#some i can see him leaning into if introduced to it

[logicalpearl]

Hi, Mrs. Hughes...

quinn hughes x reader

synopsis: where y/n meets the family for the first time...in a slightly compromising position...

warnings: suggestive themes, allusions to sex, heavy makeouts

wc: 1.7k

*not my gif*

It wasn't y/n's first time staying the night at Quinn's apartment. In fact, it had become quite normal during their time together. Quinn and y/n had only been seeing each other for about 2 months. Quinn hadn't even told his family about you yet. He was enjoying the time with you all by himself. He knew the second he introduced you to his family that they would fall in love with you the same way he had.

Jack and Luke would be absolutely smitten with the prospect of having a sister soon. Jim would love to have his first daughter, and Ellen... well, Ellen would be over the moon to see her eldest so happy.

Quinn absolutely planned to introduce you to his family soon, but he wanted to soak up these moments before he was constantly bombarded by his family.

That is how he found himself this morning, you wrapped in his arms, soft snores coming from your mouth. He watched your chest rise and fall steadily, reaching his hand out to brush a strand of hair behind your ear. Maybe it was creepy, but he loved to see you so peaceful. He traced a finger along your cheekbone and watched as your lashes fluttered and a small smile graced your lips.

"Good morning, handsome," you whispered to Quinn as you slowly opened your eyes, meeting his gaze. Quinn dipped his head down to place a chaste kiss on your lips before responding, "Good morning, angel. Did you sleep well?" Quinn already knew the answer to this, yet he still asked you every morning. You sat up against the headboard of his bed and interlaced your fingers with his, "I always sleep well in your arms, Quinny."

Quinn sat up as well, pulling your intertwined hands to his lips to kiss the back of your hand. "You flatter me, babe. I'm glad you slept well because I know I did." He leaned over again to give you a kiss. it was sweet and you could feel the love he poured into it. You felt his tongue sweep across your lower lip, a slight groan reverberating from his chest as you opened for him. Before it could get any further you pulled away, rubbing your thumb across his lips, "Handsome, as much as I love your kisses, my breath is absolutely gross and we need to get ready for today."

Quinn groaned and fell back against the pillows. Ah yes, today. The day of the infamous Hughes Bowl and the day you would be meeting his whole family. He hadn't even told them that you would be there. He wanted it to be a complete surprise.

He rolled out of bed, kissing the top of your head on the way by as he made his way to the bathroom for his morning shower. You slowly got out of bed, making it and putting all of the pillows back against the headboard. You walked into the bathroom, brushing your teeth and telling Quinn that you would be making breakfast for when he gets out of the shower.

You slipped on one of Quinn's hoodies and a pair of sleep shorts before walking out to the kitchen. You opened the fridge, eyeing the leftover pancake mix from the previous morning. Pulling out the mix along with some fresh fruit you began heating up a skillet and prepping the fruit. You heard the shower stop and knew Quinn would be out in just a few minutes for breakfast.

You were standing at the stove flipping pancakes when you felt two strong arms wrap around you from behind. Quinn peppered kisses along the side of your neck before humming, "Thanks for making breakfast, angel. Do you need any help?" You flipped the last pancake before shutting off the burner and turning to face Quinn, "All set, handsome. if you want you can pull out the orange juice from the fridge? Or you can brew some coffee, I didn't get that far yet."

Quinn released you from his hold and moved to grab the juice out of the fridge. You grabbed two plates out and dished out servings for you and Quinn, placing them on the counter and waiting for him.

You and Quinn stood in silence eating your breakfast, simply soaking up the silence. Both of you knowing that tonight would likely be a whirlwind and neither of you would be able to get away. After finishing your meals, you set the plates in the sink, getting ready to wash them. Before you could get very far you felt two strong hands grip your waist. In one quick motion, Quinn had spun you around, lifted you up, and set you on the countertop.

You let out a quiet gasp as Quinn stepped in between your legs. Your hands coming up to the nape of his neck and looking into his eyes. He looked at you like he was still hungry, like he wanted to devour you in this moment. You opened your mouth to say something but instead he grabbed the back of your neck and brought your lips to meet his. The only way you could describe this kiss was dirty. Quinn kissed you like it would be the last time. One of his hands curled around your waist to pull you closer until your legs were wrapping around his waist. Your hands moved from his neck to comb through his hair, lightly tugging until he was groaning into your mouth.

Quinn pulled away, trailing his lips down your neck as his hand slipped up your (his) hoodie. His lips detached from you for only a moment to pull the hoodie up and over your head, depositing it on the counter behind you. Left only in your tiny sleep shorts and a white cropped tank top that you slept in. Not wearing a bra, the cold air immediately made your nipples peak beneath our shirt. Quinn took notice of this and leaned down to mouth at your collarbone while his thumb came up to rub over your nipple. Your body arched into his as you felt the pleasure flow through you. You gasped as he lightly pinched your nipple, "Oh god! Quinn- I- it's so good. You're so good, handsome... Please!"

You could feel Quinn smiling against your neck as he relished in your whines, "Please what, angel? What do you need, use your words, honey." Now your hands were grabbing at the back of Quinn's shirt, your hips bucking forward, trying to seek some friction. Quinn gave you a little reprieve and brought his mouth back to yours while his fingers trailed to your inner thigh.

Both of you were so caught up in the moment that neither of you heard the front door open. You also didn't hear the sound of voices coming from the hallway, coming closer to you both.

"Quinn! Honey, we came to see yo- OH!"

Both you and Quinn pulled apart to see not only Mrs. Hughes, but the rest of the Hughes behind her as well. Ellen's eyes were wide as she watched you slide off the counter, hastily pulling the previously discarded hoodie over your head. Jack and Luke were standing there trying their best to hold in their laughter. Jim stood there just smiling softly.

You and Quinn both stood there with flushed cheeks before you finally spoke up, "Mr. and Mrs. Hughes it is great to finally meet you. Plus Jack and Luke! Quinn has told me so much about you all!"

You were trying your best not to burst into tears, having been caught by your boyfriend's family, who you hadn't even met yet, in such a compromising position was beyond embarrassing. Quinn was quick to jump in after the shock had worn off, "Mom, dad, this is y/n. My girlfriend of about 2 months. I was going to introduce you to her tonight at the game but clearly that did not go as planned..." Quinn trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly before meeting his mom's eyes.

She seemed to break out of her trance when she made eye contact with Quinn, she cleared her throat before smiling and rounding the counter. She pulled you into a tight hug and then Quinn, kissing his cheek lightly. She stepped back from both of you,"y/n it is so great to meet you, dear. I can't believe Quinny here has been able to keep you a secret!" She shot Quinn a slight glare before addressing him, "Quinn, why on earth would you keep her from us?! We want to know you are happy, sweetheart. I can see you are from the way you look at her, but let your mother know!"

Quinn smiled at his mom sheepishly before shrugging. y/n let out a little giggle at that, looking over at Jack and Luke. Once she made eye contact with them they both burst out laughing. Jack nearly falling over as he cackled at his older brother. The rest of the men made their way over, giving y/n a hug and telling her how happy they were to meet her.

Quinn easily fell into conversation with his dad and younger brothers, while his mom turned to y/n, "Dear, we really are so excited to meet you! Please do not call me Mrs. Hughes, it makes me feel far too old. Call me Ellen, and we will definitely be texting Quinn before we try to show up again" Ellen let out a laugh, winking at y/n and wrapping her in another hug.

It was safe to say that the Hugheses absolutely loved y/n, even if the meeting was a tad unconventional. They stayed for another hour, talking with both Quinn and y/n about anything and everything before they left. Once they had walked out the door, y/n turned to Quinn, walking up to him and smiling. She then smacked him on the chest, "We are never doing anything in the kitchen ever again! That was so embarrassing!" She whined at him while he just tucked her into his chest and smiled.

At least she could say that meeting the family was done and over with...

note: my first time writing and posting it! let me know if you like it :)

[phone4pills]

WHEN WE’RE OLD bf!Matt x Reader

no smut (nnn), fluff, a little upset but a happy ending, cutie matt, anon request

“Hey… it’s okay. He’s okay!” Matt hushed you, pulling you into his side with an arm over your shoulders. Tears rolled down your face at a rapid pace. And all for what? An old man eating alone across from your table. Matt understood where the pain was rooted. It was upsetting to see, only because of the vulnerability radiating off of the scene. But he was sure the man was alright. He was smiling at the waiters and enjoying his meal.

Although, you couldn’t help but notice the image he was holding in his hand. An old picture of a beautiful woman, short curls falling just above her shoulder and a beret on her head. Her cherry-red lips painted a graceful smile across her face, one that seemed purely of joy. And it stripped your joy watching him stare at the rusty piece of paper with utmost wonder, grey eyes flitting between each crease on the surface of the worn-out material. “Matt he’s all a-alone.”

He shook his head, wiping the odd tears off your cheeks before leaning closer to you. “Why don’t we go over there, eat lunch with him?” You stared up at your boyfriend, eyes full of a new found hope. You didn’t think he’d suggest such a thing, and you certainly didn’t think you’d agree. But once you did, the two of you were making your way over to him quickly.

The man introduced himself as ‘Ernie’, he said he was waiting for his wife to return from the restroom. You let out a relieved huff. Despite your knowledge of his company, you and Matt decided to sit at the table with the couple. It was like a double date. Ernie and his wife, Marg, or fifty years and you and Matt, your boyfriend of almost fifty days. Didn’t seem like much compared to the elderly couple, but it was a full month and more.

Marg looked gorgeous. Secretly, you hoped you’d age like her, still rocking the classic red lip.

Lunch was a pleasure, with the four of you chatting away. From stories to jokes to debates, all of you were engaged in conversation for a few hours. And after you left, you told Matt how happy you were. “Those were some of the best hours of my life.” You spoke as Matt helped you into the car. He nodded, closing your door and making his way to the driver’s side of the vehicle. You could tell he wanted to say something but he was struggling to let it out. “Matt, are you okay?”

He nodded, clearing his throat. “Yeah- um, yeah I was just thinking.”

“About what?”

Matt turned in his seat to face you. “I just hope we can eat lunch together when we get old.”

TAGLIST: @hearts4werka @pvssychicken @sturnslcver @sophand4n4 @sofieeeeex @lovingregulusblack

Awww, this one was a short one but it was just as cute in my opinion. May this love find me! I feel like Matt would say this shit too. Anyways, send in your requests and go to my f-ing MASTERLIST ik you want more you sap.

- ©phone4pills

[janeyseymour]

I Hate You, I Love You- part 4

Part 1. Part 2. Part 3.

Summary: Christmas Eve with your family leads you to have a certain revelation.

WC: ~2.5k

You and your ‘girlfriend’ make it down the steps with your fingers interlaced, and you seriously hate the way that it makes you feel things that you know you shouldn’t be feeling for Melissa. You hate her- or you’re supposed to. No, you do. You have to. You always have, and you always will. 

Still, you walk down the steps with a practiced ease. Nobody is here yet though, so you take a spot on the couch with your dad while Melissa opts to kiss your cheek and let you know that she’s going to see if there’s any last minute jobs in the kitchen. Your eyes once again linger on the red haired woman’s hips as she makes her way into the kitchen.

Your father coughs awkwardly to gain your attention.

“Hm?”

“Kid, you really have it bad for her, don’t you?” your dad chuckles.

You shrug. “I don’t know.”

“I think you do,” he leans over and wraps an arm around you. You can’t but lean into his embrace. “I haven’t seen anyone look at you like that, and I haven’t seen you look at anyone the way you do Melissa since…”

“Since Todd,” you whisper. Your dad nods silently. You look to him with vulnerable eyes. “She’s… she’s something alright.”

“In the best ways, yes?” your father prompts quietly.

You just nod, and then your ‘girlfriend’ is making her way into the room, yet another glass of wine in hand for you. She settles in next to you on the couch, drapes an arm around you, and rests her head on your shoulder.

“Mom didn’t have anything for you to do in there?” you ask her quietly as you kiss red hair.

“Her and Jo are flying around like chickens with their heads cut off in there. I figured I would be more of a hindrance than a help,” Melissa chuckles softly.

It’s a bit later that your family comes in, and you’re forced to introduce Melissa as your girlfriend to everyone there. She smiles and shakes hands, works her charm, and you can tell that your family is loving having the redhead there. You’re given quite a few impressive hums and thumbs ups as your family makes their way in. The redhead stays close to you as your family members come in. Her hand is always on some part of your body, whether that be on your back, your shoulder, or your hands are entwined. You don’t hate it.

Light conversation is made, just pleasantries and catching up on life at first as everyone makes their way in. You don’t engage much, trying to keep Melissa in the loop with who is who.

But then you settle in for dinner, Melissa on your right, and most eyes turn to you.

“What?” you ask with a raised brow. “Is there something you all know that I don’t?”

Your Uncle Ron laughs. “Kid, I think it’s that you know something the rest of us don’t.” When you give him a blank stare in return, he gestures to Melissa.

“I already introduced you all to her,” you roll your eyes. “This is Melissa, my girlfriend.”

“And?” you Aunt Betty prompts. “How did you meet? When did you realize you two had a thing for each other? How long have the two of you been dating? You know, other stuff like that?”

“Am I being interrogated?” you question with a brow raised, the other furrowed. When your family just continues to look at you with bated breath, you huff out, “You guys are ridiculous.”

Melissa playfully rolls her eyes and sets a gentle hand on your knee. “C’mon, babe. If you won’t tell ‘em, I will.”

Both of your eyebrows creep up your forehead, and you gesture for her to continue. “Be my guest, hun.”

So Melissa takes a breath and begins. “I started workin’ at Abbott a while ago… longer ago than I really care t’admit. An’ I really only had a couple of friends at work. Nobody really seemed worthy of getting to know. Until… Y/N. I usually hate newbies, and I wasn’t willing to make an exception for my new grade level partner, but there was something about her. Something in the way that she stood up for what she thought was right, the way she speaks to the children and holds them to the highest expectations while still providing them with unconditional love and care. Somehow, Y/N wormed her way into my heart- as a professional. And then slowly, as she started to let more of herself shine through, I found myself entranced with her.” Green eyes are trained on you, and you can see the amount of love she has for you- fake love. “I found myself slowly fallin’ for her.”

She presses a soft kiss to your cheek, and you have to cough awkwardly to let out the gasp that your body wants to release. She said those words in such a convincing way that you almost believe her. Unbeknownst to you, her words are genuine. 

“And when did the two of you finally get your heads out of your asses and start dating?” your father asks.

“It took a while, but I broke down her walls, walls I would usually have up myself. But we’ve been dating since almost the beginning of this school year when I finally just made a move, and I haven’t been happier,” Melissa tells your family as she continues to look at you in a lovesick way. “I ain’t lettin’ her go any time soon.”

The blush in your cheeks is clear now. You smile and press a quick kiss to her lips before sighing. “Enough about us though.” And then you turn your attention to your cousin and her new job.

Melissa insists on helping clean up dinner and bring out desserts. Of course she does, because she’s the perfect fake girlfriend. Maybe she isn’t though, because that means that you’re obligated to help. You don’t do much- you never do much to help clean up after a day of cooking. So instead, you keep your arms around your ‘girlfriend’s’ waist and rest your chin on her back. Every so often, you’ll kiss her shoulder blade or detach yourself briefly to take a sip of the sangria she had poured for you.

Before you can even think about going to the dessert table for the two of you, the redhead has taken it upon herself to make you up a plate, and she takes some for herself. She knows that you prefer to have tea with your dessert as opposed to coffee that is normally offered. Melissa saunters over to the teapot and fills it with hot water for you. In no time flat do you have your favorite desserts and a warm mug of chai tea to warm your already soothed soul.

But then everything is cleaned, desserts are handed out to the rest of your family, and you’re settling on the couch again. Melissa sits first, and then she practically tugs you into her lap. It’s warm, it’s cozy. You can’t deny that your bodies fit together well.

She seamlessly places herself into your family, and you hate it. You hate the fact that she knows just what to say and do to win over your family. You hate that she’s warm and loving, and she’s being the exact opposite of the woman you know. You sit quietly with her as she jokes with your cousins, completely lost in thought. There was something about the way that your father told you that you had it bad for the redhead next to you and the looks that she was giving you at dinner. Your whole body tenses as you realize: you just might be falling for this side of Melissa.

“Hun?” the redhead furrows her brow and turns to you, concerned. “You okay?”

Of course she would notice the rigidness in your body. You blink a few times before putting on that practiced easy smile of yours. “Yeah, just got a chill.”

“I can fix that.” Your colleague shifts you off of her slightly before standing and fetching a blanket from the bin. She settles back into the cushions before draping the throw over the two of you. For good measure, she pulls you in close, wrapping her arms around you, and kisses your head. “Can’t have my girl cold, now can I?”

Your favorite cousin just glances at you with a smirk, and then she looks at Melissa and makes a whip noise. Your ‘girlfriend’ scoffs, but she presses another kiss to your head as you rest it on her shoulder.

It’s a long while before you finally decide that you need some sleep. Christmas morning may be a lazy morning in your house, but it’s always an early morning. 

With a soft sigh, you turn to the redhead next to you. “You about ready to head up?”

“Yeah, if you are,” she mumbles into your hair.

The two of you climb the steps, and you’re oddly quiet as you prepare for bed. Once all of your makeup is washed away and you’re changed, Melissa is already in bed with her glasses on the tip of her nose and scrolling through her phone.

You crawl under the covers and sigh deeply.

“Penny for your thoughts?” your colleague asks you softly.

You hum. You can’t tell her that your mind is whirling with thoughts of how you may actually be falling for this side of her- not the real Melissa, but this fake Melissa that she’s come up with for this elaborate lie of yours. “Just tired. Today was a lot.”

“Yeah,” the redhead chuckles. “But your family is real nice, and I think they believe we’re together.”

You just nod and turn on your side facing away from her. “Night.”

“Goodnight,” Melissa tells you. You don’t see the way that she looks at you longingly. You don’t see the way that her eyes go soft as she glances at you laying in bed next to her, how her green orbs clearly convey that she wants to wrap her arms around you and hold you tight the way that she has been all night. No, your back is turned to her as your mind goes a mile a minute thinking about what you think you may be feeling.

You feel the redhead shift to lay down in the bed a few minutes later, and the glow of her phone disappears as she sets it on the nightstand. A couple seconds later you hear her glasses being folded and deposited next to her phone.

Melissa lays down in the bed on her side, but she’s facing you. It’s not her fault, that’s just how she’s always slept- on her right side. And it’s not like you know she’s facing you. It takes everything in her to not cozy up behind you and pull you against her. Instead, she closes her eyes and hopes that she doesn’t snore tonight.

When you’re certain the redhead beside you is asleep, breathing evenly, you turn as gently as you can in the bed to face her. She’s… she’s beautiful. She looks so at peace. There’s a lot of things you can say about Melissa Schemmenti, but unattractive is not one of those things. In this moment, you can allow yourself to daydream about what a life with this version of Melissa might be like- she’s treated you like a princess since getting to your parents’ house, a far cry from how she acts around you at Abbott.

As you drift off to sleep, the cliched sugar plum fairies don’t dance around in your head. No, instead you dream of what you think might be an ordinary day with Melissa in your life as your partner, and not just your fake one.

The two of you share a wonderful, homemade breakfast together in her house, she drives you to work, kisses are stolen in the break room and in the classroom. And while she still has the edge to her that Miss Schemmenti has, there’s still that sparkle of the warmth that she’s shown you she has outside of work. You find that when she makes a snarky comment in your dream, you don’t hate it. You don’t even dislike it. You can hear yourself chuckling in your dream. That image blurs into another, and you’re just laying on the couch. A shimmer catches your eye as you lay on her, hand resting on her collarbone. There’s a sparkling ring set on your finger. When you look down, there’s a matching one on her own left hand. You hear a baby crying from just up the way, and you sigh. 

Melissa just buries a kiss in your hair. “I got it if she doesn’t settle in the next five minutes.” When the crying doesn’t stop, your… is she your wife now in this dream? Your wife shimmies you off of her and heads up the steps. A few moments later, she returns with a little girl in her arms, one that is a spitting image of you.

“Oh honey,” you instinctively reach for the two year old, at least that’s where you would estimate she is in age.

“Baby girl just wanted Momma,” Melissa rolls her eyes playfully. “Never Ma, always Momma, ain’t that right, Sara?”

The little girl just gives a toothy grin as she lays her head on your shoulders.

You sit upright in the bed as your dream jolts you awake. Your heart is racing. Why were you married to Melissa? Why did you have a child together? What the fuck? The redhead beside you doesn’t so much as stir, still fast asleep. The breath is taken from your lungs as you realize: you’re actually falling for Melissa Schemmenti.

When you wake up for the second time that day, you once again wake with a jolt. Your arms are wound around Melissa’s waist, your face is buried in her chest, your limbs are intertwined with hers. Her arm is slung over your own body.

The woman next to you just groans and pulls you closer. You can’t deny that she’s warm. You can’t deny that you don’t hate waking up like this. It’s comfortable, and you don’t wake up freezing your ass off for once.

“Lis,” you mumble.

“Shut up, and go back to sleep,” she grumbles. She buries a kiss in your hair. Okay, you know she’s still half asleep. She wouldn’t do that if she was fully awake and it was just the two of you. And while her telling you to shut up would normally infuriate you to no end, you don’t seem to mind this time. You settle back into her hold with a soft sigh and allow your eyes to flutter shut again. Christmas morning and presents can wait if it means you'll get some extra time in the warmth of your colleague.

TAGS (and let me know if you want to be added): @schemmentis @thesapphictimelady @marvel210 @itisdoctortoyousir @morgana-larkin @doesthatsuggestanythingtoyou @marvels--slut @sweetcheeksschemmenti @megamultifandomtrashposts @lemz378 @http-sam @melissaschemmentisbranzino @imaginesmultifandoms @sexysapphicshopowner @lilfartbox1 @maybe-a-humanbean @imlike-so-gaydude @a-queen-and-her-throne @notinmyvocab @melanielaufeyson @dvrkhcld @cosmichymns @sasheemo @m1lflov3rrr @ricejucie @temilyrights @emilynissangtr @squinnchy @dopenightmaretyphoon @emeraldoceansstuff @shinyfaerielights  @blkmxrvel @marvelwomenrule @sarahjohannson @casualfoxwitch @therightdimple

[dicipher]

SPOILERS for homicipher lore

the hand is not Chopped's hands. He specifies MEETING it. Therefor it's a seperate entity. Ypu'l also notice that it moves independently from Chopped, touching the hand does not stimulate Chopped, he doesn't feel it, confirming this.

Silvair was the one to chop of Chopped's body. This is said. If we also go off the fact he chops Adami if we attack him too easily, we can safely assume Chopped was a human that was transformed into a resident as well. Which would be a confirmed 'ex human' character

On that note, Adami notes her hair graying after staying in the world too long. Other characters with gray hair includes the hairdresser and Silvair. Does that relate to anything? Maybe not. But if hair becoming lighter is a result of humans exposure to the other world, that could include us, silvair, hairdresser, hugeface, chopped (even if his hair is not gray, black could lighten into grey, and brown could lighten into pale orange in his case), while characters with dark hair (gap, crawling, scarlet) could be native to the other world..... it's very possible this is just unique to us though considering everything else that's special about Adami.

Gap lacks a body, heart, etc, but he does have hands. Gap also is able to 'teleport' trough these places, like wormholes, since he's able to drag us trough places that should never connect. He's also able to fit in any space so long as it is: dark enough.

Silvair purely 'likes' us as a science experiment. Yes he is polite, yes he is kind, but that should not be mistaken with empathy. He specifies, if you ask him if he likes you, that he does not. He finds you entertaining. And he specifies he does not understand 'like' (in japanese like and love are pretty much the same word, so this essentially translates to saying "i don't understand love"). (Though because we just asked, it could be him saying "i don't understand why you're thinking i love you") either way, Silvair does not think of us romantically.

Our ability to regenerate our body entirely seems special. Silvair points out he finds it interesting, and Silvair is able to do it too (saying he will regenerate after we kill him) whereas any other creature we are able to kill doesn't display that ability.

It's not ENTIRELY clear what kind of power names hold to their kind. Scarletella getting our name is obviously: not good™️, but us giving him a name seems to make him our servant in some way. If you say Silvair's name in his route, he looks confused, and is quiet for a bit. Perhaps because in a way, you named him in that moment. Names deeply correlate to a person's identity, and it seems residents either do not have names (are not born with them) or lose them following their transformation in some way. Unclear on that. But NAMES. NAMES RELEVANT.

Considering Human's presence (in the original, he speaks english, while everyone else (other human characters) speaks japanese), either the world has different ways of entering (stuff 'falling' into the world seems to confirm that the elevator is not the only way in/out, it's just the ghost apartments way in/out), or he's a foreigner who happened to go by....

Residents exclusively feed on flesh and blood. Interestingly, though. When first meeting Stitch, he seems surprised to see a human (pointing and exclaiming "human!", asks crawling a bunch of questions, and finally asks crawling permission to eat us, specifying "they could be tasty!", which could indicate that either humans are rare in some way, or that stitch has never personally seen one, or he could see them plenty and just be curious about all of them like he was for us. Considering some don't seem to even recognize us as human (Chopped introduces us as a resident to Silvair even though Silvair recognizes us as human right away. This is early story too, so we aren't residents yet.), i think i'm leaning towards the fact most resident don't know what a human even really looks like. Thus, what are they eating? Probably each other. The food on the painting's plate, the meat on Silvair's table, and the mush Silvair turns into if you kill him all look very simmilar. This is also 100% confirmed, since Crawling specifies the ears he found are a resident's, before eating them at the end of the interaction. So residents most definitely engage in cannibalism, and eating humans is probably not necessarily their primary diet. (Except for Scarletella who we were unknowingly giving tons of human meat to by bringing the bodies to the ghost apartments for disposal. That's like some stranger delivering tons of rare expensive food to your porch. I'd fall in love too buddy.

[ollimus-prime]

HAIIII OLLIE !!!!1!1!!!!!!1!!!!!◝(ᵔᗜᵔ)◜ ◝(ᵔᗜᵔ)◜ ◝(ᵔᗜᵔ)◜ IM LOWKEY SOOOOOO EXCITED THAT YOURE WRITING FOR TRANSFORMERS ON A COMPLETELY DIFFERENT BLOG ENTIRELY MADE FOR IT!!!!1! + you already KNOW who it is — ITS YOUR BOY 😼😼 /ref

i’ve been tweaking so hard over tfone b-127 bumblebae boy bc he’s so auuuhhh — 😭😭 got me on my knees bc my type in men is so golden retriever boyfriends, BUT SPEAKING OF GOLDEN RETRIEVER BOYFRIENDS!!

i hope you don’t mind me requesting b-127 with a fem cybertronian reader who’s just his female counterpart drabble or hcs? like it’s giving yapper x yapper and golden retriever x golden retriever, no freaking doubt both fell for eachother the moment they introduced themselves and started to yap together. OK I TALK TOO MUCH, PLS TAKE CARE OF YOURSELF OLLIE!!! DRINK UP, EAT UP, SLEEP WELL AND TAKE BREAKSSSS!! Loves ya much :)

Yapper Adoration

A/N, not important: Hope you like it, Frankie. I tried my best. Also, it's Gender Neutral, not fem. Sorry! Any criticism is welcome, constructive or not. This is supposed to be a gender neutral reader, so if I screwed up somewhere, please tell me.

-Ollie

CW: N/A(unless y'all see smth I need to add)

Words: 554

Summary: B-127 finally has someone to talk to

B-127 was first introduced to you via Elita-1. She had met you during her time in waste management, your bubbly and eager-to-please personality strikingly similar to B’s own. Elita-1, knowing she had two loud and boisterous bots that needed constant attention, stuck you together in hopes that you would both get along and stop bothering everyone else. To Elita-1’s delight and slight horror, the two of you stuck together like magnets.

B-127 finally had someone who not only was willing to listen to him, but someone who actively engaged in what he said. Not to mention you had worked similar jobs, causing a bond to form from the toil of sorting garbage and the dream of doing more. You were just as positive and rambunctious as him, causing B-127 to immediately latch onto you as his new best friend.

Not that you minded, of course. You had your fair share of bots who’ve been annoyed by your endless chatter, and finding someone who was similar to you in personality and mannerism was just as freeing to you as it was to B. Neither of you were much willing to separate after your first meeting. Despite Elita’s chiding of you both moving too fast, you had started dating the kind and energetic bot.

You’re also one of the only bots B-127’s met that didn’t immediately think he was insane. Sure, you’ve joked about his ‘friends’ that he made down in sub level 50 before, but he didn’t sense a hostility in your tone like most others seem to have. You encouraged his interests and helped him find new friends, showing support he’s never truly received before.

There’s never silence when either of you are around, both of you capable of listening to the other’s prattling just as much as you converse back and forth. Having someone willing to listen to your interests and engage with them is something neither of you really realized you needed. While you were definitely more socially aware than B was, you weren’t much better at keeping friends around.

You comfort him a lot after D-16’s departure, allowing him to express his feelings in a healthy way while dealing with his quick gain and loss of friends. He leans on your positive attitude to keep his intact as well, and he’s incredibly grateful to have you. He wants to have all of his friends back, but having you to lean on after losing one so quickly makes it easier to manage.

Neither of you ever stop bragging about landing each other, the both of you getting into basic lovers quarrels over who loves the other more. Whenever you’re seen together, you’re almost always touching in some way. Whether it’s holding hands, hugging, or leaning against each other, there’s not much that can make either of you stray far enough to not be glued to the other. It’s mostly for B’s sake, as being alone for so long really had to put a strain on his mental health. Being able to hang onto you is a good reminder you’re not only real, but that you’re not going anywhere.

He’s your best friend through and through, and feels super safe with you. He wants you to know you’re his favorite person and reminds you like, every few minutes. You’re everything he’s ever wanted.

[sugdenlovesdingle]

could you write something when tommy is just being a big softie to buck (or other way around is also great)? i kinda need some comfort rn :') thank you! xx

Soft I can do! I hope you like it!

---

Mr Evan Kinard. He ran his fingers over the name on the invitation. It was maybe a little silly but it was his first official anything since he and Tommy got married a few months ago, and he was barely resisting the urge to frame it and hang it on the wall next to their wedding picture.

"Oh hey you." he felt two arms slip around his waist and a kiss in his neck. "I wasn't expecting you home yet. I thought you'd be busy at casa Diaz for a couple more hours."

"Hmm? No Eddie roped the kids in to help so we were done faster. They're all moved in and Chris is only mildly annoyed by having to share a bathroom with three more people now. We are expected to come help paint soon though." He turned around in Tommy's arms and kissed him. "How was your shift?"

"Not bad." Tommy shrugged. "Had to fly a heart to a donor in the middle of the night with the new probie, and the rest was just maintenance and the usual stuff."

"So what you're saying is... you saved someone's life in the middle of the night?"

"More like... I flew someone somewhere with the tools to do so." Tommy replied and noticed the envelope in Evan's hands. "What's this?"

"Oh, yeah, an invite to the annual LAFD charity event next month. They're raising money to fund cancer research." Buck said, handing Tommy the invite. "There's one for you too."

Tommy quickly scanned the invite and pulled a face.

"I hate these things. You have to dress up and pretend to care what rich people are saying all night so they'll drop a big cheque on the donation pile."

"I know... but it's only one night. And I'll get to show you off in your dress uniform."

"Oh is that what this is about?" Tommy teased "You just want to see me in my dress uniform."

"I can neither confirm nor deny." Buck said and leaned in closer so he could whisper in Tommy's ear. "The real treat would be getting you out of that uniform."

"Oh is that your goal?" Tommy asked, slowly lowering the zipper on his hoodie and wiggling his eyebrows at Evan. "You should have just said so baby, you know I'll always give you what you want in that department."

"You're ridiculous."

"I vowed before our family and friends to always make you happy, and I take my vows very seriously."

Buck moved his hands up to his neck and interlocked his fingers behind Tommy's head.

"You do make me happy. Every day." he said and pulled Tommy closer for a kiss. "And that's why I want to go to this charity thing. It's the first official event since we got married. It's the first time I'll get to use my new name."

"You already have name tags and turnouts with Kinard on them." Tommy pointed out.

"I know. But the only people who know what those turnouts used to say are our friends who were all at our wedding. At this charity event, I can introduce myself as Evan Kinard and then ask the person I'm talking to if they've met my husband yet." Evan explained. "Without someone going 'yes Buck, we know' and rolling their eyes at me."

"They do that?"

Evan shrugged.

"It's happened a few times. It's no big deal. I talk about you a lot."

Tommy smiled that crinkly smile Buck loved so much.

"Yeah I talk about you a lot too. They kept a tally the other day on how many times in one shift I said your name."

"And? What was the score?"

Tommy grabbed his phone from his pocket and opened his camera roll and showed him a picture of his locker at work, with a sheet from an LAFD notepad stuck to it, filled with dashes.

"This is in no way correct. I'm sure it was more."

---

Send me prompts and I'll write you a ficlet!

[sirfrogsworth]

Now what?

Whenever I see Trump my brain thinks of my mom and I feel angry about how she died. I have PTSD and I'm actually in the process of seeking out a therapist to address it.

And until I can get some help, I guess I'm just going to feel that anger for a while. I was really hoping I wouldn't have to see or think of him again.

This is pretty bad. And it is really scary. And I hate that one man is capable of causing so much fear and anxiety among the people I care about.

I guess there is one thought I am trying to hold onto.

I recently talked about chronic illness and the "new normal." As illness progresses you sometimes have to accept a new normal and learn to adjust and adapt to it. And every time I was faced with a new normal I was convinced I could not adjust or adapt. But every time I figured it out and found a way to keep going.

I think we will adapt because we have to. We will fight because we have to. But we will need each other to get through this.

Look to your allies. Your friends and your trusted family. Keep those relationships healthy. Do the work to maintain them. Prioritize building and sustaining a personal support system over everything else. Do your part when they need help. Keep in regular contact. Keep the emotional labor as reciprocal and balanced as possible. And don't be afraid to tell them when you feel overburdened. Keep communication healthy so you both feel comfortable expressing hard truths. Open up to them so they feel trusted and make sure they feel comfortable doing the same with you. Try not to lean on one single person too much as they might get overwhelmed.

But also remember to enjoy your friendships. They are not there just to be your therapist. (An *actual* therapist is a good idea if it is feasible.) It's important to laugh and waste time together. Shoot the shit and bond over mutual interests. Or introduce them to your interests and teach them why you love what you love. Ask them about their interests and even if you don't completely get it, be happy that something makes your friend happy.

If you feel like you don't have a support system or it is severely diminished like mine, you'll have to do the work to seek out new people. I'm in that process now after losing my parents. And trust me, I know it isn't easy. I am really struggling to connect to new people. It takes a lot of energy and I haven't had a lot of energy to spare. But I know it is what I will need to help me adapt to the new normal. So I'm going to put in the effort and figure it out. I encourage you to do the same.

You will not connect with every new person. That's okay. Remember this is a process and it takes time. And don't beat yourself up if building your support system is slow going. If nothing else, you are learning and growing and developing tools to help you on this journey.

This community has been so kind to me. You all are a part of my support system. And I feel very lucky to have you in my corner. I love you and I care for you. I'm going to try my best to advocate for what you need. Helping others is another way to keep moving forward. A righteous sense of purpose is a powerful tool in the face of a new normal.

Please take care of yourselves as best you can.

Find your people if you haven't already.

Or find *more* people if you don't have enough.

You are in my thoughts.

[starboye]

pairing: loser!simon riley x male reader

request: Going to a party with roommate loser! Simon Riley who has a crush on you. like I imagine him standing near the corner just keeping an eye on you the whole night, and him getting jealous seeing you dance on the other guys. Getting home and him being all moody and touchy because of all the attention you were getting from his work buddies… he’s just so pent up and he knows you did it on purpose - 🥭

warnings: slight smut, some flirting, cursing, mentions of jerking off

why did he have to go to the party, why couldn't you both just stay in and watch some movies like you usually do or order some takeout and sit on the couch watching shitty but hilarious shows all night, these are the points simon tried to bring up as you got ready to go to a party that his team was hosting.

the real reason was because to him you just looked to good to let out of his sight and as much as he didn't want to go to the party also because he wouldn't want to take the chance of someone getting their little grimy hands on you and taking your fine ass back to their place.

"please y/n can we just stay here tonight" he pleaded with you as you put on your coat and grabbed your keys, if anything he was willing to get down on his knees but then he would seem to desperate so nope "put on your jacket, we're going, plus you know i love to have a little fun" you smile before walking out of the apartment, he let out a huff but still put on his stuff and followed you out.

it was safe to say he wasn't enjoying the party, he just wanted you to get drunk enough that you would want to leave and you could both go home and sit on the couch where he could then scoot closer to you and maybe have a rogue hand on your thigh, y'know just to make sure you're okay, but that's not the point.

he watched from the corner of the room as you introduced yourself as simon's roommate, they didn't even know simon had a roommate let alone friends but damn were they glad to be meeting your fine ass, their gazes lasting a few seconds to long in simons eyes, his jaw was clenching and he was a second away from breaking the cup in his hand.

what really started to destroy him was when your drunk self decided it was high time to dance with the guys, you body was getting just a little to close to them and next thing you know, you ass is in the guys hands and your bent over on him "who the fuck does he think he is" he thought to himself but it's not like he could do anything to stop you from having fun.

he couldn't believe what he wa seeing, you were all but throwing yourself at them, hanging in their arms and openly flirting with them while they groped you, it was becoming to much for him so he decided the right thing to do would be taking you home, so he grabbed you by the wrist and walked you out to the car.

"give me the keys" he demanded but all you did was giggle "and what i-if i don't hm big scary man" you stumbled into his chest making his heart skip a beat, this was the closest he had ever been to you in a non friendly way, your warm body connecting with his had his mind racing at one hundred miles per hour and his cock was hardening in his sweatpants embarrassingly quick.

"just... just g'me the keys" he held out his hand and you let out a little smirk before handing him the keys and getting in the passenger seat, the whole way home it was a little silent aside from the music playing in the background, once getting home and getting you to your room you leaned up from your bed and gave him a little kiss on the cheek "you're a good friend" you slurred your words a little but this was enough to send him spiraling.

he ran to the bathroom trying to get his cock to go down after the events of the whole night, he didn't have any other solution other than fisting his aching cock, his shirt tucked between his teeth as he tried to get off, but it was becoming increasingly harder when he has no hole to help him, i mean he wont go get some slut off the street to help him,he likes you to much but he hasn't gotten off in so longgg.

taglist:@mailmango @spermeboy @ghostking4m @gayaristocrat @addictedtomalepits @staarb0y @crispysoup318 @its-ares @gargoylesworld09

[miss-oranje-disco-dancer]

sweet dreams

pairing: james sunderland x reader? (written in third person pov, v ambiguous description of nameless woman)

cws/tags: smut, p in v, cheating? or is it?, not proofread, weird vibes and a little dark ig, but it's just the mood of the game

summary: james re-enters heaven's night and finds a woman who seems to remember him. he does not remember her. basically if maria successfully seduced him except it's not maria?

a/n: what is going on in this fic? idk

wc: 1.4k

Mary’s body lies cold in the backseat despite the blanket covering her. He will not find her in the gardens, the old apartment, or any hotel room. Only in a videotape in which she turns to static before it ends. 

The only warmth he has is the jacket he wears. Until he returns to Heaven’s Night. A certain familiarity struck him when he entered the building for the first time. Maybe it’s the stench of liquor, drawing him toward another reality, one void of grief. Maybe it’s the neon lights, the metal pole, a discarded bra. Maybe he’s been here before. The woman sitting at the bar looks at him as if he has. 

“James,” she says with an inviting smile. 

“How do you know my name?” he asks, taking cautious, yet steady steps in her direction. 

“How does anyone know anyone else’s name?” 

“Is that a riddle?”

“No, that was just a question. I’m not trying to trick you, James. I learned your name when you introduced yourself to me.”

“I don’t remember doing that. I don’t remember meeting you at all.”

“You’ve forgotten me already?” Her expression drops, every part of her face is disappointed. 

“I’m sorry. I’m just going through a lot right now. Don’t take it personally.” He finds himself reaching out his hand and placing it on her shoulder in an attempt to comfort her. 

“Let’s start over,” he suggests. 

She nods and pulls herself together. 

He holds out his hand, and she takes it into her own. Her hands are soft minus the sharp tips of her acrylic nails that tickle his skin. 

“You’re cold,” she remarks, and he cannot decide if her pout pities or mocks him. 

“No, I’m James,” he says, forcing the creases of his lips to turn upwards into something resembling a smile. “Remember?”

“Of course,” she says with a breathy giggle. 

“Now, how about you tell me your name?”

“You know people like me don’t give out our real names, don’t you?”

People like you… it takes him a moment to realize what she means: sex workers. 

“Oh. That’s right. But I’m guessing you have an alias or something.”

“I’ve been called many names. ‘Angel’ when I’m here at Heaven’s Night, ‘Kitty’ at The Catwalk, ‘Jade’ at Jewels, ‘Baby’ by some former lovers. Call me whatever you like.”

Choosing someone else’s name was not something he’d prepared for and it leaves him stumped for a moment. 

“Don’t overthink it,” she says cupping his cheek with her hand. “As long as it’s not Mary…” 

“Why not Mary?” He flinches at the sound of her name. 

She pretends like she didn’t hear him, and pays no mind to his nerves, shrugging them off as she leads him to a seat in front of the stage. 

He follows her, eyes stuck on her curves. He startles when she pushes him onto the loveseat. 

“James, baby,” she says, her voice softer, but just as sultry. “Why are you so nervous? You want this, don’t you?”

“I just feel like I shouldn’t, that’s all.”

“Your mind is playing tricks on you, then. There’s nothing wrong with wanting to see what a woman has to offer. It’s like window shopping, there’s no harm in looking.”

Before he can say anything else she finds a boombox in the corner and sets it up - in doing so, she leans over and reveals a tiny strip of lace underneath her skirt. 

James tries to quickly adjust his pants as she’s turned away from him, but she must know he’s hard. What’s the point in pretending?

When she steps onto the stage, she needs no introduction, only the opening synth of Sweet Dreams (Are Made of This) to lead her up the short set of stairs before she walks around the pole, prepared to do tricks that James’ imagination couldn’t conjure up even if he begged it to. But despite his amazement at the way her body bends, even more so when her clothes begin to disappear, it’s the moment she sits at the front of the stage and spreads her legs, giving him a better view of the red lace thong he got a peek at earlier, that really gets him going. 

He didn’t know he was hungry until he was starving. 

The music doesn’t stop, the cassette runs its course. The scantily-clad woman straddles James’ lap, just hovering but close enough to feel the warmth emanate from her body. 

“I know I said it’s just looking, but there wouldn’t really be any harm in touching me, would there?” 

She takes his hands in hers and places them on her chest. 

He can feel her tits, her skin, her heartbeat. She’s so warm, and real, and alive. There is the childlike urge to squeeze them, to hold and let go, make them bounce in front of his eyes, but instead, he slides his hands down her waist to her hips, sitting her firmly in his lap. 

“You’re so warm,” he says without thinking. 

“I’ll be cold soon if you leave me like this,” she says. Then, leans down to whisper in his ear, “Take off your clothes.”

When he asks, “are you sure?” it stumbles out of his mouth and lands with a groan as she peppers kisses down his neck.  

She only hums in response. He removes his jacket and unbuttons his shirt so her mouth can reach further – to his collarbone, while her hands travel to his poorly-hidden erection. 

She looks up at him and bats her eyelashes before going any further. It’s her way of asking permission. 

“I guess… as long as we don’t go too far…”

“We’ll just get naked, maybe even kiss, nothing more,” she says. 

So, he helps her get his pants off and she slips off her barely-there panties. 

He feels alive for the first time in years when her warm body touches his, skin-to-skin. 

He doesn’t protest when she kisses him, he closes his eyes and lets himself feel something other than dread for once. 

She surely feels his need prodding at her core, but she must feel his guilt as well because she assures him, “If it slips in by accident, then, it’s nobody’s fault, right?”

“Right,” he says, completely under her spell, nodding along. 

Of course there are no accidents. This is a mistake, not an accident. James knows this, but when she repositions her hips, he lets her wet heat envelope his cock. 

“I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to…” she says, a tiny grin peeking through her faux-apology. 

“It’s okay, I’ll just pull out,” he says. And slowly, with a grunt, he does. 

He keeps a tight grip on her hips so he can guide her back to him. “You can sit back down now,” he says, with his cock ready to enter her again. 

“We’ll do better this time,” she says, rubbing her folds teasingly along his shaft before gripping it and sliding it inside her. 

“Sorry, it just, you know, slipped in,” he says, almost believing his own lies. 

“But it’s only the tip. It barely even counts, right?”

“Yeah, that’s right.” The music covers up his heavy breathing and her soft moans. But James makes sure she can hear him when he says, “You’re so wet, it’s only natural for it to slide right in.” He fills her in one thrust and it finally drags a long-held back groan from him. 

They can’t make more silly excuses when they’re both breathless as she bounces up and down on his cock at a steadily increasing pace. He holds her like he fears he’ll lose her and buries his face in her neck as if muffling any moans would take away any of the guilt. 

But he’s shameless when he asks if he can cum inside her, and she’s quick to say, ‘yes’. 

Though he’s as warm as ever, he shudders through his climax. After being pent-up for so long, he has a dizzyingly intense orgasm. What keeps him grounded is each squeeze of her walls around him and the sting of her nails digging into his skin as she cums at the same time he does. 

The guilt returns along with confusion when she stands back up to get dressed. He follows her lead, but once his shirt is halfway-buttoned, he freezes, looking over at her for some sort of explanation, some sort of direction. 

“What?” she asks, brushing off her skirt as she sits down at the bar. 

“Nothing. I just- I don’t think we should’ve done that.”

“Don’t feel guilty, James. You said you were looking for someone, and you found someone.”

“No, I meant I was looking for-”

“Love? Comfort? Absolution?” She laughs differently now. “You won’t get those here.”

“No, for my wife…”

“Mary?”

“Yeah, do you know her?”

“Not anymore.”

Like everything else, she is swallowed up by the fog. 

[hopeslastchxnce]

𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐎𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 . ( nsfw edition. )

RULES: bold which option your prefer (or, in some cases, maybe just hates the least!) out of each of the following pairs

submissive or and dominant?

whips or chains?

handcuffs or shibari?

pillow princess or power bottom?

voyeur or exhibitionist?

blindfolds or spreader bars?

butt plugs or vibrators?

edging or and multiple rounds?

knots or ovipositor?

spanking or scratching?

ball gag or muzzle?

strap on or double sided dildo?

one on one or group sex? ( there's maybe one scenario he might entertain as a 'group' or threesome rather )

vanilla or kinky?

lengthy cocks or and girthy cocks?

small boobs or and large boobs?

ass or chests?

thighs or arms?

hot wax or knifeplay?

loud or quiet?

biting or sucking?

collars or piercings?

costumes or lingerie?

laughing & silliness during sex or and intensity & power struggle during sex?

fucking a virgin or fucking someone with experience?

face to face or from behind?

phone sex or sexting? ( telepathically beats both tho )

cumming inside or cumming outside?

being filled or bukkake?

dirty talk or degradation?

role play or porn on in the background?

public edging or filming in the bedroom?

condom or bareback? ( obv with a s/o )

lube or raw?

video call masturbation or sexy selfies?

blood play or breath play? ( absolutely )

face fucking or and anal sex?

leather or PVC?

morning sex or evening sex?

clothes on or clothes off?

tagged by: stole it tagging: anyone source ( here )

[firefl1ezz]

i just. hit s+ rank in splatoon and i never honestly thought this would happen?? am i cool now.. do i get to be a part of the s4? do i get to be watered down to my running joke all the time?

[sttoru]

clan leader!satoru, whose smile isn’t actually a. . . smile. it serves as a gentle (yet not-so-gentle) threat to whomever it is dedicated to. a lot of the gojo clan members, as well as members from other noble clans, have heard of that infamous smile and know of its true meaning.

ever since marrying you, that smile often finds its way onto his lips. it’s not because of you, but rather because of the ones interacting with you. satoru didn’t ever expect to feel so possessive about someone he initially didn’t care for.

a marriage of convenience is all that your relationship was for. it purely existed for the sake of a connection between two famous families. your first weeks together have been awkward. any form of affection - any touches or loving words - were for the sake of his image.

however that all was fated to change: satoru eventually found himself falling for his wife.

your kind personality, your subtle smiles, the embarrassed expression on your face whenever he teased you in front of others even if it was all a faux display- an act of being all lovey-dovey. your inner and outer beauty was slowly becoming more apparent to the white-haired man.

you don’t know when it started. you can’t recall why satoru is suddenly acting affectionate even behind closed doors. usually, he’d drop the act the second you’re in your chambers. now he continues to compliment you, pepper you with chaste kisses as long as you allowed him to… even refer to you as his ‘dear’, ‘pretty girl’ or ‘sweetheart’ to your face like it’s nothing.

you shrug off your own guards and maids when they curiously inform you about their lord’s sudden change of personality, which was supposedly all because of you.

“ah, my wife,” satoru’s voice echoes above the loud chatter in the main hall. you turn your head and find your heart racing for some reason as he addresses you in that gentle tone.

he makes his way through the crowd, eyes never leaving your face, even as other important figures try to catch his attention to talk business. “i was greatly worried about you,” your husband sighs.

a gloved hand cups your face and satoru leans in, his glossy lips inches from yours. you’d think this was part of the fake arrangement, but there’s this genuine hint of adoration behind his cerulean eyes that you cannot ignore.

“i— my apologies,” you murmur softly, eyes darting around the room while you try to ignore the loud thumping of your heart. “i was simply talking to one of the guards,” you explain and nod your head to the bulky man standing next to you.

the guard respectfully bows to satoru the second you introduce him. your husband doesn’t respond for a single second, his fingers twitching lightly at his side. he can’t stand the thought of you talking to another man while he isn’t around.

is it for your own safety? or is it because he’s jealous and immediately wants to get rid of any man who dares speak to his precious wife? perhaps it’s a mixture of both.

“i see,” satoru replies. his eyes darken for a second before he catches himself. the corners of his lips curl upwards, though the smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

that familiar sight makes you nervous. you’ve seen it before, when your husband would subtly threaten others for whatever reason, while hiding his true feelings behind that smile.

“well,” satoru continues, his arm wrapping around your waist. he pulls you against his side and places a kiss on top of your head while glaring at the guard through his white eyelashes.

“thank you for keeping my wife safe,” the clan leader says through that tight smile, trying to keep it as ‘genuine’ looking as possible. he has a reputation and image to uphold after all.

you’re about to say something, but are cut off as satoru adds another comment. “i’m here now, so you can return to your post.”

it isn’t a suggestion. it is an order— a command. a disguised threat.

the guard immediately picks up on the subtle hint and nods without saying a word before walking back to his spot at the doors. you can hear the faint whispers from others as they also seem to recognise that change in satoru’s demeanour.

it’s not like you’re totally oblivious to what’s happening either. you look up at satoru and place a hand on his chest, trying to catch his attention. “satoru,” you whisper his name.

the white-haired man immediately snaps out of it and excitedly shoots you that boyish smile of his instead of the fake, cold one he wore on his face just a second ago.

“you called, my dear?” satoru tilts his head, bringing a hand to rest over yours on his chest. your eyes widen a bit at the way he seems to relax and look at you with that same devoted gaze.

you don’t think it’s an act anymore. the words die on your tongue and you can’t recall what you wanted to say anymore. those sparkling blue eyes and charming smile have you rendered speechless.

“…it’s nothing,” you mutter under your breath. you have no clue how you’ve managed to turn that once, cocky, overly confident and cold-hearted ruler into a total softie for you. it’s something you still need to process yourself.

satoru doesn’t leave your side for the rest of the night, glaring at the men who pass by, shooting them that fake, threatening smile if they looked like they desired to converse with you.

you’re his wife, and that’s that. he silently wonders when you’ll realise that he actually fell for you. perhaps you are already aware of it, but hide it from him on purpose.

whatever the case is, satoru will make sure that you know his true feelings for you. one day he will tell you those three words explicitly— if it wasn’t obvious enough through his sudden change of behavior.

[nereidprinc3ss]

hi!!! here for a request. can we have a imagine where reader has a wound from surgery or whatever on like in a rib and she hides to change the bandages but then spencer sees her and he’s like ‘lemme help you’ and…

you do you for the rest!

in which spencer helps BAU fem!reader change her bandages in the bathroom at work. it's intimate, and he's adorable and awkward, and it only fuels her terrible, terrible crush.

warnings/tags: fluff, talk/description of wound, brief talk of being stabbed (does not actually occur in this fic lol), reader wears a bra, spencer undoes said bra but not sexually, lots of suggestive humor and teasing, a TINY sprinkling of angst but not really, idiots in love

a/n: i'm picturing early seasons spencer and it is filling me with so much unbridled joy. I. LOVE. HIM. thank you for the request!! and lets not talk about how inconsistent my formatting for requests is pls and thanks!!

It’s not like you meant to bend down so quickly that your wound reopened—but here you are, suffering the consequences of your actions in the women’s bathroom at Quantico as you try to assess the injury before you re-bandage it. And your shoe is still untied. 

Unfortunately, the fact that you had quite literally been stabbed in the back last week makes it hard to reach said injury—especially when you’re at work and so can’t take off your shirt like you normally would. And all this struggling means it’s taking longer than it should, so now you’re focused on the wound and its scabby, wet edges and all the things it’s secreting rather than hurrying to give another statement of the entire event to Hotch since the first one had apparently been too sparse on the details. 

A knock sounds on the open door. Spencer calls your name. 

“You in there?”

The angle of your neck has your voice slightly strained as you call back, “yeah, what’s up? Is it Hotch?” you pause to hiss as you accidentally scratch at the wound with a nail. You don’t even want to know how much bacteria you just introduced to it. “Tell him I didn’t forget our meeting, I’ll be there in—”

“It’s not Hotch. I just wanted to make sure everything was okay with your back? I know you said you were going to check on it, but you’ve been in there a while.”

You sigh, dropping your sore arm as you continue to hold up your shirt with the other and regarding the reflection of your back in the mirror. 

“Actually—could you come in here?”

There’s a pause. 

“You want me to come into the women’s restroom?”

“Yes, Spencer. It’s fine. There’s nobody else in here. I just… I need some help, I think.”

The last part is admitted quietly, with an air of defeat. To admit to needing help, is, by your standards, the same as failure. Spencer knows this, which is probably the only reason he puts aside his hesitations and shuffles uncertainly into the tiled room. If you’re asking for help, it’s because you really need it. 

“What do you need help with?” he asks, sweeping his gaze suspiciously around the lavatory as if you were lying about there not being any other women present and this whole thing might be a trap of some sort. 

“It’s gross, and you can totally say no.”

He raises his brows expectantly, before spotting the weeping wound on your back. Unconsciously he steps closer, leaning forward. It’s not your fault, and the gore is not specific to you—anyone’s body would react this way to being stabbed. But you still feel embarrassed by the close attention to such an ugly marring, which nobody besides you and your doctors has actually seen up close.

“That doesn’t look good,” he mutters. The expression on his face is irritatingly familiar—the drawn brows, tightened eyes, barely parted lips—but it takes a moment before you realize what it is. 

“Reid,” you complain. He’s still stooped over slightly to examine the wound, and looks up at you through dark lashes with those infuriatingly warm puppydog eyes.

“What?”

“You’re looking at me the way you look at a dead body on the slab.”

His nose scrunches.

Some might say it scrunches adorably. 

“No, I’m not. That’s just my face.”

“Okay, well stop. It’s freaking me out.”

He pouts—actually pouts. Subtle, but bottom lip jutted out and all. It’s ridiculously endearing. 

“My face freaks you out?”

“Wh—no! That’s not what I said! You have—you have a great face! I didn’t mean—” 

You manage to claw yourself out of the hole you’re digging when you see the dopey smile growing on his face. 

Oh. He was fucking with you. 

He never used to do that. It’s unnerving to be the fucked with instead of the fucker for a change. Especially when it’s Spencer. 

“What did you need me for?” Spencer asks by way of peace offering. You close your eyes and sigh, attempting to collect your thoughts without his presence re-scrambling them.  

“Um—I just need you to put this bandage over it. I can’t reach without taking my shirt off.”

And now you’re forced to wonder if he’s thinking about you shirtless as much as you’re thinking about you shirtless.

“Yeah—don’t do that,” he says absentmindedly, stepping again closer to get a better look before turning to the nearest sink.

For some reason, this offends you. 

“Why not?”

Spencer pulls another face as he washes his hands—you love the constant flow of expressions he always seems so unconscious of. Even when they’re not pleasant and directed at you.  

“Are you asking me why shouldn’t you take your shirt off?” he clarifies. 

“I know why I shouldn’t take my shirt off, but I want to know why you think I shouldn’t take my shirt off.”

“Because we’re at work?” he observes astutely. You frown deeply at his completely logical reply. Spencer chuckles as he dries his hands and approaches once more, taking the square of gauze pre-lined with medical tape from your hand. “I mean, I can’t stop you. But it would be kind of a weird choice.”

“Oh, so me shirtless is weird?”

Cool fingers meet the comparatively hot skin of your back—where everything is still sensitive because the wound wreaked havoc on your nerves there. You flinch slightly. 

“Sorry,” he murmurs gently. Though his touch is so incredibly light it doesn’t really hurt—it hurts much less than when you’re tending to the wound, anyway. It’s almost soothing. After a moment he continues, a bit louder. “And that is not what I was saying. But I am completely comfortable asserting that it would be weird for you to be shirtless at work.”

The gentle touches contrast with his teasing words and serve to disorient you as you’re shaken back in to your usual dynamic. Which is markedly more sarcastic. 

“Well—”

Before you have to think of something to say, Spencer interrupts you. 

“Your, um—I think your… brassiere… is in the way.”

As soon as he says it you burst out laughing. It echoes through the room. 

“My��brassiere? Are you actually 70 years old?”

His brows knit even tighter and his face gets very pink very quickly. He can’t meet your eyes over your shoulder. 

“That’s what it’s called.”

“Spencer, you may be the first person to use that word since 1952. Say bra.”

“I don’t want to,” he complains. Your laughter only grows as your head tips back. 

“Why? How is brassiere better than bra?”

“It’s—it’s too colloquial! I’m trying to be professional!”

“Call it a bra or I’m going to rub my dirty hands all over my back,” you threaten, adopting a poker face so he knows you mean business. His eyes widen immediately. 

“Oh my god! Bra! Do you want to introduce staph and meningitis and g—do not do that!”

“See? How hard was that?”

“I hate you,” he mumbles, face still flushed and adorable. “And you still have to take it off.”

“Excuse me?” you grin, pretending to be affronted because you know he didn’t mean it like that but it’s fun to pretend he did. Fun for you, of course. Not so much for him. He's utterly flustered by this point.

“Or at least undo it! It’s in the way.”

With a deeply bored sigh, you go to unclasp your bra—but as you go to do it your shirt drops down. You grimace, humor briefly forgotten as the fabric brushes the damaged skin. 

“I can’t—”

“Okay, just—I’ll do it,” Spencer says. ��Just move your shirt again.”

So you do, watching his reflection as he works.

And you have not one joke to break the heavy silence with as you feel his knuckles gently pressing into the middle of your back, as he unclasps the bra with his characteristic tenderness and a surprising amount of agility. It’s quiet except for your pulse in your own ears as he carefully pushes it out of his way, holding it down with a hand to your rib cage and fingertips slipping just under the fabric of your shirt—unintentionally and certainly non-sexual, no doubt, but skimming under your heart in a way that still feels so intimate you’re realizing how touch-starved you are. 

“You do that often?” you find yourself asking, because you’re stupid, and you need to cool the tension before it chokes you, and you can’t help yourself even though you don’t actually want to know the answer. 

“I,” he begins, voice quiet as rustling paper, tongue darting over his lip and eyes narrowed. The sentence stalls as he focuses on placing the patch just so. “Do not think that is an appropriate workplace question.”

Something aches in the pit of your stomach. 

Something resembling jealousy. 

It was not the timid evasive linguistic maneuver of someone who is insecure about the thing they’re discussing. It was not the awkward fumbling no but I don’t want to tell you that which you were expecting from Spencer Reid. 

Nor is it an easy yes—an admission between friends. He doesn’t want to tell you. 

You swallow and try to act like yourself. 

“Yet here you are, in the woman’s restroom at our place of employment, undoing my bra. I think we’re past professionalism.”

“When you decontextualize it like that it sounds like something it’s not. This is professional, because I’m helping you with a wound you sustained on the job. I’m being a good colleague.”

Your lips twist into a smile he can’t see. 

“A great colleague would kiss it better.”

“It's almost like you want me to file a sexual harassment complaint with HR," he says through a little smirk as he smooths the bandage over. Before you can snip back, he steamrolls over his own teasing—you’ve both been speaking in almost reverent tones since he started but his voice loses the sarcastic edge from a second before and reverts back to concerned and sweet. “Does that feel okay?”

You rotate your shoulders best you can without letting go of your shirt or flashing the good doctor to check if it feels secure.  

“It’s good. And hey—if I were going to sexually harass you I would do a lot better than that. You think that’s my best material? That’s just the tip of the iceberg. I keep so many inappropriate comments to myself. You’d be shocked by some of the things I have almost said to you.”

He laughs, secures the band of your bra and begins fitting it to the clasp you’d had it on—and at that precise moment Emily walks in. 

“H—woah.”

“It’s—I’m—I was helping her!” Spencer panics, immediately removing his hands from you like his palms are burning and holding them up defensively. 

“Oh, you helped me alright,” you tease, pulling your shirt back into place. 

“Don’t say it like that!” And then, to Emily, “I was changing out her bandage!”

“Changing my bandage,” you emphasize, winking more than is advisable. 

“That’s—this is a hostile work environment! I feel unsafe!” Spencer almost yells, half laughs, as he scampers towards the door. “I’m going to HR!”

“Shut up! You love it!”

His laughter audibly travels farther away for several moments as he presumably goes back down the hallway to do his actual job. 

You have the stupidest grin on your face, but you wipe it off when you notice Emily staring. 

“What?”

“Nothing,” she says, shaking her head and looking away, moving toward a stall. “You’re just… you guys are funny.”

“What do you mean funny?” You demand, standing right outside her stall as she closes it. 

“Wh—I mean funny! Are you going to listen to me pee, you weirdo?”

You frown. 

She makes a good point. 

Unfortunately, giving Hotch a more detailed statement is just as bad as you’d thought it’d be. Despite how cheery you’ve tried to remain about the whole situation, despite the way you insisted that the wound was so shallow you didn’t need more than a few days off work, despite the jokes you make about forgetting it’s even there because it’s on your back—it’s hard not to remember exactly how the glass felt twisting under your skin, how you’d felt suddenly so hot and lightheaded and sick to your stomach and the way Morgan hollered because he didn’t know how deep it had gone after you crumpled quick from shock, when you’re asked to describe it all in excruciating detail. 

It only takes ten minutes, but they seem to drag on and on and by the time you’re leaving Hotch’s office you feel utterly drained. You hurry back to your desk, covertly wiping away moisture that you refuse to allow to become tears. Once seated, and having dodged sympathetic looks and avoided any do you want to talk about its, you allow yourself a few deep breaths with your eyes shut. 

When you open them, you realize there’s a fresh cup of your favorite tea on your desk, in the Snoopy mug the team is always fighting over. Now his little black nose is covered by a square of yellow paper. You’re already smiling as you peel away the sticky note and hold it closer. 

On it is an adorably odd smiley-face, and a note in familiar, messy looping scrawl. 

I would never report you to HR beautiful

That would be a stab in the back!

You snort loudly and clap a hand to your mouth—but you’ve already drawn the attention of almost everyone in the bullpen. 

When you turn to look at Spencer, he’s not looking back. Instead, his eyes are firmly trained on his computer screen. But he’s got his chin propped on his fist over the desk, and his knuckles are doing a poor job of concealing a giant self satisfied grin. He is the only person on the team who knows you well enough to make such a distasteful joke. And he also knows you well enough to know that it would make you feel so much better after your meeting with Hotch than all the well-meaning sincerity in the world ever could.

Funny. 

Maybe that is the right word for what you two are. 

[mimicmimikyuwrites]

Jealousy - Lucifer (Hazbin Hotel) x Fem!Sinner!Reader SMUT

Summary: Lucifer's jealousy emerges when your Ex from when you were alive enters the hotel in search of you. Lucifer makes sure to claim you as his.

Contents/Possible Warnings: P in V sex, dom!Lucifer, cream pie, Lucifer being possessive, marking, unprotected sex, degradation (it happens like once), SMUT, MDNI

A typical day in Hell was far from calm, so whenever a peaceful moment occurred, even a small one, you made sure to savor it, appreciating it for what it was. For example, you intended to let the wonderful moment you were currently in last for as long as you possibly could. You had been watching a movie in your room in the hotel, but by now your attention had turned away from the movie in question and onto Lucifer. The king of Hell had snuggled up closer to you than he already had been, his head resting on your shoulder as he watched the show.

The simple gesture made you melt, and you couldn't resist gently turning his face to look at you. Lucifer looked at you curiously, waiting for your next move. You placed a gentle kiss on his cheek, enjoying the smile it brought to his face.

"Hmm, that was nice, but I think you missed, love." He leaned in, closing the gap between you two, kissing you lovingly. You moved to deepen the kiss and— a knock came at the door. You parted from the kiss and looked towards your room door as Lucifer let out a disappointed sigh. "I'll make sure to give you as many kisses as you want later, alright?" You whispered to him, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek before standing up and answering the door.

"(Y/N)!" Charlie exclaimed in excitement. "The hotel has a new guest! They said that they know you. You two must've been friends before! Come on, let's go see them!" Without warning, Charlie eagerly grabbed you by the hand, pulling you through the hallways of the hotel and towards the main lobby.

In the lobby, you saw them. The fucker you had hoped would never die purely so you would never have to see them again. Yet, here they were in all of their trashy, shit glory. "Hi." You said with a fake smile, trying to remain civil and hold back the resentment that had since been dormant.

"(Y/N)! Baby!" Your ex grinned, approaching you with wide, open arms. "I'm so glad I found you after all these years. It took some asking around, but we're together again!" They wrapped their arms around you, squeezing you tight enough that it felt like you might suffocate.

"Woah, haha! Hands off, please!" Lucifer appeared next to you, poking at your ex with his cane, annoyance seeping into his forced, polite tone. They finally released you, glaring at Lucifer as he stepped between the two of you.

"And just who the hell are you?" Your ex questioned, watching as Lucifer wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you close to his side. "I feel like I should be asking you that question." Your boyfriend replied snidely, any attempt to be polite despite the situation now far gone.

"Alrighty!" Charlie said with a nervous laugh, wishing that she had gathered more information about her hotel's newest guest and their relationship with you before allowing them to see you. "Let's all just relax, and maybe (Y/N) can introduce the two of you to eachother."

You let out a sigh. You loved how sweet Charlie was taking in any sinner, you really did, but sometimes it did more harm than good, usually to no fault of her own. You motioned to your ex, "Lucifer, this is my ex." Then you motioned to your boyfriend, "This is Lucifer. King of Hell...And my boyfriend." The last part felt almost weird to say, the surrealness of dating the Hell's king and the man sometimes known as the devil himself finally setting in.

Your ex only laughed in response, earning an angry, growling-like noise from Lucifer. You grabbed his hand, squeezing it in an attempt to calm him down which only partially worked.

"There's no way this little guy is Hell's king! He's so fucking short. I really thought you had better standards in who you date, babe."

"Fuck you." You hissed, anger bubbling up inside of you as you felt yourself slipping into your more demonic form. "He's certainly better than you ever were." By now the other inhabitants of the hotel had gathered around, some more entertained than anything, while others, particularly Vaggie, were preparing for the brawl that was surely about to happen.

"Woah! Look at the time." Charlie intervened. "It's getting pretty late, why don't we all start heading to bed?" You responded only by turning around and heading towards your room, in desperate need of calming yourself down. Lucifer followed behind you, the walk to your room quiet with no words spoken.

You opened your door, nearly throwing it open in your still-present anger, before flopping down onto the bed with a loud, frustrated groan. You looked to the side, taking notice of the way Lucifer refused to look at you, his arms crossed.

"Honey?" No answer. "Love?" No answer, yet again. "Luci?" That did the trick. He always melted whenever you called him that.

"Your ex is fucking annoying."

You let out a small chuckle at his bluntness, a smile making its way onto your face. "They are, Luci. That's why they're my ex." You sat up, pulling him down onto the bed with you, kissing him, causing both of you to relax, some built-up tension leaving.

"You're all mine, aren't you?" He questioned, already knowing your answer. "Mine to love. Mine to claim." His mouth moved to your neck, sharp teeth grazing the skin, and you let out a soft moan as he began to nibble and kiss at the skin, his teeth leaving a mark you were sure he'd take pride in.

Your head fell to the side, giving him more access to your neck as you took his hat off, throwing it to the side, your fingers running through his hair as he continued to mark you.

"I'm going to ruin you for anyone else. You'll only ever want me." He whispered, lips returning to yours in a fervent kiss. Your lips remained locked together, only occasionally parting for a few seconds so you could help rid each other of the clothes that separated you from what you both craved.

He moved between your legs, the tip of his hardened cock teasing at your wet entrance. Usually, you two would've done more before the main act, but you two were more than ready to indulge in the other right now.

"Don't be a tease, Lucifer." You purred, spreading your legs wider. "Can't you feel how wet I am? How ready I am for you to fuck me senseless?"

He smirked before finally slipping in, biting his lip to prevent an almost embarrassingly loud moan that threatened to surface at the way you felt wrapped around him. He has been in heaven before, and he could say with confidence that being deep inside of you felt better than anything his former home could've offered him.

He began to thrust, his pace starting slow, still teasing you. He wanted you to beg, and you already knew it.

"Faster, harder, please, Lucifer—" You pleaded, giving in to what he wanted from you. "I know you want to pound me into this bed, Lucifer—Ah! Fuck!—" His pace sped up, and the sound of hips meeting yours in rapid succession filled the room. "Fuckfuckfuck–yes!"

"You always feel so fucking good." He growled, wings slipping out as he lost himself in the ecstasy that was your pussy. You ran your fingers through the red and white feathers, and he let out a pleasured whine at the feeling. His wings had always been sensitive.

"Fuck me—Let them all know I'm yours!" You cried out, losing yourself in the feeling of his cock fucking you with quick, deep strokes. You gripped the sheets in your hands, back arching as he angled himself just right, hitting your sweet spot head on.

"Mine. Mine to ruin, mine to fuck, and mine to fill up. All mine." His hands found yours, pinning them down against the bed as he began to fuck you even harder, his climax nearing. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him in closer.

"I'm gonna cum–You're going to make me cum so hard–"

"Then fucking do it." He demanded with a growl. "Cum around my cock like the little slut you are for me." You came around him, cunt spasming as your orgasm coursed through you. Lucifer's wings fluttered as he followed you soon after, filling you up with his hot cum.

You pulled him down into a sweet kiss once your climax subsided, cupping his face in your hands. God, you loved him more than anything. The kiss ended after a good moment, leaving you both to bask in your shared, post-coital bliss.

"You lost a few feathers," You observed with a giggle, holding one up. He chuckled warmly, lying beside you. You rested your head on his chest, enjoying the peacefulness of the moment. You'd have to deal with your ex in the morning, but for now, you were both satisfied with knowing that you were entirely Lucifer's, and that's how you'd always want it to be.

[elliewithcellie]

Girl, Interrupted

summary: Eddie crashes by your home when you least expected, but everything happens for a reason, right?

wc: 1.8k

cw: PURE SMUT (MDNI 18+), basically no plot, friends to fwb?, oral (f receiving), Eddie is a tease, fairly bold reader lol, fingering, talk of p in v sex, hair pulling, orgasms idk let me know what else

a/n: my bestie bought me slutty pajamas for my birthday, and since I'm a hypothetical whore, this has been on my mind nonstop. Finally took a break from my spn series to write this down. This is the filthiest thing I've written to date but definitely short and sweet

Eddie’s jaw fell slack as the door opened before him. He knew he shouldn’t have shown up to your place uninvited. Sure, you were his best friend, and of course, you had said he could come over whenever, but that never truly meant unannounced. He was already kicking himself for showing up as late as he did when you opened the door.

Your oh so short pajama shorts were the first thing that caught his eye, how your thighs spilled out beneath them, the cotton begging for relief. His eyes trailed higher to your tank top one size too small. The hem rested just above your midriff, the outline of your hips more prominent than he had ever seen. Your face was flush, pinks and reds lining your cheeks. He fought the urge to pinch himself, scared that he was dreaming, scared that he’d wake up to the absence of you and very real feelings emerging.

“Eddie? What are you doing here?” you asked, your arms crossing over your chest. “I thought you had a date.”

Date, what date? Eddie’s mind was going numb. His brain was flatlining at the mere sight of you, more exposed to him than he’d ever seen you. Fight or flight kicked in, debating on whether to say something or just turn around and leave. He was almost sure he was not supposed to see you in this state.

“I—uhh—it didn’t go well, so I cut it short. But I know you love the place, so I figured I’d bring over the leftovers.”

“Oh, sweet. Thank you.”

Eddie hesitated, scared to ask, but his interest piqued. “Is someone—you’re alone right now, right?”

Your eyebrows pinched together. You exhaled a dry laugh. “Please, I’m always alone. Come in. Tell me about your date.”

You ushered Eddie inside and settled into your couch. You pulled a blanket over you, and Eddie released a sigh. He couldn’t believe the hold you suddenly had on him. It was like he was in high school again, ready to combust at the sight of a shoulder. At least with your legs covered, he was less inclined to think about spreading them.

“Was it really that bad?” you asked, drawing Eddie from his thoughts.

“She was just so boring,” Eddie complained. “Like, there’s nothing wrong with her, but it was like we were from different planets! She didn’t know Metallica! How am I supposed to bond with someone when there’s nothing to relate to?”

“Did you think of showing her?”

“Showing her what?”

“Metallica!” you laughed. “Wouldn’t that be kind of romantic, you know, to introduce that to her? Maybe tell her you’re in a band? It’d be like showing her a whole new world. And maybe you’d get a groupie out of it.”

Eddie swatted at the air. “It’s not worth it. We were both bored. And it was clear she wasn’t looking to rock with a guitarist.”

“Oh, I highly doubt that.”

“You didn’t meet her. She’s pristine, a Chrissy Cunningham type. Meant to be with a lawyer or some shit.”

You leaned in closer to Eddie, your blanket sliding down your thighs. “Those are the girls who fantasize about guys like you the most. Those girls on the straight and narrow, the ones who seemed destined to be sweet stay-at-home moms or perfect career women, those are the ones who dream of just one night doing something they never thought they could. Something so wild that when they’re taking their kids to soccer practice, or their ‘perfect husband’ is asleep on the recliner while they're doing the dishes, they can think back to that wild night when they fucked a rockstar.”

Eddie’s lip trembled as chills coursed through his body. You leaned back against the couch and shrugged like what you said was nothing. You had to be on something, he decided. Never had you been so frank when the topic of sex came up. Your face was still flushed with color, and you couldn’t seem to find a comfortable position on the couch, shifting yourself from one side to the other to no specific rhythm. Heat radiated off of you, though you weren’t known to be the furnace between the two of you. Something struck Eddie as so foreign but so familiar as he took you in.

“Would you fuck a rockstar?” Eddie found himself saying.

Heat rose to your cheeks. “Do I seem like one of those straight-and-narrow girls to you?”

“That’s not what I asked,” Eddie said, a newfound confidence overtaking him. “You came up with that way too fast to act like you don’t think of it, too. So, would you fuck a rockstar?”

You bit your lip and shifted in your seat. You huffed into the couch. “Wouldn’t anyone?”

“Why so shy all of a sudden?” Eddie asked, egging you on. “You’ve been squirming since I got here, sweetheart. Is something on your mind?”

Your eyes trailed from his eyes to his lips, then back to his eyes. “Tonight is not the night to ask me that.”

“Why is that?” Eddie chuckled. “Were you in the middle of something? Was something left unfinished when I so rudely interrupted? And now all you can think about is the ache between your legs?”

You shuddered at his words. “Eddie,” you said, your voice shaking.

“I could help you.” Eddie leaned closer, his words almost a whisper. “Because I may not be a rockstar, but I’m sure I could give you the night of your life.”

Your breath hitched in your throat. “Don’t tease me. It’s not funny.”

“No one’s laughing.” Eddie pulled the blanket back, his hands resting on your thighs. Your legs slightly opened on instinct. “What kind of friend would I be, huh? If I didn’t at least offer?”

Eddie didn’t know where this bravado came from, but he didn’t care. All he knew was the longer you looked at him like that, the harder he got.

You grabbed him by his shirt and forced his lips on yours. Nothing soft or sweet came from your lips. You were needy and desperate, clinging to him like he was the air in your lungs.

The urgency shocked Eddie, but he quickly found your rhythm. He smirked against your lips as he pulled his jacket off. His hands snaked from your thighs to your hips to your ass, lifting you onto his lap. You groaned into his mouth as he rolled you against him.

He was sure he was dreaming now. Only there did he ever picture you above him, grinding your hips into his. Only there did he imagine you moaning from his touch. But never were his dreams this vivid, this real, this fucking good.

He pulled you from him and pushed you back onto the couch. You whined at the loss of contact. He’d never seen your eyes so dark, so lustful, so hungry for him.

He slid down to the floor onto his knees and pulled you to the edge of the couch. “You still want my help, sweetheart?”

You nodded emphatically.

“I need to hear you, baby. Say it.”

“Please help me, Eddie. I need you. Please.”

“Atta girl.”

You lifted yourself up as Eddie pulled your shorts down your legs. Eddie’s cock jumped at the sight of you. He bit his lip to maintain what little composure he had left.

“Aww, your poor little pussy’s just as needy as you, isn’t she?” He spread your knees apart, the cold metal on his fingers sending chills up your spine. The throbbing between your legs only intensified, a small whimper escaping your lips.

Eddie couldn’t wait any longer. There was no time for teasing, no time to explore. You needed him, and he was going to deliver.

He dove into your aching pussy like a man starved. You jumped at the contact, your hands flying to his hair. His tongue worked overtime, kitten-licking your clit before diving in for more.

“You taste so good, sweetheart,” he said, smiling against you. You moaned in response, grabbing a fistful of his hair and pulling him closer.

Your sounds turned him on even more, searching for his own release as he rubbed himself against the couch. His mind was in a daze, in utter disbelief that anyone could look so perfect for him with your legs spread and your back arched. Your chest rose and fell to the rhythm of his tongue, and your lips formed a perfect ‘o’. Oh, how Eddie wanted to feel your lips around his cock. How you’d sink down on him, your perfect innocent mouth being completely sinful just for him.

He placed a finger at your entrance and pumped in and out, his thumb now circling your clit. Your head fell back. “God, yes, Eddie. Just like that.”

“I need you to do something for me, baby,” Eddie said as he added a second finger.

“Wha—what’s that?” you asked, breathless.

“I need you to tell me what you think of when you get off. Tell me what you were thinking of before I showed up at your door.”

“I—I oh god,” you shouted as Eddie’s lips found your clit. “I—I thought about you on your fucking date.”

“Oh fuck,” Eddie groaned into your pussy, the vibrations shooting up your spine.

“I pictured you fucking her from behind, her skirt hiked up to her hips, her panties to the side as you fucked her in front of the bathroom mirror.”

“Fucking C—Christ,” Eddie stuttered, his hips rutting into the couch faster. “Keep going.”

“Then it was me you were fucking. You grabbed me by the hair, so I could watch what you were doing to me,” you said, your voice shaking with every word. “Eddie, please. I’m close. Please.”

“Come on, baby. You can do it. Tell me what I was doing to you.” He was past dreaming at this point. He was sure this was heaven. Hearing your words had him reeling. He didn’t want to stop, didn't know how to stop. He just knew he needed to see you come.

Your lip trembled. “Your hands were all over me, playing with my tits, your lips on my neck, and—and your big cock pounding into me over and oh-ver and—and Fuck! Eddie, don’t stop! Please, please, please!”

Your orgasm crashed down on you, expletives and Eddie’s name on your lips. Eddie continued to pump his fingers in and out of you like a madman as he lapped up your cum.

“Oh god, oh fuck!” he moaned against you.

You pushed his head off of you and caught your breath. Eddie took a breath, too, leaning back against his heels. You pulled him back up to you and kissed him, tasting yourself on your lips.

“That… was so hot,” Eddie said, releasing a breath.

“Can it be my turn to help you?” you asked, looking up at him through your eyelashes.

Eddie’s cheeks rouged slightly, his eyes trailing to the growing wet spot on his jeans. “I had a turn already,” he said, guilt painting his words. He leaned in toward you, a devilish smirk joining his features. “But I’m not done with you. Not yet.”

[ridher]

rafe being soft for the shy pogue working at the country club

you were new to the outer banks, having just moved to the island with your family. being a pogue, however, was less than ideal. it's not like you would know that though, because having yet to make any friends, how were you supposed to know these ridiculous terms that separated the town?

luckily, it wasn't hard for a pretty girl to get a job at the island club — serving drinks and bussing tables with generous tips.

the days didn't match up until almost a week into working when he first saw you. ever so sweetly taking orders in the little uniform you wear — a tiny skirt and fitted white polo that looks so tempting, especially because you don't even realize it.

rafe is determined to make you swoon, pogue or not. he saunters over in his effortlessly confident manner, not even bothering to take a seat and instead leaning over the bar with his arms crossed — forearms braced atop the hard counter.

a quick sweep across your figure with his tongue pressed to his cheek before his eyes meet yours as you spin around to greet him with a characteristically shy smile.

none the wiser to his troublesome reputation, you gaze up at him with big eyes through your lashes, standing before him though across the bar and speaking up all soft and polite.

"what can i get you?" rich, attractive boys your age were all but uncommon at the country club — spending their afternoons on the golf course and purchasing excessive amounts of alcohol.

rafe is no different. he orders a drink from some expensive bottle, all the while shamelessly crowding your space and purposefully trying to use intimidation to catch your eye. it works opposite to how he would like, the low and sultry voice he thanks you in only causing you to scurry off and switch to the back of house.

he takes it personally and makes it his mission when he shows up the next day (for the sole purpose of seeing you) to try again. he'll get what he wants. watching from afar he won't admit to himself he's in awe. how soft and sweet you are to everyone, even when you're alone shows it's not a facade.

the next approach he's more patient, coming in the cool lobby and running a nervous hand through his curtain bangs before flashing you a small smile. if only you knew how rare that was.

properly introducing himself with a firm handshake and taking a place at one of the barstools, ordering the same drink as previously and putting it on the cameron's tab.

"you, uh, you're new around here, huh?" he inquires in an unusually soft tone, patiently awaiting your answer.

"mhm. been just a couple days." you wipe up the counter — a repetitive task to busy yourself with in situations like these.

"right, right.." tapping a finger against the smooth surface barricading you from him, watching intently and trying not to come across too strong as he plots thoroughly in his head.

it becomes a regular thing — his near daily visits to the club. after spending a day aggressively hitting balls on the green with his friends, he comes inside to just talk.. and watch how your face flushes when he says practically anything, dimples and all. in your mind, he's the only friend you've made in this town and he is more than happy to be that person in his own, slightly twisted way.