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b0nten · 9 months

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HOW ARE BABIES MADE?

[SYNOPSIS] ˚⁀➷｡ ran, rindou, sanzu, takeomi, kakucho, mikey and izana being asked by their children how babies are made.

[NOTES] ˚⁀➷｡ reader is implied to be fem, reader is called “mother”, “mommy” etc. this was so fun to write!!! thank you anon for requesting <3 also, i used tenjiku&bonten characters but everything’s taking place in the final timeline.

RAN is definitely the type to try to explain the entire thing, without any second thoughts whatsoever. He’d definitely hear the question, and open his mouth but before gets to say ‘sex’ he feels a book flat against his head. “what do you think you’re doing?” you whisper-yell from the kitchen, curry udon long forgotten on the stove. “explaining to your daughter how she spawned into the world?” he answers, dodging another decor item that you aimed toward him. upon asking, dramatically and over-exaggeratedly of course, so offended because he just doesn’t know what he was doing wrong, you just stare at him. “we agreed to tell her when she’s 14. she doesn’t even know boys have dicks and you want to explain the entirety of sex and how it goes to her? do you even know how it works?” he sighs, defeated, “let’s go eat, sweetheart, i think i made mommy a lil mad.” he says, picking up his daughter, “that last part was uncalled for, by the way.” “suck it up, mr. club owner. ”

meanwhile, RINDOU simply freezes: “daddy, how are babies made?” what? excuse him? oh my lord, he did not expect this to happen this early. why the hell is his five year old son asking him about coital activity, right when you’re not around? fuck him (himself), fuck this situation, fuck you for not being around right now (both figuratively and literally). “you see! when… uhm.. when two people love each other and they kiss, they make a baby!” he mentally face-palms for what the fuck he just said. “so you can’t kiss girls until you’re twenty-one, yeah?” finally, thankfully, his phone rings, and thank the heavens it’s you. “oh my god, y/n—” “rindou, what did i just hear on the baby cam?” “haha, my love! funny story!!!!”

SANZU just goes feral. he’s having a fucking anxiety attack or whatever so he just texts you while your daughter asks her daddy about how babies are made.

TAKEOMI plays it safe, using the infamous stork. “and it just comes flying?” “yeah, it carries a little basket with its beak and gives it to us!” he smiles, playing into his baby girl’s fantasy. “you sound just like my parents.” you smile and his gaze averts to yours, from his seat on the living room carpet. “well, your own stories inspired me, because, to be honest, i was about to shit myself.” “daddy!” the little one yells, stretching out her palm, “1000 yen!” and her father exasperates “god put me out of this misery of only being an atm, you’re just like your mother. ow! what’d i deserve that punch for?”

KAKUCHO handles it like a pro. “papa.” one of his little girls walks up to him, younger twin following her right behind. “yes, pretty girl?” he straightens his back and crouches down, still sitting on the couch. “how are babies made, papa?” the shyer one asks and his face drops for a split second. “i promise to tell you when you’re older, right now it’s classified information!” he jokes, and the girls giggle. “now… who wants to watch doraemon!!” he does the jazz hands and the twins jump into his lap. not long after, you sit down next to them. “if i didn’t know any better, i would have said you rehearsed those lines from the moment you were born.” you laugh, resting your head on his shoulder. he wraps an arm around you, chuckling, and kisses the crown of your head.

if there’s someone (who thinks they’re) escaping this question, it’s MIKEY. “ ‘tou-chan, how are babies made?” blond locks spin toward him, and the big eyes of his daughter look him up and down. “ ‘tou-chan?” she says again, a bit annoyed. mikey sacrifices the motorbike races he’s watching and looks back at her. “ask ‘kaa-chan, i’m not really good at biology.” he smiles when she jumps from her place and runs into your bedroom, where you’re blow-drying your hair. confident that he’s just dodged a bullet, manjiro returns to his priority — the tv. moments later you storm in, hair half wet, still in your bath robe with the kid in your arms, visibly furious. he knows he’s dodged a bullet but is about to get hit by a cannon.

IZANA is at the dining table doing some paper-work for tenjiku and you’re watching tv when your oldest marches into the kitchen, determined. “daddy.” the blond looks up, eyeing back at the spitting image of himself. “yes?” he answers, and you also look back to see what’s going on. slamming a big book on the table, the toddler points to the cover “how are babies made?” you burst out laughing and your husband snatches the book away, making you laugh hysterically. “where’d you find this?!” he questions, and his forehead is already soaked with sweat and he wants to bury himself into the ground. “your office.” he can’t believe his five year old son walked in there and just so happened to find this book: effective positions for baby-making. his cheeks redden and he scans the room to find you and request your help, but he’s greeted with the sight of you rolling around on the living room floor, trying to calm your laughter down. yay.

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urhoneycombwitch · 3 months

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mean mouth

foreword: and if I said Eddie liked when you talked a lil' mean to him. what then. n e ways. just a little exploration of his early-day sub tendencies. I generally write Eddie as older but since this takes place in some nebulous time before s4 u can think whatever u want +18. ‘unnamed freak’ is Jacob. punk band name was not thought of by me but isn’t it great <3

cw: gn!reader w/breasts + V, oral (R receiving), unprotected PiV, soft!dom(ish) R, Eddie subbing from the top 😎, gotta-be-quiet-when-we-fuck trope my beloved

wc: 3.7k

____

The first time it happens, it’s an accident.

Eddie’s a blur of motion in the little trailer kitchen, knocking against your knees where you’re propped up on the counter (not entirely helpful but, in his words, ‘much-needed eye candy for the chef’), closing cupboards with a bang and talking animatedly over the hiss of onions cooking.

Your boy is loud, always has been, and tonight is no different- he’s crowing and cackling, recounting a particularly genius foible that he’d orchestrated during last night’s campaign, wooden spoon dipping in and out of heated pots over the stove like some crazed frizzy-haired potions master.

“And then.” He punctuates with a jab of the spoon towards you, a long drip of spaghetti sauce narrowly missing your leg- you flinch and squeak in alarm, but Eddie just grins wildly, eager to get to the punchline. “Red rolls a natural. Fucking. Twenty.”

“Holy shit!” Your smile is wide, natural and easy for him- Eddie’s excitement is infectious.

“I know!” Eddie spins back to the stove, plunking the wooden spoon back into the simmering sauce before opening the oven. Heat from the broiler rises in a mouth-watering cloud of herby smell, and Eddie reaches for the metal sheet of garlic bread, still talking. “Couldn’t fuckin’ believe it. And then I- shit!”

You don’t put the pieces together until Eddie’s spinning away from the open oven, whole body moving with the force of his hand being shaken in the air- he’d touched the roiling-hot metal with his bare hand.

“Oh, shit, babe-” Sliding from the counter, you nudge the oven door closed with a foot, reaching out to assess the damage- but Eddie’s a whirlwind, jumping up and down, swinging his injured hand around in jerky movements, howling in pain.

It’s kind of freaking you out, ‘cuz you can’t tell if he’s playing up or if he’s actually got a third-degree burn. The voice that comes out of you is commanding, one that you rarely use, firm and louder than his hollering.

“Eddie, for fuck’s sake- stand up and let me see it.”

That seems to do the trick. Eddie’s eyes snap to you, pausing mid-hop, and you take advantage of his semi-stillness to snatch his wrist and drag him towards the sink. The water runs cool and you turn his palm over in both of yours, breathing a sigh of relief when the pink welt across the bridge of his hand doesn’t have any blisters.

“Under the water,” you instruct, pushing at his silver-link braceleted wrist until he gets the memo, letting the flow from the tap ease the burn.

Eddie hisses through his teeth, and then goes quiet for the first time in ages.

There’s a few moments of this strained silence as you watch his hand carefully, color leaching back into his palm until you notice Eddie’s looking at you sideways.

Your shoulders hunch in a bit, arms crossed over your chest as you take a step back, misinterpreting his look as wounded. “Sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell. I just-”

“Hey, whoa, no-” Eddie’s hand automatically reaches for you, dripping water on the floor until he remembers his injury with a wince and plunges it back under the tap. “You don’t have to apologize for that. At all. Um.”

His left hand, the uninjured one, braces against the linoleum, ringed knuckles creaking as he shifts his stance. He sounds uncomfortable, and you’re about to start apologizing again until he lifts his head, eyes twinkling- “You were so bossy. It was totally hot.”

A shocked laugh burbles out of you, unsure if he’s joking or not- when he shifts his weight again, your gaze flickers down to the zipper of his dark jeans- he’s fully hard.

“Oh my god.” Split between amusement and mortification, adrenaline from seeing him get hurt fizzing through your veins, you laugh again- this time, sardonic, into your hands, shaking your head. “Jesus christ, Eddie.”

“Can’t help it.” He’s close to whining, hips pressing flush into the cabinet, partly to relieve the ache in his groin and partly to toy with you. “Goddamn. Sound so sexy when you tell me what to do-”

There’s a teatowel hanging from a nearby rack; you snatch it up and whip it at Eddie’s shoulder, playful and irritated as you snap, “Shut up.”

“Oh, yeah, just like that, baby-” Eddie’s fake sultry voice earns him another towel-whip, this time at his neck- he squawks, ducking to avoid another blow while still keeping his hand under the water.

“Ridiculous. You’re ridiculous,” you announce with finality, slinging the towel over your shoulder and turning on your heel. “I’m gonna get the burn cream. Try not to cum or die while I’m gone.”

His bright laughter follows you all the way down the hall.

___

The next time it happens, it’s sort-of on purpose.

Eddie’s glowing with a post-show rush- a local business convention meant Corroded Coffin got to play for a nearly-packed room. Nevermind the fact that their Bruce Springsteen cover was the one bringing in the most applause; Eddie’s always been able to feed off the energy of a crowd, and tonight was a riotous success.

The Hideout is loud but your boy is louder, as per usual. There’s sweat curling the baby hairs at his temples, bright spots of flushed pink in his cheeks from the round of whiskey you’d bought the band as a congrats.

He’s making a toast to his laughing bandmates, to beautiful you, to any nearby drunk who will listen, proclaiming his lust for life with one boot on the well-worn table in noble pose.

“And to Bev, the best of us-” Eddie tips his half-empty glass towards the nearby bar, shouting over the din of the jukebox and lively chatter, “-may your sharp-tongued wit live on!”

Bev pauses service to flip him off, and Eddie collapses back into the comfort of your arm over the booth’s top, grinning when the band trio of Jeff, Gareth, and Jacob nearly fall out of their chairs with laughter.

It’s always hot to see Eddie in his element, and tonight’s not an exception. He turns to lean into you, looking down the slope of his pretty nose like he knows why you’re staring.

A charming wink precedes, “Come here often?” but his flirting is interrupted when Jeff gets up for another round and bumps the table- whiskey sloshes over the side of Eddie’s cup and coats his hand in stickiness.

He swears viciously, yanking out his bandanna to wipe at the mess while you laugh over the rim of your own glass at him. “Real smooth, babe. Good thing you killed it on stage, otherwise I might not take you home.”

Eddie’s eyes light up, inhaling for another cheesy line to wow you with when his gaze flicks past you and his face falls.

Across the table, Jacob mutters, “Oh, shit,” and Gareth glowers.

Following their eyelines, you look over your shoulder to see Nico Hawley, frontrunner of Hawkin’s own punk band (the Scumshots), enter through the front door in a cloud of cigarette smoke.

When you turn back to Eddie, he’s already twisting the damp bandanna around his rings. The usual softness of his doe-brown eyes are now flint-sharp, and with a rush of panic, you remember the last time Eddie and Nico ran into each other; the night had ended with you back at the trailer, holding a cold pack to Eddie’s split lip, which he’d received from engaging in what he referred to as “friendly fisticuffs”.

There was nothing friendly about the way Eddie stood, then, to his full height, dark and imposing with his big mane of hair and leather jacket. The other Corroded boys won’t start any shit themselves, but will absolutely back Eddie up (fearless leader, resident shit-starter, instigator extraordinaire).

Time’s running out for you to get a handle on the situation, Eddie already moving to slide past you out of the booth when you snag his left jacket sleeve in a tight grip.

The first yank you give stops him in his tracks; the second, more intentional tug gets his face level with yours, Eddie’s hardened stare giving way to confusion as you pull him into your space.

In that same authoritative tone, you pin Eddie in place with a fistful of leather and command, low, right in his ear to be heard above the bar noise, “Don’t. Sit down and be good.”

At first, you’re not sure it worked, because Eddie’s just staring at you- slightly slack-jawed, pretty pink o mouth as his gaze flickers to your lips, back up to lock in your gaze again.

And then, by some miracle, Eddie obeys. Like a well-trained, marvelously-behaved dog. He’s back in his seat with a jolt to the booth, hand curling around his whiskey again.

Curls spill and shift around jacketed shoulders as he shoots the rest of the glass, adam’s apple bobbing, other hand slipping to cup your thigh hidden from view. “It’s not worth it,” he announces to the rest of the group, sounding strained, staring at the bottom of his empty glass, knuckles white with force.

Jake sighs, relieved, but Gareth scoffs, tipping the neck of his beer across the table to point, goading Eddie with “Since when have you been the one to take orders?”

“Shut up,” Eddie shoots back, blood returning and redistributing enough from where it had all rushed south, enough to defend you and himself against his drunk bandmate. “We’re already on Hop’s shit list, asshole, can’t be catching any more charges for stupid fuckin’ bar fights.”

Nico had disappeared into the throng of people at the bar while your group has been arguing- probably for the best that he’s out of eyesight. Unperturbed by Gareth’s comment (he likes you fine, he’s just grumpy from the alcohol and itching for a fight), you sip your drink and give him a shameless wink.

Underneath the tabletop, Eddie’s palm flattens over your jeans, fingers dipping to toy with the denim seam hugging the fatty plush part of your inner thigh. You shift your hips, subtly, feeling flush with heat and power. Just a couple of words and you have him eating out of your goddamn hand.

Jeff returns, setting a handful of beers in the middle of the table. “Saw that shitstain Hawley at the bar. What’d I miss here?”

Gareth swoops in with accusatory explanation, seizing another bottle out of Jeff’s hands. “What you missed is Eddie’s balls on a leash-”

“Jealous you don’t have someone at home to tie you up, Emerson?” Eddie’s dig comes swiftly, lips quirked in a smile around the rim of his drink.

There’s a raucous burst of laughter, Gareth’s curly mop of hair gets ruffled playfully, and everyone eases back into celebration, all while Eddie’s thumb edges closer and closer to the apex of your thighs.

___

The next time, though? Totally on purpose.

There’s a sliver of gold from the hallway light spilling under Eddie’s closed door, left on in case Jeff or Gareth needed to use the bathroom during the night.

And despite the fact that two of his bandmates are passed out on the couch and floor just a short walk away, Eddie’s hands are exploring the length of your body under the sheets like he’s got plans to map you with his tongue.

“We- ah- can’t.” Your whispering scold is interrupted with a sharp gasp when Eddie nips at your neck. “No fooling around. Not when we have guests.”

His left hand drips over the swell of your breast, squeezing and kneading, your nipples perking to attention (traitors) underneath the bra you haven’t yet had the chance to take off.

Eddie adopts your quiet tone as he speaks between kisses that trail further down your body, not outright ignoring your weak protests but not doing much to combat them, either. “Mmm. Got me so worked up. Been driving me crazy since the bar, y’know that? ‘S cruel, baby, can’t just talk mean and expect me not to act on it.”

“Wasn’t mean,” you counter, hands shifting automatically to wind through the soft locks of hair tickling at your stomach as Eddie continues his path downwards. “Didn’t wanna have to patch up a split lip. Had to make you behave somehow.”

The vibrating groan Eddie gives against the soft skin of your stomach tickles; when you squirm, shushing him again, his hands slide to your hips, pinning you in place.

Nose to your navel, warm breath fanning across the strip of skin just above the band of your panties, Eddie sounds strung-out already, close to begging. “Please, baby. I’ll be good. Make it so good for you. I’ll be quiet-”

His head snaps up at your sudden gasping laugh, chin perched on your tummy as he scoffs. “What, you don’t think I can keep quiet?”

“Eddie Munson, you couldn’t be quiet to save your life.” Your hands migrate to his cheeks, squishing them together fondly as he grins around your touch, his thumbs working circles at your bare hips.

“Ye of little faith.” In the dim light of the room, Eddie’s teeth are a flash of white before his mouth dips to press against the wet patch at your underwear.

“Fucking… shit-!” The expletives fly out harshly, only because you weren’t expecting the wet stripe of his tongue against your clothed folds. Head dropping back to the comfort of your pillow, you get one hand in Eddie’s hair again, the other finding its way to twist at the sheets.

You can feel his smile, equal parts smug and sympathetic as he coos saccharine to your inner thigh- “Now, now, angel. Gotta be quiet.”

Not willing to lose the fight, you focus on clamping your mouth shut, eyes closed in concentration- even as Eddie slides your underwear down and off, a quick flash of blue fabric before it’s swallowed by the floor’s darkness. Even as he seals his lips over your clit, sucking hard like he’s been deprived of your taste for too long.

When his tongue breaches your entrance, a soft gasp escapes, one that has your head turning sideways to grab some pillow with your teeth.

Eddie brings the wetness from your entrance up again, spreading it over your pulsing clit, nerve endings fizzing bright and hot in your stomach from the attention.

On instinct, your right leg kicks out, jolting with the spasm of pleasure- Eddie’s quick, though, taking advantage of the movement to find a new hold at the back of your thigh; rings biting cold, he pushes until you bend for him, your knee now pressed towards your chest.

“Gonna make it so good for you.” Eddie’s mumbling pussy-drunk rambles into your cunt that’s now on display, dragging his nose through the slick that weeps out of you, all for him- “So wet for me, angel. Fuck’s sake. This all for me?”

As if he doesn’t know. The hand that isn’t busy holding you open trails up your thigh, middle finger teasing at your entrance before slipping inside, no resistance thanks to the river of slick that rushes to greet it.

There’s a soft squelching noise as Eddie adds a second, curling them up, stroking against that tender gummy spot that always skyrockets your pulse.

The noise is almost enough to give you pause; feeling wild and flush with heat, your hand tightens in the crown of Eddie’s hair, eyes popping open as you prop yourself up on an elbow to give a strangled hiss of warning through your teeth.

Eddie senses your unease, pulls his fingers and mouth out and off (a travesty), softening the blow by giving a placating kiss to the top of your mound. “Shhh, sweetheart. S’okay. You hear that?”

Past the noise of nighttime crickets from the nearby cracked window, past the hum of the kitchen, you hear it as Eddie crawls back up- distant, tandem snores from the boys in the living room.

“They sleep like the dead. Like rocks,” Eddie promises, settling his weight into his hands planted on either side of your head, hair creating a curtain around your faces as he leans in. “So we can get our rocks off.”

“That was awful.” You kiss him anyways. He tastes like you, earthy and warm and wet, saliva mixed with your arousal as the kiss turns sloppy.

Eddie rocks his hips forwards, the friction from the fabric of his boxers making you both gasp into each other’s mouths. He’s achingly hard, cock leaking and smearing precum through the cotton; there’s a hurried, manic shift as you both work to strip the last pieces of clothing from yourselves, his boxers and your bra following your underwear from earlier into the dark of the room.

And then Eddie is sliding his cock through the folds of your pussy, slicking up the sizable length as much as he can before the tip nudges at your entrance; Eddie’s arms tremble with effort as yours wrap around his shoulders, soothing with a kiss to his cheek- “Lotta talk about keeping quiet, Munson. That’s all it was? Just talk?”

Now that his mouth isn’t intent on making you fall apart anymore, you’ve got some breathing room to tease. To be the one to work him up. Tucking a curly lock of hair behind his ear, your fingers trace adoringly over his temple before sliding to grip the back of his neck. “Gonna prove me wrong, hotshot?”

With this new proximity, you can see Eddie’s eyes- fixed intently on yours, black pupils nearly eclipsing the soft amber of his irises. He looks slightly feral, sweat sticking his bangs in place, lips parted, spots of pink staining his cheeks.

As if he doesn’t trust himself to speak, Eddie’s near-silent as he slides himself in to the hilt, jaw dropping as the warmth from your walls encompasses him completely.

The chained guitar pick around his neck tickles between the valley of your breasts. He pants, chest heaving, not daring to move yet; your breath stutters. You can feel him in your throat.

“So big,” you murmur, an honest reaction but one that has Eddie’s brows drawing together, a little whine escaping as his hips jerk forward, reflexive to your words.

“Fuck. Oh, fuck.”

Eddie’s voice, strained though it may be, is on its way to regular volume. At the back of his neck, your hand flexes, a warning as he begins to rock steadily into your tight heat.

“Gotta be good.” Biting back your own groan, you sling your leg over his waist. At this angle, you can press your heel to the dip of his lower back. “Be good and quiet for me and I’ll let you come in my p-”

His hips snap forward, audibly, subsequent wet noise obscene, filling the room. Eddie moans into the curve of your neck before your sentence is even fully formed- “Jesus, baby. Oh my god. Can’t say stuff like that, gonna come too quick-”

His cock fits along the contours of your cunt like you were made for him, ridged tip dragging against that same sensitive spot of your front wall with each pull and thrust.

Eddie’s forehead thunks into yours as he rolls it back and forth, mindlessly. All the tease has melted out of his voice: it’s been replaced with a lust-filled rasp, rock-salt and deep.

Your voice, however, is all tease, still hushed but laced with mischief despite your mounting pleasure. “Yeah? Gonna come in my pussy?”

It’s almost not fair and you almost feel bad, seeing the way Eddie fights to make his gasp silent as the channels of your cunt clench in answer to his fucked-out expression. With his next thrust, Eddie loses the battle- a hoarse, blissful moan much too loud spills over and out into the quiet room.

Moving quick, your hand slips from the back of Eddie’s neck to his mouth, palm flat over the plush of his lips.. The commanding tone comes easy this time (with practice, you’ll surely be a natural).

“Eddie. Be. Quiet.”

Usually, Eddie’s got stamina enough to prioritize your pleasure, making sure you’re taken care of at least twice before he even thinks of himself. Tonight, though, he’s already been straining in his jeans for hours, unbearably turned on from your earlier sharp words, pushing the limits of desperation.

Your words, once again, do the trick. Eddie’s cock pulses, and he comes hard, teeth sinking into the soft flesh of your hand, chorus of whimpers successfully dampened. His dark brows knit together, eyes pinched shut, nostrils flaring with each stilted breath.

He’s so fucking hot when he comes, hair a riot around stormcloud eyes that open to take you in. Even prettier when he’s coming down, leaning into your hand for support before you take it away, guiding and encouraging him to lay down.

Eddie collapses, carefully enough that it doesn’t jostle you, but still with his full weight. The crown of his head radiates heat against your chin.

His arms wrap solidly around your middle as he whispers (he’s learning) in croaky fragments, “Jesus fucking H. I think you just broke my brain. Smashed it into a million little pieces. Never come so hard in my life. I’m in love with you.”

The laugh you give him is quiet but golden, the rise and fall of your chest causing his head to bounce a bit (but Eddie could die happy between your breasts so he doesn’t mind). “See? It’s worth it to listen to me, sometimes.”

“You’re so smart. Gonna do whatever you say, forever and ever. Cart-blank.” And then he’s pushing up onto his elbows, keeping his face level with your left breast so he can suck your nipple into his mouth, gently worrying his teeth over the peaked bud.

Previously tangled in the sheets, your hand flies up to grab his shoulder, nails digging in. “Fuck. Fuck, Eddie. That’s good. And- ah- it’s ‘carte blanche’.”

He leaves the comfort of your breast with a sigh. “Whatever you say, princess. Gonna let me fuck you some more? Your turn to be the loud one.”

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson smut

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starboye · 1 month

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pairing: vinnie hacker x male reader

request: vinnie hacker x femboy!reader, it’s readers bday and vinnie threw a costume party to celebrate him and they are having fun but after a while vinnie is sitting down and reader is sitting in his lap(he’s wearing a skirt and panties) and vinnie starts rubbing himself against readers ass and he tells reader to stand up for a sec and vinnie pulls his stuff out and pulls readers panty to the side and cockwarms him until vinnie gets tired and grabs him and brings him to the nearest room and fucks the shit out of him and makes him keep the skirt on and after they finish vinnie makes him sit on his face to clean his hole up and reader is just out of it

warnings: smut, cock warming, slight exhibition, ass eating, cum eating, cream pie, daddy kink, lil degradation

you were really happy when you found out vinnie was throwing a costume party for your birthday that you jumped in his arm and cheered loud enough to make him deaf, you obviously had to go out and pick out a slutty costume for your birthday and let's just say vinnie was surprised when you showed up to the party in it.

you walked through the door to blaring music and people drinking and dancing around and some telling you happy birthday, when you saw vinnie you ran into his arms hugging him "thanks for the party vinnie" you shouted over the music "anytime baby" vinnie says before taking in the sight of your outfit.

"and what exactly are you supposed to be" vinnie asks spinning you around "a slutty regina george, ya like it" you ask smiling widely "i love it" vinnie says before you drag him to the dance floor but not before grabbing a couple drink and downing a shot of whiskey, it burns your throat slightly.

you dance wildly as you sway your hips from side to side, infatuating vinnie with the way your ass wobbles with each step you take "ima go sit down im to tired for this" vinnie breathlessly says "no please stay with me" you pout pulling vinnie back into you "as much as i would love to my legs are getting weak but i'll be watching you" vinnie says giving you a kiss before walking over to one of the chairs near his friends and sitting down.

you continue to dance but now directing your dances to vinnie, him watching you through the sea of people, the way you feel your body up and down and sway your hips around for him as the provocative music blares, and in the dancing he catches a glimpse under your skirt to see you wearing nothing but some skimpy panties under it.

he readjusts his sitting position as a tent forms in his pants to your body, and after a while of you dancing you walk over to vinnie, obviously a little drunk and sit on his lap "how was your little dance party" vinnie asks wrapping his arm around your waist "tiring" you chuckle leaning back against his chest.

"hey quick question" vinnie asks "yeah" you reply "are you wearing panties under that skirt" vinnie whispers "yep" you smoothly say "and who were you planning on getting fucked by tonight" vinnie laughs "hopefully you" you smirk turning to kiss vinnie, leaving him wanting you even more now.

"that could be arranged" vinnie says rolling his dick against your ass making you jump a little "well then i hope it's fun when you do" you taunt making vinnie move to pin your legs open with his and run his hand along your thigh "what if i just do it right here" vinnie teases.

"fuck no" you sternly say "c'mon you wanna dress slutty you can take my cock in front of everyone it'll be a nice show" vinnie says vaguely kissing your neck "like c'mere" vinnie grunts lifting you up and pulling his pants down a little and pulling you panties to the side and lowering you on his dick.

"fuck" you lowly whimper holding onto vinnies thighs fr support "look here comes your friends" vinnies says setting his head on your shoulder and pointing to a couple of people heading your way "hey y/n" larray cheerily says approaching you.

"hey larray" you say trying to silence any moans that threaten to come out "i got you a gift" he says holding out a nicely wrapped present for you "t-thanks" you stammer feeling vinnie rut his hips up into you "well i'll talk to you later okay" larray says walking away.

"fuck you" you say hitting vinnies chest for almost getting you caught "please do" vinnie smirks leaning back into the chair "you're such a dick sometimes" you say bouncing up and down on vinnies dick but just enough to where no one suspects something "you better stop" vinnie sternly says.

"and what if i don't" you say confidently with a smug look and you bounce down on vinnie once more "fuck it" vinnies mutters before pulling you off his cock and tucking it back in his pants and dragging you through the halls to find a empty room, soon he finds and empty bedroom and brings you in, locking the door behind him.

you begin undressing "no no keep it on, i wanna fuck you like the slut you wanna dress like" vinnie says taking off his costume and putting you on the bed, face down but plump ass up "so fucking pretty" vinnie mutters feeling your ass as his member becomes harder, poking at your hole.

"please fuck me" you whine "of course" vinnie says spiting on his tip before pressing against your tight entrance with your panties pulled to the side and skirt up, he makes it fully in you and doesn't give you a single moment to get used to his size before he was thrusting into you quickly.

his hips were moving on their own as you sucked him in, his hips slamming into your ass "fuckkk you're so big vinnie" you moan longingly making vinnie twitch in you "yeah loves this ass so much" vinnie grunts holding your hips in place so you dont pull off his dick.

"m-more" you whimper matching his thrusts with you backing your ass onto his "you want me dick so bad huh" vinnie teases stopping his thrusts "no please keep fucking me" you beg "you can do it yourself " vinnies says smacking your ass and you reluctantly fuck yourself on his dick.

going back and forth as the room fills with your moans and vinnie cocky laughs "mhm such a good boy for daddy" vinnie groans feeling you suck him harder wanting his cum badly "you want me to fill this slutty hole up" vinnie asks bringing his hands back to your hips and resuming his thrusts.

"yes please" you moan feeling vinnies movement get harder and harder till it feels like he's bruising you walls "you feel so g-good hitting my walls vinnie" you loudly moan which is greatly covered by the music playing "yeah you feel so tight, want every drop of my cum" vinnie chuckles before throwing his head back.

he loudly grunts as he cums in you, his hips never stopping as he fucks his load deeper into you while you moan and cum yourself, your cum staining the bed, your spurts matching with his thrusts, vinnies basically fucking the cum out of you "yes daddy i love your dick so much" you whimper into the bed.

"such a good boy for me" vinnie says falling onto the bed and you next to him, he lays there for a while before an idea comes into his head "c'mere" vinnies says lifting you up and putting you over his face, your legs straddled on both sides of his face.

"what're you doing" you ask before moaning and gripping the head board as vinnies tongue prods at your hole eating you out with expertise "fuck" you whimper out as vinnies eats the cum out of you "you and i taste so good" vinnies says muffled, after vinnies finishes cleaning you out.

you fall down next to him "best birthday gift ever" vinnie questions "best birthday gift ever" you say in agreement

taglist:@mailmango@spermeboy@ghostking4m@gayaristocrat@addictedtomalepits @staarb0y @crispysoup318 @its-ares

#vinnie hacker #vinnie hacker x male reader #x male reader #gay smut #x male smut #x male y/n #x male #bottom male reader #male reader #gay #vinnie hacker smut #vinnie hacker x reader #vincent hacker

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itsnoones-stuff · 22 days

Text

The short read

Masterlist

NSFW // mention of sex

Summary // Luther catches you and Five as you’re on the way to shower.

Five stumbles out of your room, his head spinning as he tries to comprehend what just happened. You cheerful skip to the bathroom to shower smiling as you lick your lips, the look on Five’s face as he finished still fresh in your mind. It was so fucking hot. Too engrossed in your own thoughts you don’t even notice Luther walking towards you, a quizzical look on his face as his eyes dart between you and Five, noticing the lipstick marks all over his face, neck and chest.

“What are you guys doing?” Luther asks, snapping you back into reality with a jump, Five breaths deeply “she- she just sucked the life out of me” you can’t help but laugh, you’re not that good, are you? Luther didn’t see the humour in his brothers comment “what does that mean?” He asked, more confused than before, “it means they fucked” Diego pipes up from behind Luther, scaring you all. “Not fucked but she-“ Five stumbles to find the right words, opting to gesture to the previous events, you stand there for a moment in horror, embarrassment hitting you like a truck.

“I’m gonna go shower” you mumble, feeling your cheeks heat up as you scurry to the bathroom, avoiding eye contract with Diego and Luther, “yeah, I think I’ll join you” Five hums, a grin plastered across his face, you laugh as the others scold him, knowing he wasn’t kidding. “I’ll see you soon” you coo, shooting a wink Five’s way as you shut the bathroom door, ignoring the insuring argument.

AuNote // hi guys! Hope you enjoyed this lil story, if you want this turning into a longer story drop me a message and I’ll look into it! Thanks for reading!:)

#five hargreaves x reader #five hargreaves x you #five hargreeves #the umbrella academy five #uc five #five umbrella academy #five #tua five #number five #five hargreeves x reader

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lokis-army-77 · 9 months

Text

Wear My Name

mondern!Eddie Munson x fem reader

Word Count: 1.0k

You've bought a new pair of panties. Hopefully, Eddie likes the little surprise when he sees them.

Warning: 18 +. breeding kink, p in v, unprotected sex, lil bit of a hand job.

Thank you to my beta readers <3

Masterlist

"What is that?"

You turn to look over your shoulder at your boyfriend. With an eyebrow raised you ask, "What's what?"

"That." Eddie points at your lower back. "What's that shining right there?"

You smirk. He had noticed the little surprise you'd bought for him. So, you stood from your spot at the edge of his bed and hooked your thumbs into the waistband of your thong. Pulling it up a little you say, "Oh this?"

You knew by the short intake of air that Eddie had finally seen the full thing. The red lace of the thong had his name spelled out in what you thought were tacky charms decked in rhinestones. When you’d seen the Etsy listing for them you couldn't help but wonder what Eddie’s reaction would be.

"Do you like them?" You ask. You have to turn your body slightly to see his response as words seem to have left him.

His hands were reaching out for your hips and before you knew it, Eddie was pulling down the grey sweatpants you had borrowed from him.

You gasp, slapping at his hands. "Eddie!"

"Can't help it, need to see all of them." He sounded memorized. "Do a spin for me, baby."

He lets go of you long enough for you to toe off your pants and do a tiny spin. He gives your ass a small smack as it passes.

"Fuck- baby you look breathtaking."

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

You let him pull you atop his lap. His hands are warm as they smooth over the fronts of your thighs. His lips kiss up your clothed spine and you shiver in excitement. He hums as he breathes you in.

“Wanna see you bouncing on my cock with this on, Sweetheart.”

You smile. “Then lay back for me Eds and let me put on a show for you.”

He does as you request, laying back against the pillows with his arms resting behind his head. He watches your every move, eyes following as your fingers tug at his blue and black checkered boxers.

He's semi-hard, cock falling to his stomach, growing stiffer by the second. You take it into your hand and rub your Thumb over the sensitive tip.

“Mmh, that's right baby. Love when you touch me.” Eddie moans, tilting his head back to rest on the headboard.

You reach over to the nightstand and grab your bottle of lube and squinting some into your hand. It's cold. Eddie jumps a bit When you bring your lubed hand to his throbbing cock.

Slowly you begin to pump your hand. He hardens under your grasp and you can feel it throbbing as his heart rate picks up.

Eddie bites his lip as he moans. His legs flex and his hips buck up. He lets out a groan when you let go of him only to quiet down when you turn, swinging a leg over his so that you're straddling him.

His hands immediately grab your hips, thumb rubbing across his bedazzled name.

The room is filled with heavy breathing as you situate the thin string of the thong to the side. You need him inside of you and so you take his cock and guide him into your sopping-wet cunt.

There's a pounding in your core urging you to take him all the way. You choke out a cry as you do. The sudden feeling of the full stretch he gives you along with the fullness has you throwing your head back. “Fuck.”

Eddie's fingers grip tightly into your skin, flesh pudges between the digits. He's holding you so hard there will probably be bruises later, you hope so. When you nod to him, showing that you're ready, Eddie starts to guide your hips. Helping to move you up and down, grinding into his cock.

Your mouth slackens into an O shape as the head of his cock presses deep within you. “Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me,” you repeat as you bounce. Your pleasure is all that you can think about at that moment. At a particularly harsh snap of Eddie’s hips, you hurl forward, catching yourself on the mattress with your hands. The angle has him hitting just right and a guttural moan spews past your lips. “Eddie!”

“That’s right Sweet girl,” he praises. “Feel so good around me, just love when this sweet pussy squeezes me. S’my sweet pussy isn't it baby? All fuckin’ mine.” He grunts, hips pistoning upwards faster.

“All yours Eddie! Fuck- my pussy’s all yours!” You cry.

“Yeah? That why you had to mark it with my name? Wear those slutty panties so everyone would know whose fuckin’ pussy this is?” He stopped his thrusts and before you knew it you were lying face first on the mattress and Eddie was shoving his thick cock back into you, pounding into you even harder.

Short grunts and gasps for breath could be heard as he fucked you mercilessly into the bed. His fingers held your hips steady, fingers tangled in the lace of your thong.

“Gonna cum inside. Get you nice and round with my baby. Then there won't be any question of who you belong to.”

His words have you shuddering. Your body begins to tense as you feel yourself starting to come undone. “Yes!” you scream in answer, wanting nothing more than for you to belong to him and him to you. “Yes, yes! Fuck a baby into me, Eddie!”

One hand lets go of your hips and grabs the hair at the base of your scalp. You mewl as he pulls taut, guiding your body up and flush with his own. His lips kiss messily over your neck and shoulder. You turn your head and he connects his lips with yours. It's sloppy, a mix of spit and gnashing teeth.

“Oh fuck! Ed- Eddie I’m… fuck I’m gonna cum.”

“Mmm. Cum on my fuckin’ cock baby, show me how only I can make you feel.” His thrusts pick up to a speed you didn't think was imaginable.

Tears are flowing down your face as his grip on your hips tightens. You can’t take it anymore and with a cry of pleasure, you cum, your body trembling as he follows close behind.

He lets you fall back to the bed, falling to the side to catch a well-needed breath.

“Should wear my name more often.” Eddie gives a breathy laugh.

You eye him, watching as the hand he has laid over his stomach rises with his breathing. “I make a note of that.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #joseph quinn #joseph quinn x reader #joseph quinn smut #stranger things x reader #stranger things smut #stranger things fic #female reader

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andshesaidwhat · 3 months

Text

Cuff Me - James Kelly Smut

Summary: You and your boyfriend, James, get into a fight after he almost runs into trouble with the police. Not liking his pissy attitude, you decide to teach him a lesson in restraint.

Warnings: unprotected sex, penetrative sex, bondage, bratty!James, teasing, James is a switch when the circumstances are right, masturbation (reader receiving), edging, denial, begging, degradation, praise, lots of pet names (pretty baby, baby, doll, etc.), James is a yapper, angst, angry sex, cock warming, multiple orgasms (reader receiving), face-sitting, handjob (James receiving), oral sex (James and reader receiving), James is a lil mean at first but reader puts him in his place.

Masterlist

You could hear the faint sounds of sirens in the distance as your stomach tied in knots. You chewed worriedly on your bottom lip, watching outside the window of the car you’d parked behind an old, rundown pub.

You sighed, rubbing your face with your hands as you closed your eyes. When you’d gotten a call from your boyfriend that he was in trouble and needed you to pick him up, you’d dropped everything to go to him. Now, as you waited, you felt the anxiety growing inside of you.

What had he gotten caught up in now?

You jumped as you heard a banging on the passenger window, opening your eyes to see James with his hood up. You quickly unlocked the car, letting him get in. He pushed his hood back, leaning against the headrest as he caught his breath.

James had a reddened bruise on his cheekbone, and his knuckles were a bit bloody. You sighed to yourself, making sure the coast was clear before beginning to drive back to the house you shared.

Knowing he was at least safe, the worry started to melt into anger as you asked, “What happened this time?”

“Frankie said he needed some help,” James sighed, running a hand through his dark hair. “I was just takin’ a drive with him, to talk. I didn’t know he’d stolen the fuckin’ car.”

“Jesus, James,” you said, exasperated. “How many times are you gonna let him rope you into these situations, huh?”

“He’s my brother,” James argued, turning to you with a defensive expression hardened onto his face. “It’s what brothers do, okay? They look out for each other.”

“He doesn’t look out for you,” you retorted, turning down the street to your neighborhood. “When has he ever sacrificed anything for your wellbeing? He doesn’t, James. All he ever does is drag you into his mess. Yet, still, every time he calls, you run to him.”

James’ jaw clenched, but he didn’t say anything — knowing that you were right. His fingers fiddled with the hem of his hoodie as he turned to look out the window, watching the houses go by.

“Things are good for you right now, James,” you said, pulling into your driveway and parking the car. “You opened up your own shop, we got our own place, we’re not in any debt anymore. Why would you want to jeopardize all of that when you’ve worked so hard to get it?”

James didn’t answer, getting out of the car and slamming the door as he walked into the house. Seething, you followed after him, storming through the front door.

“What the fuck are you mad at me for?” You yelled, grabbing his arm and spinning him around to face you. “I didn’t have to come save your ass, you know? I could’ve fucking left you to deal with your own shit. What would you have done then, hm?”

His eyes were burning with intensity and you clenched your thighs together. He was so fucking sexy when he was angry. You fought to keep your resolve, to remember why you were arguing in the first place.

James noticed the brief flash of desire in your eyes, smirking as he walked closer to you. You stood your ground, trying to keep your glare strong as he stalked toward you. He dipped his head low, caressing your cheek with a tattooed hand.

“Pretty baby,” he whispered, holding your face gently. “Gettin’ all mad at me. ‘S cute.”

He tilted your head to the side, kissing slowly down your neck. You sucked in a breath, your eyes fluttering shut as your stomach stirred with need.

“James,” you groaned, forming a weak, half-assed attempt to push him off of you. “I…I’m trying to talk to you about this.”

He raised his head back up, brushing his lips against yours as he whispered, “I’m done talkin’.”

He devoured your mouth in a hungry, heated kiss that you instantly melted into. His tongue laid claim, tasting your own as you released a breathy sigh. His hands trailed down your body, gripping your waist tightly and pulling you against him.

His movements were rough and angry. Not enough to hurt — never that — but enough for you to know that this wasn’t going to be the gentle love-making the two of you often shared.

He nipped at your lips, backing you up until you were pinned against the wall. All thoughts of your fight had flown out the window as you pushed his hoodie off of his shoulders. He raised his arms, allowing you to pull the white tank top over his head.

Your hands roamed over the expanse of his toned chest as he laughed against your lips and whispered, “You’re so easy, baby.”

Easy?

You pulled away from his mouth, shoving at his chest to push him off of you. He groaned, discontentedly, as you paced back and forth in the living room, feeling your blood boil.

“You can be such a fucking asshole sometimes,” you grumbled, resting your hands on your hips as you turned back to face him.

You tried to ignore how good he looked in that moment. His bare chest was rising and falling with heavy, angry breaths and his jeans hung dangerously low on his hips.

“C’mon,” he scoffed, rolling his eyes. “I was joking.”

“This isn’t a fucking joke, James,” you bit back, walking closer to him. “This is your life at stake — our life at stake. You think you can just smooth talk your way out of anything, that you can just avoid it and it’ll go away, but it won’t always work that way.”

“Okay! Fine! I fucked up! I’m sorry!” James yelled, throwing his hands up in the air. “Can you just get over here ‘n let me fuck you so we can go back to normal?”

You laughed, dryly, narrowing your eyes at him.

“You think you can just look at me with those pretty little eyes and I’ll get on my knees for you?” You asked, cocking your head as you walked back over to him. “Is that how you think this is going to go?”

“I think that’s how this usually goes,” he smirked, arrogance dripping from his tone.

You wanted to wipe that smug look clean off of his face. He thought that he had you wrapped around his finger. He thought that you’d respond to his every beck and call. Normally, that was right — but, this time, things were going to happen a little differently.

“Well, I think that you need a little reminder that you don’t always get to be in control,” you said, trailing the tip of your fingers down his abdomen. You smirked, feeling the muscles ripple beneath your touch. “I think that you need a lesson in restraint.”

James chuckled, raising a mocking brow as he asked, “Oh yeah? What’re you gonna do, cuff me?”

You turned around, walking toward the bedroom and smiling to yourself as he mindlessly followed. You reached into one of the drawers in the bedside table and bit your lip as your fingers grazed cold metal.

You held up a pair of handcuffs, twirling them around as you gave him a challenging look. He stared at you, incredulously, rolling his eyes.

“Yeah, yeah. Real funny, doll,” he grumbled, crossing his strong arms over his chest. “Now put ‘em away.”

You shook your head, and said, “Put your arms out in front of you.”

“You’ve gotta be kiddin’ me,” he huffed, rubbing a hand over his face. “This is cute ‘n all, baby, but we both know that you can’t put those to proper use.”

You quirked a brow and asked, “Is that a challenge?”

“It’s a fact, sweetheart,” he shrugged, a smug smile pulling at his lips. “If you want us to use ‘em, give ‘em here, but you’re not lockin’ those things around me.”

“Really? Because you seemed to be perfectly fine with the prospect of ending up in cuffs when you got involved in Frankie’s bullshit,” you said, matter-of-factly. “How about this — you either cooperate, or you can go sleep on the couch and we can continue this fight in the morning.”

James seethed, glaring at you, but he didn’t walk away. You smirked triumphantly and said, “Good. Now put your hands out.”

He hesitated, but eventually obliged with another roll of his eyes. You couldn’t wait to make his eyes roll in an entirely different way. Begrudgingly, he held his wrists out in front of him.

You clamped the metal cuffs around both wrists — not so tight that it would cause him pain, but tight enough to be a nuisance. You tugged on the chain that connected them, pulling him toward you. He stumbled forward with a huff, clenching his jaw in quiet anger.

“Once you’re begging all pretty for me, maybe then I’ll think about forgiving you,” you said, sweetly, rubbing your fingers through his hair.

His eyes narrowed at you as he growled, “I don’t fuckin’ beg.”

You smirked and said, “We’ll see about that.”

You pushed him back onto the bed, giggling as he flopped and grumbled to himself. You removed your shirt and jeans, watching his eyes darken as he stared at your half-naked form. You slowly crawled over him, grabbing his wrists and raising them above his head. You hooked the cuffs around a beam in your headboard, making sure he wouldn’t be able to move them.

You sat back, biting your lip as you admired him. His muscles were flexed and tense in this position and his eyes were swimming with a mixture of anger and lust.

You placed a hand on either side of his head, leaning down to gently brush your lips against his. When he raised his head to try and kiss you, you dodged him and kissed across his jaw instead.

He released an unhappy groan that turned into a shaky sigh as your lips began to move down his neck. You took your time, placing slow, open-mouthed kisses across his throat. You’d stop to linger on the places that made him shiver beneath you, nipping and sucking dark marks into his skin.

Your mouth made its way down his chest, following a trail down his stomach. James tensed, pulling against the restraints with a groan.

“So sensitive, baby,” you cooed, smirking at his pissed off expression.

His breathing was labored as you kissed his hips, your tongue grazing the skin just above the waistband of his boxers. He sucked his bottom lip into his mouth as you unbuttoned his jeans, pulling them down his legs. You tossed them to the side, rubbing your hands up and down his thighs.

His erection was strained against the thin material of his briefs. You used your fingers to lightly trace the large outline, giggling at the way his hips squirmed. You pressed down gently against the area where a small wet spot had already begun forming before placing a kiss to the clothed member. James’ hips bucked up, chasing your lips as you sat back on your heels and watched him with amusement.

“C’mon, baby, don’t fuckin’ tease me,” he groaned, releasing a shaky breath.

“Aw, Jamie,” you pouted, mocking him. “I’m just getting started.”

You hooked your fingers under the waistband of his boxers and pulled them down his legs, watching his pulsing erection spring free. Licking your lips, you leaned down to kiss the top of one of his muscular thighs, then the other. You moved up to pepper kisses onto his hips, careful to avoid touching him where you knew he wanted you to.

James groaned, gritting his teeth as he complained, “I get it, okay? You’ve proven your point, baby. You’re in control — whatever. Just fuckin’ get on with it—oh, fuck.”

He gasped, cursing as your fist wrapped around his dick, slowly stroking it. You swiped your thumb over his tip, gathering the pre-cum that had started dripping down his shaft to aid your movements.

“Is this what you wanted, Jamie?” You asked, cocking your head as you watched him squirm. When he didn’t respond, you squeezed your fist, causing him to arch his back as his hips thrusted up into your touch. “Answer me.”

“Yes,” he breathed, glaring up at you with indignation. “This is what I want.”

You moved your fist faster, earning a strained moan from him. You used your other hand to cup his balls, gently massaging them.

“Fuck, yeah, keep doin’ that,” he groaned, humming in appreciation.

“Yeah? You like that?” You asked, grinning as he nodded furiously. “What about this?”

You leaned down and placed a teasing kiss to the tip of his dick, slowly swirling your tongue around it as you continued to stroke him.

“Shit,” he moaned, pulling against the hold of the handcuffs. “Yeah. Fuck, I like that.”

You continued to tease him, sucking the tip into your mouth just to pull back off again. He groaned, thrusting his hips in an attempt to push himself further past your lips.

“Baby, just let me feel your mouth,” he protested, panting as he pouted at you. “Take it all, baby, don’t make me wait. You can take it all, I know you can.”

“What’s the magic word, Jamie?” You taunted, continuing your languid strokes. “You gotta ask nicely.”

James clenched his jaw, gritting his teeth as he ground out, “Please.”

“Please, what?” You asked, batting your lashes innocently.

“Please, suck my dick,” he huffed, glaring at you. “There. Is that what you want me to say?”

“It’s a good start,” you smirked, lowering your head to take him into your mouth.

“Fuck,” James moaned, watching as he disappeared between your lips. “Just like that, baby. God, those pretty lips always feel so fuckin’ good wrapped around me.”

You hummed at the praise, causing his hips to twitch. You took him as far as you could, using your hand to work what couldn’t fit. Your tongue traced the underside of his shaft, swirling around the tip each time you’d come up.

James’ back arched as he panted, strings of lewd moans falling from his lips. You could feel him getting closer. His hips began to stutter and his breathing grew rough and ragged. You took him as far down your throat as you could manage, swallowing around him.

“Ah, shit,” he cried out, throwing his head back against the pillows. “I’m so close, baby. I’m almost there, just keep goin’.”

You pulled off of him with a smirk, watching as his hips desperately rutted into the air. He groaned, pulling against the restraints in frustration.

“I don’t think you’ve learned your lesson just yet,” you tutted, moving back to stand at the foot of the bed.

His words of protest stopped in his throat the moment you unclasped your bra, letting it fall to the floor. His mouth hung open as he took in the sight of you, dick twitching as your fingers traced along your chest. When you moved your hands down to the waistband of your underwear, pushing them down with a wiggle of your hips, he let out a strangled groan as he desperately tried to reach out to you.

“You’ve had your fun, okay?” James choked out, his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths. “Stop torturing me.”

You crawled back over him, straddling his chest. He licked his lips as he ogled at the delicious view you were granting him.

“Actually,” you started, a mischievous glint in your eyes, “I haven’t even started having my fun yet.”

You slowly rubbed your hands up and down your thighs in a teasing motion. You let one hand move up toward your chest while the other drifted down between your legs. James’ eyes widened and his breathing grew faster as the realization of what you were doing set in.

“No,” he breathed, his eyebrows pinching together in desperation. “No, baby, c’mon. Don’t do this to me.”

“Mm, but I need to be touched so badly, Jamie,” you taunted, trailing your fingers further up the inside of your thigh. “Such a shame you can’t help me out.”

He pulled against the cuffs again, panting as he said, “Let me out of these ‘n I can help you. You know it feels so much better when I do it, baby. Just let me out. Let me touch you.”

“You aren’t getting out that easily,” you said, shaking your head.

He groaned in exasperation, still struggling in the hold of the restraints. You brought your fingers down to circle your clit, sighing in pleasure. His eyebrows scrunched together as he let out a noise that resembled a whine. You knew that it drove him insane — watching you get pleasure from anything that wasn’t him. You wanted him to break, you wanted him to cave in to the desperation. His noises of protest grew louder as you pushed two fingers inside yourself, curling them with an exaggerated moan.

“Stop,” he panted, eyes wide with urgency. “You don’t have to let me go, just…let me help you. You can still be in control, baby, just use my mouth. It’ll feel so much better, promise.”

You quirked a brow, leaning over him as you asked, “You wanna taste me, Jamie?”

He nodded his head frantically, licking his lips at the mere prospect of getting his mouth on you. His breaths were shaky and unstable as he peered up at you with pleading eyes.

“C’mere,” he panted. “Let me show you how sorry I am.”

You moved further up the bed, your knees resting on either side of his head. You hovered above his face, practically dripping onto him.

James wasted no time, lifting his head up and latching his mouth onto you. You let out a shaky breath, gripping the headboard to keep yourself stable. His stubble was rough against the skin of your thighs. His tongue licked a stripe from slit to clit, swirling around the sensitive bundle before gently sucking it into his mouth. He lapped at you like a starved man, his groans sending vibrations through your core.

His eyes stayed locked onto you, watching every reaction. He didn’t want to blink, he barely took breaks to breathe. If he was suffocated between your legs, it would be a happy way to go.

“Mm, so good, Jamie,” you breathed, running your fingers through his hair and pushing it out of his eyes. “It’s so much better when your mouth is put to good use instead of talkin’ a bunch of shit.”

A wicked glint shone in his eyes as he nipped at your clit with his teeth. You yelped, tightening your grip in his hair as you tilted your head.

“Careful, Jamie,” you warned. “I could still leave you locked up like this and not give you anything at all.”

He flattened his tongue, soothing the swollen bud before returning to his eager ministrations. He knew your body as well as you did, knowing exactly what to do to bring you to the precipice of pleasure.

You felt that coil in the pit of your stomach tighten, threatening to snap as he effortlessly brought you to the edge.

“Fuck, I’m gonna come, Jamie,” you moaned, moving your hips in time with his actions. “Is that what you want? Want me to come all over your pretty fuckin’ face?”

“Mhm,” he hummed against you, eyes darkening as he waited in anticipation for you to come undone.

The sensation of his mouth combined with the vibrations of his voice were all you needed to fall apart. The searing pleasure coursed through your veins as you rode out your release, James eagerly lapping up every drop of it.

Catching your breath, you moved back down his body. You nearly came again at the sight of him. His lips were red and swollen, glistening with the remnants of your desire. He licked them, greedily, staring at you with a predatory glint in his eyes.

His hips writhed on the bed, pre-cum pooled at the base of his dick. You leaned down, licking it off of him. James gasped at the contact. He was desperate for any touch from you.

You sat back on his hips, slowly beginning to grind against the length of him. A strangled groan sounded from his lips as he yanked on the handcuffs. He could feel the wet heat between your legs, torturously close to giving him what he craved.

“Let me be inside you, doll,” he panted, bucking his hips up into you. “I’ll make you feel so good. I’ll fill you up just how you like it.”

You could tell he was close to breaking, his need getting the better of him. You couldn’t fight the pulsing desire either, wanting to feel him stretching you out in the way that only he could.

You raised up on your knees, lining him up with your entrance before sinking down onto him until your hips sat flesh against his.

You gasped, softly, as he cried out, “Fuck!”

He looked at you, biting his lip until it drew blood as he waited impatiently for you to move. His chest was heaving with strangled breaths, every muscle in his body tense with need.

“You gotta move, baby,” he said, breathlessly. “Do something, anything.”

You smiled sweetly at him, batting your lashes as you asked, “You want me to fuck you, Jamie?”

“Yes,” he breathed. “I want you to fuck me, baby.”

“Beg,” you told him, dropping the innocent smile. “Beg me to fuck you.”

His jaw clenched, his resolve wearing thin, as he growled, “I don’t fuckin’ beg.”

You raised your brow in a challenge, lifting your hips up so that just his tip remained inside of you before sinking back down onto him and stopping again.

His eyes rolled back as he tugged again on the restraints. His breaths were shaky, coming out in noises that dangerously resembled whimpers. He swallowed hard, squeezing his eyes shut before finally giving in.

“Please, baby, fuck me,” he begged, his voice raw with desperation. “I need to feel you. I can’t take it anymore. I promise, I’ll do anything you want. I’ll be good, okay? I’ll be so good, just please fuck me.”

“That’s it, Jamie,” you cooed, finally moving your hips as you began to ride him. He cried out your name, his voice breaking as you gave him what he so desperately needed. “See what happens when you follow the rules? You get rewarded with the things you want.”

His head fell back against the pillows, his hips thrusting up to meet yours as he moaned. His eyebrows pinched together in pleasure as he watched his dick disappearing between your legs.

“Fuck me, baby,” he groaned, using all of his remaining strength to fuck up into you. “You feel so fuckin’ good. Always so tight ‘n wet for me, aren’t you, angel?”

“Just for you, Jamie,” you breathed, nails digging into the skin of his hips as each thrust brought you closer to that wave of ecstasy. “Always for you.”

You knew he wouldn’t last long, having been too worked up. You clenched around him, nearing the edge as well as he whimpered with the strain of holding back.

“Please, don’t stop,” be begged, eyes shiny with the need to get his release. “Gonna let me come inside you, right? Not gonna stop this time?”

“I’m not gonna stop,” you reassured him. “You can let go, Jamie.”

With your permission, he let the waves of pleasure overtake him. His hips bucked wildly as he came with a cry of your name. You were soon to follow, squeezing around him as the both of you fell over the edge together.

Your legs nearly gave out as you rode through your mutual high. Coming down, you braced your hands on his chest to stabilize yourself. You both caught your breath, James’ head lulling against the pillows with a satiated smile.

You leaned over to grab the key off of the bedside table and undid the handcuffs, gently grabbing his arms and lowering them back down. You placed tender kisses against the raw skin of his wrists, the budding anger you’d felt dissipating.

James sat up and wrapped his arms around you, pressing his lips against yours, sweetly. He pulled back for a moment, looking at you, before kissing your forehead, then your nose, then each cheek, then your lips again.

“I’m sorry, baby,” he whispered, bringing one hand up to gently cup your face. “I shoulda known better. I just wanted to help him.”

“I know you did, Jamie,” you said, softly, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. “I just worry about you. I don’t want you getting hurt again because of him.”

“I know,” he nodded, smiling at you. “You’ve always been so good to me. I’m not gonna worry you anymore, okay? I promise. I wanna do things right with you. I want our life to be a clean slate.”

You sighed, gratefully, touching your forehead to his as you relaxed in his arms. You could never stay mad at him for very long. You wouldn’t want to.

“I mean…not everything has to be clean,” you grinned, playfully. “It’s okay to play a little dirty sometimes.”

James chuckled, kissing you again as he rolled you over so that he was lying on top of you. One hand trailed down to your hip while the other one remained holding your face.

“My pretty baby,” he cooed, kissing down your neck. “Such a dirty girl.”

He grabbed the handcuffs, raising your hands above your head with a devious smirk as he whispered, “Your turn.”

You knew you were both in for a very long night.

#smut #fanfiction #hayden christensen smut #smutrequests #james kelly smut #james kelly #american heist #one shot #imagine #james kelly x reader

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lordprettyflackotara · 2 months

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noise || ticci toby x maid!reader (𝓕𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝓵𝔂pasta au)

SMUT MINORS DNI 18+. tw: toby & reader are both switches, toby’s a lil freaky fuck, face fucking, biting, choking, marking, squirting, humiliation fr

If you had been asked what you thought creeps did for fun, you would’ve had a few guesses. Murdering sprees, torture, potential cannibalism. What you would’ve not guessed was partying.

It was a surprise to you that the creeps did in fact like to party, with outside mansion residents as well. Immortal killers of all shapes and sizes were making their way into the mansion, eyeing you like you were candy. Slenderman had made it very clear you were off limits as the mansions official maid, but that didn’t stop the stares or awkward conversations you were forced into. You realized many of them hadn’t interacted with a regular human in so long they forgot social manners. The realization hit you when Laughing Jack asked if you wanted a piece of his lollipop.

Nevertheless you were still having fun, despite cleaning up after everyone constantly. The music was loud and obnoxious, the weed smell burning your nostrils so much you were sure your nose hairs were fried. Thankfully Slender opted to let you wear a more appropriate attire, fearful the guest would go feral at the sight of a helpless human girl with her ass out. A pencil skirt and button up weren’t your forte, but damn did it beat the flimsy halloween costume you wore everyday. You threw some empty red solo cups in a trash bag, many of the creeps in a circle on the floor.

“Hey Y/n! Come spin this shit!”

You looked over in surprise, Jeff’s rough voice one you’d recognize anywhere. It looked like an old fashioned game of spin the bottle. “Uh i’m not sure-” You started to protest, Ben appearing behind you. You jumped in surprise as he grabbed your shoulders, floating behind you shamelessly. “Dont be shy. Besides, it’s seven minutes in heaven, you’ll get some privacy,” He cooed mockingly, pushing you towards the circle. Uncertainly you placed one foot in front of the other, peer pressure obligating you to act cool with this. “Ben’s right. Besides, you don’t exactly have much of a choice maid,” Jeff snickered, taking a swig of his beer bottle.

Begrudgingly you lowered yourself onto your knees, joining the circle. You sat in between Eyeless Jack and Jane the killer, both of whom looked at you like you were a fresh pile of meat. Unsurely you grabbed the bottle in the middle of the circle, spinning it. Glancing around you were surprised to see Masky and Hoodie partaking in the silly game, the two nearly mirroring each other with the way they smoked their cigarettes. Your gaze then landed on the bottle, silently praying you’d get someone from the mansion, not a guest. Your prayers seemed to be answered once the other end of the bottle landed on Toby.

Ticci Toby, a scrawny unhinged killer who twitched everytime he looked at you. He seemed to be the closest to your age, despite being the youngest mansion resident besides maybe Ben. It was hard to tell how old anyone was, the creeps not aging after age twenty five. Jeff chuckled darkly at the match, guiding you both to follow him. “Alright lovebirds, into the closet you go!” He sang cheerfully. Toby stepped inside first, red led lights decorating the top of the closet. You nervously trailed behind him, Jeff grinning mischievously as he started a timer. “Oh and Toby make sure she comes out alive, boss will be pretty mad if she doesn’t. Have fun!” Jeff advised, before slamming and locking the closet door. Although it was dim inside of the closet, it wasn’t hard to see Toby was visibly nervous.

“We d-don’t have to d-d-do anything. Jeff’s just an asshole,” Toby sputtered. His neck twitched after he spoke, his hand awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. You both leaned on opposite sides of the closet, only a couple of feet dividing you from touching. You cleared your throat, boldly taking a step forward. It had been a stressful week, your stress pent up and taking a toll on your body. “Have you ever done anything with a girl before?” You asked. Toby’s eyes widened at your question, pushing his goggles further back on his head. “Yes i-it’s just been a long t-t-time,” He answered. You tilted your head to the side curiously, the young brunette boy reluctant to elaborate. “My ex is C-Clockwork,” He explained. For once he was grateful at the red lights in the closet, they concealed the blush that dashed across his cheeks.

You knew who Clockwork was, her presence not as frequent as you would’ve liked. It was easier being around the female mansion residents rather than the males. “Oh I see,” You mused. You grabbed the collar of his hoodie, attempting to straighten it out. “I’d l-l-love to make her jealous,” Toby admitted. A devious grin spread across your lips, your hands sliding down his chest. “Why don’t we do that then?” You asked. You grabbed handfuls of his hoodie, dragging him over to you. Your lips met his, his kisses sloppy and uncoordinated. He grabbed your waist harshly, causing you to groan in his mouth. His lips were eager and desperate, his cock quickly hardening in his pants. “M-move your h-h-hair,” Toby ordered softly. You strayed away from his lips, brushing your hair behind your neck. His lips were quick to assault your neck, sucking harshly at the sensitive skin. You couldn’t control the whimpers that left your lips, his tongue lapping at the hickies he was sucking.

You let out a gasp as his teeth sank into your skin, causing you to whine under him. He pressed you flat against the wall, your back flat against the wood. “Y-you t-t-think i’m going to l-l-let you leave unmarked? Boy are you d-dumb,” Toby chuckled darkly, his hands now slithering to the mounds of your ass. He roughly grabbed the flesh, his teeth sinking into your neck once more. The pain was almost nauseating, thin beads of blood forming around the bite mark. The brunette was quick to lap at the wound, relishing in the taste of your metallic blood. Once he released his hold you pushed him back, his back crashing into the opposite wall. You assertively grabbed his throat, tilting his neck to the side. As harshly as you could you sucked at his skin, the boy beneath you having a hard time restraining his cock in his jeans. You sucked and lapped at his neck, hickies and bruises forming over his greyish skin.

“Y-you can t-t-try to hurt-t me all you want. I don’t feel pain,” Toby laughed. You pulled back from his neck, eyes wide. He found the fear in your blown pupils arousing, his hand finding your cheek. “We d-d-don’t have a lot of time, s-stay still for me,” He commanded. You watched as he undid his belt, pulling down his pants and boxers in one shift motion. You tried to follow his order, his slender hands grabbing you and flipping you upside down. You gasped as he held your waist, your body weight as light as a feather to him. You felt the blood rushing to your head, his hard cock dripping precum dead center in front of your face. “G-get to sucking i-i-if you want to cum,” Toby ordered. Your hair hung in the air underneath you, your body tense as he held you upside down. You felt him shove your pencil skirt ‘down’ and your panties to the side, his bandaged fingers playing with your slick.

“So f-fuckin wet. F-filthy fuck,” Toby commented, bringing his mouth to your clit. You groaned as you stroked his cock, bringing it to your mouth. You bobbed your head up and down on his cock, licking the underside of his shaft as he wrapped his lips around your clit. Your nails dug into his thighs for support, the brunette holding you blissfully unaware of how hard you were truly holding onto him. You could feel yourself becoming dizzy as you sucked his cock, Toby’s fingers dipping into your entrance. You whined around his shaft, the vibrations around his length only making him harder. He released your clit with a pop, his fingers now abusing your g spot. “F-fuckin whore. D-don’t pass out o-o-on me,” Toby barked. Your eyes were screwed shut as you shoved yourself further down his length, his tip brushing against the back of your throat.

His fingers were merciless, his tongue lapping at your folds like a starved man. You briefly disconnected yourself from his cock, a string of saliva still connecting you to his tip.

“Two minutes left!”

Jeff’s mocking voice notified you both outside of the closet door. Toby frowned, flipping you over and forcing you onto your knees. You were dizzy and disoriented as he shoved his cock into your mouth. You gagged as he began to fuck your throat, determined to cum. “C-come on s-slut. The sooner y-y-you make me cum the sooner I m-m-make you squirt,” Toby barked. You whole heartedly sucked his cock, your jaw going slack as he abused your throat. You ignored your desperation for oxygen as well as the tears streaming down your face, determined to make Toby cum. His fingers were roughly lodged in your hair, yanking at it and forcing you to take all of him. “F-fucking s-s-shit,” Toby grunted. He held you down to the base of his cock, your nose buried in his bush as he came down your throat. You struggled to swallow his seed, his warm cum spilling down your throat.

“Swallow it fucking a-all or I swear I-I-I make you lick it off of the ground,” Toby growled. You managed to blink your eyes open, through the tears looking up at the brunette with glassy eyes. You swallowed every drop of cum he could produce, Toby only pulling out when he felt satisfied. He grabbed you by your throat, fingers wrapped tightly around your flesh. He shoved you against the closest wall, his hand digging up your skirt. You whimpered as he abruptly shoved two fingers inside of you, using his thumb to circle your clit. He quickly curled them, abusing your g spot as quickly as he pleased. “Y-you’re a s-s-sick fuck. Enjoying killers u-using you like a s-s-sex doll,” Toby growled. His eyes were blown with lust, but sparkled with something much more sinister. His fingers clamped over your throat tighter, restricting your airway. “G-gonna talk to b-b-boss about making a g-g-glory hole just for you. Since-e that’s all you’re good for,” He purred.

It sickened you just how much his words sent waves of pleasure down to your core. You grabbed his wrist, your eyes rolling into the back of your head as the cord inside of your stomach tightened. “B-bet you’ve never squirted b-b-before, huh?” Toby asked mockingly, tilting his head to the side. You shook your head no, his circles around your clit speeding up dangerously quickly. “Well you’re going to for me. N-now fucking cum,” Toby growled. You felt an unfamiliar feeling wash over you, one you hadn’t felt before. You gripped his wrist as you squirted, your juices soaking the carpet below as well as your skirt. You blushed as your vision went hazy, your head spinning. You hardly felt like you could stand, Toby holding you upright. Through spotty vision you watched the brunette suck his fingers, cleaning off your juices.

“You look like s-shit. Take this,” He said, handing you his hoodie. It smelled like dirt and too much cologne, but you weakly shoved it on. You pulled down your wet skirt, trying to look semi decent. Toby fixed his pants and boxers, relooping his belt. Just in time too, Jeff then opening the closet door. Ooo’s and awe’s spread across the room, your face as red as it could get. Jeff patted Toby on the back, congratulating him. You nervously left the circle, resuming your task of collecting trash. You felt a pair of eyes burning holes into the back of your head, causing you to look behind you. The infamous Eyeless Jack was shamelessly staring at you, wondering if he could make you make more noise than Toby could.

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fourmoony · 8 months

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𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐧

james potter x f!reader | modern!hockey au

cw: injury, language, use of pain medication (gas and air), exes reconciliation

summary - James is there for ex!reader when she has an accident on the ice.

2.8k

Took a break from writing ch3 of FOW to write this lil ficcy.

---

The arena goes silent the minute the programme music starts, the lights a deep blue, the music soft and slow. He’s on the Gryffindor bench, helmet at his feet, bottle half empty and hanging limply from his hands – they’re cold now they’re out of his gloves. The rest of the team has eyes on the tunnel, the whole arena does, and when James catches sight of you, he understands why, would singlehandedly go into the stands and force anyone who wasn’t paying enough attention to just – look.

Look at the way you skate so softly, like every movement comes straight from your soul, the way your dress glitters under the light, the way it makes your skin glow. He thinks you’re ethereal, honestly. He always has. But he’s not exactly allowed to think that, anymore, is he?

You skid to a stop in the middle of the ice, getting into position. Remus places a supportive hand on James’ shoulder, gives his friend an understanding look. Everything you do is always so precise, so fluid and beautiful. The way you skate is pure elegance, unlike hockey, which is rough and fast, harsh movements and even harsher words. The music fades out, changes to the start of a song James has never seen you skate to, before. But then, he supposes – he hasn’t seen you skate in four months. He hasn’t watched you try, and try, fall, and try, and fall again until you get a new move, a new routine, a sense of achievement.

He hasn’t sat on the bleachers freezing his arse off after practice just to be in your presence, or took you to eat, after. He hasn’t made sure you’re eating, sleeping, taking time to look after and care for yourself, and not just your talent.

You look different. Still beautiful, still the girl James fell in love with. But you look different. He can’t pinpoint it, really. There’s just a difference in the way you look straight at the empty penalty box as you wait for your cue that doesn’t sit right in James’ chest. It’s clunky and a little painful, a broken promise of something. You’re not looking at him. Whenever you skate at Hogwarts Arena – you look for James. Whether he’s playing or in the crowd. A nod from him, and you’re off like a shot into whatever performance your coach has chosen. Now, though, you’re staring blankly at the penalty box, not James.

He gets it, he does. It’s over. Has been for a while. But he wishes you’d look over, knows how nervous you get, wants to give you a reassuring smile. James sees the way your knees wobble as you kick off, floating across the ice like you could be flying.

You make it look so effortless, skating. You look weightless as you twist and turn into jumps James could never imagine being able to pull off – and he’s been skating since he could walk. He admires the steady movements, the emotion on your face as you glide, and spin, and jump, and the emotion on your face as the music follows the highs and lows of your routine. You’re so focussed you don’t seem to notice how the pain, the heartache of the song, the weight of the routine, bleeds from you.

It’s beautiful, in a way.

You’re beautiful in every way.

James feels the weight of watching you crushing him like a building sitting on his chest. He’s been slammed into the boards eight times in the first two quarters – not once had it hurt as much as watching you out there, so lovely, so gentle, so sad, so close but so fucking far. James thinks perhaps Remus’ hand on his shoulder is to keep him in place, for if it wasn’t there, he’d be out on the ice following you, right now. Heart in his hand, begging you to take it, no matter what it costs you both.

He’s always been selfish with love. He knows that, now. He does.

James should see it coming a mile off. He knows everything about you, the way you skate. He has every breath change, every wobble, every movement you make on the ice memorised. So, when you jump off with your left pick instead of your right – James should know what’s about to happen. You spin once, and James realises, too late, that jumping with the wrong foot has thrown you off. You’re on the ice in less than a second, the music cuts off, the crowd and both teams make gasping noises, murmured concerns. James doesn’t hear any of it.

All he can hear is the ice shattering scream you let out.

You don’t get up. James waits several seconds, and you don’t get up. Remus shoves him, Sirius pulls open the board door and James, in only his under armour and protective trousers, skates loosened for the break, skates to you as fast as he can. There’s cheering from the crowd when James comes flying out of the team box, but James can’t hear any of it over the sounds you’re making.

He’s seen you fall hundreds of times. He’s seen you pull muscles and break ribs, bruise tail bones, sprain ankles and he has never heard you make noise like this in his life. The medics haven’t arrived yet, James skids to a stop, drops to his knees. You don’t look up, face tilted towards the ice – a media training stunt so the crowd can’t see how much pain you’re actually in. But he can tell your eyes are screwed shut, fists clenched so tight he’s concerned you might break your wrists.

He says your name, soft, gentle, and it sounds foreign coming out of his mouth.

You take a shuddering breath, head tilting in the cage your arms have made for it just slightly. Your eyes are filled with so much fear that James finds it hard to breathe, tears spilling out and onto your red cheeks, “My hip. My hip, Jamie, my hip.”

You sound terrified, broken, in agonising pain. James shouts for a medic, loud enough that he thinks the whole arena can hear. There’s refs and managers, your skating coach, all on the ice when the medics come running. James feels as though he could throttle every last one for taking so long. You’re crying, curled in on yourself, and James knows better than to touch you, like this. It makes the pain worse, makes you feel like you’re suffocating. And he thinks, maybe, that you just don’t want him to touch you, regardless, anyway.

The medics slide the board under you, roll you onto your back and the scream of agony you let out breaks James. He’s crying, and you reach for his hand, squeeze it so tight he feels his bones rub together.

“Potter!” Moody, his coach, yells after him when he starts to follow the medics off the ice with you.

“I’m not leaving her.” James doesn’t leave room for negotiation, doesn’t want Moody to challenge him on this because he might do something stupid and lose his place in the league all together.

His coach sighs, nods, and James is off like a shot. He catches up with you in the tunnel, headed straight for the Gryffindor PT room. You’re still sobbing, awful, throaty cries that are etching their way around James’ ribs, threatening to break and scratch and pull at them. It’s a flurry of noise and shouting and protests from you whenever someone comes close to touching your hip. It’s chaos.

James isn’t really all that sure if you’ve fully registered that he’s there, honestly, or if you’re in so much pain you don’t have it in you to argue over his presence. The medic gives James a look, a rather pointed one, when you refuse for the millionth time to let anyone touch your hip. He isn’t sure what he’s supposed to do. You’re not his girlfriend, anymore. You’re not his, you don’t love him. He can’t comfort you the way he used to.

“Jamie,” You’re breathless, face red and blotchy, hand gripping his, looking up at him with fear, “Don’t let them. It hurts.”

And James feels like he’s drowning.

“Hey,” He gets close to your face, the thumb of his free hand swiping away the tears from your eyes, “They can’t help you if you don’t let them see what’s wrong.”

“It hurts.”

“I know,” He soothes, pushing strands of hair from your forehead, “But it’s gonna hurt a lot longer if you don’t let them fix it.”

You seem to consider, hiccupping breaths filling the silence. The medic makes an impatient sound and James throws him a cutting look.

“Short term pain, long term gain.” James murmurs into the skin of your forehead. It's a joke saying - something you used to say rather bitterly when you hurt yourself learning a new stunt.

You don’t flinch, don’t pull away or protest when he presses his lips to the heated skin. It provides the distraction the medics need to cut the seam of your dress and reveal the skin of your hip. A junior medic passes you a nozzle, wheels a tank to the side of the table you’re on, and passes you it, “Gas and air. You’re going to need it.”

James wishes he could have some, too.

The medics work, you almost chew through the air nozzle when they try to push your hip back into place, and eventually, James has to murmur panicked and overly loud sweet nothings into your ear over the gut wrenching cries you let out when the medic yanks and then pushes your hip right back into place.

The game is long since over. Gryffindor won.

You’re limp on the table, waiting for the crowd to leave before the ambulance can make it to the player exit. James sits, watches you drift in and out of consciousness, begs his heart to return to normal because you’re not in pain anymore, not in danger. You’re here. In front of him. Okay.

Sirius appears a little after the game, freshly showered and in his suit.

“She okay?” He asks, hands stuffed into his suit trouser pockets.

You and Sirius are close. Still. James doesn’t hold it against either of you. You’ve both been such an intracule part of each other’s lives that he’d be evil for expecting that to come to an end just because you and James didn’t work out. You both deserve better than his jealousy.

“Dislocated her hip. They think she’s torn some ligaments; need to wait on the hospital scans to be sure.” James replies, eyes roving over your face.

You look so peaceful, asleep. So free of pain, of the fear and agony you’d been in only half an hour ago. His heart aches. He wants to coddle you, assure you you’ll be okay. He knows he can’t.

Sirius nods, “She’ll skate again? Or no?”

The medic hadn’t seemed hopeful. James doesn’t know who’s going to have the job of telling you, but he’s praying for them. You won’t take this news lightly, “Not at the level she’s at now.”

He watches the concern wash over Sirius. They both know what it’s like to skate. Sure, hockey and figure skating are different – but the mindset is often the same. James can’t imagine being told he couldn’t skate. It’s part of him – his soul. As it is, yours.

“You okay?”

James shakes his head, “No. I can’t stop hearing her. That scream, Padfoot - It hollowed me out.”

Sirius nods, like he understands. Perhaps he does, in some way. He heard it, too. “She’s okay. For now. You going in the ambulance?”

“I don’t think she’d appreciate that.”

“I’ll wait for you in the car, then.” Sirius leaves without another word but offers James an understanding look. He gets it. He knows what it’s like for love to hurt. He and Remus spent years hurting each other for no good reason.

The room is quiet when Sirius goes. Just the steady sounds of your breathing, the beeping of your monitor. James allows himself to press his palm to your cheek one last time. He wills himself to stand up, to leave. He can’t manage it. He doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to walk away from you. Not like this.

“Stay. Please.”

You’re awake. He’s not sure how long you’ve been awake, but he has a feeling you heard his conversation with Sirius. His heart feels like it’s been kick started, like for the first time since you hit the ice, he can breathe.

“I’m not going anywhere.” He promises, thumb rubbing at your neck, hand cupping your jaw.

You nod, swallow, “I won’t skate again, will I?”

“You don’t know that.”

A noise akin to a scoff escapes your lips, which wobble as you speak, “Everyone knows how these injuries end, Jamie. I’ll be a coach, at best.”

He wishes he could tell you that you might make a full recovery, that you’ll go back to being the ethereal, elegant skater you’ve been since he met you all those years ago. He’s never lied to you before, though, so he won’t start now. You both know the statistics, the stories, how it goes. Rehab for six months, and if you’re lucky, you’ll skate in a straight line again.

“I’m so, so, sorry.” He doesn’t know what else to say.

You shush him, a fresh set of tears springing to your eyes, “I should’ve looked for you. I should’ve, I knew I should’ve, but I thought if I did, I wouldn’t be able to stop myself from coming to you. From coming to tell you that I was sorry, that I was wrong, I should’ve…”

James takes his turn shushing you as the quiet sobs rack your body. You used to chide him for his superstitions, it breaks his heart that you think breaking one caused this. He leans over, lips to the skin of your forehead, pressing over and over as though it might make the weight of his love settle into your brain, “No. Please don’t do that, please. Don’t blame yourself. These things happen. Accidents, they happen, no one is a perfect skater, okay?”

“But it’s my fault we broke up.”

You sound so broken, so tired. James doesn’t know what to say, isn't sure what relevance that has to this, so he says nothing.

Time passes, the medics return, bring James his joggies and hoodie and his shoes. He changes quickly, comes in the ambulance to the hospital.

He waits with you, holds your hand, gives you as much reassurance as he can. The doctor tells you three hours later that you’ll never skate at the same level again, and James holds you. He’s careful not to crush you when he climbs into the hospital bed, and he holds you until there’s no more tears left for you to cry. He sits with you in the silence, is patient when you get angry, frustrated, blame yourself and the world, even him, and he’s there. He stays. He doesn’t allow you to push him away this time.

The sun creeps up over the trees, cuts through the fluorescent hospital lighting and casts its golden glow on you, and James remembers.

He remembers all the time away from the rink, the beach, his parent’s summer house, road trips, theme parks, early mornings in his apartment, coffees in the car after practice. He remembers that there, once, had been more to your relationship than skating. It became habit, after a while. Skate, fight, train, skate, fight, train. It got tiring. It got old, and it drove a wedge between you both.

But he remembers how freely you once loved each other, the person you are, not the way you skate. Your soul, bright and luminous, off the ice. You’re so much more than a pair of skates and a beautiful routine. You’re ethereal all on your own.

You wake not long after, the pain medication worn off and reality starting to set in.

If you’re surprised to find James in your hospital bed with you, you don’t show it. You offer him a gentle smile. A kind smile. A hopeful smile. He kisses the crown of your head, nestles as close as your hip will allow. You make a grateful humming noise.

"I'll survive this."

James notes that you don't sound all that sure. But he knows you will. He squeezes you gently, "You will."

"And you'll be there? I know it's selfish of me to ask..."

"I'm not going anywhere. Promise." James' thumb pulls your lip from where it's worrying between your teeth, and you look so soft, so scared. So. Lovely.

You seem happy with that answer, cheek rubbing happily against his shoulder, "We'll work it out."

"We will."

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gh0stsp1d3r · 6 months

Text

ℛ𝓊𝓃𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔

Masterlist

small lil dad!rafe thing inspired by my niece who’s a lil shit stirrer and I love her ahaha

“Oh, Jesus Christ- Rafe and d/n Cameron! Stop running in the house!” You shouted when the two ran past you, your daughter giggling wildly while he was chasing her. You huffed and furrowed an eyebrow, watching the two.

This happened weekly almost, the two playing and running in the house and something always ended up broken.

He finally caught her, holding her up and attacking her face with kisses, a smile visible on his face.

She groaned and tried to push his face away with her tiny hands. He had an idea, and began to slowly spin around, then faster, she squealed and laughed in his arms, holding onto him tightly as he laughed.

The sight was adorable, having you melting as you watched the two.

“Stop, daddy!” She squealed once more, having him pause his movements, and throwing her onto the couch, sitting next to her and catching his breath.

He looked down at her, a smile on both their faces as they looked at each other. She came up to him, jumping onto his lap as he let out a laugh and a groan, hugging her.

#outerbanks rafe #rafe cameron x reader #rafe outer banks #rafe cameron #rafe x you #rafe fanfiction #rafe x reader #dad!rafe cameron #dad!rafe #rafe fluff #rafe cameron fluff

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nejjirez · 1 year

Text

" SAY I WONT ☆. "

pairing: e!42 miles x blk fem! reader

summary: miles is a streamer , his fans are doin a lil too much and it pisses him off..

contents: slight suggestiveness(?) , kissing , streamer miles

miles: purple you/mya: pink

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miles is a popular streamer nowdays. not as popular as people like amp , but he was getting there. one of his dreams was always to meet kai , but besides his lil somewhat strong act he put on for you , he was nervous. he knew he could get his fans to get the word out there , but he waited patiently for his loving fanbase to grow before trying more things.

miles had been on stream for about 30 minutes now , with hella laughs. he was doing a q&a , these were always funny when he streamed. however , when miles streamed he wanted his favorite person to be there with him , but you weren't here yet.

miles continued checking his phone through out the stream , seeing if you had texted him to say when you were otw. as he put his phone back on the table , chat asked a question. "where is mya? shes always here"

"nahh chat i deadass miss my girl , haven't seen her in 5 hours she hadda go home.." miles sulked , he was VERY clingy to you , when you had to go he acted as if the world was over.. you once had to leave school early and he damn near screamed "THE WORLD IS CRUMBLING BRO NOO"

you slowly looked through the window , since this is mainly how you came to his house sometimes. (like there's not a door..) you heard him laughing over something one of his fans said , making you smile at his attractive laugh. you slightly ran over to him and wrapped your arms round his neck , hugging him and kissing his cheek, causing him to jump.

"wtff amorr , where did u come from i been waitinn" he cheesed , as you sat down in the chair beside him , smiling that you could make it to his stream.

"m' sorryy , i had something to do but im here noww , wspp chat" you looked over at the screen smiling and waving , the chat flooded with happiness , miles' fans loved you. "soo since my wifey is here now , yall keep them questions comin in and we gon answer em" he smiled , glancing at you then looking back at the chat.

after a few questions being answered , you and miles were cracking up at the both of your answers , and the questions. you had tears in your eyes from laughing , so you decided to get some water. "oh shit.. broo hollon lemme get my water bottle" you breathed out , trying to catch your breath from cackling while getting up to get your bottle from the side of your bag.

miles spun his chair towards you , still making jokes about the answer you gave the chat for one of the questions. "you said .. a nigga wit 3 arms .. yo ass seen an undeveloped squid?" he said before bursting out into laughter at his own joke , making you cackle.

however while you were getting your water from your bag on the floor , someone commented in the chat. one of those chats that read itself aloud .. yea.. miles didn't like what this person had to say

"miles do better bro" the chat read , making both you and miles spin your heads quickly towards the screen, miles scooting his chair closer to the desk scrolling up quickly to see who made the comment.

"yo.. don't make me end this stream right here right now yo. what yall niggas not finna do is talk about my girl like that. say i wont end this shit rn." miles was mad , he hated when other people talked about you like that , especially people neither of yall knew..

you sat down on the bed now being aware that weird ass ppl were on miles stream , trying to drink the last bit of your water as fast as possible so you could calm him down.

the chat flooded with people practically begging miles to not end the stream , but boy oh boy was he heated rn.. when you walked back over to miles he pulled you into his arms , holding your waist so tightly to the point where you would've had to damn near fight him to let you go. "this? yea this is my beautiful ass wife , don't eva say no shit like that about her yo.." miles said , pointing to you and kissing you. "mhm u heard him" you said , sticking your middle finger up at the camera and laughing.

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

Bonus Headcanons ★:

miles g who always plays games with you while being on stream , and enjoys every moment of it. you two usually play roblox , he always acts as if he wouldnt be fucking terrified of the horror games but ends up screaming and jumping

miles g who doesnt like streaming without you that much , you're his gf and he loves basically having you as his lil partner in crime when he streams.

miles g who will NEVER tolerate any bs about you on his streams.. yk how amp does try not to laugh videos and they be doin fanum wrong? if they try that shit on u he WILL end the stream that instant.

miles g who buys you matching outfits with him so you two can match while he streams , or in general (he loves matching with you)

miles g who doesnt raise his voice or yell on stream when you're sleeping somewhere in the house , he knows how loud he can get sometimes so he makes sure that nobody intends for him to do anything that would wake you up

pls dont let this flop i love this post sm

taglist: @gw3ndyswonderland @hiimayee @444morales @all444miles @nokkihy @spiderheartzz @marci-jean @rashadisback

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lordsukunas · 6 months

Text

the thorn in your side.

synop: nobleman!gojo being annoying asf, but he’s also kinda cute?

tags: fem!reader, royal au, gojo is a nobleman, reader is crown princess, reader is a lil mean to him but it’s really just playful banter, slight suggestiveness..? and by slight i mean very slight. not historically accurate (don’t jump me)

note: dk where this came from. prob all of the historical manhwas thats been on my fyp but wtv. uhh this is lowk fun tho, might make more of this if i have motivation!

“princess! i got a favor to ask.”

“ohhhh, princess!”

“hey, princess?”

your eye twitches in irritation. how many questions can one nobleman have in one day? you’ve answered each one with the dignity and grace expected of a future queen, but there’s only so much of that dignity and grace one can have.

you look up from your book, bright cerulean eyes staring down at you. “yes, lord gojo?”

his grin widens, and you have to resist the urge to slap it smooth off of his face. “do you know where i can find those little cookies? y’know, the ones you had at the banquet last week?”

... seriously?! he’s asking you about macaroons?!

“i believe you’re consulting the wrong person about that. perhaps you should ask the head chef.” your voice is strained, as if answering satoru’s questions for the umpteenth time today is making you physically ill.

satoru sighs and leans back in his chair, one long leg crossed over the other. “yeaaah, but i wanna ask you. since you’re the princess n’ all. unless...”

he tips his chair closer to yours, and his warm breath ghosts across the conch of your ear. tingles dance down your spine and heat creeps up the back of your neck. does he have regard for personal space?

“perhaps our kingdom’s queen-to-be is too dumb to know where macaroons come from?”

you should just ignore him. satoru’s entire purpose, it seems, is to just get on your nerves and force you to lose your well-maintained composure. you know this. and yet...

“i am not dumb, satoru. it is you who’s the idiot, considering you cannot seem to use basic logic to realize their origin,” you snap, words coming out in a hot, angry rush.

you are sick of him testing your patience, sick of his silly little grin and glossy pink lips, and stupid, ugly eyes that always seem to have a twinkle of mischief in them. how dare he speak to you that way? he’s only a nobleman, and you could easily strip him of that title.

a soft chuckle from satoru interrupts your mental tirade. what is he laughing for? is he laughing at you?

“what’s so funny.” you fold your arms over your chest, your brows knitted together.

“oh, nothing. it’s just...” he laughs again. it’s a soft, light sound, quite unlike the usual hearty and loud giggles and barely stifled snickers. yuck. “this is the first time you’ve used my first name, princess.”

ah.

did you really?

your mind replays what you said, and, unsurprisingly, he’s right. you called him satoru, not lord gojo.

the heat now burns your cheeks, and you look away, focusing your gaze on the nearly infinite rows of books in the library. “a mistake. even i make them, but do not think that will be happening again, lord gojo.”

satoru simply hums, drumming thick fingers against the table. “ah, but my name sounds so nice coming from your lips. are you sure it won’t happen again? perhaps in a different, more intimate context?”

how hard would you have to throw a book to get him to finally shut up?

you all but shove yourself out of your seat, tucking your bookmark in between the pages. you smooth out your gown and get rid of invisible specks of dust. “that... will not be happening either. good day, lord gojo. i hope i will you in the future.”

without waiting for what would definitely be some cheeky response, you spin on your heel and exit the library, rushing down the castle’s halls.

why does satoru gojo have to be so infuriating?!

#﹒writing #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #jjk gojo #jjk gojo fluff #gojo fluff #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo x you #satoru gojo #gojo satoru

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wheeboo · 8 months

Text

run to you | lee chan

SYNOPSIS. in which your best friend picks you up in the middle of the night. PAIRING. biker!best friend!lee chan x gn!reader GENRE. fluff, hurt/comfort, lil angst, best friends to lovers WARNINGS. cursing, implied that reader lives in a troubled household, lil description of a twisted ankle, kissing WORD COUNT. 2.7k

notes: finally have something written for dino!! i haven't written anything for him in a HOT min that this almost feels out of character for some reason 😭 anyways enjoy <3

Chan doesn't understand why simply the sight of your name lighting up his phone has his heart quickening, head spinning, and adrenaline rushing all in a single moment. But he doesn't give it much thought, his hand instinctively pressing the answer button as if it was the most natural thing in the world to do.

He brings his phone up to his ear, calling out your name, "Y/N?"

"Hey, um..." Your voice is shaky on the other line, barely above a whisper, laced with something that sounds suspiciously like pain, and it sends a snake of worry up his back. "...can you do me a favour real quick?"

Chan glances at the time on his phone for a brief second, brows furrowing at the late time displayed on the screen. He sits up in bed, already somehow feeling more awake than just a few seconds ago. "Yeah, uh, what's up?"

Silence hangs heavy in the air, heavier than the late-night quiet pressing against Chan's window. He can almost hear your nervous inhale and picture the hesitant frown on your face.

"I left my... well, actually my entire skateboard bag... at your place," You admit quietly, sheepishly. "Could you possibly... drop it off at my door? It's really late, I know, but𑁋"

"Where are you?" Chan asks frantically and seriously that it cuts you off. He hears the way your breath hitches in your throat at the tone of his voice, and it only makes him more apprehensive and his heart hammering against his ribs anxiously. "Are you at the skate park?"

Crap, he knows. He always knows. "Look, I just... needed to clear my head and took a little fall. I'm fine, can you just𑁋"

"Stay put," he commands, leaving no room for argument. "I'm coming to get you."

"What? No, Chan, it's fine𑁋"

He cuts you off, refusing to hear your protests. "Don't move. I'll be there in ten."

He hangs up before you can utter another word, quickly tossing a shirt on and grabbing his keys, helmet (and a second one), and of course, your skateboard bag. As Chan throws the bag over his shoulder, a sharp pang of worry hits him. He knows you're downplaying the fall and everything else going on, but the tremor in your voice paints a different picture in his mind, and he seems to be listening to his heart more than he ever thought he would.

All he could think about is you.

Chan knows not to pry, but it isn't the first time this has happened𑁋where you 'clear your head' in the middle of the night and run away from home for a few hours. But the thought of you alone and hurt gnaws at him more than he cares to admit.

Pushing aside the questions and worries for later, Chan rushes out the door, the roar of his motorcycle echoing through the hushed night. His phone buzzes in his pocket, but he ignores it. As he speeds towards the familiar silhouette of the skate park, a million scenarios play in his mind, each one twisting his gut tighter. He forces them down, focusing only on one𑁋getting to you and making sure you're okay.

The wind whips past Chan's helmet, carrying with it the sting of the cool night air and the echo of your shaky voice. He rounds the last corner, the skate park coming into view, bathed in the dim glow of a streetlamp. He catches a single glance of your figure leaning against wall with your skateboard abandoned not that far away, and his heart jumps into his throat.

He throws the bike into a skid that leaves a dark streak on the pavement, the gravel crunching beneath his tires and the engine sputtering to a halt just beside you. You flinch at the sudden noise, looking up with wide, surprised eyes. Before you can speak, he's already hopping off and jogging towards you.

Something jumps in your stomach when he takes off his helmet, the streetlamp above illuminating the worry etched on his features and windswept, messy hair. Chan kneels before you, the gravel biting into his knees as his gaze takes note of the way you're gingerly clutching down at your ankle.

The concern in his eyes makes your defenses crumble. You open your mouth to explain, but he silences you with a gentle hand on your knee.

"Don't talk," he murmurs, voice surprisingly soft. "Let me see."

He gently pushes your hand away, his touch sending a spark through your already jittery nerves, calloused fingers lightly brushing against away the dirt clinging to your slightly swollen ankle. You wince at the contact, breath hitching at the unexpected touch. It's not painful, but it's strangely electrifying.

"It looks swollen," he states, carefully brushing his thumbs over the affected area. "Can you put any weight on it?"

You hesitantly try to wiggle your toes, wincing when a sharp pain shoots up your leg.

"Fuck, ow," You whisper, biting your lip. You feel the shame and embarrassment burn at your cheeks, making you want to sink into the cool concrete beneath you.

He's always right; you weren't fine. You hadn't been fine for a long time, but admitting it to yourself felt like opening a dam of emotions you weren't sure you could contain the longer you stay here, and you aren't sure if Chan being in front of you was helping with that or not.

"Does it hurt a lot?" Chan asks, voice a low rumble that vibrates through the gravel where he kneels. You can't help but meet his gaze, searching for judgment, but finding only concern and a hint of something deeper you couldn't decipher, or didn't want to acknowledge.

You shrug, hating how weak the gesture feels, pulling back your leg away from him slightly. "It's okay, just a twist."

Chan's jaw clenches, the concern on his face morphing into something else, something you couldn't quite place. "Just a twist? Y/N, it's the middle of the night, you're alone at the skate park, and you can barely stand. It's not okay."

You feel your chest tighten. "I told you I just needed to get some air. You didn't have to come if you didn't want to. I'm fine."

His eyes narrow, and you catch a glimpse of something raw and intense flickering in them.

"Do you think I'm stupid?" he asks, coming out a bit harsher than intended. "What if you... what if something bad happened and you couldn't call for help? Do you think I wouldn't want to be the one to find you?"

His words hit you like a physical blow. You flinch, the vulnerability you'd so carefully guarded threatening to spill out. God, you hate that he could see through you, hate that he cares so much, hate that you couldn't hate it no matter how much you tried.

"No," You mumble, swallowing back the heat threatening in your eyes. "I don't think you're stupid. It's just..." Your voice trails off.

"It's just what?" Chan demands, voice tight. "Just another night where you disappear and leave me wondering if you're okay? I would never forgive myself if something were to happen to you."

His words suspend heavy in the air, the only sounds coming from the occasional crickets and the rhythmic thump of your heart echoing loudly in your ears. You could only stare at Chan, his intense gaze boring into you, and feel a dam within yourself start to slowly crack.

Chan lets his eyes roam over you, and a twinge of guilt seems to twitch at his lips, his eyes softening noticeably, but barely. He lets out a sigh.

"Come on," he says firmly. "I can't let you stay here alone, not tonight. Let me take you back to my place, okay?" His eyes hold yours for a beat longer than necessary, a silent plea struggling beneath the surface.

He rises from the ground and offers you his hand. The heat radiating from his skin sends a familiar jolt through you. Hesitantly, you place your hand in his, his fingers warm and calloused as they intertwine together clumsily, like you're testing some type of waters. Then he lifts you with surprising ease, the sudden movement sending a fresh wave of pain shooting through your ankle, making you tighten your grip on his hand.

"Sorry," he murmurs, concern flickering in his eyes. "Let me know if it's too much."

You shake your head, unable to find your voice. You're a tangled mess of emotions𑁋relief, embarrassment, and a fluttering nervousness that you can't quite explain. He helps you onto the back of his motorcycle and secures the extra helmet around your head, before stepping away to collect your skateboard from the ground. Then you feel his hand cup over yours, bringing it to secure around his waist, the warmth of his body pressed against yours sending shivers down your spine.

"Hold on tight," he instructs. As the engine rolls to life, you feel the vibration through your body, and you scoot yourself impossibly closer to him, tightening your hold around his abdomen even more.

The ride to his apartment is a blur of streetlights and rushing wind. You cling to him even more, not entirely sure if it's for balance or something more, but it's awfully comforting and... intimate.

You lean your head on his back and breathe in the familiar scent of leather and warmth that seems to calm you more than it should. Shifting your eyes up, you steal a glance at Chan, the moonlight casting long shadows across his determined jaw and windblown hair. You can feel his muscles tense and relax with every shift of the bike, and a strange sense of safety washes over you. You feel a slight tug at your lips at the thought.

As the motorcycle comes to a stop outside Chan's apartment, you linger for a moment, the gentle rumble of the engine fading into the quiet night as he puts it into park. The warmth of his body still lingers onto yours as he takes off his helmet and hops off the bike, before turning around to help with yours.

The brush of your hands against each other sends a jolt through the two of you. Chan quickly pulls away, his hand hovering awkwardly by your helmet, but the heaviness in the air lingers. You look up at him, his gaze flickering between your face, before he fully slips the helmet off your head, hand lingering in the strands of your hair for a moment.

He clears his throat, looking away briefly before meeting your eyes again.

"I, uh... should get you inside," he finally says.

You only give a nod. But as you attempt to step off the bike, the pain in your ankle shoots up your leg, bringing a wince to your face.

"Here," Chan says quickly, kneeling before you again. "Let me help."

He carefully scoops you up in his arms, the familiar scent of leather and warmth enveloping you once more. This time, you don't try to pull away, your heart pounding against his chest as he carries you inside.

He takes you to his kitchen, helping you sit on top of the counter, and you can't help but let out a quiet, soft sigh of relief. As he draws away from you to rummage through the drawers, you glance around his kitchen, noting the small stack of dishes in the sink, the motorcycle magazines scattered across his little eating area, and an empty bowl of cereal𑁋a glimpse into his life you hadn't seen before.

It's silent when it all happens, almost too silent it's suffocating. But as Chan comes back to you with an ice pack and a bottle of pills, you could only watch him. The soft light from the hanging lamp above bathes his face in a warm glow, and you catch the way his gaze lingers on your face a moment too long.

He reaches out, gently placing the ice pack on your swollen ankle. His touch is light, almost tentative, yet the cold feeling makes you flinch, but Chan's hand rests gently on the skin above your ankle, the other cupping at your knee. There's a part of you that wants to pull away from him, from everything happening right now, but you don't. You don't want to. You can't. He's worried, frustrated, and maybe even a little hurt, and you understand why. You've pushed him away again, and he's tired of it.

"I..." You start, a tremor betraying your words. "I didn't mean to worry you."

Chan glances up at you. "But you did," he replies lowly. "You always do. And it scares the hell out of me."

The tension hangs thick in the air as Chan's words sink in.

"I-I'm sorry, I really am," You mutter, swallowing down the lump in your throat. "It's just... things are hard at home, and I don't know how to deal with it. Being away just seems to... clear it all up a little bit, you know?"

"Then why run away when you can run to me?" He's standing right in front of you at this point, one hand still on your knee.

"Why do care you so much?" You counter almost defensively, feeling yourself tense right under his gaze.

"Because the more this happens, the more I realise I don't want to be your friend anymore," he answers simply, then lowers his voice. "I can't be... just your friend anymore when I want to be the person you run to."

The world freezes. Everything freezes, and you could only stare at him with widened eyes and a pure look of shock. Nothing but silence stretches between the two of you, and the hammering in your chest only grows stronger by each passing second.

Chan lowers his gaze to the floor, taking his hand off your knee and running it through his hair. "Fuck, I shouldn't have..." He catches a glimpse of the bottle of pain medication right next to you. "Let me get you some water𑁋"

"No, wait." You grab at his hand, causing him to halt, and he looks back at you. "Don't... go yet, please?"

Chan hesitates, before giving in, finding himself standing right back in front of you, the two of you almost eye-level. Except you shoot a quick look at his lips, then up to his eyes, before letting the hand wrapped around his wrist pull him even closer to you, to the point where he's almost standing between your legs.

His breath hitches from the sudden closeness, but he shouldn't be like this right now. Not when you're hurt and vulnerable. He can't tell you that he wanted you the moment you met two years ago when you rolled past him one day on the way to the same skate park, can't tell you that he would choose you over everything else in a heartbeat.

But all those thoughts are pushed away the moment he feels your lips on his, and his hands come naturally to your waist, as if afraid you might slip away. His lips seemingly mold perfectly with yours, and you can feel the longing in the way his fingers seem to tighten its hold on your shirt.

Your lips part for a brief moment, and there's a long moment that passes before Chan leans in again, capturing your mouth a bit more fervently, a bit more passionately than before, yet nonetheless still sweet and tender. The world outside disappears, and for a moment, it's just the two of you, the soft hum of the refrigerator, the ticking of the clock on the wall, and the gentle glow of the kitchen light above.

When you both pull away, there's a breathless pause.

"Are you... are you okay?" he asks cautiously. "I'm sorry, it just..."

"No, I'm... I should say sorry for... everything," You cut him off. "I shouldn't have made you worried or... pushed you away. I'm sorry."

"All I ever want is to make sure you're okay, Y/N." His hand is back at your knee again, finger tracing reassuring shapes, easing the tension out of your body.

You let out a nervous, light-hearted chuckle. "We're not even together yet and I'm already causing you so much trouble."

Chan's expression softens, and he cups your cheek gently, his thumb brushing against your skin.

"Who said I wasn't yours yet?" He leans back in, teasing his lips back against yours. "I can be, if you want me to be."

another note: ending is a lil rushed im sorry oops i wrote this rlly late 😭

taglist (open) ʚɞ @enhazen @haowrld @icyminghao @slytherinshua @jeonride @lockburn-castle @vrnism @weird-bookworm @mhlsymlysn @ryuwonieebae @yeonjuns-redhair @wonwooz1 @woohaeyo @mark-geolli @caramyisabitchforsvtandbts @aaniag @wootify @carlesscat-thinklogic23 @phenomenalgirl9 @roziees @mirxzii @bookyeom

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