#they would have to try to keep being on Jacks good side

[variousyandereposts]

I am going to be just a tad bit disappointed if we don’t get “I always know that you were a bit ‘possess-ive’” as an option once 'Sunshine’ finds out that Jack can and does possess people like some kind of demon. 

[kisu-doodles]

Thinking about Scott having Focal impaired awareness seizures (which occur occur on one side of the brain) due to his brain injury not only affecting his mutation but contributing to epilepsy. Unlike tonic clonic seizures (the ones where people jerk and seize up) focal seizures can be hard to notice and can often come across as the person daydreaming or being drunk.

When Logan first meets Scott he just thinks he’s being an asshole when while Logan’s having a conversation with him, Scott stops talking and stares at Logan for 3 minutes which irritates Logan so he shoves him away and storms off, leaving Scott confused as to why Logan just disappeared mid convo and why he’s on the floor in a panic.

Scott was only diagnosed with epilepsy when he came to live with Xavier was immediately able to clock on when he was having a seizure hwat with being a telepath.

When he was living at the orphanage, the staff just assumed he was inattentive and stupid because he’d seem to daydreaming and would sometimes seem confused when asked a question and answering with slurred gibberish, so he’d often get detention.

the other kids thought he was a weirdo because he’d start picking at his clothes and wandering around aimlessly.

Thankfully after coming to live with Xavier he was finally medicated and what Logan thinks is him being a health freak with his keto diet is actually to help manage his epilepsy. So the incidences are significantly reduced compared to when he was a kid though they are still triggered when he’s stressed or hasn’t slept which Scott being Scott is more often than not

Jean ofc was always able to tell when he was about to have a seizure and often calms him down telepathically when he becomes panicked or confused because it’s not a good idea to restrain or touch him during a seizure having nearly broke his hand when he lashed out against jack winters who thought it was a good idea to manhandle him when he took to long to answer a question, fortunately for jack he turned into his diamond form but Scott still broke his nose

Scott is reticent about telling Logan about his epilepsy because he feels he gets enough judgemental nonsense from him (Jean is like are u serious)

Logan finds out anyway when they’re on a mission together that ends with them being taken captive, their gear being taken away meaning Scott doesn’t have access to his medication. The stressful situation leads to Logan assuming Scott is going crazy when he starts wandering around the cell and trying to take his clothes off including his visor! Logan also notices that Scott’s scent starts to change like it sometimes does before Jean or hank start asking Scott if he’s alright

It doesn’t occur to Logan what might be going on until Scott falls to the floor and starts having a ‘classic seizure’ (in severe cases a partial seizure can spread to a generalised seizure affecting both parts of the brain). Logan’s immensely grateful hank forced him to do the mandatory first aid course because his first instinct was to pin Scott down to get him to stop, when Scott comes to he’s exhausted and just replies never had one of those before.

After Logan has unofficially included himself in the Scott summers seizure watch much to Scott’s chagrin because he’s fine now and Jean keeps giving him an I told you you should have told him look but secretly he thinks it’s kind of sweet

[puckinghischier]

jack & luke loving quinn’s gf almost as much as he does bc suddenly they have an older sister they can call for advice on the most random things…

“so, hypothetically, if i wanted to get a pedicure, would they give it to me since i’m a guy?” jack asks you over the phone.

you stop in your tracks, right in front of your car, baffled at the question. “jack, is this seriously what you called me four times about?”

“i mean, yeah. you weren’t picking up. thought you and quinn might be screwing and wanted to break that up as soon as i thought about it,” he admits like it’s the most casual thing in the world.

“jack!” you scolded, scoffing at his crudeness. “i was picking up some snacks for the guys before their game today. i couldn’t even get to my phone if i wanted to,” you roll your eyes, even though he can’t see you.

“you make it sound like you were ignoring me on purpose,” he says, basically being able to hear the pout on his face.

“i wasn’t not ignoring you on purpose.”

he smacks his teeth at your answer, returning to his original question. “anyways, will they do a pedicure on my gnarly man feet or no?”

you don’t even try to hide the laugh that escapes you, opening your door and finally sitting down in your car. “yes jack, they’ll give you a pedicure. are you actually going to go get one?”

“yes! dude, have you seen my feet lately? they’re disgusting. plus, quinn was telling luke and i about that time you made him do one with you and how much better his feet felt in his skates afterwards.”

you think about the fact that quinn now has monthly pedicure appointments with you, not shocked at all that he shared the information with his younger brothers.

“jack! is that y/n? i need to talk to her!” you hear luke yell in the background of jack’s call, stopping whatever response you were about to give.

you hear shuffling, insinuating the exchange of the phone. “hey! y/n! so, i need your advice.”

“hi, luke, i’m good, thanks for asking! how are you?” your voice drips with sarcasm.

“yeah, hi and whatever,” he dismisses you. “so, if you were a girl, would you rather your date wear a pink shirt to show he’s not a toxic guy, or would you rather him wear blue or black to show he’s serious about the date?”

once again, you pause. you look over to the side, as if there’s an invisible camera there and mouth a ‘what?’

“okay, well first of all i am a girl-“

“well yeah, but like…a real girl. one that isn’t dating quinn and would be ready to hop on the luke train,” he interrupts you, earning his own roll of your eyes.

“as i was saying,” you ignore his interruption, “i am a girl, and i don’t think it’s that serious? wear whatever you wanna wear. if she likes you, she likes you. if she doesn’t, she doesn’t. i don’t think wearing pink is going to either hurt or help the date.”

the line is silent for a moment. “i think i’m going to wear pink anyways. you know, just to let her know i’m not a douche,” he finally speaks.

“okay, well, if that’s what you want to do, then do it-“

“thanks, y/n! bye!” you’re cut off yet again, hearing the line go dead. groaning, you call quinn, letting him know you’re on your way with the food.

“hey, baby! you get the catering order yet?” quinn’s excited voice fills your car as you turn it on and put it in drive.

“yeah, i got it. on my way now. just got off the phone with your idiot brothers,” you tell him, pulling out into traffic.

“oh god, what did they want this time?” he asks you, knowing how often you’re plagued with calls from his siblings.

“well, jack wanted to know if he could book a pedicure appointment even though he’s a man, and then luke wanted to know if he should wear pink on his date so he doesn’t look like a douche,” you give the short version of your conversations.

quinn lets out a laugh, not at all surprised at his brothers.

“quinn, we’ve gotta set some ground rules. i can’t keep doing this. i don’t know how you dealt with this by yourself for all these years. and god, your sweet mother. i feel for her,” you say not entirely seriously, knowing they call ellen more than they call you, if that’s even possible.

“baby, they love you. you’re the big sister they never had, they’re just excited to finally have someone to ask this stuff to other than mom. because mom usually tells them to figure it out on their own,” he chuckles, knowing how much both luke and jack have told him they loved having you around.

“well, i’m about to take the ellen approach because they make me want to pull my hair out sometimes, those disgustingly lovable heathens,” you tell your boyfriend, never really being able to say anything bad about the brothers. they’re like excited puppies anytime they get to see you in person, and it does melt your heart a little bit each time.

“i’ll talk to them about it,” quinn’s still laughing at how you can’t help but talk about how much you love his brothers, even when you’re aggravated at them. “just focus on getting here. i miss you, wanna see you before game time.”

“okay, be there in like-“ you stop talking when your ringtone blares through your car.

“god, its jack again. i gotta go, i’ll see you in a few minutes,” you groan, ending the call to answer the interruption.

“what is it this time, jack?”

[baejax-the-great]

One of the things missing in Veilguard is any sort of meaningful power struggle. By keeping to the poorer parts of the city-settings, we don't really deal with corrupt or powerful nobles. By defanging the Crows, an organization who famously has lethal squabbles between factions, they turned them into some weird, benevolent family organization. Even the assassin trying to make "evil" power plays doesn't actually manage to kill any of his targets, and his ruthless relatives? Also don't kill him in revenge. In the end, the status quo is maintained. Nothing has changed.

In Tevinter, we have the Threads, an organized crime unit who we know runs "protection" rackets on the locals and is involved in some kind of smuggling (it's Tevinter--so presumably this would involve slavery and dangerous artifacts, but it's Veilguard, so I guess not). Instead of them beefing with the Shadow Dragons, who presumably ruin some of their deals with their pesky "freeing the slaves" thing, and instead of their main issue being with any sort of law enforcement, something which doesn't exist in Veilguard beyond one singular templar who does all of jack shit the entire game, their main power struggle is with the Venatori, who are evil just to be evil.

And instead of the Veilguard siding with law enforcement or the threads and enlisting their help to, idk, unseat the corrupt head of the templars or otherwise deal with the venatori shit, the threads are highly favored by the storyline, and in the end the only real choice is to make Neve a thread or to make her... idk, the same Neve? The game calls her an "inspiration", but it's not like she's part of any organization, so we can't call her a figurehead. It's just like, see that random citizen right there? She rules. And I don't really see how that increases the power of the rule of law, because even if one good person is working within rule of law to get things done, she's not part of the system, and everyone already know the system is corrupt in Minrathous. Random citizens in fucking Ferelden know the system is corrupt in Minrathous, or they would if they weren't all dead. Neve is now just playing on hard mode to appear righteous, which, good for her, but I'm sorry, won't inspire all that many people who are still paying "protection" money to the local mafia.

(Putting Neve in charge of the Threads is an absolutely whackadoodle decision by the devs that I don't even know how to respond to. She has a single Thread contact. Presumably the Threads have a hierarchy. She has never demonstrated interest in being a smuggler. Being a detective really has no overlap with being a crime boss. Telling a group of criminals that they are all detective's helpers now is sure to go over like a lead balloon. What the fuck was that. Why did that happen.)

Maevaris and Dorian arguing came out of nowhere and lasted a fairly long time, which was interesting, but after the most recent election in the states, Maevaris's position sounds unbearably naive and trite, and this hardly counts as a power struggle as they both say they will support the other depending on what some random outsider thinks should happen. (That is soooo not a basis for a system of government. Why would Maevaris OR Dorian cede their power to Rook, someone they don't know and who doesn't matter)

The power struggle within the Wardens is also very stupid and easily solved. The First Warden is a moron. He dies (kind of). For some reason the extremely hot and competent couple who we first encounter in the middle of nowhere are next in command, so, phew. Problem solved there. A question of what the Wardens will do now that the Blights are over would have been interesting. Do they keep recruiting lest the Blight somehow reoccur and nobody remembers the Warden secrets? Or do they disband? Do they set themselves to seeking a cure and nothing else?

The closest you get to that is deciding what the griffons will do, which, again, why the fuck is Rook deciding that, but also there are 13 of them, in two or three more generations they will be dead unless a lot of mages bone up on genetics real fast.

Who is left? We have Rivain, which is just pointless in this game. I played as a Lord of Fortune, but you could drop that faction and not a single thing changes in the game. Pirates who don't loot valuable artifacts because they are elvhen? Give me a fucking break.

Same for the Mourn Watch. There is pretty much nothing going on in that region. You could excise it from the game and nothing changes in the slightest. There is not a single excuse for them not using the Eluvians to help the Veilguard earlier in the game, given just how little they have going on.

The Veiljumpers are just missed opportunities all over the place. They could have had factions debating whether to join the god of vengeance in fucking up the human civilizations as payback for, you know, everything. They could have had people joining Cyrion in thinking that a Forgotten One might be the best way to face down the gods, given they'd done it before. There could have been a HUGE cultural impact on "what do we do now that we know our gods are evil fuckfaces--what do we keep and what do we throw away," but Veilguard ain't that deep. They could have had knowledge of a super-weapon or some elvhen bullshit that would help the Veilguard fight the gods... but nah.

In DAO, your decisions not only affected the political futures of the various regions, but they decided who would help you and how. Did the dwarves have golems? Did you have templars or mages? That whole wolf thing with the Dalish that I no longer remember that well? And the Dalish deciding to help changed how they were viewed in Ferelden. The mages helping you meant the monarch would treat them favorably. It fucking mattered.

In Veilguard, the only situation remotely close to that is the dragon decision at the beginning, which was one of the fucking dumbest plot points in a video game I have ever played. It was the first thing that made me set my controller down and go... what? What the fuck? The idea that Rook, a nobody, is the only person singularly capable of driving back a dragon in the entire north is laughable. What the fuck was Dorian up to that day? How is Rook more capable than every single Crow? How is it the two companions you sent to the other city were absolutely useless? If Lucanis/Neve + two companions were unable to drive a dragon away, what makes them think Rook would be the deciding factor? What makes them blame Rook when they themselves couldn't fucking do it? Neve in particular was a big part of fucking up that ritual and releasing the gods, so why is Rook taking all the fire for this?

AND WHY IS THEIR RESPONSE TO A BLIGHT TO FIND A SINGLE DRAGON HUNTER? HEY DIPSHITS, THE DRAGON IS HUNTING YOU. YOU DON'T NEED TO WORRY ABOUT THAT PART. YOU NEED AN ARMY.

But Treviso or Minrathous being spared doesn't change the global political situation at all. It would have been really interesting if it did. Tevinter hobbled? How many kingdoms would be salivating to take a bite out of their territory? With the trade princes of Antiva being absolutely fucked over by the Blight, who is taking over that trade? Who is getting rich?

Nobody, I guess, because why would Rook know or care about that, because, as previously mentioned, they are a nobody who doesn't matter and honestly shouldn't be listened to.

The stakes in this game are nothing because the bad guys are all so obviously bad that you know, as a video game player, that you are going to defeat them. Oh, the Antaam are just mindless, faceless brutes fucking up Treviso? Okay, let's kill them. Venatori again? I'm pretty sure they aren't the heroes of this game. There's no power struggle, and in the end all we've done is revert to the status quo, (except i guess Treviso is no longer occupied).

Except for the south. The south is dead. but we didn't have anything to do with that for some reason. Couldn't even be bothered to house some refugees in our safehouse that was built specifically to house refugees. The Inquisitor, who has access to the eluvians, couldn't figure out how to get other people through them or something so... sorry, every single Orlesian, Fereldan, and Marcher.

[puck-luck]

not-so quickie | jack hughes

warnings: morning sex, unprotected p in v, thigh riding, dirty talk, jack as a boob guy for SURE, pet names, domesticity, jack x y/n being precious partners fo'eva pairing: jack hughes x fem!reader summary: the one when reader and jack's morning antics leave jack rushing to get to training. wc: 1967

Whenever you wake up in the same bed as Jack, which was more often than not nowadays, his dick is poking the small of your back or it’s nestled right against the curve of your ass. Either Jack is pulling you into him in his sleep or you’re pressing back into him in your sleep, but the way you get into this position doesn’t actually matter because it always ends in the same outcome: you, awake, because Jack has his morning wood. This morning, the tight grip Jack’s hands has on your hip explains the events of the night perfectly.

Despite the closeness between your bodies, you manage to turn to face Jack without waking him up. You trace the line of his nose, the freckles on his cheeks, and thumb over his bottom lip. 

Still asleep, Jack sighs at your light touch and pulls you as close as he can, slipping his thigh between your legs. You smile, feeling like a beam of light could erupt from your chest with how fond you are for this boy. His eyelashes flutter and the corner of his lip twitches. You can tell he’s fighting to stay asleep and you don’t blame him– the bed is comfortable, warm, and he doesn’t have to be at his off-season training for almost an hour and a half.

“Jacky,” you whisper, watching as his nose scrunches when he loses the battle.

“No,” he groans, voice thick with sleep. He feels blindly for the hem of your big shirt, the only thing you wore to bed last night, and pulls it up until he can pull it over his head. He kisses the space between your boobs before he relaxes and tries to fall back asleep.

You giggle when his breath washes over your chest, partially because it tickles and partially because you know that if Jack could climb into your skin, he would. 

“Good morning, sweet boy,” you say, scraping your fingernails down Jack’s back in soothing movements.

“G’morning,” comes Jack’s muffled reply. “You woke me up.”

When you pull your shirt collar away from your chest to peek down at him, Jack’s got that trademark Hughes pout written across his face. His eyes reflect betrayal, but you know he’s not really mad. 

“You woke me up,” you parrot back at him. 

Jack lets out a “hmph!” of displeasure at that. “Clearly, one of us is lying. That’s not possible.”

“Your little friend poked me awake.” You poke Jack to emphasize your point.

He laughs and his movements shake you. He adjusts you in his arms so you can feel the press of his, still hard, “little friend” against your hip. “This guy?” He asks. 

You hum, nodding. “That’s the one.”

“Poked you awake?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Well, that’s not very nice of him, is it?”

“Not at all.”

“What should we do about that?”

“I don’t think he should get to have any fun for the next week.”

Jack retreats from under your shirt at that and hovers above you. “A week?” He repeats, disbelief dripping from his words. “No, pretty girl, that’s cruel and unusual punishment. That’s against the Constitution.”

You laugh and press a hand to his chest. “Since when are you such a patriot?”

“I know my rights.” Jack leans down to kiss the side of your neck, then blows a raspberry in the same spot. 

You shriek and twist away from him, but Jack’s hands keep you firmly underneath him. His thigh keeps you pinned in place and offers some solid pressure to your core. His dick is still pressed against your hip and even though you’re both laughing as you try to evade his wandering lips and fingertips, you can practically feel him throbbing with the contact.

“Jack!” You squeal when he digs his fingers into your sides. You reach down and grab his wrists, trying to stop him from making any more moves, but he easily reverses your grip so he’s holding your wrists instead. He presses them down into the pillow above your head and your breath catches. His eyes are on yours and time suspends, the air thick between you two.

You’re breathing heavily and Jack’s got that barely-there smile on his face. He bites his lip, then licks it.

You’re not even registering how your hips grind down on his thigh until he looks down to where you’re touching. You look too and gasp, remembering that you are completely bare on his thigh when you see the patch of wetness glistening on his skin.

When you look back up, Jack is staring at you with something akin to determination in his hooded eyes.

“Not so upset about being woken up now, huh?” He teases, tensing his thigh and leaning into you.

“Shut up,” you breathe out, tilting your hips up to meet him.

Jack watches you without saying a word for a few minutes, a small smile present on his lips. 

Your eyes are closed, your head is tilted back, your hair is loose and falling in a halo around your head. It’s tangled and tousled from your sleep. You’ve got a fading crease from the fabric of your pillow across your cheek. Your shirt has ridden up to reveal your stomach and Jack reaches out to place a hand on it. He spreads his fingers wide and licks his lips at how his hand looks covering you. You’re so beautiful, he thinks, I want to do this with you forever. 

“Jack,” you moan, finally opening your eyes and looking into his. You continue to roll your hips against his thigh, so dense and strong and so there beneath you.

“Yeah, honey?” He replies, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your lips. “What do you need?”

“Want you inside me.” Your jaw drops when Jack thrusts his leg against your core, and stays there.

Jack looks over at the clock on your bedside table and thinks. He’s got a little over an hour before training, but he’ll have to shower and that could take five or thirty minutes depending on if you join him. He needs to cook and eat, which might take twenty minutes. The drive is fifteen minutes if he speeds (he does every time). He looks back at you and melts at the way you’re staring up at him, begging him for more with just your eyes.

“Fuck, can you be quick?” He asks.

“So close already, Jacky, just want you inside.”

Jack rolls onto his back and shoves his boxers down to his knees, pulling you on top of him. “Ride me. Make yourself feel good.”

You line him up with your entrance and sink down, feeling the breath seep out of you as he fills you up. You move your hips in slow circles, feeling him drag along your walls and press every delicious spot inside of you. You lean forward and stabilize yourself by putting both your hands on Jack’s abdomen. You can feel his abs tense as you start to move up and down on his cock.

He’s staring up at you like you’re a dream. He’s got a hand on your hip and a hand on your thigh, rubbing up and down on your smooth skin with his thumb. The only noises between you are the noises of pleasure that fall from your lips and the strangled breaths that fall from Jack’s. You take him how you want him, deep and consistent rather than fast and hard, and Jack wonders if, maybe, this is how life was meant to be lived all along?

When you pull your shirt over your head, Jack’s hand shoots up to knead your breast. He stares, mouth slightly parted, at the way they move when you continue to bounce on top of him and how they fill his palm, the weight of them causing him to smirk with pride. He’s a boob man at heart, always has been, and these tits are his, you’re his. He starts to thrust up into you once he’s got his hands on your tits, loving the way they feel under his fingers so much that he loses track of the fact that you were supposed to be keeping the pace you wanted.

Not that you mind.

You let him fuck up into you, the tip of his dick hitting your deepest point and making you a mess. “Jack,” you whine.

“Yeah, baby, that’s right,” Jack grunts out, one hand dropping to your side to pull you down into him in time with his thrusts up. “Say my name, tell me who’s making you feel good.”

You’re both sweating, a light sheen of sweat glistening on your bodies as the sun peeks through the curtains. If you looked behind you, you’d see the mess that you left on Jack’s thigh earlier. The messy hair that you love so much is starting to stick to his forehead, clumping up in strands that fall across the skin in the most beautiful way. They’re like that because of you, because of how good he’s making you feel, the effort he puts in, and it’s that knowledge that brings you one step closer to your orgasm. 

“You look so,” you say, losing the words when Jack tilts his hips to meet that one spot inside of you. “Oh, fuck, Jack.”

“Gorgeous,” Jack tells you, finishing the sentence that you had started and abandoned. “Everything I ever wanted, my pretty girl, my baby. Wanna see you come, love, wanna see you make a mess all over my cock. C’mon, baby, come for me.”

He continues to urge you as your moans grow in pitch. He continues to slam into you and it’s the tortured whimper he lets out when you clench down on him that sets off your orgasm. You almost collapse on top of him as you move your hips frantically with his stuttering ones. Your hands press on his chest, your breasts dangling right there, right in front of him, and Jack comes. 

“Fuck, baby,” he whines, looping an arm around your waist and fucking up into you wildly as he comes. He bites down and sucks on the skin of one of your tits as he comes down, pulling away to reveal a patch of his saliva that will certainly turn red, then purple, then blue over the next few hours. 

You both breathe heavily after the high of your orgasms, with you gently rising off of Jack and removing him from the warmth of your pussy.

“Good morning,” Jack says again when you cuddle into his side, your head resting on his arm and your fingertips dancing over his stomach.

“Good morning,” you reply with a smile when his dick twitches at your movements.

Jack throws a glance over the top of your head towards the clock.

“Mm,” Jack groans as he pushes himself up. He kisses you, long and soft, before he gets up to go to the bathroom. “That didn’t go as quick as I needed it to. Now I have to rush.”

“You’re complaining?” You tease.

“Never. Never complaining about getting to spend time with my pretty girl.”

You beam as you hear the shower turn on. You slip on one of Jack’s dirty shirts that he left on the bedroom floor the night before and get out of bed yourself, still feeling the remains of the morning’s adventures on your thighs. Maybe, if you’re lucky, you can cut down on Jack’s time to get ready by making his breakfast for him, and he’ll reward you by bending you over the counter. He can never deny you another round when he sees himself dripping out of you so beautifully. That one, if you can swing it, will actually have to be quick.

notes: hi good morning readers yes here i am back again on a monday morning with more smut (i fear... i be thinking about this topic too much). and yet i am running out of things to write about because i do not want to write about the same three actions (a little fingering, a little oral, a little fucking) in every post because i fear that will get old for y'all. MORAL OF THE STORY: SEND REQUESTS! SEND ASKS! SEND COMMENTS ABOUT YOUR FAVORITE PLAYERS AND PEOPLE YOU WANT ME TO WRITE ABOUT! i need help <3 (yes, @johncena2020 i will eventually get to your Mr. Marino. i will.)

[hotchner-edu]

As We Fall | Aaron Hotchner

Synopsis: After you accidentally go on a blind date with Aaron, Jack must bear witness to the fruits of his error. — part 2 of this

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Younger (Of Age) F!Reader

Warnings: Age gap (r is over 22, Aaron is in his late 40s), fluff, Jack

Accidentally being set up with Aaron had to be one of the best things to ever happen to you. Unfortunately, being together with Aaron also meant having to face Jack (who was literally responsible for the entire ordeal).

“I have three rules.” Jack says with a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. You and Aaron were sat on the couch together, having just come back from your third official date.

“Jack, you already gave us this talk after the blind date.” You deadpan, raising an eyebrow when Aaron huffs softly under his breath in amusement.

After you and Aaron finished making out in his car the night of your blind date, you both agreed it would be good for you to come over so that you could both speak with Jack. Your best friend had only been playfully upset, but he did bring up some genuine boundaries he wanted to set and you both respected them.

Now, it seems he's adding on to those boundaries, but you could tell he was only being half-serious.

Jack’s hands fly up, waving in exaggerated motions as he gives you the infamous Hotchner stare. “Three new rules.”

“Let’s hear them.” Aaron speaks up, smiling at his son in fondness.

Jack immediately springs into his antics, clearly having thoroughly thought about these new expectations. “First rule is no sex—and I mean at all! Second, dad you don’t get to hang out with her more than me, I was here first. Third—and I really mean this, absolutely under no circumstances will I call Y/N mom.”

You snort at the catalogue of rules he’s laying out, seeing the smile that he’s unsuccessfully trying to suppress from his face. Aaron chuckles loudly and shakes his head, “Jack, the last two we can both agree on. The first one though…”

“Yeah, I mean have some humanity.” You add, the grin on your face growing even wider when you see Jack’s immediate nauseated frown.

“Okay, gross. And fine… I guess… ugh, okay, actually I don’t want to imagine that so just do whatever you both want. But only when I’m not home, thank you and please.” He rubs his temples and grimaces a bit in playful exasperation.

You gaze at your best friend with a much gentler expression and nod. “Of course, Jack. You don’t have to worry about any of that.”

Aaron gives your shoulder a squeeze just as his phone rings, the three of you falling silent as you all know that it means. His arm remains wrapped around you as he picks up the call. "Hotchner... Alright, I'll be there in twenty."

Sighing, you loll your head to the side and smile knowingly. "Duty calls."

"I'm sorry, honey." He mumbles and gives you a kiss and one last squeeze before he's clambering up from the couch and hurrying up the stairs to change and grab his go-bag.

"How long do you think he'll be gone this time?" Jack muses curiously.

You shrug and look after Aaron's fleeing figure. "I'd reckon four or five days."

"Four days of having my best friend to myself or four days of listening to you whine about missing him... I have a feeling it'll be the latter." Jack says jokingly, head falling back to lay on the couch cushion.

"I'll be sure to keep it to a minimum." You shake your head and stand up, stretching your arms above your head a bit before looking back down at him. "You're sure you're completely okay with me dating Aaron?"

"You've asked me that like thirty times in the past two weeks." He snorts, eyeing you with a teasingly drained expression. "Yes, I'm perfectly fine with it. If I had an issue, I would have ghosted you the first time you told me you had a crush on him."

"Yeah, there's no way that was going to happen. Who else is going to pick you up from parties and nurse you through your heartbreaks?" You were quick to retort, a chuckle racking through your chest when he launches one of the decorative throw pillows at you.

Hurrying away, you head up the stairs and pad towards Aaron's bedroom. He's rushing around his room, tie undone around his neck as he shoves something into his go-bag.

"Need a hand?" Your voice breaks through his trance, his head snapping in your direction.

Approaching him, you deftly tie and adjust his tie, your hands smoothing down his shirt and resting against his chest.

"Very handsy." He utters gently, a tender look painting his stare.

You pull his tie to bring his face closer to yours. "Gonna miss you." You whisper and kiss him softly.

"I'll miss you too, honey. I'll get back to you as quick as possible." He mumbles reassuringly, hands moving to squeeze your hips. "Want a souvenir?" He asks kindly, lips twitching with a teasing smile.

"Just bring yourself back in one piece." You answer, hugging him tightly.

His strong arms wrap around you, one his hands cupping the back of your head lightly to keep you against him as he drinks in the comfort of your hold.

After a few moments, he pulls away and kisses you firmly, conveying the words and concerns he has no time to voice. Silently, you both pull apart and you move to help him double check his go-bag, seeing that he's slipped a small photo of you inside one of the pockets.

The photo is from your second date together at the aquarium. Aaron had snapped the shot of you while you were both in the shark tunnel, your face illuminated in blues and whites from the water.

You don't mention it, zipping up the bag and carrying it for him as he slips on his suit jacket. He takes the bag from your hold as soon as his hands are free, lacing his fingers through yours with his other hand.

"We're going to Atlanta. It'll be too late for me to call at night, so I'll try to call during my lunch breaks." He says, squeezing your hand as he leads you down the hallway.

"Don't worry about it. Besides, I can stay up late. I'm not quite as old as you yet." You teasingly remark, swinging your joined hands a bit.

He exhales through his nose in a mixture of fondness and resignation. "Still, I don't want you staying up too late just to wait for my phone calls."

"And I don't want you to worry yourself about making phone calls while you're working on the case." You immediately counter, not wanting him to wear himself down for your sake.

Aaron shakes his head and leads you down the stairs. "I'm not just going to go radio silent on you, honey. And..." he stops in his tracks to look back at you, a coy smirk on his face. "I'll have Jack leave us alone when I come back so we can make up for lost time."

You blush brightly at the insinuation, huffing and shaking your head. "Horny old man." You mumble, kissing his cheek before continuing down the stairs.

"I really hate you both."

Jack's voice cuts through the dulcet atmosphere surrounding the two of you as he stands at the bottom of the stairs, nose scrunched.

"This time it's his fault, not mine." You giggle, immediately throwing Aaron under the bus.

"Thanks, honey." Aaron drawls out with a lighthearted eye roll.

"Dad, I love you and stay safe, but please leave right now before my eyeballs melt out of my eye sockets." Jack says, opening the front door and gesturing for him to quickly leave.

Aaron chuckles and sighs. "Now we can't have that, now can we." He turns to you and gives you another kiss. "I'll be back before you know it, baby." He says softly and moves his hand to squeeze your waist.

"I'll be waiting." You whisper back with a small smile. You can hear Jack tapping away on his phone by the door, chiming in again after a few more seconds pass.

"It's a good thing you're not a first responder, dad."

part 3 here

[greg-montgomery]

Texting bf's dad hotch by accident when you're drunk and trying to get your bf to pick you up...

this idea >>>>

also aaron has another son besides jack in this

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

They were just a few margaritas. You didn’t expect a casual girl’s night to turn into a pounding headache and a room that was spinning around you.

It was fun and your friends wanted to stay longer, but your upset stomach would not let you enjoy the rest of your night. You were more than ready to get out of there.

“I’m gonna ask my boyfriend to come pick me up,” you told your friends, who seemed a bit too drunk to process your words.

As carefully as you could, you made your way outside the bar, and took your phone out of your purse. Going through your contacts you stopped when you spotted your boyfriend’s name.

‘Babe can you come and pick me up? I can’t drive’

You hit send, and right after, you shared your location with him.

‘I’ll be there in 20.’

Oh.

That was it? No whining? No scolding you for drinking too much? No complaining about you being an inconvenience?

It was a full moon; maybe he was going through some kind of transformation.

You closed your eyes for a bit and rested your head against the wall. The minutes would simply not pass fast enough. I’m never drinking again, you thought.

Your phone buzzed in your hands and a new message flashed across the screen.

‘I’m here.’

You were ready to lift your head and search for his car, but your eyes were glued on the contact name that appeared above the text you had just received.

It didn’t say Mark. It said Mark’s dad.

No way, you thought. No way, I asked Aaron Hotchner to come pick me up from a bar because I’m wasted.

But that was exactly what you had done.

The word embarrassment didn’t even begin to cover the range of emotions you were feeling at that moment; especially as you watched him get out of his car and walking towards you.

Why did he have to look so good? As if drunk texting him wasn’t embarrassing enough, he had to look like a god in a suit that cost more than your monthly rent.

‘Mr. Hotchner,” you said, when he approached you. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to text you. I wanted to text Mark, but I got confused and God…I’m so, so dizzy.”

 His expression stayed serious, but he placed a gentle hand on your shoulder. “Let’s get in the car.”

Aaron opened the door for you and held your hand so you could get inside. You expected him to close the door but instead he leaned over you and fastened your seatbelt for you.

Your heart started jumping around at the smell of his cologne and the feeling of his face so close to yours. You weren’t proud of it, but Aaron Hotchner was your forbidden desire. And the star of more dirty dreams than you’d ever dare to admit.

His thick fingers brushed against your stomach as he made sure that your seatbelt was tight enough to keep you safe.

You shut your eyes and took a deep breath trying to calm your body down.

“Are you alright?” he asked, softly.

His deep voice was the cherry on top that had you melting on your seat.

“Yeah,” you answered weakly. “Just dizzy.”

He closed the door and made his way to the other side, and soon he was on the driver’s seat.

There was a small water bottle in the cup holder and he picked it up. “Here,” he offered, “Have some water. It’ll help.”

“Thank you,” you said taking it from his hands, and shivered at the contact when your fingers brushed.

The bottle was half empty which meant he already had some of it before you. He had wrapped his lips around it; around where your lips were now.

You devoured any water that was left and realized how bad you needed to get hydrated. “I needed that.”

“I can tell,” he laughed. “Come on,” he added, and started the car. “Let’s take you home.”

“Were you asleep?”

“Hm?””

“When I texted you. Did I wake you up?” you asked with a worried tone.

“I rarely sleep, honey. You don’t have to worry about me.”

You pressed your thighs together at the sound of the pet name and the sight of his hands around the wheel.

“Thank you for coming. I really appreciate it.”

“Of course,” he said. “You needed me.”

“I did,” you said, breathless. “Mark would…”

You paused.

“Go on.”

You hesitated. “He would have probably told me to call a cab.”

“He’d let his girl get in the car with a stranger in the middle of the night? When she’s drunk?”

“Sometimes he gets upset with things like that. And, listen, I get it. I can be trouble sometimes.”

“Oh you can be,” Aaron said. “But not for the reasons you think.”

“What do you mean?”

He ignored your question, but it didn’t take too long before he spoke again.

“I’m gonna have a word with him. He’s not treating you well.”

“No, please don’t.”

The only thing that talk would achieve would be Mark getting upset with you.

There was a long pause, and you took advantage of the silence to stare at him. His side profile, his hands, his arms. He was perfect.

‘I wish Mark was more like you,” you said before thinking any better.

“Sweetheart, you shouldn’t say things like that.”

“I could say way worse.”

He chuckled. “Unless you want both of us to get in trouble, don’t.”

“But-”

Aaron reached out to hold your hand, making you go quiet. “You’re drunk. But what I do want you to know is that I’m always here, okay?”

“Okay.”

He squeezed your hand and didn’t let go the entire ride home.

part 2

[formulawolff]

“my favorite driver!” - t.w.

pairing: fem driver!reader x toto wolff

word count: 1.9k

warnings: cursing, mostly fluffy content, jack being a little shit (unintentionally), some tension between an ex-wife and the new girlfriend, mentions of divorce, toto being clueless, yadayadayada

a/n: well, well, well. here we are. a busy day of karting complete with jack, toto, golden girl, & susie! lemme know if you guys enjoyed this one! <3

⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . * ꙳ ✦ ⊹⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . * ꙳ ✦ ⊹⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺

"are you ready?"

exhaling, you adjust your cap, praying that it will somehow keep your identity protected. after all, you wanted nothing more than to keep a low profile today.

"as ready as i'll ever be."

⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . * ꙳ ✦ ⊹⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . * ꙳ ✦ ⊹⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺

"be careful, schatzi," he rolls his eyes, "if you sound any more ecstatic you may burst like a little bubble."

"oh yeah," you scoff, lingering in the passenger seat. your hand hovers above the handle of the door, palms clammy as your fingers wrap around the cool surface, "i'm filled to the brim with excitement."

"hey," fingers grasp your chin, forcing you to maintain eye contact, "it is not going as terrible as you think."

"it sounds like it's going to be an absolute shit show," you cringe internally as a whine escapes from lips, "i have to sit next to your ex-wife all weekend! we both know that i am the last person she wants be seen with."

toto tuts, shaking his head, "can you at least push through? for me? for jack? he's been chattering about this all week. you have no idea how much this means to him."

"i'll try my best," shame ripples within you, cheeks burning as toto nods, shooting you a wink.

"that's my girl. now, let's get going. he starts in about an hour."

the illustrious team principal slips out of the car, shutting the driver's side door. before you know it, he's on the other side of the coupe, a breeze rolling through as he opens the passenger door, prompting you to come on out. swallowing the lump in your throat, you oblige, ensuring that your bag and sunglasses aren't forgotten.

keeping your head low, your heart skips a beat as you feel his fingers find yours, intertwining them together. he squeezes tenderly, a signal that he was there for you, no matter what.

with that anxious sensation growing in the pit of your stomach, you couldn't be more grateful for his reassurance.

since there was a brief break in your schedule, you agreed to accompany toto to a weekend of karting. well, mostly because of jack. the little one was constantly buzzing about you, often inquiring when he was going to meet you. due to the nature of both of your bustling lives, toto conferred with susie on what a good time would be.

the two ended up settling on a weekend between singapore and austin, a couple of weeks before the united states grand prix.

it was a simple outing, really. hanging out with your boyfriend on a beautiful autumn day. you would be introducing yourself to his kid, a little one who absolutely adored you. yet, there was one factor that weighed heavy on your mind.

susie.

the f1 academy founder and racing mogul would be in attendance today in support of her son.

and god, did the thought of facing her for the first time since the news broke have you absolutely reeling.

what would she say? would she be kind? or rather, would it be a sickeningly sweet sort of niceness? would it all be a facade? would she even acknowledge you? would she let you meet jack?

no matter how much toto told you that she was over it, there was still that anxious feeling. it was ever-present, gnawing away at you.

and now, as you approach the garages, hand-in-hand with toto, that anxiety heightened, almost paralyzing you with fear. with every step, it felt as if you feet were concrete, barely moving at all.

"it's okay baby," a voice, his voice, floods your ear. it's barely a whisper, almost inaudible as you grow closer to the throng of parents and children, "i love you."

chewing on your lower lip, you manage to croak out a response, "i love you too."

you hadn't even spoken with susie yet and you were already bristling with fear. only five minutes had passed since you got out of the car and your palms were slick with sweat, armpits damp as well.

fuck, was this going to be torture.

you could manage to get behind the wheel of a vehicle that topped speeds of over two hundred miles an hour but meeting an ex-wife and former acquaintance was almost too much.

how fucked was that?

for a moment, you couldn't but admire toto's initiative to keep your nerves at bay. how he had pulled you closer, looping your arm through his. how his thumb traced soothing circles into your skin, his mercedes cap situated on your head.

he was doing everything in his power to keep you calm. and god, did you love him for that.

the team principal comes a halt, your heart thudding as scans the garage. he pauses, eyes forming slits as he searches for susie. after all, with her blonde bob and striking smile, she was pretty distinguishable.

you couldn't forget a stunning face like susie's.

"ah," toto sucks in a breath, "guten morgen!"

your head swivels in the direction of his voice, picking out a blonde. the woman turns, lips pulling into a grin as she recognizes toto.

"good morning!"

your hand trembles, knees almost buckling as she strolls towards you, little one in tow. for a moment, you squeeze your eyes shut, hoping that maybe this was some sort of a dream. praying that you would simply wake up, wrapped up in your lover's arms.

yet, his hand breaking away from yours reminds you that is real. very real.

you remain still as toto's arm envelop susie's frame, bringing her in for a warm embrace. he pecks her cheeks, the words indistinguishable. you recognize them as german, cursing yourself slightly for not keeping up with your courses.

"and good morning to you," susie bears a bright smile as she turns to you, opening her arms up for a hug. you return the gesture, awkwardly placing two kisses on either cheek.

"it's nice to see you again."

"papa!" a voice squeals, bursting with joy, "she's here! my favorite driver is here!"

at that, you notice susie's right eye twitch. toto kneels, scooping jack up. he hoists the little one into the air so that he was at your level. at the interaction, you feel your lips curl, forming a quaint smile.

"guten morgen, jack! i can't believe i'm finally meeting my favorite kart racer. i think i'm a little starstruck."

jack's eyes widen, his cheeks tinged a rosy pink. his hands fly to his face, shielding his shyness. toto leans in, whispering something in his ear. in turn, jack peeks out, stars glistening in his gaze as he peers at you.

"did you come to watch me race today?"

"i did," you nod, "i figured i would give your dad some company today."

"mama says that you keep my dad company too much and-"

"let's not worry about what mommy thinks," susie cuts in, "let's just worry about racing today, okay?"

toto arches a brow, yet holds his composure, "let's go check out the kart and let the women gossip, yeah? what do you think about that?"

jack nods enthusiastically as toto sets him down. taking his father's hand, he leads him to the other end of the garage, buzzing about a mile a minute. for a moment, there's a beat of silence, susie inhaling a sharp breath.

"i am so sorry."

"about?" your brow furrows, "ms. wolff, you have nothing to be-"

"it's stoddart now," susie's lips form a tight line, her eyes squeezing shut, "did toto not inform you? the divorce was finalized."

"i-" you stammer, swaying slightly, "i-i had no idea."

the blonde rolls her eyes, bringing a hand to her temple, "he has a knack for forgetting important events like that. i apologize for putting you on the spot. i hope you know that i have no ill-will or grudge toward you. it's just... different, you know? he is so different now that he has you."

"what do you mean by that?"

susie motions her head, pointing in the direction of toto and jack, "just look at him. i have never seen him so loving or careful with anyone until you came into the picture. i have never seen him so proactive in jack's life. you have changed him. you truly are his golden girl."

in that moment, your heart swells, bliss rippling all throughout as you watch toto and jack. the little one's hand was wrapped around toto's finger, the child showcasing all of the new modifications to his kart. toto couldn't look any more proud, his gaze brimmed with affection, dimples apparent as jack toted him along.

"susie," you begin, attempting to form some sort of response that would truly express your gratitude, "thank you, for that. you really have no-"

"don't thank me," a chuckle bubbles up in her throat, the blonde resting a hand on your shoulder, "just stick around, yeah? i don't know if i can handle anymore drab and depressed toto. also, i wouldn't mind if you wanted to stop by the academy sometime. we miss you around there."

"i could probably fit that in sometime," you beam, "there isn't much more of the season left. i would love to come by and see how things are progressing."

"don't feel like you have to just because of me," susie sticks outs a hand, "i know you're fairly busy at brackley in your free time."

after her statement, she winks, heat billowing into your cheeks the moment you realize what she meant.

so she had heard the rumors.

"well," the blonde clears her throat, fishing her phone out of her pocket, "my partner is going to be here any minute now. i need to go meet up with her so she doesn't get lost. you think you can keep the boys out of trouble?"

"i sure can," a giggle flows from your lips, "i'll go see what they're up to. isn't the first lap going to start here soon?"

"yes," susie responds, spinning on her heel, "if i can't find you two around here, will you text me from toto's phone?"

"of course!" you chirp, flashing her a thumbs up, "we'll meet up with you soon!"

"great," susie flashes you a grin, waving at the boys one last time.

as she disappears among the growing crowd of parents, children, and family, you make your way towards toto and jack. the moment jack spots you, he waves you over, "i need help!"

"what is it?" you fold your arms across your chest.

"will you give me some tips?" the little one cocks his head as toto zips up his racing suit.

"what sort of tips?" there's a cozy sensation blooming in your chest as you kneel to the ground.

"racing tips, duh!"

"i'll tell you what," carefully, you place your hands on his shoulders, maintaining eye contact.

"the most important thing i can tell you to do is to believe in yourself. if you can do that, then you can do anything."

"anything?" jack's lip purse, toto hovering with his helmet in his grasp.

dipping your head, you take the helmet, placing it on the child's head, "anything. no go kick ass out there. i know you'll do great!"

at your words, you can't help but notice the way jack brightens. his mouth forms a radiant smile. for a minute, he's a spitting-image of his father, the sight tugging at your heart.

"okay! i'll go kick some ass! only cause you said i can!"

as toto helps him into the kart, you rise to your feet, a singular thought buzzing in your mind.

maybe one day a little toto wouldn't be so bad.

just maybe.

[littlebearbun]

Stanley Pines NSFW Alphabet

(Written for myself. lmao)

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Tbh I think this depends. If it's with a one night stand, he's pretty “hit it and sleep” or he goes to the Stanmobile to sleep if they're being clingy or he's spooked. A quick “thanks, toots” and a slap on the ass and he's out. If he's with someone he cares about, he's very clingy. Will give them a sip of his Pitt from the side table and lots of kisses and his hands are everywhere. Does not care about sweat or wiping anything down. Wants to be big spoon to sleep.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

His: His hands/arms. Knows he's muscley and knows his hands are huge. Also likes his crooked grin cause it's very different from Ford’s smile. Theirs: loves a good pair of thick thighs. Tbh I don't see him disliking any part of his partner but he loves them “with meat on their bones” as he says. More to grab and squish. (When they've been together for a while, will say he adores their eyes, too, but especially when they're looking at him.)

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Comes a lot and it's pretty thick. Doesn't taste bad but not good either (his diet isn't great) Would prefer to come inside but is fine with it on their face/chest/stomach/ass/etc. He's not picky.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

I could see him keeping panties in his pocket and randomly touching them or holding them against his face.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

He's…experienced in one night stands. Knows what he's doing but only when it's rough/fast/etc. If it's slow and sweet he gets flustered and is easier to overwhelm.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Sitting against the headboard with them in his lap, their back to his chest, slow deep fuckin or using his fingers. Will whisper naughty things in their ear and watch his hand between their legs. Would never forget the image of his lover wearing his gold chain, riding him, the pendant swinging with their movements.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Once he's comfy, he can be both. I can see him teasing and picking lil fights and trying to make them laugh, but I could also see him just wanting their attention focused. Is very ��keep your eyes on me”

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Grey hairs around the base. Probably doesn't care about trimming it unless his partner asks him to, and will probably make a grumbly comment about the effort. He does not care if his partner shaves.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Again, depends if it's a one night stand or not. If it is, it's not romantic at all. He's there for one thing only, no strings attached. If it isn't, he's absolutely worshipful. Kisses stretch marks, moles, scars. Nuzzles everywhere he can get to tickle with his stubble. Calls them every pet name in the book. Says how lucky he is to have landed someone like them.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Probably doesn't do it much after he takes over the Mystery Shack, reminds him of how lonely he is. When he was drifting, he does it to forget but only if he can't find a willing partner to spend the night with instead. After he gets Ford back and has a partner, he would do it but only to a, tease his partner or b, cope with them being gone for a few days. Prefers them on the phone for it.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Definitely into edging/overstimulation. Stealth collars, makes his chest puff up in pride.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

His office or in front of a mirror. Or his armchair. Or his car. He has a lot of favorites, sue him.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

For most of his life, he's only in it for himself. Likes when his partners beg and make him feel important. Later, when with someone for a while, domestic shit gets him. They brought him a Pitt and kissed his cheek and he's hard???? Still really likes feeling like the “big man of the house” tho.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Doesn't like handcuffs on himself, they remind him of prison. Doesn't like if he can't see/hear/move his hands. Will never involve another in the bedroom. His self esteem is too low for that.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Prefers to receive I think. Again, makes him feel in control. Much rather use his hands on his partner so he can look at their face easier and see their expressions.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Generally rougher for sure. Sensual is a once in a while thing if he needs reassurance.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Often. Hell yes. He loves em. Wants to see how quickly he can get them off on a back closet, or his office, or in the shower. Power trip.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Experimenting sure, I could see him trying a lot. Risks, depends. Doesn't want the twins to see. Doesn't want Ford to see. Doesn't want anyone to see, really.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

He’s good for one round himself, but he's more than willing to use his mouth or hands until his partner is satisfied. Doesn't mind if that takes a while. Would absolutely lay in bed all lazily while fingering them after he's finished.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Some of them?? More into using them on a partner than himself. Would love collars, nipple clamps, maybe a flog. Would be strangely intrigued if they had different kinds of dildos. (What shape is that?? Let me watch you try it)

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Merciless tease. Whispers naughty shit all day. “I'm sorry, I couldn't hear you, babe, say it again? Louder?” Touches everywhere but where they want most.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He grunts and groans a lot. Will not shut up, talks for the entire time.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

If you say he's a “good man” it breaks him. He still has a hard time remembering some things sometimes (can wake up missing pieces). Sometimes the bad things come back first and he needs kind words and to be reminded he's safe

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Huge arms, very very strong. Prominent gut, obviously. His legs are skinnier than the rest of him. Very hairy. Brand on his back and maybe a few tattoos from his gang days, but nothing too serious.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Once he has a partner he loves? It's high. Wants them constantly, even if it's just their body near his. When he was drifting, I think it was only if he wanted a place to sleep or was really lonely. Sometimes he felt worse after.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He likes the after sex cuddles, so he stays up a bit. Will tease them about the sex in a rough, quiet voice.

[fawnpires]

thinking about himbo!simon and his bimbo girlfriend being so disgustingly in love with each other.

you two were the definition of a match made in heaven— a sweet girl, pouty glossed lips and this constant urge to be spoiled with her huge mass of a counterpart. sure, simon’s had his fair share of occasional motel hook-ups and such, but you were just… something so different to him. said hook-up turned into the love of his life. and it makes sense, for sure.

not only were you two the most air-headed couple out there, but also the downright nastiest. he just could not resist your tempting fashion taste, everything ever-so-neatly pink and cropped. cropped tracksuits, pink little thongs, mini-skirts that were just too short for your own good... it’s years worth of perfect jack-off material. i mean... he's ultimately stupid, of course, but is probably the perviest guy you've ever been with.

your reactions to his teasing touches were an addiction to him. made you all the more sensitive and pliable, gives into that already-huge ego he had. near bursting when you fed into it. those whiny mewls and the way you ended up with a messy cunt and ruined panties at the end of the day were just to die for. starts to find himself more hooked onto that now you've succumbed to him and his way of things. the guy's seeping into your brain, influencing you, shaping you into being as equally worse as he was. what an asshole.

at first, it was tame— nothing out of the ordinary, a normal, healthy relationship. causal sex and daily worship to keep each other on a holy level of thought. of course, there was the occasional suggestive touch in public, getting overly touchy to each other some extent, albeit more outgoing within the privacy of your shared apartment. you would never act on any type of hungering impulse he brought out on you, because you were a shy girl all in the start. affectionate as a lost puppy up against him, as pretty and ditzy in-appearance. some spoiled princess who’s had her mind all switched up.

but relationships change, people change, and simon’s just about change you these past few months.

the belief never really crossed your mind… until you’re obliviously playing into the part, falling for his perverse tactics. there’s no shame when you’re on your tip-toes, arms in a lock around his neck, leaned up to sloppily make out with him, spit and all, outside of the gym after he’s spend a majority of his day there— sweat adorning his biceps, a tight-fitting cropped compression that showed off all his well-worked progress. how could you not give in? then you’d pull away, giggling in a lovesick trance while he’s running his hands up from the curve of your ass under that skimpy skirt to the mid-point of your back.

and it doesn’t stop there— especially when you’re out together, or with friends. there’s always a moment to surrender; shamelessly clashing lips, bending and pounding you over the sink in some club’s restroom, having his hand shoved down your panties like it was natural instinct. safe to say you’ve disturbed a good portion of the general public and your friend group, but it was way beyond you and simon’s combined brain capacity to really process that.

“you’re a little stupid, si,” you mused aloud one day, back arched against him while his meaty bicep held you in a gentle headlock and his hips slowly moving against yours, “not stupid… but like, hm, slow. y’know what i’m trying to say?”

simon temporarily pauses in his thrusts, blinking down at you silently before continuing. you tilt your head to the side in wonder and take a breath before sighing from the simulation— there was time and place for musing and sex. nobody said the two couldn’t coexist.

“never really thought ‘bout that,” he manages to respond through some low grunts, looking at you so intensely like he couldn’t quite get his head correct right now, primal state of mind, “can’t really think right now when—“

a soft groan subconsciously pulls from his lips, hips driving into your puffy cunt more firmly, leaving an imprint of you into the mattress, and your legs shake in position. now you can barely even think about the question, all you know it felt fucking good. your makeup’s dripping and fusing with sweat, eyes decorated in a sickeningly, somehow swanky, mix of glitter and mascara.

“i’ve got my dick up this pretty pussy. princess, is that what you’re really concerned about right now?” simon finishes, the hand to his headlock arm holding a tender grip on your face.

you admired his ability to even put words together right now, especially when he’s got his cock so deeply perched in your pretty pussy that’s gripping on him like a damn suction. feels like he’s on a whole other planet, and you’re over here in a little wasteland of drifting thoughts cooped up at the back of your brain.

(there’s no way he is that good at fucking you to the point where he’s got you pondering dumb shit out loud.)

“it’s an honest observation,” you giggle, chewing on the plump bottom of your lip. his thrusts are really starting to set in now, making your lower tummy feel all fuzzy, reveling in an achy warmth. makes your cunt all the more soaked, resulting in his abdomen saturated with transparent slick. you’re convinced your insides are shaped have been like him at this point.

“well, if we’re making honest observations,” he strokes his thumb over your lower lip, leaning down your curved posture and pressing a small kiss to the corner of your mouth, “you’re a natural, baby. my girl’s got the prettiest tits, prettiest face… and the cutest damn pussy i’ve ever had the luck of having a chance at.”

heat blooms across your face, visualized over wet cheeks and suddenly your whole body’s burning from the inside out, breaths caught at the back of your throat when you stare back at him and whine out pitifully, “you’re such a filthy perv, simon.”

“ain’t that right,” he tilts his head backwards with closed eyes, lips formed in a lewd, sharp grin. his words sound like a mock reassurance, and untangles his arm from your neck to shift positions— back against the headboard, propping you up to sit on his abdomen, pussy so drenched in your slick and his own that it paints his taut abdomen with it. “now c’mon, on top, angel, know you can do it.”

simon holds the base of his cock with one hand, the other rubbing molded circles into the flesh of your doughy thighs. he’s helpful, thank god, and does the most by slapping the length of himself against your sticky folds. abrupt, messy, but sends an intoxicating shock right up your spine, causing your back to arch like a cat and dig your acrylics into the hardened skin of his pecs. your form was beautiful in perspective, as always.

you finish off what he’s started by raising your hips, sinking down onto his fat cock and stretching around him impossibly to accommodate his entire length, gaining back that sensation of being so full, so feverish because of what he does to you. using your cunt as his own personal stress reliever.

“oh, that’s real good,” he lets out a particularly heavy breath, sucks in the air through clenched teeth and tenses his muscles, the head of his cock already managing to kiss at your cervix. he’s so big and it wasn’t even an exaggeration. not at all. has you feeling this euphoric high of pleasure-pain. “c’mon, baby, put in that good work. i’ll even help ya.”

he keeps his word and grabs either sides of your hips, assisting you as he bounces you efficiently on his cock like a doll, jabbing the tip repeatedly at your cervix. paled eyes, ones that have that deer in the headlights sort of look, fixate their gaze on you— admiring you as if you were beauty reincarnate itself, or better yet, a pornstar. the prettiest pornstar he’s ever laid eyes on, at least.

“see? there we go, baby, a real natural at this,” he praises and your eyes roll so far you think that they would get stuck at the back of your head. you’re fucking yourself onto him like your life depends on it— and it probably does, having this feeling that you’re going to die without him and that stupidly fat cock of his rawing your pussy. it’s almost comical.

the sounds pulled from your throat are pitchy, soft and infused with unadulterated arousal. there’s nothing else to think about right now, not when simon’s all up in your guts and all that you can really do is moan out for him, breathe out his name like a prayer from your tongue. brain’s gone to mush and you can only yearn for him, having this need for him to kiss and embrace you whole so he does that, arms caged around your torso wholly and his lips clashed with yours in a kiss like he’s devouring you whole.

you’re so braindead that you don’t even notice he’s doubled on the stimulation— hitting that spot deep inside of you along with his fingers rubbing at your clit. it’s not long before it begins settling in, and that’s when you’re beyond save.

from there, you start to give out, revolving your hips in an intricate fashion, fucking yourself down onto him lazily, laying on the large expanse of his chest and nosing against his jawline gently. he doesn’t seem to mind this and even accommodates in the long run, cupping the back of your head and littering your face with messy smooches— contrasted to the fervent manner he works on your clit.

and you know you’re not a touch-starved girl, ‘cause you’ve been constantly pampered by him from day one! god, he’s given you so much that it really does make you feel like you’re genuinely deprived of it. ruined you for every other man.

“you’re too good to me, sweetheart.” simon coos, and for some ultimate reason, that just does it for you.

by the end, it’s nothing but an mind-numbing, scalding finish— the brand of skin-on-skin, and that knot in your lower stomach spreading into a warmth throughout your limbs, leaving an aftermath of tingles beneath your skin and a dripping, thick load painting your inner thighs the prettiest shade of white.

it takes a minute, but you watch through a post-orgasm fog when he lifts his head, peering down at you through half-lids. he was so… rugged, stubble growing in the right places, short, scruffy strands of dirtied blonde sticking to his forehead with sweat. one of the more major things that had deep-rooted your love for him. most things about him screamed masculinity, it’s written all over his face, his form. quite palpable, you think.

he grins slightly, boyish and on a high, and holds you against his chest, fingers brushing the disheveled hair that fell in front of your face. thinks you’re peak beautiful like this— messily beautiful with your makeup-smeared cheeks, hint of a dopey smile at your lips to match his.

“baby, you’ve got that look in your eye again,” simon comments, and you finally find the strength to sit up next to him.

you blink at him stupidly, that underlying sensation of quivering fresh at your skin, brain foggy, dumbified to great lengths. eyes widened and lips in a full pout because you haven’t got a clue what that means, so you just opt to take it as a tease.

“you’re sayin’ i look dumb?” that must’ve been it, of course there other possibilities, but you couldn’t quite come to that conclusion.

“what? baby, no,” he has this equally as stupid look on his face, scratching the side of his face with a grunt, “i meant… you look pretty. real pretty. got that after sex glow to you.”

“oh.” now you just feel ten times stupider, flashing him an awkward expression that’s something along the lines of a smile and a pout. you were just a dumb, sweet thing. that’s all. head dipped into somewhere else ninety-nine percent of the time. “whatever— you’re just butterin’ me up.”

“awe, now, don’t be like that,” he scoots closer to you, the fragrance of his natural, masculine musk and his pungent spiced cologne strong against your nose. fondles your bare tits lovingly, pawing at them like a helpless mutt. the sight makes you want to roll your eyes and whine, but you just can’t bring yourself to. he’s acting sweet and doting, nothing to complain about there. “we both know you can’t go a damn day without me all over you.”

a modest hmph came from behind puffed cheeks and ample pout because you knew he was right. in the end, simon always knew how to get you worked up— make your thighs press together, have your body burn up inside. the only one who knew how to get you that vulnerable.

“you’re so dirty.” of course he was, there’s no doubting that, but he’s undeniably smooth with it. goddamn practitioner in this line of skill. “hun, it’s like all you’ve got up there is just… fucking. thinking with your dick.”

he furrows his brows at that. “hey, now you know that ain’t true,” simon presses scattered kisses along your hairline. “partially is, but besides the point, actually two things— sex… and this sweet princess i’ve got right here. it’s all a man like me could ever think of.”

[puckinghischier]

wait i’m crying imagine helping luke with his curl routine and you being the only person he trusts to touch his hair

“luke, hold still,” you tell him, massaging the diffuser around his head.

“it tickles. and it’s really warm,” he argues, twitching again, causing you to huff in frustration.

luke’s currently crouched down in front of you in his en-suite bathroom, sitting not so still while you try to do his newly implemented curl routine.

“honeybee, my knees hurt, we gotta take a break,” he pleads, bouncing slightly.

you turn off the hair dryer and let him stretch his legs to his full height.

“you know, if you’d let me make you an appointment at a salon we wouldn’t be in this predicament,” you tell him, looking up at his lop-sided curls.

a few weeks ago you convinced luke to start a curl care routine, knowing his hair was in desperate need of some TLC. when you first started dating, you saw the 3in1 bottle sitting in his otherwise empty shower and immediately dragged him to the nearest salon supply store to get a curl specific shampoo and conditioner set.

once he finally agreed to start a whole routine (with your help, of course) you picked out several creams and gels to lather into his hair after every shower.

so your new pre-bedtime routine, three nights out of the week, is making sure his hair is hydrated and taken care of. when you suggested letting a professional do a generalized curl care appointment to get him started, luke refused, arguing that you could do it just as good as any salon can.

“i told you, i don’t want them touching my hair,” he reiterates to you, giving the same response every time you suggest it to him.

“luke, they’re literally professionals. they know tricks that i don’t. maybe they could even do something to your hair that lasts for a few weeks, so we wouldn’t have to do this several nights a week. plus, it would help when you’re on the road,” you try to persuade him, reaching up and ruffling his curls around with both hands, trying to keep it from drying unevenly.

the first time he was on the road and it was a hair night, you tried to call him and walk him through it, but he claimed his hair didn’t turn out as soft and shiny as when you do it.

the next time, you had jack come and watch how you did it one night, having him step in to help luke since they typically room together, but he said jack didn’t do it right and he came out looking like he had a clown afro the next day.

“i don’t care. it’s just hair, it can wait until i’m back home,” he grabs your hands, pulling them from his hair and placing them on his shoulders.

you scoff in offense, swatting at his chest. “it is not just hair. it’s one of my favorite features of yours!”

“still doesn’t mean i’m going to let some stranger at a salon get all touchy with it,” he shrugs.

you roll your eyes at his stubbornness, not knowing why it’s such a big deal.

“if you don’t want to spend the money on it, i’ll literally pay for it. i just think it’d do some good, i don’t know why you’re so against it,” you offer.

luke shakes his head no, reaching up to move a stray piece of your own hair out of your face. “s’not the money,” he assures you. “it won’t feel as good as when you do it. love the feeling of your fingers all in my hair. s’comforting,” he says so casually, not even aware that his words caused butterflies to erupt in your belly.

you feel your face flush, biting your lip to hide the smile trying to break out on your face.

“well i’m not saying i’ll stop doing it. i’m just saying that maybe a trip to a salon once a month might prevent more bad hair days on the road,” you try to compromise, not wanting him to know how much his words affected you. you didn’t want to give him more reasons to refuse the idea.

“and i’m just saying, i don’t want anyone but you touching my hair,” he leans down to press his forehead against yours, locking his wide eyes onto yours dramatically.

before you can get a reply out of your mouth, he leans forward and presses his lips to yours, taking your hands off of his shoulders and bringing them up to his hair, emphasizing his point.

you toy with the flat curls, forgetting what you were meant to be doing until your fingers came into contact with a wet patch.

pulling back from the kiss abruptly, luke lets out a frustrated whine while chasing your lips with his.

“we have to finish drying your hair! if i don’t finish it soon it’s gonna dry all flat on one side because we didn’t diffuse it properly,” you pull back from him completely, grabbing the abandoned hair dryer on the counter.

luke groans, stomping over to stand in front of you, crouching back into his earlier position.

“just hurry. if we do this too much longer i’m going to have to tell my coach i can’t skate because i have stiff knees from my girlfriend’s curl routine she makes me do,” he crosses his arm and pouts like a child.

“keep up the whining and i’ll make jack do it next time,” you threaten, turning the hairdryer on and continuing the task at hand.

luke’s body tenses. “i swear to god if you bring jack over here to do my hair again i’m shaving it off.”

“you wouldn’t,” you gasp at him, not believing he just said such a thing.

“try me,” he responds, smirking at you through the large mirror.

[munsonsmixtapes]

Smutty request ? ;) Perv!Eddie, Dark!Eddie?

Eddie and the reader and neighbours, their bedrooms and wall to wall and one night Eddie heard the moans of the reader, she is touching herself. He decides to join in, but whilst listening he hears her moan his name…

perv!Eddie x fem!reader

cw: MDNI (18+) smut (p in v) masturbation (both f and m) oral (m receiving) slightly dom!Eddie, perv!Eddie, clothes ripping

It wasn’t a secret that the walls of your apartment were very thin. You could always hear your neighbors and vice versa. That was why you always tip toed around the place, although, the neighbors to the right of you never seemed to extend the same curtesy since they always seemed to scream at each other late into the night.

And your neighbor to the left of you played his guitar when you were trying to go to sleep, but you hardly minded that. It was like a little lullaby that helped you go to sleep every night, and maybe sometimes you pretended that the song was for you.

In fact, you actually had developed a little crush on him. And how could you not have? He was hot and rode a motorcycle and would flirt with you when you both ended up at your mailboxes at the same time.

Your little crush escalated, though, to the point of no return. It had gotten to the point where you were trying to see him every chance you got, so close to just knocking on his door to give him your number. But you couldn’t. You didn’t have the confidence. So, you settled for the company of your fingers when your feelings got to be too much, imagining that it was him who was doing all the work.

You got into your bed after a long night at work and felt yourself getting worked up as you spotted Eddie in the lobby with a girl on his arm. He was escorting her out of the building and you didn’t know why you were jealous. The man had maybe uttered a few words to you and flirty as they may have been, he wasn’t your boyfriend. Or anything to you for that matter, except for your neighbor.

You were more horny than you ever had been and you really needed your fix especially after having thought about the man all day. He was quickly becoming your the star of your fantasies and you were going to take what you could get, knowing that he was never going to actually do any of that stuff to you. If he had wanted you that way, you would have already slept together, right?

Your quickly took off your jeans and stuck your hand down your pants, shoving your fingers up your cunt, a loud moan escaping from your mouth as you moved them around, on the hunt for that particular spot that always had you seeing stars.

Eddie’s ears perked up at the noise, his tv show no longer interesting as the sound floated through his ears. He had heard you masturbate more times than he could count, but never like this, never hearing you so enthusiastic while pleasuring yourself.

And he knew it was you because he would have recognized your moans anywhere, able to remember exactly what you sounded like even without you making noises on the other side of the wall to compare. Those sounds were living rent free in his head and he never wanted them to move out.

If he was being honest, he thought it was hot, loving to hear the sounds you made, them often leading him to masturbation, but he would always move to the bathroom so you couldn’t hear him.

He had gotten off more times in the small amount of time that you liver there then he had in his entire life. It had gotten to the point where he was jacking off almost every night, not being able to keep his cock from tenting in his pants at the delicious moans that were falling from your lips.

At some point, though, he decided to add a woman into the mix, needing to actually fuck someone instead of having his hand do the job. And it was good, great, even, but he couldn’t help but imagine your face on top of hers, your moans filling his ears instead of hers.

And he didn’t feel right fucking her when he wasn’t all in, so he sent her home, trying his best to be a gentleman about it. So, he was back to square one, listening to you, wishing that he was the one to do the job.

He pressed his ear to the wall, trying to see if that would help him hear you even better. It didn’t. It just made the noises sound more muffled and not nearly as hot. He looked down and could see that he was already hard. That had to be a record of some sort. Maybe if he went over there, you’d take care of him-

“Eddie.” His eyes widened as he realized that his name had come out of your mouth. He paused, his hand hovering over his very hard cock as he waited to see if you’d say it again to confirm that he wasn’t just hearing things.

“Eddie, oh my god,” it was louder now and an involuntary whine fell from his lips, suddenly needing yours to suck him off. He couldn’t hold it in any longer. He had to do something.

Before he could stop himself, he rushed out of his room and suddenly, he was in the hallway, knocking on your door, hoping that you would answer it before anyone could see his very hard cock.

The knocking on the door immediately pulled you out of your trance and you realized what you were doing. It made you feel crazy for even thinking about it, but there you were, coming up with your own scenario, wondering who was at your door, ruining the whole thing for you.

You removed your fingers from your cunt and wiped them off with a tissue before pulling on some sleep shorts you had in the floor. You then let out a groan and headed to the door, contemplating on pretending that you weren’t home so you could go back to your fantasy.

You ripped the door open, fully prepared to yell at the person on the other side, but only let out a gasp as you saw who it was. And then, without another thought, you slammed the door closed, pushing yourself against it as you felt your chest rise and fall as your heart rate picked up.

He had heard you moan his name and now he was coming to complain, telling you that he thought it was weird and that you needed to knock it off. That had to be it, right? There was no way he was coming to help you…finish the job right? Maybe only in your dreams.

Once you had calmed down, you opened the door again, met with his smile that always made you melt. He was dressed in a pair of pajama pants and a t-shirt that was promoting his band, Corroded Coffin. How was it that he even looked hot in pajamas? God, you really needed to get laid.

“Hi,” you said, unsure of how else to greet him since it wasn’t every day that he was knocking on your door. In fact, he had never done that in the six months that you had lived there. It was odd to say the least.

“Forgive me if I’m overstepping, but I couldn’t help but overhear you, you know, thin walls. And I was wondering if…you wanted some help? Again, let me know if I completely misread the-“

Before Eddie could even finish his sentence, you pulled him into your apartment, letting the door slam behind him. You then pressed your lips to his in a messy kiss, the thing being all teeth and tongue as you both tried to satisfy your hunger for each other.

Your tongue slipped into his mouth as his hand moved down your panties, on the hunt for your pussy, and once he found it, he shoved his fingers inside you, a delicious moan falling from your lips.

“Is this what you wanted, sweetheart?” He chuckled as he pumped his fingers in and out, his lips right by the shell of your ear. “My fingers inside you? Could hear you begging for me, but don’t worry I’ll take care of you. Open you up so you’re wide enough for me.”

His fingers continued to pump in and out of you, but your underwear proved to be a problem, a barrier in the way of your pleasure. Before you could even ask him to take them off, they were already on the floor by your feet.

He then continued his work, watching you come undone just from his fingers, your head falling back and your loud moans and whines falling from your lips. You were so fucking hot. An angel for sure.

“Look so hot on my fingers, but I bet you’d look even hotter on my cock.”

“I second that,” you replied as another moan left your mouth. “Eddie-shit.”

“Look at you. Barely even did anything and you’re so close,” he chuckled. “I have to say, those sounds are even hotter without the wall to separate us. Come on,” he urged, curving his fingers and they hit just the right spot. “Cum for me angel. Wanna hear you scream my name.”

You did just that, a scream ripping through you, his name on your tongue, sounding so pretty coming from your mouth. He removed his fingers and waited until your eyes were open before holding his fingers out to you.

“Want a taste?” He asked, the words sounding so innocent, but seeing your slick covering his fingers, it just sounded so filthy. You had a feeling he had a dirty mouth.

You nodded furiously, wanting to know what you tasted like. Eddie grabbed onto your chin with his free hand and pushed your mouth open before slowly putting his fingers inside.

“Now suck.” You did as he asked, licking and sucking on his fingers, not even focused on how they tasted, his pretty brown eyes taking up your every thought. They were clouded with lust and you knew that just by looking into them that he could have gotten you into trouble if he knew that you’d do whatever he asked just by batting his long lashes.

A whine fell from his lips as he watched you, desperate to have you suck him off, but he wanted to get inside you first, wanting to know what it felt like with his cock bare. He was fully intending on pounding into you for hours on end, not wanting you to be able to walk for days.

“Good girl,” he said as he removed his fingers from you, your slick completely licked clean from them. “I think you deserve something for being so obedient.”

“You finally gonna fuck me?” You asked, your words coming out much more desperate than you intended.

“Yup,” he nodded and backed you up the wall that was right by your room. He pressed his lips to yours in a rough kiss, taking no time to slip his tongue inside, letting it swirl around yours. He then pulled away and pushed his pants and underwear down, your eyes immediately moving to his cock. It was large and veiny and you were even more wet thinking about where it was about to be.

“I don’t have a condom.”

“Me neither. But I kind of like the idea of you not wearing one.” You were saying all the words he had been wanting to hear, almost as if you were in his head.

“Me too.”

“I’m on birth control so go for it. Please.”

Eddie grabbed onto the backs of your thighs and lifted you up, your legs wrapping around his waist as he slid inside you, not hesitating to pound into you. You moaned so loudly that he couldn’t help but do the same thing, not even able to control himself when he heard you make those pretty sounds.

“Sound so pretty, angel,” he said. “Make some more noise. Be as loud as you want. I want the whole building to know that I fucked you good.” He continued to pound into you, your sounds being music to his ears, letting him know that he was doing all of the right things.

You had fucked people, sure, but never with so much urgency, never with the man being just as needy as you. And he had such a way with words, able to make you close to cumming just by whispering the filthiest things into your ear.

He continued to pound into you, so close to cumming right there, his own moans falling from his lips. He looked so hot, soaked in sweat, the stuff clinging to his curls and weighing them down a bit. You could see a bit forming on the collar of his shirt and you were hoping that the piece of clothing would have been drenched by the time he was done with you.

You grabbed at his shirt, tugging on it with so much effort that you both paused when you heard ripping noise. You both looked down to see that the middle that ripped apart slightly, his white skin very visible underneath.

“Rip it,” he encouraged. “I’ve got a ton just like it.”

You ripped the shirt a little more then pulled it over his head, wanting to get rid of the thing entirely, his tattoo covered chest coming into view. You could feel yourself salivating as you found yourself wanting to run your tongue all over his torso.

Eddie could see the look in your eyes, pounding into you once more as you let vision went hazy, your orgasm ripping through you, his name falling from your lips just like he had been imagining for months.

He then pulled out, his cock still leaking with cum. Once you came down from your orgasm, he set you down and you pressed your lips to his, backing him up to the couch where you pushed him down. He loved seeing you like this, wanting you to take control and do whatever you wanted to him as he was pliant underneath you.

You removed your shirt and lowered yourself down onto him, your lips connecting with his collar bone you then moved down, licking and sucking as you did so, not wanting to leave any tattoo untouched. You could hear his stuttered breaths and his moans perfectly the walls no longer being a barrier. They were so clear and loud and you were eating it up, loving how you were able to make him come absolutely undone.

“Wow, look at you,” you said, grabbing onto his cock, giving it a slow stroke and he let out a gasp, his eyes looking blissed out, but he could definitely take some more. “Cumming so much that it’s all over you, baby. Need me to take care of you?”

“Please,” he whined and you smirked, removing your hand from him and taking his, guiding it to his cock.

“You’ve gotta jack off first. I want to see if it’s like what I’ve been imagining. If you close your eyes like I think you do. If you moan my name. Bet you do, don’t you Eddie?”

He put his hand at the base and moved it up and down just like he did in his bathroom so many times before. He let out a moan and you sat back and watched him, his eyes shutting tight as he did so. Cum leaked from it and you were salivating just thinking about sucking it all up. How it would taste.

He continued to move his hand back and forth, the most delicious moans falling from his lips, your name being his word of choice. He looked so fucking hot like that and knowing that you were the reason he was jacking off was even hotter.

“I think you’re ready for me,” you told him and he turned on the couch, his back lining up with the back of it and he spread his legs wide so he had space for you to fit.

“I’m ready,” he said through labored breaths and you took no time to grab the base and take him into your mouth. You swirled your tongue around the head to test the waters, wanting to hear him beg for it.

You gave a small suck and looked up at him, his whine sounding like music to your ears. He let out another one and you decided to give him what he wanted, giving his cock a hard suck, your tongue moving back and forth the bottom of it. You rested your hand on his knee while the other gripped his balls, giving them a hard squeeze.

“Oh my god,” he moaned and that sounded like an invitation to continue. “Fuck, you’re really good at this.”

You removed your hand from the base and looked up at him as you took all of him into your mouth, a gasp escaping his. Your eyes watered, but you didn’t care. You were just so focused on pleasing him, hoping he’d fuck you again the next day.

You gave his balls another hard squeeze and spread his legs wider to give you more room to get closer. You continued to lick and suck, pulling even more sounds from him. He was now seeing stars and you could tell that he had finished when a large wad of cum leaked out onto your tongue.

You pulled him out of your mouth and looked him directly in the eye as you swallowed before standing from the floor, feeling your legs getting wobbly from the way he had just fucked you senseless. He was quick to grab you by the hands and stood up from the couch before gathering you into his arms and carrying you to the bedroom.

“Bedtime, hm?” He asked and it looked like you were about to argue, but he squeezed your hip, causing you to let out a yelp. “Don’t worry, angel. There’s more where that came from. But we’ll continue in the morning and I’ll eat you out since you were so generous with your mouth just now.”

He carried you to your room, laying you down onto it then pulling the covers over top of you. He then got in on the other side and pulled you to him, bare skin to bare skin. He pressed a kiss to the top of your head before promising to be there in the morning before you both drifted off to sleep, dreaming of nothing but each other and what you had gotten up to. Both wishing that it was already morning so you could go for round two. There was no way it could ever be a one night stand.

[urhoneycombwitch]

heated touch

foreword: “but Lulu it’s not even summer yet how come you wrote a pool fic” okay first of all global warming. it’s absolutely summer rn. hush up and eat up. 👼

cw: R wears bikini top + skirt, Eddie is Down Bad™️, and is also touchstarved, brief use of the awkward miscommunication trope, R’s baby hairs mentioned but no color or texture, weed mention (Robin is a stoner canon change my mind u can’t), R uses sunscreen (no skin color mentioned), implied plus-sized reader

wc: 3.4k

___

It’s the first real, normal, non-apocalyptic summer that anyone can remember having in a long, long time. 

With the heat index at a sizzling 97 today, various members of the Party have taken over Steve’s half-shaded, half-pool extravaganza of a backyard. The kids are jumping in and out of the bright blue water, splashing and cackling, while you and Robin stretch out like house cats in a sunny patch of grass nearby.

You, mere yards away, in a swim top and sweet little pleated tennis skirt. All that lovely skin on display, glistening in the light. 

And Eddie is sulking, indoors, frozen with lovesickness. There’s condensation dripping from the forgotten can of beer in his left hand; through the window above the kitchen sink, Eddie observes the scene in mournful silence.

“Christ, you really are a pussy.”

Eddie whips around with a glare that would level a normal human being, shushing Steve with a panicked fierceness that only makes the guy chuckle harder at Eddie’s expense. 

“Y’know,” Steve continues with the insults, dipping into the fridge and reappearing with a Fanta and a shit-eating grin- “You might want to try leering like a creep from the garage window. That way no will hear you jack off-”

“Oh, shut the fuck up, Harrington.” Eddie interrupts with a grade-A scoff and eye roll combo, rivaling Steve’s own bitchiness. “Wasn’t your last successful date back in high school, like, six years ago when you had better hair?”

Steve doesn’t even flinch. With condescending sympathy, he sighs and shakes his head of (beautiful-even-when-wet, damn him) hair, snapping the soda can tab with a flourish. “Might wanna hurry up and make a move. Can’t suppress my charm forever just ‘cuz you’re too chicken to man up- it’s not natural to keep all of this hidden away.”

Steve gestures to the broad expanse of his golden chest, dark thicket of hair sitting proud, the scars that he seems to have no qualms over showing off criss-cross along the flex of muscle at his sides. 

Realistically, Eddie knows Steve wouldn’t go after you, not even as a joke. It would defy the honorable and unmentioned Bro Code they’ve lived by ever since Eddie almost died in an alternate hell dimension and Steve valiantly pulled him back topside. 

Teasing, though? It’s Harrington’s godgiven right- especially since Eddie’s so hopelessly in love. It’s almost too easy to get him riled up, to light a fire under his ass to maybe finally get the situation some forward movement. 

Flames lick at the kindling. Steve walks backwards, shooting Eddie one last finger gun and wink before rejoining the boisterous outdoors crowd. Through the crack Steve’s left in the sliding glass door, Eddie can hear that asshole’s cheery voice ring out- “Lookin’ good, ladies!”- and your subsequent peal of laughter. 

Eddie can feel the heat through the black denim at his ass, sweat rushing to prickle at his pits underneath the light layer of tanktop- the one with a high-necked collar and sides long enough to conceal most of his scars. 

Not that he’s trying to hide ‘em, perse... they’re just sensitive to the sun. Plus his black jeans have holes in them, so they totally count as summer attire. He’s basically wearing shorts right now. Steve can suck it.

“Suck it, Steve,” Eddie grits out to no one for good measure, before taking a steadying gulp of beer and stepping bravely out beyond the glass doors. 

It’s shockingly bright, sun bouncing off the surface of the pool and rendering Eddie momentarily blind; he shields his eyes with his free hand in time to catch the tail end of Sinclair’s mid-air somersault.

“Five,” Max calls out, lounging safely out of the splash zone, waves from Lucas’s cannonball lapping at her pink donut pool float. Thick black prescription sunglasses take up half her face, expression unmoved even as her boyfriend splutters in the deep end.

“Are you kidding?” Lucas is indignant as he huffs and treads water. “Gimme at least an eight. Did you even see the flip?” 

“I saw it.” Unimpressed, Max shrugs a freckled shoulder. While Lucas devolves into swearing out his complaints (already with one elbow planted on the concrete to get out and make another attempt at a higher score), Max zeros in on Eddie, one brow arched high in searing appraisal. “You gonna swim with your boots on, too?”

“I’m- shut up, Red. Nice donut.”

Max’s triumphant smirk confirms what Eddie already knows (he totally bombed that comeback), but if there’s one thing in the world Eddie’s good at, it’s Pretending. A trait forged and perfected over the years of being reigning Dungeon Master; it’s served him well during D&D sessions, and when running from the law. 

And it’s coming in handy now, too, as Eddie walks past Steve (half-snoozing in a lounger) and the table of Baby Byers and Wheeler Jr. (playing an intense game of Slapjack), pretending to be totally Normal and Chill as he approaches you and Robin, a ways off from the bustling pool.

Go with what you know, Eddie tells himself, because if he focuses for more than two seconds on the fact that you’re stretched prone, sunlight filtering through the big tree overhead and illuminating the soft curves of your thighs just visible under the Spandex hem of your skirt, he’s gonna have a pressing issue that will be anything but pretend.

Robin’s lying on her back on the beach towel next to yours, a tattered copy of Pride and Prejudice held up close, obscuring her field of vision. Using this to his advantage, Eddie crouches on his haunches, then leans in to press his cold can of beer to the tender arch of Robin’s bare foot.

She yelps, kicking out on instinct (which Eddie was expecting). He manages to take the brunt of the hit with a forearm block, but doesn’t see the paperback coming until it’s hitting the side of his face.

“Ow, christ, Buckley,” he moans, slumping to sit on Robin’s towel, hamming up the victim act for your sake and sympathy while Robin snatches up her book and gives him another solid thwack, pages fluttering.

At the commotion, you’d lifted your head from your arms, leaning into them now with the weight of your upper half. Eddie tries really, really valiantly to not stare at your swimsuit top (practically a bra), and instead distracts himself with the fact that you were giggling. At him. 

Give the boy an inch and he’ll take a mile, Wayne is wont to say of his nephew. Never been truer than now, as Eddie gets drunk off your attention and humors, crowding familiarly and rudely into Robin’s space just to piss her off more and to keep your twinkling-eyed focus.

“Yech.” Robin gags. “I’m not gonna sit here and watch you two flirt up close. I just ate lunch.”

Eddie’s worried that comment will embarrass you into pulling away but apparently, you’re not shying from the accusations of his affection anymore. 

A snort and a sardonic eye roll is what you dish back, and Eddie latches on, delighted to have a Shit Starter in Crime, pushing an honest hand to his chest in faux-shock- “Flirting? Me? I’d never. What an accusation. You’re getting crazier by the day, Buckley.”

The peal of laughter that ripples from you is like a song, vibrating the frequencies between Eddie’s ears, scrambling all the channels with its aching beauty.

Goddamn addictive, he thinks, as the white-out of his hearing fades back to normal. A light, warm wind rustles through the big oak overhead, leaves shushing together; allowing himself a glance at your stretched form, Eddie’s (un)luckily close enough to see the smattering of goosebumps rise on the skin of your arms. 

To observe the way sweat curls the baby hairs near your temple, at the nape of your neck. To see the little creases near the corner of your eyes as you close them, turning your face into the wind, a quiet expression of summer bliss on your face.

Eddie could sit here for hours like a (happy) creep just taking in every minute detail, but Robin starts bitching at him about the weed he still owes her from ages ago, poking her cold toes into the holes of his jeans, mischievous and irritating.

Eddie smacks at her ankles until she pulls them back, matching her argument point for point; it’s not about the weed, of which he’d gladly give- it’s about keeping that smile on your face even as you sit up to start digging through your nearby tote bag.

“And plus,” Robin’s saying, sticking a finger into the dimple of Eddie’s left cheek like the obnoxious little sister he never asked for, “You scratched the everliving hell out of my bike last month when you insisted you were sober enough to ride it home.”

“What’d you want me to do, drink and drive? Not very Just Say No Club of you.” Eddie is operating on autopilot with his responses, absorbed in the way your delicate fingers move inside the canvas of the bag. 

“I wanted the same thing that I currently. Want.” Two more ice-cold prods of her toes into the same spot of his exposed knee. “Three grams, pre-rolled, plus an apology.”

Eddie is about to give in with the promise of the rest of his sizable stash and a bike waxing regimine with his own spit thrown into the mix to get Robin off his case, when the sound of your voice cuts through the bickering. 

In your hand, held aloft and out between the three of you, is a bottle of sun lotion. Your focus is fixed on shaking displaced items back into your bag, not looking as you make a request:

“Babe, would you do my back?”

Eddie moves on instinct before he even has time to process the ask, reaching out towards the palm tree-printed plastic- but for some reason, Robin’s hand collides with his mid-air. Goddammit, Buckley. 

His annoyance at Robin quickly gives way to confusion, then roiling embarrassment as two sets of eyes whip to him, your mouth slightly parted in an o shape and Robin making a squeak of awkward alarm.

You were talking to Robin. Obviously, you were talking to your girl friend to rub you down with lotion. 

Jesus christ, Munson, get a grip.

Eddie lets go at the same time Robin and you draw back, the three of you stammering half-sentences over the thunk of the bottle hitting the ground.

“I meant- sorry, god, sorry, I meant Robin-”

“Fucking- jesus, of course you meant Robin, I’m sorry-”

“Oh god! I can do it! It’s fine!”

There’s a brief pause where all of you stare down at the bottle, as if it holds some great mystery of the world. Or is perhaps concealing a time-bending device that will let Eddie go back twenty seconds to kick himself in the head.

He’s just about to make some lame excuse to fuck off forever when Robin beats him to it, jumping up with a spastic, nervous energy. “Um. Steve’s calling me. So I gotta… see what that dingus wants. You’re good?”

This last part, directed at you; with a quick, reassuring nod, you say “I’m good.” 

Seemingly recouped from the whole debacle, you squint up at Robin- “Eddie’s got it,” and then fixing Eddie with a disarmingly beatific smile- “Right?”

It’s like looking into the sun. Eddie is pretty sure his neurons haven’t been firing properly ever since he caught a glimpse of your thighs earlier. By some miracle, he manages coherence- “Uh-huh. Yep. Right.”

“O-o-kay.” Robin lets the word expand, then gives a dorky two-finger salute and makes for the empty pool lounger next to a snoring Steve.

Then it’s just you and Eddie, blinking at each other from your seats on opposing towels, until you lean to pick up the bottle, this time handing it directly to him. 

An invitation, paired with a smile that still pulls at the corners of your mouth.

Someone jumps noisily into the pool, a few scattered cheers accompanying the crashing water. Red’s distant “Nine-five!” echoes through the backyard and this, of all things, spurs Eddie into unfreezing.

He takes the proffered lotion, shifting to kneel in the strip of grass not covered by either of your towels, waiting and watching for your approval. 

Like something out of a dream, you lower yourself face-down again, hands tucking themselves sweetly into the space between the hollows of your shoulders and the ground. Eyes half-lidded as Eddie scooches closer.

“Just on your back?” He asks, soft, like you’re a deer about to spook (although based on the way his hands are trembling, Eddie’s the more likely candidate for chickening out and running for the hills).

“Mhm. Please.”

Fumbling under your sidelong gaze, Eddie wiggles all the rings from his fingers, stuffing them into his pocket. 

“Too cold,” he explains, feeling fidgety from your eye contact, rubbing his hands together briskly to bring out the warmth and give them something to do other than shake.

Eddie pines for a cigarette, a quick burst of nicotine to steel his nerves. Instead, he picks up the sunscreen, squeezes a quarter-sized puddle into his left hand, and shifts to kneel close as he can without actually bumping his knees into your side.

The sunscreen is already warmed from being out in the heat of the day, so Eddie starts on your left shoulder. Dips his fingers into the puddle, spreads a thin layer on the blade of your shoulder, and rubs it in. 

At first, his touch is gentle and apprehensive, but when your eyes drift shut on the second pass of his fingers, Eddie gets a bit bolder. On your right shoulder, another layer of suncream goes on, but this time, Eddie lets his thumb slip into the grooves under your shoulder blade. 

He runs his thumb along the stripe of muscle next to your scapula, still with pressure light enough to feign keeping to his task, thrilled when you make a soft noise of satisfaction.

“I would’ve asked you, y’know.” 

Eddie pauses, hand resting at the top of your spine, the skin of your neck freshly glistening and tacky from his work. “Asked me what?”

“To do this.” You shrug a shoulder, pointing in a roundabout way at your back. “I just… I didn’t think you’d say yes.”

“Why the hell would I say no to this?” The words are out before Eddie can bite them back and find a much more cool and normal thing to say. He can feel your chuckle, the vibrations of it, the way it causes the muscles in your upper back to move.

Eddie tries to cover his lameness by refocusing on the mission he’s been given, like a heroic knight bestowed with a great honor by a fair maiden… on second thought, he’s got to cut out the fantasy metaphors. This situation is wild and tempting enough as-is without adding a potentially very horny layer to the mix.

“You can get under my top, if you want,” you murmur, lashes dark against your cheek in profile, voice all honeyed and fair-maiden-like. 

Eddie swallows hard. Distributes the rest of the lotion between two palms, rests them just below the black fabric, and then slides up. Underneath the top, your skin is the same- smooth and pliant and sweet. 

“Feels nice,” you whisper, eyes still closed in reverie, sounding sleepy and relaxed.

Eddie is entranced with the way your muscles move under his touch. He applies a bit more pressure to the mid-back area of your spine, dragging his thumbs down on either side. You make another noise, this one closer to a moan, and Eddie’s really glad he’s practiced at the skill of Boner Killer On Command because he wouldn’t dare sully the atmosphere with ill-timed arousal (though his limits are certainly being tested today).

“Sorry about the callouses,” he says, a bit of self-deprecation to fill the air because he’s gotta focus on something other than the way his hand fits perfectly in the center of your low back.

“S’okay. I like them, actually. You’re good with your hands.”

Not for the first time, Eddie is relieved that you’re not looking at him- his ears are burning, on their way to bright pink. Same with his cheeks. “Cool, yeah. That’s good. Um. I play guitar, y’know so… I get around.”

After cringing at himself, Eddie watches the apple of your cheek round upwards with a smile, a sharp flash of your teeth as you say, “I can tell.”

There’s an amiable quiet that falls over the two of you; in the background, splashes and chattering from the pool group float in the air, muted by the warm winds shushing through overhead branches. 

At one point, Eddie realizes he’s covered your whole back in sunscreen and is now just trailing his fingertips over the notches of your spine, starting low and ending near your neck, following the path down again in a loop. If you mind, you don’t say anything, seemingly sated by his touch. 

There’s an aching behind Eddie’s ribs. It squeezes at his heart, makes his next breath pinch- he wants to touch you like this all the time. He’s already hooked. 

All too soon, you’re peeling yourself from the blanket, sitting up with a sheepish smile. Eddie can’t tell if you’re getting shy on him from the touch alone, or if it’s the fact that he’s the one that’s been touching. 

Either way, if Eddie could find a more chill way to say “I’d like to do that every minute for the rest of my life if you’ll let me,” he’d say it to appease any worries you may have. 

Bare knees pulled to your chest, you gesture at the bottle still in Eddie’s hand. “I could… do you, if you wanted?”

Eddie scratches the back of his neck, through the heated curtain of curls. “Nah, that’s okay. My abs won’t be ready to debut until the end of summer. 1993.”

He’s expecting at least a chuckle out of you, but instead, he’s fixed with a kind, all-knowing look. 

The two of you are face to face, your shin close enough to brush Eddie’s ribs as you state, “Not a fan of the heat, are you.”

“What gave it away?” Eddie gestures animatedly at the humidity-fed frizz of his hair, then shakes his head like a wet dog. 

When you catch one of his curls between two fingers he freezes, heart slamming to a pause as you loop it around a knuckle.

“I have some deep conditioner at my place. Could help you out if you wanna come by some time.”

Mere inches from his cheek as you lean in, Eddie squeezes his eyes shut, trying to memorize how you smell- coconutty from the lotion, a bit sweaty, a faint hint of deodorant and the vanilla perfume you spray in the mornings. 

He’s never been this close before. 

He feels electric. Or more accurately, like he’s been electrocuted, and he’s waiting for you to restart his heart. 

“Does that sound good, Eddie? You, me, some hair care… maybe a movie? I can steal some from Family Video. I know a guy.”

At his ear now, your voice is low as you wrap a hand around the inside of Eddie’s arm- it’s his turn to break into goosebumps. “Oh yeah? Willing to steal for me already?”

This earns him a stellar laugh, head tipped back to show the curve of your perfect neck. You shove at him playfully, and he’s about to snap up your hand to bite as payback when your name is yelled from across the yard.

“Come on, we need another unbiased judge!” Max waves urgently from the pool as Lucas and Dustin get into an increasingly loud argument over the Olympic grading system. 

“Goddamn kids.” This comes out much more growly than Eddie intended; you just chuckle and squeeze his arm before pulling away to stand.

Eddie mourns the loss of your body heat until you extend a hand towards him, saying, “Let’s go humor our goddamn kids, and we can talk about dinner afterwards.”

It’s like your hand is made to fit inside Eddie’s. He follows close on your heels, heart thudding a steady, overjoyed rhythm once more. 

[twstedpurple]

TWST characters getting jealous when you spend more time with Stitch than with them (Part 2)

��� Part 2 of the TWST boys (+ Grim) being jealous of Stitch as requested.

✧ You can read Part 1 here.

Azul Ashengrotto

Azul might initially put on a facade of indifference, acting as though your affection for Stitch doesn’t faze him. However, the fleeting glances and subtle signs of displeasure says otherwise.

Rather than confronting his jealousy directly, Azul employs a more subtle and calculated approach. He’d insinuate himself into your activities, claiming curiosity about Stitch and wanting to learn more about the blue alien. This guise allows him to stay close to you, all the while observing Stitch.

But Azul wouldn’t stop there. His tactical mind would concoct subtle schemes to divert your attention away from Stitch. He'd craftily orchestrate situations to divert your attention from Stitch, devising scenarios where you would require his expertise or assistance. By showcasing his intelligence and skills, he could prove that his presence is far more valuable and captivating than that your blue, furry friend, reasserting his place in your affections.

Jack Howl

Jack felt a twinge of jealousy but tried to suppress it, deeming it beneath him to be envious of such a small creature like Stitch. He'd keep his feelings to himself, choosing to quietly observe from a distance, trying to understand what makes Stitch so special and why you're so engrossed in him.

When you invite Jack to play with you, he joins in, albeit a bit stiffly at first. Gradually, he began to relax, revealing a softer side as he interacts with both you and Stitch. Jack then became more curious about Stitch, asking questions and learning about him while you all hang out together, seeing this as a chance to spend more time with you as well.

As the three of you played on the beach, Jack's competitive nature would occasionally kick in. He would find himself playfully challenging Stitch in games, striving to win your attention by showcasing his strength and skills, all in an effort to impress you.

Lilia Vanrouge

Lilia might display a touch of jealousy, but it would be in a playful and exaggerated manner. He would never be truly upset, merely craving your attention.

He would pretend to be jealous in a dramatic way, pouting and lamenting about how he's being replaced by a cute alien as your favorite. He'd ask you in a mock-serious tone who you like more, him or Stitch, and perhaps even throw in a few fake tears for effect, just to see your flustered reaction. His antics were more for his amusement than out of real jealousy.

In truth, Lilia was genuinely happy to see you and Stitch having fun and becoming such good friends, his heart warming at the sight. He would even be thrilled to join in on your fun, turning the situation into a playful competition. Of course, he wouldn't miss the chance to cause some harmless mischief to get your attention. Playing pranks or playful tricks with Stitch, he'd see who could entertain you or make you laugh the most, reveling in the shared joy and laughter.

Grim

Grim couldn't fathom why Ace and the others thought he and Stitch were alike. To him, they were completely different. Stitch might be clever and good at making stuff, but he was far cooler and more impressive. After all, he was destined to become a great mage, so it made no sense to him why you kept hanging out with that alien.

He didn't even make any effort to hide his displeasure, constantly grumbling about how you fawned over Stitch. In his eyes, he was more interesting and better company. You were his henchman! Your attention should be on him, not some creature you just met a few days ago. Your affection should be solely for him!

Grim would frequently act out, always inserting himself between you and Stitch. He'd interrupt any interaction, insisting that as your boss, he should be involved in whatever you were doing. A boss and his henchman should always stick together, he reasoned. He would even engage in petty competitions with Stitch at every chance he got, trying to prove that he was better than him, be it in cuteness, cleverness, or usefulness. But Stitch wasn’t one to back down without a fight. The more Grim intervened, the more Stitch clung to you, a smug smirk on his face as he snuggled up to you, which only infuriated Grim more.

No matter how many times he denied it, it was clear Grim was jealous of Stitch. His possessiveness over you, the way he pouted and sulked, his bright blue eyes glaring at the other furry creature—it was all so obvious. You found it adorable watching Grim and Stitch bicker, biting your lip to suppress a smile. You would have loved to snap a picture of them, but you knew it might aggravate Grim even more. You had to deal with Grim before he causes trouble for you and the other students while they're trying to find a way off the island and back to school.

[marksbear2]

WILL GRAHAM X MALE READER

This is pure fluff and that’s something rare on this blog since I usually write smutt. But since I love this man sm he gets special treatment.

⚠️Warnings- fluff, healthy relationships, mentions marriage and starting a family. And etc.⚠️

— Likes to keep a picture of you in his wallet. He would give it a quick glance before heading into a case. Your picture is his little good luck charm.

— He wouldn't keep you a secret, but isn't open about it. For example he wouldn't talk about you for hours to someone (only with his dogs he does.) but if someone asked if he had a s/o he would tell them about you straight up.

— He still is very shy about asking you out on dates even though you two have been dating for a while.

— Mandatory fishing trips together.

— He most def wouldn't tell Hannibal about you. He wants you to stay the hell away from him.

— Probably tells you about the cases hes working on. Even if he isn't supposed to tell someone he'll tell you without hesitation if you asked.

— You being there when he's sleepwalking every step of the way. Even having to wake him up a few times.

— You and him sleeping together makes him fall asleep faster. To the point he can't sleep without you.

— He would like to vent to you if you let him. He'll just vent to you while cuddling with one of the dogs while you sit next to him and listen. After he's done and realizes what he'd done he'll feel embarrassed, but he trusts you even more.

— Jack coming to Will's house unexpectedly and opening the door and walks inside. "Will! I got-" Jack trails off looking down at you two play wrestler with the dogs. "Never mind." Jack says before leaving the house going back to his car.

— Likes to call you something traditional or something sweet. Like hun/honey, love,sugar, idiot or sometimes even bug. He didn't know where bug came from one day he called you it and never let it go. He means the pretty bugs y'know.

— He prefers holding hands rather than anything sexual.

— Walks around his property with the dogs.

— Late night conversations.

— Begins to tell you more about Hannibal as the days go by. Like what him and Hannibal were talking about and etc.

— Long warm hugs after he comes back home from work. Just standing in the middle of the doorway hugging each other in loving silence. Just silently reassuring each other.

— Him letting you play and style his hair. It helps him relax when you do it, so he asks you to do it more often.

— Constantly reassuring him that you love him because he's an insecure mess and overthinks a lot. Like you don't love him or you're just using him.

— Him smiling to himself just at the thought of you or the mention of your name.

— Drinking coffee together at the front porch in early in the morning just enjoying the others company.

— Him waking you up after he has a nightmare. He curls up in your chest holding onto your clothes tightly as you cradle him in your lap kissing the top of his head. "I'm here Will. Don't worry baby i'm right here."

— Him having nightmares about losing you to the point he tells Hannibal about you and his fear of losing you, because he couldn't keep it to himself anymore.

— Will refusing the offer to let you two meet over dinner. Like he shot down the proposal so fast.

— Ms Lounds trying to get you to speak about Will. Like trying to make you spill all the bad things you know about him. And you just give her the bird and walk away.

— You two probably getting married either in the forest or by a dock.

— I think he's fine with the dogs, but if he ever wants to start a real family he'll want like two daughters and one boy.

— He side eyes you whenever he thinks your being weird or something. And he’ll give you the silent treatment after a long argument.

THE END

[punkshort]

Hot Chocolate

Pairing: Jack 'Whiskey' Daniels x f!reader

Summary: You lead a quiet, boring life in a podunk town, but when a certain secret agent stumbles into your world needing your help to catch a criminal at the local carnival, your quiet little life changes forever.

Warnings: language, alcohol consumption, canon-typical violence (fist fights, whips and lassos, of course), smut (18+ MDNI), unprotected piv sex, dirty talk, sexual tension

WC: 6.5K

Written for @pedgito's Summer Lovin' challenge ❤️

Humidity clung to the air, and although the sun had long set, the heat hung heavy in the fairgrounds but that didn't keep the whole town from coming out to the carnival that night. You lived in a small town with not a lot to do but every year the same carnival came through and set up shop for two weeks, attracting people within an hour's drive, and every year since you were sixteen you worked there for some extra cash. Back when you were younger, your earnings tended to go towards the booze you brought to the parties in the middle of the woods, surrounded by the familiar faces of people you grew up with and their siblings. Now that you were in your twenties, that money was put toward rent and a car payment.

When you were sixteen, you had a very different idea of what your life would look like by now. Hell, you didn't even think you'd be living in this town, let alone working the same shitty waitress job at the same shitty restaurant while you tried and failed to come up with a better career path. Money was tight and the last thing you wanted to do was move back in with your parents, so you picked up extra jobs here and there. The carnival wasn't a bad gig. Pay was based on seniority and since you had worked there for so many years, the money was good and the jobs were mostly pretty fun, but it was only two weeks and you would be back to pinching pennies again.

But a week before the carnival was scheduled to arrive, a handsome man with dark hair, even darker cowboy hat and yellow aviators strolled into your restaurant with a cocky smirk and requested to sit in your section, and everything changed.

You had greeted him like any other table and subtly stole glances his way while he studied the menu, trying to figure out if you recognized him. No, you surely would remember him. Aside from his obvious good looks, he stuck out amongst the usual crowd. Dark grey, form fitting suit with a matching tie and cowboy boots? That... you definitely would have remembered.

He leaned back in the booth, one arm draped across the back of the worn cushion while his eyes slowly dragged down your frame. You glanced around nervously, suddenly feeling like you were being judged, then his eyes traveled back up and stopped on your name tag. He repeated your name out loud as if it were a question and finally looked into your eyes. His intensity sent a shiver down your spine but you nodded, confirming your name, and he smiled. It was a slow smile, one that began as a twitch in the corner of his mouth and tugged to one side, pulling his dark mustache with it until his lips spread so wide you could see his teeth. They were straight and he actually still had all of them. Yeah, he definitely wasn't from your hometown.

He didn't come back into the restaurant after that, but it wouldn't be the last time you saw him.

Two days later you made a pit stop by the Piggly Wiggly for some groceries. You made your way through the parking lot to your beat up car, stopping dead in your tracks when he came into view. He was leaning casually against your driver's side door, one ankle hooked over the other and still wearing that suit. Or maybe it was a different suit. You couldn't remember but what you did remember was the bead of sweat that trickled down from underneath his Stetson, leaving an enticing wet streak along the side of his head. He said your name and smiled, trying to disarm you, but you were still wary. He held up both palms flat as if to prove he wasn't dangerous but something told you his hands were just as threatening as any other weapon.

"Got a minute to talk, sugar?"

You glanced around the parking lot and swallowed, every natural instinct screaming at you to run back inside the store for help but instead you found yourself slowly walking towards him, as if being pulled by a magnet or some other enchanting force.

It was a bit of a blur after that. He flashed his badge, Jack Daniels, it read, with the word Statesmen being tossed around quite a bit while he explained what he did for a living, all of it sounding rather impressive but also confusing. Espionage. Spies. Undercover.

"What's all that got to do with me?" you had said. He smiled.

"Glad you asked."

Apparently he had been trying to track down a dangerous arms dealer for years. With some information Jack squeezed out of a low level guard, he discovered the arms dealer was able to be so successful because he traveled with the carnival to evade local and federal law enforcement. Always being on the move kept him under the radar, and now Jack had his sights set on taking him down when the carnival arrived in your town, but he needed help.

Jack needed someone who was on the inside, someone who earned years of trust by working for the same people and living in the same town, someone completely unsuspecting.

You.

At first, you said no, unwilling to put yourself at risk even though he promised he would be hiding in the shadows and would be in constant communication with you through an earpiece and camera. Then he offered up a few thousand dollars to sweeten the deal and your resolve crumbled. He promised you would be under government protection and your involvement would be minimal: you just needed to find the target and let Jack know which booth he was going to work. Plus, you really needed the money.

That was how you found yourself in the mid-afternoon before your shift started being suited up with impressive, high tech gear. Jack watched patiently from the corner of the trailer. For the first time, he wasn't wearing a suit. He elected to wear a pair of dark wash jeans and a white tshirt that clung to his broad chest but he was still sporting his signature cowboy hat. A beautiful woman named Ginger outfitted you with a nearly invisible earpiece and installed a microscopic camera in the button of your polo shirt. She assured you there was a tiny microphone in the camera and that Jack and the entire team assigned to the case would be watching and ready to jump into action if anything went sideways.

Simple enough, you thought.

"How're you holdin' up, darlin'?" Jack mumbled, pinching your elbow between his fingers as he led you out of the unsuspecting double wide that currently hid Ginger and all her expensive equipment and into his Bronco.

"Uh..." you began, throat suddenly feeling dry when he started the car and turned onto the familiar stretch of road. They had set up a base in the woods about two miles away from the carnival which meant you would be there in less than five minutes. Your head was spinning, the adrenaline suddenly coursing through your veins and making you lightheaded. "Not so great, actually."

He turned his head and studied you for a moment before pulling off the road and throwing the car into park. He shifted in his seat so he could face you, one elbow resting on the back of his seat and the other on the steering wheel. "I ain't gonna let anythin' bad happen to you, you hear me?" You hadn't realized your breathing was becoming more labored and your face felt hot. He was probably just worried you were about to pass out and that's why he reached out to cup the back of your neck, forcing your attention off the carnival peeking through the trees and onto his face. Your gaze lingered on his dark brown eyes and chiseled jaw and hooked nose that looked like it would be perfect nestled between your thighs.

"You promise?" you whispered, tone a little more sultry than you intended. He swallowed and nodded.

"'Course. I'll be right there the whole time. All's you gotta do is tell me where he's gonna be and I'll do all the dirty work," he told you with a wink. Your eyes darkened a fraction, having a completely different idea of what kind of dirty work you'd like him to do before you blinked and snapped out of it. You chalked it up to your nerves but it was too late. He saw it in your eyes and he clenched his jaw, his gaze flickering down to your lips and then to the camera in your shirt before slowly pulling his hand away from the back of your neck.

"What code word d'you wanna use in case you need help and can't say it?" he asked, shifting back into work mode and merging into traffic.

You thought it over for a moment, grateful for the distraction.

"Hot chocolate."

He cocked an eyebrow and grinned. "Hot chocolate?"

"Yeah, I don't think it's something I would accidentally say because who the hell would order hot chocolate in this heat?"

He smiled wider. "Fair enough."

Jack dropped you off at the entrance of the carnival, reminding you he wouldn't be far behind and to stay alert. You bobbed and weaved your way through the crowded thoroughfare, the late afternoon sun beating down on the masses as they pushed wagons of children or carried various prizes under their arms while drinking cold lemonade or licking ice cream to combat the heat. You managed to get to the air conditioned office five minutes before your shift started and clocked in before examining the schedule. Jack had warned you the target wouldn't use his real name, so he made you study multiple photos of him the day before. Balding, but a dark horseshoe of hair curved around his head. He had a mustache, too, but not like Jack. The target's mustache was bushy and unkept, but Jack warned you that could have changed. He had a paunchy belly and he was approximately 5'10" but the most notable feature was a wide, pale scar that stretched from his right elbow to halfway down his forearm.

You glanced around the somewhat crowded office. Nobody seemed to fit that description so you focused on the schedule. You were set to work the lemonade stand. One of the more boring jobs, but at least you were with one of your good friends, Stephanie, who was working the candied apple stand next door.

"All good?" you heard Jack's gravelly voice echo through your earpiece. You had no idea how to answer that without looking like you were talking to yourself so you turned to a mirror and gave a quick thumbs up. He chuckled and you had to bite back a smile. "Alright, where are you workin' so I can get set up nearby?"

Again, you weren't sure how to answer but just then Stephanie breezed through the door. You called out her name and waved as she punched in and headed over to you, giving you a sweaty hug.

"We're working together tonight. You're on apples, I'm on lemonade next door," you told her, hearing Jack confirm your location in your ear.

"Awesome, should be a slow night after dinner," she replied, hooking her arm through yours and leading you back out into the busy dirt road lined with vendors and food carts.

As she predicted, you were rather occupied until the sun set and people began to indulge in fried dough and rides, leaving your little section of the fairgrounds quiet. For the first time in hours you glanced around, wondering if you could spot Jack, but he was no where to be found.

"So, did you meet any guys so far this summer?" Stephanie asked you, leaning over her counter and popping her gum loudly between her molars.

"Nah, not really," you replied, feeling the tips of your ears burn, knowing Jack was listening. "You?"

"Just one but he turned out to be an asshole," she said, rolling her eyes dramatically. "We gotta get out of this town, girl. I swear there's no one good left. I'm either related to them or already dated them and I can't stand any of 'em."

"Yeah, maybe one day," you replied, glancing around again.

"I'm serious. Maybe we oughta make a plan, y'know? Like we always said we would? Ain't you sick of waiting tables?"

"Like you wouldn't believe," you muttered. "But where would we go? We don't know anyone outside of here."

"I got a cousin up north, maybe we can visit her and see how we like it."

For a second you almost forgot the mission when, out of the corner of your eye, you spotted a man matching the target's description disappear into the crowd. You squinted but you only saw the back of him and he was quickly getting away.

"Hey, can you cover for me?" you asked, already tossing your apron off and smoothing down your skirt.

"Yeah, sure. Been dead here for the past hour, take your time."

You hustled down the street, pushing people out of the way as you tried to catch up with the man you saw.

"Sugar, I lost ya, slow down," Jack's voice crackled in your ear.

"Can't, I think I saw him," you replied.

"Do not engage, y'hear me?" Jack said sternly. He sounded breathless now, no doubt rushing to catch up with you.

"I won't, I just wanna see where he's going."

You broke through the crowd and swiveled your head from side to side, desperately trying to spot the balding man. Now that you thought about it, he looked like he was wearing the same color uniform you had on. Your pulse raced as you turned around frantically, and just when you thought you lost him you spotted him walking up the steps to the house of mirrors. When he reached out to open the door, you saw the telltale scar and gasped.

"Jack! It's him!" you said, racing through the crowd again, dodging groups of children laughing and eating cotton candy.

"... stay... where are... losin' you-" you heard Jack's voice cutting in and out through your earpiece but the excitement got the best of you and you charged forward into the house of mirrors, the door slamming shut behind you, leaving you in a mostly darkened room. The only sounds you could hear were muffled conversations from families walking by.

"Jack?" you whispered, tapping on the earpiece and taking a few shaky steps forward. "Jack, if you can hear me, I'm in the house of mirrors. He's-"

"Looking for someone?" a man's deep voice said from over your shoulder, making you jump. You swiveled around and tried not to gasp in fear. It was him: Vic Leary, aka The Falcon. It was almost laughable how Jack had been chasing the man for years only to have him directly in front of you after a few hours. He took a menacing step forward and you swallowed tightly.

"Yeah, actually. I'm looking for my friend," you said, taking a small step backwards, a step deeper into the attraction.

"That right?" Vic sneered, taking yet another step closer. "Well I'm the only one here. Sure you ain't looking for me?"

You shook your head vehemently. "N-nope. I'm supposed to meet a friend here any minute, he's meeting me with some hot chocolate," you said the last part loudly and Vic frowned. Then he seemed to piece together that you were bugged or maybe he just saw his opportunity to strike because he lunged forward. Luckily, you were prepared and stumbled backwards out of reach, causing him to fall forward on his hands and knees. You spun around and raced through the dizzying hall of mirrors, Vic's angry curses and threats shouting after you.

The next tunnel had a wall of mirrors that shifted, causing you to feel like the floor was moving. You stretched your arms out and blinked rapidly, stumbling through and glancing over your shoulder in a panic, wondering where he went. It was quiet. His yelling stopped. Did Jack find him?

The next room was a literal maze, the walls and ceilings covered in mirrors, some curved and warped, some jagged and angular. You couldn't think of a worse place to hide and you needed to get the hell out of there.

"Can anyone hear me?" you whispered into your polo shirt, wincing when all you heard was sharp feedback in your ear. You turned a corner, jumping when you saw movement but calmed down when you realized it was your own reflection six times over. You heaved a sigh of relief and took another look around, trying to decide where to go next when a big, sweaty body jumped out from behind a mirror in front of you, tackling you to the ground. You screamed bloody murder and tried to squirm away, but he had you pinned to the ground with a hand around your throat. You scratched and kicked and yelled but it was no use. His fingers gripped the side of your throat and he watched with a sick smile as you struggled to drag in air, all the while clawing at the backs of his hands so hard, you drew blood. And just when you thought you might pass out, a black cowboy boot swung from behind your head and kicked Vic directly across the jaw, making him yelp in pain and fall backwards.

You coughed and scrambled away, clutching your throat and looking up to find Jack, his shoulders and chest heaving and his eyebrows pinched together in fury. Without taking his eyes off Vic, who was cupping his mouth, his hand collecting blood, he asked, "you alright, sugar?"

You could only nod and he told you to wait for him outside, but when you stood and took a few steps back the way you came, you saw Vic stand up and run in the opposite direction, nimbly dodging the mirrors, too familiar with the maze to be slowed down. Nostrils flared, Jack reached for his belt and grabbed a braided piece of leather. His thumb pressed down on a small button and like magic, the rest of the whip unfurled at his side. He then spun it over his head twice before snapping it forward, circling around the target's neck and yanking him back to the ground with a grunt.

Jack disappeared deeper into the maze, his grip tight. You looked over your shoulder, back to the entrance, then groaned and followed Jack. When you rounded the corner, he was towering over the suspect, whip back on his belt, Vic looking like he was knocked out cold. You peered around the last mirror, hiding from view while Jack pressed something on his watch and began to speak to a small hologram of an older looking man with a beard. He was telling him that the suspect was in custody and needed backup while he dug out a pair of metal handcuffs with his free hand.

Jack was distracted and didn't realize Vic had begun to move, but you did. When Jack's back was turned, Vic quietly rose to his feet and pulled out a knife from the back of his pants. He raised his arm above his head, ready to plunge the blade into Jack's throat. You raced forward and swung your leg out, hitting the backs of his knees with your shin and bringing him back down to the ground with a thud before he had a chance to inflict any harm.

Swirling around, Jack ended the call without warning and punched Vic directly in the nose. You heard a sickening crunch of bone and a howl of pain from the man's throat, but just as Jack was about to grab his arms and haul him to his feet, Vic rolled to the side and jumped up with a surprising amount of agility. Jack groaned and reached behind him, pulling out what appeared to be a lasso. He calmly glared after Vic, who was nearly to the exit, while circling the rope above his head. The lasso began to glow an icy blue, mesmerizing you for a moment until he snapped it down with an electric crack, wrapping and pinching the rope around Vic's lower leg.

You couldn't believe your eyes when his leg cleanly and completely severed below the knee. Slapping both palms over your mouth to muffle your screams, you curled up on the floor and watched as Jack approached Vic, who was making noises so pained and fearful that you were certain you would hear them in your nightmares for the rest of your life.

Jack was handcuffing him and warning him he shouldn't have run while the man sobbed pathetically in a pool of his own blood. You just stared, your whole body trembling at the carnage, completely numb. You didn't even hear when three other agents breezed past you to collect the target, followed shortly thereafter by a small cleaning crew wearing protective gear from head to toe. Suddenly the maze, which seemed so massive before, was cramped and making you feel claustrophobic.

His eyes finally met yours once Vic was officially in custody. His expression went from one of relief to one of deep concern when he saw the state you were in and he rushed forward to collect you off the floor.

"Hey, don't look at that," he murmured, but your gaze was still pinned on the blood staining the floor. "Eyes on me, darlin'."

You forced your eyes away from the mess and onto him, like he requested, but you were finding it difficult to breathe. Each inhale was a struggle, like your lungs couldn't expand all the way, and each exhale left your ears ringing.

"Get me out of here, Jack."

He nodded once and helped you stand. With an arm wrapped around your shoulders, he ushered you back through the maze towards the entrance. Once you were able to take in a deep breath of fresh, humid air, you started to feel a little better but the adrenaline was still coursing through your body, making you feel like you were practically vibrating.

People streamed past you laughing and joking, blissfully unaware of what just happened while you sat on a nearby bench with your head between your legs. Jack soothingly rubbed your upper back and waited for you to calm down. Your energy was too intense, the vivid images of what you just witnessed too strong and Jack seemed to sense it.

"Here," he said, leaning back and lifting his hips from the bench. Your eyes instantly locked onto his lap, where his fingers began to remove a small flask from his belt buckle. When he handed it to you, hoping the alcohol would help calm your nerves, you just continued to stare, all wild eyed and rabid.

"Have a little, it'll help," he urged while trying to ignore the hungry look in your eye. You blinked slowly and, with shaky fingers, took the flask and unscrewed the top. You winced a little at the burn but a minute later, your stomach felt warm and your muscles relaxed. You handed it back to him and he took a sip himself without breaking eye contact with you, then fastened it back onto his belt. You leaned forward, once again feeling inexplicably drawn to him, and brushed your fingertips lightly over the flask. You were playing with fire and you knew it. His eyes bore into yours with a blazing heat and he whispered, "you need somethin' stronger, sugar?"

You sunk your teeth into your lower lip and nodded. He stood up and grabbed your hand, glancing around the fairgrounds manically, the adrenaline from the past twenty minutes getting the best of both of you, it seemed.

The choices were limited and the closest area with any semblance of privacy was the bathroom and you both seemed disgusted by that prospect because he muttered fuck it under his breath and dragged you off the main road towards the dark parking lot.

Once he reached his Bronco, he twisted around and violently yanked at the buttons on your polo shirt. You yelped in surprise but when he opened his hand and showed you the button he tore off with the camera attached, you nodded. He flung it into the mud and dropped his earpiece, then you scrambled to do the same. Once you were as alone as you possibly could be, he pinned you against the side of his truck and pinched your jaw between his thumb and forefinger, tilting your head up to look at him.

"You sure?" was all he asked, pupils blown wide.

You nodded. "Please."

He groaned and crashed his mouth against yours, dropping his hand from your jaw to wrap around the back of your neck. He tasted like Jameson and you imagined you did, too. "Such a polite little thing," he whispered before plunging his tongue inside your mouth and licking past your teeth. You were moments away from unzipping his jeans and letting him take you right then and there when you heard a chorus of laughter from the next row of cars and you pulled away, gasping for air. Jack appeared just as wrecked as you felt, eyes all wild and skin hot with arousal.

"C'mon," he said, as if reading your mind he tugged you away from the car so he could open the door to the backseat. You practically launched yourself inside and by the time you spun around he was slamming the door shut behind him. He gazed at you for just a moment before shedding his cowboy hat and pressing your body into the seat, picking up where he left off. You took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of leather and gunpowder and his cologne, all ingrained in the fabric after years under his care.

His lips traveled down, grazing against your jaw and nipping at the spot behind your ear. His mustache tickled your skin, making you giggle, and you felt him smile against your throat at the sound. His lips latched onto your neck, sucking a bruise there while your hands dipped underneath the hem of his white tshirt. The fabric bunched up around your wrists the higher your fingers traveled up his torso, reveling in the way the muscles in his back twitched under your touch. Then his hips dropped against yours, resting his weight heavy between your legs, and you sucked in a sharp breath.

"Jack?" you whispered hoarsely.

"Mhm?"

"I-I want you," you stammered when his thumbs brushed over your breasts, nipples hardening through your shirt. "Want you so bad."

"You got me, sweetheart. I'm all yours," he mumbled, teeth scraping gently over your collarbone as he continued to move achingly slow further and further down your body.

You moaned and arched your back, pressing your chest into him. "Jack, I want you now," you tried again, and he clicked his tongue with a smirk.

"Where'd those manners run off to?"

"Please," you groaned. He hoisted himself up, holding his weight above you, the palms of his hands pressing into the seat on either side of your ribs.

"Say it again f'me, sugar. Y'just sound so pretty when you're beggin' for it."

"Please," you whispered this time, then dragged your hand down his stomach, stopping to cup his erection through the thick denim of his jeans. You rubbed the palm of your hand up and down enticingly, drawing a quiet moan from his throat. He hissed and pressed himself into your hand, rocking his hips and watching your fingers work him up and down. "Please, Jack, I need you."

His eyes flashed up to yours once before he sat back on his heels, fumbling with the tiny flask on his belt with an urgency that told you he heard exactly what he wanted to hear. He tossed both items on the floor before undoing his jeans and then, seeming to remember you were still fully clothed, dragged his hands up your thighs and under your skirt. His palms cupped your ass and squeezed before hooking his fingers around the edge of your panties and tugging them down. You lifted your hips to help, feeling slightly disappointed there wouldn't be enough room or time for either of you to fully undress, but you would make do.

"Goddamn, that's a pretty sight," he groaned when he pushed your skirt up enough to get a good look between your legs. He ran the pad of his thumb through your slit and you began to squirm impatiently. "Now, normally I'd prefer to take my time," he began, and your heart thundered wildly in your chest when he pushed his jeans down and pulled out his cock, hard and leaking. "But it would appear we don't have the luxury today, darlin'." He used one hand to steady your hip and the other to line himself up with your entrance, then you held your breath when he started to press forward, parting your walls and forcing you to stretch around his girth.

"Shit," you whined, tipping your head back and squeezing your eyes shut.

"Yeah, that's it," he whispered, watching as he slowly disappeared inside you, only looking back to your face once he was buried to the hilt. "How's that? Feelin' better now?" he asked a little breathlessly. You nodded and forced your eyes to open.

"Feels good," you murmured, licking your dry lips and gasping when he began to move. "Yeah, just like that, faster - please faster," you added hastily when you remembered his comment earlier about manners. The corner of his mouth curled up into a smirk before falling forward onto his elbows. He tugged one of your knees up so you hooked your leg around his waist, spreading your hips wide before feverishly latching his mouth onto yours, muffling your noises when he began to snap his hips faster and deeper.

"This what you needed?" he whispered in your ear. You tightened your arms around his neck, holding him close, the desire suddenly overwhelming to have him completely consume you and keep you in the safety of his arms. "Needed me to fuck you and turn that little brain of yours off for a while? Hm?"

"Yes," you admitted shamelessly. He was fucking everywhere. His mouth was drifting from your lips to your neck to your ear, his hands groping and gliding along your stomach or legs, his cock sliding smoothly in and out, each time catching on that one spot that made you see stars. Even his body heat felt like it was fully encompassing you. And he was right: it was exactly what you needed.

"Christ, too fuckin' good, sweetheart," he breathed, his hips stuttering for a moment before resuming a punishing pace. The way his lips melted against your own while the tip of his cock reached a depth inside you didn't know was possible was making your vision blur and your breath ragged. You were so caught up in the moment that you hadn't yet considered you wouldn't see him again after that night. Nor did you have a chance to realize how long you had been gone from the lemonade stand. Nothing else outside of his car mattered.

"Jack," you whimpered as heat began to lick and wrap around your spine. Your stomach tightened and your mouth was wide open, pulling in mouthfuls of air as quickly as you could. You were so close but you just needed a little more. He was busy pushing your polo shirt up and yanking down your bra, his hot tongue swiping greedily over your nipples one at a time with an appreciative groan before he sunk his teeth into your soft flesh, no doubt trying to leave a mark to remember him by.

"Love the way you say my name, darlin'. Music to my ears."

As if he could read your mind, his had slipped between your bodies and began to thumb at your clit. Your thighs tensed and you cried out, his name the only word your brain was able to conjure up, which, based on his enthusiastic reaction, pleased him greatly. You couldn't stop yourself. Your body began to meet him, thrust for thrust, your hips rolling, matching his rhythm and forcing his thumb to apply more pressure. Before you even had a chance to warn him your orgasm crashed down around you, so powerful and intense that it sent you reeling, his name and a string of unintelligible curses the only thing falling from your lips. And he fucking loved it.

"Oh, look at you," he groaned, "pretty little thing, all fucked out. Goddamn, you're gonna make me come, darlin'." His large hand splayed across your ribs and he stared, slack jawed, at the way your tits bounced from the force of his thrusts. "Shit, shit, shit," he grumbled, his jaw locking as he closed in on his release. "Where, sugar?"

"Inside," you moaned, trying to force your eyes to stay open so you could watch. He clicked his tongue against his teeth and dragged his eyes back up to your face.

"Don't say that."

"Please," you whispered, and you could see his resolve crumbling.

"Fuck," he groaned, then he shifted so he could grab onto your hips with both hands. It didn't take much longer, but each thrust after that was harsh and unforgiving until his body stilled and he came with a broken moan that you made sure to commit to memory. He panted for air and tilted his head back when he was done, his fingers still gripping your waist. An incoming call came through, lighting up the face of his high-tech watch, but he ignored it. Once he caught his breath and he began to soften inside you, he rolled his head forward, gazing down at you in admiration. "You're somethin' else," he rasped, the corner of his mouth pulling up into a half-smirk.

"You sound surprised," you teased.

"I am, but not because of this," he said, leaning forward to press a soft kiss against your lips. He slid out of you with a grunt and you sharply sucked in air at the loss. His dark eyes lingered a moment on his spend dripping out of you before gently fixing your bra and top. The sweet gesture made you smile.

"What, then?"

He grinned and tucked himself back in his jeans, then handed you your panties. "You saved my hide back there, brave girl," he murmured, pinching your chin affectionately. "Kickin' his legs out like that. Didn't know you had it in you."

You shrugged and tugged your underwear back on. "I didn't really think about it, he was going to stab you, I had to do something."

He hummed and leaned back in the seat, watching as you fixed your skirt and tried to tame your hair in the mirror before spotting his discarded cowboy hat on the floor. You grinned and picked it up, plopping it onto your head with a giggle. "How do I look?"

"Fuckin' beautiful," he said, making you laugh, "although you're doin' things a little backwards, sugar."

"What do you mean?" you asked, taking it off to see if you put it on wrong. He smiled and gently took the hat from your fingers and put it back on your head.

"The rule is, you wear a man's Stetson, you gotta ride the cowboy, but seein' as we did that already..." he trailed off and you giggled again when you finally understood. "But I suppose it depends on who you ask. Could mean somethin' else, too."

"Oh yeah? What's that?"

"Some say if the cowboy lets the lady wear his hat then he's interested in seein' her again," he said softly, watching as you became flustered at the suggestion.

"Oh," you breathed, feeling your skin heat up under his gaze. Reality slowly began to seep in. Now that Jack found his man, he would go back to wherever he came from and your boring life would go back to normal. But then he hooked a finger under your chin so you would focus back on him.

"Would you like that?"

"Would I ... yeah, of course, but-"

"I heard what you were sayin' to your friend. 'Bout wantin' to move?" he said, dropping his hand and shifting his weight. "What if we had a spot for you at the agency? Maybe doin' somethin' with Ginger, learn the ropes a bit? I think you got potential, sweetheart."

You laughed and shook your head. "I can't do what you guys do, are you serious?"

"You got guts. We can teach anyone how to use a weapon, but guts? That can't be taught."

When it became apparent he wasn't joking, you cleared your throat and glanced out the window. "I don't know..."

"You said yourself you're sick of waitin' tables," he reminded you, then pulled out a white business card and handed it to you. "I know it's a big decision. Think it over and gimme a call." He paused for a moment and a slow smile spread across his face. "But how 'bout you gimme a call either way?"

"Okay," you practically whispered, looking down at the card before shoving it safely in your pocket. He pushed open the door and slid down to the ground, then turned around and held out a hand for you.

You spent the rest of your night thinking over Jack's offer, replaying over and over in your mind everything you learned about the Statesmen in the past week and trying to imagine if that was something you could possibly do. You had pretty much decided it was a stupid idea, that it was dangerous and things like that didn't happen to girls like you, but when you punched in for your shift at the restaurant on Monday and looked around the dining room at the same patrons eating the same food they always did, listening to the same boring gossip and worrying about the same bills that always plagued you, something finally snapped. You tore off your apron and tossed it behind the computer before snatching your purse and walking out the front door without a second glance behind you.

You got into your beat up car and breathlessly dialed the number you had been staring at all weekend, your heart slamming in your chest excitedly. When Jack's familiar drawl answered on the other end, a huge smile spread across your face.

"That offer still stand, cowboy?"