#and this is only from the last twenty minutes

[simplyholl]

Hunted

Summary: Hydra hosts a training exercise for their super soldiers. You can run, but you can't hide from the Winter Soldier.

Pairing: Dark Winter Soldier x F. Reader

Warnings: Smut. 18+ Only. Minors DNI. This is a dark fic. Non con. Death.

See my Masterlist Here

You ran as hard as your feet would carry you. You were terrified, shaking so hard you were surprised that you could even move. Footsteps approached quickly, your breath hitches as you make a decision. You could run, but the super soldier could easily catch up to you. Or you could stay where you are and pray that you are hidden well enough that he won't find you.

Last month, Hydra caught your uncle's company trying to take them down. They killed all the men that worked there and captured all the women. They brought you all to cells under their headquarters. They fed you three meals a day, stating you all would need your strength for what they had planned.

This morning, you learned what they had meant. You were all brought out to the edge of the woods. The man in charge told you that they were training their super soldiers today. They would be practicing their hunting skills. A large van pulled up, and out came ten super soldiers. You looked around, counting the women who were with you. There were twenty-three of you. A second van halted to a stop beside the other. Two large men drug out another.

He was chained up, arms behind his back, black mask almost like a muzzle covered his mouth. His dark, shoulder length hair was messy, piercing blue eyes locking on you. You felt like you were going to faint. The Winter Soldier was the most brutal of all the super soldiers. A skilled assassin, he was sent on Hydra's most important missions. He did all their dirty work.

The Hydra leader who brought you outside explained the rules to the prisoners and soldiers. They were going to give you all an hour head start. Your job was to hide from the men. If they found you, they could do whatever they wanted with you as a reward. Bile rose in your throat, turning the contents of your stomach sour. Some of you wouldn't come out of this alive. But if you were fortunate enough to make it until sunrise, you would be free.

The footsteps grow closer, you close your eyes hoping he won't notice the footprints you had left in the mud. Then you see him, the man was tall, blonde hair shaved off. He walked toward the bushes you were hiding in. Your hand flies to your mouth to hide your cries. To your dismay, one escapes anyway. The soldier's head whips toward the noise, across the way from you.

You realize it wasn't you who cried too loudly. The soldier smiles wickedly, reaching for the poor woman who just gave up her hiding spot. He flings her out of the bushes onto the hard ground. More tears fall when you notice that it's Claire, the secretary from your uncle's failed company.

The soldier begins pawing at her as she tries to fight him off. It's no use. He holds her down with one knee on her torso, as he strips off his clothes. "You're my second one today." He brags. "Let's see if you're luckier than the last one. I choked her too hard." His evil laugh echoes through the quiet forest. When he rips Claire's clothing from her shaking body, you take the opportunity to run.

He looks up when he hears you leaving your shelter. "I'll catch up to you next!" He yells after you. The sun has started setting, you take a precious minute to catch your breath. You know if you stop for too long, you'll lose your momentum, or someone could catch up to you. You hear the screams and cries of your fellow prisoners as you make your way further into the woods. You search for a new place to hide, since it would be dark soon.

They could have at least equipped you with flashlights, you think to yourself. That was the whole point of all of this, wasn't it? You weren't meant to survive. Hydra expected the super soldiers to kill most of you. The women who survived would be brought back to the prison, probably made to work for them now that their spirits had been broken.

It was almost too dark to continue, so you took shelter in a cluster of bushes, shrinking yourself as small as you could underneath it. Night fell, and you laid on the cold ground, the horrendous sounds of the others getting caught filled the air. Finally, you rested your eyes. You needed the rest if you were going to make until the morning.

You woke up, sensing someone was nearby. You silently prayed that it was just another prisoner and not a threat. You release the shaky breath you were holding when they leave the area. The dark sky turns reddish - pink and you sigh with relief. It shouldn't be long now. Sunrise was so close you could almost taste your freedom.

You close your eyes, hoping that when you opened them the next time, this torture would be over. Your few moments of peace were interrupted when the blonde super soldier from earlier reached down into the bushes, pulling you up by your hair. Your scream rips through the woods, the soldier slings you back onto the ground, kicking you. "Shut up, bitch. I told you I was coming for you. You're my sixth, and from the looks of it, my last." He gestures to the sky.

He rips your shirt from your body. You try to cover yourself, but he moves your hands away. A metal hand wraps around the soldier's neck, a sickening crunch filling your ears as The Winter Soldier snaps it with ease. The soldier slumps over, his lifeless body landing with a thud.

"Mine." The Winter Soldier states, blue eyes locked on your exposed bra. A cold metal finger slips under the bra between your breasts, tearing it from your body with no effort. "No please! I almost made it. Please don't do this!" You cry, pleading with him. His hands find your breasts, squeezing roughly. His eyes land on your peaked nipples, taking them between his fingers.

He twists and pulls too roughly. When he's finished his assault on them, he reaches for his face, removing the black mask from his mouth. He's beautiful, you think for a split second. His blue eyes and pouty, full lips seemed like they didn't belong on the same man who was trained to kill. "Like what you see?" He smirks, when he notices you staring at his face. He pushes your breasts together, face lowering toward them. He runs his tongue from one pointed nipple to the other. Chapped lips taking one between them, sucking harshly.

He bites down, pulling your nipple with his teeth. You cry out, hands on his face trying to push him away. He chuckles, as you fight him, biting down your torso to your pants. He pulls them down along with your panties, discarding them immediately. One thick finger runs through your folds, disappointment evident as it comes out dry. "You're not even wet for me? We can't have that. I won't fit if you're not ready."

You shiver at his words. You didn't want to know how big he was. You had studied the super soldier serum enough at your old job to know that the serum enhanced everything. He brings his mouth down against your core, lips brushing your clit. He swirls his tongue around it, metal arm hooking under your legs to bring you closer. His full lips tug on your clit, you can't help but moan for him.

"That's it, good girl. If you're good for me, I'll convince them to let me keep you." You spit at him, kicking your legs, to push him away. "Why would I want that?" He smiles, because Hydra's gonna kill anyone left in these woods when this is over." You gasp, you should have known. "You didn't really think they would just let you go? You know too much. They will let me keep you as my little plaything though. All I have to do is say the word."

You didn't doubt him for a second. “Stop fighting." He commands, lowering his face again. His nose brushes your clit while he works his tongue inside you. You try to fight back, but he misinterprets your movements. He thinks you're enjoying it now. "That's it." The Winter Soldier suckles your swollen clit, hot tongue lapping up every drop of arousal. You bite your lips so hard; it bleeds trying to keep a moan in.

He grabs your chin, jerking your face towards him. "Do not hold back from me, kitten." His warm tongue drags over you slowly before his plump lips suction around your clit. Your thighs close against his ears as he draws a forceful orgasm out of you, legs trembling as you flood his face. Your moan rips through your throat, earning a satisfied smile from the soldier.

He spreads your legs with one hand, his other freeing his hard cock. You were right about the size of it. You were so fortunate that he got you wet first. You'd be lucky if he didn't split you in half. He plunges inside you, you squirm from the painful way he entered you. "Hold still." He says, holding your stomach down. "I can't, it hurts too much." You whine. The Winter Soldier rolls his eyes, lifting you like a rag doll.

He sits on the ground, lowering you onto him. This position was worse for you. He hit even deeper than before. But he could hold you better this way. His metal arm snakes around your waist, holding you close. He bounces you on his cock, your arms wrap around his neck. His fingers dig into your hips as you get used to it and start to grind on him.

Your clit brushes his dark curls as you ride him. "I knew you would be worth it." He grunts. "I wanted you the moment I saw you this morning. I found you immediately. You're not great at hiding, you know. But I waited. I knew it would be better if I let you think you could escape." He chuckles, "You should have seen those other broads, they would piss themselves when they saw me. But I only wanted you, so I left them for the others."

His dark pants rub against your thighs as he fucks into you. You roll your hips, trying to get this over with as quickly as possible. "You feel incredible." He moans into the crook of your neck. You scratch at his leather clad back, as the Winter Soldier's mouth latches onto the exposed skin of your neck. He sucks harshly, making sure it will leave a mark. You clench around him as he cums inside you.

His metal hand reaches between you, icy digits colliding with your heat. His thumb circles your clit, causing you to unravel. You shake in his arms, too exhausted to move as he pulls you off him. He takes his shirt off, handing it to you. "Put this on. I don't want anyone looking at my little doll." You take it, looking up at the sun coming up in the distance.

Tags

@cindylynn @wheredafandomat @multifandom-worlds @loz-3 @megharat-barnes-reid @kats72 @crimson25 @mochie85 @cakesandtom @lokidokieokie @theallknown213 @alexakeyloveloki @tmilover1993 @yeaiamme2 @pigeonmama @yeehawbrothers @lokischambermaid @fictive-sl0th @nomajdetective @goblingirlsarah @foxherder @weirdothatwritess @silver-tongue-taken-to-bed @freegardenbanananeck @lamentis-10 @jainaeatsstars @queenshu @justsebstan

#bucky fic #bucky imagine #bucky barnes x reader #bucky marvel #bucky fanfic #james bucky barnes #bucky #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky x female reader #bucky x y/n #bucky and reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #dark bucky barnes #bucky barnes and reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky fanfiction #bucky oneshot #dark bucky smut #bucky smut #dark bucky x you #bucky x yn smut #dark bucky x reader #bucky x yn #bucky x reader smut #winter soldier smut #the winter soldier #hunted

[mariasont]

Talking to a Brick Wall - A.H

a/n: rip erin strauss you would've hated this fic

masterlist

‧₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚₊‧

pairings: aaron hotchner x bimbo!reader

summary: in which you overhear your boyfriend aaron's phone call

warnings: hurt/comfort, angst, miscommunication, self-doubt, happy ending but also a terrible ending bc i SUCK at endings xoxo

wc: 2.3k

You had called out your boyfriend's name multiple times as you wandered into his house. He had asked you a while ago if you wanted to come over for a movie night tonight and hell would have to freeze over before you ever declined that offer. However, upon arrival, you were greeted by silence; no response to the doorbell, his phone, or your voice. Thankfully, the key he'd given you last year jingled in your pocket as you let yourself in.

You had a pretty strong suspicion he'd be in his office--after all, this was Aaron Hotchner, a man who definitely did not believe in leaving work at the office. 

And sure enough, his voice filtered through the slightly ajar door, the rich hue of his mahogany desk framing the gap. You were about to move towards the living room, assuming he was on a work call of some sorts, but his words stopped you dead in your tracks. 

"It's just... sometimes I feel like I'm speaking, but the understanding isn't there. You know what I mean? It's like the concepts just float in one ear and out the other."

You caught your bottom lip between your teeth, brows drawn together, as your hand found the wall, leaning towards the door. He couldn't have been talking about you, right?

"I try to share details, to get her involved, but it's met with this vacant nod. As if the depth of it all just doesn't register."

Oh. Her. You tried to fan away the wetness that threatened to fall down your cheeks, each rapid motion a desperate attempt to convince yourself you were imagining things. 

"And I'm patient, I really am. But when you're met with that blank look, it's... disheartening. You start to wonder if it's worth explaining at all. It's like talking to a wall."

Okay, that stung. It was like an immediate punch to the gut, your heart seeming to drop into the pit of your stomach. Your shoulders slumped slightly as you tried to rationalize his words, but nothing was really making sense right now.

The internal battle was a cruel one: stay and endure the sharp sting of his words or leave and miss more of what he had to say. The latter won, pulling you away from the door. 

You knew you were never going to be the smartest person in the room, and in the past, it was a source of deep-seated insecurity, always a silent specter in the corners of your mind. But then you met Aaron. And he made everything just better. His own intelligence and impressive job never became a yardstick for your worth; he ensured you knew you were more than enough, just as you were.

He had always been the voice reminding you that you were smart in your own right, telling you that your worth transcended any numerical measure of intelligence like a stupid IQ score. But now you were questioning everything. 

Anger seemed like the appropriate response, right? But it was hard to be when his words carried a weight of truth to them. 

You did have a hard time keeping up when he talked about the complexities of his cases, sometimes feeling like an outsider looking in. But, even if you didn't understand, his passion for what he did was infectious, and you hung on to every word when he explained all the ways his smart brain was able to deduce things about people. 

Still, a part of you imagined it was hard for him, that it probably got old fast when you weren't able to hold an intelligent conversation. 

Your knuckles were white against the steering wheel, and it somehow took you only ten minutes to get home when it should've taken you twenty.

It was only when you had taken a shower, put on your favorite pair of pink sweats, brought out some Ben and Jerry's, and turned on Legally Blonde, did you check your phone.

Hi honey. What time are you coming over?

You tried to ignore the sensation of an invisible band drawing tighter across your chest. 

so sorry, not feeling good. rain check? xoxo

You hated lying to him. Hated lying in general, save for the occasional white lie to protect someone's feelings. The fact that you weren't lying to his face was a small mercy, because obviously he'd be able to see right through you.

Do you want me to come there? I can bring food.

You wanted to be with him, you really did, you had been counting down the days to this movie night all week. But the thought of sitting beside him, wanting to ask about his day, about his work, now seemed like an intrusion. Knowing that your well-intentioned questions might be a chore for him or a source of frustration. The realization pressed down on you, a heavy weight that threatened to snuff your light.

no that's okie! thank you though <3 i don't want to get you sick!

Your phone was ringing, his name lighting up the screen for a FaceTime call, it felt like a betrayal of your own making. It was a skill you had recently taught him (which took forever), and of course now he was using it. Your finger jabbed at the red button, your cheeks turning the same color. 

i look & sound disgustinggg rn

I know for a fact that's incorrect. You have a magical talent of looking incredible no matter what.

I want to see your pretty face.

you can be so flattering when u want to mister!

im going to take some medicine & then ill call u l8, k?

Hmm, okay.

love u! xoxo

I love you too, pretty girl.

You hated this. Your eyes were puffy, swollen and wet as you discarded the phone onto the nightstand. He deserved someone who wasn't so pathetic. 

You wallowed in self-pity all night, and then all day, and then all week. You went through the motions--getting up, going to work, and then making up some lame excuse when Aaron asked to see you. Name it, and you had probably said it. In reality, you had been holed up in your room, trading glossy magazine pages for confusing behavioral books.

The subject matter was as dull as dishwater, making paint-watching seem thrilling. But you were committed to bringing some depth to your next conversation with him.

Today's excuse had been some half-truths about being buried in work--which in hindsight seemed comical, given you worked at a bakery and there wasn't much that could take up your time outside of contract hours.

You were splayed across the couch in an upside-down sprawl as you attempted to focus on the scholarly gibberish that filled the pages. 'Homology,' 'dichotomy,' and 'typology' melded into a migraine-inducing blur, tempting you to slam the book shut. You were fighting every urge to throw it out the window and paint your nails with that new glittery polish you've been dying to try.

At the insistent knock, you clapped the book shut (thank god) and stood, brows knitting, as you navigated to the door with a soft scuffle of slippers on polished wood. 

Flinging it open, you halted, breath caught. "Aaron? Oh, hi, what are you doing here?"

The words sprang forth before you could catch them, your hands scrambling up to smooth the evidence of your couch-induced disarray. 

He fixes you a pointed stare as he steps into your apartment, invitation be damned you guess. "I find myself repeating this, yet it seems necessary--peephole first, then the door, sweetheart."

You clamp your teeth onto your lip with such force, you're convinced you've tasted blood. "Oh, right, sorry... I should've remembered."

A flicker of foolishness and a heavy dose of self-consciousness threaten to surface. However, you quickly subdue them, tucking them away as you wrapped your arms around your body, offering him a small smile. Despite everything, your heart leaps at the sight of him. You missed him.

His face softens, his touch soft as he tilts your chin upward. "Look at me. It's fine. I just want to make sure my best girl is safe, that's all."

The temptation to simply crumble there and then, to forget everything and cocoon yourself in his arms, was overwhelming. 

You leaned into his hand without thinking, which now claimed the entire area of your cheek. He was always so warm. 

You watch as Aaron glances around the room, no doubt noting the absence of work-related clutter. "Still working?"

"Oh, I was, I told my boss I'd help with inventory reports." That part wasn't totally a lie, but it still made your conscience squirm with guilt.

"Do you want help?"

The proposal touches a raw nerve, sparking a defensive reflex. Did he think you were incapable?

 "Thanks, but I'm actually all done with them," you lie, your a smile a little too rigid as you head into the living room.

You're keenly aware of his approaching footsteps as you hastily stash that stupid book under a magazine, silently praying he didn't notice. You settle onto the couch, and he joins you, casually drawing your legs over his lap as you recline against the cushions.

"How was your day?"

You wince internally at the automatic question. 

"Not too bad," He replies with an easy shrug, his fingers sneaking under your sweats at the ankles, tracing lazy circles on your calves. "We wrapped up some paperwork, had a couple of briefings, and oh, we were introduced to our new consultant today. She specializes in crypto linguistics--really fascinating stuff."

Your eyes flutter briefly, a constriction forming in your throat, a twist in your gut. The mere mention of the consultant being a she amplifies your feelings of insufficiency. It leaves you wondering, why would Aaron ever be interested in someone like you?

"Crypto linguistics?" you repeat, trying to sound curious rather than lost. 

He leans in closer to you. "It's a specialized area of linguistics focused on decoding encrypted languages."

You offer a nod, managing a convincing "Yeah, of course," even as your eyes unwittingly drift away from his unwavering stare, betraying a hint of your confusion.

Aaron's hand cradles your head, his fingers sifting through your hair. "Hey," he murmurs, drawing your attention back, "what's going on in that pretty head of yours?"

Your chin touches your chest as you mumble, barely audible, "hardly anything."

Aaron's expression turns to a frown, his broad hands guiding your ass and thighs as he positions you atop his lap, face-to-face, leaving you exposed with no place to hide. Your name escapes him with a sigh. "I don't believe that for a second."

You match his frown with your own pout, nestling your face into his neck, concealing the rosy hue that has claimed your cheeks. "Just a rough week is all."

"Is that so?" His voice was a gentle murmur, his hands soothingly moving in gentle sweeps across your back as you breathed out unsteadily. "Funny, that's been my week too. My gorgeous girlfriend seems to have been avoiding me all week."

"Have not," you mumble, your breath warm against his skin, fingers weaving through the hair at the nape of his neck.

He hummed. "Why don't you tell me what's wrong."

"It's silly."

He guided your face back to his, eyes searching yours. "Listen to me. No, it's not. I don't like when you try to diminish your feelings. Talk to me, honey."

That was your tipping point. A wobble in your lip betrays the onset of tears as your voice breaks.

"I just--I know I'm not as smart as the people you work with or even your past girlfriends. I know I don't get things right away especially when you talk about work, and I see how everyone else is so quick, and I'm here, always a few steps behind. I know that it must be frustrating for you, and I'm scared that one day, you'll get tired of explaining, and your patience will run out, and well, you'll see... you'll see that--"

"Baby, whoa, slow down," Aaron urges, his palms tenderly framing your face, a frown plastered over his face. Your heart hammers against your chest, its rapid beats almost audible, as if it might jump from your body. "Take a deep breath, okay? Can you do that for me?"

You draw in a breath.

His thumb delicately erases the tears that have made their way down your cheek.

"When there is something about my work you don't understand, I will gladly go over it as many times as you need. I don't expect you to know everything about that stuff, why would you? That's not why I'm with you. I'm with you because of your incredibly kind heart and the way you see the best in people. I love you because you are you. What is making you think this way, honey? It's breaking my heart."

"I overheard you Aaron," you said, "saying that sometimes it feels like you're talking to a wall when you talk to me."

"What?" he questioned, but his confusion was quickly morphed into concern. "Oh, sweetheart, no. I was talking about Strauss and her lack of understanding of our fieldwork."

"Oh."

"I would never speak about you like that, you know that, right? And if, in some alternate universe, I did, you need to break up with me, or better yet, set me straight." His hands stayed firmly on your face. "You should never tolerate that from me or anyone else, understood?"

You bit down on your lip, hands resting on his shoulders as you nodded. "Yes, sir."

He leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips, sending fireworks to every inch of you as he mumbled against your mouth, "that's my girl."

taglist: @hotchhner

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotchner x fem reader #aaron hotchner x bimbo!reader #aaron hotchner x bimbo reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #aaron hotchner angst #aaron hotchner hurt/comfort #Spotify

[stevenose]

body to flame (18+)

summary: steve’s insists he only needs twenty minutes to make you cum.

contains: reader with a vagina; ‘good girl’ and ‘pretty girl’ used for reader; no pronouns for reader; fingering (reader receiving); banter; bitchy!steve; sort of mean!steve but it’s all in good fun

this is hardly proofread so apologies 💔

“All I need is twenty minutes.”

You scoff and look over your shoulder at Steve, who hasn’t even bothered looking up from the tapes he’s reorganizing.

“Twenty minutes?” you repeat. “That’s not even a whole lunch break.”

“I’ve done it quicker.”

“Bullshit, Steve.”

“You’re scared, huh?” he asks.

“Of you making me cum? Yes.”

Now he scoffs, looking up at you, placing his hands on his hips. Bitchy. “You really don’t believe me?”

“I absolutely do not.”

“Huh.” He stares at you, narrows his eyes at the back of your head. “Give me a chance, won’t ya?”

“A chance?”

“Let me try it on you.”

You whip around, hurling an empty VHS box at him, which he somehow dodges in the nick of time. “No way!”

“What? Don’t wanna be proven wrong?”

“You ever think that maybe I don’t want you to touch me?”

He laughs, much to your shock.

“Steve,” you sigh. “Get a grip.”

It’s silent for a while. You go back to inputting returns and Steve moves around, replacing them. Then he comes back to the check out desk, leaning on it with his forearms. Crowds your space, makes you back up, your cheeks heating up.

“My paycheck.”

You falter. “What about it?”

“I’ll give you my entire paycheck if I can’t make you cum in twenty or less.”

Your eyes roll, but he can see right through you.

“Are you making fifteen dollars more than me an hour or something?”

“I got overtime twice last week!” he defends. “Should be a couple hundred.”

You lick your lips, eyes moving back to the computer as if you’re interested in it more than him. “And if you do? You want my paycheck?”

“When I do, then you’ll let me have another hour with you.”

“To do what? Torture me?”

Steve just smiles.

You narrow your eyes. “Where would this even happen?”

“Uh, on break?” he says, like you’re dense. “Put up a ‘be back in twenty’ sign. Or maybe I should just close up shop?”

The entire thing is so scandalous that it has your face burning up, almost suffocatingly. And he won’t stop looking at you with those dumb puppy dog eyes. A little pout tugging his lips downward.

“You’re gonna beg me?” you snark.

“Couple hundred would go a long way, wouldn’t it?”

You’re so sure you can win at this. Even if he’s good, twenty minutes isn’t that long. And that’s how you end up on his lap on the dilapidated couch in the back room, a “be back in twenty :)” sign slapped onto the front door. Your pants are off and in a heap on the floor below you, underwear still on - you made Steve swear he’d work around them.

No cock, either. “This isn’t just an excuse to get your dick wet, is it?”

Hands thrown up in surrender, he’d said, “Fine, fine. Fingers only:”

“You’re gonna be so broke,” you insist, but it’s already getting difficult. He’s hard underneath you and apparently neither of you will bring it up. Steve looks so pleased with himself, and the confidence makes your stomach flip.

“I wouldn’t be so sure.” His eyes are glinting, full of mischief. “You’re gonna be spending an hour in the Harrington Torture Chamber.”

You laugh boisterously. “And what’s that entail?”

He glares playfully, hands moving up your thighs, settling where they meet your ass. “You’ll just have to see.”

His fingers glide underneath the material, hands first grabbing your ass. You gasp a little as he kneads. “You let me know when to start.”

You twist around to look at the clock behind you. 5:37 pm. Jesus, you’re doing this before it’s even dark out. You look back at him, annoyingly handsome below you, little highlights playing in his curls.

“Now seems fine,” you finally say.

Steve looks over your shoulder. “What do you say we stop at an even six o’clock?”

“Now, Steve.”

There’s really no fanfare. He doesn’t take much time with you, moving his hands around to the front to cup your cunt over your underwear. His thumb finds your clit immediately and you let out an embarrassingly easy whine.

“Right there?” he coos. “Always been good at findin’ it.”

“Bullshit,” you breathe, resting your hands on his shoulders. “Prob- you probably just found out about the clit.”

“Y’know, you better learn to use that mouth for somethin’ a little better than insulting me.”

You’re incredibly, incredibly thankful his fingers weren’t inside of you when he said that. You clench down, pleasure coursing from your stomach to your clit while he rubs gentle circles into it.

“That shut you up,” he muses. “Like being told what to do, huh?”

“Fuck off.”

His thumb presses a little harder. Still delicious - more so, in fact. You bite your cheek hard and stare at his forehead. His eyes are too intense for you.

“Can’t even look at me,” he tsks. “This is a lot for you, huh? It’s only been two minutes.”

You’re thankful for the reminder. You push your thoughts away, starting to think of the new releases coming up, the new cash reconciliation process. But it only works for about three minutes, until Steve gets bored with your non-reaction and slips his fingers under your underwear.

“Jesus,” he moans, “you’re so wet.” He licks his lips. “This all for me? Or are you wet from when Keith came in earlier?”

“Shut up!”

“It’s gotta be one of them, huh?” he presses, rubbing bigger, stronger circles into your clit while his other fingers press into your entrance just a bit. You gasp and clench again, and Steve smirks. “It was Keith, wasn’t it? Can’t wait to tell our friends how horny you get for him.”

“Not Keith,” you pant.

“Oh, then me?”

“Shut up!”

“No way.” His middle finger rubs against your hole. “This is too easy, babe. Got twelve minutes left with you and you’re already creamin’.”

You choose to ignore him, taking deep breaths, squeezing his shoulders. When you least expect it, Steve slides his finger inside of you.

“O-oh -!”

“Feels good, doesn’t it.” Looks at you like he’s really pitying you. “I give you another two minutes.”

“Just - I - just -“ You feel insane, so hot from his attention, pleasure building wickedly fast in your lower stomach. “I need - give me a break.”

“Uh-uh,” he says, wrapping his free arm tight around you and fucking his finger nice and slow in and out of you. Your jaw clenches, squirming to get away from the pleasure, but his arm keeps you planted in place. “Didn’t say twenty minutes with breaks, did I? Not gonna let you cheat.”

Steve’s fingers working in tandem, your mind begins fogging over. You continue squirming - away from or towards him, you’re not exactly sure.

“Didn’t think you’d last this long,” he mumbles. “You’re easy, though.”

“It’s too much,” you whine. Six minutes left. He doesn’t even seem phased.

“I know,” he coos. “Overwhelming, huh? Can’t act like a big girl now, can you?”

You hate the way that’s fueled your fire. Desperate to hold on, you lean forward, burying your face in the crook of his neck. Fingernails dig into his skin through his shirt and vest and he smiles at your reaction.

“Go ahead and hide, baby, but I better see your face when you cum.”

You take a shaky breath and bite down onto his shoulder. Steve groans, fingers picking up their pace, and now you’re really, truly fucked.

You try to think of anything else. Car payment. Potholes on Main Street. Library fines. Keith.

But Steve’s whispering in your ear, saccharine, his voice a velvety deep tenor that makes your chest vibrate. “There we go, good girl. You’re gonna cum so hard for me, huh? You’re so easy. Give it up so good, don’t you? Just for a few extra bucks? Or did you really want played with? Starting to think it’s the latter, babe.”

“Steve,” you cry, thighs shaking and clenching. Steve surely has no feeling in his hand but he keeps up his work, anyway. Three minutes to go.

“Uh-huh, I know, so hard, isn’t it? Just love being fucked on my fingers so much. When I get that extra hour I’m gonna see how many you can take. You’re so tight, gonna take a whole fist to get you ready for my cock.”

You’re seriously shocked. And you’re so desperate for it that your clit tenses up, ready to burst, ready for your vision to go black and for you to moan embarrassingly loud right on Steve’s lap. You reach down for his wrist, gripping it tight, shaking your head and scrunching your face.

“Go on,” he praises, smiling wide, working just a little faster. “Cum for me, give it up, pretty girl.”

You squeal and bury your head into Steve’s shoulder again while you cum, your hips grinding against his hand, making it drip. Steve laughs, moves his arm so he’s rubbing your back instead of pinning you down. “Oh, that felt so good, didn’t it? Feels so good being bitched out on my lap, huh?”

And that’s it. You cum again. Clenching down, shouting into his skin, teeth piercing it open. Steve gasps and groans, lets you ride his hand until your hips still and you’re panting, jaw unclenching from his flesh.

“What did I tell you?” he asks, still rubbing your back. “That was two with two minutes to spare, sweetheart. Want me to put another sign up? You might be busy for a while.”

#steve harrington smut #stevenose posts #ns/fw #steve x reader #hopefully this makes sense and is hot lol

[sunrizef1]

Guilty as sin?

Pairing: Max Verstappen x reader | (side) Lando Norris x reader

Warnings: Emotional cheating

Word count: 1.8k

Authors note: hate this kinda idk | Not proofread | I also do not condone cheating, this is just based on a Taylor swift song do not come for me

———————————————————

A text lights up your phone, illuminating the dark of your hotel room with the shine of a text message. You glance down at your sleeping boyfriend beside you, checking to see if he’s still deeply asleep before picking up your phone and sliding it open.

Max <3

The Downtown Lights - The Blue Nile

*Spotify link attached*

You sigh, closing your phone and setting it back onto your nightstand, eyes shutting tightly. You glance back over to Lando, asleep beside you, willing him to suddenly be a shittier person so you could feel less guilty about this.

Not that you and Max had done anything. You hadn’t. But it didn’t stop you from daydreaming about the Red Bull driver. It hadn’t stopped him either, apparently. You had heard the song, of course you had. Max sending it only confirmed that the less than platonic feelings between you were, in fact, reciprocated.

Just as you’re about to roll over and return to the sleep that had been evading you for more than a few hours, your phone lights up once again.

Max <3

I know you saw that

Come up to the roof

See you there

You roll your eyes at the texts, arrogance bleeding through every letter. Although, despite your holier than thou attitude, you do slide out of the bed, reaching down to a slide on a pair of slippers, praying the bed won’t creak as you stand up. Your feet pad quietly across the carpet of the hotel room, steps muffled by the fluff in your shoes.

You turn your phone to face the room, hoping it’s enough light to illuminate your way out. You step around your suitcase in the middle of the floor, cursing quietly as your foot catches on the zipper slightly. You catch yourself though, quickly grasping your key card and exiting the room.

Once you’re in the hallway, you let out a deep sigh, face relaxing under the fluorescent lights. You bit your lip, debating how worth it this tryst would be. You were fairly certain you were both into each other. All this meeting would be was another interaction where you both ignore your feelings and you have to lock the hints he was dropping away in a vault to never be considered again.

Even after considering the cons, you push yourself away from the wall, walking toward the stairs. You were already on the top floor so all you had between you and Max was a single set of stairs. You run a hand through your hair, hoping you don’t have a bad case of bedhead. Not that you had gotten enough sleep to mess your hair up at all anyway.

You slide the door open and set foot upon the stairs, trying not to wobble too much. Every step feels like it takes twenty minutes, every one leading to an unknown fate at the top. Your footsteps echo around the dark hall, sound bouncing off the concrete walls.

When you get to the top, you push the door open gently, cold air rushing to hit you as you step out. The door shuts closed behind you with a slam and you’re suddenly not sure if you’ll be able to get it open again. But it wasn’t really the time to care about that as your eyes lock on a familiar Dutch man sat on the edge of the roof.

Your feet patter gently against the roof, each step feeling quieter than the last. You take your time in approaching him, his head not even having turned your way since you set foot upon the place he had invited you. Not that you wanted him to turn around. You were worried that locking eyes with him would make you run away, or worse, make you more inclined to stay. So you just walk quietly to the edge, carefully swinging your legs over the side to sit a few feet away from him.

You’re not too worried about falling. There’s another edge just a few yards below you, no doubt there to stop rich drunk people from taking a nosedive off the roof during a party or after a wild night.

Cold air slides across your unusually warm face, heated with the reality of the situation. It’s not windy though, which is nice. Instead it’s just a nice chill, cold seeping through your thin sleep shirt and into your skin.

“I knew you’d come,” Max’s voice breaks the tranquility of the moment, cutting through the air with a familiar arrogant tilt.

You fight the urge to roll your eyes, instead opting to hum lightly, eyes still locked onto the cityscape below you. You’d always loved Las Vegas. The city was always bursting with life and it was just so pretty to look at. Especially from above. It has shocked you when you’d walked out and the roof was empty. You’d’ve thought there’d be an abundance of people considering how little the city sleeps to begin with. You were honestly surprised Lando had chosen to stay asleep in your hotel room instead of stay out partying. Maybe when you’d told him it’d be better for him to get some sleep for once, he’d actually listened.

Maybe you should’ve listened to your own advice. You should’ve stayed asleep and completely avoided Max. Maybe then you wouldn’t feel like spewing your guts out on the many drunkards below.

“Not going to say anything, then?” Max laughs and you can feel his gaze on the side of your face. You fight the strong urge to lock eyes with him, “You don’t get to act like I’m the one coercing you here. You also chose to come up here.”

He’s right, of course. But you weren’t going to give him the satisfaction of knowing you wanted him just as much as he wanted you.

“Do you even like him?” Max questions and you can feel your stomach drop. You’d been thinking about that exact question for months now and you honestly were dreading the answer. You finally look away from the buildings in front of you to take a quick glance toward Max, his eyes already trained on yours.

You sigh, warm breath clouding in the cold night air, “I don’t know.”

Max makes a face at your words, shaking his head, “What do you mean you don’t know? How can you not know if you like your boyfriend?”

You roll your eyes, looking away from him again, arms crossing across your torso tightly, “I mean I don’t know, Max. I know the answer you want, trust me, I do. If it helps, I don’t love him. Not anymore, at least.”

“Yeah, no shit. I knew that. I’m asking if you like him,” Max scoffs, shifting closer to you. You roll your eyes again, finally giving in and turning your body toward his.

“He’s a fine person, Max. It just feels like neither of us even want this relationship anymore.”

“Then why are you still dating him?”

That makes you stop dead, letting out a shaky breath as you accept that you’d finally have to open up to the man next to you, “We’ve been together so long, I’ve tried so hard to make it work. I thought we were going to get married, honestly.”

You glance nervously over to Max, expecting to see an angry look on his face. Instead you’re met with one of understanding which shocks you back into speaking again, “I would’ve said yes if he’d asked.”

Max hums, discreetly shifting a bit closer as he turns to stare out at the city below you. You wait for his response with bated breath, praying he doesn’t hate you for basically leading him on.

“But he didn’t ask.”

“Yeah,” you nod, face filled with remorse for your relationship, “He didn’t.”

Max hums again, glancing above the two of you at the shining lights casting a soft glow upon the pair of you. Music begins to play softly from somewhere down below you. When you glance over the edge, you’re met with a street band preforming a nice ballad, swaying along to their melodies. When Max stands up, you think he’s going to leave you entirely but your eyebrows shoot up when he holds out a hand instead.

“Come on,” He says and you can feel your heart flutter as you catch the soft smile on his face. Something that hadn’t happened with Lando in a long while.

You grasp you hand in his, feeling the warmth of his larger hands spread into your chilly ones. He pulls you up gently, although maybe adding a bit too much strength as you fall flush against his chest. You laugh and stumble back a bit, hands still clutching his. He pulls you into a sway, gliding along to the melodic notes that float up from down below. You sit and take in the quiet moment for a little while, eventually moving your head to rest against his chest. The silence is broken when you glance up and see Max already looking down at you.

“I’m not gonna cheat on Lando,” you mumble, eyes softening as you stare up, “He doesn’t deserve that.”

If Max disagrees, he keeps it to himself well enough, choosing to nod instead, “I wouldn’t expect you to.”

You hum, placing your head back on his chest, “I do think about you though.”

Max tilts his head and his eyebrows furrow as the words leave your mouth. When you catch his expression, you feel the need to explain, “Just in life. Everything I do, I think about you doing it with me. I don’t know, just accept the compliment that I think about you when you’re not around, please.”

You can feel Max’ laugh rumble through his chest and you glance up to see his head titled back and his eyes closed as he chuckles softly before glancing back at you, smile still painting his face, “I can live with that. For now.”

You take a page out of his book and just hum in response, eyes falling closed as you, once again, lean against him. The two of you sway to the music for a while, only stopping when it does as well. You find yourself praying it never does so you never have to return to your reality where your boyfriend of six years has refused to put a ring on it so you went to one of his friends for emotional comfort and ended up falling in love with him. But the music does stop and you do return to that reality, feet padding softly down the hotel stairs.

You slide your keycard in the door, wincing at the sound it makes as it accepts it. You support the door as it closes, toeing off your shoes and tossing the keycard on your nightstand. You plug your phone into the charger, glancing down at the new texts on your home screen before sliding them away and rolling over to, hopefully, find sleep in a sleepless night.

Max <3

I'll wait for you btw

I knew about him

But now I know about you

If he kills me it'd be a wonderful way to die

For you

I'd wait forever, darling

————————————————————

Tags: @casperlikej @evie-119

#scheduled #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 x female reader #f1 x y/n #f1 x you #f1 smau #max verstappen x you #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x female reader #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen fluff #lando norris x female reader #lando norris x you #lando norris x reader #lando norris x y/n

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

College Rafe AU where he plays football and they win the big game. because we all saw THE GIF from ‘The other Zoey’ and needed a football au

Was I listening to The Alchemy when I wrote this? Absolutely. My only football knowledge comes from watching Taylor at the games and the smallest from TV shows...so don't take it too seriously. I hope you enjoy <3

Warnings: possible inaccurate football stuff and Taylor references

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

The February wind blew as you sat in the stands and watched the team finish practice. You usually were tutoring at this hour, but the person canceled at the last minute, leaving you with an hour to spare before your work shift. You hated when people made you waste your time. Going to your dorm would be pointless since your job was on campus, so you went on the football field to surprise Rafe.  

He ran across the field with the football, sweat dampening the collar of his gray tee shirt. You couldn’t help but worry about him getting cold. This Friday was the big championship game and, as the star player, Rafe couldn’t afford to get sick. No offense to the other players, but the team would lose without him.

Coach called the boys over and you watched Rafe taking off his helmet and wiping his face with the bottom of his shirt, flashing his abs. The few girls sitting lower in the stands were wetting their panties at the sight, dreaming impossible things. These abs were only yours to touch. 

Minutes passed, and then Coach blew his final whistle, calling the end of practice. You went down the stands and called out Rafe’s name, tearing his attention from his teammate’s. When his eyes found you, he changed direction and told his teammate he’d catch up with them later. 

‘’Shouldn’t you be tutoring that swim team jerk?’’ 

You tried to not look too annoyed as you explained the situation. ‘’He canceled on me two minutes before the lesson...’’ 

Rafe closed the last steps to you and pulled you in a loose hug, knowing you didn’t like it when he was hugging you with his sweaty body. You didn’t mind the sweat, it was the smell that lingered on your clothes that you didn’t like. One time, your co-worker asked why you smelled like a football locker room after a game… You’ve never been more embarrassed.

‘’I hope you’re charging him for the lesson. He made you waste your time waiting for him.’’ 

You wished you could do that, but that’s not how it worked. 

‘’How was practice?’’ you asked, changing the subject. ‘’You ready for Friday?’’ 

‘’Coach doubled our pre-practice run because Robbe showed up hungover.’’ Rafe groaned, his legs sore from the extra running. 

You drew your eyebrows together. ‘’It’s only Wednesday…’’ 

‘’Exactly. It’s the second time he shows up hungover this month. He better clean his act up before Friday or else Coach is gonna bench him. Just because his father gives big money to the school doesn’t mean he can do shit like that.’’ 

‘’Fucking entitled rich kids.’’

You scoffed. ‘’Sure, Mr. My-Father-Is-Ward-Cameron-And-Owns-An-Estate-Company.’’ 

Rafe rolled his eyes. ‘’Alright, alright.’’ A brisk of wind blew and he scrunched his nose, his cheeks red from the weather. You reached to touch it, and he leaned into the warmth of your palm. ‘’Mmh, that feels nice. Do you want to get pizza and watch a movies?’’ 

‘’Tempting offer, but I have to get going soon. I have work in twenty minutes.’’ 

You pouted and Rafe pulled you closer. 

‘’Fuck work, stay with me.’’ 

A laugh left your lips. ‘’I can’t do that. I’ll get fired.’’ 

On Friday, you met Rafe’s family in the stands. You had met Ward, Rose and Wheezie before, but never Sarah. She was graduating high school this year and hadn’t been able to make it to any of Rafe’s games. It was nice to finally meet her. 

‘’Ah, so you’re the lucky charm,’’ Sarah said, flashing you a smile. ‘’I’ve heard the team is on a winning streak since you and Rafe got together.’’ 

The lucky charm was a joke Rafe’s teammates made after noticing the team had been winning every time you attended. You thought it was only running around school, but apparently Sarah had heard about it. 

The game was close to begin — seven minutes left before kickoff. From high up in the stands, you watched Rafe bouncing on his feet on the sideline, the stress of the game turned into bursts of energy. Damn, did his ass look good in his tight pants. Beside him, Topper was talking to the coach and pointing at something on the field. Perhaps a tactic idea?

You jumped up when the scoreboard came to light and cheered loudly as both teams were welcomed on the field. The ambiance was unlike any of his past games. Players took their positions, adrenaline coursing through their veins and waiting for the referee to blow the whistle. 

As the game unfolded, your focus was on Rafe. He was running across the field, trying to catch the pass Topper made. He caught it, his fingers closing around it securely, but a beefy guy from the other team came from behind, driving him to the ground with a thunderous tackle. 

You winced at the sight. You hated the contact part of football. 

Soon enough, the second period was ending and the half-time began, the score 17-14 in favor of Rafe's team. Sarah and Rose went to the bathroom while Ward went to get drinks and a snack for Wheezie. 

‘’Do you think they’re going to win?’’ she asked, scooting closer to you. 

She had taken a quick liking to you, the girl who had taken her big brother’s heart. 

You took a sip of your drink. ‘’I don’t know. I hope so. Rafe worked hard this season.’’  

Wheezie nodded. ‘’Rafe knows how to play the game and he knows how to win. I’m confident we’ll win this one.’’ 

The third period had barely started when Rafe crossed the field, carrying the ball. He was running so fast and ducking the other players without losing his speed. You held your breath, sitting on the edge of your seat. As expected, someone from the opposing team went to intercept him, but Kelce saw him coming and tackled him, allowing Rafe to score another touchdown. 

‘’Touchdown, Rafe Cameron!’’ The speakers echoed around the field, causing most of the spectators to stand and yell simultaneously. 

You jumped in excitement, a proud smile lighting up your face. ‘’Yes, baby!’’ 

Later in the game, with only thirteen seconds left on the board in the fourth period, the teams were tied. 

A score of 21-21 flashed on the scoreboard. There wasn't much time left, but you’ve seen Rafe score in eight seconds.  

‘’Come on, Rafe, you can do it,’’ you said, although he couldn’t hear you. 

Beside you, Sarah was holding Wheezie’s hand, stressed. 

The referee blew his whistle, signaling the resumption of the game. The crowd erupted into a frenzy of cheers and applause as Rafe dashed across the field, evading defenders with lightning speed. With just three seconds left on the clock, he made a spectacular leap, soaring over the goal line to score the winning touchdown.

The crowd in the stands went wild. Rafe's teammates rushed towards him in a jubilant huddle, their cheers drowning out the roar of the crowd. In their excitement, they lifted him high above their heads, his helmet coming off in the process.

Wheezie jumped, loudly cheering for her brother. ‘’I told you he would win!’’ 

You took your jacket and headed down the stairs, Rafe’s family following behind as the game reporter declared the grand champions, his voice booming over the stadium speakers. 

A lot of people had the same idea, which caused the large field to get crowded quickly. It was difficult to see over the taller heads, but your lips curled into a grin when you saw him standing at the center of it all, with his coach and teammates around him, looking both exhausted and exhilarated. His hair was tousled, his face flushed from the exertion of the game, but there was a radiant smile on his lips as he basked in the glory of victory.

You called out his name and his eyes searched around the field, high on adrenaline. Once he saw you, he broke away from the ecstatic mob of his teammates and sprinted towards you, his eyes shining with excitement. Without a moment's hesitation, Rafe enveloped you in a tight embrace, lifting you off your feet. You wrapped your arms around his neck, giggling and ignoring the sweat that was transferring to your clothes. 

‘’You did it! It was unbelievable,’’ you said, your voice filled with emotions. ‘’You’re the best, baby. The absolute best.’’

—

OBX taglist: @moralina @eudximoniakr @toylewestinnyc @rottenstyx   @sweeterheartxamerica  @jordierama @viridwityy @izzy-laufeyson @kenzi-woycehoski @lilaconner @Katsukis1Wife   @hawkegfs @mommyruuetrue   @acornacreacure @snownjune @nmedina8611 @slvtherinseeker   @slvtherinseeker @poppet05 @1stevelacyfan @illf4iry @withbeautyandrage   @maybankslover @sunflowerziva @laylasbunbunny @Honey-marvel15 @leoluvsur-pappy @slytherhoes @kcskye123 @outerbanksacc   @pedrosprincess   @mikaelsonsstuff  @skyesthebomb   @a1mzcruml3y @iluurmom   @popeheywardssecretgf  @madelynie  @loverofdrewstarkey   @radiant-whore  @outsider-at-hogwarts @luci1fer @bbycowboi @rafecameronsbadussy @urbfsbitchlol @nomorespahgetti @bloodyhw @Veescorneroftheworld   @papayaboyluvr @slytherinambitious @darylscvmdumpster @tommysaxes @johannelis2302nely @lynbubble   @straberryshortcake143 @beth-gallagher22 @doestalker @rubyliquor @theflcwer @angelxxrose @sierraluvzz @cruzgrecia @evelestrange @sunnysunny133696  @under-seasoned-pasta @hoeforsirius   @buckyswhxre @emerald-09   @simonessolarsystem @rehead1180 @stvrkey  @ynmunson @riddle18  @love4ldr

All and more taglist:  @kenqki  @hawkegfs  @gillybear17   @black-rose-29 @fudge13 @cece05 @laylasbunbunny @gemofthenight @beautyb1ade   @mellabella101 @vxnity713  @bisexualgirlsblog @queenofslytherin889 @thatbxtchesblog @softb-tterfly @ethanlandrycanbreakmyheart  @xyzstar  @graceberman3   @mikeyspinkcup @jackierose902109 @daisydark @laurasdrey @mischieftom @fanatic4niall @peterholland04 @idkwhattonamethisblogs  @lexasaurs634  @notasadgirlipromise @zoeynicolas @thejuleshypothesis @multi-fandom-bi-bitch @lexasaurs634  @notasadgirlipromise @thejuleshypothesis  @katherinejess  @rafesgirlstuff   @lafleshlumpeater @iamluminosity  Anouk nani-2305 @books0fever

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron x reader #outer banks #outer banks imagine #rafe outer banks

[balletfilmss]

BUT DADDY, I LOVE HIM!

✸ pairing: jason grace x daughter of poseidon! reader

✸ synopsis: no, you’re not coming to your senses. even if it’s your father who’s telling you to

✸ warnings: none!

✸ notes: writing’s so weird…like it took me weeks to do my last work & i cranked this out in TWENTY minutes

idea from this post by @percabething!!

“what?”

“you heard me, yn,” said your father firmly, ready for you to take your leave and quit bothering.

as if you were the issue here. you’d been minding your own damn business when he just appeared at the lakefront, disturbing your date planning.

your boyfriend would be here any minute, and here poseidon was suddenly deciding to parent. and not only to parent, but to have the audacity to try and tell you who you could and couldn’t date, trying to slam the door on your whole world.

“this doesn’t make any sense!” you protested. “jason and i have been together for months, why is it now a problem?”

“i was hoping that your little summer fling would die out, but it seems that you’re persistent with this one,” your father said.

this one? as if you’d dated more than one other boy before him.

“now, like i said, it’s time for you to stop entertaining this relationship with zeus’s boy. i know you don’t think so, but i’m looking out for you. think about what this could do to your name! end it already, yn.”

at that, he began to walk back towards the water, trampling over your beautiful picnic spread and narrowly missing crushing your basket.

you ran after him, the sides of your unbuttoned cardigan blowing in the summer breeze as you followed him into the water, willing your dress to stay dry as you cried out, “my name? i don’t care about what it could do! jason’s the one i want, dad, you can’t do this!”

poseidon stopped in his tracks, turning to you. “i am the god of the seas and your father, yn, i can do whatever it is that i please. so do enlighten me, why, may i ask, do you think i can’t do this?”

before you could even think to stop yourself, you shouted the words at him,

“because, dad, i love him!”

at the confession, something in your father’s stormy blue eyes seemed to clear up. his face softened as he looked at you for a moment, wondering how the little girl he remembered had gotten so old in such little time.

you began to grow antsy at the silence that followed your words, suddenly aware of the swishing of the lake against your calves as time seemed to still.

finally, poseidon sighed, “very well then.”

you perked up immediately, eyes bright as you squealed, “really?!”

the god nodded his head, though hesitantly and said, “yes. make sure he doesn’t make me regret it. and make sure he knows that.”

your father pointed over your shoulder, his tone suddenly shifted from how it’d been just about three minutes ago. you turned to find jason standing on the bank of the lake with colored cheeks and his hands behind his back, waiting for you to return and not wanting to interrupt your discussion with your father.

from the look on his face, he had definitely heard you.

blood rushed to your face as you realized that your first “i love you” for your boyfriend had been screamed at your father, of all people. when you turned back to your dad, he was gone with the waves.

tilting your head back as you dramatically rolled your eyes at the theatrics, you tentatively spun back round to look at jason, a sheepish smile on your face.

without missing a beat, he joined you in the water, splashing up to his ankles and sending water flying everywhere as he giddily made his way to you.

immediately upon arrival, he placed both hands on your face and pulled you in, catching your lips in a hasty kiss he’d been waiting to give you ever since he accidentally overheard your conversation.

you pressed your lips against his as your head swam as much as the creatures in the water below, winding your arms around his neck and pressing your body flush against his.

when you only separated because of lack of oxygen, neither of you strayed far.

“you heard me?” you asked with a breathe, forehead pressed against jason’s.

he was wearing what might’ve been the widest grin you’d ever seen.

“i did,” he said, pushing a tendril of hair behind your ear. “and i love you too.”

smiling hard, you pushed your lips against his once more.

#୨୧ love letters #jason grace x y/n #jason grace x you #jason grace x reader #jason grace x fem!reader #jason grace oneshot #jason grace imagine #jasongrace #jason grace #heroes of olympus x reader #heroes of olympus #hoo #hoo x you #hoo x reader #pjo #percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo fandom #hoo fandom

[urhoneycombwitch]

luuuuu...

i'm thinking about prompt #31: “what happened? you wanted this so bad five minutes ago”

coupled with this 👀

featuring rockstar!eddie, naturally 😌

*heavy breathing* hey the cool thing is I am actually so normal about this!!!!!!!!!

+18 mdni. quickie thots and bootriding w rockstar!Eddie below the cut

rockstar!Eddie before a show. you can hear the roar of the crowd underneath the floorboards where you kneel. Eddie’s in so much goddamn leather and lace, your eyes don’t know where to land- fishnet crop top under blinged-out black jacket, tight TIGHT leather pants.

His eyeliner is smudged to fuck (from earlier when you two were going at it on the loveseat), all smoky and blurred as he looks down at you. On the toe of his boot. Vibrator buzz juuuust loud enough to be heard by you both in the little dressing room.

A dressing room with his name on it. Eddie is only ever like this (prideful. boastful. a little mean.) right before a big show. Like the adrenaline and anticipation manifests into your usually-gentle boy’s fantasies. With an edge.

He’d instructed you to keep your hands to your sides, earlier, but you’d been so good that now you’re allowed to hold on to his leg. Cheek pressed to leather, panting a wet spot against the dark fabric. Fingers turning to claws when the vibrator hits right against your clit for the hundredth time in the last twenty minutes. You let out a sharp whine- Eddie, far above, chuckles. Dark and low.

His hand wraps around the back of your neck, fingers threaded into hair, holding you in place against his leg. “what happened, hmm? Thought you wanted this so bad. Change your tune, sweetheart?”

A distorted buzz as you struggle (into? against?) his grasp, words coming out choked as the vibrator lights up the beat between your legs- “No, no- please, Eddie- please…”

From your vantage point, you can’t see the sharp glint in Eddie’s eye as he tightens his grasp on you; you don’t see the way his free hand pulls at the tented fabric in his pants for a bit of relief. Eddie tilts the heel of his boot up higher, speaking over your moan- “Come before the opener’s done and I’ll eat you out again ‘fore I get onstage.”

#i truly think this is the meanest i have ever written him #and even then this is mild… LMAO #thank u blueywrites I love you and your mind #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #e.m. thots from lu #rockstar!eddie munson #rockstar!eddie x reader

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

Pussy Magnet

Jake Lockley x GN!Reader • Rating: T •Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | requestinfo• MK Bingo 2024 Masterlist• ko-fi •

Summary: Jake was always good with animals.

🌛For @moonknight-events MK Bingo Spring 2024 Event🌜

A/N: I'm so sorry I had to make this stupid joke, I'm-

Warnings: Terrible jokes, Jake stealing Steven and Marc's clothes, over use of italics, typos, not beta read, railroad sentences, please let me know if I've missed a warning!

Word Count: 567

You can’t help but smile as you glance over at Jake. You’re in the middle of speaking with your friend, whose home you’re currently in. She had invited you to a small barbeque, which had turned into an impromptu dinner party when the heavens had opened. 

There were only seven of you in total, so it wasn’t too overcrowded. 

While everyone else were seated on, or around the large armchair and settee in the living room, Jake was the exception. 

He was laying on his side, his hand outstretched under the bookcase, slowly coaxing your friend’s new kitten out of hiding. 

There was the largest, softest smile plastered over his face as the cat slowly inches forward and sniffed his fingers. 

He had been carefully befriending the kitten over the last forty minutes, taking it as a personal mission the second your friend mentioned she had a new kitten that was painfully shy around new people. 

She was a small thing, the runt of the litter, black and white with wide green eyes. Your friend and her partner had affectionately named her ‘Newspaper’.  

Slowly Newspaper crept closer to him, a few careful steps forward until she was completely out from under the bookshelf’s protection. She paused, watching Jake carefully before shuffling closer again. 

Your friend asks you a question and you turn back to her and the conversation around you. 

It’s about twenty minutes later that Jake comes and sits down next to you, grinning intently. 

You turn to him, raising an eyebrow playfully and his grin widens. 

He’s holding his shirt, a borrowed one from Steven, at an odd angle. Basically cradling it. Even if there wasn’t a bulge over his left chest it would be easy to work out why.

“What you got there?” You ask innocently. 

“Nothing.” He beams at you and leans closer, moving his shirt slightly to the side to show you Newspaper nestled against him and purring. 

You grin. 

“You think Marc’ll tell me off for getting cat hair on his t-shirt?” 

“Nah.” You shake your head. “He might tell you off for borrowing his clothes again, but not for the cat hair.”

Jake snorts. “Steven doesn’t mind when I do it.” 

You grin wider. 

“It’s Marc’s fault anyway for buying comfy clothes.” 

That makes you laugh. 

Newspaper moves a little in her sleep, tucking in closer to Jake. 

You pause for a moment, watching the kitten. A terrible joke pops into your head as if it was placed there by some unseen force. Part of you wonders if Khonshu is whispering in your ear, but then again Jake would have heard him too. 

“Jake…” You say as naturally as you can. 

“Hmm?” He glances up, clocking the silly expression on your face before you even get a chance to talk. 

You speak anyway. “You’re really good with animals…”

“Yeah.” He pins you with his deadpan gaze, ready for whatever corny joke you’re going to say next. 

“Some could say you’re a … pussy magnet.”

He snorts, breaking his nonchalant facade as quickly as he formed it and nudges you playfully in the arm with his shoulder. 

You expect an eye roll when he looks back at you, something along the lines of ‘that’s awful.’ But instead he smiles, silky smooth. “I have been told that in my time.” He waggled his eyebrows at you until you laughed and woke up the kitten. 

____________________________________________

Thank you for reading!

@pleasurebuttonwrites @raven-rk @campingwiththecharmings @alexxavicry @whatthefishh @romanarose @saturn-rings-writes @lonelyisamyw-0love @queerponcho @steven-grants-world  @eyelessfaces @angel-of-the-moons @minigirl87 @lunar-ghoulie @silvernight-m @autismsupermusicalassassin @apesarecuul @reallyrallyauthor @basicalyrandom @alwaysmicado @mangoslushcrush @marc-spectorr @soft-girl-musings @spxctorsslxt @novarosewood

If you'd like to be taken off the tag list please let me know here

#jake lockley #moon knight #moon knight mcu #jake lockley x reader #x reader #jake lockley x you #x you #jake lockley x gender neutral reader #x gender neutral reader #jake lockley x gn!reader #x gn!reader #my writing #fanfic #oscar isaac #oscar isaac characters

[shankss-magnificent-ass]

Imagine becoming the beast pirate's espionage chief

Kaido: I know you don't trust him, but I can't and won't act against him while he's still useful to me.

You: I'm glad you said that, I've used most of my free time in the last month to gather proof. [hands Kaido an appropriate-sized folder] I found that Mister Bennington of Foodvalten did not exist until six years ago.

Kaido: [pulls out a pair of delicate reading glasses, puts them on, and thumbs through the folder]

You: His real name is Frank Jenkins, and he's sixty-eight. He was born in the Appaloosa archipelago, where he started his life of crime at six, swindling tourists. By age fourteen, he moved on to robbery, arson, and petty theft. However, by age twenty, Frank found his lifelong modiis operandi, scam, fraud, and grand theft. Frank posed as a rich entrepreneur and stole large amounts of money from a mining operation before disappearing. He did similar scams on Alabasta, Cactus Island, Jaya, Water 7, and Applenine Island.

Kaido: [closes the folder and hands it off to King] ... you are quite thorough, you even included Marine and local police reports from over forty years ago. How did you get a hold of these without leaving the island?

You: CP-0 and Dofflamingo

Kaido: I figured, but how did you get them to give these to you?

You: I called in favors with Dofflamingo, and performed a few sexual favors with CP-0.

King: Is that why I walked in on you jerking off one of those masked freaks?

You: yeah, and you calling them masked freaks is a bit like the pot calling the kettle black. Also, you don't have any room to judge me, Maria has told me all about your little trysts with her.

King: She's too much of a gossip, as are you, and I don't care about gossip.

You: so you don't want to know which of the tobiroppo brought pubic lice into the crew, and where they got it?

Kaido: Tell me who is the culprit, right this minute.

You: hmm, I dunno, what's in it for me?

Kaido: I won't kill you where you stand.

You: That threat only works on people who like living.

King: How about a promotion to espionage chief, your own quarters and bathroom here and on any of the ships, and a raise?

You: deal, it was Who's-Who, he got it fucking one of Big Mom's kids.

Kaido: I'll kill him! Those little bastards have been gnawing on my balls for weeks. [vigorously scratches his crotch]

You: And that's why I don't fuck my crewmates unless I benefit from it because y'all are nasty.

List of Up-and-coming works || Master list || Twitter| Kofi || Patreon

#one piece #one piece x reader #one piece imagine #one piece scenario #king the wildfire #king the conflagration #kaido #kaidou #beast pirates #animal kingdom pirates #from the depths of the dragon's hoard #tma original #4/30/24 #no beta we die like men

[varpusvaras]

A Modern AU thought from last night:

So, Fox is an architect. He had some scholarships when he went to school, but he still needed to work in order to keep studying. The only job he could take with his schedule was a security job with primarily evening and night shifts, and he got into a lot of rough jobs (and was also very sleep deprived because, it's Fox. Of course he is). He manages to still graduate with very good grades and portfolios and recommendations and all that because that's just who he is. He got pretty good jobs after graduation! Still a workaholic, because that's just who he is. And he wants to help his brothers and pay whatever student loans he has left and make rent and also maybe put something into his savings and-

Anyway, that's how his early twenties go. He really starts to get like, good jobs after that, and one of them lands him into making renovations to one of the Embassy buildings in the city. His main job is to redesign part of the foyer and especially the stairs. Especially the stairs. They are horrific in looks and in just being stairs. Fox is honestly suprised no one has yet fallen down and broken their necks because of them. He wants to rip the whole thing off, but the owners of the building have told him that he cannot make "too many changes" because apparently some big name guy designed the original ones. Fox has never heard of the guy, and he asks what else he has done. Oh. Nothing much after the stairs. He fell down and broke his neck. Figures.

So he gets to work. He's in the middle of taking pictures and measurements when the alarms go off. There's an armed person inside the building, and that armed person is now running across the foyer. Old habits die hard, so Fox grabs the guy and throws them onto the floor without thinking much. The actual security comes soon after, and one of the Diplomats working in the building comes to ask Fox if he's alright and tells him that it was...quite a throw.

The whole thing has really messed up Fox's schedule. He needed to have the measurements done this afternoon so he could go back to his office and start drawing. He hates the stairs. He hates them so much. He has so many good ideas but he cannot just do them because some architect (Derogatory) made them stupid enough that they are considered some sort of unique feature that needs to be preserved. So Fox tells the guy that no, he is not okay, because the stairs could've made the throw for him. Has he seen the stairs? Yes good he has! Now if Fox could do what he really wanted to do, he would rip them off and then put these kind of in place like this-

After five minutes of ranting the Diplomat asks if Fox wants to continue telling about his much better plans for the stairs over dinner. His wife could also come and listen. She would love to hear more about the stairs.

Fox looks at the guy. He's really tall. And honestly really handsome. Dressed in nice clothes. Listened to the whole rant and is still smiling. Okay, Fox thinks. Why not.

(From the point of view of Bail Organa, his rather boring day in the office was interrupted by a gorgeous man in a dress shirt holding a clipboard throwing another man onto the floor. Then the said gorgeous man, still holding the clipboard, proceeded to share Bail's hate for the stupid stairs he dreads every single morning he leaves for work. But also the gorgeous man knows about arts. Breha would love to hear about the stairs from someone who actually knows what they are talking about. Bail just knows how to complain, after all. It was love at the first sight, really)

(Modern AU co-parented with @t3mpest98!)

#Fox few years later: and this kiddo is how I met your mother and father- #Commander Fox #bail/breha/fox #sw #tcw #modern au

[jimraisedmeup]

TICK // 8.1 - i guess that's why they call it the blues

Rating: mature (angst, language, sexual content, masturbation)

Word Count: 3000

A/N: still trying to work out some bugs on the taglist. thank you to everyone.

☾

Don't wish it away Don't look at it like it's forever

Between me and you I could honestly say Things can only get better

☾

New Year's Eve 1983 - junior year

You sat on your bed, wrapped in a white fluffy towel. Your hair was wet and dangling as you ran a brush through it.

Just let me know the time and place to pick you up.

The phone call was meticulously planned to occur when you were home alone, as Robin and your parents went to the store. There was nothing you disliked more than someone listening in on your private conversations. And having parents like Richard and Melissa made things such as privacy a rare luxury.

After hanging up the phone with Eddie, you had swiftly made your way into the shower. Without wanting to fully admit it to yourself, you purposely used your mother's expensive shampoo so that your hair would smell different, fancy. It was New Year's, after all. A special occasion.

Now the only obstacle was escaping your parents' watchful eyes after dinner. It was a tradition for the Buckley family to eat dinner late in the evening on New Year's. But this year, you and Robin had absolutely no intention of being home at midnight.

You wondered vaguely if Eddie's dad cared about him being out all night.

Mr. Munson didn't seem very nice on the phone when you called for Eddie. The older man was mouth breathing and irritable, like you had interrupted an important event. Which turned out to be true once you heard him yelling about Jeopardy being on.

Having unkind parents was something you understood, but still shocked you to overhear the abusive tone Eddie's father held as his only son simply got a phone call.

And then, as you were lost in thought with the brush still in your hair, a peculiar thing happened.

The phone in your room began to ring.

Knowing you were the only one home, you reached for the receiver with haste, a tiny voice in the back of your mind begging for it to be Eddie again.

But after one ring, just as the tip of your finger touched the phone, the ringing stopped. 

You were momentarily frightened as you heard a deep voice mumbling downstairs, then quickly realized that it was your father. You must not have been the only one to ditch the grocery shopping trip.

Then the fear came back, washing over you like a wave. What if it was Eddie calling you back? Your father would have a fucking conniption fit if Eddie Munson was calling his home.

In a panic, you quietly lifted the receiver to see if you could hear the voice of the caller. Normally, you wouldn't dream of listening to someone else's call - but anxiety took over. 

"...Richard, honey, come to the office for just an hour… you know I won't tell anyone…"

The sultry voice of a woman was the last thing you expected to hear. You also didn't expect to recognize the voice as your father's coworker, Kate.

Pressing your palm to your mouth and nose to stay quiet, you were unable to stop yourself from listening further, a sick feeling rising in your stomach.

Your father's voice, usually impatient and gruff, seemed almost unrecognizable as he responded to the woman.

"You know that's a risky idea, Kate. I have dinner with my family tonight."

"So come before dinner. The office is empty for the holiday. I promise I'll make it worth your while."

You almost gagged to yourself. Was this really happening, or did you never wake up from your dream-filled sleep from earlier that morning?

It didn't take much for Richard Buckley to give in. "You drive a hard bargain. I'll be there in about twenty minutes. Just don't call the house again, okay? Unless I call you first."

Not waiting to hear the rest of the unpleasant infidelity, you gently hung up the phone and rushed to put clothes on. 

Your father was off the phone and gathering the keys to his work truck when you appeared at the foot of the stairs, arms crossed. You were satisfied to see the color drain from his face.

"I- okay, now," he sighed angrily. "I thought you went with your mother to the store."

Relishing in having the upper hand in the situation, you kept a poker face and stared at him.

"Ditto."

Your father sighed again, running a hand over his thin combed-over hair. "I have to run to the office for a while before dinner. There was an… unexpected delivery."

"Okay. I'll let mom know."

You waited for him to turn for the front door, letting him think he could make it out unscathed, before adding another comment.

"Tell Kate I said hello."

Freezing with one hand gripped on the doorknob, white-knuckled, Richard Buckley didn't look at his daughter as he chose his words carefully.

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

You scoffed, pinching the bridge of your nose. "Please don't make me spell it out, Dad. I could hear her on the phone."

"You must be mistaken, then. That was a phone call about a deliv-"

Tossing your hands in the air, you weren't about to be gaslighted. "Oh, come on. I'm not a child. Listen, I'll make you a deal, okay?"

Your father finally looked at you then, face red with anger at your defiance, but not an ounce of shame for being caught. This only fueled your frustration. If your father was going to play dirty, so were you.

"I won't tell Mom about this… if you let me and Robin go out tonight for New Year's. No curfew."

"Fine."

That was easy, you thought, satisfied. But what else could you get out of this?

"One more thing."

He hesitated, but still humored you, gesturing with his hand impatiently for you to continue.

"I don't want to face any consequences for spending time with Eddie Munson. No more threats of private school."

You almost laughed at your father's expression then, the reddest you had ever seen it. He looked as if he could spontaneously combust at any moment. 

But as foolish as your father was, he wasn't a complete imbecile. Having an affair with his also married coworker was something that would ruin his reputation not only with the town, but with his beloved church as well. You were almost tempted to ask him how God felt about adultery.

You didn't get an easy response like your first part of the deal.

"Listen," he spoke slowly. "You need to keep your nose out of this. Forget this ever happened. Your mother and I have private lives that don't involve you."

"I have a private life too! And I'm sick of you dictating who Robin and I can be friends with!" 

Desperate to end the conversation, Richard pointed his finger in your face.

"You are a troubled young woman. Be friends with whoever you want. But dear daughter of mine," spit was flying from his lips, face basically a tomato. "If I so much as see that Munson boy, this deal is over."

You stared him down. It took everything in you to not smack his finger out of your face. You calmed yourself, realizing that this was as good as the situation could possibly get. 

Holding a hand out to shake, you sneered at him. "You drive a hard bargain, Richard."

But he didn't shake your hand. Your father abruptly left the house as he mumbled an almost incoherent "absolute failure" under his breath.

Slumping down on the bottom stair, you trembled with adrenaline, wondering if you were the failure or if your father was actually admitting it about himself.

☾

While I'm away Dust out the demons inside And it won't be long Before you and me run To the place in our hearts Where we hide

☾

Eddie found himself in a quandary.

Later that evening, as he got ready to head out for the night, the brown-eyed boy stood in front of the bathroom mirror, a foil wrapper crinkling in his hand.

A condom.

The cliche better safe than sorry was running through his mind. But on the same note, he felt bad for assuming that you would even kiss him again. 

He rubbed his eyes, then looked at his reflection in the mirror. Dark eyes, dark hair, dark clothing. It was kind of a front, though, as his thoughts usually weren't very dark. 

Usually. 

Eddie still had plans with Jeff and Gareth before he was due to pick you up, and he considered asking them for advice about the situation. That would be fruitless, however, as Eddie was quite familiar with the extent of their experiences with women. 

Plus, you would literally have his head if you knew he was talking about you like that to anyone. One of his favorite things about you was the respect you had for yourself, the sureness with which you carried yourself. You were quiet and a little awkward, but still completely confident.

He pondered for a moment, still fiddling with the foil wrapper in his palm. Like a horrible totem representing his own crippled self confidence.

Figuring that you wouldn't even know that he had it unless you actually asked him for one, Eddie tucked it away inside of his wallet for safe keeping.

He could hear his dad stomping around upstairs as he walked back and forth between his armchair and the case of beer in the fridge. As much as Eddie liked his bedroom and bathroom in the basement, he wouldn't miss hearing that annoying stomping as a daily reminder of his dad's alcoholism.

For now, the solitude of the basement was worth it. And it held good memories regardless of the drunk monster that lived above him.

Brushing his teeth, Eddie's thoughts wandered back to the condom in his wallet. He thought about you, about your request to spend New Year's Eve with him. Him, of all people.

At eighteen years old, Eddie was still technically a virgin. Would he ever admit that to anyone? Probably not. Heavy petting make-out sessions and half of a handjob didn't exactly count as occurrences that required such contraception.

And he never really considered himself to be the kind of guy who needed to carry around a condom with him everyday. The town freak. 

He noticed attractive people, like any other teenager in Hawkins. But as of the entire last year, you were the only human being to cross his path that made him want an excuse to use a condom.

Sure, he wasn't exactly a blushing, completely inexperienced teenager. Though it had been less than a month, Eddie was still fucking shocked that you hadn't even kissed anyone before. He almost wondered if you were fucking with him, some kind of sick joke.

Deep down he knew you were telling the truth, though. Maybe he was naive, but Eddie refused to believe that you'd lie to him about something like that. Not to mention that after several years of school with you, he had never seen you dating anyone.

Eddie was curious as to why. You were semi-popular, attractive, funny. But maybe your attitude and general feisty demeanor made it clear that you preferred to be alone.

Pacing in his bathroom, the only sound was his boots dragging across the linoleum tile, the clinking of the chains on his belt. 

It didn't take long for his attention to crawl towards something more deviant. He didn't think he could ever forget the feeling of your skin as he tattooed you. The cold press of your lips on his as snow fell around them.

Jesus Christ, he needed to get rid of the tension in his body before he was physically near you.

Grabbing the lotion off the bathroom counter, he hastily unbuckled his jeans.

Already hard, he imagined groping you in the shadows, wishing it was your soft hands along his length. He wondered how sensitive you were - would you whimper if he dragged his nails gently over the most private area of your blue jeans? Would you take his hand and place it inside your panties?

He dropped himself back onto his bed, spare guitar picks falling to the floor. Flashing images of you kissing his neck, fingers pulling his hair.

It didn’t take long for him to make a mess all over his belly, letting out a sigh at the ceiling tiles where he swore he could see your name hidden in the cobweb patterns.

☾

I guess that's why they call it the blues Time on my hands Could be time spent with you

Oh, laughing like children Living like lovers Rolling like thunder Under the covers

☾

"You're late, Munson."

He smiled at you. "You know, I think that might be something you'll have to get used to. I'm incapable of being on time."

It was just after eleven at night, only an hour before the New Year, as you scrambled into the passenger seat of his warm van. Rubbing your hands together in front of the vents, you turned your excited eyes to him as he drove away from your house. 

He was dressed in his usual dark attire. From the glow of the streetlights, you could see his devilish grin as he lifted a cigarette to his mouth.

You were just about to tell him how gross the cigarette was when you heard the song playing on the radio.

"Oh! Turn it up, will you?"

Lifting an eyebrow at you, Eddie twisted the volume dial. "Journey? Are you serious?"

"'Separate Ways' is my all-time favorite song," you stated matter-of-factly, tapping your fingers on the window sill. "So, where are we going?"

"I'd tell you it's a surprise, but it's not really all that surprising. We're going to Lovers' Lake."

Now it was your turn to raise an eyebrow at him. 

"That's very original of you, Eddie. Isn't it all frozen over this time of year?"

He flicked the cigarette on the edge of the ashtray. "Yes, sunshine. A huge, frigid heart-shaped body of water. Just like my own heart."

You smirked to yourself. "Yet another perfect place for you to finally murder me."

"Not quite yet! I have a warm van, a six pack of Pabst Blue Ribbon, and some blankets in the back."

"You literally just described the exact van that murderers drive around in."

Eddie laughed at your morbid sense of humor. "Does it help at all that we'll have the best view on the lake? My friend isn't at his cabin tonight, but he said it's cool to pull my van up to the shore by his boathouse."

Pretending to think hard for a moment, you shrugged and smiled. Then, you shocked Eddie by nonchalantly placing your palm on his leg, like it was something you did everyday. 

"I guess that makes up for all these homicidal red flags."

☾

Stare into space Picture my face in your hands

Live for each second Without hesitation And never forget I'm your man

☾

"So, how do your parents feel about you being out so late?"

Eddie helped you wrap yourself into a blanket cocoon and then handed you a beer. He watched as you took a drink of it, shivering slightly, before responding to him.

You were curled up close to each other in the back of his van, legs dangling out of the open rear doors. Eddie made sure to blast the heat in the front so you wouldn't get too cold, but he could still see your breath in the brisk winter air around them.

"Oh, the usual. I'm a sinner. A disappointment. An absolute heathen, disgracing the Buckley name."

He stared at you, his can of beer paused halfway to his mouth. "Did they really say that?"

You snorted. "No, but my father might as well have. My mom's just an idiot who goes along with him."

"Do they know you're with me?"

"Yes," you replied simply.

When Eddie stayed quiet on the matter, you asked some of the lingering questions in your mind.

"How does your dad feel? He didn't sound very happy when I called earlier."

Taking a long sip of the cold beverage in his gloved hand, Eddie seemed to wince at your query. He glanced out at the frozen, dark abyss of Lovers' Lake and then peered over at you.

"I doubt he even noticed that I left the house."

You fidgeted in the blanket and awkwardly adjusted the fluffy hat on your head. "I'm sorry, Munson."

"Don't sweat it. He's just an asshole. I think I'm going to move in with my uncle this summer, though. After graduation."

You were surprised to hear this. "Really? Does your uncle live far away?"

Eddie didn't miss the slight panic in your words, his heart instantly swelling as he realized that you worried he was moving away from Hawkins. Still, he wasn't going to pass up the chance to tease you about it.

"Well, well, well. Are you going to miss me? Is Miss Buckley breaking away from her infamous emotionless exterior? Do I see the hint of an actual soul in there?" 

He burst out in laughter as you punched him playfully on the shoulder. 

"C'mon, Eddie. If you weren't around, who else would tolerate me?"

"Don't worry about it. I'll tolerate you all the way from Forest Hills Trailer Park, sunshine."

Your shoulders dropped a little in relief. "Oh. That's not far at all."

"Nope."

The conversation went quiet for a while, a comfortable silence forming between the two teenagers. You rested your head on Eddie's shoulder, feeling his hair tickle the side of your cheek.

It didn't go unnoticed by either of you that, without directly saying it, you both wanted to spend the upcoming summer together.

Eddie continued to sneak glances of his watch. Midnight was slowly approaching.

☾

Wait on me girl Cry in the night if it helps But more than ever I simply love you More than I love life itself

☾

(song lyrics credit: "I Guess That's Why They Call It The Blues" by Elton John)

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[orcasoul]

Din Djarin Headcanons:

Din when you're injured

Oh how we love a protective and attentive man, and Din Djarin is the perfect example :)

Din shifts nervously, head searching in every direction. Something's wrong. He can feel it in his bones, in the pit of his stomach. "She should have been here by now," he mumbles nervously to Grogu, while placing a hand gently on his tiny head. Grogu wriggles in the satchel at Din's side, a little wimper of concern coming from him. This was only supposed to be a quick supply run on Tatooine so where the hell were you? And why, as the minutes pass, does Din's chest feel like it's about to cave in on itself?

When contact via com link fails, he decides enough is enough. He's waited too long as it is. "Don't worry, pal," Din said, softly, "We'll go find her." The market is still quite busy as Din and Grogu make their way through the crowded streets. Ten minutes of searching has turned into twenty, and still, no sign of you. Apprehension swirls in Din's gut, anxiety conjuring up the worst things imaginable in his head.

'What if she's hurt? What if shes scared? What if she's screaming for me right now?' He can't lose you, can't let anything happen to you! Why the hell did he let you go off alone? His heart beats wildly behind his ribs, panic and frustration taking root the longer you are missing. After questioning a few of the vendors, a woman informs Din that someone fitting your description had come to her stall earlier, pointing in the direction you'd left.

With a nod of thanks, Din immediately makes his way to the outskirts of the market. It's getting late now, the side street he's searching eerily empty and still. The silence is broken by a wailing Grogu, causing Din to look down at his side. Grogu's large brown eyes stare worriedly while pointing ahead. Din's stomach sinks when he sees it; Your satchel. Your unmistakable sage green canvas bag, with a picture of a loth cat on it, abandoned with it's contents strewn across the dusty ground.

With shaking hands Din picks up the bag and calls your name, over and over. The silence is deafening. He just needs to hear your voice, to know you're okay. 'Please, please answer me, Cyar'ika!' The world is suddenly too much, too suffocating, oppressive darkness closing in around the edges of Din's periphery. To lose you would be to lose the very best part of himself. His breaths begin to come shallow and quick, causing his head to swim.

Squeezing his hands into fists, he takes slow, deep breaths, trying his best to maintain some composure. He'll be no good to you if he falls apart now. Engaging the sensors in his helmet, Din urgently scans the ground. Dank Ferrick, there are too many footprints to discern. But then, an area of kicked up dirt at the entrance of a nearby alley catches his attention. Upon inspection, it's obvious a scuffle had taken place here very recently.

In true hunter mode, Din follows the telltale signs of dragging, all the way to a dead end, to be greeted by a sight that almost stopped his heart. There you are, face down and unmoving! Din's legs move of their own accord, carrying him to you by pure instinct and adrenaline alone. He drops to his knees beside your prone body, your name leaving his lips like a prayer, a prayer he's desperate for you to answer. Gently cupping your shoulders, he rolls you over onto your back.

Din chokes on a breath at the sight of you. His vision now clouding over in a sweeping tide of red, rage boils his blood to the point where he feels like he's going to explode. Your face is almost unrecognisable. Two black and swollen eyes, a clearly broken nose -still trickling blood - a split lip and a nasty gash across your forehead is the last thing he would have ever expected to see on you. "Cyar'ika?..." his voice trembles while trying to rouse you. "Can you open your eyes? Come on, sweet girl, I need you to open your eyes for me!"

Grogu reaches out for you, whimpering. Din can see he's distressed but what can he do? He could say you're okay, he could tell him not to worry, but how can he try to comfort him when he, himself, is cracking at the seams? Din cautiously scoops your unconscious body into his lap, handling you as if you were made of fine china. With your head lolled back, he can now clearly see big purple bruises littering your slender neck, bruises in the shape of fingers.

His whole being is now shaking with outrage, teeth almost cracking from the pressure of his clenched jaw. Who the fuck did this to you?! Why would someone do this to you?!.... And where can he find those fuckers?! A small groan slips from you, and Din released a breath he didn't realise he was holding, shoulders slumping, slightly in relief. You're alive. Thank the maker you're alive!

But that relief is snuffed out when you weakly cry out and clutch your side. Din removes your trembling hand and gently tugs up your top. How the kriffing hell did he miss this?! He'd been so preoccupied with trying to wake you, that he'd missed the stab wound, which is still oozing blood. "Dank Ferrick!" Din curses under his breath while inspecting the wound. To his relief, it doesn't look too deep. Clutching your limp form to his chest, he quickly rises, being careful of your state, and also trying not to jostle Grogu too much, who's sad eyes have not not left you.

Back at the Razor Crest, Din is silently seething. He cleaned and applied bacta patches to all lesions and stitched up the knife wound. A part of him is thankful that you'd lost consciousness along the way. The last thing he would want is for you to have to go through any more agony. Grogu has become your shadow, refusing to leave your side and snuggling up to you in the bunk. Now that the adrenaline has vacated Din's system, and you are home safe with him, he feels like he can breathe again.

He could have lost you today. It's unthinkable, the very notion that you could have been ripped from his life in the blink of an eye. How could he exist in a galaxy where you don't? He'd failed you toady. He should have been there to protect you. He'll never forgive himself! Looking at your battered and bruised face, Din is overwhelmed with a primal and desperate need to shield you from succumbing to harm ever again.

It brings tears to his eyes and a lump to his throat, seeing the brutal devastation left all over you, painting your body with all the horrors this cursed galaxy hides around every corner. This will never happen again. He'll make damn sure of it! He will destroy every bastard foolish enough to even try and lay a finger on you or Grogu ever again, starting with the pieces of Bantha fodder who attacked you. But that will come later. The main priority now is you. Din sits beside you on the bed, holding your hand and smoothing his thumb gently over your knuckles.

His heart skips a beat as your eyelashes flutter open, your heavy and exhausted gaze meeting his behind his helmet. His taut shoulders instantly relax and a warm wave of reassurance fills his aching heart with the smile you give him. You're okay, you're home and you're safe and he'll never let anyone hurt his Cyare again!

#pedro pascal #din x reader #mando x you #din djarin fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfiction #the mandalorian fanfiction #din djarin #din djarin x female reader #pedro pascal fandom #mando #the mandolarian #grogu

[stusbunker]

Spotless: Dolce

Chapter Twenty One

Featuring: Dean Winchester/Reader, Dean/Bela

Word Count: 1787

Warnings, etc: Mutual pining, minor backstory, they're idiots your honor, unbeta'd

A/N: Thank you all for your patience. Apart from being sick, I second and third and quintuple guessed myself on this chapter and then thoroughly ignored the difficult parts and just let them have a conversation on their own. That's it, it's just a phone call. xoxo Stu

Forgive me @lastactiontricia <3

Series Masterlist

You stood in your kitchen staring at the food in the fridge. It wasn’t much, but you had options.You just hated them all at that moment. You closed the door and slogged over to the pantry. It was the Friday night after Dean’s birthday and you wanted nothing to do with your phone or work or anything social media related. 

So you had turned off your ringer and left it to charge. 

You grabbed a bag of microwave popcorn out of the box and ripped off the plastic wrap. It was a poor excuse for dinner, but it at least would tide you over while you decided what you actually wanted to eat. Then you poured yourself a glass of wine, a sweet white because you were not a snob about it. No matter how many trips to Napa people took you on, you really weren’t going to spend an arm and a leg on a bottle that you only half-heartedly appreciated.

Once it was ready, you took the puffed up bag of popcorn with you to the living room because what was the point of making another dish? And decidedly resorted to turning on the tv.

The thing about streaming shows is that even though your attention wavered, the consistency of the characters on the screen made you feel less alone. You got through six episodes before you realized you never made anything for dinner. And at that point, it was too late to start. You stomped around trying to remember where you left your phone only to find a missed call from Dean and a dozen random texts from other people.

You double checked you didn’t have any voicemails and scrolled down to order delivery. Once dinner was finally sorted, you poured yourself the last of the bottle of wine and called Dean back.

The phone rang in your ear as you sat in the corner of your couch, criss-cross applesauce while turning on the next episode on mute. He answered on the fourth ring.

“Trouble, hey!”

“You rang?” You took a sip. Wherever he was was loud, but you could hear him moving through the buzz of passing conversation and cutlery.

“Yeah, you got a minute?”

“The night is my oyster, what’s up?” You leaned forward and set your glass on the coffee table, stretching back and settling in for whatever fire you were going to have to put out next.

The sounds surrounding Dean ended abruptly and he exhaled. “Not much, just grabbing drinks with some people from the label with Bela. You know, schmoozing the uppity ups.”

“Oh— good luck with that.” You shifted onto one hip and hugged your knee. “Tell her she has to pick where we’re getting brunch because the place I wanted is closed for remodeling—- and that she’s paying.”

Dean huffed a laugh. “I’ll fucking cover it, okay? Anything else you need me to tell her? Cuz I could go back in there and just hand her the phone if you want—”

“Nope— no, sorry. It’s fine. You okay?” Something in his voice was setting off a proximity alarm in your head, not full blown panic mode, but enough to let you know something had appeared on the horizon. 

“Yeah, ‘m good. It’s just not my kind of thing—- Bela’s great at these things— I just stand there wishing I could be anywhere else.”

“I’m surprised you even showed up— especially with rehearsals starting Monday.” You grabbed your wine again, waiting Dean out.

“Gotta play nice— you said so,” Dean teased, you could hear the soft hum of his smugness before he shifted gears. “Listen— that whole thing with Cas and the birthday bus— and the whole day actually—”

“Are you really gonna start bitching about that now? Dean, it is so not the time— don’t you have someone’s ass to kiss?”

“What?! I’m not— would you let me finish?! Jesus. I was trying to thank you!--- Don’t know why, now, but yeah.”

You bit your lips and perked up, straightening your back and wagging your head a little back and forth. “Oh? By all means— continue.”

“Yeah, okay, smart ass.”

You cackled and let him stew a bit.

“It was seriously the best, okay? Like, top five of all time.” Dean switched ears and you tried not to squee with the idea of making him so happy he’d been thinking about it for days. That he had to call you to tell you— even as an excuse to escape a less than stellar social situation. Everything seemed to sparkle on your skin, but that could have been the Reisling. “And about dragging Cas out— that was an unexpected gift. So, yeah, thank you— for all your trouble.”

You groaned.

“Oh come on! That one wasn’t that bad.” Dean pretended to be affronted and you pretended to be annoyed.

“Sure.”

He sniggered. “It was good to see him. It’d been too damn long.”

“Seriously. We had lunch and just getting to hang out with him made everything better.”

“Yeah.” Dean was thinking and you let him.

The television was frozen on the prompt screen, judging you for still watching, but you ignored it. You finished your wine and looked at the last drops through the curved glass, distracted by the reflection of your empty living room.

“You think he’s doing alright? I mean— he’s got a freakin’ kid. That’s got to have been a total mindfuck— you know?”

Naturally, Dean was worried about how Cas was, not about harboring grudges or blaming him for the rift between them. At least not out loud.

“I cannot imagine— and luckily we don’t have to worry about anyone trying to pull that again.”

“Yeah, tell me about it. Fuckin’ Lisa, I almost forgot about that. That was like the first big thing you had to bury when you started.”

You sat up and climbed onto your knees, like getting taller would help make your point. “Oh, I know! God that was such an uphill battle, even when she pretended to play nice. I still get the heebie jeebies when I pass her yoga studio on the way to Charlie’s.”

Dean chuckled. “Man— the things we do for fame. We are paying you, right?”

“Last time I checked.”

“Okay, good, probably should be more though, especially with all the Bela stuff.”

“Dean— I make well over the industry standard percentage with you guys. Plus, you barely even charge me rent. I’m doing fine.”

“Whatever—- still, want you to know your hard work is appreciated.”

You settled back down and picked at the seam of your leggings. “That is the weirdest way you could have said thank you, I hope you know.”

“Fuck off— Thank you, okay? THANK YOU. Should I spell it out? Maybe say it in Spanish?”

“Claro.”

“Como se dice ‘bite me’, huh?”

“Muérdeme.”

“Uhhh—- yeah, not gonna try that one while I’m standing in an alley alone.”

You rolled your eyes. “You should probably go back inside. People are waiting on you.”

“They barely even looked up when I stepped away— Bela’d message me if it was a problem.”

“Deeeeeean.”

“Trouuubbbllllle,” the way his voice rumbled with your nickname made it hard to remember you were even wearing clothes.

You climbed off the couch and decided to put your glass in the dishwasher for something to do. He wasn’t going back into the restaurant, but he wasn’t exactly keeping you from anything either.

“Why’d you call if you were out anyway?”

“Heh— I called you to talk me into going through with it.”

Oops. “Well good job on getting there on your own.”

“I was already halfway to Bela’s anyway. Paps perked up real fast when we rolled up. Gonna have to switch out Baby for a rental one of these days. Don't like the way they hone in on her.”

You rolled your eyes. “Probably a good idea, especially if you need privacy.”

“Not really the point of this little arrangement is it?”

“Okay, but still, be safe.”

“With my car? Always.”

You smiled to yourself when there was a knock at your door.

“Somebody there?” You hadn’t realized he could hear it over the line.

“Just dinner.” You beelined through the living room, suddenly starving. You pinched your phone between your shoulder and your cheek as you unlocked the front door. 

“So, what? Just another night in for you? Lemme guess, messy bun and no bra, maybe some leggings?”

You made sure everything was in the bag where the driver left it and dragged it back to the kitchen for a plate. “Is this you asking me what I’m wearing?”

“Maybe.”

You stopped short, and had to lift the bag up onto the counter a second time to keep it from becoming one with the floor. “Ha, ha.”

“Come on, it’s not like I’m gonna do anything here. Just making conversation.”

You ground your teeth, anger spiking from this sudden turn into teasing. “Yeah, well, when it’s the closest thing to a come on I’ve had in months— it feels a little bit more than that.”

You feel the penny drop.

“Dry spell, huh? I was wondering about that.”

“Oh shut it. You’ve got a fairytale fake girlfriend and I’ve got a band to keep relevant, neither of us is really out there mingling.”

Dean cleared his throat. “You can take time off—- if you need, you know that right? Hell, find somebody’s discarded boyfriend backstage and burn off some steam or something. ‘S one of the perks of a tour.---- But take care of yourself first, alright?”

You look up at the ceiling at the rows of spotlights Dean installed, once upon a time, that framed the island and sighed. “I’m not discussing my sex life with you— like— ever again.”

“Come on, it’ll be fun. We’ll have a sleepover and braid Sam’s hair.”

You sputtered and then went back to dishing up your food.

“Muérdeme, Dean. Then we’d have to listen to all the kinky shit him and Madison are into, no thank you.”

“Touche.”

You heard Dean’s phone buzz with a notification. The metaphorical clock struck twelve.

“That’s Bela, isn’t it?”

“Yep. Okay, well, it’s been fun.”

You inhaled and sent him off, “go get ‘em, champ.” 

“Yeah, yeah. Thanks again for the birthday shenanigans. I’ll see you next week?”

“I’ll be at rehearsal, but I’ve got calls and stuff scheduled throughout the day.”

“Sounds good. Have a good one.”

“You too.”

Something lingered between you in the silence and before you could say something you’d regret, you finally ended the call. It almost felt like he was waiting you out, making sure not to be the one that hung up first.

Tagging:

@deans-spinster-witch

@mrswhozeewhatsis

@cosicas-cuquis

@fics-pics-andotherthings-i-like

@suckitands33

@ladysparkles78

@deans-baby-momma

@stoneyggirl2

@sassy-pelican

@leigh70

@globetrotter28

@winharry

@lastactiontricia

@rockhoochie

#spotless series #dean winchester fanfiction #dean/reader #dean/bela #slow burn #rockstar au #fake dating #dean winchester fluff

[daichislover]

nice to finally meet ya (Law AU)

warnings: talks of injury (broken bones/sprains), going to the hospital, swear words

summary: After Luffy's latest injury, you end up having to take him to the hospital, a place you usually avoid. Amid the chaos, you meet a handsome and somewhat annoyed doctor who makes a strong impression. Perhaps hospitals aren't so terrible after all.

word count: 950

“Can you please bring him-”

“No.”

You had just stepped through the door of your shared home with Nami and Robin, shoes still on, when the sight of Luffy sprawled out on the dining room floor caught your eye. He was cradling his right arm, a grimace playing across his features. Before a single question could escape your lips, Nami was by his side, hoisting him up with a determined grunt and steering him in your direction.

“I’ve brought him to the hospital the last two times, and now it’s your turn. Just this once, please?” Nami's plea came with a look of desperate hope, which quickly faltered under your incredulous stare. How had your evening taken such a chaotic turn?

“No way; you know I can’t stand hospitals! Are you out of your damn mind?” You then turn to look at your idiot of a best friend. “And you—what happened to staying out of trouble? You couldn’t keep out of harm's way for even a week!” 

Luffy responded with a sheepish grin, his injured arm held awkwardly. “I really thought I could nail that backflip off the table. I'm fine, really!” His attempt at a reassuring thumbs-up faltered pitifully.

In this past year alone, Luffy has been taken to the ER six times. Four of those times were for broken bones and sprains from trying random tricks off of furniture, and the other two times were for ingesting something that he shouldn’t have. In his defense, those wax melts did look uncannily like macarons.

Before you could even protest, Luffy was already out the door heading towards your car. With a resigned sigh, you snatched up your keys and purse. A last-ditch effort to deploy your best puppy-dog eyes at Nami failed miserably as she simply chuckled, nudging you out the door with a teasing, “Say hi to Law for me.”

As the door clicked shut, you paused. Law? Who in the world was that? With a shake of your head, you followed Luffy, the evening suddenly promising more surprises than you’d bargained for.

********************

Twenty minutes after arriving at the hospital, you're sharply reminded of why you avoid this place. The sights and sounds gnaw at your weak stomach, making even the mundane task of filling out Luffy’s paperwork a trial. You briefly consider abandoning him for the solitude of your car until his discharge, doubting his ability to stay out of further trouble on his own.

As what feels like an eternity drags on, Luffy's name is finally called. You seize the moment to escape to your car, but Luffy grabs your arm, pulling you back with a mischievous grin. "Where do you think you're going? You’re coming with me!"

“No, I only agreed to bring you. You’re going to be just fine. I’ll just be waiting in my car-”

“Are you fucking kidding me? Why are YOU here again?”

You spin around to find a tall, dark-haired man with piercing gray eyes glaring at Luffy, who seems entirely amused by the man's annoyance. What is going on? You wonder if this is-

“Another failed trick, but at least Nami isn’t the one dealing with me this time!!” Luffy says and pulls me next to him “I brought someone else with me today.” He says with a grin. “Actually, I’m the one that brought you here.” you whisper as you pull yourself out of his grasp. You find yourself locking eyes with the dark-haired doctor, noticing his piercings and… are those hand tattoos?

Feeling your cheeks warm, you hurriedly direct Luffy forward. “He decided to become a gymnast in my dining room and didn’t think of the consequences of his actions, so here we are.” you say to the doctor. The man just sighs and says “Alright, both of you follow me. Let’s get this over with.” Before you could protest, Luffy was already dragging you along.

Inside the treatment room, the array of medical tools does nothing to ease your discomfort. As you sit ruminating on how Luffy can ever make this up to you, the doctor’s voice snaps you back to reality. "I'm guessing you’ve managed to avoid these hospital trips before, huh?" He’s wrapping Luffy’s wrist but glances at you as he speaks.

“Yeah, I guess so” you reply with a small smile. What is happening? Why are you getting so shy all of a sudden? The doctor hums in acknowledgement, then adds, "I remember Luffy mentioning a friend who’s not fond of hospitals."

You sit there in shock. Luffy has talked about you to this handsome man, but you haven’t known about this man’s existence until tonight? Maybe you should’ve listened to his hospital stories in the past. Maybe you could’ve met him sooner-

Stunned, you realize Luffy has talked about you to this doctor, who you believe is Law, whose existence was unknown to you until now. Shaking off the surprise, you respond a bit awkwardly, "Uh… I wouldn’t say I’m afraid… just not a huge fan." Law chuckles softly, then continues his work. 

As he finishes and begins cleaning up, he sternly warns Luffy “If you come back any time soon, even for a slight sprain, I’m kicking you out.” Luffy, ever defiant, cheerfully yells “Thank you Law! You’re the best. Can’t wait to come back!” and runs out the door. The doctor, whom you just now realized is for sure Law, calls after him in exasperation, then turns to you, his expression softening. 

"You're good to go as well. Sorry you had to bring him. I’m Law, by the way," he says, extending his hand. You shake it, introducing yourself in return.

Law smiles warmly. "It’s nice to finally meet ya."

a/n: this is my first post on tumblr (yay) and my first time writing fanfiction in years (double yay) so pls be nice! this is also not proofread :)

'til next time!

#trafalgar law x reader #law x reader #law x you #trafalgar law x you #trafalgar law fanfiction #trafalgar law au #one piece x reader

[angelicnymph]

🌶Manwh0re Toji Fushiguro Private Show 🌶

💌Support Me💌 ♡ 🧁Masterlist🧁 ♡ 💞Exclusive Content 💞

Cw: Sexual content, pornography, onlyfans,male stripper, exhibitionism, gropping, public sex, orgy.

🌸This will be a spicy series with multiple part- some will be posted here for FREE and some will be posted on Kofi available on for my donators. 🌸

🌸Disclaimer: In this Series, Toji is in his early twenties and a bachelor. Its just that Toji Fushiguro is more pleasing than Toji Zenin.

Kindly please support me by likes and reblogs please. It helps so much. Thank you. 💌

Toji was a well-known male adult entertainer. He was known for his videos on the orange and black site as well as his 0nlyf@ns. After all, he was the website's highest paid model. He was recently in Las Vegas where he was invited for a private show which he would be highly paid for.

Within only 2 minutes, all the tickets to his show was sold. His fangirls were surely an another breed. They could pour their entire pocket money/salary on him just to get a glimpse of his body and Toji knew how to take advantage of them.

Within minutes, the hall in which he was supposed to perform gets filled. VIP seats in the front row close to the stage, followed by Gold seats on the 2nd row, Silver seat on the 3rd row and bronze seat at the very back. The price of the tickets were ridiculously expensive but the thirst got the best out of his fans. $1000 for a single bronze seat in which you can only watch him from the very back of the hall? The fans kept on cheering for him tho no matter what. Excited for his appearance and performance.

The man finally comes on stage in his bathrobe, loosely clad to his body, chest out and barely covering his thighs, a cocky grin plastered to his face. He tease his fans by removing only the top half and covering only his lower half earning howls and begs from the crowd. He then turns around and discard the bathrobe and presenting his body with only in a skimpy underwear which covers his c0ck fully but leaves his muscular @ss exposed, 0iled up and holding his cr0tch giving his c0ck a few rübs and squeezes.

He proceeds to hump the stage and then gets up, his c0ck now fully härd peeking out of the underwear. He goes in front of a lucky girl and allows her to take it off him. The crowd cheer as he has a cocky grin on his face loving the attention. He starts w@nking off and hipthrusting the air, flopping his härd 0n loving the reaction of his audience. He then grabs a fle$hlight and starts pleasing himself letting out occasional grünts giving his thirsty fangirls an e@rgasm.

The show continues as the VIP ticket owners get to touch him, grab his t!tties, his c0ck, giving him h@ndj0bs, bl0wj0bs, p!nching his p!erced n!pples, running hands over his hard abs and quads. Needless to say, the man was in heaven even if it was for a brief hour. He wished he could stay like this forever, getting girls to worship his body, pleasuring him. He kept cûmm!ng and having his eyes roll to the back of his loving the touches, occasionally grunting.

The show ends with 2 lucky girls from the VIP 0n t0p of him: one r!dding h!s f@ce and the other riding his c0ck. Once the three are done, the girls are returned back to their seats. Toji once again hümp his 0verst!mulated c0ck on the stage, till he gets one final bl0w and then gets up , asking his fans to take last pictures before he heads to the backstage where another group of girls is waiting him.

#jjk toji #fushiguro toji x reader #toji zenin #toji fushiguro #toji smut #jjk smut #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #toji x you #camboy/camgirl au #strip club #male model #male strip show #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen fushiguro #jujutsu kaisen toji #toji x reader #fushiguro #toji fushigro x reader #jjk fushiguro #zenin #zenin clan #tw smut #hot male #writers on tumblr #toji fic #toji fanart #fushiguro toji

[hayleythesugarbowl]

U should write more Ian x reader, like a besties to lovers one? No pressure if ur busy ofc <3

More Than Friends || Ian Hecox x reader

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ masterlist • smosh masterlist ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

summary: you have been ignoring your growing feelings for your best friend ian, but when you are chosen to do a romantic scene together will those feelings stay hidden?

word count: 3.5k

warnings: mild cursing

a/n: ahh thank you so much for this request ml, i’ve been meaning to write for ian again!! hope you enjoy this and have a wonderful day!! 🎀☁️🍒

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~°~❦~°~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

     “Ok, hear me out. The story is ‘getting a root canal’ but we make it a full on musical with production numbers and everything.”

     Angela’s loud voice broke over the chatter you had been drowning out and you looked across the table. 

     You had been sitting in an early-morning writers meeting discussing ideas for a new sketch for what felt like hours. 

     Whoever thought it would be a good idea to make you and everyone else be creative at 8:00am….

     “Angela,” Chanse chided.

     “What? I had a dentist appointment this morning and I was inspired.”

     “Anyone else have any ideas that don’t have the words ‘root canal’ in them?” Chanse asked.

     “What screams Smosh more than a root canal musical!” Angela looked around the room for help.

     Alas, it didn’t look like you were getting anywhere anytime soon. 

    You watched as Ian, who sat to your left, let his head slip from his hand where it had been rested on the table.

     “Look alive, Mr. President-of-the-company,” you whispered to him, covering the fact that you had definitely been watching him longer than was friend-like.

     Looks like you weren’t the only one who suffered from drowsiness that morning.

     “I was totally paying attention,” Ian yawned. “Something about boats.”

     You rolled your eyes and smiled at your best friend. You’d known Ian since you two were little—in fact, he was the reason you'd got your job at Smosh all those years back.

     You’d been staying with him for the past week while your apartment was being renovated and you'd definitely stayed up too late last night watching reruns of friends. Which probably contributed to you both nodding off during this meeting.

   “Twenty bucks says someone suggests kiss currency part two,” you whispered to Ian.

     “Are you kidding? No way I’m gonna take you up on that, I don’t have spare cash on me.”

     “Did someone say kissing?” Courtney waggled her eyebrows. 

     “Yeah, (Y/n) was just begging me to suggest a kissing sketch,” Ian teased.

     You smacked Ian’s arm, feeling your cheeks warm. “I was not!”

     “Ian just wants to kiss you, that’s all,” Anthony leaned over his friend to tell you conspiratorially.

     Ian pretended to gag. “I’d rather kiss Shayne.”

     “Hey!” Shayne threw up his hands in outrage.

     You laughed along with everyone but you couldn’t stop yourself from clenching your fist around your coffee mug.

     You couldn’t exactly pinpoint when you had begun to have feelings for Ian that were more than friendly. One minute he was just your best friend Ian and the next he was this funny, attractive guy who made your pulse race when he touched your arm or gave you one of his smiles. 

     You knew Ian didn’t return your feelings—you were sure of that. This new development was entirely one sided. Which was why you were absolutely, definitely never going to tell him. Ever.

     You sighed as you watched Ian lean away from you and towards Anthony to whisper something to him.     

     Everyone was silent for a moment and you leaned back in your seat, running a hand through your hair. 

     “Hey, to piggyback off of the kissing thing,” Anthony started, his voice breaking through the silence, “what if we did an ‘every dramatic love confession scene ever’? It’s been a while since we’ve done that style of video.”

     “Ooh good idea,” Ian said, “Those ‘we want the old Smosh’ people will love that. I can already see the views.”

     “Always ‘the content’ with you,” you teased him.

     “He’s right though,” Spencer chimed in, “Especially if we had you and Ian do some scenes together. People would eat that up; it’ll give ‘em more material for their edits. I’m talking Shourtney part two.”

     You watched as Shayne and Courtney looked at each other and grinned. Damn it, why couldn’t you and Ian be like them!

     But, Spencer wasn’t wrong. Ever since you had begun working at Smosh, fans had been convinced you and Ian were dating. You guys had always laughed about all of the comments and posts together. 

     You and Ian? As if!

     But lately, as you watched the fan edits and read the YouTube comments, you couldn’t help but wish that you and Ian actually were what all of these people thought you were. 

     “I can see it now: April 1st, 2025, Ian and (Y/n). Shourtney part two” Ian echoed Spencer’s comment and nodded. “Zach Justice and Tara level shipping.”

     “You know who they are, grandpa?” You snorted.

     “For the last time, I’m four months older than you!”

     You laughed as Ian spoke again.

     “I mean, I’m in if you’re in,” he turned to you,  “For the sketch. If you don’t mind pretending to be into me. I know it’ll be hard not to fall hopelessly in love with me.” 

     “How will I ever manage,” you deadpanned sarcastically, even as your palms began to feel sweaty. Ignoring your feelings on a daily basis was hard enough, let alone doing a love scene together. But you couldn’t very well refuse and have everyone, including Ian, wonder why. 

     Besides, it could be fun. It’d been a while since you’d done a sketch, and regardless of how you felt about Ian, he was still your best friend and you would get to spend a lot of time on set with him. 

     You took a deep breath. You were probably going to regret the next words that came out of your mouth. 

     “Let’s do it”

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     “Shut up and kiss me,” you said, throwing your pretend purse to the ground as you stepped forwards.”

     “Not until you promise me that I’m the only one,” Ian sniffed dramatically. “I cant lose you again, baby.”

     “It’s only you,” you yelled, “It’s always only been you.”

     “Then kiss me,” Ian took a step towards you. “Kiss me like you’ve never kissed anyone before.”

     “You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting to hear you say that,” you leaned in. 

     “And then we kiss,” Ian said in a lighter voice, breaking character as you ended the scene. “I feel like it should be raining in the background of this, damn. Ooh, note to self: talk to them about fake rain.”

     “Right,” you smiled shakily, trying not to let the scene have affected you. You were at Ian’s place—your apartment still wasn’t livable—and Ian had suggested you rehearse your scene again for the shoot the next day. 

     You had just received the script and were already panicking a how real it all was. The two characters in the scene were friends who fell in love with each other. Just your luck.

     You silently cursed whoever had written the whole thing. 

     “So do you want to rehearse the kiss before tomorrow?” Ian’s voice brought you out of your thoughts.

     “Oh, um, I think it might be better if we just wing it. You know, realistic first kiss and all.”

     “As long as you don’t pull a Jennifer Lawrence on me,” Ian laughed, “No garlic fries.”

     You placed a hand to your chest in mock surprise, “Wow Ian, two pop culture references in one day? I’m so proud.”

     “I learned from the best,” Ian booped your nose and you felt your heart flutter. 

     You flopped down on your couch-bed in the middle of the living room and kicked your pajama-pant-clad legs out in front of you. 

     Ian sat down next to you and picked up the TV remote. “Do you mind?”

     You shook your head as he turned on the television. A show was playing that you’d definitely seen before, but you weren’t paying attention. 

     You couldn’t focus on anything but Ian’s presence next to you as he scooted closer to you and laid his arm over the back of the couch behind you. He smelled like pine and soap and a hint of the day’s cologne and the scent was so familiar and so damn attractive that you couldn’t ever imagine a time when you hadn’t wanted him all over you. How had you been so ignorant then?

     You rested your head on Ian’s chest and let out a sigh. All of this was so normal—you two laying there, watching TV, falling asleep next to each other—and yet it felt so different. 

     Ian kissed the top of your head gently and mumbled “Goodnight, (Y/n).”

     You muttered a soft, “‘Night.”

     Sometimes, when you were really desperate, you imagined that your best friend felt the same way about you that you did about him. In all the little ways that he made you feel special and loved, you found an almost something. It was times like these that you let yourself imagine, what if?

     But then you reminded yourself that you and Ian had always been this way. The only difference was your pulse racing and your heart jumping into your throat whenever he looked at you or touched you. 

     You let your eyes close as the sounds of whatever comedy was on played in the background.

     It was strange how you could feel so anxious and so comfortable at the same time. Despite all the new uneasiness that came with your romantic feelings towards Ian, you were still calmed by his presence. You still knew him better than anyone else. You still wanted this forever. Which is why you couldn’t let yourself change things. 

     You felt Ian wrap his arm around you and you shifted slightly on the bed. This felt right, you thought. How could you dare mess that up with unrequited love making everything difficult?

     Because that was scary. Changing everything was scary. Losing him was scary. But this? This was comfortable, you thought. And it was true. 

     You had never felt more comfortable before in your life.

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     You had never felt more uncomfortable in your life. 

     You’d thought last night was awkward, reading through the script with Ian. But today, as you reminded yourself you’d have to kiss him and not make it seem like it meant anything to you, you were sweating through your floral-pattern dress. 

     “Hey (Y/n)!”

     You spun around to find Ian wearing a full on tuxedo, complete with a boutonnière and everything. 

     “Wow, you look—”

     “Like prom threw up on me? Yeah, I know,” Ian joked, “But you look like the lead in a romcom so thumbs up costume coordinator.”

     You looked down at your dress. You had gone to costuming earlier on and had just come out of hair and makeup. You hoped you hadn't already sweated it all off. 

     You looked back up at Ian. He looked—well, aside from drop dead gorgeous—like he had eaten something that didn’t quite agree with him.

     You opened your mouth to ask if he was feeling ok when you were called to set by one of the directors.

     “Looks like that’s us,” Ian smiled but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

     You walked over to the set that you would be using, which looked like the outside of a building that could have been a school or a convention center. Apparently Angela had just had it lying around from a previous play. It looked really realistic, almost too realistic.

     You took a deep breath as you stepped onto set and Ian followed you. 

     You got this, you told yourself, you know all of your lines and you’re not going to mess this up.

     You looked out at the rest of the Smosh cast and crew, busy on set or waiting for their scenes. 

     “Ok and rolling…” you heard the director call.

     You prepared yourself. Ian stepped to the side of you. “You ready for this?”

     “Yeah,” you whispered, “definitely. Are you ok? You look pretty pale.”

     “I’m good,” Ian assured you with a nod, “just ate some weird pistachios at the snack table. I’d stay away if I were you.”

     “Noted,” you giggled.

     “…And Action!”

     You immediately were thrown into the scene. Ian had the first line and you tried to get into character.

     “What is your problem, Amy?” Ian said.

     “My problem?” you spat, trying to channel your inner romcom protagonist, “Are you really going to make me sit here and spell it out for you, Jake?”

     “That’d be nice,” Ian—Jake—scoffed.

     “Fine,” you made your voice shaky, “You wanna know what my problem is? My problem is that you came here with Veronica when you knew that all I wanted to do was be your date tonight.”

     “How would I know that? Was I supposed to just guess? You’re my best friend, Amy, why wouldn’t you just tell me!”

     “You want to know why I didn’t tell you?” You—Amy—asked him. “Because you’re my best friend. That’s why. I’ve had to sit here and watch you with girl after girl while all I wanted was as to be one of them.”

     You stepped closer to Ian as you kept saying your lines, trying to summon tears “I have been in love with you for years. Years, Jake. But I couldn’t tell you because I didn’t want to lose this.”

     You gestured between the two of you, trying to clear your mind and do what you had rehearsed. You refused to let any of your own thoughts slip in. 

     You continued, “I didn’t want to ruin our friendship. So go ahead. It’s ruined now. Go back to your date and have the best night with her. I’ll just be here on the sidelines like I always have been.”

     You turned and pretended to walk away and as planned Ian grabbed your wrist and you spun around.

     “You don’t get it,” he started, “I love you. I always have loved you. From the moment I met you, I have loved you. I love the way you tie your hair up when you’re working on something. I love the way your nose scrunches up when something amuses you. I love your perfume and the way it kinda makes me dizzy when I’m near you. I love you. I have never loved anyone more.”

      Ian’s eyes were intense as he looked down at you. 

     “And I never told you because, look at you. You’re way out of my league, I was lucky to have you as a friend. But, it’s always been you. I love you so much and I can’t believe you love me back. I’ll keep saying it as long as I am still breathing. I love you, I love you, I love you.”

     Even though it was acting, you’d never seen Ian like this. Not even when you were rehearsing. This was raw and emotional and it was hard not to let yourself believe it was real. The air was thick and you were both breathing heavy, the room silent except for the synchronized sound of your breathing. You stepped towards Ian, preparing to tell him to ‘shut up and kiss you’, as the script said, but he kept speaking.

     “I can’t believe it’s taken me this long to say all this. But, I want to be more than friends. And now that you know, will you be  more than friends with me, (Y/n)?”

     You jolted at his use of your name and not your character’s. None of this was in the script, as far as you knew.

     “Ian—” You whispered, looking around. 

     He took your hands, swallowing hard. “This is real, (Y/n). And I meant every word.”

     You couldn’t process what was happening. You searched Ian’s face and he looked honest and hopeful and a little scared. But he was sincere. You didn’t see any evidence that this was some kind of practical joke. Was Ian saying…

     You moved to stand even closer to him. 

     “Shut up and kiss me,” you said hesitantly, saying the line you were supposed to say earlier. 

     A slow smile came to Ian’s face, getting what you were doing. “Not until you promise me that I’m the only one, I cant lose you again, baby.”

     “It’s only you,” you whispered, “It’s always only been you.”

     “Then kiss me,” Ian said. “Kiss me like you’ve never kissed anyone before.”

     “You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting to hear you say that,” you leaned in. 

     And scene, You thought, So much for not letting this be real.

     And then your lips were on his, and you were kissing him. And Ian was kissing you back. He grabbed your waist and pulled you closer to him. You ran your hands through his hair and you felt him shiver beneath your touch.

     As you kissed Ian, your best friend, you silently thanked your luck—that this had happened, that Ian returned your feelings.

     Ian pulled away gently, brushing your hair back from your face.

     “Wow,” you breathed, “that was—”

     “That was everything I’d imagined it would be,” Ian said.

     And then, all of a sudden, the entire studio burst into applause. You looked out at all of your friends and cast mates clapping and cheering for you. Had they been in on this the whole time? Had they all known that Ian would break character and confess real feelings for you?

     “Just to be sure,” Ian said, “You do actually like me back right? You weren’t just finishing the scene?”

     You laughed, “Yes, Ian, I like you. A lot.”

     “Phew,” Ian laughed, calling out to the people gathered, “It’s a yes guys, she said yes! And sorry about ruining the shoot!”

     “You kidding? That was the most realistic love scene I’ve ever seen. How could we not use that?” Anthony called back.

     You giggled and placed your hands on Ian’s chest, “About that, I didn’t know you could be so cheesy and romantic.”

     “Only for you,” he said. “And I wouldn’t say cheesy. Poetic and beautiful, maybe.”

     You rolled your eyes at him, but you’d never been happier. You wouldn’t be able to stop smiling for days. And you didn’t want to. 

     All this time, as you’d been battling your own feelings, Ian had had feelings for you. You no longer had to pretend, because everything you wanted with Ian was already happening. 

     You smiled up at him, “I love you, Ian.”

     You had said it so many times platonically, but it felt different now. And yet the same.

     “I love you so much, (Y/n).”

₊˚ ✧ ‿︵‿୨୧‿︵‿ ✧ ₊˚

     You put your hair up into a ponytail as you walked towards Ian’s office. You had changed out of your romcom dress and back into the clothes you wore to the studio today. Now that you were done with the shoot, Ian had said he wanted to take you out. Your first real date. 

     You rounded the corner and went to enter Ian’s doorway, but you stopped when you heard voices. 

     “Hey, thanks man,” Ian’s voice carried into the hallway. “Thanks for suggesting that sketch.”

     “Anything for my friend,” Anthony said. “When your best friend whispers ‘hey can you suggest a sketch where me and (Y/n) have to be romantic together’ you step up.”

     You strained to hear. What? Was Ian saying he had planned that whole thing? He was the one who wanted to do that sketch?

     “Besides,” Anthony continued, “I didn’t even really do anything. You wrote the whole thing. Speaking of which, damn man, warn somebody! I’ll bring tissues to set next time.”

     You couldn’t believe it! That entire scene, about two random characters, Ian had written it all for you and him. 

     “You wrote all that?” You stepped into Ian’s office a look of shock on both men’s faces.

     “(Y/n), how much of that did you hear?” Ian asked nervously.

     “Enough to be even more in love with you than when I walked over here, if that’s possible.”

     Ian looked relieved as he came over to you and put his arms around you. “Well, then yeah, I wrote it. And I meant every word I said about loving you.”

     “Wow, I gotta work on my speech writing skills,” you teased, “I didn’t know I was best friends with The Bard himself this whole time.”

     “It’s a gift,” Ian smiled, kissing you softly. “And I had plenty of time to practice being poetic, being in love with you for years.

     “I’m going to go,” Anthony’s voice interrupted, “because I feel like a third wheel and not because my eyes are watering—damn allergies. I’m so happy for both of you.”

     Anthony left the room and you both burst into laughter. 

    Ian placed a soft kiss to your lips again, and you smiled. You couldn’t believe this was your reality. 

     Some of your best memories and moments were with Ian as a best friend. And now you got to experience a whole new world with Ian your boyfriend. You couldn’t wait.

     You were wrong the night before, you thought, as Ian wrapped his arms around you.     

     This, this was the most comfortable you’d ever been. 

     “Hey, I hate to interrupt,” Angela peeked into the room, “but now that we’re done with the operation-get-Ian-and-(Y/n)-together sketch—congrats by the way—where are we at on Root Canal the Musical?”

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hope y’all enjoyed this!! if you did, check out my other ian fic + my ian hcs 🤭🍓💌

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