#not that anything will happen. i firmly closed that door.

[geometricalien]

him, already with a girlfriend that he wants to marry: I wanted to kiss you when I saw you. I wanted to kiss you on the bridge as well.

me, externally: i- eh- what-

me, internally: soooo many red flags how can he just admit this??

[joelscurls]

I wanna show you off

pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

words: 4.1k

summary: The women who live in your building aren't subtle in their hatred for you — or their affection for your boyfriend, Joel. You decide to set them straight.

warnings: 18+ minors dni, porn with plot, no outbreak, established relationship, implied age gap, horrible neighbors, general cattiness, all the ladies want Joel, alcohol consumption, fluff, explicit smut, possessive!reader, exhibitionism, dirty talk, oral (m receiving), facefucking, unprotected piv, creampie, one (1) spank, use of pet names (baby, angel, darlin', etc.), I think that's all? lmk if I missed anything!

a/n: idk what happened. I saw one too many tiktok edits set to the song agora hills by doja cat and blacked out. anyway, enjoy!

If it weren’t for your rent-controlled apartment with a perfect view of the downtown skyline, you would’ve moved out of your building by now.

Your neighbors don’t like you. You’re certain of it. You can tell by the way the ladies stick their noses up at you in the elevator and whisper to each other the second they think you’re out of earshot.

It had started, you suspect, because of your age. You’re a lot younger than all of the other residents here, your apartment left to you by your grandmother after she passed away.

The building is prime real estate, situated in the heart of one of the city’s most desirable neighborhoods. Most of the people who live here have done so for ten, twenty, even thirty years. And it seems that time has festered a sort of social hierarchy: one which places you at the very bottom.

You shouldn’t care. And you hadn’t, for a while. But their eyes have started to feel like daggers, pointed directly at you at all times, and you feel as if you can’t even enter the building without judgment.

You’re not a bad neighbor. You’re not. You’d learned through living in a dormitory in college how thin shared walls can be, and, as a result, the proper volume at which to keep your music; how you should always be cautious to not let your door slam closed on the way in; that you should never vacuum after eight pm or before eight am.

You never leave trash in the hallway, and you park your car only in your allotted spot, despite the fact that it’s the farthest away from the building.

Even so, the lack of weathering in your face makes them look at you like you’re less, like you’re a greedy little thing who has taken something she isn’t worthy of.

It’s the same way they look at you when they see you with your boyfriend, Joel, for the first time.

They leer when you walk into the foyer, hand-in-hand with an older man. He’s handsome, rugged, something out of Nicholas Sparks novel. And you’re you.

Joel thinks you’re being paranoid at first, says they couldn’t possibly hate such a sweet, friendly girl. The girl he loves so damn much. But it doesn’t take long for him to notice it too: the glares, the scoffs, the misplaced judgment — never set in his direction, only ever yours.

One Sunday afternoon, as he sits on your couch watching the Cowboys game with a sweating bottle of beer in his hand, you step out to grab your mail. You’re close to tears when you return, flinging the door open, envelopes slipping from your trembling fingers. 

He leaps up as soon as he catches sight of your face. Your expression is stuck somewhere between sadness and rage, bottom lip tucked between your teeth so firmly he worries you’ll draw blood.

“I hate them,” you sob as he wraps his arms around you, pulling you against his broad chest. You’re wetting his shirt, the one he just bought the other day. But he won’t let you lift your head. If anything, he holds you tighter.

“Wanna tell me what happened, darlin?” he asks, leading you toward the couch. You sit down together, your body still wrapped in his, and you groan.

“It’s stupid.” Your voice is muffled by cotton. He loosens his grip on you only enough to let you turn your face. “I was getting my mail, and they were down in the lobby,” you sniff. “The woman who lives right next door – the one with the outdated perm, and the one across the hall with the yippy little dog.”

“Mhm,” Joel soothes, running his thumb gently along the tense line of your jaw. “Did they say somethin’ to you?”

You huff. “No, not to me. They didn’t see me there.”

Their hushed voices still ring in your head like a fire alarm in need of new batteries: relentless, infuriating.

Don’t know what in the world a handsome gentleman like that is doing with a little girl like her. You’re tellin’ me. What a shame. Such a young thing – she can’t possibly know how to handle a man like that. He needs a woman his own age!

“They said I’m not good for you,” you weep. “That I’m too young. That I — I c-can’t be what you need.”

“Darlin,” Joel drawls. He fishes the tv remote off of the coffee table and flicks the screen off. Drops it somewhere next to him on the cushion. The apartment is noticeably quiet now, apart from your shaky breaths and the dull drone of an idling truck engine from the street below.

“You know I love you, right?” 

You sniff again. Nod. 

“I don’t give a shit if people think you’re too young for me,” he huffs. “You’re a grown woman. You give me everything I could possibly need and then some.”

“Yeah?” you squeak. You know deep down that Joel wouldn’t stay with you if he had any reservations about any aspect of your relationship. But after months of no reprieve from stinging glares and brash insults, you feel as if you’ve been broken down, reduced to an anxious, overwrought version of yourself. 

Joel repositions himself, sprawling back on the couch and pulling you with him so that you’re laying against him. “Yeah,” he repeats, stroking your hair. He tucks a loose strand behind your ear, away from your glassy eyes. “Those ladies can get their asses in line.” 

You laugh, then — a real, genuine laugh — the kind that Joel can somehow always pull out of you, even in the most inopportune of times.

You’re so grateful for him, for his innate ability to calm you down when it feels like the world is crumbling below your feet. Grateful that he’s yours.

You lift your head. Prop yourself up by the elbow on Joel’s thigh. Wipe away the lingering wet on your cheeks with a deep, settling breath. 

“Does it stroke your ego, having a fan club of women who wanna fuck you?”

He smirks. Pulls you closer to him with a hand cradling your face. 

“Maybe a little,” he whispers, his lips ghosting yours. “Does it stroke your ego, bein’ the only one who gets to fuck me?” 

And in truth, it does. You’re the only one who knows where he likes to be kissed, how he likes his cock stroked, how to make him cum embarrassingly quick with just your mouth.

You’ve learned him intimately, every inch of him.  Ruined him for any other woman.

So in a fucked up kind of way — it does.

“Yeah,” you admit. You suck his bottom lip into your mouth, silently reveling in the way he immediately moans, the way he bends to you.

“These all mine?” You bring a finger to his lips, sputter on a shaky exhale when he unexpectedly parts them and sucks the digit into his mouth.

“Mhm,” he hums around you, takes your free hand in his and guides it down his body, across the expanse of his torso, the plush of his belly, pausing when you reach his crotch. 

Your pulse quickens, then, a dull throb forming at the base of your neck. You extricate your finger from his mouth with a gentle pop.

“This too,” he whispers, canting his hips up toward the flat of your palm.

He’s half-hard, his clothed bulge pleading for attention. But he pulls your hand away quickly, not letting himself get carried away at the feeling of your fingers grazing him through denim. 

Instead, he re-situates it against his chest so that you can feel his heartbeat where it hammers under skin, against flesh and bone. “This is all yours too,” he says, voice so low it reverberates in your skull. 

“All of it — all of me. Don’t gotta worry your pretty little head with anythin’ anyone else has to say about the matter. Got it?”

His words are spoken with so much conviction that you have no choice but to believe them, to let them stick in your brain like anchors in sand: deep and immovable.

Yours, yours, yours. 

And nobody else’s.

“Yeah,” you smile into the column of his neck, inhaling his scent: mostly him, but with notes of you. 

“Got it.”

It’s two weeks later when she makes a move on him: the woman with the perm. Joel is taken aback by her boldness, with you just a few feet away, digging your key into the lock of your mailbox. 

“You must work with your hands,” she purrs, grabbing one of his wrists and examining his calloused fingers with such little integrity, his mouth actually slips open at the unabashedness of it all. 

“Uh-”

“I’m Sheila,” she hums, raking her fingers through tight, blonde curls. “And you are?”

“Joel,” he grunts noncommittally. Wrenches his arm back. He doesn’t miss the way her eyebrows twitch in offense. 

But she’s insatiable, this woman. She bounces back like a rubber band, not-so-subtly pushing her breasts together, the zip of her sweatshirt slipping down an inch and her mouth curving into a salacious grin.

You just about stop dead in your tracks when you round the corner to the lobby, junk mail in hand, and see her, her body turned towards Joel’s, chest pushed out and hip popped. She has a bedazzled tote bag full of groceries slung over her shoulder, a head of leafy greens poking out the top.

“Hi neighbor!” she smiles mockingly at you, all lipstick-stained teeth, when you sidle up to Joel. “I was just telling your friend here what nice, strong arms he has.” She’s not looking at you, eyes locked firmly on Joel’s biceps, nearly drooling at the sight of him. 

Heat spools behind your ears, red-hot.

“Not her friend,” Joel corrects before you can. “‘M her boyfriend.”

“Oh,” she says. “Boyfriend.” Her lips wrap loosely around the word, like it’s some fanciful thing. “You’re too old to be someone’s boyfriend.” 

Joel takes a step away from her, closer to you, and splays a steadying hand across your back. “Man-friend, then.” 

You laugh, not because it’s funny, but because this entire conversation is fucking awkward. 

Sheila pays you no attention.

“Well,” she sighs, overtly staring at the exposed skin of Joel’s chest, where the top two buttons of his flannel are undone, “Joel, if you’re ever lookin’ for a good meal, I’m just next door.” She flits her eyes up to his and smirks. “Know a big man like you has gotta eat.”

Your vision blurs scarlet. 

Joel is equally as infuriated. The disrespect of this woman, to so openly flirt with him in front of you. His fists ball tightly at his sides. 

“Thanks, but no thanks,” he gruffs. “Anyway, nice to meet ya ma’am-“

“Sheila,” she reminds him. 

“Sheila,” he repeats, only to appease her. He turns to you, squeezing your waist affectionately. “We should probably get goin’, right sweetheart?”

You’re still fuming, barely able to register Joel’s voice next to you through the thick haze of pure fury clouding your mind, but you manage to nod, spit out a hurried yeah.

And with that, Joel is turning on his heels, pulling you with him toward the elevators. You don’t dare look back at her, but you can feel her eyes boring a hole in the back of your head. 

Her footfall fades into the mailroom and you breathe a minuscule sigh of relief. At least she’s out of your sight.

“Please just move in with me,” Joel begs when you’re finally behind closed metal doors, the inspection plaque situated above the buttons suddenly extremely interesting as you try to focus on not thinking about setting this woman’s apartment on fire.

You’ve talked about living together a few times. It’s just — you’ve never considered it so seriously until right now. 

“I can’t let them win,” you mutter, agitated. 

You hate how they’ve made you feel, like you’re some helpless animal tucked in the corner, hiding from them. Just waiting for the next ambush. 

With the passing of each floor, your anger simmers, bubbles into a silent rage in your stomach, one which threatens to boil over at the next underestimation of Joel’s devotion to you. You need to make it known, once and for all, that he’s yours. 

Words from your grandmother play on a loop in your head, ones she repeated to you often when you were a child: if you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all. 

And then you have a thought — a devious thought — maybe you don’t have to say anything to get your point across. Not to them, anyway.

Your mouth is on Joel the second you’re back inside the four walls of your own apartment, slotting against his pulse point and sucking a desperate bruise there.

He’s not expecting it — why would he be? You’ve just been seething the entire elevator ride up to your floor, the entire walk down the long, winding hallway to your unit. He’d practically been able to see the steam billowing from your ears. 

So the switch-up is more than a bit dizzying, to say the least.

“Whoa, darlin’,” he pants, his large hands draping over your shoulders. “What are you-”

“Joel.” Your voice is stern; it demands his attention. “Do you trust me?” 

Your hand trails down his body languidly, in a straight line to the waistband of his jeans. And fuck, of course he trusts you — more than anyone. But this is wrong, fucked up, for you to make him feel good when you’ve been made to feel so small these past few minutes. 

Still, his cock doesn’t get the memo, twitching in his jeans as you place another open-mouthed kiss on the underside of his jaw, your fingers beginning to fiddle with his belt buckle. 

You give him no choice with the way you’re touching him, the way you’re looking at him when you pull back, all pleading eyes and parted mouth, but to resign all protest. He’ll give you the world, and if right now you want to use his body to blow off some steam, who is he to complain about it?

“Yeah baby, of course,” he breathes. “What do you need?”

You smirk at him audaciously, tongue smoothing over your teeth. “Need you to be loud,” you purr. Your voice is so innocent in juxtaposition to the words you spew. It sends a chill down the column of his spine. “Let them know who makes you feel good.” 

He nearly cums in his pants untouched, grasps at the fabric of your shirt with clumsy hands and nods. “Fuck, okay.”

His belt falls to the floor with a clang.

He lets you take control, then. Lets you mark him with your tongue and your teeth, lets you back him to the door with deft fingers working his shirt buttons open before sinking to your knees in front of him, freeing his hardening cock from the confines of his jeans and boxers.

It’s already weeping for you when you pull it out, precum beading at the tip. He’s so big, growing heavier in your hand with each passing second, and you lose yourself for a moment, hypnotized by him.

“Always so eager to please me, aren’t you, pretty girl?” Joel’s voice pulls you back to earth, soft and adoring.

“Louder,” you remind him. Plant a kiss right over top of his leaking slit.

“Fuck,” he hisses through his teeth. One of his hands flies to the crown of your head, anchoring himself with fingers in your hair. “Dirty fucking girl.” 

His voice fills the entranceway, confident and filthy. 

“Mmm,” you hum approvingly.

“Yeah? You want me to tell ‘em? Tell ‘em you’re making my cock drool for you? That nobody — shit-” You enclose your lips around his tip, suckling on it as your fingers wrap around the base of his length and you begin to stroke him lazily. “-that nobody has ever made me feel this good?” 

Footsteps echo down the hallway and the sound makes you reflexively pause, your hand stiling on Joel’s cock. It’s followed by the jingling of metal, the click of a key in a lock, the opening and closing of a door — all close enough that you can pinpoint the source, can tell where exactly it’s coming from. 

Sheila is home. 

Perfect.

It’s probably worrying how excited it makes you, the prospect of her hearing, of her sitting alone in her apartment, at her empty dining table, and listening to Joel fall apart at your hands. Maybe they’ve driven you to and over the edge of sanity with their words, her most of all. Regardless, you can’t help the way it makes your cunt flutter around nothing. 

You lick a slow stripe up the underside of Joel’s cock, starting just above his balls and dragging the flat of your tongue up, up, up to his tip. His breath shudders, his grip on your hair tightening, and the subtle sting at the center of your scalp gives you another idea. 

“Do you wanna fuck my face, Joel?” 

“Do I wanna — fuck — you’re gonna kill me, angel.” 

“Go ahead,” you encourage, unhinging your jaw as wide as it can go, letting your tongue droop over your bottom lip. 

Saliva pools in your waiting mouth and Joel groans at the sight of you, so malleable for him, begging to be used. 

“You sure?” 

It’s not that he doesn’t think you can handle it. He knows you can. You’ve taken him down your throat more times than he can count. Always so fucking eager to please him, you are — just one of the many reasons he feels so goddamn lucky, so infuriated that anyone would think otherwise. 

But still, he can’t help but worry that he’ll hurt you. 

You nod, eyes locked on him, confirming beyond a shadow of a doubt that you want this. He nods back, beginning to feed his cock into your mouth, easing it in slowly and halting when his head hits the back of your throat, causing you to gag.

You don’t pull away, don’t show any indication of displeasure. In fact, you dig your fingers into the meat of his thighs, bearing down on him as you push forward. Mascara tears stain your cheeks as you choke on him, laser-focused on relaxing your throat so that you can accommodate more of his length. 

Joel pulls back, retreating entirely before pushing in again. He slowly increases his pace, your eyes hooded, so doelike and innocent, as his cockhead bruises your larynx. 

The sounds he’s pulling from your mouth are absurdly lewd: muffled gags and frantic inhales of breath. And then there’s him, moaning wildly, not sure if he’d be able to shut up even if he needed to be quiet. Your mouth is good, too fucking good and he’s going to — fuck, he’s going to cum if you don’t stop. 

He pulls out abruptly, a string of drool and precum tethering the tip of his cock to your swollen bottom lip. You’re panting, coughing, still bracing yourself against his legs when you fucking smile up at him. 

“Christ,” he says. “Fuckin’ angel, you are. Mouth feels like goddamn heaven.” 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. But I need to cum in that perfect little cunt,” he breathes, pulling a strangled moan from the back of your rawed throat. 

He helps you up, spins you around to face the door. You brace both hands on the wood, humming as he pulls your pants down to your knees. His breath is on the back of your neck, trailing up to the shell of your ear with one whisper just for you, because he can’t help it. 

“So fuckin’ beautiful, you know that?” 

You shiver, responding with a tilt of your head, inviting him in with a needy little mewl. He cradles your face in one of his large hands, the other rubbing over the curve of your ass as he kisses you passionately, tasting himself on your tongue.

The hand on your ass trails lower as he deepens the kiss, two fingers pressing against your clothed seam. You’ve all but soaked through the fabric, wet cotton molding to his knuckles as he caresses them along your pussy before pulling your panties down in one swift motion.

You whine into the kiss, desperate and dripping for him. “Please,” you breathe against his lips. “I’ll make you feel so good, I promise.”

“Know you will,” he coos, mouth parting from yours as he straightens out and lines himself up with your entrance. You arch your back, rocking onto the balls of your feet as he teases you with the tip.

His cock is so thick when it finally notches into you. It’s always so devastatingly thick, no matter how wet you are for him. The stretch stings, a jolt of warm pain coursing through your walls as he stills halfway in. 

“You okay?” he asks, one hand resting at the small of your back, the other on your hip, fingers gripping to you only tight enough to hold you in place.

“Yes, fuck — yes,” you whine. “Need you to fuck me, Joel.”

“I’m goin’ to baby, don’t worry,” 'he promises, pushing in another splitting inch. “Pussy’s so goddamn tight, ‘ts suckin’ me right in.”

It feels like hours pass with Joel’s cock motionless inside your aching cunt, his warm breath fanning across your back as he focuses on not cumming. You’re whimpering, begging under the weight of his body, to please just fucking move.

When he finally obliges you, pulling all the way out and then bottoming out in one deep thrust, it nearly punches the air out of your chest. You scrabble for purchase on the door, fingernails scraping against chipped paint. “F-uucckk,” you moan, eyes rolling back in your head as he sets a dizzying pace.

The sound of his balls slapping against the back of your thighs is enough to attract attention on its own, the loud smacksmacksmack going straight to your cunt. Joel growls behind you, driving into you even harder, the tip of his cock brushing against your g-spot. 

“Oh, shit,” you cry. Your pussy inadvertently squeezes him and he curses at your back, low and deep. 

“Not going to last if you keep doin’ that,” he warns. “Cunt is too fuckin’ good. Best I’ve ever — uuuhh — had.”

He’s not just saying it for show. It’s true. You know it is, too. He’s told you before, both under the influence of your pussy and not. Waited too many goddamn years to feel like this, he’d said once.

“It’s — fuck, it’s fine Joel,” you mutter. “I’m close too, just keep going, right there.”

A door across the hall creaks open. A pair of footsteps patter across tile. 

Do you hear that?  Yeah; what is that noise?

Joel laughs darkly behind you, snaps his hips up, forcing a guttural moan out of you. 

“Think they caught us, darlin’,” he says. “Caught you takin’ my cock like you’re fuckin’ made to.”

Oh my word!

Joel is unrelenting, pounding into you despite the voices right outside your apartment, and you fear for a moment that you’ve created a monster. One of his hands leaves its place on your waist, cracks down on the center of your asscheek with a slap, the flesh recoiling under his palm and you gasp. 

The feeling travels between your legs, straight to your neglected clit. It pulsates under the hood with every pass of Joel’s cock over your g-spot, and you feel yourself hurtling toward the edge dangerously fast. 

If these people don’t leave, they’re going to hear you cum. Do you want them to hear you cum? Yeah, you think, clit jumping again at the thought, I think I fucking do.

“Joel, fuck-”

“You gonna cum?” he goads. “Yeah, can feel you squeezin’ me — you’re gonna cum, aren’t ya?”

This is vulgar!  We should file a noise complaint. C’mon.

His hand snakes around your front then, finds your throbbing bud, and with a few passes of his calloused fingertips, you’re gone, vision whiting out and all noise around you muted. 

Joel keeps you upright between him and the door, his grip on you tightening as your muscles slacken. He follows closely behind, cumming inside you with a carnal noise from the back of his throat, rope after rope of his spend filling your cunt. 

He pulls out with a grunt, immediately collapsing on the floor. Without his support, you topple over too, falling onto his lap with a satiated giggle. 

A banging comes from the other side of the wall then, shaking your kitchen cabinets a few feet away, the clanging of glassware jolting you.

Keep it down next time! I don’t need to hear that!

And then you’re laughing like teenagers, Joel pulling you in for a sloppy kiss, all tongues and teeth. 

“Think they’re really gonna make a noise complaint?” Joel asks when you finally come up for air. 

“I dunno,” you smile. “Does your offer still stand — for me to move in with you?” 

“Always,” he vows, forehead resting against yours.

end notes: ty for reading! pls consider commenting or reblogging if you enjoyed <3

[mrsbarnesblog]

first choice

masterlist

requests are open

summary: being an incredibly reserved person, it took Rafe a long time to finally feel comfortable enough to let you see him break down

words count: 2.5k

warnings: hurt/comfort, crying, talk about feelings, Ward being a shitty father as always, insecurities

a/n: couldn't help myself but mention Wheezie as well because she deserves so much better💔

The first time you saw Rafe crying was not so long after you started dating. You went to Tanneyhill that day and were nearly knocked off your feet when Ward Cameron stormed out the front door. He was seething with anger and it seemed like he didn’t even register you standing there with wide eyes and a lost face expression. 

You slowly walked into the house, hearing the sound of Ward’s truck driving away, and slowly patted into the light and big kitchen. Your eyes instantly caught sight of your boyfriend, standing with his back facing you and his body hovering over the counter. His hands were firmly gripping onto the edge of the marble, and his head was lowered so you couldn’t take a look at his face behind his hair. When you heard muffled sniffs, your eyebrows knitted in confusion. 

“Rafe?” You almost whispered, talking one step closer to him. Rafe’s body instantly tensed, but he didn’t turn around. His shoulders and back seemed harder than rocks, and you swore his body was shaking from tension. 

You debated for a few seconds, considering what was best to do. Something obviously had happened between Rafe and Ward, and even though they always fought, you never saw Rafe crying. You quickly figured out that he didn’t like to be seen as "weak,” so he rarely showed any emotions, even to you, no matter how hard you tried to create a comfortable environment for him. That’s why you knew that there was no point in trying to make him talk.

When he sniffed again, not moving for an inch or acknowledging your presence, your heart clenched and not waiting anymore, you slowly went closer to him. 

When he felt your arms wrapping around his middle part with your chest firmly pressed against his back, his whole body stiffened at the unusual touch. Rafe had never had someone comforting him, and the whole thing with you constantly trying to go past his walls slightly terrified him. He desperately wanted to just give in, because Rafe knew that you would never hurt him, but something inside his head was still fighting against it.

You held him as close to you as possible, hoping to give him some sense of security. When Rafe’s body finally eased up a little, you turned your head to place kisses on his back while your hands moved up and down his stomach. 

You didn’t know how long you two were standing like this—close to each other and in complete silence. Rafe clearly didn’t want to talk about it and you knew better than to push him. It was a small step for both of you, but you knew that you would do anything to make him feel safe.

The second time it happened, you were in Rafe’s bed, too invested in your book, when he entered the room. Your gaze shifted to him and you instantly noticed that slightly distant look in his blue eyes, as well as his clenched jaw and rapid breathing. 

You were trying not to be very obvious by the way your instant reaction was to jump out of bed and ask what happened. Rafe was not this type of person and he needed gentle handling. So you went back to your book, only lifting your eyes every few seconds while he silently changed his clothes to something comfortable. 

“I want to cuddle.” You suddenly said, placing a bookmark in between the pages and putting your book on the bedside table. Rafe just looked at you and it felt like your eyes were having their own conversation. He knew that you knew that something had happened and were now just trying to make it seem like you were the one who needed affection, and he was thankful for you not trying to get the information out of him.

He nodded, and the next thing you knew, he was on top of you, arms wrapped around your body, face in the crook of your neck. Your fingers started to brush through his hair and he let out a deep sigh of relief.

The room was silent, except for your quiet breathing; that’s why your ears easily caught a soft sniff. Rafe moved his head back and forth, trying to be closer even if it was impossible, and it made you feel something wet touching your skin. You didn't say a word because you knew that it was not the right time yet. Instead, you left one hand in his hair to massage the scalp and moved another one to Rafe’s back, rubbing it up and down. You let your lips brush against his temple and he tightened his hold on your waist in return.

You didn't know what had happened and you hoped that he would tell you when he felt like it, so for now, you were just giving him the safe space that he desperately needed. It clearly worked, because as Rafe’s body became limp on top of yours and his breathing started to slow down, you guessed that he had fallen asleep. 

The next morning, you were standing in the kitchen and making breakfast when you felt two hands sneaking around your waist and turning you around. Before you could say anything, Rafe gave you a breath-taking kiss, which you knew was his way of saying "thank you."

At one of Friday’s evenings, you and Rafe’s family and a few closest friends were having a dinner in the restaurant to celebrate Ward’s important deal at work being finally successfully signed. You honestly didn’t listen to the conversation that everyone was having, looking down at your almost full plate, until Ward and Sarah started a little argument about him doing something that she didn’t like. 

“It also turns out that the most important thing for me is you, Sarah. That’s why I did it.” Your heart skipped a beat when your ears caught the end of the conversation, with your whole body freezing in your chair. He said it so easily, not even hesitating or considering the feelings of his other kids, who sat at that exact table. 

Rafe sat near you and your eyes instantly drifted to him, only t just a blank expression on his face. He looked at his father, then at Sarah, then back at Ward. The disappointment and hurt were written all over his features. It was so obvious for you, probably because you spent so much time trying to figure out him and his emotions, yet his father didn’t care. 

Nobody did, honestly, as everyone at the table just brushed that comment off and continued talking. Only Wheezie looked equally sad, with a frown and with her hands crossed over her chest. 

Rafe’s eyes drifted to his full plate as he became completely distant from the conversation, not even paying attention to your worried gaze. He just felt numb. 

It's not like he didn't know that Sarah was everyone’s priority; he just didn't need to hear another reminder of that. 

He hated the feeling of not being good enough. He tried to impress his father countless times, being loyal and jumping at every opportunity to do the dirty work, just to hear any kind of praise or approval. Yet Sarah has always been the best girl, the best daughter, and the best child. 

A quiet groan escaped his lips in desperation, as he felt that similar tightness in his chest and throat. 

It just fucking hurt. 

Your worried eyes didn’t leave him even for a second, and when you noticed in which state he was in, you moved closer so only he could hear what you were saying. 

“Do you want to leave, Ray?” He just nodded, taking your hand in his and making some lame excuse about needing to leave. 

Sitting in his truck a few minutes later, Rafe didn’t even look at you, staring at something through the window. You saw the way he was occasionally clenching his jaw and blinking rapidly—signs that he was trying not to break down in front of you. 

You bit your lip, thinking to yourself, before finally deciding that you couldn’t just look at your boyfriend being hurt. So, tossing your purse aside, you got up from your seat, moving quickly to straddle Rafe’s lap. He looked at you in shock, but still placed his hands on your waist, rubbing the soft fabric. 

“Hey, look at me. You don’t have to keep it to yourself. Your feelings are normal, baby.” You tried to reassure him, holding his face firmly in your hands. 

He furrowed. “It’s just— It’s just that—“ Rafe paused, looking down and trying to control his breathing. You didn’t know whether it was anger or sadness, but as his chest started rising faster, in the darkness of the car, you saw a tear rolling down his cheek. 

Then another, and another, and another. 

Rafe tried to physically distance himself from you, pulling your hands away from his face and throwing his head back with a frustrated groan as the palms of his hands pressed into his eyes. 

“That’s fucking’ pathetic.” He hissed.

“No, it’s not. Stop trying to hide from me and just talk. You know I’m the last person to ever judge you.” You soothed him by softly caressing the skin of his neck with your thumbs, and then took a hold of his face to make him look at you. “Talk to me. It’s just us and no one else.” 

Rafe’s blue eyes seemed even brighter with tears gleaming in them, even though it was dark outside and the only light that you had was a lamppost near the restaurant. He gave you a long look, probably fighting his own barriers inside of his head because of how hard it was for him to open up. You waited patiently, not looking away or rushing him and it must’ve worked.

“The shit that he says and does… It hurts me. No matter how much I try, how much effort I put into everything, or how often I do what he needs and wants, it’s never enough. I’m never fucking good enough for anyone or anything.” You took Rafe’s hand in yours, interlacing your fingers. He instantly focused on it, mindlessly playing with your ring and rubbing your skin. “And I don’t hate Sarah—fuck, I really don’t, ‘cause it’s not her damn fault, y’know? But it makes me so fucking mad and-and I just don’t know what to do or what’s wrong with me.” 

Angry tears continued to flow down Rafe’s cheeks freely, as he was not capable of trying to hide them and wipe them away quickly anymore. You looked at him softly, with your heart aching for your boyfriend and for the way this situation deeply affected him. 

“He does this to Wheezie too. She’s a child, Y/N, and I know how it messes up with her head.” Rafe sighed, throwing his head back and looking at the ceiling. “Sometimes... sometimes I feel like I fuck up everything in my life. I think that maybe it’s my fault for him to act like that. Maybe I do something wrong, I dunno.”

“I know that I can't give you what Ward was supposed to give you. That type of love, I mean. But you’re important to me, Rafe. I won't put you in second place because you're always my first choice.” You freed your hands, again placing them on his wet cheeks. Big blue eyes stared back at you with vulnerability and despair as hands on each of your thighs tightened, so you tried to let Rafe know how much he meant to you. “You are good enough, and don’t you dare think otherwise.” 

You leaned closer, hovering over Rafe’s body, just inches away from his face, before tenderly pulling him into a kiss. 

“You shouldn’t let Ward ruin your life and your relationships with your sisters, because it won’t benefit you in any way. Ward is the problem, not you, Ray, so no matter how hard you try, he won’t change his mind.” You kiss away his tears, still firmly holding his face in your hands. “I’m here for you. I love you, and I hate seeing you kill yourself over this.”

Rafe suddenly pulled you closer by your waist, hugging you with all the strength that he had. His body trembled against you while you soothingly scratched the back of his neck. 

“I love you too. ‘M sorry f’ being a mess.” 

“Don’t say that. Everything is okay, we are okay. I’m happy that you finally opened up to me a little bit, because I support you, okay?” He nodded and kissed your naked shoulder, trying to catch his breath. 

“Thank you.” 

A few minutes later, Rafe’s breathing calmed down and his hands were just slowly going up and down your back. Your legs were already sore from your position on his lap, but it was peaceful with just you two sitting in a comfortable silence, so you didn’t mind. You looked up at him as the idea came to your head. "What if we take Wheezie away from there and go out to eat or ride around?" 

Rafe placed a kiss on your forehead, thinking about your words. His and Wheezie’s relationships were weird, with Rafe feeling distant from his family and her just being a child who didn't know how to handle the situation. But he always had a soft spot for her and he hated thinking about his sister sitting there and being invisible to everybody. 

“Yeah, we can. She’d like that.” He mumbled, focusing on your lips that curled into a smile. 

“Great!” You pushed away from him, opening the door and casually sliding on the floor. Rafe looked at you curiously, silently grateful that you were absolutely normal about what happened just a few minutes ago in his car. His heart suddenly raced, and he could not resist the urge to grab you by the waist and pull you in for a kiss. 

Rafe connected your lips, then slightly tilted his head to deepen the kiss. Your skin got covered in goosebumps as you smiled against his lips before pulling away. Rafe subconsciously followed your face, trying to get more. 

“Fuck, you’re amazing. So gorgeous. I love you so much, baby.”

“You already told me that… but I love you more!” You giggled, taking his hands away from your body. “Now I’ll go get Wheezie, and you remove my lipstick from your face.” You gave him a teasing smile before finally going back to the restaurant and leaving Rafe with a soft smirk on his lips. 

He thought that maybe opening up for you was working much better in his favor than he expected. 

[sturnioz]

‘DRIVERS PLEASURE’ — MATTHEW STURNIOLO

pairing. matthew sturniolo x fem!reader genre. smut

word count. 2.2k

❝do you want me to help you with that?❞

content warnings. established relationship, explicit content, car head, oral (m receiving), blowjob, handjob, small mention of spitting, mention of hair pulling, possible exhibitionism,

You sigh softly as you glance at your reflection in the sun visor mirror of your boyfriends car, fingertips grazing the corner of your lips, erasing any excess lipstick that may have smeared during the ride and that your mascara hasn’t left any smudges on your eyelids.

You rushed when Matt had suddenly asked you out on a last-minute date and you were more than desperate to see him, having not been alone with him for a long period of time due to his busy schedule.

You had rapidly searched around your bedroom for the most suitable and clean clothing you could find, and hastily applied your makeup, your eagerness to finally see him overshadowed any concerns about your appearance until you you were parked outside the restaurant with just a few minutes remaining before you had to make it inside for your dinner reservation.

“What are you doing?”

“Making sure I look okay,” You tell him, adjusting the strands of hair framing your face. Your shoulders slump in defeat as you continue, “I don’t feel okay.”

Matt raises his eyebrow as he asks, “Why?”

“I rushed to get ready before you picked me up, so my makeup is all messy, and my outfit looks silly, and—”

“No, it doesn’t,” Matt interrupts your rambling, a gentle smile creeping onto his face as he gazes at you from the driver's seat. “I think you look pretty. Really pretty,” You side eye him sceptically, but Matt chuckles, his teeth gently biting down on his bottom lip as he widens his smile. “No, seriously, I mean it… you look beautiful.”

Your head turns towards him and your heart swells at his compliment. The adoration and affection reflected in Matt’s eyes is enough to make you a little overwhelmed and without hesitation, you lean over the console and cup his face, pressing your lips against his.

Matt’s surprised exclamation is muffled by the kiss, caught off guard as he didn’t expect you to kiss him so suddenly, but he allows himself to melt into your touch. His eyelashes flutter against his cheeks as he closes his eyes, tilting his head to deepen the kiss with more love and urgency. 

Every kiss you share with Matt feels like the first, sweet and tender. His lips on yours leaves you feeling dizzy as if you’re intoxicated, and you yearn for more, yet it never escalates beyond heavy make-out sessions with wandering hands that fail to explore beneath the clothes. 

Surprisingly, you don’t really mind. You didn’t want to push or rush into something that might ruin what you have with Matt. The relationship is still new, having only become official a few weeks ago, so there’s no need to rush into anything… However, there are moments when you crave for him. Badly. 

As always, you’re the one to break away from the kiss and an amused chuckle leaves you as Matt follows your lips, his own still puckered and waiting for you to return. Giving him one quick kiss, you suggest that it’s probably best for you both to go wait inside, unfastening your seatbelt and preparing to leave until Matt’s voice echoes throughout the vehicle. 

“Wait!”

His raised tone startles you and you jump as his hand extends out, firmly grasping your wrist to prevent you from opening the car door. Your movements freeze, and you gaze at him with concern swimming in your eyes, unsure of what’s happening and why he’s reacting in such a certain way.

You notice the pink hue tinting his cheeks and the flush that spreads across his neck, chest rising and falling rapidly with each heavy breath he takes. His mouth opens and closes like a fish out of what, and under different circumstances, the sight would’ve been hilarious. However, you were too worried about his sudden outburst to laugh.

Matt struggles to form a coherent sentence, and the grip his fingers have on your wrist tightens as he lowers his head to look down at his lap. Your gaze follows, and your eyes widen when you see the obvious tent in his pants.

Your hand rips free out of Matt’s grip as you slap it over your mouth, trying to stifle your laughter which makes Matt’s cheeks grow even more red.

“Wa—wait, I just—It’s like—” Matt stammers, his hands flailing in the air in a panicked manner before he hastily grabs the hem of his shirt, tugging it down to cover the bulge, avoiding direct eye contact with you. “Shut up. Stop. I have no control over that—”

“Matt, it’s okay.” You reassure him as your hand drops from your mouth, unable to hide the smile on your face. Truthfully, you’re a little flattered that a simple kiss can make Matt react like that. It boosts your ego immensely, and the thoughts that run through your mind are wild.

He continues to act embarrassed, tugging his shirt down further to hide himself but the friction of the shirt rubbing over the material of his jeans makes him tense up, eyes widening as a stifled grunt seeps past his lips. 

“Matt…” You call out his name and his head turns to finally meet your eyes. You feel confident, maybe too confident as you say your next words, “Do you want me to help you?"

“Help me?” He repeats, blinking at you. “What do you—Oh. Wait. No. I swear, it’s fine. Just give me a few minutes and it’ll—oh shit.”

Matt curses, hissing through his teeth as you decide to bravely place your hand on his upper thigh, squeezing the skin beneath your fingers as you lean in closer to him, the centre console digging into the stomach. His gaze flicks between your hand and you advancing towards him, unsure on where to look until your nose is barely brushing against his own.

He swallows thickly at that look on your face, silently asking him the same question again and he struggles to find his voice, bobbing his head slowly in a short nod. He lets go of his shirt, dropping his hands to his side limply as he watches you work the button of his jeans, popping them open and pulling down the zipper before your hand dips beneath the waistband, cupping his through his boxers.

Matt exhales deeply, body relaxing into the driver's seat as he observes your actions with half-lidded eyes, bottom lip tucked between his teeth and fists clenching at his side.

You’re giddy as you free his cock from his boxers, the sheer size of them sending a thrilling buzz to your cunt and you meet his eyes with a surprised grin.

“What?” His voice is quiet as he questions, “What’s wrong?”

“You’re big, Matt.”

Matt’s tongue prods at his cheek, trying to fight off the urge to smile at your compliment as his chin tucks into his chest, unable to look you in the eyes. His cheeks grow warm with a slight pink hue, but his mouth drops open with a sharp intake of breath as you slowly wrap your fingers around him the best you can. 

Your lips hover above his cock, letting a wad of spit sit at the tip and using your thumb to smear it over the slit and head of his cock, causing his hips to jerk upwards.

The sound of him whispering curses through airy gasps and grunts is enough to urge you downwards, taking his tip into your mouth, letting it lay on your tongue for an experimental taste before pushing your head further down, taking his cock into your throat and swallowing around him.

“Oh my go—fuck.” Matt suddenly whimpers loudly, pressing his fist to his mouth and biting down on his skin, nervous eyes glancing around the restaurant's parking lot to see if anyone was lingering around outside.

He was thankful to have brought you both out near nightfall, but he was even more thankful that he had decided to park a few spaces away from the building itself, tucked away beneath a tree and barely any street lights

You struggle not to smile at the effect you have on him as your bob your head, exaggeratingly moaning to send vibrations down his cock and again, his hips jerk upwards at the sensation, and a guttural sound rips from the back of your throat as he accidentally chokes you with his sudden movements. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry—” He repeatedly apologises to you, his hand coming down to affectionately smooth the back of your head, ringed fingers getting tangled in your hair and he tugs without realising when you hollow your cheeks around him, the burn on your scalp sending a shiver down your spine.

“Does it feel good?” You ask him once you take your mouth off of him to breathe, using your hand to continue jerking him off as you gaze up at him.

Matt struggles to keep his eyes open as he nods, untangling his fingers out of his hair to press his palm on your cheek, putting at your bottom lip and you lay a gentle kiss on the pad of his thumb.

Matt smiles giddily at that, head lolling to the side and resting against the fogged up windows, breathing unsteady as he continues watching.

It completely erased from your mind that you’re currently giving Matt head in a public parking lot until you hear a distant car horn in the background, and usually, under any different circumstance, you would have stopped everything and asked to be driven away out of pure embarrassment from possibly getting caught.

But seeing the blissful look on Matt’s face, and how strangely nice it feels to have him in your throat, tasting him on your tongue, you don’t care. 

You almost wouldn’t mind if anyone walked by and caught the two of you in this position. 

“I think I’m gonna cum soon,” Matt breathes out heavily before his eyes widen. “Yeah, no—shit—you’re definitely gonna make me cum.”

“That’s okay.” You coo softly, giving him the sweetest smile before you swallow around him once again, tightening your throat around his cock and he grunts, his hand resuming its position on the top of your head again.

“Where do you want me to cum, sweetheart?” The pet name sends you spiralling and your cunt clenches around nothing, arousal building in the pit of your stomach. 

You move your head faster, working at a pace that has his thighs shaking. His cock fucks your throat raw and you can breifly hear him calling out your name, tugging at your hair slightly to get your attention and pull you off of him, but you resist and shove your head down further, the tip of your nose touching his navel.

“Fuck… do you want me to cum in your mouth?”

You hum around him for confirmation and Matt whines under his breath, voicing ‘you’re so hot’ as his hand falls from the top of your head to your free hand that’s resting on his knee for balance. 

His fingers thread through your own, intertwining them tightly, thumb caressing over your knuckles in small circles, and the second you squeeze his hand back, to let him know that you’ve got him, he cums in thick spurts down your throat with a moan.

Matt’s thighs trembling beneath you, but you take no notice, too busy making sure you’ve swallowed every drop he’s giving you, sucking him dry until he’s physically unable to give you anymore and is begging for you to release him, too sensitive to continue.

His cock falls from your mouth with a wet plop and you sit up in your seat, taking a quick glance in the sun visor mirror like you had done earlier before, and you stifle a laugh at how you’ve definitely ruined your makeup this time.

You reach for your purse and open it up, grabbing a few facial makeup wipes that you carry with you and try to clean yourself up as best as you possibly can, even though there was no use. 

Matt is panting heavily beside you, body twitching as he comes down from his high and he runs his fingers through his hair as he tries to regulate his breathing before he’s tucking his flaccid cock back into his boxers.

He’s buttoning up his jeans, casting you a glance as he pulls up the zipper, watching as you finish completely wiping the smudged lipstick off of your lips and dabbing the mascara excess under your eyes.

“I think we missed our dinner reservation by the way,” You joke, a chuckle leaving your lips as you grab your phone to check the time. You did miss it. “Sorry.”

“That’s a shame,” Matt says, his voice dipping low. “I’m still hungry.”

You feel a little guilty, “We can go get takeout—”

“No. Not for that,” Matt immediately shakes his head and you turn to look at him. “I’m hungry for something else. Something better.”

“Better?” You repeat, raising your eyebrow suggestively as you lean back into your seat, crossing your arms over your chest as the corner of your lips threaten to curl up into a smirk. “And what would that be?”

“You.”

© sturnioz

[eloves-writes]

🎮 with Lando Norris, I feel like that fits him the best as spicy as you feel like 💖💖

i agree it fits him well!! hope this is ok for you anon🫶

song lyric prompt: “touch me while your bros play grand theft auto” so high school ~ taylor swift 🎮

warnings: exhibitionism (recurring theme in my fics i know, let a girl live), thigh riding

minors dni

————————————————

when lando texted you to ask for a glass of water whilst he was streaming, you didn’t think much of it, filling a glass in his kitchen and knocking onto his gaming room door before entering. he briefly smiled at you when you walked in, concentrating heavily on the game he was playing. you heard voices coming from his console and assumed he was playing with friends, so you quickly placed the water on his desk and started to walk away as to not disturb them, but he instead used one arm to grab your waist.

“it’s ok, baby, stay,” he said, glancing away from the screen again for a second. he guided you onto his lap so his arms were either side of you holding the controller and you were straddling his thigh.

“hi y/n!” a voice said through the call, the others echoing after. you said hi back, feeling comfortable being so close to lando with your back pressed against his chest and his head resting on your shoulder so he could still see the screen.

he was pretty into the game, but after a while the pressure of his toned thigh against your centre was getting you a little bothered and there was only so much gaming you could watch without getting bored, so you experimentally grinded onto him just slightly, careful to keep the top half of your body still where the camera could see you. lando thought at first you were shifting to get in a comfier position, but when you did it again he realised what you were trying to do.

“needy, y/n?” he whispered directly into your ear so the microphone wouldn’t pick it up.

you tried not to blush, suddenly watching the screen intently as if his game was the most interesting thing in the world to you. he began to move his leg beneath you, flexing the muscles in his thigh and rocking you back and forth, enough to stimulate you but not enough that it looked like anything untoward was happening to the viewers of his livestream. you kept your eyes firmly on the screen and bit back the moans threatening to come out of your lips, especially as you felt his dick harden against your ass. he kept up his gameplay and lighthearted banter with his friends but you could hear in his voice that he was turned on by what he was doing to you in front of them. it turned you on too, an orgasm building in the bottom of your stomach until the waves of pleasure crashed over you and you came on his leg with great effort not to let it show on your face. lando slowed his movements as you came down from your high, conveniently finishing the round they were on so that he could drop his hand below the desk and rub your thigh as a silent token of appreciation and care. he agreed to one more round before they ended the stream, which you spent with your head tilted back to rest in the crook of his neck, in a state of post-orgasmic bliss. seemingly, every stream after that one lando conveniently forgot to get himself a drink beforehand, texting his pretty little girlfriend to bring one to him.

[sleepyjuice]

temporary fix - rafe cameron

summary: after a fight with john b and sarah, rafe was a complete mess. so you did what you did best to help him feel better, even if it was just a temporary fix.

warnings: 18+!!! angst, smut, descriptions of a panic attack, brief mentions of blood and violence, oral; male receiving

wc: 2498

Dragging Rafe away from a fight was nothing new to you. He had a short fuse, you knew that, but it would still bother you every time it happened.

This time, it was another run in with the pogues, John b and Sarah, specifically. Each time Rafe saw his sister with him, it made his skin crawl and it still managed to get under his skin every time. It didn't help that it was his own sister against him, his own blood.

You had tried to defuse the situation as the arguments began, but it was no use when Sarah spoke up, spitting something along the lines of, ‘this is why dad doesn’t love you!’ Plus some other deep shit that really, really got Rafe fuming.

Eventually John b got involved, and the two of them went at it for quite a bit, finally stopping once you and Sarah had managed to pull them off of one another.

Without saying a word to the other couple, you dragged Rafe away from the situation, leading him back to his car.

He followed, his bloody hands running through his hair sporadically as his heart raced, his breathing staggered and sharp.

He had gotten into the driver’s seat immediately, and to that you shook your head, shooting him a glare from outside the car door.

“I’m driving.” You spoke firmly, unwilling to risk both your lives as well as the general public’s lives with Rafe driving while in a state like this.

He stared at you for a moment before silently getting out of the driver's seat, allowing you to take his spot as he quickly made his way around the car and into the passenger's seat.

You adjusted the seat so you could reach the pedals before turning the car on and buckling up, making sure Rafe was buckled as well.

You didn’t say anything the entire drive home, knowing your boyfriend well enough to know that he was so in his head right now, you wouldn’t be able to get through to him yet.

You pulled his car into your driveway, knowing that your house was the better option as Tannyhill was completely out of the question, especially since you knew Ward was home. Plus, your parents were both at work, so the two of you would have the whole house to yourselves.

Rafe was eerily silent by the time as you both made your way inside the house. You weren’t sure what to say, so you stayed silent as well, opening your bedroom door for him, shutting it behind the two of you before you sat down on the foot of your bed.

You weren’t overly mad this time, just frustrated with the whole situation. This time you could understand a bit more where Rafe was coming from, knowing all too well how much certain things involving Rafe’s relationship with his dad triggered him.

You watched as he sat on your floor, his knees pulled up and his head in his blood stained hands.

You sighed quietly, the silence overwhelming.

“Rafe, I-“ you began, but you were cut off by a loud sob escaping his lips, his body trembling as he cried into his hands, his fingers pulling at his hair.

Your mouth parted in shock, immediately scooting down off of your bed and down to the floor beside him, wrapping your arms around his middle and pulling him close to you, not caring that you were getting blood on your clothes and skin.

At the feel of your touch, he immediately fell into you, his head falling into your shoulder and his hands gripping tightly onto your waist, holding you firmly as if you could slip away at any moment.

“I know, I know. You’re okay.” You cooed against his hair, tears pricking your eyes as you let him cry into you, doing your best to keep your composure, to be strong for him.

“It’s- it’s just so fucked up, you know?” He cried, tears staining your light colored shirt, but that was the furthest thing on your mind.

You nodded understandably against him, one hand rubbing soft circles on his back as your other entangled in his hair, massaging his scalp with your fingertips.

“It is, baby, I know it is,” you cooed, fighting off your own sobs with every ounce of strength your body held. “Everything’s gonna be okay, yeah? I love you. You’re good, you’re safe, I’m not going anywhere.” You assured him, feeling his fingertips dig a bit harsher into your skin. You fought back a wince at the slight burn, allowing him to hold onto you for dear life if it could at least help ground him.

His breathing was shaky and he was barely taking full breaths, which concerned you, so you slowly brought both of your hands to hold his face, his bloodshot eyes meeting yours as you forced him to look at you.

“Hey, you need to breathe, okay?” You spoke firmly, your thumbs padding at the warm tears that continued to fall down his cheeks.

“Do what I’m doing. Like this,” you inhaled deeply, looking into Rafe’s eyes as he repeated your actions, his breathing still staggered, but he was at least trying. “Good, just like that, and out.” You instructed, exhaling slowly to release the breath you held.

You nodded in approval as you both continued to breathe together, his heart rate slowing down a little and his breathing going somewhat back to normal.

“I’m so sorry.” He muttered after a few moments, his sobs had stopped and he was just sniffling, his tears now drying on his face.

You shook your head at his words, your thumbs rubbing gently against his cheek as he melted into your touch.

“It’s okay, don’t be sorry. Let’s not think about that right now.” You assured him, watching as he nodded, his eyes dropped from yours, looking down.

“Hey, it’s okay, seriously,” you spoke firmly, using your index finger to tilt his chin back up so he was looking at you. “You wanna get in the shower? Get all cleaned up?” You offered, watching him nod slowly at your suggestion.

“Will you get in with me?” He asked you, his voice hoarse and rough, your heart breaking at his defeated tone.

“Yeah, of course I will, c’mon.” You responded, leaning back so you had room to stand up, taking his larger hands into your own as you both stood up, his hand holding yours tightly as you led him into your bathroom.

You dropped his hand to turn the shower on, adjusting the temperature to the perfect amount of heat, shutting the shower door as you began to pull your clothes off.

You could feel Rafe’s eyes on you as you stripped, watching as he mirrored your actions. His eyes raked over your body and you didn’t miss it, watching as his bruised torso came into view as he rid himself completely of his disheveled clothing.

You were both completely naked now, as you had been many times before this, but this time the room held far less sexual tension than it usually did.

“C’mon, get in.” You spoke quietly, holding your hand out for him as you pulled open the shower door, stepping inside, Rafe right behind you.

You let him get under the water first, watching as his body visibly relaxed some at the feeling of the hot water falling onto his skin. His back was faced towards you as he stood there, his eyes shut as he bowed his head, letting the water wet his hair.

You watched from behind him as red tinted water circled the drain, some of the blood washing off of him from the strong water pressure.

“Babe? You want me to wash you off?” You asked him after a few moments had passed, watching as he turned to face you at the sound of your voice, beads of water dripping off of his toned body.

“Please.” Was all he said, his eyes firmly on you now as you nodded in response, grabbing your bottle of body wash and pouring some into your hands.

“You’re gonna smell like flowers and vanilla, hope that’s cool.” You giggled, your heart rate slowing slightly when you saw the tiniest hint of a smile tug at Rafe’s lips.

“I don’t care. You smell good.” He responded, to which you gave him a small smile before you began lathering the soap onto his arms, washing gently yet thoroughly, cleaning his stained skin.

You could hear him sigh from above you, his eyes transfixed on your hands massaging his skin. He needed your touch, he needed more.

Once you cleaned his arms, you made your way to his torso, rubbing the soap into his toned chest and then down to his abs. At this, you felt his body tighten and heard his breath hitch, but you continued massaging the soap into his skin.

You looked up at him for a moment before looking back down to your hands on his lower stomach, noticing that his dick was over halfway hard, beginning to stand up straight against his stomach.

“Oh.” You murmured once you realized, looking back up at him, his gaze heavy on your own as he watched you, fully aware of the reaction his body was having to your touch.

He really couldn’t help it. His emotions were all over the place, his senses heightened after a long panic attack and you had just been so endearing all day, especially as you took care of him.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, clearing his throat, followed by a sniffle. “You just- it feels nice, is all.” He told you quietly and you nodded, not saying anything as you poured a bit more body wash into your hands before kneeling down so you could wash his legs.

The sight of you on your knees below him was what had his cock fully aching and fully hard. Seeing you in this position was nothing new to him, but this time it was taking everything in his power to not thrust his cock into your mouth. He didn’t want to take advantage of you helping him, you had been so good to him.

You scrubbed at his legs, your movements less steady than they were previously due to the fact that Rafe’s large cock was now fully hard and pressed perfectly against his toned stomach just inches above you. This was quite the distraction. But maybe, Rafe needed a distraction, too.

Without saying anything, you let the soap rinse off of your hands and you saw how Rafe watched you with a furrowed brow, confused at your actions as you hadn’t washed his other leg yet.

You took him completely by surprise when you reached up and took his cock into your hand, wrapping your fingers around his shaft as you began slowly pumping him.

“Oh— fuck.” He groaned, his gaze heavy on yours as you looked up at him from below, giving him a nod of reassurance before you leaned forward, wrapping your lips around his tip.

Rafe’s head fell back the second your lips touched his cock, his hand quickly reaching down to hold your now wet hair, his fingertips massaging it as you sucked wetly against his tip, then slowly along the underside of his cock, flattening your tongue against the long vein that gave him so much pleasure.

He groaned loudly at that, his breathing increasing yet again as he watched you intensely, his own lips parted in pleasure.

You swirled your tongue along his shaft for a few moments before finally wrapping your lips around him again and slowly taking him down your throat.

He let out a long, shaky exhale as you took almost all of him at once, his free hand reaching out towards the shower wall to keep him steady as he felt his knees threaten to give out.

You hummed around his cock as you worked to open your throat, finally taking in all of him, loud moans and grunts heard from above you as you concentrated on keeping all of him inside of you.

You hollowed your cheeks as you pulled back, bobbing your head forward once again so he hit the back of your throat again, tears filling your eyes as you gagged around his thick cock, more and more spit lubricating him by the second as your mouth was practically leaking around him.

You eventually found a good rhythm, bringing one hand up to toy with his balls as you sucked him all in, your nose pressing against his pubes each time he hit the back of your throat.

“Fuck, yeah, baby, just like that.” He moaned hoarsely, voice deep and face twitching with pleasure as he watched you taking him perfectly below him. He didn’t know what he did to deserve you.

You hummed once again in response to his words, letting him know that you heard his praise, which made him hiss at the feeling, readjusting his hold on the wall as he adjusted his footing, knees growing weaker by the second.

His balls were warm and wet from the shower water raining down on the two of you, which made it feel all the much better as you continued to fondle them in your hand, cherishing each one for moments at a time before alternating.

“God, I’m close, gonna cum down your throat, baby.” Rafe suddenly groaned, gripping on tightly to your hair now, spit falling down your chin as your mouth bobbed back and forth on his wet cock, feeling him twitch each time he hit your throat.

At his words, you moaned, your way of egging him on, telling him to let go.

And that he did, a string of curses followed by breathy moans fell from his lips as he let go, hot strings of his cum shooting down your throat, your movements not faltering for a second.

“Yeah, yeah, fuck, baby… so good, so so good.” He spoke breathlessly, his brows furrowed, face flushed and eyes glossy with pleasure.

You slowly pulled your mouth off of him with a pop, using your hand to pump him a few more times, licking his tip as you collected the last few drops of his cum that leaked from his swollen tip.

“Thank you,” he said the moment you pulled off of him, grabbing your hands to help pull you up, wrapping his arms around your middle as he pulled you into his chest. “Thank you for that, baby. Don’t know what I did to deserve you.”

You hummed against his wet chest, feeling his chin now resting on top of your damp hair, sighing against his touch. He seemed more like himself now, and you were happy you could help, even if it was only a temporary fix.

Rafe had problems, you knew that and he knew that, but you would always be there to help him.

[hauntedjellyfishwitch-blog]

Too Far.

Summary: He's like a wounded animal when he's angry, lashing out when he feels cornered. He's gone too far this time, snapped and said something he definitely didn't mean, so now he has to fix it.

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader (No use of Y/N)

TW: Fighting. Daryl is a dick, but not really, but also he is. Apologetic!Daryl. Alexandria Era. Sex.

A/N: Inspired by an excellent post by @love-norman which I'll link in the comments. I wasn't sure if you were okay with smut, so there's a fairly brief mention of sex but nothing overly explicit.

-

He’s a surprisingly effective communicator, once she can convince him to talk more and with enough time to work out exactly what ticks and grunts mean what. Daryl Dixon’s entire bag is self-sacrifice, so if he can assume that she needs him to tell her what’s going on in the always too busy head of his, he can do that for her without much care for how it impacts him. It’s not his most healthy coping mechanism but it certainly isn’t his worst and the reward? Oh, the reward is sweet. The reward is comfort and kindness and being held; being loved. What’s a moment of discomfort for a lifetime of her?

He's had to practice letting his walls down, slowly but surely since he met her, all the while failing to realise she was just digging her way underneath them. She didn’t ever pry, not really, not in any way that felt invasive, but she’d patiently wait him out; ask the question quietly, softly, and let him linger in the comfortable silence until he chose to answer back. Sometimes she’d work out the information without his need to speak at all; it happened the moment he realised he was fucked, that he was absolutely, irrefutably hers. She’d worked out exactly who he was as a person and he’d barely sad a word.

He’s attentive, and whilst that shocks him it comes as no surprise to anyone around him. He has spent his life fearing that he is exactly who he feared, but those who are lucky enough to consider themselves, correctly or not, close to Daryl never fear for much but his wellbeing. That he is a careful, thoughtful and tender partner surprises nobody but him. That’s not to say they don’t argue, the end of the world comes with its own set of tensions even without the usual relationship concerns, but he’s learnt not to bite first.

-

He shouldn’t have drunk anything, in hindsight, they’re both in bad shape, overwrought and under-fed and they shouldn’t have been at a fucking party, of all places. He definitely shouldn’t have had the four glasses of scotch Reg offered him on a mostly empty stomach. He can’t get used to the Alexandria walls, the houses he never could have afforded to breathe near let alone buy, the soft comforts he’d never had even before the end of the world. He’s never been to a party that hasn’t had a piss-stained couch or an overly full ashtray.

“You know that’s bullshit, Daryl, you’re being ridiculous!” She yells, firmly back in their own living room after he’d practically stormed out of Deanna’s. One minute they’re in full swing, standing talking about vacations from the old days with some new faces, the next his hand is dropping from around her waist and thudding from the front door like she’d said, ‘fuck off’ rather than the word ‘Canada’. He’d slammed the door behind them and snarled about how he would have embarrassed her and her fancy fucking vacations in ‘the real world’.

“Lil’ miss travel abroad and see th’ world cause she’s better than Daryl fuckin’ Dixon”

“What? That’s not-“

“I’m jus’ an idiot redneck with nothin’ an’ you’re this smart chick who saw the world, I get it, I ain’t dumb, th’ fuck would ya have wanted wit’ me?”

Her heart would shatter for him if she wasn’t seething quite so much, the sheer desperation in his words at odds with the tension in his body, clenched hands dragging through his finally clean hair. His eyes are stinging and he absolutely refuses to cry, has never gotten over thinking it makes him weak even when he feels weak.

“Daryl, what the fuck? Why are you being such an asshole?“

“Shut up, always yappin’ about stupid shit, fuckin’ hate ya sometimes!”

He turns quickly, wants to throw something, wants to scream, broad shoulders and harsh angles and all the wind leaves his body when he sees her flinch away from him. She’s cowers backwards, he feels like he’s going to be sick, body collapsing in on itself as he feels the anger leave his bones, replaced with ice laced panic. For a second, a horrifying second that feels ten times as long, he’s his old man. Shitfaced and angry with a glass in hand and if he had a mirror, he knows exactly whose face he’d see staring back at him.

“I would never hurt ya” he whispers, voice low and so broken, full of conviction as his breath hitches in the middle and crumbles at the end and she’d hug him if she wasn’t so shell shocked. Neither of them move for a beat, standing stock still as he trails his eyes over her, clocks the way her gaze refuses to lift to meet his. He can’t breathe. The room is too small for everything he’s feeling, like the walls are inching close and closer and the air is getting less. He tries to move like lightning but his whole body feels sluggish and slow as he inches past her and out the front door, flinching as it closes behind him and he wanders out into the street. He stares back at the house for a moment before deciding he needs a walk to clear his head.

When he comes back she’s sitting on the couch waiting for him, thumbs twiddling, head still down and worry eating her alive. He eases the door shut behind him, loud enough to tell her he’s home but soft enough to show he’s not mad. He wishes a door could convey remorse but it’s taken him long enough to be able to do it with words he doubts a block of wood would be able to in the timeframe he needs. He shucks off his boots, realising he shouldn’t have been wearing them in the house in the first place.

The fresh air has cooled his body enough that he feels less of the alcohol circulating around his system. He tries not to squeeze the flowers he’d plucked from the bush outside Aaron’s place as he stands with his back against the wood.

“’M sorry” he whispers before clearing his throat and repeating it at a higher volume. She turns her face towards him, looking at him over her shoulder. The anger is gone from her face, replaced with a dwelling worry that spikes at him, makes him replay his words over and over.

“What did I do?”

“Nothin’” he insists quickly, pauses before he realises he should say more, that she sometimes needs him to say more, they’ve talked about this “Ya didn’t, I promise”

“I’m sorry”

That does it, rips him from his safe haven by the door because he can’t stand the thought that she deserved anything he said to her, that she’d said anything wrong when he knows she hadn’t. Talking at a party, about stupid old-world stuff whilst her spare, wine glass free hand kept his back warm. She hadn’t said a damn thing wrong, and he’d scared her.

He strides over to the couch, coming round to kneel in front of her. He places the somewhat squashed flowers on the couch cushion next to her. He hovers a hand above her knee, placing it gently on the fabric of her dress when she doesn’t flinch away at the sight. He doesn’t want her to flinch ever again.

“Dun’ apologise to me when ya ain’t done nothin’ wrong”

“I’m so-“

“Dun’ ever apologise to me when i’s my fault. ‘S my shit an’ I shouldn’t take it out on ya”

She knows he loves her, has proven it time and time again, has put his body in front of hers in the face of almost certain death, would protect her with his last breath, would love her with it. But she knows she’ll never be able to unhear it, that some things you can’t take back, that she’ll always wonder, just a little bit if its true. Logic and love are very rarely intertwined.

“Okay”

He can still hear his fathers words ringing in his head, he knows, more than most, the power that words hold over people. He tries not to say anything he doesn’t mean, and he’ll admit he’s acerbic, pointed sure but never cruel, never unnecessarily unkind. He doesn’t know why tonight was different, but he takes her hands in his, locking his eyes on her so she understands.

“I dun’ get t’ speak t’ ya like that”

“No, you don’t” she agrees, voice firmer, back to her usual tone, the one he’s always loved going hand in hand with the certainty she can hold her own. She pauses, bringing his hands up to press a kiss to his knuckles, soothing because she’s terrified that after all this time, he’s still going to break them by thinking he’s not allowed to claim his hurt “You alright?”

He doesn’t answer, instead sitting back on his feet, raising a small hopeful smile at her.

“Tell me about th’ vacation”

“I don’t-“

“Please. Ya said ya still think ‘bout Canada all th’ time”

He really does want to know, he hadn’t been outside of Georgia before everything went down, and she’s mentioned travel but Canada hadn’t come up; he’s not sure if it was that, that set him off or that he felt inadequate in a room full of people with experiences he never got to have.

“I think it was my favourite trip. Packed a bag and went alone on a whim, found a lake in the forest with a little cabin. Just mountains and trees and lakes. It’s the most peaceful I’ve ever felt. I never wanted to mention it, I know you missed out on so much, but then everyone was talking and I-“

“Nah, go on, ‘S’alright”

“When Reg asked…I was going to say that’s what I picture, when I think of life outside of all of this, me and you in Canada”

“Ya think of that with me?” his voice is low, incredulous awe pulled tight at the edges, he was so busy feeling less than everyone else that he’d missed out on the fact she was thinking of him. She nods, smiling at him, working it out without him needing to say it, figuring out what drove him to snap without asking, under his walls and right in the centre of the internal world he’s built.

“We’d have a house, out near a lake with a wooden porch, and a dog, big scruffy one who likes to catch fish. We’d have coffee together overlooking the water in the morning. You’d work at the local garage, ‘cause you’re good with your hands and tools, wouldn’t have to deal with people all day, fix up all the bikes you’d secretly want...”

He’s staring her at in silence, watching her wistful face glow in the lamplight, he can barely breathe let alone find words knowing that she’s not just dreamt about a life with him, she’s thought it out in detail. He wants it, wants that life with her so badly it aches, thinks it’s the first time he’s wanted anything from life except to get through it.

“I’d work at the bar, play guitar at crappy open mic nights and you’d come for a beer after my shift to walk me home”

He hums, all the response he can manage, guilt chewing at him from the inside, clawing at his mind knowing that he’s taken his own problems out on her, told her he hates her all the while she’s dreaming of something so utterly fucking perfect.

“We’d make dinner together and dance in the living room, go camping at the weekends and make love all night long”

“In another life?” he chuckles, warm and full, knowing he’ll dream about this for the rest of his life.

“In every life…If you’d find me”

“I’d find ya”

-

He runs her a bubble bath, still amazed and confused that he can, that they’ve spent months on the road starving and struggling and here there’s a pantry that has bubble bath. The flowers from Aarons front garden are perched in a glass of water by the bed, the lamps turned off and the doors are locked up as tight as they can be. He’s insistent that he shows his apology, but he’s never had a way to do it outside these walls, nothing beyond words and affection and his experience with what women might like is limited at best.

He stands in the doorway, watching as she wraps herself in a dressing gown. He wonders idly if the amount of love he feels for her could kill him; he feels it so deeply in his bones that he physically isn’t sure it should be able to fit inside of one person. He feels it explode warmth around his body when she shuffles forward to rest her head on his chest.

“You know you don’t have to do all of this? I’m not mad”

Later, when he’s apologised again, reassured her and comforted her and she’s convinced him he’s worth loving in return, he takes them both to bed. Touches her with soft, repentant hands that have always been gentle, hands that are gentle exactly because he knows how dangerous they can be. Atonement seeping from every inch of him as he inches home inside of her, cherishes the contended sigh she lets out at the feel of him. He could never hate her, not even if he tried.

He stills when he bottoms out, rests his forehead against hers as her hips press against his firmly, dragging him as deep as he can go.

“Wha’ ya see in me, anyway?” he whispers against her lips, full of self-doubt.

She looks into him with an intensity that almost hurts, brings her hands to the sides of his face, makes sure he believes her as sincerely as she believes his apology.

“Everything”

[inuyashaluver]

more leah x lessi x reader please

a bunch of kids - leah williamson, alessia russo

leah williamson x alessia russo x reader

description: in which you and your two girlfriends are just a bunch of kids, random moments in your lovely life

warnings: timeline makes no sense cause i said so - alessia was signed to arsenal a little earlierrrr. polyamory, NO SHIPPING - ALL FICTION, this is my brain rot by the way, i'm rusty!

a/n: you ask and i deliver hehe, how is everyone? i missed you all dearly!! my exam season has simmered and i can now put out more fics!! enjoy my lovesssssss xxx

⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆

if there was anything to sum up your relationship with your two girlfriends, it was that you were all a massive bunch of kids. there was just something so youthful about your relationship, the joy was incredibly infectious to anyone around you.

alessia and leah, two blondies that were most ardently in love with you, and you with them. the amount of love, trust and happiness imbued in your relationship was so clearly transparent to everyone.

love is special, and these two girls only made it more remarkable. 

—

the union of the three of you was a bit of a blur to be honest. you were slightly younger than the two, coming up to the senior teams a little later than them, but boy did you make an impression.

they heard of you, the up-comer from the youth teams, absolutely annihilating everyone from the midfield. 

and the moment you stepped through that door from arrivals at st george’s park, sparks flew. and it wasn't even an exaggeration, they both fell in love, then and there, and funnily enough so did you. 

the progression was unexpected, but they both knew they had to have you. especially when you scored your first senior goal and the two blondes lingered in an embrace much too long for platonic courtesy - there was something there and it was undeniable.

it just…happened. one minute you're teammates and the other you're moving in together and signing your arsenal contract along with alessia to stay close to each other.

you’ve now been dating for a little over 3 years, the absolute best 3 years of your lives.

—

“lee, i’m trying to change” you giggle, squirming in the strong grasp of your girlfriend, “i’m helping” she laughs, kissing your cheek firmly the moment you stilled, “how are you helping, huh?” you mock, slightly pulling back to the side to get a look at her.

she smiles the moment your eyes meet hers, she kisses the tip of your nose before putting her hand to your cheek to direct your face back to the front.

she lets go, pointing around your cubby, “right, baby, there’s your boots, jersey, shorts, and shin pads right there” she says proudly. you throw your head back laughing, head resting on her shoulder as you and leah now broke out into a fit of giggles.

“you always leave me out!” alessia pouts as she comes from the other side of the room to meet the two of you, you pucker your lips up at her immediately. your other girlfriend immediately cups your face and gives you a kiss, not forgetting leah as well. 

“let her get changed, lee babe” alessia laughs, grabbing your hands softly to pull you out of the other girls embrace, “tsk, buzzkill, man” leah groans, kicking the ground with her boot.

alessia raises her eyebrow at leah, and you follow suit, “babe” she rolls her eyes fondly, “much better” alessia grins, winking at leah.

“fine” leah huffs, slipping her hands under your hoodie to take it off hurriedly, you gasp, hitting leah jokingly, letting the oldest blonde slip the jersey on you.

“there, darlin’” alessia giggles at your tousled appearance, “poor baby’s been roughed around” alessia holds her arms out to you and you comply, sitting sidewards on her lap. leah scrambles to grab her phone, taking a photo of both of you as soon as you give her cheesy smiles. 

she bussies herself with making it her wallpaper, walking over to beth and steph to brag before you pushed alessia to victoria and kyra. finally, you got changed.

—

“lee, babe, you need to hold still” you laugh, cupping her face in between your hands and holding her face still. “baby, i am still” she smiles, “you are not!” alessia watches in amusement, leah sends her a half hearted glare before winking at the other girl.

“baby, i don’t want to poke your eye out” you reprimand leah, adjusting yourself as you straddled her lap, leah sighs, nodding and looking up so you could do her mascara. you were all currently getting ready for a team dinner with the england squad.

“okay, bubba, go ahead” she squeezes your hips encouragingly, letting alessia feed you and her snacks every now and then. “well done, captain!” alessia praises teasingly, leah grumbles, attempting to say still for you. 

“oh, look how pretty you are” you coo, rubbing your thumb over her neck lovingly, “look how pretty she is, lessi” alessia begins to coo as well, both of you fangirling over how good leah looked tonight.

“oh stop it” she goes red, giving you an appreciative kiss before leaning over to give alessia a kiss as well. “all right, lessi bear, your turn” leah teases, lifting you off her lap and passing you over to alessia.

“oh, i’m a doll then, cool” you laugh, leah kisses your head fondly, alessia hugs you tightly as she peppered your face with kisses, “no, you’re our cute girlfriend” making you all laugh.

"i'm surprised you're sharing this time" you say cheekily, both of them glare at you for that.

— 

“pst” you hear a whisper at dinner, you look up to realise that alessia is smiling at you from across the table, “yes, my love” you grin, resting your head on the palm of your hand.

alessia giggles, and it makes you giggle too. she places her hand on the table, clearly covering something, she pushed forward a small piece of paper.

you cock your head to the side as you looked at her, what was she up to? leah leaned over from the side of you, her head resting on your shoulder, intrigued by your giggles. you open the small paper, laughing immediately when you see the contents.

‘hey, beautiful, i saw you from across the room and thought you were gorgeous, call me xxx - alessia’

leah laughs as well, pulling the note a little closer and giving an impressed nod.

alessia gives you an accomplished smile, so proud of what she had done. you hold your hand up in a phone gesture, winking at her and mouthing “call me”, making both of your girlfriends laugh.

“hey, can i call too? you’re cute” leah grins at alessia, alessia thinks for a moment, “hmm, i’ll think about it” alessia winks.

leah scoffs, clearly offended. “nah, i’m not calling” leah mutters, putting her arm around your shoulder, pulling you into her side.

you place a hand on her chest, kissing her cheek fondly, “baby, she didn’t mean that” leah looks down at you with a charming smile, kissing your lips sweetly. “don’t care, i’m not calling” she mumbles against your lips. you laugh, patting her thigh before resting it there.

“lessi baby, you didn’t mean that” you nudge her ankle with your shoe, alessia huffs, “lee, are you forgetting we are in a relationship?” alessia waves her finger gesturing to the three of you. leah gives her a shrug, kissing your temple as she pulled you in closer.

alessia rolls her eyes, grabbing her napkin off the table and writing a similar message on it, sliding it to leah when it was done.

leah unfolds it, smiles, shoves it in her jacket and looks at alessia with a cheeky smile. “i’ll think about it” she winks, making you shake your head with a giggle. children.

“why did i have to sit next to you?” beth grimaces from the other side of leah, dry retching at the clear loved up bubble you were in.

—

you collapsed on the floor of the pitch after training two days later, alessia flops on top of you to make you giggle but you actually found it comfortable. your arms hold her to you tightly as you kiss her cheek.

“do you ever spend two seconds apart? that’s my best friend” ella groans, slapping alessia’s back harshly, making her yelp and giggle. leah comes down and flops beside you, giggling at the two of you loved up. "nah, they're obsessed" leah teases.

“ugh, baby! i miss you!” alessia cries, still on top of you. you laugh brightly, moving the hair from her face, “i’m right under you!” alessia groans, “i still miss you” she pouts as she hovers over you.

leah nods, “i feel you on that, babe” you look over at her surprised, alessia looks at her happily, “you get me!” alessia grins, holding up her hand for a high five that leah was quick to return.

alessia pulls you up once the break is over, promptly pushing you into the awaiting arms of leah, who was happy to see you. “alright, gorgeous?” she grins, you nod, letting the girl give you a tight hug.

“my lips are chapped” leah frowns, you frown as well, “i have some lip balm in my bag-” you start, though, are cut off with leah’s lips pressed against yours gently, “so much better” she whispers, making you giggle. 

she spins you around, pushing you towards the midfield for a mini game, “right, we’ve got work to do” leah shouts, “there she is” you and alessia say at the same time, laughing when she sent you that captain’s glare.

"it was fun while it lasted" alessia sighs, kissing your cheek before she got chased by leah to start shooting practice.

god you love these girls. and they love you.

⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆

you know the drill - pretend it’s you! ily tooneyyy

liked by leahwilliamsonn and 44,232 others

alessia: we were just trying to have fun, then captain williamson came along

view all comments

yourname: we were mid giggle as well :(

↳ alessia: i know! such a good giggle as well

↳ leahwilliamsonn: in the middle of a match but okay

leahwilliamsonn: no regrets, you both got a goal after this, remember that?

↳ yourname: thank you, baby

↳ alessia: thank you, baby

↳ leahwilliamsonn: you're welcome, my girls!!!

[thenyoumightaswellwrestleangels]

Do you know that I love you? (do you know that you shouldn't?)

love is not designed for the cynical - series masterlist here

pairing: jason todd x reader (gender neutral)

length: 1.7k

genre: hurt/comfort, angst with a happy ending

warnings: jason's injured and there's blood but it's not too graphic, except that it describes giving stitches, sometimes people get mean when they get scared, biting like a misbehaved dog etc etc

a/n: there is a fatigue seeping into me that I fear is building a home inside my chest :) how are we all doing this evening do we like this are we excited for the dc event announcement on sunday

You hear another muffled curse from the other side of the bathroom door, Jason's voice tight with pain. The sound makes you press your lips together firmly, your jaw tense as you stand in the hallway of your shared home, leaning against the wall with your arms crossed.

"Jason -" you start again, but his voice cuts you off.

"No."

"Let me help you," you continue, an exasperated sort of fatigue in your voice. Somewhere in your kitchen, you know that the clock is ticking well past 4am. 

"You don't need to be here for this," Jason says stubbornly and you scowl at the closed door. You wonder, for just a moment, if he locked it - or if he simply trusts you enough to know that you won't go where you're not wanted.

"You can't put stitches in our back on your own," you say stubbornly, and a sigh is heard through the barrier between you as you thump your head back against the wall to stare at the dark ceiling. But then the door swings open slowly and Jason's face appears, haloed by the light pouring out of the bathroom.

"Help me, then," he says tightly, and you draw yourself up to a full stand, moving past him and into the small space. Jason sits on the edge of the bathtub and faces the wall while you rummage around the first aid kit, rolling his shoulders and wincing at the rushed, messy bandaging covering the slash across his back.

You don't say anything, of course - there's no need for an I told you so in a space like this, but you do click your tongue disapprovingly when you crouch behind him to pull back the bloody gauze.

"You don't need to be so stubborn about this, you know," you say softly as you begin to clean the damaged skin. There's no attack in your voice, no righteous demand that he become something that he's not.

It's just love… and the patience that comes with it. 

Jason sighs at your words, though, like he's being tried in court and found guilty. He shifts, his fists clenching as he hangs his head and stares down at the white porcelain of the bathtub and the bloody bandages that you've thrown in next to his feet, the red staining everything that it touches.

"I don't want you to have to see me like this," he says eventually, a tired sort of resignation in his voice. You huff out a breath.

"I've seen you dead, Jason," you point out flatly. "I'm not sure why you think this would be worse."

"Don't joke about it," he snaps before he can stop himself, something mean and angry flashing through him before regret begins to wash over him.

"Why do you think I'd joke about loving you?" You ask it quietly, pressing a needle to his skin as you begin to put him back together, as you smooth over wounds and blur out the scars that he's sure would bloom there without your help.

Jason sits quietly, lets his head hang as you work and listens to the slow rhythm of your breathing as you move your hands across his back, as you love him in the only way you know how.

"Sometimes, I just don't know what to do with you," he admits, his voice low and wavering. That makes you pause, makes your hands freeze for just a moment before they continue, slower now than before. 

"I suppose that was going to happen eventually," you offer softly. "Neither of us are really who we used to be… I'm not sure we can, I don't know, fall into step with each other the way we did before…"

"Before I died?" Jason supplies. You tap him on the back of the head with your knuckle in a reprimanding sort of way - just like you used to do when you were kids.

"Before we grew up, I was going to say," you explain dryly, and Jason laughs a bit, a huffed-out breath that he can't really find in himself to stop. You roll your eyes rather fondly and a quiet settles over the two of you, nothing but your breath mixing with his and the faint rustling of your working hands filling the space as he settles. 

But then you finish Jason's stitches, tying off the thread and taping down a new, clean bandage before tapping him on the shoulder lightly to let him know that you're finished. He swings one leg up and over so that he's straddling the edge of the tub and watches as you stand, wincing and letting your knees pop.

"You should've said something," he chastises gently as you lift one of your own legs into the tub, straddling the porcelain to sit face-to-face with him and let your knees bump against his.

"I don't mind," you say easily, and a frown tugs at Jason's lips.

"See, that's what I mean," he murmurs, smoothing his hands across your thighs to rub gentle circles over your knees where he's sure the tiled floor had been digging into your skin. "Sometimes I just don't know what to do with you."

"What do you mean?" You ask softly. Jason looks away, staring at the blood-soaked bandages sitting in the tub. You follow his gaze, of course, just enough to see what he's staring at and then look back at him with your head cocked curiously to the side.

"Sometimes you act like you don't care at all," he says flatly, his hands tightening their grip on your knees.

"When I act like I care, you act like it's killing you," you point out gently, watching as Jason's lips turn down into a scowl as he watches his own blood drip towards the drain.

"Sometimes I think it is," he says dully. You reach to brush a few of his curls back, his hair unruly and mussed from the night as sweat sticks to the strands.

"Then what do you want me to do, baby?" you ask quietly, letting your fingernails scratch over his scalp rhythmically as he sighs and closes his eyes and leans into your touch.

"I want you to let me see you," he replies honestly. "I want you to let me here there for you."

"Not sure you should be saying that," you respond easily. "Something about living in a glass house and all that."

"What do you mean?"

"You locked yourself in the bathroom to bleed out alone so that I wouldn't see it," you point out. There's no accusation in your voice, no cold, hard edge or betrayal to be heard. But Jason's shoulders tense all the same as he opens his eyes and takes your hand in his to press kisses across your knuckles. "You don't need to protect me from yourself," you continue gently. 

"Neither do you," he retorts, the same kindness and love coming back to you in waves.  

"I'm just…" you begin, letting your eyes flick around the bathroom as you feel yourself suddenly under scrutiny. "I'm trying to be there for you."

"That's my job," Jason says firmly. "You gotta let me be there for you." You sigh at that, something long-suffering and loving as you look back at him and lift a brow. 

"When are you going to learn that I love you?" You ask softly, and Jason looks at you like you've pointed a gun to his chest.

"When are you going to learn that you shouldn't?"

"I don't think you get to make that decision for me, Jay," you offer with a shrug. "I think I've earned the right to decide my own life." He sighs at that, looking at you like he loves you too much and doesn't know what to do with it, before he reaches for you.

"C'mere, baby," he says it quietly, a whisper pressed against you as he wraps his arms around your waist and hauls you into him, letting your thighs rest overtop of his as you settle into his lap. "You know I love you, too, right?" he asks softly, his lips pressing kisses over your cheeks.

"I know, Jay," you respond soothingly, tangling your hand into the hair at the nape of his neck. "Maybe we'd both… maybe we'd learn a thing or two from showing it more, hm?" Jason laughs at that, burying his face into your neck as he sighs and rocks the two of you back and forth gently.

"I'll show you mine if you show me yours?" he offers, his voice muffled as his lips press against your skin. You tap your knuckles to his head in another chastising manner, but you also smile as you lean down to kiss the crown of his head. 

"I wouldn't mind that," you say quietly, and when Jason lifts his head to look at you, there's no hint of joking in your face. You smooth a hand over his cheek and he lilts his head to place a delicate kiss on your palm while you watch him, your eyes big and loving in a way that makes him feel a bit naked. 

"Yea?" his voice wavers as he asks, his hesitation festering inside him, but you just smile in that gentle, loving way of yours and smooth over the crease between his brows with your thumb.

"Yea," you say easily. "You're not hard to love, Jay. It just takes a bit of practice for us to learn how to give that love."

"And you'll stay with me long enough for me to learn?" 

"Long enough for us to learn," you correct gently, leaning into him to kiss him softly. "And hopefully a whole lot longer than that." He laughs against you at that, chasing your lips as his arms wrap around your waist a bit tighter.

"Well," he says as he pulls away just enough to let his lips brush against yours. "I'm sure as fuck not letting go." You laugh at that, something loud and honest and a bit more carefree than either of you are used to.

"Good," you say easily. "We'll do it together, then."

[st4rfckerz]

i’ve been thinking about this tooo much.

MDNI 18+

The tall glass building loomed in front of you, reflecting the sunlight in a shimmering display of modern architecture. You grab Sam's hand, feeling the callouses on his fingers as you ascend the steps towards the entrance. The automatic doors slide open, revealing a sleek lobby lined with marble floors and contemporary art installations.

"So this is where your old man works, huh?" Sam glances around the lavish lobby, looking up at the high ceiling, his gaze occasionally catching sight of the impressive artwork adorning the walls. You nod, leading him towards the elevator bank. "Yeah, he’s worked here since I was a baby. They're usually pretty cool about me bringing people in. Just don't touch anything too expensive, alright?" You smirk, trying to lighten the mood before stepping into the elevator, pushing the button for the floor where your dad's office is located.

As the elevator doors slide shut behind you both, sealing you inside the small metallic box, Sam’s hand creeps up, brushing your ass gently.

“Sam, no.” you drag your words, warning Sam to not go any further. The warmth of his touch sends a shiver down your spine, and you find yourself leaning into him even more. "Come on, you scared?" he whispers softly, his thumb tracing gentle circles on your skin. The closeness between you two intensifies, making it difficult to concentrate on anything other than the rising tension. Sam tries to plant a kiss to your lips but you turn your head and push him away, laughing at his sudden neediness.

“No quit it! Not here-” You turn your head away again just to have Sam grab your jaw to make you face him again. His lips press firmly against yours, the urgency of his kiss leaving no room for doubt. As he pulls you closer, your arms instinctively wrap around his neck, holding onto him tightly. His lean body supports yours effortlessly, enveloped by the confined space of the elevator. The faint sound of the creaky gears echo in the background, reminding you of the steady ascent to your father's office, but all you can think about is the man whose tongue now caresses yours.

His hands trace down your back, finding purchase on your hips, pulling you closer still. The passion and desperation in his kiss leave you weak in the knees, making it hard to catch your breath. Sam’s hand glides down your waist, slowly making its way under the hem of your pants. His fingers finally slip beneath your underwear, feeling the damp fabric against your arousal. A satisfied smile spreads across his face, and he lets out a low growl, the vibrations of which you feel all over. "Too easy," he murmurs, his voice husky with desire. “I’ll be quick, I promise.”

Sam’s fingers slide easily inside you, his thumb rubbing your clit in circular motions, adding to the already intense sensations. “F-fuck Sam…” Your eyes flutter, reacting to his skilled touch as your body responds eagerly. The elevator inches towards your floor, but at this moment, it feels like time stands still.

"Shhh, baby, let it happen," he whispers, his breath hot against your ear. His words serve as permission, and soon enough, your body trembles as an orgasm courses through you. Sam holds you tighter, letting you ride out the most unexpected and exhilarating climax inside the elevator.

Finally, the elevator comes to a halt, the familiar ding breaking the spell of intimate pleasure. As the doors open, Sam releases you and sticks his fingers in his mouth, his face plastered with cockiness and pride knowing he just took you to new heights.

[b0r3dtod3ath]

Hello hi!

Can you do a challengers fic?

Art x reader, where he and reader had a flirty relationship but he started to experiment with tashi and patrick and she was like "well, it happens" but the trio didnt work out so he tried to recandle that dinamic between him and reader but she lost all the atraction to him.

(lots of groveling)

Thank you!

Thank you for the request!

Warnings: Mention of an injury, curse words. 

You and Art have been friends since middle school and since then he was always by your side. Your shared interest in tennis and joint decision about applying to Stanford resulted in you two being inseparable best friends. Well, maybe not really. Your relationship was quite hard to describe. People constantly mistook you for a couple but in reality you were just really close. Sure, there were a lot of flirtatious moments, some may even say romantic, but you never thought about it too deeply, thinking that it’s just the way Art is. 

Each morning he knocked vigorously on your dorm room door. “You need to wake up! We need to go.” The sight that he sees when you open the door always makes his heart skip a beat. Messy hair and a toothbrush in your mouth give him a glimpse of what it would be like if he was living with you. “Good morning!” He gives you a beautiful smile as he hands you a coffee in your favorite thermos. He insists on doing it because “it saves time in the morning as he’s up anyways”. Oh and also when you finish he takes the cup back to clean it so he doesn't bother you in the morning. His friend Patrick has always made fun of him for those small gestures but he recently got a girlfriend so he’s busy. Actually, you have heard of Tashi. She attends your school and you were supposed to play against her in a local tournament. You have heard that she’s really good but people also always point out your skills.

You head to the canteen, sipping your coffee as Art tells you about Patrick’s new girlfriend. It’s not like you are jealous but hearing your male best friend ramble about another girl is weird. You keep quiet, after all there was nothing romantic between you two. You eat your breakfast without saying much which goes unnoticed to your friend. He stops eating, looking at your face for a moment, trying to figure out what’s going on in your mind “I saw they had watermelon in the fruit section. I can bring it for you if you want. Did something happen? You know you can always talk to me. I will always be there for you.” The gentle tone in his voice almost feels like he is talking to a lost child, scared to make you withdraw. “No, no. It’s fine. I’m just a bit less confident about the next match. You know, after what happened a few days ago, my leg still sometimes cramps up a bit.” you halfy make up a lie. You were stressed about the match but it had nothing to do with your calf. “You should have told me earlier. I will massage it before we train today. You are going to do amazing".

He didn’t listen to your begging not to knead your muscle so you ended up with him rubbing it firmly enough to “help you” but gently enough not to hurt you. As you trained he could sense your frustration. Sure, it made you more confident on the court as you transferred your anger into each fore and backhand. Then suddenly you stop. Your opponent gives you a confused look as you out of the blue ignore the ball. “I don’t feel well. I’m gonna call it quits. I have a test tomorrow anyway that I should study for. I can’t be hitting a ball with a racket my whole life.” you look at him, his expression as shocked as a moment ago. “See you in the evening?” You two usually had some evening tennis sessions or just went for some walks as there were not many people around that time and you could freely chat about anything. “Well. I can’t actually make it today. I’m really sorry. Patrick invited me for some drinks. He wants me to meet Tashi”. His eyes looked like they belonged to a puppy. “Oh, yea. I mean. That’s fine. See you tomorrow then.” you say without giving him the usual light hug as a goodbye.

The following morning Art didn’t knock on your door. You assumed he must have been tired from the day before but it still felt unusual. You decided to push it aside and focus on yourself and your preparations to play against Tashi. The match started at 2 pm so you still had some time to get ready. You followed your usual routine with only one exception - your regular companion. 

The tennis court simmered under the midday sun, a gentle breeze whispered through the air, carrying a promise of an intense match. It was one of the most anticipated matches of the season on the Stanford campus. It was the end of a debate of who is the best tennis player among students but most importantly it was evidence of passion for sports and competition. You looked at Tashi coming on the court, getting a bigger applause than you did. You didn’t let it bother you, it didn’t matter who was the fan favorite, it mattered who was better. You were first to serve. Silence established itself on the court, a neon yellow ball bounced a few times between your hand and the ground. You looked deeply into your opponent’s eyes. It wasn’t a game of tennis, it was a battle for dominance. 

A thunderous serve from you, the ball sliced through the air with precision. Tashi returned it with equal force, the ball skimming just inches above the net. Back and forth you played, each stroke a testament to your skill and determination. The crowd watched in silence, fully immersed in the spectacle unfolding before them. As the match wore on, the intensity only seemed to grow. Tashi unleashed a powerful forehand, sending the ball to the other side of the net. But you were quick to react, sprinting across the court with lightning speed to return it with a perfectly executed backhand. The crowd erupted into applause, recognizing the sheer athleticism on display.  The game continued in this fashion, each player refusing to give an inch. Your muscles burned like they were on fire as you chased down every shot, your mind focused solely on victory. On letting her know who Art belongs to. 

Then, in a heartbeat, disaster struck. As Tashi ran to return a particularly fierce shot, her foot slipped. Time seemed to slow as she stumbled forward, her knee buckling beneath her weight. With a sharp cry of pain, she collapsed to the ground, clutching her injured leg. She started crying like a hurt animal, unable to think what people thought of her. You stood there in pure shock, unsure of what to do. In the corner of your eye you saw Art running up to her and trying to calm her down. 

You felt really bad for her. Not liking her didn’t mean you were happy for her injury. After asking the medical team about her, you got to know that she’s waiting for an ambulance. When you found her, your heart immediately dropped at the sight of Art holding her hand. “I just wanted to say, I’m so sorry it happened, I-” you started to apologize, “Out! Out! Out!” she screamed at you “But-” you tried to say something but Art stood up “Get the fuck out!”. He had never raised his voice towards you. He was always your gentle, soft, good boy. You silently walked away as hot tears rolled on your cheeks. The echo of your sobs filled your room for the whole night. 

For the next few weeks you didn’t see Art. It wasn’t like you didn’t want to see him, you did actually, but he was always accompanied by Tashi or Patrick. It did make you feel a bit lonely but you focused on training and improving. You actually started to do really well and moved up the rank. Despite an opportunity to get an apartment you stayed at Stanford. You told everyone that you would feel lonely living alone, but the truth was you just didn’t want to leave Art. He would still sometimes catch your glimpse across the canteen or the training hall but no words were exchanged. 

He found you one evening, your silhouette illuminated by the artificial glow of the light. You were alone, your movements fluid yet tense as you practiced your strokes with precision. Taking a deep breath, Art approached you cautiously, unsure of how you would react to his presence. "Hey" he said softly, his voice tinged with uncertainty. You turned to face him, your expression stone cold. You said nothing. A hint of bitterness in your eyes. "I-I just wanted to see how you were doing," he said, his words stumbling over each other in his nervousness. "What do you want?" you snapped, you tone sharp and cutting. Determination glinting in his eyes. "I saw you playing alone, and I thought... maybe you could use a partner," he offered hesitantly. You scoffed, your grip on the racquet tightening as you glared at him. "And why would I want to play with you?". Art took a step closer, his gaze unwavering as he met your overwhelming stare. "Because I miss playing with you, I miss you" he admitted softly. "And because I'm sorry. Truly sorry for what I did." You hesitated for a moment, your eyes narrowing as you considered his offer. “Don’t you have to take care of your little Tashi’s leg?” you said under your nose. "Fine. But don't expect too much" you warned.  

As you began to play, your movements were sharp and precise, your shots landing with deadly accuracy. Art did his best to keep up, but he couldn't shake the feeling of unease that settled in the pit of his stomach. You had always been better than him but he could sense something else. After all, tennis was the most intimate out of all sports. Suddenly, you unleashed a powerful forehand that sailed towards Art with an alarming speed. Instinctively, he raised his racket to block the shot, but it ricocheted off the strings with a resounding thud, leaving him staggering backwards. "Are you trying to kill me or something?" he exclaimed, his heart racing as he moved closer to the net. You turned around -  a little habit you gained, you never looked at your opponent after scoring a point. "Maybe," you replied nonchalantly, your tone betraying a hint of amusement. Art chuckled nervously, rubbing his sore arm where the ball had made contact, as he got closer and closer to you. "Well, you can kill me if you want," he offered, making you chuckle. He reached to touch your hand, his expression pleading, as you turned. "Please. I know I messed up, but I can't stand not having you in my life. I... I have feelings for you. And I need you to know that. I don’t see you as just a friend." You felt your heart skip a beat at his confession, your breath catching in your throat. You had suspected as much, but hearing him say the words out loud sent a jolt of electricity through your veins. "I... I don't know, Art” you responded, torn between the anger still simmering inside you and the warmth of his words. "You ditched me for her. "Art nodded, his eyes brimming with regret. "I know. And I'm so sorry. I was weak and I thought you would never look at me the same way I look at you. I'll do anything to make it right, I swear." he got on his knees, both hands holding yours. “I will never leave your side, I will show you how much I love you and I will buy you this diamond bracelet you always wanted.” You chuckled “Art, get up. I don’t need a bracelet from you. I will give this a chance.” A smile broke across Art’s face, relief flooding his features as he reached out to wrap you in a tight embrace. "Thank you, I promise, you won't regret this." he murmured, his voice thick with emotion and eyes wet with tears. You returned the hug. The two of you swayed for a moment before you broke the silence with your dead serious tone. “Never raise your voice at me again, understand?” He looked deeply in your eyes. “Understood, maam. I’m incredibly sorry”.

April 29, 2024

[livwritesstuff]

for @steddie-week day 6 | drunken confessions

tags: alcohol, drunk steve, sober eddie, post-canon, vague references to period-typical homophobia

By all calculations, Steve shouldn’t be this drunk.

Eddie knows Steve only had three beers – one during Corroded Coffin’s set, and he was halfway through a second when Eddie finally caught up with him after the show, and he started on his third while they were hanging out at the bar.

(Exactly why Eddie knows this is entirely irrelevant, and it has nothing to do with how he'd had one eye on Steve throughout the entire performance trying to gauge how much he might be into it. Definitely not).

Eddie had seen Steve “Keg King” Harrington in the flesh enough times to feel pretty confident that he holds his alcohol better than this but…fuck, if Steve isn’t absolutely sloshed, eyes glassy, cheeks flushed red, and he doesn't seem to have any idea how precariously he's swaying in his bar-stool.

It's fine. Steve's a pretty quiet drunk on the whole, and Eddie gets sorta wired after shows – extra adrenaline or something – so Steve is mostly just listening to him ramble about whatever happens to cross his brain, which isn't a bad way to spend an evening, all things considered.

Midway through an entirely one-sided debate over the merits of starting guitar lessons on electric versus acoustic, Steve reaches over and pushes a curl of hair falling into his eye-line off his forehead with just the tips of his fingers.

Eddie trails off, losing track of his sentence entirely as his eyes dart back and forth between Steve’s face and the hand still hovering by his forehead. He blinks a few times, his parted lips just as forgotten as the end of his sentence.

Eddie knows there’s a kind of question in his eyes when they finally hold firm on Steve’s.

Eventually, after a few beats of silence, Steve supplies, “I like your hair.”

“Uh-huh.” Eddie lifts his chin, still looking at Steve like he doesn’t know what to make of him.

“I like you,” Steve continues, and Eddie feels himself freeze for a moment, a nervous kind of shock running down his spine because, fuck, he's big enough to admit he's fantasized about hearing those words come out of Steve's mouth more than once (way more than once), but his voice was also abnormally loud, and while it’s definitely an interesting little tidbit on Steve’s part, he really doesn’t need the rest of the goddamn Hideout knowing it too. 

“I mean,” Steve continued, “Seriously, I’m, like, super into–”

“Alright,” Eddie cuts him off as he grabs the back of Steve’s jacket, yanking him off the stool and dragging him down the hall, past the bathrooms, and out the back door into the gloomy alleyway. 

“Jesus Christ, Steve!" Eddie exclaims once the door firmly closes behind them, "You can’t just – fuck, man, you’re gonna get us killed!”

“No,” Steve argues, and Eddie’s eyebrows fly up.

“Oh, okay, never mind I guess,” he shot back, “Sure, let’s go back in there, maybe make out on the bar for a while. What could possibly go wrong?”

"Okay," Steve replies simply, reaching forward to clumsily hook fingers around Eddie's belt loops, "You wanna?"

“Uh, no,” Eddie replied, and he regretted it immediately when he saw the look on Steve’s face. He shook his head, desperately trying to course-correct, “I dunno what kind of boys you’ve been kissing, but I certainly don’t take advantage of guys when they’re too drunk to remember anything the next morning.”

"Not kissing any other boys," Steve slurs, "Just waiting for you." He blinks at him for a moment, then says, "Do you...I sorta thought you might..."

Eddie swallowed nervously, because despite his earlier comment, he doesn't actually think Steve is so drunk that he won't remember any of this tomorrow, which means he's gonna remember this: "Yeah, I like you, Steve. Jesus Christ, I like you loads."

And Steve's mouth split into the biggest, dopiest grin Eddie's ever seen, and, fuck, yeah, he wants to kiss him. He really wants to kiss him.

"Tomorrow morning too?" Steve asks hopefully.

Eddie can't help a little laugh as he nods, "Definitely tomorrow morning too. Probably time to head out, though, for now."

"Okay," Steve nods, and so Eddie untangles Steve's hand from his belt loop, clasping it firmly in his own when he's done (because he can do that, he thinks). As they head for Eddie's van, Steve adds, "Y'know, I bet if you rolled all the windows down I'd sober up on the way back."

"Sure you will, sweetheart."

[ja3yun]

I was wondering if I could make a small request? I've been thinking of making out with sunghoon. Like his lips are so perfect for kissing and biting/nibbling, and I can't help but think about straddling his lap and making out softly and then intensely and becoming so aroused from that. I don't know if you can work with that or add anything to make it better, but I need it, please. If not, I'm sorry to bother you.

warnings: suggestive, kissing obvs, slight biting

w.c: 1.1k

a/n: hope you like it babe! i hope it's what you wanted. i wrote this during my lunch break so it might be a bit messy, sorry.

----------

Opening your bedroom door, you see your boyfriend sprawled across the bed, his back against the headboard as he scrolls through his phone, waiting for you.

Leaning against the doorframe, you allow yourself a moment to drink in the sight before you. His eyes, half-closed in a relaxed expression, seem to hold a thousand unspoken promises. Every line of his face is softened, a striking contrast to the usual meticulous façade he presents to the world.

The dampness of his hair creates a delicate halo around his head, catching the light in such a way that makes him look both tender and enchanting. He always looked the most beautiful like this, barefaced, his natural charm shining through

You feel a warmth spreading through you, an appreciation for the rare beauty before you. And you get to call him yours.

Your gaze drifts to his lips, which look velvety smooth and inviting. The natural plump, pink pillows stand out against his skin, and you can't help but be mesmerised by their softness. The way they part slightly as he breathes, the delicate curve of his smile, all combine to create a sight that is utterly captivating.

Slowly, you push off from the doorframe and make your way towards him. His eyes meet yours, a small smile playing on his lips as he watches you approach. “I thought you drowned in there,” he jokes, locking his phone and giving you his full attention.

You climb onto the bed, crawling over to straddle his lap, feeling the warmth of his body against yours. His hands find your waist, steadying you as you settle in. You lean in closer, breathing in the clean, fresh scent of him, and feel a sense of contentment wash over you.

“I just took a really long shower today,” you sigh, tone slightly deflated.

The shift in your demeanour doesn’t go unnoticed by your boyfriend, who crunches his thick eyebrows as his expression paints a worried look. “Hey, what’s wrong? Did something happen?” he asks softly, his voice full of genuine concern. His gaze never wavers from yours, and in that moment, you feel the full depth of his care and attention.

You shake your head slightly, trying to dispel the lingering feelings of weariness. “Nothing serious, just a bit tired,” you admit, resting your forehead against his. His presence, so calming and reassuring, begins to lift the weight from your shoulders. Your hands splay over his chest as you feel his taut muscles under your fingertips.

He gently tilts your chin up with his pointer finger, his lips brushing yours in a tender kiss that seems to communicate all the love and understanding words could never fully capture.

Sunghoon’s lips are soft and inviting, their texture silky smooth against your own. As the kiss begins, it’s gentle and exploratory, each movement delicate and thoughtful. You can feel the subtle brush of his skin against yours, a light caress that sends shivers down your spine. His lips move slowly, moulding with yours like he was tailor made for you. You can taste the faint hint of mint on his breath, mingling with his own flavour.

As the kiss deepens, his lips press more firmly against yours, their warmth spreading through you like a soothing balm. His hands tighten slightly on your waist, pulling you closer, his fingertips tracing small, comforting circles on your skin. You can feel the gentle pressure of his mouth as he tilts his head, adjusting the angle to better align with yours. The sensation is electrifying, every touch a promise of more to come.

With each meld of your lips, his teeth nibble at your lips, dragging them and as he looks at you with a lust filled gaze before licking the slight wounds, giving you the perfect balance of pleasure and care.

Your own hands move up to his shoulders, fingers curling into the fabric of his t-shirt as you lose yourself in the kiss. His lips part slightly, inviting you to further the connection, and you respond eagerly. The kiss becomes more fervent, a passionate dance of tongues and lips that leaves you breathless. Each movement is infused with a sense of urgency and longing, the soft sound of your breaths mingling in the quiet room.

His hips buck up into you instinctively, making you gasp in arousal, allowing Sunghoon to explore your mouth deeper, his wet muscle marking it’s territory everywhere it can reach.

The sensation of his tongue gliding against yours is both tender and intoxicating, a blend of sweetness and pure desire. You meet his movements with equal enthusiasm, your tongues entwining in a sensual rhythm that heightens the need between you. Each caress of his tongue sends a thrill through your body, the taste of him filling your senses.

Kissing Sunghoon is like nothing you could ever put into words, it’s passionate, raw, loving, and lustful. He knows by your earlier statement that you need to just lose yourself in his touch, give your mind a rest and breathe in his adoration.

Pulling back, you catch the air back in your lungs, chest heaving against his. But Sunghoon doesn’t rest, instead he attached his swollen lips to your cheek, nose, forehead, jaw, and neck, peppering loving kisses all over you.

“I’ll kiss away the tiredness for you,” he smirks, portraying his desire, yet his eyes are soft and brimming with affection as they meet yours.

You smile, feeling the warmth of his affection with each gentle kiss. His lips linger on your skin, their touch both soothing and electrifying. Each kiss seems to chase away the remnants of weariness, replaced by a burgeoning sense of joy and contentment. The tender graze of his lips against your neck sends a delightful shiver down your spine, making your heart swell with a deep, comforting love.

As he continues his tender ministrations, you can’t help but laugh softly, the sound of relief and happiness. “You’re going to spoil me with all these kisses,” you tease, running your fingers through his damp hair.

He chuckles, his breath warm against your skin. “If that’s what it takes to see you smile, I’ll keep going,” he replies, his voice laced with sincerity and a hint of mischief.

“Then, yes, keep kissing me, please,” you pout your lips out, patiently awaiting him to envelop yours once again. The lightheartedness in your voice makes Sunghoon’s heart flutter with glee, your body a tiny bit more energised and hopeful than before.

“Anything you want, baby,” he pecks your lips in quick bursts, the sound of smooches and your heartbeats echoing the room.

A sly grin etches on your face. “Anything?” You wiggle your eyebrows and Sunghoon gets your insinuation instantly and grips your hips roughly, moving your hips against his growing erection. A moan slips past your lips as your eyes close, enjoying the feeling of his lips on your neck and bulge running effortlessly over your clit.

“I think anything is reasonable.”

[divineecelestial]

Pretty Girl [ 2 ] — Eddie Munson x fem!reader

Summary — Eddie doesn't like when other guys talk about his girl. You think he's stupid because you're not his girl. He proves you wrong.

Word Count — 2.8k

Warnings — Graphic depictions of sexual activity, kinda mean!eddie, enemies to lovers banter, thigh riding, light face slapping, dirty talk

Part One

18+ ONLY! MINORS DNI

The old metal of the trailer creaked as the door slammed closed. With a wavering hand squeezing his blood-stained nostrils, Eddie glanced away from his reflection in his mirror and poked his head from the restroom doorway. His eyebrows furrowed as he recognized the quick and light footsteps approaching him.

He had practically pleaded with Dustin to not make any more phone calls. He was already embarrassed, more exasperated with the number of times he’s had to stuff his nose with clean tissues, and didn’t want to deal with the scolding and teasing from his friends. Thankfully, none of them had arrived, but, of course, you weren’t like any other person he’d ever met and drove over. If things were different and he wasn’t squeezing his nose with blood seeping beneath his fingernails, he would have paid more attention to the fact that you were there for him. But, stupidly of him, he didn’t think about that. “You came?” He asked, his voice nasally as he squeezed his nose firmly.

Your eyebrows furrowed together with obvious confusion as you neared him. “Of course, I came. Dustin said you needed me.” Now, that wasn’t something he could easily disregard. He wasn’t even sure you knew you had said those words, far too concerned with the pile of bloodied tissues in the corner of the room. You came because he needed you. You pushed his hand aside, carefully tilting his head back and he wordlessly complied. “What happened?”

Now, this was where things became awkward. Roughly an hour ago, Eddie saw something he definitely shouldn’t have. From across the hallway, he watched you. This wasn’t anything new, he could watch you for as long as he could if given the chance, but what was new was the guy across from you. He keeps telling himself he isn’t jealous, couldn’t possibly be. The words overspread his thoughts, suffusing every crevice and space of his head as he watched the spectacle. Maybe, just maybe, if he said the words enough, he’ll eventually believe them. He had to. There isn’t any reason for him to be internally seething with jealousy. You weren’t his. But, God, watching you smile like that because of some random guy was more than enough to have him become nauseous. Seriously, he could feel revulsion bubbling within him.

After you dismissed yourself with a small wave and watched with unfamiliar wrath as this prick motioned for his friends to check you out as you walked away and made a bet on who could fuck you first, he came to a final and startling conclusion. You were his. And that ass these dicks were checking out was definitely not theirs, only his. You ascended up the stairwell and he caught the faintest glance of beneath your skirt. Yeah, that ass and you were only his.

He explained some of what happened and he couldn’t restrain the pleased smile as the concerned softness on your expression deteriorated and was replaced with the familiar annoyance. “You can’t fight people just because they were talking to me.” You sneered.

He removed the small tissue from his nose. “Of course, I can,” He said casually, unbothered by the possessiveness he was displaying. Your glare hardened. “I know you’re mad at me, but you look so good right now.” You did. The sheen of your lipgloss was reflecting from his bedroom light and your hair was styled just how he liked it. 

If you were nerved by his words, you didn’t show it. “You could have gotten seriously hurt.” Even though you were pissed with him, nothing new, your honey-laced words rejuvenated him like a gulp of fresh air. Those butterflies fluttered inside him, threatening to tear through his skin and fly amongst your aura. 

He smiled boyishly. “You look really beautiful in this skirt, by the way. It really suits you.”

His bloodstained fingers gingerly plucked at the bottom of your skirt, lifting the fabric teasingly before dropping it. “You are infuriating.” You said through clenched teeth.

“And you are quite possibly the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.” 

There was a flash of something in your gaze and he wouldn’t have even caught the change if he hadn’t been mesmerized by the color of your eyes. You blinked and it was gone. “What the hell were you even thinking?” You didn’t know why you even asked. This moron obviously wasn’t thinking. 

Another lovesick smile. “You’re all I think about.” His finger caressed the skin above your knee. “You care about my well-being, gorgeous?”

You visibly swallowed. “No, not at all.” You said and you weren’t even convinced by the declaration. 

He raised an eyebrow, seemingly unconvinced as well. “Oh, really?” He asked.

You narrowed your eyes. “Yes, really.”

Eddie’s dubious stare remained on you as he thought for a moment. “You might be able to lie to everyone else and have them fooled, but I can always tell and you’re lying right now.”

You crossed your arms across you chest and chuckled humorlessly. “So you think you know everything about me now?” You didn’t know how to feel about being seen so clearly. 

He leaned further back against his bedframe and you despised that he behaved with such a casualness, an obvious nonchalance while you were straining to remain as stoic as you could manage. “No, I do know everything about you and I know deep down you like me.”

You rolled your eyes. “I don’t like anything about you.” You lied straight through your teeth, your glittering eyes glowing with a wave of irate anger reserved solely for him. You knew you were lying because there was a different layer of him you were discovering every day and you hated it. you hated that he wasn’t as terrible as you initially thought he was. 

“Tell me more.” He demanded, slowly looming closer to you.

“I’m not flirting with you,” You clarified, “This isn’t some dirty talk.”

His face was disconcertingly close to you and even though you pretended the close proximity disgusted you, you didn’t move. “You’re right. This is better.” And for a moment, neither of you said something. “I never noticed your eyes were this pretty.” He could see you; the depths of your eyes illuminated beneath the light, each shadow accustomed to the shadows and darkness glistening on display for him. Small wrinkles creased by your eyes as you softly smiled, a tenderness reserved for him at that moment, and damn, he swore his breath was yanked from his lungs at the sight. “Don’t look at me like that.” He suddenly said.

You blinked, confused. “What?”

“The way you’re looking at me, it’s turning me on.”

Your expression transformed into disbelief before glancing down at his crotch, merely a few inches away. “Are you seriously hard right now?” 

He grinned shamelessly. “Can you blame me?” He asked brazenly. “Look at you.” Truth be told, if it was regarding you, it didn’t take much at all for him to get hard.

You refrained from expressing how much you like this. “It’s been less than fifteen minutes and you already have a boner. Do I really have that much of an effect on you?”

There wasn’t any hesitation as he answered. “Absolutely.”

You rolled your eyes. “Stop distracting me.” You pushed his head back again, closely examining inside. The bleeding had stopped and there didn’t appear to be any visible fractures. He would be okay with some ice. “So what were they even saying?” You asked, referring to moment that apparently started everything.

Eddie stiffened, hardly noticeable. “Doesn’t matter. I took care of it.”

“If it’s about me, I deserve to know.”

A moment passed and then another, and he didn’t answer. You were going to ask again in a much more demanding and firmer way when he suddenly sighed heavily. “They were making bets on who could fuck you first.” You could the admission burn his tongue like acrid poison.

Your breathing hitched as you processed his admittance. “You were defending me?” You quietly asked. This definitely made things worse for you. The reason he was starting fights, bruising his knuckles with dark redness and scrapes and scratches, was because they were talking about you. Eddie Munson was defending you in his own perverse way.

“Obviously. You’re not up for grabs. You’re mine.” The way he spoke with careless possession shook you to the core. It was as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. And you supposed to him, it was.

Your walls were slowly tumbling and crashing down. Fix it, your brain screamed. “I’m not yours.”

He smirked and it was almost devilish. “Not yet.”

“Not ever.” You corrected, choosing to ignore the fire coursing through you.

That insolent smirk never dwindled. “I see you’re still pretending you aren’t madly in love with me.” He said with sweet amusement.

Any and all snarky remarks were stolen from you as his hand gently touched your thigh. So soft. So tender. Fucking fix it, your brain screamed. “I hate you.” Was all you could pathetically manage.

His touch was so simple, feather-light, but it left fire trails on your skin. “If you hated me, you wouldn’t have let me cum for you.”

Another observation you couldn’t find a response for. “A mistake that’s never happening again.”

His hand moved upward, so slow you were restraining yourself from shoving his hand beneath your clothes. “You liked it. I know you did.” He said and you despised knowing this was nothing but the truth. He was confronting you, teasing you because you couldn’t deny it. If you really didn’t like watching him stain his clothes with cum, you wouldn’t have allowed it to happen. You would’ve punched him, reported him, done anything other than spread your legs and tease him. You didn’t like it, you loved it. “I bet you touched yourself when you got home.”

You did. You touched yourself with your fingers until they ached, came with muffled screams as you shoved your face into a pillow until your vibrator’s batteries died, and you even used your showerhead. Hearing him moan and whine like a pathetic boy was fucking filthy and you were soaking through your panties by the time you stepped inside your room.

He took your silence as admission. “Fuck, you really did, didn’t you?” He could feel the warmth radiating from beneath your skirt, teasing his fingertips. If he wasn’t hard enough earlier, he was now. He twitched beneath his jeans. “Sit on my lap.”

Don’t do it. “You’re delusional if you think I’m gonna—”

“Don’t be a fucking brat and sit on my lap.” Your brain was losing and you were thinking with your body—your body that was craving him like he was some addicting drug. Without another word, you slowly crawled to him and plopped down on his clothed thigh like you were always meant to be there. You could feel him throbbing against your clit. He was big and thick. His eyes closed for a second, processing what was happening. This was a slice of heaven served to him on a golden platter. “Get yourself off on my thigh, pretty girl. Make a mess for me.”

And just like that, any delusion you might’ve had that you were capable of turning him down, was flushed down the drain. “What?” You asked breathlessly. In that moment, he could’ve demanded you kiss his sneakers and you would’ve fluttered your eyelashes at him as you did so. 

He gripped your face with a firmness that might’ve made you whimper if you weren’t so shocked. He squeezed your cheeks with one hand, forcing your lips into a teasing pout. “Rub that pretty pussy on my thigh and make yourself cum.” He wasn’t asking. This was a demand he knew you were going to do for him.

You released a wavering breath as you began to move against him and you could hear your arousal clinging against his jeans. This was embarrassing. But not to him. He was probably sick enough to lick your juices from where you’d been rubbing. “Suck on my fingers and keep those pretty eyes open. Look at me, baby.” His fingers that weren’t tainted by his own blood were inside your mouth and you eagerly sucked, licking and kissing them as if they were his leaking cock. Your lips were flushed as you hollowed your cheeks and he watched you drooled on his fingers with heart eyes. “You are fucking beautiful. Let me see those pretty tits.”

There wasn’t any hesitation this time as you lifted your blouse, displaying your breasts and pinching yourself. Another twitch from his cock and he jerked his hips, earning a soft moan from you. “I could cum just by looking at them, pretty girl.”

You removed his fingers from your mouth. “Call me that again,” Your voice was soft, breathless, and laced with a vulnerability he’d never heard from you before. “Please.” Desperate. Needy.

The arrogant smirk on his pink lips was annoying and you wanted to sit on his face so you wouldn’t have to see it. “Aw, you like being called my pretty girl?” There wasn’t any thoughts floating within your mind. All you could think of was the liquid lava moving through your bloodstream as you rubbed your clit against his cock faster. You only nodded. “I thought you hated me? But look at you, drooling for my cock.”

It was pathetic because you were drooling. You were never going to hear the end of this. He slapped your cheek lightly, pleasantly stinging. His touch didn’t hurt, it never did, but it did get a message across. “Let me hear those pathetic sounds. You’re fucking crazy if you think I’m gonna let you not make any noise.” He was going to memorize and repeat this moment for every time he spit in his hand and jerked himself off. He needed to hear you. He was losing his composure and there was another slap. “I’ve been wanting this for years so fucking moan and say my name.”

“O-Oh, my fucking God, this feels so fucking good.” You wrapped your arms around his neck, quickening your pace. Your facade of disgust and hatred disappeared. “Fuck yes, Eddie!” His hands gripped your waist, fingers dipping into the skin of your ass, and he pushed you down harder against him. “Just like that. Just like that.”

His warm and erratic breaths brushed against your jaw. The softness of his lips kissing and sucking as he moaned against your skin. “Come on, baby, make me cum. You can do it, just keep rubbing that pussy on me. Give it to me.”

His mouth moved against your breasts, kitten-licking your peaked nipples before sucking. Something inside you snapped and there was nothing but blinding pleasure, strong enough to steal the moans and air from your throat as you chased your pleasure. Your eyes closed before there were smaller and quick slaps against your cheek. “Look at me when you cum.” His calloused hand slowly drifted to your throat, a firm and shaky grip.

His body twitched and squirmed beneath you as he whimpered against your chest, tongue swirling against your nipple and his hand squeezing the other. Your movements slowly came to a stop and he released your breast with a playful pop. 

His fingertips gently caressed the softness of your cheek, lingering a moment longer on each mark coloring her skin. You leaned into his touch, savoring the warmth of his hand as you closed your eyes. You listened to the hard and quick patter of her heart, to each slow and deliberate breath of his, and the rustling of the leaves outside. And you swore if you listened closely enough, you would’ve heard the thumping beneath his chest. “You’ve ruined me for anyone else,” He whispered, a thought escaping his quivering mouth before he could even process his own voice. You ruined him, tore out his thumping heart with your manicured nails, and devastated him—a devastation he craved, needed like the blood coursing through his veins. He would’ve bruised his knees worshipping the floor you stepped on. You had undoubtedly ruined him and he couldn’t do anything about it but thank you.

In a daze, you tangled your fingers in his hair and pressed your glossed lips against his. He couldn’t breathe. You were kissing him, drunk from your orgasm, bare skin against his thick cock, and he couldn’t think. He couldn’t move. He didn’t move. He didn’t kiss you back. At the lack of reciprocation, you pulled away.

The softness of your lips lingered on his, a ghostly remnant of a daydream he’s had for as long as he could remember. His eyes slowly fluttered open, shock swirling in the pools of darkness. His breathing hitched as he forced himself to breathe. Slow and steady. But he couldn’t because he swore he could almost still taste you. Outside, inside the community and neighborhoods of Hawkins, no one would’ve guessed Hawkin’s It-Girl kissed him, your sweet perfume entangled with his cheap cologne. That’s something nobody could’ve predicted, including himself. Well, and that you rode him until you made yourself and him cum.

Your hair cascaded across your skin as you tilted your head, trying to decipher the gleam in his eyes. Your lips were flushed as if you’d been gnawing on them, and you almost pouted at what you thought was rejection. Disappointment colored your expression and you scooted away from him, suddenly uncomfortable with the silence of the room. “I’m sorry I kissed you.” You stood from him and straightened your clothes, readjusting them. “Let’s just forget about it.”

And you were out the door before he could explain that he literally couldn’t talk or function because his dream girl made him cum so hard he was seeing stars.

Shit.

Taglist — @eddiesguitarskills @twihard08 @twilight-love-nochu-main @names-were-taken @definitelynotecho @sidthedollface2

[mikanotes]

up close & personal

hyunsu ? x gn!reader

genre: what. mutual pining?

warnings: sweet home 2 spoilers, mentions of blood, injuries. hyunsu himself is a warning lowkey if u watched the last ep u probably get it… that’s all!

synopsis: You know Hyunsu so well. One year apart couldn’t possibly change that. Except if Hyunsu isn’t alone anymore.

authors note: realized at the end of this fic that i cld compare hyunsu’s current situation to venom like a little bit and that just makes everything so much easier somehow. anyways i don’t really like this but i needed to post smt for him after s2 so!

One year ago, you and Cha Hyunsu would’ve been sitting near the entrance of Green Home apartments, and he would be listening to you talk. One year ago, you would’ve firmly believed that by now, the world would’ve been restored to some kind of peace. It had, in a way, but certainly not in the one your past self would have hoped for. And certainly not the one Hyunsu would’ve wanted for the two of you.

Nevertheless, you remained grateful through everything— As much as you could manage. The shelter was as organized as possible and conflict was a surprisingly rare occurence. Things were alright. As long as you didn’t give time for the grief and terror to catch up to you.

But things couldn’t be calm forever. Especially not in the current state of your world.

When Eunyu disappeared with that man from the military, it only took a day before you grew restless enough to depart from the stadium. After all, Eunyu was the closest thing to a friend you had here, at this point. It only felt right to try and find her. And you did, surprisingly, along with a few familiar faces and an unknown one.

You didn’t expect for the evening you found your friend again to be the very same you would see the person you had considered closest to you at Green Home for the first time in… Over a year.

“Finally asleep.” you sighed quietly, watching Eunyu get the rest her body had probably been begging for. It was difficult to convince her you would stand watch and wait for your friend to wake up in her stead, but her exhaustion made her stop arguing eventually.

You turned towards the room he was in.

Cha Hyunsu.

You crossed your arms and sighed. One year without a single trace of him anywhere. And now he… Just reappears? You wanted to be surprised, but part of you really wasn’t. You were angry, just a little— Spending all this time telling yourself he was gone, only for him to come back as if nothing happened felt like a slap to the face. Still, you couldn’t blame him. Yet. You had no idea what happened to him during that time span.

You felt relieved, if anything.

After some hesitation, you walked over to the glass door. Your hand settled on the handle, pushing it open, before your eyes widened. Hyunsu was sitting on the hospital bed, stretching his neck quietly, not at all perturbed by anything. Hell, he even seemed peaceful.

More peaceful than you’d ever seen him.

You stepped inside quietly and let the door close behind you. Hyunsu continued to move his head, slowly, as if trying to relax, and didn’t acknowledge your presence. His shoulder was bloodstained, still, and his hoodie had cuts here and there. Messy as he appeared, this was your friend from Green Home, there was no denying it. You hadn’t even dared hope he could still be alive, after all this time. You couldn’t give your heart such a high possibility of suffering if he turned out to be gone.

And now he was here. So calm.

He opened his eyes with a soft sigh, before turning his gaze to you. “Finally decided to talk to me?” he asked. His tone was different. Too different. This did not feel like the kind of change that happened in a year. He smiled a little at your silence, tilting his head curiously. “No? Do you need more time? That would be too bad.”

He hopped off the bed with a huff and slowly walked over to you. The closer he got, the clearer it became that his eye color was different. Long gone was the blank, dark brown gaze that looked back at you when you two would talk— Replaced by a vibrant sky blue. A stark contrast from what you were used to, as was everything else about him, apparently. Be it his tone or his mannerisms, it all felt deeply wrong, like it wasn’t him at all. You furrowed your eyebrows but stood still, letting him walk to the very edge of your personal space.

“I’ve been waiting to see you for such a long while.”

“Huh?”

Hyunsu’s eyes widened a little before he grinned. This wasn’t … Him. Not exactly, at least. Not the one you talked to so much. But special-cases, or MH, essentially coexisted in one body. The monster forms around a person’s strongest desire, or whatever it was that scientist at the shelter said.

So perhaps, all the times you and Hyunsu had talked in the past had also been conversations that this side of him had been listening to.

A bit scary. You couldn’t really focus on that, though. You took a deep breath and looked at him.

“Is he well?”

He clicked his tongue, expression growing sour. “He’s fine. Let him get some rest. He’s tired.”

You nodded softly, gaze averting. That sounded fine enough to you. He was right, too, earlier— You had been avoiding talking to him since you met again. With the excuse of focusing on Yikyung and scavenging through the hospital, you had plenty of reasons to act as if you weren’t seeing the person you cared the most for after a whole entire year of thinking he was dead.

But you did feel his gaze on you the whole time. It was heavy, and remorseful. You’d planned to talk to him— In fact, that’s why you decided to come over to the room he was in. You hadn’t expected things to turn out this way, however. Seems like you couldn’t talk to your friend, yet.

“It’s nice to know you care, though.” he hummed, gaze never leaving your face. “He thinks about you so much, too.”

You looked back up at him. If this was the so-called monster part of Hyunsu, then what was his deal? A lot of questions about this situation flooded your head. “What are you playing at?”

He chuckled softly, before backing up just enough to hold up his hands in an innocent gesture. “Nothing as evil as you probably think.” he said, voice steady. “I just wanted us to talk. Just us.”

“Huh.”

“You see, your Hyunsu has an interest in you.” he said, tilting his head slowly. It felt as if he was analyzing you. It was a bit unsettling, but you didn’t bother breaking eye contact this time. “But I do, too. I’d say maybe… Even more than him?” his grin widened at his own words.

“I find it hard to believe you care about people.”

“And yet.” he scoffed, expression dropping to a blank one, seemingly annoyed. He dropped his arms to his sides and sighed. “We decided to work together. Couldn’t have him die on me, it wouldn’t be nice for anyone involved.”

You decided this Hyunsu seemed to mean it when he said they made a deal, just about as much as when he said he had an interest in you. So placing your trust in his bloodied hands for the time being, you tried to be less on guard. He wouldn’t kill you, or most importantly, Hyunsu. That was enough for now.

“Okay.” you sighed, crossing your arms. “So you want to talk?”

He smiled a little. “Yes.” he stated, before taking a step towards you. Only this time, he didn’t bother keeping a safe distance. His face was a touch too close to yours. “I’ve wanted to for a while.”

“You…” you paused for a moment, thinking. “Do you usually go around talking to people while getting so close to them?”

“I don’t go around talking to people.” he mocked your tone before scoffing, a grin pulling at his lips. He brought a hand up to your face, holding your cheek firmly. His focus turned to his hand, eyes narrowing in its direction. You felt his fingers loosen a little, as if he was trying to control how tightly he was holding you.

Which he was. Now it felt gentle. Almost unfitting. Not only that but the Hyunsu you knew was never this comfortable with anything close to physical affection. It felt so out of place.

“Does it bother you?” he whispered, eyes flitting over to meet yours again. He moved in closer, just enough for your noses to touch. He seemed to be having fun switching between looking at your eyes and at your lips. “Am I too close?”

Before you could think of a way to answer, you froze. The unfamiliar color in Hyunsu’s eyes dissipated, the cocky expression you were almost beginning to get used to replaced by a soft, almost startled one. His voice, much quieter now, whispered your name. Your eyes widened and you sighed in something akin to relief.

“Hyunsu.” you breathed out. The latter looked at you with a stunned look, struggling to find anything to say for a while. He looked into your eyes like he was making sure you were okay— Making sure you were really alive. His thumb moved back and forth softly over the skin of your cheek, his gaze scanning you in an almost panicked manner. He sighed shakily, before he brought your face into his shoulder. He seemed to be almost trembling.

“I’m sorry.” he exhaled, wrapping his other arm around your shoulders hesitantly. Still terrible at hugging. You’d missed those awkward displays of affection so much. “I… I’m sorry, it’s been… A very long time.”

“God, you’re so cruel, Cha Hyunsu.”

He tilted his head down into your neck. Now you felt his tears on your skin. He really hasn’t changed, you thought. It was obvious when he came running for help when Yikyung was badly injured, when he did everything to help her and went all the way to look for that kid— Cha Hyunsu hadn’t changed.

“I’m—”

“Quit apologizing.” you huffed, holding him tightly. “I missed you, too.”

Hyunsu sighed quietly, tightening his hold on you a little. He was relieved to finally have you with him again, but he couldn’t shake off his worries.

“You talked to… Him? Right?”

“I did.” you said, pulling away enough to look at him. The concern on his features was undeniable. “And it went fine. It’s okay.”

Hyunsu’s frown deepened. “I don’t know if it’s alright. Me staying… So close to you.”

“Don’t even think about disappearing on me again.” you warned, eyes widening. “I don’t care about any reason you give me— Don’t leave again.”

The boy sighed, averting his gaze for a moment, before slowly bringing it back to you.

“I won’t.” he assured, “I won’t leave you again.”

He closed his eyes and pulled you into another hug. He had to believe his existence on its own wouldn’t cause more problems for you to deal with. He had to trust that even if it did, you meant it when you said you didn’t mind. He knew you did. You always meant it.

He opened his eyes and looked at his reflection in the glass door just a bit further away. Seeing you in his arms should have been reassuring. But the blue hue of one of his eyes and the nagging voice in his head seemed to be laughing at his naivety. He pressed his eyes shut again and buried his face in your shoulder.

This is our priority, now. (I know.) No one else comes first. (I know.) Don’t let them get hurt.

I won’t.

[koolaidoverliving]

i've never written an "x reader" fic before, so i wanted to experiment. take this as you will.

NSFW UNDER CUT. MINORS DNI

A FAMILIAR FACE

✦ Jeff the Killer / Reader ✦

CW: Explicit Sexual Content, Dub-Con Elements, But The Sex Is Consensual, Knife Threat, Degradation, No Plot, Like Seriously It's Just Jeff Fucking You Into A Mattress, Gender Neutral Reader

Words: 2.5k

You're waiting for a close friend at a dingy motel out of state. But instead of your friend, you're met with the town's most infamous serial killer.

Your hands fidget restlessly between your thighs. It's been five hours since you arrived at your room — five hours and your best friend is still not here. Of course, they left later than you did, and you can't expect them to be a fast driver. But any sort of notice would do a great deal of help to you right now. You're growing impatient, tapping your foot on the ground and repeatedly checking your phone.

The motel room, with its queen–sized bed and single box TV, provides you no comfort. Without a proper job, this room is all you could afford to get. You're paranoid; you can hear it in the way your heart thumps faster than the ticking of the analogue clock; and the inconsistent buzzing of the fan doesn't do anything to tranquilise your anxiety. The walls, cheaply painted and stained, seem as if they're closing in on you. And they might just be. To make it worse, there's stray dogs outside, and they're barking at the crescendo of police sirens.

With a groan, you fall back onto the bed. You stare up at the ceiling, the pattern of spirals reminiscent of your spiraling thoughts. Did your best friend ditch you? Leave you for someone else again? While you're miles away from home? The questions run through your head and you're unable to stop them. You need someone — anyone by your side to hold your hand and tell you you're not alone.

But all you get is ticking.

Buzzing.

Barking.

And wailing.

...Until there's a knock.

A loud knock — no, a set of desperate knocks at the door. Your heart beats at a million miles per hour, a positive rush of adrenaline coursing through your veins.

They're here.

"Finally," you say with a smile of relief. You spring up from the bed and hurry to the door. Your sweaty hands fumble with the doorknob. Once it's unlocked, you open it without a second thought.

However, as soon as the door swings open, your face plummets. What stands at the door looks nothing like your best friend. It's a broad man, hooded and stained with what you can only assume is blood.

Before you're able to say something, the stranger brushes past you and enters the room. He closes the door — gently to not make any noise. You open your mouth to shout, but he grabs your body and pulls you back against his chest. His hand clamps over your mouth.

You desperately thrash your arms, your cries of rebuttal muffled behind his hand. But he only tightens his grip on you. "Shhh, shhh..." the man whispers. He reaches out to lock the door. "Stay quiet for just a fucking second."

Though reluctant, you obey him, because you didn't know what he'd do if you didn't. Your muscles tense up. You're pressed so firmly against this man's chest, it almost hurts.

There's indistinguishable chatter outside the room. A cacophony of loud voices. You can't tell what's happening. Not until loud footsteps approach your room. The doorknob rattles. Your body jolts, and you almost yelp, but the stranger's palm is pushing hard against your mouth. You hear another man's voice soon after, much clearer since they're right at the door: "No one's here either."

What — were these men on some weird cat and mouse chase? You can't believe you're being roped into their shenanigans.

Before you know it, the footsteps fade into the distance. The stranger's grip on your body loosens and you use that opportunity to push away from him. "Who the hell are you?" you say breathlessly. "You can't just — You can't just come into someone's room like that — Ugh!" You stop to catch your breath.

"Calm down. I just needed somewhere to hide. You're not special," the man replies. "This room is ugly as fuck too. What are you? Poor?"

"I'm not..." you trail off. No longer in his grasp, you're able to look at him. When you opened the door, his stained hoodie was all you could make out in the dim light, but now that he's in your room, you spot all his grisly features.

Pale leathery skin; blue eyes, wide open; dark shaggy hair, tangled underneath his hood; and worst of all — two grotesque lines carved into either side of his cheeks.

You let out a gasp. The man cocks his head to the side, surveying your reaction. You saw him when you got here. That same face was plastered on the news. And that knife, that knife in his hand —

"You're —" you swallow, "You're Jeffrey Woods..."

A crooked smile forms on the man's face. He gives a subtle nod, affirming your deduction. "Who else could be me?" he says with a boastful tone. "Don't freak out now. If you scream, I'll fucking kill you. This knife isn't just for show — got that?"

"...Yes."

"Good..." Jeff mumbles. "You know. Looking at you closer, you're a pretty little thing." The comment leaves your eyes widened. Your lips slightly part as Jeff leans down and places a hand on your cheek. He grabs your face rather harshly. "I was gonna leave — no, I was gonna kill you and then leave. But now," he laughs, "now I just wanna fuck you."

You aren't able to protest Jeff's advancements when his lips meet with yours in a chaste kiss. He's particularly chapped; there's a metallic taste where his skin is peeling. Yet, he's warm, and his tongue feels oddly nice wandering in your mouth.

Jeff pulls away, leaving your mouth terribly empty. "Yeah, yeah. Definitely a pretty one," he exhales. His breath is warm against your skin.

"Wh–What are you doing?" you stammer, eyebrows scrunching. Jeff rolls his eyes at your question.

"Are you stupid? I'm tasting what's mine now, idiot," Jeff replies.

"'Mine'? But I don't belong to you — I don't even know you."

"Pfsh, everyone knows me."

A cold, prickling metal grazes up your torso. Your skin shivers at the contact. You suck in your stomach, as if that gets you away from the feeling. It takes one downward glance to realise that Jeff is lifting up your shirt with his knife.

"Come on." Jeff's gaze meets yours — his dull eyes stare you down; his knife is still ghosting over your skin. "You want this?" he asks.

The question is abrupt. The sudden change of his tone causes you to shudder — or maybe it's the blade at your skin. You don't know how to respond. He's a serial killer. No, not just any serial killer — he's one of the most infamous in town. You've seen him on several news sites since you arrived, running from one street to the next. And now he's here asking you if you want him.

But you're alone. You're so alone, and that kiss you shared made you feel warm for the first time in ages. He's being kind to you, isn't he? He could kill you — choke you underneath him and plunge a knife into you. But he isn't doing that. He's asking you... if you want him.

It might be the fear, or maybe you're genuinely attracted to him... But either way, you give him a small nod.

"...Yeah. That's what I thought. You get all this, and I'm not even making you pay," Jeff chuckles. "Go on. Take off your clothes."

You're hesitant for a second, but you listen and pull your shirt over your head. You do the same with your shorts, pulling them down and over your feet. You fidget with your hands, staring up at him with a bashful look. Jeff eyes you up and down, that twisted smile permanent on his face. You grit your teeth. You're exposing your body to a serial killer. But it isn't that bad.

"Do — Do you want my name?" you ask. Your body flushes a deep red. You can feel the stickiness of sweat between your thighs.

Jeff scoffs. "No. Why would I want your name? You really think you're more than a random slut to me?" He steps closer to you; you step back in tandem. Your heel hits the frame of the bed. "I said I wanna fuck you, not date you."

He pushes you onto the bed. You watch as he unzips his jeans and discards his clothing the same as you did. Now it's your turn to look him up and down. He has a lean frame. You're shocked by how built it is — but now it makes sense why his chest felt like bricks. You can't avoid looking at his cock either. Jeff's cock is at your face level. It twitches in his hand, and it's one of the biggest you've seen. You're nervous now, more than ever, but it's a good kind of nervousness. Isn't it?

Your eyes flicker back to Jeff's face. He's grinning, revelling in how you check out his body. "You wanna take my dick, huh?" Jeff asks. He grabs a fistful of your hair, bringing your mouth close to the head of his cock. "I know sluts like you love sucking dick. So come on, suck me off."

His ego has no limits... You open your mouth and take in the head of his dick.

"There you fucking go," Jeff says with a satisfied groan.

He's warm and salty. You struggle to shimmy down the thickness of his cock, but you eventually build a good pace for yourself.

"Fuck..." Jeff mumbles. "It's too rare to find a nasty bitch like you out here." He thrusts his hips, pushing his cock in deeper. "Can't be too big for you, yeah? You've got a dirty little mouth, don't you?" His hand is firm in your hair and his grip only tightens when his cock reaches the back of your throat. You gag, still not adjusted to his size. But the vibrations of your gags and coughs only make Jeff hornier.

Your hands grab the bed sheets as Jeff takes control. He relentlessly thrusts into your mouth. You slobber over his length, drool now dripping from the sides of your mouth. You're nothing more than a cocksleeve to him. And god does it feel better than you expected. Your vision is blurry; your own wetness starts to overwhelm you.

Finally, Jeff pulls you off his cock. You gasp for air. "Mmh — J–Jeff —" you struggle to say. You pathetically pant like a wild dog.

"Awh, speak clearly, bitch. You're a fucking mess," Jeff taunts. "You liked that? You liked my cock in your mouth?"

The heat is rising to your cheeks. Your eyes are teary. You're so fucking shameless when you reply, "Yes... Yes, I did."

"Of course you fucking did." Jeff pushes you down on the bed. He hooks his fingers under the waistband of your underwear. You hold in a breath; he grins. Jeff pulls the garment off your legs, leaving you bare and exposed. "Wet just from sucking my dick. Holy shit, you're more of a whore than I thought."

You bite the inside of your cheek. His words burn into you.

Jeff crawls over your body. He's much larger than you; it makes you question if he'll even fit. He spits in his hand and gives his dick a few pumps before lining it up with your entrance. You brace yourself and spread your legs farther, giving him the room to inch closer. But before he pushes inside, he gives you another look, no longer smiling. Your eyes meeting his, you see a shift in the blue pools. "Tell me you want this," he says.

His serious tone sets you back to reality.

You don't even know him.

You shouldn't want this. You shouldn't let him inside you, or allow him to treat you like this, but your body is twitching with desire, and his skin feels so warm against yours. You haven't felt this way in so long. He's a serial killer, but he spared you...

"...I do. I want this," you reply, voice sounding more needy than you intended. "Please. I want this, J–Jeff."

He doesn't say anything.

But then you feel it: his entire length slams into you. You cry out a quivering moan; your back arches against his hips. Jeff pins your wrists against the mattress. "God damn..." he groans. "You're so tight. Like a fucking virgin..."

Jeff leans down and presses wet kisses against your neck. The sloppiness makes you want to cringe, but his unrelenting thrusts send jolts of pleasure surging through your body.

"Dirty slut, letting a complete — f–ffuck...! — letting a complete str–stranger use you like this," Jeff growls. He bites down on your neck; you can't suppress your humiliating moans.

He's covering you with marks and bruises, growing harder each time you wince and tense up. You can't complain as his cock hits all the right spots.

"I could kill y–you so fucking easily." He gives a harsh thrust. "But I bet you'd like that."

"Nnh — Y–Yes...!" you reply, not sure if you're agreeing with him, or referencing the sex. "Mmore — fuck me more!"

"What's it look like I'm doing, dumbass..." He lets go of your small wrists — which are now red from his tight grip — and grabs onto your shoulders.

His nails dig into your skin. He pulls you into him as he fucks you in sync. Jeff's aggressive and lacks any rhythm. He's cursing under his breath with almost every thrust.

"Fuck... Damn whore...! Fucking shit, you're tight —!" His words are there, but they go unregistered by you. You're too overcome with stupid bliss.

"Uuugh! Jeff!" you moan. Jeff's cock is buried deep inside you, stretching you out, making you feel so fucking fulfilled. A wave of ecstasy rushes through you like never before. "Jeff... Jeff..! Th–This is good — Mm'more...!"

Your entire body is trembling. Your moist walls clench around his dick. Legs giving out, your thick arousal gushes out from you and stains the sheets. But Jeff isn't done yet. He rams into you — harder, faster, mercilessly.

You're practically limp. Your head thumps against the mattress with each thrust. You lose the ability to talk, only able to whimper and moan; but the sounds of your voices are drowning out as you're intoxicated by the pleasure.

"Fuck... Fuck!" Jeff moans a final time. With a shudder of his hips, Jeff pulls out. Loads of warm, white liquid shoot out onto your stomach. You feel yourself sinking into the bed.

Jeff holds his flaccid dick in his hand, come still leaking out from the tip. He's staring down at you, both of you breathing heavily. There's a moment of silence, a mutual understanding that you need to regain your composure. But it doesn't last long.

"Ha... Hah, what a fucking night..." he mutters. Jeff gets off the bed before you do, already beginning to throw on his clothes.

"...Jeff?" you say, sitting up. "Are you leaving?" You don't know why you're asking, especially with such a soft tone.

"No shit," Jeff replies. "But," he pulls his hoodie down, "I might have to tell old man Slender about you." Again, he grins.

"Old man who?"

"Nothing, nothing."

Jeff heads to the window. Your heart sinks as he fiddles with the locks. This stranger — local serial killer — is leaving you... and you, for some sick fucking reason, don't want him to. You want him to stay. Maybe you wish you could feel his warmth for longer. But you can't control his actions. You couldn't even get your friend here — so why would this man stay for you? Jeff's already crawling over the windowsill, and you're achingly empty.

But before he leaves, he turns to look at you. And he says, in a hushed tone that makes your heart flutter —

"Just know you'll be seeing me again."