#so uh if you want the full experience look it up i guess??

[ncityprincess]

The one before the big ‘three-oh’

Minors do not interact

Happy 29th Birthday to the boyfriend of all boyfriends, the one and only Mr. Johnny Suh🫦🎂

“Man, tonight was crazy fun y/n! Thank you so much, really. How did you score box seats to the Bulls vs the Lakers babe?!” your giddy fiancé exclaimed, high off of the evening’s events. You had just gotten back from the basketball game you surprised Johnny with for his birthday. The tickets cost a pretty penny, but it was worth it. Johnny made all other 364 days of the year magical for you. He deserved a special experience for his big day. It was the least you could do.

Johnny turned on the lights in the house as you took your heels off and set them aside. “Oh don’t worry about it baby. I’m just happy you had a fun birthday. How does it feel being 29, big guy?” The two of you migrated into the kitchen, your typical hang out spot in the house. You loved your little life you’d built with Johnny. From having to share a slice of pizza in your college days, to now being full grown adults and making a comfortable life for yourselves, it was these little moments you looked forward to in life. Making memories with the love of your life made you feel warm inside.

Johnny grabbed two water bottles and handed you one, opening it for you. “You know, normally I’d say I feel the same as any other age, but this year I truly do feel every bit of 29. I guess… it just feels like a serious number because it’s the last one before the big ‘three-oh’, ya know?” Johnny walked up to the barstool you were sitting on and stood in between your legs, cupping your dolled up face. You gave him a tiny, empathetic smile and caressed his large hands.

“You’re gonna be as sexy as ever once you hit those 30’s…just saying” you joked, hoping to soothe his thoughts a little. Johnny tossed his head back and snorted, “wow, thanks babe.”

You giggled along with him, rubbing your hands up and down his broad back. “You’re blossoming into such an amazing man, John. Seriously. I fall more in love with you each day, and it’s an honor that I get to do life with you. I love you so much honey.” Johnny couldn’t hide the blush creeping up on his face even if he wanted to. Of course, always the man of action rather than words, Johnny bent down and placed a gentle kiss on your lips. The action said more to you than any sweet words could.

After the kiss slowed, you pulled away from him and ran your hand across the front of his thigh. Maybe there were a few more birthday festivities you had planned for your man…

“Why don’t you uh, get us some wine and meet me back in the bedroom in a few, big boy.” You shot him some flirty bedroom eyes, something you knew he couldn’t resist. Johnny gave you a knowing smile and backed away from you slowly, holding a hand out to help you down from the barstool. He pressed a soft kiss to your knuckles, and you walked out of the kitchen with a little extra sway in your hips, feeling Johnny’s lingering gaze on your ass.

After giving you what felt like enough time to plan whatever you were conjuring up in that pretty head of yours, Johnny walked into your shared bedroom with two wine glasses in hand, just like you’d asked. He noticed that the lighting was slightly moodier than normal, and took note of the sexy playlist that added to the ambiance in the room. You walked out of the en-suite bathroom wearing nothing but a crimson red silk robe, and a pair of black stilettos.

“Oh well well well, what do we have here baby?” Johnny said as he took in your sexy little look. He gently placed the wine glasses down on the dresser, never taking his eyes off of you. You flipped your hair, the drinks from tonight and the desire to please your man for his special day heightening your confidence. “Hmm, well I guess you can call this your other birthday present, baby.”

“Oh? You mean, it gets better than box seats at the Bulls vs the Lakers?” Johnny flirted. “Why don’t you come unwrap it and find out, daddy.” With that, Johnny all but charged at you and kissed you passionately. You let out a sensual moan, running your hands all over his broad body. After a few moments of making out, you pressed your hands against his chest and pushed him back slightly. “You know what daddy? You’re always working so hard for me. Why don’t you go sit down in the chair? Let me take care of you.” Johnny was hooked under your spell. He would do just about anything for you right now. You guided him toward the chair in front of your bed, and he subconsciously followed.

He looked up at you, mesmerized as you started to put on a little show for him, rubbing your hands all over your body. Your fingers kept dancing toward the rope holding your robe together, but you wanted to drag it out a little more. As if it were right on cue, a particular birthday song popped up on shuffle. The familiar intro played throughout the room, but once the first verse started, the air in the room got a little lighter.

“Wow, very on the nose babe” Johnny snickered. You cracked a smile, giggling at the incredibly literal lyrics of the song. Birthday Sex by Jeremih seemed like an appropriate addition to Johnny’s birthday playlist you had curated beforehand, but in hindsight it did seem a little cheesy. You playfully slapped his arm, slightly embarrassed but also grateful that you two were close enough to be able to share a laugh in intimate situations like this. Yet another reason why you loved Johnny so much. “Shut up!! It seemed like a good song to include at the time. Just sit back and watch, big boy” you scolded lightheartedly.

Johnny held his hands up in retreat, signaling that he was done with the jokes and ready to focus on you. Your hips found the rhythm, and swayed along to the beat. After a few moments, Johnny was hypnotized by your seductive movements. He admired how sexy and confident you were, loving how you moved your body. How did he get lucky to have such a beautiful woman like you?

Johnny’s upper body bent towards you as your fingers inched closer and closer to the tie holding your robe together. You gave him a sexy smile, and played with him a bit. “Aw, you wanna see what’s underneath, don’t ya big guy?” Johnny frantically nodded, licking his plump lips in anticipation. You finally undid the robe, letting it fall to the floor at your heeled feet. There you were, standing stark naked in front of your fiancé. A wave of confidence flowed through your body.

You turned around and bent over slightly, giving Johnny a nice view of your glistening pussy. Johnny let out a soft “fuck”, much to your amusement. You walked back over, stopping right in front of Johnny. His hands automatically moved to your bare ass, rubbing it in appreciation. He looked up at you as if you were the only woman in the world, and it made you feel you alive.

As much as he loved your little peep show, his dick was going to bust through his pants at any second now. Without warning, Johnny stood up and pushed you back onto the bed, shoving his dress pants off and towering over you. You looked up at him dumbfounded, still amazed by the fact that he could manhandle you at any given second. “Babe—baby I’m supposed to be on top of you. It’s your night remember!” You pleaded. Surely he deserved to be the one serviced tonight.

“Shhh, you’ve done enough for me sweetheart. Just need be inside that sweet pussy now. Is that okay, baby?” Johnny looked down at you like the big bad wolf, ready to eat you whole at any moment. How could you resist an offer like that? “Yes daddy. Want you deep inside.”

With that, Johnny rubbed his leaking tip a few times and slowly sank into your dripping pussy. You both moaned in unison, relishing in the closeness of the position. Johnny gathered your thighs on his biceps and placed them around his waist. You locked your ankles in place, bracing yourself in preparation. He built up a strong, quick pace that had you moaning like a whore. “Fuckkkk John you’re so deep baby” you moaned out, wrapping your arms around his neck. Johnny sucked on your earlobe as he pistoned roughly into you.

He was grateful in moments like this to live in a house with just you two in it. Gone were the days of having to tip toe around neighbors and roommates and figure out sneaky ways to pummel your sweet little pussy. He didn’t have to share thin walls with anyone. He could pound into your hole without a care in the world. This is true adulthood, Johnny thought to himself.

Your whiney mewls brought him back to reality, and he turned his head to look down at your gorgeous, fucked out face. Your eyebrows were stitched together, looking up at him with large doe eyes. He loved when you got like this. “Feel good baby? You’re making me feel real good. Yeah that’s it, just lay back and take it.”

You threw your head back in ecstasy, digging your manicured nails into his shoulders. “Ooh daddy I’m so close.” Johnny snuck a hand down to your sex, and rubbed soft circles into your clit. He knew how much you loved a little extra stimulation when you were close to cumming. A couple more thrusts and you were creaming all over his thick cock. Johnny let out a long, deep groan and soon after, you felt warm spurts of cum deep inside you. Johnny thrusted a few more times before he completely stilled with a satisfied groan.

“Fuck baby, this has to be the best birthday I’ve ever had” Johnny said sincerely, playing with some loose strands of your hair. You giggled, still slightly out of breath. “Aw, honey. There’s plenty more where that came from.” You pressed a soft kiss to his nose, and Johnny smiled mischievously.

“I hope you’re not just talking about birthdays, my love.” And with that, Johnny rolled you onto your stomach for a celebratory round 2.

The end 🎂

[loving-barnes]

LOGAN HOWLETT - REMEMBRANCE

A/N: And another one! I don't know. I got this idea and turned it into a story. It's okay, I guess. Let me know. I tried.

Pairing: Logan Howlett x mutant female reader

Warning: angst, sadness, some fluff

My stories are written mature audiences - 18+!

Words: 3400+

Important note: Hugh Jackman!Wolverine (which means he's tall as fuck!)

FULL MASTERLIST

LOGAN HOWLETT - REMEMBRANCE

My heart and soul filled with sadness. I knew my biological parents gave up on me years ago, but for them to do this to me, was unacceptable. For me, this went too far. They knew this would break me. 

When I got the call from my father, which was shocking as it was, all the happiness I felt that day left my body like a quick rain. Those words caused me pain I hadn’t felt in years. He took my breath away. 

Once the call ended, my legs brought me to the lake that belonged to the school estate. It was farther away, hidden in woods. The students weren’t allowed to visit it without any supervision. Usually, it was my safe place - a place where I would collect my thoughts and get my shit together. If I was nowhere to be found, some people knew I would be here, trying to get over anything that troubled me. 

The air was cold. Autumn was coming to an end. Winter was already at the door. It seemed that even the sky cried for me today, all grey and cloudy. The ground was wet and muddy. The scent of rain lingered in the air. It was only a matter of time before its ears would drop again. 

I had no idea how long I was standing there. My arms were wrapped around my body, giving me the hug I needed. No one knew what happened. I couldn’t bring myself to go to Storm or my boyfriend and tell them what happened. Worse things were happening in our lives. I didn’t want to be whiny. 

Deep breath in and then out. Slowly, before you start to choke on your sobs.

My body was slightly shaking from the cold. I knew I could use my mutation and warm myself up. But I wanted to feel as normal as possible - like a human without any abilities. I wanted to experience life as it was. That included mourning. The damn coat I brought with me was thin, good for warmer autumns. 

“Y/N!” 

I released the rest of the breath I didn’t know I was holding. Logan’s voice was loud and upset. I could hear his heavy steps coming closer to me. I sighed. I hoped to avoid this confrontation before collecting all my thoughts and returning to the X-mansion. Gently, I turned my head to the side to acknowledge his presence. 

“I’ve been looking for you for hours,” he huffed. “You skipped all your classes, didn’t say a damn word about where you were going. I asked around and nobody knew where you were. Shit, I thought you left or worse, something happened to you.” 

His anger was noticeable in his voice. I hated that my absence made him upset. That was something I didn’t want to achieve. A month ago, they almost got me on a mission. No wonder Logan was worried. 

Tears collected in my eyes, threatening to spill. I tried to turn my head away from him, not to see my sorrow. I hugged myself tighter. He was mad at me, I could tell. The energy around us was insane.

But then he stopped talking and focused on me. The tension coming from him eased. “Y/N?” his voice got lower. “Are you okay?” He became worried. 

Another sad sigh escaped my lips. I had to talk to him. I had to confess what had happened. “No,” I admitted. “No, I’m not.” 

Logan’s hand crawled around my shoulders, pressing me closer to his body. His scent hit my nose. The cigars, the cologne and something so him made me close my eyes and enjoy his closeness. I had to admit this was what I needed.

“What’s going on, baby?” he asked softly. “You can tell me.”

When I raised my eyes and looked into his, he instinctively wrapped his other arm around me, pressing me to his strong body. Logan pressed a kiss on top of my head. This time, he waited patiently before I started to speak. 

Deep breath in and out. “I, uh,” I started slowly. My voice wasn’t strong. “I got a call from my father,” I said. 

“What?” Logan was surprised. He knew about my past, what my parents did to me. So to hear this was a bit shocking. “What did he want?”

Again, deep breath in and out. “My grandma died this morning,” my voice trembled. I tried so hard not to cry. I had to be a big, strong girl. People die. That’s how life was.

Logan hid me in his embrace, resting his head on top of mine. “I’m so sorry, baby,” he whispered. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I was so harsh on you when I came here,” he apologised. “Why didn’t ya tell me? You should have come to me, princess.” 

“Here’s the plot twist,” I tried to sound funny but failed. “I cannot come to the funeral.”

“What?” 

Slowly, I pushed away from Logan’s embrace, only to meet his eyes. “My father called me about her death,” I started to explain what happened. “He made it clear that I cannot attend the funeral. He didn’t give me anything about the date or the location. He said, ‘You should be glad I called you about this.’” 

Logan’s hands appeared on my face, stroking my cheeks lovingly. The anger was evident on his face. This time, it was not aimed at me. I could imagine where his mind went - trying to kill my father 50 ways.

“The only person who accepted me is gone and I can’t say goodbye,” I added. This time, the tears escaped my eyes. The grief wanted out, to be seen and heard. “I can’t say goodbye, Logan. I can’t…” It’s been so long since I cried like this. It was hard to catch a breath, to stop the hot tears streaming down my cheeks and onto Logan’s hands. 

Again, I was pushed into his arms as he consoled me. His fingers were in my hair, lightly brushing it. He was a tough guy, but Logan knew how to show me affection and tenderness. 

This was one of the times when I struggled to be a mutant. Because of my mutation, my weirdness, I was kicked out of the family when I was fourteen. The only person who kept me safe and hidden was my beloved grandmother. She was the one who helped me get to the school. And now, she was gone. The only thing that remained was the secret she shared with me several years ago.

“Shh,” I heard Logan’s soothing voice. “It’s okay, baby. Let it all out. I’m here for you. I’m sorry how I came to you. I should have known…” 

I cried. I didn’t know for how long, but I let the tears fall, let the grief consume me whole. I never told Logan about my grandmother. He knew how fucked up my family was. Why did I keep her a secret when she was the first bright thing in my life? 

Logan helped me get back to school. I had no idea how much time had passed. My hands were cold, my whole body was shivering. All I knew was his lingering touch on my waist and arms as he kept walking with me. He never let me go. He was present, focused on me. How would I ever repay him for this? 

Some students saw us walk through the hallway until he led me back to my room. Well, it wasn’t my room anymore. Logan stayed with me since the beginning of our relationship. Back when he had his room, it was empty. It served solely for sleeping purposes.

He helped me get off the coat and put me to bed. “Rest, baby,” he said softly. Logan pressed his lips against my forehead. “You’ve been through a lot.” 

I grabbed him by the leather jacket. “I don’t want to be alone,” I whispered to him. “Please, stay with me. Please.” 

He took off his leather jacket and climbed onto the bed, pulling me as close to him as he could. Logan’s arms wrapped around my body. “My sweet girl,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry I was so mean to you when I found you at the lake.”

“That’s okay,” I said. 

“No, no it’s not. I was worried. I’m sorry, baby.” 

Logan’s soothing voice slowly helped me fall asleep. I needed a nap after all the information I had learnt. My grandmother was gone. My family still hated me. I wasn’t allowed to say one last goodbye to the person who loved me for who I was. 

. . .

When I woke up, I first noticed the darkness coming from outside. Was it already that late? I yawned, stretched my limbs. My hand reached for the phone. It took me two tries until I managed to grab it. It was seven o’clock. I’ve slept for hours. I felt as if someone had slapped my face. Shaking off the tiredness, I sat up.

That’s when I realised Logan wasn’t next to me. He wasn’t in the room. I couldn’t hear the water running in the bathroom. I was alone. 

A shiver ran through my body. The air inside my room was cold. I wrapped my arms around myself, trying to warm up a little. For a brief moment, everything was fine. It felt like a regular day - until it wasn’t. Everything that happened came rushing back to my mind. The reality hit me like a train. There was nothing I could do about it. I wasn’t allowed to attend the funeral, to say the goodbye I longed for. They forbade me to see my grandmother one last time.

The urge to smash something came out of nowhere and it was strong. Anger bubbled inside of me. The sadness changed. It morphed into something, that made my brain turn dark. If I could set a person on fire, I would. I glanced at my hand. I could feel the heat radiating from it. One more upset thought and it would end up in flames. 

The door to the bedroom opened. Logan came back. He sneaked into the room, closing it carefully behind him. He tried to be silent. When he turned, he noticed me sitting on the bed. “Hey,” he said. “How are you feeling?” 

My eyes travelled over his leather jacket. Where had he been? “I am… feeling it all,” I replied. “Everything is bubbling inside of me. All negative emotions are fighting and I don’t know how to deal with it.” I became quickly frustrated. 

He sat on the bed, resting one hand on my thigh. He squeezed it reassuringly. “How about a short walk before dinner?” he asked. His gentle voice was welcomed.

Blinking, I nodded. I liked that idea. “Sure. Fresh air will help me calm down a little.” 

Logan helped me get my coat and made me wear a scarf. “It’s cold out there,” he said with a little smile. I opened my mouth to ask silly questions when his lips found mine in a gentle kiss. It caught me off-guard. “Love ya, baby,” he whispered. 

Before he could pull away, I wrapped my arms around his neck, pressing my body to his. Again, I let out the breath I didn’t know I kept holding inside. When his arms sneaked around my waist, I whispered, “I love you, too.” 

The hallways were empty and silent. Weird. At this time, the student would hang out with their friends. It was possible Storm or Charles made a program for them. We got to walk around the place unnoticed. 

Because we were alone, Logan held my hand in his. When my eyes glided to him, I could see the faint smile. He seemed proud. What made him that way? His head turned to me. “You okay?” he asked. 

“Yeah,” I nodded. “I’m just… watching you.” 

“Creep,” he teased and I chuckled. I knew he wanted to cheer me up. We liked making fun of each other. “I was wondering,” Logan changed the subject. “How about we go away together the next weekend?” 

I blinked a few times. “Really?” 

“Yeah,” he nodded. “Just the two of us, far away from the school. We can visit the mountains, rent a cabin.” 

My lips stretched into a big smile. “I would love that. Do you think Charles will let us go?” 

“Scott and Jean got their honeymoon for two weeks. I think the Professor will let us take the weekend off,” he grimaced. “I think we both deserve it, baby.” 

I squeezed his hand harder, excited by the suggestion. “Yeah, we do. I need some time off. I was ready to set everything on fire,” I confessed. “I can feel the emotions bubbling inside of me. You, saying to go away for the weekend, made me simmer down.” 

While we walked further into the woods, I realised we were heading back to the lake. I raised a brow, turning my head to him.

Logan didn’t say a word. He simply held my hand and led the way to the place where I loved to take a moment and think - or to calm down. 

From afar, I noticed something in the distance. A light. It was small, but it was there. And then another light. Fireflies, maybe. I didn’t think much about it until we reached a point where I could see bigger movement - people. I raised a brow. I noticed Storm’s white hair. When she turned, she held a candle in her hands. I stopped walking. 

Logan brought my left hand to his lips, kissing the top of it. “Come, baby.”

“W-what is that?” I questioned. I only knew that he wasn’t proposing. Logan would never do it in front of people. 

He gently dragged me forward. “You deserve to say goodbye to the one person who accepted you in your family,” he explained. “It’s fucked up that your family banned you from the funeral. So, I wanted to give you this.” 

My eyes filled with tears. It was sweet and sad at the same time. Once we approached all our friends, our teammates, I lost it. Instantly, I pressed my whole body into Logan’s arms, hiding my face in his chest. What he did showed me how much he cared. No one ever cared for me this way. 

I felt a pair of hands on my back. They were smaller. The scent of Storm’s perfume hit my nose. Hesitantly, I turned around. My red teary eyes met her dark one. 

“Oh, Y/N,” she whispered my name. In a second, she pulled me into a hug. “I’m sorry for your loss.” 

It was overwhelming. When I pulled from her arms, I scanned the surroundings. Everyone held a candle in their hands. Charles’s eyes were staring at me, face filled with sadness. He was close to Jean and Scott. 

My heart was breaking and mending at the same time. This gesture meant the world to me. I took a few deep breaths to calm down. “Y-you didn’t have to do this,” I whispered. I didn’t trust my voice. 

“This is the least we can do for you, Y/N,” said Jean. She wasn’t holding a candle. There was a wreath resting on her hands. There was a mix of flowers and four tea candles on it. She handed it to me. 

“It’s beautiful. T-thank you.”

“Everyone should be able to say their last goodbyes to those they loved,” Scott added. 

With Logan and Storm walking by my sides, we approached the shore. I handed the wreath to Logan to hold it. A tiny flame appeared on my finger. I lit up all four tea candles. It was beautiful. 

I looked into Logan’s eyes, shivering. He handed me the wreath. “Do as you feel, baby,” he whispered to me. “Say your goodbyes.” 

I turned on my heel, having one last glimpse at all the people gathered at the lake. This was my family. These people helped me get through a lot. Charles took me to the school and gave me a second chance. Storm was my best friend. Peter, or as I’d like to call him Speedy, was a charmer, but loyal and like a brother. Piotr, Bobby, Rogue and many more belong to my family. And Logan, my sweet grump, was the love of my life.  

“I knew your grandmother, Y/N,” said Charles before I could open my mouth. After hearing that, my eyes widened. “She was a sweet woman.” 

“How?” 

“I met with her when she found out you were a mutant,” he explained. “She was the one who arranged for you to come to this school. I had the honour of meeting her a few times. She asked about you a lot. I always gave her every update about you.” 

I shook my head. “Why didn’t you tell me?” 

He sighed. “She asked me not to. All she wanted for you was a normal, peaceful life.”

I made a face. It was a mixture of anger and confusion. “Why? I don’t understand.”

“Your father watched her like a hawk. He feared she would be in contact with you. And we both know how your father viewed you or the mutants in general.” 

I took a few deep breaths through the nose. In the end, she wanted to keep me safe, hidden from my fucked up biological family. She was the only light from that world I had left. And now, it was time to say goodbye.

“Thank you for telling me about it,” I said calmly. “She was an angel. Did she tell you that her husband was a mutant? Yeah, she told me before I came here. Unfortunately, he died when my father was a child. He never knew about it.” 

“Was she a mutant too?” Storm asked. 

I shook my head. “No. I inherited the mutation from him. It skipped my father and I was the one blessed with it,” I smiled. It was a blessing in disguise. Because of my mutation, the invincible string pulled me here, to this school where I met my other family. 

I turned back to the water and squatted. I placed the wreath on the water's surface. I pushed it away from the shore. A light breeze stroked my cheek. Storm used her power. The wind moved it farther away. 

“Thank you for everything. Thank you for bringing me here, where I found my new family,” I whispered into the wind, hoping that it would carry my words into the other world. “Now I get to help mutant kids to have a better, educated life.” 

I let out a choked sob. I wanted to cry - was it from happiness or sadness? Was it both? I didn’t know. All I knew I needed to let it out. 

“You were bigger than the whole sky,” were my last words before the heavy cry started. 

Immediately, two strong hands wrapped around my shoulders and pressed me to a muscular body. Logan’s scent hit my nose. He was there for me, held me until I calmed down. 

I was surrounded by love and support. They showed me they were there for me during happy moments and sad times. 

“Let this be a uniting moment,” I heard Scott’s voice. “Through every moment of our lives, whether it’s good or bad, we have each other. We are one family. We stand together and fight for what’s right. We give one another a shoulder to lean on. Remember that no matter what, we have this family.” 

I pushed a little from Logan, only to lift my eyes to meet his. Instantly, he leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss on my forehead - in front of everyone. It made me melt. 

I then noticed Scott holding Jean in his hands, Storm talking to Charles. Bobby and Rogue shared a kiss. Peter was nowhere to be found. Everyone took the moment to their hearts. 

“If only I could introduce you to my grandmother,” I said to Logan when I turned my head on the other side, watching the wreath slowly float on the lake. “She would like you a lot.” 

“You think so, bub?” he asked, chuckling. 

I hummed. “I can see how she’d tease you for everything.” 

“Ah, I see it runs in the blood,” he squeezed my sides. “How do you feel?”

The answer was simple. “Good, peaceful but sad,” I admitted. “Thank you for doing this.” 

He lifted my head with his fingers. “Anything for ya, princess.” His lips found mine in a simple kiss that spoke a thousand words. 

[jay7543]

Your best friend ghost is in a rut, and you’re the closest hole

18 and older only!!!

My 2nd post!!! I’m happy the handful of you that saw my first one enjoyed it, I was very proud of it, this will also be a m4m post. (Most probably will be considering I’m a bi man) feel free to message me requests if you like, I’d love to get some ideas from you, but obviously I hold the right to refuse things I’m not comfortable with.

In this, ghost is half werewolf, so he doesn’t turn into one nor look like one, but he still has the wolf cock and knot so don’t worry lol.

You and ghost have been friends for about a year, he told you pretty early on in your friendship that he was half werewolf, which means he doesn’t fully change into one but he still experiences some of the effects, and some of his…”parts” are that of a wolf. He’s been acting very odd recently, sending some odd texts saying to stay away for awhile, you asked why and got no response, you decided to call him today.

Reader over the phone-“hey ghost, I’m glad you answered, what’s going on man, I got your text but I’m worried”

As you wait for him to respond you hear some heavy breathing and a light plapping sound.

Ghost over the phone-“I- *plap*i just need you to stay away, I-*plap* I’m going through a rut, it-*grunt* it’s pretty serious, just give me a while, I’ll-*rip* fuck, that’s another one, god dammit. I’ll call you back when it’s done”

He hangs up the phone abruptly. What were those noises? What was that tear? You start to wonder.

Reader-“he-he’s in a rut? That means he’s really horny. How bad is it? It’s probably hard alone, should I-should i help him?”

As you ask yourself these questions you decide to ignore his wishes and go to his room you’re pretty sure he’s straight but he wouldn’t mind some help right?as you walk across the building wondering how his room is gonna look, you think about what you’ve seen about half werewolves. You’ve read a lot about them, especially since he told you he was one. You also aren’t proud to admit this but you got curious and looked up some half werewolf porn and there dicks aren’t exactly small, will it all fit? His burning hot, bright red length, and the knot at the base. You start to feel arousal build up in you as you start to rub your dick through your pants, soon you approach his door and knock.

Reader-“ghost? Can you open up? I know you told me to stay away but I want to help, I’ve read about how hard it is alone.

You wait for a few minutes, your previous erection from rubbing yourself now softening as you lose hope he’ll answer. As you start to leave the door swings open, ghost staring at you, completely naked except for his skull mask, holding a torn fleshlight in his hand, i guess that’s what those noises were. You look down between his legs and spot it. His bright red length leaking a steady stream of precum, his knot fully visible and swollen at the base of it, it twitches as you look at it, almost as if it’s trying to look back at you. After a few seconds of you staring with your mouth wide open, a bit of drool forming, ghost talk in a low growl, his accent somehow sounding even hotter.

Ghost-“I-i told you to stay away, I-i don’t wanna hurt you”

He says as he pants hard and growls slightly. You reach out and put your hand in his

Reader-“I wanna help, I know you won’t hurt me, I’m-I’m prepared”

You say as you tremble slightly, a bit scared but also very very aroused, your previous erection returning in full force, yet still not nearly impressive as his. He grabs your hand a bit tighter and pull you into the room and closes the door, he all but carry’s you and drops you onto the bed. As you lay there you see a multitude of ripped fleshlights, which does get you a bit more worried

Reader-“hey uh ghost? Can-can you make sure I don’t end up like those”

You point to the toys on the floor

Ghost-“I-I’ll try my best, I-I’ll probably get a bit rough”

He pants and growls softly, which turns you on a bit more. In the blink of an eye he tears your clothes off, revealing your naked body and your own erection. Ghost growls

Ghost-“I need your hole”

He lines up his tip with your tight asshole, his precum drenching it providing an adequate amount of lube. As you prepare to take his throbbing hot wolf cock he shoves it in with a loud plap as his knot smacks the outside of your ass. He growls and pants as he leans over and covers your body with his, rubbing your erection against his chest as he whispers into your ear.

Ghost-“breed, breed, breed”

He repeats as he slams into your ass, causing you to moan loudly and whimper as he tries his best to breed you

Reader(through gasps and pants)-you-you’re so big, you’re spreading me apart, oh-oh god, you’re fucking destroying my prostate. Fffffuck”

He growls even louder at your words, as if they were just more encouragement, he pulls his mask up just over his mouth so he can kiss you and lick your face.

Ghost(through licks and kisses)-“I wanna breed you, I want you to have my pups”

He says as he gets even more animalistic with his thrusts and kisses, he even nibbles your lips and cheeks as he does.

Reader- give-give me your fucking pups, fucking fill me with your cum, get-get me fucking pregnant

You say through the pure bliss you’re feeling, almost losing yourself, forgetting you can’t even get pregnant. without even realizing you spurt your cum out all over your chest and his as he pounds your asshole as hard as he can.

Ghost-“you, you’re my mate forever, your mine”

He growls into your ear as he bitess your shoulder, not enough to break skin but still hurting, but it just makes you even more turned on.

Ghost-“get pregnant, get pregnant, have my pups”

he yells as you feel his knot aggressively push its way into your asshole and swell up even more, locking both of you in your current position as he empties his full and throbbing balls into you ass. He starts to regain his senses a bit

Ghost-“I-I’m sorry, we’re gonna be stuck like this a while love”

You can barely open you eyes and are panting hard as you feel his cum coating your insides.

Reader-“as-as long as it’s with you”

You two kiss, and embrace until his erection softens and knot slips out. In the meantime you two appreciate your new intimate relationship.

[from-the-clouds]

bad liars (savior complex ii) - joel miller x f!reader

part one | masterlist | song inspo |

Baby, you're a vampire You want blood and I promised...

summary: It's been a month since Joel has last seen you, fully healed since your last interaction. But you haven't spoken...at all. Your radio silence becomes cause for concern when he hears about an outbreak of Infected at the hospital where you work. There's enough explanation in this part that you could read it on it's own, probably, but I'd highly recommend reading part one first to get the full experience. pairing: joel miller x f!reader words: 7.9k warnings: SMUT - 18+ ONLY, minors DNI. (porn w/ plot, unprotected sex, oral, rough sex, dirty talk, praise kink, age gap. dom/sub dynamics.) Heavy angst, multiple POVs, implied drug abuse, alcohol use, canon-typical suffering! Blood mention. Both reader/Joel are insanely emotionally unavailable, and love to lie to themselves and each other! (please dm for specifics if you have any questions). a/n: Ya'll loved savior complex and I'm so happy! Literally don't think I've had a fic get that many notes before, i had so many requests for a part two and because it felt like i left things open-ended enough, this came to me pretty easily! It might be the horniest thing I've ever written and also very angsty (what's new?)....but I think you'll like the ending <3 Special to @ay0nha for letting me yell at you about my writing and to @zbeez-outlet for the wonderful idea.

Joel exhales and runs his fingers through his salt-and-pepper hair – the tips of which were frozen together from standing outside for so long. It had gotten cold out. Very cold. Boston always did this time of year, and because of it, people stayed in, and crime in the QZ dropped, making it a safer place - though that wasn’t saying much. 

Of course, the cold didn’t stop him from dealing. It did make his job a hell of a lot more difficult, since FEDRA was bored, out looking for trouble, and didn’t have more pressing matters to attend to. Although today, he must’ve been in luck, because the only sign of FEDRA had been helicopters and tanks that were clearly on a mission, driving to the opposite side of the QZ. Good, he had thought. A distraction. 

Joel leans back against the brick wall of the alleyway, pulling the hood of his jacket up over his ears, stares at the ice in the cracks of the pavement. When he hears the crunch of gravel underfoot, he straightens.

The man approaching looks nervously over his shoulder, hands shoved deep in the pockets of his flimsy sweatshirt. Dave, a customer of his for some time. 

“You’re late,” Joel doesn’t bother with a proper greeting.

“I know, I know, I got held up on my way here,” Dave answers, immediately beginning his excuse. “They cleared out the hospital because of an outbreak, that whole area was locked down so I had to take the long way.”

“Outbreak?” Joel tilts his head.

“Infected. I guess a bunch of hospital staff got bit. FEDRA had to go in and put them all down.” 

Joel feels a distant pang of concern somewhere in the back of his head. “How many?”

Dave shrugs, scratching the back of his neck. “I don’t know, man, that’s all I know. It’s not like they’ll ever tell anyone what actually happened.”

Joel can’t help but think of you. He knows a couple people who work at the hospital, most of them through smuggling, but you’re the only one who he’s really able to bring to mind at the moment.

“So, can we, uh…”

Joel pulls the plastic baggie out from his pockets, fishing out the pills. On his end, Dave produces a wad of credits, his shoulders sagging in relief once they’ve made the trade and the drugs are in his hand. He takes one immediately, shoves the rest in his pocket. “Thanks man, I’ll see you next week?”

Leaning back against the wall, he nods, and watches his customer disappear down the alleyway. 

The second Dave is out of sight, Joel’s chest tightens, and he takes a deep breath. There’s no reason why news of Infected at the hospital should concern him. If FEDRA had been called in – they would’ve gunned down anything that moved until it was under control. He knew, better than anyone, that they would do unspeakable things in the name of keeping order. Innocent people probably died, but the dead can’t get infected.

It had been about a month since Joel had last seen you, after he’d gotten beaten within an inch of his life and ended up on your doorstep, and you were the only person that could help. It hadn’t gone at all how he expected it would – at the end of the day, he had been surprised by your tenderness. 

Still, despite that you’d let him take you on the edge of your bed, legs wrapped around him, bouncing on his cock, he wouldn’t really say that it changed anything about your relationship. He had actually been kind of afraid that it would, that your attitude towards him would shift to something more amicable.

But you hadn’t spoken to him in a month. Joel had told you he owed you one after you stitched him up, and had anticipated that you’d take him up on his offer pretty quickly. There were so many things he could do for you to make your situation better. Maybe you’d need credits…. Medicine…. Food…. Booze… Pills, something, but you haven’t reached out. You could just be biding your time until you really need the favor.

Still, the radio silence takes him aback. He should be relieved that you aren’t talking to him. But nothing? Even if it’s not about a favor…he wants some kind of confirmation that you’d both made a mistake. After all that, did you really expect nothing from him?

It dawns on him there’s now a chance you’ll never speak to him again, because you’re one of the ones that FEDRA killed. Or worse….you had gotten bit. 

Joel passes by the hospital, taking the long way home. Everything is locked down, taped off. There’s a crowd around the place – family members, he assumes, pleading with FEDRA agents for information and getting nothing in return.

“Go home. I’m sure they’ll turn up,” he hears one of them say to a weeping woman. It’s useless to ask for an honest answer, for one of them to actually care. 

Joel could go home. He could crush a couple pills, snort them, and quell the burn with a couple drinks. He could fall into restless sleep and wake up the next day as he always did, go about his business as usual. Survive. One day at a time. 

Would he ever get confirmation that you’re alive? Because at this rate, he’s not sure he’ll ever know either way. 

The feeling is going to linger. He hates it. Were you gone? If you are, he can handle knowing. Its somehow worse not to. 

He tries to justify it to himself. You’re one of his solid connections to the hospital, you’d traded with him for medical supplies before. This is business, really, if he thinks about it that way. If you’re dead, he and Tess need to find someone else to work with. 

Joel decides to take a detour on the way back to his place.

It’s past curfew when he arrives at your apartment, the sun has long since dipped below the horizon and with that comes an even harsher cold. Boston winters, he thinks to himself. If he is capable of missing anything, he’d say he missed Texas. Before all this, the last place he’d be caught dead was on the East Coast. 

Joel raps on your front door. He forgets how shitty your building is, that you sleep here alone every night, listening to your neighbors arguing through the thin walls, shady characters slinking out of shadows in the dimly-lit hallway,

A few seconds pass. When he hears nothing behind your door, he knocks again, a little louder. 

More time passes. He knocks again, louder. Maybe you didn’t hear him. 

Nothing. He does it again. Could you be asleep? His jaw clenches.

Still nothing, and Joel knocks even louder. Maybe you’re not even here, and you work nights, and he’s just missed you as you head out for another shift. But he knows that’s unlikely. Since he’s known you, you’ve never worked nights. So where the fuck were you?

Joel’s pounds on your door, yells your name into its chipping paint. He listens for something, anything, on the other side, and there’s nothing, absolutely nothing, but he keeps going The side of his fist starts to hurt, but he can’t stop himself. He doesn’t even realize what he’s doing until he hears one of your neighbors yelling from the end of the hallway. 

‘Shut the fuck up!’

Joel doesn’t hear exactly where the voice comes from, but it’s enough to snap him out of it. He halts his movements, his forehead falling against hollow wood, and in the silence, hears his heart pounding in his ears. 

“Fuck!” he kicks the wall just outside the frame of your door so hard the drywall gives, leaving a hole behind. “Fuck.”

He stares at the result of his outburst for an undetermined amount of time. You were all alone. To his knowledge, you had no immediate family to inform. Who would be around to remember you? He’d never really know for sure what had happened. 

“Joel?”

He looks up, his hands still clenched tightly into fists. When he sees that it’s you, standing at the end of the hallway, they loosen. 

You look horrible - haggard, tired, your hair tangled and matted. As you move closer to him, he doesn’t miss the way your shoulders are hunched underneath the weight of your backpack. But once you’re standing in front of him, you straighten, lift your chin. 

“What is this?” you ask. “What are you doing here?”

There’s no animosity in your tone, he thinks. You might be trying to put some in there, but you don’t have the energy to do so, so it just comes out sounding very flat.

Joel realizes, suddenly, that he doesn’t have a reason. A real reason that wouldn’t….give him away. He puts his hands on his hips, thinks desperately. You do nothing to help.

When he settles in silence, offers you nothing, you just sigh and shake your head. Your teeth are chattering, lips cracked from the cold, and you seem desperate to get into shelter, twisting your key into your lock and opening the front door. Once you step inside, you flick on the lights. He follows you, closes the door behind you both, and locks it.

“Oh, yeah, come on in, I guess,” you say over your shoulder. 

Joel crosses his arms, standing in your kitchen. 

“What, am I in trouble or something?” you ask. “Because if I am, you’re gonna have to wait until I’ve showered.”

“It can wait,” Joel says, and sits at one of your kitchen chairs. 

You shrug off of your backpack and leave it on a chair, then unbutton your coat, tossing it on top. Joel swallows hard when he sees the damage it’s been hiding. Your scrubs are dirty, tattered in some places, one of the sleeves hanging, partially ripped off. And they’re covered in dried blood. It’s smeared on your arms, on the back of your neck. Not yours, he hopes. 

What the fuck happened to you? You don’t turn to see his reaction, don’t look over your shoulder to see if he’s going to ask about it. It’s almost like he’s not even there, and you clearly wish he isn’t. 

He realizes then, that he has the confirmation he’s looking for. You made it out alive. He doesn’t actually need anything else from you. And you’ve given him a perfect out. He can leave while you’re in the shower. 

But he doesn’t. Not when he hears the shower start, or the screech of the curtain across the metal rod, the sound of water hitting the basin. He stays there, motionless, until you duck out of the bathroom with your arms wrapped around yourself, wearing a sweatshirt and sweatpants, hair damp and teeth chattering. 

You pad with bare feet onto the tiled area of the kitchen, brushing past him. 

“What the fuck happened to you?” he asks. 

You finally look at him, like you’re surprised he spoke up, or even asked the question. A choked, bitter laugh leaves you, and you shift your attention away from him, reaching into your cabinet for a bottle of bourbon. “Pass.”

You pour yourself a whiskey, and Joel watches you throw it back in one go, your nose scrunching up, your hand clasping into a fist as you take the shot. The taste doesn’t stop you from pouring another drink and gulping that one down, too, without as much of a reaction as the first. It’s only when you start pouring the third that he intervenes, standing and crossing the room to cover the glass with his hand before you can grab it. 

“Slow down,” he says.

“I know you’re not telling me what to do in my own home.” Your mouth opens as you look up at him, incredulous. 

Joel looks past you, shakes his head. He supposes your right, but it doesn’t make it any easier to watch the self-destructive behavior, which is funny considering how often he engages in it himself. He gives in, removes his hand from your glass. “At least…pour me one. You shouldn’t drink alone.”

Your expression softens slightly, and he’s able to see all the pain you’re hiding, just for a flash, before you turn to retrieve a second glass from your cabinet. 

Once you hand him the whiskey, he sits in the middle of the tiny loveseat you’ve got in your front room, expecting you to sit in the armchair across from it. Instead, you approach with your own drink, nudge his knee with your own, and Joel slides over to make room so you can fall onto the couch beside him. Much closer than he’d expected. 

It’s surprisingly good bourbon, and he wonders how many times you’d wasted it by downing it like you just had, instead of taking your time, savoring. He waits for you to get settled before he speaks again.

“What happened to you?” he tries once more, a little softer this time. 

There’s some contemplation on your end, you look at him for a moment, then at your glass, then back up at him again. He can almost see you trying to figure out how much you’re going to share, but he wants to know everything.

“There was an accident at the hospital,” you answer, finally. 

Joel slings his arm over the back of the couch, angles his body towards where you’re curled up, legs tucked underneath you. I’m listening.

Your voice stays even, blase. “A guard at the border broke protocol…and someone who was infected was brought in. By the time we realized, it was too late….”

“Were you hurt?” 

“Almost.” you say. “I mean, yes, actually, I’m a little scratched up, but…it’s not as bad as it could’ve been.”

Your teeth start chattering again. Joel wonders if it’s because of the cold, or your nerves. Figures it’s probably both.

“My coworker turned and I uhm….I had to…” you say into your glass, your free hand flexing like it’s trying to shake off some unpleasant muscle memory. “I had no choice.”

“I understand,” For whatever reason, he spares you from telling the story. To him, taking down Infected was nothing. But to you…“What else?” he presses.

You shrug, avoiding his eyes, one of your arms coming to grip at your opposite shoulder. “I can’t really remember. A bunch of people died. FEDRA came in and just started gunning everything down….” you shook your head, and straightened up.

“I heard about that,” Joel offers.

“Wait…you knew about this?”

“Yeah.”

“So then why are you here, asking m-” the rest of your sentence drops off, your lips parted slightly. The look on your face shifts, slowly. Your eyes narrow. Remorse turns into something more neutral, then into curiosity. “Oh my god….you were worried about me.”

“No.”

“Yes, you fucking were,” your lips curl slightly, it’s not quite a smile, but it’s something close to amusement. 

“No,” Joel defends himself. “I wanted to hear what happened from someone–”

“No you didn’t,” you interject, but he raises his voice to finish his thought.

“–who actually works there, not FEDRA’s propaganda.”

“No you did not. You’re checking up on me. You came over here after curfew to see if I was–”

“Enough,” Joel growls with enough conviction that it shuts you up, and he’s grateful, but its not enough to wipe the self-satisfied look on your face, because it doesn’t.

“What are we, like, friends now?”

He doesn’t answer, and slugs back the rest of his whiskey.

“Or would that be too much for you?” You don’t wait long for him to give you an answer, probably because you know he won’t respond. “I mean, if we’re both being honest–” He definitely wasn’t being honest. “–Today was really fucked up.”

You’re leaning forward now, some of the space between you is gone. And though you’re trying to give the impression that you’re unphased by everything, your hand is clenched tightly around your glass, and you avoid his eyes. It’s painful to watch you resist the urge to trust him. Not that he’s ever given you a good enough reason to – he knows he doesn’t deserve it, but he wants it anyways.

“It’s funny…” you say after a while. “I remember thinking that I didn’t want to die. At least… not like that. I’ve never felt that before…That’s something, isn’t it?” you ask him. 

Joel looks at you, and is surprised at the vulnerability in your expression, sees you looking for some kind of validation from him. “....It is.” 

You finish off your drink, and put the empty glass on the coffee table, shift closer to him.

“It looks like you healed up okay,” you say, after a spell. “How’s your shoulder?”

“A little sore, nothing I can’t handle.”

“Did you take those antibiotics?”

“Yes.”

“Good. And I can’t even tell you had a black eye.”

“I’m fine,” Joel asserts. 

Another shiver wracks your body, and he can tell this one is actually from the chill – your apartment is cold as fuck, it even is starting to bother him. 

“Don’t you have a heater?”

“Kinda,” you glance over at the radiator in the corner. “Sometimes it works.”

“What do you do when it’s colder than this?” It was only November, things would only get worse. 

You shrug. “I don’t know….just be colder, I guess.”

Joel imagines you curled up in your bed alone, wrapped in a thin comforter, shaking in front of him like you are now. He winces. 

“How long are you going to stay?” you ask, changing the subject.

“I should probably go now.”

You nod, scoot closer. “But maybe…” you trail off, contemplating. 

Joel sits up straighter, prompting you when you don’t speak again. “Maybe what?”

“Maybe you could stick around for a little while longer.” There’s a warm hand, yours, that lands on his thigh, and he recoils like you’ve touched him with a fire iron. He rises to his feet. 

“Hey,” you stand along with him, step in front of him to block the pathway to the door. He could easily get past you, obviously, but it’s not as simple as that. 

Of course he’s fucking thought about what happened the last time he was here – his arms around your waist, his mouth on your neck, your chest, your hands on his shoulders, whining his name. A freak accident, a glitch in the matrix, a statistically improbable thing. 

“What?” he asks as you step forward, the fingers on your free hand sliding into the belt loops of his pants. He feels blood rush to his cheeks, to other places. And you’re still fucking shivering. You look so fucking miserable, he wants to yell at you to put on a coat, to wrap yourself in a blanket, in his arms. 

“Joel,” you say his name softly, tilting your head up, leaning close. And then your hand is on the side of his face, and he realizes you’re fucking pleading with him. He knows what you want, but he has a feeling this isn’t just about sex. You’re looking for comfort, as if he’s capable of giving it. 

“We made a mistake…once,” he tells you. “We’re not going to make it again.”

He says it to hurt you, but it doesn’t work. It’s like you knew it was coming all along. “I knew what I was doing,” you answer, earnest. “Didn’t you?”

Yes. You glance down at his hands, which are squeezed into fists so tightly, his knuckles are white. If he’s not rigid, he’s not sure how he’ll be able to resist. He wants you. God, he wants you. He never thought he’d be able to have you again. 

“I could help you loosen up.”

Joel’s walking on the edge of a one-thousand foot cliff and hoping his foot slips. He wants to surrender. The only thing he thinks might save him is to say the meanest thing he can. Maybe you’d get turned off.

“Listen to yourself,” he says, finding the strength to meet your eyes. “You want me so bad, you sound pathetic.”

“Asshole,” you step closer, your mouth twitches, your lips are inches apart. “Do you think I care what you think about me?”

Joel realizes his plan has backfired. But he really only has himself to blame, he should’ve known better. With you, he’s never in as much control as he wants to be, and deep down, he likes it. 

“Go lie down on the bed.”

It’s the only thing that seems to shock you. “What?” 

“I won’t ask you again,” Joel steps backwards, crosses his arms. “Go lie down.” 

──────

If you told yourself a couple months ago that one day you’d find yourself pinned down by Joel Miller, you’d think it’d be because he was about to kill you. Maybe because you cheated him out of something, maybe because you did something else to piss him off – it didn’t really matter. Regardless of how fucked up it was, that idea would seem more dignified than what was happening now. 

Your back is being pressed deeper into the lumpy old mattress, and he’s on you. His mouth is warm, hot, wet, and dragging down your neck, nipping, sucking, licking. Your hands are itching to reach out, to skate down his torso, trace along his jawline, tug at his hair, but you can’t because he’s got them pinned above you with only one of his own. Anytime you try to fight him, his grip only grows stronger. 

It was shameful, really, but you had asked for this – begged for it, basically. There were a number of reasons why – one of which was to blow off some steam after a near death experience, the other because you’d fucked him before and it had been good, much to your dismay. There was also a third reason that you weren’t interested in acknowledging now. 

After the night Joel had gotten jumped, and you’d taken care of him, everything has changed. It’s a cliche, but true. You’d known what you were doing when it happened, and had no regrets. But it was probably not supposed to happen again, and you tried to keep it that way, more for his sake than anyone else’s. But….he was the one who showed up tonight after he’d heard what had happened. It wasn’t nothing.

Joel pulls away from you so abruptly that you gasp, shivering in the wake of his impossible warmth. 

“Sit up,” he instructs, and you turn to find him at the end of the bed, arms crossed. 

You obey, mostly just for the view. You hope to admire him, fresh from kissing you – flush skin, wet lips, tousled hair. Only he’s frustratingly stoic, unsullied – like he hadn’t been touching you at all. 

“Look at me,” he says, and you do. 

“This doesn’t mean anything.”

“It’s nothing,” you agree. 

“I won’t be gentle.”

“I don’t want you to be gentle.”

“Good,” you watch his shoulders loosen, just a little, and he takes one step backwards, his eyes tracing down your body and then back up. “Strip for me….” 

You aren’t dressed sexy at all, you remember, a sweatshirt and sweatpants. If you had thought this through a little more, you might’ve tried to make it nicer for him. “....Okay.”

“Start with your shirt,” he says, and you grab at the hem, but he snaps at you. “Ah-ah….slower.”

You swallow, nod, and carefully lift the fabric, dragging it up over your stomach, over the swell of your breasts, revealing your tight, thin white tank top. 

“That’s it, nice and slow.” 

Joel’s voice is soft but stern, a low rasp that makes your cunt clench around nothing, and he’s not even touching you. The sweatshirt is pulled over your head, falling somewhere on the crumpled bedspread. 

Languidly, you lean back, shifting your weight to get off the mattress, and Joel palms himself through his jeans. You can see where he’s straining against the denim, and you find it hard to tear your gaze away as you go to pull off your sweatpants. Joel stops you again. 

“Turn around.”

You do, and you’re sure he has a nice view of your ass as you slide them over your hips, bending over to let the fleece pool around your ankles. Slowly, you rise back up, looking at him over your shoulder for approval. 

“Good girl,” he murmurs. Your stomach flips. A month ago, you would’ve done anything to get him to stay away from you, and now, you’re terrified to disappoint him. 

That’s the problem. You’d spent most of the day fighting for your life — literally. But even after standing behind a barricade of heavily-armed FEDRA soldiers outside the hospital, you didn’t feel as safe as you did when you saw Joel at your door. You need him. For now, at least.

“Now the shirt,” he tilts his head towards the mattress, nodding encouragingly.

You get back on the bed, sitting back on your heels, and begin to pull the tank top up. It’s your last layer up top, you’re not wearing a bra, and you’re feeling a little vulnerable with him just watching you, fully clothed and composed, your gaze falling down to look at the threadbare linens. 

“Eyes up,” he instructs. “Look at me.”

Taking in a shaky inhale, you do. It’s not easy. Everything about him looks dark, animalistic. A coiled ball of energy, waiting to pounce.

But, even when you’re bare before him, he doesn’t. 

“Lie back, close your eyes.”

Of course, you don’t refuse, settling your head against the pillows. 

There’s a sound of a belt – his belt, unbuckling, the snap of a button, the dip of the bed where he kneels when he comes to hover over you. Two hands land on top of your thighs, pressing the backs against his denim-clad knees, thumbs pushing your legs further apart. 

And then…nothing. He’s still. He’s still for so long, that you actually think that something’s wrong. When you open your eyes, you’re met with a view of the underside of his jaw. You can just make out the pinched expression he’s wearing as he looks down upon you. Disdain, maybe…but it’s not meant for you, it’s for someone else….him.

“Joel,” you murmur. Instinctually, you reach for his hand.

The second it makes contact, he smacks your hand away so hard your whole body jolts. “I told you to close your eyes.”

“Sorry,” you mumble quickly, closing them again. 

You are well aware that he’s actively working through shit, probably doing some kind of mental gymnastics to rationalize why it’s okay to fuck you again, which, when you really think about it is kind of….pathetic. It’s the only thing that makes you feel any sort of power in a situation where you’ll surrender everything else. It’s a fair exchange. 

Maybe, on a different day, you would want it softer. You’d like to think he’s capable of that, even though he seems determined he isn’t. Luckily, you don’t want it softer. After today, you want to be so far gone you can’t think. 

Joel answers by leaning down and catching you in a bruising kiss. Finally. You press yourself against him cause you’re freezing and he’s so warm, and you frantically begin to unbutton the flannel he’s wearing, making it about halfway down before he pins your hands above you again.

“Slow down.”

You whine, a little frustrated because all you want to do is touch him. The fingers on his free hand hook around the elastic of your underwear, and he starts to drag them over the curve of your ass. 

He’s got to be joking with how deliberately he’s moving, anticipation only building underneath his featherlight touches.

When he’s got your panties around your ankles, you slide your legs together so he can pull them off entirely, keeping them closed as his weight shifts, and your thighs are pulled back apart.

“You’re already so wet for me,” he doesn’t need to feel you to see it clear as day, with you spread open in front of him. “So fucking desperate.”

He’s all-but glaring at you, like you’ve done something wrong, and for a minute, your eyes flick away, just for a second of relief from the tension.

“What, are you embarrassed?” he asks. 

“N-no,” you stammer, though it was supposed to sound confident. 

Thankfully, he doesn’t press you, his head dipping down to press his lips to your knee, then an inch higher, then an inch higher, then higher – keeping his eyes locked on yours the whole time, an arm winding around your thigh.

“I wanted to do this last time.” A confession. 

“Yeah?” you sigh, trembling. It’s maybe the nicest thing he’s said to you, but you can’t even acknowledge it, because you’re buzzing.

He turns his face, his beard scraping along sensitive skin. “Mhm,” his deep rasp vibrates directly to your cunt, and when his head dips down, you close your eyes – it might just be better to focus on only one sensation at a time, you’re not sure you can handle seeing what he’s about to do.

Joel’s mouth is on you the second you do, and you gasp. He licks up the seam of your lips, mouth latching around your clit, swirling with his tongue, and back down – firm, determined, practiced. You try to buck up, but he has an arm locked around your hips. 

He removes himself from you just enough to utter two words. “Stay still.”

You want to protest, but you realize that he’s let go of your hands, and it gives you the opportunity to thread your fingers into his hair, while you dig your heels into the broad expanse of his back, and he groans, tongue curling into you. 

“I’ve thought about this,” you gasp, answering his earlier admission.

“When?”

“At night. More than once.”

“Fuck,” Joel growls, and you wheeze when he works one finger into you, forcing you to take it along with his next words. “You know how fuckin’ bad that is? Dreamin’ about a man nearly twice your age?”

“I d-don’t care, I want you anyway. Y-you can do whatever you want to me,” It’s too early to be past the point of speaking coherently, it really is, but you’re already there. 

“F-fuck,” Joel repeats himself, and pushes another finger inside you next to the first, the stretch almost uncomfortable, but quickly fading to pleasure. “I’m going to.”

You’re not the going to tell him, though, that he’s the first man whose ever gone down on you, because you’re a little fucking scared for some reason. It’s intimate, very intimate, more than you expected. 

The truth is, you weren’t actually very experienced at all. You could count on one hand the number of partners you’d had, and still not use all of your fingers. While some of them were good enough, they all paled in comparison to Joel. There had never been anyone like Joel. 

His fingers curl as his tongue swirls around your clit and you cry out, inhale sharply. Minute by minute, you’re getting wetter and wetter – can hear yourself with each twist of his fingers inside you, bearing down on him. 

“You taste so fuckin’ good,” he grunts, and your eyes flutter open just for a second, just to see his forehead, dark eyes staring back at you, and his hips dipping, rutting against the mattress. God he’s getting himself off to this. As hot as it is, the thought of not getting to feel him inside you causes a rush of anger. 

“F-feels so good,” you’re right there, already, and it’s pitiful.

“I know, baby, I know,” he says. “You’re already so close, aren’t you?”

Instead of answering, you just nod, gasping. Joel works you right up to the precipice, hands tightening in his hair, hips lifting off the bed – and then he slows a little –  just enough – to pull you back off the edge, and you let out a humiliating sob.

“Shhh!” he hisses with his mouth still on you, resuming the steady pace he had going. A little sigh of relief when you feel your release approaching again. He just lost his rhythm for a moment, it was nothing.

Again, he’s got you right there, you’re so close, hips jerking, breathing in short, sharp pants, something molten working its way up your spine. “Joel, that’s it, please I-”

He falters again – just enough. And it’s gone again.

You realize, with dismay, that he knows exactly what he’s doing. He hadn’t lost his rhythm. He’s doing this on purpose. 

If someone asked – not that anyone would – you wouldn’t be able to recall how long he keeps you in that state, being dragged and dangled, but denied the privilege of falling. It’s torture. 

And at first, you try to be patient. You figure he’ll grow tired, desperate, and eventually want to move on. But apparently, he doesn’t want to move on. He’s content to keep you this way for as long as he sees fit, and you can’t handle it any longer. It’s starting to hurt.

“Please, Joel, let me-” you gasp.

“Let you what?” he pulls back from you, frustratingly too soon, once again.

“Let me come, please, I’ll do anything, I’ll be good, please, please-”

“Just a little longer,” he dismisses you.

All you can do is pant and writhe, completely at his mercy. He keeps going like that, and you’ve stopped trying to filter yourself, the sounds he makes as he laves at you are obscene, you can see yourself glistening on his chin, and can feel the sheets damp beneath you. At this point, he’s enjoying this more than you are.

“Joel,” you plead with him again. “It’s too much, I c-can’t. Just, please I really need-”

“You wanna come for me, baby?” he asks. You nod ferociously. 

“Yes, please, please,” 

“You’re so fucking sweet when you beg, you know that? ” he murmurs. “Wish you were like this all the time.”

“Fuck off,” you manage, feeling heat rise to your cheeks. You should do this to me more often. 

Joel chuckles, and it vibrates just right, his fingers curling again and you moan, hands tightening in his hair. He’s focused now, you can tell because the constant stream of filth he’s been whispering has finally stopped. He’s persistent.

You’re unable to stay quiet, continuing to whimper just like that and please don’t stop over and over. And then all at once, every muscle in your body grows tense and you cry out, cunt pulsing around him so tightly that his fingers slow. “There you go, pretty girl, that’s it.” 

You whisper his name as he continues to fuck his fingers into you, riding you through your orgasm and licking up the mess you’ve made. 

At some point in the aftermath, Joel withdraws from you, and you hear the sting of his zipper. It takes a moment, but you’re able to see him through heavily lidded eyes, kneeling in front of you with his shirt unbuttoned all the way, pants around his ankles, jerking himself slowly in his hand. God he’s fucking huge, how had you forgotten about that? He’s a vision, beard still wet with you, looking down, watching your chest rise and fall. In that moment you realize two things. One, even though you’ve already come, you somehow want him even more than you had before, and two, you’ve never wanted to suck a dick so bad in your life. 

So you sit up, crawl towards him, and reach out with one hand to take him in your palm. He lets you, sighing, closing down his eyes. First, you have to kiss him, so you rise to your knees, and he pulls you into his arms, one of them winding around your waist, the other coming to rest at the small of your back. “You take such good care of me,” you whisper. 

He grimaces at the words like they’re an insult. You expect him to retaliate, to tell you that you shouldn’t say that sort of thing, but he never does. So you kiss him, gently, bringing your free hand to the side of his face. Once again, he lets you, and you taste yourself when his tongue presses into you mouth. You run your thumb over the head of his cock, and he hums against your touch, almost contentedly.

You’re doing whatever you want to him, and you’re shocked he hasn’t put a stop to it. It could be satisfying enough, you think, just to keep kissing him like this. Still, you sink back towards the bed to test things further. You’re about to wrap your mouth around him, but he pulls you off by your hair, so quickly, so hard that you yelp.

“No.” he says firmly. “Lie back.”

“But I just wanted to-”  

“No.” 

You consider trying to reason with him, but decide it won’t be worth whatever he’d do if you continue to argue.

Joel braces himself with one hand above your shoulder, the other wrapped around his cock, slowly teasing you by rubbing himself up and down a few times, before he gives in, finally pushing into you.

“Oh, fuck,” you gasp at the stretch, reaching out grasp at his bicep, arching your back. He’d prepped you, and it was still too much. 

“You can take it,” he says, pressing deeper into you. His hips are all the way flush with yours, he’s to the hilt, and he still snaps them even further, once, holding you there, so deep, you feel like you’re choking on him. “See? There you go.”

It seems like you can’t quite catch your breath, and you squirm underneath him for some kind of friction, some kind of relief from how intense it all is. You can feel him throbbing inside you, feel how badly his own body is begging him to move, but he doesn’t. 

“Joel,” you cradle the back of his head, look him in the eyes. “Move, please.”

He doesn’t answer, he just brings his hand to grip your jaw, his thumb and forefinger pressing into the soft flesh of your cheeks. 

“Please?” you murmur again, and his thumb slips into your mouth, silencing you. You suck on it obediently, and after you do, he finally gives you what you want.

──────

Joel told you he wouldn’t be gentle, and he isn’t. 

He hadn’t been able to do this last time. Taste you, spread you open, fuck you properly. His hips snap against yours – ferociously, unrelenting, over and over. You’ve been going at it for awhile now, and he actually wants you to break. He wants you to tell him to slow down, to be a little more tender, not press into you so deep, so hard, so that if he listens, it wouldn’t mean he’s breaking his own promise. He’s got to be rough with you, because he’s afraid of what could happen if he’s not.

But you don’t break. You fucking take it, take him, each time, again and again, your nails digging into arms, your legs locked around his hips. Each time he delves into you, you’re getting wetter and wetter, and yet, you’re still so fucking tight. He doesn’t understand it. It’s been a long fucking time since he’s been with a woman like you – and you might be the best he’s ever had. 

You’re not even making any noise – you’re just panting, gasping in Joel’s ear as you cling to him, and that’s all. He can’t even look you in the eyes. If he does, he knows you’ll see everything that’s wrong with him, and still beg for him to give you more. 

Two hands land on either side of his face, turning his head so you can kiss him. Despite how he’s treating you, you keep trying to connect, to ground yourself. For as much as he wants to refuse, it feels too cruel to deny you. He lets you lock your lips with his own, feels your cunt clutch him even tighter. It’s impossible for you to kiss for more than a few seconds at a time without it getting broken up by a whimper here and there. You’re getting close again, he’s started to get better at recognizing it.

“You’re fucking so perfect on me, baby, you feel that?” he asks, and you nod, breathless. “Taking me so well, such a good fucking girl-”

A gasp from you cuts him off, your eyes squeezing shut as you are taken over by your climax. Joel groans and does everything he can not to come when you start pulsing around him, holding him closer, since there’s nothing else to do. It’s way too intimate…because it’s missionary, and he should’ve known better than to start off like this. 

Pulling out of you is the hardest thing he’s had to do in a while, and he ignores your noises of protest now that he’s left you empty. Then, he flips you onto your stomach. He takes a moment to admire the curve of your ass, how it dips into your waist….to him, your body is perfect, and you’re young, your skin still supple and smooth. There are still places he hasn’t gotten his mouth on, and it’s a shame, he thinks, but tonight his patience is wearing thin. Joel pulls you back until you’re on your knees, and slides back inside. There’s a little resistance, you whimper, but it’s easier than the first time. He wraps an arm around your waist, the other across your chest, and starts to jerk his hips upwards, into you. 

“Oh fuck, Joel,” you sigh in relief.

“I know, I know.”

You drop your head back until it falls against his shoulder, winding your arm back so you can pull at his hair, which kind of fucking hurts, but he likes it. 

Ultimately, you’re pretty easy to please, and it’s not long before he feels the telltale flutter of your walls as you drip down over him, soaking his lap. 

“You’re making a fucking mess, baby. You gonna come for me again?”

All you can do is plead with him. “I can’t, Joel. I can’t do it again, please just-”

“Yes, you can,” he interjects. “I know you can, baby, don’t worry…I’ll help you.”

“O-okay.’ 

He slows the roll of his hips just a little, focuses on deeper, longer strokes, and lets the hand that’s currently squeezing one of your tits fall to where your bodies are joined, finding your clit immediately.

You whine, arching back against him, the swell of your ass packed against his lower stomach. He sees a single tear leaking from the corner of your eye and feels a little guilty for what he’s doing to you. Only a little, though. 

Without any warning, for the third time, you’re coming around him – easier than the last time, like always – and he uses the feeling of you throbbing around him to chase his own release, his hand clapping over your mouth to muffle your moans as he becomes increasingly frantic. 

He turns his head, rakes his teeth along your exposed neck, and sinks them into your pulse point with a groan. Your breath is hot against him when you whimper in response. 

“Just a little more, honey.” He’s so close. You bob your head, though you’ve nearly gone limp in his arms.

Like last time, Joel knows it’s a bad idea, but he’s not going to pull out. The thought of deliberately coming inside you is actually what sends him over the edge, and he’s cursing and moaning your name. You whine at the feeling of him pulsing inside of you, arching back for more, even though he can tell you’re exhausted. 

It’s fucking freezing in your apartment, and yet, his skin is damp with sweat when he finally regains some awareness of his surroundings. He’s panting, you’re sniffling, a weak smile on your face as you catch your breath. Before he can stop himself, he presses his lips to your cheek. 

Joel tilts you both forward – very tentatively, keeping an arm wrapped around your waist. At some point, your hand settled over top of his, and you threaded your fingers between his own, holding his hand across your stomach. You keep it there, even after you’ve settled onto the bed.  

It takes a few minutes before either of you move, but it’s you who gives in first, wriggling out from where he’s got you trapped partially underneath him. 

You retreat to the bathroom, like you did last time. Somewhere during your coupling the linens have slid down the bed, and Joel settles back against the pillows, throwing an arm behind his head.  Now that he’s stopped sweating, he’s just cold, and he reaches to pull the bedspread over him. He should leave, he thinks, before you come out and ask him to. Beat you to the punch. Maybe while you’re still in the bathroom. 

A few minutes later, and you return from the bathroom, dressed again in sweats. He hears you pour yourself a glass of water, gulping it down. You flick off the lamp on your bedside table, and fall into bed next to him, lying rigidly on your back. He should reach out, pull you against him, let you settle in his arms. Instead, Joel rolls over on his side. 

It’s terrible how beautiful you are, he thinks, watching you stare up at the ceiling, hugging yourself. So beautiful, and fucking smart. You’re strong, too, but not as strong as he wishes you were. Of course, no one could ever be that strong.

He whispers your name. You turn your head, pupils still blown wide with lingering lust.

“You need to learn to defend yourself, to shoot a gun, to fight,” he says. “After today.”

“What?” you roll to face him. 

“You said you didn’t want to die,” Joel continues. “So you need to learn. ‘Case something like that happens again.”

“Oh yeah? Lemme guess, you’re gonna teach me?” your voice is a little hoarse after what he’d done to you, and you smirk at him.

“Yes.” It sobers you up, that he’s not fucking with you, or giving you a hard time. “I owe you, remember?” 

“You do.” 

“So…. I’ll teach you.” 

“....Okay.” 

“Alright.”

Joel rolls over to his opposite side, and you’re left staring at his back. Arms wrapped around 

himself in a tight hug, he waits for you to tell him to go.

You never do. 

Instead, he feels the heat of your body as you curl up against him, slotting one of your legs between his own. Your hand grazes up his ribs, over his bicep – a gentle, quick massage – before you tuck your arm underneath his own, your palm flat against his heart. 

“What are you doing?” he asks, frozen at how tender the embrace is. It’s a foreign feeling, he can’t remember the last time someone touched him like this. 

The tip of your nose hits the nape of his neck, and he can feel your shuddery exhale.

“I’m cold,” you say, like it’s obvious, lips brushing featherlight against his skin. “And if you’re staying, you might as well make yourself useful.”

He can’t roll over and wrap his arms around you. He can’t kiss your forehead or play with your hair or murmur into your ear. He can’t offer you anything in return. Joel decides, though, if he’s going to accept comfort from anyone, it’s going to be from you.

──────

taglist (basically if you asked for a pt 2 on the last part i tagged you): @bbyanarchist @dlwrish @imaginewrites24 @captain-yellow-96 @daisyintheskyewithdiamonds @sludgec0r33 @c0wb0ym3nace

[theragethatisdesire]

much ado about nothing chapter 7 - plug!eren x reader - 18+!!!

DISCLAIMER: this post contains MATURE CONTENT that is intended only for those over 18. minors and ageless blogs, please do not read below the cut.

okay so i guess the responses i got on my "i have writer's block wahhh" post worked because GUESS WHAT I FINISHED THIS MORNING. this chapter!!! i have been aching to share this (even when it was half-done), i literally cannot wait any longer. this is an eren pov chapter so you guys already know it's going to be fun. lots going on, and please don't hate me for the end, i promise there's a master plan in place!!! i hope you guys enjoy :-)

specific cws: smut, rough sex, use of names (both endearing and derogatory so take that as you will), drinking, swearing, i want to give eren a giant hug

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“Love sought is good; but given unsought, is better.” - Twelfth Night by William Shakespeare (Act III, Scene 1)

Eren has no excuse for any of it. No excuse for stepping in, for throwing Floch against the bar. He knows you, knows you have enough experience with awful men to know how to handle yourself. He just couldn’t help himself.

And now he’s gone and acted out again without thinking. The cold winter air sobers him up, brings Eren back to himself, and when he looks down at you, all cute and furious with him, the heat in Eren’s veins dies. A pregnant pause stretches between you both, you with your arms crossed and glaring up at him, and Eren, surely with hearts in his eyes, looking down at you, something apologetic beginning to write its way into his features.

“What the fuck is your problem?”

Well, so much for that. The venom in your voice reignites Eren’s temper, fans the flames back into a full-blown inferno.

“My problem?” Eren growls, stepping closer to you. “What the fuck is your problem? I was just getting that prick out of your face. I’d think I deserve a thank you more than anything.”

“It wasn’t your place,” you huff.

“My place?” Eren nearly shouts, exasperated. “You’re the one who wanted to be friends so badly, was I supposed to just sit back and watch while he drooled all over you? Give me a fucking break.”

“That’s not– ugh, you’re really fucking frustrating, you know that Eren?”

It’s like watching all the ghosts of his past jump out at him through your teeth; Eren flinches, feels his fury rushing in his ears like a tidal wave.

“I’m–? Fine, fine, yeah, I’m the frustrating one. Definitely not you, throwing a goddamn temper tantrum over the stupidest shit imaginable, makes perfect sense. Really putting that smart little head to use, aren’t you?”

“Oh? ‘My girl’?” As soon as the words hit him, plunging through his chest like daggers, Eren’s blood runs cold. So you had caught his little slip-up. “What the fuck was that, then?”

Eren stutters, words caught in his throat at the worst possible moment. “Y-you know, like my girl, like you’re my friend or whatever.”

“Uh-huh,” you eye him disbelievingly, “you may as well have hiked your leg up and pissed on me in front of him. Am I supposed to be your fucking property or something because we had sex? Is that it?”

“What? No, I–” you’re faster than him, cutting him off.

“Don’t you already have your hands full with your ex?”

That crosses a line, pushes your fight into an entirely new territory. Eren’s eyes narrow. “Are you really bringing up Breeze right now? Like she…Jesus, like she even fucking matters?”

He watches the way you flinch when he says her name, the way your eyes widen, something he hadn’t expected out of you after with your little snide comments today. Interesting.

“She doesn’t matter to me, but I know she matters to you. As your friend, I’m just letting you know it sounds like a bad idea.”

“What’s a bad idea?”

“Getting back together with her,” you say, like it should be obvious.

It hits Eren like a truck; so that’s what’s gotten into you? You think he’s getting back together with Breeze, as if you didn’t text your ex that you were “totally in love with” on that godforsaken night at Paradise? Eren can still hear the slur of your words in that maddeningly confusing voicemail.

“Even if I was getting back with Breeze,” Eren snorts at the very idea, “which I’m not–”

“Oh yeah?” you counter, stepping forward to nearly touch your chin to his chest with how severely your head’s tilted up at him, “never took you for a liar, Eren.”

“A liar? When did I fucking–”

“Sasha saw you two at 104 the other day. You’re not fucking slick, you know.” Eren hates that tone in your voice, smug and wounded all at once. He wants to tear his own hair out.

“Oh, so you just know everything, don’t you?” Eren’s voice is shaking under his efforts to keep it at a low volume, keep you with him outside of your little bar and just make you listen to him. He watches your posture change ever so slightly, a shoulder turning towards him. “I was telling her to leave me the fuck alone.”

“Over coffee?” Your voice is still clipped, snarky. “Sure, Eren.”

Eren tries to keep himself in line, but his temper gets the better of him yet again, shooting out sharp and lethal. “Isn’t it a little hypocritical of you to avoid me over that, when it’s really you that’s getting back with your ex?”

Your eyes shoot open, and you spin on your heel to fully face him. “What?”

“You think I didn’t listen to your little voicemail?” Eren seethes, the full-bodied ugliness of his anger warping his face into a scowl. You don’t deserve the brunt of his temper, he knows you don’t, but he’s failing at every turn to reign himself in.

“You can’t throw that in my fucking face, I don’t even remember it,” you cut him off, eyes narrowed into little slits.

Eren freezes in place. The world around him seems to slow; the only thing tethering him to this plane is the way you’re looking up at him, furious and beautiful in the buzzing neons of Scout’s. He knew you’d been drunk, but not that drunk.

Hey, Eren– fuck, Stor, leave me alone! I’m just gonna talk to him really fast! Sorry, Historia’s all over me because I did something bad. I– I texted my ex, Luke. I never told you about him because he’s like, the worst, you’d hate him. But the funny thing is, I don’t even think I care? Maybe I do because I really was like, totally in love with him. Maybe he’ll text me back and we’ll fall in love again. But…I don’t know, Eren. I think about you all the time. I think I…I think I like you. Not like a friend, more than that. Wait, fuck, can I delete this? Just…I don’t know. Call me tomorrow or something. I want to talk about it before I can go down the black hole of Luke all over again. I know it’s not what you expected, and maybe you don’t feel the same, but…maybe we can just– shit, Historia, don’t hang up the–!

“Whatever I said was bullshit, I didn’t mean a word of it. I’m not getting back with my ex, or whatever else I came up with while I was blacked out.”

Your present-tense voice, affirmative and clear, snaps him out of his daze. I didn’t mean it. Every word of that voicemail that Eren knows so well, has basically memorized after listening to it day in and day out, trying to analyze every little drunken intonation of your voice– it was bullshit. Eren steels his jaw, musters up all the willpower he can dredge up in his body.

“You didn’t mean it,” his voice sounds alien as it leaves his mouth, distant.

“Yeah, exactly,” you’re mean, you’re so mean, not even stopping to acknowledge the sinkhole ripping open in Eren’s chest, “so before you rip me a new one, make sure that you’re not thinking about where you’d rather be right now.”

So you’re not just mean, you’re oblivious, it seems. For some reason, even through the shattering, crushing feeling erupting beneath Eren’s hoodie, it infuriates him. You just don’t see it, don’t see him. You didn’t mean a word you’d said to him in that damned voicemail, so he can’t tell you necessarily. It crosses his mind that maybe he can show you; the last dying ember of Eren’s rational line of thought sparks and spits at the idea in protest, but eventually chokes out, slowly dying in the tidal wave of emotion that takes him over.

“Oh, I don’t have anywhere else I’d rather be,” Eren's voice starts low and venomous, but it escalates with each passing word, “trust me, I showed up just aching to get into it with you. Just dying to have you rip me apart for something that I didn’t even fucking do!”

Not even a lie, honestly.

“You’re such an– ugh!” You shriek, digging the heels of your hands into your eyes.

“A what? Say it.”

“An asshole!”

“Is that what I am?” Eren’s backing you up against the bricks, making good use of his height to tower over you. Some sick part of him relishes in the way that, while your eyes remain blazing furiously enough to send a weaker man to his knees, your height difference forces you to cower under him. “An asshole?”

“Yeah,” you counter, glaring up at him defiantly, “you’re a fucking asshole, Eren.”

His proximity to you is making him dizzy and a little unhinged, and through the drinks and his anger and the mere inches between your heaving chests, Eren feels his blood start to run hot in an entirely different way. The leash he holds on his own temper, his own throat-closing desire, is dragging along the floor as he backs you fully against the wall, and Eren’s too wound up to bring himself to care. 

“That’s not what you were calling me when I had my head between your legs, now is it?”

That shakes you, makes your jaw drop a little. Eren’s vaguely aware of your fingers twitching and clenching at your side, inwardly braces himself for a slap to the face. “Well, you weren’t acting like an asshole then.” 

Eren smirks, leans into his own cruelty. “What, you jealous that you haven’t been getting all of my attention? Is that what’s got you acting all mean?”

“Cut it out, Eren.” Your eyes are telling him you’re still mad at him, furious even, but Eren doesn’t miss the way the rise and fall of your chest grows ever so slightly more frantic, the way your tongue darts out anxiously to wet your lips.

“Or what?” Eren leans down, boxing you in with one arm on either side of your head.

“I– we’re not doing this.”

“Doing what?” He widens his eyes innocently. “What am I doing?”

“You know exactly what you’re doing,” you hiss, but if you ask Eren, it sounds an awful lot like a moan is lodged in your throat, like your words are lacking the conviction that you’re trying to muster. He pushes himself in closer to you, noses mere inches apart, a wicked grin splitting his face.

“Is it working?”

Eren’s lips meet yours at the same moment that his hand whips out to catch your arm where you’re swinging it up to slap him. A broken little whimper leaves your mouth, spills into his, as your arm slackens in his grip. Eren feels your free hand fist into the hair at the nape of his neck, lets a groan fly out into nonexistent space between your lips. He’s been driving himself crazy thinking about this moment, the next time he’d get to feel your mouth on his again if it ever even happened, what you taste like, the little noises you make. The moment that’s been keeping him up at night is finally here, inflating his wounded ego like a balloon, and it feels fucking good.

You bite a little too hard into his bottom lip, the tangy, copper taste of Eren’s blood leaking into the kiss, making it clear that this doesn’t mean everything has settled between you both, but for the time being, Eren doesn’t care. All he cares about is the way your plush thighs feel wrapped around his waist, how easily he can scoop you up and pin you against the wall, the little moan that slips from your lips when he presses the length of his body entirely into you.

He doesn’t take his time, doesn’t savor the moment like he’ll surely wish he did tomorrow; Eren devours you, running a hand up your bare leg and under the hem of your skirt, grabbing a handful of your ass, squeezing at your hips.

“Bet you’re wet under this short little skirt, aren’t you?” Eren huffs into your mouth, sucking on your tongue.

“Fuck you,” you spit, squeezing your thighs tighter around his hips.

“Is that what you want?” Eren whispers, dizzy and drunker on you than the three Jameson shots he’d knocked back at the bar.

“I–”

“Been thinking about it?” Eren can’t stop himself, trying desperately to keep his lips on yours through the spill of words from his mouth. “Maybe that’s why you’ve been so mean to me, grinding all up on me in that club, teasing me, then running off. Just wanted a little love, didn’t you?”

“That depends,” you pant, moving your face to kiss up his neck, leave little nips in your wake. Eren groans deep in his chest, pushing against you even more insistently.

“On?”

“How bad you really want it,” you bite into his earlobe, steal another shaky groan from him.

Eren’s not a submissive guy, not by any means, but the thrill your words send running through his veins just about makes him drop you.

“Want me to beg?” Eren growls, shoving into you and biting deep at the junction of your neck and shoulder. “I’d only ever beg for you, baby.”

“Is that what you’re going to do? Beg for me when you’ve got another girl waiting for you?” Your anger has fizzled into a bitter sarcasm that goes straight between Eren’s legs and knocks him right in the ego all at once, tongue tracing the shell of his ear.

“Fuck– you’re my girl, my favorite girl, did you forget?” Eren grabs your face, forces your head back against the brick so you can look at him, eyes blown wide with lust and glossed over, mouth open in a desperate pant. “Told you the first time, you’re the best I’ve ever had. Didn’t think I was just fucking around, did you? It’s just you, only you.”

“Could have fooled me,” you dig your teeth into the thumb Eren’s worked between your lips, making him suck in a sharp ouch between his lips, “sure don’t feel like your favorite girl.”

“Sounds like I need to fix that, then,” Eren lets a hand trail down between the little space he’s leaned back to create between your bodies, finds his way to the damp fabric of your panties, “oh, who’s the liar now?”

“Don’t– fuck,” your eyes roll back in your head when he starts pressing into where he knows your clit is, rubbing insistent circles over the cloth just to elicit that reaction from you, rip the control right out of your pretty little hands. Eren chuckles down at you, dark and dangerous, amused at how quickly you melt for him.

“Thought we weren’t doing this?” He parrots your words from earlier, nosing at your neck. “Thought I was an asshole?”

“You are,” you grit out through a clenched jaw, but Eren notices the little forward push of your hips, notices that you’re trying to hold yourself back from rubbing yourself into his palm.

“And that gets you wet,” Eren counters, grinding the heel of his palm up into your clit and wrenching a little gasp from you, “bet you liked watching me in there, bet you would have loved watching me kick his ass for you.”

Eren pauses, waits to hear if you’ve got anything to say for yourself, but you’re already half-gone, rolling your hips against the steady rocking of his hand and whining in your throat. He smiles– god, you really are his favorite.

“Say it,” Eren growls into your skin, slipping a finger past the fabric of your panties to slide it into you, not the whole thing, but just a knuckle, just enough to make you shudder in his arms, “tell me you need me, want to hear you say what this perfect pussy’s already telling me. C’mon baby.”

Just as your mouth opens, either to answer him or snark at him, Eren can’t be sure, a cat-call from across the street snaps both of you out of your haze, your eyes flying wide. You shove at him, wriggling in his arms until Eren mercifully drops you to your feet, reaches down to right your rumpled little skirt for you. You glower up at him, look him up and down, and just when Eren’s about to bullshit some excuse to run home, fuck into his hand with your name on his lips, you surprise him.

“I mean, after all that, the least you can do is walk me home.”

The necessary steps of Eren closing your tabs, walking into the whipping winter wind, walking through the streets silently with Eren side-eyeing you as you storm along, arms crossed petulantly, commence. They go by in a blur; Eren’s not even sure he should be doing this right now with the lack of blood flow to his head. You don’t make eye contact, and if Eren had any more conscious thought at the moment, he would think you’re already regretting this before it happens, but he can’t bring himself to care, not yet.

He’ll kick himself for this as soon as the sun rises, but for now? The only thing he’s worried about lies wet and pulsing for him under the hem of your skirt.

The moment you’ve gotten the door open, Eren’s got you shoved up against the wall again, letting his hands find their way under your skirt and grabbing at your ass with a quiet groan.

“Historia?” he questions, nipping at your earlobe just because he can.

“Ymir’s,” you pant, pushing him off of you and practically storming to your bedroom. It hits Eren that for all the time you’ve spent together, he’s never actually seen your bedroom. He thinks that maybe he’ll do a little investigating of his own once he’s fucked all the fight out of you.

Safely behind the door of your bedroom, Eren wastes no time in yanking his shirt over his head, reaching for yours only to find that you’ve already rid yourself of the cute little sweater he had been admiring from down the bar back at Scout’s. You’ve got a pretty lace number underneath, one that Eren almost doesn’t want to take from you, but he reaches behind you and unclips it. Eren plans on taking and taking and taking everything you’ll give him, just for tonight, because the sinking feeling in his chest is telling him to do it while he can; a girl like you never sticks around a guy like him for long, and he’s already done himself the favor of ruining most of the potential your relationship had anyway.

“Eren– oh,” the broken whimper that leaves your lips snaps him out of his thoughts, reminds him that he’s got one of your breasts in his palm and the other nipple between his teeth. Eren wraps his free hand around your back, pressing his splayed fingers between your shoulder blades to arch you closer to him until he’s so full of you he can hardly breathe.

He’s going to keep taking from you, take until he drowns in it.

“Feel good? Missed me?” Eren’s words come out a little garbled around the flesh in his mouth, but you get the message all the same, managing a sarcastic eye roll through your arousal. You decline to answer him, but Eren can read your body, so he digs his teeth in harshly to the little swell of fat on the underside of your breast, sucks a bruise in to cut that eye roll of yours right in half. Eren smirks when your eyes flutter closed, a reluctant hand coming up to thread through his hair. “Thought so.”

“Can you just–fuck–get on with it?”

“Uh-uh,” Eren straightens back to his full height, backs you onto the bed until your knees catch and you fall onto your back, glaring up at him defiantly. “Gotta get you ready for me, right? I’m sure you remember.”

He eats up the doubt that flickers across your face, the memory of the first time you’d taken him all over your expression. Eren reaches beneath your skirt, pulls your panties down your legs delicately, rubs his hands along your thigh-high stockings with an appreciative swear under his breath.

“There’s a zipper on the back,” you wiggle a bit to try and reach the fasten of your skirt, but Eren slaps a firm hand onto your hip, pins you back onto the bed.

“Think I’m letting you take this off? After you were teasing me with it all night?” Eren says, stretching his body over yours, taking full advantage of his size to cage you in.

“I wasn’t teasing,” you huff, “these are just my clothes.”

“Anything you wear is teasing,” Eren brings his fingers to your core, swipes through the wetness gathered there, “especially when you look like this.”

You open your mouth to retort, but your jaw goes slack when Eren rolls over your clit softly, rubbing little circles into it at the perfect speed, the perfect pressure. He’s not interested in teasing you too much, he wants to feel you break on him as many times as you’ll grant him the pleasure. Once your little gasps have begun to swell into quiet moans, Eren ventures down, pushes his middle finger into you, all the way to the hitch. Eren answers your widened eyes and your little gasp with a sharp hiss between his teeth, marveling at the way your walls cling to his finger, sucking him in when he slides out and back in again.

“Just like the first time,” Eren murmurs, leaning down to take your collarbone between his teeth, “are you always this tight?”

“I– I don’t– more, please.”

Eren smiles around the mouthful of your skin he has, feeling his heart swell at how cute and airy your words come out, how clear it is to him, even if it’s only for this precious moment, that you’re just as desperate for him as he is for you. He grants your wish, working a second finger in beside the first, curling them cruelly against that spot in your walls that he knows gets your heart racing.

“Eren,” you keen, arching off the bed and tossing your head to the side.

“So tight baby,” Eren says in awe, pulling his head to watch as your cunt leaves little white streaks on his fingers, “so warm, can’t fucking wait to get my cock in you.”

“P-please,” you sputter, hooded eyes sparkling at the mention of it. Eren thinks wildly that he might be falling in love with the little unshed tears that prick your eyes when you start to get close, the little broken pleas you give him.

“You gotta cum for me first.” Eren works his fingers faster, can feel the fluttering of your cunt around his fingers. He realizes how worked up he must have gotten you outside of Scout’s, how you’re so wet it’s dripping down your soft skin onto the sheets, and you haven’t even cum yet.

“I’m– I just want you to fuck me,” you say, whiny and pitiful.

“I will,” Eren coos, “missed this messy little cunt so much, I promise I’ll fuck you, just give me one first. Gotta make it fit, right?”

“Mhm,” you whimper, hips bucking up towards him. Eren watches, drinks the sight of you in: skirt pulled up around your waist, legs spread wide open for him, slick spread all over the inside of your thighs, bottom lip tucked so tightly between your teeth he worries you might draw blood. He commits the sight to memory, his pretty little student all strung out and begging for his cock, begging him to make you cum. If he remembers right, if he curls his fingers just a little more harshly–

“Eren–” your head shoots up suddenly, eyes flying wide open, fists tightening in the sheets.

“Right there?” Eren grins, sharp and half-crazed, raising his eyebrows at the reaction the new angle has brought out of you.

“Right– oh, oh my god, I–”

“Give it to me,” Eren urges, working his fingers even faster, “come on, baby, show me how much you missed me.”

With a cry, you twist and thrash under him, cumming almost violently. Eren drinks it down, leans down to press a kiss against your open mouth, pins your body to the bed so you can’t run from the vicious waves of pleasure wracking your body. 

“There’s my girl,” he mutters, licking against your tongue, “such a good, good girl for me.”

When your orgasm finally starts to ebb, Eren doesn’t let up, not entirely; he keeps his fingers working in a slow drag through your walls, appreciating the way your muscles twitch and the way you feebly shove at his wrist.

“Eren…” you trail off weakly, fingers finally locking harshly around his hand and pulling him from you, “too much.”

“Thought you wanted me to ‘get on with it’?” Eren snorts, finally obliging your earlier request and sliding your skirt over your legs, tracing his fingers up and down your thighs once you’re fully bare and beautiful underneath him, taking mental snapshots of every inch of smooth skin that he’s lucky enough to have under his touch.

“I do,” you say, eyeing him with a glint of annoyance in your eye. It just makes Eren smile bigger; you’re so cute when you’re mad.

“Whatever you want, baby,” Eren says, situating his hands under your arms and practically throwing you up against the pillows at the head of your bed. You widen your legs so he can crawl in between them, kissing his way up your torso in a self-indulgent, tender way.

“Do we, um…” you start to question him, and Eren’s close enough to your face now that he can feel your cheeks warm. He sits up a little, arches a questioning brow down at you.

“What?”

“Do we need to use a condom?”

Eren frowns, confused. “I mean, after last time, I thought you were on birth control.”

“I am,” you confirm, nodding slowly, some odd emotion flickering over your features that could be anger, could be heartbreak, “but I don’t know if, like–”

“I haven’t been with anyone else,” Eren catches your meaning, feeling his heart thud heavy and loud in his chest, “not since…”

“Oh,” you exhale quietly, nodding, “okay.”

“You?”

“Uh, no,” your voice is so low Eren almost doesn’t hear you, but he watches your head slowly lull side to side in confirmation, “no one else.”

Eren can’t excuse the rush of relief that courses through him, the swell of happiness to learn that no one’s gotten to see you like this since the last time he had. It goes straight to his cock, hard and drooling between his legs. Before he can get too wrapped up in the emotional side of things, Eren leans in hard to the horrible, possessive thoughts that have constricted him, laying himself over you and taking his cock in his hand, swiping it through the mess between your legs.

“Good.” He even surprises himself with that, looking down on you with dark eyes, eyes that promise ruin.

“Please,” you give him one more breathless plea, Eren swears you know too well how to snap his composure clean in half.

He pushes himself in, choking on a moan at how tight you are, vicelike and suffocating around him. A broken groan flies from your lips, your fingers tighten their grip on his biceps until Eren’s sure you’re going to break the skin, but he’s beyond caring. His mind wipes completely blank, save for the hot, wet heat that’s enveloping him, beckoning him to snap his hips forward viciously and be done with it. With what little self-restraint he can muster up, Eren flicks his eyes up to yours.

“So…it’s so–” another whimper cuts you off, and Eren can feel your thighs twitch on either side of his hips.

“Too much?” Eren manages to reign himself in, back out another inch or so.

“No,” you wrap a leg around his waist, shove him further into you and wrench a deep, guttural groan from his chest, “feels good, keep going.”

“Careful what you wish for,” Eren breathes, trying to retain any semblance of control over this situation, give you that dominant dirty talk that he knows gets you off instead of turning into a whimpering, moaning mess at the feel of you clenching around him. He bottoms out, feeling himself fuck all the way up into your tummy, head falling down onto your shoulder.

Eren manages to keep his pace slow and gentle, rolling his hips into yours like he’s making love to you, not saying goodbye. Little satisfied sounds are slipping out of your mouth, but Eren can see a flicker of consciousness in your eyes; you’re not drooling for him, out of your mind with want, not like the first time. He frowns.

“What’s wrong?”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re…I don’t know, you seem like you’re somewhere else,” Eren hates having to admit that he notices, that he even cares, and the unsteady creak of his voice reflects that, just making him hate himself even more. You don’t seem to notice his vulnerability or, if you do, you aren’t affected by it. You simply raise an eyebrow at him.

“I mean…it’s good,” you say, eyes flitting around the room, like you can’t quite admit whatever you’re going to say while looking him straight in the eyes, “but I want you to fuck me.”

“I am fucking you.” Eren’s frown deepens into a scowl of annoyance. What, is he not good enough for you now?

“Well, literally speaking yes, you are fucking me. But,” a nervous giggle slips from your teeth, riling the anger starting to bubble under his skin again, “I’ve heard a lot of rumors about you.”

“Why are we talking about this while I am literally inside of you?”

“Because I want you to fuck me,” you raise your eyebrows meaningfully, canting your hips up towards him. It clicks– as much as Eren wants to show you what he feels because he can’t tell you, fucking you like an animal, as he’s prone to do, is what you want. Eren’s been so wrapped up in trying to relish whatever time he may have left with you before you inevitably cast him off to the side again, he’s not been paying attention.

“You want me to fuck you, huh?” Eren thrusts forward a little harsher, a little more pointedly. Your eyes roll back, a slow, indulgent smile spreading across your face.

“I want you to fuck me like I know you can,” Eren feels your arms wrap around his neck, pulling his ear to your lips, “unless that last time was all luck. Surely all those rumors aren’t false, are they?”

Eren knows you’re trying to get under his skin, to bite at him through the haze of the heavy air weighing down on both of you, to rekindle that anger that you had brought out of him outside of the bar. What is he going to do with you, incorrigible little thing that you are? If Eren Jaeger was a better man, he would stop this all right now, force you both to talk through the sharp, spiky things that hang in the balance between you two.

But Eren Jaeger is not a better man, he’s only a man, broken and needy and tucked into his favorite place on earth, with the girl of his dreams below him urging him to fuck her brains out. Is he really to blame?

Eren rips himself out of your grasp, standing tall and menacing on his knees over you.

“I’ll fuck you,” Eren grits out through a clenched jaw, grabbing you by the back of your thighs and shoving your knees towards your head, “but you better be ready to put your money where your mouth is.”

“Yeah? Well– oh,” a sharp, shrill cry of your own making cuts your voice off when Eren snaps his hips forward, brutal and unforgiving into the wet heat of your cunt. He doesn’t stop there, immediately pulling out and snapping forward again, hitting somewhere deep inside of you that, based on your face, he knows no man has ever been able to reach. He smirks, all cocky and cruel, setting a harsh pace that’s got you clawing at the sheets.

“What? Is it too much?” Eren whines down at you condescendingly, eating up the way you’re already whimpering and moaning. He can see tears glistening at the corners of your eyes, threatening to fall.

“No, no,” your voice is broken, breathless, “it’s– fuck, it’s so good, Eren–”

“Is this what you wanted?” Eren growls down at you, locking one strong hand around your throat. “Wanted me to fuck you like the little slut you are?”

“Yes!” Your admission comes out in a choked, watery cry, the tears in your eyes finally beginning to run down your temples. Even if it wasn’t written all over your face, Eren can feel how much you like it; your pussy is fluttering, pulsing around him, begging him to keep going. He drives his hips forward like a man starved, a man whose life depends on fucking you until you can’t walk straight for a week.

“Who knew?” Eren muses to himself, wiping the tears from your face. “Who knew my pretty girl was so filthy?”

“I, I–Eren,” you moan wantonly, thighs shaking under his firm grip. Eren should hold himself back, knows that you’re going to be so sore in the morning, but a sick part of him is glad for it. Let you walk around campus with the throbbing ache of him inside of you, maybe he’ll fuck you so hard that little twinge in your belly when you sit down never goes away.

“Say it,” Eren urges, squeezing your windpipe, “tell me how much you love it, tell me how bad this pussy missed me.”

“I–” you choke out around his iron grip on your neck, “I m-missed you, I love it w-when you fuck me–”

“Fuck you like a whore?”

“Fuck me like a w-whore,” you wheeze out, face reddening with shame. Eren loves it, wants to kiss the blush off your cheeks and swallow it whole.

“That’s right, baby,” Eren releases your throat, watches the way you heave and gasp as the air flows back into your lungs, only to be punched out by the force of his thrusts, “you love my cock, don’t you?”

“Yes, I– oh my god, Eren, I–”

“What?” Eren sneers, smirking wickedly down at you, “is my smart girl already so fucked out she can’t talk?”

“No, I– I just– fuck!” You’re so loud for him, if he knew that fucking you within an inch of your life would get him this, Eren never would have bothered playing nice in the first place.

“‘ve barely even started,” Eren laughs, mean and sharp, “and you’re already fucked so dumb you can’t even think. Think you can cum for me, just like this?”

He doesn’t even have to ask; he can feel the way your cunt’s starting to tighten around him so harshly that it nearly pushes him out. He’s bullying his way back into you on every thrust, forcing you to open up for him, to take what he has to give. Inwardly, Eren hopes to god you do cum soon; he’s not going to last, not with you spread out beneath him crying and wailing his name. Eren doesn’t think he can hold out much longer without filling you up, watching his cum seep out of you.

“Eren, Eren, Eren–” your nonsensical babbling has started to take the shape of his name, Eren can feel his ego swelling and swelling to the point of bursting. There’s a tone of warning in your moans; the onslaught of an orgasm is threatening to pull you under.

“Don’t you dare hold out on me,” Eren slaps your thigh hard, the tacky, wet sound of it echoing through the room, somehow finds the wherewithal to piston his hips even faster, “want to feel it, feel you cum on me.”

“I’m going to, I’m going– oh Eren–”

Eren practically snarls, leaning over to spit in your open, waiting mouth. “What are you waiting for? Don’t you–fuck–want your pretty cunt stuffed full of me? I’ll give you yours, just gotta cum for me and give me what’s fucking mine. Go on–”

Eren’s rambling is cut short by the loud, raspy sob you let out, clenching down around him so hard it almost hurts, drawing a loud, long hiss from him. He looks down past your quivering thighs, sees the frothy white that’s streaking his cock, and he’s done for. He grants you a few more sloppy thrusts, and then with one final snap of his hips, he stills, holding himself as deep inside as he can manage, pumping you full of him.

Before he can stop himself, Eren’s crashing into you, bringing your lips to his in a messy, frantic kiss, open-mouthed and teeth clacking together. He can feel your body shaking violently underneath him, rocking with wave after wave of post-orgasm bliss, but he can’t seem to break himself from you, collapsed and clutching onto your smaller frame like it’s the only thing tethering him to this earth.

“Eren,” you finally say weakly, voice muffled as you smack at his shoulder, “you’re heavy.”

“Sorry,” he grunts, rolling off of you reluctantly. Your crumpled, naked form is still there, still so tempting and soft and warm. Your eyes are shut, so you don’t see Eren’s tentative hand reach for your hip, just wanting to rub a thumb comfortingly over the bone there, before he pulls back, second-guessing himself. A few pregnant beats pass by, Eren biting his tongue and holding his breath as he waits for you to make the first move, to direct him into how to speak to you after what’s just happened.

“I need to shower,” you finally say, words coming out in a breathless admission.

“Yeah,” Eren answers lamely, sitting up and looking around your room. There’s postcards from almost every country imaginable, tacked above your desk and fluttering in the breeze from your heating system. The desk itself is a wreck, dozens of papers and books scattered around in seemingly no order. Eren notices a little stuffed teddy bear tossed onto the floor and picks it up with a smile, placing it back against your pillows.

“Are you…”

“Am I…?” Eren looks at you, hoping that his pleading gaze isn’t too horribly obvious.

“I think Historia will kill me if she sees you leaving in the morning.” As soon as the words leave your mouth, Eren swears he can see something like regret fly over your face, and you turn your back to him instantly, scrounging around on the ground..

“I don’t know,” Eren wheezes through his shellshock, trying to force out a nonchalant chuckle that only sounds strangled and tense, “she’s pretty short. I don’t know how she could manage it.”

“You’d be surprised,” you slip a bathrobe over your shoulders and grant him a mirthless smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

Eren dresses in the heavy silence that’s fallen over the room, pulling his shirt over his head and having to inwardly brace himself to face you. Eren’s comfortable with himself, probably knows a little too well that he’s an attractive guy, but he feels completely naked even fully clothed when he turns around to see you, standing all cozy and fucked out and sleepy in your fuzzy robe.

“So…” Eren trails off, wanting to smack his own face for speaking first.

“Have a good night, I guess,” you look up at him and then quickly away, chewing nervously on your bottom lip. Eren steels himself, lets every bit of courage he can find in his body rise to his mouth, forcing it to move.

“Are we, you know, good?”

“Good?”

“We said a lot of things to each other back there,” Eren can’t meet your gaze, can practically feel his face burning as he scratches anxiously at the back of his head. When he forces himself to look at you, there’s something odd and unreadable in your eyes. Are you sad? No, you’re smiling. Well, sort of smiling– it looks contrived, not real. But you’re not angry, not entirely.

“Yeah, I’m good if you are.” That stupid, insincere smile is still twisting your features. 

Eren doesn’t like the look of dishonesty on you, but he’s fought enough for tonight. He’s sad, spent, and tired, and he figures it’s hopeless anyway.

“Okay, good,” he makes his way to your bedroom door, fingers twitching for the feel of your skin under his, eyes damn near watering, “I’ll talk to you soon.”

“See ya.”

And with that, Eren’s left alone in the cold of your apartment hallway, alone and sickened by the feelings of satisfaction and longing swirling in his chest.

[suzukiblu]

Day twenty-nine of fic NaNoWriMo, obligatory sugar daddy Tim/sugar baby Kon AU.

Kon disassembles his sand castle back into the original pattern without looking, Tim experiences multiple internal crisises, and someone passes by with a tray of hors d'oeuvres. Tim, in self-defense, grabs a couple of the little crostini things on said tray and offers one to Kon, who looks pleased about it. 

“I dunno, does this count as a party?” Kon asks, glancing around with a little grin before popping his hors d'oeuvre into his mouth. Tim does the same, then remembers this means that now he knows what Kon’s mouth tastes like again. Dammit. 

Kon’s mouth currently tastes like ricotta and roasted grape, which isn’t even necessarily a taste that especially appeals to Tim, aside from the part where it’s how Kon’s mouth currently tastes. Why do people even roast grapes? Why is that even a thing? 

Why does Kon look so attractive in slightly smudged eyeliner he put on for him and clothes he bought him? Like–Kon always looks attractive, it’s an incredibly unfortunate curse on the world, reflexively checking out his ass in spandex literally did get Tim thrown off a roof once, but this attractive? This is several new layers of “attractive” and Kon is wearing all of them like a second skin. A very tight and fitted and well-tailored second skin, to be specific. One with cutouts and short-shorts involved. 

This metaphor may be getting away from him. 

“Technically I think so, though maybe not the usual kind,” Tim says. “I mean, it’s sort of a party, it’s just mostly an event. Maybe they want donations or something, I don’t know. Museums usually do.” 

He assumes that’s what the ticket money went to, or at least a fair chunk of it. They were pretty expensive tickets, considering, but since it’s an adults-only special event that isn't obviously themed in either a rogue-baiting or rogue-planned way he hadn't really questioned it. Getting overcharged by a probably-underfunded art museum isn't exactly enough to trot out his inner Bat or inner future supervillain for. 

Well, as long as nobody on staff annoys or insults Kon, anyway. Because in that case he will be financially destroying this place. Like, obviously. It's a little early to be planning his supervillain calling cards, but “you know what you did” is an increasingly tempting option. 

Anyway, that's just a contingency plan. Totally unnecessary as long as Kon has a good time. 

“What’s over there?” Kon asks, peering towards another station. Tim wonders why he’s asking, since he assumes he can feel it, though in retrospect “feeling” whatever it is doesn’t necessarily explain the purpose or point of whatever it is. 

“No idea,” Tim says. “Why, does it feel interesting?” 

“Um.” Kon . . . hesitates, then glances back to him, looking oddly–embarrassed, almost? Weird, Tim thinks, repressing a frown. “It’s, uh . . . kinda, I guess. I dunno. Wanna check it out?” 

“Sure,” Tim says, peering towards it. It looks like a series of boxes with holes in them all stacked on top of each other, though he can’t see what’s actually inside them–there’s curtains or something built into them. He’s not really sure what the whole setup’s supposed to be, honestly, but if Kon’s interested . . . 

They head over, and it turns out the whole setup is basically the same theory as those haunted houses where they make you stick your hand in a box full of peeled grapes and cooked spaghetti and tell you they’re eyeballs and brains, although Tim is hoping peeled grapes and cooked spaghetti won’t actually be involved. 

“So there’s literally zero surprises here for you, I’m guessing,” Tim says wryly. Kon looks sheepish. 

“We can go do something else,” he says. 

“I mean, I’ll be surprised,” Tim points out. “So up to you if you’re interested or not.” 

“Okay, point, I guess,” Kon says, laughing a little and rubbing his arm self-consciously. “I dunno.” 

“Tell me which one to try?” Tim suggests, smiling at him. Kon laughs again, ducking his head to hide a grin. That continues to not be as effective as he probably wants it to be, given their height difference, but Tim has no intention of pointing that out. He doesn’t want to make Kon more self-conscious, and also it’s fucking adorable. 

Bastard. 

“You sure about that?” Kon says, his grin turning sly as he glances back towards him. “You don’t know what’s in there, babe.” 

“I’m willing to live a little dangerously,” Tim replies with an easy shrug. Kon laughs again. 

“Okay, but don’t say I didn’t warn you,” he teases.

Tim quickly regrets letting Kon pick which boxes he should stick his hands in via trying said boxes, but also Kon just looks so fucking cute laughing at the different faces he makes for every one, so it’s hard to actually get annoyed about it. Also, Kon admittedly did warn him. 

Although he might’ve rather put up with the peeled grapes and cooked spaghetti, honestly.

Seriously. Those are some textures, ugh.

[fortheloveofwonderland]

Rusty | Chapter 7 | S.R

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Chapter Summary - When you find Spencer mid dissociation, you fight to bring him back to reality. You provide him some comfort in the aftermath with unexpected results.

A/N - this starts with the full phone conversation that transpired between Spencer and Luke in the previous chapter and the picks up while reader was getting dinner and shows the build up to Spencer’s dissociation. I do not have hands on experience with this, everything regarding Spencer’s condition was taken from internet articles.

Pairing - Spencer Reid / Fem! Reader

Category - strangers to friends to lovers | angst | smut minors DNI

Warnings - detailed depictions of dissociative state from both Spencer and readers perspectives, blood, self-harm, swearing, cleaning wounds, talk of mental health and medication, PTSD, kinda sensual massage(?), lots of touching, coming untouched, Spencer comes in his pants.

WC - 6.1k

Chapter 7 - Where Were You (When the World Stopped Turning)

“I only called because-”

“Because you felt guilty? Because you finally decided you can’t run from me forever?” The voice on the other end of the line cut him off. 

“No, no…” Spencer shook his head, regretting this already. 

“What then?” 

“You have to stop-”

“Stop what?” Luke’s incredulous voice cut him off once more. 

“Please?” Spencer whined a little.

“So you don’t feel bad? Don’t care at all? Because that’s how it feels, Spencer.” 

“No…I said-”

“You haven’t said much of anything. For two years!” Luke scoffed. 

“Please just listen to me for a moment?” Spencer huffed out a breath, feeling dizzy from this conversation. 

“Do you know how much that hurt?” Luke spoke again. 

“Yes, I know…I get it, I do. I-I-”

“You just left, Spencer. You left and haven’t so much as called me once since. It hurt, it really fucking hurt.” Luke’s voice shook. 

“You’re not letting me speak. You have to-”

“What are you trying to say?” 

“It’s been two years. I…” Spencer trailed off with a shake of head, unsure what he was trying to say. 

“And you think in two years I’ve just forgotten about you?” Luke grumbled. 

“No. Please? I just want-”

“What? What do you want?” 

“Need-”

“Need what?” 

“To heal.” 

“To heal?” 

“Yes.” 

“And I don’t?” Luke sounded incredulous once more. 

“No. Please can you-”

“Do you realise how much it hurt hearing from Emily that you’d left? And not just that you’d left the BAU, but you’d left the goddamn state?” Luke was pacing, Spencer could hear his heavy footsteps.

Spencer closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. He’d known this was a bad idea. 

“Yes, yes I know I need-”

“What?” Once again Luke cut him off. 

“Space.” Spencer huffed out. 

“I’ve given you space! I’ve given you two years of space!” 

“More space.” Spencer’s jaw ached with the constant teeth grinding he’d been doing. “In time I might-”

“In time? It’s been two years! How much more time do you need?” Luke practically growled. 

“I don’t kn-”

“This was a bad idea, maybe you shouldn’t have called.” Luke sighed and Spencer could practically see him raking his fingers through his hair. 

“No, no.” He tried to insist but Luke was most certainly right, he shouldn’t have called. This was a terrible idea. 

“I just wanted to hear your voice, cariño. I was worried about you, I needed to know you were alright, because I care.” Luke softened and Spencer felt his chest tighten.

It was easier to distance himself from it, to forget about what he’d lost, if he only let himself remember those last few bad months after prison. 

If he allowed himself to recall the good times, to dwell on how much he’d missed hearing Luke call him cariño, he would crumble. 

“Okay.” He swallowed. “Thank you.” 

“Please look after yourself, Spence.” 

“I’ll try.” Spencer nodded to no one but himself. 

“I, uh, have a, uh, good day I guess.” Luke knew better than trying to prolong a conversation Spencer didn’t want to be a part of. 

“You too.” Spencer whispered and then the line went dead. 

***

Once alone in his lodge, pressing the ice pack against his throbbing knee, Spencer’s mind wandered of its own accord. 

He replayed his earlier conversation with Luke on repeat, a constant loop playing in his brain like a broken record. 

It was the first time in two years that Spencer had spoken to him. He’d heard his voice since, the first six months after he left DC, Luke left him voicemails at least once a week. But Spencer never picked up the phone or called him back. 

Honestly he couldn’t quite understand where the gumption had come from today to finally call him. Perhaps he needed it to be over, finally really over, so he could try and move on with his life. 

But whatever relief he thought he may find had been a pipe dream, and the call left him on edge all day. 

Once he was alone he couldn’t stop dwelling on it and he felt that anger bubble swelling in his stomach. 

He knew before the dissociation happened that it was heading that way. He tried to stop it from escalating, he really did. But it was no use. 

When he felt the rage rising he’d dropped the ice pack on the floor and got up from the couch. He found himself leaning on the kitchen counter just trying to focus on his breathing, quell the anger. 

“I am still whole. I am still whole. I am still whole.” He muttered under his breath, eyes closed. 

But he wasn’t, was he? It was a lie. His therapist had deceived him into believing he wasn’t missing pieces. His old team had tried to placate him with false truths that he would make it through this darkness.

His anger grew. His fury was multi fold, at Luke, at the rest of the team, at his therapist and even at himself. It expanded, stretched from his stomach to his chest to his limbs. The rage bubble was nurtured by his meddlesome thoughts, cultivating, spreading until every atom of his being was on fire with a maddening flame. 

And then it happened, like a cord snapping in half. Spencer Reid left his body. He wasn’t him, his body didn’t belong to him any longer. 

Where was he? What was this place? He didn’t recognise anything in front of his eyes. He was in some kind of ether, a thick fog of nothingness. 

He was on the couch. But there was someone leaning against the kitchen counter. The foreign body stood up right, and walked towards his bedroom. 

Where are you going? That’s my room, you shouldn’t be here. 

He got up from the couch, followed the retreating form into the other room, through the haze. The unknown person didn’t stop, continued on into the bathroom. 

The floor beneath him felt as though it was cracking, like walking on a thin sheet of ice. He was cautious in his movements, following the stranger into the other room. 

And then he felt light, too light, as though he were floating. The fog around him grew thicker and the other body was barely visible through the dense haze. 

Where are you going? Get out of here! 

He heard his voice but it was distant, somewhere far away. He continued to hover above the ground, floating his way through the nothingness. 

Who are you? 

It was only when the other body turned around, face peering through the void that he felt a strange pang of recognition. 

Brown orbs flecked with gold. Messy, tangled curls. Dark purple circles and chapped dry lips. 

Is he me? Am I him? Who am I? 

What do you want? Why are you here? 

The man that was, but wasn’t him didn’t hear him. And Spencer just watched on as he walked back over to the bed, something tucked inside his palm. 

Floating. Buoyant. Hovering. Light as air yet heavy as a led weight. Spinning. Spiralling. Pirouetting through the mire. 

Who are you? Who am I? Why are you here? Why am I here? 

The body was naked from the waist up. One hand moving towards a bare arm, something shimmering between the fingers. 

A dizzying blanket of confusion weighed him down, yet he felt light; free. Nothing was within his reach, yet everything felt so near. 

What are you doing? How did you get here? 

His voice was still so far off, somewhere that wasn’t here although he wasn’t entirely sure where here was. 

The was a smash but the sound barely registered in his ears. Something solid, hitting something hard, crashing, breaking. 

Something scored down his arm, a prickle on his skin. Claret weeped, trickled. He didn’t feel a thing. Or did he? 

Where am I? 

A sound that maybe wasn’t a sound. A knocking? Tapping? Once. Twice. Three times. 

“Spencer? Spencer?” 

Spencer? Is that me? Who am I? Where am I? 

The viscous liquid was sticky on his skin, made his stomach turn and coil. 

“Spencer? Spencer, I’m going to need you to let me know you’re okay.” 

Okay? Am I okay? Spencer? Spencer who? 

The hand belonging to the foreign body dropped into its lap. Blood continued to congeal, forcing its way out of some kind of hole? Cut? Trench? 

“Spencer, if you don’t answer me I am going to come in. If you don’t want that then tell me now, otherwise I am opening this door.” A pause and then, “fine, I’m coming in.” 

Seconds ticked by. Or was it minutes? Hours? The mist thickened, dissipated, thickened again. He was spiralling further into the ether, deeper into the unknown. 

Is this heaven? Hell? Am I dead? Who am I? 

Through the fog another foreign body appeared. It was quick in its movements, swift and light on its feet. 

An angel? The devil? Is this death? Am I in limbo? 

“S-Spencer?” 

Everything grew dark. An otherworldliness clutching, stealing him from the present. He observed the new body crouch in front of the body on the bed. 

My body? If he’s me, who am I? 

His confusion faded away. The lightness ceased to exist. And suddenly there was nothing left at all except for the constant thrum of an overwhelming mantra he didn’t didn’t quite understand. 

I am still whole. I am still whole. I am still whole.

***

“Spencer? Can you hear me?” You knelt on the floor between his thighs as his eyes continued to stare through you. “Spencer!”

The blood continued to pour and you knew it needed addressing first, before you could move on to other factors. You stripped off your sweatshirt, kneeling up and wrapping the fabric around his wound. 

Your fingers brushed against his blanched skin. He shivered but otherwise didn’t move. 

You tied the arms of the sweater in place to secure it for the time being, keep the bleeding contained. Maybe once you’d snapped him out of this you could properly assess it. 

You retrieved your phone from your pocket and quickly entertained a Google search. You were fairly certain he was dissociating, and needed to know how to cloy him back to reality. 

You made quick work of skimming through the article, making a mental note of how to help him. You managed to free the razor blade from between his fingers, placing it out of reach on the nightstand. 

With his hand now empty you placed yours in it, curling your fingers around his and holding tightly. 

“Spencer, I need you to talk to me. I need you to focus. Can you feel my hand? If you can, I need you to tell me what it feels like. Describe to me what my hand feels like.” You squeezed, wiggled your fingers to create friction against his own. 

His eyes closed, opened again. Closed and opened again. His chest heaved and deflated. Then his fingers started to twitch. 

“If you can hear me Spencer, tell me what my hand feels like.” You repeated, speaking slowly and enunciating each syllable. 

His fingers twitched again, moving leisurely between your own. Eyes closed, eyes open. Chest puffed out, chest shrinking in. 

“W-warm.” His voice came out as a wispy sigh. “S-soft. Warm.”

“Good, that’s great.” You nodded, cautiously raising your other hand. 

You gently rested it across his left pectoral muscle, his heart rampantly beating beneath it. Ground him. Make him focus on his senses, bring him back to the reality he has divorced himself from. 

“What does this feel like? Can you feel this?” You softly ran your nails over his chest, up and down, back and forth. 

“S-scratchy.” He spoke just as quietly. 

“So good, Spence, so good.” You nodded, removing both of your hands from him somewhat reluctantly. 

You got to your feet and glanced around the room. You needed something tactile but Spencer’s lodge was not exactly a cornucopia of stimuli. 

You had a vague memory, something you’d noticed when going through his closet but hadn’t paid any attention to at the time. You must have stored it in the recesses of your mind. 

Dashing to the closet you threw it open and on the floor, stuffed towards the back, you found what you were looking for. It was the perfect sensory object for the task at hand. 

You snatched it up and rushed back to where he sat, lifeless as he continued staring into space. You knelt between his legs again and placed the item in his open palm. 

It was a stuffed horse toy with a blue-grey dappled coat almost identical to Willow. Its fur was soft and tawny and his mane was more coarse. It wore a hard shell saddle and its hooves were squishy. It was the ideal mix of textures. 

“Spencer, I need you to tell me what this feels like.” You gently lifted his casted arm, pressed the fingers within it against the horse's body. “What does it’s body feel like?” 

His fingers that peaked out of the cast twitched a few times. 

“S-soft.” He breathed. “V-very soft.” 

“Good. Great. How about this?” You guided his fingers to the mane. 

The fingers jerked, sunk into the material, twisting in the locks. 

“R-rough. C-coarse.” 

“Yes, that’s right. You’re doing so well.” You encouraged. “And this?” 

Moving his hand now to the saddle, his brows pinched together, registering the change of texture somewhere within his brain. 

“H-hard. Cold. S-smooth.” 

“Perfect.” You nodded although he still seemed to not be seeing you. 

His tactile sense was coming back, you needed to reel in his others. You left him to caress the horse while you quickly traversed through to the kitchen. You opened a cabinet and found an opened bag of caramel candy. Perfect. 

Grabbing one in your hand and untwisting the plastic wrapper as you went, you found Spencer again still, his hand that had been fingering the stuffed toy now stilled. 

“Spencer, can you open your mouth for me?” You asked softly. 

He didn’t speak, didn’t even nod. But his lips fell apart an inch or so in compliance. You pushed the candy between his chapped lips but he didn’t seem to register it. 

“Can you taste that? What flavour is it, Spencer?” You stood in front of him, looking down on him. 

His cheeks hollowed and then puckered. His tongue moved inside his mouth, rolling the hard candy around and around. 

His eyebrows furrowed the tiniest amount as he contemplated this, tried to focus on the taste on his pallet. 

While he was doing this, you moved around the room, needing something else for visual stimuli. As you reached for one of the photographs on his desk, he spoke quietly. 

“Caramel.” He breathed. 

“You’re doing so good, Spence.” You collected up one of the photographs and joined him again, sitting next to him on the bed and holding the photo in front of his disconnected vision. “Spencer, tell me about these people.” 

He blinked several times in quick succession, trying to clear some kind of fog from his vision. The caramel was still being sucked on and his fingers now moved against the stuffed animal again.

“Who is this?” You pointed at the woman on the far right. 

More blinking, cogs turning in his mind, whirring and whirring whilst he fought to place the faces in the photograph. 

“T-Tara. Tara Lewis.” He croaked. 

You had no way to know if he was correct, you just had to believe he knew what he was talking about. 

“Okay, great. And this? Who is this?” You moved your finger to the man next to her. 

After a few more blinks he replied, “Matt S-Simmons.” 

“This?” You moved on. 

Blink, blink, blink. 

“JJ. Jennifer.” 

“This?” 

Blink, blink, blink. 

“Penelope.” 

“This?” 

Blink, blink, blink. A pinch of his brows. 

“Me?” He posed it as a question. 

“Yeah, that’s right. Well done.” 

“Me.” He repeated, his breaths getting a little more frantic. “Me?” 

“Yes, you. Spencer Reid.” Your hand shook a little and you tried to keep the image still. “You are Spencer Reid.”

“Hmm.” He mused, eyes still blinking rapidly. “Spencer.” 

“That’s right. Spencer Reid. You live in Bandera, Texas, but before that you lived in Washington DC. Before that I think you lived in Las Vegas.” You repeated all the things you knew about him. “Oh!” 

You jumped up, replacing one photograph for another. 

“I think this is your mom?” You hurried back with the other photo. “Can you tell me about her?” 

More quick fire blinking. His casted hand raised from the horse and his fingers fluttered over the image of the older woman. 

“Mom.” He groaned as he spoke. “Mom.” 

“What’s her name?” 

“N-name?” His eyes closed for a few seconds. 

The world felt like it stood still for those few seconds. His chest heaved almost fitfully, like he was convulsing. Both hands went to his eyes and he kneaded them beneath his fingers. 

His breathing grew erratic for a second before everything stilled. His hands stopped their ministrations. His breathing became shallow. The world halted on its axis and then…

“Diana. Diana Reid. Mom.” His eyes opened, landed on you. 

They were focused and intense, brows pinched together in uncertainty. His eyes fluttered across your face, down to the photo in your hands, to the horse in his lap. To his broken cell phone on the floor, to his arm wrapped up in your sweater and back to you. 

“What is…where am…fuck.” He shook his head. “It happened again.” 

“It’s happened before?” You asked softly. 

“A few times.” He nodded, noticing the caramel in his mouth. “What is…why am I eating candy?” 

“I was trying to ground you using your senses. You don’t remember anything?” 

He looked back at the horse in his lap and wrapped his hand around it.

“No, I usually don’t. I remember feeling this anger in my chest and then, it’s like a light goes out.” He looked over at his arm and your sweater tied around it. “I cut myself?” 

“Yeah. You got a first aid kit?” You got to your feet. 

“Bathroom.” He replied. 

While you were gone he snatched up one of the pillows and pressed it to his stomach in a vain attempt to cover his naked torso. You returned a moment or so later with the kit after washing your hands and sat back down on the bed. 

You were cautious in removing the sweater which was now caked in blood but upon inspection it did look as though the bleeding had stopped. You found an antiseptic wipe and ripped open the packet. 

You asked Spencer without words for permission to touch him, knowing how he would flinch when touched with no warning. He nodded stiffly. 

His jaw stiffened but he didn’t make a sound as you gently wiped the wound and the surrounding blood. It must have hurt, but he refused to show it. 

“Can I ask you something?” You spoke softly while opening another wipe to clean off the rest of his arm. 

“I guess.” He closed his eyes, ready for all manner of questions about whatever it was you’d just witnessed. 

“Is this why you take the paroxetine? You have some kind of dissociative disorder?” 

“I take the paroxetine for my PTSD.” He confessed with little protest. “My dissociative amnesia is a symptom of that.” 

“Do you have them often? The dissociation?” You finished cleaning his arm and found a tube of ointment. 

You poured a little on your fingertips before massaging it against his wound. He hissed slightly, eyes still closed. 

“Not usually. I’ve had two in as many days but before that I hadn’t had one since before I moved out here.” 

“Ah.” You rolled your lip between your teeth. “So since I got here.” 

His eyes shot open and landed on you, a small furrow on his brows.

“This isn’t because of you.” He was shaking his head. “It happens when I reach a certain level of anger. When my mind can’t control the vicious rage that starts bubbling inside of me, it divorces itself from reality. This has nothing to do with you. There is one recurring factor though.” 

You inspected his wound while he spoke, assessing he probably didn’t need medical attention as it wasn’t too deep. 

“I think I can surmise what that might be.” You found some butterfly wound closures in the kit. Your eyes flicked up to meet his. “Your ex? You said you got a text from him yesterday and I, uh, I heard you on the phone this morning, assumed that was him.” 

Spencer closed his eyes again, if he didn’t look at you it made it easier to talk about these things. You started closing his wound with the butterfly stitches. 

“It’s not necessarily that he makes me angry. But when I think about him, I inevitably think about why we broke up. And when I think about why we broke up it…that’s where the anger comes from.” 

You remained silent while you finished with the stitches and then wrapped his arm with gauze. 

As soon as you were finished Spencer was pushing himself up, placing the horse on the bed and going to his closet for a clean t-shirt. 

“We still have food if you’re hungry? I think you should probably try and eat something.” You stood too. 

He simply nodded and you followed him to the kitchen in silence. 

***

You ate the cold food on the couch without a word shared between you. You drank a glass of the scotch you’d gotten at the general store and when you’d offered one to Spencer he shook his head. 

After you’d finished eating, you took the plates into the kitchen and while your back was turned he spoke.

“You didn’t ask about my PTSD.” His voice pitched as he spoke. 

You left the plates by the sink and slowly turned back to face him. 

“I didn’t think you’d want me to.” You shrugged, heading back across the room. 

“I didn’t. But you’ve proven to be rather nosy.” His lip twitched a little into a small smile. 

“I prefer the term curious.” You clucked, standing in front of him. “But I’m not going to force you to tell me something if you don’t want to. Just know if you chose to, I’m here to listen.” 

“Thank you.” He stood too, grimacing slightly like you were growing accustomed to him doing. “For everything. If I were you I would have high tailed out of here long ago. I’m, uh, not used to people sticking around.” 

“I think I like it here.” You smiled. “I don’t have any intentions of high tailing it anywhere just yet. Except for right now, to bed. I’m exhausted.” 

“Right, yeah of course.” He nodded, but his expression changed into something you couldn’t place. 

He looked as though he wanted to say something but was stopping himself from doing so. You weren’t going to force it out of him, instead you turned towards the door. 

“Goodnight then.” You spoke over your shoulder. 

But as you were reaching for the handle to let yourself out, he cleared his throat and spoke up. 

“Could you maybe…if it’s not too much to ask, uh, possibly…” he trailed off scratching the back of his neck. “Would you stay with me tonight? I really don’t want to be alone.” 

Judging by his strangled tone and contorted features you could tell this was by far the hardest thing he’d confessed to you tonight. You turned back to him with a small smile. 

He looked so vulnerable, almost childlike in his admittance. There wasn’t a world in which such a request could be denied. 

“Of course I will.” You nodded in agreement and he seemed to relax at this. “Just let me go get changed and I’ll be right back, okay?” 

He didn’t speak so you retreated again, hurriedly going back to your lodge and changing into a pair of shorts and an oversized t-shirt. You brushed your teeth quickly before making your way back over to Spencer’s home. 

He was already in bed when you returned, sheet draped over his body as he laid on his side facing out into the room. The light was already off. 

He didn’t look at you so you climbed onto the bed beneath the window and slid under the covers. From what little you could ascertain, he wore no more than a t-shirt and boxers. 

His back was to you and you noticed the way he stiffened when you got into the bed. You didn’t know his aversion for sharing such an intimate space and honestly he was wondering why he’d asked you to stay at all. 

Having you in his space like this put him on edge and calmed him in equal measure. It was a strange cacophony of feelings and he didn’t know which one to give over to. 

He could feel the heat radiating off of you. He wanted you closer, he wanted you as close as humanly possible. But he also wanted to be far, far away. 

“Spence,” you whispered. “Can I…am I allowed to touch you?” 

A shiver passed up his spine and you saw it even in the dark. For a moment he was still, but then his head nodded against the pillow. 

You shuffled closer to him, resting your head against your own pillow. Cautiously you draped an arm around him, palm resting against his stomach. 

His casted arm was cushioned between his pillows. If the position bothered his fresh wound on his bicep, he didn’t seem to notice or care. 

He tensed for a moment or two but then he suddenly encased your hand in his, his palm on the back of your hand and entwining your fingers. He pulled you closer so your chest was flush against his back. 

You couldn’t help but nuzzle into the back of his neck, his hair tickling your face. His hand gripped yours tighter, as though he needed to cling to you to remain grounded. 

And then, much like he’d done earlier with Franklin, he started moving both of your hands so you were stroking his torso. At first just his stomach but then he brought your hand up towards his chest, pausing for a second or two so you could feel his heartbeat and then back down to brush over the waistband of his boxers. 

He continued this motion, up and down and up and down for a few minutes. You tried to commit to memory the curves of his body beneath his t-shirt. After a while he stilled you both suddenly and he started exploring the contours of your hand and each finger in his own. 

He was careful in his movements, almost clinical. He huffed out a breath and when he spoke, it was barely a whisper. 

“Do you ever just…crave human touch? Like in a way that is so desperate you feel like you might die without it?” He continued inspecting your hands.

“Isn’t that just a normal human desire?” You whispered against his neck. 

“Not for me.” He sighed. “It’s an alien feeling to me and I don’t know what to make of it.” 

He let go of your hand and you were unsure if that meant he himself no longer wanted to be touched or if he’d done it so you could touch him. 

You dared let your hand come to rest on his stomach again and gently stroked little circles on his shirt. After a minute or so you moved upwards, towards his chest and paused over his heart like he had done. 

You brushed your hand back down, barely ghosting the waistband of his boxers before continuing back up. 

Spencer closed his eyes and gave over to the feeling as your hand traversed the planes of his clothed torso. Several minutes passed and his breathing started to grow a little heavy and you let your fingers brush against his knuckles. 

He didn’t tell you to stop so you didn’t, letting your fingers travel up his bare arm until you met the sleeve of his t-shirt. You migrated back down to his knuckles, back up to his bicep again and again, your touch featherlight. 

His breathing got heavier, but he seemed to enjoy it so you let your fingers dip beneath the sleeve of his shirt and wander up towards his shoulder. He tensed briefly but soon relaxed again. 

You kept this up, down to his knuckles, back up to his shoulder, kneading the muscle at the top of his arm each time. 

He wriggled backwards, his backside nestled near your crotch. He was panting reverently and you barely heard the whisper of, “more.” 

Rolling your lip between your teeth you propped yourself up on your elbow as your hand moved to his back. You stroked him over his t-shirt a few times but when whimpered slightly you assumed it wasn’t enough. 

Taking a breath you toyed with the hem of his t-shirt and were met with no protest. Your hand dipped beneath the fabric and your hand glided over the hot flesh of his back. 

Your fingers danced over his spine, weaving in and out of his vertebrae. He sucked in a deep breath and then a soft moan escaped his lips. 

Wondering how far you could push this, how far he wanted you to push this, you let your digits wander over his hip and up his rib cage. 

Spencer seemed to vibrate at the sensation and you could only assume it was a good thing. You continued over his bare stomach, feeling it clench and tighten beneath your hand. 

He whined and it sent a jolt right to your core. You pressed your thighs together as a heat spread between them. 

As you moved your hand upwards you accidentally brushed over his right nipple. Spencer stilled suddenly, tensing every muscle in his body. 

Your hand halted in its movements and the silence deafened the room for a moment or two. But then he relaxed and the barely audible “more” came again. 

And so you complied. You ran your hand up and down his torso, this time purposefully grazing over his nipple, each time you did he moaned softly into his pillow. 

Spencer had no idea what was happening or why this felt so incredible. He never wanted it to end, wanted to spend the rest of his life with your hands on him like this. 

It was a strange feeling for him to actively seek this kind of human connection but he didn’t let himself overthink it. It felt so good that it had banished any other thoughts from his mind. 

And there wasn’t an ounce of guilt to be felt when he realised he was, for the first time in four years, standing at full attention in his pants. 

Your hand brushed against his boxers each time you moved downwards and you wanted to go lower still. But Spencer didn’t whisper more and so you wouldn’t push your luck, no matter how much you wanted to. 

On one descent, your hand passed slightly further than you’d meant to and the side of your hand skimmed against what you knew to be his erection.

He moaned louder than before, hips rolling back against you. You had to press your thighs together tighter, clamping them closed as another wave of heat flooded through you. 

But still he didn’t ask for more and so you didn’t risk letting your hand fall lower. Instead you let it ebb higher, across his collarbones, over the side of his neck, across his stubbly jaw and into his hair. 

Your fingers threaded into the thick locks, pulling lightly at the roots. He mewled at the sensation and so you did it again. 

Spencer was writhing on the bed, eyes so tightly closed as he rocked against you. You made a circuit of his body, from his hair down his face, across his torso, up and down his arm and then across his back. 

He was moaning more frequently with each pass of his body and his breathing was haggard. When your hand accidentally brushed against his cock again, he moaned in such an animalistic way you almost moaned too. 

His body soon started convulsing, as though he was suffering a seizure. You pressed your hand against his stomach, starting to panic but then…

“Oh fuck…Jesus fucking Christ…fuck!” He cried into his pillow as his hips jerked forward. 

With one last deep moan he stilled entirely and so did you. 

You lifted your hand from him, hovering it over his torso. The room once again became awash with silence. And you knew exactly why. 

Spencer shuffled a little closer to the edge of the bed as he tried to catch his breath. You knew what had happened and he knew that you did. 

He clenched his jaw tightly, opening his eyes but not looking back at you. 

“I, uh…” he croaked, voice pitching. “Bathroom. I need to…yeah.” 

He barely finished his sentence before he was out of bed and limping to the bathroom. You chewed on the inside of your cheek and watched him retreat. 

He switched on the bathroom light and closed the door before falling back against it. His chest still heaved with his breaths and his whole body felt like jelly. 

He rubbed his eyes with his palms and glanced down at his crotch and the obvious wet patch in the front of his black underwear. 

He stared at it like he couldn't make any sense out of it, which in truth he couldn’t. You hadn’t even touched his cock yet here he was. 

His first orgasm in four years. 

He breathed through his parted lips as he kept his eyes trained on the wet patch. The guilt would set in, for that he had no doubt. Once the haze of his orgasm wore off he would no doubt recoil in on himself and scold himself for allowing it to happen in the first place. 

But as of right now all he wanted to do was march back in that room and return the favour, make you feel as good as you’d made him feel. But he couldn’t. He wished he could but couldn’t. 

It should have been a momentous occasion for him, finally allowing himself to take a step past what had happened in prison. 

Instead he felt dirty. He felt like he’d betrayed himself somehow. He didn’t deserve a woman as wonderful as you, making him feel so incredible. He wasn’t worthy of you or your magnificent hands on his tarnished skin.

He couldn’t give you his body in that way because it didn’t belong to him. His body was owned by those three inmates, they had claimed him as their own and he would never be able to cloy himself free of their clutches.

He wasn’t good for you, he wasn’t good for Luke; he wasn’t good for anyone. He wasn’t whole anymore. He couldn’t expect you to be grateful for having the pieces those men left behind, their scraps. 

He tried to stem his tears while he peeled off his soiled underwear and cleaned his sticky genitals over the sink. He grabbed another pair of boxers from the laundry basket and put them on, although not clean, certainly cleaner than the other pair.

He skulked back into the room and you were on your back, propped up on your elbows. 

He slipped silently back into the bed and also laid on his back, staring at the ceiling. 

“We’re, uh, we’re not going to talk about what just happened.” He croaked. 

“Okay.” You agreed. “Do you want me to leave?” 

“No.” He was quick to answer. “Not unless you want to leave.” 

“I don’t.” You lowered yourself back to the mattress. “I’m sorry if I did something wrong.” 

He didn’t have to heart to tell you’d done nothing of the sort. Everything you’d done had been so right, it was him that was wrong. 

He wished he could tell you that, just to appease your own mind but he couldn’t find the words. He wanted to tell you what a mess he was, why he was like this so you knew it was no fault of your own. 

But he didn’t. He said nothing. The awkwardness wrapped you both up in a blanket but it wasn’t a comforting one. 

Spencer stared at the ceiling, you did the same. You were barely a foot apart but there was a chasm between you. And you felt it growing larger and larger by the day and eventually you were sure it would span so wide that you and Spencer would never find your way back to one another. 

@kalulakunundrum @small-and-violent @voledart @katrina0-0 @bakugouswh0r3 @prettyboyandthefangirl @andiebeaword @dreatine @matthew-gray-gubler-lover @thebloomingeagle

[zerobaselove]

zb1 as romance tropes / dynamics ♡

pairing: zb1 x reader

genre: fluff

warnings: none! lowercase intended, not proofread

notes: since i have already written one of these in full (childhood best friend!matthew) i might turn this into a full fledged series ? if you guys would be interested, that is! (yes the matthew one is pulled right from my oneshot </3 it's just too cute)

members under the cut!

jiwoong ;

best friend's older brother

"can you go ask my brother if he knows where the measuring cups are?" your best friend gyuvin asked, sifting through drawers to find the other items needed for your cake in the meantime. "i- i guess so." you managed to stutter out before heading up to the room at the end of the hallway, jiwoong's room.

you hated to admit it, especially knowing how many people swooned over your best friend's brother, but the longer time went on the more you felt yourself developing what you could only consider a crush on the boy; completely against your own will. it wouldn't have gotten this bad had you been able to avoid him, but when his younger brother is your best friend and you practically live at their house, he tends to be apart of your days more often than you know what to do with.

knocking lightly on the door you wait a moment, hearing some shuffling before the door opened. "what do you wa- oh." he paused, door ajar as he tried to hide the surprise on his face, "sorry y/n i thought you were gyuvin, what's up!" his tone and expression softened in tandem. you took a moment to respond, too busy staring at his messy hair and the way his collarbone peaked through his loose t-shirt.

"oh uh, we just needed to know where the measuring cups were." an awkward laugh left your mouth as you realized how silly the inquiry was, but thankfully you were met with a gentle smile as he shut the door behind him, "i'm not too sure, let's go look together."

zhang hao ;

cute exchange student

it had only been a few weeks since the new exchange student had moved in next door; the family having sent their daughter off to go study in china for a semester, getting an exchange student of their own in return. but the two of you were attached at the hip. you weren't really sure how it happened, one moment you were coming over to drop something off for your mom, the next you were being introduced to the boy, zhang hao, and suddenly you two spent every waking moment together.

you liked to think of yourself as a good influence; helping him better his english, showing him around your town, cooking him your favorite recipes that he may not have tried. all while you were getting the same experience in return from him, which was wonderful for you, but one thing you weren't expecting him to show you was what it felt like to fall for your new best friend.

"y/n?" he waved a hand in front of your face, pulling you from your thoughts of the boy himself, "are you okay? you look," he paused for a moment, trying to think of the word he wanted to use, "lost?" his tone raised, not sure of his choice, causing you to smile, "like, lost in thought?" you watched his smile light up, recognizing the phrase he was going for, "that's the one! you look lost in thought, are you okay?"

his sweet voice mixed with his endearing mannerisms was enough to have your head spinning, "i'm alright hao, just thinking about nonsense." his hand found it's way to rest over yours, "well you can always think out loud to me, i'll listen."

hanbin ;

campus crush

it shouldn't surprise you that the boy everyone on campus had a crush on was as cute and nice as he was, but you couldn't help but let your mouth run dry as he sat next to you and sparked up a conversation on the first day of your creative writing class. you hadn't managed to be in his presence until now, living vicariously through stories spread on campus; good deeds he had done for people, places he volunteered, even being the designated driver for his friends during parties. but god, you were starting to get what other people saw in him.

"you know," he smiled, his eyes lighting up so soon into your conversation, "i'm on the dance team, you should come watch us sometime!" you couldn't help but mirror his expression as you tried not to dwell on the way your heart sped up.

"i'd love to!" just when you thought he couldn't get cuter, his smile widened as his eyes shut slightly, before running a hand through his hair while he grabbed his phone. sliding his phone across the desk, open to his contacts page. "if you want you can put your number in and i can text you the details." you quickly nodded, inputting your number along with your name and the class code, just in case.

he giggled seeing the small detail, "d'you really think i wouldn't remember my new friend?" the comment left you a flushed mess, not knowing what to say. before you could say anything he continued, "don't worry, i think it's cute." god, you were screwed.

matthew ;

childhood best friend

"your turn to open your gift."

you hesitantly grabbed the box off of your bed, not having any clue what it could be. tearing through the messily strewn together paper and tape, you were met with a box, looking to matthew in curiosity only for him to urge you to continue. when you took the lid off, the sides of the box collapsed, revealing pictures of you from when you were kids up until graduation on layers of colorful paper and stickers. in the middle of it all was another, smaller box. lifting the lid off you revealed a cute charm of your favorite character attached to a keychain of a spotify code.

"it's a playlist i made for you," he couldn't contain the smile on his face at your excitement over the gift. "plus it's on a keychain so even when we are busy, you'll always have something to remind you of me with you." you couldn't help the tears pooling at your eyes, or the words threatening to spill. "god, i love you." you breathed out, your stomach doing flips at the confession.

"i love you too y/n." he smiled, a little taken aback by the confession as it wasn't something you two said lightly. you sighed, "no matthew, i love you. more than i should as your best friend." it took him a moment to realize what you were implying but once he connected the dots, it hit him like a truck, pulling you in for a hug as he picked you up off the floor.

you let out a giggle at the sudden action, not even thinking about what it could mean until he set you down and you noticed the way his cheeks had flushed a deep crimson red. "i'll say it again, i love you too y/n."

taerae ;

pretty boy with the pretty voice

your walks to work were typically uneventful, only choosing to do so over taking public transport for the exercise; until recently. like clockwork, every day, there had been a boy busking on the street you walked every afternoon, and his voice, well it was beautiful. you didn't even know the boy but somehow you felt his emotions through his voice.

you had started leaving for work earlier than usual, giving yourself a few extra minutes to sit and listen to the boy, who you had learnt was named taerae. with the extra time there, you two had begun to chat between songs, learning about each other and even getting to request songs sometimes. you'd always make sure to leave some tips in his guitar case before heading off to work, telling yourself you were just being supportive. but what you hadn't realized fully was just how smitten you had become with this taerae character.

"hey y/n!" he beamed, seeing you walk in his direction, just like every day, "hi taerae! how's it been going today?" you inquired, crouching next to him as your gaze wandered between the guitar and the boy. "same as usual, better now that you're here though!" you simply laughed, "i haven't even left you anything yet,"

"i know! i just like having you here." his voice trailed off for a moment before snapping back to reality, "any requests today?" you pondered for a moment, "play me your favorite song."

ricky ;

arranged relationship

"it'd be good for both companies darling," your father tried to be kind, knowing that this wasn't exactly how you were expecting your first relationship to go. "and he's very nice," your mother smiled at you, "and very handsome, i think you'll like him." you supposed it wouldn't do you any good to sulk over it, it wasn't just happening to you after all, so you cracked a small smile to ease your parents worries.

you didn't know much about ricky, if you were remembering his name correctly; just that he was the son of your parent's business friends, and was supposedly a candidate to be your boyfriend? the word seemed foreign to you, but you didn't have much time to dwell on it as a tall boy with blond hair walked into the lobby where you were waiting. "you must be y/n," he smiled, his voice soft; a strong contrast to his charismatic and intimidating looks.

"so you're ricky," you couldn't help but feel more relaxed already, "i've heard lots about you." he flushed a little at your words, his hand coming to the back of his neck, "good things i'd hope." you let out a small laugh, nodding your head, "nothing bad i promise."

the two of you talked for a while longer in the lobby, the awkward atmosphere slowly disappearing as the two of you realized just how much you had in common. maybe this wouldn't be so bad.

gyuvin ;

opposites attract

"hey y/n!" your best friend's booming voice could be heard from miles away, making the 20 feet between you seem like nothing. there he was, standing with a few of his friends, and you were a little overwhelmed to say the least.

the two of you couldn't be more different at times; his loud and outgoing personality was a stark contrast to your quiet and shy demeanor, but somehow you two got along better than anyone else. but you did still have a bit of a problem with his group of friends; they all seemed nice, that wasn't the problem, they were just all bubbly like gyuvin, and you didn't know how to handle that.

you gave a shy smile as you walked up to the group of boys, "hi gyuvin," you gave the other boys and small nod and wave, getting a bunch of greetings in return, "guys chill," gyuvin laughed, reaching his hand out to quiet his friends. "sorry about them, do you wanna get out of here?"

"what about you guys? don't you have plans?"

"yeah gyuvin hyung, don't we have plans?" the tall boy you were pretty sure was named gunwook, spoke up. "they'll be fine without me." gyuvin getting a few overly dramatic gasps from his friends, smacking them on the shoulder. your heart couldn't stop speeding up at the way he was willing to drop everything for you, but you tried to ignore it. "have fun with your little partner~" well, you couldn't ignore that.

gunwook ;

friendly rivals

"i didn't mean to overstep," the new boy, gunwook breathed out, "they just had asked for help and i didn't want to get off on the wrong foot by saying no." you smiled lightly at the boy, leaning your head against the mirrored dance practice wall, taking a sip of your water. "it's okay gunwook, it's my fault they don't see me as a better leader."

he turned to you, shaking his head feverishly, "no no no, listen. i know i haven't been here long but you seem to be an amazing leader," he patted you on the leg reassuringly, leaving you to smile at the boy. "thanks," your voice trailed off, your brain swirling with thoughts of critiques from your team.

it was time for your dance team to vote for a new leader as the new school year had turned over, and you were in danger of being overthrown by the new boy that everyone seemed to love, and you weren't handling it well; especially not when he's as cute and lovely as he is.

"i guess i'll just have to prove that i'm better for the role than you." a smug expression pasted on your face, you turned to the boy with a laugh, lightening the atmosphere. he returned with a wide gummy smile and a small giggle, "oh it's on y/n."

yujin ;

first crush / love

you suppose you were late to the game when it came to feelings, never having really experienced any until now; until you found yourself wanting to be the reason the boy in your class smiled. you and yujin weren't close, but you weren't strangers either. you had some mutual best friends, and had hung out all together a few times, but as soon as you weren't around your friends, it was like you didn't know each other. and you hated it.

"hi y/n," the voice pulled you from your thoughts, looking up from your desk to see yujin standing there, and for a moment you thought you were hallucinating. "oh, hey yujin," your voice trailed off a little, "what's up?" he leaned against your desk, gesturing to the board with written pairs for a project, and now you felt stupid for not paying attention. "oh shoot yeah, of course, uh, sit down." you pulled out the empty chair next to you, trying to make up for the embarrassment that you were living in.

the two of you looked over the criteria for your project, making plans for what you wanted to do, and before you knew it you were packing up. "so uh," yujin sheepishly smiled, handing you his phone, "so we can schedule to work on the project," he clarified.

you couldn't help but smile at his cute nature, "there you go," you handed it back to him, "text me what you wanna do, i have to go meet up with my friend." you smiled again as the bell rang, leaving the class almost proud of your ability to get one sentence out. this was gonna be a long project.

[thebearer]

part one of the best friend au blurb series with lip gallagher. i figured the meeting would be a good place to start :)

"Hey, can you hear me?" You pressed your phone to your ear, your free hand plugging your ear so you could hear your friend on the other line.

The dorm was packed, people spilling out into the hallway, booze spilling over cups. Costumes of all kinds passing by you, the bass rattling the walls as the Halloween party was in full swing. It was your first, and your only- you'd decided. You wanted the true college experience as any eager freshman would. You just didn't know you'd be doing it alone.

Your friends had bailed, ditching you for a frat party instead. One all the way across campus. You supposed you could go, fight the frigid cold alone in your tiny angel costume, but you decided against it. Sitting on the couch in some room instead, where a guy was gaming at his computer.

"Yo," You looked up, a mess of curls and blue eyes standing above you, red solo cup in his hand. "You, uh, you with Ron?"

"Who?" You asked, brow raised over the music.

The boy jerked his head over to the guy gaming. You shook your head. "You a friend of Amanda's? She's... I don't know where she is, honestly."

"No, I, uh," You stood, cheeks tinging with embarrassed heat. "'m sorry. I just... I needed a second, and this was... Well, no one was having sex in here, so I just... This is your room, isn't it? I-I'm sorry. I'll leave, I just-" You rambled.

"Hey, no, it's-it's fine. I get it." The guy said, smiling at you softly. "It's a fuckin' zoo out there."

"Yeah." You nodded, eyes cutting to the open door, where people stumbled by.

"I'm, uh, I'm Lip by the way." The boy said, blue eyes blinking up at you. You mumbled your own name back, eyes cutting around the room.

"I can... I can shut the door if you want me to? If it's too much." Lip offered, eyes scanning your frame. Your tiny, white dress that hugged you in the right place. The tiny, feather halo that was tilted in your hair.

"No, you don't have to. It's your room. I don't-" You muttered, nervously toying with the strap to your wings.

Lip shrugged, nonchalant, so effortlessly cool. "Nah, no problem, really. I'll leave it unlocked. I, uh, I have to finish my Quantum Computing paper anyways."

"Quantum? What's your major?" You gawked lightly.

Lip grinned, pressing the door shut, the noise dulled. Your ears rang lightly. "Uh, robotic engineering? I think." Lip shrugged. "I haven't decided yet. Figure I got a coupla years."

"You're a sophomore?" You guessed, watching him sit at his desk across from you.

"Freshman." Lip smiled. "What about you, angel?"

You rolled your eyes, hoping it hid your blush. "I'm a freshman, too. First semester."

"Yeah? What're you majoring in?" Lip leaned back in his chair.

"Elementary ed." You mumbled. "Not as great as what you're doin', but I'm not good with math."

"Yeah, but it's important." Lip shrugged. "Lot more important than my shit."

"Doubt that." You muttered, taking a seat back on the couch. Your phone buzzed, a half-ass apology from your roommate about ditching.

"Boyfriend?" Lip asked, nodding at your phone.

"Roommate." You scoffed. "She ditched me. When to the Kappa Sig party instead. Didn't tell me until I was here."

"Ah, that's shitty."

"Tell me about it." You rolled your eyes. "That's why I was in here, by the way. I'm not just like some freak who sneaks in people's rooms during parties. I just... I didn't know anyone out there."

"It's cool." Lip shrugged. "I'm usually here at these things if you ever are. Kinda... have to be, I guess." He pointed to the closed door. You grinned. "If you ever need someone to hang with."

"Thanks." You mutter. "I can leave, though, so you can do your homework. It was cool to meet you. I just... I don't wanna bother you. Sounds like important stuff."

"Nah, I'll finish it later." Lip shrugged. "So, you, uh, from here?"

It was the start, born in the small dorm room, chatting over loud music that eventually fizzled out a little after three am. You and Lip swapping stories, laughing over shitty roommate tales, and mutual complaints about the school. A friendship blossomed, sprung from an unexpected meeting between the two of you. The start of something neither one of you were prepared for.

[shawnxstyles]

prom with nerd peter!!! reader asks him to prom and he’s literally shitting himself while doing it😭 every one in school is confused as to how tf this nerd dude bagged that finest gyal in school lmao

prom alert!

song: dream a little dream of me (cover)- the mamas & the papas

warnings: major fluff!! mentions of anxiety and nerves. but overall, a sappy prom experience that will make you feel so single.

note: in honor of prom season approaching… this is a nerd!peter blurb, the same peter and y/n from my (ongoing) nerd alert! series.

—

“oh my god. oh my god. oh god!” peter hyperventilates while looking at himself in the mirror. he’s sporting a perfectly fitting black tux with a bow tie. his pouch in the front was empty, awaiting for a flower. he couldn’t look at himself for more than a few seconds without freaking out. “i can’t do this.”

“peter,” aunt may called, stopping him from walking out of the room by clutching onto his shoulders. “what’s going on? you’ve been so excited since she asked you.”

that’s right. you asked peter to prom. ever since you guys started dating, peter has been in too much disbelief to even be present sometimes. how did someone so incredibly smart, gorgeous, and overall way out-of-his-league like him? every time he saw you his heart went haywire and nearly brought him into cardiac arrest. you were perfect in his eyes, and probably everyone else’s too. peter wanted—no needed—everything to be perfect.

“i can’t go.”

“that’s silly talk, peter. you’ve liked her for years and now you’re going to prom with her. what’s really going on?”

“i…” so many things were going on in his head. “what if she realizes i’m not good enough? what if i make a fool out of her? what if people laugh at us? what if—”

“stop, stop, stop,” may interrupts, staring at peter through the full length mirror. she dusts of his shoulders. “you’re going to kill yourself what all of these what if’s. there is only one thing you need to think about. how do you feel about her?”

peter scrunches his eyebrows, but doesn’t hesitate.

“i love being around her. she always makes me feel special. oh, and i can listen to her for hours, she has such a soothing voice. i really like her. like really really. i lo…” his wandering eyes landed on may’s soft smile.

“look at you. all grown up.”

it is then when he realizes what she was doing. she was making peter talk about you because he knows that you make him feel comfortable. she doesn’t want him to worry about the outside opinions. “thanks, may.”

“of course, peter. now, what are you waiting for! go, get!” may hurriedly rushed peter out of the room. as they pass the dining table, she snatches the red corsage in the clear container. “wait!”

before peter reaches the front door, he turns to look at may worryingly.

“what?”

“you forgot this,” she stuffs the corsage into his trembling hands.

“right. thank you. uh, i guess have to go now. love you,” he leans over to hug her.

“oh, you know i love you more. now go!”

—

peter has fought many dangerous people in the past. people that could kill him at any moment. however, he thinks he might die while he stands trembling on your doorstep.

the sun behind him is beginning to set while his heart bangs against his rib cage aggressively. after ringing the doorbell and waiting god knows how long (it felt like hours), your mom opens the door with a welcoming smile on her face.

“don’t you look handsome? y/n! come down!” she shouts up the stairs. she widens the door and beckons peter inside. with a shaky smile, peter shuffles inside and waits terrified on the bottom of the stairs.

your mom makes light conversation, and you two have already met, so it should’ve been easy. but peter’s nerves made everything ten times harder than it needed to be. peter could barely process any of her words and compliments, especially when he heard the click of your heels.

on instinct, peter’s neck cranes toward your figure as you stroll elegantly down the staircase. instead of racing, his heart stops completely. he feels the world around him freeze as his eyes lock onto your body. colored maroon, a long, silk dress adorns you along with black laced heels wrapped around your legs. your hair was curled romantically with the front pieces being pinned back precisely. he’s so caught up in how show-stopping you are he doesn’t catch the soft words that come out of your mouth once you’re in front of him.

“you look…wow. you look…there isn’t a word to describe how you look,” he rambled, eyes still in a daze. he strongly believed your name should be in a dictionary and be considered as a synonym for ethereal.

“how about amazing?”

“you’re way more than amazing. inside and out,” a warm wave of heat flushed over your skin causing your lips to lift into a smile.

“well, you don’t look too bad yourself, bug,” your hands press against his chest while he blushes profusely at your compliment. his wandering eyes finally find your face, glowing brighter than the sun and stars.

oh god. would it be bad if he cried? would it be bad if he kissed you and never let you go?

“let me get a picture of you two! i’ll make sure to send them to may!” your mom scurries into the kitchen for a moment to grab her camera.

“oh and um, here,” peter opens the dark red corsage that matches your dress. he places the plastic container on a stair before delicately wrapping the flower bundle around your wrist.

you pull another matching flower from behind you and tuck it into his empty pocket in the front. peter suggested doing it this way so you both had something to give each other. you thought it was the sweetest thing in the world. you thought he was the sweetest thing in the world, and you don’t know how you got so lucky to find someone like him.

when your mom comes back, you and peter pose cutely for a few pictures. you even do a few silly ones that you found online, like posing with finger guns while being back to back. when you’re done, peter and you finally leave for the dance, which is about a half an hour away.

—

“ready, bug?” you asked, squeezing peter hand’s reassuringly. he takes a few deep breaths, beyond nervous to walk through those fancy glass doors. anxiety is laced through his veins, pumping in his blood. you’ve already signed in, neon bracelets on your wrists. now, all you two had to do was walk into the room filled with your entire high school class.

it was a big deal for you both because no one really knew you two were together.

it was definitely one of the fancier events you’ve been to, but you weren’t nervous. if anything, you were comfortable because peter was by your side. however, it was very obvious that peter was on the brink of a panic attack. small spots of sweat could be seen on his forehead and nose while his teeth gnawed on his lip repeatedly.

“yeah. yeah, i can do this,” peter answers as if he’s trying to convince himself while his eyes focus heavily on the other side of the door.

“look at me,” your hands cup his cheeks and direct his face to look at yours. his eyes gaze into yours, muscles instantly relaxing into your touch. you were his kryptonite. “don’t think about anyone else. this isn’t about them. this about us. this is for us, not them.”

peter nods understandingly and takes another deep breath. holding your hand with newfound confidence, he pulls open the door and you both waltz inside.

the scenery was gorgeous. it was a huge ballroom with white ribbons hanging everywhere. lights flickered as upbeat music echoed throughout the room. as if you were in a movie, everyone’s heads turn towards the newest people to arrive: you.

peter’s grip on your hand tightens as everyone gossips. their expressions are priceless to you, jaws falling to the floor as they see you next to peter’s side. couples turn to each other as they bad-mouth your pairing.

“y/n came with peter?”

“someone has got to be paying her.”

“poor y/n.”

“god, she’s so hot. why peter?”

“if this is real, anything is possible.”

it’s hard for peter to ignore what everyone is saying when his senses are immediately heightened. every little whisper is shot straight into his eardrum, but he tries not to let them affect him.

“let’s go get a drink,” you shout to peter and tug him towards the food area. peter can barely shake off the staring eyes that burn into your backs. he shudders out a breath, hating that there was so much attention on you.

to distract himself, peter gets you both drinks. smiling, you take a sip and try to relax for a moment.

“that wasn’t as bad as i thought.”

“‘cause you didn’t hear what they said.”

“and you did?”

“yes,” peter points to his ear and you nod in understanding. of course, peter’s superhuman abilities still worked even at a regular high school event.

“well, just forget them. remember, it’s about us,” you smile and peter practically melts into a puddle on the ground.

“did you bring it?” you ask.

“bring what?”

you waddle closer to peter and set your drink down on the table. you lean towards his ear on your tiptoes.

“the suit,” you whisper, very, very secretly. peter chuckles, blushing at your proximity.

“of course. i know how much you like it,” discreetly, peter adjusts his collar and shows you a small peek of the red suit on his neckline. you gasp with a smile and quickly go to fix it for him.

“you’re so cute. i…” you stop yourself. you didn’t know if you were ready to say those three powerful words yet. so you peck a gentle kiss on peter’s cheek, hoping he didn’t notice. before you say anything else, you hear a song that you know all too well. gasping again, you force peter to put his drink down as you drag him onto the dance floor. “i love this song!”

—

when the song comes to an end, a slower, more romantic song begins. naturally, you find yourself slotted in front of peter, his hand resting on your waist politely while your arms wrap around his neck. your bodies sway leisurely to the sweet melody that pours throughout the speakers.

“stars shining bright above you,” the soft voice floats majestically in the air. peter gazes at your beauty in disbelief as the music continues to enhance the moment. you both stare into each other’s sparkling eyes as you mouth the lyrics with enchanting smiles upon your lips.

“night breezes seem to whisper “i love you”,” in that moment, your bodies stop moving as your eyes burn into one another’s. saying i love you was something you two hadn’t done yet, and even though it wasn’t direct or literal, it felt real. it felt right. it felt like that was a sign, your sign, that the time was finally right.

your hands drift into the hair on his nape, caressing him softly. peter’s breath is staggered, an overwhelming amount of emotions cascading through him.

“i love you, peter,” you lean into him, meeting his lips before he could say it back. if he said it back.

his rough hands press gently into your lower back as he deepens the kiss. peter could smell your rosy perfume better than ever when you guys kissed, so now every time he thought of kissing, he thought of roses and you. your noses brushed and your lips locked together as if you were the perfect combination. and to you both, you were.

“still craving your kiss,” the music hummed sweetly.

when you finally pull away, peter doesn’t let you go more than an inch from his face.

“i love you so much, y/n. thank you,” he tucks a strand of curled hair behind your ear. his heart thumps rapidly in his chest, but he doesn’t care. his complete and utter attention is on the graceful human being bundled in his arms.

“thank you? for what?” your grin is dopey.

“for giving me a chance.”

with a never ending smile, you crash your lips to peter’s once again, pushing him as close to you as possible. you never want to leave from his touch, needing to be consumed by his presence for eternity. as your hands caress his heated cheeks, the song nears its end.

“but in your dreams, whatever they be,”

“dream a little dream of me.”

—

this is so cute OMG. but can we talk about HOW Y/N DEFINITELY CALLS HIM BUG??? also, i’m in love with how they said i love you 😭😭

taglist: @invisibletrolleyson-jeremy @lnmp89 @crybabyddl @pretty-npeach @marine-mayday @aerangi @justanotherpasserby-blog @tinafuentes @moniffazictress11 @eywaheardyou @alwaysclassyeagle @mrstealuregirl @bisexual-desi @sherlockstrangewolf @madsttx @graywrites20 @bradtomlovesya @princesspannnn @raajali3

crossed out= not able to tag

[deluluangell]

i'll always wait for you.

basically pure miguel x reader smut. little fluff at end duhh. 1697 words.

contains masterbation, dry humping, split pov (splits at -----), cussing etc. 18+

this was my first time writing smut + i'm not a writer. saur don't be mean...

NSFW below the cut... enjoy babes !!

° ♡ • ➵ ✩ ◛ °

the battle against sleep was one i rarely lost; staying up countless nights waiting for him. but tonight sleep threatened to take over me, making my eyelids droopy and my head heavy. still, i pressed on.

i glanced up and admired as the moon lit up the sky, taking note of how it was projecting its milky rays throughout my apartment. a soft july wind drifted through my open window, thick and full with the muffled sounds of city life after dark. despite the picturesque environment enveloping me, i couldn’t help but feel unsatisfied. everything meant nothing if you weren’t here to experience it with me.

i craned my neck, taking in the city around me as i frantically searched for one thing. miguel. it had been weeks since i’d seen him, touched him, tasted him. i didn’t want to seem pathetic, but i was definitely getting desperate.

i sat on the windowsill, so the light wind was directly blowing through my hair and softly kissing my face. my fingers traced the wood absently, my mind was obviously far away from here. 

“cariño.”

i frowned and tilted my head up at the familiar sound, squinting back out into the night sky. 

i heard an exasperated sigh.

“behind you.” 

“oh.”

i breathed. glancing over my shoulder, i immediately knew it was him. miguel was leaning on the doorframe, looking down at me. although the room was only lit from the moon rays, i could still manage to make out and admire the angular beauty of his face.

“miguel.” unsure of what to say, i cleared my throat and tucked my hair behind my ears. “nice to uh, see you i guess.”

“…i guess?” he sighed, stepping forward slightly. i turned away again, my back now facing him. although i had been longing for him to come, now that he was here all i felt was… anger.

“why are you here?” i whispered, and it was almost like i was asking the night sky instead. “i… i’ve been meaning to see you. work’s just been so busy, and it’s hard to get the time.” i heard the soft padding of feet on the hardwood floor and then felt his tall frame looming over mine. he softly placed his hands on my shoulders, massaging softly.

“mami… let me make it up to you.” his voice was thick like honey.

i allowed myself to sink into his touch slightly, getting somewhat lost in the sensation. miguel’s hands were like magic, squeezing all the right places. it reminded me of all the more… explicit things they could do.

“mm. feels good.” i breathe, squirming on the windowsill. i could practically taste his smirk as he continued to please me with his hands. but i couldn’t let him get cocky. he couldn’t know i was as desperate as i was for him.

“oh yeah?” 

aaand that’s enough of that. can’t have him know i could get off to the mere rasp of his voice. i slowly pulled myself away from his grasp, slipping off the windowsill and now standing behind him, crossing my arms to make sure i looked as serious as possible.

“miguel. seriously. you can’t keep doing this, leaving me like this, and coming back randomly and just expecting me to fall right back into your arms.”

i protested, and it wasn’t completely a lie. sure, it pained me to not see miguel for weeks on end, but whenever i saw him again it felt like i could melt into a puddle under his soft gaze. but still. whatever this was, it wasn’t good enough. i needed him all the time.

-----

your gaze was intoxicating. the way you looked up at me with those big eyes and that little frown… my cock was already half hard at the mere sight.

“mierda. please…” i didn’t even know exactly what i was asking for. all i knew was that i needed to be close to you, to feel your warmth surrounding me. i had spent weeks fisting myself like an animal to the mere thought of your small little body and fuck, i was getting desperate now. i bit down on my lip, attempting to conceal my fangs which had just conveniently retracted. 

with each step you took toward me, my cock lazily throbbed. 

“miguel… hello? are you even listening to me right now.”

i grunted in response, my eyes glossed over as i took you in. your hair was strewn down your back, tangled from the wind. you were wearing an old shirt of mine which you practically drowned in.

“oh… oh.” you cocked your head, fighting back a smile as you looked up at me. it seemed like you were mustering up your courage as you took a deep breath in.

after what seemed like an eternity just taking each other in, 

“what… wanna fuck me or something?” you breathed, rubbing the back of your neck.

i stepped towards you, closing the gap between us. 

“please mami. never needed you more.” 

-----

hearing him so desperate for me, almost begging me to touch him made me flood with arousal. i suppressed a moan at his words, and using all my self control, i slowly stepped back. 

“touch yourself then. for me.”

his eyes widened at my request, and i swear i could see him swallow. i knew what i was asking was bold and somewhat embarrassing, but i needed to see. i needed to know how much he needed me.

he slowly nodded, clearly lost for words. he trailed his hand down his chest, wincing as he reached his crotch. i could see it now, his rock-hard cock, desperate for attention. his spider-suit didn’t leave much to the imagination. he hissed as he palmed himself, clearly relishing the relief. 

my mouth was dry as i watched him, and i felt my own core throbbing, watching this huge man get off using his own hand. thinking about me. 

“feel good, baby?” 

he nodded as he gasped for air, humping his palm whilst taking me in.

“ye-yeah. just need to see more. please. been m-missing you like fucking crazy.” he almost pleaded, throwing his head back.

i know i was supposed to be mad or holding a grudge against him or whatever, but who am i to say no to such a polite request?

silently i took off my shirt, pulling it slowly, almost tantalisingly over my tits. i stripped off my shorts next, leaving only my panties on.

-----

i almost cum when you strip, seeing your perfect fucking tits all perky and hard for me. with your shorts off, the smell of your arousal flooded the room and invaded all my senses. 

“fuuckkk, mami, you’re gonna make me cum.” 

swallowing hard, i tried to control myself, tried to not cum in my pants like a teenager. but the way you were looking at me, the way you were so wet just made me so horny. this was so fucking embarrassing. i groaned as i palmed myself, trying to think of what to do next. 

hold you down and finger you until you see stars? 

have you ride my face until you’re squirting?

fuck you from behind with my hand around your neck?

or, my personal favourite option, breed you until you’re crying and begging for me to stop.

but my mind went blank and a string of moans fell out of me when you looked up at me through thick eyelashes, lust written all over your face.

-----

“need to see your cock now. take it out.” i begged, feeling my hands slip into my panties to run my fingers over my slick folds.

at that moment i was fully convinced the sight of miguel taking his thick length out was heaven-sent. standing thick, tall and proud, coated in pre-cum, miguel’s cock practically begged for my attention. my legs squeezed together as i took in the holy sight, and after whipping off my panties i inserted two fingers into my heat, humping my own hand desperately. whimpering, i looked up at you, biting my lip. 

“b-been thinking about this… been fantasising about you fucking me, touching myself the nights when you were away.”

“oh yeah? been fingering your own tight little pussy mi vida? missing the way i fucked you dumb?” 

i moaned at his words, slipping another finger in as i desperately tried to replicate the feel of miguel’s thick cock. 

“gonna… gonna cum too.”

-----

“that’s right, cum for me mami.” i was squeezing my cock impossibly tight, imagining it was your heat wrapped around me instead. but this wasn’t enough. i needed to finish against you, at least. 

“fuck this. c’mere.” i said, losing patience. i stepped behind you and grabbed your waist, burying my face in your neck and bucking my hips against you, losing myself in the pleasure.

“ah. fuck. sorry, amor. had to feel you against me. just let me finish, okay?” i almost begged.

you didn’t protest as i slid my cock between your thighs and nestled the tip at your clit. i thrusted furiously, relishing the warmth and wetness of you. my hands desperately palmed your tits, tugging at your hard little nipples.

“g-gonna cum miguel.” you whimpered from underneath me, your small body bouncing on mine.

-----

my eyes rolled to the back of my head as miguel humped me furiously from behind. every thrust had his tip hitting my clit just right, and i quickly became a moaning mess.

“miguel… fuck… cumming. ‘m cumming.” i choked.

i felt him thrust between my thighs a few more times, his pace becoming sloppy and harsh as he chased his high.

“mami. you feel so good, cumming too.” he moaned and bit at my neck as he came, coating my thighs with his thick load. 

i sighed, leaning back against him as i caught my breath. his cock was still nestled safely between my thighs, and he was still thrusting softly, clearly addicted to the bliss.

“you did so good, miguel. missed you so much.”

he smiled whilst looking down at me. 

“hey… i’m sorry. seriously. there’s nowhere else i’d rather be than here, in your arms mi amor. i promise you i’ll be here more. you’re my priority okay?” he traced my features, frantically searching my eyes.

i sighed, knowing his promise wasn’t exactly empty… just difficult to fulfil. i turned around so i was facing him, and kissed him softly. 

“miguel… i’ll always wait for you.”

[lipglossanon]

Decorating for Halloween

stepbro!Leon S. Kennedy x fem!reader - SFW

warning: stepcest, flirting, Ada makes an appearance! 👀, possessive Leon, kissing, innuendo 😉

not proofread ✌️

“Isn’t this the cutest?”

You hold up a little rubber bat before tossing it into the shopping cart. Leon snorts and rolls his eyes. 

“Remind me again why I’m being dragged along and not one of your little friends?”

You give him one of your best fake smiles, “Because your dad made you, that’s why.”

He glares at you before nudging the cart against your hip and giving you an equally fake smile. 

“Oops, must’ve slipped.”

You roll your eyes at him, “You’re such a jerk.”

“My, my, Leon, is that you?”

You both turn to see a gorgeous dark haired lady at the end of the aisle. Leon grins at her and it feels like a vice squeezes around your heart. 

“Ada, hey!” he waves lazily, stepping away from the shopping cart to walk towards her. 

You duck your head down, not wanting to watch him flirt with some stranger. Grabbing the cart, you go to spin it around when Leon’s hand grips the front. 

“Want you to meet my girlfriend,” Leon grins over his shoulder at you. 

Your heart thumps so hard in your chest you feel sick, blood roaring in your ears as you stumble forward into Leon’s side. 

“H-hello,” you greet dumbfounded. 

Ada gives you a quick once over before a smirk tugs at her red lips, “Leon sure is a sucker for a pretty face.”

You feel hot all over as you laugh nervously, “I g-guess so.”

Leon snakes his arm over your shoulders and tugs you even closer to him, “Don’t pick on her,” he chides good naturedly, “you’re just pissed I shot you down in junior year.”

Ada crosses her arms with a scoff, hip cocked to the side, “It was a dare, Leon. Your little lackey set it up,” she turns her dark eyes on you, “you look like you’re too good for him.”

She steps closer and dusts lint off of your shoulder, “If you ever want to date someone with experience, I’m availa—“

Your breath hitches and Leon tugs you behind him, scowling at Ada, “Fuck off, she’s mine.”

 Ada laughs and steps away, “You’re so easy, Leon. Well, it was nice meeting you,” she smiles coyly over at you before smirking at Leon, “catch ya later, handsome.”

You watch her disappear around the corner as your brain feels like it’s going to melt out of your ears.

“She seems intense,” you murmur a little dazedly.

Leon shakes his head and tugs you into his chest. He kisses you, right there in the aisle, tongue greedily licking into your mouth to taste you. He messily sucks on your tongue before thrusting his own back into your mouth. Pushing you until you’re flush against the shelving, Leon continues to kiss you heatedly. 

You whine into his mouth making him chuckle as he fucks his tongue in and out, slipping past your parted lips until you’re licking and sucking at the slippery muscle. He pulls away, eyes dark and heavy. 

“She’s all talk anyway,” his voice comes out rough making your nipples stiffen and chill bumps run down your arms. 

He pulls you back over over to the cart, “Let’s finish buying this stuff and head home.”

You nod only half listening, hand coming up to touch your swollen lips. Head in the clouds, you’re thankful you made a list as you’re kind of on autopilot after being hit on and then Leon being so jealous. The drive home passes by in a blur to the point you don’t even realized you’ve pulled into the garage til Leon waves his hand into your face. 

“You good?” 

Nodding your head, you smile at him, “Yeah just a little out of it.”

Leon opens the door, reaching back to grab the bags, “Let’s go decorate, I know you’re dying to.”

You grin, holding the door open since his hands were full, “Yep, gonna start in your room, too.”

He snorts under his breath, “Uh huh.”

You tug on his shirt and raise up on your tiptoes, whispering in his ear, “Who said I was going to,” you nip his earlobe, “decorate first?”

His hands clench around the bags making them crinkle as you laugh, darting up the stairs. 

divider: @firefly-graphics

[prismuffin]

A/n: Sorry this is a bit specific- I wanted to write smth for myself that I personally relate to and am dealing with. Made the reader gn so anyone at all can read this if they also relate!

Normal

Steven Grant x asexual(spectrum)!gn!reader

( summary: Steven and you had been together for a few months and he always wondered why you often pulled away from him whenever he tried to get explicitly touchy with you during intimate moments so he decides to ask ) warnings?: angst, pre-established relationship, talks of sex (no actual sex), reader is specifically portrayed to be both placiosexual (meaning they have no problem sexually pleasuring their partner but don't want their partner pleasing them) and cupiosexual ( meaning that the person often wants to experience a sexual relationship but can't for whatever reason) , reader being confronted about their sexual orientation, reader not being completely ok with their sexual orientation! !-!more under the cut!-!

You and Steven had been together for a few months now and everything had been perfect. You knew about Marc, accepted his flaws and quirks, were kind and loving, you were everything he'd needed.

Not too long ago he'd decided to ask you to get a little more intimate, it was clear that you were previously waiting on him to be ready which he appreciated. When the night finally came where you two were intimate it was a bit more one-sided than Steven had thought. It's not like he wasn't satisfied or anything, quite the opposite actually. You'd focused all your attention on him, making him feel good and completely disregarding your own satisfaction. He at first thought it was because it was your first time but now after being intimate with you for a while he realizes how uncomfortable you get with him when he tries to reciprocate any sort of intimate action towards you. Sure things like little love-bites are accepted by you but anything past that you shut down for the most part. It's gotten to a point where he wonders if its just him that you don't want to be intimate with, but the way you treat him, please him contradicts that entirely. So as you sat on the couch in your newly shared apartment he couldn't help but wanna ask.

"Y/n...?"

You hummed as you turned away from the random cooking show that played on the TV to focus on Steven. "Yeah?" You watched Stevens eyes fill with hesitancy as he looked at you. "Uhh, I just- I have a bit of a question.." He stated, speaking a bit quieter as he eyed you cautiously. You nodded, grabbing the remote and turning down the TV. This was obviously important if he's acting this nervous so you decided to give him your full attention. "What's up? Is something wrong?" You turned a bit so that you'd be facing him fully. "Not really, I've just been wondering about something for a while," He fidgeted with his hands before continuing. "I mean, we've been intimate for some time and I love it, I really do, but how come you never really let me..." He trailed off, gesturing between you and him a bit. "Let you...?" You questioned, you had a hunch where this was going but thought it'd be better if he clarified before you jumped to conclusions. "Let me touch you..." Your heart dropped a bit at the question, yup it was what you thought. You suppose that this was gonna come up sooner or later.

You usually only performed oral or manual sex on Steven, never really fully going all the way for your own comfort but you guess it can seem a bit weird after a while to perform only those things. "I...uh..." You hesitated, unsure of just how to go about answering this. You knew you were on the ace spectrum, placiosexual to be specific, but still there was something inside you yearning for a sexual relationship and though you technically have one you want to really feel it. But the thought of letting that happen sickens you. It's been an ongoing battle in your mind for years, you hope you'll eventually "grow out of it" but you haven't had many opportunities to try, anytime you do something in your mind just shuts the whole thing down. "I-I'm sorry, that was insensitive of me- it's ok you don't have to answer-" Steven stuttered out but you were quick to dismiss his worries. "It's fine, it just caught me a bit off guard ya know?" You chuckled dryly, nervously as you swallowed thickly and sighed. "It's uhhh, I'm sorry I'm just a bit...asexual..." Stevens eyes widened at the confession as he inhaled sharply. "Oh bloody hell- I didn't like make you do those things right?"

"No- Steven it's fine I was fine with all of that I swear." You smiled though your eyes held a bit of sadness to them.

"Are you sure? Don't asexuals not like to perform sexual acts like that?" He asked and you nodded. "Some don't sure, but asexuality is a spectrum Steven, I'm not completely uncomfortable with the idea of sex its just uhh it's a bit hard for me to receive any sexual favors." He nodded slowly as he took in your words, not entirely sure on how to respond. "So, how much are you comfortable with?" You hummed at the question, for some reason it made you want to cry though you bit back the thought before anything could show. "Well I'm Placiosexual, which means I'm completely fine with doing sexual acts on my partner, you." He smiled, grabbing your hand as you continued. "But when it comes to receiving those same acts from others I get a bit uncomfortable.." You looked down and he nodded, moving his head lower to catch your eye again. "What's wrong?" "It's nothing I-" "I accept you ya know? This isn't gonna change anything between us I swear." You were silent for a few seconds after that, you'd expect nothing less from Steven but that wasn't entirely the problem. "I know that." "Then what is it?" He rubbed the back of your hand with his thumb and you sighed, not being able to hold yourself back from tearing up a bit. "I just- Sometimes I really envy you." "Envy me?" "Yeah, you can just be ok with stuff that makes me extremely uncomfortable at times." You paused, trying to decide how you wanted to word this to get your point across. "I don't want to be this way all the time, I want to feel comfortable in those moments, to connect with someone like that but I just can't and I've always hated myself for it." You couldn't help the tear that escaped your eye, deciding to just let it fall. "I just wish I was...normal,"

"You are normal." Steven was quick to shut down your negative thoughts.

Looking at him directly you were shocked to see him tearing up a bit. "Steven..." "You're completely normal Y/n, nothings wrong with you, you just have a harder time getting comfortable with those things and that's ok, everyone's different love," "But I don't want to be different!" You choked out, more tears streaming down your face at the confession and he paused. Moving closer to you, he grabbed your face in his hands using his thumbs to wipe your tears as you shut your eyes. Leaning in he softly placed a kiss to your nose before sighing. "Who you are is completely okay love, and if you really want to we can try and take things slow for you alright? But you can't be mad at yourself for feeling the way you feel about something as futile as this." You sniffled, slowly opening your eyes though not looking at him directly. "What you do for me is enough already, I don't need to have sex with you to love you." That seemed to really hit you as you started crying again, moving to hug Steven. He stroked your back as you cried, whispering comforting words to calm your ragged breathing as you held back sobs. "I just don't wanna feel this way forever." You mumbled and Steven hummed, pulling back from the hug to look at you. You tried to wipe your tears but Steven had beat you to it. The small amount of affection making you smile briefly before you sighed. "Like I said before if you really want to try and change it we can take it slow," "I-I don't really know, I mean I want to try but I don't because I know I'll just feel disappointed." Steven offered you a smile as he continued to caress your face, ready to wipe away any stray tears that still fell. "Then we won't. Not unless you're 100% sure you want to try. And even if that day never comes it'll be alright." You were quiet as you took in his words.

Part of you hoped that one day randomly you'd just start to feel ok with it all but you know that's most likely never going to happen. But with Stevens words on your mind you feel a little less bad for feeling this way. Maybe you're not some weirdo after all, maybe you are just a normal person. Even if you never change the way you feel, Steven will still love you and at the end of the day isn't that all you really need?

----!----

( This was once again quite personal to me so I'm sorry that it's like so specific but I needed some comfort so I decided to make my own comfort fic LMFAO )

Thanks for reading! Have a great day/night!!

My requests are CLOSED !!

See my DIRECTORY for upcoming fics!

Masterlist

[pandoa]

it's the little things: III

the little things they do for you

~feat. heartslabyul~ ~twisted wonderland x gender neutral reader~

~headcanons~ part 1│part 2│part 3

ace trappola saves you a seat wherever you two may go—though that doesn’t make him any less of a pain in the ass about it. in class, the cafeteria, library, or even your own dorm room, ace makes it his personal obligation to (1) save you a spot beside him, and (2) piss you off in the process. it's not like the seat wasn’t meant for you, but ace felt that he needed a much more entertaining way to save it for you. from draping a lazy leg over your seat just as your body finds its way into the chair to placing random—but overall harmless—items onto the cushions of your seat, he’ll do almost anything to mess with you. your reactions are just too priceless.

"Ah... class is finally over..."

"I thought Trein's lecture would never end! I am exhaus— Hm?"

"Oh, hey, (Y/n). What's up?"

"I... took your spot? Nah, I don't think I saw anyone sitting here before~ You're imagining it."

"Besides, my legs seem really comfortable here; I don't think I could move even if I wanted to."

"There's an open spot on the ground, though; you could sit there if you wa— Ouch! Okay, okay, I get it! I'll scooch over!"

"Just stop hitting me for Seven's sake!"

deuce spade unconsciously picks up your mannerisms. whether it be the certain phrases you say or the carefree way your hands seem to wave at the sight of him, deuce begins to mimic it all. he doesn’t even notice it until ace irritatedly points it out after a sickeningly oblivious “study session” with you and the other first years as the majority of the time was spent watching the two of you—each both more dense than the next. it wasn’t too difficult to catch on, really, but some part of deuce hopes that you hadn’t caught on just yet. he wishes to face his feelings properly, so perhaps give him a little more time, yes?

"Wait, so... in the history of magic, the fae began to progress their own kingdom... when?"

"Uh... let's see. It should obviously be sometime before the war between the fae and humans, that's a given, but... Huh?"

"What's up? Is there something wrong, (Y/n)?"

"We're both just sitting the exact same way—? Oh... yeah, I guess we are."

Deuce looked down only to notice the similar way your hands would fidget in sync with his. Oh, great. Now we're both twirling our pens the same way; I need to stop before this starts getting a little weird for them—

"U-uh! It's probably just a coincidence! Yeah!"

"No deeper meaning to it... totally."

cater diamond sets his phone aside when talking to you. he may be the type to practically be attached to his phone twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week; however, that doesn’t mean he lacks any self control when around you. even he knows that time is precious and that the memories he shares with you would come to be much more valuable than checking the likes of his latest magicam post. flipping over his screen to face the back of his phone, cater’s attention is entirely on you, and you alone. although, he might pull it out for a quick pic with you as you two are hanging out wherever you are. could you blame him, though? the view of you and him in the same camera frame was just too pretty for a sight to skip out on~

"(Y/n)! You made it~ I think you had something to tell me, right?"

"Nope, you weren't interrupting anything! Just posted a last-minute story on magicam—nothing too important."

"Just go on with whatever you wanted to tell me. I'm listening."

"Oh... my phone's ringing? They can wait, hehe."

"Keep going~ My full attention's only on you."

trey clover never fails to give you a small treat—be it a homemade piece of candy or pocket-sized sweets—each day he sees you. at first, it starts as a matter of chance. one day he happened to have a petite sample of a new recipe he’d been experimenting with and saw you as the perfect taste-tester of the newest treat. but as one day turned into another, trey found that he never failed to keep a sugary dessert inside a pocket or two of his uniform, each one different every day. he just enjoys the way your face seems to light up at the sight of the sweets gently being placed into the palms of your hands.

"(Y/n), here's the book you left back at Heartslabyul yesterday. Make sure to remember it next time, haha."

"It's no problem. Oh, yes, and—"

"I baked these miniature pies yesterday after you and Grim came over for the Unbirthday. They're candied, too, so they might be to your liking."

"It's no trouble! I'm glad you seem to like the smaller things I bake."

"It's nice to see whenever you enjoy my cooking, in all honesty."

riddle rosehearts is more lenient on you when regarding the dearest queen’s rules. he doesn’t seem to be doing it on purpose, though—no, no. all of his words and actions, to him, are all acts of respect and common courtesy for the dear prefect. you’ve encountered so much; the most he could do is show you respect as well, yes? like deuce, everyone but him tends to notice it and it truly messes with everyone’s minds. clearly an act of favoritism, all the students of heartslabyul grow envious of riddle’s much more lax treatment towards you. riddle may be fond of you, but why did they have to get the short end of the stick???

"And what do you all think you're doing eating a tart so guiltlessly?"

"Rule number 089: Never eat a tart without the Queen's permission. I do not remember giving any one of you permission to eat a tart today."

"Such violations will not go unpunished."

"Oh... the prefect is here, too? Well..."

"They are in no part of the Heartslabyul dorm and, in fact, lead their own dorm as well. We are—in some way—equals from differing dorms."

"No, I am not just conjuring excuses! Stop this nonsense, or off with your head!"

a/n: ace was one of those kids who’d pull on another kid’s pigtails or ponytail back in elementary school i just know it

[daffi-990]

Fuck it Friday 🍔

Tagged by @diazsdimples, @theotherbuckley & @tizniz. Thanks for the tags mwah mwah mwah!

Guess who finished chapter nine of Rival Firefighters 🚒!! It’s my longest chapter yet and it’s finally DONE! One chapter to go and she’ll be finished! Ahhhh I’m so excited! Can’t wait to share this fic with you guys!

To celebrate, have something completely different from Wednesday’s snippet -> light and not angsty (it’ll be smooth sexy sailing from here on out for our boys).

Prev snippet here.

He makes it to the restaurant with 5 minutes to spare, Eddie already seated and waiting for him. He’s on his phone but stops and puts it down when Buck approaches, smiling warmly at him. Buck swallows hard, his throat suddenly parched. Eddie’s wearing a dark forest green button up shirt that looks perfectly tailored to him, hugging his shoulders in the most delicious way. The sleeves of the shirt are rolled up, Eddie’s tan forearms on full display and Buck feels like a woman from a Jane Austin novel with how hot under the collar it makes him.

Eddie’s smile plus the way the green of his shirt is making his eyes pop, well Buck’s surprised his body is still in solid form and not a melted puddle on the floor.

He slides into the seat opposite Eddie, their knees pressing against each other. Eddie doesn’t pull away, in fact he presses his knee further into Buck’s and yeah, Buck isn’t going to get through this meal in one piece.

“Hey, Shannon not here yet?” Buck asks as he scans the bar of the restaurant for a familiar head of long brown hair.

Eddie shakes his head, “Not yet. I just sent her a text to see how far away she is and if she wants us to order for her or wait until she gets here.”

Buck grabs a menu and begins to scan it, pleased that everything is in english (he had a bad experience ordering from a French restaurant and ended up ordering snails) and that there’s a section just for burgers. He’s just decided on a grilled chicken burger with a garden salad and sweet potato fries when Eddie’s phone pings with a message.

“Is that Shannon?” Buck asks as he places the menu to the side. Eddie doesn’t reply and when Buck looks at him, Eddie is staring wide eyed at his phone, cheeks turning red. “Eddie? Is everything okay?”

“Uh.”

Eddie looks up at Buck, then back to his phone, then back to Buck before staring down at his phone again. He chews on his lip nervously before muttering fuck it, and sliding the phone across the table towards Buck, screen face down.

Buck slowly reaches for the phone, his eyes locked on Eddie who is staring so intently at the table like he’s trying to light it on fire with his mind. Phone in hand, Buck lifts it to his face and whatever he was expecting to see, this wasn’t even on the list of possibilities.

No pressure tagging: @spotsandsocks @hippolotamus @puppyboybuckley @exhuastedpigeon @elvensorceress @wildlife4life @lover-of-mine @spagheddiediaz @sunshinediaz @wikiangela @watchyourbuck @weewootruck @thewolvesof1998 @try-set-me-on-fire @steadfastsaturnsrings @eddiebabygirldiaz @epicbuddieficrecs @evanbegins @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @athenagranted @rainbow-nerdss @devirnis @fortheloveofbuddie @disasterbuckdiaz @fiona-fififi @dangerpronebuddie @giddyupbuck @homerforsure @hoodie-buck @honestlydarkprincess @jeeyuns @jesuisici33 @ladydorian05 @loserdiaz @mellaithwen @nmcggg @monsterrae1 @missmagooglie @captain-hen @bekkachaos @bigfootsmom @sibylsleaves @clusterbuck and as always, anyone else who wants to share something -> consider this your official tag 😘

[suzukiblu]

Hello! I'm back again due to my lack of impulse control in regards to your amazing wips, I'd like to like to inform you that the Billy adopting Conner wip has officially made it my list of favorite wips, as well as ask again for another of billy adopting Conner if that's alright?

“Sorry we’re late, Captain,” Mr. West says, wryly apologetic as he offers Billy a handshake. “Traffic was awful, you know how it gets this time of day.” 

“Oh, no, I can’t actually drive,” Billy says, awkwardly returning the handshake and trying desperately to seem like a real responsible adult in front of the actual real responsible adults. Somehow it’s more intimidating than trying to convince Green Arrow or Flash that he’s a grown-up, but he’s never been trying to prove he was gonna be a good parent in front of experienced parents who’ve been taking care of the kid he’s about to try parenting before. Like, that’s a new experience, definitely. Very new. “I kinda just . . . fly everywhere . . . oh shoot, Superboy can't fly, do I need to learn how to drive? Shoot.” 

“I know how to drive,” Superboy says, looking bemused. 

“Oh thank the gods,” Billy says in relief, belatedly remembering to let go of Mr. West’s hand. That would’ve been kind of inconvenient. Or like, really inconvenient. No way Superboy’d want him carrying him everywhere all the time. 

“Well, I think he’ll need an actual license, probably?” Mrs. West says. “And a car, I’d assume.” 

“Oh yeah, hmmm, I'll put that on the to-do list once Batman forges all the paperwork for him and stuff,” Billy says, making a mental note to himself. Wow, the Wests are way better at this than him already. And he guesses they can use the bus for now anyway. Then he remembers what he should actually be prioritizing at the moment and immediately turns his full attention to Superboy with an encouraging smile. “Um! So, anyway! Hi, I'm Captain Marvel, it's nice to meet you, Superboy. What's your name? Nobody in the League knew when I asked. I mean, if that's not rude, I don't know if you want Kid Flash and his parents to know it or if you're even ready to tell me yet, sorry, maybe I shouldn't actually have asked.” 

“. . . uh,” Superboy says, looking even more bemused. “It’s Superboy.” 

“. . . oh, okay, so we're just starting totally from scratch here, huh,” Billy realizes, repressing a little wince. 

“Very much so, yes,” Mrs. West says, looking resigned.