked you what was going on so you told him everything. putting aside your discussion with ghostface.

you were sitting in ethan's car when he asked you

"where are you going to sleep ?"

you hadn't thought about it, but now that he brought it up, you had nowhere to go. you couldn't come home and act like nothing was with tara. and you couldn't sleep at ethan's since his roommate was your boyfriend who cheated on you.

"I have no idea." You think for a while then an idea comes to you "Can you drop me off at the hotel ? I think it'll be fine."

The car came to a red light and he turned to you.

"Okay, but I stay with you."

You shook your head, smiling slightly "Ethan you don't have to, you should-"

He cut you off by raising his hand "Ghostface is outside and there's no way I'm leaving you alone."

you were silent and then nodded. Ethan, happy that his plan was working, drove off again when the light turned green.

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obviously the only hotel available only had one bed in the room, but that was better than nothing so you convinced ethan to share the bed.

you growled "I'm dying to take a shower, but I don't have clean clothes."

ethan took off his t-shirt and handed it to you. you couldn't help staring at his sculpted body. he hid a lot of things under his shy boyish air.

"here, take this." he brought you back to reality and you shook your head slightly to scare away the dirty ideas that were merging in your head. you thanked him and left for the bathroom. you undressed and put your laundry in your work bag. the hot water that attacked your skin relieved you, you passed the shower head of your whole body, having fun adjusting the water pressure, then your mind thought of ethan and his body of gods. you should have thought about your conversation with ghostface or chad and tara who were probably still having sex in your bed, but ethan was invading your thoughts and without realizing it you put the water pressure to maximum and slipped it between your legs. the feeling was so good that you let out a moan, you continued to pass the shower head between your legs and instinctively you pressed it against your core and rubbed yourself up and down against it, you closed your eyes, feeling the orgasm coming , you were on the verge of cumming when Ethan knocked on the door.

"um, yes, I'm done, I'm coming."

great, another ruined orgasm.

you rinsed off and got out of the shower. once dry and dressed you went back to the room where ethan was sitting on the edge of the bed. you approached him and you share an embarrassed smile, you sat next to him and let the silence settle between you two.

he cleared his throat "um, i'm so sorry about chad. i didn't believe him like that."

you exhaled loudly "me neither."

he half turned to you "but I'm pretty happy it's over between you guys."

you frown "what ?"

"he doesn't deserve you. honestly you're the nicest, smartest, prettiest girl I know. you deserve someone who treats you right, someone like." then he stopped realizing that you were watching him.

you put a hand on his thigh "go ahead, continue ethan."

the position of your hand on his thigh distracted him but he tried not to show anything. "someone like me." he whispered.

and that's all you needed, you took his face in your hands and kissed him, his hands come to rest on your hips automatically. he pulled you on him, you put your legs on each side of him and you sat on him, something hard was felt against your pussy completely naked since your underwear was in your bag, you continued to embrace. he passed his tongue against your lips as if to ask permission so you opened your mouth and he inserted his tongue inside in order to dance with yours.

his cock was getting harder and harder so you decided to test his urge and you rubbed against him, making you moan against him, he pushed himself off you and threw his head back while growling. "you're going to kill me y/n." you took advantage of this opportunity to suck and lightly bite his neck, which made him moan. hearing it sent an electric charge through you. chad wasn't vocal during the act, and that disappointed you a bit, so hearing ethan the being made you wet. "I rather hope that it is not you who will kill me after having fucked me." you tell him about the joke but his gaze darkens, he takes your face in his hands. "I will never let anyone hurt you, you and me are forever." you were going to answer but he passed his hand between your legs and started to play with your clitoris, the sensation made you moan loudly, you closed your eyes and put your head on his shoulder.

his breathing was getting faster and faster as he inserted one and then two fingers inside you. "You're so fucking wet. All this just for me ?"

you nodded against him but your answer did not suit him, with his other hand he slightly pulled your hair back to make you look at him. you never thought he could be so dominating, but you loved it.

"Are you wet for me ?"

"Yes Ethan."

He looked at your lips smiling "Perfect."

suddenly he withdrew his fingers and swapped positions pinning you to the mattress. he took both of your hands and brought them above your head.

"don’t move."

he got up slightly and took off his belt, which he wrapped around your wrists and squeezed tightly to tie them. you stared at him, surprised, like the shy ethan you knew was gone. he got up, while looking at you he knelt at the end of the bed, then he spread your thighs with both hands, he took one and put it on his shoulder, you gasped when his tongue came into contact with your pussy, you started to move your pelvis for a little more friction but he put a firm hand on your belly, preventing you from moving as he continued his attacks chaining: sucking and licking. you wanted to touch him but your bound hands prevented you, you writhed in pleasure and moaned louder and louder as he devoured you until your orgasm invaded you.

You were trying to catch your breath when he got up, you didn't see him but while he was devouring you, he opened his fly and lowered his pants and his boxers and he started jerking off, you were watching his cock hard and biting your lip "let me help you with that ethan." he chuckled lightly shaking his head "I want it inside you sweetie."

you smiled at him and spread your legs "so what are you waiting for"

he didn't wait any longer to sink into you, and that night you didn't sleep much, ethan took you, your back to the mattress, your legs around your waist. then from behind, a handful of your hair in your hands, or even sitting on him, her back turned to him. you stopped counting after your fourth orgasm.

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the next morning you were woken up by your phone vibrating, you opened your eyes, the daylight attacking you then you strove to find your phone, once in hand you picked up.

"Y/n!" Sam was screaming crying

"Sam, what’s going on ?" You got up and looked for ethan's t-shirt which had been taken off when in the middle of the night while in the bathroom he had taken you against the wall.

She continued to cry. "It's Chad and Tara, they're dead."

You froze and dropped your phone when you saw the ghostface costume hanging next to the bathroom mirror.

Ethan came up behind you and hugged you. "Now it's you and me my love."