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wyvernest · 5 months

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back massages

pairing: miguel o'hara x college roommate f!reader

warnings: smut, miguel is a bit cocky, unprotected piv, suggestive massages, dry jumping

summary: you give miguel the proverbial back massage, and he returns the favour

"Ugh, my back-" he groans loudly, entering the cramped dorm room and slamming the creaking door shut in frustration.

"Still?" you reply, absent-mindedly, not looking away from your laptop screen and the from project you're working on for tonight's delivery. "Didn't the trellises at the gym help?"

You hear the cot springs coil under his weight as he drops to the bed on his stomach. "Couldn't even use them."

"Hm?" You're still half focused on your research, briefly catching the last words of his replies.

"The gym was full." He groans, shuffling on the mattress.

He is increasingly frustrated with the lack of attention he's receiving from you. You two have been teasing eachother for a while; enough of a while to get him riled up late at night, and to considerably speed up your heart rate whenever he was around.

But even now, you were afraid of being more obvious than necessary. He seemed so confident and easy to talk to, but sometimes you could only wonder if that's just what he was like with everyone else.

He wasn't. He was only this open to you. This relaxed. At least he wasn't aware of how attractive and intimidating his confidence could be to you.

Your delicate fingers kept tapping on the keyboard, unrelenting. Nearly indifferent.

"Didn't you say you'd finish it this morning?" he groans, slightly muffled by the pillow he rested his head against.

"Yeah." You aren't paying attention. Truthfully, beneath the façade, you can barely understand what you're reading, your eyes mechanically darting across the text in front of you. All you can think about is how much you'd want to straddle him and make out right now. Especially with the way he's groaning from the back pain-

"- I overslept." You explain, scarce and somewhat cold. He sighs deeply, and you feel your heart sink into your stomach. Fuck. You don't even know if being roommates is either a blessing or a curse. How are you even supposed to study with-

"Can't you take a break? Por favor." He speaks, his voice down an octave. You can't take it anymore. You peek at him over your shoulder, pondering.

He's shirtless. Of course. He has to be doing it on purpose at this point.

Your attention drifts over the line of his back that bends just slightly for him to hold his beefy arms under his pillow. His muscles ripple as he shifts to get more comfortable into the greyish bedsheets.

"Give me a back rub." He challenges, squinting his eyes and watching your face drop the second his request is processed in your brain.

"Come on." He chuckles lowly. A few ruffled strands of hair on his face make it look like he had just woken up. You can't resist. "Help me feel better."

Raising from the desk chair and moving to sit on the edge of the bed, you place your hands on his shoulder blades, pushing gently, kneading the tensed muscles there. He sighs deeply once again as he feels your small, warm palms on his broad back.

"Ugh." he groans, relaxing under your touch. "Push harder."

You comply, applying more pressure, digging the heels of your hands into his toned muscles.

Your vision washes over his body, comforted by the fact that he can't see you. His back is so much bigger than your whole body. You feel an unfathomably strong need to lay on him, to feel the heat of his skin invade yours. Or better yet, have him lay on you, feel the whole weight of him, cozy and constant.

"Oh-" He moans, raspy and low when you find another tensed up knot, "-feels so good." You're starting to soak your panties from the sounds he's making.

"You're so good at this." He halfly speaks into his pillow, evidently pleased with the special treatment. "Ah, yeah, right there- oh-"

Insisting on the spot, you start putting your upper body weight into the strokes, not having any more force in your arms. He groans again at the sudden change, only this time it comes out very much like a prolonged moan.

Soon enough your own back starts to hurt from the twisted position you're in, legs dangling on one side of the mattress and your torso turned to him. Ceasing your movements, you bring your hands to your lower back, pushing so you could straighten your spine as a faint ache begins to form.

"Get on the bed." He moves his head to gaze up at you over his shoulder. "Straddle my waist. Better for the both of us.", He advices, as if it's nothing.

Your heart rate picks up as uneasiness shoots through your veins as in a lighting strike. You've never been this close to him before. This physical, this intimate. Heart fluttering at the faint hope of reciprocated feelings and the possibility of something more, you silently accept the suggestion.

Climbing on the bed, you hop on his lower back, gradually and slowly laying your bodyweight on him.

"Is this okay?" You're finally settled, and he groans in an infinitely relieved exhale.

"More than okay." One of his hands slips away from under his pillow to tap on your thigh, nearly making you jump. "Continue, it was so good."

Trying to ignore his hand still resting two millimetres away from your leg, you resume the massage, searching for more knots over his broad back.

"That's it, that's it, oh fuck- ugh" His voice sultry and raspier, he flexes his back muscles involuntarily the second you finally reach the spot.

You have to use all that's left of your self control not to accidentally clench your cunt on his lower back. But you can't help it. Wearing a skirt wasn't the best idea today.

The way he's slightly squirming underneath you as you massage his huge shoulders, the way your clothed clit rubs against his skin with the motions have you shivering lightly.

"Yeah- oh, fuck" Your hands are behind his neck, undoing all the aches and rigidity from hours of hunching over his desk, of not taking long coveted breaks.

"I'm done, my arms are starting to hurt." You announce, partially true. You also couldn't stand his noises anymore, all the obscene groans and rough moans, fearing he might start feeling now wet you've actually gotten in the meantime.

In a surge of confidence, you lean forward, more or less intentionally letting your breasts squeeze flush against his back, and you kiss his cheek, soft and tender.

He's surprised and flustered for a flashing second, before letting a smirk tug at the corners of his mouth.

"Let me give you one too, cariño."

You shiver at the pet name, hearing him talk this way to you for the first time.

How could you possibly say no?

You lay on the bed where he had been, feeling the clean sheets warm and infused with his musk.

The mattress dips, springs creaking slightly as he adjusts his weight, finally straddling your upper thighs. Your breathing quickens in shock, not having expected him to take the same position as you did. You feel his weight on you, grounding you.

His broad hands start at your shoulders, questionably innocent at first. But just as you start to think that there isn't more to the way he's sat behind your ass, to the way he's touching you, his palms drift away from the usual motions of the massage he is supposed to give you.

Expert, cursory fingers pretend to knead down, to your waist, gripping hard.

You start feeling your pulse in your neck.

One of his thighs flexes on your side as he slightly adjusts, lifting himself a mere inch above you and settling back down. Only this time, you can feel his erection through his sweats, snugly sat between the globes of your ass.

Leaning forward, his grip on your waist remains strong as he slightly grinds his cock on you from behind, his hands mimicking his rhythm as if things aren't already obvious. It's still a massage, it's just not his main goal.

"Mm- Miguel-" you attempt to protest, only it comes out as a moan laced with anticipating pleasure.

A broad, warm hand slowly and unabashedly moves from your waist up to your shoulder, only for a mere second kneading the tensed muscles before drifting down. His fingers ever so slightly slip underneath you as he palms your right breast, not stopping his hips from rubbing his dick against you.

He's slow and careful, as if still hoping you hadn't noticed or aren't bothered to ask him to get off, even through your mewls and his moaned name.

“You're so..” He speaks quietly, for himself, “soft, and fragile-” He leans forward, much like you did, but instead he kisses your neck, down your spine. “I wanna-”

He leaves the voiced desire unfinished as he picks your torso up to his chest, his arms encompassing you, flipping you around.

Now with your body trapped in his embrace, thighs between his and hands squished together, he kisses your flushed cheeks with fervour.

“Tell me to stop.” A low whisper below your ear. Watching your face for any trace of doubt, you shake your head, ‘no’.

‘Don’t stop.’

Placing you back down on the mattress, he bunches your skirt up to your middle, moving your panties to the side as his other hand takes his rock hard cock out of his sweats.

You feel the precum coated head flush against your pussy lips, pushing in with a gravel groan.

As soon as he gathers the courage to advance, his length grazes your clit, your hips automatically jerking away, akin to having touched hot coal.

A shiver runs down your spine that makes your cunt flutter, his awaiting cock twitching in enthusiasm. He feels you spasm and grow wetter.

“Ugh, that- you feel so good-”

He’s only taking his time before he can bottom out inside you. With a look over your shoulder, you don’t trust your voice to respond. You nod and clench your pussy around him, aiming to viciously drive him mad.

He suddenly pushes forward, hands forcing you onto him, the contact with his own blazing flesh making your brain melt and eyes roll back into your head. You can almost feel his bulbous tip in your guts, messing with your nerves and sinews.

Quickly adapting to the new conditions your body has given him, he corrects his grip on your waist, hoisting you until your feet lose contact with the bed. Back now arched, ass well-adjusted to meet his height, upper body rested on the plush pillows. He drags out halfway before sinking back in.

His hips slowly rotate against yours, his tense abdomen waving into you

You can’t take it anymore. Your limbs feel like radio-static, heart sending its pulse into your pussy, breathing laboured and synced with his. The broad head flicks a spot deep inside you that curves your spine this time, feet no longer able to find balance away from the stimulation.

A strong forearm curls around your middle with snake-like speed. You settle obediently back into his hold.

Your hips wiggle closer into his, apologetically stuffing yourself full of him. He smirks at the gesture, satisfied.

“Fuck, Miguel-”, you moan for him, giving him exactly what he wanted before he started pounding into you.

A combination of his pelvis slamming into yours and his hands violently dragging you back onto his dick has high-pitched whimpers crawling out of your throat. Your head rings with the sound of the bed squeaking back and forth along with the harsh returns of his cock in between your come-soaked folds.

His firm hands hold you from flinching, fingers digging into your waist while his thumbs press down into your lower back.

It's when he changes his angle that you scream out, all consciousness dissolving into raw, carnal bliss. Ruptured cries and fractions of his name bloom out of your nearly-dry throat.

He feels his heavy cock pulsate as your ass jolts with each slap, your pussy choking his dick in the process.

With a suffocating groan, he releases inside you, his ecstasy drawn-out into fractured grunts blended with heavy breaths.

You sense his warm come spilling inside you. Your own climax sends your head spinning, your loud pulse dropping in your ears.

The thunder subsides through your veins like a candle being put out by the cold.

a/n: sorry for the delay i have a ton of stuff to do for college 💀

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vminizzle · 1 year

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Midnight frustration

pairing : college boyfriend!jungkook x f.reader

genre : smut, fluff

warnings : making out, marking, really slight dry humping, penetration, unprotected sex, riding, creampie

words count : 0.6k

A/N : hello lovely people, i just wrote a little something while eating my breakfast because I was bored. Don’t expect something WOW, it’s a really simple and fast drabble 😭 anyways, like usual : REMINDER - POOR ENGLISH. Oh and thank you for 1.9k, I love you guys so much😭 - sunny

FEEDBACKS ARE WELCOMED 🏹

M RATED

Jungkook kept on sighing, throwing his head back in frustration.

“what is it babe?” you asked softly, jumping out the bed walking to the exasperate man.

“I can’t get this done! It’s so annoying!” he huffed pushing his laptop away on the desk.

You hushed him before massaging his shoulders slowly to relax the tensed muscles.

A soft groan escaped from his mouth as you went in front of him to sit on his lap straddling his muscular thighs, his hands instinctively flying on your hips.

You smiled at him, cupping his cheeks softly before enveloping his lips in a sweet kiss.

Jungkook’s grip on your hips tightened as he pulled you closer to him, arms encircling your waist.

Your arms found their place around his neck as you detached your lips from his, only to suck little marks on the sensitive skin of his neck making him groan.

You smiled against his neck as he started making you grind on him.

You nibbled on his earlobe, his body heating up as he started feeling aroused.

“darling.” he moaned softly pushing you down on his growing-erection.

“yes babe?” you looked deep into his eyes.

You could see how much he desired you as he played with the hem of your oversized shirt.

“ride me.”

Your cheeks warmed up, not expecting him to be this “direct”.

“I mean if you want to.” he cleared his throat, ears getting red.

You bent down to kiss him again, sucking on his bottom lip before pushing some strands of his long black hair back from his forehead.

”Of course I want to.”

Jungkook pushed his sweatpants down his knee freeing the confined bulge as you took your panties off, sliding it down your legs before climbing back on his lap.

He rubbed the head of his hard cock up and down your glistening lips making you whine impatiently.

You aligned his cock at your entrance as he grabbed your hips to push you down on him slowly.

You both cursed at the sudden wave of pleasure hitting you. Even if the stretch was tingling you, it felt so good.

Keeping your hands on his shoulders for balance, you started raising up and down on his erection, feeling every inches of it, the little vein on the side stroking on your wall, the feeling making you felt weak to the knees.

“do you feel good Koo?” you whispered between breath as you kept on moving.

His mouth was ajar practically drooling as he opened his eyes to look at you again.

“it feels so good…so good.” he breathed out.

He closed his eyes shut tight when he felt you tighten around him.

“I’m close! fuck! go faster please.” he moaned, fingernails digging into the flesh of your hips as his grip tightened.

Your thighs were on fire as you picked up the pace panting as you started to get tired but you didn’t stop. You’d do anything for him, so you took a deep breath, concentrating on pleasuring him.

Just watching the way his eyebrows were furrowed, his nose scrunched, his grip on your waist getting stronger you knew he was close, really close of his orgasm.

You leaned down to suck on his neck, his heart beating faster as your hand went down under his shirt caressing his abdomen.

“fuck I’m coming! I’m coming.” you pulled away from his throat to look at his pleasured face.

“oh gosh fuck yes!” he threw his head back, neck on full display showing the pretty red flowers you painted on the smooth skin.

The view was enough to make you cum undone.

Jungkook moaned your name loudly as he came inside you, his warm cum pushing you on the edge of your own climax.

“thank you so much my love.”

You smiled at him tiredly.

“everything for my man.” you let a breathy laugh pass by your lips, before leaving a soft peck on his.

—

A/N : i know it’s really short, I didn’t have much time to write this week sorry sorry. Have a nice weekend :)

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ecoamerica · 14 days

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youtube

Watch the American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 now: https://youtu.be/bWiW4Rp8vF0?feature=shared

The American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 broadcast recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by active climate leaders. Watch to find out which finalist received the $50,000 grand prize! Hosted by Vanessa Hauc and featuring Bill McKibben and Katharine Hayhoe!

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darlingsfandom · 7 months

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Matthew Grey teaching you how to deep throat

Aye Aye Captain 🥵

Your fingers flipped through the magazine while you grew board out of your mind. A sigh left your lips before you tossed it on the coffee table, made your way down the hallway and stopped in front of Matthews office. You knocked softly before you peeked in. Matthew looked up from his computer screen and smiled as he waved you in. You closed the door quietly before approaching his desk and laying the palm of your hands against the wood. He gave you the one minute finger to which you pouted. After a final goodbye, he closed the laptop and smiled at you.

"Hi baby." He patted his lap to which you quickly ran around the corner and placed yourself onto his lap.

"You're meetings are too long!" You furrowed your brows together as he wrapped his arms around you and copied your face before covering you in kisses. You giggled loudly as he moved from one side of your face to another.

"Are you that impatient because you want to learn how to deep throat my cock?" He wiggled his eyebrow at you and you blushed. Matthew said he'd teach you how to deep throat last night after you kept gagging on him. Not that he didn't mind it, he just didn't want you to get hurt

"I can't help it!" You whined as you started moving your hips against his lap. He kissed the top of your head before making his way down your face, stopping at your lips to kiss them gently before biting down on them and pulling a little. You whined at the feeling as he hand slid up your thighs. He loved when you'd walk around the house in just some panties and an old shirt because not only did you look cute, you looked relaxed. Matthew lifted you up onto the edge of his desk before he stood up, undid his pants and dropped them around his ankles along with his boxers.

"I know doll, it's not like you weren't choking on it last night." Your face flushed before he helped you down onto your knees. He brushed the hair out of your face and smiled at you while you opened your mouth as wide as you could. "Just remember lovely that you have to stay relaxed." He nodded as you nodded with him before he slowly slid his dick down your throat. He stopped once you gagged and pulled out. You pouted.

"Hey hey, it's okay baby, we're working on it!" He brushed your hair again before trying again slowly sliding his cock down your throat. He stopped at half way to let you get comfortable. Your hands stayed on his thighs as his fingers held your hair. You batted your eyes at him while he smiled down at you. "There you go baby, just a little bit at a time. Fuck, yeah you're doing so good baby." Matthew praised you as you took another inch. Out of confidence you sat up a little more straight and took him all the way down until your nose was pushed against his pubic bone. You relaxed quickly as he held your head with his hands. Matthew waited until he felt you were ready and slowly started fucking your mouth. Your throat was soft and warm as he fucked it. "Good girl! My good baby." He moaned as he thrusted in and out slowly. Your gags were barely there anymore. Spit dribbled down your chin a little bit. Matthew pulled away and smiled at you as he seen the string of spit connect from his cock to your lips.

"Oh baby, I hope you're ready.... we're only getting started ."

#matthew gray gubler #matthew grey gubler #Matthew Gray gubler smut #Spencer Reid smut #mgg #mgg x reader #mgg x you #mgg smut #emsblurbs

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no-phrogs-in-hats · 11 months

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Take a Look in the Mirror (!!!)

Pairing: Larissa Weems x Fem!reader

Warnings: SMUT, desk sex, mirror sex, office sex, oral (r receiving), mommy kink

A/N: Short little drabble, loosely based off of this post

Opening the door to Larissa’s office, you get the final bit of a phone call she was having.

“Alright, I’ll see you then.”

Grinning, you shut the door and lean against it. An ache had settled between your legs as soon as you woke up that morning. The sight of Larissa in her matching undergarments had sent your mind spiraling to every filthy thought imaginable.

Larissa glanced up at you from her computer, “What are you grinning about?”

“Nothing,” you respond, and walk over to her desk. You lean over, kissing her sweetly on the lips and shutting her laptop. “You know…I was thinking…”

“Oh?” Larissa raised an eyebrow before chuckling and opening her laptop. “That’s a first.”

Your mouth fell open in mock offense and you laughed, closing the computer again. “I was thinking about this morning…and how you left me hanging. Maybe you could make it up to me right now.”

“I would love to, darling,” she said, pecking you on the lips. “However, I have a meeting in thirty minutes.”

You scoffed and rounded her desk. Turning her chair toward you, you lean into her ear, “Oh, please. As if I could last that long.”

You could hear her breath catch in her throat and you grinned as you relished in your victory, pushing Larissa’s work aside and hopping onto her desk.

She looked at you with hunger in her eyes, pushing the skirt of your dress up to your hips and spreading your legs. As Larissa placed soft kisses up your thighs, she nipped at the skin, leaving behind faint marks on the skin.

While she continued her teasing, your head fell back. Your eyes made immediate contact with the mirror above you. On the ceiling, you could see everything: Larissa’s head between your legs, your trembling form–it was almost too much to bear and you felt the knot in your gut already forming.

Larissa looked up at you before shifting her gaze to the ceiling where she met your eyes in the mirror. “Oh, you naughty girl…” She pulled aside your underwear and groaned. “Look how wet you are. Is this all for mummy?”

“God, yes,” you breathed, gasping after she pulled your underwear down and licked a stripe up your slit.

“And as always,” she mumbled, “you taste absolutely delicious.”

You let out a moan as Larissa’s lips wrapped around your clit and sucked hard, her tongue following with languid circles. Your hands gripped the edge of the desk before moving to her hair. She took it immediately and interlaced your fingers together.

“Ah, ah, ah,” she said. “Can’t go to that meeting looking like a mess, can I?”

You shook your head and gulped, “No…” Your breath sped up, chest heaving and pleasure clouding your thoughts as you gripped her hand. “Oh my god, Larissa, please don’t stop.”

With your legs shaking, Larissa let go of your hand and held them in place. Her tongue sped up and your hand slapped over your mouth as your entire body shook. Whimpers fell from your mouth as Larissa kept going. When she pulled away, her lipstick was smudged and you let out a breathless chuckle.

Larissa pulled a compact mirror, a makeup wipe, and a tube of lipstick from her desk drawer. As you caught your breath, she reapplied the lipstick, and once done, she stood from the chair and placed a kiss on your cheek.

She chuckled before licking her thumb and wiping the fresh lipstick mark off your cheek. Looking down at her watch and back up to you. “Not even fifteen minutes, darling.”

You pull up your underwear and huff, “Well, how can I last that long when you’re so good at this?”

#gwendoline christie #larissa weems #larissa weems x reader #wednesday #gwendoline christie x reader #drabble #my own smut turns me on #smut #larissa weems smut

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impala-dreamer · 4 months

Text

Taking Over Me

A Supernatural Story

~Dean's guilty pleasure comes to life and Y/N gets tangled in the mix...~

Dean Winchester x F!Reader

3800 Words

Warnings: NSFW. Monster Fucking. Tentacles. All The Way Through Tentacles. Cum. Poison. Possession. Allll the fucked up things.

Impala-Dreamer’s Masterlist ~ Patreon ~ Published Works

Fresh from the shower, she hurried down the long hallway, bare feet slapping against the cool tiles. The towel knotted over her breasts was damp and a little too short, exposing more thigh than she usually would in the common areas.

If she rushed, no one would see her.

No one that wasn’t supposed to, anyway.

Bedroom number eleven popped open with a mere touch and Y/N slipped inside, shutting the door behind her. She spun and pushed herself back against the antique wood, staring across the pristine room at Dean who was lounging on the pillows. He was ready for bed, down to a single layer of a thin cotton tee and shorts. His long legs were bare and stretched out across the mattress, propping up his laptop.

He startled when the door shut, looking up from the screen with the guilt of a child caught with his hands in the cookie jar before dinner.

“Uh- hey-” He distracted her with a beaming smile while shutting his computer.

She was not fooled. “Whatcha doin’?” she asked with the tone of someone who already knew the answer.

Dean laughed awkwardly as his cheeks burned bright pink. “N-nothing. Weather- things.”

Y/N kicked back and pushed away from the door. “Weather things?”

Dean squirmed uncomfortably as she came close and clasped both hands on the computer, unable to move it from his lap. He cleared his throat. “Uh, yeah. There’s uh… tornados and stuff. Um. Gotta keep an eye on those, ya know.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Tornados, huh?” Clearing the distance between them, Y/N appeared at the side of the bed and looked down at him. The fabric of his shorts was stretched higher than the actual tent they’d pitched when camping a few months ago. She snatched the laptop away and he gasped. “You certainly seem very into weather events. I never knew that was such a passion for you.”

Dean scrambled to cover his lie and his dick.

“Well…” He grinned and clenched his teeth, at a loss. “Ya know… meteorology has always been a… secret, uh, it’s- it’s fun.”

Y/N snuck her finger between the laptop and lifted the screen. Very exaggerated and animated moaning flooded from the speakers and her eyes lit up in awe.

A tiny brunette was being utterly ravaged by what appeared to be all eight legs of a giant blue octopus. The woman screamed in unadulterated pleasure and a wave of cartoon fluids gushed from her extremely swollen and pink holes.

“Oh…”

Dean scrunched his eyes shut and then lurched for the computer. “It’s an art form! You can’t shame me for art.”

Y/N pulled the computer out of his reach and kept watching. “I’m not shaming. It’s just…” She tilted her head as two of the tentacles reached around to circle the woman’s tits, squeezing so hard her dark magenta nipples nearly exploded. “Wow. It’s… different.”

With her distracted, Dean managed to snatch the computer and tuck it under the bed.

“Hey!”

Dean sighed and crossed his arms over his chest. “Go on,” he said, “lemme have it.”

Y/N laughed gently and sat on the edge of the bed. “Babe, I’m not gonna tease you for your choice in pornography. I’m not Sam.”

Green eyes rolled and dimples popped above his lip.

“Really,” she assured him, leaning in and laying a hand on his thick upper thigh. “And believe me, if you saw some of my hidden folder things, you’d know I’m not able to judge.”

His brows lifted in interest.

She bit her lip and went on, laying it on thick. “I just… I don’t know, I was surprised you were in here taking care of yourself. I thought maybe tonight we were gonna…” Her fingers curled inward and she brushed her pinky over the base of his cock. “Ya know…”

Dean swallowed hard and his arms sank to his sides. “I wasn’t… doing anything,” he breathed, stomach tensing as her hand slipped inside the slit of his shorts. “Just watching. I was bored- you were in the shower a long time…”

“I was,” she admitted, slowly dragging her warm hand over his erection. He was near to pulsing under her touch and she popped up on her knees, shifting on the bed to get closer. “I was in there a long… long time.”

His lashes fluttered, his lips parted, chest heaved.

“Getting myself all clean and… smooth for you.”

She batted her eyes and Dean’s mouth watered.

“Smooth?”

Licking her lip, she took his right hand and placed it beneath the towel against her bare sex. Dean moaned as he felt the velvety flesh of her pussy and his heart pounded almost painfully.

“Fuck…”

He tucked his bottom lip between his teeth but Y/N released it, sucking a kiss over his wet mouth until he snapped and took over. He grabbed at the towel, tearing it away as he nipped at the soft flesh of her throat and below.

Y/N rolled onto her back and he followed, closing in on her like a starved wolf. He growled against her mouth and hissed when she locked her legs around his hips, jerking him forward with a hitched kick on the ass.

“Better than anime?” she whispered, licking at the tender flesh of his ear.

He nudged at her cunt, teasing and threatening all in one rough motion. “Oh, hell yeah…”

Dean woke up late, his old bones tired from a night of fun. He sat up with a cough and dragged a hand down his stubbled cheek, scratching at the shadow and wondering if he should bother shaving. Y/N might like a beard, he thought, and decided to give it another day at least. Just to test it out.

Y/N was whistling loudly, a familiar tune floating from her lips down through the hallways.

“Styx?”

Still groggy, Dean followed the sound, rubbing at his eyes when the walls began to undulate around him. He felt almost drunk, but soon shook it away when Y/N came into view.

“Come sail away… come sail away with me…”

She was bent over, ass pushed out high, digging through the archives in room 7B. Her whistle was intoxicating and Dean felt his blood rushing south. His ears rang with her song and he slipped into the room and slunk up behind her, grabbing her hips.

Y/N yelped and stood, falling back against his firm chest. “Dean!”

He nuzzled into the crook of her neck and took a tiny bite. “Mmm… mornin’.”

She could feel him stiffen against her ass and she pushed back against it, rubbing suggestively. “Morning nothing- it’s almost noon.” Her left hand snuck up and curled around the back of his head, holding his lips to her flesh. “You OK, sleepyhead?”

He breathed her in- dust and sweat and her fruity shampoo. He hummed happily. “Very…”

Her nails scraped along his scalp and ideas flooded his brain.

“Busy?” he asked, already envisioning slamming her up against the metal shelves and sinking so deep into her that he could see it in her eyes.

“Kinda.” She held up a small octagonal box. The brass was dark with age and she rubbed at the inlaid symbol on the top. “This is cool. I don’t know what it is, but the top thingy is pretty.” She rubbed it again and the tarnish moved beneath her fingers, clearing the brass.

Dean eyed it for a second and shrugged. “Never seen it before.” His lips pulled at her ear.

“Probably shouldn’t play with it,” she sighed. “Might have some evil creature trapped inside that could eat us alive.”

His hot breath fluttered into her ear and she shivered. “I could eat you alive,” he growled.

Y/N smiled and turned her head so she could lick at his hungry lips. “I guess I could take a break…”

Dean let out a moan that vibrated through her and Y/N rolled her hips back until they were both throbbing and aching. Reaching around, Dean lifted his left hand to her chest while the right slid between her thighs.

The box fell onto the cement and the ancient lock shattered at their feet.

“Fuck, Dean…”

Her pulse was racing beneath his lips, her pussy already dripping. He could feel her jeans dampen over his palm.

Close to feral, Dean tugged his hands away and grabbed her upper arms, spinning her around to face him. They scuffled over the floor, kicking at the box while they rearranged in each others’ arms.

Lost in a kiss, neither heard the brass lid creak open.

The neon glow that leaked out wasn’t seen as Dean shoved her back against the metal shelves and attacked, crushing her with every ounce of himself. He licked deep into her mouth, scratched down her sides, jerked a knee between her legs.

Y/N grasped at his shoulders, fingers curling into the gray flannel he wore. “God, Dean… need you so bad…” Her voice flowed through him and Dean grunted back, unable to find any words as he fumbled with two zippers at once.

The air in the room shifted. A slowly rising mist poured free from the box, illuminated by streaks of purple neon. The mist floated up around their ankles, but neither noticed.

She bit down into the bend of his neck, marking his shoulder with a tiny red crescent moon and he hissed against her cheek. “Fuck me, Dean…”

He grinned, eyes hazy and staring into her. “I’m tryin’-”

The cloud lifted around their hips and a strange warmth struck them both. Y/N’s exposed middle shivered with goosebumps as the mist touched her and she looked down with wide eyes that let in the fear.

“Dean-” She slapped his chest to get his attention.

“I’m workin’ on it,” he laughed, face buried in her hair as his hands struggled.

“No!” She grabbed his face and turned him downward. “Look!”

The fog was moving faster, climbing higher with every breath. It tickled her jaw and Y/N gasped, looking to Dean for help.

“What the fuck!”

Surprised, he took a step back and the mist enveloped Y/N. It sucked her down into a hazy mess of purple so thick that Dean couldn’t even make out the spot she’d been in.

“Y/N!”

She screamed and then fell silent. Dean spun on the spot, totally surrounded by the alien fog.

“Y/N!” He yelled for her and the mist crept in, filling his mouth and trickling down his throat. He choked on it, unable to move any air. He clawed at his throat, but there was nothing to move, nothing to break free from. The cloud lifted above his head, expanding to fill the entire room.

Dean’s head hit the cement and green eyes slammed shut.

He woke with a gasping breath, lungs aching and head throbbing. Tacky warmth was spread on the side of his face and he knew that he’d been bleeding. He tried to reach for the wound, but his hands were stuck, locked tight above his head by the enchanted metal cuffs that hung against the back wall of the dungeon.

Slowly, the room came into view and he shivered. The air was on full blast, pumping in through vents in the ceiling and casting down icy air into the stone lined room. He gave himself a quick shake to shed the dregs of unconsciousness blinked into the dim light.

Vision was not his friend and Dean cringed at the sight before him.

Y/N was lying on the cold floor in the center of the devil’s trap, her naked body displayed as if she were sleeping. Her hands were hung at her sides, her legs perfectly straight. Her eyes were still closed but she was breathing and Dean called to her.

“Y/N!” His voice bounced through the room but she didn’t stir. “Baby, come on. Wake up!”

Her lashes fluttered. Her throat tensed with a cough.

“That’s it, baby,” he urged, “wake up. Come on.”

She struggled to open her eyes, and when she did, panic filled them. She tried to move, but her limbs were numb, unresponsive.

“Dean?” She turned towards his voice, only her head able to move. Her eyes were wide and flooded with horrors he missed while passed out. “Dean! We have to get out of here. Now.”

Her breaths were heavy, pained. She tried to move again, but only managed to twist her left foot a bit to the right.

“Fuck! I can’t move!”

Dean took a breath and looked around. They were alone and the secret entrance closed. Something had put them in here to keep safe.

“We’re OK.” He swallowed hard. “Hey! Look at me, OK? We’re OK. We been in worse situations, right?”

He smiled but she wasn’t buying it. A tear slipped down her cheek and Dean’s heart ached.

“We’re gonna be just fine.”

She nodded. “Yeah. Right. OK.”

They looked into each other’s eyes, finding the will to stay calm within. He exhaled slowly and she mimicked, calming down for a moment.

It was a brief moment that shattered when the door creaked open.

“Dean?” Her heart raced, eyes shooting towards the entrance.

No one entered, but the light from the box glowed bright from between the metal shelves. Dean stared at the neon, trying to decipher his task. If he knew what he was up against, he could fight it. He couldn’t exactly punch the fog.

He grit his teeth and tugged at the chains. “Hello? Who’s there!”

Y/N drew in a scared breath and whimpered. “Dean…”

His eyes followed hers and his jaw dropped in awe.

Slithering through the gap in the portal was a long, slimy tendril. It was firm and thick, the color of an eggplant, and it moved across the floor like an eel.

Dean blinked in wonder as more appendages appeared, sliding through the crack in countless numbers until a swarm of squirming, slithering things darkened the edges of the devil’s trap. They skirted the red paint, looming within inches of Y/N’s paralyzed form.

Her jaw trembled and she grit her teeth to try and stay calm. Years of almost getting herself killed had taught her that panic helped no one.

Quickly, she looked up at Dean but he was as lost as she; there were no plans, no ideas. They were in trouble.

“Dean…”

The tentacles breached the sigil and Y/N screamed as two warm, wet things slid across her feet and wrapped themselves around her ankles. Tiny suckers on the underside attached themselves to her flesh, puckering and slurping, kissing her calves and feet.

Y/N’s breath caught. The sensation was almost pleasant, and she let herself relax a little.

Dean watched as the strands of flesh crawled up higher, slipping between and around her thighs.

“Y/N?” His heart was pounding, nerves on edge, and yet- he couldn’t stop watching. He clawed at the cuffs, yanked down hard on the chain, but his eyes never left Y/N. “Baby?”

Her eyes were heavy, lips parted with a deep exhale. “Dean… it’s… it’s OK…”

The arms twisted around her legs jerked suddenly and her knees fell open. A clipped moan left her lips and Dean’s stomach tensed.

“It’s so… warm…” She sighed and bit her bottom lip, keeping in a string of aroused noises. “Dean…”

He pulled hard on the cuffs and a single line of blood dribbled down his forearm. “Y/N… I can’t- It’s-”

Words vanished as a third tendril slinked between her legs and nuzzled at her cunt. Y/N cried out in shock but sank back down into blissful compliance as the suckers closed around her clit.

“Oh my god- Dean- it’s-”

His eyes were locked on her body, unable and unwilling to turn away.

“Oh, fuck!”

Y/N’s eyes rolled and another tentacle slipped in between her thighs, this one sinking without warning into her tight pussy. It jammed itself in deep and then expanded to fill her channel completely.

“Jesus Christ!” Her voice cracked as the invader pulled out just enough to let her juices flow freely before slipping back in. Her body tensed and her hips jerked upwards, moved by the tentacles.

Dean’s mouth watered despite his fear. The sound of the thing fucking into her rang in his ears and his cock twitched hard. The wetness squelched loudly and another slinking eel came around, sliding through the mess to nudge at her tightest hole. He couldn’t look away, couldn’t resist the arousal that zapped through his veins.

Y/N exhaled a shaking laugh as the monster filled her up. She tried to squirm away, to buck her hips to the rhythm of it moving, but she was locked in place, trapped by some magical bondage that she couldn’t explain.

More tendrils appeared, attacking her in ways that Dean couldn’t fathom. They attached themselves to her nipples, sucking with slurping hunger that made Y/N cry out with spasming pleasure. They tangled in her hair, coiled around her arms, her throat. They covered her eyes, blinding her from Dean, pulsed at her ears until she could hear nothing but the wetness and their suctioning kisses.

“Dean?” She tried to turn her face, to look for him, but it was all darkness. “Dean! They’re…”

A gentle buzzing sounded in the back of her mind and Y/N was distracted, listening to it intently.

Dean called to her, but she could no longer respond. The tentacles pushed and pulled at her flesh, twisted her limbs, puppeted each finger.

“They’re… taking over… me…” The buzzing was incessant and distracting. She held her breath as the thick snake in her cunt moved deeper still. She could feel it breaking through, plunging into stomach, fucking everything inside. There was no pain, only a deep, throbbing point of pleasure that radiated outward and blocked everything else out.

Panting and tense with guilty arousal, Dean stared at her stomach as the tentacle bulged in her lower belly. He could see the tip poking through, climbing upwards through her system. It crawled higher and Y/N gagged when it entered the base of her throat.

“Oh, god- Y/N!” His voice was strangled and his cock was stiff. He hated himself for watching, for not closing his eyes to the horror, but it was strangely beautiful and Y/N’s pleasured cries were alluring and intoxicating.

Her head jerked as the tendril passed into her throat and pushed across her tongue.

Dean gaped, eyes wide and staring. The tip slipped from her lips and pumped outwards like some alien tongue. It thrust in and out, pulling and pushing from her cunt to her mouth, flooding her body with its poison slime.

Gagging and suffocating, Y/N felt herself slipping into darkness. The buzzing grew louder and the suckers pulled harder. Her thigh quaked as she came and her muscles squeezed hard around the appendages, coaxing it to fuck her harder.

“Y/N!”

His voice faded into the background, so far away, so quiet.

The larger tentacle forced itself through her lips again and blue tinged liquid pulsed from the tip. It exploded from her mouth, choking her and covering her face and chest in a thick, oozing cum-like mess.

Dean shuddered, his body shaking as he came in his jeans, untouched and disgusted with himself, terrified for Y/N. He clenched his teeth and roared, using what little strength he had left to yank at the chains.

Y/N’s body twitched as the tentacles retreated. They slithered from her holes and untangled themselves from her limbs, setting her free.

Dean held his breath, watching her chest. She wasn’t moving.

“Y/N?”

His eyes flooded with wetness and he blinked a single tear that slid down his face, catching in the stubble.

“Y/N…”

Suddenly, her eyes popped open and she took a breath. Mechanically, she sat up and twisted to look up at Dean.

Her smile was unnatural and terrifying, her lips stretching too far up into her cheeks. Her eyes were wrong, the irises overtaken with neon purple light.

“Y/N?”

She stood, climbing to her feet with minimal effort. She opened her mouth and an unearthly tongue curled out, licking the cum from her face. She smiled again and cocked her head, regarding Dean.

“Thank you for the female,” she said, voice high-pitched and awkward. “She will be very useful.”

The metal cut into his wrists again and Dean raged, screaming for her as she walked away.

The shelves slid closed behind her and Dean was left alone in the cold darkness, confused and horrified.

“Y/N!”

“Dean! Hey!”

She slapped his cheek and he woke, jerking up and away from her. He kicked at the blanket and scrambled for his gun, a strangled cry dying in the back of his throat.

“Whoa!” Y/N pulled away and sat on the edge of the bed, her hands raised in surrender, her sleepy face twisted with worry. “Dean! It’s me!”

A deep breath pushed him back into reality. “Holy shit!” He scrubbed a hand down his face and popped his jaw, uncomfortable and still reeling. “That was a dream?”

Y/N blinked at him, confused. “Uh… probably. What the hell happened? You started kicking me and when I woke up you were twisted and screaming.”

The dream played tricks on him, tinting her eyes purple and snaking a tiny eel around her throat, but he pushed it away. He slapped his cheeks and rubbed at his eyes.

“Wow. That was insane.”

Settling, he leaned back against the headboard and opened his arms. Carefully, Y/N slid in next to him.

“Babe, you’re soaked through with sweat…” Y/N lifted the cotton from his chest and cringed. “Gross. You OK?”

He exhaled loudly and nodded, dropping his arm around her shoulder. “Yeah. Just a really… really fucked up dream.”

Y/N snuggled close and slipped her arm around his waist, making him jump.

“Wow, I guess it was.”

He laughed at himself and sighed. “Gotta stop watching all that hentia. It’s doin’ things to me.”

Y/N danced her fingers over his stomach and down. “Not all bad things…” Her hand slipped and she cupped his dick, rubbing gently.

Still on edge, Dean hissed and grabbed her wrist, carefully guiding her away. “Yeah. Not… not now… Bad. Bad things.”

Laughing sweetly, she set her arm back around his chest and cuddled close. “Maybe you should really be looking up tornadoes before bed. Those never gave you nightmares.”

“Yeah, maybe.” He smirked and rubbed a hand down her arm. “Definitely gotta lay off the monster fucking… for a while, anyway…”

2023 Forever Tags (Always Open! Send an Ask!)

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#dean winchester x reader #spn fanfiction #dean x reader #tentacle p*rn #strap in folks

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updownlately · 8 months

Text

4 - oh you love me, you love me

series masterlist

~~~

“Hi bub…”

Keeping your voice low, you walked softly into the room, beelining straight to the blonde under the covers, her head barely peeking out.

Settling on the edge of the bed beside Alessia, you smoothed out her messy hair, a soft smile on your face at how adorable she looked- a sleepy grimace coating her face as blonde strands stuck out in every direction, no doubt a result of the nap she had taken earlier.

Hand coming to rest on her forehead as you stopped your ministrations, you quietly checked her temperature, mindful of the fever she had a few hours ago.

Feeling it to be near normal, you contemplated asking her how she was feeling, cautious of annoying the blonde as she was waking up.

You decided to take the leap however, and ask, well-aware that you’d have a grumpy Alessia on your hands afterwards.

Still, being careful to not rouse the blonde too much with your voice, you kept it quiet as you spoke, words nearly a whisper.

“How are you feeling now? How’s your stomach?”

At your questions, the striker let out a small grunt, no other response besides her shuffling ungracefully until her head was resting on your thigh.

Shaking your head fondly at her antics, you ran your fingers through her hair as she settled, scratching Alessia’s scalp in an attempt to bring her some comfort.

Trying again, you spoke once more.

“Less, baby, does anything still hurt?”

Again, another grunt, this one with a hint of a whine at the end this time. You shook silently with laughter at her response, eyes rolling lovingly at the child-like behaviour.

“Alessia…” Your tone was playful but the warning in it was clear- you really needed to know how she was doing so you could help her.

The slight push was successful, the English woman finally responding verbally.

“Cramps are still bad and my back hurts.”

Her voice was quiet though, discomfort apparent as her face scrunched up as she spoke.

You knew the drill at this point- on her periods, Alessia liked to cuddle a hot water bottle as you both would watch a movie, light sandwiches shared between you two as you huddled under a blanket or two in your bedroom.

Nodding to yourself as you created a plan in your head, you made a move to get up, ready to go heat up some water for a hot water bottle and grab some food and ibuprofen.

You didn’t get far however, Alessia burying her face into your torso at the slightest movement, her arm coming to lay across your lap, preventing you from leaving.

Unfortunately for you, as adorable as her wanting you to stay was, you knew Alessia would be in more pain if you didn’t get up right now, well aware of just how awful her periods got sometimes.

“Love, I’m just gonna fill you a hot water bottle, see if that helps…” Trying to convince the blonde to let you go, you tried to gently lift her arm off you. Your effort was futile though, her grip only tightening.

“No.” The response was clear, the blonde making no effort to loosen her grip.

“Lessi…”

“No. Please…” Her voice was quieter this time, nearly pleading.

Sighing, your shoulders deflated at her tone, knowing she was typically more clingier during the first day or so of her period, the pain heightening her need for your presence.

“Only a little while, okay? After that I need to get you hot water and some food probably.”

And as Alessia moved over to the middle of the bed to make room for you, you got comfortable, sitting with your upper back against the headboard, propped up by pillows, legs stretched out as you made room for the Gunner.

Patting the space between your legs once you had situated yourself, you helped Alessia get comfortable in your hold, her back pressed to your front as you pulled the laptop she had been using earlier closer to you.

Continuing the episode that the blonde had fallen asleep to, you let her rest her head on your shoulder, placing a loving kiss on her temple as you snaked your hands under her shirt, coming to a rest just under her stomach.

Gently kneading, you did your best to massage the area as you both watched the show, trying to alleviate some of the pain.

You could feel Alessia relax at your movement, body getting heavier and breaths getting softer, her slowly falling back asleep with the help of the comforting touch.

Briefly stopping your massage, you quickly turned the volume down of the laptop as to not wake her again, trying your best not to laugh as the girl in your arms whined at the faintest absence of your touch.

Carrying on once again, a soft smile ever present on your face, you settled in, not unfamiliar with this situation with the number of months you had been together, but more than content to be there for her.

~~~

It was nearly an hour later when Alessia rose from her second nap, and if you were honest, you didn’t think she could have gotten any more cuter.

Sleep laden eyes, the blonde had immediately buried her face into your neck upon waking up, adjusting herself to be sideways in your lap as the evening light started streaming into the room.

The pair of you had sat there, cuddled up, for the better part of a half hour, you doing your best to make sure to slowly wake the blonde up, asking little questions here and there until she was fully coherent.

You had eventually convinced her to shower as you started on plans for dinner, an idea, a small surprise, on your mind.

Gathering all that you needed, you worked quickly, time limited.

Pulling away the coffee table in your living room, you quickly rearranged your couch, converting it into the bed it could become, before grabbing all the fluffiest blankets, pillows, and stuffies in the house and throwing them on the makeshift bed.

Scouring around the apartment and the groceries you had gotten earlier, you prepped a snack tray full of the blonde's favourite treats, setting that near the fort you had built.

Finally, boiling some water, you prepped a hot water bottle for when Alessia was out of the shower.

Hearing footsteps just as you finished pouring the water into the bottle, you quickly set the kettle down, screwing the top shut before turning around.

Smiling at the fact that she was wearing one of your oversized hoodies, you proudly presented her with the hot water bottle before taking her hand and leading her to the living room.

Coming to a stop and facing the blonde, you watched as she took in the sight before you- dim lighting around the area, a few candles, the sofa-bed filled with blankets and pillows, snacks, and the TV set up, ready for any streaming service to be chosen.

“I-…huh? What?”

Sending you a bewildered look, Alessia tried to find the words to convey her shock, surprised at how you managed to pull this off in fifteen minutes.

“What is all of this?”

Shrugging your shoulders in response, a nervous smile on your face, you rubbed the back of your neck anxiously.

“I know we had plans to cook together tonight but I figured we could have a relaxing night in instead…”

Slowly walking over to the handful of take out menus you had piled up on the side, you picked them up, bringing them back to the blonde with a sheepish smile.

“Bub, you’re on your period and I think it would be nice if we can just put on a movie, have some snacks, maybe order in, and just cuddle and…relax? No pressure for the night. Just you, me, some good, easy food, and some good entertainment y’know?”

Watching you explain your thought process with a lovesick smile on her face, Alessia stepped closer to you, arms coming around to pull you into a hug, burying her face into your neck.

Sighing into the crook, you felt the smile on the Gunner's face, her hug getting just a tad bit tighter with every passing second, almost as if she was trying to physically make you feel her love.

Relaxing into her hold, you let out a breath at the gesture, glad you had read Alessia correctly.

Pulling back slightly, her sky-blue eyes met your own, head tilting earnestly as she glanced around the room quickly before looking back at you.

“This really sounds like the perfect night right now, thank you.” An apologetic smile crossed her face as she continued, “sorry I’m not in the mood to cook, I know I promised to teach you how to make pasta from scratch and-”

Cutting the striker off before she could spiral into a series of unnecessary apologies, you pulled her close, placing a soft kiss on her lips to quiet her.

Leaning back with a smile on your face at the dazed look in Alessia’s eyes, you grasped her hand in yours, tugging her onto the sofa behind you.

“Less, love, don’t worry a second about it okay? Plus anyways, I’m feeling a little La La Land and some snacks…and then we can order food in a bit yeah? Sounds alright?”

Smiling at the eager nod you got, you situated yourself, helping Alessia dig her way to the middle of the pulled out sofa. Letting her get comfy, you grabbed the softest blanket you had found, coincidentally her favourite one, and gently placed it on the blonde, making sure the hot bottle rested comfortably before settling yourself beside her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders as she laid her head on yours.

A carefree smile unknowingly residing on your face, you flicked through the plethora of streaming services before you found the correct one, hitting play on the movie before tugging your love impossibly closer.

Unbeknown to you, Alessia had a matching smile on her own face, heart softening at the thought of the effort you had gone through- that you always went through, when she was on her period. At how you would always go out of your way to make sure she was comfortable, her very much aware that you had most definitely picked up majority of the snacks today knowing she was starting her period and craved them. At how you checked in with her, took care of her, stayed with her so she wasn’t in pain alone, fed her, did all of that and then some for her.

Well aware your love didn’t need words, Alessia revelled in the thought behind your actions, letting herself fall deeper in love with you as the opening credits rolled around.

Glad that of all the people in the world, she had you by her side through all the good times and bad, she pressed herself into you, letting your warmth wash over her and bring her comfort as you played your guys’ favourite movie.

And as day turned to night, the fall cold slightly sweeping in as the TV illuminated the room in bright lights, the two of you sat, cuddled up, warmed up, and loved up, needing nothing more than the other and the love and comfort of the home you were building together.

#this got a bit longer than i was expecting but oh well :)#i feel like i lost the vibe slightly with this one but ima still share it bc i honestly don't wanna rewrite this #not proofread as usual #alessia russo x reader #alessia russo imagine #alessia russo #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso one shot #woso community #woso #fluff #my writing #part 4 of a 15 part series :)#bpom #blurb

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gravedigginbbydoll · 9 months

Text

Hawkins University : The Munson Edition

AN: Welcome to Hawkins University! These chapters aren't mega long but I still hope you enjoy! This AU has a special place in my heart and I can't wait to flesh it out more!

→ cliches: friends to lovers, heavy use of nicknames instead of Y/N, we're all just struggling college kids, Music Tutor! Eddie, Resident Assistant! Reader, good girl x bad boy, instant connections, 'I don't trust most people but I trust you', 'are we friends or more?', and 'I can't believe you're such a slut that you have a special dtf drawer...'

→ warnings: mature topics, drinking and drug usage, strong language, bullying, mental health, eventual smut, minors dni

→ pairing: modern!college!eddie x college!fem!reader

Masterlist Next>

Chapter 1

Eddie’s POV

Eddie sat at the library table, hunched over the dinky rental laptop, old headset over one ear, the other pushed back. His brows were scrunched and mouth in a pout, chewing on the end of his pencil as he tried to figure out what was wrong with the audio he’d been listening to for the past 30 minutes. Steve gently tapped his hand, pulling the pencil out of his mouth and mumbling to Eddie.

“You’ll ruin your teeth.”

Eddie grumbled, pouting still. He hated mixing and sound design. Sure, he wrote songs for Corroded Coffin but… that was a whole other ballgame. Production classes were all business and tech and he could barely wrap his brain around all the pieces that went into it. He was sure to get gray hairs by the end of the semester, and he was only a sophomore.

He groaned, taking off the dated headphones and closing his laptop. He laid his head down on the table, hiding his face within his arms.

“I’m dropping out. Becoming a hermit,” He grumbled, his voice muffled against his elbow.

“You’re not dropping out. I can’t find another roommate in time,” Steve deadpanned, still focusing on his paperwork in front of him and his laptop.

Eddie continued grumbling, none of it very coherent due to the lack of sleep and his face being pressed into the library table.

“What’re we complaining about?,” Robin asked, throwing her backpack onto the floor by Eddie’s boots, settling down in the chair next to Steve. Eddie could tell by the strong smell radiating off of her that she had just finished her shift at the campus coffeeshop. She always smelled like roasted coffee beans and tea for hours after, almost like she bathed in grounds. “Because I could definitely use some complaining,” She joked, taking a sip on whatever free beverage she had brought from work.

“Eddie wants to drop out. The yoozh,” Steve replied, still focusing on his notes. He was taking an anatomy course for his sports medicine degree and trying to label a diagram on paper. Eddie could tell he was trying to complete all his easier work so that his energy could go into his Literature class. He was on the edge of flunking, and didn’t want to risk being benched from Basketball this season.

Robin began rummaging through her bag, looking for her Language and Society textbook. She pulled out the book, placing it on the table with a light thud before rubbing Eddie’s back briefly.

“Cheer up, Eds. At least you’re not failing,” She offered weakly. Robin was not the best at comforting others, but always tried. She pulled her hand away and opened her textbook, another light thud sounding against the table.

Eddie appreciated the effort but kept his head down while staying silent. Sure, he was passing…But at what cost? His professors constantly undermined his work and scolded him for not paying better attention. He didn’t fit in with most of the Music Production majors, who all seemed to only want to talk about how jazz was the sole genre worth listening to. His other classes like Composition and Performance had professors who gave him permanently pitying looks, as if they could sense his burnout and lack of enthusiasm. He didn’t even really practice on Sweetheart anymore, his beloved electric guitar. He still played shows with the band, and still enjoyed writing occasionally, but the spark was slowly fizzing out.

Eddie tuned out the sounds of the library, thinking about his slow crumbling career, trying to stop the spiral. He focused on the idea of how his private tutoring lessons for guitar were going really well… Well, as good as they could go for working with awkward preteens. Or how he definitely felt like the girl who stared at him and recently flirted with him in his American Government course was going to try to hook up with him at the Sigma Nu party he was dealing at this weekend. Eddie could feel his breathing slow, and his eyes got heavier with each sigh, his blinking getting slower. He could feel himself drifting off, wanting to stop himself, but eventually gave in, drifting off into sleep.

Eddie was slowly awakened by someone gently shaking his shoulder, frantic whispers in his ear, and the scent of vanilla and coconut softly coming over his senses.

“Eddie…Eddie! You have class in 20 minutes!,” Nancy whispered frantically, her voice full of concern.

Eddie sat up quickly, jolted by the fear of entering class late. He didn’t need to take Beginners Guitar, but it was an easy A that made his GPA happy, which was good for his scholarship. Plus, it was the one class that didn’t drive him to pull out his hair. He scrambled to grab his backpack and acoustic guitar case, hugging Nancy and waving as he spoke so quickly his words jumbled together.

“Oh god, I gotta go, I’m late, also Nance, do you mind returning the laptop and headphones when you clock in, I owe you, bye guys!”

Eddie raced out the doors of the library, glad he chose to wear his hair in a messy bun today because otherwise he’d be running towards the music building blind. He allowed his long legs to take him, the route to the building built into his muscle memory. When he finally reached the building and bound up the stairs towards the spacious classroom, he was cursing himself for not getting there earlier. It was only about two weeks into the semester, but Eddie had a particular spot he liked to sit in, and knew someone would be quick to snatch it.

Eddie entered through the door, quickly walking toward the semicircle of chairs, most people already in their seats and chatting, the lone spot left was next to an unfamiliar face. Eddie sighed, settling in the spot, unhappy with being so close to the front. He busied himself with taking out his acoustic guitar, Guthrie (named after Woody Guthrie, the anti-fascist folk singer who inspired Eddie’s sloppy written parody of his famous “This Machine Kills Fascists” on his guitar). Eddie ran his fingertips over the writing, letting his mind wander to the fond memory of its inception.

Eddie, ever the nerd, had painted on “This Machine Slays Dragons” when he was just a gangly and pimple-faced middle schooler. The paint chipped and worn out, but added to the overall loving and worn look of the instrument.

It felt like just yesterday when he had just been introduced to the wonderful world of Dungeons and Dragons by his American History teacher, Mr. Medina, who invited Eddie to a Tabletop Roleplaying Club after seeing how hard it was for the boy to fit in. Eddie had just moved in with Uncle Wayne, and was the current talk of the town. He still remembered the whisperings of his dad’s addictions and sentencing of armed manslaughter. The giggles over rumors of his mother being an out of town prostitute. (She wasn’t, she had actually taken care of Eddie up until he was seven. But then she got severely ill and Eddie had been sent to his dad.) DnD had become Eddie’s safe haven. He threw himself into fantasy and music, ignoring the whispers.

He had had the guitar given to him that Christmas by Wayne, who noted the boy's interest in music. Eddie’s eyes must’ve been threatening to bubble over with tears, because he remembered Wayne’s gruff voice and his strong pat on his shoulder.

“Now don’t go making a big deal about it, boy. Found it in a yard sale. Figured it’d go to waste,” Wayne grumbled. Eddie had sniffled, knowing deep down it was a lie. Eddie had stared at the same guitar in the Pawn Shop window on the walk home from school for the past couple months. Eddie thanked Wayne, wiping away at misty eyes.

A few weeks later, while reading The Hobbit and sitting on the couch, Eddie heard Wayne humming along to an old record, recognizing the song as ‘Do-Re-Mi’, a Guthrie hit. That’s when the idea struck him. Eddie sat up quickly, running off to his room, bewildering Wayne and minutes later running in with the sloppy writing on the guitar, the paint still glossy and wet.

“Now, boy, what’d you-” Wayne began but cut himself off, noting the brunette's toothy grin and twinkling eyes. He let his eyes travel to the writing, and felt a smile tug at his lips. “Well I’ll be damned. Didn’t know I had my very own Young Guthrie living under my roof. It looks good, son,” Wayne said, ruffling Eddie’s short buzz cut.

“A Guthrie fan, huh?,” chimed in a feminine sounding voice next to him.

Eddie shook off the memory, turning over to look at the source.

You were a new face to him, never having seen you in class before. He wondered if you had missed two weeks of classes on purpose, or why you’d be here, seeing as he didn’t recognize you from the fairly tight knit group of students in the music department.

He opened his mouth to speak when the professor moved up to the front of the class. He turned away from you, towards the front. Guess he’d just ask you later.

Good God, Eddie thought. I can’t believe my luck. The one day when I'm almost late to class, I sit next to the only person with an untuned guitar who’s tone deaf and doesn’t know the chords.

Everything you strummed made Eddie wince. And sure, it was a Beginner's Guitar course. But Jesus Christ, Eddie was sure he had heard better tunes from a trailer park stray dog.

You seemed very focused. Your eyebrows were furrowed, your tongue peeking out from between your lips as you struggled to keep up with the fingering on the fret. Eddie would’ve found it cute if his eardrums weren’t bleeding.

By the end of the class, you seemed thoroughly frustrated and annoyed. You were packing away your guitar and flexing and unflexing your fingers, clearly unused to the feeling of holding your hand in the same position for so long.

Eddie packed up slowly, thankful that his next class had been canceled so he had time to relax before his private lesson at the local music store with a little redhead preteen named Maddie. She was sweet, but also at times a bit impatient, so Eddie liked to have a bit of a break before dealing with her.

He noticed you were over by the professor, your things packed up but left in the seat next to him. You were speaking in hushed tones, your back to Eddie and your hand movements telling him that clearly, you were unhappy. He turned away to pretend to be rummaging through his mess of a backpack when he noticed the professor point over to him and you turn your head to look.

Damn it, Eddie thought. He knew that the professor knew he wasn’t actually a beginner and allowed him to stay in the course because he enjoyed Eddie’s willingness to assist those who were struggling in the class. But he didn’t exactly have the time or energy to fully teach someone unpaid.

By the time Eddie had decided to book it out the door with Guthrie all tucked away, you were quickly walking after him.

“Hey! Wait!,” You shouted, the noise echoing in the hallways of the building.

He cringed, but stopped in his tracks, slowly turning around.

“Look, I know I play like shit and my guitar is a very shitty rental, but I need to take this class in order to graduate early, because it’s my last non-major course, and all the other art electives are filled up. Professor Howard said you’re like the most talented student in the class and that his niece has you private tutor her at the music store, and I really really need an A in this class. So…Can you help me? Please?,” You breathlessly spilled out, huffing from having to chase after him.

Eddie’s lips turned down in a frown as he felt his impending headache come on and annoyance grow. He stared at his worn out boots, glaring at the floor. He had no clue little 10 year old Maddie Howard was linked to the same family tree as his professor, but should’ve figured given their resemblance and shared last name. He looked up to meet your eyes, opening his mouth to reject you, but was stopped when he saw your expression. Your eyes were cloudy with tears, your brows furrowed in worry and your expression pleading.

You were a pretty thing, and Eddie could see that now looking at you more closely. He bit his lip, weighing the idea in his head. He could help you and not be subjected to any more bleeding ears. Plus, he couldn’t stand the idea of those beautiful eyes overflowing with tears with him at fault.

He sighed, rubbing at the back of his neck.

“Alright. I’ll help you.”

Taglist: @josephquinnsfreckles

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paddockbunny · 2 years

Note

Lando or Pierre and if your wearing his clothes 🙂

Wearing His Clothes

Summary : Blurb (imagine idk the difference tbh) of how Pierre and Lando would react to you wearing their clothes Rating : 18+ Pairing : Pierre x Reader & Lando x Reader Word Count : Fairly short Warnings : NSFW, 18+, adult material and language, fingering and implied sex

Pierre -

- Pierre was too busy texting on his phone to realise you walked past wearing one of his white linen shirts.

- It was far too hot in your apartment and so you only put it on for decencies sake after getting out of your shower

- When you pass by him for the third time he finally looks up and a smirk washed over his face

- “Is that mine?” He knew damn well it was but it wasn’t like you were wearing it for the reasons he thought in his dirty, dirty mind

- “If you wanna fuck you just have to say so” he purrs as soon as you sit down next to him on the big cloud like sofa. He immediately pulls your legs into his lap and runs his hand up and down the silky smooth skin of your shin

- “Pierre….I have a report to finish.” You had picked up your laptop with the intent of actually getting some work done but he leaned in and closed it again.

- “The only thing you have to finish is me.” He said and you followed his eyes downward towards the defined tent that had grown in his grey sweatpants.

- You would be lying if you said the outline of his impressive erect cock straining to be contained within his choice of clothing (one that he knew always had you riled up) didn’t have your mouth salivating.

- “Pierrrrreeee….” You sighed back but his hand was already pushing up your thigh and he already knew you weren’t wearing any panties.

- You had never disregarded work. It was so important to you but for Pierre, it was forgotten about in a second.

- When his fingertips gently begin to tease your clit with feathery circular touches you would have forgotten your own name.

- “You need to wear my clothes more.” He says “Now I’ll always have the memory of you cumming in this when I wear it.” He motioned down to the shirt and your eyes immediately go lower to see his hand in between your thighs and it was almost enough to send you over the edge with just an image.

Lando -

- “Uh, babe, I’ve lost my jacket. Have you seen it?” You ask frantically looking in Lando’s drivers room for the stupid missing item

- He was in a rush because Max has offered the pair of you a quicker ride back to Monaco in the jet he had chartered.

- “No but here…fling this on and I’ll get someone to look for it when we leave.” You didn’t want to go without the jacket and felt bad for the person who would have to look for it but you accepted the pair of you needed to move, so you flung his McLaren waterproof on.

- It completely swamped you and you kept having to pull the sleeves up but it was doing the job of keeping you warm.

- On the way to the helipad, you realise Lando keeps looking over at you

- “What?” You can’t help but smile. You had an incline into what it was but when he leaned across the vehicle and planted a very firm kiss on your lips you knew.

- “Fuck…” he swore “I shouldn’t have done that.”

- “Why?” You ask innocently

- “Because kissing you and seeing you wearing my clothes….” He got even closer and lowered his voice again “you’ve gotten me so hard.”

- Your eyes immediately went to his crotch and sure enough he was strained against the fabric.

- It was only you and him in the car heading to the airport. Well and the driver but he was probably handsomely paid to forget everything that went on in the car when he was transporting well known people around.

- So with a smirk you reach over and glide your hand over his crotch and true to his word, he was completely rock hard at just seeing you in his team merch.

- A hushed groan fell from his parted mouth when you gently palmed him a few times before pulling away

-“Thank fuck we’re going to be home in two hours and I can punish you for that.” He ground his teeth together

-“I hope that’s a promise.”

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reqxxyt · 1 year

Text

snowed in d.r

[unedited] requests open !

pairings: daniel r. x f!reader

warnings: none (?)

masterlist

_________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

Usually, when someone asks another to come over at 12 am directly, it’s expected to end up in a bed. When I got the text from Daniel to come over at 12:15 am, I didn’t think much of the situation thinking it was just out of boredom. That’s how I ended up at his apartment, snowed in. He didn’t think to tell me that the chances that this would happen were high seeing as there were ice on the roads and the streets were barely walkable.

“I can’t believe you dragged me here” My breath could be seen as I bundled myself up into what was meant to be a heated blanket he offered the first hour when the electricity was going but now was just a regular blanket after the power outage.

“I didn’t want to be alone” he argued in disbelief that I would leave him. I only rolled my eyes, still shivering while watching the downloaded movie that was playing on his laptop on the brink of dying. We stayed underneath the same blanket for heat support meanwhile my own heart was pumping abnormally fast each time his skin would brush against my own leaving harsh goosebumps.

An intimate scene came on screen, having the two main characters near kiss underneath the starlight night. Without realizing, I leaned closer being invested in the movie until the laptop suddenly shut off.

“What.” I said pushing my upper body back where Daniel had been leaning against the couch now having his front touch my back. I groaned now too invested in the movie wanting it back on. Daniel chuckled beside me and I lifted myself up, allowing part of the blanket to drop on the edge of the couch. “I should just leave, what am I still doing here?”

“You wouldn’t dare” his jaw fell and I only glared in response ready to say yes, not being serious. “Fine. Let me walk you outside then”

My heart stopped for a second, thinking if I should take back what I said not being serious about me leaving. But maybe he was tired of my complaints so I headed to the door with him tracing behind me.

I stepped foot outside the apartment building and immediately felt snow rush to my neck, crawling downwards. I shrieked at the feeling before turning around seeing Daniel with a mischievous smile on his face.

“Oh you’re so dead” I accepted the request and grabbed a fistful of snow before chucking it at him, plastering it straight to his face making me laugh while he coughed up some remains from his mouth. We kept throwing snow balls at each other laughing whenever one tripped just to fall right afterward.

Heavy laughter could be heard all the way from down the street if one tried to intervene but no one would walk out while snowing this badly. As I went to pick up another snowball ready for the best throw of my life, I turned my head not being able to spot Daniel.

“Daniel?” I called out, feeling my throat get itchy amd could already hear my voice sounding horsed. As I was about to turn to check behind me, I felt a giant body weight land on top of me only to spot the person I had been looking for laying on me. He laughed while I groaned trying to shove him away. “Get off”

“Never going to happen” he booped my nose and it finally settled the position we were laid in. My breath slowed down as he stared down at me with soft eyes, our visible breath connected with one another as my hands that were before trying to shove him, comfortably laid on my chest not sure where to lay them.

My heart started to pick up its pace the longer we lasted in the position, wishing he would be the first to move whether that was forward or backwards.

“Your nose is really red” was the only thing he whispered to me. Finally my consciousness came back as I shoved him to the side making a joke out of it in fear he didn’t mean anything by laying on me.

“You owe me food for practically killing me” I said getting myself off the ground. He laughed nervously before following me to the car garage.

“You really shouldn’t drive in this weather” his voice filled with only concern, I looked to my car before looking back at his pleading eyes and finally caved in.

“It should’ve been at my house” was all I could say as we went back inside feeling a small relief that it was a bit warmer compared to outside. I didn’t want to mention what happened only 5 minutes ago and I doubt he wanted to either so we stayed silent the entire way back to his apartment.

My phone had been on the brink of dying for the last hour and I refused to use it knowing I didn’t want a dead battery so there wasn;t much to do as the morning started to rise.

“Want to go to sleep?” I heard Daniel ask behind me as we entered immediately wrapping myself in the blanket. I nodded and followed him to the bedroom thanking myself for my earlier decision on wearing sweatpants and not jeans. Neither of us said anything as we lie down, on opposite sides of the bed having trouble going to sleep with the constant reminder of the cold.

The silence was loud. I tried going to sleep but the constant teeth grinding heard from the other side was starting to get irritating. “Daniel?”

“Yeah” was barely above a whisper, we turned to each other and without much light in the room I could still see cheeks turning a pink tone.

“You're shivering,” I said with a concerned tone pushing him the heavy weighted blanket that I had. “We can share”

“Thanks” he said huddling up closer to me but with enough safe distance to have both of us feel comfortable.

Hours passed by and the sun finally shined through the window, little warmth entering the bedroom as I started to wake up. I felt arms wrapped around my sides, confused I look to above to be showcased a VIP of Daniel's face.

Immediately, my face flushed and I wanted to get out. Our arms had been intertwined, mine wrapped around his own torso meanwhile our legs were wrapped around each other. I physically couldn’t see a way out of his grasp so I stayed there knowing how grumpy he’ll be if woken up.

Half an hour passed by and I stayed, not moving. Contemplating all my past life choices. My heart kept going fast every time I would glance at him and he would mumble something.

“It’s not nice to stare” was the first audible response I heard before I jumped at the sound quickly getting out of his grasp, thankful he woke up but also missing the warmth that his body brought. “You okay?” He asked seeing my stumbles out of the bed. I only nodded trying to get myself to calm down.

“Sorry if I woke you up” I quickly apologized as he slowly adjusted himself to sit up, leaning against the headboard.

“Don’t be. I enjoyed having a personal heater. "His smile made me want to jump out the window. Not my best idea considering we were on the third floor. I sat o. The edge of the bed having my hands laid flat on both sides with my back facing him. I heard sounds of him moving before I finally felt his hand graze my own sending goosebumps up my arm.

“What are you doing Daniel?” I asked, turning to see him still playing with my hand, tracing the outline before looking up at me with curious eyes. His gaze kept drifting downwards to my lips, debating whether to do it himself. “Daniel-”

Lips interrupted me mid sentence as I felt his lips harshly land on mine, bringing his hands on both sides of my face. With not much hesitation, my lips followed, crazing for more as I could feel my own stomach doing summer salt flips with the way my heart had no intention of slowing down. The kiss turned gentle as he had brought himself forward, now having to lean down to reach me.

“I don’t know why I didn’t do that sooner” his voice made my heart stop for a moment, loving the way it sounded from it being early in the morning and the intense make out we just had. I stayed silent, not sure how to approach this. “Y/n? Don’t tell me I just threw our four year friendship because I couldn’t handle my emotions”

“I’m glad you did do just that” With a small smile, his own brightened.

#daniel ricciardo #f1 #f1 x you #f1 reader #f1 x reader #f1 x y/n #daniel ricciardo x you #daniel ricciardo x y/n #reader insert #formula 1 #daniel ricciardo x reader #f1 fandom #f1 fanfic #daniel ricciardo fanfic #daniel ricciardo imagine

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biblio-smia · 1 year

Text

always and forever [ethan landry x reader]

pairing: gender neutral reader x ethan landry

warnings: none just fluff <3

very self indulgent </3 rough day today :(

Your muscles ached, begging you for a break you couldn’t afford to give them. You’d forgotten your laptop and had to walk out of class, all the way back to your dorm to get it. Your shift was long and tiresome, your battery drained more than you could handle. The thought of having to wake up and do it all over again made frustrated tears prickle at your eyes.

The domino effect didn’t stop there; you’d gotten home and had a pile of chores waiting on you, the stress from seeing the dishes piled up almost sending you over the edge. You had no energy but you could not rest.

Your breaking point came when a dish slipped out of your hand — the one Ethan made you one on of your first dates — and shattered into tiny pieces on the floor. You stared for a second, your brain working hard to keep up, before you felt the heat rise to your face and the tears start to flow.

You were so fucking clumsy.

You barely heard the footsteps or the sound of your name until Ethan’s hand was on your shoulder, forcing your blurry vision to focus on him.

“Hey, you left your door unlocked…”

“Of course I did,” you replied tearfully.

Ethan gave you a look and glanced at your feet, where his gift once was.

“Oh, baby…” Ethan said softly, leading you away from the sharp shards.

He led you to your bed, taking a seat in the corner and pulling you atop of him. His shirt was dampening but Ethan carried on rubbing slow circles on your back, strong arms acting as your rock.

Ethan didn’t need to know what led you to this point, knowing how you tended to let things build up until you couldn’t hold it in anymore. And every time, he would be there to take care of you and try to stop it from happening again.

Ethan hated seeing you in pain, but he would coax you through it until he saw you smile.

Ethan waited until your sobs became shudders before pressing kisses to your dampened face, salty tears transferring to his lips.

You looked up at Ethan with a desperate look in your eye.

“The plate—”

“I’ll clean it up,” Ethan promised, but you shook your head.

“I’ll make you a new one. I’ll make you twenty new ones,” Ethan pressed another kiss to the back of your hand as you wiped your eyes.

“I dropped it, Ethan. And I forgot my laptop went I went to class and I forgot to lock my door and—”

Ethan could tell you were on the verge of tears again, so he pressed a chaste kiss to your lips.

“It’s okay. That’s why I’m here.”

“I don’t get why you are. Why aren’t you tired of it?”

“Because I love you,” Ethan said simply. It was obvious to anyone, but it was the first time he’d ever said it to you.

And just like that, your brain cleared and your heart did a leap.

“You love me?”

“I love you.”

There was no expectation in Ethan’s voice, no push for an echo of the words from you. There was nothing but sincerity and honesty, as if he was telling you the sky was blue.

You took a shaky breath and rested your head on Ethan’s shoulder, pressing your lips gently against his neck. Ethan’s hands were under your shirt, warming up the cold skin of your back. His arms were a refuge for you to escape your bad thoughts and as Ethan kissed your head, you knew there was nothing getting in the way of that.

“I love you,” you whispered but you knew Ethan heard. His ears turned pink and he sank down until you were half laying on him and half on your mattress. Ethan kept you there, protecting you from everything upsetting you had gone through.

Even at your lowest, Ethan loved you, confident that it would never cease. And as you stared at Ethan, counting the soft freckles on his face with a delicate finger, he knew it was true for you, too.

#ethan landry #ethan landry x reader #ethan landry fanfiction #ethan landry fluff #ethan landry x you #scream x reader #scream #v writes #v + ethan

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randofics · 7 months

Text

Hatching

Transformers + hfy headcannon

You had been safeguarding a singular egg the past week or so. The bots were a little worried for you as you constantly checked on the little bundle against your abdomen. One night, while you sat in the hangar, working on your laptop with the bots in recharge (except for Rachet), you let out a gasp.

Rachet wipped his head around to look at you. You pulled the bundle from your waistband, unraveling the small towel to reveal the egg with some pieces of the shell missing and cracks forming on its surface.

Rachet walked closer to get a better look as Optimus came out of recharge, transforming behind him. You kept the egg close to your body as it started loudly peeping, waking the others.

They gathered around, watching intently as the small lifeform pecked and pushed its way out of the shell. You blew warm air on the wet ball of fuzz as it rolled onto the towel in your palm. Placing the shell on the table, you cradled the baby close.

When you turned back around in the swivel chair to face the others, you had tears in your eyes. They were surprised at your sudden emotional reaction and asked if you were alright.

"I-I didn't think it would make it." Tears finally streamed down your cheeks as you held the baby up to your face. Wobbly, it nuzzled into your nose, and you let out a small sob. "Hey darling, you're a strong one, aren't you?" You sniffled and let out a happy laugh as you admired the little creature in your hands.

The bots, meanwhile, observed your interaction with the baby bird. If there was one word to describe it, they'd probably say motherly.

This was something different with organics vs. cybertronians. Organics tended their young like they were made of glass in comparison to the rougher development of the much sturdier cybertronians. The organic motherly bond was a sight to behold.

One of your colleagues walked in. He tended to be rather mean towards you at times when no one was looking. As soon as you saw him, your body language changed, and there were no more tears. "What's going on in here?"

"Nothing you need to worry about." You practically growled the words as you protectively held your baby close.

"Ooh, what's that you've got there?" When you looked down at your hands, he lunged forward, roughly snatching the bird from your grasp.

The bots could only watch as the intense exchange happened. It happened so fast that they couldn't react in time to intervene.

The baby let out panicked cheeping as it was snagged from you, and in a flash, you had grabbed your closed laptop and, with almost inhuman force, jabbed it into his nose. They heard the sickening crack as the thin edge of the laptop connected with his face.

The man was immediately knocked unconscious and fell to the floor with the baby still held in his limp hand. You scrambled for it, gathering it up gently and inspecting it carefully for injuries. Thankfully, it wasn't harmed, just shaken up much like you were.

Suddenly, the man woke and tried to sit up, but you forced him down with a boot to his chest as you yelled down at him. Anger flashed in your eyes. "Don't you EVER touch my baby EVER AGAIN! YOU ABSOLUTE PIECE OF S***!!!" You spit at him in pure loathing as some security personnel ran up to you.

One man who you knew well enough tried to grab hold of you, and you whipped around almost hissing at him to not touch you. He held his hands up to placate you and gestured for you to go past him. He escorted you to your superiors office where you disappeared. Meanwhile, the others were helping your wounded college off the floor.

The man was bleeding badly from a clearly shattered nose and had the beginnings of two black eyes from the corners of the now smashed laptop. He cursed you out but was quickly reprimanded by none other than Optimus and sent to the infirmary.

-------

The next morning, your superior had the bots gathered in the hangar with you and your bandaged up college to talk through the nights event.

Optimus helped explain the situation in detail and spoke in your defense. "We will happily vouch for y/n and her justified protection of a defenseless newborn animal."

Your college ended up getting fired, and also spent some time in jail for animal abuse and assault on your part. The bots conversed about the whole situation quite often afterward, and Bee asked for the chicks' growth updates. You happily obliged him, and when she was a few months old, you brought her back to base for a visit.

They were astonished at her growth and what she'd turned into over just a few months.

You were happy with how she turned out and enjoyed having her around.

In loving memory of Paprika🍃💔

#fanfic #transformers fanfiction #tf bayverse #transformers headcanons #hfy #humans are weird #short story #baby chicks

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ecoamerica · 14 days

Text

youtube

Watch the American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 now: https://youtu.be/bWiW4Rp8vF0?feature=shared

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carleighalpha · 1 year

Text

SweetWater Nights

It’s late at night, {Y/N} has nothing better to do, so she calls the serpent king to tend to her desires.

Rating: M.

Word Count: 800

Imagine: Smut.

Warning: Nothing I can think of.

“ God, I’m bored.” {Y/N} said as she was typing away on her laptop. She pushed away a lock of her {H/L} {H/C} hair that got in her way. Being a 25 year old erotic writer, she did promise to submit a chapter for her book by the end of the month. She had ten days to submit the ten pages for the newest chapter. She looked in the mirror to see she wore her {F/C} zipper skull crop top, her cut up {S/F/C} jeans and her {T/F/C} converse shoes.

“ Let's see if the king is ready to sneak away.” {Y/N} said with a grin. The king she was referring to was the one and only Serpent King, FP Jones, who was just released from prison. She pulled out her phone and began to text him.

Kind of stuck ;). {Y/N} texted the king. The three little dots came up as it revealed a message.

Does the angel need a filling of inspiration? FP. The message read. He knew what {Y/N} wrote to keep her alive, but never said who it was in her novels. {Y/N} texted him back.

Sweetwater River. Look for my car. Same Spot. XOXO. {Y/N} texted and quickly grabbed a leather jacket. She quickly went to her car, a 1970 {C/C} Chevy Chevelle she called {C/N}. Starting the engine, she drove through the night till she reached SweetWater River. She drove into a small cluster of trees that hid her car. The sound of a motorcycle roared close as {Y/N} saw FP get off his bike and get close to the woman he loved to have these sexual windows with.

“ Been too long, sweet face.” {Y/N} said as FP took a long sniff of her hair, her smell made his pants a bit tight.

“ Way too long.” He said before kissing her. The kiss was hot as their emotions began to flourish. {Y/N} quickly opened the back door and the two went inside. FP was over his prize that he loved to comfort and loved to fill.

“ My beautiful angel.” FP said as he placed kisses against her neck after moving her locks. He moved one hand to unzip her crop top and take it off of her. Her breast came free as he played with one as his mouth kept attacking her neck.

“ Feels so good!” {Y/N} moaned out as FP moved up so he could take his shirt off. His tattoos were a major turn on for {Y/N}. The two then took their pants and shoes off before FP then sank his member into {Y/N}, causing her to moan loud. The car’s windows were getting fogged up. As FP began to thrust deep into {Y/N}. She wraps her legs around his waist as he began to go even deeper as the tip of his delicious member was practically pounding her cervix giving a delicious rubbing of {Y/N}’s inner walls causing all sorts of pleasure to make {Y/N} orgasm and cry out only for FP to kiss her to swallow her cries of pleasure. His hand sliding down the fogged window as {Y/N}’s walls began to contract around his member. The smell of her orgasm was almost too much, but FP stopped thrusting.

“ What? FP? What are you?” {Y/N} said breathlessly as FP smirked at her. He began to thrust quicker than before, which caused FP to smirk down at her before kissing her neck again. This time, FP doesn’t stop as he feels himself going over the edge as he bites on her neck and orgasms deep within her. He growls slowly before he stills. He lets go of her neck and kisses her before withdrawing himself from her. The two get out of the car after {Y/N} has her pants on and her shirt zipping up. FP has his shoes on with his pants and is now pulling his shirt on.

“ Thank you for the inspiration.” {Y/N} said with a grin. FP smiled at this.

“ It’s no problem. Just ring the next time you need more.” FP said before kissing the bite mark he left on her neck.

“ Of course.” {Y/N} said with a smirk. FP heads out on his bike as {Y/N} gets in her car. When she returns to her place, she walks in and quickly gets the chapter done. Smiling at the work as she recalls what transpired only an hour ago.

“ This is life. A serpent king being all kind to an angel for a sweet release.” {Y/N} said as she drank from her favorite mug with tea inside.

“ The angel with a sexual desire.” She said seductively.

#riverdale #riverdale smut #fp jones #fp jones smut

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frannyzooey · 2 years

Text

In The Dark: 7

Ezra x f!reader

Rating: Explicit

A/N: Thank you endlessly to @mourningbirds1 for her guidance, her help and her support on this one - I am better because of her. Also, thank you to @absurdthirst who once wrote a gagging Ezra fic so good that it’s been infused in my soul - the beginning of this one is for you, Keri. Taglist coming later, thank you for reading!

One afternoon, early in his days of getting to know you, Cee had brought you home after school. It was hot – the thick kind of heat that crept into the house and filled the rooms, the kind that made his feet stick to their old hardwood floors and the two of you sat at their kitchen table with your laptops open, sweating glasses of ice water next to your piles of books and pens and notes.

The window was open to let in any semblance of a breeze, the humidity outside high for the time of year and when he walked into the kitchen to get himself a drink, he stopped at the sight in front of him.

You, eating a popsicle. Your mouth was stained red with it, your pursed lips wrapped around the frozen treat and his mouth watered at the imagined icy sweetness of your tongue meeting his. There was nothing overtly sexual about the way you were eating it — in fact, you had your head bent as you read, not even noticing he was there and he felt like a dirty old man watching you wrap your lips around it and suck — but he couldn’t look away.

You kept reading, your finger delicately skating along a line of text on an open page and when you unconsciously started to tap the tip of the popsicle against the pout of your lower lip, he had to leave the room.

It’s not warm anymore, the heat of summer fading away into crisp fall and then into the early days of winter; scarce snowflakes drifting and swirling outside the window of your apartment, the sky a bleak gray.

But yet you tap — the motion a much more conscious one now, in your worshiping kneel between his spread, bare thighs.

He’s got you in your bedroom, the hardwood floors an unforgiving dig into your knees and you make a mental note to use a pillow next time he wants you like this — which is often, given his obsession with your mouth.

You let him tap the thick tip of his cock gently against your lower lip, the stiff weight of it firm in his grasp and when you stick your tongue out to taste it, he lets out a low, pleased groan with a heavy exhale.

The light dusting of hair on his thighs slides under your grip when you push them open wider, scooting closer to where he sits on the edge of your bed and he guides himself deep into the wet cavern of your mouth, mesmerized by each disappearing inch.

“Fuck, just like that, Birdie,” he groans, his hips flexing up to push himself between your lips and when he feels the swallow of your tight throat against the rounded head, he holds there for a moment, watching.

He presses just a bit deeper and you take a deep inhale through your nose, your brow furrowed with pleasure. The pad of your thumb fits into the crease of his bare hip to steady yourself against the smooth skin.

He would feel bad about the way this makes your eyes water if he didn’t know how much you liked it. And if he himself didn’t like it so much.

“You’re doing so good.” Your throat tightens a fraction around the tip of him, giving it a squeeze and his belly jumps, a shuddering breath working its way through his lungs. “You’re gonna make me come down that pretty little throat if you keep this up. Is that where you want it?”

You can’t answer with your mouth full, your lips stretched around the thick base of his cock, your tongue rounding the weight of him and so you hum instead, closing your eyes with an aroused frown.

“Or do you want it on your face again?”

The thought makes you suck in, your thighs pressing together as you pull off him and the strings of saliva that glisten and stretch from him to you are the perfect slip when you pump him slickly with your hand, taking deep breaths.

“I want it inside me,” you answer, your voice slightly hoarse. The knowledge for that being his use of your throat makes him harder in your hand, makes the tip of him leak a pearly mess and you scoop it up sweetly with your tongue, savoring the salt tang of it. The look he gives you is almost reverential, one of awe and he reaches for you, quickly hauling you onto his lap.

His broad hands cradle your face in their hold when he pulls you in for a kiss, tasting both himself and you and if he tries hard enough, the long ago phantom sweetness of the popsicle. The memory of it makes him deepen the kiss, licking into your mouth.

Your hips are already rocking against his, your slick cunt seeking him out and when he reaches to the side to open a condom he placed on the bed earlier, you feel the back of his hands brush against the delicate skin of your inner thighs as he rolls it on. Your body knows what is coming, and when he notches himself at your entrance, he groans at how easily he slips in and fills you. His hand wraps around the nape of your neck, his other one coming to rest on your hip with a greedy grip and you start to ride him, fucking yourself deep on his cock.

“Is this how you want it?” he pants, and you nod quickly, your expression already dazed with lust as you make him stroke that perfect spot inside. Your mouth is open, slack, hungry for his when you try to kiss him. Your mouths meet, but you can’t hold it, not with how fast you’re moving your hips and he lets go of you to lean back, bracing himself on the bed. He watches you ride, your breasts bouncing with a light sway for every rock forward onto him and falling back, he reaches for you.

“Oh fuck,” you cry out, the angle just right and when you start to grind on his lap to keep him stuffed inside, he can feel the curls at the base of his cock soaked and smeared with you; you’re gonna come. His hand splays firmly across your lower back, keeping you tight in place, knowing how you like that extra pressure. “I’m – I’m –”

His breathless grin beneath you tells you he already knows what you’re trying to say and you do it before you can get the words out, your nails digging into the meat of his shoulder as you cry out his name.

He likes the way you call out for him, the pleading way you say it. As if you’re falling and he’s the only one you want; an overwhelming tide pulling you under and you’re reaching just for him. He knows now when it’s gonna happen, can feel your body tense before it breaks, can feel the burst of light and wetness before you let your mouth drop open in a slack, pleasure filled shape and it’s one of the most beautiful things he’s ever seen, every time.

He gives you a second to relax your body above his and then he’s rolling you onto your back, his leanly muscled arm slipping under the crook of your knee to tug it higher. His strokes are harsh and hard, seeking his own release and his teeth grit, his jaw clenching with effort.

Pounding into you, he gives you no choice but to take it, his heavy weight pressing you deep into the mattress and your expression is one of supplication, your hands splayed on his sides to hang on. You move one up to thread into the fine hairs at the nape of his neck, the strands there damp at the root with sweat and it’s half a dozen bruising strokes with his fist clenched around your comforter before he comes loudly inside you, stilling his hips hard in their press against yours.

Your legs wind around his waist, keeping him inside. Your trembling thighs cushion his hips as you pull in shuddering breaths and he kisses you down from your joined high with a silent thanks.

For being such a good girl for him, for taking it all: him, the secrecy, what he needs to give you.

The trust you place in him is a heady feeling, one he likes. He cradles it, kindles it, blows on it gently until your aroused confidence blooms into a raging fire; until you’re shamelessly fucking his face or choking on his cock or asking for exactly what you want.

This bedroom of yours has become a sanctuary, one like his work room at his house. Here, it’s the same - those competent, skillful hands unwrapping you like an undiscovered treasure, molding and kneading and smoothing away all your hesitancy until he finds what he’s looking for underneath: your shameless, open desire. The sight of your bedroom alone arouses him now, the floral print on your comforter making his cock twitch in anticipation and he likes the way he leaves smelling like you, a souvenir to keep.

“You did so good for me,” he says, lifting his hips to slip his briefs on. He sits on the edge of the bed, his small belly a cinch when he bends forward to swipe his shirt off the floor and you watch the worn, soft fabric slip over his back, pooling there for a moment before he tugs it down, covering the last bit of tanned expanse.

He looks over at you, your arm tucked under your head as you lay there and watch and when his eyes drift down your body with a smile, he reaches out to brush his fingers up the inside of your thigh.

“This did so good for me,” he says, dancing the pads of them over your soaked curls and you grin, closing your thighs around his hand. He pinches the skin there and you laugh, letting his hand go.

“What are you going to do for the rest of the afternoon?” he asks, searching for his flannel and when he spots it, he stands, grabbing it from the floor.

“Grocery shop, maybe?” You hum, rolling onto your stomach in the slow way only a sated woman can. You stretch out like a cat, and he admires the length of your body with an affectionate smile. “Sleep, with the way you wore me out.”

You shriek surprised when he delivers a stinging swat to your bottom, and you roll back over, laughing.

“No sleeping,” he scolds, crawling back up onto the bed. His knees come to rest on the outside of yours, his hands a brace around your head. “The day awaits.”

You say nothing, instead grabbing the fabric of his open flannel and tugging him down on you, pulling him in for another kiss.

“What are you going to do today?” you ask, your voice already a murmured, distracted one. His mouth is now busy tasting the curve of your jaw, the slope of your neck. You pull your legs out from between his, wrapping them around his waist with a squeeze and he pulls back with one more savoring kiss pressed at the juncture of your shoulder, looking down at you.

“I’ve got an end table I’ve gotta finish. Then I’m gonna drive it out to the country for delivery.” His eyebrows wiggle, the curve of his mischievous smile perking up underneath his mustache. “Wanna come with? We could drop it off together,” he suggests, his hips shifting in the cradle of your thighs. He grinds them into yours, his briefs the only fabric between you. “Could fuck somewhere out in the country.”

“There’s country in this state?” You can’t imagine what it must look like, surrounded daily by anything but and he scoffs, shaking his head.

“Oh Birdie,” he chides, amused. Rolling his hips against yours one more time in a lewd suggestion, he smirks. “I’ve got a lot to show you yet.”

—

Tuesday is your day off — a perfectly mundane, early in the week sort of day and he’s been coming over then, driving to your apartment and knocking on your door and slipping into your bed. Cee doesn’t usually call on those days with it being one of her heavier loads schedule-wise and so it’s become your day — just you and him.

Sometimes you don’t do anything but stay in bed: fucking and touching and kissing until you’re ready to fuck again. It’s like he can’t get enough but neither can you; no moment wasted. Your skin is smeared with him on those days, your scent pressed onto his skin, your mouth tasting like his. His limbs are sore and so are yours, along with other parts of your body, but you like the reminder that stays behind when he leaves.

Other times you go out: on deliveries with him, or around the city to various museums, bookstores, his favorite haunts. Always an unspoken agreement to stay away from the part of the city where Cee would be, he brings you to places you’ve never been in neighborhoods off the beaten path - or whatever the closest thing to that concept is in New York.

A tiny sushi restaurant only five tables big, tucked under a building, that requires a staircase to descend into its dim, fragrant depths. Musty antique stores, where he seemingly knows every owner and you listen to them chat while you pursue the old items, slowly pacing along the creaking hardwood floors. Your used bookstore, where he spends an hour whispering the most absurd names for cocks into your ear; your head tilting with a shiver under your laugh.

Some days it’s a mix of both: edging you in public to rip your clothes off the second you walk in the door. Sourcing mid century chaises in Lowertown, and riding him on your living room floor seconds after stepping inside. A French lunch from a food stand in Bryant Park before bending you over the back of the couch. Your hip bones had ground painfully into the wooden beam along the back with every harsh thrust of his inside you, but you smiled at the tender spots in the shower that night when you soaped them.

Their house is where it gets tricky.

Quick fumbles in his work room, desperate, hungry kisses when Cee goes to the bathroom, loaded looks every time you meet. One time she’d taken a phone call - another writer, from her creative class - and it took everything you had to not immediately get up from the couch and wander to find him. You waited a full minute, trying to appear casual even though every bone in your body was calling out for his and when it sounded like the conversation was getting more involved, you got up and walked slowly towards her room.

You bypassed it, striding quickly down the hall and found him on the patio out back, reading. He turned around at the sound of the glass door sliding open and leaving it cracked to hear her inside, you crooked your finger at him, beckoning him just out of sight.

You’d never seen him move so fast before.

Your back hitting the bricks as he pushed you up against the wall in his eagerness, his body crowded yours and he was going to leave a mark, the way he tasted the skin beneath your ear. You pulled his face away from it to stop him, meeting his mouth with your own. Hooking your leg over his hip, you ground yourself against him and when he returned it in kind, you’re pretty sure you would have fucked him right there if you knew for a fact she would be longer.

“You’re driving me crazy, just sitting in there. I can’t think straight with you so close. I just wanna kiss you, touch you. I wanna drag you into my bedroom and fuck you so hard that –”

You stilled him, Cee’s voice no longer heard. You gave him a pleading look, scrambling away and when you slipped back into the house, you slowed your walk and willed yourself to calm down. Turning around, you’d seen him pacing the patio silently through the glass, doing the same thing.

He was like a drug: heady, addictive, the slide of his tongue something you craved more each time you had it. Just as ravenous for you, he couldn’t get enough of the pliant mold of your body against his, the sweet taste of your breath in his mouth.

It’s your own fault. You’d let it build between you until you could taste it, let it build until you could already feel him against you if you tried hard enough, let it build until you couldn’t take it anymore.

Now that you can have him, how could you stop?

–

“You always hear the weirdest shit on the subway — and like, good for them? They obviously don’t give a fuck. Just living their lives for everyone to see, the fact that they are on public transportation just another part of their day but I also don’t want to hear about some of the stuff I hear about. Jesus.”

You find yourself smiling at Cee’s rant as you follow her into her house, dropping your bag by the door. You don’t even know how this one started, but you’re used to them by now and you make your way into the kitchen, grabbing a drink from the fridge.

It was true anyway, about the subway. The idea that people treated it as an extension of their home, sometimes. As if living in this close of quarters in the city was like you were sharing an apartment with eight million other people at all times; their dirty laundry out to air, their everyday life intersecting with yours. They ate while you studied, they slept while you listened to music, they made doctors appointments and read and held hands and cried and laughed - all on the same train you occupied.

Like vessels of human life, the entire human experience happened inside those steel cars, ones that have seen countless other experiences before yours and it was fascinating, in a way.

But you also saw some truly weird shit.

“Oh, I forgot,” she interrupts herself, tugging a folded slip from her back pocket. It’s a flyer, one found by the tattered and overlapped dozens that you find on bulletin boards all over campus. She unfolds it, handing it to you. “You wanna go to this on Saturday? Could be fun.”

“What could be fun? Can I come?” Ezra walks into the kitchen, tossing the rag he was using to wipe his hands on the counter and he comes to stand at your side. He grasps your elbow in hello, like he didn’t just have the entire bottom half of his face buried in your cunt less than 24 hours ago.

He looks down at the paper in your hand, raising his eyebrows in surprise. “You’re going to this?”

“I guess?”

“I’m going to this.”

His answer surprises both of you, and he looks between your faces for a moment, the corner of his lips lifting in a curl.

“What, you think I’m too old or something?”

“Who are you going with?”

He answers, listing off a couple of people’s names that Cee seems to recognize with the way she nods at him and you watch him grab a can of water from the fridge, cracking it open and taking a slow, long drink.

“Well, we’re also gonna go,” Cee says, sitting down at the table to open her bag. “I don’t think we’ll be able to go together or anything. There, I mean.” She looks at you in confirmation. “I think we have a study group that night before or something?”

Ezra, still facing the fridge, idly scratches the small of his back with his thumb and your eyes fix on the sliver of his tailbone that you can see, the peek of his briefs right under it. Your heels had dug into that same spot the week before as he pounded into you, and then later, you had kneaded it with your hands while he laid on your couch and watched a movie.

“Um, yea,” you finally answer, dragging your eyes back to her. “I think so. At the library.”

“How convenient,” he smiles, turning around to face you. “My girls, spending the night at the library. How studious.”

You’re too fixated on the fact that he just called you his girl and miss his joke entirely, not getting it until he steps forward to tap his finger against the paper on the table. You look down at the flyer - the show is held at a bar called “The Library”.

“Haha,” Cee says in the most flat voice she can muster. “Can you get out of here already with your dad jokes? We have stuff to do.”

He’s still smiling, pleased with himself and when he turns to wander back to his work room, he looks back at you and winks.

–

Standing in line outside the bar, you slip your phone from your purse and scroll through your mail app again, checking the subject lines. Your breath is a white cloud of frosted warmth in front of you, your legs restlessly rubbing together to create heat against the chilled skin and Cee takes the phone from your grasp, turning the screen off.

“Stop looking for it. It’ll come.”

She said the same thing a week ago, after you waited another two to hear about your resubmission to the program and just like then, you give her a small smile and tuck your phone back into your purse. “I’m sorry. I’m just getting antsy, ya know?” You move closer to the door, the sound of people and music wafting out into the winter air and she huddles closer to you, linking her arm with yours. “I just wish they would let me know already.”

“Believe me, I’ve been there.” She pats your hand like someone much older than she is, and you smile, looking down at it. “You’ll get it. I just know it.”

You say nothing, squeezing her tighter. You’ve been on edge about it for weeks—both wanting it to happen, and yet not wanting to think about what it will mean for you if it does. The two of you take in the sight of the other people in front of you, watching them flash their IDs to the bouncer.

“Hey, so what’s the deal with that guy in our study group, by the way?” Cee changes the subject, two more people in front of you now and you’re already laughing, because you know what she’s gonna say and you get your ID’s out and ready, handing them over.

“God, the one who insists on explaining the concept of your own story to you, even when you tell him he’s got it wrong?”

A wave of body heat hits you immediately upon entering, the small space already crammed with the Saturday crowd. There is music playing - not the live band, not yet - but it’s heard loud enough over the din in the main room and it takes you a second to even spot the bar through the clusters of people.

Bottles behind him just as crowded as bodies, the bartender moves faster than you thought was possible with an apathetic look on his face and waving you forward, Cee leads you to where she’s spotted Ezra and his friends.

You’re nervous to meet them, focusing instead on the decor of the dimly lit space to calm your nerves. The scuffed walls are scrawled and covered with graffiti, the words multicolored and chaotic; some legible, others not. Shelves line the walls, an homage to the name of the place with cases jammed with haphazard stacks of books and they look both worn and untouched; tossed there for decoration, but probably also stained with beer. Carefully curated to look careless comes to mind.

A booth running along one side of the place that leads to the graffiti covered bar, the end of it iis where he’s standing and you bite your lip to keep from smiling too broadly at his blatant sweep of his eyes over your body. You knew wearing a skirt was the right choice, even if it was too cold outside for it.

His friends greet you both, drawing Cee in for hugs all around.

“You’re old enough to come out to stuff like this, Cee?” they tease, making faces at their own oldness. “Jesus, Ez.”

“I know, it’s crazy,” he replies, shaking his head. Hailing the bartender, he turns to you and reaching out to brush his knuckles against your stomach, the quick movement makes your belly jump. “What do you want?” He nods his head towards the bar.

“Just a beer. Whatever you’re getting is fine.”

“Vodka tonic, got it.” He smiles, giving you a wink and you return it with a shy smile of your own. Cee jokes with his friends while Ezra orders, his shirt pulling tight over the muscles of his back in his lean over the bar and he receives the sweating bottles a moment later, one short glass among them.

“You think I don’t see what you drink at my house, Birdie?” he teases, handing the small glass to you and you grin, thanking him for the drink.

You take a deep swallow of icy liquor; the band setting up on stage.

“Ezra, we missed you the other day,” the woman says, taking a pull of her beer. “You must have been busy or something.”

The man next to her, her boyfriend by the proximity in which he’s standing next to her, raises his eyebrows in question at her and she clarifies. “You know, last Tuesday. Afternoon, I think?” She looks back at Ezra. “I tried to give you a call, we all went out to see a movie.”

Your heart picks up speed, but he brushes it off easily. How can he always be so calm? It’s disarming, the things he can hide. “Must have been working or something. What did you see?”

The conversation that follows is an easy banter of friends, their familiarity obvious. They make reference to another time when Ezra did go with them, all of them getting high before seeing a campy horror movie and when they all laugh, you join them though you feel slightly out of place.

Cee chatting animatedly with one of them and showing them something on her phone, Ezra laughing at what his friend is saying and you take a sip of your drink, shifting unsure on your feet. You look around the space, half listening to their conversation and wishing Ezra could touch you. A physical reminder of the fact that he wants you here, you want to be claimed by him for everyone to see — but he can’t do that.

Cee, finishing her conversation, sidles up next to you and links your arm with hers. You welcome the familiar press of her body, leaning into it.

“You ready to have your ears blown out?” she asks and you laugh at her obvious excitement over the concept.

“Yep.”

–

She’s not kidding. The music louder than you’ve ever heard in concert before due to the small space, the chords reverberate through your ears and distorted riffs roll through your body, the beat of the drums pounding through your limbs. It isn’t long before Cee flashes you a smile and gets lost in the flailing mass of bodies, her tawny cap of hair among the other more multi colored ones and with one hand above her head clutching a beer, she throws her head back and laughs at something the girl she’s dancing with says. You smile, watching her.

Ezra is keeping an eye her too, but for different reasons.

A glance at his friends to make sure they are preoccupied, when Cee gets closer to the stage and further away from you, he reaches for the small of your back, dragging his knuckles across it. The crowd has pushed the two of you further against the waist high, water-ringed wood of the bar, your body blocking the sight of any movement he makes and you lean into the small reminder that he’s there, behind you.

His finger works its way underneath the band of your skirt, tucking itself neatly into the dip of your spine and when he gives the fabric the slightest of tugs, a piercing need settles heavy in your belly. You wait a moment and then shuffle your feet back.

His friend says something in a yell that you can barely hear over the music, Ezra laughing and you smile at the sound. Shifting to move out of the way when someone passes in front of you, his finger slips out of your waistband and his hand splays over the curve of your hip, keeping you in place.

To anyone else it would look like he’s maybe resting his hand on the bar behind your back, or maybe the edge of the stool next to him, but you can feel the weight of it through your shirt, the thrill lighting a path straight between your legs. You press them together when he slips his pinky underneath the hem, seeking out your bare skin.

Looking at his profile, you admire how handsome he is tonight. He listens and nods and laughs easy with his friends, the lines around his eyes deepening with crinkles and a strange sort of pride fills your chest at the idea that normally you’d be way too intimidated to ever approach a man like him if you were strangers in this bar, but he’s yours. This charming, confident man, in his tight over the rounds of his shoulders faded, years old band t shirt that you love. His dark curls are extra mussed tonight, clearly air dried in their splay over the crown of his head and the shock of white at his temple stands out in the dark bar. He laughs again, his dimple pressing deep into his stubbled cheek and you drop your eyes to look at it. Dear God, that dimple, when he grins.

You know what that dimple feels like - you’ve fit your thumb into it, fisted those curls in your hands with a tug, felt the scrape of his gray blended beard on the inside of your thighs and against your throat, circled your arms around those broad shoulders as you held on for purchase against his thrusts. It’s a strange feeling, being in a public place with him now. Like no one else knows the hitched breathing he lets out when he moves above you, or the sound of his groan when he comes or the way a fine blush creeps up his cheeks.

Smiling inwardly at the thought that you alone know those things, you go back to watching the crowd, listening to his conversation.

“Sara was asking about you,” you hear Ezra’s friend shout and you feel him lean in, listening with one ear. “I think she was hoping I would invite her tonight.”

Sara. You frown, knowing you’ve heard that name before and it comes to you suddenly - the woman at the movie theater.

“Oh yea?” he says, ever the non committal gentleman but you can feel his grip on your hip tighten a fraction, his body tensing. “How is she?”

He’s deflecting, though you selfishly wish he would be more direct and dismiss him entirely.

His friend continues. “I thought you liked her, man. She said she was waiting to hear from you, but then you never called her or something?”

You want to step away from him, but when you try, he holds you tighter.

“Yea, it didn’t really – “, he stops, unsure what to say and you think it’s maybe the first time you’ve heard him at a loss for words. “It was like a one night thing,” he says, quieter.

His friend nods in understanding. “So you seeing anyone else then, or –?”

Freezing, you wait to hear what he’s going to say. His hand stills, then slips from your hip and you feel him turn and face the bar. “I’m gonna get another, you want one?”

He didn’t answer the question.

You bring your drink to your lips, letting an ice cube slide into your mouth and your tongue rolls around it while you try to tamp down the disappointment that floods through your chest. You know he can’t say anything, so you aren’t even sure what you wanted him to do but you know it wasn’t that.

Couldn’t he have said…..something? Anything less open ended, to at least convey that there was someone?

A couple minutes pass, the music continuing. Everyone else around you carries on with their night, the bar becoming too cramped, too crowded, too hot and throngs of warm bodies press in on you, the music getting too loud. You look at the front of the bar, frost creeping around the edges of the fogged window and you need some air, but it’s too far. Turning, you place your empty glass down on the bar and start to push your way through the crowd towards the bathrooms.

Ezra’s eyes follow your back.

–

The bathroom is tight, little more than a tiny room with a sink and mirror and just like the whole bar, is covered wall to wall in graffiti. It’s even scrawled on the toilet, black, severely curved marks along the back and down the sides and the toilet paper itself hangs from a metal chain strung on the wall; the branded hand soap by the sink the only unthemed thing in the room.

You slam the door behind you, and with shaking hands, wet some paper towels with cool water, pressing them against the back of your neck. Overheated, you bite back the impulse to cry and the loud bass of the music covers the deep, steady inhales of air you pull in to calm yourself.

You know he couldn’t say anything, you know that. You slide the damp paper across your collarbones, wiping away the residual heat from the packed room and close your eyes, willing this feeling away.

This is their life, not yours. Cee is going to find out and then he’s going to break up with you. He’ll go find that Sara woman instead, or someone else who fits in with them. Someone he doesn’t have to hide with, someone who won’t hurt everyone.

You know what you’re doing is a secret, but you never imagined it would hurt so bad for him to flat out ignore what you were to him. All those days spent together on your couch and in his car and in your bed. All you’ve shared in the hours you’ve spent together, and the way he shared too. The way he felt like so much to you.

You wanted him to say it so bad.

Washing your hands, you hear someone jiggle the handle of the bathroom and before you can yell out it’s occupied, the door opens.

“What the hell, I’m –”

It’s Ezra, the dark crown of his head the first thing you see before he comes through the door, closing it behind him. You must not have locked the door in your haste, but he does.

“What are you doing in here? I don’t think we can —“

He doesn’t answer, closing the distance between you to crowd you against the wall. His expression is one of concern, yet laced with restrained lust and his hands reach for your face, cupping it with a soothing stroke of his thumbs.

“I’m sorry, Birdie. I really am. I wish I could say it.” He kisses you, not letting you answer and when he pulls back to let you breathe, he bends his head to drag his nose along the length of your neck. Your eyes flutter shut, your hand slipping into the crown of his hair as your body instantly responds, his touch what you’ve been longing for all night.

His hands brace on the wall behind you as he leans into you, his mouth brushing against your skin. “It’s torture, having you so close but not being able to touch you. Do you know how much I want it? How much I wanna tell them that you’re mine?”

His hand reaches for yours, grasping it in his hold and when he brings it to the fly of his jeans, you let out a whimper into the small tiled room at the firm heft cupped in your palm. “It makes me so fucking hard, Birdie. To think about you being mine.” His fingers lace with yours, pressing your hand harder against him. “Feel it.”

He grinds into your touch, keeping his hand over yours and it all happens in a flash after that — a trigger being pulled, a string snapping.

His mouth finds yours, his hands shoving the hem of your skirt up to grab handfuls of your ass and the groan that he lets out when he squeezes them is felt against your lips, sliding down your throat. He kneads the plump flesh, pressing the weight of his body between your legs to open you wider and his fingers spread you from behind, just barely brushing against the damp crotch of your panties.

“Fuck, fuck –,” he whispers, almost like he’s scolding himself but unable to stop and your hands tremble as they go for the button of his jeans, trying to work it open. He pulls away, the heat of his body leaving yours and he slides his hands under the band of your panties to rip them down your thighs and then he stands, shoving his thigh between yours. You can’t help but grind your bare, wet seam against the firm line of denim, dropping your eyes to watch as he pushes the black band of his briefs down to pull himself out. Tugging your leg up and around his hip, he positions himself at your entrance, his gaze fierce and unbearingly intimate so close to yours.

“Fuck, Birdie,” he grits, pushing in. Your twin sounds of relief are louder than they should be, but still drowned out by the music outside the door and the curve of his nose rests against the meat of your cheek, his labored grunts gusting hot over your neck. “This fucking skirt. Did you wanna get fucked in it?”

“Yea,” you moan, swallowing the hitch in your breathing. “Yes. Yes.”

The vibration of the angry chords are felt against your back through the thin walls and you tug on his hair, bringing his mouth harshly to yours. His hips rock you up the tiled wall, your bare ass sliding against it with every thrust inside and his hold on you is bruisingly possessive, shifting from the outside of your knee, to your hip, to your breast filling his palm. He tugs the neck of your shirt down, biting into the swell of it and when you cry out, he soothes it with a sweep of his tongue.

It’s a bathroom and there are people lined up outside and you really shouldn’t be doing this here but just like when he comes to visit you, he’s fucking all coherent logic from your mind, forcing you to open for him. He feels so fucking good, your strained whispers telling him so into the shell of his ear and the groans he lets out echo, blending with the muted music. You absorb them into your body, flooding around his cock at the filthy sounds and he fucks you harder, faster when he feels how wet you’re getting.

“I’m gonna come, Ezra, please make me –” your fingernails dig into his sides, your back arching to meet his every stroke. The weight of him inside you is more than you can take in this position, the fullness a tight stretch and his palm slaps against the wall, his eyes clenching shut.

“Oh fuck, I didn’t bring anything. Christ, I didn’t – where should I –”

The desperation in his voice brings you to the edge and over, him following right behind you and his head tips back with a strained groan that slips out of his throat, deep and filthy sounding. It rumbles against your chest, his cock spurting the last of his release and before he even pulls out, you can feel some of it slide hot down the curve of your ass.

He’s unsteady for a moment, a breathless laugh before he drops his head down to rest on your shoulder and when he slips out, a trickle of hot, thick liquid trails down the inside of your thigh. Your fists wind into his shirt, keeping the weight of his body tight against yours and when he looks up at you, you kiss him. It’s one of longing, bordering on desperation even after what you just did and he ends it slowly, uncaring if anyone else is waiting for the room.

Shuffling back, he tucks himself away, buttoning his jeans as he watches you wipe the inside of your thighs with a wad of toilet paper and his heart is still pounding from earlier, but now the beat is a stronger, an all consuming one as you look up at him with a smile. You toss the tissue in the can and he comes closer, pulling you to him.

“I know I can’t say it,” he starts, his mouth brushing against the corner of your lips and you lean into his embrace. You might be bare under this skirt, your panties discarded on the bathroom floor of a punk bar and this might not be the most romantic of settings, but he makes it feel so with the intensity of his words. “But you know you’re mine, right?”

You know it, can feel the evidence of it slipping out of you, can feel it in the cradle of his hands and you nod, accepting another kiss. Your mouth is pliant and plush against his, and you feel his smile in the kiss, pulling away to look at it.

That dimple again. You fit your thumb into it, and he chases the heel of your hand with his mouth.

“I gotta –,” you start, laughing in your nod towards the bathroom floor and when he realizes what you’re saying, he bends to help you step into your underwear, sliding them up your thighs. He watches you pull them up in his crouch, pressing one last kiss to the front of your thigh.

“Ready?” he asks, standing and you nod. The bar and the worry you felt earlier is miles away; your body now just as scrawled as this bathroom wall is with proof of his claim on you. The ghost of his hold on your hips, the marks his mouth left behind, the slick evidence of his want between your legs. His hand holds yours, squeezing tight.

“Ready.”

#ezra #ezra prospect #ezra x you #ezra x reader #ezra/you #ezra/reader #ezra smut #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters

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