#i have always called them gym shoes but this seems to be rare

[fillejondrette]

(also where are you from)

[mariabtsos]

Whistle ||p.jm||

Description: you and Jimin meet after your dogs get out.

Genre: Non Idol AU, neighbors-to friends-to lovers, Non-idol!Jimin x f!reader, fluff LOTS of fluff.

TW: pets escaping.

Word Count: 3k+

This was not happening. There's no way This was happening to you.

Your dogs had always been well-behaved, had never escaped, and were your personal little angels, so why they chose today of all days to run out on you beats you.

You had let them out in your small backyard so they could get some exercise in whilst you got ready for work, you had a few minutes to spare so you decided to do your hair, and once you were done it was right on time for you to go get your dogs back in the house and head out.

Your fur babies had other plans.

Panic slowly bubbling inside you when you saw your backyard…empty, no sign of them and one of the wood planks almost off your fence. “Fuck,” you muttered, running to get your shoes on so you could look for them right away. You were so angry and sad, you'd heard all thensotries of how some pet owners didn't see their pets for months, maybe even years, the thought of your dogs being away from you like that terrified you.

Mona, your oldest dog had always been the type to inhale her food, she got hungry quickly, what if she starved? Miles, your 10 month old puppy, was Mona’s little sidekick, he'd follow her to the ends of the earth. What if they got runover? What if they got taken by someone? What if they got attacked?

You couldn't stop the tears from streaming down your face as you yelled dogs’ names whilst walking around your neighborhood, you made it back to your street and were ready to admit defeat, deciding you were going to call out of work if you couldn't find them and then call your local shelters to see and animal control.

And then you saw them, who was the person with them?

Jimin rarely had a day off, but when he did he liked to sit out on his front steps whilst he drew, it helped him relax and let go, it was something he'd picked up during quarantine along with building small lego sets. However, today he was just enjoying the sun, this spring had been incredibly inconsistent as far as the weather went, so to have a nice warmer morning was a breath of fresh air for him.

His friends were still sleeping. Usually, a couple of them would be up and ready to go to the gym but they had stayed up way past midnight celebrating his Yoongi hyung's birthday.

Jimin was taken out of his thoughts by the sounds of barking, he'd had his eyes closed whilst he sunbathed and he was shocked when he opened them and saw two medium sized dogs playing towards the end of their driveway, they had no collars on, and the smaller of the two seemed very very muddy. Dogs in this neighborhood were supposed to be leashed at all times, so there was only two possibilities, either they were stray dogs, or they had gotten out of their house.

They are too plump and well kept to be strays, he thought. The smaller dog, although muddy, seemed to have been groomed recently, so he leaned more towards the second option.

“Hey puppies,” he approached them gently to ensure he wouldn't scare them off, but they were all but skittish, the moment they saw Jimin they ran to him and jumped, nearly tackling the poor man onto the wet grass as they licked him all over his face.

“Hello to you too,” he giggled, “where's your owner huh?” He managed to sit up, petting both of their heads as they panted happily.

Jimin looked around the street and didn't see anyone walking by, “well, in the meantime why don't I give you both a quick wash and some food, hmm?” He whistled and they followed him into his shared house, where it still seemed like none of his friends were awake yet.

He took them to the bathroom and rinsed their dirty areas with water and some of the leftover shampoo from when the other dogs came to visit, he was grateful Jungkook was the kind to buy really big bottles of everything so he had more than enough to make sure the dogs smelled and looked good.

He ended up feeding them out on the porch in case their owners walked by looking for them; bathing them couldn't have taken more than 20 minutes, and by the time they were eating Jimin heard an unfamiliar whistle and a worried voice calling out for someone.

“Mona! Miles!” The dogs immediately perked up and started trotting back down the driveway, Jimin following close behind.

The moment you saw them you felt the weight of the world leave your shoulders, and then you realized they had been right across the street from your house this entire time.

“Oh my babies I was so worried,” you couldn't help the tears streaming down your face as they jumped on you.

“I'm guessing you're their owner?”

You looked up and found an extremely attractive guy looking at you with the warmest eye smile you had ever seen, “yeah, I let them out this morning and they must’ve loosened one of my fence planks, I've been looking for them for the past 30 minutes,” you admitted, quickly wiping your tear stained face, “were you keeping an eye on them this whole time?”

“Yeah, kinda hard not to when they jump on you like that,” he chuckled, “I'm Jimin by the way,” he extended his hand out to you, you gave it a firm shake, “Yn.”

“I hope you don't mind, the little one was a bit muddy so I gave him a quick wash, I also gave them both some food,” he explained as you took your hand back, “I don't mind at all! Thank you for taking such good care of them,” you smiled sincerely.

Jimin thought it was the prettiest thing, he didn't really believe in love at first sight but he definitely believed in attraction at first sight, and he was definitely attracted to you. You were wearing a flowy black dress that went just above your knees, your hair was down and you had two small necklaces hanging around your neck.

“Well, I have to get back to my house so I can try and get to work at a decent time, thank you again so much Jiminie!” your voice took him out of thoughts, and when he finally focused on you again he noticed you blushing, “no problem!”

You ushered your dogs to follow you back to your home, and Jimin was elated to know you lived across the street, how come he'd never seen you? Once you were in your house you scolded your dogs, and sent them into their kennels for the time being, you called your boss explaining what had happened and that you were on your way to work.

As you gathered your belongings and got in your car, you couldn't help but sigh one more time, being so grateful that Jimin had found and taken care of your dogs, even if it wasn't a long time, you were happy to know there were people like him in the world.

“I still can't believe you used the good hair dryer on two strange dogs, what if they had fleas!?” Jin complained as everyone gathered for lunch. It'd been a couple hours since Jimin had returned your dogs to you, and he was starting to regret telling his friends about it.

“C’mon hyung! If it was one of our dogs I would've wanted all the good stuff used for them,” Yoongi retorted as he set down the pan of bulgogi he had just made, Jimin immediately grabbed a piece with his chopsticks.

“I guess,” the oldest gave in, “you said she lives across the street?” Jimin nodded as he chewed.

“I didn't even know we got a new neighbor,” Namjoon added.

“Do you think she'd want to have a playdate with her dogs and our dogs?” Jungkook piped up.

“Literally all I got was her name and y'all are already wanting to bombard her,” Jimin rolled his eyes, “let the girl be,” and with that they went back to their bickering.

It was while before you saw Jimin again, your fence had been fixed since, and although you'd let them out a couple of times, you had decided walking them more often was the better option for now, just to keep your heart at ease.

You saw him again by the mail boxes and your puppy immediately wanted to run toward him, almost pulling your arm out of your socket.

“Miles!” You called out for your dog causing Jimin to turn and look at you, his eye smile immediately making an appearance.

“Hi buddy,” he chuckled as he crouched down to his level so he could run into his arms.

Green flag, you thought. Any person who can make a dog this excited to see them has to be a great human being.

“I'm so sorry”

“It's okay! It's been a while, and I'm just as happy to see him,” he kept his gaze on Miles for a little longer before looking at you. “How's your other dog? She doing okay?”

“Yup! I just walked her like five minutes ago and now it's his turn,” you explained. “Your boyfriend doesn't help you walk them?” He tilted his head and you couldn't help but giggle, “I don't have a boyfriend, it's just me and my dogs.”

His mouth went into an “o” shape and you noticed just how plump and pretty his lips were, you wondered how kissing him would feel. “Well, if you ever need help you can always knock on my door, there's a dog park nearby and they sell really good corn dogs there,” he offered with a smile, and then it dawned on you.

“Would your girlfriend be okay with that?” you asked back, it was his turn to laugh, “no girlfriend, just me, my friends, and their dogs,” you nodded.

You were really considering taking him up on his offer, you didn't really have many friends on this side of town after your job transferred you to a new location. And honestly, having an incredibly attractive sweet guy be your friend sounded like heaven. “Sure!”

You exchanged numbers after that, he texted you first and all the sudden the dog park planning was set in the back burner as you guys talked more and more through texts, it was almost an everyday occurrence for you both. Jimin liked getting to know you every day, whether he learnt a new fun fact about you or just talked about the season change, he enjoyed every conversation.

“Awww, look at hyung all smitten for the neighbor,” Jungkook teased as he ruffled the older's hair.

“Yah, you don't know what you're talking about, we're just friends,” he clarified, making the doe eyed man scoff.

“Just friends my ass,” he mumbled, causing Jimin to start chasing him around the house.

The rest of the guys could see it even if Jimin didn't, he was for sure smitten and had an obvious blossoming crush on you, although he never seemed to admit it, they could tell he'd had an extra pep in his step since meeting you almost two months ago. The same could be said for you, since meeting and talking to Jimin even your work friends noticed a change, always having a positive cheery attitude and opening more up to them, which was a stark comparison to how you were shy and closed off during your first few weeks.

You and Jimin would see each other occasionally around the neighborhood, he'd walk you back home if he caught you at the end of a walk with your dogs, bring leftovers from the meals his Yoongi hyung and Jin hyung made, or even little toys he'd see whilst out shopping that reminded him of your precious fur babies.

Your feelings for him were blossoming quickly.

The day came where the plans finally made it out of the chat. Jimin picked you up on a Saturday afternoon and offered to grab Mona's leash as you walked toward the famous dog park he had told you about. It's not like this day hadn't been on either of your minds at all, it's just every time you tried to plan it the other one would have to work, or go to a birthday dinner, or some other event you just couldn't skip.

“So how was work this week?” You both asked in unison, laughing at your sudden sync. “Ladies first,” Jimin said, his gaze going from Mona to you to the sidewalk, the last thing he needed was to trip over nothing and humiliate himself in front of a pretty girl.

“It was good! Mostly just inputting paperwork into the system, we haven't been super busy,” you started, “a coworker invited me to have drinks with him tonight.”

“Oh,” he responded, “did you say yes?” He was trying hard to not let the jealousy show, then he remembered you weren't his, and that he had no right to be jealous.

“He's cute, but honestly not my type,” you simply shrugged, he's only reply was a ‘hmm’

“How about yours?”

“Kiddos finally learned their parts for our nutcracker production! One of them really loves their rat costume,” he giggled and it was contagious enough that you couldn't help doing it too.

Everything about Jimin was contagious, even just the way he spoke about his work made you want to enjoy the little things about yours, even if it was one hundred percent more boring than his. Mona started pulling at her leash a bit, and Miles wanting to be just like his sister started pulling too.

“Hey! Guys calm down!” You tried pulling at his leash, but it didn't matter, he ended up tangling himself with Mona's leash and in an effort to untangle yourself you ended up tripping over them “MILES.”

Jimin was able to catch you and he actually ended up taking most of the fall, “oh my gosh, I'm so sorry” you were half laying on your side whilst his back was flat on the ground, "how many fingers am I holding up? Are you dizzy? Can you stand?” The questions came out of your mouth like quick fire while your dogs sniffed around Jimin's face, who was giggling like what had just happened was the funniest thing.

He squeezed your hip whilst he laughed, and you had no clue when he'd put his hands on you.

The furious fluttering in your stomach and warmth on your cheeks wasn't lost on you.

“I'm okay, Ynie” he assured you as he tried to sit up, prompting you to scoot away so he would have space, “that puppy of yours is a spitfire huh?” His giggles were softer now as his eyes settled on you, and suddenly you felt naked, even if obviously weren't, it felt like Jimin could look straight through you.

“Y-yeah,” you stared for a quick moment and then got up, offering your hand out to him which he gladly took.

Once he was standing up right you ended up being a little closer than what you expected, your noses were barely an inch apart, and holy shit he was even more ethereal up close.

Jimin thought the same about you.

He slowly moved his hand go cup your cheek, the soft strokes making impossible not to lean in closer to his touch, you didn't miss how quickly his smile took over his face. “I can't stop smiling when I look at you,” he said as he rubbed his thumb back and forth on your cheek.

You hoped the redness and warmth in your face wasn't obvious. Your puppy started jumping on you causing you to step away, “what's up buddy?” you were petting his head as he panted profusely, “you wanna go home?” And the immediate chorus of barks coming from him and Mona was enough for both you and Jimin to start the walk back home.

Jimin put his arm around you once you were able to get a hold of your dogs, it felt nice, like a shield so strong not even bugs would be able to get through it, although the mosquitoes that kept eating you alive would say otherwise.

When you made it to your front door, you let your dogs in first, slightly closing it so they wouldn't escape. You looked at Jimin, who had the softest of looks and you wished for nothing more than to squish his cheeks. “Thank you for today Jiminie!” You smiled brightly.

“No problem, any time I spend with you is time well spent!” You blushed profusely and he smiled so big his eyes disappeared, thinking of how cute you looked at this moment.

“I'm sure you say that to all the girls you help with their dogs.”

“You're the only one,” he stepped a little closer, “if it were up to me we'd go on these dog walking dates everyday,” dates?

“You want to date me?”

“Why not? You are the most beautiful person I've ever met, like I told you, I can't help but smile when I look at you,” you were once again standing barely an inch apart, with Jimin's hand caressing your cheek, “would you let me take you out on a date? And maybe if it doesn't go terribly,” you foreheads touched and you closed your eyes, “be my girlfriend?”

You opened your eyes to see Jimin looking right at you hopeful, “Sure,” it was barely a whisper, he could feel your breath and his mixing.

“Ynie?”

“Yeah?”

“May I kiss you?”

And Jimin didn't have to wait for an answer as you closed the space between you, joining your lips in the sweetest kiss, just like how you'd imagine kissing him would feel.

“FRIENDS MY ASS HYUNG” You pulled away and Jimin looked back to see all 6 of his friends giggling as they watched on, Jungkook had been the one yelling. Jimin would make sure to beat his ass later.

[priceof-freedom]

Fanfic: In khaki and nothing more (Bob Floyd x Reader)

Pairing: Robert “Bob” Floyd x F!Reader (Top Gun: Maverick)

Summary:  An outtake based on the bonus scene from “Of gym buddies and overlapping schedules”. In front of everyone else, Bob tends to be quiet and easily flustered. Behind closed doors, he’s anything but… especially when he sees you wearing his clothes.

A/N: I always had a head canon that Bob could be the opposite of shy in bed, given the right circumstances. Thus, this little thing was born. 

This is legitimately my first attempt at smut, so releasing this to the world is making me extremely extremely anxious.

Warnings: Smut, 18+ only, MINORS DNI

Word Count: 2.0k

TOP GUN: MAVERICK MASTERLIST // MAIN MASTERLIST

From “Of gym buddies and overlapping schedules” (Best to read that first!)

You handed him his khaki uniform button-up, neatly folded, making sure everyone else knew exactly what it was. “You left in quite a rush this morning, and you forgot this.”

Bob’s cheeks instantly turned pink, and you were certain he was recalling the exact reason why he hadn’t taken his uniform with him in the morning. You had woken up in the middle of the night and, not wanting to go nude into the bathroom, you grabbed the first article of clothing within reach. It just so happened to be his uniform. He must have woken up as well while you were in the bathroom: when he caught sight of you in nothing but his uniform button-up, an intense, almost hungry, look graced his features. Suffice it to say, the two of you lost about another hour or so of rest, and you had fallen asleep after that in blissful exhaustion while still wearing it.

Everyone in the vicinity were shell-shocked, even the others like Lts. Fitch, Garcia, and Machado who joined in on the commotion. Except perhaps for Rooster, as he seemed to be thoroughly enjoying what he was witnessing. Bob himself was quite stunned to silence, and you marveled in how flustered he is now when he was anything but that last night.

Upon returning from the bathroom, it was only then that you noticed how truly messy the state of your room was: clothing and underwear littered across the space, shoes frantically kicked off, and a chair near the door even fell to the floor. As quietly as possible, you picked up everything one by one, neatly folding and organizing them by the foot of the bed.

“Hey,” came a groggy voice.

You whipped around in surprise and found Bob smiling sleepily at you. The sheets were until his chest and his normally immaculate hair was mussed from sleep and the previous night’s activities.

“Oh no!” you whispered apologetically. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“That’s okay,” he said, reaching over to the nightstand for his glasses. “What are you doing up?”

“I was just fixing up. Can you believe that we even toppled over that chair?”

He began to chuckle, but as his vision cleared up with his glasses, the laughter died in his throat. He regarded you with an intense look, eyes traveling from head to toe. He called your name gruffly.

“Bob?”

“What are you wearing?”

You looked down and realized that you had Bob’s khaki uniform on. You had grabbed the first article of clothing you found on the way to the bathroom earlier, and didn’t even bother buttoning it up. And that was all that you were wearing.

“Shit. I’m sorry! I just picked up whatever was closest. I didn’t mean to wrinkle it or anything—”

“Y/N…”

“I’ll iron it and it can be good as new by the morning—”

“Y/N—”

“I’m pretty sure it’s still clean and unstained. Gosh, I’m so—”

“Y/N!”

You stopped and looked at him apologetically, wringing your hands with uncertainty. Whatever it is you and Bob started was still pretty new and you did not want to risk ruining it over something small like this. You weren’t sure if he was particular about his clothing and appearance, but since you rarely saw a hair out of place with him, you could only assume so. Gosh, you’re such an idiot, you reprimanded yourself.

“Come here.”

His tone was… different, to say the least. Your brain couldn’t really process the change in his voice, but your body recognized it for what it was: a command. Bob was now seated with his back against the headboard, the sheet now covering only until his waist, his chest bared. The same look was still on his boyish features: if you were to find one word to describe it, it might just be… hungry. It sent a shiver down your spine.

Once you crossed over to his side of the bed, he reached out his hand. Your brain was still trying to keep up with what was happening, yet everything else seemed to just respond naturally to what he was doing. He guided you to straddle him and your arms fell onto his shoulders. You could feel him, soft and solid beneath you, only a sheet acting as a barrier.

His hands traveled from your thighs, tickling at your sides into the skin beneath the open uniform. He laid his palms flat against your back and pulled you flush against him.

An involuntary whine escaped your lips. “Bob…”

He nuzzled at your neck and nipped at the skin above the collar. “You look good in my uniform, baby.”

This was a version of a Bob you haven’t seen. You were having difficulty reconciling what you’re experiencing now to how you’ve gotten to know the quiet pilot, and even to how he was during your first time together a couple of hours ago. Then, he was absolutely attentive and eager to please. That Bob was loving and giving.

This Bob… If the wetness gathering at your core was any indication of how you felt, you weren’t sure what was.

Your body really was acting on its own accord and a part of you felt like you should be embarrassed. But you were just too focused on what Bob was doing and how he was making you feel. His lips traveled up the column of your neck, ending with a soft bite to your earlobe. In no time, he had you moaning and grinding against him.

Rough palms slid from your back and down to your thighs, but he stopped just shy of the apex. You let out another noise, almost pained and complaining. Bob pulled away slightly and he looked at you questioningly. Brow raised and a smirk on his face. It was a look you haven’t seen on him; it radiated confidence and boldness. You’re quite sure it caused you to gush a little more.

“Tell me what you want.”

Words were failing you and you could only whimper his name. “Bob, please…”

“Please, what, baby?”

“Touch me.” 

You were rewarded with a bruising kiss, making you gasp against his lips. It was nothing like the kisses you were accustomed to sharing with him: it was urgent and raw. It was like his lips were chasing something that only you could provide. The grip he had on your thigh tightened briefly, then his hand made its ascent, slowly heading to the point you craved. The brief contact of his fingers against your folds was enough to make your breath hitch.

“Fuck, you’re soaked,” he breathed. He slid his fingers up and down your slit, coating it in your slick. You could practically hear how wet you were, as he went back up to your sensitive bundle of nerves. For every slow and deliberate circle he made to your clit, a gasp escaped you. “And I thought I had it bad seeing you in my uniform.”

The evidence was begging for it to be seen, rigid and erect beneath the sheets. It felt deliciously hard underneath you, and it made you rub yourself against him. It was Bob’s turn to groan. He gripped your hips in an attempt to stop you, but you were having none of it. “If you keep this up, this isn’t going to last very long.”

You giggled and did it again, eliciting another groan from him. Getting on your knees, you tugged the sheet down and he sprang free. It was thick and pulsing and it made your mouth water. Just as you were about to wrap your hands around his shaft, his wrist stopped yours. In one swift motion, he flipped you both and had you pinned to the bed. His face was inches from yours and the cold metal of his dog tags were brushing the valley between your breasts. He smiled wickedly at you, then captured your lips again in his own.

What this man was doing to you was absolutely mind-blowing. When you went on your first date, you had no idea that this was hiding beneath that kind bespectacled face. Now that you’ve had a taste of it, you were sure that it will be a craving that you will forever have. A craving that only he can satisfy.

Your back arched, pressing your chest against his, as the kiss deepened. Bob slowly dragged one hand along your side and down to the crook of your knee, hiking it up to his hip. At this point, the space between you was almost non-existent. You could feel the warm tip of his cock brushing against your warm center, making you moan into the kiss.

He released your lips, but his own never left your heated skin, traveling from your jaw to your neck. “Let’s make sure you’re ready for me,” he murmured into your skin.

His hand found its way back to your core, rubbing your lips with the wetness gathered there. Slowly and methodically, he plunged his digits into you; one first, testing the waters, then a second one, stretching you more. You were nothing but a whimpering mess already.

“Bob, please…”

At the sound of that, he removed his fingers, just as the tension was reaching the peak. You groaned in frustration, throwing your head back into the pillow. Then, the man had the audacity to laugh at you.

“Just a little patience, baby,” he said, with a smirk that you’re coming to love on his boyish features.

“Bob, I swear to god—” But he silenced you with a kiss. He made quick work of the condom and he was positioned above you in no time.

“Ready?” Teasingly, he lined himself up to your slit, only barely entering, but not completely. He absolutely knew what he’s doing to you, and the look on his face was telling you that he was enjoying it.

“Please,” was all you could get out.

Slowly, he pushed into, inch by inch. The stretch is deliciously incredible, making you involuntarily clench around him. The sound that escaped your lips was a mix of a gasp and a moan. He grabbed your leg again, hitching it against his hip, and filled you to the hilt in one thrust. The position of one of your legs wrapped around him made his cock reach a different angle, making you feel thoroughly full with nothing but him.

For a moment, both of you stayed this way, breathing heavily like you had run a marathon. His forehead was resting against yours, eyes closed shut. You could feel him throb inside you and it was so so good.

Your hands traveled from his shoulders, where you had previously been grasping onto him for dear life, to either side of his face. “Bob,” you whispered. His eyes flew open, pupils dilated with lust. “Fuck me.”

It was like a switch. Bob moved immediately, drawing back until only his tip was inside, then roughly sinking back in one strong fluid thrust. Both your legs were now around his waist, giving him more leverage for his thrusts. He was relentless in his movements. He kept his face buried in your neck and he was chanting your name into your heated skin.

The sound of your skin slapping against his spurred you further towards your release. He probably could feel it too, with his increased pace. You could no longer control the noise coming out of your lips: he had you crying out with every hard thrust.

“I can feel you’re close, baby.” His hand moved towards where the two of you were joined. His fingers found your clit again, flicking it and aiding your release. “Just a little more.”

It was unbearable, in the best way possible. With another push into you, you fall apart.

He followed not too far behind. Bob picked up the pace, chasing his own release. You met his every thrust, clenching around him as you could feel him solid and pulsing inside you. It was your turn to murmur into his ear, praising him and urging him to keep going.

In one final jerk of his hips, he shuddered and let out a grunt as he came apart. 

He collapsed, most of his weight on you. Beyond carefully sliding out of you, he made no move to get up. Both of you were gasping for air. Silence enveloped you, and only the sound of your labored breathing filled the room. You felt utterly satiated, and honestly still surprised about what just happened. This was not something you had on the cards when you started dating him.

As if sensing your thoughts, Bob swiftly gets up on his elbows, a look of worry and concern on his face. “Shit.”

“What?”

“Oh, god—”

“Bob?”

He softly holds your cheeks. “W-was that too much?”

The absurdity of his question and timing made you choke out a laugh. Now, this was the Bob you had gotten to know over the last few weeks. At the sound of your laughter, his brow furrowed even further. You tried, really you did, to stop laughing. But he looked so extremely adorably worried for something you clearly enjoyed.

“You just gave me a mind-blowing orgasm and you ask if it was too much?”

The concerned look was replaced with his signature sheepish one. “Well…”

“Bob,” you said emphatically, you own hands now on his cheeks too. “If wearing your uniform gets me that reaction from you, then I will definitely do it more often.”

He let out a relieved laugh and kissed you again.

(From the previous fic)

“I—y-yeah,” stammered Bob. “T-thanks, Y/N.”

“I’ll see you later, yeah?” you said, and gave him a kiss on the cheek. You didn’t wait for him to answer and simply walked out, your goal having been accomplished already. You heard some laughter from the group and hushed whispers, like a bunch of gossiping teenagers. 

“Always good to see ya, Doc!” called Rooster to your retreating back, the mirth apparent in his voice. While exiting, you saw in the mirrors that he had happily clapped Bob on the shoulder in support, and the latter was sporting a small confident smile. You also caught sight of a still gaping Hangman.

You smiled in satisfaction. You couldn’t wait until you saw Bob again tonight.

A/N: Aaaand that’s it for my first ever smut. I hope everyone likes it! *nervous laughter* Please do leave a comment and reblog! 💖

Check out the other  stories in this universe:

A fluffy drabble on Bob and Reader’s date

A smutty drabble on Bob being called “lieutenant”

A one-shot featuring Rooster and Penny’s niece

A drabble set right before Rooster and Niece!Reader have their date

Currently, I do not run taglists. I might in the future. :)

[star-realities]

You told me about your family so it’s only fair I tell you about mine!!!

The Flash is tall and muscular but always comes off small when he’s next to people like Superman or Wonder Woman on the rare occasions we’re allowed at the Hall of Justice-And only ever in the library or gym! For shame! He’s very handsome tho, his hair is that darker strawberry blonde you don’t see very often in either reality. He’s also very kind and surprisingly funny! He gets points just for tolerating us!!! He really deserves them.

Speedsters are always SO warm, it has something to do with their body’s metabolism? Their hearts are super fast too like hummingbirds even when they’re asleep! They go through shoes like most people go through paper napkins! Constant repairing for shoes. Sometimes they get so excited they start vibrating!!! Sometimes when they’re scared or anxious they vibrate and can’t stop until they calm down which usually means handing them something to ground themselves.

Kid Flash is really funny too!!! His favorite joke is answering calls while vibrating his vocal cords so it sounds like he’s talking into a fan. He’s combined it with helium before and it’s HILARIOUS! I don’t know for sure if he really knows Nightwing but Nightwing isn’t really a commonly known superhero so much as a benevolent local cryptid people leave little thank you letters or candy out for, so I’ll take his word for it! He flirts with any girl in a hundred miles who even looks at him but is more picky with boys. I think he fears rejection there more than he does with girls, which I can’t blame him for… He’s not very good at phasing yet and keeps running directly into walls because of it-We try very hard not to laugh because he doesn’t think it’s funny.

They’re both surprisingly friendly with some of the rogues-The Flash says that allowing the more reasonable, predictable criminals to keep the others in line is better than letting a power vacuum happen since that would just get violent faster than they can clean up. He has conditions on that but we’re not supposed to mess with them too much. Sometimes a call is just a newly developed meta who’s scared and doesn’t know what’s going on so they always try to give people the benefit of the doubt.

We’ve never met any of the Bat family but the Flash says they’re probably vampires or something. I can never tell if he’s joking or it’s a real theory of his. None of us have been to Gotham aside from the Flash-KF has been to its sister city though!-so I can’t say I have any evidence to the contrary or for it.

Kid Flash is friends with a red head I’m yet to properly meet and a tall blond girl who KF flirts with a lot. She doesn’t seem to find it funny but never asks him to stop so I guess it’s complicated there. He’s a more senior hero than I am so he gets to know more than I do which I’m totally okay with!!! Im content to heal and mend for now!

Sorry for the long ask! ❤️⚡️

*me noting all this down ✍️*

Thank you for all this useful information! I love hearing about your DR :)

Also, Flash, I am offended. We are NOT vampires (maybe) /j

[persistentprobings]

it is what it is

to allow myself to want more and not confuse it for taking for granted what i have now. actually, let’s re-assess what i have now before we take on the next course of action: a laptop; internet connection; dogs and and a cat; a boyfriend; a sister; discord with parents; pending confrontation with my cousins; skills to write; books to read; books to sell; my body capable of movement; a room i could be alone at night; reddit for asking questions; youtube for learning; shoes and clothes for any type of life activities: gym, corporate-setting work, hiking, errands, casual and lax days, meeting someone new; some belief in myself; courage from feeling like i’ve had enough and enough is enough already and that final push to the edge is what opens possibilities; opportunities, of course—there are so many opportunities for me to expand my experience (all i need is to turn my eyes in that direction), because the very thing i took away from last night’s the 1975 concert was that i came here to experience life, bro. that i wasn’t put on this earth to live the same day everyday, and if there could be only one goal, it is to experience various states of being through different places and people. over and over. expansion as what abraham hicks puts it. we dread waking up in the morning if we feel like we’re in the same body everybody with the same experiences. like we’re in a loop and we’re trapped.  so expansion is the goal and also the key to enjoy a rich and meaningful life. that’s all we want, right? a life with deep relationships to people around us, and this livable planet we call the earth: to be blessed by simply breathing. 

expansion. expansion. i should have that tattooed because i am prone to forget these ways of seeing the world when i get too attached in financial stress and dealing with that stress through purchasing clothes and planning my outfits so much i’m left with zero space to dream of a better future for me where my confidence is rooted inside an expertise in a subject, a rare combination of skills, or a title attached in my name. i know i just said that confidence should come from within, but right now that confidence translates itself to me as ambitions and expertise: something i could call mine, which is i’m kinda mortified to admit that it is also something i have not thought about so much my whole life. but.. i can start anywhere right. there are so many points of entry as there are of arrival.

speaking of tattoos—i’ve been wanting some so bad. this point in my life i’m so prone to forget, so prone to making the same mistakes and receiving the same lessons, but having it all wiped out when i need them the most. and so tattoos, i believe, would assist my forgetfulness and days far from being clear, calm, and collected. which just made me realized now: to help myself from becoming overwhelm by all these insights i could just trim it down to aiming for clarity, calmness, collected. the trifecta of which would i also believe would lead to the grand aim of life: happiness, health, and wealth. naval ravikant that these three are actually want everybody wants whether they’re consious of it or not. and conscious or not, it is always here. i want these things, too, but i haven’t been honest enough to admit that i also want wealth. maybe that’s why i’m always in a discord with my parents because they’ve been teaching me the values and ways to be wealthy and i’ve been dismissing it like crazy, overthinking, full of pride, saying no to every offer because i wasn’t humble and have villainized them for so long now.

villainizing people. thinking they are against you, only capable of protecting their own interests. but what if the opposite were true? how would you live your life knowing you are supported by every encounter, every person, which could seem grand and unfathomable to you at the moment. soon it will be clear that things are actually working out for the best, you just have to hold on to that conviction and not let anyone hold you back from applying this to your life.

look at nature to see patterns. to make connections. to understand that every living being is supporting each other’s survival. and that nature won’t give you things you can’t endure.

i love you. please be kind to yourself and to everyone around you.

[thebuckblogimo]

A jumble of thoughts on a "Monday Moanin.'"

April 3, 2023

People my age--in Michigan, at least--will remember the late Detroit Free Press columnist Bob Talbert. At the start of each week he wrote a piece called "Out of My Mind on a Monday Moanin.'" Here's my attempt at something similar:

Why is it that screw manufacturers persist in making fasteners with "star" heads and other odd shapes. Seems to me they should be "standardized," i.e., able to be turned with either a Phillips head or flat-head screwdriver.

Phrases such as "Dear Valued Customer" or "team members" (when referring to employees) don't ring true for me.

I've always been envious of people with prominent eyebrows. Wish I had them.

I've tried all sorts of body wash products. However, a good old-fashioned bar of Ivory soap still smells the cleanest to me. After all, it's "99 and 44/100 percent pure."

For some reason I still have trouble when trying to properly use the word "existential." Same for "fraught" and "co-opt."

Another tune I've never heard a bad version of is "Stranger On The Shore." Originally recorded by clarinetist Acker Bilk in 1962, my favorite interpretation is by tenor saxophonist Houston Person.

I wonder why people don't do "calisthenics" any more. They were the staples of football practice when I was in grade school and high school: trunk rotations, neck rotations, bridges, shoulder rolls, running in place, jumping jacks and sit-ups while someone holds your feet to the ground.

Back when you could hold a newspaper in your hands, I rarely spotted typos in stories and editorials. Now I see them daily in the online versions I monitor.

When I was a kid I thought it was the coolest thing when I first noticed a party invitation that said, "8:00 p.m. until ?" Loved the mischief that conjured up in my mind.

There is a whole category of words that sound cool to me. Three examples: "shiitake," "charcuterie," and "Kamchatka." (Sort of like the sounds I make when I sneeze.)

I take credit for inventing the "foot shake," as when the sole of the shoe of one person meets the sole of the shoe of another person, after one of them says, "Slip me some sole."

My favorite craft brew is Bell's Two Hearted; my favorite "water beer" is Yuengling (not the light version).

I have no problem with twisting the top off a bottle of beer, but I much prefer using a bottle opener.

When it comes to mass produced domestic beer, I generally prefer "high octane" types as opposed to "light beer." But when I do drink light beer my favorites are, in this order: LaBatt Blue Light, Busch Light, Coors Light, Miller Lite and the late, great Old Milwaukee Light. But never Bud Light. (Stay thirsty, my friends.)

When my favorite football or basketball team is playing on the tube, I prefer watching an important game alone, as opposed to with a large group of people. I see more, notice more that way.

Going all the way back to fifth grade basketball, I can't recall a single kid who wore "0" on his jersey. Maybe that's why today I still can't get used to seeing it on football and basketball uniforms.

I love the numbers 26, 84, 90 and 95 (with a special shout-out to number 59) on football jerseys. My college friends will know why.

I dislike seeing an athlete wearing number 1. I interpret it as saying, "Hey, look at me."

Whoever selects the musical interludes between stories broadcast on NPR has amazing taste. If only I were quicker on the draw to Shazam them so that I could identify the name of each song and it's artist.

I heard the Who's "Pinball Wizard" over the speakers at the gym the other day. I still think it's an ATT--"all-time-terrible."

Last year while visiting my daughter in Chicago, I purchased one chocolate covered glazed donut at Do-Rite Donuts for $3.45. Last fall, while perusing my high school's 1963 year book, I noticed an ad for Golden Boy Donuts with a sign in the background that indicated a dozen donuts cost 75 cents.

I was never one to win spelling bees in grade school, but I eventually got pretty good at spelling words. Now, I seem to be as crappy at it as I ever was.

During the years before retirement, Debbie and I owned three wonderful dogs (Angela, Erma and Wanda). Now, sometimes we walk our kids' dogs (Gadget, Rambo, Gonzo and Paya). It kills me when they try to back-kick grass onto their deposits after doing their duty.

[cksmart-world]

SMART BOMB

The completely unnecessary news analysis

by Christopher Smart

December 27, 2022

INSTRUCTION MANUAL TO SEN. KRYSTEN SINEMA

Some people are just troublesome, to wit: Arizona Sen. Sinema who was a Democrat but transitioned to an Independent (read: conservative spy). Despite the Senate handbook that says “staff are not compensated for the purpose of performing personal activities,” a 37-page memo from Sinema to her staff outlines the dos and don'ts she demands. Such as, always have a room-temperature bottle of water at the ready; never book her a flight on Southwest Airlines; always schedule a weekly hour-long massage; be sure to check with her on Mondays to get grocery list. No Wilson, we are not making this up. But there's more — the sleuths here at Smart Bomb have discovered another memo: never talk about the vibrators in the desk drawer; never mention big donations from hedge funds, pharmaceutical companies or Victoria's Secret; always make sure her bath is exactly 112 degrees; be sure to place Velos “Pleasure Serum” near the tub; never discuss her shoes or mention Imelda Marcos; never confirm she was a Jack Mormon; never ever verify she called Ronald Reagan and George H.W. Bush “the real Saddam and Osama lovers;” when asked why in Congress she wears dresses that reveal her shoulders, curtly respond that the Second Amendment guarantees the right to bare arms.

CATS AND DOGS? NAH, IT'S RAINING LIZARDS

It's raining lizards in south Florida — again — after a mass of arctic air dove into the Sunshine State last week. It's not the first time. The staff here at Smart Bomb reported in February that iguanas resting in tree tops froze and started falling from their perches all over the place — on cars, on people, on skateboarders and strollers. What kind of umbrella do you need for that? Hello, yes, can you help us, we're looking for iguana parasols. It's practically biblical — but instead of raining frogs as it did when the Egyptians refused to free the Israelites, it was raining six-pound lizards. FYI: The thing about raining frogs is no fiction. It's a rare meteorological phenomenon where frogs get swept up in a storm, travel miles and then fall from the sky when the clouds release their water. The Bible doesn't lie: Exodus 8:2-14. The Lord said, “If you refuse to let them go, behold, I will smite your whole territory with frogs.” But there's no mention in the Good Book of raining lizards. Just imagine the shock for those old folks in retirement homes who moved to Florida to escape the weather up north. Hazel come here quick, it's raining lizards. Darn it, Fred, you've missed your meds again. No seriously, Hazel, it's actually raining big-ass lizards. That's it, Fred, I'm calling your therapist — and take your damn meds.

‘LARGE MARGE' IN DEEP YOU-KNOW-WHAT

As of late, she's been called “a trailer park hood rat,” a “threat to national security,” and one far-right radio pundit noted that after recent media coverage of her divorce she has “stopped talking about dildos and butt plugs.” Exactly who are these ultra-conservatives talking about? If you guessed QAnon acolyte Marjorie Taylor Greene, you'd be right. MTG has found herself in the crosshairs of her one-time fellow crazies. You're right Wilson, it couldn't happen to a nicer person. It seems they don't like her supporting Kevin McCarthy for Speaker 'cause he's not extreme enough. “There is something so odd about what is going on between McCarthy and MTG,” wrote far-right organizer Ali Alexander. McCarthy must be blackmailing her, said pundit Mike Crispi, nothing else makes sense. Radio host Stew Peters didn't hold back, either. “Marjorie is not America First, but regrettably a faker and a liar who raised millions claiming she would impeach Biden.” Others in her caucus couldn't help but to mentioned MTG's alleged affairs with a “tantric sex guru” as well as the manager of her gym. When the Republican-controlled House convenes in January expect a lot of body slams, knuckle shuffles and flying leg locks. WWE and professional wrestling won't have anything on this show.

Post script —

That's it for another festive week here at Smart Bomb where we keep track of would-be insurrectionists so you don't have to. It's a dirty job but someone has to do it. The freshly minted Jan. 6 committee report reveals that Sen. Mike Lee spent a month trying to convince state legislatures to endorse a second set of electors that would vote for Trump. When the plot looked to be failing, Lee changed course and eventually voted to certify Biden's election. On Christmas Day, the Salt Lake Tribune announced it's readers pick for “Utahn of the Year.” Holy Jack Gallivan, they selected Mike Lee. You're right Wilson, that's about all you need to know about Utah. Meanwhile, back at the Tribune Tower, the editorial board selected its own “Utahn of the Year” — University of Utah football coach Kyle Whittingham, who made $6 million this year. And that's about all you need to know about college sports. The salary of the president of the University of Utah, Taylor R. Randall, was $524,109 in 2021, not exactly peanuts but still some $5 ½ million less than the football coach. But still the university post pays a lot more than that of U.S. senator — Mike Lee only makes $174,000. No wonder he shops at Mr. Mac.

Alright Wilson, Whittingham's Runnin' Utes are headed back to the Rose Bowl and that's a good thing. But the Utah Fight Song, aka “A Utah Man Am I,” has been labeled, well, a sexist, backward, male chauvinist ditty. Things could get a little dicey, so it might be wise for the band to have goalie masks at the ready, just in case. OK, hit it and then duck:

I am a Utah Man, sir, and I live across the green, Our gang it is the jolliest that you have ever seen. Our coeds are the fairest and each one's a shining star, Our yell, you'll hear it ringing through the mountains near and far!

Who am I, sir, A Utah Man am I! A Utah Man, sir, Will be 'til I die. Ki-yi!

We're up to snuff, we never bluff, we're game for any fuss. No other gang of college men dare meet us in a muss. So fill your lungs and sing it out and shout it to the sky, We'll fight for dear old crimson for a Utah Man am I! Ki-yi!

Who am I, sir, A Utah Man am I! A Utah Man, sir, Will be 'til I die. Ki-yi!

We may not live forever on this jolly good sphere, But while we do we'll live a life of merriment and cheer, And when our college days are o'er and night is drawing nigh, With parting breath we'll sing that song: "A Utah Man Am I."

[obeymeoasis]

Demon Bros React: MC Compliments Them Aggresively

Warnings: A generally thirsty MC, Beel’s react has a brief mention of choking.

Lucifer

It was rare that Lucifer had time off during the afternoon and you were fully taking advantage of it. 

Holding hands, you were taking a leisurely stroll around the garden. Every few minutes you stopped to point out a flower or a bug that had caught your eye.

“Ooh Luci, look at this one! It looks like a rainbow! Oh my god, it’s so shiny, I love it!”

You heard Lucifer chuckling at you and turned to ask what was so funny when you stood still in shock at the sight before you. The glow of the afternoon sun illuminated Lucifer beautifully, his black hair almost glowing, his face open and happy, smiling at you. He looked absolutely radiant. And you were going to tell him as much.

“Oh my god Lucifer, what is wrong with you?”

Lucifer’s smile dimmed immediately and his eyes narrowed. “Love, whatever do you mean?” His voice was careful and tense.

“I mean, it is illegal for you to look that good! Oh my god! Do you see you? You look like a greek god like what in the actual world!”

Lucifer’s mouth opened in surprise at your sudden outburst.

“How are you even my boyfriend? Like you’re literally glowing Luci. Oh my god my eyes, you’re too bright I can’t even look at you!”

Lucifer blinked a couple of times as if to clear his head. Slowly a satisfied smirk replaced his confused look and he moved to press a kiss against the back of your hand.

“Love, what on earth has gotten into you today?”

“What, I’m not allowed to compliment my boyfriend?”

“Of course you are, although I’d prefer it if the compliments were given in a more... private place next time.”

“...Fine.”

Mammon

Mammon had apparently made some money in one of his schemes and he practically dragged you to Majolish one morning to go shopping.

Once in the store Mammon had sped off in a flurry of activity, adding clothes to an ever-growing pile before herding you toward the dressing room. 

"Wait for me outside, okay? Ya gotta tell me how each outfit looks.”

A few minutes later, Mammon stepped out in a pair of dark jeans that hugged his toned legs and a black v-neck sweater that showed off his collarbone. A thin gold chain adorned his neck and the look was completed with a pair of combat boots.

“Well, whattaya think?”

“Mammon. What the hell.”

Mammon’s shoulders drooped a little. “Not good?”

“Mammon. You look so hot. So fucking hot. Like. A supermodel? An icon? You’re stunning!”

He was beginning to blush and you could see how pleased your compliments made him. “O-Of course you think I’m hot! I’m the Great Mammon! I always look good in whatever I wear.”

He expected you to stop at that point and chide him to be more humble but was surprised when you amped up the compliments.

“You do babe, you really do. Look at how long your legs are! And your arms, oh my god. And your chest, wow, I kinda want to lick your chest right now.”

“MC!” Shocked and a little embarrassed, Mammon fled to the inside of the dressing room, swishing the curtain shut behind him. He could feel his cheeks burning. 

“Sorry Mams, I’ll stop if you want me to. But I meant every word.”

“...Please don’t stop.”

Leviathan

You were in his room, cuddled on some cushions, watching a new anime together. 

Your head on Levi’s shoulder, you were so comfortable that you were close to drifting off to sleep, until Levi nudged your shoulder. “Sorry, I have to go feed Henry.”

You watched Levi sprinkle food into the large tank, his face illuminated by the soft glow. The bubbles and movement from the tank created dancing patterns on his face. As Levi watched Henry eat, he smiled a soft, private smile, and in that moment he looked ethereal.

“Levi, you’re so beautiful.”

Levi’s head whipped around to look at you. “W-What are you talking about?”

You got up and moved closer until you were inches from his face, studying his features. “I’m serious Levi, you’re absolutely gorgeous. Devastatingly handsome. I could honestly stare at you all day. You are so so beautiful.”

With each compliment, Levi’s mouth grew a little bit wider until he was gaping at you.

“I-Is this some kind of joke? Are you making fun of me right now? Why would you- You know how I feel about-”

“Levi, please. Have a little more faith in me. You know I’d never make fun of you. I’m being completely serious right now when I say that you’re incredibly beautiful.”

Levi thinks his brain might have stopped working.

His face is burning, his body is all tingly, and he can’t get any words out?

“Levi? Come back to me, Levi! Hello?” You’re waving your hand in front of his face but you think he might be broken.

You take his hand and slowly lead him back toward the cushions for kisses and more cuddling. 

Satan

Reading with Satan was one of your favorite ways to spend an afternoon.

You sat in opposite armchairs and let the comfortable silence fill the room. The only disturbance would be if either of you wanted to share a line or passage from the book you were reading.

Legs curled against your chest, you watched the flame of the candles make flickering shadows against Satan’s bookshelves.

He tapped you on the shoulder and you turned to see his outstretched hand holding his book.

“Love, look at this line.”

You read in amusement as the hero of the story made a witty joke. "That was a good one-"

You turned and saw Satan, his eyes crinkled in laughter, a light blush dusting his cheeks, his lips bitten in an attempt to hold in a giggle.

"Satan... you're so fucking cute."

Immediately one of his eyebrows cocked in confusion. "What-"

"You are so adorable, wow. I want to squish your cheeks and like keep you inside my pocket or something."

"Love, I am the Avatar of Wrath. I am not... cute."

"Yeah? Well I beg to differ. I call it like I see it and right now, I can see that you are the cutest being I've ever seen in my life. The way your eyes light up and you get all blushy. So adorable, I can't stand it."

Satan seemed to be stunned by your exclamation, his features frozen in a mixture of confusion and shock.

You walked over to him and began pressing kisses against his eyelids, on his cheeks, nose, and then finally, lips. "I'm gonna keep kissing you because you're so cute, okay?"

He ended up tugging you against his chest and holding you in a princess-carry, trying to bury his face in your hair so you couldn't see how flustered he was.

Asmodeus

You were in Asmo's room helping him pick an outfit. Well, more like you were scrolling through your D.D.D. while Asmo went through his entire closet complaining about how he had nothing to wear.

He had some sort of big business meeting coming up with a perfume company who wanted his help in designing their new line of products.

Every outfit so far had been beautiful and Asmo looked amazing in each one, as always. You weren't sure how to help him.

"MC, this next outfit is a little different. It's not really my style but it was a gift from the designer so tell me what you think, okay?"

Asmo swished aside the curtain of his dressing room and walked out in a formal black business suit. The shirt was open at the throat, exposing his delicate neck, and he had added a pink pocket square. A large silver watch shone on his left wrist. His shiny black shoes clicked against the floor as he walked toward you.

"So, what do you think?"

"Asmo... If I'm being honest I kind of want you to pin me against the wall right now."

"Darling! You're usually never this forward."

You stood up and twirled him around. "My god Asmo, you look incredible. You look so sexy and professional. Like a rich CEO or something. Scratch the wall thing, I kinda need you to bend me over your desk."

Asmo had never been more surprised by you, but his shock didn’t last long.

"Do you really like it, MC? Do you like when I wear this sort of thing? I should wear suits more often if it means you talking like that. I love this side of you darling!"

He began stalking toward you until your back was gently pressed against the wall, his arms making a kind of cage around you. “Is this what you pictured, MC?” He began kissing you fiercely and you grabbed onto the lapel of his jacket to keep yourself steady. 

“Asmo?”

“Yes, darling?”

“Don’t go to the meeting today.”

Beelzebub

You were in the gym with Beel. He was lifting weights and you were bouncing on a medicine ball next to him.

Even though you didn’t exercise at all, Beel said he liked you being there with him. And since it was such a hot day outside, you didn’t mind spending the afternoon in the cool air-conditioned building.

But despite the chill of the room, Beel’s shirt was soaked with sweat. He was lifting enormous weights and you could see the muscles of his arms straining with the effort. 

Beel was, well, absolutely ripped. His arms, legs, and stomach all looked like they had been carved from marble. And you spent enough time cuddling with him to know that his body felt exactly like it looked, solid and incredibly strong.

People who didn’t know Beel personally would have found it hard to believe that the demon with an eight-pack had the personality of a hungry golden retriever.

A grunt from Beel startled you out of your thoughts and you realized you had been staring at him this whole time. Uncomfortable at the way his shirt was sticking to his body from sweat, Beel peeled it off of himself.

“Beel?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re killing me here.”

He looked at you in confusion, worried he had done something. “MC, what’s wrong?”

“Beel, do you even see yourself right now? You literally look like sex on legs. How are you even real? I want to touch you all over. But I also kind of want you to choke me.”

“MC!” Beel cried out in surprise and you could see his neck was flushed. “You know I would never hurt you.”

“I know big guy, I trust you.” You let out a low whistle and reveled in how Beel looked, a combination of pleased and a bit embarrassed. “Beel, you’re so perfect. You look like you could protect me from the world.”

“I would you know,” he whispered. “I want to protect you, I don’t want anything or anyone to hurt you.”

You smiled at him. “I know Beel, and I love you for it.” You let the silence hang in the air for a moment. “But also, can I lick your abs?”

“MC!”

Belphegor

It was a rare occasion that you and Belphie were outside, as you both usually preferred to stay in.

You had both woken up late and decided to stop by a local cafe for some lunch because you were too lazy to cook. 

Belphie sat across from you at the small table and sipped his tea delicately while you polished off the rest of your sandwich. You had one of your ankles hooked around his.

He was looking out the window, his face turned toward the side, and you used the opportunity to study his features.

Long black eyelashes framed his piercing purple eyes. His silky dark hair stood out against his pale complexion and your eyes traced the high bridge of his nose, the softness of his lips.

As if feeling your stare Belphie turned toward you with a smirk. “Something I can help you with?”

“Belphie... you’re really pretty.” 

You could see that you had surprised him a little with your honesty. “You’re so pretty, Belphie. I know a lot of people would kill to have eyelashes as long as yours. And your mouth looks so kissable. You kind of look like a doll. You’re honestly so gorgeous.”

His face was completely blank for a moment then morphed into a calculating stare. “Are... are you being serious right now?” His gaze suddenly turned cold.

“Why would I joke about something like this? I’m telling you right now that think you’re pretty. You’re beautiful.”

Belphie's voice betrayed no emotion. “Nobody’s ever called me pretty before. Or beautiful.”

“Oh, Belphie.” You took his hand from across the table and pressed a kiss against his palm and then the inside of his wrist, the way he did to you all the time. “I’ll repeat it everyday for the rest of my life if you want.”

He scrunched up his nose and whispered, “Don’t. You’re being embarrassing.” But you could tell he didn’t really mean it by the way the corners of his lips quirked up.

He was mostly silent for the rest of lunch, apparently deep in thought, only nodding occasionally at your comments.

When it was time to leave, however, he reached to hold your hand and didn’t let go the entire way home.

[mypoisonedvine]

the martyrdom of st. valentine (and other romantic stories) || dark!Bucky & dark!(stepbrother?)Steve x reader

summary: you wanted to surprise your boyfriend on valentine's day, but he and your foster brother have a surprise of their own.

word count: 2.7k

warnings: smut (heavy dubcon to the point of pretty much noncon), kinda stepcest (as per summary, steve is the reader's foster brother), bondage, a lil touch of degradation

2/14 to-do list

get waxed

get Steve out of the apartment

pick up chocolate-covered strawberries from bakery on 6th

blindfold and handcuff myself to the bed

be waiting for Bucky naked when he gets here

You sighed as you looked down at the paper, crossing the first and third items off the list. The second was going to be a bit harder, unfortunately; your foster brother had a habit of hanging around and cramping your style as much as he could manage. He felt like a real brother in that way… okay, maybe he felt like a real brother in most ways, a consequence of knowing him for most of your life, but he was definitely not your real brother. You remembered that each time you caught yourself staring too long when he was shirtless, or returning from the gym all veiny and glistening with sweat.

But you also remembered that he was still the closest thing to a real brother you'd ever had, and you scolded yourself internally for ever acting differently.

It didn’t matter now— you had Bucky, and he was the most amazing guy you’d ever met.  No, Steve was definitely not happy that introducing his best friend to his sister led to a relationship forming, but he couldn’t stop either of you in spite of his efforts to keep you apart.

Bucky had once expressed his suspicions that it was at least in part due to jealousy, if subliminal.  But you denied it unilaterally— he’s basically my brother, you told him, though it was more of a reminder to yourself than anything.

Perverted concerns about Steve’s motivations aside, Bucky was a great guy.  A bit of a sweet-talker for sure, and not exactly known for his ability to keep a long-term, serious relationship, but he was adamant that you had changed that and for once you were beginning to believe him.  You’d said from the beginning that you didn’t need this to be the proverbial ‘it’ for either of you but that you didn’t do hook-ups— especially with your brother’s friends, and extra especially with your brother’s closest and longest friend.  It only took a brief speech and two shots to convince you, now six months later and you were still going strong.

Days like this made you so happy you’d given in to his advances.  But they also made you regret giving in to Steve’s idea to be roommates in college.

“Stevie!” you yelped as he walked in, stuffing the to-do list into your backpocket.  “Just the man I wanted to see.”

“I doubt that,” he scoffed.  “It’s Valentine’s Day, I bet you want to see Bucky.  He’s coming over, right?  And you want me to fuck off so my best friend can go to town on my sister?”

You frowned, crossing your arms.  “I wanted to see you because I have a gift for you.”

“... you do?”  His eyebrow raised and you hoped your smirk looked just as smug as it felt.

“So do you want your gift or do you want to be an asshole?”

“Do I have to pick just one?” he joked.

“Just come over here,” you instructed, waving him closer.  He seemed hesitant, but eventually did as you’d asked.  From your other back pocket you pulled out two tickets.

“Rangers, center ice,” you beamed.  “For you and a date.”

“And this isn’t just an excuse to get me out of the house?”

“No, it’s a thank you for being such a great brother.”

“So, if I wanted to take Bucky…” he trailed off, already calling your bluff as you rolled your eyes.

“Okay, that’s just sad.  There’s no reason you can’t find a girl to take— god knows Bucky hasn’t spent a Valentine’s Day alone since the fucking eighth grade.  And you’re just as cute as he is!”

“Well, if you could alert the rest of the female population to that, that would be great,” he scoffed, “but until then I’ll take the tickets,” he decided as he took them from your hand.  “A Rangers game might be the only thing distracting enough to keep me from thinking about what you and Buck are gonna do while I’m gone.”

You were hoping for a little more enthusiasm considering how much the tickets had cost you, but at least he was going to go and give you the apartment to yourself for the evening.  “You’re welcome, by the way.”

After stripping and sprinkling rose petals on the comforter, you'd actually found a YouTube tutorial on how to blindfold and handcuff oneself, and it was a little odd that enough people had this problem to merit its existence but it was still very helpful: turns out the secret is to blindfold yourself first but keep it folded up with one eye able to see until you do the handcuffs, then use your arm to slide the blindfold down into place.

It was tricky, and a little bit extra awkward while naked, but you figured it out and smiled proudly to yourself as you completed your last task on your to-do list.

Now, for likely the most difficult task of all: waiting in darkness and silence for Bucky to arrive.

Apparently it is, in fact, possible to be slightly bored yet titillated.  The thought of what Bucky would do to you when he got here was exciting, but it only made you crave his presence more which enhanced your quiet loneliness.  It wasn't like you could read a book or listen to music to kill the time, so you settled for humming to yourself as you waited.

Don't go changing, to try and please me, something something before, hmmm

I just want someone that I can talk to, I want you just the way you are...

But that grew tiresome quickly and you resorted instead to planning exacty how angry you would be if Bucky was late when you were waiting for him in such a compromising and inconvenient state.  For a moment you imagined he'd really gone to the Rangers game with Steve and became briefly livid over a hypothetical situation.

The crackling roar of Bucky's motorcycle outside was distant but undeniable, making you smile in anticipation.  You worried for a moment that you might have locked the top lock of the front door by instinct, but thankfully Bucky and to make it inside alright since next thing you knew, your bedroom door was opening.

The rattle of the doorknob made your breath catch; you opened your legs slowly in time with the quiet creak of the hinges.  “I’ve been waiting for you…” you purred.

“Hi there, babydoll,” Bucky’s voice answered back huskily.

The heavy steps of his boots made it clear he hadn't taken his shoes off at the door, a habit that had driven you crazy since he was your annoying brother's also-annoying best friend.  Was this the real reason he'd chained you up, so he could freely irritate you?  What next, was he gonna put a cold drink on your nightstand without a coaster?

"You really went all out for me, sweetheart," he noticed, his voice closer than you'd expected; it was fun to not know exactly where he would be, it made you squirm under the gaze you couldn't see but could somehow feel.

How weight joining yours on the bed was a good sign to his location though, along with his hands sliding up your legs.

“Look at this pretty pussy,” he cooed pridefully as he dove in suddenly and licked a thick stripe through your folds.

“Fuck,” you shivered, tugging on your handcuffs unintentionally.

“Feel good, babygirl?” he pressed, chuckling when you nodded.  “You want more?”

“Please,” you whimpered.

He didn’t get back to it right away, the weight on the bed shifting slightly, and it made you fear that he planned to make you beg more before eating you out— but finally his lips returned to you as his tongue explored your sex.

“Oh god,” you moaned, your back arching of its own volition.  It was a little different than he normally did this— less confident and measured, more cautious yet hungry.  Typically he teased you a lot more, knowing exactly the spots that drove you wild and intentionally leaving them understimulated until you begged him to let you come, but now as soon as he found them he was targeting them— perhaps a rare show of mercy from the guy who was normally happy to leave you on edge for hours.

You could feel his moans vibrating into you when he slid his tongue inside and against your channel; it instantly made your back arch as the handcuffs quietly clinked above your head.

He stopped just a little too soon, pulling your hips up until the back of your legs were resting on the front of his.  Being manhandled by him turned you on enough to make you bite your lip.

"Fuck, put your cock in me, wanna feel you," you moaned your plea as you heard the rustling of clothes; your mouth watered when you imagined Bucky stripping, with that insane body of his.

His thick head glided over your entrance and you were preparing to beg some more when he suddenly pushed in, giving you what you wanted so much faster than normal.  Not that you were complaining!

He was also much quieter than normal, which you were actually willing to complain about but didn't.

"Oh god," you groaned at the feeling of him stretching you open, gasping when his cock brushed right over your spot— it made your body jolt each time he pulled back and hit it again.

"Feels good, huh?" Bucky asked and you nodded happily.

"So good," you whimpered.

"I wasn't asking you."

Before you could question it, Bucky’s calloused fingers pulled up your blindfold— but it was Steve’s face above you, Steve’s body on top of yours… and, much to your horror, Steve’s cock inside you.

“What the fuck?!” you yelped, trying to squirm away as you tugged at the cuffs but failing completely.

“Fuck,” Steve winced, “you get really tight when you struggle like that.”

“Don’t act so surprised, babygirl,” Bucky cooed playfully as you turned to stare at his devilish grin.  “You wanted this… you just didn’t want to admit it to yourself.  And Stevie here always wanted this, too, and aren’t you so glad he told me?”

You shuddered as Steve continued thrusting, pushing his cock so deep it made you feel a little nauseous.  "Steve, you've gotta stop," you begged.   "If you love me, you'll stop."

"That's the thing: I love you too much to stop."

He moved faster, paying no mind to your confused whimpers, holding your hips tight as his head fell back slightly which brandished his thick neck and bobbing Adam's apple.

"There's no point in pretending," Bucky reminded you coldly, watching the whole thing with crossed arms and an expression that almost looked… bemused?  "You already showed us how much you love it, so don't waste your time acting so disgusted now."

You regretted more than anything saying that it felt good, literally asking him to fuck you before you really understood what you were asking for: you thought it was Bucky, yes, but that didn't mean it was an act.  It did feel good, and that must've been obvious to everyone since you were so wet already.  You could hear it each time he pushed all the way in, that telltale squelching noise that was somehow disgusting and hot all at once.

Steve wasn't so quiet now that he didn't have to be.  "God, you feel so good," he whispered, grabbing the backs of your knees and pushing your legs up.  It forced his cock even deeper and you choked on your own suppressed moan.

You heard Bucky opening his belt, and turned your head to see him pull out and stroke his cock while he watched Steve fuck you.  It was hard to imagine what he was getting out of this; he never seemed like the sharing type, if anything he sometimes became too possessive.  But clearly there was a lot about him and Steve that you didn't understand.

"Play with her tits," Bucky instructed, voice a bit deeper as he pleasured himself, "makes her come so fast."

Steve dropped your legs to rest on his shoulders so his hands were free to grope your chest, thick fingers twisting and tugging your nipples.  Annoyingly, Bucky knew his way around your body well by now, and so it was difficult to pretend that Steve's touches weren't sending shocks of pleasure right down your spine and to your core.

You had been biting on your lip so hard to stay quiet that you feared you would break the skin, until Bucky leaned down and gave you a little slap on the cheek— not very hard, but enough to make you gasp which in turn released the moan you'd been holding back.

"There it is, honey, don't be quiet for my benefit," Bucky encouraged.  "It's okay to like it, I'm not gonna be jealous."

As if that was your concern; angering your boyfriend by enjoying being fucked by your foster brother.  

"You really overestimate my interest in your— fuck— in your feelings," you panted as you glared up at Bucky where he was grinning down at you with a look that almost indicated pride.

"You're gonna come, aren't you?" he asked, ignoring your resistance entirely.  Whatever chance you had at pretending he was wrong was lost when, just for a moment, your eyes widened at his question.  "Yeah, thought so.  I can tell by that dumb look on your face.  I'm close too, babydoll, betcha wanna taste it…"

His free hand roughly held your jaw open as he stroked himself desperately, his weak groan coinciding with the moment you felt his hot seed spray into your open mouth, his taste familiar despite the entirely surreal circumstances.

It was purely coincidence that you came in that moment, your walls bearing down on Steve while you tried to stay silent so you wouldn't choke on Bucky's spend.

"Fuck, that's it, gonna fill this pretty mouth— god yes, you'd better swallow it all," he sighed as come painted your tongue and the inside of your cheek.  Maybe it was more than normal or maybe it was just that he was tightening his hand around the head of his cock to get every drop in your mouth, but either way it was enough to give you quite a mouthful to swallow, which you did without much question due to force of habit.

"M’close too," Steve warned as Bucky stepped back, "I'm gonna come."

“No, Steve, not inside,” you whimpered, hearing the way your voice had weakened after your orgasm, “you can’t…”

“I can,” he disagreed, “Bucky said so.”

Once again, Bucky's will was more important than your own, and your desperate pulling at the handcuffs was only another reminder of the way you'd guided yourself into his trap.

"Don't," you stammered one more time, but it was hard to focus when he was filling you exactly how you needed, when his thick hands gripping your waist felt just as perfect as you'd secretly imagined so many times… 

Denial is a powerful drug, but so is two orgasms in a row.

"Fuck!" you yelped as you felt a gush of warmth drip from your entrance, even further wetness spurring on Steve's fast and brutal thrusts into you.

"Knew you'd love it," Steve mumbled, growling slightly as he slammed into you.  "Knew you'd take it so well, make a pretty mess all over my cock— fuck I can't wait anymore, gotta fill you up, oh my god... gotta give you my load, honey, you want it?"

"Yes," you sobbed, "Steve, yes, come in me…"

He didn't need much more encouragement than that, groaning loudly as you felt his cock flex and pulse against your walls, his release overwhelmingly hot inside you.

You sighed in time with Steve as he finally stilled, and it was hard to know where to look when Steve and Bucky were both staring down at you.  “What happens now?” you found yourself asking, not so much a literal question about the next task but more about what the three of you were going to do with all the unfortunate truths that had come to light in less than half an hour.

“What happens now is I take my turn,” Bucky informed you sternly, pushing Steve aside.  “Did you really think I wasn’t gonna fuck my girlfriend on Valentine’s Day?”

[dancingazaleas]

zeke yeager | pta meeting

i literally don’t know how to shut up about him

also this is all because i saw a drabble of dilf!zeke and it’s been on my mind nonstop

warnings/notes: dilf!zeke, fem!reader, cursing, eventual smut, zeke is a divorced/widowed dad(at 33), reader is 21, cursing, zeke has a mean daughter and a sweet daughter, breeding kink, overstimulation, brief choking, slight degradation, shit one shot i’m sorry

you swear to the lord that zeke’s 11 year old daughter is a menace to society.

she’s brutally honest, just like zeke, and mean. she’s oddly mature for her age, and you think it might have something to do with her late mother. she looks almost nothing like zeke, but she certainly inherited her personality from him. she’s got curly dark brown hair that ends at her armpits and zeke’s grey eyes. she has a button nose along with rosy cheeks, something else she inherited from her mother.

“y’know my daddy only dates you cause you take care of me and aloisia,” isolde says to you as she slips on her school shoes.

you feel your eye twitch as you turn to zeke’s other daughter, aloisia, who’s seven and looks exactly like zeke. she’s got his nose, his hair color, and even eye shape. she’s got hazel eyes and a slim face. she’s as bubbly as they come, always greeting people she passes by on the street, always making friends at the park.

“i’m ready,” she holds up her small hand to you, a silent request for you to hold her hand.

“same,” isolde stands up after she swings her back pack onto her back, brushing off the nonexistent dirt on her navy blue skirt.

“zeke, the girls are ready!!” you shout out, taking aloisia into your arms.

zeke comes stumbling out of his bedroom, a white sleep shirt covering his torso and grey sweatpants.

“you’re going in that,” you raise an eyebrow at his attire, “we’re going to a parent-teacher meeting, not the gym.”

“yeah daddy, my teachers are gonna think you’re a bum or something,” isolde snickers.

“i’ll help your dad, go watch tv for a little bit longer,” you chuckle at zeke’s pout and put down aloisia, who runs to the couch.

isolde takes off her backpack and joins her sister on the couch, putting her feet on the coffee table as aloisia puts on avatar: the last airbender.

“i thought the dress code was casual,” zeke furrows his brows as you take his hand and lead him back into his bedroom.

“it is. sweatpants are not casual, they’re lounge wear,” you snicker as he flops onto the bed while you close the door and go into the closet.

you know zeke’s rolling his eyes at you, judging from his silence. you grab ahold of a white button up with light grey vertical stripes on it, trying to picture your boyfriend in the shirt. you shake your head and put it back on the rack, deciding that the default outfit would be best for now. you take a white button up off the hanger and grab a pair of black dress pants from his dresser. you hand him a pair of black loafers to go along with it and some long black socks that would cover up his ankles, you’re so glad you reminded him that they exist. you throw a black belt next to him as well.

“this is boring.”

“zeke, this is a pta meeting, the whole thing will be boring,” you watch him rid himself of his shirt.

“should i wear a tie?”

“no, you’ll look better with one button undone,” you smile as he struggles to balance correctly when he puts on his pants.

he tucks the shirt inside his pants and slips on the belt with ease. he unbuttons a button before he slips on his socks.

“i thought today was my day off,” he smirks at you while you roll up his cuffs a bit.

you roll your eyes and he slips on his shoes. he doesn’t need to do his hair, it’s just effortlessly neat.

“time to go,” you scurry to the front door with the girls following behind you.

“he doesn’t look homeless anymore,” isolde notes when zeke follows you all out of the door.

“not funny,” he huffs while he locks the door behind him and the girls get into the black SUV zeke drives.

you help aloisia buckle herself up in the car seat and then slip into the passenger’s seat next to zeke. he’s grumbling something about ‘uncle eren’ and ‘getting the girls’ as he turns the car on.

————

you try to ignore the women ogling zeke as you all walk down the school hallway. you send isolde off to her class since her meeting is after aloisia’s.

“i hope you’ve been good,” you say to aloisia, who’s holding both your’s and zeke’s hands.

“i have! ms greene says i’m one of the best,” she gloats, and you hope for zeke’s sake that ms greene isn’t bluffing.

you three walk into the second grade classroom, which is empty because you reserved the appointment, only to find the teacher isn’t in there. it only seems to make aloisia more excited as she tugs you and zeke towards the class wall with a bunch of pictures of it.

“look, look!!” she jumps as she points at her’s, “they said to draw our family and she said i did a good job!!”

the picture is a messily drawn family portrait of zeke, isolde, and aloisia.

“you drew (name) very pretty,” zeke smiles at you when you snap your head back to look at the picture in closer detail.

there you are, stick figure holding hands with zeke’s and aloisia with isolde on zeke’s other side. you never expected to be on aloisia’s family portrait, you’d barely been in her life for two years and weren’t exactly motherly. you’re a struggling college student that she occasionally sees crying at the kitchen table with zeke comforting you from behind. she, on very rare occasions, sees you come home, absolutely plastered, with a sober zeke leading you to his room. you’re the woman that wakes her up when you cry on the couch late at night. you were, admittedly, okay with not being seen as their mom.

it wasn’t your place, for so many reasons. one, you didn’t exactly act as a role model. two, you could never replace her mother and would never try. three, zeke never referred to you as such. you’d only ever act like their mother whenever you were in certain situations. but that didn’t mean you didn’t want them to see you as a maternal figure.

it made you want to cry, but luckily you didn’t. you just smile at the picture and pat aloisia’s head in approval.

“you did do a very good job,” you smile down at her and before you can give her a hug, you notice a woman walking into the room.

“oh, you must be zeke yeager, aloisia’s dad! i’m ms greene,” her face flushes while she holds out her hand for him to shake.

“yea, that’s me. it’s nice to meet you,” he shakes her hand.

she turns to you, “oh my goodness, i didn’t know aloisia and isolde had an older sister!”

“no, she’s my girlfriend of two years,” zeke chuckles uncomfortably.

“i’m (name), nice to meet you,” you wave your hand, “i’m just here to keep an eye on aloisia while you two talk.”

zeke and her go to a table in the corner of the room and aloisia drags you towards a bookshelf.

thirty minutes of aloisia rambling about her favorite book go by seemingly quick, and you watch as she cheers when her classmates walk into the room. zeke’s walking towards you, holding a thumbs up with a cocky smile, for whatever reason.

you kiss aloisia goodbye, who doesn’t seem too fazed, and head towards isolde’s classroom. you hold hands with zeke while swinging them back and forth while he repeats everything the teacher’s said to him.

“i can’t believe my little girl’s at a third grade reading level,” he exclaims, “that vocabulary studying did wonders!!”

“you should thank me since i was the one who studied with her cause she asked about my assignments for class,” you taunt and laugh when zeke pulls you closer by the shoulder.

that’s how the two of you walk into isolde’s classroom. she’s sitting at a table with her teacher, miss dunst, and fidgeting with her thumbs anxiously. she’s covering half of her face with her hair. with the one eye you can see it looks puffy and her cheeks are red, as if she’d been crying.

it has both you and zeke rushing to sit down on both side of her, zeke asking miss dunst what happened while you tend to isolde.

“hey, why are you crying,” you’re squatting by her chair and you reach to brush the hair out of her face.

when you see her other eye, you gasp out at the black eye starting to form on her eye.

“oh my god, zeke, look at her face!!”

“that is what i wanted to speak about with you. isolde has been getting bullied by some of her classmates. today, a little girl hit her after isolde defended herself while they argued,” the poor woman looks sad watching you and zeke check isolde for more wounds.

“why has she been bullied? she’s not mentioned this to me or (name),” zeke asks while examining her eye more closely.

“well, during the first day of school, isolde introduced herself and told the class about her family. she mentioned you, mr yeager, and her sister. the kids asked about her mother before i could stop them and she was honest with them and said that she had passed. she then said that she still, in a way, had a mother. your girlfriend, mr yeager.

“i asked her occupation, to which isolde said a college student. the kids got loud but i managed to quiet them down, and i thought it was the end of that. after that, her classmates started to pick on her verbally about your age gap and her late mother. i didn’t find out about it until this morning when isolde was hit,” miss dunst frowns as she explains.

before zeke could open his mouth, you speak up, “i’m the girlfriend, (name). i am hoping that these children will be punished accordingly and that their parents be notified. if this has really been going on all year like you say, then at this point their parents should be involved.”

“of course! i’m giving all of their parents a call after classes today. the little girl who hit her is sitting down with the principal right now, so she should be safe if you two would like her to stay at school.”

“give us a moment,” you smile kindly, which she returns, and walks to her desk to give you ‘privacy’.

“isolde, why didn’t you tell your daddy or i about what was going on,” you ask while she hugs zeke.

she peeks her head out of his chest, “didn’t want to seem weak.”

“why would you be worried about that,” zeke asks.

“after mom died, you were always so sad and stressed. i thought that if i was strong, you would be happier,” she explains shakily.

“isolde, look at me,” you put a hand on her knee, “you were six years old when your mommy died. six year olds shouldn’t know how to accurately take care of themselves, it’s why your daddy was there. i’m sure your daddy appreciated the effort, but i promise you that all he wanted you to be was his happy little girl. you don’t need to be strong at 11 years old, and you don’t need to be strong all the time. like you said, your daddy was sad when your mom died. it didn’t make him weak, it made him a person. and that’s what you are; a person. a little person.”

she sniffles and nods at you, “people can’t do everything by themselves. i’m sorry if we made it feel like you couldn’t tell us, and it’s totally understandable that you felt that way.”

zeke hums in agreement, “we love you, baby. so much.”

“love you too,” she mumbles with a small smile.

“do you want to stay at school,” zeke asks, he didn’t want to force her into a situation where she didn’t want to be.

“i have a math test later, don’t wanna miss it,” she sighs, now looking up at you.

“(name)...?”

you tilt your head while you wait for her answer.

“i’m sorry i’ve been so mean to you. everyone was making fun of me and called it weird, so i guess i wanted to believe that too,” your heart warms whenever she looks away shyly.

great, now zeke’s horny from seeing you act motherly.

————

ever since you and zeke had stepped off school campus, one of his hands was always touching you. it didn’t matter where, zeke was shameless.

even as you unlock the door to the his house, he has his chest pressed against your back and his arms wrapped around your waist. his lips are kissing softly at your neck and his hands are shamelessly groping at your boobs.

“zeke, what is up with you,” you laugh whenever you open the door, kicking off your shoes immediately.

“horny,” he admits, swiftly following after you and locking the door behind himself.

“what about this morning made you horny,” you ask shyly while you sit on the couch.

zeke’s buttons are halfway undone and his belt is somewhere on the floor. he squeezes in behind you, once again pressing his chest against your back.

“acting maternal, i guess,” his beard tickles the back of your neck as he kisses it.

“is this why you told isolde it was okay if she wanted to stay at school,” you snicker at his fingers pulling your shirt over your head.

“why else,” he scoffs, “my only day off in a while and i’m horny. sounds like a deal.”

you whimper whenever he starts biting at your neck and when his large hands slip under your bra.

“zeke, if we’re gonna do it on the couch, can i at least lay on my back,” you ask while zeke unclips your bra.

without a word, he’s thrown you onto the couch on your back and climbing on top of you seconds later. your hands quickly unbutton the rest of his shirt, pushing it halfway off of his body.

zeke throws the shirt onto the floor and kisses you, hands running up and down your torso. he pulls away to kiss and suck at your neck while his hands grope at your tits. you’re stuck between laughing and moaning at zeke’s beard dragging against your neck.

his mouth trails down to your tits, mouth attaching to your left tit while he continues to grope your right one. you let out a moan whenever he tweaks your nipple with his right hand and bites softly at your left nipple.

he pulls away from your chest, tugging off your pants and panties in frustration. it leaves you laughing and assisting him. whenever your pants do come off, he throws them to the ground and spreads your legs.

“zeke, they’re not opening too far, we’re on a couch,” you note, but soon stand corrected as zeke grabs your ankle and puts it on the back of the couch.

“nevermind,” you snicker at his cocky smirk, as if he’d done something amazing.

your other leg hangs off the couch, leaving you spread open for zeke. zeke spreads open your glistening folds with thumbs and gives a mindful lick up to your clit. after realizing that his beard is not rubbing against you uncomfortably, he dives in like it’s a pool, which he thinks it is because of how wet you are.

his mouth his sucking on your clit vigorously, as if he were a man starved. you’re moaning wantonly as he suddenly ups the speed. how did he even go that fast, you have no clue, but either way you enjoy it. your back in arching off of the couch and your toes are curling as zeke starts bringing you closer to an orgasm.

“zeke!! i’m... i’m gonna come,” you tug at his hair as your legs start to convulse and close around his head.

he only goes faster, and you wonder to yourself if zeke is powered by batteries or something. but the thought is quickly shut off whenever you finally orgasm, moaning out in ecstasy and throwing your head back against the couch cushions.

zeke slows down his pace, helping you ride through your orgasm. he pulls away whenever you’ve calmed down, fingers immediately pressing at your tight entrance.

“zeke... i-i’m too sensitive,” your complaint goes ignored as two of zeke’s fingers are suddenly inside of you.

“don’t care, deal with it,” he huffs as his fingers stretch you out.

with his other hand, his thumb is rubbing at your puffy clit at the same time of his fingers curling inside of you. your hips buck up with a mewl and zeke chuckles at the sight. unlike last time, he’s moving his tantalizingly slow.

his fingers curl once more, rubbing against the spongy part inside of you sweetly. you buck your hips up again at the contact and curl your toes whenever zeke starts abusing that spot with overwhelming speed. curling his fingers against the spot each time he pistons his fingers in and out of you.

“zeke!!” you come again while moaning his name and he can feel his cock twitch in his pants.

zeke chuckles when he pulls his fingers out, spreading them apart to watch your juices stick together in strings. he plops the fingers in his own mouth, rubbing his other hand up and down your quivering thigh as he pulls away from your sloppy cunt.

he pulls his fingers out of his mouth with an obnoxious ‘pop’ and pulls off his pants and boxers at the same time. he groans at his cock hitting against his lower stomach.

you stare at zeke’s cock. the tip is flushed with a bashful pink and his hair is trimmed nicely against his groin. he’s more girth than he is length, a whopping 6.5 inches, which is something he absolutely gets arrogant about.

“hurry,” you huff while watching zeke fist his cock.

“nah, you gotta beg for it, baby,” the corner of his mouth tugs upwards as he watches you wipe away your tears from the previous orgasm.

“zeke,” you whine and wiggle your hips, “please please please give me your cock. need it so bad.”

he hums thoughtfully, and it already gives you his answer.

“please... i want it so bad, need to be fucked by you,” you pout but perk up at his dismissive shrugging.

“since you want it so bad,” he’s laughing while he puts his right hand on your pelvis and his other on his shaft to enter you.

you gasp at the feeling of him pushing inside of you, grabbing for his, now, free hand. when you catch his hand, you guide it to your bruised neck for him to grasp on. he’s chuckling once again, fingers lightly squeezing against your throat as he continues to push himself in.

he groans whenever he bottoms out, letting go of your neck to grab at your plush thighs. he pushes the towards your chest and thrusts into you shallowly after he spits on his cock buried in your pussy. he hits you deeper than he would’ve before, that much is obvious by your moans raising octaves when he starts to thrust roughly.

your hands reach up to grab the back of his thighs to pull him closer to you than before. he’s groaning at the feeling of your pussy squeezing onto him each time he pulls out and thrusts back into you.

“fuck... zeke!!” you cry and throat your head back.

“fuck,” he grunts, “you’re so fuckin’ tight. even after how much i fuck this pretty little cunt each week.”

his words make you whimper and squeeze your grip on his thighs, making crescent moons into the skin.

“i’m gonna come... i’m gonna come again,” you pant out, back already starting to arch, “come with me please..!”

he speeds up his thrusts, the sound of his balls slapping against your ass getting increasingly louder as he does so.

“you wanna come with me so badly,” he asks tauntingly while you nod.

“god, zeke, please,” you try to ignore the saliva and tears on your face as you continue to scream out for zeke.

“i’ll give my sweet girl my cum since she asked so nicely,” he’s biting his lip whenever he feels his orgasm getting closer.

“yes! yes! please,” you sound so desperate as your orgasm gets closer, “zeke, please, fuck a baby into me, please..!”

zeke almost comes right then at your pleas, but ends up stilling and adjusting his stance to thrust into you more efficiently. the sudden stop makes you whine but it’s soon interrupted with a gasp as he jackhammers into you harder and faster than before.

“fuckin’ whore, wanting me to fuck a baby into you. to make you a mom. since you asked so nicely, i’ll oblige,” he berates.

“you me to fuck a baby into you? make you a mom?” it has you nodding frantically.

zeke continues to degrade you as you’re orgasm comes rushing towards you, fingers now clawing at his thighs as a signal.

zeke thrusts into you two more times before the two of you manage to orgasm simultaneously. his jackhammering slows into a grind, helping the two of you ride out the euphoria you’ve both just went through.

you whimper whenever he pulls out, uncomfortable at the sudden emptiness in you. he watches his cum start to dribble out of you, telling you to keep your legs up. he scurries off to find a paper towel or something to wipe it up with before it falls onto the couch. you shiver whenever you feel a wet cloth wipe away the dribbling cum.

he’s wiping down your chest and neck as well with a clean side of it after you put your legs down. he carries you off into his bathroom, sitting you on the counter while he readies the shower.

“i can’t believe you said that,” he raises a questioning eyebrow at you while he checks the water’s temperature.

“i wouldn’t mind having your kid,” you shrug and watch him put two towels on the counter next to you.

“i might just give you one, don’t say that,” he jokes as he starts to hug you.

“‘m okay with that,” you sigh and lean into his touch, enjoying his warmth.

“you’re stupid,” he snorts and kisses at your shoulder.

“only for you,” you snuggle your head into his neck with a giggle.

“i love you,” he sighs.

“i love you. enough to have your kids.”

maybe in a few hours when you weren’t bathing in the afterglow, zeke would bring it up to you.

[plsimsuchasimp]

cheating.

part 2 here

Ft: Suna Rintarou x !gn reader, a little bit of atsumu miya x !gn reader

Genre/warnings: one (1) curse word, cheating, brief implied sex, angst, hurt/comfort, fighting

Wc: 1.8k

NOT PROOFREAD!

a/n: i’m so sorry for this angst but i had to do it for y’all... didn’t have it in me to write a happy ending, maybe later.

The rain was pouring down, clattering against the roof of the gym. You, sitting against the wall in a corner by the benches, watched Suna’s team play, smiling slightly at the way they seemed to seamlessly move together. Your boyfriend looked concentrated, green eyes flickering from one player to another. 

His phone buzzed beside you, and you picked it up, intending to set it to Do Not Disturb so you could do work, but the notification caught your eye. 

“Hey!” It read, “it was so good to meet you >;) you made me feel good <3″

Instantly, your heart drops into your stomach. Silently willing for the notification to disappear, your eyes cling to the screen as yet another popped up. “I miss you babe, we should do that again”

Your eyes begin to burn, trying to deny the obvious truth of what you saw in front of you. Suna Rintarou had cheated on you, and from the looks of it, with a stranger. You swallow, hard, as the lump in your throat grows and tears begin to form in your eyes. No wonder he’d been overly affectionate in the past week, he probably felt guilty.

What hurt most wasn’t that he didn’t tell you, pretended that everything was fine; no, it was the realization that you just weren’t enough for him. All the time you’d spent on him, everything you’d done, the words of confirmation and the countless amount of love and affection you’d given him, it all wasn’t good enough. 

You were bad enough for him to seek loving in a stranger’s arms.

Clicking the phone off, you put it down and stared into space for a moment, fighting the tears that threatened to spill onto your cheeks at any second. Practice was wrapping up, and you couldn’t face Suna right now. Luckily for you, he was on cleanup duty this week, so he had to stay late. 

Trying to shake the rigidity out of your limbs, you gathered your things and stuffed them into your bag, not taking the time to organize them so they all fit. Head down, you headed for the door, hoping that Suna wouldn’t look over. Opening the door, you were faced with another harsh realization: It was raining and Suna was supposed to drive you home. That wasn’t happening today, for sure. Glancing around, you spotted Atsumu pulling his umbrella out of his bag, and rushed over to him.

“Hey Atsumu,” you said, attempting to keep your voice steady, “Can I catch a ride with you?” He was going to ask why, when Suna had a perfectly good car, but then he caught a glimpse of the tear streaking silently down your face and decided it might be better to wait until later.

Unusually serious, he agreed and put a comforting hand on the small of your back as you two hurried out of the door under his umbrella. Opening his car door for you, he let you in and then went over to the driver’s side, sliding in and turning on the car so it would warm up. 

Stealing the occasional look at you, he noticed you were shaking and turned up the heat in the car although he was warm from volleyball practice. He started driving, sensing that you didn’t want to talk. Jaw clenched, he drove in silence for a couple minutes, then dared to speak.

“Hey, are you okay?” Hearing sniffles from your side of the car and seeing your shoulders shake, he pulled over to the side of the road and put the car in park. Gulping, he awkwardly reached out a hand to pat you on the back, but this only made you cry harder.

Looking up to face him, tear streaks staining your cheeks, you tried to stop shivering from shock. “S-Suna,” you mumbled, fighting to keep your voice from completely breaking, but another sob escaped before you could get anything more out.

“Wha’? Suna what?” he prodded, brow furrowing in concern. You rarely cried, so he knew this was something really serious.

“Suna c-cheated on me.” The last couple of words were whispered, your voice breaking, and Atsumu’s mouth dropped open. Of all the things he’d expected to hear, it wasn’t that. Your relationship with Suna had always seemed perfect. He’d seen the way Suna looked at you, his eyes soft, seen the way his behavior changed around you, seen his eyes light up whenever you smiled. This wasn’t possible.

He opened his mouth, shutting it again when words failed him. You were hunched in the passenger’s seat, shaking so hard he could hear your elbows accidentally hitting the car door. Without a second thought, he took his sweatshirt off and covered you with it, hoping that it would warm you up at least a little bit. 

“I- I’m so sorry,” he muttered, unsure how to comfort a clearly distraught you. As soon as your shudders subsided, his mind turned to Suna and what he would do next time he saw him. No doubt he deserved to be beat up for what he did to you, hurting you like that, but it just didn’t make sense. Suna was totally in love with you, and it was obvious to any outsider. 

He started the car again, one hand on the steering wheel and the other on your shoulder, trying to calm you down. “Y/N, I’m gonna drop ya off at home, okay?”

A quick nod from you reassured him, and you two drove with just the raindrops crashing down on the roof of the car. When you arrived at your house, you made a motion to give back his sweatshirt, but he just waved a hand and said “Don’t worry about it. Ya can return it to me when I next see ya.” Your lips trembled and you turned away from him, making the way to your door and letting yourself in. He didn’t leave until he saw that you were inside, then started driving back to the gym.

You shed your jacket and turned on the heater in your house, not bothering to turn on the lights or draw the curtains. Kicking your shoes off, you crawled into bed and under your blanket and let the tears come, hugging the pillow that smelled too much like Suna.

Meanwhile at the gym, Suna was just finishing up and wondering where you’d gone to. The guilt of his mistake still hung with him, and he was looking to take you out to dinner tonight and spend some more time with you. However, when he saw his phone laying faceup, the bold words in text still plainly on the screen, he knew that you’d found out, and his heart contracted. Sinking to his knees, he struggled to breathe through the upcoming panic. He was in love with you, and he had no idea what had possessed him to fall into someone else’s arms for the night.

The feeling surged when he remembered that one of your biggest fears/insecurities was not being good enough, and a short gasp fell out of his mouth as he realized just how much he’d messed up. The gym door swung open, banging against the wall with the sheer force of the push. There stood Miya Atsumu, a murderous expression on his face.

“Suna!” He barked, and the middle blocker glanced up briefly before returning his attention to the phone clutched in his hands, frantically pressing the call button as it once again went straight to voicemail. The sound of your voice was almost too much for him to bear, his breathing accelerating and his head pounding. 

y/n please pick up please i’m so sorry i swear i didn’t mean it they mean nothing to me i love you i love you so much please don’t leave me

His fingers speed across the keyboard, hoping against hope that you’ll talk to him. Any sort of contact. The phone is suddenly knocked from his hand by Atsumu, the look on his face nothing short of furious. 

“What the fuck were ya thinking?” He spits, rage evident in the bulging veins of his neck. “You hurt y/n so badly that they had to drive home with me rather than face another second of ya.”

His words stung Suna, because they both knew they were true. He doesn’t resist when Atsumu pulls him to his feet, glaring at him and shoving him towards the wall. 

“You’re pathetic. Y/N is the best person ya will ever meet, and ya ruined it all.” Once again, Suna doesn’t reciprocate, his eyes falling miserably to the ground. Atsumu’s fist comes up and hits Suna straight in the stomach, forcing the breath out of his lungs as he collapses to the floor. Atsumu looks at him with an expression of pure disgust, walking away to leave Suna where he is, slumped against the wall.

His eyes are dull, the life drained out of them, because he knows Atsumu is right. A notification causes his phone to buzz and he picks it up immediately, hoping to see anything from you, but it’s just another text from the fling. Hatred for himself and the person fills him, and he slams his phone down, allowing his head to sink into his knees. 

He needs to see you, so he grabs his stuff and rushes to his car, barely remembering to lock the gym on his way out. Going ten miles above the speed limit, he makes it to your house ten minutes after you had. 

Walking up to your front door, he knocks urgently, over and over again. He hears shuffling from behind, and the door opens to reveal you in an oversize sweatshirt that doesn’t belong to him and sweatpants, eyes red and puffy from crying. 

The instant you see him, time seems to stop. The hurt is written all over your face, and the regret all over his. He can’t seem to move, can’t do anything besides whisper your name.

“Y/N.” 

You shake your head, new tears forming in the corners of your eyes, and turn away. “I don’t want to talk to you, Suna.” 

With those words, his heart shatters a little bit more. He was your Rin, your Rinnie, never Suna. “Please-” the door slams in his face and he hears the lock turning, signaling the final goodbye. He screams, pounding on your door as the panic overtakes him. 

“Please! I love you! I’m so sorry, just please don’t leave me! I’ll go insane if you do!” Tears stream down his face and yours, mourning each other on opposite sides of the door. His words wrack you, tempt you to open the door and forgive him, but you can’t. He already showed you he didn’t care.

Half an hour passes, with the yells from the door fading into whimpers. Finally, you hear a car door slam, and you allow yourself to sob, held immobile on the floor. 

You’re broken, and it’s his fault. His head falls onto the steering wheel, not caring that it sets off the car horn.

Still, the rain patters on the roof, both of you less than three hundred feet apart, but forever separated.

He’ll never love anyone like he loved you.

[youryanderedaddy]

Love Fuel

Summary: You were Jason’s first love before you broke his heart and rejected him. It’s all your fault that he can’t move on.

Tw: female reader, obsessive behavior, incel behavior, nice guy behavior, self - hatred, threats of non-con, implied non - con, implied masturbation, bullying based on appearance (not reader), deregatory language, kidnapping, misogyny, generalizations, stalking

this is a hot mess but its 1 am and i am tired, ik that incels are bad irl (obviously), but this is fiction and I kinda wanted to explore the dynamic and shit. 

Everyone used to call him JJ or The-Big-Jay back in high school. Well, most of the time his classmates weren’t really calling out to him or even talking to him, the names were whispered behind his back, after he had just passed the hallway, or on bad days - right to his face. The jocks, these dumb motherfuckers, would beat him up, mock him for whatever stupid reasons they had chosen to use as an excuse to torment the smaller and weaker. The popular girls would giggle like brainless bimbos as Kyle or Brad or any other football player stole his glasses or continuously punched him in the guts until he threw up all over the floor. Even the nerds, the kids at the bottom of the school hierarchy, messed with Jason from time to time when they wanted to feel the oh - so desired rush of power they so rarely managed to experience. 

Looking back, Jason could see why his classmates hated him so much - he was everything that society deemed as wrong and unattractive. He was thin, pale, “scrawny” as the others called him, on the shorter side, and on top of that the teen was terribly shy and introverted, never having the guts to stand up to his bullies or even tell someone about the abuse. The male spent most of his free time at home, playing hours upon hours of video games, watching anime and reading books he was simply too young to understand or look critically at. As he grew older, the man began to view the world as it trully was - a dark, miserable place that ate up sore losers like him. Men were primitive and foolish, which somehow managed to soften their faults. Women, on the other hand, were  calculative and manipulative, greedy and sinful. His whole life they had done nothing but reject him when he needed love and support the most. Of course, there were many other reason why the brunette detested the weaker sex. In his eyes women were evil two - faced sluts, showing off their bodies yet acting innocent and hurt once someone finally decided to use them for the only thing they were actually good for.

But you Jason hated the most. You reminded him that no matter how much he hated the outside world, he would always hate himself the most. He had to admit you were pretty, painfully so, with a perfect little body to match your looks and a sweet sugary smile that almost deceived him years ago. As much as the man regretted his weakness, he had fallen right into your trap at the time.

You weren’t the most popular girl, but you had your fair share of friends, all nice and loyal like puppies. You weren’t the smartest either, but unlike the other stupid giggling sluts you always tried to do your best. You were beautiful just like them but you were actually kind to the pathetic bullied kid no one else bothered to acknowledge even existed outside of being a punching bag. You always asked him whether he was alright and often took him to the infirmary when he looked paler and sicker than usual. You talked to him as if he was a normal human being and despite the initial doubt, Jason appreciated it. 

It was the last day of your senior year when the teen finally gained the courage to confess. He was shaking the whole time and by the end of his little speech there were small tears in the corner of his eye. You were the first girl the male cared about, the first one to show him kindness, to offer him friendship without asking for something in return. You were the only one who could make him feel deserving of love, worthy of affection. And then you took it all away in a matter of seconds.

“I am sorry, bud.” You had said that day after giving him a  half - hearted hug and an apologetic smile, that started to seem more and more like a mocking grin the longer the teen started at you. “I already have a boyfriend, but I am really flattered. I am sure that you will find a lovely girl once you start college.” You had added quickly, cheerfully, rubbing the salt all over his wounds, honey dripping from your plump red lips. He had wanted to kiss them, bruise them, bite them until your stupid lying mouth was filled with blood. Obviously you didn’t have a boyfriend or he would have known by now, he stalked your social media religiously after all. Even if you had one, he probably treated you like shit. And how could you even suggest him finding another woman? As if he wanted any of the stupid money - grabbing sluts out there. As if some of them could replace you.

The boy was too furious to form a proper response besides “Fuck you, bitch”. His cheeks turned red and he didn’t realise that the bitter words had escaped his lips before he could stop them, then his legs took him far away from that shithole of a school. He didn’t manage to see your reaction before running away but it didn’t matter anymore. You were just like the others. 

***

That day Jason swore to show you just how small and insignificant you had made him feel. He wanted to see you crumble, cry and beg for forgiveness, desperate for his love but never good enough to get it. The man formed a plan to change himself and come back for you once he had erased each and every trace of his past. The brunette came to terms with his terrible social anxiety and decided that he needed to gain social abilities more than anything. That’s why, as much as he dreamt of working from home as a boring programmer with an even more boring, but flexible working schelude, the male chose to study something that involved a lot more human interactions. The next step was to hit the gym for the first time and get a monthly subscription. It wasn’t hard to see that females nowadays liked brain - dead athletes with defined jawline and cheekbones, toned chests and strong muscled bodies, so if he wanted to impress you, he had to look his best. It wasn’t easy at first - it felt like everyone in the fitness salon had their eyes on his weak frame, laughing and pointing their fingers at his imperfections, but things gradually got better as time went on. The trainings became easier to get through and from time to time they even helped the man forget about his loneliness and nihilism. 

Jason soon returned to his old habbit of spending hours looking through your accounts - Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, he knew all of your usernames, each post, every picture and text. He couldn’t believe how much of a desperate attention whore you had become over the years. The male remembered you in your long brown skirts, cozy sweatshirts and pure-white shirts, all the gray buttons closed to the very top, blushing, laughing, smiling like the adorable Goody-two-shoes you were. Now you were smirking seductively in every photo, overconfident and vibrant, flaunting your tits for every man to see and wearing tight little dresses that barelly covered your ass combined with heels so high and sharp they could be used as a weapon. You were such a stupid slut it was disgusting, and he couldn’t stop himself from jerking off every single time he saw your pretty little face on the screen. He wanted to cum down your throat so badly it was ridiculous, and even after knowing that you had probably already had hundreds of cocks shoved deep inside your pussy, the brunette still wished to see you split open on his, taking his lenght like a good little cocksleeve. 

***

The moment when he could see you again finally came. How many years had passed since graduation - five, ten, fifthteen? It hardly mattered. Jason was successful, at last. The male had his own business that was doing surprisingly well, there were some guys from the gym he could call friends and the best thing, he looked absolutely unrecognizable. There was nothing left of the tiny scrawny kid with quiet voice that everyone stepped over, he was now replaced by a strong capable man, determined to get what was rightfully his and his alone.

It wasn’t hard to find you since the brunette knew everything about you - where your job was, what time you finished, how long it took you to go home and what path you took. You lived alone and worked as a barista in a small local cafe even now that you had finished your studies in your dream faculty. Turns out the princess wasn’t so great and smart after all, having to resort to working a minimal - wage job day and night just to be able to pay her rent. Jason was absolutely delighted though, he loved your stupid dead - end job and your endless struggles to survive in the materialistic world honestly and fairly without selling yourself like a common whore. On one hand the male was happy that you had clung onto your last bit of innocence and on the other your pitiful lifestyle gave him the chance to snatch you away much easier. And that’s exactly what he did.

 ***

You woke up confused just like he had expected, bombarding him with questions, asking him who he was was, begging him to let you go, to at least explain what’s happening. You were so dumb, but God, you were still so pretty, if not prettier than before. You cried so beautifully when Jason told you you belonged to him now and you cried even more when he slammed his cold rough lips over yours in a deep wet kiss. You whimpered and whined while the male sucked on your lower lip and bit down, good, he wanted it to hurt. The stalker couldn’t wait to be inside you, he couldn’t hold back anymore. 

He climbed on top of you and pinned your wrists to the floor before tying them up with delicate red rope and tightening it. It wasn’t like the man was scared of you slipping away and hurting him, you were too weak and tiny to stand a chance against his years of power - lifting and muscle - training anyways, he just wanted you to be as uncomfortable and squirmish as possible. Your tormentor wished for you to be in worse pain than he had been during his youthful years, and he knew exactly what to do. Next thing you knew Jason had ripped your dress apart, leaving you vulnerable and exposed in just your plain old panties and bra. Cold shivers ran down your spine when the chilly air hit your naked flesh and you finally realized there wasn’t getting away from this. You had to stay there, limbs bound together, unable to move or fight back, the stranger’s hands caressing your neck before moving dangerously close to your clothed breasts. You felt so sick you were going to throw up for sure if your abductor didn’t step back so you decided to use your last resort.

“Jason, please stop!” You screamed out of the blue, forcing the brunette to freeze instantly at the use of his birth name. You had already called him a pervert and a psycho which didn’t seem to faze him, but the name clearly caught him off guard. This only seemed to prove your theory further - the man really was your former classmate, despite the only similarity between them being the dark distant look in his eyes. “I beg you, don’t hurt me!” You continued, hoping to at least buy yourself more time before the assault took place. 

He gulped loudly and stared at your quivering form. The impossible had happened, you had recognized him and now together with fear, there was also pity in your gaze, the one emotion your captor absolutely despised. You used to be the only one who pitied him, and even now that he was bigger, better and stronger than before, you still had the guts to pity him. It drove him insane but any attempt to hurt or touch you was fruitless now - your soft skin was suddenly burning his fingers like hellfire. 

“You must be thinking that I am a monster.” Jason started out dryly, chuckling bitterly, humorlessly even. He clenched his fists unconsciously and brought them to the floor in a fit of rage, missing your head by mere inches. Your heart was beating like crazy and you only hoped the mandman couldn’t hear it. “A freak.” The man spat out the word like it was a curse and for a split second his eyes softened before turning into two spinning torches. “Right?” You were sure that if looks could kill, his would have you dead by the end of the night so you quickly nodded your head no.

“You are lying to me again, pretty girl.” The brunette replied feisty, "pretty” rolling off his tongue like an insult. Then he broke into hoarse maniac laugher and lowered his head so his face leveled up with yours, so close you could feel his warm breath on your tear - stained cheek. “When I am done with you, you wouldn’t be so pretty anymore, darling.” Your captor growled and attacked your neck, sinking his teeth deep into the flesh. “You will see exaclty how ugly my love is.”

[aggravatetheaxe]

BO SINCLAIR X TRANS MAN / MAN ALIGNED READER COMING OUT - Pt. 2 - Over the Moon

This title is NSFW. Pt. 1, Under Your Skin, is Safe For Work. If you're a minor, please read that one instead! This one has s*x in it!

It's been a year since you came out to Bo, and while there have been ups and downs and a lot of new things to get used to, you've both done your best to keep the relationship going. But has he learned how to treat you like a man?

CW: NSFW, descriptions of dysphoria, mentions of deadnaming/misgendering, mentions of murder and mortal peril, words that could be considered slurs and/or fetishizing/objectifying (I mean, come on, it's Bo. We're talking extremely raunchy BUT GENDER AFFIRMING sex.)

Soundtrack: x

Words: 3,431

Part One

Masterlist

***

The sun was just setting over Ambrose by the time Lester's truck pulled up to the washed-out road. With a smile, you shifted the big paper bag in your arms and slid out of the passenger side, calling, "Thanks, Les!" over your shoulder.

"You take care now!" he said back, patting Jonesy's behind as she jumped out after you. "Tell those good fer nothin' brothers of mine 'm sorry I couldn't make it to dinner."

You nodded, filling your lungs with fresh air. You loved the hell out of Lester, but you still weren't used to the smell of his truck. "I'll tell them. Drive safe. Thanks again."

Lester waved as he backed out, then pulled a sharp turn to head down the dirt road again, truck clattering the whole way.

You looked down at Jonesy, who had paused to pee in a nearby bush. "You ready, Jonesy?" When she looked up at you, panting, you said, "I know, it's hot. Come on, let's head home. Go home, Jonesy."

She knew the way, taking point and leading you across the small creek, around the bend and into Ambrose.

Your heart soared the moment you stepped into town. You could see pretty much the whole thing from where you stood: the church, the gas station, the house of wax ... and of course the Sinclair house.

You were eager to go find Bo, but you followed Jonesy to the house of wax first, opening one of the front doors to let her in. She'd find her way down to Vincent, and he'd know to come up to the house for dinner in about an hour—unless he didn't show up at all, which wasn't out of the ordinary.

Jonesy pranced into the dusty darkness of the museum, and you watched her retreating form for a few moments, zoning out.

It had been a year since you'd come out to Bo, Vincent, and Lester. A year now that you'd been living as your true self. It felt like much longer than that, and yet, when you thought about it, it somehow felt like only yesterday that you'd told your favorite mechanic.

After stewing over it and your talks, he'd come to terms with your new lifestyle ... gradually. Grudgingly, at times. But he was trying, and that meant something. These days, he only had to correct himself occasionally.

And that was the thing about Bo. He may be ignorant, and he might not get it, but once he had come to terms with something ... once he had decided that something was acceptable ... he was protective as hell. It might take some work, and he might still tease you about it, but if anyone else said something? God help them.

"Boo!"

You jumped, nearly dropping your paper bag as strong hands squeezed your waist. You turned quickly and were met with Bo's grinning face. "You douchebag!"

He snickered. "Scared you, darlin'?" He leaned to look into your bag. "Get anything good?"

"Get your nose out of there." With a grin of your own, you pushed him gently away by the chest. "It's a surprise."

"You know I hate surprises." Nonetheless, Bo relented, straightening and adjusting the brim of his hat. "I'll lock up the shop, meet you up at the house in ten?"

"Sounds good." You craned your neck to kiss his stubbly, sweaty cheek, then passed him. As you did, he smacked your ass. "Ugh! Come on, dude."

"You know ya like it, dude."

You could still hear him snickering to himself like an idiot as you parted ways, starting up the hill to the house while he returned to the garage. The door was unlocked as usual. You stopped in the kitchen to shove the groceries in the fridge before starting upstairs. It was hot as hell today, and you were in desperate need of a shower, slicked with more sweat than you cared to think about.

Once in the bedroom, you kicked your shoes under the end of the bed, then stripped off your shirt. You'd been wearing your binder for a few hours now, so you peeled it off, relishing the feeling of air hitting your hot skin. As you chucked the binder to the floor, you glanced into the full-length mirror near the dresser.

Your hormone therapy was going well. You were hairier, your face was slightly different, your fat had redistributed and made you squarer in a way that made you downright giddy. Your chest wasn't flat, but more and more every day, you found you didn't care—even enjoyed the look of it. Wearing a binder in public saved you from being misgendered, but around Ambrose, you didn't wear it all that much.

You ghosted your fingers over the hair on your arms and hands, thinking back. The road to the place you were at had been rocky, to say the least. For you and for Bo. When the HRT had started taking effect especially, he'd gotten weird and silent all over again, like it was finally really setting in for him. But he'd rarely voiced any criticisms aloud besides some offhanded asinine comments, so you'd just let him deal with whatever internal struggle he was dealing with.

Those days had been a struggle for you, too. But by now, he'd gotten over himself. He even dutifully helped with your shots, administering them like they were the most serious shit in the world.

It made you feel all warm and fuzzy inside, how far he had come. How far you'd both come. For a few long minutes, you were lost in your scrutiny, fingering stretch marks and admiring your hands.

You were so deep in thought that when the bedroom door creaked open, you jumped, instinctively covering your chest before you realized who it was. "You scared me."

"That's twice today." Bo smirked as he hung his hat on one of the bedposts. "You sure are jumpy."

"You're almost as quiet as Vincent when you wanna be." You bit your lip and glanced back at the mirror.

In the reflection, you noticed Bo looking you up and down slowly. After a beat, he approached from behind, wrapping his arms around your middle and meeting your gaze. As he did, he raised his hands to your chest, strong fingers rubbing your breast tissue in deep circles. Ever since you'd complained about how tender you got after being compressed for hours, he'd done this. You were pretty sure it was just an excuse to touch your boobs, but it felt nice at least.

You relaxed back into him with a sigh, letting him support you a bit. "How was your day?"

"A lot better now that you're home, handsome." He craned his head to kiss your neck and stayed like that, mouth buried in the crook. "Fuck, you smell good," he mumbled into your skin, fingers never stilling.

You couldn't help but squirm a little under his praise. You smelled like sweat, and worse, man sweat, but Bo always seemed fascinated with it, more than content to snuggle up to you and take your changing body in.

"I smell like a highschool gym locker," you mumbled, though you couldn't hide your goofy smile in the mirror.

He raised his eyes and brows to meet your gaze in the reflection again. "You sure? I used ta play football ... don't remember the other guys smellin' this hot."

You squeezed one of the arms around your waist, trying to ignore the heat of your face. The sight of him rubbing your breasts and the feeling of his rough fingers against your sensitive skin was already crazy-making enough. "I bet you found it a little hot."

A year ago, you wouldn't have dared make a joke like that. You didn't even wanna think about how offended he would've gotten. Now, though, his only reaction was a smile that crinkled his eyes and a little sparkle in his pupils.

"All those sweaty, strong guys bumping up against each other in steamy close quarters." Your smile turned into a grin. "Bet it kinda turned you on."

Bo snorted. "Wouldn't really know. I usually changed in the janitor's closet." A bit of vulnerability flashed in his eyes, but he quickly recovered by focusing the attention back on you. "Anyway, none a' them were like you. Where you goin', lookin' like that?"

As he spoke, his hands slid down your front, hugging your hips so your ass was pressed tight against him. You shivered hard. "Looking like what? This is just my body."

He grunted, and you watched in fascination as his gaze ate you up. He rubbed your flanks with his thumbs. "You're a real pretty boy, you know that? Not like other guys at all..."

Your heart skipped a beat, and you suppressed the urge to hide your face in your hands. Still, you averted your eyes from the mirror, too shy to look at yourself any longer. "I dunno about that, but thanks."

Bo shifted. He huffed in your ear, and you lifted your head enough to see him frowning down at you. After a few moments, his expression changed to something slightly more neutral, eyes alight. "Don't make me hafta teach you a lesson, sweetheart. I might enjoy it too much."

Those words sent a thrill up your spine, flipping your stomach. He looked like a predator about to strike its prey, and god, it took everything you had not to give in right away. You raised your chin in a challenge. "What lesson is that, hm?"

Bo's expression shifted again. He grinned, bottom lip caught between his teeth. One hand left your hip, wrapping around your throat just under your chin.

Then, he pivoted, and with one good yank, threw you onto the bed.

You loosed a soft breath as you bounced on the mattress, looking up at him. Defiance fluttered its wings in your chest. "Well? You never answered my question."

"Shh." His hand returned, this time over your mouth. "None a' that now. I'm not in the mood for dolin' out punishment. You just sit there nice 'n' lemme show you what ya do to me, understand?"

Even if you could say something with his hand over your mouth, all you wanted to do was stare at him—at those beautiful blue eyes that seemed to see right through you.

"Tch." His crooked grin made a brief appearance, though it was more of a snarl, showing off his gums. "What a good li'l soldier."

With that, Bo moved in on you, kissing you hard. Teeth and noses clashed painfully before he drew you closer and deeper, his tongue exploring you like he could drink you in. You returned the kiss with equal enthusiasm, grunting into his mouth, then giving a groan when you felt his large hand cup you between the legs.

A sharp inhale, and he pulled back slightly. His lips moved against yours as he whispered, "Whose is that? Who does this pussy belong to, dickbait?"

Your breath hitched. "You."

"Me. That's right." He squeezed and rubbed through your jeans. You could already feel how wet you were, folds sliding together. A second later, he'd undone your button and zipper and slipped his hand into your underwear. "Fuck, that's nice." His lips still brushed against yours, breath hot on your face and in your mouth. "Love that boy cunt. You're just as wet, aintcha?"

As he stroked you, his thumb found your swollen clit. You gasped when he put pressure on it.

"So wet for your man."

You shuddered and dared to quip back, "And it looks like you're pretty hard for yours."

Finally, he pulled back to meet your eyes, lust warring with challenge. He stared for a few moments before saying, his voice nearly a growl, "I'mmuna make you come, pussyboy. Yeah. Squirt all up my stomach 'n' chest ... we'll see if you still gimme an attitude once you're screamin' and shakin' under me."

You had no smart comeback for that. You simply melted onto his hand, grinding against him as he slid two fingers inside your hot, needy pussy. The feeling of him curling his fingers and stroking you deep already had you biting back incoherent dirty talk, every nerve electric.

"Pretty young buck like you, walkin' around lookin' like that ... you're just askin' for dick." He licked his lips and used his other hand to help you shimmy out of your jeans. Soon, you were bare, gushing all over his fingers as he loomed over you. "Am I right?"

"Y-Yeah," you pushed out, leaning back on your palms so he could get a better angle. "Fuck, Bo—"

"Y/N," he mumbled back, free hand gripping the back of your head. "Y/N."

You heard him say your name all the time, but the way he said it now, the way he was staring into your eyes ... you knew this meant something more. He wasn't just fucking you, he was fucking you. He was seeing you.

You couldn't take it anymore. Your head was spinning with every circle his thumb made around your clit, but you needed more. With a strangled gasp, you gripped his biceps. "Bo, baby, inside—fuck, please, I need you."

He smirked above you. "Not until you admit you're the handsomest goddamn man in Ambrose."

You groaned. "Come on!"

"Sorry, gorgeous, those're the rules. C'mon, lemme hear you say it."

Your cheeks burned, but he wouldn't stop playing with your pussy, and you didn't want to come without his cock inside you. "I-I can't," you muttered, only half joking. "What about you, big cat?"

"Besides me." He thrust his fingers in particularly firmly, drawing a shout from you. "Say, 'I'm the handsomest goddamn man in Ambrose.' I wanna see you say it while you're ridin' my hand, and you better convince me."

You panted for a few more moments before finally giving in, sputtering, "I'm the ... handsomest goddamn man in Ambrose," followed immediately by a groan, your eyes rolling back in your head.

"I'm not buyin' it."

"I'm the handsomest goddamn man in Ambrose!" He certainly made you feel like it.

"Good boy." After one last jerk, Bo drew his fingers from you, going to work his belt off. His cock sprung from his Dickies, already red and glistening with precum. He caught your calves in iron grips as he lined himself up with your hole. "I c'n smell you. Slut. So fuckin' messy for me."

As he slid in, your head lolled back. You dropped to your elbows, then gave up completely and laid flat, unable to hold yourself up for shaking.

Bo almost cooed, throbbing gently inside you. "Lookit my beautiful boyfriend ... already half way ta heaven. Haven't even started poundin' that sloppy boy pussy yet. Ya can't lose it on me already, ace."

Even the stupid nicknames got you hot somehow. You watched him through half-lidded eyes, panting. When he began to thrust, you yowled like a hurt animal, the drag of his dick sending flames spitting through your limbs.

His grip tightened as he rolled his hips into you, in and out, in and out, picking up pace. "You like that, loverboy? Shit, sure looks like ya do." He lifted his chin. "Stick your tongue out."

Obediently, you parted your lips with your tongue, trying not to drool too much.

Bo couldn't hide the way his eyes sparkled as he watched your mouth, or the way his dick swelled in you. His hips moved faster, your slickness enough for him to glide. It felt so nice, but that alone wouldn't make you come, and he knew that—he was savoring this.

Eventually, his shirt found its way to the floor, followed by his pants and boxer-briefs. The sight of him bare with you, glistening in the hot afternoon, made it hard to breathe.

With one of his hands, he propped your leg up so it was resting against his chest and slightly over his shoulder; with the other, he explored your torso, dragging his calloused hands up your hip, across your stomach, to your breasts. He still played with them often, sucking and squeezing, and you found you didn't mind. The way it made you feel and the way he was looking at you, how could you ever hate it? Plus, you weren't sure he'd take no for an answer regardless.

A growl ripped from your chest as he bent to suck one of your nipples, latching on for a few moments before flicking his tongue, then running it flat in circles. He whispered heatedly, lips brushing against you, accent slurring, "I love your tits ... you know I love ya tits, righ'? Fuck, ya so hot..."

You knew he'd miss them if you decided to get rid of them. Honestly, that was half the reason you were reconsidering that idea. You never wanted to forget the way he worshiped them: licking, sucking, slapping, squeezing his dick between them...

"Come on, romeo," Bo panted, his mouth still against your chest as he plowed into you. Wet clapping filled the room as his balls met your ass, again and again, almost unbearably warm. "Come on, fuck ya'self off tha'."

He loosened his grip on you, giving you more freedom to move. Now he was fucking firmer, his angle more deliberate, the hot head of his cock hitting your sweet spot with every thrust. You loosed another yowl and bucked your hips to meet his.

"Bo," you groaned. "Bo, Bo..."

"Tha's my man." He was losing control of himself, his voice choked and desperate. "Tha's my man. Tha's my fuckin' man."

"Yeah—! You— you like fucking other guys, angel? Huh?"

Bo exhaled harshly, twitching inside you. "Like makin' 'em scream, too. 'Specially this one. My— handsome li'l— pussyboy—"

You could feel the muscles of his sweat-slicked thighs and abs flexing as he tried to hold himself back, trying to keep himself from finishing. You knew one comment from you would push him over the edge ... so you waited until you were at your edge, too, to choke out: "Fill that slutty boy pussy up, cher. Show me who's the big man around here, who gets to come wherever he wants. Show me who's boss— fuck—!"

Bo lurched, sinking his teeth in the crook of your neck. Every inch of him tensed, cock jumping, and you saw white as your entire core became molten between your orgasm and his.

When you were next aware of your surroundings, he had collapsed into you, slumped a bit awkwardly over the edge of the bed. He was breathing hard, his hair damp with sweat. It dripped down his spine, too, and down the back of your thighs. You gripped him tightly, wrapping your arms and legs around him, and the two of you stayed like that for a minute or so.

Eventually, he pulled away, rolling onto his back beside you. One of his strong, square hands still gripped your wrist, though, thumb brushing the back of your hand lightly. He opened his pretty blue eyes, all long lashes as he blinked away the haze of his climax.

Then he looked over at you—and, of course, found you already staring at him. His lips quirked up in a smirk. "Angel?"

You could feel yourself flush. "Romeo?"

The smirk turned into a wolfish grin, and he propped himself up on one elbow, stealing a kiss. "You're cute," he declared after a moment, like he was giving his official opinion on the subject.

"You're one to talk. Can we at least agree that I'm the second handsomest man in Ambrose?"

Bo heaved a sigh. "A'right, a'right, fine. Guess numero uno is my cross ta bear."

"Always."

With a laugh, you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him close for a kiss. It started heated and rough, but as the seconds passed, it became more tender. He slipped a hand into your hair and held you in the kiss for an extended period before pulling away, an intense gaze searching your face.

"I love you," he breathed. "Ya know that, right?"

It wasn't often he said it unprompted; usually when he told you he loved you, it was because you'd said it first. At once, tears sprung to your eyes, and you leaned in for another quick kiss.

You did know—you did. And more importantly, he knew. He knew everything and he still said those three little words. He saw you and this and he still wanted all of it.

And fuck, you wanted it, too.

***

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[ohheyitsokay]

good eye

part 4 of the ‘hey batter batter’ series

pairing: Francisco Morales (Frankie, Catfish) x reader

wordcount: 3.5k (I’m only 14% sorry about that)

warnings: strong language, extremely mild injury, Benny Miller working out, a little bit of a cliffhanger ending

summary: it’s a Triple Frontier baseball AU! Trust me, you don’t need to know anything about baseball. 

“good eye” is an encouragement for batting players, essentially applauding them for having good judgement when and when not to swing.

In this chapter, the guys becoming increasingly aware of how interesting you are to the whole gang - and what they’re going to do about it. 

>>

Bottom of the ninth inning – the end of the game.

Sometimes players fixated on the score, glancing at the flashing lights or acting desperately but for Will, keeping it in his head was just as natural as breathing. Floating around first base made it easy for him to keep an eye on everything, and stay focused under the summer sun. His team was up by two.

The opposition was at bat – their final advantage as the home team. He didn’t feel particularly nervous, but couldn’t breathe easy just yet. They already had two outs, thanks to his little brother’s inhuman speed and some excellent Garcia pitching, and just one more to go before it was all over. Preferably, this would happen before the man on third made it to home base. 

There was a bead of sweat rolling down, down, down his temple over his cheekbone, and into his beard. The clouds from the start of the game were long gone – even with his cap, his blue eyes were getting tired.

They were focused on the batter, not even Pope, and never the crowd, since it was always just a blur of noise and rival colors and waving hands. The closer the game came to an end, the more the mass of people writhed with tension. It was better just to ignore it. There was no reason at all, but he looked up just for a split second and he saw a single, tiny form make itself clear, sending a confusing thrill down his spine.

A familiar crack rang through the air and he snapped back to focus. The batter was hurling towards him, the crowd was holding it’s breath as he looked around, almost frantically.

Where was the ball?!

Your form was still in his minds eye, he didn’t understand, but then – there, in the outfield. No, here. Instinct had taken over.

It was in his glove, and his left toe had found first base. Will heard a curse as the opposing player plowed behind him a second too late, a yell from the umpire, and then the satisfying groans of the other team’s fans.

Pope crashed into him first, then whoever else was the closest. It was giddy and triumphant chaos, hands clapping his shoulder, sweaty hugs, slaps, and high fives, and Will barely noticed any of it. Jogging back to the locker room was quick, the crunch of their shoes in the grit of the field like a stampede, impossibly loud. The locker room wasn’t as bad. It would have been louder if they had lost, like they had expected. Something still felt strange in his gut as they changed and rinsed off and packed their things.

You were interesting to him, he liked how real you were. He was normally the one that grounded others, that kept his head, learned his lessons and left the game on the field. It was nice, spending time with someone he didn’t have to do that for – or really anything for. There wasn’t a need to put on a show for you, or be your steady sidekick. It was nice. But it had only been a lunch and a night at the bar, no reason to know the shape of you, much less be thrown off by it.

He was taking extra care to clean his newest tattoo, absentminded, when the locker-talk caught his attention.

This was the first away game they had won this season, and everyone was debating why their luck had changed. Some of them were arguing loudly, ridiculously, and as usual, his friends started gravitating together, interested, but with lower voices and cooler heads.

“Do you think it was because I wore last weekend’s socks, Fish?” Benny was grinning, as his friends eyebrows answered for him. Frankie was superstitious, but in a way he’d gotten from his abuela, not the game. Will had a thought, the confusing last moment of the game clicking into the conversation, his eyes meeting Pope's for a moment.

“Actually, I have a theory,” he kept his voice quiet. If the rest of the team got wind that William Miller was participating in the banter, they’d be all over him, sure he was right only because he rarely cared. His friends looked at him, curiously, and he chewed on the idea for a moment, liking it more and more until he actually believed himself when he told them.

Their good luck charm?

You.

-

Tom had missed the conversation, occupied with a love-sick staff member in a quiet corner of the stadium.

He would never admit it, but he always needed a distraction when the winning catch had nothing to do with him. And Molly had to travel with the team most weeks anyway, the availability becoming increasingly more appealing than trying his luck with a random fan.

The next day after practice, he found her again and this time, despite the crude nature of the location, he took little more time. It was strange, to grab her without pent up frustration driving his actions, but not an entirely unwelcome change of pace.

He didn’t dwell on it, almost running away, but she did, trailing her fingers over the places his had been as she put herself together again. She wanted to remember each one, to savor them like it was the first time. And maybe it was – the very first time he had even kissed her with no particular personal agenda. Of that, she didn’t feel as guilty about wanting more.

Tom had long since slipped out the door when she finished the process, just slipping on her heels when the someone knocked.

Opening it, she found an eager and awkward shortstop pushing into her office. He seemed nervous, more nervous than she had seen him during photo shoots and press conferences and final innings. It wasn’t what she expected – not the demeanor the players normally held when they asked for favors. Professional athletes were confidant, suave, even. Ben had something else going on, something sweeter, maybe even innocent.

He called her ma’am, and she rolled her eyes when he asked for you number.

“Don’t you boys ever talk?” she was kind of annoyed. Ben was confused, it showed on his face.

“Tom got it awhile ago,” she started, and he got it, immediately. The older man hadn’t told any of them that you would be at the bar last week. He wondered if you knew he had arranged it. Something felt off but before he could ponder it she finished.

“And Santi got it yesterday.” Actually, she was more than annoyed. You hadn’t seemed special at all when you’d been there opening weekend. Your grandfather was sweet but nothing about that day could explain why three of the players were willing to bend the rules to find you again.

Tom’s voice rang in her ears: he’s got it bad for her. That didn’t quite fit what she was seeing, but she cooled down a little.

She didn’t even have to shoo him away, his thank you, ma’am, sorry to bother you made her feel like an old lady as he turned on his heels and trotted off.

The younger Miller was increasingly thoughtful, but he could feel something shift in the air. Then he shrugged it off. He was sure he’d find out, sooner or later.

-

“Ben, where’s your brain?” Catfish had caught him making eyes upside-down at the girl standing by the athletic trainer while he was mid workout. He didn’t really need a partner to work out, but they tried to go together, to spot on another and to argue over who could bench press the most.

He watched as his friend’s brain and body scrambled to put down the weights and he stood up too fast.

Across the room, girlish laughter bubbled and Benny blushed, still not attending as he grabbed the water bottle he was being offered and squirted himself in the mouth.

“What?”

Frankie shot him an amused look, gesturing vaguely, his point now proven. This had happened before. The young player was almost certainly going to tell him some random information now to distract him and trying to avoid the inevitable teasing.

“Did you know Tom got her number?”

It worked. There was almost no context, but he knew immediately and there was a twist in his stomach. It was the answer to a question he didn’t know had been on his mind - Catfish fully short circuited.

Redfly got your number? That was why Frankie had found him putting the moves on you before they were scheduled to meet. He was shaking his head, dazed, when Ben added, “And Santi got it a couple days ago, too.”

A moment of silence, and then,

“Fucking what?!” 

Heads around the private gym turned.

Ben hissed for quiet as he dragged him towards the locker room, and he found himself allowing it as he heart tried to catch up with his mind. No way Pope was going after you too.

“Weird, right?” Frankie felt like ‘weird’ was putting it mildly.

“I just asked for it,”

“You -"

“- because I wanted to be friends, but,” the younger man was ignoring his sputtering panic. He didn’t know if he should be mad or grateful. “Why wouldn’t they tell us?”

That stopped his racing heart. That was the question, wasn’t it? Frankie dragged his hand down his face, smoothed his mustache, readjusted his hat, trying fruitlessly to ground himself.

He said something noncommittal in response, barely hearing himself as he changed the topic. Ben was watching him, he could tell, but it wasn’t as though he could explain why he had reacted so strongly. He didn’t even know why.

It’s not like the feel of you against his hand was all he had been thinking about for the past few days.

His head was spinning, and not in the same way as when he had heard you were at the last game.

Of course other men had their eyes on you. You were gorgeous. His hand twitched on the locker as an image of him pressing you against it flashed through his mind. Shoving it down, he moved on.

You were smart, too, and kind. Certainly he couldn’t be the only one who liked the way you looked when you were thinking, or the little messiness of your hair, or the curve of your neck and shoulders as you leaned against the table.

There was a flare of something green in his chest. He was thinking about your hand on his arm, the way it made him feel like he was your anchor, the white lines on the ground guiding your feet. That, was his. For a moment, his brain reminded him of your lips on Pope’s cheek, your fingers on Benny’s shoulder, and palm on Redfly’s jaw. The locker door resonated in the quiet room as he slammed it shut. Even your eyes in Ironhead's for just a moment… it made him want to kidnap you, press into your space, surround you with his body until all you could see or touch or think about was him. Or maybe it was the opposite. Maybe what he was aching for was for there to be a room full of handsome, athletic, perfect men, and for you to seek him. Find his eyes, and hold them in yours until you reached each other. To choose him. 

Either. Or maybe both.

Whatever he’d been saying got lost on his tongue.

Benny was looking at him thoughtfully, and Frankie sighed, his anger slowing to a simmer. It was absurd, he knew that. Knowing didn’t make it go away, but it helped.

Really, he should be lucky he got any of you at all, that alone was a minor league miracle. Hiking his bag up, he clapped his friend on the shoulder and changed the topic once again.

The smell of dirt and grass and sweaty men faded as they walked out of the room, and when someone made a group chat that included you, Frankie remembered that he liked his friends. The bats in his bag clanged like bells, and Ben said something that made him laugh, and he thought he was a fool to have forgotten it.

-

Santiago was the first one there, over half an hour early, by accident or design you had no idea. He made all of James' things look small, and it made you laugh, because you knew it was only the beginning.

You’d been added to a group chat a few days ago. The list of total bizarre things happening to you was increasing every day of knowing them but you couldn’t exactly complain. It was exciting and honestly, you ached for them in a way you couldn’t explain. Seeing Santiago sent sharp excitement through the anxiety of preparation, but even with the handsome man removing his shoes, you couldn’t help but check behind him for Francisco.

It had been a joke, sort of. They had invited you out and you retaliated by saying you owed them a meal. You should’ve known, already, they weren't afraid to take you up on it, and you’d had to use James as your crutch. His house was much bigger than your apartment, and he was so excited to talk to them it was adorable. Before you’d even turned to Santi properly, they were already chatting, and you watched, smiling.

He looked good. It really was almost as if they actually were family – not physically but you could see it in how they interacted. Santi was more cleaned up than he’d been at the bar, thanking your grandfather like it really was an honor to be welcomed into his home. Jimbo was standing as tall as he could to scruff the younger man’s perfect hair, and you laughed as he clarified that they were always welcome, as long as they helped cook. And when Santi grinned, agreeing readily, the line on his forehead smoothed.

The stress of hosting even such strange guests lessened again, and you slipped back into the kitchen.

Not two minutes later, he found you there, and you could feel him watching you, lounging against the door as graceful and powerful as a panther. Slicing vegetables to grill, you let him, for the time being. He would tell you what he was thinking if he wanted to.

It made you smile again, when his large, calloused hands began to make motions for you to let him take over. Determined or maybe even insistent, but not entitled. He mimicked your cuts, checking silently for your approval, and you saw something in his eyes you hadn’t noticed before.

Over food and drinks he had been smart and clever and passionate – an idyllic picture for over-ambitious fans. None of that was gone, but there was another layer under it, something distinctly humble, and if your dreams hadn’t already been occupied, you might’ve fallen in love with him a little bit. Prepping food to the sounds of quiet music and the rhythmic thumps of the knife against the cutting board felt domestic, but in a familial way. There was no pressure for words, for you, and when he did speak, it seemed as though he agreed.

“This might sound fu… uh, stupid but I’m glad there aren’t bobble heads around.” Of him and his friends, he implied. You wondered if he checked his language for your sake, or out of mindfulness for James.

“He really respects you guys,” you shrugged. “He’s always lecturing me on remembering that you’re human, and not overstepping normal people boundaries.”

Pausing your salad assembly, you stole a glance at him, only to find deep brown eyes looking at you curiously. His hand scraped over the stubble on his jaw, and you could almost see his thoughts, running diamonds in his head.

“Is that why you shot Redfly down?” he wasn’t looking at you, so he missed the tilt of you head. You didn’t need to know the nickname to know what he was talking about, but he clarified a moment later.

You weren't prepared for this to come up, but it shouldn’t have surprised you.

“Yes and no,” was the most honest answer. “He’s already got a girl, whether he knows it or not.” You felt good, talking to him, good like laughing, so you did. It was a strange moment, when the team’s outfield dreamboat had leaned in to kiss you, and you turned him away, but it wasn’t weighing on you at all.

Santiago was grinning at you, hands still, and you wondered if this was the first moment the two of you were seeing each other clearly. Biases and judgement and wariness stripped away easily in the kitchen, like the peels of potatoes.

“So,” his tone and eyes were mischievous, and you had never felt more like an almost stranger was your brother. “If one of the other guys asked you out, you would consider it?”

Face flaring with heat, you barely contained a squawk. He let out a triumphant noise and you shoved him. There was no doubt he wasn’t talking about himself, but you still wanted to melt into the floor.

“Don’t think I haven’t seen –”

“Shut up shut up shut up!”

Both of you were laughing when the other men pushed through the front door.

Santi answered their raised eyebrows by sticking out his tongue.

-

There was moments all the time in baseball, where when you have the ball and have to choose which opposing player gets to make it safe and who you’re going to try to get out. It’s a split second where you feel torn in two, and that was exactly how Frankie felt now.

When he had seen you, flushed and laughing, part of him wanted to give a damn thank you speech to Pope for helping bless the world with that, and the other part of him wanted to murder his best friend.

They had all pushed into the little home and he tried to focus on greeting James and looking at the cozy, dated furniture, the humble decorations, clearly cleaned just for them. There had been a moment, where you’d waved at what felt like just him, and his heart rate had doubled. He tried to talk with the guys, the friend you had invited, or help grill or set the table or … anything, but all he wanted was to find you again.

Staying by your side the other night felt as natural and the ball hitting the palm of his glove, time and time again. It was exactly where he was meant to be.

And you were so lovely he wanted you to press into him so close he absorbed just a fraction of your glow. He wanted to wrap you up and take you with him wherever he went, or maybe just settle into your shadow, to follow you forever. It felt greedy, which he didn’t really mind, but the problem was that it was unrealistic.

You were working hard to be a good host, floating around, making sure everyone was content, helping, handling things, or happily having heaping helpings of your cooking. There was another game on the TV, and James was telling stories, and his friends had made themselves right at home. In a strange way, it felt like a Sunday with his abuelos, and cousins, casual and comfortable. It was telling, of you, fitting, and he liked that, but it was distinctly missing... you.

Santi found him, listening to James, trying not to look over his shoulder for you, hand twitching to find it’s place on you again. They kept their voices low, trying to be respectful, as they caught up on the last few minutes, hours, days. Frankie felt a pang of guilt, wondering if he had been subconsciously avoiding his friend. There was still some more private communicating they had to do… He offered Pope a drive. That would do it.

There was an understanding as the looked at each other, under the music and talk, and clatter of dishes. Will was making James laugh, loud and care-free. The uneasiness settled in his gut – he trusted Santi with his life. He could certainly trust him now, with whatever this was.

Not long after, Frankie found himself being herded through the little house, around tables with glasses and napkins, and back into the little kitchen. There was a reassuring squeeze on his shoulder, and then he was alone with you, for the very first time.

Your eyes were big, staring at him, as you held a pile of dirty dishes.

He wanted to kiss you.

Of course, he didn’t, only cursing himself as he awkwardly offered to help. When you shook your head, your hair fluffed, and with the sunlight through the window, he was having trouble remembering how to function.

Frankie was solid, known for being sturdy and safe. Not like Will was, with his ethics and upbringing like roots into the ground, but that of Atlas, supporting the world on his shoulders.

He was the cornerstone of the team, the background man behind the curtain, with hair and eyes and thighs that Santi swore made women swoon.

And he was doing dishes in the kitchen of your grandfathers house, weak in the knees because you had smiled at him, impressed and grateful. His mind was telling at him to talk to you more, to say something interesting or impressive or to make you laugh when he heard you yelp.

The sound was awful, and adrenaline pumped into his blood as he realized you were hurt. Swinging around he didn’t see you for a moment before registering you had sat down, hard, and were clutching your wrist. There was a thick line, throbbing and an angry red – burnt.

When his knees hit the tile, he didn’t even notice the dull pain. His hands grasped yours as you tried to apologize, explaining the stove was still hot after you had turned it off. Frankie heard you, really he did, but he mind was chanting do something! And stringing Spanish curses, demanding that he protect you, that he fix it.  

He didn’t realize how close he was to you until your eyes found his. it crashed into him the realization that if he leaned forward, tilted his head a bit, and sunk a little lower onto his knees, he could have your mouth against his. 

Panic slowing, he looked at you. You were so sweet and beautiful, collapsed on the kitchen floor with him like the two of you were the only things in the world, and you were trying to tell him you were fine, that it was a silly accident. Frankie felt ridiculous, caught up in his thoughts, and he just... threw aside logic.

Time stopped, and he kissed the burn.

>>

taglist:

@fangirl-316 @scribbledghost @writeforfandoms @beautyagegoodnesssize

hey batter batter taglist:

@icanbeyourjedi @studyofawearymind @hnt-escape @athalien @the-witty-pen-name

[champion-prism]

So Fine

Leon x F!Reader, Smut

Requested by anon: Hi! Could I request a childhood friends to lovers smut fic with Leon? Like Raihan, Leon, Sonia and Y/n were all rivals, and both raihan and y/n become the dragon type gym leaders, and the whole group parties together and drinks together, and it’s on one of those nights that Leon finally makes a move. (Female reader. Also I absolutely adore your fics They’re so well written💗 keep it up bb) 

A/N: a’ight so the partying bit is nonexistent and the drinking is mentioned only bc I’ve never partied and I hope I never will. Drink responsibly y’all. Or don’t drink at all, that is also okay. Also, everyone is coherent and everything in the fic is consensual.

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: There’s NSFW up ahead!

The Wild Area is quiet, almost eerie in the silence of the night, broken by the soft sounds of childrens’ voices. 

 You and Leon sit around Charizard’s lit tail, warming yourselves before you head into your camp to turn in for the night. Leon is talking about how he wants to head in the direction of the Dusty Bowl- if he can find it.

  “Maybe I should try to get someplace that isn’t the Dusty Bowl,” he muses. “I’ll get lost and wind up there, instead.”

 You laugh as you ask him what he wants to go to the Dusty Bowl for.

  “I really want to catch a good Ground Type,” he explains. “Maybe a Tyranitar, or a Rhydon.”

 Your eyes light up at the mention of a Tyranitar.

 “Ooh, a Tyranitar?” you say. “Maybe we should go to the Dusty Bowl together, I’d love to look for a Tyranitar. One of the strongest dragon-types there is.”

 Leon shakes his head at you. 

 “Always with the dragon-types,” he says. “I have nothing against them, but shouldn’t you not be limiting yourself to a certain type? I mean...you might get KO’D in Ballonlea and Circhester.”

 You shake your head. 

 “I’m not going to have a full Dragon team yet,” you explain. “But eventually I’d like to phase over into one. I figured, if I can manage to get my hands on a Duraludon and a Charmander, that can take care of the Fairy and Ice weaknesses.”

 Leon scoots slightly closer to you. When he smiles, you can see his light blue braces. 

 “When I’m Champion,” he tells you, “I’ll get you all the rare Pokemon you want.”

   The rest of the night is spent teasing him lightly for his ambition, and Leon laughingly claiming you’ll be sorry for ever doubting him. He hesitates a bit when you both stand to go into your respective tents, and after a few seconds of bouncing on his heels, he moves forward, gives you a quick peck on the cheek, and practically runs into his tent. You giggle slightly as you call a good night to him. 

 He keeps his promise. When he becomes Champion, he proudly presents you with an egg- light orange in colour with red speckles. You thank him with a peck on the cheek and a giggle, and he throws his cap at you and runs away.

 Somehow, that’s how it stays. You become busy. You know Raihan is training hard to beat Leon, and you’re training hard to perfect your dragon type team. You travel all over Galar. You crawl along in the bushes and wade into ponds and spend god knows how many days in Axew’s Eye, raiding Dynamax dens to find a Noivern or a Sliggoo. When you hear from Leon, you tell him how well your now-evolved Charizard is doing.

 He travels abroad sometimes, brings you back exotic Dragon types. A Swablu from Hoenn, a Dratini from Kanto. He promises he’s going to get his hands on a Bagon someday, and you tell him not to go through too much trouble. He just gives you a peck on the cheek, tells you it’s no trouble, as long as it’s for you. 

 Chaste kisses on your cheek. One to say hello, one to say goodbye. A congratulatory kiss on the cheek when you become the Dragon type Gym Leader at sixteen (Raihan demands one, too- he gets a ghost kiss from Leon’s Dreepy). Leon’s cheeks don’t heat up when he does it, not anymore, nor is he flustered the way he was the first few times. You’re friends, affectionate friends who kiss each other on the cheek, glance at the other’s lips and look away, tuck loose strands of hair away from each other’s face, but keep yourself from playing with it. 

 You’re busy, you tell yourself. Much too busy to do anything than push away the schoolgirl crush you’ve always had on Leon, much too busy training and learning, much too busy to do anything but let the years pass, and here you are now, an adult, fully absorbed in the rhythm of daily life. 

 It’s one of your designated hangout nights. Leon’s in Hammerlocke to destroy Raihan in an exhibition match, and afterwards, you, Raihan, Sonia, and Leon head to one of the underground pubs, one of Raihan’s discoveries, and your personal favourite. Sonia is the most responsible, Raihan is the least- by the end of the night, she’s laughing at and guiding an obviously drunk Raihan into a taxi (non-Flying; can’t risk him puking down at people from the sky). You and Leon are moderate, lightly buzzed enough to feel good, not buzzed enough to be Raihan. You decide to just walk the empty streets, shoulders bumping into each others as you walk, the cold night air biting into your faces.

 Leon walks closer to you as he wraps an arm around your waist, sliding underneath the hem of your short top. You shiver and move closer to him, putting your own arm around him. The side of your face bumps against his shoulder and you giggle, both of you talking and wandering around Hammerlocke until you eventually reach the hotel where Leon is staying, at which point he looks up at it, and glances at you. 

  “It’s pretty cold out here,” he whispers. “Maybe we should just hang out inside.” 

He sways slightly, pressing his forehead against yours as his grip on your waist tightens. You nod your assent, and the two of you make your way up to his hotel room. 

  The atmosphere is different, here- Leon dims down all the lights before kicking his shoes off and collapsing on the bed, patting a spot beside him. You follow suit, resting against the headboard with your body angled towards Leon. His eyes rove up and down your form, coming up to meet your eyes and stare intently at you. 

 His eyes are lidded as he moves forward to give you a peck on the cheek. You giggle at him, and tip forward to return the favour, kissing the corner of his mouth. He says your name, close enough for you to feel his breath on your cheek. 

 He kisses your forehead, and he doesn’t pull away before pressing another kiss to your cheek, and all at once you’re aware of the heat between the two of you; you ignore it in favor of kissing his chin, and kissing his cheek again, and that’s fine, because friends can give each other kisses, right?

  You’re just relaxed from the drinking and acting silly. 

 Leon leans forward and places a light kiss to your earlobe. His head dips as he kisses your neck, then pulls back to look at you.

 He’s staring at your lips, eyes lidded- your heart pounds as his hand comes up to cup your cheek, and he angles your face towards his.

 “Leon,” you breathe. 

His lips are soft on yours, barely there as they brush past your lips. Your lips part ever so slightly as you lean towards him, and he kisses you- a soft, closed kiss where you move your lips gently against his.

 There are warning bells going off in your head- Leon is your friend. Your childhood friend. This is one of those friendships that is supposed to last forever, and you really don’t want a patch of awkwardness between you because you ended up making out one night. Or...doing something else you might regret.

Your hands come up to rest against his chest as he deepens the kiss, and all the warning bells go off. Suddenly, you don’t know anything beyond how good it feels when he kisses you, hot and open mouthed and much more... desperate... than before. One of his hands is at your waist, pulling you closer as he adjusts himself so that he’s over you on the bed. His mouth leaves yours as he begins to kiss your jaw, tongue swiping against your jawline. His hand moves under your shirt, fingers pressing into your sides as he kisses your mouth, your jaw, your neck. You moan slightly when you feel his teeth nip at the sweet spot on your neck, and his mouth moves to explore lower, a kiss pressed into your cleavage as he moves down to the swell of your breasts, tugging your collar down to expose more skin. 

 “Leon,” you say, breathing heavily. 

 Your voice seems to snap him out of it. He jerks his head back to look at you, golden eyes wide and searching as they look into yours. 

 “I’m- I-” he starts, sitting up. He swallows, and takes a deep breath.

 “Lee, I…” you sit up, too, reaching for his hands. “I don’t want for things to be awkward between us,” you say, ignoring every feral urge in you that tells you to pull him back over you and go wild. 

 “They won’t,” he says, breathing heavily as he stares at you, pupils dilated. “I like you,” he says,  moving forward to bury his face in your neck. 

 “I’ve liked you for years, now,” he mumbles, pressing a kiss on your skin. “And we don’t...we won’t do anything you don’t want to. I just need you to know I can’t keep it to myself anymore. I’m in- I...want you.”

  You press yourself closer to him, hands coming to clutch at his biceps. 

 “I like you, too, Lee,” you admit, whining slightly as he nips at your neck at your confession. He’s kissing your neck again, and you moan when you feel his tongue on you as his hands slip under the hem of your top, pressing into your skin just below your breasts.

 “Do you want to do this?” he asks between feverish kisses to your neck and shoulders. 

 “Ye-yes,” you manage, your head full of nothing but Leon right now- his scent, his warmth, the way his tongue feels on your skin, the way he’s leaving bites on your collarbone and neck, his hands pulling you closer- he presses into you so you lay back against the mattress, supporting himself with one arm as he tugs on your shirt with his other hand. 

 You pull your shirt off over your head, and watch as an almost feral expression takes over Leon’s face as he sees your clothed breasts. He’s on you in a second, one hand sliding underneath you to unhook your bra, the other tugging it off and throwing it to the side.

  “Fuck- yes,” he gasps, kissing your bare breasts and nipping gently at one, making you whimper. It makes heat pool in your stomach when he swears- Leon almost never swears, and you like this new side to him you’re seeing. 

 “I’ve wanted to see you like this forever,” he admits, squeezing a breast with one hand before his tongue flicks over your nipple. 

  “You have no idea,” he sucks your nipple into his mouth, tongue swishing around before he pulls away, “how much I’ve thought about this,” he comes up to press a hard kiss against your mouth “how long I’ve wanted you for,” he presses his hips against yours, making you moan.

 “Leon,” you moan out his name, bucking your hips against him, whining when he pulls back a bit and chuckles.

 “You look cute,” he tells you, an almost innocent smile on his face. “All flushed and warm, so needy for your Champion.”

 “Leon,” you gasp, hands tugging at his shirt, legs bending to wrap around his waist, trying to press into him.

  “Lee, don’t tease,” you whine, and he obliges, pulling his shirt over to his head, exposing his bare chest and stomach.

  He’s gorgeous. 

 You run your hands over his chest, making note of how he whines when your hands brush over his nipples. He presses his whole body against you, kissing your mouth, dipping his tongue in and moaning, clothed hips thrusting slightly against yours. 

  Your fingers hook into the waistband of his pants, tugging at them. He pulls back again, sitting on his calves as he tugs your pants off, tossing them away. You lie exposed in front of him in nothing but your dampening panties, and he gives you a smug look before kissing your stomach, going lower. 

 Your hands grip his hair as he begins to place butterfly kisses over your panties, teasingly biting the insides of your thighs from time to time. You plead with him for you don’t know what, an unbearable need for friction building in your intimates. 

  He darts his tongue out and begins to suck on your clothed clit, his face pressed between your legs. The wet spot on your panties grows, and you cry out for him as his thick fingers push your panties to a side and rub gently over your folds. 

 He pulls your panties off, eyes widening at the sight of your wet folds, swollen and puffy. 

  “Is this for me?” he asks, head tilted to a side as he looks up at you.

 You whimper and nod, bucking your hips.

 “Use your words, baby,” he says, nipping at your inner thigh. 

 “Leon- it’s for you. It’s all for you, I- ah!” you arch your back as he buries his whole face into your pussy, fingers rubbing at your clit as his tongue dips inside of you, moving around. 

  “Leon- oh, Lee,” you whisper, “I- ah- you feel so good-”

 You can feel your high building, your intimates pulsing as he eats you out like a starved man. When he pulls away, you nearly cry, desperately begging him to let you cum. 

  Your arousal shines on his mouth as his tongue darts out to lick his lips, wiping off his mouth with his hand. He smiles at you, that sweet smile of his, crawling over you as he kisses your body, one hand pushing down his pants. You glance down between your bodies to see his cock, dark red at the tip and leaking precum as he strokes it gently. 

  “I’m gonna make you feel good,’ he says, moving up to kiss your lips. “I love you,” he mumbles against your mouth, pressing another open kiss on you, “so much.”

 Your arms circle his neck as you pull him deeper into the kiss.

  “I love you, too,” you pull away, looking into his warm golden eyes. He kisses you again, your legs wrapping around his waist. His cock brushes gently against your wet pussy, and you press your fingers into the muscle of Leon’s back as he continues to kiss you softly and slowly.

 “You sure about this?” he asks, mouth against yours. 

 “Leon, please,” you say, your teeth lightly grazing his lip. “I need you.”

He presses his face against your shoulder as his cock pushes into your entrance, a strangled moan in your throat as you try to adjust to his size. He’s thick, and you mewl as he pushes in deeper, involuntarily clenching around him. 

 “Oh, fuck!” Leon gasps as you tighten around him, eyes wide and mouth gaping slightly.

 He takes his time pushing himself inside you, both giving you time to adjust to him, and giving himself time to savour you, the way your warm insides clench around him, the way you throb with your arousal, how tight and wet and perfect you are, even better than you were in his fantasies. He pulls back a little and pushes in deeper, kissing you all over your face as he rocks slowly into you, pace quickening when your nails dig into his back.

  “You’re- you’re so big, Lee,” you moan, heels pressing into his back. “I- oh- you feel so good.”

 You hear him breathe a laugh, and he licks over some of the marks he left on your throat. 

 He begins to move faster inside you, wet smacking sounds getting louder as he begins to lose himself to the pleasure. You arch your back and squeeze your eyes shut, moaning a chant of his name as he hits that perfect spot inside of you, your head going blank save for the building pleasure.

  His hand presses into your soft breast, and you drag your nails down his chest, making him cry out. You pinch and pull at his nipples, heat searing and your own pleasure spiking as his face contorts in bliss, groaning your name as you take his whole length.

  “I’m gonna- hah- ah! I’m gonna make you cum, baby, I’m-” his thrusts speed up, a hand going down to rub at your clit.

 You cry his name out louder as your high approaches, and he pounds into you, his gasps and moans mixing in with yours. He tells you you’re his, all his, that you belong to him, and you agree, throwing your head back as your pleasure peaks.

  You scratch down his back as the tension snaps, your orgasm washing over you as you pulse around his cock, his name on your lips. He rides you through your orgasm, wide eyed at the sight of your flushed face and chest, how brazenly lustful you look as you cum around him, pussy clenching tight. He pumps into you, and with one rough thrust, he presses his cock deep inside you and moans as he goes over the edge, rocking his hips against yours as he cums, spilling his seed deep inside you with a broken cry of your name.

 He almost collapses on you, face resting on your breast with his cock still twitching inside you as you both come down from your high. Leon’s breath fans over your heaving chest, and he slowly pushes himself up to pull out of you, keeping your legs apart to watch his cum drip out of your cunt. He almost wishes he could take a picture of you like this, looking so obscene, nipples perked and pussy leaking with his cum. 

  Your hands reach out to him as he gets off the bed, and he kisses you softly on the lips, telling you he’ll be right back to clean you up. He goes into the bathroom and emerges with a wet towel, cleaning you up as per his promise, tossing the towel away and snuggling into your naked body as you pepper soft kisses on each other, holding each other’s bare bodies tightly as sleep overtakes you.

[nighthaikyuu]

heartbreak hours

— synopsis: various scenarios of heartbreak between y/n and haikyuu boys 

— characters included: kuroo, timeskip!oikawa, ushijima, timeskip!atsumu, 

— genres: angst angst angst!

kuroo

watching your best friend who you are in love with, fall in love w someone else

you wouldn’t wish this upon anyone else. 

even your worst enemy. 

you stood there by the gates, biting back the tears that threatened to spill as kenma beside you gave you a look of pity, knowing well that you were trying to put on the bravest face you possibly could. 

you didn’t know how kuroo kept breaking your heart; after what seemed like months, you thought there had been nothing left to break. but clearly that wasn’t the case as you felt the sharp ache in your chest return, watching as his face flushed deeply, leaning in towards the girl who stood in front of him. 

the first time was unlike no other; your body went completely still, the rush of your blood drumming in your ears as your brain slowly comprehended the words that came out of kuroo’s mouth. 

“so guys...remember mina? we did that chem project together? well, I think I kinda like her...” 

eyes widening, your gaze snapped up from your phone to kuroo’s face and oh did you regret it almost immediately. rubbing the back of his neck, he gave you a lopsided grin as a soft blush spread across the boy’s cheeks, a completely rare sight for someone who always appeared so cocky and confident. 

you wondered how kuroo didn’t notice then. just how the light completely left your eyes. just how your face went ghost white, hands trembling at your sides as you sat there, heart shattering piece by piece. 

months later and there you were, an empty shell of who you once used to be. days and weeks went by hearing about mina this! mina that! and every time you listened, despite each word only shoving the knife deeper and deeper into your already bleeding heart. 

but you were tired. 

turning around, you let the tears fall freely, choking back a sob. you felt Kenma’s hand on your back, patting you in soft reassurance yet you only cried harder. 

“w-why couldn’t it have been me?”

oikawa

watching yourself grow distant with your s/o

slowly stirring your coffee with one hand, you stared outside the window as you watched the snow peacefully fall from the sky. bringing the cup to your mouth, you blew gently before taking a small sip, the sweet liquid tricking down your throat. 

a soft ding! broke your trance, your eyes falling on your phone beside you. 

[oikawa_tooru just posted a photo]

pressing your finger to the home button, you click the notification as instagram pulls up. within seconds you were met with a smiling oikawa, his arms wrapped around his teammates as they appeared to be at the beach. looking at the location tag, you realized he was in Brazil. 

what used to bring a soft smile to your face as you’d take in the love of you life, instead you felt a deep sadness wash over you, lips tugging into a frown. 

he hadn’t told you he was going to Brazil. 

clicking the lock button, you turned your phone face down before turning your attention back towards the window as you continued to stare emptily at the streets and the people who inhabited them. 

a certain couple caught your eye. both of them wearing their school uniforms, one you immediately recognized as aoba johsai’s, you watched as they walked hand-in-hand, the girl laughing at something the boy had said. stopping in front of the bus stop, the boy suddenly unwrapped the scarf around his neck before turning to his girlfriend and placing it around hers. face flushing, she looked away shyly before giving him an embarrassed smile, her mouth mouthing a warm thank you. 

tears pricked the corners of your eyes. you wanted to look away, look away from the scene that unfolded before you that so achingly felt familiar; the way their eyes sparkled, fingertips within constant grasp, cheeks a soft flush of red. 

before you knew it, a certain wetness washed over your cheeks as your chest tightened. blinking, you felt the tears escape your eyes as you sat there, still and unmoving. 

by the time you took another sip of your coffee, it had gotten too cold. 

you almost let out a bitter laugh. 

oh, how metaphorical. 

you and oikawa loved like fire. every single second of every single day was filled with so much love, that literally nothing would be able to put it out. 

until he decided to go to argentina. 

the devil in you didn’t want him to go. you wanted him here, to yourself, by your side. but you could never do that to him. so you told him to go for it, you told him you’d be here waiting and supporting him. 

and so he did. 

the both of you tried. but with your studies and his practice, plus the time difference and a million other uncalculated things, daily phone calls became weekly, weekly facetimes became monthly, and coming back home suddenly didn’t seem like it was going to happen. 

and just like that, with nobody to tend to the weakening fire, the heat sizzled out, replaced with a coldness like no other. 

you placed the cup back down, your grip tightening as the bitter taste of the coffee stung your throat. turning back to look at your phone, you reached out to grab it, barely noticing the way your hands shook as they did so. 

pulling up your messages, before you knew it, your fingers began typing a message you knew was long coming. 

[6:27] you: hey tooru, we need to talk. 

ushijima

watching your s/o fall out of love with you

looking down at you shoes, it took every bit of strength in you not to cry. 

turning around, hands trembling at your sides, you simply nodded before weakly whispering, “okay.” 

please leave, I have more important things to do

I have more important things to do....

more important...

the words echoed through your mind as you walked out of the gym, lips trembling as you sniffled. staring up at the sky, you blinked repeatedly, forcing the tears to just go away but as your mind played the words for you like a broken tape recorder, again and again and again. 

the tears only fell faster. 

brushing them away with the back of your hand, you slowly walked back to dorm as the last few weeks played like a painful movie in your head. 

one. 

“do you want to watch a movie, toshi?” you asked him, pushing yourself up with your elbow as you laid across his bed. 

pausing the video on his laptop, he responded shortly, “no, not really.” before clicking play again, his eyes not even once moving away from the screen. 

“oh, okay.” you said dejectedly to yourself, a frown appearing on your face as you realized he didn’t even hear just how upset you sounded. getting up from his bed, you walked over to the door. turning around slightly, you let out a scoff as he continued to watch the video, gaze unwavering. 

two.

frowning, you stared at your messages in disappointment. scrolling through the number of birthday texts you received from several of the other volleyball members, your classmates and relatives, your eyes were only looking for one specific name. 

and it didn’t show up. 

“he probably went to bed early...” you reassured yourself, despite the sinking feeling in your stomach. 

the next morning when you woke up, you grabbed your phone in excitement hoping to see the text message you so earnestly waited for all night, yet the second you clicked on your messages, it looked the same as it did last night. 

nothing. 

three. 

“how was your day today—?” you started when you heard him sigh softly, muttering words under his breath that you couldn’t hear. 

turning your head to look at him, eyes slightly wide, he finally muttered, “let’s just not talk today, okay? I'm not in the mood.” 

“oh...” your brows furrowed in concern, “did something happen—?”

“did you not hear what I just said y/n?” he asked sharply. 

gulping, you nodded before averting your gaze to the ground. 

you didn’t know why it took you so long to realize it. but it finally hit you like a shit ton of bricks, each one breaking your heart into a million little pieces. 

the light you used to see in his eyes whenever he looked at you, had disappeared. 

ushijima changed. 

and so did his love for you. 

atsumu

watching your s/o cheat on you

with a click of the door, you heard him walk inside, his usual endearing words echoing through the room until his eyes fell on you. 

“what’s going on here—?” 

“was I not enough?” you whispered quietly from the couch, your grip on the suitcase handle tightening. 

“wait, what?” 

you closed your eyes together as you took in a shaky breath. the images ran through your mind; her lips on his, his hands on hers, their bodies molded together. 

placing your phone on the coffee table face up, you watched as he walked over to where you were, his confused gaze finally falling on the picture you had pulled up on your phone. 

his eyes widened in horror as the realization dawned upon him, his pupils shaking, “Wait, that’s not what it looks like. I can expla—” 

lifting your hand up, you said coldly, “there is nothing to explain. I'm afraid the pictures do enough of that atsumu.” 

getting up from the couch, you grabbed the suitcase that sat beside you, filled with all the clothes and trinkets that belonged to you that you had thrown together in the little time you had left before Atsumu came back. 

“y/n, please. let’s talk this out—” atsumu pleaded softly, his hand circling your wrist. 

flinching at his touch, you pulled your wrist back before turning to look at the boy before you whose eyes widened as for the first time that night, he really looked at you. 

your bloodshot eyes stared at him in quiet rage, fists tightening at your sides as you struggled to find the words to say. you wanted to cry. you wanted to scream. most of all, you wanted to know why. 

but you knew it would break you. 

“fuck off atsumu.” 

turning back around, you made your way towards the door when you atsumu moved in front of you, blocking your path with his body, “please don’t go. please.”

“move.”

before you could take another step, atsumu wrapped his arms around your body and pulled you to chest, caging you in. 

“atsumu—” you started, voice cracking as the tears you held in slipped past your eyes, staining his shirt as you felt his grip around you tighten. 

no. you couldn't do this. you couldn’t let him do this to you. 

gathering every ounce of strength left in you, you pushed him back. your hand remained on his chest in efforts to create distance between the both of you. looking up, you saw his eyes flood with tears as he stared at you painfully, “y/n, please—” 

“atsumu?” you whisper softly, the boy in front of you nodding furiously, “y-yes? what is it?” 

your hand made its way up to his cheek, cradling his face as your thumb slowly swiped away the tear that had escaped his eyes, your own eyes welling up again. 

“don’t keep overworking yourself, alright? and if you need anything, you know Osamu’s only a call away right?” 

atsumu’s heart stopped, “y/n, what—?”

“mm and I wasn’t able to really get everything so, um, if you can put whatever isn’t yours in a box for me, I’ll have Suna pick them up for me.” 

“y-y/n.” 

“also, stop eating out so much. you know it’s not healthy and you need the right nutrients so you can keep playing volleyball, you understand?”

“y/n! please—!” 

"oh and—” you leaned in, resting your forehead against his. closing your eyes, you pressed your lips to his, the kiss tasting like both of your tears as you pulled away. 

“I hope you’ll be happy.” you whispered, your voice trembling with each word. 

grabbing your suitcase, you stepped out of atsumu’s weak grip before moving past him and towards the door. hand resting on the doorknob, you said your final words, “goodbye atsumu.”

and then you were gone. 

general taglist: @cinnamonrusts @postsfromthe6 @lady-snavely @02hhsailor@killuaking @rae0fsunshine1317 @sugawaaras @voids-universe @yams046@visaintes @simpforsaeko @honeybacon @kuroosbabie @verblueht @captain-janeway

character-specific taglist: @mkkhaikyuu @bluelightningxiii @ushiwakasvball  @findityourselffsworld​