#the only person he never hits back is soda

[broareweabouttoviberightnow]

In my heart literally every single one of the boys (minus Johnny bc he knows pony would NEVER snitch on him<3) have done they hey hit me back hey pony I'll let u hit me just don't tell Darry cmon DONT CRY ILL HOLD STILL N U CAN HIT ME BACK

[nouearth]

lessons in kissing.

dick grayson x male reader x peter parker.

summary: dick and peter become your professors in kissing 101 (& more).

wc: 6.2k. genre: smut. warnings: top!peter, top!dick, bottom!reader, handjobs, blowjobs, kissing, cum-swapping, mouth-fucking, threesome, unprotected rough!sex, reader's first time, characters are aged up!

notes: yeah, so um... this might be my dirtiest smut yet. this was also my first time writing a threesome soooo, i hope i did okay? thank you, anon!

request by: anonymous.

“you’re lying! you’ve really never kissed anyone before?”

“dude, like, ever?!” peter gasped, and you turned towards him, slowly nodding while you grew cautious of everyone’s confusion. 

“not even when you were in kindergarten?” you twisted your neck for the nth time at the sound of dick’s voice again, and shame unexpectedly crept onto you the more the two men collected their bafflement together.

your cheeks and neck flamed as they both stared at you, bewildered as if your confession was akin to an unmasking of a superhero—like a family of lemurs, a small one, you’d reckon.

“geez,” your hand clutched onto the can of sparkling water harder before downing it, ridding your insecurity in several hard and fizzy gulps. “if i knew i was going to be interrogated, i wouldn’t have told you guys in confidence.”

“no, it’s just…” a careful exchange was puzzled together by the two men. dick shrugged and peter stammered, following you into the kitchen of his apartment. “i mean, not to make you feel weird or anything, but you’re not ugly.”

“i- pete, was that supposed to be a compliment?” your eyes narrowed at him jokingly, maintaining the coldness of your gaze to break peter into nervous stammers. 

“w-what, no!“ he shook his head and approached you closer, a mixture of awkward laugher filling the feigned tension between the both of you. “wait- no, i mean, yes! it’s a compliment.”

you’ve always found it cute.

“i think what peter means is…” bouncy steps followed you two into the kitchen, more-so to sate his appetite for pizza after losing his tenth consecutive match on a game, but consider his curiosity piqued. a mouthful of pepperoni and cheese didn’t stop him from joining. “you’re handsome, he talks about it all the time.”

“dude...” peter grumbled and instinctively turned his body away out of your sight, sipping at nothing in his cup. the only fizz left was the glare he sent dick; like a sparkler on holiday festivities. 

“oops, my bad,” another bite, and dick took his cup of soda to gulp the grease down. “we find you handsome—though, i’m pretty sure (m/n) knew that since i hit on him when we first met.”

“god,” you laughed it off, picking the pizza box of gloopy cheese to take it in your mouth. “can you imagine? my first kiss being with you? or even peter?”

yes, you can imagine. those thoughts had run rampant since you met them in freshman year of university, expanded upon it even. what would it be like to date dick? how soft were his lips? and the same for peter. sometimes, you’d even think about making out while he was in his spider-man costume, but that fantasy was shamefully bookmarked into a deep abyss of thoughts, only sprouting when you would touch yourself at night.

“why?” peter turned back, almost offended, while dick’s laughter joined you, and you swear you can feel a draft from how quickly he twisted around. “is that weird?”

“kinda?” the conversation made you shift on your feet. it was more intimate than what you were used to, and they knew it too, judging by the way they both stared at you again—hyenas. “i mean, i guess it’s because we’re so close now, so…”

“pft, that never stopped me,“ it was like a magic spell drew that confession out of dick. your fingers would have to be cut to coerce that out of you, but you weren’t dick—shameless and confident, you admired it on good days. 

nonetheless, you and peter both gave dick a questioning look. offended would be a regular person’s first reaction, but from the brief exchange you and peter shared, it was unanimous that curiosity took the lead.

dick’s gaze shifted from you and peter, and when the silence drew out for longer than he would’ve thought, a welcoming draft in the room awaited his rebuttal. “come on- you seriously think i stopped thinking about you guys just because we’re best friends now?

“dude, you think about me?” peter’s eyes widened. it would’ve been hilarious if you weren’t involved. you would’ve passed this off as a banter, no more than that. 

you hated to admit it, but you felt yourself throb at this revelation. blood rushed downwards in light speed and you were barely conscious to the drone of peter and dick’s chatter, but you shook it off, laughing at their banters like you aways did.

the day went on like usual. peter’s collection of video games kept you guys entertained for a few hours. when you felt fatigued from mashing your thumb onto the buttons for the ninth match, a walk downtown sufficed. laughing and bantering were the core of your friendship with dick and peter—like every friendship you’d imagine.

but at its finest, it was their vulnerabilities to you, and yours to them, that kept the foundation strong. they trusted you with every secret of theirs, aided them in a few missions of their own, and your friendship thrived. 

the next few days haven’t been exactly the smoothest. you were quieter than usual, and they both took notice because you’d pick at your food while their voices—questions and comments—were ignored, passersby to the street of hearville.

was it that weird to have never kissed at your age? to never have had sex? to not even have had held hands with another guy? they never made fun of you, but you couldn’t help but let these thoughts run rampant.

no. no, it wasn’t. people have their own pace. mine... just somehow happens slower.

you weren’t insecure, but you still felt weird. you suddenly became moody when you saw dick and peter, like you want to be left alone, push them out of your apartment when they drop a visit, drop their pants and suck them off-

oh.

ohhhhh.

dick and peter.

“teach me.” you suddenly spoke out and the two men looked up from their plate of food, exchanging a look with each other before questioning you, humored because you barely spoke all day. the tv played in the background and you were all sitting on the ground, eating off of peter’s very… very small coffee table.

“ah, i almost forgot what your voice sounded like, (m/n)!” dick laughed, twirling his fork into his pasta before shoving the food into his mouth. 

you made a slight pout, only because they weren’t taking you seriously. though, to be fair, you have been acting weird all week.

“with what?” peter noticed, a little more serious in his inquiry. but food was more of a priority for him, you can see him practically sweating at the thought of leaving his spaghetti cold.

“pete, you can still eat-“ you laughed, taking a bite of your food. 

“oh, thank god.” and peter does the same, chowing down on his spaghetti after a hard day of saving lives.

dick cleaned his palette with a cold gulp of soda, a refreshing hiss when the bubbles trickled down his throat. “so, teach you what exactly?” he continued on. “fighting? oh, dude, are you going to be a vigilante-“

“no, no! does it look like i have the strength to be like batman or something?” 

“well, i’m guessing that’s why you came to us for training?” dick amused himself, and peter chuckled, much to your annoyance. 

“guys, i don’t want to be a vigilante.” you grumbled, beginning to bury your confession deep in the pit of your stomach somewhere. “or a superhero, or a guy in a spider-suit with weird web things.”

“hey, they’re not weird-“

“i want to…” it was calming to watch the way your fork swirled itself into the pasta, metal tongs pierced and capturing a wave of sauce and spaghetti all in one swirl. “learn what it’s like to kiss.”

peter choked on his glass of water.

you continued, hot in the cheeks because you can see peter’s widened eyes even when you look away. “handjobs, blowjobs, everything…”

and a piece of dick’s meatball was caught in his throat.

a low drone accompanied the silence once the tv was muted and while a huge weight lifted off your shoulders and chest, you felt small knowing how vulnerable and weird your request sounded. 

“so, you want us to teach you how to…” dick cleared his throat and you feel like you could hear a smile, but you weren’t sure if that was your mind trying to convince you that everything was fine. “kiss and… other things?”

“yeah,” you continued to avoid your gaze, opting for the wooden floor instead. “i know, it’s weird. you don’t have to say yes or anything, it’s just-“

“is that why you’ve been acting stand-offish lately? peter was worried. he was the type to always blame himself of someone else’s behavior, no matter how much you tried to reassure him. though, you guess, he technically was the reason why you became so moody—part of it, anyway. 

“mhm.” the silence was defeating, you can hear their necks turn to look at each other—of judgement, most likely.

and it was all but confirmed when you can see them hopping back onto their feet and running—running as far from you as possible. “guys, wait, i’m sorry-“

you looked up and watched them dash to peter’s bathroom, immediately chasing after the trail of their steps in bewilderment. “what are you-“

“first step, make sure you have good breath.” dick handed you your toothbrush, his spare one at peter’s already brushing into the foaming spearmint in his mouth.

“atleastluntilhelikeyousenough” peter gargled thick and incoherent, brushing into his jumbled sentence.

“uh-huh, okay… seems a little obvious, but…” you spread the toothpaste on the bristles of your brush and began brushing, a smile forming because you have to brush the front teeth too—but also because of your best friends.

you can always count on them. 

“you ready?” dick naturally became the leader of this impromptu training program. he was the most experienced considering how many women and men you caught him with, and as much as you hated that when you were roommates with him, his expertise was needed in this moment. 

“yes.” you sat in the middle of peter and dick, rubbing your sweaty palms against your shorts. a mere flash of regret ignited inside of your beating heart, but peter rested his hand on top of one of yours, squeezing ever so gently to warm and soothe you—to pacify you.

and your worries were quelled when dick does the same, his smile softer, countering his usual playful attitude. “just stop me whenever you feel uncomfortable.” he made you feel safe.

you looked at peter, and he nodded in agreement, his fingers now intertwined with yours. he had always kept you safe, feeling safe, this was a normal feeling towards him. “same with me.” “i will.” your voice was quiet in the bedroom, a mere soft whisper, but they recognized your will to be more vulnerable with one another, to blossom. and dick appeased it with a kiss.

light and feathery at first to test the water, but once dick heard your breath hitch, he applied more pressure in between your lips, capturing them in a slow waltz that kept you on your toes, yet flat on your feet to contain your excitement—your relief. 

it was awkward at first, to find your footing. your nose would bump into his, teeth as well, but dick chuckled, assuring you this will always happen.

unbeknownst to you, dick’s been wanting to do this since he met you, and he savored every second. “remember what i told you… build it up.” he reminded you because you were getting eager, following his lead but returning his kiss in hard sucks. “nice and slow.” 

peter’s palm on your thigh pressed gently onto your bare skin, mistakenly under the lift of your shorts because he was too in awe of the kiss, but they grounded you from your brief flight to the heavenly clouds nonetheless.

“nice and slow…” dick repeated, and you succumbed to his reminder like a prodigy. “that’s it.” it lasted for a few seconds longer until you pulled away to capture your breath again. your lips tingled still, remembering the taste of spearmint when dick’s breath ghosted on your skin.

“was that okay?” an innocent question, but you swore you stole that exact same tone from a porn you watched the other day.

“a natural,” dick laughed, stroking your hair back and you’ve never see him so affectionate—loving, as he doted on you. “try it on peter. more touching though, if you’re okay with that.”

you nodded and turned your head, meeting peter’s gaze with a flushed smile, your lips slightly swollen from your previous endeavor. “I’m okay with that.”

“me too.” peter smiled, only softening when you leaned in, and it completed hid against you when you captured his smile with a kiss. 

his hand gently placed on the back of your head when you did and he pulled you closer into him, returning the kiss, and spilling his breath into yours, while at the same time, drawing yours out. “rub my chest, i like it when people do that.” peter whispered in between each kiss.

you do as you were told, a gentle hand to peter’s broad chest, and you feel yourself tightening, satisfied with how intimate this all is as you felt the muscles on his chest through the fabric.

in the meantime, dick’s been squeezing at the bulge in his pants, containing his will to completely ravish you simply by watching the way you and peter made out. he’s always been observant, noticing the strong twitching of peter’s own erection, and soon yours when peter slid his tongue into your mouth. 

it was tantalizing—breath-taking— watching intimacy build up and vulnerabilities become unimaginably pliant before him. the pink muscles looped and swirled with one another, spreading and sharing sticky saliva until your mouth and peter’s were practically coated in it, glossed in sheen.

when peter pulled away, your lips were immediately stolen by dick again, kissing you with more strength than before, stubbornly refusing the chance for you to restock on oxygen as he wanted a taste of you too. the air became thicker, harder to breathe, but you basked in the taste, the wetness of dick’s tongue, and allowed yourself to become weak in his arms when he took you in, embraced you closely. “mmf...” you moaned out, breathing harder.

but just like dick, peter wasn’t finished with you, directing his tongue and lips to the back of your neck when you turned away. his ticklish and fleeting kisses pulled you back into peter’s arms, but dick noticed and pulled you forward: a stubborn game of gentle tug of war. 

they wanted you, every piece of you. it was telling as peter sucked into your neck, venomous and poisoning, and when dick began directing your hand under his shirt, allowing you to feel his toned stomach and chest, and eventually his clothed erection, making you squeeze around it with an open palm.

lessons have completely escaped to the back of minds, and all that remained was pure lust.

“it’s okay if you don’t want to.” dick reassured. though, ironically, his hand atop of yours, relieving the ache in his pants continued.

through swollen lips, you managed to mutter, distracted by peter’s bruising sucks to other areas of your neck and skin, whimpering when he bit a little too hard. “i did say teach me everything…” his hands were under your shirt now, warming your bare skin with his palms, excited, but fleeting as they immediately tied to the buttons of your shorts when you gave the okay.

“hey, hey,” dick laughed, watching the way peter has grown grandly impatient. “you’re going to scare him, horn dog.” he left a kiss on your lips, a quick one before leaning past you to kiss peter.

you watched in awe at what a kiss was supposed to be like: burning with ease and passion with every stroke of their lips, no hesitation at all—just a moment of time that they’ll remember. you backed into the bed and leaned against the headboard as they kissed at the foot. you don’t remember having your hand down your shorts, but you do, palming yourself to your own private show.

the kiss ran sloppy, drool dripping down either chins, stained with intimacy, and clothes were quickly tossed to the side, with no care in the world.

you followed.

even though you were similar height to peter, he was stronger—they both were. and now, you felt smaller as they climbed onto the bed, towards you, bare and hardened. you watched breathlessly, as their cocks swung heavy with heat. peter’s pre-cum dripped thickly in yearn for something to fuck, while dick’s throbbed for something to fill—a porn scene come to life—and you were left agape, jaw and legs.

“kinda surprised we’ve never done this sooner,” peter said, you weren’t used to his voice so low. kneeling on the bed, by your left hip, he took your hand and kissed the palm, the wrist of it, skimmed his lips over your forearm before guiding It toward his cock, aching for your touch. “though, was hoping i’d have you to myself, but…” gently, your hand was cradled to wrap around his shaft, warm and running with veins, it pulsed. “this works too.”

your chest rose with every spoken word, and peter has never looked hotter. taking control of you like that made your skin crawl, a spell that commanded you to move your hand back and forth, conjuring you to pump him in slow strokes.

contrary to his overall demeanor, his actions were of warmth. caresses to your head, doting on you with honey dripping from his gaze and cotton in touch while you sinned. 

you didn’t know where to look—to fall in love with the way peter gazed at you like a painting in a museum, or to salivate over the way his pre-cum leaked thickly over your hand when you squeeze it out of him, like a bottle of maple syrup.

that became more a problem—a dilemma—when you felt a wetness over your right nipple, then a sting when dick bites to get your attention—selfish and stubborn, like always. “are you sure this wasn’t a tactic to get all three of us in the same room? you seem comfortable.”

he tongued your nub, flicking back and forth to make you squirm, to hear the sound of your moans, to be the reason you have trouble sleeping at night. alongside, his palm ran over your body—chest first, down your stomach, and finally, your erect cock and balls.

you watched, breathless, continuing to stroke peter’s cock and he’d lean over to give you a few kisses here and there. for the most part, he was content like this, watching you squirm while maintaining to do the best to pleasure him.

“no, i swear- it’s just-“ dick played with your balls, squeezing and tugging on the tight sack to loosen them. every man was sensitive down there, you were no exception. “you guys made me feel safe, so…”

“well,” you looked up when peter spoke, his eyes fluttered shut, and you only got them to open when you thumbed the slit of his head, rubbing slick all over his glans, then the length of his cock when you continued stroking. “we are superheroes.”

you all laughed, switching gazes between the both of them, but it was dick’s mouth suddenly wrapping around you that made you concentrate only on him.

“oh, fuck…” warmth surrounded you, inhaled you in one shallow breath, before dick pulled you out of his wet mouth, taunting you with the loss of heat.

“it’s just like kissing,” he said, licking a stripe over the underside of your cock, tonguing his favorite spot: the neck of the glans and the frenulum. dick followed the lines of flesh with precision, leading the very tip of his tongue into the duct of your urethra—once again, tonguing it while his eyes focused on you, devious. “but let curiosity take you further and explore every part of their body.”

“m-mm…” you were sure there was meaning to his words, but they fell on deaf ears. instead, you focused on the ample heat that engulfed you again, moaning.

“every.” dick took you in and pulled you out with a pop.

“fuck-“ you breathed out, curling your toes into the sheets.

“part.” holding your cock up and stroking sloppily, he inhaled your ballsack. sweaty and musty, they must’ve been, but dick devoured the scent, the taste of sins with hungry sucks and licks—ardent and full of fervor.

and at the moment where you most expected to let out a moan, it was shoved down your throat when peter suddenly situated you in between his legs and filled your mouth with his thick cock, smelling of sweat and sex when you inhaled near his trimmed hairs.

“come on,” peter briefly pulled out, tapping the plump tip over your lips. “you learn best when you demonstrate what you’ve been taught.”

peter covered your view of dick, but you weren’t sure if you needed to see him because you felt every maneuver of dick’s tongue, now drowning your cock with his mouth while he continued assaulting your sensitive balls, tugging and squeezing. 

you looked up and peter never looked bigger, more intimidating, but it’s become your new addiction, and you take his cock, holding it thick and take in what you can. it was barely past the tip before you could feel yourself gagging, but with peter’s reassurance, you swallow more of him every time you went down, slicking him up with your spit.

“how’s he doing, pete?” your cock was left cold when dick pulled away to speak, but he made up for it with his hand, stroking his spit with your cock.

“he really is a natural.” peter chuckled, watching you with a scrunched face of pleasure whenever you pulled him deeper into your mouth. almost down your throat now, but he pulled his cock back completely before you can fully take him. “you try.”

“fuck, yes.” dick leaped over and used the spit from your length earlier to lube his own cock, spitting in his palm and stroking when it wasn’t slicked to his likening while peter scooted back to kneeling at your side, stroking himself now.

as your head was positioned in between both their cocks, dick’s was bigger, thicker—a mouth stretcher you’d imagine. but peter’s was longer, veinier, and the only thing they had in common was that their balls hung loose. in porn terms, hung like a horse. 

and on this very day, you considered yourself a lucky man because you have no objection to either, no will to pick and choose.

“look at you,” dick’s voice was rugged, deep, and he pushed his cock past your swollen lips. there was a clear difference in girth. your mouth was stretched wide, and you could only hum a sound of satisfaction, even with the slight sting from the stretch of skin. “who knew you’d be such a cock lover, hm?” 

“he can’t get enough of it, god…” peter was in awe, salivating and stroking quicker at the sight.

two hands kept dick’s cock still in your mouth while you sucked on the bulbous tip like a lollipop. the rest of your hands stroked whatever you couldn’t mange to fit in your mouth. you were apologetic at first, but dick’s smirk told a simple story of his ego, clearly aroused by the size of his own cock as it only grew wider when you struggled downing him, gagging with a whimper.

“come on… (m/n), you can do better than that. you were so good at sucking peter off, kissing us too. what happened?” dick pulled away to stroke himself with your spit, but he quickly buried any excuses into your throat when he pushed himself into your mouth.

“you’re too comfortable now, (m/n). you’re slacking…” peter joined the banter, and when dick pulled out of your mouth, peter’s cock replaced the loss of warmth to your surprise.

holy shit, this is happening.

like a see-saw, the two men alternated in filling your mouth, stuffing saliva further and further down your throat, without allowing a single excuse from you to escape. it’s buried now, deep in the pit of your stomach, and all you can do was be the prodigy that they wished for you to be.

when it was dick’s turn to stretch your mouth, you made sure that peter’s cock wasn’t left abandoned, stroking him with distracted strokes, and vice versa when it was his turn at your throat. you overworked yourself in pleasuring your two best friends, making sure they were satisfied with you, with your mouth as you took more of them without a single plea for a break.

“fuck, there we go…” occasionally, dick would take control by holding the back of your head and fucking inside of your tight mouth. drool leaked down either corners of your mouth while you let him, tears brimming in your eyes when your throat tightened again, a familiar feeling that dick encouraged to hold back. “there’s my star. taking cock like a good student.” 

if there was one thing that these very brief lessons have taught you, you were exactly what they named you: a cock lover. you slurped at whatever—whoever—entered your mouth absentmindedly, spat on cocks that have begun to look more or less the same, because it was dizzying now. your cock was left alone, but it stood tall and proud, throbbing as the two men harassed your face and mouth with their erections. one would gag you while the other had his balls shoved to your face and nose, sliding its wet, dirty slick all over your skin, staining you with lust.

it alternated like this for a while, and you were content, so was dick and peter. but you needed more—something to fill you elsewhere that wasn’t your dirty mouth. and you pleaded with your eyes, looking up at your best friends with delighted tears, a mouthful of cock, and a gaze only a cock loving whore could have—and they recognized it. 

peter was reluctant to pull away, he was so close. but he’s always been selfless. he released his hold on you and it was a struggle to pull you away, but he did with your lips suctioning off with a quiet pop. a thick string of spit that once connected between your lips and peter’s cock laid like webs on your chin, cooling as you watched the two men reposition themselves.

“i’m going to assume we don’t need a lesson in how to finger yourself, hm?” dick whispered against your swollen lips and kissed you again. you were entranced under his tongue, swirling all over yours like ocean waves while you touched yourself to his licks. you twisted and pinched your nipples, tugged on them with the occasional help from dick, then stroked your cock while dick continued from peter’s original trail of bruising kisses to mark his own territory on your body. you were as horny as they were, if not hornier, and you needed them inside of you, in any way possible.

“fuck, i need you guys so bad.” breathless in your moans, your legs squirmed when you felt something wet between your thighs when they were raised, peter’s nice girth sliding in between the plump skin. 

he thrusted himself slow and steady while he worked on your hole, reaching down to prepare you with his lubed digits, one by one. you’ve done this before, they were surely aware, so it wasn’t a unit that was particularly focused.

in between preparation, your mouth remained on dick’s cock again, delivering him your fullest attention with several lathers of your tongue, sucking hard and hollow, deep into your throat. you remember what he taught you and occasionally stuffed your mouth with his balls, sucking on the weight and letting go with a pull because you got off on seeing how they tensed and jiggled when you did.

“i’ll go slow.” peter leaned in with your legs hooked over his shoulders, bending you back, and kissing the tip of your nose when he was close enough to your face. “tell me if you want to stop.”

once you nodded, allowing him the will to deliver on his promise, peter made sure to lube himself up once more before pushing inside of you, slow and steady. he was careful, watching your face as it scrunched when the head slid in—burned when the rest of him filled you to the brim.

it was almost like you couldn’t breathe. it was too much, to be bearing all of this pain alone, but at the same time, you held peter close, wrapped your arms around him to prevent him from leaving you while you buried tiny whimpers into his neck, because you don’t want to stop feeling it, so full and devoured. it was written all over their faces when you glanced at them—they didn’t want to stop either. 

peter and dick decorated your skin in wet kisses, distracting you from the pain while peter began to find a rhythm. although slow, you were beginning to familiarize yourself with this pain. soon after, pleasure, when he struck something inside of you, a certain spot.

“oh- peter, right there, fuck.” your legged tightened around him and the sweat from your thighs rolled back onto your stomach when peter re-adjusted himself to fuck you at a higher angle, folding you onto your back. 

“yeah? right here?” peter thrusted into that spot dead-on, like a dart to a bullseye, and you groaned, your throat aching in pleasure, but dick pacified it with his cock again, filling you up once more. “oh fuck, look at you. all of your holes are filled up, fuck… so fucking tight”

“baby, you’re doing a great job, god…” your heart beat when dick called you that. it was always something he said as a joke when he arrived to your place. honey, darling, you name it, but the fact that it came out so genuine, it made your skin flush red and you could only respond in moans while you sucked him off. “i think he likes it when you fuck him like that, pete.”

for the first time, you felt wanted. 

peter’s thrusts were hard and strong, his balls swung into with every rhythm. you can see the muscles in his thighs flexing whenever he pounded down into your tight hole, your bodies colliding like waves to a rock. it stung whenever his skin slapped into yours, sweaty and musky, but the sinful sounds were well-worth the prize as you basked in them, in the taste of dick’s cock, the sound of peter’s grunts, the flutter of dick’s eyes when you gargled his cock again, deeper, the sweat dripping from peter’s forehead and body—the bedroom hailed of sex. it rocked of brutal creaks and slams as both of your holes were violated and filled to the very brim, all driven by pure lust. 

after some time, they switched spots, tag-teaming so dick can have his turn at your hole. unlike peter, he was rougher, immediately pounding into you because he was sex-crazed about you, couldn’t stop thinking about you since day one of meeting you.

“fuck, better than i’ve ever imagined,” he laughed into your mouth, kissing you sloppily, and pulling away when peter’s cock impatiently wedged himself in between the kiss, and you were back to sucking and jerking off cock again—no complaints. “still so tight, even after peter fucked you so hard…”

“it’s like he was made to be a whore, right?” such vulgar language from your best friends broke the original portrayal you had of them. now, all you could think about was how they wanted to absolutely make a wreck out of you, de-blossom your naive thoughts of what your first time should’ve been like.

it wasn’t what you had imagined. it was supposed to be with one person. a full-time commitment to your relationship. a loving pair holding each other close when they both climax. it was going to be special.

but this… you thought to yourself as you were fucked into the bedsheets with absolutely no mercy, your ass pained and bruised from dick’s muscular hips driving into you every time he came down, harassing you in that familiar spot again.

this was… peter pushed on your bottom lip with two fingers to open your mouth, then spitting in the void, some catching onto your tongue, before shoving his swollen cock inside of you again, aching to touch—to fuck.

dick palmed your cock as you writhed, bent under him, moaned around peter’s long cock. he gathered all of his strength left to tickle you deep, to reach inside of you with his cock, breathless and panting with every thrust that rocked the two of you together—three, when peter fucked into your mouth. 

this was so much fucking better. 

“holy shit-“ under dick’s touch, you came hard in several thick ropes, all over his fist, and then the sweat of your body when he opened his palm. you were a natural shooter, accidentally spraying your face with your own thick semen, and you heard peter and dick moan in unison, in awe.

seeing you dressed in cum like this had them race each other to their climax. dick fucked you harder, his grasp on your hips bruising and white, while peter held onto your head and met your throat with his cock, repeatedly forceful in strength. you gagged around him, and they only benefitted from every sound you made.

“fuck, i’m going to-“ you watched peter’s abs flexed, tightened as his stomach pooled with pleasure, and you can hear the holy bells ring when he pulled out of your mouth, jerking his wet and slimy cock off until he came undone in thick spurts, all over your pretty face. not a single shot was missed, painting you in white like a canvas with every last drop.

you were still high off of your own orgasm, and you turned your head to watch dick fuck himself into you, clearly wonder-strucked by the scene before him. you were covered in cum all over. they beckoned him to join, the many loads on your body. they were begging now, a mantra of pleas pulled him closer to you, and he can smell the sex off of you, inhaled peter’s musk as well, and again—those holy bells rang.

with the speed of lightning, dick pulled himself out of your abused hole and climbed over to kneel over your chest, fucking into his fist while simultaneously jerking his cock off over your face. to your cum-covered body, to peter kissing his spunk off your cheek and chin then your lips, to the taste of your own cum when you swiped a load off your chest and fed it into dick’s mouth. he suckled, bittersweet salt spread over his tongue, and he was ravished by the taste of you. 

dick then pushed his hips out and aimed his cock over your lips, still connected to peter’s for a messy kiss, stroking until the only reason he tore his gaze away was because his lids fell heavy, ceased his sight to roll his eyes back, and came with a shudder. thick ropes of cum inked on your face and peter’s, but most of it fell to your connected lips. 

“fuck, that’s hot…” dick muttered, rolling his shoulders back while he milked himself to you and peter making out, cum-stained and all. you moaned at the taste, saltier than yours and peter’s, and peter does the same while scraping a load of warm cum from the corner of your cheek and into his mouth before kissing you again, swapping the gloopy residue with a sloppy exchange of tongues.

he was envious, watching how the sticky load caught onto your lips then peter’s when he squeezed himself dry. before you and peter could take all of his cum for yourself, he leaned down to join peter for a kiss, stealing the mound of cum that peter has expertly hidden on his tongue. dick didn’t know who he was tasting anymore. but whether it was you, peter, or himself, it was delectable, and he wanted to share the delightful taste with you. he spat the mixture of cum and spit inside of your mouth before webbing his lips to yours, sealing it with one final breathless kiss.

“so, are lessons still on for next week or?” peter lay by your side, and dick joined the other, still dizzied from his high as telling by his shut eyes and drawn out pants. 

“i mean… i’m still up for it if you guys are?” you said, leaning over to press a kiss to peter’s cheek. you took his smile as an answer and looked to dick for his.

“mm... yeah.” dick sleepily opened his eyes, his locks stuck to his sweaty forehead while he buried himself under the blanket. you felt his arms wrap around your waist once he got comfortable, muttering a kiss to your shoulder before dozing off. 

“we’re good teachers, pete.

nouearth. please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works. andif you like this story, please reblog and leave a like!

[haikyu-mp4]

You're not actors

Fluffy workplace romance as a streamer with your secret husband Kenma for my workplace romance event <3

requested by @dira333. word count; 837 – f!reader

Kenma loves his wedding ring. It’s just a piece of metal, but the matching one on your finger makes him giddy whenever he sees it, even if he doesn’t usually tell you that.

Unfortunately, he has to take it off for work. Your relationship wasn’t public, so he would rather not awaken any suspicions by showing his ring on camera. He’s a private person, preferring not to have everyone asking questions about his personal life.

You have separate streaming rooms on either end of the house so no noise would overlap, and so far everything ran smoothly. Sometimes, you would have to remind him about the ring as he kisses you before heading to his streaming room, and sometimes he remembers it himself. 

And sometimes you both forget.

This time, Kenma started the stream with his ring sitting snug on his finger and as time passed, he simply couldn’t move past this one level. It frustrated him to the point of running his hands through his hair and groaning at the seemingly impossible task. As the light from the screen hit metal, it glinted in the camera.

That’s how the speculations started. Is Kodzuken married? He never answers questions about his relationship status…

You’re a streamer too, often seen doing collabs with Kenma but never in person. You worried either of you might forget to act not in love while the viewers are literally observing your every move.

This time, you streamed alone. You recently started a Stardew Valley series where the viewers got to follow the progress with your fun commentary. It was very entertaining and gained you many more followers.

And Kenma knew you were streaming, so it was difficult to hide your surprise when a shattering sound ran through the house and someone hissed “Shit!”

Pausing the stream, you ran into the living room to find your husband surrounded by broken glass and spilt soda with a sheepish look. After sweeping some of it away and making sure he was okay, you hurried back to the stream and started it again to keep playing.

You pursed your lips, trying to act as if nothing happened. Unfortunately, you’re a YouTuber, not an actor.

That’s how the speculations started. Who does she live with? Is she in a secret relationship?

Following these two unfortunate events, you had no choice but to do the collab you had planned, as skipping it would seem suspicious. So just like normal, you both opened the shooter game and acted like you usually would while playing together, as if the comments weren’t bombarding you with these different rumours and some suggested your rumours were related to each other.

While you swore like a sailor at anything disadvantageous during the game, Kenma fell into the bad habit of watching your stream instead of his game, heart eyes evident to anyone who had eyes themselves. He would eventually sober up, getting revenge on anyone who went against you and then killing you so he could win alone.

His soft voice in your headphones made a shiver run down your spine and you wished the watchers were lying when they said Kodzuken is the only one you don’t curse at.

There were several heart eyes during this stream, and it was not just in the comments.

You both stood in the kitchen a couple of days (read nights) later. Kenma had accidentally woken you up by stubbing his toe on the bed and you demanded snacks so he pulled you along to the kitchen. The two of you talked about your latest work adventures or friend gossip while tapping your feet on the cold floors, a plate of apple pie in each of your hands.

“I’ve been thinking about something,” Kenma said, holding his hand up when he knew you were about to say something like I’m happy you told me or else I’d miss it. “Maybe we should just tell everyone.”

When you looked confused, he flipped his hand around, wiggling his fingers to show off the wedding ring as emphasis. Your eyes widened. “That’s a pretty big thought, buddy, good job.”

He snorted, scooping up another piece of cake and feeding it to you. “I’m serious.”

“But I kinda like watching you try to keep it a secret,” you teased again before stepping closer and pressing light kisses along his jaw. Kenma sighed, pusring his lips and looking away with something that looked an awful lot like guilt.

“I might have just said I have a wife on livestream.”

Flashback to a couple of hours before, when some, probably thirteen-year-old, boy commented on Kenma’s apparent lack of rizz. A gen-Z concept Kenma had no interest in taking part in, but felt weirdly offended by.

“Bet you dont even pull, all the marridge rumors are so stupd.”

He would never admit out loud that it hit a nerve, but you wouldn’t need him to. It was evident. “You should see my wife, noob. She’s fucking gorgeous and plays better than whatever you pull.”

masterlist

/thank you @cottonlemonade for brainstorming with me<3

[17020]

vitamin deficiency had hit ren kaji like a truck.

the sugary treats that sat in his pockets were constantly in his mouth, sometimes acting as replacements for nutritious foods. he had never given the side effects of living off of lollipops any thought, until his body began to show that it had had enough.

kaji did not wonder why he had been feeling more fatigued after patrols, brushing it off as him not sleeping enough or just being tired of the same, monotonous routine. he also, did not pay any mind to the growing pains on his bones, and how his nails were easily breaking with every punch that he threw.

the one who did notice, though, was you.

because it was not fun to hop into the shower after a long, tiring day, only to find platinum strands scattered all over the floor.

you were a bit puzzled as to why your apartment was suddenly covered in your boyfriend's hair. it did not take long for you to realize that something was wrong when you laid on top of your boyfriend on your sofa, his fingertips softly drawing circles on your back and giving you small scratches on accident.

ren kaji paid no mind to his health, which meant that you had to assume the role of his personal nurse, and it was no easy task.

pills and capsules were an absolute no, as he straight up denied them as they were 'a total hassle'. effervescents were your next choice, disguising them as soda and offering them to kaji, earning a scowl in return as he shook his head in denial.

so when you stumbled across vitamin lollipops while inside the pharmacy, you knew you had hit the jackpot.

every vitamin you could think of, stuffed inside your boyfriend's favorite treat. the packaging was identical to kaji's usual lollipops, which was the cherry on top. you had a perfect plan, and in order for it to work, patience was to become your strongest virtue.

it was a slow start.

every morning, you would offer the blond gremlin next to you a vitamin lollipop, even stuffing them in his pockets for him to grab when he's on patrol. he would take it from your hands with no issue whatsoever, being under the impression that they were the same as usual. his brows furrowed.

"'nother flavor?"

"mhm. they brought back the cherry ones, and there's orange too."

"oh. cool."

slowly but surely, you had turned into kaji's personal lollipop dealer, with him shooting you texts asking you for more lollies. it took weeks for kaji to fully 'return' to normal, if you could even call it that—your boyfriend was better than ever. sure, the lollipops cost a pretty penny, but the shine on your boyfriend's radiant skin, strong nails and full set of hair made it all worth it.

one morning in particular, your boyfriend stared at you, his palm open and extended towards you.

"need something, ren?"

"you give me an orange lollipop every morning before i leave."

you chuckled at your boyfriend's subtle pout, "i ran out, ren. i'll get some more today, alright?"

kaji nodded before placing a quick peck on your forehead, heading out the door.

who knew the perceptive ren kaji was so easy to condition and fool?

n. first time writing for winbre how r we feelin tonight

[freshxsturniolo]

im sorry - chris sturniolo x femreader

summary : in which you and chris get into your worst argument yet, to the point you think its all over.

warnings : angst, arguing, fluff.

"do you think you should maybe, slow down?" your friend whispers from the side of you as you finish yet another vodka soda. you wipe at your lip as a small bit of the liquid missed your mouth and turn to her, hitting the glass on the table a little harder than intend.

"my relationship is as good as finished. no. i need another." you say. a sentence that just a few weeks ago would have had you sobbing, but now just made you angry.

you had promised yourself that you would never let any man treat you like you were worthless. you'd never simp for a man so hard that you'd be crying in your bed alone. and yet chris sturniolo had ticked every box.

he was your sweetheart. the first person to show you what true love was. but your too different personalities had finally hit heads. you arguments over the last month where harsh. unforgiving, almost. and yet you still stayed. both of you did.

but tonight had been different. you hadn't spoken in two days, despite living in the same house. he preoccupied himself with work, which was understandable, and you preoccupied yourself with everything but his presence. but when his brother and your best friend nick asked you both over dinner to talk to each other, you world had shattered.

"can you both please just talk this out? i dont know the extent of your argument but this is becoming unbearable."

you had looked at nick with a sorry expression on your face. you did feel bad, the triplets had been more than nice enough to allow you to move in and you hated the hostile feeling you were both bringing to the house, but when you looked back at chris, his eyes on his plate, and he shrugged, you felt your heart in your throat.

when he uttered the words. "i don't think theres anything left to say anymore", your world broke.

you stood up from your chair immediately, a silence around the table that was unbearable, and you kept your eyes trained on your boyfriend. but he didn't look up. you nodded, before you looked at both nick and matt, there eyes on you in a sympathetic glare, and you gave them a smile before you removed yourself, running down the stairs and out into the fresh air. you couldn't even summon tears.

so you headed to the bar. you rang your friend, who was there in a flash, but you were five drinks down by that point and you had no plans to stop.

"you're being ridiculous" your friend said now, holding your wrist and dragging you down as you went to stand up, you stumbled back into your chair and she gave you an eye. "you both need time to cool off."

you scoffed. "cool off?” you say again, looking back towards the bar.

"where is nick? or matt?" your friend says now and you shrug.

"have they not text?" she asks.

"nick followed me out" you say, remembering back to just an hour ago.

the anger that surged through you when hit the fresh air and out into the driveway was unbearable. this had been going on for too long, you yourself could admit that. argument after argument after argument. but for chris to not even look at you, and utter words so heartbreaking in the presences of his brothers without speaking to you privately? you felt embarrassed. angry.

“y/n” you heard nick shout when you were only half way down the driveway, and you turned to him immediately. you were angry but you weren’t going to take it out on him. he was your best friend. he had seen the hurt in your eyes even though you had tried to push it down over the last two days of silence between you and chris.

“please, come back in” he had said, and you give him a sympathetic smile.

“i need to walk this off, nick” you say, and he sighed when he finally reached you. you held out your arms immediately and he was bringing you in for an embrace within seconds.

“do you want me to come with you?” he had said, and you smiled.

“be there for chris”

“what he just said to you in there was uncalled for. matts with him, i want to be here for you”

you smiled. “he’s your brother. and i think he just broke up with me. he can act the tough guy all he wants, i know he’ll want you” you said.

he didn’t tell you but nick was in awe of you. he could see your anger and your upset, could see the way you didn’t know if to scream or cry, and yet your resilience in that moment he thought was admirable. you were completely unaware of the conversations that were happening in the house after that moment whilst you were now sat with your friend, but for the time being you didn’t care.

your friend let out a sigh as you finally scrambled out of her grip, declining your offer of a drink you were going to buy her as you walk across to the bar. it was busy, and you were already swaying from left to right as you used the bar to steady yourself.

“what’s a pretty girl like you doing out here all alone?”

your head whipped up at the sound of the voice. a man you did not recognise leant against the bar at the side of you, his eyes looking you up and down. you knew instantly there was nothing sleazy or untoward about him. his aura gave off nothing but positivity, so you cracked a smile.

“oh, you know. just letting my hair down”

he laughed. “no boyfriend? or girlfriend? sorry, i don’t want to assume”

you smiled. “boyfriend.” you confirm. “no, hes -“

and there it is. the hurt hits you. you look up at the man who's smiling at you, already stepped back an inch after you had told him you had a boyfriend, and the argument springs up again.

"hes not here." you utter, before a laugh escapes you. where was he? you grab your phone from your pocket, no messages having coming through. you think back to the way it was nick that chased you out the door, and not him. and suddenly you feel sick. you look at the man stood in front of him and you utter a sorry before you turn on your heel, heading towards the your friend who's sat watching you from the table you were just at.

"i need to go" you say, and she looks at you for a second before standing up.

"i'll take you" she says. you nod, unable to even thank her with the surge of emotions that run through your body. you had jumped into an uber on the way here and your friend had driven, clearly knowing she wasn't going to end up drinking with you. really, she knew you wouldn't last long before you wanted to head home, so to her this was planning out exactly as she imagined.

you reach the outside of the bar, just a small one not even 10 minutes from the triplets house and the fading sunset hits you, you can feel the lump in your throat. your friend grabs hold of your arm as she pulls you down towards the street and to her car, but when you're half way there she finally speaks to you, noticing that your energy has shifted ever so slightly since being outside and the LA sunshine hitting your skin.

"are you okay?" she asks, and you look away from the skyline to her. and you laugh.

"no. no im not."

she gives you a sympathetic smile. "you're angry, i can tell. but i feel theres more too it. please dont give up on each other."

you nod as you reach her car, climbing into the passenger seat as she unlocks it and gets into the driver side after ensuring you're settled. she gives you another smile before she pulls off into the street, and you try your best to calm down. there were so many things you wanted to say to him. you wanted to scream at him. you wanted to cry at him. you wanted to ask him where it had all gone wrong.

youre so submerged in your own thoughts that you don't even realised when you pull up outside. you jerk your head up and let out a loud sigh, before looking to your friend.

"do you need a minute?" she says. "you look like you're going to cry. dont let him see you cry."

you smile as you reach over and give her a hug. "im okay. i'll be okay. thank you, so much."

you get out of the car and shut the door, double checking your pockets for your belongings. you could tell you were drunk, it had been an hour since you stepped off the driveway and ordered an uber to the bar and you'd drank way too quick, so you gather yourself as your friend drives off. taking a deep breath, looking up at the sky as the darkness finally sets in.

when you feel okay enough, you let out a large breath before turning on your heel, making your way up the drive way. you dont know what you were going to say. you were angry. you were hurt. and you feared when you did see him, you'd finally break down.

reaching the door to the house you unlock it slowly and quietly, needing a few more minutes before you saw anyone, but when you heard the three of them upstairs, you let out a breath. you're not sure what they're talking about, but you can make out the mumble of chris' voice and you turn on your heel, heading towards your shared bedroom, quietly opening and closing the door behind you.

when the door clinks shut, you lean against it, letting out a sigh of relief. but it hurts. you're drunk. you're feeling everything at once and the tears flow. pulling your hand over your mouth to muffle any noise, you make your way to the bathroom.

but he's heard you. the door opens, and his voice fills the room.

"baby" he says. and you snap.

spinning on your heel, you move your hand from your mouth. you know you look a mess. fresh tears on your cheeks. hair in a messy bun. you feel embarrassed that you'd even gone to the bar looking the way you did but in the moment it felt right.

chris' eyes widen when he sees you.

"fuck. baby -"

"baby!?" you spit. "baby?!"

and you see his adams apple move as he takes a gulp.

"please don't-"

"don't what?!" you spit. you take a deep gulp as you compose yourself, wiping under your eyes to take away the tears. you didn't want to argue. you didn't want to cry. but there was something inside you that was raging. "don't what, chris?"

"listen to me, please" he says, and walks over to your, grabbing at your wrists, but you pull them away immediately and head towards the bathroom. he's close behind you. "im so sorry, baby. im so so sorry"

you spin around immediately, and he accidentally walks into your chest. you take a slight step back at the side time as him, and your breath is harsh. "sorry? for what, chris? for talking to me like a piece of shit in front of your brothers? for ignoring for me the last two days? can you even remember what we were arguing about?"

"no but-"

"but what?!" you say, and the tears are falling again. "but what, chris? do you want to break up? do you want this to end? because thats what it sounds like to me and i'd prefer for you to tell me privately that in front of your brothers, because-"

"stop it, y/n. stop it!" he says, and he grabs at your hands again, but you pull them away, stepping beside him to reenter his bedroom. but you come to a stop. because you don't know where to go. you need to have this conversation. you know you do. but you're drunk, you're hungry, you're all of a sudden irritated and overstimulated.

so you cry. again. and you spin around to look at him as he to reenters his bedroom. he's crying to.

"please, listen to me" he chokes.

"i dont-"

"baby, stop it." he says, and he rushes right over to your side, taking your hands in his. you pull them away again, but this time he doesn't accept it.

"fuck, you're killing me." he says, and this time he grabs your wrists, pulling them up and stepping forward, trapping your arms in his hands in-between the both of yours chest.

"get off me" you say, but you don't mean it. you're angry but the first bit of physical touch from him in 2 days feels electrifying.

"no." he says, and you sniffle a cry before looking into his eyes. they too, rimmed with tears. this close you realise that they're too raw, and his lips are too swollen to have only just started crying.

"have you been crying?" you whisper, and he laughs. only slightly, but its a laugh, a smile appears on your face to.

"i love you." he starts. "I know that much is true. i dont know what the fuck has happened to us but i fucking love you. so much it hurts sometimes actually. i think thats why I coward away when we do fight. i cant handle it, y/n. i cant handle when you look at me when you're hurt or upset, it's easier to walk away and let us both cool off. and i know thats wrong, fuck nick and matt have just had my life about it, and im sorry."

you look at him. searching his face. his hair. feeling his hands and body on yours.

"why do we even fight, chris?" you ask now.

"i dont know, baby."

"am i too much? was moving in with you too much?"

he shakes his head immediately. "no, god no please dont think that."

you sigh, and he finally removes his hands from your arms. you take a step back, sitting on his bed, and he comes to join you.

"im so sorry for what i said earlier. i was being stubborn." he says, and you laugh slightly.

"we both were, chris. two days of ignoring each other."

he laughs too, and he places his hand on your thigh. you don't flinch away, but you don't reach for it either.

"do you want to be with me, chris? tell me the truth. because i can't keep being hurt like this. im not blaming you, either. its me, too."

he turns slightly to look at you, and you can see the genuine panic in his eyes. "if you were to break up with me, i dont know how i would survive. i mean it. i dont know why i said what i said earlier. embarrassed maybe, that nick had mentioned it. embarrassed i had let it carry on for two days. i dont know. but i know im sorry. not just for that but for all the times we argue."

the tears have brimmed in your eyes again and you let out a small smile, finally bringing your hand to his.

"I think we are both incredibly stubborn." you start. "and easily hot headed. and you're a social butterfly when i sometimes like to chill."

"i know" chris admits.

"but i love you, so much. i shouldn't have ran out earlier." you admit, and chris shakes his head.

"no. i shouldn't have let nick run after you. it should have been me." he says.

"its okay." you say now.

"do you forgive me?" chris asks, and just his face alone, his beautiful yet saddened face, makes you want to cry.

"yes. and you me?"

he laughs. "yes."

you chuckle, and then you finally lean in, his lips on yours. arguments were normal, you had to remind yourself that. but deep down, you loved this man to death, and he you.

when you finally pull away from your kiss, your first kiss in days, chris grabs your face in his hands. "im going to marry you, one day."

you heart jumps. "that so?"

he nods. "i already told nick and matt."

"when?"

he smiles. "when nick came back and gave me an ear full after speaking to you outside. he told me what you said. the way you were angry but you knew i would want him to be there. and it just blurted out."

you smile, a sense of relief washing over you.

"because i love you, dumbass. even if you do get on my last nerve sometime."

he chuckles, pressing his lips against yours.

"you stink of vodka" he mumbles in your lips, and you smile.

"im celebrating."

he pulls away, giving you another eye. "celebrating what?"

you chuckle. "my man wants to marry me one day." and you crash your lips against his once more.

[specialgradefckr]

Heatwave: Day 2

tw: explicit content. 5k+ words. yuta/reader. female!alpha!reader, alpha!yuta, reader has a knot but also a vag. very barely dubcon, masturbation, fingering. mostly lots of pining. also light curse!rika/reader, but no monsterfucking (yet. curse!rika would 1000% hit it tho)

listen... it's not very smutty but read the fic. just read the fic. you're a tsundere and yuta and his curse girlfriend are smitten with you. it's really cute i promise.

Prompt: An Alpha finds themselves exhibiting omega traits in front of a stronger alpha.

Female alphas were less common than male ones, but they were common enough for there to be stereotypes about them.

Scary girls. Big girls. Strong independent women who didn’t need no men, ate pretty omega boys for breakfast.

There was a certain type of alpha – exclusively male, sometimes beta men were like this too – that saw a kind of challenge to it.

These sorts of dudes were obsessed with ‘alpha pussy’, swore it was tighter and hotter than any omega hole ever could be.

Never mind that there were some omegas who couldn’t take large knots without training, and anyone who wasn’t an omega needed a lot of practice before trying to take any knot at all.

It wasn’t about realism with these assholes. It was some weird, self-fellating bullshit about having made another alpha their bitch, being the alpha to another alpha.

Asshole alphas, that’s a good way to put it. A bunch of fuckwads who thought only with their knots and their egos.

Each and every one of them thought they were god’s gift to creation because they were alphas, born special and better than everyone else, all that garbage.

Yuta isn’t an asshole, but he is, shockingly enough, an alpha.

He’s a nice boy – maybe the nicest alpha you’ve ever met.

Makes it all the funnier that you get paired up with him on missions so often; the scary alpha girl and the gentle alpha boy.

You’d doubt his identity, too, if you didn’t know better. But you can smell it on him all the same. Unmistakable. Alpha.

And he’s strong, really strong, probably stronger than you, though the thought rankles.

Special grade, you’d heard – mostly because of the cursed spirit that hangs out with him.

But it’s not the spirit you smell when you sneak a discreet whiff of the scarf he’d left on the bench this one time. It’s an alpha, through and through.

It’s not the spirit that darts into the field on missions before you can, places himself between you and danger without even thinking about it.

Carves destruction with a graceful, brutal blade and then turns back to you with a sheepish smile asking if you’re all right.

He’s so… gentle. Careful. You’re not even sure he can get angry.

The closest you’d ever seen him to it was when a curse popped up behind you on a mission, while he was occupied with a special grade of his own on the other side of the room.

You’d seen a barrier appear in an instant, which must have been his domain expansion, and only a few seconds later the curse he’d been fighting was gone and the curse that ambushed you was impaled on his blade.

Even with blood on his face, he’d smiled at you.

Eyes shut, voice warm with sincerity, but the air was filled with a tense note of danger, barely constrained threat… just not towards you.

Somehow, you want to see more.

-

Prodding at Yuta Okkotsu is no easy task.

He’s about the most mild-mannered person you’ve ever met, and half-terrified that someone mistreating him would get on the bad side of the cursed spirit who hangs around him.

But you’re determined, and there’s not a lot that can stop you when you put your mind to it.

Alphas had a personal bubble – just like everyone else – and when another alpha gets into it, it usually sets them off.

You start to invade Yuta’s space; first, in small ways.

Leaning in when you hand him a soda, sitting a touch too close on a bench, lingering whenever one of you pins the other during sparring.

There’s a flush on his darling face, a tightening of his features as you see him catch your scent and react to your proximity before he represses the reaction completely.

But soon enough, that doesn’t phase him at all.

You've gotta hand it to him. That's some real control.

Soon he’s touching your hand when you pass him things, you can lean against him while you sit next to each other and he doesn’t bat an eye.

Neither does that supposedly scary curse of his, for that matter.

You see her, once, on a mission. A curse sneaking up behind you (it wouldn’t have been able to hurt you anyways) and you catch her, the curse Yuta normally keeps so carefully hidden.

Massive. Magnificent.

It’s not something you’d normally say about a curse but Rika comes with a scent all her own, fresh and woodsy pine, pricking at your senses while a gaping maw of sharp teeth closes around some pitiful lesser creature.

The blood splatters, on the floor, on her ‘face’. She has no eyes you can see, but you feel her gaze on you anyways. Heavy in the midst of the silence, until Yuta’s panicked voice rings out, and she disappears completely.

Pine lingers in your senses.

That’s not what Yuta smells like, though.

He smells so little, actually, so heavily repressed that you’re not surprised most people think he’s a beta. But your senses are better than most, and you can detect it.

Faint. Warm. Almost… oily? Like olive oil, maybe, something humble and smooth, but unexpectedly decadent.

Like the scent of a lone burning candle in an old shrine, not quite dusty, but with a book-like scent that came with ink and paper.

It’s hard to detect. You need to get closer to really pin it down.

Yuta’s physical abilities are weak, after all, so it’s easy to make up excuses to spar with him. More and more, since you can tell he’s no longer uncomfortable with you in his space.

One fine winter morning, you catch the opportunity you want.

A tumble on the ground (he was always so afraid of Rika coming out, but she never did when he fought you), a little scuffle that leaves the adorable gentleman alpha flushed and flustered, and you manage to snag his scarf off of him.

In the pocket of his jacket you leave him something in return; a band not quite large enough to be a scarf that you’d used to tie your hair.

It should have plenty of your scent on it, enough to make him sniff the air once or twice before he figured out it was there.

The thought pleases you. Like you can tease him a little bit at some random moment throughout the day, without even being there.

It’s five whole days before Yuta returns it to you.

His face a touch bashful, even though he must have known full well that you’d slipped it into his coat yourself. Eyes downcast, as if afraid to meet yours; Yuta Okkotsu, the special-grade terror.

He doesn’t ever ask for the scarf back.

Not that you remember it. It’s just sitting on your desk. You barely think about it.

It just happens that it still has his scent on it, but that makes sense.

It would have been in contact with his scent glands every day, wrapped around his neck like a collar. Like a warm embrace.

You don’t touch it, so it still smells like him. Warm and welcoming.

He’s really not much of an alpha.

After you spar, he always compliments you, careful to note any potential weaknesses between bits of lavish praise. His shadowed, dark eyes sparkle a touch when he tells you, a warm smile on his lips.

Yuta’s always doing that, complimenting people. You’ve never known him to disparage anyone. Never a bad word for a single person you’d met.

So kind. What kind of alpha is this sweet?

Somewhere deep down, though, you know. A real leader, someone people trust and rely on, a friend who would cross oceans for you, move mountains, if it would help you out even a little.

Sweet boy, like cotton candy. Comforting like a warm candle on a cold winter night.

So bright even thought Yuta looks like the gloomiest boy alive. Sometimes when you think of him your tongue runs over your lips, like you’re hungry for more.

You push him further.

You don’t avoid him when you’re close to your rut. In fact you make a point to be near him, get into his space.

Sure, you’d invaded it plenty now, but with your scent oozing out of you, pheromones heavy in the air screaming breed, breed, breed, and you figure something in Yuta will crack.

You never stop to think about whether or not you want it to.

-

It’s on a nice, sunny day that it happens. The most embarrassing moment of your entire existence.

Pre-rut is a bit brutal but you’re down to tough it out. Sparring with Yuta always helps, anyways.

You’re especially snarky, too, like you get during your rut, eager to taunt, to get more out of him.

“C’mon Yuta, that’s not all you’ve got, right? Ask your curse girlfriend for help, I’ll bet she knows how to lay it out.” Adrenaline fuels your heated banter as you watch Yuta pointedly avert his gaze, “You’re flinching and I’m barely hitting you.”

“I can do it,” He almost grumbles, but you think you see a shadow behind him, or maybe you just imagine it, lurking and eager to jump out, “And she woul- Rika is strong.”

The hormones are bad, though. Getting your body heavy with sweat and panting, moving around, lashing out at him, striking, grappling…

“That’s more like it!”

“You can take this much? Then - I’ll do even more!”

Who the fuck are you kidding. It’s the most fun you’ve had in weeks.

Yuta’s strong, stronger than almost anyone you know, he’s right in front of you, so close you can smell you can touch you get your hands on him and he on you and you’re rolling, rolling through the grass –

Yuta pins you, heavy breaths breezing over you, carrying the warm rich smell of him in your senses.

Sweat dripping down his forehead, mouth wide open, you can almost taste it (taste what?).

His eyes are dark and deep and beautiful and they look down at you like –

He’s looking at you like –

His lips curl upwards into the sweetest smile you’ve ever seen, your heart skips ten beats and you – you just feel so warm –

underneath him – the comforting weight of his body against yours – that delectable smell dripping over you – his arms around you, holding you –

You cough out a noise you think is a laugh. Yuta tilts his head to the side with fondness written all over his face.

“That was a pretty heavy bout – good job!” He beams down at you, voice is full of praise pouring over you like liquid gold, “Are you alright?”

You open your mouth to tell him you are, and to your horror, you realize the noise you make. You’re purring.

Instantly your face is set on fire.

“I.” oh god. What. What the fuck, “I’m…” Your voice breaks in a rumble.

Oh god this is so weird, alphas don’t purr at other alphas, what’s wrong with you – “Yeah! Fine!”

You say it too loudly and it shows. Yuta’s so close to you there’s no way he can’t tell what’s happening.

Even otherwise, your voice is cracking like some kind of hormonal teenage boy and you just.

Evacuate. Evacuate immediately.

Your hands fly up to Yuta’s chest and you try desperately not to notice how surprisingly well-built he is as you shove him up and off you.

He offers no resistance, stepping up and offering you a hand which you ignore in favor of sprinting off, like a guilty person would do.

Seriously? Seriously? This would go down in history as the day your dignity died.  

Where was your pride as an alpha? Where was your – your anything, to be honest.

Why the fuck had you just?? Gone so completely gooey and melty underneath him when he smiled at you like that?

Even thinking back on it heats your face. Then again, the whole thing was super embarrassing, so your face was hot anyways.

It occurs to you, walking back to your room in great shame, that you weren’t actually worried about anyone finding out about this, just that it had happened.

Alphas don’t usually purr unless they’ve just knotted someone and they want them to feel good.

And omegas would typically only purr at close family members or intended mates; a lazy sign of comfort and peace, and very occasionally, a come-hither-I’m-feeling-frisky signal to their alpha.

Whatever conclusion could be made about you purring at Yuta from underneath him… there was no option that wasn’t utterly humiliating.

But you only had to worry about what Yuta would think.

You knew Yuta wouldn’t breathe a word about this. Probably not even if someone held a knife to his throat (not that they could… special grade and all).

…you start to feel kinda bad now, actually.

No matter how you’d poked or prodded, Yuta Okkotsu hadn’t snapped at you.

Unflinching in his kindness. Eager to help always, with a hand or some friendly advice. Protective and powerful, never hesitating to put himself between you and danger.

You’d been inching into his space. Stealing his things. Taunting him during practice.

Honestly, if someone else acted like this to you, you’d call them a pest. You wouldn’t smile at them. Not like that.

Yuta must’ve been some kind of saint in a past life, if nothing you’ve done bothers him at all.

It’s weird. It’s all weird. Alphas aren’t like this, neither of you should be like this.

-

It gets worse. It all gets worse, so much worse.

Your rut is in full swing now, burning through you, searing holes in every ounce of sanity you ever thought you had. Nothing is sacred anymore, nothing is off-limits. There’s no shame left and no restraint.

The most heinous ideas flit through your mind, little flashes, lewd imagery of holes to fuck into and knots to squeeze, the tight press of flesh on flesh and dark eyes and lips that curve so gently upwards.

A scent that flutters just at the edge of your senses like the well-worn pages of familiar book.

The best you can do is stop yourself from crying out. The images get clearer, until there’s no denying what they are.

Yuta, on his hands and knees.

All spread apart.

Above you.

Below.

Smiling gently. Whispering words into your ear.

His lean form, the sleek musculature you know from so many fits of sparring, finally bared for you to feast your eyes. “Do you like it, alpha?”

Yes. Yes yes yes yes. Every fiber of your being cries out. The throbbing between your legs is unbearable.

“Do you want it?”

Never wanted anything more.

“You’re such a good alpha. I’m glad.”

Just the thought of the words, in his voice, draws a moan from your lips.

You want him. Want want want want WANT you NEED him where is he where can you find him? You’re going to hunt him down and –

The last remaining threads of your sanity grant you a burst of intuition.

A detail you’d never really forgotten:

The scarf on your desk. The one you hadn’t touched, hadn’t made smell like you. It should still smell like him.

Wait. Wait. What are you, some omega jerking off to the scent of your fucking crush –

Fuck, fuck, fuck. Crush. Okkotsu.

But you can’t get yourself to think about how that’s wrong, can’t convince yourself to deny anything when a pulsing, throbbing sensation between your legs screams mate mate my mate all mine –

Stumbling, staggering, all the way to the desk. Arm reaching out while you’re bent over and panting and nearly whining in your need.

Fuck. Pathetic, so pathetic.

And then you hold the scarf to your face, clutched in your hand like a lifeline. The scent of it is faint and inexplicably cozy, pure relief flooding through you.

It brings you to your knees. The ache between your legs demands attention and your other hand rushes to meet it, jerking and rubbing against your sexes while you sniffle and tear up.

Ruts suck when you spend them alone but this is better and worse than anything you’d ever experienced.

Bucking up into your hands, breathing in his scent like you can fill him in your lungs, inhale him like a cigarette and finally get rid of the pounding demand in your brain.

Every breath feels shallow, every grind against your hand only seems to make you hotter and hotter.

The ache in your core feels like being tugged around, demanding jerks of painful pleasure that don’t get you there, don’t get you what you need.

It’s all you can do to whimper and nuzzle into his scarf.

The primitive side of you urges you to pull it between your legs leg him take care of you, good mate, good alpha, let him feel you there, but your arm locks in place so you can keep breathing the scent like a lifeline.

When you finally do cum, you’re more exhausted than anything, spurting pitifully out over your hands and knees, knot bulging uselessly against your lower belly.

It leaks, slowly, painfully, as if to give you time to think about what you’ve done.

You decide you’d really rather not. Sliding a drawer open to pull out a toy, another toy, three of them, even – enough to overstimulate yourself to high hell, to keep every thought of Yuta and his scent out of your brain.

A vibrator in any hole you could fit it in, against anything that throbbed or ached. A fleshlight to fuck into, one a size too small just to make it hurt more.

Way less lubricant than you could have used, but somehow, your cunt leaks more than enough for all of it.

All to just barely stop the fantasies of a dark-haired, dark-eyed boy with a smile and a scent like the sun.

Without a doubt it’s the most miserable rut you’ve ever had.

You’re raw, red, and sore by the end of it and all you can feel is barely concealed rage at your own self for putting you through this shit.

You don’t even know if you’re mad that you fucked up, or that you’re crushing this fucking hard on a really nice dude you’ve been antagonizing for weeks.  

As soon as your rut ends, you steal another one of Yuta’s scarves.

You don’t give him anything in return this time.

-

Yuta likes women; this is something he’s known for a while.

It’s not until recently that he’s come to terms with the fact that he exclusively likes alpha women. He has you and Maki to thank for that.

In retrospect, considering his first love was a strong-willed young girl who proposed to him, it should probably have been more obvious.

Lucky for him, Rika also has a taste for alpha women, and she likes you much better than she liked Maki.

To be perfectly honest, it was Rika who liked you first.

The Rika he knew had passed on. The Rika beside him now is a curse that grew alongside him; in the image of his loved one, distorted and massive in all its malevolent glory.

She listened to him, for the most part, but perhaps because of some baser instincts of his – or perhaps some left-over preferences from Rika herself – she treats you with a particular affection.

You offer him a drink, moving just a touch too close to hand it over, and he feels Rika hum in approval.

His eyes glance over you unwillingly, your scent faint in his nose. It’s not as harsh as another alpha’s scent normally would be, either, which should have been his first warning.

Whenever you get close – too close, so much that it has to be on purpose – it’s almost overwhelming, so many emotions fluttering through him that he swears he can hear Rika giggling.

She likes it, too. You’re like fresh soil, like morning dew, the rainfall on a summer’s day.

He can tell, after one day he catches you right before your rut, wrestling with him, pinned underneath him and purring; you like him, too.

And then, he fucks it all up.

“Hey,” He calls you out by name and you turn back, meeting his eyes and walking back up to him.

The immediate response causes something dark and warm to burst in his chest; Rika purrs invisibly in his mind.

You try not to show it but you’re pleased when he calls out to you. He can smell it on you, happy pheromones that let him know you’re pleased he’s asked for you.

Not unlike an omega, and that thought really sets him going.

All this time you spent playing coy. Teasing him then running away, even from your own feelings.

You want him so bad but you’re so nervous, and seeing someone so strong and beautiful be so anxious about your want for him drives him completely and utterly insane.

It’s not like you’re cowardly, like he could be, sometimes.

You’re strong, you always give him a fight when you spar, you take the losses like a champ –

You would take his knot so so well RIKA PLEASE STOP THAT RIGHT NOW.

Now you’re staring at him, blushing like a schoolgirl, waiting for him to speak to you. So cute. So cute.

He’d caught you stealing his scarf again, you never gave any of it back. Are you building a nest? Do you like his scent like he likes yours?

Licking his lips, Yuta asks, “You’re – you’re an alpha, right?”

Oh. Oh, he should not have said that.

The surprise that flits across your face, and then the outrage, they tell him the same thing –

But his body receives a very different message, cock jumping in his pants at the scent.

All those times you’d sparred with him had trained him to get hard when you got in his space like this. Your scent wasn’t a threat, but a delicacy, and in his chest a rumble stuttered along with Rika.

“What the fuck are you trying to say, Okkotsu?”

Oh. Family name. You were really mad.

He could tell his face had already fallen by how you looked torn between pity and anger.

An apology lurched to stutter out through his lips, but instead –

Instead –

On the tip of his tongue, the edge of his senses –

“Are you… wet?” It sounds like a question, but that’s sheer politeness on his part.

He can smell it on betas as well as omegas, so it made sense that he could smell it on a female alpha, too.

Your face is hot, bright red, and so, so darling.

He can tell Rika is as thrilled to see it as he is, that she longs to reach out with one of her massive claws and clutch around your shapely waist, hold you in place for him to –

“What the fuck? Okkotsu?!”

Oh no. No no no no no no no. No! “Rika! Rika, don’t hurt her!”

She’s not hurting you. She would never hurt you.

This is probably worse.

“Hurt me? Fucking – ff – hng,” Yuta can’t stop the lurch in his gut, the wave of pure arousal that washes over him at the sound you make, “Get her off me, Okkotsu, you – ”

Your face is so red. Your scent. Your scent. It’s perfuse, a strong, tangy thing, delicious, he’d grown addicted to it and wasn’t that your fault?

Didn’t you do this to him, on purpose? Don’t you want him like this?

Slipping him little tastes here and there, shoving it in his face all the time.

Passing him a sample while you sneakily stole his scarf, hoarding his scent like a needy little omega?

Teasing him, getting in his face while you were in rut?

Purring at him when he pinned you underneath him?

Flushing when he called out to you, looking back, running up to him eagerly like an obedient, darling thing?

Yuta thought he liked alpha women, and he does.

But it looks like he especially likes alpha women who go all soft and squishy for him without saying as much, squirming and blustering and making faces like they’d like to eat him as soon as they thought he wasn’t looking.

“Don’t be upset.” His hands roam down to your sides. He doesn’t miss how you jerk at the contact. “I asked so I could help. Are you wet?” He says your name, a dark fire in his eyes.

You watch his tongue dark between his lips. Bite back a whimper. “Help me how? What’s – what’s she doing?”

“Helping me help you.” If you don’t want to tell, he’ll just check for himself.

His hands are cold, though, and you can’t stop the high gasp that escapes you when his hands dig under your waistband.

He murmurs a soft apology and the curse behind you chitters, chilled claws carefully wrapped around your torso.

Yuta drags your shorts and panties down in one motion, cooing softly at you when you shriek, one hand caressing your shoulder while Rika purrs, pressing herself up against your back.

Filling your senses with pine and Yuta’s oil, a scent like fire that burns to behold.

Warms you like sunlight.

“Yuta-” Even you weren’t sure what you were going to say, but his fingers between your legs send your brain for a complete loop. “I – what are you – we’re in – ”

“I put up a veil,” Yuta says, like (he knows) that was your only real objection.

Or maybe he’s lying. Yuta could tell you he was wearing Ryomen Sukuna’s underwear and you’d believe him, as long as he looked at you like that.

The smile you love so much is hungry, now, with those eyes dark with desire, with a curse clawing at you tenderly, like she just can’t let you go for even a second. Churning pleased little noises with every press and flex of her massive fingers around you.

Fingers darting to spread open your folds, even as you squirm. Bared in broad daylight with Yuta right in front of you.

Circling your hole while he looks you in the eyes, pressed close enough to hear you whine.

“I knew you were wet,” He murmurs, in a soft voice that sends liquid heat dripping down your legs, “Could smell it.”

Yuta leans in. He’s so pretty, so handsome, such a dark and darling thing with those heavy, soulful eyes.

He’s so close that when he whispers your name, you feel it on your lips. “You smell so good.”

He didn’t sound this hot even in your daydreams. He’s so close. So close. His breath ghosts over you like a curse hanging on your shoulder.

Your mouth falls open. Watering, like your cunt. Desperate for a taste.

And maybe you’re still an alpha after all, because finally, finally, you dive in and take what you want.

He tastes as rich on your lips as he’s smelled, soft and oiled and coating your senses. Blotting out everything until all you know is him.

Him, teasing over your clit with careful strokes. Growling into the kiss like he’s warning you not to pull back, Rika pressing you forward like you’re two dolls she can’t wait to smash together.

Arms dart out to his shoulders to steady yourself as he dips his fingertips into your entrance. Generous, broad strokes over your folds he spreads your arousal all over, returning to rub at your clit as he pulls away.

It’s good. So good. The oncoming pleasure builds and builds slowly with his ministrations, pooling heavily in your lower half. The urge to buck into it overtakes you, writhing for more friction as sparks begin to fly against your clit, closer, closer –

And then it’s you who can’t look away, locked in place under his gaze. “You’re going to cum for me? Do you want to?”

God it’s so fucking close, tears blot your eyes as you jerk into his fingers, and Yuta doesn’t even try to deny you.

He smiles at you, carefree. He already has his prey in front of him, unable to escape, uninterested in even trying.

You give him a feverish nod. “Will you tell me so? I want to hear you.”

Just a little faster, just a little more, more, “More please, please, make me cum –”

An exhale of a breath you hadn’t known he was holding, diving in towards your neck, nuzzling against your scent. Burying your face in his shoulder where his own was strongest.

It’s that breath that puts you over the edge, fast strokes of his fingers finally igniting the heavy pleasure pent up in your lower belly, the scent of him pouring over you.

You cum with a cry, mouthing at his neck just to soothe yourself, to taste him.

You feel the wetness of his tongue on your own scent glands. Hot. Drooling. He suckles at your taste, soft lips pressed to bare, vulnerable skin, and you let your head roll to the side to give him more.

All you can feel now is warmth. Warmth and Yuta’s familiar scent that makes your insides twist, the aftershocks still shuddering through you, twitching in his hold like some pitiful creature.

Every muscle in your body relaxes, and it’s only Rika’s grasp on you keeping you up. Fortunately, she’s strong. So strong.

Her head nestles into your shoulder, scenting you. Sweet, chilling pine on your sweaty skin. She purrs you through the bliss, cool against your body caught against Yuta’s own.

There’s a hilariously awkward moment where the two of you start catching your breath. Yuta looks flushed, handsome, as lovely as ever.

Still, his eyes find yours. He smiles. He’s always smiling at you, you’ve started to realize.

The thought makes you happy.

You like it. You like it a lot. Like him.

He’s even better than the fantasies.

“I’m going into rut,” Yuta says. “Because of… this.”

You swallow. “Oh. Okay.”

It’s hard to think too much about it, when the heat in your core is still dissipating, face burning up while you have yet to regain control of your limps

And between the two of you, Yuta must be the real alpha, because he’s the one who goes and just says it already.

“Will you spend it with me?”

“Your… your rut?”

“Yes. I want you to spend it with me.” He’s so close. You can feel the heat of his breath between you. "If you want."

A pause. You try, oh lord, do you try, to gather your thoughts for just one moment. “Are you going to try and mark me?”

“Can I?” His eyes are too light, too eager, the words too quick to fall from his lips.

Alphas don’t ask for permission like puppies begging for treats. But Yuta, your Yuta, he’s already pleading with his eyes.

“Maybe you should be more worried about me marking you.”

“Would you?” Barely contained excitement oozes from him, from his pheromones to his bright expression.

You think you hear Rika giggle behind you. Pleased. Razor teeth ghosting over your ear in a little kiss, as if to urge you forth.

It’s working. If you fuck this boy, you’re gonna bite him.

You’re going to sink your teeth into him the first chance you get, make him yours yours all yours forever and have him every way he can bend, mark him up until he fucks you back into submission.

You’ll fuck him and fuck his curse girlfriend, too.

But it would be weird to just say it, right?

“Maybe.”

He laughs at that.

Oh. Yuta’s always been pretty good at reading between the lines, hasn’t he?

Or, you think as he leans in for a kiss, forehead pressed to yours – maybe he was just good at reading you.

[cherryrikis]

OPERATION: LOCKDOWN - 005 ! miss dr jart ambassador

pairing -> gamer!riki x beauty influencer!fem reader

synopsis -> you hated gamers. riki hated ulzzang’s (except you). so after weeks of fighting to be the top streamer, (and riki’s poor attempts to charm you), he suggests to collaborate so you could both be number one. you tried to keep it professional. but the more time you spent producing content together, the more you realized just how much nishimura riki really meant to you.

previous <> masterlist <> next

you had only been at the arcade for three hours, but your whole friend group probably had over 15,000 tickets each (thanks to wonbin and minjeong, for figuring out how to always hit the jackpot on the wheel of fortune).

“guys, i don’t feel like playing anymore. i’m just gonna go the front real quick, to use the ticket counter?” you informed.

“yeah, no worries. uh, do you need me to come with you?” seunghan asked, gently placing his soda down on the pac-man game (right as wonbin was about to beat his personal record).

“it’s alright. i’ll be quick.”

“come back in time for us to use the photo booth!” hyein called out.

you smiled at her, before turning around to head towards the front of the store.

it was supposed to be a quick stop, you were supposed to count your tickets.

and you were, until you saw his stupid face.

you didn’t even realize it was him, until he bumped into you.

riki was walking backwards for whatever reason, and you had your head buried in your phone, of course you were bound to collide. stupid situational awareness.

“sorry..” “oh! i’m so sorry, are you okay?” riki asked, immediately turning around to offer you a hand. you reached for his support, until you looked up and realized who it was.

“you’ve got to be kidding. for a moment i actually almost saw you as a decent human being. you know, when you’re not publicly berating girls.” you scoffed, pushing his hand away to get back up on your own.

you never noticed how tall riki was. he completely towered over you once you were on your feet again.

riki ignored your comment, and instead changed the subject.

"didn’t think this was your type of scenery, miss dr jart ambassador.”

"it’s not.. im here with friends." you sighed. “and don’t call me that. only the girls ever called me that.”

"are they as stereotypically loud and obnoxious as all gamers?" he teased, nudging your shoulder, only to quickly withdraw his arm as you glared at him.

"we're actually all models, but nice try."

soon after, one of riki's friends come up to you both, throwing an arm around his shoulder. "hey, you really put the beauty in beauty influencer. you're... yn, right? im jake." he says.

"this one might be an exception." you jokingly whispered to riki in a way you knew jake would hear, replying back to the previous comment from right before he came.

riki pushed jake’s face away from you. "not him though. he's too old for you."

"and you arent too young for me? what if i like older guys?" you tilted your head to the side, faking a clueless expression.

"well then i guarantee jake isn't the one. and arent you also born in 2005??"

"yeah, i am. but whatever. see you around i guess. dont approach me when i'm with my friends again, or i WILL make sure seunghan finds you." you scoff.

"but you were alone?" riki called out as he watched you walk away.

you carefully made your way back to your friend group, as they were waiting at the photo booth as planned.

“oh hey! you’re back. obviously we’re not all gonna fit, so we’ll take turns.” hanni waved, gesturing for you to come closer. “you and seunghan will go first.”

seunghan stepped forward, holding the curtain open for you to go in first before sitting down beside you.

“you were gone for like, 10 minutes. what’s up with that?” he whispered, knowing your group would be eavesdropping.

“you won’t believe this, seung. but i ran into riki.”

he slapped a hand over his mouth with a gasp. “you’re lying! i’ll literally find him when we’re done with this, and make sure he keeps your name out his mouth.”

3, 2, 1, pose! the speaker played out, as you and seunghan quickly got into a casual two-person-heart-formation.

“it’s okay. you don’t have to. he’s actually not that bad, just a little persistent.” you chuckle. but seunghan didn’t find it funny.

“y/n. are you forgetting all that he said about you? especially on live. your image was damaged.” he stared at you with a blank expression.

“it’s been over a month. it’s not as relevant to me anymore. besides, my reputation wasn’t impacted as much as his.” you furrowed your brows “why do you care so much?”

3, 2, 1, pose! the camera clicked once more while the two of you managed to find a last minute pose.

seunghan let out an exasperated sigh. “i just want what’s best for you, y/n. you know that. but, whatever. i’m sorry angel. if you’re over it, then good, good that you put it past you.”

“it’s okay. i get it.” you reassured.

3, 2, 1, pose! the white light flashed, indicating the last picture was taken. when you got your photo strip, the third and final picture revealed seunghan with his arm over your shoulder, as he stared at you while you smiled at the camera.

the more you looked at the picture, the more it clicked in your head. and you realized, why seunghan got so overprotective over you.

taglist ! (bold = cannot be tagged) @hannicorpse @gyuvision @yvjw @chaevibes @sakiimeo @allforhee @streamluckybyriize @soobinbunnie5 @lalaisve @xyzyx01 @goldenmellow @ariluvssssss100 @brideslit @t0asterexe @ikeujyn @jaemified @chiaki-nanami-aesthetic @sirens-dreams @rikisgeef @i03jae @iheartshopping @wensurr @heartheejake @moonpri @nshmra-on-air @heeseungismymanz @st1llm0nster @ningx2stan @onlyhyunjin @d-dilemma @jjongarlic02 @wonkixo @kkamismom12 @jiyeons-closet @pshbites @haechansbbg @aeminju @xoxol3a @rairaiblog @kang-ulzzang @riksaes @kittsnewera @enhajungwonheart @madebylilia @orimuraa @heeheeswifey @artstaeh @r1kizerr @pinksdump @joyzluvr @academiq @sincerelyrki @tocupid

[listofwhyyouloveher]

Greasers with a crush that's super laid back and honestly never bothered but surprisingly can kick ass? Like full on martial arts acrobatics kicking ass. And it's just like the last thing you'd ever expect from them.

Summary: The gang with a badass!reader

Warnings: none

Author's Note: none

PONYBOY has had a crush on you since 3rd grade when you knocked a boy's front teeth out during recess because he tried to look up your skirt. He's always got kind of giggly and happy whenever you were around or being talked about. If there's ever a fight in school he'll only watch it if its you. He loves your carefree, relaxed personality, he thinks it makes it even more chilling when you kick ass.

JOHNNY doesn't like to get involved with people who fight, and everything he's heard about you had been about how you rocked someone last night for screwing you over. It made a pretty bad impression on him to be honest He always tried to steer away from you, but he saw some socs following you and tried to warn you. He was blown away by your fighting, it was almost like a movie. Johnny's totally into how you're so relaxed, trying to avoid fighting but still kicking ass.

SODAPOP loves watching fights, but he says "watching chicks fight" made him feel immoral. That's why he's never heard about you and your ever stretching reputation. He only met you when you helped him ward off some socs. It was almost as if you merely looked their way and they were gone. He was shocked and totally infatuated. He made it known by talking about you in the same giggly voice that Ponyboy would use.

STEVE met you at Buck's. You were sipping on straight alcohol as if it was juice. He was immediately interested but kept his distance. Until, some girl came up to you looking for a fight and you clocked her in a simple sentence. He laughed so loud that you gave him a quizzical look. He takes you out on several dates but he's still and will forever be in love with you personality.

TWO BIT knows all about you, he is just one of those guys who knows everybody. He originally met you at a party. You instantly hit it off and you two had such fun and friendly banter that he always smiles when he thinks of those interactions. He's always trying to take you places you might like, a show, a party whatever. As much as he loves watching your almost show like fighting moves, he really doesn't like the fact that you actually fight, he sees it as something that can only catch up to you in a bad way.

DARRY also doesn't really appreciate you getting in fights, but he still has a big crush on you. If he sees you after or walking home from a fight he'll get all fussy and take care of you with first-aid and drive you home. He loves your laidback personality, how you can still laugh but you also have a stern personality too which he thinks would be a perfect personality to be around Pony and Soda.

DALLAS thinks you're such a badass. He's secretly such a fan girl of you. He tries to get into every party that you go to, just so he can see you. Dally knows that dating you can skyrocket his reputation, but he feels a little odd trying to date you, it feels like he's got a crush on a popular celebrity he'll never achieve. This actually makes him a little insecure, he used to think he could get every girl he wanted some way or another, but now you kind of killed his ego.

[willowsnook]

brandy with italian soda in a wine glass? 💗

charles leclerc x verstappen!sister

do you enjoy pissing me off?

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

Few things in life were certain: death, taxes, and Charles Leclerc being hopelessly in love with you. At least, that last part was obvious to everyone except you. Charles had been smitten since the days when you were both tearing up karting tracks. Even your brother Max found it amusing how oblivious you were to the whole thing. The signs? Blatantly obvious.

Charles was always around. To anyone new in the paddock, it might look like he was a Red Bull driver with how often he hung around their garage whenever you were at a race.

He was always touching you—his hand on your back as you walked, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face, or nudging you playfully. He found any excuse to be close to you.

And he never talked about other girls when you were around. If the conversation ever drifted toward his romantic life, he’d deflect, downplaying any rumors. Because in his eyes, the only person that mattered was you.

But you were too caught up in your own world to notice. Ever since you’d started your marketing career at a tech company last year, life had been a blur of work and figuring out adulthood. Dating wasn’t exactly on your radar.

Charles had always been in your life. So, for you, it didn’t feel strange to be around him all the time. You hadn’t realized things had shifted on his end.

It was a late night in Monaco, and you were out for dinner with Charles, Max, Kelly, and a few others, making the most of a short break after Singapore. You rested your head on Charles’ shoulder, casually holding a glass of wine while chatting with Kelly. After dinner, the plan was to hit up a new club in town, and you were excited for a night out.

When the waiter came by with the checks, Charles swiftly motioned that yours was with his.

"You didn’t have to do that, Charlie," you said, glancing up at him.

He smiled warmly. "I always will, mon amour."

Max rolled his eyes and gagged dramatically, while Kelly shot him a warning look.

After leaving the restaurant, you grabbed Charles’ hand as the group made their way toward the club, not wanting to get separated in the busy streets. Charles absentmindedly rubbed his thumb against your hand, content with the simple gesture. Thanks to Max, you all had a private VIP section waiting at the club.

Once inside, you made your way to the bar to grab a drink. "Tequila soda, please," you ordered, leaning over the counter.

"Her drink’s on me," a guy standing next to you offered with a charming smile. He had beach-blonde hair and deep, ocean-blue eyes.

"Thanks," you replied, accepting the gesture.

"No problem," he said, leaning in closer so you could hear him over the music. "You from around here?"

"I live here now," you explained, "but I’m originally from the Netherlands."

"Nice," he replied, clearly interested. "I’m just visiting from the U.S."

"Ah, I’ve been a couple of times—Vegas, Miami, Austin," you said casually, listing off F1’s U.S. race stops.

"Not L.A.?" he asked with a grin. "You’ll have to let me show you around sometime."

You blushed, about to respond when you felt a strong hand wrap around your arm, pulling you away from the bar.

"Let’s go," Charles said sharply, his eyes shooting daggers at the guy, who looked confused.

"Charles, what the hell?" you protested, irritation bubbling up as you pulled free from his grip.

Charles stopped and turned to face you, his jaw clenched. "Are you trying to piss me off?"

Your eyes widened, taken aback. "What are you talking about?"

"That guy," Charles snapped, gesturing back at the bar. "Flirting with you, buying you drinks—do you not see what’s happening?"

You crossed your arms defensively. "He was just being nice, Charles. It’s not that serious."

"Not that serious?" he repeated, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "You really don’t see it, do you?"

"See what?" you demanded, exasperated. "Why do you care so much?"

Charles stared at you, his usual cool exterior cracking as his emotions surfaced. "Because it drives me insane watching other guys try to get your attention. I should be the only one who has your attention."

The words hung in the air between you. His eyes softened as he realized what he’d just admitted.

Charles swallowed hard, his frustration giving way to vulnerability as he took a step closer, closing the gap between you. "I’ve been in love with you for longer than I can remember. Watching you with someone else, even for a second, it—" He broke off, running a hand through his hair. "I don’t want anyone else to have you, because I’ve always wanted you."

The weight of his confession made your breath hitch. The little gestures, the lingering looks, the way he always had your back—it suddenly all made sense.

You closed the space between you, pulling him down into a kiss that felt like it had been building for years. Charles wasted no time in wrapping his arms around you, deepening the kiss, his hands sliding up your back like he’d finally found what he’d been waiting for.

When you finally pulled away, both of you breathless, Charles rested his forehead against yours, a wide smile on his face.

"About time," he whispered, making you laugh softly.

"Yeah, about time," you agreed, already knowing that this was just the beginning.

Both of you walked back to your friends who had been watching the whole time and your face burned red with embarrassment.

"Finally found your balls mate?" Max said to Charles laughing and you rolled your eyes, not letting your grip of his hand loosen.

[101maverick]

hey i saw your requests are open and i was wondering if maybe you could write smth hurt/comfort with jason please? like they had a big fight and then they make up after something happens🙌🏻

A/n: okok srry if it took me a few days but school and other projects are kicking my butt, hope you enjoy!! I decided to use your request to study Jason from a more ak! Point of view if that makes sense? I haven’t consumed the media but i’ve read some really beautiful works with him and hope it makes him justice :)

Word count: 1206 words

Execution At Sundown

Jason was at your place, sitting on the side of the couch with your tv remote by his side, cup of soda in his hand.

He still hadn’t shown you his face even after months of dating, and even though it stung you understood that it was a huge show of trust on his part, so if he was content sipping his soda from a straw that went under his mask you wouldn’t say anything about it and keep your feelings to yourself.

Everything had been going fine, you had just been hanging out while watching a movie.

It all hit the fan when you decided to go get another soda, rising up from the couch and padding down the hallway to the kitchen to fetch the drink.

After retrieving your drink you made your way back, and as the couch came into view you saw that Jason was now engrossed with something on his phone.

You didn’t think too much about it, just eyed the now empty soda resting in his left hand. On a whim, you walked up to his side of the couch and leaned over, going to grab his empty cup to replenish it.

Before you could do much more than make contact with the clothed skin of Jason’s shoulder though you found yourself being slammed back, loosing your balance and falling on your behind.

——————————

Jason reacted out of instinct.

One second he was relatively relaxed on his girlfriend’s couch, looking at a map of his territory for anything suspicious that might be going on, and the next there was a pressure on his shoulder, somebody leaning in and- “Why don’t you scream a bit for me, Todd?” and then there was pain-

He grabbed the body pressing in on him and pushed, slamming his attacker back and watching, half-standing and with his torso turned in a way that pulled at the knotted skin marring every inch of him, and even if the assailant was on the ground they still hurt him, that damned clown still dug his claws in and he always screamed but nobody heard him and-

Oh. It’s you.

It’s you, who had wormed his way into his heart in a matter of months.

It’s you, who had caressed the mangled skin of his hands and said “That’s okay” in response to the proof of him having been broken and put together crooked and wrong. As if it really was.

It’s you, legs sprawled on the floor with a bewildered expression on your face, wide eyes staring up at him in shock.

Jason stares back at you, his own features turned to stone under the mask as he feels his throat close up.

He had hurt you. He had thrown you to the ground. Guess the apple never falls far from the tree then, uh? Guess he was just like Willis after all, smacking around anyone without the ability to control his feelings. A rabid animal.

An animal. A pet. That’s what the Joker used to call him. What the Joker still calls him every day, in his wretched mind. A mindless thing, twisted and contorted to be ready to bend at his master’s will, and the fact he didn’t have one here anymore didn’t mean he was suddenly upgraded to ‘human’, did it? He was still incapable of controlling himself, succumbing to the rage just like Willis had to the bottle. Not even capable of recognising his girlfriend the only person who had accepted his crooked form and chipped edges, throwing her around simply because even gentle and casual touches were ruined for him by that forsaken clown-

“Jace?”

The world comes back into focus, his eyes zero in on the spot of the wall he had been staring at in his haze and then shift down to you, now seated more comfortably on the ground. You haven’t moved, you haven’t come closer to him.

You’re scared of him.

Jason feels his throat constrict, and he punches the words out around the lump forming in his throat. “I- I didn’t- you were- sorry- I-”

Gosh he’s such a mess, can’t even explain to you how pathetic he is, how he still lets a fucking clown torture him with his mere shadow, and now you will realise the honeyed touches are not made for him, not anymore, maybe they never were, or else someone would’ve come-

Now you will realise that all those jagged edges are places you could cut yourself on. Now you will realise a rabid dog like him just needs to be put down for good.

He stutters out a last sentence for you, spits it out on your clean parquet, and even that feels too much like dirtying your sanctuary for his liking. “I- sorry, I’ll- I’ll go-” and he’s not even finishing his sentence before he’s stalking towards your apartment’s door, steps as sure as he can make them as he walks away from the only hands who had held him oh so gently, only like Catherine ever had, his mom, and he wills his legs to keep moving or else he won’t make it out of here for good-

“Don’t leave, please.”

Your voice is quiet, quiet as it breaks his heart and his resolve.

Because Jason has never been strong, and the little crack he can hear coming from his heart hurts but so does the knowledge he’s too weak to keep going the last few steps to your door, the few steps that’ll lead him back to how it was before and you back to a life of safety, free of the burden that is Jason Todd.

He turns around. You’re leaning in the doorway to the living room, staring at him on the other side of the hallway.

Your stance is relaxed. You aren’t holding yourself like you’re hurt. Your eyes are wide, and sad, but they’re not wary.

With his attention on you, you speak again. Your voice is soft, and now also kinda trembly. “I know I don’t know even the start of the story, but I know you have one and it’s the reason things like this sometimes happen.” Your eyes stare into the white lenses of the mask, desperately searching for his gaze under it. “I’m not gonna say it’s okay, because it isn’t.”

There it is. The proof he fucked it up, like is his design.

“It’s not okay,” you continue, startling him. He was getting lost again. He waits for the axe. “because something or someone hurt you, and you still suffer from it.”

He looks at you. Jason looks in your eyes, and gets the feeling you know he’s returning your gaze.

“I want to help you, Jace. Any way I can. Any way you let me. Because I know that when things aren’t okay, sometimes all you need is someone there with you to help you make it so.”

Your voice was sure through it all, but now it falters a bit. “So, so if you want, I could be by your side. If that’s how you’ll let me help. So, so don’t leave.”

His eyes don’t wander away from you.

And as he gazes into your eyes, glinting with the light from the tv bathing your side in neons, he knows that he never could.

The axe doesn’t fall.

[chaotic-starlight24]

Darry Curtis General Headcanons

Here he is! Darry needs a break for real though. Let this man take a nap or something.

Warnings: Spoilers, Angst, Mentions of blood if your squeamish about that stuff

When Pony and Johnny ran Darry felt that everything was his fault. In his eyes, since he smacked Pony and made him run away he was the partial cause of Bob’s death and eventually Johnny and Dally’s. It took a while before he was convinced otherwise.

He is one of the youngest guys in the roofing group. Most of them are 30-45 year old guys. Their names are Bart, Eddie, Jeff, and Rich. There are also 2 sixteen year olds who work occasionally and are more of interns of sorts. Darry likes the guys he works with, he just doesn’t like his job so much. It can throw him off that the older guys are talking to him since they call him kid and son most of the time. But they’re really nice.

He gets extremely sunburned when he’s roofing houses so Soda and Ponyboy bought him some sunscreen. He just about fell to his knees. It meant a lot to him that they listened to him whenever he mentioned things at dinner.

I stand with the headcanon that Soda accidentally named Ponyboy but I would also like to add to it. When a 3 year old Soda was running around saying that his mom was going to have a pony, a 6 year old Darry told his dad that would be a cool name to have. Which is when the lightbulb went off in Mr. Curtis’ mind. Darry does not remember this.

Him and Paul were best friends from their childhood and Paul really wanted to be there for Darry. But they were pulled apart and also under pressure from Paul’s parents. They felt he would be held back if he tried to help Darry out. So they eventually put it in his head that Darry was what he would become if he didn’t succeed.

The Curtis family was/is good friends with the Matthews so Darry and Two-Bit knew each other ever since they were little. Their duo was kind of the original gang. Paul was also friends with them and would join them when he could. But his parents didn’t like him being with “The lower class”. Two-Bit was always there for him and ofc still is.

Continuing with the Darry and Two-Bit friendship, on days when Darry has work off Two-Bit will drag him over to Buck’s or another party just to see Darry lose those years of tiredness.

Darry loves Elvis like the rest of the Greasers but there is one band that he likes the songs a lot of but will never show it. He really likes The Beach Boys. He heard it for the first time when he was 16 at Paul’s. His older sister was playing some of their songs as they were relatively new and he discreetly asked who they were. The only person who knows is Two-Bit as he caught him once jamming out to their songs. (If we are allowing my ocs in this, Rosemary also knows)

His least favorite chore to do is mowing the lawn. So he usually forces Soda to do it. He hates how the grass always ends up on him no matter what he does. And it’s really annoying to try and wash out of clothes or off the side of the house.

He has several times where he will be in the middle of roofing houses and just get lost in thought about everything that has happened that led him here and end up just staring at the ground. Until Eddie clanks a tool and tells him to “get his head out of the clouds”. Which is what he started to tell Pony.

He hit his main growth spurt and everything when he was 13 and ended up just looking like an almost grown man. But his voice didn’t deepen till he was about 14-15. It made him self-conscious. 

He wanted to buy a present for Pony and Soda for their birthdays, so he decided to try babysitting for a while. He was pretty good at it and ended up making bank. Two-Bit also joined him so he could make some cash.

He has the most prominent southern accent. He’s still understandable but whenever he’s upset it really comes out.

He broke his arm when he fell off a roof. He apologized to the couple whose house he and Bart were working on and they told him it was no problem. The wife was actually a nurse at the hospital so she quickly told him he needed to get over there and she would pay for it all. Bart finished the job and told him he needed to rest and he better not see him back to roofing until he’s healed up. Pony and Soda helped him out a lot with everyday things and Pony didn’t tell him but he held a garage sale of sorts to help pay for stuff.

Once Pony and Soda move out Darry would probably take up coaching at the school. He remembered how much he does actually enjoy working with kids and athletics. He also holds some training sessions for newer football players and such.

The night Pony ran away Darry sat on his knees at the door, tears streaming down his face but with just a stunned expression on his face. No sounds besides his heavy breathing. Soda called Two-Bit and Steve over while he was also sobbing. No one could get through to Darry. But after 2 hours of him like this he slowly got up and went to his room. And all they could hear was yelling, things being thrown, and then loud sobbing afterwards.

He hated how violent he acted after Pony left. He never hurt anyone else but he would throw things around his room. Then just sob afterwards because it was because of his anger that Pony was gone. And after he found out about the murder he just sat on the couch and stared at the ground. 

While Pony was gone, he would flinch whenever anyone would touch him. He never went out of his way to hug anyone or anything. Sometimes the roofing guys would pat him on the back and he would have to stop himself from snapping at them.

He would also be walking around and suddenly think he saw Pony or Johnny. But it would always just be some random kid or a weirdly shaped tree. It was mainly from his lack of sleep.

When he was in school a lot of girls had crushes on him. But he never really was interested in anyone. He dated one or two people but overall he was more focused on school itself. It was also because he thought the main reason anyone was interested in him was because he was popular instead of him as a person. 

He doesn’t really like his name. Not just because it is his dad’s but he thinks it makes him sound old. 

He has a really high pain tolerance but also gets injured a lot. Smaller ones. Like he’ll cut his knee open and be bleeding a lot and just say something like “I’ll just wait for it to stop on its own.” (If we are counting ocs Rosemary always scolds him whenever he does this and cleans and bandages him up. She also tells him to be more careful.)

He was always an older brother of sorts to Dallas whenever he first came to Tulsa. But they grew apart once Dallas got back into being a JD. Darry didn't like the example Dally was setting for Pony and Soda. But he would still help him out when needed. They eventually became closer again once the Curtis parents died and Dally would help Darry out with Ponyboy.

[urlocalnonbinarybastardwrites]

Headcanons for the greasers x s/o who flinches when they raise their hand in a fight

Tw: Angsty ig, light potential violence, slight abusive

Ponyboy Curtis

-you two were arguing about his smoking again

-you really hates when he does it, and he does it too much

-so you express that one night when it’s just you two having dinner at the Curtis house, Darrys still working, and Soda is out with Steve

-“You need to quit smokin so much Ponyboy! It’ll kill you!”

“I can’t quit y/n, yk how I get without my cancer sticks, y/n, just lemme have one more!”

-soon it turns into a bigger arguement, and you both get into each others faces, yelling

-he raises his fist, not thinking, and pauses when he sees the fear in your eyes

-he feels immediately sick to his stomach, at the thought of scaring someone he loved so dearly

-as you run out of the house he yells “W-wait! Y/n! Y/n! I-i ain’t mean to I swear!”

-he feels horrible and definitely breaks down on his steps crying a bit and soda and carry find him there ask him what happened

-he explains and they exchange looks, and they make him go apologize

-he comes to your house with flowers and a handwritten apology, getting ready to leave them at your door when you open it

-before you can get a word in he’s already rambling “Y/n I-I am so sorry I would’ve never actually hit you, I hope you know that I’m so so sorry please don’t break up with me but I understand if you w-“

-you hug him

-“Ponyboy Micheal Curtis if you ever raise that fist again-“

-he never does

Johnny Cade

-it’s so hard to imagine him actually doing this

-I feel like the only way you’d get that kind of reaction out of him realistically is hurting his friends

-but for the sake of the hcs let’s say you both get into a fight and you try getting in his face or sum and he pushes you back, a lot harder then he meant

-you slam into the wall

-with tears down your cheeks, you always thought Johnny was your safe person, the last person on earth who would hurt you

-it wasn’t really about the pain, it didn’t hurt that much. But the fact he did it

-for Johnny, his world just shatters…. He just did what he swore he’d never do… lay hands on you

-he drops to his knees in shock at himself, feeling the worst pain imaginable looking at your wet eyes, your… scared eyes

-he knows that look so well, the one he’s had so many times himself and he feels his heart rip out when you run away from the lot

-in canon it takes a LOT to make him cry and this does it

-he cries in his hands, he can’t believe what he just did

-feels the worst out of all the greasers ☹️

-he lets you come to him, he doesn’t go to you, he wants to give you enough space from him

-when you come back and meet him at the lot his stomach does a flip

-“Y/n I didn’t mean to push you that hard I swear I wouldn’t ever hurt you I’m so sorry I’m just like my old man and ma…. I don’t ever wanna hurt you I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry….”

-practically drops to his knees before you

-you look at him, sighing, it’s impossible to stay mad at him

-you look him dead in the eyes as he gulps

“Johnny Cade you best never lay a finger on me again in that way y’hear?”

-he never comes close to doing that again, and even months later apologizes

Sodapop Curtis

-him doing this is so ooc like johnny lmao so it’s hard to protest and I think he’d again only ever do this if you attacked pony or sum

-you’re frustrated with him, he’s smart, dammit! Maybe a little slow, but when he gets things he gets them!

-and you really wish he could see that

-you both have enough collective money to push him through college to get a better job than a gas station

-and even if he is happy, he could be happier

-you both get into another arguement, and he grabs your arm, pulling you closer, and you squeal a little as your arm turns red

-he turns to you and meets your eyes, dropping your arm instantly

-you look at him in bewilderment and… fear as he starts

-“Y/n c’mon now please, wait…”

-but you’re out of that house faster than lightning

-he immediately goes to your house with flowers, and some jewelry that he’s been saving up to buy you

-you open the door “Soda, you can’t win my affection back with a half assed smile and-“

-he cuts you off with a sheepish grin “I- I actually intended to win you over in a different way…. Like an apology. I’m so sorry. I-After Sandy… I just can’t lose you too, to something so stupid. I’ll never do it again.”

-he is a man of his word

Darry Curtis

-one day he comes home, already tired from work and sees you there, crossed arms

-he forgot your anniversary… again

-he tried to apologize and you interrupted, furious

-he shoots back, arguing he can’t remember because he works all the time and actually does something with his life

-you get furious at this remark, and yell up in his face and he shoves you, (pb Curtis style 💀💀😭)

-you sit up, looking at him with tears because hell yes getting abused by Darry’s muscle mass hurts

-you look so scared and when darry meets your eyes his jaw drops, and he tries to apologize but you’ve already ran out of the house

-you head home and he comes to your door the next day, and the next

-your relationship takes the longest to heal

-about a month later you let him in and he’s mostly quiet, he feels horrible

-he lets you tell and scream at him and take out your anger, just so he can at least let you get it all out before he tries to apologize

-“Y/n I-i am really sorry. Sorrier than I ever have been in my entire life. I made one of the biggest mistakes I ever have and I am real sorry.”

-you stand up, and let out a teary sigh “if you ever lay another hand on me again I will leave you faster than you can’t count to three DO YOU UNDERSTAND?”

-he nods

-it takes a very long time to repair your relationship, but once you do, he never lays a finger on you like that ever again

Dallas Winston

-one night, he gets a bit drunk and a girl kisses him

-you get mad, and see the whole thing before he pushes her away with disgust

-you think he cheated and yell at him about it when you both get home

-you both get HEATED and get in each others faces, this is definitely the most fast building fight

-he raises his palm up, nearly hitting you but taking a pause when he looks into your alone angry eyes, now with a layer of fear

-for a look the he’s used to getting so much his way, this hits differently

-he drops his hand, and looks down at it then back at you, and immediately tries to apologize

-“C’mon y/n I wasn’t actually gonna hit you you know that stop making such a big deal out of it-“

-you run out and he actually feels badly

-he won’t ever approach you first, he waits for you to come to him

-“Dallas Winston you NEVER do that again. Please.”

-he nods, and even, for the first time, apologizes sincerely

-he doesn’t ever do it again

Two Bit Matthews

-you two were joking around when suddenly he cracked a joke a bit too close to home

-you told him off and annoyed, he argued back

-pretty soon it was a full on fight, and he grabbed your hand and raised the other one

-you looked up at him “Two… were ya gonna hurt me?!”

-he snaps out of it, looking at you and instantly pulling away

-“Y/n, I’m so sorry… I-i don’t know what came over me. You know I couldn’t do that.”

-he looks into your eyes genuinely and you pause

-“Never again?” “Never again, promise.”

Steve Randle

-he left Ponyboy out of another hangout between him you and soda and you were mad, you knew it hurt Ponyboy

-you bring it up to him and he immediately deflects and rolls his eyes

-after a while things get pretty heated and he snaps, and grabs the collar of your shirt

-you gasp, and look down then up at him, and he looks at you, confused then guilty

-he looks at you as you back away “Y/n…… don’t be like that… I wouldn’t- I couldn’t-“

-you run out of the gas station and sit under a nearby tree, your head in your knees

-he runs after you, and squats down next to you, looking you in the eyes

-“Y/n, I’m so sorry. I know never do that to you. I’ll never do it again.”

[broareweabouttoviberightnow]

I love your writing so much! I also love the Curtis bros and a little bit of low stakes angst, so, for a request I would love to see Ponyboy and Soda having a rare fight and Darry having to deal with them being absolute children while being super flabbergasted that they’re even fighting in the first place and trying to figure out what the heck is going on

OOOH LOVE this ask I will do my best!! fic under the cut!!

When Darry pulled up at the house to yellin' that damn near echoed down the block, he wasn't exactly surprised, per se. The boys were always yelling. It didn't matter if they were pleased or hacked off or dangerously close to tears. They didn't have what you might call volume control.

Darry threw the truck in park 'n killed the engine, listenin' carefully. If he was gonna have to go break up a fight he wanted at least some forewarnin'. He can pick out Pony's voice as it rises shrilly. Not a good sign. But he can't quite identify the second voice, or voices?, but if he had to guess, he would play his chips on Steve. He couldn't leave those two alone for five goddamn minutes without them tryin' to kill each other. He rests his head on the steerin' wheel for a moment, bone tired. But there was never any time to just be tired. So out he gets.

He climbs out, easin' the door shut behind him. He doesn't want to give his troublemakers any heads-up. If he had to pry them off one another at least he could deal with it right away instead of havin' to watch them shoot glares 'n jabs 'n ill-placed kicks under the table.

"Tell him to knock it off!" Pony's voice has hit an all-time high note, forget whinin', this was wailin'. The other person isn't yellin' yet, but they're gettin' there. Darry locks the truck, cocks his head. If he didn't know better he would say that it was-

"Soda! I can't believe you're takin' his side over this!" Soda? Now that was not what he had expected.

"Well if you stopped actin' like a brat-" The second Darry hears the word brat leave Soda's mouth he's up the steps before he can blink. Somethin' had to be seriously wrong. Brat was only ever used by Steve and at a high price every time.

Darry's got his hand on the knob but he hasn't quite twisted it when he hears Pony's shocked little gasp and then his vicious "Dropout."

When Darry opens the front door Soda is already on top of Ponyboy. For a moment he just stands there. They don't seem to notice at all. Pony shoves his hand hard into Soda's chest 'n Soda grabs a fist full of Pony's hair 'n yanks. Pony yowls and knees him in the stomach. Soda yelps 'n pins him down to the floor, jabbin' 'n scratchin' 'n not doin' any serious damage at all. Pony wriggles fiercely, manages to worm out from beneath Soda 'n scramble to his feet. He looks like he's seriously considerin' jumpin' back down on him with Darry grabs him by the back of the neck. Soda dives for Pony again and Darry snaps him by the bicep, forcibly keepin' them apart,

"What the hell has gotten into the two of you?" Pony registers shock for a moment, blinkin' up at Darry with big, wet eyes before he refocuses on Soda.

"Ask him. He's the one that jumped on me!" Darry turns to Soda, shakes him when he doesn't say anythin', just keeps on glarin' at Pony.

"Sodapop Curtis, what is goin' on here?" Soda turns his scowl on Darry, anger blazin' in his eyes. He only falters when Darry matches his stare, rattlin' him by the arm for good measure.

"He was bein' a brat." Soda mumbles 'n Darry releases him only to cuff him up the back of his head.

"Ow!"

"Don't call your brother that." Pony smirks 'n Darry rounds on him. "'N don't let me catch you lookin' smug, lil boy, I know better than to think you didn't have a hand in this."

"Aw, lay off him Darry." Soda kicks at the carpet and Darry whips back to him with a scoff, jaw open in bewilderment.

"Lay off? Soda I just yanked you off him!"

"That's different." Soda bats his eyes at Darry like he always does, hopin' for leeway 'n knowin' he was a pushover when it came to his first kid brother. "Pony was bein' an assh-"

"What the hell-" Darry heaves an exasperated sigh 'n Pony at least has the sense to stop while he's ahead. Out of the corner of his eye he catches Soda stick his tongue out. Pony lets out an indignant wail 'n is only stopped from resumin' their scrap by Darry's hand squeezin' the back of his neck.

"Glory God. I don't know what is wrong with you two today but I'm not dealin' with it. Ponyboy Michael, you go to your room. Sodapop Patrick, you go to mine. I don't want to hear a peep from either of you."

Both boys instantly start whinin'.

"But Darryyy-"

"C'mon Dar-"

"No sirree, I'm not hearin' it. You want to act like lil' kids I'm more than happy to treat you that way. Now not another word before I stick the both of you in corners, too."

Darry releases his grip on both of them, givin' a gentle shove down the hall. The second they're out of his grasp 'n around the corner Darry can hear the sound of a slap on bare skin 'n a shove that sends one of them careenin' into the wall.

"Darry!"

"If I need to escort your asses down that hall neither of you are goin' to like it!" He clenches his fists so hard his knuckles are white. Mercifully, he hears a muttered asshole 'n the respondin' bitch 'n both doors slam without any more fightin'. Glory god, they were gonna make him grey before he was twenty-five.

He sighs again, runs a hand up the back of his neck 'n finally realizes Steve has been standin' stock still in the living room the entire time, lookin' more than a little shell-shocked.

"You alright, kid?"Steve shakes his head to clear it, lookin' just as bewildered as Darry felt.

"Yeah? Yeah. I'm good."

"Am I right to guess you were involved in all this?"

"Uh, kinda? I wasn't fightin' or nothin'." He rubs his hands sheepishly back 'n forth on his jeans in a way Darry knows he picked up from him. "But, uh, I was teasin' the Ponykid. I didn't expect it to get ballistic or nothin'."

Darry sits down heavily at the table, exhausted. "We've talked about you ribbin' on Pony before, yeah?"

Steve bites at the inside of his lip. "Yeah, sorry Darry." Darry didn't mind the two of them goin' back 'n forth a bit. Privately, he thought Soda coddled him too much. Well. Normally. But Steve 'n Pony could never stop when they should. Their digs could turn into brawls before you could blink.

"It's alright. Somehow I don't think I can blame you for Soda jumpin' on the kid." Steve cracks a smile, still lookin' lost. "Tell you what, you get over there 'n wash those dishes 'n I'll call this one even."

Steve nods, ducks into the kitchen 'n flips on the tap. Darry scrubs a hand over his face, tryin' to find his head. Darry knew exactly how to break up a fight between Steve 'n Pony, or Dallas' 'n Steve. He had it down to a science how to navigate the fall out of Two makin' the wrong jokes to the wrong people. Hell, he could settle a fight between nearly any of his kid brothers with practiced ease in five minutes flat.

But Pony 'n Soda? God, they were their own entire world.

Darry remembered, back when they were kids, nothin' was worse than a true Soda/Pony beatdown. They just got each other better. So when they managed to get each other's goat, breakin' them up like steppin' in the middle of a shoot out. They were just as liable to turn on you as they were to go after the other.

There were very few things about how their relationships had changed Darry was grateful for, but if it had made Soda 'n Pony closer so Darry didn't have to deal with any of their fighting, well, he wouldn't lick a gift horse in the mouth.

Apparently, the universe thought things had been goin' too smoothly lately.

Darry sighs again, leaves Steve scrubbin' at the pan Darry had been dreadin' washin' all day. Small favors.

He hesitates in the hall, tryin' to decide which of the two boys to talk to first. He worries his lip, figures he better sit Pony down. He's got a naggin' feelin' that this has more to do with Soda 'n he wants to get one of them dealt with. Plus, bein' alone had a repentant effect on Soda. Pony could sit in a dark room for a week 'n come out more mad than he'd gone in.

Darry swears he got that particular vice from Dallas but it's more likely it came from Darry. They were the same brand of fool-headed stubborn sometimes.

Darry knocks lightly on the door and slips inside, schoolin' his features based on Pony's attitude. He's not surprised when he finds the kid knees up in his chest, forehead down. Darry softens, concedes, if only to himself. They were more similar than he admits, 'n he knows from experience, fightin' with Soda hurts worse than just about anythin'.

"Hey, kid." Pony lifts his head up miserably, he's not quite cryin' but he looks like it wouldn't take much to work him up to it.

"He hates me, Darry." Glory God it takes everythin' in him not to roll his eyes.

"No, he does not hate you." Darry plops down on the bed, nudgin' Pony over.

"Yes, he does!"

"Ponyboy, your brother does not hate you now hush." Darry snaps and Pony whimpers. Darry takes a deep breath. Pony feels things different. You gotta be gentler. Glory, when Soda wasn't takin' a chunk out of the kid he was far better at this than Darry.

"Now you hate me too!" And he dissolves into messy tears.

"Oh, baby," Sometimes Pony couldn't see the obvious through all the things he told himself in his head. Now, that was where Darry 'n Pony split. Darry was all ruthless practicality. Soda was where they met in the middle, he supposed. The perfect balance.

Darry cups a hand behind Pony's head and pulls him to his chest. He knows the kid must be feelin' particularly vulnerable when he doesn't protest at all.

"Wanna tell me what happened?" Darry asks after a long moment broken only by Pony's sniffles. Pony wipes a hand across his eyes and sniffs.

"Steve called me a baby and a tag-a-long and I said... somethin'... back 'n Soda got mad 'n told us to knock it off but we didn't 'n then he jumped on me." Darry grabs Pony gently by the shoulders, pullin' him away from his chest, 'n fixin' him with a look.

"Stop givin' me the Ponyboy special." The Ponyboy special was what they all called Pony's tendency to recall only the parts of a story that made him look good. "I know you must've said somethin' real nasty to Steve, 'n from what I heard, Soda was doin' a decent job of not yellin' until you kept pushin', kiddo."

Pony at least has the decency to look sheepish. "You heard that?"

"Yes, siree. Wanna explain to me what was goin' through that head a yours?" Pony worries at his lip, runs his hands back 'n forth over his knees in a way that gives Darry deja vu.

"Nothin', Darry. I wasn't thinkin'. I was just real mad at Steve for callin' me those things." Darry sighs, figures that's the closest he's gettin' to the truth.

"That was no reason to carry on that fight with your brother." Pony drops his chin to his chest 'n Darry uses a finger to gently lift his head til he's lookin' him in the eye. "I'm gonna need you to apologize to Soda 'n Steve when all's said 'n done, understand?"

Pony nods miserably 'n Darry presses a kiss to his hair. "Good, honey. I'm not mad, alright? 'N neither is Soda. Now, I want you to stay here until I let you out, savvy?"

Pony bobs his head 'n Darry squeezes his shoulder, standin'. "Love you, kid."

"Love you too, Dar." Darry eases the door shut and takes a steadin' breath. Soda rarely found himself in these predicaments. He'd get himself in trouble until the cows came home but always in the pursuit of a good time. When Soda fell for somethin' serious he fell hard.

Darry turns, puts his hand on the knob of his bedroom door 'n hears the sounds of Soda tryin' to muffle his own sobs. It nearly cracks his heart in two. 'N suddenly he remembers somethin' else about those fights from when they were kids: Soda fought like he smoked- never without a damn good reason.

Darry swings the door open 'n Soda jolts up, runnin' both hands across his face to wipe away the tears.

"Is Pony ok?" God, Soda was the best of them sometimes.

"Pony's fine. Just a lil' shook up." Soda crumbles to the bed, buries his head in his hands.

"Fuck. He's gonna think I hate him." Glory. Sometimes it was hard to tell where Soda ended 'n Pony began.

"He knows you don't." Darry walks to the bed side 'n sits, runnin' a hand up 'n down Soda's back.

"No, he don't." Soda whimpers 'n Darry sighs, enfoldin' him in a hug 'n pullin' him up beside him.

"Soda, if I know the two of you, you'll be right as rain by dinner. Pony'll bounce back. He's a resilient kid." Soda bites the inside of his cheek, shrugs a shoulder, looks generally unconvinced. "I want to hear about you right now, Pepsi."

"You don't gotta worry about me, Dar." Soda gets to his feet, paces once around the bed 'n back.

"Soda, don't lie to me. I'm not in the mood. It's my job to worry about you." Soda pauses by the foot 'n studies Darry with those piercin' honey headlights that can see straight through any of them. Apparently findin' Darry wasn't foolin' he sighs, drops back to the mattress.

"I'm sorry, Dar."

"I know, honey. Why don't you tell me what's buggin' you?" Soda opens his mouth 'n Darry cuts him off. "'N if you tell me nothin' I'm not gonna let you out of this room until next week." Soda shuts his mouth, pulls at a straw thread at the bottom of his DX shirt.

"Some guys from my old class dropped by the DX today." Darry lets out a low hiss of understandin'. Soda's year would be graduatin' before the end of the month.

Now, Soda was real good at actin' like he didn't care. He was a master at shruggin' off digs 'n laughin' off punches. If Soda decided the world would see him as just fine? Well, no one would ever know the difference. 'N Soda had decided everyone would see him as someone who didn't care he'd dropped out.

Just about the only person who didn't believe that routine was Darry.

"They were ribbin' about savin' up for caps 'n gowns 'n all that bullshit 'n... I dunno. 'N then I got off 'n came home 'n Pony 'n Steve were at it again 'n I just couldn't take it." Soda doesn't wait for Darry to offer, just collapses against his chest. "I just couldn't take the fightin' on top of it all. 'N I know he didn't mean it but then Pony called me a dropout 'n I-"

"Oh, Pepsi-Cola." Soda lets out a weak little sob at the nickname and Darry hauls him against his side. "I'm sorry."

Soda sits back up suddenly, scrubbin' tears away with blunt nails that leave red trails along his freckled cheeks. "It's fine! I mean I'm fine with it! I like workin' at the DX 'n I hated school because I'm too stupid for it 'n-"

"Sodapop Patrick you are not stupid. You hear me? I won't let anyone talk about you that way 'n I'm not gonna listen to it from you. You are smarter than I will ever be in all the ways it matters- you hear me? And sometimes... sometimes it's ok to not be fine."

Soda takes a big hiccupin' breath 'n looks at Darry with those big eyes that Darry would let him get away with murder for. "Ok." He sniffles 'n Darry gently wipes the last of his tears away. He's quiet for a long moment, just blinkin' at Darry. "You're allowed to not be tough all the time too."

God, Soda.

"Fine. We'll make a deal then. No more actin' like were tuff when we don't feel it, alright?" Soda smiles wetly, runs his sleeve under his nose.

"Deal."

"Good, now c'mere." Darry pulls him into a hug 'n Soda melts against him. Darry could have let him stay there forever, but Soda isn't one to be held still. He pulls back 'n runs his hands through his hair, pats at his pockets for his cigs.

"Can I go see Pony?" Darry ruffles his hair 'n smiles at him fondly.

"If Pony wants, yes." He doesn't know why he bothers. Pony would forgive Soda highway robbery 'n Soda would do anything' for that kid.

Darry drops one final kiss to Soda's temple 'n he peels out of the room 'n into Pony's, not botherin' to shut either door. Darry takes a deep breath, listens as Soda 'n Pony babble incoherent apologies over each other.

He ducks out of the room to give them more privacy 'n moves back down the hall. Steve's finished the dishes 'n is awkwardly shufflin' back 'n forth in the kitchen.

"Good job, Stevie." Darry pats him on the back 'n Steve lets out a sigh of relief. Soda 'n Pony tear back out, hootin' at some joke 'n Darry thanks his lucky stars he was right. Soda 'n Pony fall hard. But they always somehow manage to land on their feet.

"You ok, Superman?" Steve drops into a chair at the table as Darry kicks the stove on for dinner.

Darry turns 'n find Soda's sharp eyes already on him. "You know, Steve? A little tired, but I am." Soda grins, drops beside Steve 'n pulls a chair up beside him for Pony.

"Are you alright, Soda?" Darry leans back against the counter 'n watches the automatic of course! come 'n go in Soda's mouth.

"Not really, not right now. But... I think I will be."

[vampiretendencies]

a visceral feeling, that i can never leave behind

summary; jj crossed his heart, hoped to die that he wouldn’t get in another dust up; now he’s suffering.

authors notes; getting back into the groove of writing full length fics, still doing blurbs. but if you have a request either way, requests are open.

pairing; jj maybank x pogue!fem!reader (reader is almost always a pogue, unless i specify other wise)

warnings; angst to fluff, maybe suggestive if you take it that way

It was unusual to not hear from JJ.

Whether it be sullen facetime calls, hundreds of affectionate text messages, or not being able to pry your hands off of one another in person.

It was just unusual.

Which is why you are silently cursing yourself, sat parked outside the Chateau. The Twinkie was gone, but that in more ways than one didn’t mean JJ wasn’t in his bedroom.

Maybe John B took it out on an errand.

Maybe John B, Pope, and Kie went out on the marsh.

The possibilities were endless— but JJ never was the type to miss out on a Pogue expedition. Nor was he the type to not tell you about it; hell he’d update you if he was doing a task, as simple as smoking a blunt.

Glancing down at the blue and grey text chain, a photo of JJ kissing the bone of your jaw ever so slightly adorned the top, a helpless dimple poking through— but, you couldn’t understand why most of it was blue. Why were they so many texts from only you?

J <3

JB did a lil fire tonight

Got mosquito bites in places I shouldn't have mosquito bites

Need you to help me scratch them :(

I'm being serious

Goodnight baby, wish I was sleeping with you

Those were the last few texts you'd received from JJ, after you'd worked a late shift at the wreck and he'd known you fell asleep. JJ also knew today was your late shift, typically he'd be at the front door of your home; parents ready to boot him out from how much he continuously rambled on about you. You even tried calling Kie, Pope, and John B numerous times with no response.

Yeah, something was definitely fucking wrong.

With a slam of your car door the leaves from the tree above crunch beneath your feet, adjusting your cropped tee so it didn't fall too low. Rays of the sun beaming thoroughly on the skin of your legs and the exposure of your back, making your way towards the screen door of the Chateau. Screen pulled back and worn out, the wood chipped and chewed but this wouldn't be the Chateau if it wasn't. Past the porch you step foot inside, pushing aside beer cans with your shoe clad foot; empty cereal boxes, stale three-day old pizza, open sodas. Anything that you could imagine that was on the hard wood floor, it was.

But what you couldn't find was answers.

"JJ!"

You called, knowing full well there wouldn't be a response as he isn't visibly here. But it's JJ, he could be fucking around.

"Baby!"

You tried the pet name in hopes that it would work, but as you enter his room and see an unmade bed with miscellaneous clothes thrown on it your thoughts grew thin. You huffed limp body falling back onto the solid twin matress.

Instantly flying upward upon hearing familiar voices and footsteps, one familiar voice in particular.

Questions seeming to be answered all at once.

Seeming.

"Did you see that headlock John B had him in?"

"Easy access! Took one hit and I swear I heard his jaw crack!"

It was, in fact JJ.

Doing that thing that he does after the Pogues think they've accomplished something big, yet they always fail to see the bigger picture.

Heat of the moment or adrenaline, you assumed.

"His face was so fucked up!"

"He's had it coming for a long time."

You confirmed it was John B's voice with Kies toward the end. Now the issue was, who the hell did they have to get into a fight with this time?

Though you may not know, you'd make certain to find out.

Creeping around the corner, you make your presence known at the entrance of the living room where they all stood. Appearing as if they's seen a ghost.

Not only did they not have the decency to include you or fill you in, but JJ's fist is coated in blood. Disheveled and mulled, like they'd been ran over by the same bus various times. Kie's curls fanned outwardly, John B with a busted lip, Pope with a black eye, and JJ with a welp against his cheek bone; a gushing cut seeping through.

Your voice grows horse, mouth running dry; fathomed by your supposed friends in front of you.

What were you? A sick joke?

"Look ... we can explain, JJ told us not to tell you and we-"

Kie offered, guilt eating away at her portraying a bad habit.

"Just don't."

"Shouldn't someone like ... be mediator this time, she might actually kill him."

Pope chimes in and it makes your stomach churn because he was partially true.

You brush past them, aiming for your car and of course JJ's steps behind you. Echoing your every move, fingertips knotting around your wrist in an effort for you to turn around and face him. Unexpectedly, your back met with the warm glass window of your car. His fists at the hood, arms hovering near the sides of your head. Tresses combed backward from his digits, out of fear that this situation right here would happen.

There were certain confrontations JJ appreciated and certain one's he didn't.

He had no problem with pummeling someone unrecognizable for the sake of his friends, which spells out the entirety of this.

The confrontations he hated though was this one, the one where he can't even look you in the eye. He invariably lost his tongue in a fight with you, his past making him think that every fight could result in you abandoning him and never coming back. For the long run.

"You should go get that looked at," you spat, biting back so harshly. Peering at a slash that would take weeks to scab over.

"Just stay okay? This doesn't have to be a fight."

His speech is low and he's looking everywhere but at you until you shoved him- hands connecting with his chest in an effort to get his attention and for him to stop caging you in.

Exasperated that he couldn't just tell you, that he couldn't just talk to you about it.

Animosity that he would dare get his precious face damaged in such as way.

Irate and bitter that his somehow get himself in this overwhelming imperilment.

A menace before you.

"It does JJ! We're lying to each other now? This is what we do?!"

It was a show, a show that people would stream on television for their on laughter and enjoyment.

But this was the sheerness of a susceptible couple, glass nearly empty.

Time bellowing out.

"I had to baby!"

Not to be dramatic but JJ's heart had been stitched together once, when you entered his life.

And that's why he tried his utmost to prevent any interference in this relationship.

Because now he swears, he can physically feel a stitch rip open with every remark you make.

"We tell each other everything JJ!"

"And I didn't tell you 'cause, I knew this is how you'd react!"

He stands still with a clenched jaw; tight enough for teeth to grind, hand gesturing at your current 'pissed off' stance—notrils flaring and mouth agape.

And he thinks this actual smoke fuming out of your ears.

Silence fell over the two of you, stood so desperately apart in the misty front yard of the Chateau.

"It was Rafe," He rasped through monotone. "We had to take this round while we could-"

"So fucking stupid, you know he's coming back for ya'll!" You still speak sharply, infuriated past envy. "M'the one treated like shit, just for you to get one up on Rafe Cameron ... of all people JJ!"

"I know, baby! I know-"

He reached for your arms, in ordinace to hold them close, but he failed whilst you inched to the car door.

What's upsetting is, after the fight and pirior to it- JJ craved to breathe in your oxygen and get lost inside your lungs.

"I dont care if it's a decision I won't like, it's still something I deserve to know," and now your voice is just growing weary. "You do such dumb shit and m'expected not to say anything."

All JJ could do was ache.

Ache with regret.

And ache with longing at the feeling of you not wanting to be near him.

He hadn't even gotten a kiss today, for Christ's sake.

"You said you wanted all of me JJ, I gave you that. Why aren't you doing the same..."

Your figure folds, stepping low into the car, JJ running forward bloody fist pounding on the glass window. Praying to God, that you'd give in just this once and hear him out.

"I am! I fuck up one time and you're there to make sure I don't hear the end of it!'

He's finding his voice, a minute two late as his takes note of gear switching and the vehicle moving backward to leave.

"Get out! Don't go ... please don't baby!"

“Baby!”

He trails behind the moving car, as if running would make a difference.

But you wouldn't be there this time.

The last altercation he got into, you were on the other end to clean his bruises and linger kisses onto his cuts; yet, there was also an agreeance that he wouldn't be caught up in another scrutinizing fight.

You validated yourself in thinking you had the right to your reaction.

And JJ validated himself in thinking he was right in not telling you, your words engraving in his brain like clockwork; agatizing that he saw reason.

Nearly a chore for him to listen— heardheaded beyond belief.

Ravaging in the come down.

Always finding the beat, now they can't find the rush.

All filaments of emotion turned to dust.

“You can stop shitting your pants now, she’s already seen us.”

John B’s banter is not one that makes JJ’s tongue stop clicking, nor does it make his leg stop bouncing up and down out of horrid anxiousness.

He’s forced John b to take him to your home, only to be dismissed in your family saying you weren’t around.

You were, you just couldn’t stand to see JJ.

Fed up with his antics and his constant need to put himself in a position of hazardous instability.

Allowing him to resort to plan ‘work invasion’— the one place he knew you couldn’t escape him.

Despite how he typically acts, JJ has precise memory when it comes to you. He still has the little crumpled piece of paper you gave him in first grade— folded neatly inside his wallet, being besotted with you for that long.

‘I like your hiar — signed Y/N’

He picked fun at the way you spelled hair, though he took pride in his hair since then. And no matter how much he misplaced things, he endlessly found his was back to that note.

Resembling you, evermore.

With that being said, remembering your work schedule was something of ease to him.

You did glance at them stepping foot into the eating establishment, sat at a table on the far side— also know as your serving section.

Ultimately, you didn’t want to argue any longer with JJ; you didn’t want to argue to begin with. You bargained with him to learn— to learn that he can’t always have his way.

Especially when he’s teasing you so, showing up during your shift, and wearing that stupid fucking navy blue button up shirt besides the fact that it was, unbuttoned. Chest on display, muscular and built.

You felt the dagger of his eyes on your back whilst you served the table that was ahead of them, still feet away. Unable to concentrate on the order, eaves dropping on their conversation.

“Ma’am, are you listening?”

“Sorry … sorry what was that?”

Your saccharine voice apologizing to the woman and her small child, JJ chews the inside of his mouth. He despised going longer than a millisecond without hearing that sweet, sweet sound, laced with the inticement of veneration.

Accidentally fumbling the pen and note pad in your hand, rubbing your sweating palms onto your greasy black half-apron.

“Just two milkshakes.”

The woman was quick to repeat, voice more stern at you for not getting it right the first time.

But JJ was going to win you over, wether that be clogging every toilet in the stalls to announce to everyone that there was a plumping problem— isolating only you and him.

Though, he had something else in mind. Maybe not we’ll thought out to most, but it was the quickest and most efficient way he new of to win you back over on his side.

You slide your feet against the tiled floor, anticipating serving the group of Pogues. Instead you plaster on as fake as smile, and interrupt their witty banter by clearing your throat.

“What can I get ya’ll today? Our special today is a main dish of lying with backstabbing on the side.”

You were being bitter and you knew it, purposefully standing on the side of the table that JJ wasn’t on. But still the dining chair screeched on the floor, in an effort to move closer.

“Look we actually love you a lot more than JJ, if we’re being honest,” Pope conquered, and Kie and John B shook their heads in eagerness, willing to mask the tension in the air. “He convinced us to leave you out of it and we didn’t want to get in the middle of anything.”

“You don’t have to justify anything JJ did Pope, he chose to break our promise and that’s on him.”

You sneered, eyes rolling harshly at the blonde that’s twirling his thumbs— peering up at you with a deathly smirk on his features.

“That was a one time thing, Rafe deserved it baby, you know he did.”

“Baby, you know he did.”

John B mocked JJ, warning a kick from JJ’s combat boot beneath the table with a scoff.

“Did you guys hear something … like this irritating buzzing sound of some bastard talking?”

That earned a hissing sound from John B, the actual remnants of what JJ felt from that comment.

“Are y’all ordering or what? I have other tables to serve.”

You conquer, JJ’s at the edge of seat, tapping his foot. His sense being filled with that of burgers, shrimp and grits, anything he could utter but he didn’t have an appetite.

No, not when the only thing he had a hankering for was currently in front of him.

Back straightened and stood tall, typically a stance he’d drool over but he can’t get past the weeping sensation— dire need to never be at odds.

To simply just be.

For you to be his, and him be yours.

All over again.

“I was hoping you were on the menu.”

Courage emphasizing his words, eyeing you up and down— nearly eyefucking. Seeing now as his opportunity to go in for the kill.

“Okay, you know what-“

You’re spinning on your heels, in a notion to walk away— refusing service.

Until.

“JJ! Get down, my parents are never gonna’ let us back in here!”

But, he didn’t give a fuck.

A sickly pit in your stomach causes you to turn around, to be met with a JJ stood bright eyed— a disfigured expression and sunken shoulders hanging low.

Standing atop the table, head closer to the ceiling than it ever was before. Loud and proud, whilst his hands clapped, cupping together for a infamous effect.

Your face burns with prim red scrutiny, horror covering your face— just powerful moments ago.

Insides scrambling to nothing, a stupid toothy grin plastered across his features.

Wreckless, per usual, consequences of no variation to him.

He’s irrevocably standing on top of a restaurant table with only lovingly sullen eyes.

“This woman right here,” He gestures his arms toward you, all bodies turning toward you— wanting to cower in shame but oddly enough you were enticed and lead by infatuation.

Pope and John B, just let JJ do his thing— either way he was going to do what he pleased.

Crowds of familiar faces, family, a friends— some with mouths wide open in awe, some making snarky remarks, and some wishing like hell that it was them.

“She’s gonna’ have my babies,” He started a small chuckle escaping his lungs. Announcing to the entirety of the restaurant, giving them entertainment; despite the promise he broke to not get himself hurt again.

This though. This was promising, and convincing and everything in between.

Salvaged with being allergic to the waiting.

Waiting for you to come around.

You’re in the room, you earn his gaze.

You open your mouth, he’s hypnotized.

Starstruck.

“And m’gonna have those lips on mine for however long she lets me … forever I hope.”

He beamed, Kie’s father’s disgruntled face entering the room, waving at JJ to get down.

A sinister grin still on his features.

“And ya’ll will pass by us in disgust, that you can’t be us. That you can’t have our love.”

You’d hoped someone was behind you because you were about to collapse.

“This enough of an apology for you, pretty girl?”

He echoes, bits of his accent flowing through the sentence.

You managed to fight the smile on your features.

Let’s just say JJ proclaiming his love infront of nearly thirty people didn’t come close to his usual public displays of affection.

“Get your ass down!” Kie’s father, Mike, stammered, and JJ willingly jumped down from the table, being that he wasn’t finished.

And he knows by the smile lines next to your mouth— that this argument is officially past tense.

And he knows that tonight he’s going to relish in all the delicacies that you have to offer him.

“I mean it was alright,” you joke, picking fun to pass your inkling of embarrassment.

Knowing that it topped any apology you’ve received.

JJ glides over to you, hands wholeheartedly cupping your face, thumbs nestling you chin. Like the two of you were on a stage and this was a live performance.

You hold his heart in your hands internally, JJ is merely thankful to be alive during this lifetime with you.

Appreciating your existence and the relationship the two of you founded, together.

He places a wet, sloppy kiss to your lips, pecking them repeatedly. Delving them together, molding with perfection and engulfing yours with his.

Exhilarated to have the opportunity to graze mouths with yours.

“Don’t ever make me chase you again.”

But, he knows he’d do it all over.

Standing hand in hand, with lovelorn souls.

Knowing that he’d redo it without hesitation.

[whatdoeseverybodywant]

Rebuild & Restore - Chapter 4

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site, even if you give me credit. DO NOT REPOST MY FICS

Reblogs, comments, likes, and feedback ALWAYS appreciated ❤

All OC Characters belong to me

Joe grunted as his text message to Kiyana went unanswered for another day. “Gotta be Josh’s punk ass.” He muttered, throwing his phone onto the couch next to him. It’s been six months since he had Kiyana in his bed and he was feening for more. 

He closed his eyes and let his head fall back as he remembered how tight she felt wrapped around him. How intoxicating her moans sounded as she moaned in his ear . “Fuck” He whispered as he felt his pants grow tighter. He groaned and opened his eyes. “Fuck.” he muttered again, grabbing his phone and sending Kiyana another text message.

“Baby, when the last time you had some dick?” Kiyana choked on her lunch and glared at Samara as she reached for her cup of soda. 

“Girl what?” Kiyana asked. Samara shrugged. 

“You so wound up. That’s exactly what we’re doing this weekend. Getting you some dick.. Grade A dick.” 

“Can you stop saying dick?!” Kiyana hissed. “I do not need any of my coworkers over hearing this conversation.” Kiyana looked around, grateful that they were seated towards the back of the cafeteria and only one person was near them but he had on headphones. Samara had shown up to the hospital on Kiyana’s first day to have lunch with her and to hear about her day out with Josh and the boys. 

“I’m just saying.” Samara shrugged again with a smirk on her face. “Last person you had sex with was Joe, right?” Kiyana nodded. 

“Oh speaking of Joe. He texted me again.” 

“Did you respond?” Kiyana shook her head and Shrugged. 

“What was I supposed to say?” 

“Oh, big daddy Joe. I need you and that dick.” Samara said playfully, batting her eyelashes at Kiyana and laughed loudly, ducking the french fry that Kiyana threw her way. 

“Sorry to interrupt.” Kiyana and Samara looked towards the person and both of their jaws dropped open causing him to laugh a bit.  “I just wanted to introduce myself.” He said, his eyes never leaving Kiyana’s.  “I’m Elijah but everyone calls me Eli. You the new labor and delivery nurse right?”  Kiyana nodded, her mouth going dry when he flashed her a grin. “Nice to finally meet you. See you around.” He said, giving her a nice once over before biting his lip and walking away from them. 

“Fuck what I said about Joe.”  Samara said, eyes wide as she and Kiyana watched Elijah walk away from them. “If you don’t ride that man six ways to Sunday… I will.” 

Josh let out a growl when he saw Shanté waiting outside by his rental. He knew it was too good to be true. He could have swore her crazy ass had got sent back down to NXT but here she was, wearing a customized YEET shirt that had “MRS. USO” on the back. 

“Bruh, you trippin’” He muttered. Standing as far away from her as possible. “Whatchu want?” He looked around to see if there were any lingering fans around. He did not need any picture of him and Shanté hitting social media. 

“I miss you.” She pouted and Josh rolled his eyes. “C’mon Josh. Those four months meant something to you too.” 

“I didn't,” he said bluntly. “We had sex that’s it.” Shante rolled his eyes not believing what he was saying. 

“Josh, come on! You were so mad that I went out with Theory.” 

“Nah” He shook his head., “I was mad that Kiyana was being a bitch and refusing to bring the boys to see me because we were fighting and I took it out on you. I don’t give a damn about you and Austin.”  Shante furrowed her eyebrows. 

“What?”

Josh sighed. “It was nothing but sex Shanté. Yeah I said some shit that I shouldn’t of said. But I never wanted to be with you.” He shrugged, not caring if it came off mean. He was sick and tired of popping up everywhere. “It was just sex.” He repeated, and as expected Shanté marched up to him and smacked him in his face.

“I’m happy Kiyana divorced you, you piece of shit” She glared at him before ripping her shirt over her head and throwing it in a nearby trash can. Not caring that she was now walking around in her bra. 

“You and everyone else.” He muttered before climbing into his rental and driving towards the hotel. 

Kiyana fell backwards onto her bed. She was beyond exhausted. She closed her eyes and sighed. She would have to get used to this feeling, no longer a stay at home mom or a wife. She was almost asleep when he phone dinged with a notification, 

ElijahDaniels has requested to follow you. 

Kiyana bit her lip as she scrolled through his instagram account.

This man was too fine for his own good. She accepted his follow request and immediately received a DM from him. 

ElijahDaniels: those your kids? They look just like u.  KiyanaJackson_: yeah and thank you, lol. You’re the only person to ever say that.  ElijahDaniels: i aint know you was married tho. Tell you husband my bad lmao.  KiyanaJackson_: divorced actually.  ElijahDaniels: good KiyanaJackson_ good? Lol ElijahDaniels: yeah, now i can get to know u better.  ElijahDaniels: see u tomorrow ❤️

Mr Elijah Daniels MD 😉... our girl KiKi is back in the game!

(Joe is coming, i promise.)

Reblogs, comments, likes, and feedback ALWAYS appreciated ❤

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[amberlynnmurdock]

All Mine

Pairing: Benjamin "Dex" Poindexter x Reader

Summary: Dex initially declines going out with you and your friends, but when he starts thinking of scenarios of men trying to flirt with you, he somehow finds himself in the bar to make sure that doesn't happen.

Genres: Angst

Warnings: 18+ content, SMUT, possessive!Dex, jealous!Dex, and I guess toxic!Dex? LOL just be prepared bc this might be the wildest fic ive written

ALSO shoutout to @mayajadewrites for helping me with getting the plot going, you GENIUS <3

Notes: I HOPE YOU GUYS LIKE THIS ONE let me know what you think! Enjoy! <3

When he sent his reply to you, Dex stood quietly on his balcony, thinking of ways he could take it back. 

“Thanks for the invite,” he typed regretfully, his anxiety getting the better of him, “but I think I’ll pass for tonight.”

“Are you sure?” He read your text in your sweet voice. “I want to see you.”

He knows you want to see him—he wants to see you just as badly, but the thought of socializing with people other than you was a less-than-ideal situation for Dex. He only preferred to be around you and only you. Part of him didn’t want to share you with other people, the other part simply didn’t want to be around them. 

“Next time,” Dex lied, a pinch in his heart. “I promise.” 

He waits five minutes, and then ten minutes, and when twenty minutes pass by, he knows the conversation ends there. Dex slides the door open and reenters his apartment, sitting quietly at his kitchen table, phone in front of him. 

Scenarios start playing in his mind: you’re only going out with your friends. He’s met some of them and doesn’t care for them at all, but at least he knows you’ll be with them and only them. What bar did you say you were going to? The Black Dog? It slowly dawns on him that other people you don’t know will be around you too, and it bothers him that he can’t control every action of every person. What if some guy tried talking to you? Offered to buy you a drink? Flirted with you? Or worse, what if you liked it enough to never talk to Dex again?

He can’t imagine another guy having good intentions like Dex has good intentions with you. Dex wants to keep you safe from people like that, people he doesn’t know. People who may have ill intentions for their own selfish needs. 

And how can he make sure that you’re safe from people like that, sitting alone in his apartment here, away from you? 

If there’s one thing that will get him out the apartment, it’s the thought of someone trying to take away his North Star from him. 

◎◎◎

Dex arrives at the bar before you do. He’s in his denim jacket and baseball cap. After quickly ordering a club soda from the bartender, he makes his way to the back and chooses a quiet corner to sulk in, to hide, to watch from afar. It’s what he’s most comfortable doing, it’s what he does best. 

He doesn’t touch the club soda at all, bubbles wasting their air in the glass. He watches the people that are in the bar with disdain. They’re all fools, he thinks to himself, but which one will be the unlucky one who tries to talk to you?

The next time the door opens, you walk in first followed by your friends and Dex sinks deeper in his seat, tilts his head down so his cap is hiding his face. He watches you from underneath, bringing the glass of club soda closer to him. His heart may be hard but his eyes go soft every time he looks at you. You’re laughing with your friends, and you look beautiful in your black sweater and jeans. You and your friends find a table in the middle of the bar and that’s when Dex takes note of the people that surround you.

Right now, no one’s paying mind to your table except for him. He smiles to himself each time he sees you laugh—tries to share in the moment with you even though you don’t know he’s there. He wonders what you whisper to your friend at one point. Whatever it is, your friend laughs and hits your shoulder. You have a glass of Sauvignon Blanc in front of you—Dex knows it’s the only white wine you’ll drink—and when you finish it, you look around for your server. 

The bar is much more crowded now and Dex has to move down a seat or two to keep his sights on you. He takes a deep breath and looks down when he sees you get up from your seat to go to the bar. When your back is to him, he looks up and watches as you patiently wait for a bartender’s attention. 

There are plenty of people at the bar, so many that not everyone is sitting on a stool. People squeeze in, lean on the counter, and move chairs out to fit more of their friends into conversations. You’re leaning with your left elbow on the bar, and Dex watches as you wait. Someone behind you accidentally pushes you, and both you and Dex react at the same time. You, startled from the contact, and Dex, sitting up more straight in his seat. He relaxes his shoulders after a few moments when he sees the person scoot their chair away from you, and you seemingly unbothered. 

You glance at your phone, scroll through something, and lock it again before putting it in your back pocket. Dex wonders if you re-read your messages like he does. He hopes so. You sigh, looking around the bar again—you weren’t having any luck getting a bartender’s attention.

And like a cloudy night ruining his view of his North Star, a man in a black jacket and boots stands directly in front of you. He’s got dark hair and a 5 o’clock shadow. Dex straightens in his seat again, high on alert. The man walks by you slowly in a calculative way. He doesn’t go unnoticed on Dex’s radar, not when he’s so close to you. The man walks by and inserts himself between a group, about five people away from you.

Dex feels his muscles tighten and he grips his glass of club soda hard. He has to let go of it so his entire focus is on the scene before him. Good thing he decided to come tonight—he knew this would happen. Dex watches you and then watches the man watching you. He doesn’t like how focused he is on you, how bad of an actor he is when he pretends to look around the bar just to look at you again. Dex takes a deep breath as he sees him slowly weave his way between people to stand next to you. He’s got something in his back pocket he keeps fiddling with. 

You’re oblivious, minding your business, waiting patiently for the bartender. At least Dex is there to protect you if anything were to go awry. He couldn’t have anything happen to you—the mere thought of it made him nauseous, losing someone so important to him, again. 

The man daringly asks the people who are standing next to you to move so he can have their spot. Dex’s throat goes dry as he sees the man brush his shoulder against yours purposefully. You glance up and move as much as you can, but the man moves closer to you again.

“Sorry, crowded bar,” the man says to you. At first glance, he’s handsome, but there’s something aggressive about his nature. 

“It’s alright,” you say shrugging your shoulders. You pretend to check your phone for something.

“You come here alone?” He asks you.

“No, I’m with my friends,” you smile, gesturing your head in their direction. 

“Can I buy you a drink?”

“No, I’m okay. Thank you.”

“Really? You’re the first girl who’s ever turned down a free drink at a bar,” the man says, confused by your rejection. Perhaps even a little insulted. 

“I bet I’m not the first girl who’s rejected you point blank, though,” you say, hoping he gets the message. He’s taken aback by your words, and he doesn’t stop there.

“Bet you just haven’t had a guy like me dick you down to make you nicer.”

Dex doesn’t know what the conversation is, but from your body language and expression on your face, he knows it can’t be good. Whatever it was this man was saying to you, it was diminishing your light—his light—it was an attempt to take his North Star away. Dex stands up from his seat. 

It’s not until the man places his hand on your shoulder and then your neck that Dex feels his rage and jealousy course through his veins, so much so that it’s made him finally get up from his seat and walk straight toward you. The path to what was unfolding in front of him was like walking through a dark tunnel, and like a phantom appearing out of thin air, Dex walks up to the man, paying no mind to you, takes him by the collar of his cheap jacket and pushes him away from you.  

“Stay away from her,” Dex says in a cool tone, chest heaving, hands shaking from adrenaline. 

The man walks right up to Dex, and it’s comical that he thinks he even stands a chance. Dex glances around, the things around him becoming all too obvious. A napkin dispenser. A shot glass. A butter knife. They’re all too easy. 

“Dex,” he hears you call his name, and now there’s too many people looking at them, and the man in front of him is anticipating his next moves and for nothing because just as quickly as Dex made himself known, he’s out of the bar pushing past everyone and walking down the street. Away from those people. Away from you. He hears the door open behind him, unsure if it’s you or not. 

He couldn’t even look at you—ashamed of his actions, ashamed he let you see him like that, which wasn’t even his worse but damn near close to it. He’s leaning forward against a brick wall, catching his breath from the adrenaline of seeing you being touched by another man, trying not to black out from his rage. But you’re right behind him, shocked he was there to save you. What Dex wasn’t expecting were your arms snaking around his waist, resting your head against his back. 

Was it possible you weren’t mad at him for being like that?

“No one’s ever been protective of me like you,” you sigh against his back. Dex is shaking from the adrenaline but he finds it in him to stop and focus on your arms around him. He places his hands on yours and sighs. “Guess you decided to come after all?” You ask him. “I didn’t even see you walk in, but what hell of a timing that was.”

“It was timing,” Dex agrees with you and lies. “I wanted to surprise you.”

“Look at me, Dex,” you say gently. Dex turns around in your arms and you reach up to take off his baseball cap to see his face. “Thank you.”

There’s something in his eyes you can’t read but you agree when he asks to go back to his place.

◎◎◎

“You know, if you wanted to hang just the two of us, you could’ve said so,” you say as you walk inside his apartment and throw your jacket on his couch. Dex turns around and locks the door, feeling calmer than he did before but still on edge. He places his baseball cap on the counter and hangs up his jean jacket. 

“I didn’t want to ruin your night with your friends.”

“It was sort of ruined anyway, but somehow got even better now that I’m here,” you smile. “Seriously, it’s crazy you were there in the nick of time.”

“Yeah,” Dex trails off. “I know.”

“You still seem on edge,” you say softly, “are you okay?”

Dex looks away from you and places both his fists on his hips. He shakes his head. “No,” he says. “I’m not.”

“Why?”

“I—.” How does he say it, without saying it? That he nearly wanted to kill a man for touching you? He almost lost it in front of you and almost lost you?

“I couldn’t stand seeing someone touching you like that,” Dex explains. “I can’t get it out of my head.” 

“Try not to think about it,” you whispered and placed your hand on his face. Now Dex met your eyes. “Focus on me.”

It wasn’t until now he realized he was still shaking from the adrenaline. He never got it out before—the anger and jealousy were still bottled inside, running through his veins with no relief, because seeing you being touched like that by some man triggered something in Dex so strong that not even acting violently could calm him down. It festered in his chest like a sickness that could only be cured by your reassurance, your touch, your presence. 

And here you were in front of him, doing and giving him all of that. It’s what made it so easy for Dex to come to his conclusion that you were, in fact, all his—every part of you, everything, you were his alone. No one else ever had this effect on him the way you do. 

“I just want you to be safe with me,” Dex said, “only me.”

You smiled, even if you didn’t know the depths of his words. They came off to you as sweet nothings but to him it was law. It was no other way. It was unchangeable. 

“You’re mine,” Dex said in a guttural voice, his eyes half moons as he looked at you, “all mine.” His anger and jealousy started to shift into something else the more he looked at you. The more you absorbed his words and listened to him. He knew he had your full attention and he wanted more. The pit of this started beneath the button of his jeans. It was deeper than his heart. 

“Make it so,” you squint your eyes in return, succumbing to his intense gaze. 

Dex placed both his hands on your arms and traced the length of you slowly. You took a step closer to him so your chest was touching his. 

“I control myself so well around you,” Dex says in a low voice, “but right now I don’t want to.”

“So don’t,” you smirk, running your lips lightly against his. 

Dex swallows hard before his fingers find the hem of your sweater and pull it over your head. You stand in front of him in nothing but your jeans and bra and to Dex, it’s still not enough.  Dex runs his fingertips on your sides and slides his hand to your back, swiftly unclasping your bra. You shiver against his touch which is all too sweet.

“Dex,” you say in a low voice, “so don’t.” You repeated what you said before, hoping he got your message. 

Dex lifts an eyebrow and takes a deep breath, his dark eyes looking you up and down before relying purely on instinct. Dex lifts you up into his arms and you wrap your legs around him as he carries you to his bedroom and gently throws you on his bed. You land on your back and spread yourself on his fitted sheets, sheets he knows will be in ruins when he’s had you how wants. 

“I’m the only one who can see you like this,” Dex says. He takes his shirt off and reaches down to unbutton your jeans, slowly sliding them off your legs. You’re shaking. You nod at his words, whatever he says, that’s okay. 

Dex leans over you, his dirty blonde hair pushed to one side, his dark eyes looking at every inch of your skin. You don’t feel self-conscious, you feel seen. Dex kisses your forehead, then your nose, then your lips, and soon he’s peppering kisses between your breasts and down the length of your torso before he kisses the part you’re aching for. 

“I’m the only one who can touch you like this,” Dex says softly as he looks up at you from below. He places his hands on either of your thighs and spreads you open, so he’s face to face with your wetness. “And this,” he says, placing a thumb on your clit and putting not enough pressure on it, “is mine.”

“Okay,” you nod and close your eyes. Dex takes your hand and intertwines his fingers with yours while he kisses your sex and drags his tongue slowly over your folds. You press your head deeper in his mattress and take a long, deep breath. Dex begins to lap at your folds, licking you slowly and then faster, and when he gently wraps his lips on top of your clit and begins to suck on your sensitive bud, you let out a soft moan. 

“I’m the only one who can make you sound like that,” Dex looks up momentarily before he continues eating you out. He looks up at you with his mouth on your clit and closes his eyes again. He keeps licking up your wetness and feels his cock harden in his jeans, aching to replace his mouth with it. But not yet. 

“Dex,” you beg softly, “kiss me.”

Dex stops licking you up and moves up on his bed to be face to face with you. His lips are shiny from your wetness, but you don’t care. Dex slowly leans down and touches his lips to yours. You hold his face in your hands and hold him there for a few moments, opening your mouth to let his tongue in, you taste yourself on his lips. Dex deepens the kiss and you wrap your legs around him again. He places his hands under your back and lifts you, urging you to lay on your chest. You rest your head on his pillow and listen as he unzips his pants and throws them off.

  He puts his hands on your waist and lifts you so your ass is up. Dex spreads your legs and slowly slides in two fingers inside your pussy.

“So wet,” Dex whispers, “just for me.” He continues sliding his fingers in and out of your pussy. He pushes your hand to the side and leans down to kiss you in the crook of your neck. It sends butterflies to your sides, the feeling of his soft lips kissing you sweetly. And the sweetness is gone when you feel Dex’s cock slowly enter inside you.

“Fuck,” you whisper. “Dex.”

“Say my name,” he whispers in a low voice in your ear.

“Dex,” you moan again as he begins to rock his cock back and forth inside of you slowly, feeling your tightness wrap around him. Dex’s arms are on either side of your head, and he buries his head in the crook of your neck. He fastens his pace thrusting inside you, feeling you move against him. You feel so wet and so tight around him, he bites your shoulder softly and says your name. 

“You’re taking me so well,” Dex whispers, “You’ll always be mine.”

“Yeah,” you moan, “you feel so good, Dex.”

“Fuck,” he lets a curse slip out as the more he thrusts his cock inside you the more wet you feel. “Taking me so well,” he says in a deep voice. 

“I’m so close, Dex,” you moan, and when you say this, Dex completely pulls out and you feel the absence of his size, absence of his closeness. Dex doesn’t want to finish with your face away from him. He wants to look into your eyes, see your face as his cock brings you to orgasm. Gone was the dominance, the real Dex wanted this to be special. 

He flips you over onto your back and spreads your legs and wraps them around his waist. Before he enters you again, Dex is breathing heavily, and he reaches up his fingers to caress the side of your face. Your lips are parted—you’re out of breath too—and the gravity of tonight’s earlier situation hits him. He never wants you to feel unsafe again. The only way that can happen is if Dex is in your life.

“You mean a lot to me,” Dex says, and it really is the closet thing he can say to those three dating little words. You smile at him, place your own hand on his face too. You don’t need to say anything. He knows you feel the same. And Dex slowly pushes himself inside your pussy again, feeling your tightness clench him and his size fill you up perfectly. Your face contorts with pleasure and you breath a heavy sigh. The tip of his cock hits your sweet spot each time he thrusts inside you. “You’re mine,” Dex says again as he picks up his pace. 

“Oh, Dex,” you pull him even closer as he continues pounding you into orgasm. Dex's eyes are dark as he holds this intense gaze with you, watching you orgasm like his life depended on it. Your so tight and went around him, when you finally come down from orgasm, Dex finally lets himself reach his own climax. 

“Fuck, fuck,” Dex’s own face contorts and it’s the sexiest you’ve ever seen him, coming so undone like this. He spills his cum inside you on his final thrust and feels his seed fill you up. You feel him spurt deeply and it feels euphoric to feel all of him inside you like this. 

If your relationship wasn’t clear before, it sure was now. You belonged to Dex and he you. As much as you were his, he was all yours.