#Always finding a way to flip up the bottom of the shirt

[vargaslovinghours]

And never let you go ♥

Bonus without the overspill lighting:

[bigfatbimbo]

How does Vox angst sound? Something where the reader has to take care of an injured Vox?

I’m a Bad Liar with a Savior Complex —

1.5k words,, Vox x reader

summary — After a bad fight with Valentino, Vox seeks comfort in his bootycall, you.

warnings — Toxic relationships, abuse, manipulation, Vox being a dick, Valentino is his own warning, hurt/comfort

a/n — I think I went way too ham on this one. The request was “Vox angst” not a poorly written shakespeare play.

You weren’t expecting anyone that night, let alone your self proclaimed bootycall, Vox. The knock at your door was surprising on its own, but your amazement only grew when you opened it.

“Are you going to let me in—ozzz—or are you just going to st—aa—are?” He spoke through gritted teeth and with effort.

“Vox,” you place your hand on his shoulder and usher him in, “what the hell happened to you?”

Already familiar with your apartment, he flips down on the couch almost immediately and leans in head back.

Under the dim lighting of your one singular lamp, you take him in; screen cracked at the right corner, shirt disheveled, and from what you could see in his face, eyes tired and sunken.

“Oh not much—chh—“ He sighed, glitching slightly, “—just a peachy day in the park.”

You didn’t know what to do. Vox was no picnic, unfortunately, you knew that better than most. But you vaguely wonder what could have provoked this?

Vox was a smooth talker, he usually didn’t fail to charm people and kiss ass to get what he wanted. You doubt Alastor had time to cause that kind of damage these days, not to mention the interest.

So the one culprit for the mess that sat in front of you had to be… oh.

“Jesus. How’d you piss him off this time?” You genuinely ask, coming over to accompany Vox on the couch.

“Well—bzz— he’s always pissed about something. Today’s tantrum had nothing to do with the likes of—mhh—me,” Vox sighed deeply and winced as he sat up.

“Why, do you like the new look?” Coming from anyone else, the comment would have been an attempt to lighten the mood. However, Vox only meant to condescend the baffled look in your eyes.

‘Why are you just sitting there? Help me,’ his eyes, well, what’s left of his eyes said.

You sigh and get up, stopping to stare down at him one last time, “So, what do we need to fix this?” 

He contemplated for a moment, “Well, I got the hell out of dodge before I had the chance to grab a spare—szc—screen so—“ he pointed to the area around his face, “anything to stop my fucking face from chipping off would be great.”

“So, like what? Fucking ducktape?” your attempt at a joke fell flat when the expression on his face didn’t move. 

He simply grimaced. 

You frown and look longingly towards your kitchen, “I’ll see what I have.”

You end up settling for ducktape after all. A purely comical solution to what can only be described as a miserable situation.

You patched him up gently, your hand resting on the bottom of his screen and covering the chipped part, as delicately as possible, with ducktape.

“You know, it would be kind of funny. The ducktape, I mean,” you try to smile, “…but it’s not funny.”

For once in his entire existence, it seemed Vox had nothing to say. No smart-ass remarks or egotistical words fell from his mouth. Only quiet silence as he breathed shakily in and out.

You couldn’t help but analyze his actions in your head. He must be getting sick of it, being treated like garbage by Val, by Alastor, by everyone who should respect him.

Except Vox’s empire, his power, any of it couldn’t help in this regard. Valentino was apart of his life in hell, and quietly it was dawning on Vox that even he couldn’t talk his way out of this.

Not entirely anyway. They needed eachother in some sick sense. Vox knew this, and now it seemed so did you.

Your heart ached for the man. In all of his terrible ways he seemed to be finding that cruelty was a double sided sword. Except this time, he got stabbed straight through.

You finished patching him up in silence, before leaning down and placing a kiss on the top, undamaged side of screen.

Your thumb caressed the area of his cheek softly. He shut his eyes and leaned into the gentle touch, frowning deeply.

You sit down next to him once again. “You’re staying with me tonight, okay?”

He nodded weakly, partly because he didn’t want to upset his head injury. But also partially to show you how vulnerable he felt at the moment. Although an upsettingly subtle que, he gazed up at you in hopes you would just take care of him without him having to ask.

Thankfully you catch on. You guide him up from the couch and rub his back gently while leading him to the bedroom and sitting him down.

“I have some t-shirts and sweatpants in the closet. I’m gonna go get you some water,” you say, soothingly rubbing his back before leaving.

When you come back, he already changed into comfier clothing and set his work clothes on a chair near your bed, in order to not wrinkle them.

He lays curled up on the bed with his eyes open, looking as if he was about to cry. You cringe at the thought. You’d been awkward enough tonight, Vox crying did not need to add to that.

You come over to him with the iced cold cup, sit him up right, and place it in his hands.

“Drink,” you command. He does, without hesitation. Jesus, you think, Vox taking orders. Thats new. 

After downing the whole glass in one large swig, he sets it on the bed side table. 

“He threw a f—fff—ucking wine bottle at me,” Vox said glumly.

You were just happy he was talking again. You cuddle up close to him on the bed, taking him under your arm, trying not to mind the less than ideal way the corner of Vox’s screen poked into your jaw. Oh well, Vox seemed comfortable enough.

He curled closer to you, sinking into your side and shutting his eyes, but not with the intention of falling asleep.

“I’m sorry. He’s such a douchebag,” And what? Vox isn’t? Your inability to comfort him was weighing unbareabley on your mind. Do better.

“But you’re safe now, sweetheart,” you pull him closer to you under the blankets, “I’m not gonna let anything happen to you.”

Vox hummed, the sides of his mouth flickering down as the lump in his throat grew tighter. 

You kept going, “You handled it so well. You get to relax now, okay? Nothing bad’s gonna happen under my watch.”

It was stupid, Vox thought. He was an overlord, a powerful one at that. Protection was below him. But so was getting fucked up by his angry boyfriend and running off to his side pieces apartment, so who knows?

In hindsight, it was his fault. He was sloppy in his ways of manipulation tonight and Val had caught onto him. Well, in a figurative and literal sense, he supposed.

Oh, how the powerful fall at the feet of those closest to them. Serves him right.

He knows you aren’t stupid. You knew what he said earlier about how Val’s ‘tantrum had nothing to do with the likes of him’ was a lie.

And yet, here you were helping him. Vox couldn’t wrap his head around it. Just as he couldn’t understand why you continued spewing such comforting words.

Words that, if you asked anyone else, he didn’t deserve. He stopped himself from dwelling on it when he felt the tears brew in the corner of his eyes.

“I’m proud of you, Vox,” you speak softly.

He burrows his screen in your chest. “No, you’re not,” he whispers, grasping onto your shirt softly, “And I thought I was the—spzz— the liar.”

“I’m not lying. It takes a lot to survive that crazy ass moth. Let alone, everyday. I am proud of you,” you plant a kiss on the top of his head.

That was the breaking point. Vox tried to justify his tears in his mind; It’s not like he hadn’t already been embarrassingly vulnerable tonight, anyways. Could it get much worse? 

For you, maybe. As the waterworks flowed, you shushed him softly and rubbed his back. Honestly, you were a little worried about the tears fucking up his system, because of all the cracks in his head.

Thankfully, you didn’t notice any changes, basic bodily function-wise.

You found Vox’s outburst of tears specifically alarming. He muttered little apologies throughout. However, it seemed less and less about the tears themselves.

He clung to you and his the remains of his face in your shirt, hoping you wouldn’t get pissed off at the wetness around your collar.

You let him cry, and shush him with small gentle words of praise. He looks up at you, screen slick and shiny. You lean down to give him a watery, but gentle kiss.

The sad part, you think to yourself, is that you know exactly what’s going to happen tomorrow.

Things will go back to normal, Vox’s walls will come back up as if this never happened, and he’ll continue seeing Valentino. He’ll act as if he never confided in you, and once again, you two will only be an occasional good-fuck.

There was no lesson in any of this. Almost as if the whole experience was completely futile. Nothing would change, and Vox and Val would continue in their toxic, horny, power struggle. Vox using Val to his advantage, Val getting pissed off and fucking him up. 

What did you expect? Well, you’d just about accepted this fact when Vox, half asleep, all cried out, and sleepily drooling on your shirt, muttered three small words.

“I love you.” 

a/n — link to part two is here

[timedhoney]

Giving wonwoo hickeys would change my life. Straddling that tiny waist, leaning down as you bury your face into his warm neck. You watch as he squirms against you when your eyelashes brush along his blushed skin.

“Hi,” you murmur smoothly into his ear, just to feel his breath hitch in that gorgeous chest of his.

"Hi," he responds and you selfishly have to kiss those plump lips before you get back to the task at hand. Ok, maybe you have to slide in a little tongue too. You're not perfect. You love feeling how he reacts beneath you, love to feel how those large hands grip deeply into your thighs when you suck his bottom lip into your mouth. You know it drives him wild, and you wiggle your hips in satisfaction against the tent growing in his jeans.

God, what a man. How he manages to make an outfit with no more than a white shirt and pants have you to the point of drooling all over him, you have no idea. But when he walked into the door of your apartment, you immediately had to shove him onto your couch, pull his zipper halfway down, and then throw your legs over his. He looks picturesque in the way you've strewn him about, hair ruffled and jeans sliding down just enough to show a hit of muscle that makes you feel unholy things.

All that can wait though, because the spot just behind his ear is calling to you. You press your mouth there first before losing control and taking the tiniest nip just to watch the color flood up from his chest to his cheeks. What a beautiful gradient.

"You make it too easy, you know?" You say, smiling down at him as he brushes a piece of hair behind your ear, still flushed that cherry red. "One little bite and your'e going to act like this?" He nods shockingly fast, tipping his glasses down his nose with the action. You press them back up with your own nose, winking as you turn back to where you were. No distractions this time.

The noises that leave him always make it worth it. You take no prisoners when you pull at his skin, leaving obscene pops in your wake. You alternate between bites and licks, sucking and nipping. Only once you find the spot that creates the most delicious moan do you stop journeying, pressing your hips tightly into his. Feeling the heat start to radiate further off of him. Tasting the salt off his skin. Letting him writhe against you as you smile into the bite.

You look beneath you to admire your work.

"You're so lucky that I make pretty hickeys," you tell him smugly. And it's true, but maybe it's just that everything suits him. Beautiful blooms in varying shades of red and purple litter the left side of his neck. He groans as he slaps a hand over it.

"Ugh, did you have to go asymmetrical? It's going to be impossible to cover the one behind my ear with a turtleneck...." You laugh as you finally finish pulling down his zipper.

"I know you can't be mad when I just heard how you were behaving." He flips you onto your back on the couch and lifts up your shirt, reaching behind you to unclasp your bra.

"Mine are going to be prettier than yours," is his only reply as he leans down to leave open mouthed kisses to your tits before he begins rival your bruises with his own.

"I love when you get competitive," you sigh dreamily.

[cosmal]

cake — send me in a character and a prompt and i’ll write you a blurb!

eddie munson + soft!shy!gf’s love language is gift giving. maybe friends to lovers?

guitar pick

summary you come over late at night to give eddie a gift.

content eddie munson x shy!fem!reader

Eddie didn’t mean to scare you, really it was an accident, but it doesn't stop him from feeling bad. But he really didn't know you'd be at his door when he opened it up.

"I'm sorry," you gasp. Which is awful because he should be the one apologising. "Sorry, Eds, Wayne let me in."

"It's okay," he says and looks down at you. Tights tucked into your frilly socks at your feet. They wriggle into the trailer-grade flooring. "Sorry, are you okay? I didn't mean to scare you."

"I'm okay," you sigh, and then you blink slowly. Eddie remembers it's late - really late. And you're here, jacket over your pyjamas, and a beanie on your head.

"Y/N," he says and moves out of the way to let you into his bedroom. You move, and despite months of being together, you're hesitant about it. You scuffle along the ground and turn to make sure he's behind you. You wait for him to sit down before you do. "Did you walk here?"

"Yeah," you say quietly, taking off your beanie now you've settled. "Eddie, it's fine, don't worry about it." You only live around the corner. Still, it's 11pm and Eddie feels like he might throw up.

"Y/N," he says and tries not to sound stern, "baby, why didn't you call?"

"Because," you sigh, nibbling your bottom lip unthinkingly like always, "because, I got really excited to come see you and didn't even think about it."

Eddie scoots across the bed and nudges your thigh with his knee where he's got his foot tucked under him. "Excited, huh?" He wiggles his eyebrows and feels pleased when you duck your head down to look at your hands in your lap.

"Eddie," you say downwardly, swinging your feet over the edge of his bed. "Stop, no, not like that."

Eddie doesn't sound disappointed because he isn't. He doesn't care why you're here, he's just happy you are. He thinks if you'd come over just to see the stray cats and not him, he'd still just be as pleased. Just to see you is enough.

"Oh?" he asks, leaning his weight into you. You lean with him and Eddie has to hook an arm around your shoulder to stop you from falling into his pillows. You giggle with shy happiness that makes Eddie feel fuzzy. "What're you here for? I saw you five hours ago."

You lean your face into his shoulder, cheek all smooshed up against the sleeve of his sleep shirt. Some Tom Petty merchandise from the dollar bins at the thrift store behind the arcade. It's starting to smell like you. You hide yourself in his side and he can't see your face properly.

"I've got something for you," you say quietly, waiting for his response.

He shifts to rock you. "Oh really?" He finds it hard to hide his excitement.

"You gotta," you steel yourself and Eddie squeezes your knee, "you gotta promise you won't tell me if you hate it. I don't think I can take it," you say seriously.

Eddie tenses and then laughs gently. "Sweetheart, I would never. I'll love it, swears."

You sigh and reach into the inside pocket of your jacket. Pulling out a rolled-up bit of tissue paper, you hand it to him. You won't look him in the face.

Eddie carefully unravels the paper in his hand and drops the contents into his other palm. A long, silver chain with a plastic plate at the end of it. He flips it over to inspect it. It's a guitar pick.

"It's, uh," you say when he looks it over, "it's one of my picks."

You're only new to guitar, mainly acoustic, bass when Eddie can convince you to sit between his legs and teach you.

"Oh," he lets out a deep breath, deflating, "sweetheart, that is so cool. Like totally, amazing."

"Yeah?" You're so shy about Eddie feels like he could die.

"The best thing ever," he groans before he falls on top of you and down into the bed. You yelp, still just as demure now that he's hovering above you. He cages you in with his arms beside your head.

"Eddie..."

"Seriously," he leans down to kiss you on the cheek, "so cool," the other cheek, "thank you," your nose.

You fluster underneath his doting, pushing your face into where he's got his arms around you. "Do you really like it, Teddie?"

Teddie Eddie thinks fondly. Of course, he likes it. He loves you even more. "Really. Actually. Truly."

It takes you a second. You smile something ruining and roll onto your back. "Cool, 'cause I have a matching one." You pull a necklace from out underneath your sleep shirt. There, on the end of the chain is a guitar pick Eddie had given way back when you were still just friends.

Eddie drops himself into you and groans, long and suffering. "Jesus fucking Christ, baby."

[tojirights]

feat gojo satoru, toji fushiguro, nanami kento & choso kamo

tags: 18+ smut nsfw, minors do not interact.

breeding, teasing, unprotected sex, daddy kink

buy me a coffee?

gojo satoru

teases you about it constantly. he can always tell when you're ovulating by the way you talk about babies, how you squeak every time you see a toddler in a cute little outfit, especially little boys in dino sweaters. you know gojo isn't looking to have kids soon, if ever, but he's always able to pull out the charm just enough to tease you while your baby fever sky rockets.

"oh my godd 'toru." you whine, pulling on his shirt to get his attention. the cutest little baby sits in a swing as you walk past the park, giggling as his mama pushes him. gojo just chuckles, shaking his head. "what's up baby?" he snickers, watching your eyes light up. "y'wanna go home and make one?" his eyebrows wiggle and you sigh with annoyance but you can't help the way your body reacts to his tone.

gojo wraps you in his arms and hums. "one day, princess. you'll be such a good mama." he kisses your forehead as you sink into his chest. "and you're gonna look so sexy pregnant..." he groans to himself at the thought. you roll your eyes as gojo pulls you close. "let's go practice, hm?"

toji fushiguro

loves to see you swoon over his kids, and is greatful you like 'em so much to give him a break. but he makes the mistake of falling for your little puppy-dog eyes and pouty bottom lip every night when you crawl into bed with him. he groans when you slide onto his chest, an innocent yet tempting look in your eyes.

"i wanna be a mama, toji." you say, seductive undertones of your voice making toji's cock throb. "you already are, hon." he answers with a chuckle when you playfully slap his chest. "you know what i mean!" you whisper yell, careful not to be too loud and wake the kids up. "wanna have a baby. gumi is getting soo big and i love him! but..."

toji smirks, his hands trailing down your hips and settling on your ass. "y'wanna have a baby?" he hums, lips finding your neck. "wanna be so full of me? have my kid in that belly of yours?" he bites back a moan when you grind on his quickly stiffening cock. you gasp when he suddenly flips you onto your back and looms overtop of you. "y-yes daddy please." your breathy little moan sets toji over the edge.

"anything for you, pretty girl..."

nanami kento

smart man, knows you're dying to have kids and isn't one to make you wait for almost anything in life. he's been away for a few days on a mission but you've been blowing up his phone about how much you miss him, and sending screenshots of ideas for decorating the nursery when the time comes.

he comes home from the mission with flowers and chocolate, greets you with a kiss at the door, and as soon as his hands are free, he scoops you up into his arms. "i'm ovulating..." you whisper into his ear, kissing down his jawline. nanami huffs a laugh. "you think i didn't know that, my darling?" he palms your asscheeks as he carries you to the bedroom. "you've been basically begging for a creampie since i got ready to leave." he drops you onto the mattress and follows quickly, already working on getting his pants undone.

you bite your lip, adrenaline starting to surge through you as nanami ignores the drawer where you keep the condoms. "you deserve that baby you've been so patiently waiting for, what a wonderful mother you'll be." he sighs as his raw cock pushes into your pleading pussy.

choso kamo

doesn't quite know how to react when you start making hints that you want children. he's caught off guard when you start showing him pictures of little baby shoes with cute pink bows all over them, but he can't deny that his body has a very physical and primal desire to fufill your wants. he's a family man, after all.

he wastes no time helping in tracking your cycle, wanting to take every possible chance in making your dreams a reality. he wants to see you pregnant again and again, bringing his first born as many siblings as you can both muster.

[blueywrites]

u-haul 'cause I might let you move in it (1/2)

dom dealer!eddie x sub fem!reader Inspired by @2jihiir0's fanart 'make it quick... baby's sleeping'. leave them some love! read part two here.

2.5k

cw (both parts): 18+. smut, drug use (weed), situationship becoming something more (???), shame kink, praise & degradation, pet names, exhibitionism-adjacent, no y/n, no physical descriptors, eddie's still a fairly soft dom bc I'm just not hard like that 😭

an: this is just the start of the filth, y'all - most of it occurs in part two 😌 shout out to @munson-blurbs @hellfire--cult @word-wytch and @the-unforgivenn for their feral support and @fracturedarkness bc this wouldn't exist without her.

enjoy part one! 🩵

The afternoon sun hangs heavy in the sky, casting a warm, golden glow through the dusty blinds of the trailer. The air inside is thick with the scent of smoke and stale beer, a heady mixture that clings to the walls. It’s the kind of smell that seeps into your clothes, your hair, your skin. It should leave you feeling slightly suffocated, especially considering the oppressive humidity also clinging to every surface, but somehow, there's a measure of comfort in the acrid scent.

You’re sitting on the threadbare couch, the fabric worn with age creaking as you shift restlessly, trying to find a more comfortable position in the heat. The fabric scratches your soles as you prop your feet up, leaning against the couch arm, fanning the neck of your thin tank top to peel the dampness from your chest. Beneath the old coffee table, your flip-flops lay forgotten, abandoned on the threadbare carpet. A beer bottle sits nearby, sweating rings onto the surface of the table, a testament to the lazy haze of the afternoon.

On the other side of the couch, your dealer lounges against the cushions, his movements fluid and practiced as he rolls a joint with deft, inked fingers. You look over at Eddie as he watches the TV, his head lolled back against the couch, his eyes heavy-lidded, relaxed. He looks good. You can’t help but spend a long moment staring at him: the angles of his face, his big brown eyes and puffy lips, his long, shaggy curls that frame his high cheekbones. He’s pretty, and he’d look downright innocent if it wasn’t for the long nick of white scar tissue kissing the edge of his lip and the scruff darkening his cheeks and jaw. Your gaze dips lower over his tight black jeans, lingering where they meet his rust-colored tank. The shirt is caught up around his hip, revealing a strip of pale skin and a tattoo that you can just see the bottom of. You want to run your tongue over it, then keep mapping all his ink until your mouth has touched each bit of darkness on him.

This thing with Eddie started when you broke up with Trevor and lost your go-to source for getting high. When you’d asked around, a friend of a friend recommended Eddie Munson, saying he was the best you could come by in the area: decent product, reasonable prices, and not a total creep. The first couple times were quick transactions, and then you started hanging around because the girl who hooked you up also told you Eddie would likely offer to smoke you out if you did. He let you hang around because he didn't much care either way, and he didn't find you hard to look at. That led quickly to casual sex whenever you saw each other, usually when you'd come by a couple times a month to restock your supply. And the sex is great– better than the weed, and Eddie's weed is always high quality. He just has this ability to make you feel special in the moment without having any expectations about whatever-you-and-he-were as soon as you pull your panties back on, leaving you free to date whoever you wanted when you left his trailer.

It’s ecstasy to have all of his attention focused on you in those moments because, though Eddie looks like a mean bastard, he gets off on your pleasure. He's not one to make you feel used or neglected; he's a thorough lover. And he has a knack for straddling the perfect line between sweet and sour. He'd praise you then humiliate you in the next breath, and it drove you wild. Kept you coming back even though he never expressed interest in taking you out or doing anything with you other than just getting high, watching TV, and fucking you 'til you screamed.

And then, at some point, you find yourself declining guys' offers for dinner or drinks. You just don’t feel like going out anymore, because trying to find Mr. Right was getting exhausting— at least, that's what you tell yourself. And Eddie starts calling you sometimes to let you know he had a new strain he thought you'd like, some of Rick's fancy shit. Soon enough, you go from seeing him twice a month to twice a week, sometimes more. And slowly but surely, you begin to notice a change in yourself. You start staring at all his tattoos and wondering what the stories are behind them. Feeling an odd flutter when you flop down next to him and he'd sling his arm around your shoulder without a thought. Laying tangled in his musty bedsheets, and when he leaves to go to the bathroom, secretly burying your nose against his pillow because the smell of him has suddenly become... comforting.

Things are changing for you, and you really hope they are for him, too. 'Cause if not, it seems your traitorous heart has determined you'll be in for a world of hurt.

"Y'want some of this?" Eddie's voice cuts through the haze, drawing your attention away from the television. You glance over to see him holding up the joint, a lazy smirk playing at the corners of his lips. The glow of the joint illuminates his features, soft against the curve of his cheek.

You nod, a small smile tugging at your own lips as you shift closer to him. He pats his thigh, a silent invitation, and you don’t hesitate to straddle his lap, the heat of his body seeping through your pajama shorts. His jeans are rough against your tender inner thighs as you shift, grazing the hardening bulge pressing against his zipper; your stomach tightens with the first whispers of arousal as you feel it brush against you.

"Gimme a show then, kitten," he murmurs, his voice low and husky, making that arousal bloom fuller as you grow excited. It’s a playful taunt, a challenge, but beneath the teasing facade, you can sense something more—a hint of possessiveness, maybe even of longing. That could just be your wishful thinking, but nonetheless, your heart races at the prospect as you meet his gaze, accepting his challenge.

With a coy smile, you slip off the couch, settling on your knees and running your nails up his thighs on your way to his lap. You take your time unbuckling his belt, keeping your movements slow and unhurried, though you secretly throb as you begin to unwrap him. It’s crazy how quickly he turns you on— how all he has to do is smirk and pin you with a look, or murmur a few words in that low, husky tone, and you’re already wetting your panties for him. 

Eddie waits just long enough for you to shimmy his jeans and boxers down to his knees, and then he catches you by the jaw with a broad, rough palm. You look up at him as he guides you back up with his light grip on your face. His eyes flick down to your mouth as he leans forward, curls swinging to kiss his jaw. You brighten, eager to feel his mouth on yours, wondering what kind of kiss he’ll reward you with— something slow and sweet, or wet and filthy. But he leaves just a peck on your lips before drawing back, tightening his hold on your jaw to keep you firmly in place when you instinctively go to chase him.

You fall immediately into a pout, slumping back on your heels as he breathes a chuckle at you. Eddie bends to lightly pat your cheek a few times in consolation before settling back into the cushions, his posture relaxed yet commanding. He must know the gesture would rile you up, and it does— you feel your disappointment churn in your belly, turning to petulance. In retaliation, you clamber up to your feet, abandoning your position kneeling before his boots. With narrowed eyes, you drop your shorts and panties together without ceremony, stepping out of them and kicking them to the side, denying him the chance to enjoy watching you strip. You cross your arms when your bratting only makes him smirk even wider at you. He quirks an eyebrow as if to say, “Well?” 

You resent how much you like his stupid face.

The couch creaks its protest as you climb up onto it, slinging a leg over his lap again, this time with nothing separating your skin from his, which is hot and slightly sticky with the humidity. His cock kicks subtly when your pussy grazes him, and you bite your lip, feeling an answering pulse of desire within yourself. When you mount him, reaching behind to grip him at the base and notch his fat head at your entrance, Eddie prepares for your performance: draping his arms casually over the backrest, fingers idly tapping against the worn fabric, his other arm hinging to bring the joint lazily to his lips. 

He looks like such an asshole, waiting for you to service him. And you might've goaded him more because of it, but you forget about being bratty the second you sink down on his lap, taking him all the way into you. 

A quiet moan sighs from between your cracked lips when you sit fully on his cock, your eyes slipping closed as you get lost in that initial stretch. He's not the only guy you've fucked— far from it— but there’s just something about the way he slots inside, nudging against the end of you, that always leaves you feeling more perfectly filled than anyone else. Eddie watches with a sly glint in his half-lidded eyes as you start to grind on him, letting yourself drift into the space he always brings you into. With him, you can be soft, sensual, and needy, but also desperate and pathetic. You can act out all your secret desires, know that Eddie will flay you open and force you to acknowledge them, and let the shame of it get you off all at once.

Eddie lets you be a freak, and better yet, he likes it.

Desperate to earn his approval, you run your hands up your body, dragging over your hips and up to your neck as you ride him. Your abdomen rolls as you grind with fluid, sensual movements, doing your best to put on the show he’d requested. You look at him through your lashes as your wandering fingers catch on the hem of your tank top, dragging it slowly up to reveal your soft belly. You hold it just below your breasts so Eddie can watch the way your curves bend and move while you work his cock. 

In some respects, the dance is for you as much as it’s for him because the way Eddie watches you with rapt attention, his eyes devouring every inch of your body, really turns you on. You bite your lip, your clit swelling with anticipation as you tease him with a glimpse of the underside of your breasts. He hums approvingly, taking a leisurely hit from the joint. As the smoke curls around him in a tantalizing haze, you give in sooner than you’d been intending and ruck up your top to let your breasts fall out. You start to play with them, squeezing and kneading as you rock your hips harder, your own need mounting.

Gradually, your performance ceases being a performance. Your nipples begin to ache, begging to be touched, and a moan spills unbidden from your lips as you tweak and pinch them, sending pleasure zinging straight down within you. You close your eyes, a tiny frown forming as you try to concentrate on the low flame of your arousal, but it remains at a frustratingly low simmer. You rock faster, grind harder, pinch harsher, your movements a silent plea for the sweet relief only Eddie can give. You’ve built your own pleasure as much as you can on your own, and now, you need him. The coyness is wiped from your expression, replaced with a begging pinch in your brow, a needy, wet shine in your eyes as you blink unseeingly at him, all pretty and pathetic on his lap.

At the border between satisfaction and desperation— that’s where he wanted you. 

A hand at your hip stills your movements, and as your eyes snap to focus on Eddie's face, you see he’s leaned forward, his nose scant inches from yours. His other elbow is planted on the couch arm, the joint poised tantalizingly nearby in his ringed fingers. Eddie squeezes your hip firmly, then again more gratuitously, and when you obediently fall still to sit motionless on his cock, he lets his palm slide up the curve of your waist in a drag that makes you gasp, you're so wired and ready for his touch. You watch, rapt, as he brings the joint toward his lips, salivating as a swipe of his tongue moistens them.

“Look at me.” 

Your eyes snap up to his, captured completely by his unwavering gaze. As he inhales, those brown eyes glitter in the orange that flares bright at the joint’s end. And he keeps that point of contact between you as his broad palm travels up, up, up— over the supple heft of your breast, grazing the hard peak of your nipple, skimming the thrumming pulse in your neck, his thumb catching on the underside of your jaw as he cups your cheek. He closes those scant inches between you, and when the bulb of his nose nudges yours, your mouth falls open as your eyes slip closed. 

He exhales, you inhale. When the warm rush of Eddie’s breath kisses your lips, you take it into you, your chest expanding as your lungs fill with smoke. The taste of him mingles with a heady rush of arousal, and you continue to take, even through the twinge of discomfort as your lungs stretch to accommodate it all. As Eddie gives you the last of his smoke, you close your mouth, keeping it all inside.

“Hold it,” he murmurs against your skin. His lips trail kisses along your jaw as you obey, fighting your diaphragm as it hitches, wanting to cough. You make a little noise in the back of your throat when he nips you, the brief sharp sting soothed soon after by the flat of his tongue. You hold as long as you can, and when you finally exhale, Eddie rewards you by taking hold of your hips, pulling you into a slow, sensual grind as he kisses you sloppy, wet lips wide and devouring. The friction and fervor crash over you in an intense wave of pleasure, one that has you whining, twisting your fingers in his hair, pressing your tits to his chest, ready to ignite—

The front door shakes with the pounding of a heavy fist.

[aphrogeneias]

show you

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

warnings: r is in college but they're the same age. long distance relationship. making out, teasing, biting. exhibitionism, if you squint. slight dirty talk. eddie munson is a little shit (affectionate).

author's note: inspired by a request by @raccoonboywrites that mentioned something about a reunion between eddie and r, who haven't seen each other in a while <3

“Where's your roommate again?”

It's the third time Eddie’s asking.

The first was in your car, on the way to the dorms, after he hopped off the bus, way too eager to get you alone. The second was while you dragged him by the hand through the hallways, eager to show him around as he practically glued himself to your back.

Now, as he has you pressed against the door of your room, the one you'd just locked behind you with one hand while the other rests on his chest, he asks one more time. Just to be sure.

“I told you she's at a frat party.” You sigh, pulling him even closer, arms around his neck. His hyperactive hands don't know where to settle, but his thigh finds its way to the middle of your parted ones. “Probably sleeping over there. Relax.”

All he can do is hum into your mouth. It's the best response he can come up with as he's kissing you, and he doesn't want to stop. Not now that he has you where he wants you, your skin warm under his rough hands, feeling how soft you are under your shirt.

It's been way too long. Way too many miles between you — and it's not that he isn't proud of you for getting into college, but surviving Hawkins without you was proving to be more difficult than he thought.

He missed you everywhere, everyday. It didn't help that he's been up the walls with need.

All he had was your late night phone calls and a polaroid picture of you in nothing but his favorite pair of black lace underwear, the same you'd graciously left as a parting gift in his drawer.

None of it could compare to the real thing.

Impatient as always, Eddie pulls you from the door, and spins you around, still keeping you close to his aching body. His hand runs up from your waist, from your chest, and finds itself holding you in place by the neck, guitar scarred fingers splayed on the side of your throat, thumb running over the delicate skin there.

You pull away, panting, chest heaving as you exhale into his lips. He grins, tilting his head, hand still on your neck, “Breathe, baby. ‘M not going anywhere.”

“Asshole,” you pout.

Holding him by the wrist, you kiss him again, gently. Eddie chases your lips with his, meaning to deepen the kiss, but you catch his bottom lip between your teeth, biting on it a little too hard. He moans.

Distracted, his grip on you loosens, enough for you to gain control. You walk him backwards until you push him on your twin bed, and he falls on his back, watching you as you climb on top of him, straddling his narrow hips.

A sight he'd never get enough of.

His hands settle on the curve of your hips, and his lips find their way to your neck, leaving wet kisses down the column of your throat, the hinge of your jaw, the spot behind your ear that had you arching into him, hips stuttering over the fly of his jeans.

He missed that. Your weight on top of him, the fading scent of your perfume when he ran his nose over your neck, the sweet noises you made. He wants to make you sing.

“I'm not opposed to getting caught, you know.” He muses, running his hands behind your back between kisses. “Show her that your boyfriend isn't just good for those phone calls and heartfelt letters.” A squeeze to your waist, hands lowering to the supple curve of your ass, squeezing it over your leggings. “That he gives it to you good.”

“You're a fucking pervert, that's what you are.” You glare and tell him off, but the hungry look in your eyes says otherwise. “Show off.”

He flips you over, then. Pushes you under him, covering you with his frame. Your legs part for him, welcoming you between the cradle of your hips. He makes himself at home, lowering his weight on you, and trailing your hands over your head.

“Yeah. I'll show you alright.”

Your teeth find his lip again, sucking it into your mouth, attempting to make him stop talking. The taste of copper is nothing compared to the rush that rouses him to his core. He groans into your mouth, giving you a bruising kiss that has your toes curling.

Two could play this game.

[miguelhugger2099]

Punk!Miguel who’s proud of his tattoos. At least most of them. He has some professionally done and others were stick and pokes from when him and Gabriel were younger.

Punk!Miguel who watches you with a smile when you touch up and down his arm. He hides the shivers down his spine when your perfectly manicured pink and green nails rake across the art decorated on him.

“What’s this one?” You poke at a terrible done smiley face, it was a little blobbed but barely noticeable with the much nicer ones done around it.

“One of the first tries my brother did on me when he was starting out.”

“And you kept it?” You tilt your head with a scrunch of your nose. Miguel laughs.

“Sentimental value.”

You scoff. “No way.”

“Yeah, way.” He takes your hands and pulls you closer, lugging you forward onto his lap where you belonged. Getting yourself comfortable you placed your hands on his chest.

“Are you just gonna have them on your arms?” You ask, tugging down his shirt for a peek at any new ones. Miguel smirks and stops your peeking by tsking and shaking his head—a knowing look on his face.

“Course not but tattoos cost money, babe.”

“You should get one of me.” You pout your lips, crossing your arms that makes you seem snobbish.

“What? Like get one of your face?” He laughs and leans back on his hands.

“No! Like—I dunno! Something sentimental about…me?” You look away, feeling the prickling embarrassment crawling up your neck. “Never mind!”

“Oh, so you want to be on my body, huh?” He teases, taking your hand and sliding it under his tank top to feel his warm stomach, faint dips of abs.

“You know what I mean!” You whine, feeling frozen with him holding your hand in place. He can’t help but find you adorable. Letting go of your hand to come around your waist as he leans up again, one hand coming down to cup your ass. He swallows your squeak with a kiss, unable to stop himself from biting into your sweetness.

Punk!Miguel who—even if he teased you about it—actually adored the idea of having a tattoo of you on him.

Punk!Miguel who thought day and night of what could represent you. Flowers he felt was done often, your name was cute but basic and anything else could very well be mistaken for something else. He wanted something that was obviously you.

Punk!Miguel who was rearranging his room again, bustling through various boxes for some spring cleaning.

Punk!Miguel who found his box of memories from when you two first began dating. It had been filled with all your gifts and letters you’d given him—every last piece saved securely in the corner of his room.

He smiles as he opens the box up again. Some pieces of papers falling out and the little broken keychain you got to match with him until it snapped when he accidentally sat on it.

He sits at his desk, flipping through the pages and tiny plushies you’ve given him. His heart swelling at the swirls in your writing with blue ink—the bunny pen you always wrote with.

The smile on his face continues as he reads through your words of love for him—words that you often found too difficult to say. He slams his forehead on the desk, blush coating his cheeks and ears while he groans loudly.

Each letter you’d given him ended with a print of your kiss mark at the very bottom. Some of it was a matte red, others was a faint glitter stain, but most of it was a soft pinkish color. The kind that was glossy and gave you just enough color that it looked tinted and natural.

His finger grazes the mark, an idea popping in his head.

Punk!Miguel who goes to a tattoo shop he was very well acquainted with, with an artist he knew extra well.

He slams his arm on the counter where a man was behind it, sucking on a lollipop and doodling in his sketchbook. The guy raises an annoyed brow.

“Do you have any space open for a walk-in client?” Miguel asks with a smirk.

“I don’t have space for annoying ones.” He sighs and puts his drawing pad away.

“I have money this time, Gabri. Plus, family discount.”

Punk!Miguel who is both afraid and excited to show you what he’s done to himself. He feels his heart hammering while he preps himself to show you. He’d done the aftercare as precisely as possible, taking extra care of it because this was no ordinary tattoo.

Punk!Miguel that lets you take off his shirt when he tells you he’s gotten a tattoo of you.

Punk!Miguel who smiles with amusement when you gasp and hit his arm that you were joking before! That tattooing is a permanent thing! He tells you that he knows.

His heart stills when you eyes land on his chest. On his left side, where his heart would be was your kiss mark. Just like the ones you left on the letters you used to give him.

You touch your lips subconsciously, your other set of fingers hovering over his lifted skin. You look up for permission and he nods, brining himself closer.

You marvel at the piece of work that replicated your lips. “Oh, Miguel…” You sigh, blinking back tears.

“Are you getting emotional?”

“No!”

He brings you to his chest in a tight hug, your hand still resting beside your kiss mark now permanently etched on his person—a permanent reminder that he is yours and that he loves you.

[lipglossanon]

Out of the Blue

* ◄ ◊ ► ◄ ◊ ► ◄ ◊ ► ◄ ◊ ► ◄ ◊ ►*

Office Exec!Leon S. Kennedy x Personal Asst fem!reader

Shoutout to the AO3 user who requested this little ditty 😆 I hope you enjoy it!! 👉👈🥺

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, office sex, dirty talk, dacryphilia, nipple play, mean Leon, unprotected sex

Title from Out of the Blue by Purrple Cat

part ii

* ◄ ◊ ► ◄ ◊ ► ◄ ◊ ► ◄ ◊ ► ◄ ◊ ►*

A recent corporate merger meant big changes for you; you’ve been working as the personal assistant of the (then) Vice President of Communications, but with this new management coming in, that guy had been shifted and you were getting a totally new boss.

Nervously, you’ve been straightening up the office in the hopes of making a good impression— and thereby keeping your position. No one on your floor knew who the new guy was, only a name to go off of: Leon S. Kennedy.

Once you feel like there’s nothing more to be done, you step out of the VP’s office and make your way to the mini kitchen used as a break room down the hall. Hoping that a glass of water might cool your nerves, you don’t even notice the man standing on the other side of the room flipping through a folder.

His eyes track your movements, catching your jittery hands and teeth biting your bottom lip.

You nearly drop your glass when he clears his throat. Whirling around, you give him a shy smile.

“H-hi,” you smooth down your skirt, “you’re one of the new hires?”

A handful of people on your office floor were still coming and going, learning the layout and at times just hanging out in the break room until someone came in to help guide them. You helped a girl just yesterday find her desk, so you don’t think anything of this newcomer.

A slow smile spreads across his handsome face, intense blue eyes staring into your own.

“You can say that, sweetheart.”

You feel flustered at the name but step forward, hand outstretched, “Oh uh, welcome aboard. If you need any help, just let me know. Right now I’m stationed outside the vice president’s office.”

His eyebrows raise slightly, ignoring your offered handshake, “You’re the secretary?”

You ignore the flash of irritation from hearing ‘secretary’ and slowly lower your hand, “I prefer personal assistant.”

“Ahh,” he looks at you amusedly, and before your hand can drop any further he reaches out to clasp it.

He drops a kiss on the back of your hand, eyes still watching you, a smirk playing at his lips.

“Well, it’s a pleasure to meet my personal assistant.”

You feel hot and embarrassed, but keep the polite smile on your face, “I’m sure the pleasure is mine, Mr. Kennedy.”

:::::

After that mortifying encounter, your days pass pretty smoothly with your new boss. You feel lucky that he decided to keep you on as his assistant even with that awkward first impression.

After a few weeks, you start to catch him staring at you out of the corner of your eye—but when you turn, his attention is elsewhere. He also seems to touch you at every given opportunity. He touches your arm when he’s walking with you or presses a palm into your lower back when he’s moving around you to his seat in the conference room. He gets as close as possible when you’re typing up his reports or dropping something off at his desk for his signature. It always leaves you with butterflies.

Another work week rolls by and before you can blink, it’s been months since you’ve started to work for Leon. A few of your work colleagues like to corner you in the break room to try and get any gossip— who’s he seeing? Did he really come in twenty minutes late last Monday? What do you mean you didn’t hear that Chris saw him at the strip club?

It’s gotten to the point that you start taking your breaks at your desk. Leon notices it almost immediately and makes sure to stop by your desk from time to time. Today is no different.

“Tired of the office gossip?” He props his hip against your desk, arms crossed over his chest as he looks down at you.

You notice that he folded the sleeves of his shirt so you can see the muscles in his forearms flex. Dragging your gaze upwards with a small shake of your head, you smile at him.

“You can say that,” you pinch the bridge of you nose, “it’s all just..”

“Bullshit.”

Your eyes widen as you stifle a laugh, “I was going to say tiresome, sir.”

He smirks, “Sure thing, honey. Listen, I’m going to need you to stay late tonight. I know it’s Friday, but those weekly statistics have to be in before midnight.”

Your brows furrow, “I thought we were good; didn’t I just compile that data yesterday?”

He clicks his tongue, “‘fraid not, sweetheart. That was projections for the latest quarter.”

“Oh,” you chew your lip, “yeah, that’s no problem, Mr. Kennedy. Want me to drop them off on your desk when I’m finished?”

“Yes, thank you,” he brushes a few strands of hair from your face, making your breath hitch.

Before you can say anything, Leon straightens up from your desk and heads back into his office, door shutting behind him.

You press your palms to your eyes, willing the flutter of nervousness to ease. Taking a deep breath and slowly letting it out, you slump in your chair. You sigh and turn back to your monitor. Glancing at the time in the lower right hand, it reads fifteen after four; with everyone going home at five, you have a good feeling you’re going to end up staying even later than you thought.

You rotate your wrists and then go into your emails. Better to get started on it now than later.

::::

Your eyes feel dry and gritty, but you ignore it in favor of finishing out the last of this report.

“Finally,” you whisper gleefully, hitting the print button on the document.

Standing up, you stretch out your arms with a small yawn. Looking at the time you see it’s nearly half past ten. Still plenty of time for you to grab some takeout and crash in your comfy bed. You sigh happily at that thought and gather up the printed pages, heading over to Leon’s office.

Tapping on the door, you open it a crack, “Sir?”

“Come in, sweetheart. I won’t bite.”

You push open the door just enough to step inside. It clicks shut behind you as you walk further into the room. Leon is backlit by the city lights from his windows. You place the bundle of papers down on his desk.

“Take a look at this,” he gestures to his own dimly lit monitor.

Walking around the wide oak desk, you make your way to stand beside his chair.

After gazing at the screen for a second, you turn to him with a frown, “I’m sorry, I don’t know what I’m looking at, sir.”

He smirks at you lazily, “Sure you do.”

“Wh—“

He grabs your hips and pulls you down into his lap, your thighs now straddling one leg. Your hands come up to brace against his shoulders while his slacks rub against your bare thighs where your skirt’s rucked up.

“Leon,” you gasp, eyes wide and nervous.

“Name sounds so good in your mouth, sweetheart,” his low voice breathes into your ear.

He drops a soft kiss on your neck, leaving a heated trail up to your jaw. Pulling back, you can see how dark his eyes have gotten.

“Been waiting forever to get you alone.”

“We can’t. I’m your—“

“Personal assistant,” he chuckles meanly, “I know, baby. And I’m going to use you for very personal reasons.”

He grips your hair in a fist and guides your mouth down in his. Your parted lips lets him slip his tongue into your mouth. Groaning, he grabs your ass with his free hand and urges you to roll your hips forward.

You whine, feeling so hot and dizzy, clit thrumming with arousal. You follow the guidance of his hand and start to grind your hips down into his leg. You eagerly suck on his tongue when he thrusts it back into your mouth. You feel him groan low in his chest and it makes you arch into him more.

He tugs your head back to take in your blitzed out expression.

“Baby, we haven’t even started yet,” he coos, “got you cockdrunk already huh.”

“Leon,” you whimper, hips rocking on his lap.

“Gonna get my pants soaking wet baby,” his eyes drop down to the apex of your thighs, “fuck, that’s it, good fucking girl.”

Your nails dig into his shoulders, wrinkling the fabric of his designer shirt.

“Knew you’d be so fucking sweet, always letting me touch you, get so fucking shy,” he growls, pulling your hair harder to tilt your neck back, “gonna ruin this little cunt, baby.”

You whine, humping down into his leg harder, slick pooling in your panties and dripping all over his slacks.

“Fuck, good girl, always so good for me,” he lets go of your hair to grip your neck, “always so eager to please.”

He presses his thumb into your panting mouth; he presses down onto your tongue before pulling his thumb free and smearing spit all over your lips.

You can’t stop whining, tears beading at your lash line.

“Leon, please.”

He lets go of his grip on you, and reaches out to tug open your button up blouse.

“Look at those fucking tits, baby,” he purrs, pulling the cups of your bra down until your breasts are completely bare—aching nipples on display.

He greedily mouths at each breast and sucks on your nipples, teeth catching on the sensitive buds until you’re clawing at his shoulders.

“Good girl,” he praises, feeling you shudder at the endearment, “you’ll be good for me, won’t you?”

“So good for you, Leon,” you promise.

As you speak, he undoes your bra and tosses it somewhere in the office. Then, he drags his fingers across the swell of your breasts. He circles your sensitive nipples, thumbs brushing the slowly hardening buds.

Your breath hitches, arousal pulsing in your cunt, “Leon...”

“Bet I can make you come from this,” he husks, “make a complete mess of you from just teasing your tits.”

Your spine arches, pressing up into his hands, “Ahh, they’re too sensitive.”

Leon completely ignores you and tugs your nipples gently, softly tweaking them before soothing them with slow drags of his index fingers.

Panting, your hands twist in the fabric of his shirt. Your clit throbs with every brush against your nipples, but you can’t stop yourself from pressing up into every touch.

Everything that Leon’s doing is making more slick pool in your panties. You’re so wet, it’s seeping into where Leon’s slacks are pressed against your pussy. You can feel the hard press of his cock against you and it sends a thrill up your spine knowing you’re the cause.

“So eager for me, honey,” he teases, voice pitched low, “I want you to take your clothes off.”

“Yes, sir,” you nervously agree, shimmying out of your blouse and skirt quickly.

“Leave the panties on for now,” his dark eyes locked onto your white panties, nearly transparent from how wet they’ve become.

Settling down on Leon, you straddle his thighs, your legs dangling off the sides of the chair. You bring your arms up to tangle your fingers in his hair. You give a small tug and roll your hips down against the outline of Leon’s hard cock. In retaliation, Leon gives your nipples a sharp tug then tweaks them as you writhe in his grasp.

“Look how wet you are, honey,” he groans, gaze drawn to the slick dripping from your panties, “so fucking sexy.”

Your eyes droop in pleasure at those words a low sigh leaving your lips.

“You’ve been driving me crazy,” Leon growls out, letting his gaze roam across your swollen nipples up to your dazed expression, “always so sweet, making me want to do the worst things to you.”

“Yeah?” You whimper.

“Want you under my desk at the next conference call, sucking my cock while I’m trying to work,” he drags one of his hands from your chest up to your lips; he slips first two fingers into your mouth.

“Actually just want you in here on your knees at my beck and call. Just keep the door locked and nobody’ll know my little secretary is sucking off her boss during work hours,” he presses his fingers deeper into your mouth.

You whine and suckle on them softly. He pulls them out with a soft pop.

“Touch me, please, sir,” you whisper as he drags those fingers down to your puffy nipples.

Leon sucks a hard nipple into his mouth as his right hand teases across the other with quick flicks of his damp fingers. He swaps sides, his gaze watching you bite your lip and toss your head back at the pleasure. Pulling away a little, Leon grabs each breast and presses them inward. He runs his tongue from one nipple to the other more easily, suckling them until you squirm in his lap.

“You’re gonna be working a lot of overtime, sweetheart,” he murmurs into your skin, “my own personal hole to use when I want.”

You keen high in your throat, “Sir!”

Leon groans low in his chest and rolls his hips upward to grind his cock against your hot wet cunt, nearly jostling you from his lap. In the motion, Leon’s sharp teeth tugs on a nipple earning a breathy sigh from your lips. He swaps to the other nipple, using his teeth so you’ll reward him with more of those sounds. After repeatedly teasing each nipple with his teeth, you tug at his hair in a silent plea to slow down. He eases off from biting to soft, gentle sucks.

“Love your tits, baby,” he mouths at your nipples, “been wanting to taste these nipples since I started working here.”

You cry out at the hot, wet suction of Leon’s mouth on your sore nipples. Your back curves forward to press your chest closer to his hungry teeth and tongue. You tangle your fingers further in his hair to have something to hold onto. Grinding your hips down, you feel more than hear him moan. You repeat the motion only this time your clit grinds against Leon’s slacks, earning a low cry of want.

“Leon,” you whimper.

He only hums in reply as he keeps up the hot suction on each hardened nub. You try rolling your hips again only to be stopped by a strong grip on your waist.

“You only get to cum from this,” Leon rumbles, voice deep as his tongue lashes against your abused nipple, “be a good girl for me or you won’t get anything.”

You mewl, clit pulsing in arousal, “I’ll be good, sir, I promise.”

He moves your hands to drape across his broad shoulders, “Don’t let your hands drop below my shoulders. Understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

A sharp tug of teeth on your nipple has you arching in pleasurable pain. Your hands slide up into his hair again to hold him in place, worshiping your chest.

“So perfect,” Leon murmurs, lazily mouthing his way up to your neck.

“So sweet for me,” he speaks against your skin, gently kissing across your collar bones before pulling away.

You feel dizzy and aroused, tugging Leon’s hair to pull him into a soft kiss. He groans low in his chest, pressing you harder against him as he licks into your mouth. He teasingly nips at your bottom lip, sucking on it gently before slipping his tongue further in. You moan in response, loving the feel of his slick tongue teasing your own. His hands came up and grip your hair, tilting your head at an angle where he can kiss you even deeper than before.

Before long the kiss became sloppy and wet, but neither of you really care. You can’t stop whining in pleasure as Leon fucks into your mouth, tongue hot as it teases your own. Chest rumbling in pleasure, Leon draws your tongue into his mouth to suck on it greedily. You slip your tongue away to pull his plump bottom lip into his mouth, nibbling gently before softly sucking. You drag your teeth aggressively against Leon’s lip, tongue following in silent apology for the rough treatment.

Leon growls and pulls back far enough for you to let his lip go with a small pout. His cock twitches at how debauched you look. Pupils blown wide with lust, lips kiss swollen. He moves his hands from your hair to grip your hips. You know his hold’s tight enough to bruise but you only moan in appreciation. You dip your head down to recapture his lips, but he pulls back so your mouths only brush across each other.

You whimper at Leon withholding his lips from you.

“I want to hear how you sound once you cum,” he murmurs, lips brushing against yours tantalizingly.

Fingers begin to roughly pinch and rub your swollen, sore nipples. His dark blue eyes never leave yours as you edge closer and closer to orgasm, your cunt copiously dribbling slick.

“I’m so close, Leon,” you whimper, trying your best not to grind down.

Leon smirks, “Guess I should slow down, huh?”

His fingers lightly tease over the hard peaks. His gaze drops from yours to take in the swollen nipples his fingers are touching. He groans aloud as he can’t deny himself another taste. You grip his head as Leon eagerly laps at your nipples, running his tongue across each one before gently biting.

“Please,” you beg, “Leon!”

Leon bites down harder on your left nipple as he gives the right a sharp twist. Your eyes roll back in your head as Leon gets even more aggressive. Harsh bites followed by a hot soothing tongue has your cunt dripping and needy.

“Like it rough, baby?”

You only moan wantonly in reply as Leon never lets up the assault on your abused chest. You continue to gasp and moan in the empty office.

Leon’s being so rough on you and you love it. Want him to pin you down right here and now. Make you cum all over yourself. Make you take his thick cock over and over.

Leon pulls away with a growl, pupils blown, “Honey, you can’t say things like that.”

You suddenly realize you had spoken out loud— babbling, just spouting out whatever crossed your mind. You’re so far gone now, high on arousal.

“I-I can’t help it,” you pant, “it’s so good, sir.”

“I know, my slutty little secretary just can’t help herself,” he pulls away from your chest, “she’s just gagging for her boss’ dick, right?”

You whimper, back arching, “N-no, I’m—“

“Shhh,” he thumbs open the button on his slacks, “was gonna wait but you need it more than I thought.”

He presses the fabric down until he frees his cock. He tugs your panties to the side and presses the fat head of his dick inside your wet hole.

“Was gonna make you cum from your tits but I think this might be a bit better, huh,” he grins, eyes dark and mean.

He doesn’t give you anytime to adjust and fucks up into you, grabbing your hips to pull you down at the same time. You scream from the too much feeling in your spasming cunt.

“Oh,” he groans, “tight as a fucking virgin.”

He smacks your ass with a condescending laugh, “Did I pop your cherry, sweetheart?”

Crying now, you shake your head no.

“Aww,” he mockingly pouts at you, “that’s too bad then.”

Without waiting for your pussy to adjust, he pulls out halfway to bully his fat cock back into your aching hole.

“Sir, please, I can’t,” your breath hitches on a cry, “s’too big. It hurts.”

“Fuck,” he pulls you down until his cock is buried deep in your pussy, “my big cock too much for this needy hole?”

You hiccup a sob, “Please, sir.”

“Mmm you’ll get used to it,” he pulls out til just the tip is teasing your hole then shoves his cock back deep inside your pussy.

You’re crying and clinging onto his shoulders, but a low heat is slowly building in your abdomen.

“There we go,” he coos, “just needed to fuck you a little first, honey.”

He stopped thrusting and you realize you’re the one grinding down onto his dick—a panting mouth, hazy eyed mess.

You whine but can’t stop your hips from rolling down onto the thick cock stretching you out so painfully.

“Good girl,” he smacks your ass again and you moan.

“You can ride this dick whenever you want, honey, just gotta ask,” he smirks, guiding your hips to fuck down harder.

“Yes, sir,” you slur, brain fuzzy from how deep he’s inside your cunt.

“Little slut,” he laughs, thumb brushing against your clit in slow circles, “cream my cock, honey. Want you squeezing on me when I breed that little pussy.”

You moan loudly, hips humping down on his cock, “Leon!”

“That’s right,” he groans low in his chest, “gonna creampie your sweet little cunt.”

His voice and hard cock, paired with the thumb on your clit, is edging you closer and closer to climax.

“Sir, ‘m close,” you pant, tears dripping from your eyes, “gonna cum, you’re gonna make me cum.”

“That’s it, honey,” he tilts his head down and pulls his thumb away from your clit.

He spits on your pussy, globs of drool dripping down the hood of your clit. He brings his thumb back to rub the slippery mess over and over and over into your sensitive bud.

Your back arches, eyes rolling back, as you clamp down on his pistoning dick. Slick coats his cock as you cum, pussy walls squeezing him like a vice.

“Fuck yeah,” he chuckles, thumb still pressing into your clit, “cream my cock so I can fill up that cunt.”

Your thighs jump and twitch from overstimulation as he keeps teasing your clit and grinding his cock deep in your pussy.

“Take it, honey, fucking take it,” he grits out, snapping his hips up into your squelching hole and pumping you full of hot cum.

You moan brokenly, pussy fluttering around his throbbing cock, liking how it feels to get creampied by your boss.

He leans back into his chair with a sigh, “Damn, gotta say that’s been worth the months of us dancing around each other.”

Your head feels totally empty so you only hum in response.

“Did I fuck you dumb, sweetheart?” He smirks, tweaking your nipples making you squeal, “s’okay, we got all weekend to do this. Just need you back in business by Monday.”

[lundenloves]

OMG OMG OMG HEAR ME OUT PLEASE! What if Simon/Ghost comes back home from deployment and is really stressed, annoyed and angry from a mission. He’s left alone with his oldest daughter in the house and has this horrible fight with his oldest daughter and I mean like screaming because the oldest daughter can’t find her shirt and he refuses to help until finally she blurts “I hate you” to him out of the heat of the fight…CAN THIS SOMEHOW END WITH MAJOR FLUFF BETWEEN THE TWO?! If it’s too much just ignore me❤️❤️ Thank you, I love your work🤭🤭

{✧} hello beautiful anon, you have seemingly given me life? banged this out in around an hour. if it seems like it only took an hour, please ignore that or i’ll drown myself in a loch. hope i’ve done your ask justice? thank you for asking for angst, that’s probably why it got done so fast 💀

taglist | masterlist | dad!simon masterlist | request info

↳ no warnings | 1.2k | dad!simon

It was quiet in the house. Just quiet enough for Simon to process what had just happened in the last 48 hours — yet not quiet enough for his ears to ring from constant gunfire. It was a happy medium, alone bar his oldest who jogged up and downstairs at record paces. Flipping the living room upside down, and the pile of clean washing on the bottom stair was tossed to the floor in a desperate attempt to find her shirt. 

He was sitting on the sofa, head leant back, eyes shut only to hear her scuffling around. “Where’s my shirt?” She penetrated his happy silence, stood in front of him with arms dropped to her sides in a teenage palava. “Where did you put it?” 

Simon gave her a noise between a sigh and a hum, craning his neck to look up at her. “What?” He unintentionally spat, his normal tone of voice as sharp as ever. “I ‘aven’t touched your shirt.” Eyes locked to the pile of recently ironed clothes tossed to the floor by the stairs. “They’ll be in that fucking pile you’ve chucked around and walked past ten times.” 

“Well, they’re obviously not.” She groaned. 

Simon shrugged, standing up to stack this morning’s breakfast dishes. “What do you want me to do?” He shook his head at her, taking the plates to the kitchen with her trailing behind him. “I can’t magic it, can I? It’ll be wherever you’ve left it.” 

“It’s not. That’s the point. You’ve moved it.” She had genetically taken his frown, sporting it straight back to him when he had turned around to take something from the table. 

“Oh, have I?” He mumbled nonchalantly, loading the dishes into the sink with loud clatters. “Get those mugs from your room.” 

“No, I'm looking for the shirt.” Her tone matched his, stubbornly kicking her foot against the chair leg to get his attention. “Can you check mum's stuff?” 

“You can.” He turned around, a dish towel balled between his hands with a nod toward the stairs. 

Simon's moods were hard to distinguish. The primary reason being: he always seemed to be in some sort of disparity. So even when he’d come back from a particularly challenging mission, one that had asked too much from him or went horrifically wrong, he would almost always be the same as he usually was. Blunt, sarcastic and seemingly uncaring. 

You had learned to tell the difference but your daughters knew none the wiser. Leading to unknowingly provoking yet valid questions like, “What is wrong with you.” 

“Nothing. Get the mugs.” 

“You never help with shit.” She scoffed, turning on her heel to stomp upstairs and Simon’s jaw ticked. Head tilted to the side, palms leaning either side of the sink with a step back to hang his head between his shoulders. 

Having a teenage girl was the route of many headaches for Simon. Not particularly because of her, but for the natural way where everything revolves around them for an extended amount of years. Everything is embarrassing, if not first regarded as useless. And as far as Simon was concerned he fell somewhere between the two in her radar. 

“Don’t start with that.” He’d said once she had slammed the mugs down on the table behind him, his back was still toward her. 

“Well it’s fucking—“

“I mean it.” 

“It’s true you’re never here!” She shrilled. “You never do anything, you’re always angry and never help.” A beat. “You don’t even talk to us, dad.” She paused, undoubtedly eyeing him for any sort of reaction. “It’s fucked, you’re fucked.”

He turned to take the mugs, eyes avoiding hers although his jaw was tense. “And you can’t even have a conversation.” She laughed though it held no comedy. “You’ll just snap like you always do.” 

“I snap because it’s hard to switch between work and home— here.” He turned around, his daughter shying from his broad frame and low voice. Refraining from asking about Simon’s work was the one thing you had instructed all three of your kids not to do. Although, naturally it became a target point for arguments with him. A real low blow, the best and most critical hit you could land on him was his absence from home due to work. 

Bonus points if you added all he had missed, the first steps, the first words. It was a lot. But it was not there to be thrown back in his face, not as often as it was anyway. “You don’t even want to be here.” 

He shifted in his position, placing hands behind his head at her confrontation. “All of this because of that shirt.” His words directly combated hers, hitting them backward and stopping them from landing anywhere near him. Effectively avoiding her statement. 

“When’s the last time you hugged me, dad?” She said calmly yet loudly, metaphorically shattering glass over his head. 

It had been weeks, months at worst. 

His silence was telling, hands dropped down to his sides in defeat. As usual, he couldn’t find the words so she had jumped for her turn and jab one more time.

“I hate you. I hate you for that, so bad.” It came as a whisper and by that point, the kitchen had fallen quiet too. Occasional sniffs and the rubbing of the odd tear turned her face red, Simon cleared his throat. 

It only highlighted her point in that he stood still. Though, it wasn’t fair to point a finger and say it was his own fault he was that way, emotional warmth and touch just weren’t in his niche range of abilities. His thumb drew imperfect circles on the kitchen counter, staring at her with any and all outward apology he could muster. 

“I didn’t mean that.” She mumbled first, embarrassingly shifting her weight to the other foot while looking up to the ceiling, eyes darting left to right as if to hold back any more upset. She was a lot like Simon that way, although not at all. 

“I know.” He replied softly, taking a closing step toward her and placing his hand on the back of her head to pull her to his chest. “I don’t mean to be like this, you know that.” The silence made him look down to gain a nod in response, her gaze zoning out to the kitchen window as he smoothed out her hair. 

Simon was never good with words, so he always took to actions that felt even more foreign but they at least allowed for the substitution of his appeasements. “Sorry for swearing at you.” She mumbled, melting into his broad chest. 

“Someone has to put me in my place.” The vibration of the words rippled in his chest and she pulled back only to look down at the floor. “You’re a lot like me, you know.” He poked at her ribs, provoking an unwilling laugh that then turned into a smile. “A lot.” 

She shrugged, pushing his hands away after they had wiped the tears from her cheeks. “Yeah, alright.” Her frown was feigned.

“I promise you.” He turned to continue the dishes, looking back to her over his shoulder. “And your shirt is on the line.” He nodded out the window, watching as she gasped and ran outside like he had found gold. 

simon ‘ghost’ riley taglist: @vamppxncess @crowbird @misshoneypaper @tallrock35 @fluffmonster @islanderr @blueoorchid @lea3773 @coldflapjack @rayhawk05 @han11dh @liishook @melovetitties @fallonx @rvjaa @fuckmelifesucks @bhayatsara @takeomisbitch @local-spidey @konigsblog @penutjuice @babychoi03 @sheluvzeren @sparklingtragedy @maviee @wiserebelpartypie @daddylorianisastateofmind @bhayatsara @mistydeyes @writingmysanity @johfaam0 @idkjoequinn @gressseyy @fwibblefwobble @shibble @maladaptivedaydreamingbum @airghostlyfox @hotgirlsshareaccounts @simpxinnie @dilfdotgov

as always comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated! i’ll sit in a hole if no one pays me on the head every now and then.

this is unedited.

[starryeyedmunson]

sleepless nights - e.m.

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

summary: you and eddie have always been close, and sleepovers were practically routine. on this particular night, you were having trouble going to bed due to some sexual frustation. luckily your best friend is there to help you fall asleep.

warnings: smut (minors get out), masturbation, fingering, piv sex, pet names: sweetheart, baby, princess; multiple orgasms, creampie (a little breeding), squirting, to clear up confusion the reader is 18!!

author’s note: i got this idea randomly and it’s 1 am. enjoy.

You and Eddie Munson were inseparable. The second you guys met your freshman year, you two instantly clicked. Sure, you guys had zero things in common; you were the top of your class and practically lived at the library. Meanwhile Eddie couldn’t even point out the library on a map of your school and was at the bottom of every single class, even the ones he repeated. It didn’t matter, though, because you two found each other to be a long-needed comfort in each others’ lives.

The sound of various crickets and birds outside filled the comfortable silence in Eddie’s room as you two got ready to go to sleep. It’s normal for you two to share the same bed given how close you two are, and tonight was no different. You slipped into an oversized t-shirt you found on Eddie’s floor, and Eddie’s back was turned to you to give you some privacy. You turned back around and made your way to his bed, crawling under the covers. He followed you and got into bed on the other side of you before turning the light on his nightstand off.

“Sleep tight, Y/N,” he said sleepily.

“Night, Eds,” you replied, turning your back to him.

You gave up on trying to go to bed after about 30 minutes. You had been tossing and turning to try and find a comfortable position, but the covers were just too hot for you to actually fall asleep. You finally laid on your back and stared at the dark ceiling, wondering how you were going to fix your insomnia. You wracked your brain for ideas on how to make yourself tired, and one finally came to mind.

Absolutely not.

Even though it worked like a charm, you were not about to masturbate next to your best friend.

Your incredibly attractive best friend.

You weren’t going to lie, you had given it some thought. The idea of hooking up with Eddie had played in your mind more often than you would’ve like to admit. You never vocalized your fantasies; it would cause too much awkward tension. But you couldn’t deny the fact that Eddie was objectively hot. Sometimes you would see girls come to his shows at The Hideout and watch them drool over the guitarist, but it was rare that Eddie would even pay attention to them. His eyes always found you, and it gave you a boost of confidence knowing that you meant more to him than some groupies. However, you found yourself longing for him to see you in a different light than just his best friend.

Thinking about him playing the guitar, his fingers moving fast up and down the neck of the instrument had your hand involuntarily moving down to your underwear. This is so wrong, you thought. But the more vivid the memories became, the less you could stop yourself. You slowly moved your panties to the side and let your fingers run through your folds. You stopped at your clit and began to rub slow circles around it. You closed your eyes as you let yourself be engulfed in the feeling, images of your best friend flashing in your mind. You thought about his curly hair and how good it would feel to pull on it while his head was in between your thighs. His stupid smirk that would appear on his face whenever he saw you in the school hallways. His little touches here and there.

You couldn’t even feel your squirming around, and you definitely didn’t feel the boy next to you slowly wake up. You were too lost in your own fantasy, eyes still closed and fingers still moving.

“Sweetheart,” you heard his voice and froze. You refused to move, even when he flipped his body to face yours. “Whatcha doin down there?”

“Just trying to get comfortable,” you squeaked, completely embarrassed but still hoping he was unaware of what you were doing.

“So you thought your hand down your pants was the best way to do that?” You mentally facepalmed.

“I thought you were asleep,” you said, still refusing to make eye contact. He laughed to himself and moved closer to you, causing you to tense up.

“Does that make it any better?” he asked, and you could hear the smirk on his face. You stayed silent, but he kept going. “Since you opened up the topic, care to tell me who you were thinking about?”

“No one,” you said quickly, but Eddie was buying nothing that you were trying so desperately to sell.

“I’ll ask again,” he said. “Who made you touch yourself only a foot away from me?”

“No one,” you repeated. He sighed before continuing.

“Really,” he dragged out. “Well whoever it was clearly wasn’t doing the job.” You finally turned your head to look at him in the dark.

“What is that supposed to mean?” you asked.

“You were being so quiet. If it was actually working, you’d be a little louder. That or you’re not doing it right,” he said.

“I think I know how to masturbate, Munson,” you fought back. The embarrassment was starting to fade, but a touch of it was still there.

“I didn’t say you didn’t, all I’m saying is that you should probably have some help if you actually want to get anywhere,” he said. Your eyebrows raised as you finally understood what his end goal was.

“What, are you going to teach me?” you said, nervous about his response.

“If you’ll let me,” he said slowly. You felt his hand trace down your arm before it met with yours, which was still centered on your clit. Your breath hitched as he slowly began to move it away and replaced it with his own. “Tell me this is okay,” he breathed. You nodded your head, and his fingers slowly started to make the same motion yours were just minutes before. You let out a soft moan as he picked up speed, and you finally let yourself move. You twitched as he pressed into your clit, hitting the bundle of nerves perfectly with each circle.

“Fuck, Eddie, just like that,” you said. He turned over some more so he could have more access to you, and his hand became relentless. He lost contact with your heat only for a moment before inserting one of his ringed fingers into your pussy, causing you to arch your back. He pumped in and out, faster with each one. He added a second, and his thumb found its way back to your sensitive bud.

He worked you with a single hand, and you were loving every second. Your back physically couldn’t arch any more, and you grinded your hips down to help his fingers reach even deeper. He was hitting your sweet spot, and you began seeing stars. You’d always imagined it would feel this good, but now that you were experiencing it in real time your expectations were exceeded.

“Feel good, baby?” he said, his voice low and in your ear. You could barely form the word ‘yes’ as wrangled moans came from your mouth. “Louder, princess, wanna hear you.” Your moans grew louder as you felt yourself nearing release.

“F-fuck, please, faster,” you got out, and Eddie complied. You were hurtling towards the edge, and you knew Eddie could tell.

“Wanna feel you cum all over my fingers,” he said in a low voice, and it sent you over a cliff. Your body spasmed as you yelled out his name, and he finger-fucked you through one of the most intense orgasms you ever had. Your chest heaved as you came down, and you felt him remove his fingers slowly from you. You looked over at him, and with your eyes having now adjusted to the darkness you saw that he wasn’t even breaking a sweat.

“Feel better, doll?” he said with a sly tone. You did in fact feel better, but you craved that same high that he had given you.

“More,” you said. He raised his brows, then smiled when you kept speaking. “I want you to fuck me to sleep, Munson.”

“You’re asking for it,” he said, and he climbed on top of you. You hadn’t kissed at all, but it didn’t even matter as you felt his clothed bulge press into your pussy. You groaned at the friction, and Eddie laughed to himself. “So easy,” he said, but his cockiness turned to shit when he looked at you open your eyes to reveal your pupils taking them over completely. He got off of you only to rid himself of his underwear, and you laid back and watched him kick them off the bed. He recentered himself, moving your panties back to the side after giving his already-hard cock a couple long strokes. “So hard already, baby. Been thinking ‘bout this for a long time.”

He finally put his tip against your re-wet pussy, running it up and down and hitting your clit over and over. “Please, E-Eddie. Need you inside,” you said, and you were instantly satisfied. He pushed into you slowly, and your head fell back as he bottomed out. He set a slow pace at first, but as he sped up you lost all sense. Your legs wrapped around his waist in an attempt to pull him closer, and he took your hands to pin them above your head.

“Fuck, princess, so fuckin’ tight. Squeezing me so good,” he said, panting. You moaned so loudly the neighbors probably heard, but it felt so good that you couldn’t even think about that. He was absolutely railing you now, his hips snapping into yours. Your vision was about go black before he took one of your legs and put it on his shoulder. He was able to reach that perfect spot, his cock hitting just below your cervix with each thrust. “Tell me how good it feels, wanna hear you tell this whole trailer park who’s fucking you this good.”

“Sh-Shit, Eddie!” you screamed. “F-fuck me harder!” You didn’t even think it was possible, but he proved you wrong by pounding himself into you even deeper and faster than he was before. You couldn’t even look him in the eyes as your own rolled back into your head, but his focus was on his dick ramming in and out of your pussy. He squeezed his eyes shut at the feeling of you clenching around him, trying not to cum as your walls sucked him in. His hand let go of your wrists to move down to press on your stomach, and the feeling engulfed you both.

“Fuck, baby, you feel that?” he panted, and with each thrust he could feel himself. “So fucking deep inside of you I can feel it with my own hand.”

You were in euphoria, and you both could see the finish line coming closer and closer. “Gonna fill you up nice and good with my cum, you want that, hm?” he cooed, but all you could respond with was more screaming. “Tell me you want it, princess. Tell me you want me to cum in your tight little hole.”

“Y-yes, fuck!” you managed, and that was all you both needed. The tightness in your stomach finally snapped, and you were drowned in ecstasy, Your pussy clenched him tighter than it had ever before, and you felt yourself drench Eddie’s bare chest in your squirt. He too was pushed over his own edge, and you felt his cock twitch inside of you as it filled you up with his load.

You both were out of breath as he stayed inside you for a while, and he finally pulled out slowly. He rolled off of you to go get a towel, then came back to clean the cum that was dripping from your freshly-fucked hole. He wiped himself clean after then threw the towel on the floor, still standing up.

“Tired yet?” he said, and you choked out a laugh.

“Shut the hell up, Munson,” you said. He smiled down at you before reaching under your back and legs. He picked you up effortlessly, and your arms hung loosely around his neck.

“I would love to sleep in my bed tonight, but you made quite the mess, princess,” he said. Your face turned red as you buried it into his neck, but he just chuckled and carried you to the couch in his living room. He set you down gently, then got you a blanket and draped it over you.

“Where are you going?” you asked as he walked away.

“Just to the other couch, sweetheart,” he said.

“Wait-” you called after him, and he turned back around to you. “Is this going to be awkward in the morning?”

“Um,” he started, scratching the back of his neck. “I mean, we can just act like it never happened if you’re uncomfortable or something.”

You tried getting up, but as soon as you stood your legs gave out and you almost fell to the floor before Eddie rushed over and grabbed you. “What if I want it to keep happening?” you asked, your voice hoarse from all of the yelling before.

“I’d like that,” he said smiling. He leaned down and kissed you gently, your lips fitting perfectly together. He pulled away before breathing out a small laugh. “I probably should have done that before all that other stuff.” You smiled back before pulling him in again, your lips connecting as perfectly as they did before. He pulled away again before saying,

“How about we make another mess on this couch?”

pt. 2 here!

[vargaslovinghours]

Closed off, wrapped up

[megalony]

Hypo State

This is an Evan Buckley imagine, requested by a lovely anon, (and reader is Bobby's daughter in this imagine) I hope you will all like it. Feedback is always amazing.

Taglist: @lunaticspoem@sj-thefanthefan@hellsdragon@im-an-adult-ish@crazylittlethingg@allauraleigh@onceuponadetectivedemigod@ceres27@avyannadawn@noonenuts@sleepylunarwolf@coverupps@justagirlthatlovedtoread @musicistheway @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @luula @missdreamofendless @bradleybeachbabe @woderfulkawaii @topguncultleader @amberpanda99 @daggersquadphantom @marvel-and-chicago-fan @angryknightstatesmantrash @minjix @lyjen @kmc1989 @itsmytimetoodream

911 Masterlist

Summary: While Evan is at work, he gets an alert that (Y/n)'s blood sugar is starting to drop. Then he finds out his daughter has had to call 911.

Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A smile worked its way onto Evan's face and he kept his eyes closed to fight out the morning sun breaking through the curtains. He shuffled closer and buried his lips against the top of (Y/n)'s head in her hair and his fingers ran up and down her back like cold feathers tickling over her skin.

He could feel (Y/n)'s lips pressing into his chest, silently letting him know that she was awake too. His body clock had woken him a little while before his alarm and (Y/n) always woke up whenever she felt Evan awake beside her. She didn't sleep well without him which was one of the reasons why he didn't like doing many night shifts.

Her fingertips tickled along his back but it was her lips that caught Evan's attention and livened him up. Wet, hollow kisses pressed up his sternum in a slow trail as she tilted her head back until her chin pressed into his chest and she could shimmy up the bed a little. They usually woke up with (Y/n) halfway down the bed and Evan with his head bashing the headboard. He was over six foot so moving an inch down the bed caused his feet to dangle out the bed; something he hated.

The feel of (Y/n)'s lips pressing to his neck made him take in a deep breath but when she grazed her teeth along his skin, he growled into her hair.

This was a better morning wake up than he had a few days ago. He wondered why he dreamt he had been drowning until he realised he had been laid on his back with (Y/n) sprawled out on his chest, making it hard to breathe.

Evan liked mornings like these the best when they woke up before the alarm went off and had time together. He used to be a morning person before he got married. Having (Y/n) in the bed changed his ideals and made it hard to get up now.

And when there was no little monster in the bed with them, mornings like this got even better.

"Do you have to go soon?" (Y/n) muttered the words quietly against his neck, her voice laced with sleep but her actions proved she was wide awake now.

"Hm, I've got time."

(Y/n)'s eyes shot open and a gasp tumbled past her lips when the arm around her waist tightened and his palm pressed flat against her lower back so he could flip them over. He rolled her onto her back, muffling her quiet laugh as he moved to kneel between her legs. Evan's hands planted down on the pillow either side of her head, caging her in beneath him like she was his prey and his teeth flashed in a sharp grin that looked animalistic.

She brought her hands up to cup his face, smoothing her thumbs over his cheekbones as he leaned down to press a kiss to her lips.

"This has to go," Evan muttered the words quietly against her lips, drinking in the taste of them until he was positively drunk and (Y/n) was gasping against his mouth. His hands moved down to her sides as his weight shifted to rest on his knees so he could scrunch up the bottom of her shirt that clung to her curves like a second skin that left very little to the imagination.

He didn't have to say anything for (Y/n) to lean up so he could slowly peel it off and her grin made his heart jump, especially when her smile was obscured by her teeth puncturing into her lower lip.

He threw the small, flimsy material down on the floor and gave the cover a nudge until it fell off his back and crumpled to the bottom of the bed. He was starting to burn up already, they didn't need any extra layers covering them.

While he took a moment to admire the view in front of him, (Y/n) took her chance to scrape her nails agonisingly slow over his skin, starting from his abdomen and she worked her way up until her hands were curved around his neck. Her fingers tickled the small hairs at the back of his neck and she sat up to meet him in the middle, moulding her chest against his before she pulled his lips down to hers.

(Y/n) could feel the fever behind his kiss and the way his fingertips dug bruisingly into her hips when she pushed her chest up against him just to irritate him and goad him further.

Her lips curved into a smile against his kiss and when she pulled back, (Y/n) sucked his lower lip between her teeth and gave a small tug until she could feel the growl deep within his chest, rumbling through into her own.

"Baby," Evan's groan was deep and the word was a warning. He didn't have a lot of time before the alarm was going to go off and he didn't like being teased.

Her fingertips slid away from the back of his neck and trailed their way back down the middle of his chest, covering every square inch that she could. Her plump lips left Evan's and moved towards his razor sharp jaw and when she could feel him starting to quiver beneath her, she started to kiss down his neck.

The moment her teeth grazed against the junction between his neck and shoulder, about to leave a mark, Evan suddenly clenched her wrists in a tight grip and leaned his weight onto her again. He pushed her down on the bed and fell forward until his chest slammed into hers and her hands were pinned down on the mattress. Evan tried to keep some of his weight pushed back on his legs and his elbows so he didn't crush his wife beneath him, but he could still feel every crevace of her moulded up against him.

And as always, he leaned slightly to the left so he wouldn't touch the small oval plaster patch on the right side of her abdomen.

Her Dexcom.

A small sensor just beneath the skin that took continuous readings of (Y/n)'s glucose levels so she didn't have to prick her finger and check her levels through her blood anymore. It didn't hurt but Evan never wanted to lean too close or press on it just in case he did one day hurt her or damage it.

"Hmm, my turn." There was something demanding and authorative in his voice that was not to be messed with and all (Y/n) could do was turn to jelly beneath his touch.

She barely had chance to gasp before Evan smothered her mouth with his and let his tongue explore past her lips.

Wet, panting kisses were peppered along her neck and down the middle of her throat so every time she gasped or swallowed, Evan could feel each movement. He let go of her hands and moved his fingertips across her sides and down the dips and curves to that special area just above her hips where (Y/n) was ticklish. He loved the way her stomach would pull in and she would jump against his touch when all he had to do was lightly trace the pad of his finger along her skin and it had her gasping and laughing beneath him.

"We won't be needing these any more." He hooked his fingers into the top of her underwear and shuffled back on his knees to remove them when (Y/n) lifted her legs.

She watched him throw the dark red lace onto the floor along with her top and a deep laugh rumbled past his lips when she pressed her feet against his hips and managed to push his boxers down rather easily from where she was laid on her back. If he wasn't going to let her sit up and do it manually, she had to get creative.

"That's both impatient and impressive, baby."

(Y/n) grinned up at him but she let her eyes fall down to watch him roll his boxers past his knees so he could kick them onto the floor. When they were off, (Y/n) sat up and looped her arms back round his neck, desperate to be as close as possible.

"Do you have to leave us for two whole days, Evan?" She knew exactly what kind of reaction she got from using his name and as expected, something burned deeper and darker in his eyes. He was going on a double shift today and wouldn't be home until tomorrow night.

She felt his hand move and his arm wrapped like an iron bar around her back just above her bum so he could reel her in and pull her closer. He held her so close and tight that he lifted her up from her bed and she had to shuffle her weight onto the back of her legs to stay tall against him like this. Her hands dug tightly into his shoulders to steady herself, but a silent gasp left her lips when his other hand dug lovingly into the underside of her thigh.

(Y/n) felt her back hit the headboard and her knees coiled up as Evan shifted forward so he was leaning on her chest and kneeled between her spread legs. He looked- and acted- like he had always belonged there between her thighs, and he always would.

"It's not by choice, baby, I'd much rather stay right here," His voice was gruff and thick but he barely got the last word out before he crashed his lips against hers in a silent battle. He dug his nails tighter into her thigh and moved her leg to hook it around his hip so he could brace his hand on the wall behind the bed. The last thing he wanted was to put all of his weight onto (Y/n) or give her bruises down her spine from the wooden headboard.

"Daddy!"

"Damn." Evan leaned down and buried his face in the crook of (Y/n)'s neck, feeling her shudder against him when he sank his teeth down into the soft flesh and tugged.

Lottie was crying.

That was a sure sign that she was now wide awake and wasn't likely to settle back to sleep or wait five minutes for one of them to go and comfort her. She was awake and already demanding attention which Evan was going to have to provide. He was going to be at work for the next two days without his wife or four year old in his sights or wrapped up in his arms. Evan needed whatever comfort he could grab with them both now before he headed off for work.

"I'll go get her," (Y/n) cupped Evan's face in her hands so she could peck his lips again. But she didn't get to move far before Evan nudged her back against the bed an gave her thigh another squeeze.

"Nope. She's mine until I have to leave," Evan grinned against her mouth but his attention turned to the bedside table when his phone pinged.

His thumb traced across her jaw and he pressed a sloppy kiss to her cheek before he reached across and grabbed his phone. Squinting at the brightness to try and see what notification he had and trying to turn off his alarm at the same time, now that he was well and truly awake.

His lips curved into a smile and he set his phone down before he opened his top bedside drawer and rummaged around until his fingers found the sweetie bag stuffed beneath his wallet, chargers and loose change.

He relished the way (Y/n)'s eyes widened and followed his movements when he placed the bag of jelly babies down on the pillow next to her.

"Pop a sweet, baby girl. You need some sugar." With a lasting kiss to her lips, Evan grinned against her mouth and gave her a squeeze before he slowly climbed off her and stood up.

Her Dexcom was connected to her phone, but Evan got the alerts and notifications too. He wanted to be safe. If (Y/n) started having a hypo during the night, she didn't always wake up, she was a heavy sleeper whereas every little noise woke Evan. He would wake up when his notifications went off so he would know if her sugar levels were dropping or rising too fast.

He made it a point to keep glucose sachets and a stash of sweets safe in the jeep on the off chance (Y/n) needed them to boost her levels while they were out. And Evan always had some sweets around the apartment. Jelly babies happened to be his weakness and he knew they were good to boost (Y/n)'s levels if she ever needed them.

Evan rattled a hand through his curls, flopping them around his head as he looked around the floor for his boxers. He couldn't be too annoyed at Lottie, his alarm would have gone off in exactly three minutes anyway and ruined the moment. And Evan wanted to spend the morning with his little girl while he got ready for the morning. He would eat breakfast with his family, then head to the station and wait for the chaos to ensue and the weekend to drag out into a year.

When he found his boxers, Evan snapped them back over his hips and stretched his arms high above his head, hitting the doorframe as he headed out into Lottie's room.

As expected, Lottie was sat up in her bed, a few tears traced down her face and her baby blonde hair askew in every direction. Poking up into ringlets and curls like she had been electrocuted. Evan took a guess that she had had a bad dream to wake up crying. Usually Lottie was hard to get out of bed, she didn't like going to bed early and hated getting up before seven in the morning.

"Hi sweetie," A grin curved onto Evan's lips and he flashed his teeth and stretched his arms out to pick her up. "Are you gonna get ready with me this morning before I have to go?"

He lifted Lottie up into his arms and let her curl up against his bare chest with her head snuggled beneath his chin and both arms looped around his neck rather tightly.

"You off to see grandad?"

A soft smile flooded Evan's face that made his eyes crease at the corners and he grinned into the top of Lottie's hair, bouncing her higher on his chest as he slowly padded across the hall back towards his and (Y/n)'s room.

Lottie didn't understand what a fireman was, she was only four. But she understood that Evan's job was important and he helped people every day when he went to work. But most of the time, she seemed to think Evan went to work just to see her grandad. She thought Evan and Bobby went out driving around the streets and had so much fun without her.

"Yeah, sweetie. I'm gonna see pops."

***

"Here,"

Evan looked up from where he was slouched down on the sofa and he sat up a bit straighter when Chimney stood over him, holding out Evan's signature cup. His brows quirked and he reached out for his cup, grinning when he realised Chimney had made him a cup of coffee.

"Did you remember-"

"Four sugars, because you need to be tanked up to function." Chimney glanced down at the cup with a raised brow before he handed it over to Evan who instantly took a large gulp. He couldn't understand how Evan could have so much coffee and all the sugar he did but without it he got headaches and could barely function on his usual hyperactive level.

"Thank you," He murmured around the rim of the cup while Chimney flopped down on the sofa beside him.

Evan found himself grinning again when he looked down at the cup he'd gotten last year from Lottie. (Y/n) had neatly painted 'No.1 Dad' in italics and then either side of that, Lottie had dipped her hands into plum purple paint and done hand prints on the mug. The moment he got it, Evan brought it straight down to the station and proudly told everyone it was his new mug he would be using from now on.

"So how'd it go yesterday, with Lottie?"

A sigh passed through Evan's lips as he sat up and hunched forward so his elbows could rest on his knees with one hand curled around his mug.

"I walked her in all smiles but the moment I turned to leave, she screamed. I had to run out before I took her with me."

Lottie was having a hard time being left at nursery and it didn't matter who took her. She would scream, cry and throw a tantrum when anyone tried to leave her. Evan wasn't sure if she was panicking that they wouldn't be there to pick her up in the afternoon or whether she was having attachment issues and didn't want to be without her parents. Either way, it broke his heart to take her and watch her go red in the face, begging for him to take her back home.

"What if you threaten to call Bobby?" Chimney knew Lottie was attached to Bobby, she spent every weekend with him and Athena and she had her grandad wrapped around her little finger.

"(Y/n) tried that, backfired though when Lottie cried for him to pick her up and he practically caved."

Bobby prided himself on being level headed and fair with the team and he was the best captain any of them had ever had. But when it came to his granddaughter, he couldn't seem to say no and it broke him to have her on the phone, crying and begging for him to come and take her home. He didn't know how to respond to that. He couldn't try and talk her out of it or calm her down like he would with the team.

When his phone buzzed in his pocket, Evan leaned forward and set his cup down on the coffee table. The smile faded from his lips when he looked at the notification on his phone.

Glucose level: 3mmol/l.

"Shit."

"You okay?"

"I just need to make a quick call," Evan was up and at the stairs before Chimney could give a reply. He swiped down onto (Y/n)'s contact and dialled her number.

Her glucose had dropped below the limit. His phone pinged against his ear with another two alerts from (Y/n)'s app, advising to sit down and have something to eat. He knew the third alert was a list of foods and drinks (Y/n) should have to boost her levels before she went into a hypoglycaemic state.

"Fuck, baby can you call me back or text me please? I'm starting to get a lot of alerts that your sugar is dropping. Please let me know you're okay." Evan tried ringing again after leaving a voicemail but he didn't get a reply and each ringtone that blared out made his heart beat faster in his chest. He sent three texts, one right after the other before he started to jog down the stairs.

(Y/n) couldn't be busy if her levels were getting this low, she would be feeling some sort of effect. She would be feeling lightheaded, dizzy, sweating and possibly confused. She had to ring him and let him know she was alright because if the alerts carried on he would be heading straight home to check on her.

When he got another notification that told him (Y/n) was in the danger zone with her levels, his body started to shake.

"Where's Cap?" His voice lowered an octave deeper than usual and his loud tone demanded attention with a force he didn't know he had. He watched Hen's eyes go wide as she silently pointed behind her towards Bobby's office, watching him with worry on her face.

Evan kept his phone in his hand as he jogged past the truck and down the small corridor, relief on his face when his father in law came into view.

"Buck… everything okay?"

"No. Look," He thrust his phone into Bobby's hand before he clamped both hands down on his hips and switched his weight from foot to foot in nervous panic. "(Y/n)'s levels are dropping and I can't get hold of her, she isn't answering me. I think I need to go check on her."

"Right. If you-"

Bobby cut himself off before he could properly start, tilting his head back when the siren started to blaze. He needed to go and check they had enough staff for this callout, then he could authorize Evan to head home and check on the girls.

The pair of them stood in perpetual panic, waiting for the first siren to start fading so the tanoid could announce their new call and tell them what kind of call they had. If it was a small one and not a huge pile up or a spreading town fire then Evan would be fine to leave.

"Medical assistance required at Suitcliffe apartments. Diabetic female, early twenties, collapsed and going into a state of shock. Repeat, medical personnel required."

Evan was running before Bobby could reach out and grab him. He skidded down the corridor, around the corner and towards the truck without grabbing his jacket or his helmet. His eyes locked with Eddie who had both their gear in his hands and a panicked expression on his face when he listened to the tanoid announcement repeat itself again.

"Buck, isn't that your building?"

"It's (Y/n)! She's having a hypo, get in the truck. Everybody get in the fucking truck now!"

***

"911, what's your emergency?"

"Hi… can someone help mummy?"

The meek, quiet voice on the other end of the line had shivers running up and down Josh's spine. He sat up straighter in his seat and pressed the GPS button to try and locate where the girl was calling from. She sounded young, he couldn't imagine her knowing her address or the name of wherever she was calling from.

"What's your name hun?"

"Lottie." She sounded sweet, there wasn't as much panic in her voice as some other kids whose calls Josh had taken before.

"Okay Lottie, why does mummy need help?"

His eyes narrowed in his screen as he started typing in her name and adding in the notes that a child was calling on behalf of a parent. He could tell he was going to need paramedics and possibly one of the fire stations if the girl and her mum were locked in their house and she couldn't unlock the door. Most little kids didn't know where the keys were kept or couldn't get to them. That left the fire team to bust down the door to get inside.

"Daddy said if… if mummy falls asleep on the floor, and shakes, I need to call for help."

That sounded like a seizure. And if the parent had briefed Lottie on how to call for help in this situation, that meant the mother was most likely an epileptic or had an ongoing medical condition that required a lot of help.

"Is your mummy shaking a lot? Does she have seizures?"

"No. She has sugary blood."

Josh leaned back in his chair and did a quick sweep of the dispatch centre until his eyes clocked sight of Maddie. Once the pair locked eyes, he lifted his chin and waved his hand at her to beckon her over to him. He had a creeping suspicion that the little girl on the phone might be the same Lottie Maddie was always talking about on her break.

"Everything okay?"

"I have a girl named Lottie on the line, her mummy had sugary blood… is it your niece?" His lips curled into a grimace and he sucked in a deep breath when Maddie visibly paled in front of him. She held her hand out to him and waited impatiently for him to hand over the mic and ear piece to her and they switched seats.

"Lottie, is that you sweetie? It's aunt Maddie." She wheeled the chair closer and bumped her knees against the desk, focusing in on the GPS location on the phone which made her stomach drop. This was her niece. The phone was in Evan's apartment.

"Maddie! Mummy needs help… I want daddy,"

"That's okay sweetie, I'll make sure your dad comes home. Now can you tell me where your mum is, where abouts at home are you?"

"She's in the living room, on the floor. She isn't talking to me anymore,"

There was no way Maddie could start to explain to Lottie about finding the emergency glucagon in the kitchen. She was too young to understand and far too young to be giving (Y/n) an injection or finding the powder or sachets to squeeze into her mouth. The best Maddie could do was rush paramedics to her family and stay on the line.

"How's her breathing? Can you hear her breathe or see her chest moving? Try to touch mummy's chest and feel if it's moving up and down." The chances were that (Y/n) was breathing okay but Maddie had to be sure. She had seen her sister in a lot of diabetic hypo or hyper states over the years. But Lottie had never had to call the emergency line before.

"She's panting."

"That's good." It was better than (Y/n) not breathing at all or wheezing or barely having any intake. "I need you to do me a favour sweetie, and try to push mummy so she's laid on her side. Daddy showed you the recovery position, remember? Arms stretched out, head tilted up, yeah?"

Evan wanted Lottie to know what to do in emergency situations, he, Bobby and Athena had talked her through various situations and told her enough stories about their work that she would know what to do. It was drilled into her about calling 911 for any sort of help and she knew the number because she always pointed it out whenever she saw one of the fire trucks.

With (Y/n) being type one diabetic, they needed Lottie to know what to do if (Y/n) became sick, collapsed or passed out and no one else was around. But every other time (Y/n) had collapsed, Evan had been home with them.

The one time they had been out in town together and (Y/n) couldn't control her sugar levels, she took Lottie with her to the station. And the team looked after them both.

"I've done it, mummy's very sweaty… daddy says that's a bad sign." Lottie laid her chest over (Y/n)'s arm and perched her chin on her mum's shoulder while she kept the house phone on the floor beside them.

Her mum was taking very shallow, panting breaths, she wasn't awake anymore and she was starting to sweat as well as shake.

When (Y/n) started to feel dizzy and felt panic bubbling up in her chest, she tried to get Lottie to sit and watch tv so she could go to the kitchen. She had some fruit juice to try and boost her levels but she still felt thirsty and like she was going to be sick. Then when a piece of fruit didn't do anything to boost her levels and she heard her phone alerting her, she began to panic.

Suddenly she was on the floor, trying to tell Lottie to call the emergency number before her eyes rolled to the back of her head and she was a trembling, sweating mess on the floor.

"It's okay sweetie because you know what? Your daddy and grandad are on their way now to you. They will be two minutes and I'll stay on the phone with you until they get there."

Maddie was relieved to see that the dispatch notification had gone straight to the one-eighteen station since they were the closest to the scene and available to help. That meant Evan, Bobby or both of them would be on this call and would be able to calm Lottie down and look after (Y/n) because Maddie could hear her niece beginning to cry.

For a brief second, she muted the line to Lottie and switched to the one-eighteen radio. She had to let them know what call they were going into.

"Dispatch to one-eighteen, Captain Nash?"

"This is Captain Nash."

"Please be advised your daughter is the casualty and inform firefighter Buckley that Lottie is on the emergency line. (Y/n) is unresponsive and in a hypoglycaemic state, she's been put in the recovery position and is still breathing at this point."

"Copy."

A groan tumbled past Evan's lips as he clasped his hands together and pressed them against his temple. He leaned forward and spread his knees apart so he could hunch forward like he was going to be sick. He taught Lottie how to call 911 and what to say and how to get help but he never dreamed his baby girl would actually have to do anything like this. It was to keep her safe, to prepare her but Evan never wanted her to have to call for help.

He had to get home to his girls.

With one hand still pressed against his temple, Evan rummaged his other hand in his back pocket until he found his house keys. He began to swirl them around his index finger, moving faster and faster to try and level out the anxiety bubbling up in his body.

He was thankful Bobby wasn't the one driving, he knew the Captain could be level headed no matter the situation, but Bobby might have gone a little soo fast and sharp around the corners if he was driving tonight.

Tremors rattled through Evan when the truck finally pulled up and he could throw off the headset and jump down to the pavement.

He bolted across the pavement to the apartment complex and punched in the keycode, swinging the door open wide enough for everyone to filter in behind him. Evan knew waiting for the lift would waste time when his apartment was on the fourth floor so he led the march up the stairwell.

Hen was hot on his heels, medic bag on her shoulder with Bobby a few paces behind her. While Chimney and Eddie headed over to the lift and waited with the gurney between them. They weren't carting the gurney up the stairs, they would hang back and take a slow journey up the lift.

"Lottie? Lottie baby it's me, where are you?!" Evan started to speak before he got the door open and when it swung wide, he diverted himself towards the kitchen. As soon as he reached the medicine cupboard, he flung it open, knocked out a few items he would tidy away later and grabbed the black zip up case.

"Daddy!"

Spinning on his heels, Evan bypassed Hen, almost knocking her out of his path so he could speed past the stairs and head into the living room. He dropped down to his knees, dumping the medic case on the floor near his feet before his arms cocooned around his daughter.

He reeled Lottie into his chest and kissed the side of her head, closing his eyes as he leaned forward. One hand cradled the back of her neck and the other bound around her waist, keeping her cuddled up into his chest as she whimpered and cried into his neck.

"Alright baby, shh it's okay. You've done so well… look, you stay with grandad while I help your mum, okay?" He sank back on his heels and tilted his head up to look at Bobby while Hen bent down on (Y/n)'s other side.

"Come here sweetheart," Bobby bent down and held his arms out, reeling Lottie into his chest after Evan kissed her temple and lifted her up.

As soon as Bobby retreated towards the kitchen with Lottie perched on his hip, Evan turned around and leaned down to look at his wife.

(Y/n) was laid on her side, both arms stretched out awkwardly in front of her and her head tilted back. The trembling was worse than Evan was used to, it was as if she was being roughly shaken back and forth by invisible hands. And he didn't have to move closer to see the sweat glistening on her skin like beads sparkling in the light.

With a gentle touch, he rolled (Y/n) over so she was laid on her back and Hen stretched her legs out. They didn't need her in the recovery position anymore unless she was at risk of throwing up and Evan doubted she would be sick.

"What's in here?" Hen tapped the black case Evan had brought through from the kitchen while she rummaged around in her medic bag and handed the blood pressure cuff over to Evan. She placed a monitoring clip onto (Y/n)'s index finger and got out her stethoscope, moving it to (Y/n)'s trembling chest.

"Emergency glucagon injections… God, her BP's plummeting,"

Evan held the blood pressure monitor so tightly he was about to snap it in half when he watched the numbers fall lower and lower with a drastic beep that started to scream in his ears. Once it finally found the accurate yet worrying reading, Evan unstrapped it and left it beside them on the floor.

"Come here baby," He whispered quietly as he slipped his hands beneath (Y/n)'s shoulders and lifted her up so he could rest her head and shoulders over his lap. His fingertips rubbed up and down (Y/n)'s bare arms to try and stimulate her and calm them both down.

His eyes focused on Hen when she unzipped the case and got out the two small viles and a needle. She was quick to fill the needle and take (Y/n)'s arm, dosing her up on glucagon that would break down through her body and boost her levels back up. It had been a few months since Evan had needed to use the emergency glucagon. Normally when (Y/n) had a hypo, he got her sat down, gave her some sweets or fruit or a can of fizzy pop and after twenty minutes and a few different things to eat, her levels evened out and the episode wore off.

"Pushing fluids wide open," Hen laid an IV bag out beside her leg and capped the needle into the back of (Y/n)'s right hand, taping it in place.

Evan found his phone in his pocket and opened up (Y/n)'s Dexcom app, placing his phone on the floor between him and Hen so they could both keep check of her levels. If they didn't start to rise soon (Y/n) would need another injection and an overnight stay at the hospital.

"Hey there," Hen rubbed her hand up and down (Y/n)'s arm and tried to smile reassuringly when she noticed (Y/n)'s eyes begin to flutter.

"Baby? Are you back with us?"

A quiet murmur fled past (Y/n)'s chapped lips and she slowly turned her head to the left, brushing her nose into Evan's thigh. Her limbs felt like they were made of gold, weighing her down to the floor and her pulse was throbbing and making her skin feel like it was vibrating. She managed to move her left hand and her arm flopped around above her until her fingers curled around Evan's bicep and she gave him a tight squeeze.

Her head flopped forward until her chin was tucked into her chest when Evan's hands slipped beneath her arms and he gently hoisted her up. His knees parted to the sides so (Y/n) could slot perfectly between his thighs with her back resting up against his chest and his arms cocooned around her waist.

(Y/n) dropped her hand back down and clenched Evan's hand tightly, groaning when shakes and spasms tore through her body and had her jolting back into Evan's chest.

"Levels are starting to pick back up, we should still take you to the emergency room though, you're going into shock." Hen waved her hand over at the boys when Chimney and Eddie wheeled the gurney inside, looking around to see what they were walking into.

"Are you alright, baby? You nearly gave me a heart attack," Evan pressed his lips to the top of (Y/n)'s head, breathing into her hair as he tightened his arms around her.

"You c-came home?" (Y/n)'s voice was quiet and croaky. Her throat felt dryer than the desert and her lips were chapped and in need of a drink. One thing about having these hypos was that they usually made (Y/n) thirsty and no amount of fluids could quench her thirst when she felt like this.

"Lottie called 911, but I would have come home even if she hadn't."

A fire burned in Evan's chest when (Y/n) suddenly began to cry. Her eyes were half-lidded and barely focused and her lower lip trembled as her body started to shake worse. She tucked her face into the crook of Evan's neck, brushing her nose against his skin while she clenched both hands tightly over his wrists, unable to stop herself from sobbing.

What had she done? She had frightened Lottie. She had scared their four year old and made her call 911. Lottie had never had to do that before, (Y/n) had never gotten into this state when she was alone with Lottie.

"Shh, hey, no it's okay she's alright. Shh," Evan moved one hand up to cup (Y/n)'s jaw while he tilted his chin down and smothered her temple with his lips. He began to sway them from side to side to try and calm her down, he didn't want her to panic or get upset. She couldn't help being ill and they had prepared Lottie for this kind of situation and in a few days it would be long forgotten to Lottie.

His head turned to the right and he looked up when Chimney patted him on the shoulder and motioned towards the gurney. They should take (Y/n) down to the hospital now.

"Alright, ready?"

Hen picked up the saline bag while Evan tilted around and curved one arm behind (Y/n)'s back while the other went beneath her knees. If this were a normal call out Evan wouldn't dream of picking someone up like this. But this was his home, his family. His wife. He lifted her up and laid her down on the gurney while Hen put the saline bag by her ankle so it wouldn't get crushed or tangled up.

"Mummy's alright now, see?" A small smile pulled at Bobby's lips as he bounced his granddaughter on his hip and walked away from the kitchen towards his daughter.

He was used to being the one to give (Y/n) her injections after her sugar levels plummeted or rose too high. He was the one who used to find her collapsed in her bedroom at home or pick her up from school when she started to become panicked and confused during a hypo. It was strange for Bobby to take a step back and let Evan be the one to look after (Y/n) instead.

But he would gladly step back and switch to looking after Lottie instead. She had tired herself out in all the panic and was now curled up in Bobby's arms with one hand smoothing up and down the LAFD logo on his shirt. Her head was tucked beneath his chin and she was almost asleep since Bobby had been stood in the kitchen, swaying her from side to side while he told her a story.

And he had unzipped his jacket, moved Lottie against his chest and zipped his jacket back up around her like a blanket so only her head was on show.

Bobby moved towards the stretcher, keeping Lottie secure with one arm while he stretched his other hand out and placed a can of Dr Pepper against (Y/n)'s thigh. She would need to eat or drink something sugary to boost her levels before they dropped again.

"Do you feel okay sweetheart?" He smiled when (Y/n) reached out to take his hand and he squeezed tight as the team headed towards the lift.

(Y/n) didn't have the words or the energy to speak so she settled for nodding and pulling her dad's hand closer to her chest. She could feel Evan's hand on her shoulder and her eyes were locked on Lottie curled up against Bobby's chest, almost asleep despite the panic.

Her eyes flitted up to look at Evan and she leaned her head to the side and nuzzled her cheek against his arm.

"Good job I've got the app on my phone as well, huh baby?"

[coeurify]

reader being a brat towards ellie all day until eventually ellie just snaps and goes “the fuck did you just say to me?” ahdhrhejrhhsbfjejejdhdj

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 18+ as always. brat!reader & brat tamer/mean!ellie. name calling, fingering!r receiving, slapping, spit, overstim, rough treatment, pinch of dacryphilia & dumbification

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: i went a little overboard. 3.5k words. sorry it took so long.

Maybe it had been too cold that morning. Perhaps you slept slightly wrong and woke up a little sore or had a bad dream. Or you could blame it on the way the sun pressed through the cracks of your window, irritating your eyes into an early rise. It didn’t really matter what had caused it, just that something did. From the moment you woke up, everything was irritating you.

The way your skin pressed against the suddenly itchy bed sheets.. how your sleeping shorts had become slightly off-kilter, it all sent tiny pricks of annoyance over your skin. As you huffed and sat in bed, your girlfriend woke beside you. Her hair was messy in the sort of way that would usually send you tumbling right back into a lying position, pressing kisses to her cheeks. Instead, you shooed her wandering hand away, pouting and mumbling for her to get off you. Usually, your bad mornings tumbled into this, a bratty attitude laid out over Ellie, scrambling to find a way to blow off steam. You just couldn’t help it. You knew it would always end in your favorite way to rid of this awful feeling.

You would swear up and down until you were dizzy and red in the face that you were not being a brat. Scoff that you weren’t pushing all the right buttons to get attention, that your attitude did not exist. Usually, Ellie would let the small comments or envelope-pushing slide past her. It was attention you were looking for, and Ellie knew better than to give bratty girls any of that. Today, however, you had kicked everything up a notch.

The creeping frustration that built on your bones was begging to be released, to be silenced into buzzing against your ears instead of the metal screeching it began to resemble. The only way you could find to coax the feeling down? Acting up. It started right away when the two of you left the bed. You turned your face when Ellie leaned in to kiss you, shrugging her off as you dropped out of the annoying fabric of your shorts.

“What’s got you in a mood?” Ellie asked quickly, watching as you kicked away the bottoms dramatically.

“Nothing,” you ignore her gaze as the word came out clipped. Now only in a long shirt, you pass through the door, Ellie hot on your heels. “You're not gonna put pants on?”

Your girlfriend and you both make your way down the stairs of your shared home, though your feet are a little heavier against the wood. You roll your eyes at her simple comment. “Don’t roll your eyes at me,” Ellie warned before you could answer her previous question.

Of course, you do it again, “Why would I? Got nothing to do..” your fingers find the wall as you stomp to the kitchen.

“Jesse and Dina are supposed to come over,” Ellie offered in a reply, trying again to grab at your tensed-up waist as you found the counter. You avoid the affection, flipping to look at her with a glare. “So tell them I don’t want them to!”

“Stop with the attitude,” Ellie groaned, earning her a quick middle finger as you slammed yourself behind the bathroom door next to the kitchen.

Your attitude the rest of the day was not better, nor was it very fair to your girlfriend. By midday, she knew the game you were playing, whether intentionally or not. The brattiness, the sly comments you made, or how you avoided doing anything she asked— it just built upon themselves with the ticking clock.

You were lying on the couch still early into the afternoon, your shirt bunched up enough to reveal the pretty lace piece you wore. That’s when Ellie asked you a favor. “Baby, pass me my sketchbook? I left it on the window ledge behind you,” her voice is gentle, not looking to push her luck with you. She was searching through her backpack to find pencils, green eyes finding your own after the question.

“No, I'm too comfy,” you shrugged, glancing over at her. Ellie’s jaw clicked, fist clenching around the pencils as she approached you. Not wanting to feed into your display, she simply leaned over you on the couch. Hovering for just a moment before she grabbed the sketchbook, she then shoved your feet so she could sit next to you. You had mumbled some words of disapproval, feet kicking against her a bit before a hand came down on your ankle, squeezing enough to end the childish display.

When the day dragged on, and your frustration found no cure, tensing all of your muscles up, you pushed a little more. You had shaken away the idea of simply telling Ellie you were wound up because, in your mind, that simply didn’t make sense. Instead, your only sign is a few of your bratty antics becoming a little more physical. You were more obviously searching for some sort of release to the pressure building.

When Ellie was in the kitchen, speaking on the phone to who you could only guess was Jesse, you pushed by her. The space was definitely big enough to squeeze through your two bodies without much touching, but you did. Your ass pressed against her front as you slid through the area between the counter and the island she had settled in between, making sure to take your time. You pretended to search through some papers on the island before stepping away. When Ellie reached to tug your shirt back, you slapped her hand away. Soon you were speaking loudly enough to embarrass her to the other line of the phone, “Stop being grabby, Ellie.”

If looks could kill, you were sure your knees would have caved in with the glare your girlfriend shot you. Ellie’s cheeks flushed as the voice on the phone started laughing, making her rub a hand over her forehead. You simply walked away, that tension in you only tightening when Ellie didn’t follow after you, instead acting unbothered.

When the sun began setting, you found yourself lying on your shared bed. You did your best to focus on the pages beneath your fingers, but your mind instead drifted to Ellie. You had resorted to ignoring her after she didn’t play into your game, stomping up the stairs and into your room. It left you alone and wondering too much about what she may be up to downstairs without you.

The book you attempted to use as stress relief was no help in easing you; its white pages only irritating the pads of your fingers more. The flame in your chest was licking all of the surrounding areas now— and no book or act of brattiness seemed to be dousing it into something manageable. What you needed was Ellie, and right on cue, she walked through the door.

Ellie was tugging on a jacket over her white undershirt in a way that brought your eyebrows into a furrowed stance, a twinge of unease adding to the annoyance already there at the thought she may be leaving. “Where are you going?”

Your girlfriend found your gaze as she searched around for something. “Seeing Dina and Jesse since you didn’t want them over,” Ellie’s fingers wrapped around the keyring she seemed to be looking for.

The words from earlier revisit you, how you had complained about your friends coming over. It was a little embarrassing, but any of that feeling was drowned over by the growing fire that found its way to your throat from Ellie’s tone.

“I don’t want you to go over there either,” you cross your arms. By now, there was no denying you were just being bratty, and a little ridiculous. There was no excuse for how you tried to poke at Ellie’s demeanor with the demand, looking to egg her on into some sort of reaction that she denied you all day.

“Babe,” Ellie sighed, “don't do this right now.”

You were treading on thin ice, the cracks of the frozen water taking place on Ellie’s face first, a frown building on her pretty lips. “I said don’t go,” you try again when she steps to the door.

“And why shouldn’t I?” your girlfriend challenges, pausing at the door frame as green eyes searched for a hint of truth behind your annoyed face.

“Because I told you not to.”

Ellie actually scoffed at that remark, feet planting solidly in between the bedroom and hallway, a clear sign you had absolutely gotten your way. “Because you told me to?”

Still, you pushed more than you should. “Yea, can’t you fucking listen?” the foul language asked for a death wish, one that you knew you were sure to get when Ellie straightened up, looking away from your place on the bed.

“What the fuck did you just say to me?” Ellie steps closer to the bed, jacket falling off of her shoulder as the room seems to close in; walls gain a nasty tilt to them as she stands above you. It leads the book to fall off the side of the bed as you move to your knees, hurrying to where Ellie stood at the edge.

The frustration you had felt all day was reaching its peak, unable to form a wall against any words from falling from your mouth as you continue your little rant, despite knowing you had already pissed Ellie off enough.

“Think I was pretty clear,” your voice is a little more shaky than you would like it to be, but there's no helping the noise in your throat with the way Ellie is staring at you. You can feel it all over, though the heat it causes peaks in your lower stomach.

“You’re such a brat,” Ellie grits, the jacket shoved completely off, causing a mess on the floor as she finally gives in. A hand reaches forward, gripping your chin harshly enough that it stings, lips pressing open. “You think you can tell me what to do, especially after acting up all fuckin day? You should be apologizing.”

With your cheeks squished uncomfortably against your teeth, it's hard to sound very demanding. You still try your best, eyes narrowing as you speak, “I am not a fucking brat.” The answer seems to anger Ellie even more; her eyes send a sickly excited feeling through your veins. It burns against your mind like a drug you can’t get enough of. You knew what came next, and yet you still pushed your thinning luck.

“And you think you can tell me what to do? Tell me to apologize?” The words earn a slight tap on your cheek with her fingers in a warning. It almost makes you back down, though the losing blow is Ellie’s next move. A quick shove back into the plush blankets of your bed have you scrambling before your wavering confidence can protect your stance. The knee that slots between your waiting thighs is the kill shot, Ellie now caging you in.

“You don’t wanna say sorry, angel?” the girl asks, the denim of her jeans pressing against the lace panties in a way that has you struggling to stay coherent, a small poke in the right direction of ending this overwhelming pent-up energy. You only shake your head in response.

“Then I’ll just have to make you, hm?” Ellie has lost any softness to her words, likely chipped away by the fraying patience she had for your actions today. Her jean-clad knee presses into you again, moving gently against your underwear. “Make you behave again,” she continues, watching as your lip tugs between the pearly white of your teeth.

“El-” you begin, only to be cut off by her tsking. “Brats don't get to talk. You know that.”

“Good thing I’m not a brat,” you protested, leading another hand to find a grip on your cheeks, Ellie’s lips curling into a scowl. “Such a loud fucking mouth today, huh, angel? Why don’t you open it for me again?”

Though Ellie may be posing it as a question, you knew her far too well to take it as that, mulling over your two choices. Listen, part your lips for her, and let go of some of that brattiness that pulled on your hair as it owned you— or don’t. To continue your thread of personality from today, you opted for the second. Though you don't keep your jaw locked too tight, making it easy when Ellie’s palm holds your chin and lets her thumb pass through your lips, pressing against your tongue and forcing your mouth open. “Can’t ever listen,” your girlfriend muttered, mouth moving slightly before she leaned in further, a string of saliva dripping from her parted lips and directly into your mouth as her hand moved.

The act has you squeezing around her knee, a low whine threatening to rise when the leg keeps you from finding any friction. “Swallow, baby,” Ellie asks, and this time you listen. It’s, without much thought, an act you had done a hundred times before now, though it now meant Ellie had the upper hand. “You wanna listen now?” the auburn-haired girl sneers, making you glance away.

“Want you to tell me what’s got you acting like this,” she makes quick work of bunching your sleep shirt up, pulling away from you as her fingers dip into the band of the lace you wear, peeling it down your legs. You should feel a little ashamed, shirt pushed almost above your tits, panties discarded on the floor, all while Ellie is completely clothed. That shame doesn’t come. Instead, a feeling of need floods your senses— knocking you off your flimsy built pedestal. You bite your tongue to halt any reply.

The tensed-up flesh of your thighs is kneaded by her large hand, a condescending sort of coo coming from Ellie. “Aw baby, you’re all stiff..” the words don’t ease you, and neither does her palm pressing your thighs open. When she’s met with your glistening cunt, the wetness purely from all of the attitude you had dished out today and her rough handling, she actually laughed. It’s low and mean, eyes flicking up to you. “You all wound up? That’s you’re acting like a brat? Need someone to fuck it away?”

Ellie murmurs her words like they’re only for her to hear, and maybe they are. She wasn’t stupid; she could see that frustration dripping off you all day. She had just waited for the cue to have a go at you for it. Her fingers brush over your slit only once before she's above you again, a hand pressed into the blanket near your head. The denial of her touch has you mad again, huffing and refusing to meet the green eyes. “Tell me I'm right. Tell me you were a bitch all day 'cause you wanted this.”

You can feel the muscle of your tongue burn from how hard you’ve bitten it to keep from spilling out words Ellie wanted to hear. The burn is quickly overshadowed by the quick sting that takes place on your cheek when Ellie’s palm finds home there after a swift and light slap. It wasn’t rough, not that you would mind if it were, only used to grab your attention. The sting subsides as she speaks. “Look at me and tell me, or I won't touch you.”

The threat is enough to claw out of your little silent trick, the brat inside you finally shoved down for a moment by a needier, whinier side of you. “You’re right,” you whine, hips bucking up as her hand travels toward your bare cunt. Ellie accepts the answer, middle finger dipping into your folds, sliding through the wetness there. “I shouldn’t even let you come,” she threatens, the finger pressing into you slowly. The act pulls a whine that's even louder than before, only built upon with more small whimpers as the long digit begins to move. This was the feeling you had been searching for all day, and Ellie was glad to provide it, despite the acts you both put on.

“Fuck you,” you manage to reply at the empty threat, though that brings another finger into your center, stretching out around your squeezing walls.

“I am,” Ellie bragged, scissoring her fingers as they pressed in and out at a quicker pace. Your head falls back, mouth open wide enough to puff out little continuous exhales, each shaking in a way that breaks any semblance of control you could pretend to have. “You just needed me to fuck you open on my fingers to shut you up, hm?”

You answer with a roll of your hips, pushing down as her thumb joins the deadly mix, circling your clit. Her thrusts give you no chance for rest, a constant pressure building in your core. A heat rises to your cheeks as you feel your mind dip into a state of incoherence, your words coming a little jumbled before you iron the sounds out. “El- fuck..” Is all that comes, though it’s enough for Ellie to triple her pace, leaving your eyes glassy. The unshed tears blur your eyes, unable to find a way to fire the right signals in your brain to blink them away. Incapable of finding a way to communicate to Ellie with anything more than soft moans and cries. Part of you still wanted to brat, to find some remark to fight the dirty words that press from your girlfriend’s angry lips. It's useless.

“Pissing me off all fucking day, making me miss hanging out with our friends,” she rasped, licking her lips as she looked down at your weeping pussy, the wet spot on the sheets growing with every plunge into you. “For what? So I could ruin this pretty pussy?”

A quick nod is your only reaction, the knot in your lower belly threatening to break with more of the derogatory words, “Such a fucking whore,” Ellie muses, regarding you as you lick over your dry lips, whimpering in a lame attempt to pretend her words didn’t please you. “If you needed me, could've just asked, you know? Woulda’ made you feel so nice, baby.. but I think you like it better like this, right?”

Ellie is babbling by now, obviously just as affected by the act as you are. You finally answer, “ ‘S no fun to ask,” the words are slurred, gasped out by a sore throat. The exact time you speak, your orgasm comes rushing through you, walls throbbing around Ellie’s fingers as you soak them, dripping onto the bed beneath your body. The ache in your bones finally subsides, arms going lax against the bed as the auburn-haired girl works you through the high.. and then doesn’t stop. It causes your head to lift, squirming as her thumb finds your sensitive clit again, the fingers moving at a languid pace. The filthy noise of them dipping into your sopping cunt has you shivering, searching for comfort in your girlfriend’s eyes. You find none; the pupils glazed over as she stares directly at you, stone cold.

“You thought I’d let you go with what you wanted?” Ellie chides, a few pieces of her hair falling forward as she makes a few more slow thrusts. “You wanted to get off so bad, so you will. Til’ I decide it's enough.”

“Ellie,” you break, tears spilling from their cage within your eyes, hot trails down your cheeks as your girlfriend quickens her pace. “Please.” falls from you simultaneously with the tears that find your lips. It's the first time you’ve said that word all day, a simple nod to the fact you had given up on bratting— too enthralled by the overwhelming feeling Ellie brought upon you.

Another coo sounds in your ear as Ellie leans closer, her free hand coming to wipe at your red cheeks, fingers wet from your tears. “So pretty when you cry, baby,” is all she says, ignoring your plea. Not that it was clear what you were begging for, to you or her. Still, you mumble the word a few more times— a prayer you recite as the other girl’s motions do anything but holy actions, sending you into a rambling state.

“Please, please, please,” you rattle on, too far past the point of looking for any other words. “Please what?” Ellie asks, pressing a few kisses over the tear-stained cheeks. Unable to answer, another sob bubbles up from a hard plunge into you, rendering your mind officially useless. All you could hear, see, and feel was Ellie— and you weren’t upset with it.

“Can't answer?” your girl assumes, chuckling against the part of your neck she bites into. “Forget your words, baby?” When you nod at that, Ellie’s tongue licks over the teeth marks, but you can feel her smile against your skin. The smug feeling radiates off of her with every press into you, the sounds that accompany it only push her ego even fucking higher.

Your hips involuntarily grind into her, body searching for an end to the overwhelming heat. The heat that has poured into the room is almost awful, clinging to your skin with a sheer layer of mugginess and a smell that was only bearable to the two of you. When Ellie bites at your neck again, you see red. The stinging sensation, paired with the mess she was making in between your shaking thighs had you tumbling into another high. This one sucks any air from your lungs, vision doting black before you force the teary eyes shut. Your fingers grasp at whatever they can find, twirling into the fabric of her shirt to seek comfort.

“Where’d that attitude go? Not so much of a brat anymore, hm?” is what you hear next, the phrase falling on ringing ears.

The following silence is enough of an answer for Ellie, who gives you time to work through the aftershocks of your second orgasm before pulling her fingers out. You begin to think you may be able to rest now, but that dream is killed when you feel something tap against your lips—without much thought, you part them, met with the taste of yourself as she dips the wet digits into your mouth.

“Clean my fingers for me, baby. Wanna use my mouth this time.”

[partycatty]

I don’t know if you’re open to requests but me and my friend have this hc and I would like to see your rendition of it. The reader is stressed about their Algebra test coming up and since Johnny has a PhD in quantum mechanics and deals with that stuff, he offers to help. And as the reader is thinking on the problem Johnny gives them, they put the pencil in their mouth seductively but are unaware of it and Johnny gets a little… riled up. And you can take it from there :)

Love ya !! 🥰💜

ough i love me a big smart man

johnny cage > teach you a lesson

notes: my last fic took all of my mental strength for smut for now so it's only gonna be implied

[ masterlist ]

• damn you and your stubbornness, you're here trying to get your engineering degree and the class you put off all these years finally creeps up on you... and you hate math. thankfully, your best friend has a phd (which still baffles you when you think about it too much; not that he's stupid, more that it's so out of left field for him that you thought he was joking when he first told you).

• knocking on his door, he answers so quickly you wonder if he tumbled down the stairs to answer you in record time. he was always ready to do anything you asked of him, so you knew he was the right person to go to

• you explain the situation, about how you're teetering on the edge of just tearing your textbooks apart with your teeth before he slows you down with his hands on your shoulders.

• johnny ushers you in, welcoming you to his dining room after sweeping the various accumulation of stuff littering every surface to a degree.

• johnny's smarter than you gave him credit for, focusing on his well-articulated lecture but you find yourself missing the middle portion of his lessons when his veiny arms are exposed as he rolls up his shirt. his hands were so defined, so strong...

• "are you even listening?" he groans dramatically, waving said head in front of your face. "you wanna pass this class or not?"

• you swallow thickly, though the subject is still shamefully fuzzy in your mind. nodding slowly, johnny pinches the bridge of his nose before resuming.

• "maybe this'll be easier if we..." he leans over your seated form, towering over you as he flips your notes to a blank page over your shoulder. "here." he writes an example equation, a relatively easy one so he could break it down for you.

• shaking the dirty thoughts, you try to pick the equation apart, separating what you know is in the correct order of operations, but you're stumped when the denominators don't add up like they should.

• the tip of your pencil brushes against your bottom lip as your brows knit in thought. it swiped across the width of your lip, pushing in ever so slightly against your teeth as you desperately try to find a way past the confusion.

• johnny falls eerily silent, fists clenching as he breathing feels hot and heavy down your neck. he rubs his face, circling the table with a long sigh. the noise draws your attention, completely oblivious to how tight his pants were from the display.

• "sorry," you sheepishly look down at the paper. "this is... a lot."

• "no... no! you're fine!" johnny snaps himself back to reality at your puppy eyed expression, like his desperation for you was somehow your fault when it was really his for not knowing how to keep things in control.

• you feel smaller as you sink into the chair, trying to retrace your steps through the numbers. instinctively, the pencil finds its way to your mouth again and you gently suck on the shortened eraser, your tongue pressing against the head of it as the multiplication takes its time in your mind.

• johnny chokes on air, punching his chest to hide his flustered face. he can't even look at you or you might notice the steam from his ears.... why were you here again?

• "you're not helping," you remind him teasingly, and he jogs to your side with a cool breath to regulate his temperature. "did i do this right?"

• johnny leans down, his chin almost on your shoulder as he inspects your work. the error stands out to him at lightning speed and he pulls at your wrist, abruptly tugging the pencil from your mouth and slamming it against the table.

• "there," he huffs out, circling the error with his finger. "five over nine. not nine over five." his eyes flick between the back of your head and the pencil, and the way the eraser shines. he might pass out if he thinks too hard about it.

• he should've picked an easier equation so you'd stop thinking so damn hard about this, he thinks. the pencil wanders back between your lips and it's when you bite down on the pink tip his flat palm slaps the table, making everything rattle. you jump and look up with a shocked expression.

• "can you... not." he breathes, cheeks red and brows furrowed.

• "not... what?" you look down, maybe you had a bad habit in the math process?

• "don't do that." he's being vague, it's getting on your nerves.

• "you're gonna have to be clearer."

• "keep that thing away from your mouth," johnny points at your fingers twirling the pencil, an accusatory finger firm like he caught it committing a crime.

• "the pencil?" you're caught off guard, wondering what his issue is.

• "yes, the damn pencil!" he groans, running a hand down his face. "can't think straight for a single second when you're... you know."

• it clicks in your head, what he's asking of you. it flusters you but also fills you with an egotistical desire. you always had a lingering crush on your best friend, but you never wanted to act on it out of fear of losing the best thing that ever happened to you. johnny's deep, dark voice makes your core stir as you think about the possibilities, how to test the waters from here.

• you slowly place it flat against your tongue, trying to ignore the taste as you relish in the way johnny twitches his eye at the sight. he wants to look away but you're forcing him to, that knowing glint fatal for his heart. the thought of your tongue holding the heavy weight of his thumb, or worse, his dick, is driving him up the wall.

• johnny stomps beside you, grabbing your wrist and pulling the pencil away, managing to throw it out of your grasp and capturing your lips with his own as the pencil rolls off on its own adventure.

• his kiss is consuming, far too much for your mind as you grow dizzy at the loss of breath. his hands pull at your face and neck, trying to squish your face against his as he swallows every whimper and gasp for breath you expel.

• just as he pulls away to get oxygen, his thumb slides between your lips and presses against your tongue, your hot and heavy breath driving him wild.

• "are you really trying to do this to me?" he asks as your lips wrap around his finger, sucking gently. his eyes flutter shut and he groans, nodding downward with his head.

• "maybe," you quietly reply through his finger, sinking to your knees in front of him, sliding your hands up his outer thighs. you're perfectly in line with his crotch, but your eyes are too busy admiring the flustered actor above you as he looks down his nose. he pulls his thumb away, groaning at the thin trail of saliva that falls down your lip from the loss.

• "i'll teach you a lesson," he reaches for his belt buckle, the clinking of metal dulling every sense but your hearing.

• you can study later... probably.

[se4son-of-the-witch]

let me love you - matt sturniolo

a/n: first actual smut 🤗🤗

warnings: smut!!!

matt x fem reader !

-

You knew this was wrong. You shouldn't be in Matt’s bed, laid upon his chest. But you couldn't help it. Who else were you supposed to go to for comfort?

A few days prior, you and your boyfriend had broken it off. You had got tired of the way he was treating you. Constantly ignoring you, always partying, and always commenting heart eyes on other girls' posts. He didn't take the break up too well though. He said you were being over dramatic, that all of those things meant nothing.

And that's exactly why you're at Matt’s house. Before you got with your boyfriend, you and Matt used to hook up with each other. It was never an official thing, just two horny people who were looking for someone to fuck. So when you texted Matt, saying that you needed him, he of course let you come over.

The two of you were lying on his bed, tangled up in each other. Your legs were wrapped up in his, his arm firmly wrapped around your waist. His fingers occasionally trace up and down your side.

"Matt," you mumble, looking up at him. He looks down at you, gazing into your eyes. You try to read his expression. Based on the darkness in his eyes, you could tell he wanted you. With this in mind, you rub up and down his leg with yours, attempting to get his attention.

"What are you trying to do?" he asks, tension in his tone. You look up at him through your lashes, trying to get him to do something. His hand leaves your hip, traveling down to your ass. He gives it a firm squeeze, sending chills through your body.

You quickly sit up, positioning yourself on his lap. His hands instinctively land on your waist with a firm grip. You lean in, placing your lips by his ear, "I wanna fuck you," you whisper seductively. Your lips attach to his neck, leaving warm kisses.

Heat spreads throughout his body, all the way down to his dick. You feel him getting harder beneath you, making you smirk against his skin. You pull away, taking a look at his face. "So fuck me then," he says lowly.

Before you can do anything, he leans forward, placing his lips on yours. Your hands find their way to his neck, fingers tangling in his hair.

The kiss quickly turns hungry, his tongue dancing with yours. As it continues to heat up, you feel yourself grinding into him. The friction between you causes a moan to escape your lips, making him smirk.

He eventually grinds up into you, causing moans from the both of you. You pull away, slightly panting. This allows him to flip the two of you, with you now beneath him.

With your back pushed up against the pillows, he has full access to you. He moves down your body, stopping at your lower stomach. His fingers hook into your shorts, pulling them down. As his fingers graze against your skin, you bite back a groan.

Matt looks up at you, his eyes now full of lust. "Take your shirt off, baby." Your hands find the bottom of your shirt, pulling it off. You throw it across the room, not caring where it lands. The bulge in Matt’s pants grows bigger at the sight in front of him. You pushed against his pillows, lips swollen, and half-naked is enough to get him worked up.

You watch as Matt’s hands pry your legs open, exposing your lacy panties to him. He smirks at them. "You were expecting this weren't you?" he teased. He dips his head between your thighs, centimeters away from your clothed cunt. Your breath hitches as he places a kiss right where you need him. He looks up at you before he begins to place kisses on your inner thighs.

You squirm as he gets closer to your pussy causing him to grip onto your thighs. His tight grip is enough to keep you still. "Matt," you breathe out, "please."

His fingers slowly slide down your panties, pulling them off. You watch as he puts the lace in his back pocket. Matt’s eyes quickly focus on your cunt, glistening with arousal. You swear you can see his mouth-watering, eager to taste you.

His fingers waste no time sliding between your folds, teasing you. He looks up at you, watching as you bite your lip. A cocky smirk spreads across his face. He barely has to touch you and you become a mess.

He gathers the slick on his fingers before pulling them away. "Taste yourself, mama." He brings his fingers up to your mouth. He tugs on your bottom lip, forcing you to open your mouth. You take the two fingers in your mouth, gently sucking on them. He watches you intensely, not breaking eye contact even for a second.

He pulls his fingers out, which are now coated in saliva. His wet fingers trace down your stomach, causing your muscles to tense, all the way down to your cunt.

Finally, he attaches his mouth to you, causing you to let out a gasp. Your hands make their way into his hair, fingers tangling between the curls. Your stomach muscles tense as he begins to suck on your clit.

"Matt." Ahigh-pitched whine escapes your mouth, which had Matt smirking into your pussy. You feel his hands wrap around your thighs, trying to keep you steady as he devours you like a starved man.

Matt’s tongue moves from your clit and down to your hole. A knot in your stomach forms as he teases you, tongue centimeters away from entering you. As you feel him push his tongue in, you grab his hair, trying to keep your composure.

He moves his tongue in and out, causing moans to leave your lips. The noises you make cause him to moan, sending vibrations through your body. Your hips buck into his face instinctively, pushing his face deeper into your pussy.

"Matt, I'm so close," you whimper. He looks up at you through his lashes, keeping intense eye contact with you. A high pitch shriek leaves your throat as you feel his thumb press onto your clit. "Fuck!"

With Matt’s tongue fucking in and out of you and the pressure on your clit, your orgasm begins to build up. “Just like that, fuck," you breathe out. Matt keeps his consistent pace, trying to get you to cum.

With one last thrust of his tongue, you feel the knot in your stomach come undone. Your trembling thighs squeeze his head as you cum. Your eyes roll back as you feel yourself release, coating his face with your juices.

Matt pulls away from your thighs, his chin glistening with your arousal. "You did so good, baby." He gives your thigh a reassuring squeeze. You watch as he hovers over you once more, leaning into you. His lips press against your ear, "lemme make you feel good."

Your body heats up at his words. Your thighs squeeze together, your body yearning for him once more.

His hands find their way to his pants, pulling them down. Your eyes dart down to his boxers, his bulge evident in front of you. He slowly pulls them down, freeing his hard cock, which slaps his lower stomach. Your mouth waters at the sight, your eyes blown out with lust.

You hungrily watch as he slowly strokes his cock, his head falling back. As spit falls from his mouth and onto his hand, you start to feel impatient. You’re so desperate for him it's almost embarrassing.

After a few more strokes, he makes his way between your legs. He lines himself up with you, slowly pushing himself in. A gasp escapes your lips as he deliciously stretches you. He watches your face as your eyebrows scrunch in discomfort.

Once he's completely bottomed out, he stays still for a second, giving you time to adjust. As the pain turns to pleasure, you tap on his arm. "Matt, move," you beg.

His strokes start slow. One of his hands rests on your stomach, feeling himself push into you. Moans tumble from your lips as he thrusts into you, hitting all of the right spots.

"Do I make you feel good?"

"Mmm, fuck," you mumble out. He begins to pick up the pace, causing you to throw your head back.

His hand finds its way around your neck, forcing your head back up. "Look at me when I fuck you." He keeps his hand around your throat, gently squeezing it.

Matt moves himself closer to you, causing him to hit a new spot. A loud, pornographic moan leaves your mouth, causing him to groan. As he continuously hits that spot, you can't stop your eyes from rolling back.

As Matt continues to thrust into you, his pace now becoming animalistic, you can't help but clench around him. This causes his hips to lose their rhythm. "Fu-fuck," he chokes out. He falls into you, his head resting on your neck.

The feeling of his lips on your neck doubles the pleasure he's giving you. "Matt," you whine out. That familiar feeling in your stomach is forming once more. "I’m so close," you choke out.

"Fuck, me too," he groans out. You can't help but admire him as he pulls away from your neck. How his hair is all messy, his head thrown back, and the prettiest sounds leaving his throat.

As Matt’s dick hits the spongy spot deep inside of you, you can't help but cry out. Your toes curl as he continues to drill into you, hitting that spot over and over. Matt notices as you grip his sheets, your knuckles turning white. "I’m gonna cum," you choke out, your brain turning all fuzzy.

He continues his pace, eager to make you finish. "Cum for me, baby. Make a mess all over me."

Those words are enough to send you over the edge. Your eyes roll back as you feel yourself release. Moans spill from your mouth as you cum around his cock, which is still relentlessly thrusting into you.

Matt’s not too far behind you. A few more thrusts and you feel his hips stuttering. He cums inside of you, letting out a mixture of whimpers and moans.

After a few minutes, he pulls himself out. He lays down next you to, slightly panting. You can see his chest rise and fall rapidly, trying to catch his breath.

He looks over at you, making sure you're alright. He leans into you, placing a peck on your lips. "You did so good for me, pretty girl." His fingers find their way to your hair, playing with it as you curl into his side.

After some time, you eventually fall asleep, completely forgetting about your ex-boyfriend. Every time the two of you fucked, Matt would leave you worn out. You weren’t complaining though, how could you?