fwckviih

[nereidprinc3ss]

diva

in which flirty!reader shows up to work in a bad mood and it’s spencer’s job to deal with her attitude. not that he minds. (bandages universe)

fluff warnings/tags: fem!reader, mentions of reader coming to work from a casual hookup, flirting, lots of teasing, the BAU being silly geese bc this is before all the trauma, insecurities about reader's job performance, spencer wants to be a cyborg, borderline cuddling hehehe a/n: nanana diva is a female version of a hustler (bandages!reader theme song) no but really i just missed them so much lowkey always accepting requests for these two!! I hope you guys likeeee bc i loveee them and also this was based on a request so i hope u see this LOL

As soon as Hotch calls wheels up in thirty you’re slumping forward, resting your head on folded arms. The to-go cup on the round table in front of you has long been emptied but you look at it longingly anyway. 

Morgan chuckles, slapping his folder down on the table next to you. “Aw, look at that. Bright eyed and bushy tailed.”

“It’s Sunday,” you groan. “It’s seven in the morning. Excuse me for not being ready to carpe the diem.”

“It’s just carpe diem,” Spencer interjects, standing and slipping his file into his bag. You sit up and give him the most indignant look you can manage, though it’s hard when you’re this tired and he’s that cute. Slacks. Sweater vest. Button down, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. An enviable waist. 

“Whose side are you on?”

He frowns, brushing a tuft of shining-clean brown hair out of his eyes. 

“If I was on anyone’s side other than my own it would cease to be their side. We’re all always on our own sides.”

“No, you’re on my side. Defend me.”

His brows only dart up and he looks back down to his bag. It’s a look you know well. Don’t get me involved. 

Morgan spins in his chair to face you, one elbow resting on the table. 

“I’m just saying, if this is your Sunday morning, I’d love to see your Saturday night, little miss forty five minutes late.”

“You heard Hotch say he called me half an hour earlier than everyone else. It was technically fifteen,” you frown. “And I… was at church.”

Rossi gestures at you with his coffee cup. “You step foot in a church, your shoes are going to start smoking.”

Your jaw drops. 

“Wow. I thought old people were supposed to be sweet. Come on, Spencer.”

Spencer knows better than to put up a fight as you get up and grab him by the hand not holding onto your cup and folder, dragging him to the bullpen to sit at your desk until the team is ready to go. 

He stands in front of you, hands in pockets, as you plop into your own chair. “I… can’t tell if you’re actually mad.”

“I am. At you. For not being on my side.”

Spencer sets his bag down and leans against the adjacent desk, arms folded. You stopped caring a long time ago if he’d notice you ogling the long, lithe lines of him. Maybe you never really cared, if you’re being honest with yourself. He’s a little harder to scandalize these days, anyway. But you’ll never stop trying. 

He bites his lip thoughtfully. 

“If you’re mad at me, why am I the one you dragged down here?”

“I’m not taking questions, Reid.”

He hisses. “Ouch. Reid.”

“Mhm. That’s how mad I am.”

“Okay, grouchy. Do you want a refill?”

You borderline pout, continuously perplexed by his kindness in the face of your insolence, but holding out your hollow cup for him anyway as you slouch lower in your seat. 

“Don’t call me grouchy.”

“Then don’t call me Reid,” he says, taking your cup as he passes, and you think you sense the faintest wash of amusement coloring his tone. 

The jet doesn’t do much to put pep in your step. 

“Aberdeen,” Morgan muses, letting his file closed on his lap. “Isn’t that where, uh, Kurt Cobain grew up?”

Spencer sits down in the chair next to you, setting the day’s third cup of coffee in front of you on the small table. “It is. It’s also where Washington’s first suspected serial killer William Gohl resided.”

“First of many,” Rossi amends. Reid nods. 

“In the US, Washington State comes in fifth place in terms of serial killers per capita. Some blame a widespread vitamin D deficiency. Just under eight hours of sunlight in the winter, the least in the contiguous United States.”

Emily gives an abhorrent rendition of a famous Nirvana riff, imitating a twangy electric guitar, before gesturing to your boss. “Hotch, you’re from Seattle. Did you ever get into Nirvana? The whole grunge scene?”

Hotch lowers his folder, giving her an unimpressed look. “Did you?”

While the exchange is amusing, the coffee is not perking you up and you’d like to be slightly less upright, if possible. You bump Spencer’s knee with your own, and he looks over at you obediently. 

“What’s up?”

“I wanna move to the couch.”

He nods and gets right back up. When you pass, and he doesn’t immediately follow, you turn around. Maybe the lack of sleep has rendered you unable to hide your look of contempt as he tries to sit back down. 

“What are you doing?”

Morgan snorts. “Uh oh. Lapdog almost forgot his training.”

“I am not a lapdog,” Spencer defends, giving Morgan a harsh look of his own, before following you, much to the amusement of the rest of the BAU. 

“Don’t listen to them,” you mutter as you step aside to let him pass. 

He settles into the corner of the couch. “I almost never do.” When you cozy up next to him, he seems surprised. “Um, hi?”

“I’m cold. You’re warm.”

“This is… unprofessional.”

You roll your eyes even though he can’t see. “Oh my god. They don’t care.”

That’s enough to shut him up. Eventually he relaxes, and though he doesn’t put his arm around you (they remain crossed in front of him) he doesn’t seem too distraught over the way you’re leaning against him, head on his shoulder. The sky is a soft grey where you can see it through the little rectangles lining the far wall, like a pale tea with plenty of milk. 

“What’s up with you, anyway?” He asks eventually, gingerly, and though he’s bold to ask it you know the last thing he means to do is offend. Luckily for him, he’s your soft spot. You let your eyes flutter shut against the boxes of diffuse light. 

“Tired.”

“I know that. You’ve had three cups of coffee and you’re still about to fall asleep.”

“Well… that’s all it was.”

“Mhm.”

“God, you’re—” you lift your head, about to give him a good old fashioned verbal lashing, but he’s so sweet looking, and he’s so kind to you even when he’s not, that you deflate—all your air coming out on a sigh as you settle back against him. “I… was… not home, when Hotch called me.”

“Yeah, you said you were at church?” He sounds utterly bewildered. Your heart melts, and you can’t hide the fondness seeping from every pore as you look up at him through your lashes. He really is so beautiful. 

“That was a joke, Spence. I was with a friend.”

His brows knit and a faint blush tinges his cheeks. 

“Oh. I knew that.”

And he really is getting better at detecting your brand of sarcasm. One day you doubt you’ll be able to pull any over on him, and he’ll stop being so adorable and bashful and embarrassed and sweet all the time. You don't relish the thought.

“What were you doing this morning?” You ask, in a bid to quell the very embarrassment you covet, because you’re not actually a demon, despite what Rossi had implied earlier. 

“Sleeping.”

You hum. Imagine taking his hand. Don’t really take it. 

“Me ’nd you should hang out outside of work more often.”

“Like… in the mornings?”

“Uh, probably not,” you laugh, your own face heating at the implication he’s only sort of and undoubtedly accidentally making. “I mean—we could. We could have breakfast sometimes.”

“I like breakfast,” he muses. “I know a couple of good spots. I can show you when we get back. There are these ube pancakes that are like bright purple on the inside. Have you had ube? I think you’d like them. The pancakes and the tuber. They’re the same color as your laptop case.”

You giggle, too tired for anything more dignified and too charmed for anything less authentic. Spencer has a moment of apparent self-awareness and after a second chuckles along with you, and like 99% of your moments with him, it’s a nice one. 

It slowly fades, and you sigh. 

“We’d probably get called in right in the middle of breakfast.”

“It’s always a possibility,” Spencer agrees, and you feel him nod. He smells really nice—clean and sort of cedar-y. Warm. 

“You ever think about how we’re just… robot arms to do the bidding of the federal government? We’re not even people. We’re cyborgs.”

“I’d love to be a cyborg.”

“But then you wouldn’t be so warm and comfy.”

“If I were a cyborg I could install a heating element. I’d still be warm. I don’t know about comfy. Maybe if I kept the biomechatronics to one side of my torso.”

“You’d install a heating element just for me? So we could keep cuddling?”

He clears his throat. You smile to yourself. 

“Why are we cyborgs, exactly?”

“Because we don’t get personal lives. The job comes first. I could be doing anything. I could be in the middle of eating bright purple pancakes with my good friend and colleague Spencer Reid and it doesn’t matter. If we get called in we have to leave.”

“If we were in the middle of breakfast, we could just… take our food to go and finish it at our desks.”

“Well—I guess it would be different if it was us, but with my other friends… it’s kind of a bummer, sometimes.”

You’re thinking about the friend you left this morning. Nobody you’re particularly invested in, but you wonder if that friend is still asleep in bed—and you realize you don’t much care. You’re glad to be here, and not there. 

“I think if the job didn’t feel worth it to you, you would’ve left by now. But you haven’t. You can complain all you want, but you show up every day.”

You scoff. 

“Fifteen to 45 minutes late, depending on how you look at it.”

“That is… atypical. You’re usually on time.”

“Usually…” you repeat darkly. A moment passes. An uncomfortable insecurity begins to bloom and ache like a rotting tooth. “Can I ask you a serious question?”

Spencer doesn’t hesitate. “Of course.”

“Do you think…” you falter, unused to this kind of vulnerability. A cloud swallows the jet and the cabin darkens into a place for secrets. “Do you think I’m worth the trouble?”

You know Spencer senses the unease like a sheepdog can sense a storm from the way he perks up next to you. He’s always been like that—incredibly attuned to the moods of others. You hope he doesn’t think profiling is just another of many learned skills. It’s a genuine talent, a sort of savantism in its own right. You can’t imagine him doing anything else as passionately as he does his job. Sometimes it almost makes you insecure. 

“What trouble?”

“Like… Hotch having to call me half an hour earlier than he calls the rest of the team. Or you, accepting my constant teasing. I know I’m—I can be kind of a diva. I don’t always really feel as professional as you guys. Or… qualified, maybe.”

You can imagine the way he’d narrow his eyes as he thinks this over, though you’d still like to see it for yourself—but you keep your head on his shoulder. In a way, he’s already getting a closer look at you than you usually grant to anyone. 

“I think… you’re good at your job. And you care more than you’d like to admit. That thing you do—where you sometimes show up a few minutes late, or you piss Rossi off on purpose, or you flirt with Hotch—I think… we all have things like that. We all self-sabotage, because it’s a really hard job, and I think we all wonder if we’re really qualified for it, or deserve to be in these positions, or if we even want the responsibility of trying to save people’s lives. But you’re a genuinely good person and a gifted profiler. And everyone else knows it, too.”

The deep thrum of the jet’s engine blurs the rest of the team’s incomprehensible chatting and the pounding of your heart into one big muddied streak of paint. Hopefully Spencer can’t feel the heat of your cheek through his shirtsleeve. 

“Oh,” you murmur. 

A moment passes. 

It’s a relief when Spencer’s anxiety comes bubbling up before your own can. “Sorry, was that too much?”

“No,” you hurry, “no, it was—no. That was really really nice of you to say. Thank you, Spencer.”

He relaxes. “Well… it’s all true.”

How could anyone ever deserve him? How does anyone get lucky enough to know a man like Spencer Reid?

When you burst through the other side of the cloud, the sun has come out. It burns away the milky early morning fog and makes your eyes ache just enough to finally wake you up. You blink and stretch against him like a cat. 

“Spence?”

“Hm?”

“I just want to clarify… I don’t flirt with Hotch. I flirt with you.”

[pandora-writes-one-piece]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!!! 🥳🎈🎂🎁

“What if I kissed you right now? Would you stop me?" with Kid (fem!reader, NSFW) pretty please? <3

Hello, anon! Thank you for the birthday wishes (it feels weird still thanking birthday wishes when it's been more than a month!). Thank you so much for your request, it turned out to be one of my favourites! I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writting it!

Art: Here; Artist: @wesaier (pleeeease follow, such amazing art!)

Reverence 🔞

Word Count: 6302

Tags: Fem!Reader; Alternate Universe - Modern Setting; Kid has both arms; Posessive!Kid; Soft!Kid; Reverent!Kid; Fluff and Romance; Love Confessions; Body Worship; Just Worship in general; NSFW; MDNI; Fingering; Vaginal Penetration; Oops, no protection (wrap it up, peeps);

Special Warning: English is not my first language, I apologise for any possible spelling or grammar mistakes.

Summary: You and Kid are neighbours and very good friends. You flirt a lot, all in good fun, obviously, and he makes fun of every single one of your loser dates. When the last date goes south and you call Kid for help, will your relationship blosom into something else?

|Masterlist|

The clock’s nearly at the hour, but you're almost ready anyway, just some finishing touches on your hair and makeup, and you'll be done. “I look hot.” You say as a pep talk to your reflection and do a little twirl. Hot dress, nice makeup, perfect hair, you're ready for a nice date in town. 

And you're more than ready for it to end up with a nice, hot lay. Third-date rule be damned to hell. You've been in the longest dry spell since forever, and your toys aren't quite cutting it at the moment, but the dating scene isn't really offering the best choice of male specimens around. Maybe this time you'll get lucky. 

Just as the clock turns to the hour, the doorbell rings. You give yourself one last nod before heading out of the bathroom and opening the door with a bright smile. One that immediately falls at the sight that greets you. 

“Kid?”

“Well, well, well. Look at ye, all dolled up for a night in town? Another one of yer charity cases ye insist on callin’ dates?”

A twitch of a smile tugs at the corner of your lips, but you don't fully smile, instead you cock your head to the side and place a hand on your hip. “Hey, at least I get out of the house, you big hermit.” 

You’ve known Kid for almost a year, since you moved into the building. He looks menacing and gruff with all his ear piercings, huge size, and spiky red hair, but you suspect he's a big softie on the inside. You and he flirt and banter like there's no tomorrow and, admittedly, he's been the star of a few of your fantasies, but neither of you has decided to take things further. Perhaps because living in the same building has every chance of making it awkward if things go wrong. Still, you're good friends. 

He owns a mechanic’s garage and has saved your ass more times than you can count. Be it because of car troubles, leaking faucets, or visiting snakes - yes, that’s happened. He’s always there for you, and he’s the first person you go to when you’re in trouble. You have thought of him with more fondness than you would for a normal friend, but just like you two never pushed the limits of your friendship for sex, you wouldn’t even consider bending them for romantic involvement. 

“What are ye yappin’ about? I just got in! Been working till now.”

He moves past you and makes himself comfortable on your couch, manspreading while you search around for the perfect pair of heels to complement your dress. 

“All work and no play, Kid? No wonder you're no fun. Hey, do these work?” You strut around in the highest pair of heels you own, ones that make your legs go on for days. Kid's eyes follow you around as he focuses on your shoes, then his eyes follow your legs, bum - you give him a few poses so he can judge - chest, and finally settles on your face. His eyes seem darker, and there's no hint of his usual smirk on his lips. 

Clearing his throat, he averts his gaze with just the barest flush on his cheeks. “They work alright. Maybe too good.” He mutters. “Who’s the asshole?” Kid checks his watch and grins. “He's already ten minutes late, are you sure he's worth it? Don't even put up the effort.”

“Maybe he got lost?” You try, with a heavy sigh. It’s a setup date. A work friend's cousin or something like that. He's hot, and today that's all that really matters. 

“Aye, aye. Ye do know how to pick’em. Ye always choose the random losers to go out on dates.” He lets out a loud, barking laugh. “I told ye before, I’ll say it again: ye don’t need to leave the building if ye want company. I’m right here, lass.”

His cocky smirk is endearing, and that familiar warmth that comes from his flirting and all the attention he spares you always manages to make you smile like a silly little girl, but just before you manage to answer him, the doorbell rings again

“Oh, it's him. Kid, get out.” Kid sighs and gets up, standing behind you with an intimidating stance as you open the door. “Hi! I was afraid you weren't going to show up.” You try to lighten the mood with a small giggle, and Kid mutters something behind you. Your date smiles widely, barely notices Kid, and openly stares at you, taking you in head to toe. 

“Well, the photo my cousin showed does not do you justice. Had I known, I would've come faster.” Oh, God. Is he really going to be just another asshole? You can already feel it. 

Kid growls behind you and steps out of your apartment, making sure your date acknowledges his presence now, but you continue speaking, trying to defuse the situation. “This is my friend, Kid. He was just leaving.” You emphasise the last words and raise your brows at Kid, who merely grunts. “Shall we go?”

“Oi, lass, better take a coat, no?” Kid’s scowl deepens as he gives you another once-over, clearly catching all the ogling your date is giving you. 

“Don't worry, friend, I'll make sure she stays warm.” 

And before Kid says - or does - anything to your date before it even has the chance to start, you push him down the hallway so he can go to his house. “Bye, Kid. Don't wait up.”

-*-

The date sucks. Your date is obnoxious, self-centred, arrogant, and a downright prick. By dessert, you're dying to go home. His conversations are dull, and he barely lets you speak, instead filling every opportunity with something remarkable about himself. 

Plus, he makes you split the bill. 

When you make it outside the restaurant, he sets his hand on your lower back, and you warm a bit, thinking he's about to pull you close and trade places with you, obeying the sidewalk rule like a gentleman. Instead, the prick gropes your ass. 

“Can you just take me home?” You grunt, clearly over this date, so he leads you to his car. 

-*-

Kid keeps tossing and turning in his bed. He needs to sleep. He has to get up early in the morning. But you're still not home. He doesn't mean to pry, but he always hears the soft clicks of your heels in the hallway and the setting of your lock in place when you enter your home. Only when he hears those sounds can he rest at ease. If not, he keeps wondering if you're alright, if you're hurt, if your prick of a date tried something, or worse… if you actually liked him and he's going to have to get used to seeing you with some other man who’s not him. 

A heavy sigh parts his lips, and he's wondering if he'll be able to get up in the morning if he indulges in a few glasses of scotch. He's considering taking his chances when his phone rings. It's you. Kid’s heart skips a beat, his head immediately considering all the possible wrong things that may have happened as he presses the green button to take your call. 

“Lass?” 

“Kid, thank God you're awake. My date's car broke down. Can you come and… fix it?”

What the fuck? 

“No! It's almost midnight, I'm not going there to fix his car so ye two can get laid. Grab a cab!” 

He's actually pissed you called just for that. Like he gives two shits about helping the asshole get laid. With you! 

“Kid… please, can you come?” Except there's something else in your voice, a vulnerability he's never heard before, almost as if you're scared of something, on edge. 

Has the bastard done something to you? 

“Send me yer location. Now.” He gets dressed in the blink of an eye, packing his pocket knife before leaving the house. 

-*-

You're so cold. No, that's putting it lightly, it literally feels like you're stranded in the North Pole. You should've just brought a jacket like Kid said. But then again, how could you have guessed you'd be standing in the gusting wind with nothing but your skimpy dress on? You were supposed to be inside a restaurant, then the car, and then, if everything went well, your house and your bed. 

But now, your date is inside the car with a bloody - probably broken - nose, cursing you, and you're outside with your pepper spray ready in hand in case the asshole tries anything else. 

After what feels like forever, you hear the loud rumbling of Kid's motorcycle and let out the biggest sigh of relief ever. Seconds later the headlights of his Harley Davidson shine on the curb and he stops the bike in front of you. As soon as he steps out and removes his helmet, his usual scowl turns into a full frown, teeth baring as he glances from you, to your hand, and to your prick of a date. Without a word, he removes his leather jacket and drapes it over your shoulders, helping you pass your arms through the sleeves. While he's zipping it up, he growls. “What the fuck happened?”

Still shivering, you sigh into the warmth of the jacket, inhaling Kid's familiar scent: metal, gasoline, and something musky that feels like home. Then you shrug and pout. “He got handsy. I don't like liberties, so I punched him.”

You can see Kid fighting off an amused smirk. “Ye broke his nose?”

“Just a little.” You whine. 

Kid looks at you, chin up and a full smirk on his lips now. Then he pats your head. “That's my girl.”

Just on cue, the asshole opens up his car door, and Kid grins at the sight. The prick’s eyes are already darkening with bruises, his nose looks crooked, and there are blood splatters all over him. 

“You the mechanic? Figured.” He scoffs. “Fix my car, then! I want to get out of here and away from that crazy bitch.”

You flinch and shake your head. That was a wrong move. If he thinks you're crazy, he's about to get a dose of Eustass Kid he won't forget. 

“Kid, there’s no need to hurt him anymore. I don’t want him to call the cops.”

Kid chuckles low, reaches into his pocket, and takes out his trusted pocket knife, twirling it in his hand like a toy. “Listen here, buddy.” Kid pins the man to his car with a mere look. The poor bloke nearly trips over his feet just to gain some distance. “When ye get home tonight, yer going to say a little prayer to whatever angel’s watchin’ over you, because if the lady - not a crazy bitch, ye asshole - didn't tell me not to hurt ye, ye’d leave here with a lot more than just a broken nose.” Kid laughs some more as he pulls back. “But I'll fix yer car, I'll fix it up real good.”

Popping the hood open, Kid starts cutting wires with his knife. You don't know shit about mechanics, but you’re pretty sure that cutting those wires isn’t going to make the car start. 

“Hey, hey! What are you doing? You're not fixing it!”

“No?” Kid closes the hood, drags the pocket knife along the side of the car, and slashes two tires. “Oops. Maybe I'm just not a very good mechanic.” Kid rounds the car and slashes the other two tires, stopping in front of the prick again. “But I'm not that bad. I'm goin’ to give ya two options, ye arse. One, ye stay in yer car ‘till mornin’ and try to get a tow to collect this piece of junk. Two, ye start walkin’ and pray you reach town by mornin’.”

“What?” The man asks, eyes wide and scared. 

“Oh, the important part. I'll be callin’ every shop around so they can refuse ye service, but they only open in the mornin’. So if ye want yer car fixed, better start walkin’ and pray ye reach a shop before I call ‘em.” 

“But, but… we're in the middle of nowhere! It'll take all night to get to town!” He whines, a trickle of blood still dripping from his crooked nose. “And I'm hurt!”

Kid leans in, his scowling face almost on top of the asshole, and you revel at the way he cowers in fear. “Should've thought of that before ye groped a feel, aye, bastard?” Then Kid pulls his fist back, and the man screams, but Kid just laughs at his cowardice, turns his back to him, and pockets his knife. “I'd start walkin’ if I were ye.”

You smirk as you hear the car lock and watch your failed date’s retreating form. 

“Thanks, Kid.” Your words are a mere mumble. You don't really want to admit that you should've just stayed home, like Kid told you to. But he merely grunts as he walks to his bike, plucking his helmet from the handlebars and placing it over your head with a soft pat. 

“Aye, lass.” His thick fingers reach beneath the helmet, grazing your skin as he fastens the strap tightly to fit your smaller head. The fierceness of his bronze gaze as he stares through the open visor makes you shiver for reasons that have nothing to do with the cold. With another grunt and a muffled curse, he hooks two fingers under the helmet and pulls you close, making you stumble and face him with wide-open eyes. “No more asshole dates. Got it?” His gaze burns into yours, and you nod just before he slams your visor down and lets go of the helmet. “Let's get out of here.”

As soon as he turns on the bike, revving the engine, you feel hot tears stream down your cheeks. You were acting tough and badass, but things could've gone terribly wrong tonight. You could've frozen instead of punching him; he could've manhandled you and forced you into whatever he wanted; instead of a bruised up ego, you could've ended up much worse. Now that the adrenaline is wearing off, you can’t seem to keep the tears away.

No one will see you cry anyway.

So you wrap your arms tight around Kid, your knees pressing into his sides as you fix your feet on the pegs. You're safe now. Kid has always brought you a sense of safety, even though you never really needed it before. That's why you called him tonight, not because he's a mechanic, but because you needed him. Not even to take care of the guy - you certainly did that - but just knowing he would come if you asked… that's everything. 

The ride is long until you get home, so you can cry it all out now. He won't notice.  

Except he does notice, because his big hand wraps around your knee, squeezing tightly and caressing it after. The soft gesture only makes you sob harder, so you hold him even tighter. 

You notice his heavy scowl when he tilts his head back. “Ye alright there, lass?” You try to speak, but if you open your mouth, you know that you'll only sob, so you just squeeze him tighter. Kid grunts and, after a moment, he slows down the bike and turns onto a smaller road, driving you to a secluded clearing surrounded by trees. 

As soon as the bike stops, you scramble to get off, unzip the jacket, leaving it open and fumble with the helmet strap, your fingers shaking like leaves. “Oi, oi, calm down, lass.” His fingers move swiftly as he helps you unstrap the helmet and sets it on the handlebars. “What's wrong?”

You shake your head, swallowing tears and wiping your face clean. Kid reaches out, hand in the air as he tries to cup your cheek, but you take a step back and bite your lower lip, stifling another sob. “I’m fine.” You mutter without meeting his gaze. Your voice wavers on the words, and you sound weak. “It’s nothing. I don’t need coddling.”

Kid scoffs slightly, his eyebrow raising as he takes a step back, giving you the space you clearly need. “Yer shakin’ like a damned leaf. Don’t need to act tough. It’s just me here.” The softness beneath his rough tone makes you want to cry harder, so you just nod. “Yer tough as steel, lass, I know that. But even steel gets bent now and then. And it's okay.”

Another tear escapes your eyes, and you swipe the sleeve of Kid’s jacket against your face, angrily, your shoulders squaring as you raise your chin, a humourless laugh escaping your lips, even though your eyes don’t meet his. “I guess I should’ve listened to you, huh? You kept telling me not to bother with random losers who don’t deserve me… and yet… I didn't listen.”

Your words carry all the weight of the world in them. Unspoken possibilities of ignored ‘what ifs’. If you had listened to Kid, would you feel less vulnerable? If you hadn’t dressed so provocatively, would the asshole still have tried something?

“Don’t go there, lass. Ye don’t gotta blame yerself for the actions of an arse.” His fingers inch forward, flexing and grasping at the air, like he wants to hold you or comfort you. Like he means to put your broken pieces back together so he can fix you. “Ye didn’t do anythin’ wrong.”

“But what if I did?” You ask, exasperated, arms stretching wide as a hiccup fights its way up your throat. “He said so himself: ‘why are you denying me when you’re dressed like a slut? It’s like you’re asking for it!’ So what if I was? Asking for it? What if I had dressed–..”

“No!” Kid walks forward, his hands cupping your face so you finally look at him. “Ye weren’t asking for anythin’. If he can’t keep it in his pants, that’s on him. Not ye.” Kid nearly growls, you can almost feel the anger seething through his pores. It’s almost as if he’s weighing getting back on the bike and finding your date to hurt him. 

You step back, breaking contact again. “But what if I froze, Kid? What if I didn’t have it in me to punch him? To push him? It all happened so fast… I could’ve done something different, I–...”

“Ye did what ye had to do. Yer strong as fuck, and ye showed him that. I don’t think that nose is ever gonna heal straight.” Kid cocks his head and shoves your shoulder playfully, trying to distract you. “Ye got a mean hook.”

A semblance of a laugh leaves your lips, and you turn your hand into a fist, swinging it in the air. “Yeah, I know. I locked it all the way back like this, and then… Bam! Right on the nose!” You swing straight for Kid, trying to alleviate the tension.

He barks a laugh and grabs your wrist mid-air, stopping your swing. “So strong, lass. If I were a fly, I’d be dead right now.” You chuckle, and some of the dread from before leaves your chest. Kid’s eyes fall on your bruised knuckles, and they soften. “It was a shite situation ye were put in. It was not yer fault. There was nothin’ ye could’ve done different, got it?” He gently kisses your knuckles before caressing them with his thumb.

“I just… I… God, this is so stupid.” You let out a frustrated sigh. “I’m lonely, Kid. It’s stupid, and I know it. I don’t need a man to be fulfilled, but I am. I’m lonely.” Shaking your head, you remove your hand from his grip and hide your face in your hands. 

“Lonely?” Kid repeats your words, his voice rougher again. “What do ye mean? Ye got me, aye?”

Your laugh strikes suddenly, mirthful at first, then simmering down to a resigned smile. “That’s what you said. You told me I didn’t even need to leave the building if I wanted company.”

He smirks and takes a step closer to you. “Exactly. But I didn’t mean it like ye don’t deserve the world, lass. I meant it like… like I can be the one to give ye that world, if ye let me.” His cheeks flush a bit red, his voice is still rough, but his eyes are filled with gentleness.

Your gaze meets his again, and you blink several times. He’s looking at you like nothing else matters in the world. Almost as if you and he are the only important thing happening right now and you have the distinct feeling that if there were a war raging around you, you would still be the only thing that mattered to him. 

“Tell me, lass. What if I kissed ye right now, hm?” His hands grab yours, his calloused thumb tracing circles on your knuckles. “Would ye stop me?”

What?

Your chest heaves with heavy breaths as your heart hammers away. You don’t want to stop him at all. You want him. You’ve wanted him for a while, and your tired brain tells you that maybe that’s why none of your dates worked. Because, unconsciously, they were not the ones your heart and body craved.

Your eyes soften as you take another step closer to Kid. “Why don’t you give it a try?” The whispered words are a promise of compliance, and Kid lets out a shaky growl before leaning down and taking your lips in his. His hand finds your neck, and he entwines his fingers through your locks, his mouth claiming yours as his other hand finds your waist and pulls you closer.

You sigh into the kiss, clenching his shirt with your hands, moulding yourself into his body like he’s your lifeline. This is all you’ve ever wanted, and you can’t even begin to fathom why you thought this was crossing a line. 

Breathless, you both pull back while Kid’s hands cup your cheeks, his gaze never leaving yours. “Kid… I want more.” You plead, your nails digging into his muscular chest.

“Ye sure, lass?” The roughness in his voice tells you he’s as overwhelmed as you are. “Because if I start, I’m not gonna want to stop.”

The words make your stomach flip, and you grin, grabbing his shirt and pulling him closer to you. “I don’t want you to stop.” Then his lips are on yours again. The kiss is more urgent, fiery, and hungry. His hands roam your sides, settling on your hips and pulling you impossibly closer. He pulls back a smidge, breaths still mingling as he kisses his way down your jawline, his hand settling on your neck and tilting it to the side for better access. 

“All this time watchin’ ye leave the apartment to go on dates with losers.” Kid nibbles your neck and sucks, pulling a mewl from your lips. “Knowin’ they’d never treat ye right, like ye deserve. None of them knew what a gem ye are.” Another lick and bite on the curve of your neck makes you gasp and roll your eyes, your arms wandering up and holding Kid by his neck.

With a quick pull, Kid lifts you off the ground, and you wrap your legs around his waist, feeling your dress ride up with the action, not caring one bit. He backtracks you to the bike and sets you sideways on the seat. As you fix your stare on his fiery eyes, all you can see is hunger and devotion, and that sends a thrill through your spine.

“I only want you, Kid.” You pull him down again, allowing him to take your tongue in his with languid strokes of passion. His fingers trace your collarbone and slither beneath the jacket to your shoulders. With a tug, he pulls the jacket off, and you shimmy out of the fabric, leaving your arms bare for him to caress. 

“Damn right. I know how to treat ye right. Ye’ll see. Fuckin’ losers. Night after night, agonisin’ when ye’d choose one to be yer boyfriend.” He growls near your ear, his fingers never stopping their silent worship on your body, lighting fires with each stroke and igniting a heat between your thighs that starts to demand attention. He pulls back for a moment, placing his thumb and forefinger on your chin, tilting it up so you can meet his eyes through the fog of desire that clouds them. 

“Five.”

“What?” You ask, still dazed, your body tingling from all the kisses and touches he’s laying on you.

“I watched ye go out with five losers this month alone.” Five? You can barely remember three, that’s how unmemorable they were. Kid leans in, brushing your ear with his lips, his other hand travelling to your nipple and toying with it through the fabric, making you suck in a breath. “That’s how many times ye’ll come for me tonight, lass. To make sure ye forget those losers.”

Five times?

“Kid, I–...” You begin, but he cuts your rambling with another soul-shattering kiss, his hands plucking your breast from the confines of your skimpy dress and fully groping it. Instinctively, you buck your hips against him, trying to grind him or feel some friction, anything. 

“Calm down, lass. We have plenty of time. I’m not gonna rush anythin’. I told ye, I’m gonna treat ye right.” He lowers his lips, tracing a line of kisses from your neck to your collarbone, and then he takes your nipple into his mouth, sucking and twirling it against his teeth, pulling a deep moan from your lips. “Fuck, ye sound better than I ever imagined.”

Kid lets go of you and climbs onto the seat of the bike. You’re about to turn to him, but he turns you around, making you face the handles of the bike, your back flush against his chest. Then he spreads your legs open, placing them over his thighs. You shiver when the cold wind hits your sensitive spot, your panties already soaked through. “Lean back, lass.” 

Breathing faster and faster from anticipation, you melt against him, feeling his taut muscles ripple against your back. Your dress has ridden all the way to your hips, baring your legs to him and leaving you exposed. Kid uses one hand to tease your nipple while still kissing your neck and the curve of your shoulder. Then his other hand, traces the inside of your thigh, creeping closer to your core, making you gasp and hold your breath in want and need. 

“Kid!” Your plea is evident, but you know he’s going to take his time with you. Everything about the situation has you on edge already. The powerful feel of his bike beneath you, his strong muscular frame enveloping you, his fingers hovering just near your entrance.

“So perfect, look at ye. See how well ye fit against me? Like ye were made just for me?” His fingers trace your slit over the panties, testing and teasing. “See? All wet and ready for what I have to give to ye. I can be all ye ever want, lass. Just let me.”

“Yes, Kid, please. I want you to.” His scent is intoxicating. It clings to you like a second skin, enveloping you in safety, warmth, and so much desire. 

With a desperate grunt, Kid shifts your panties and plunges one digit inside your slit, turning your plea into a wanton moan as you arch your back, your hands finding purchase against his muscular thighs. 

“So wet for me. Look at ye. I want to hear you scream my name, lass. Every time I make you come, yer gonna scream my name. Yer mine now. I’m never gonna let ye go.” He inserts another finger, his palm stroking and pressing your clit, and damn it if you’re not just there at the edge, ready to come undone for him. “It’s like I’ve known yer body all my life. I know how to make ye feel good, aye?”

“Yes, Kid, yes!” Your head lolls back as you mewl, his ministrations making your head spin, turning you into a puddle of mush. With a few more strokes, he pushes you over and you gasp out his name, blinding pleasure coursing through your veins, turning your vision white.

“That’s one.” He whispers against your ear, and then he doesn’t relent, his fingers keep pulling pleasure, pressing on your G-spot with his rough fingertips, turning the smaller waves of dissipating pleasure into something else, something more.

“Oh, God! Oh, God!” You start chanting as a surge of bliss travels up your spine, tingling, igniting, burning.

“Wrong name, lass.”

“Kid! Kid!” You scream as your release topples over the previous one, briefer but more pleasurable. 

“Two.” Kid removes his fingers from your core, leaving you panting for air as you lie, burning against him, all the previous cold of the night vanishing from your thoughts. He gets up from the bike, unbuckling his belt and taking out his massive cock. Instinctively, you bite your lower lip. It’s been a while since you’ve had anything real down there, and he’s bigger than your average toy.

“Satisfied?” He asks with a grin.

“I’m sure I will be.” You answer him back, earning a barking laugh.

“Turn on the seat, lass.” You do as he says, and Kid sits back down where he was, pulling your legs over his so you wrap them around his waist. “I hope ye don’t love yer panties too much.” You don’t even have time to question his sentence when he rips your panties off of you, making you gasp as another surge of heat courses through you. “Fuck, yer so perfect.”

You sigh and let your fingers trace the muscles of his abs over his shirt. Then your hand goes lower as you take his pulsating, veiny cock in your hands. You can’t help but lick your lips at the sight. Kid grunts and lets you pump him a few times until a bit of pre-cum starts leaking through the top. 

“Aye, aye, enough, lass. Tonight’s about yer pleasure.” Kid gently removes your hand from his cock as he takes your lips in another fiery kiss, bringing you closer to him until you can feel him pressed against your thigh. “I’ve wanted ye since I saw ye. Since the day I helped ye move yer things into yer flat, I knew ye were the one for me.”

You can see the truthfulness in his eyes, his expression softer than you’ve ever seen in him. His fingers trace every curve of your face and jaw, and his eyes follow, as if he’s memorising all of you, soaking you in. His lips go in after, kissing you, worshipping every inch of you like a revered acolyte.

“Yer all I’ve ever wanted. Yer too perfect.” His hands find purchase under your thighs as he pulls you into him, sinking slowly into you. The stretch of his cock inside of you stings and burns, so you wrap yourself tighter around him, your face buried in the crook of his neck as his hands snake up your spine, cradling your neck. “There ye go. Slowly, we got time, lass. I’ve been dreamin’ of this since we met.”

He keeps pushing slowly into you until he’s fully sheathed. You take small breaths to accommodate him, but the sting of the stretch is long gone. The burn that you’re met with demands something very different now. “Show me, Kid. Show me how much we belong together.” You whisper into his ear, and then leave a trail of kisses down to his lips, shifting your hips slightly, showing him you’re ready.

“Ye have no idea what ye do to me. Ye drive me wild.” He leans his forehead against yours and starts to thrust lazily into you. You can feel every vein, every ridge of his cock touching your walls, rubbing them, igniting flames of pleasure inside you.

“Kid…” You moan out his name, pleasure mounting already as every thrust hits a perfect spot.

“Took me long enough to say it, lass. Took me too long. I didn’t know if ye wanted me back. Thought I was friend-zoned. Fuck, yer tight.” You thread your fingers through his hair, every movement making you dizzier as he keeps kissing your body, touching every curve and dip as if he’s committing all of you to his touch, to his memory.

“I can’t fuckin’ believe this is happenin’. I’m afraid I’ll wake up alone again in my bed.” Kid grunts and thrusts a bit harder, making you topple over the edge you’ve been playing at with a loud cry of his name. Your walls squeeze him tighter as your bliss washes through you in waves. “Three. Fuck.”

The chill of the night has nothing on both of you. You can feel little droplets of sweat running down your spine, and Kid’s forehead is damp with effort. 

“Yer mine now. Tell me ye’ll no longer go after fuckin’ losers. Say ye’ll want only me.” You nod, back arching into him, seeking more pleasure as his reverent touches and devoted words wrap a fog of lust and love around you. You feel overwhelmed with emotion. You had no idea that Kid felt like this over you. “I need to hear it, lass.” He seems desperate to know you want him, so you force a thought to materialise in the form of words.

“I’m yours, all yours. Forever, Kid.” That snaps something in him, and he wraps your waist, both feet planted firmly on the ground to keep steady. With a flick of his wrist, he turns on the bike and revs the engine, making it vibrate and purr under you, adding another layer of stimulation to your already stimulated self. With two harsh thrusts - a contrast to his steady, languid previous ones - you shatter again with another long cry of his name.

“Four. One more, lass. We’ll take this one together, aye?” You can barely think straight. Every nerve is tingling with pleasure, every bone is quivering with want, and every muscle is aching with release. 

“Kid… Kid…” You can barely utter a single word. Kid kisses your forehead softly, his hand pressing gentle circles on your back before he revs the engine again. You moan and clutch his shirt, barely able to stand straight as his thrusts become faster, harder, and more relentless. 

“I’ll be all ye’ve ever wanted, all ye’ve ever needed. I’ll make ye feel good every day, ye’ll never feel lonely with me, lass. Yer mine, all mine, aye?” You nod once more as he guides your body back, and you feel the cold metal of the bike against your spine. The new angle makes him repeatedly hit your G-spot, and you know you’ll unravel fast.

“Kid, I’m gonna come.” You manage to breathe out between pants and moans, and you have no idea how much strength you still have left. Though Kid seems to have stamina that goes on for days, you’re already feeling overstimulated.

His thrusts are more erratic, his breath coming in short puffs of air. “Aye, aye, lass. I’m right there with ye.” And as you arch your back against the motorcycle, already losing yourself to a wave of ecstasy, Kid leans forward, letting out a primal grunt against your ear, and unloading his seed inside you, filling you up as your eyes water with bliss. 

The gentle purr of the bike beneath you and the harsh breaths leaving your lips are the only things disturbing the silence of the night. Threading your fingers through Kid’s hair, you can’t stop smiling, even though your muscles are already aching and complaining. 

He’s still inside you when he raises his head, wicked grin in place and a slight flush to his cheeks. “See how much fun we could’ve been having, lass?” You let out a loud laugh, and he grumbles against your neck, pulling out with a groan. “Want to get me goin’ again? Don’t laugh like that while I’m balls deep. All that tightenin’ gets me wild.”

He keeps kissing your neck and collarbone softly as you laugh, his hands gently massaging your thighs.

“I didn’t know, Kid.” You whisper, your back still pressed against the motorcycle, feeling empowered by the machine beneath you and the man above you instead of feeling trapped. “I had no idea you felt like this, you never said anything.”

“I know. I should’ve said it.” His groan vibrates against your chest. “Maybe it would've saved me the trouble of seein’ ye with assholes.”

“Yes, Kid. It really would. I didn’t want to ruin our friendship, even though I thought about it.” 

Kid lifts himself up and you use his shoulders to return to a seated position as he adjusts the straps of your dress. “Ye have? Ye thought about us?” You nod. “Doin’ this?”

You chuckle as you’re assaulted by a lone shiver. Now that you both have stopped, you’re getting cold. “Not exactly this. I don’t think you ever pulled five orgasms out of me in my fantasies.”

Kid’s wicked grin brings you another kind of shiver, but this one has nothing to do with the cold. “Lass, ye’ve been selling yerself short in yer fantasies. Five is just the warm-up.”

As you laugh into his fiery kiss, his hands pull you closer to him, claiming you, worshipping you. And despite the shitty beginning of a shitty night, you couldn’t have asked for a better ending. Turns out, you really didn’t need to leave the apartment. 

But as Kid revs the engine of his Harley again, you realise you’re glad you did.

Tag List: @rosidaze @beachaddict48 @armiliadawn @jintaka-hane @sprinkklz @baby5555 @hopelesslover06 @mars-mizuko @sleepykittycx @nerium-lil @eustasscapitankid @ren-ni @jqperi @lycoriskalmia @walmartmihawk

[gl1tchy-4rt]

"Bustin' makes me feel good!" - GhostBusters

Soooooooo based on That one GhostBusters remix by Neil Cicierega I made an entire AU 0_0 ....

....

Boogie Jumpscare (And warning: Text wall :D)

Here it is: Ghoulie Boogie AU

# Plot:

Peppino is a priest of a Catholic church, and he likes it the way it is (he does not like it)

One day he discovers a couple of young adults preforming a "satanic ritual"! Oooooo spooky! And he decides to step in and stop them, but the ritual is already done.

A portal appears and Swallows Peppino and the others ending in what he assumes is Hell, ending up face-to-face with the Grim Reaper himself, obviously Peppino ran away terrified.

Peppino drifted lost though seemingly unending alleyways until he got attacked by a Cerberus! Well Peppino would say "attacked" but the pup actually "pounced" is the correct word.

Quickly the Dog's owner took the dog of Peppino, This ghost; Gustavo, quickly realized that, not only was Peppino still a mortal, but he was scared and terrified.

Gus calmed Peppino and took him to his home, he explained the rules of this world to Pep...

This world is called The Limbo, Other Side, Flip side, ect. (Pick the one you like the most) Here the souls of the deceased get a chance at fulfilling the things they couldn't do while alive, so the are fully satisfied when they get to ascend to The "True Afterlife"

And as it turned out, Mortals can enter and leave the Other Side.

Peppino was Completely baffled by this, not only there was a way back home but... Catholicism was wrong.... He wasted his life 0_0

Now, although Peppino is going back home, on the journey he will discover how to enjoy life and get to experience everything he couldn't do before, as well, learn about the ghost that offered his help in the first place...

And maybe... just maybe... They'll become more than friends ;)

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

Hope you guys enjoy this AU! I'll post the design of the other Characters, expand the lore and say how they passed away :D

Although feel free to ask about them!

Btw Gustavo's Cerberus is Brick, he is a pet Cerberus!

Anyways hope y'all enjoy your night/day!

See y'all later and Buh-bye!!!

[tinytalkingtina]

Not a "Big Deal"

Written for the @strangerthingswritersguild kinktober day 21 prompt "ride" Rating: E (18+ only please) | ~1.3k words | Ao3 link

A sequel to Not Your "Cute Little Button" from day 10 (either can be read as a standalone though, just wanted to give these two a chance to let Eddie top in the micropenis AU <3)

Tags: Steve/Eddie, Eddie has a micropenis, mutual insecurities, blow job, fluff/smut/comfort, anal sex, Top Eddie/Bottom Steve, Steve's oral fixation continues to be happily fulfilled, modern AU, bisexual Eddie and Steve (it's not brought up in this one but I want it to be known lol), no feminization, the boys fall hard for one another

Many thanks to steddiecameraroll-graphics for the divider!

Eddie stared at the box of condoms, half expecting it to explode at any moment. The packaging claimed they were good for a “snug fit.” As if that would preserve his dignity for being too small to buy normal sizes. Belatedly, he realized Steve had continued talking after he had walked in and slapped the incriminating object onto the counter like it was nothing:

“I figured the kind I usually use probably wouldn't fit on you so uh, I got these? The lady at the store said they'd work fine unless you were super thick.” Of course Steve would have no problem asking someone what to buy for a tiny dick.

“You…you really want me on top?” Eddie asked. Steve nodded eagerly.

“Are you sure? It's okay if you don’t, it might not feel super good if I can't reach your prostate and you should feel good, it takes two to tango after all, right? Not that I'm saying I don't want to, because holy shit, you have a ‘well-turned ass’ as a French peasant would say, or maybe they wouldn't say that because it's too lustful and the Church of course—”

“Hey,” Steve interrupted his ramblings before he could launch into a wildly off-topic tangent about medieval Catholic guilt. “Weren't you just saying last week that the rim is a, what's the word, erroneous zone?"

“Erogenous,” Eddie wheezed, his face bright red.

Steve snapped his fingers.

“Oh yeah that's it, erogenous! When you do that thing with your tongue I see fucking stars man, so why wouldn't your dick feel the same? Don’t think we’re gonna have a problem though. Your fingers are shorter, and they've definitely managed to reach my prostate. If the play ends up not working then we'll regroup and try out another one, yeah? Change up the position.”

Eddie squinted at his boyfriend.

“Are you trying to give me a pep talk like this is the championship ball game and I'm the next guy up at bat to make free throws?”

“First of all, you know they’re called home runs, you came to two games when my kids made the playoffs, and second of all I don't know what you're talking about,” Steve said, like a lying liar. "It's working on you though, isn't it?"

“…A little.”

“Good.” Steve gave him a confident smirk, and G-d, Eddie had never been more attracted to the man. “Get undressed already so I can blow you first. Want you to last if I'm gonna ride.”

He eagerly followed him to the bedroom, leaving shed clothes in their wake without a second thought. Two months of dating and Steve lavishing compliments on him any chance he got meant that Eddie's instinctive self-consciousness about someone seeing him nude was finally giving up the ghost.

After one enthusiastic blow job—holy shit did his boyfriend love having something in his mouth when there was no risk of gagging—Eddie was rather proud of the valiantly quick rally on the part of his dick, eager to get to the main event of the afternoon. 

Steve pushed him onto his back against the pillows. Impatiently, he rolled the condom down and slathered on some lube before straddling Eddie’s legs. They both moaned as Steve slowly lowered himself, relaxing quickly.

A whispered “fuck!” escaped his mouth as he bottomed out and without pause began to frantically bounce straight up and down.

“Feels okay sweetheart?” Eddie had to check, even if another part of him continued to thrust in time to match Steve’s movements.

“Yes. See, I ohhh, told you so,” he said breathlessly, giggling when Eddie stuck out his tongue in retaliation. Steve was so beautiful like this, lit up in gold by the setting sun, chasing his pleasure with abandon.

As his boyfriend rode him ever faster, Eddie had to concentrate on not coming for a second time so soon. He grabbed Steve’s hips when he finally lost his balance and collapsed onto his chest, stomach muscles trembling from the effort of keeping himself upright for so long.

The movement was too much though, and Eddie felt himself slip out enough for Steve to whine in protest.

“Shit, lost it,” he said, desperately trying to find his prostate again from this angle, but it was no use like this. The bitter voice at the back of his head got louder and more insistent the longer he took. Steve was going to leave him now, he couldn’t satisfy him. He’d be nice about it probably, let him pick up the things he’d left in his apartment but—

“Eddie?” A hand to his face shook him out of the spiral. “Do you wanna stop?” Steve’s thumb brushed his cheek and came back wet.

“N-no but I’m so s-sorry, I can’t make you feel good.” Eddie squeezed his eyes shut and stilled his hips. “I can blow you or eat you out, whatever you want, just let me get rid of the condom and—.”

He let out a yelp when Steve suddenly flipped them over without pulling off, and locked his legs behind Eddie’s back.

“If you don’t want to stop, can you tell your brain to shut up? Told you we might just need to change the position.” He huffed out. “Come on, what I want is for your abs to get a workout instead of mine now.”

It took a few seconds for Eddie to process what Steve had said. But another bitchy demand had him get with the program. He hitched Steve’s legs higher over his shoulders before grinding down. Better able to move like this, it wasn’t long before:

“Yes, there, right there, please don’t stop!” Steve writhed underneath him, openly moaning as his hand drifted closer to his dick, where it slapped against his stomach with every thrust.

“There you go,” Eddie panted. “So gorgeous, so good for me.”

Steve moaned louder and looked up at him with pleading eyes. His lips, still slightly puffy from the earlier blow job were so inviting. Eddie gave into his impulses and stuck a couple fingers into Steve’s mouth. His boyfriend sucked them down and hummed happily. The sight had Eddie careening straight towards an orgasm. He just barely managed to hold it off while babbling:

“There you go, just needed to be filled up on both ends huh?” Steve frantically nodded. “That’s good sweetheart, take what you need, you’re so tight around me holy shit.”

It didn’t take much more encouragement for Steve to finally stiffen and come. Squeezed from all sides, Eddie pretty soon followed him over the edge.

Later, after they’d wiped themselves off and changed into clean clothes, Steve curled up in his arms like a giant contented house cat. Eddie considered letting three words slip from his lips, ones that he hadn’t quite worked up the guts to let out just yet.

“Thank you,” he settled for instead. “You’re kind of a mensch when it comes to dealing with my shit, you know that right?”

Steve didn’t open his eyes, just nuzzled further into his neck as he snorted. “I’ve dealt with worse shit than yours. ‘sides, it’s worth it, you make me happy. I'm gonna start yelling at your brain to fuck off with the bullying,” he continued. “Not too good to fight it to get the point across for someone I lo-like. Someone I like a lot.”

Steve heartbeat plucked out a staccato rhythm against his chest from his slip-up.

Eddie placed a kiss on his forehead and held him tighter, hoping it conveyed the intended meaning. Someday soon, he’d find the courage. 

Because Steve was worth it too.

Author's Notes, aka some irrelevant G-rated world building for this AU: -Steve is an activity coordinator at the local YMCA and coaches Little League. His team didn't win the playoffs that year, but they were very excited to be there! -Eddie is a session musician. Wayne has a display of the albums he's appeared on in his trailer, right under the mug collection.

[didalexiabreakupwitholgaisback]

So if Spain haven't won their last four matches, with the talent they have, does that get the RFEF to start wondering about Montse? I know they just re-upped her contract, but the reigning WC winners haven't won their last 4...that should mean something, right?

😂😂 it means nothing. you give rfef way more credit than they are worth. spain has been losing for years and years, and yet they never bothered to change out nacho quereda nor did they sack vilda after the euro 2022 loss. the olympics was the right time to question montse, but rfef only reaffirmed their faith in her. as long as montse can be controlled by rfef, she will be their girl.

i still think cata is the gk #1 for the selection. but i really want lola gallardo to get a call-up back to the selection because I think she's probably the best gk in spain right now, performance wise. cata has had a shaky start to the season, and she needs the competition to push her to be better. once txell font recovers, i'd like to see txell start getting called into the senior camps. and the biggest frustration was the lack of sullastres this window. why bother calling her if you aren't willing to test her?! 🤦‍♀️

ha, now that would be a pipe dream! more like pep retires from coaching to take joan laporta's place. and then hires aitana as sporting director. 😄

[meowmeowmessi]

Let's just say Leo did go to Premier League. Regardless of clubs and language barrier that that could probably interfere. Which players do you think Leo would get along with?

hilariously enough, i think haaland!

[hamsterrodent]

The next morning

[shallowseeker]

My fave thing about Jack on rewatch was realizing how internally unlike Sam he is, despite the symbolic, structural blocks of being a “gifted kid.” Emotionally? Nah.

Not if you’re paying attention.

I feel like @dawg-motif really helped me puzzle that out re: Jack’s valuation of blunt honesty and need for space and processing. And after that, it’s like Jack’s entire arc clicked into place for my brain.

There is such a temptation in fandom to assume he’s a copy-pasta of Sam because of his “doomed child” motif, or that he’s like Cas because of his literal-mindedness and sass. But emotionally? Not even close.

Or worse, there can be as assumption that his “performing!Jack” is how how he actually feels about things... Falling for Jack’s sunshiney ditzy act is like falling for Dean’s mythical Marlboro man act.

[vladdyissues]

So @ashgunnywolf's addition to my silly "Danny-grows-a-stache" post has been living in my head rent free and I just had to draw it 😂

[bespectacled-bookwyrm]

Colress: When I get murdered, can you make sure I'm an unsolved case?

Grimsley: *drops his lucky coin in shock* . . . What?

Colress: I wanna get on Buzzfeed Unsolved.

Grimsley: No, I'm sorry, can we go back to the part where you said, 'When I get murdered'???

[helpiii]

I really wanna know how these two odd fellers would interact

[cutechan555]

We're taking down this tower together Pino

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[1moreoffkeyanthem]

I’m pep posting. Sorry but it’s going down. Gas station and convenience store workers keep our society together. My raj, the guy who has info dumped on me about his wedding to his husband and has pulled his dogs out from under the counter bc apparently I give off animal lover vibes, this dude just lifted the barrier to ask if he could hug me because he thought I looked sick. I am. I’m really sick but the fact that he held eye contact with me and saw it in my eyes while I was buying a Gatorade and gas. And then he came out to my car when I left to give me a cellophane flower his sister made. The beauty of people. I’m a cynical asshole I won’t deny that. I’m depressed as fuck. But people like my gas station dude and Raj from pep just contribute so much to the universe

[thecluelessdoctor]

Unhappy Campers is indeed a disgrace of an episode and made me hate both Moxxie and Millie even though I used to love them both and their relationship before it. What are your thoughts on it?

Oh my god someone who agrees.

I was already pretty wonky on how much I liked M and M, but after unhappy campers it just put a weird taste in my mouth.

So many things about their relationship were forced for plot reasons that never get addressed, and are suddenly fixed because of one shitty apology from Moxxie.

Like we had ZERO signs of Millie having depression!! Nothing!! And in a show like this, thats something you need to at least make watchers think is a possibility!! And then, even after Millie basically says she has depression and mentally is really bad, Moxxie does NOTHING!!! NOTHING. not until Millies stupid big show that had no plot relevance what so ever, where makes a shitty apology, and Millie immediately forgives him!! Yes I understand you shouldn't hold grudges, but this was a serious thing!! Moxxie was being selfish (which is REALLY out of character) and being a complete asshole! It kinda sucks too because a line in Moxxie's song in the final of season one was 'i'll never take you for granted' and what does he do?? Take her for granted!! But the thing is, the show didn't show this as bad, feeding into it even more!!

The episode in general sucked from the horrible, horrible jokes, to poor writing, to plot, it just sucked.

Another thing that makes me so mad about this episode is how it completely sweeps what the hell happened to Stolas under the rug!! Like in the beginning I originally thought Blitz was breaking into the hospital Stolas' was in!! That would have made for something interesting if they keep wanting to feed into stolitz!! Personally I don't think stolitz should be a thing, at least not in the way how Helluva boss is trying to make it happen. It feels way to forced, and it's incredibly wrong because Stolas as a person and character is HORRIBLE.

Or! If they REALLY wanted the whole barbie plot line, THEY SHOULD HAVE FOCUSED THE EPISODE ON BLITZ. Moxxie and Millie did not need to be in this episode! All they needed to do is have blitz send them on a solo mission as a explanation for why they weren't there.

Anyway, overall this episode put a really bad taste in my mouth so now I want to watch m and m fall. Well I've been wanting to watch their relationship get worse because depth

I swear I'ma rewrite the episode that how much I hate it

[meganechan05]

Imma write this down in case anyone wants to write a fanfic on it bc I know that if I do it, it probably won't be finished or see the light of day.

HimeRita Fic based off of Beauty and the Beast.

The Cast and the roles:

Basically the story follows Himeno, a college student who recently moved to Japan after living with her grandparents overseas to become a doctor there like her late parents.

Finding it hard to live in the dorms, she goes apartment hunting and finds a posting of another college student looking for a roommate. In comes Rita Kaniska, a law student minoring in political science at the same school. Himeno takes the opportunity since the apartment is a short commute and decides to reach an agreement with Rita and moves in.

And the apartment is a total mess with the only clean parts being designated Himeno spots. But considering rent was within her budget and most of the apartments she found were a further commute or out of said budget, she had to force herself to suck it up.

Not like Rita's closed-off attitude is any better.

A story where a young woman finds herself while living in a new country and the law student who has to find a way to open up to their new roommate.

And have I've mentioned that Rita also has to look for an engagement partner before their 20th birthday?

And joining our lovely duo, we have:

Kaguragi Dybowski - Rita's senior since middle school who often calls them to help work at his family's restaurant when they're short-staffed. Often teases Rita about potential engagement partners if they talk a little too much with a customer. He would later then join the others in trying to get Rita and Himeno together. Rita often punches his gut whenever they pick up his intentions.

Yanma Gast - One of Himeno's classmates in general classes who once tried flirting with her but learned they weren't each other's types. He works in the IT Department as a Student Assistant so he's often seen walking around with tech equipment of faculty laptops that need fixing. He's in a video game guild with Rita so the two are rather courteous around each other on campus. He and Jeramie are often teaming up when scheming how to get the roommates together.

Gira Hastie - a fellow freshman majoring in political science much to his displeasure while minoring in theater. Himeno first meets him and learn they have Humanities together while also learning he's an acquaintance of Rita's. It's then revealed he and his older brother also attended the same middle and high schools as Rita and Kaguragi.

Jeramie Brasieri - A fellow overseas student in Himeno's Humanities class majoring in Literature and minoring in Political Science. He lives with his older cousin while attending school and is very curious about Rita and Himeno being roommates. Moreso after learning of Rita's search for an engagement partner.

Racles Hastie - Gira's older brother who is a Political Science major and works part-time at Toufu Eatery. While curious of the others' schemes, he tends to stay away from them knowing Rita wouldn't hesitate to give him the same treatment they do Kaguragi for even mentioning their situation. Often quite stern with his brother, but can be seen tutoring him when needed since Gira hates his major.

Morfonia - Rita's childhood friend and former roommate who transferred schools closer to her hometown. She actually transferred because of the school's heavy workload and wanted a change of pace. Rita still keeps in contact with her to check up on her.

Suzume Dybowski - Kaguragi's younger sister who works at her family's restaurant as a waitress while also attending culinary school. She can often be seen flirting with Racles despite her brother's protests.

Shiokara - Yanma's childhood friend and roommate. While he's also very curious of the group's matchmaking schemes, he often finds himself trying to cut in if he thinks it's a bad idea.

...yeah.

Oh and to note: KaguRac are both 3rd year college students. Rita, Morfonia, and Suzume are 2nd years. Everyone else are 1st years.

[meowmeowmessi]

every peps quote abt messi makes me feels so exasperated if you want to fuck him so bad being him to england my GOD

tears you know what they say abt absence making the heart grow fonder...