#but there are times when he has a few too many beers

[pascalispretty]

the girls next door - part one

Joel Miller x F! Reader x Tess Servopoulos

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 4.1k

Warnings: Dead Dove, Do Not Eat. No Outbreak AU. Stepcest/stepmom Tess, dad's best friend Joel, infidelity, voyeurism, mommy kink, humiliation, cunnilingus, vaginal sex, porn, masturbation, smoking, age gap, rough sex, hair pulling

Summary: Unable to sit still in his newly-empty nest, Joel Miller goes for a moonlit walk. On his way home, he stumbles across you, your stepmother, and your biggest secret. Joel finds himself powerless to look away, or get the girls next door off his mind. (Masterlist | ao3)

Beta'd by @jennispunk, enabled by @misscharlielulu. Constructive criticism welcome!

Joel knows it’s a terrible habit. He’s made so many promises that he’ll never do it again, but with Sarah officially moved out for college, the temptation was too strong. He tugs on a jacket and finds the hidden packet of cigarettes tucked into a kitchen drawer, before opening the sliding door and stepping out into the cool night.

One of his favourite things about his new neighbourhood was the park that the house backed onto. Being able to move Sarah into a bigger house, with a pretty park right on her doorstep, had been one of his proudest moments. He still remembers the look on her face the first time he brought her here, and showed her the garden that was just begging for a soccer goal to be installed. He crosses the backyard quickly, letting himself out of the gate at the back of his property and into the park.

Joel pauses on the edge of the treeline to light his cigarette, and starts to stroll, with no particular direction in mind. It’s become a way to wind down on a Friday at the end of the work-week; a stroll in the park, a cigarette, a few beers when he came home. The trees are thick at this end of the park – he rarely encounters anyone on his strolls. Sometimes he calls Tommy, or Sarah; sometimes he just wanders through the trees ‘til he feels less tense. There’s no Sarah anymore to take to the movies or help with homework, and it’s taking some adjustment.

Tonight, he walks almost all the way to the creek before turning back on himself. He’s nearly back home, walking past his next-door-neighbour’s house, when something sharp jabs into his foot. It’s hard enough that he feels it even through his boot, and the sudden burst of pain makes him stumble. Cursing under his breath, he rests a hand against the tall fence, trying to peer at the ground in the darkness for any nails or broken-off sticks.

A flash of movement beyond the fence catches his eye. He looks through a gap in the wood, and finds himself swallowing hard, not quite believing what he’s seeing. The lights are on in the sitting room, and he can see into the space thanks to the glass doors that open onto the patio. He can see Tess sitting on the couch.

Tess moved in next door with her husband a few years ago, and a step-daughter that came and went sporadically from college. Given that Joel considers his neighbour one of his best friends, he definitely shouldn’t be staring at his wife like this.

She’s naked, gloriously bared to his hungry eyes. And, kneeling between her legs, is a woman who seems to be devouring her pussy with all the enthusiasm Joel himself would devote to the task of pleasuring Tess.

Joel can’t look away. Tess always looks so put-together, something that has made him idly wonder before how delicious it would be to take her apart. He has his answer now – it would be glorious. She looks like something his teenaged brain would have conjured up. Her light brown hair shines under the soft lamplight. Her head is tossed back, one of her hands groping desperately at one of her own tits. Her other hand is buried in the other woman’s hair, holding her close as her mouth opens in a silent moan.

Something in the back of his mind tells him that he shouldn’t be watching this. That he should leave and forget what he’s seen. Joel ignores it, stuffing that tiny voice of reason down until he can’t hear it anymore. He steps closer to the fence, pressing his body against the unforgiving wood.

The woman naked on her knees in front of Tess – he assumes it’s a woman, with the hair and the curves – is a mystery to him. He’d never imagined Tess would stray, much less that she’d be into women. Something about the mystery girl tugs at his brain, but he doesn’t have the brain capacity to explore that thought. Not when he can feel himself getting harder as he watches.

Joel idly presses his palm against his crotch. There’s no harm in watching, he assures himself. They’ll never even know he was here.

He watches raptly as Tess gets closer to coming. The hand she has at her breast gets more frantic, pinching and pulling roughly at the nipple. Joel’s cock strains against the denim of his jeans, and he squeezes himself. He has enough sense left to know that he can’t jerk off out here in the trees, though he’s not sure he’d be able to look away even if they all spontaneously ignited around him.

Tess must almost be there; he can see her moving her hips harder against the other woman’s face. Joel squeezes himself just a little tighter, trying to memorise all of the details of the sight in front of him. The arch of Tess’ back, the heave of her chest, the way her heels are pressed against the other woman’s shoulder blades. He barely breathes himself as he watches Tess come – her mouth open in a cry he can’t hear, her lithe body held taut and then relaxing all at once. Joel can feel his pulse roaring in his ears as he watches, finding himself feeling desperate to be the one on his knees in front of her.

The woman on her knees starts to move just as he thinks it, and some madness tells Joel that she’s moving to make room for him. She’s not, of course. He can see Tess’ mouth moving, talking to the other woman. She reaches for something on the couch beside her: it takes Joel a moment to realise it’s a strap-on harness, a big-looking cock attached to it. He’s never seen one outside of porn, and he wonders what other toys Tess might have, stashed away next door.

His nose is starting to hurt, pressed so tightly against the wood of the fence, but he can’t look away now. He watches as Tess stands, the woman at her feet helping her step into the harness and secure it around her hips. Once it’s securely fastened, the other woman stands and turns to get comfortable on the couch.

The realisation hits Joel like a lightning strike. It’s not some mystery stranger with Tess.

It’s her stepdaughter.

****

“On your hands and knees, kitten,” Tess orders, and you hasten to obey. Your face and fingers are sticky with her slick, and you can’t resist the urge to lick your fingers clean as you kneel on the couch. You’ll never get enough of the taste of her, that tangy sweetness that drives you wild. One of Tess’ hands finds the nape of your neck, pressing you down towards the couch cushions. It won’t be pretty if she has to remind you again.

Reluctantly, you remove your fingers from your mouth with a pop, and prop yourself up on your elbows. Behind you, Tess grips one of your hips, adjusting the tilt of them until your ass sticks out to her liking. You feel lightheaded with anticipation, your cunt clenching around nothing as you wait for Tess to act.

“God, look at you. You’re such an insatiable little slut.” Tess says, her hand leaving your hip. Before you can whine at the loss of her touch, the blunt head of the cock she’s wearing presses against your soaked folds. You choke on your own breath as she rubs it teasingly against your entrance, letting you feel just how thick it is.

“It’s- ‘s so big, Mommy,” you whimper, your nails digging into the couch cushions. Tess has always enjoyed bigger toys, and you’ve always enjoyed the challenge. But it’s been a few weeks since you’ve attempted to take anything this big without any prep at all.

“You can take it,” Tess says dismissively. “You always do.” It’s faint praise – it’s barely praise at all – but it makes you preen nevertheless. “I’m not spending time lubing it up when you’re already this drenched.”

“I love eating you out; can’t help that it makes me so wet,” you manage, a little too dreamily given the circumstances. You hear a fond chuckle behind you from Tess.  

“You love eating anyone out, you little whore. A glory hole for lesbians would be your dream come true.” Before you can try to think up any kind of comeback, Tess notches the thick cockhead of the toy against your cunt and starts to push.

The stretch is intense, even just from the tip. Your hips twitch from the effort of taking it. Your inner muscles burn, struggling to yield to the relentless push of the thick silicone. Even so, you can’t help rocking back on it, some animal part of you just needing to take it deeper.

Tess’ manicured fingernails dig sharply into the flesh of your hips, and a moan spills out of your mouth. She rocks her hips in short, violent thrusts that make you quiver, bottoming out so hard that you arch your back and yowl like a cat in heat.

“Fuck, that feels so good,” you gasp out, breath shuddering. “You always pick the best toys.”

“I always know what you need,” Tess says, her fingertips trailing down your spine as she grinds her hips against the curve of your backside. It forces the toy just that much deeper inside you, and you whimper helplessly. Even the delicate touch of her fingers on your back is overwhelming you right now, making you feel like your skin can’t contain the molten heat building inside you.

Rather than setting the brutal pace you’d expected, Tess withdraws the toy so slowly it feels like it’s moving a millimetre at a time. It lets you appreciate its size, and you swear you can feel the thick ridges meant to stimulate veins. She stops when only the very tip is left inside you, the firm hand on your hip telling you not to try fucking back onto it this time.

“Look at you.” It sounds like praise, but the tone is laced with a condescension that makes you squirm. “That greedy little cunt is trying to pull it back in, isn’t it? All those muscles working to try and get you stuffed full again.” One of Tess’ fingers dips down to trace your flesh where it splits around the cock, and your knees nearly give out.

“Please, Mommy, I need it.” You sound utterly pathetic. Some perverse part of you loves that feeling, the twist of humiliation in your gut. You’ve long since learned not to question why, not when simply enjoying the ride is much more fun. Tess makes an amused noise behind you, her nails scratching the curve of your ass as she adjusts her grip.

You’re expecting her to ask you to beg more. Instead, she pulls your hips back hard, filling you completely with one smooth motion. It makes you sob, the feeling of being so exquisitely full making your head spin. Tess pulls back barely an inch before giving another brutal thrust.

“I know, kitten. No thoughts in that pretty head of yours beyond getting fucked, are there?”

“No, ‘s not true,” you choke out before another hard thrust cuts you off. Even as you try to deny it, your walls clamp down harder on the toy inside you.

“Alright, getting fucked and playing with other pretty pussies. Nothing but cunt on the brain either way.” Tess’ nails dig harder into your flesh, doubtless leaving little crescent marks that will make such a lovely constellation on your skin. She uses the grip she has to set a brutal pace, one that leaves you gasping for air. The wooden frame of the couch creaks a little alarmingly under the force of her thrusts, but it’s practically drowned out by the slap of her hips against your ass and the obscene sound of the silicone cock plunging in and out of your soaked cunt.

Your elbows no longer support your weight, and your torso collapses down onto the couch cushions. The motion of Tess’ hips makes your nipples rub against the leather, just one more thing adding to the complete sensory overload. Somehow you want more, more of whatever it is Tess is willing to give you. You rest your head against a pillow and pant out a ‘mommy’ with every hard stroke of Tess’ silicone cock, revelling in masochistic bliss.

****

Out by the fence, Joel crowds as close as he can to the wood. He shouldn’t look, he shouldn’t be staring as his friend’s wife and his friend’s daughter fuck on the couch he watches the Super Bowl on. He definitely shouldn’t be slipping his hand under the waistband of his jeans to rub his cock over his underwear.

But what else can he do? Go back to his silent, empty house for another night alone in front of the TV, just passing the hours before he falls asleep? He feels like a starving man who’s been presented with a feast; he’s not going to turn away now.

Joel squeezes the bulging stiffness of his cock, rocking his hips almost absentmindedly against his hand. He can only imagine how pretty the sounds in that room are; he can see your mouth moving, hinting at moans and whimpers that he desperately wants to hear for himself.

You were at college when Tess and her husband moved in next door, barely staying for more than a month at a time. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t noticed you at all; you’ve always been distractingly pretty. But some inhibition kept him from looking too hard.

Any inhibitions went right out of the window the moment he saw you naked on your knees, eating your stepmother’s pussy like she paid you to do it. Right now, his only thought is the way your face is twisted in pleasure as you get fucked. He wonders if he could make you look like that himself, and surprises himself by not immediately dismissing the thought.

Instead, he has to squeeze the base of his cock, trying to avoid coming in his pants like a teenager. He shouldn’t be standing out here, pressed so closely against the fence he might get splinters in his nose, but he definitely doesn’t want to be standing out here with his own come soaking into his jeans.

He’s never really seen anything like it, not even in porn. Though he’s enjoying the show, the fact that it’s not exaggerated or acted for his benefit makes it feel more real. You’re not faking moans for the camera. Tess actually is your stepmother, not some stranger you met half an hour before filming started.

You’re not actresses; you’re the girls next door.

Joel swallows thickly, his cock begging for more attention. The aching need is almost unbearable, a level of desire and lust that he hasn’t felt in years. A small voice in his brain wants him to run home and jerk himself off the minute the door closes behind him. Another part of him argues that he can’t, he can’t look away even for a moment. He’s likely never going to see this again; he can’t miss a second of the action. The second voice is by far the loudest.

He watches raptly as Tess reaches one of her hands forward to grab a fistful of your hair, pulling your chest up off the couch and leaving you bent almost in half. A surge of electricity licks down his spine at the thought of being rough with you, of being the one to make the pretty young thing sob in pleasure the way Tess is doing now. Thoughts of you choking on his cock flit briefly through his head. They’re only half-formed ideas, but he knows he’ll revisit them in the shower later.

Palming his cock over his boxers again, Joel presses against the wood. Wild dogs couldn’t drag him away right now. Not when he hasn’t seen you come yet.

****

Your back is bowed so sharply that you know you’ll ache in the morning. Tess’ hand pulls hard at your hair, the pinpricks of pain in your scalp bringing tears to your eyes. It hovers just on the right side of pleasure-pain. Tess is working you at a demanding tempo, turning you into a shivering mess in front of her.

“That’s it, good girl,” she croons. You can hear the smug smile in her voice. “This pretty little cunt of yours was made to be stuffed full, wasn’t it?”

A light sheen of sweat covers your body, and you swear you can feel slick smeared halfway down your thighs. It’s been far too long since you were last alone with Tess.

You lose yourself in the motion of her hips, focusing in on the familiar tension coiling deep within you. Every drag of the silicone cock ratchets up the tension. Your skin feels hot, like the heat pouring through your veins can’t be contained by your body anymore.

“Tess- Mommy- I need to come, can I? Please, please, I need it,” you manage, your breath coming in hard pants. You don’t know what you’ll do if she says no, not when you’re so close.

“Feral little slut,” Tess says, almost fondly. “Because you asked so nicely, then. You can come whenever you like.” She says it so nonchalantly you’d believe she truly didn’t care, if not for the way she shifted the angle of her hips a little to fuck down into you. It made the head of the toy press against that spot inside you on every pass, fireworks exploding behind your tightly-shut eyelids.

The blinding edge of your orgasm hits you before you’re ready. You scrabble against the couch cushion, trying to ground yourself as the tension that’s been building all night finally snaps. A long keening cry rips out of your throat, and you shudder as the pleasure rolls out all the way to your fingertips.

Another sharp sound leaves you when Tess lets go of your hair, the skin prickling as bloodflow returns to your scalp. Without her hand to hold your upper body up, you flop unceremoniously back onto the couch.

“Thank you,” you say softly. Tess strokes lightly down your spine, carefully starting to ease the silicone cock out of you. A trickle of slick escapes you, finally drawing attention to how uncomfortably soaked you are. Your walls tense as they try and fail to keep the toy inside you. The loss of it makes you feel devastatingly empty, and tears prick at your eyes, threatening to spill over your lashes.

“Good girls get rewarded. Let’s get you up and into the bath.” The mere mention of the bath elicits a longing groan from you. A hot bath and lavender bath oil are just what you need after being worked over so hard.

“Will you get in with me?”

“Yes, I’ll get in with you.” Tess helps you up off the couch, holding you by the elbow to make sure you’re steady on your feet.

“Will you bring some champagne upstairs with you?”

“Don’t push your luck.”

****

Joel waits until you’ve both disappeared from sight, and then waits a little longer just in case one of you comes back. The walk back inside his own yard seems to stretch out for miles. His cock is straining uncomfortably against his jeans, begging him for some attention. He moves through his house in some feverish, lustful daze. Later, he won’t remember coming upstairs to his bedroom, or kicking his jeans and boxers down.

All he really remembers is the relief that floods through him when he finally wraps his hand around his cock.

He’s so familiar with his own body – for a while, after Sarah’s mother left, it was all he had. Even as she’d gotten older, he’d never dared to bring a woman home unless she was out of the house. For a long time, his own hand was his only company in this bed.

Joel’s hand wraps tight around his cock, and gives himself a few rough, dry tugs. It stings, but not unpleasantly. Still, he knows he can’t afford to rub himself raw, not when he has so many new memories and fantasies to toy with. He spits in his hand and closes his fist around his length again.

His cock throbs against his palm as he starts fucking his fist in earnest. Joel closes his eyes tight, visions of you and Tess playing against his eyelids. Images come to him in flashes, tiny details that he wants to engrave on his memory. The way Tess’ tits heaved as she came. The curve of your ass as you knelt between her legs. The flex of Tess’ thigh muscles as she railed you. He’s not entirely sure who he’d like to trade places with more.

Joel’s hand speeds up, his hips jerking up to meet it. Precome leaks down onto his fingers, mixing in with the spit to produce wet, slick noises with every stroke. He lets himself groan. It’s still new for him, not having to muffle any noises any more. He revels in it, the freedom of it all. He fucks up harder into his fist and lets his mind wander.

He wonders what’s happening next door.

Even after he comes with a loud moan and ropes of semen staining his t-shirt, he wonders. It haunts him over the next few days, few weeks. Your father returns, and doesn’t seem any the wiser about what happens when he’s away. He invites Joel over for a beer, and Joel insists they stay out in the yard because he doesn’t want to pop a boner on the couch where he watched you and your stepmother fuck.

The encounter seems to have snapped something within him. For so long, he refused to look at you like that. You were too young, too wrapped up in college. But if Tess, only a few years his junior, can find you attractive, why can’t he? Surely, he reasons, it’s more acceptable from him; he’s not married to your father.

So, for the first time, he looks at you. In the warm spring weather, you’re constantly exposed in some way. You like pretty summer dresses and cute shorts. You have a rotating collection of bikinis and bathing suits that you lounge in by the pool. All of them put your legs on display, and most of them give him a great view of your tits. Some small voice in his head chants wrong, wrong wrong.

It doesn’t feel wrong. Not anymore.

You’re not a little girl. You’re a grown woman, well aware of how desirable she is. He sees that now.

He sees Tess too. Perfect, immaculately composed Theresa, with her charity work and luncheons. He should have guessed that the control she exerted on so many aspects of her life would extend into the bedroom. That annoying voice in the back of his head tries to tell him no again. She’s married to his friend. He shoves it down hard. She’s already having an affair, he argues with himself. With her own stepdaughter.

The idea of it refuses to leave his mind. He tries watching lesbian stepmom porn, but it just isn’t the same. It’s too artificial. Nobody who has tasted fresh strawberries would be satisfied with the chalky imitation flavour they use in medicines.

A week or so after watching the two of you, he finds himself sitting in the dark of his room. Night had fallen around him like a cloak, hiding him even though his curtains are open. Light from across the way draws his eye. For the first time, he realises that the room facing his own bedroom must be your room.

You’ve turned a lamp on. He can see it in the corner, a silk scarf draped over the top to soften the light. There’s a narrow strip of land between the two houses, split in two by the fence. It’s thin enough that he can see relatively well into your bedroom. He doesn’t think you can see him, not when his own lights are still off.

You’ve clearly been down at the pool again. Today’s outfit is a turquoise bikini, tied at the neck and back with strings. Joel doesn’t move as he watches you reach back to undo the ties. All of a sudden it loosens and falls to the floor. He can only see your back before you step out of view.

The sight is enough to send him rushing for a shower, the warm water cascading over him as he jerks himself off. When he comes, the image of it spattering over your back pops uninvited into his head.

Joel sighs and rests his head against the tile. The girls next door are going to drive him mad.

#joel miller x reader #tess servopoulos x reader #joel miller x tess servopoulos #joel miller x reader x tess servopoulos #joel miller fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction

[bookwormonastring]

is this why men didn’t want women to be educated💀 my dad’s been an idiot tonight so i’ve written him a letter because he’s too drunk for me to talk any sense into him now

#my dad is generally a good person and a great dad #but there are times when he has a few too many beers #suddenly decides to sulk about something #and then goes all woe be me why am i always the bad guy #when me and my mum try to talk some sense into him #he’s always too proud to admit he could have possibly done anything wrong #i always try to talk some reason into him at the time purely because i’m not that good at holding in my anger #although i generally manage to talk calmly which is something in quite proud of #but several times i have ended up writing him letters to give to him afterwards #but then i haven’t had the balls to give them him #but then sometimes when i mention how he can be a bit of an argumentative dick he wants receipts #he’s like okay when was the last time? what was it about? #as if i have a perfectly organised file in my head #me who wouldn’t remember what i had for breakfast this morning if it weren’t the same thing every day for the last 5 years #anyway #i’m gonna start writing these letters in my notes at first #usually i write them on paper but i wrote this one in my notes bc we’re on holiday so i haven’t any paper #but if i write them in my notes in this folder i’ve created #then i can show him the list #when he asks me #and if i have the balls i can also copy them out to paper and give them to him #he doesn’t have a smartphone so i can’t just send them #okay sorry rant over #holly rants

[kafkasmuses]

lace garters

words : 3,903

tags : 18+!!! mdni! escorts , sex work , reader ! sex worker , vaginal sex , finger fucking , finger sucking , porn with feelings , brothels , oral sex , save a horse ride a whattt

p.s : this is also posted on my ao3!! ( divider by siren4u & gif by drewstarkrs )

billy was a virgin, surprisingly, he didn’t have time for a girlfriend, and the quick fucks from the escorts never enticed him much. many offered, when he would stop quick at towns for a simple beer or to take care of things— he would typically get stopped by the escorts dressed in their gorgeous silks, tight corsets, and sleeves that fall off their shoulders so easily it has your fingers itching with desire to fix it. it would make even the most sane man turn mad, and somehow billy never allowed himself to fall for it. 

not until now, an escort stops him before he walks in a bar, “how old are you, dear?” 

“19, ‘bout to turn 20,” his voice is smooth and sweet, southern drawl sweeping out with ease. 

the girl hums out, tipping out of the way to allow his eyes to another girl standing far behind her, you, “you’re too young for me, dear, you should talk to her. she can show you a good time.”

typically billy would say no, offer a few coins for their efforts and simply walk into the bar like nobody had offered. but something was different when his eyes fell on you, you weren’t like the other escorts, quick to talk to the men and get some money for the events that take within the confines of the motel walls. you were rather looking off in the distance, your position more reserved rather than comfortable. it had him wanting to know more. 

to be fair, billy was bored these days, all he did was travel and go from town to town, never leaving a mark on those behind. other than his wanted posters, which by the way, had an awful drawing on it. how the hell was he ever supposed to get a girlfriend with drawings like that made about him? each step is slow, calculated, as he moves over to you. he notices that mid way, your attention seems forced away from him. 

are you afraid of him? he tips his head in your peripheral, easily looming over you, “darling.” 

your eyes snap to him almost immediately, widening as if you didn’t think it would truly be him, yet you mumble out a, “honey.” 

“lady over there told me to talk to you,” his head tips up, blue eyes piercing into you, even through the deepest of the night. 

“i don’t want trouble,” you finally turn to him, the smell of musk and gunsmoke filling your nose as he bites through the toothpick in his mouth, “i hear you’re wanted.” 

“wanted, but not trouble,” he corrects, smirk tugging at his right lip, “you don’t gotta tell anyone.” 

“wasn’t plannin’ on it,” your voice is so sweet, it nearly has him doubling over. you’re teasing him, clearly, but billy has never backed down to a challenge once in his life, he can bet on that. 

his eyebrow twitches upright slightly, “how much for thirty minutes, beautiful?” 

“you can satisfy me in thirty minutes?” you tease, smile widening at your own joke. 

his head cocks to the side, and he can’t help the way he licks his lips, cockiness coursing through his veins, “i probably could in ten.” 

you can’t help the way your flesh feels like rubber over molten, cheeks flaring to a new maroon that you hadn’t expected. your eyes dare to match his, the lust unsheathed in the teal of his eyes, “thirty will be just a few coins.” 

his hand moves to your jaw, tipping your head up further to look at him with ease, now you have no choice of looking away, “you don’t think i can in ten?” 

“i doubt it,” your skin is hot underneath his touch, despite your bold demeanor. 

“we’ll see.” 

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

the motel carried the same smell as it always did, the mix of mustiness, smoke from cigars, and whiskey. billy’s gut churned as you led him to the room that you always rented, surely, he was cocky at first— then he began to worry if he would even be good enough. he was a virgin, after all, and he’s sure you’d been with mostly experienced men. he doesn’t say anything once the door opens, seemingly every worry dissipates as you look back at him with a different look, your lashes flutter over your eyes with ease, the look is more seductive, siren like. 

if you were a siren, consider him the sailors in those tales, lost in the tides and addicted to the song that oozed out your vocals.

he allows you to guide him to the bed, sitting him down on the thin, firm mattress with your hands lingering on his shoulders, “what would you like me to do?” 

“i’d like for you,” he trails off, eyes tracing down your body, “to get on your knees.”

your hands leave his shoulders as you ever so slowly kneel down, every movement is well thought out, calculated, your body flowing in the most seductive ways. despite your lowered body, your eyes still remained up at him, the sudden doe look in your eyes making his legs spread ever so slightly. his hand is gentle when it touches your cheek again, pinky lining underneath your jawline as his thumb threatens against your lips. 

it’s dangerous, the way you look at him, like your gun is being drawn to him with your finger teasing the trigger. 

“and?” you add, his thumb teasing your now open lips. he tried not to flinch when your mouth encased his thumb, the warmth wetness of your mouth enveloping the skin. he finds himself unable to speak, unable to wonder whatever he wants— he wants to be stuck in this moment forever, it was greater than any other treasure he had come across. you were so good at your job, it made him want to know the lengths of your skills. 

“suck me off,” he finally speaks, gentle to remove his thumb from your mouth. 

it was a statement that you were used to, the firm tone, the expectation to get to it immediately— yet you are somehow surprised when it comes from him, it’s less firm, not like a demand but rather an offer, and there wasn’t a feeling of being rushed. for a man who seemingly had no time for women, he surely had a way to talk to them, to be gentler with them, unlike the other men. it was always cowboys who had the better ways of treating women, respectful with every word, or touch. his eyes are heavy on you, the curtains of your eyelashes blinking up to him, your lips tinted a sweet rouge due to a patted on lipstick, and he finds himself pushing his thumb across your lips, smudging the burgundy ever so slightly. 

your hands smooth over the fabric of his pants, fingertips teasing the leather of his belt which accompanied his gun holster as you palmed him through his slacks. the touch of the leather was rich, sturdy and every loop was clean cut, rather than loose and falling apart like many belts you had undone before. you hear him groan as your hand gently pushes against his clothed cock, his back stiffening ever so slightly as a chill runs up it. 

he tilts his head to the side ever so slightly as you undo his belt, your fingertips threateningly close to his gun holster as you pull the leather from the metal to loosen it. a chuckle vibrates from his chest, voice lower than usual, “careful, princess.” 

he lifts his hips as you tug down his pants, boxers following soon after to slip down to his ankles with ease. a hiss escapes him as soon as his hard dick is released to the cold air, with the opposing blow of your warm air on his tip. he was already so hard, as if he had been aching for a day like this. his hand moves to wrap around his base, hips scooting closer ever so slightly. 

“open,” his voice is husky, yet velvety, like the thorn of a rose to the petals. 

you’re quick to allow your jaw to fall slack, tongue smoothing out past the burgundy that coats your lips, as if you expected his next command. he taps his tip against your tongue, biting back the groan that thunders inside his every limb at the feeling of the warm, wet muscle. he allows you to take the lead, your tongue following the underside of his dick, memorizing each vein. when you reach his tip, you press a few sloppy kisses to it that has his breathing roughen, allowing you to open your mouth once more and take his length inside. 

he sucks in a deep breath, a hoarse groan escaping past his lips when he exhales, allowing his teeth clench on the thin wooden toothpick that still remained in his mouth. his head tips back when you hollow your cheeks only mere seconds into sucking him off, his hat slipping off his head and falling onto the plush of the bedsheets. 

his breath becomes ragged with the more you bob your head, allowing the tip to reach the back of your mouth, to the throat. his free hand moves to pass through your hairline, gripping at the beginning of your hair, even through your updo, loosening the tightening of the strands. the muscle in his arms flex underneath his short-sleeved button up, veins popping out every time you reach the base. 

“good girl,” he breathes out, the whimper that vibrates around his cock making his release come quicker than expected, hand bunching up your hair as he has to move you back, off his dick to stop his orgasm. he heaves, noticing the way strips of saliva connect your mouth to his dick. he moves his hand from your hair down to your lips, watching the way your mouth instinctively opens then closes around his fingers, sucking them in with pure ease. 

he allows you to wet them with your saliva until he pulls them out and mumbles a soft, “come.” 

he helps you up onto his lap, the metal of his gun is a cooling sensation on his heated skin as he moves back, reaching under to toss his gun elsewhere. he had his guard down now, despite the large bounties on his head, he was too focused on you, and giving you the pleasure that you deserved. as you straddle him, his fingers dared to touch the bottom of your dress, threatening to raise, “may i?” 

your eyes are tantalizing when they meet his, like the threatens of the deepest lust lie within them, and billy is willing to dive in, “you may.” 

his hair is messy now, like he never took off that damn hat, and when he did— he didn’t bother to fix the hair underneath.

every movement is careful, meant to be more meaningful than a quick fuck, he raises your skirt until his eyes catch on to a white lace garter that’s propped around your upper thigh. so sweet, the purposeful placement of it all, it’s like a prize for whoever gets to raise your skirt. as you sit on his lap, your arms rest on his shoulders, a hand threatening the skin on the back of his neck as his hands move back around your waist, through the silk of the corset to the strings that hold it together on the back. his eyes are stuck onto you as his fingers begin to tug at the tie of the strings, they were in a harsh knot, but billy always knew his way around things. 

kissing clients was typically a line many of the women wouldn’t dare to cross, sometimes not even you, but the way his eyes kept tipping down to your lips had you threateningly close to the now faded line. as the laces of your corset loosen, your head tips down to where your lips barely brush him, you can smell the mint already before even getting a chance. your lips move to close around the toothpick that he kept in his mouth, moving to spit it out and he was quick to chase your lips. as soon as you had spit out the toothpick, his lips finally pressed against yours, allowing your freshly manicured hands to curl through his brunette hair. 

the fresh smell of your rose and jasmine was quick to his nose as he inhaled you up close, tongue teasing against your lower lip ever so carefully. there was a certain thirst that billy found himself feeling as he moves to spread your mouth open with his own, allowing your tongues to both clash, the mix of spit and remnants of mint and a cigarette becoming prominent to the taste. he wanted to drink every word from your lips, to suck in your siren song like his life depended on it. 

when your hips bucked up against him, needy to feel a form of friction, it had encouraged him to finally free you from the confines of your corset. your lips part when he breaks the kiss, his lips trailing kisses down to your jaw, throughout until he meets your neck, the softness of his kisses making it feel as though doves were flying through the confines of your body. when his lips begin to move to suck on the delicate skin, you hiss, “dear, dear, you can’t leave marks.” 

“your rules or brothel rules?” he murmurs against your skin, moving to toss away your corset onto the floor. 

“brothel rules,” you hush out, and you feel his lips curl onto your neck. 

“then ‘m gonna leave as many marks as i want,” he falls back into your skin, lips taking in the skin between his teeth as he moved to mark you as his own. the desire to have a prostitute as your own was a dangerous game, but billy had been a part of many dangerous games before, and now he was pulling all his money in with the unluckiest of cards— yet he still finds himself with the pride of feeling he will win. his lips pause at one of the pulse points on your neck, noticing how your heat beat quickens, and flutters, was this typical? 

he wasn’t sure, but he finds himself praying it’s a good thing. he chuckles as your hands are desperate to unbutton his shirt, pushing each wooden button through the loops with ease, you had done this a million times before, this is the only time your heart is thumping in your chest when you do, though. he moves his hand down to take a hold of one of your wrists, “easy, girl, easy.” 

“you said ten minutes,” you remind him, smile dripping on your lips. 

“mm, i want longer than that,” he helps you unbutton the last few before taking off his shirt, noticing how your eyes trail down his figure. 

“just sayin’ that because you can’t make me cum,” you break into a soft laugh against him, and he can’t help the way a small smile curves his lips as he takes off the dress that you were wearing. your body is alike to the statues you could only dream of seeing in those beautiful stories about gods and women who ruled. women who were worshipped, even as billy knew you for mere minutes, he found himself wanting to kneel at your altar, to worship the ground you walk on. to make you cum would mean more than he imagined at first, he wanted to be that man, to pleasure you in ways others haven’t. 

his fingers slip underneath the hem of your panties, immediately exposed to the wetness underneath as it coats his fingers, “can’t make you cum yet you’re so wet for me, hm?” 

you bite your lip, allowing your hips to sway against his fingers as pleasure envelopes your every thought almost immediately. though billy wasn’t quite sure about what exactly to do, he had heard the other cowboys speak of this, and he hoped it delivered as much pleasure as they said when he dips a finger inside of you. you’re loose around him, wet, yet sucking him in so easily. he’s quick to add another, finding his rhythm almost immediately and getting cocky with it. he dares to let his thumb tease the edges of your clit, as if he didn’t know it was there and he was merely looking for somewhere to place it. 

he notices the way your nails dig in to his scalp, biting your tongue so hard that crimson may bleed from it with ease. 

billy had kissed many women, been on the brink of sex, and yet none have reacted the ways in which you do. they were quick to show how they react, every emotion not blanketed behind a curtain of embarrassment but now, despite it being your job to over exaggerate the pleasure, you found yourself shy to make noise. he moves to allow another finger to push inside of you, the pink velvet of your insides encasing his fingers with ease. he hears you gasp when his fingers threaten to curl, and he allows himself another smile. his thumb moves to your clit again, and that’s when your grip becomes lethal, biting your lip no longer becoming a guard for your moans. 

“please,” you mumble out, whimpering. 

“please what, princess?” you’re putty in his hands, and he’s kneading you with ease. 

“i.. i need you,” you moan out, to be saying this to a wanted man, one who has killed, and committed theft, as well as escaped from prison— it was something you swore to never do. yet you were having sex with him and his touch felt so gentle it was as if it never happened, how could a man so dangerous be so kind? you feel a vein pulse from his neck as he finally pulls his fingers out, his eyes following yours as he moves his hand up to his mouth, allowing his fingers to move in between his lips and the taste of you to savor his tastebuds.

your pupils dilate at the sight of him tasting you, skin warming before you can even realize that you’re moving to take his fingers out, replacing them with your tongue as your mouth presses against his again. his hand falls on your waist, other hand guiding his dick to your cunt as he deepens the kiss to feel you moan against his mouth. your tongues fight for dominance, each movement a hunger of it’s own but yours falls submissive as soon as his dick slides into you with ease. your velvet is tighter around him than he expected, and he feels the vibrations of your whines against his tongue, mumbling a small, “you’re so big—“ against his lips. 

once you reach his base, you pull away from his lips, a mere string of saliva connecting you both like a lifeline. 

now you have the lead to take, your lips connecting with his neck to leave marks on him, you wonder how the other cowboys will react as your hips start swaying on his dick, riding him with ease. will they laugh at him for all the prominent hickeys? there’s no way he could hide it, you’ve heard billy had girlfriends all around in many different towns and parts of the state, what if he went back to them and they saw all the marks? it would trace back to you, you’re sure of it, but something about that fills you with a sense of pride rather than fear. you’ve always adored the outlaws, even though you were raised to be a good christian woman, a good girl. the outlaws were always the sweet talkers, as you were told from the other girls at the brothel. you were told stories about how well they treated the women, their touch being better than most the regulars, their words so dirty you’d only dream of being told it until you had finally heard it. 

now you found yourself in love with the idea of trouble, as you wrap yourself in the silks of his touch and the pleasure he gave you. his head tilts back to allow you more access to the free canvas of his neck, his hand raises, then immediately smacks onto the flesh of your ass. the slap tore a cry from your throat, into the skin that coats his neck, and a plain redness forms around the mark of his hand, branding you. 

somehow, this was more intimate than your previous affairs, even despite the roughness of the sex. it felt like a wild play of ballet, an opera you would only dream of seeing, the gracefulness of each movement and the sweetness that drips like honey off each sound, even the sounds of skin slapping as you ride him. you taste the bitterness of his cologne as you reach the sides of his neck, sucking the pale skin with a need to create marks that last. he’s fascinated by your every movement, if this truly was a ballet, he would find himself in the crowd, watching the dancer move with such purity even during such a lewd act. 

you felt yourself curl as your orgasm builds again, and it seems he is too in the way his hips begin to rock. every movement feels like being coated in molasses, trying to swim through it, the orgasms scorching through your inner thighs to your core until it wracks your body, hitting you harder than it had any other time. you don’t know what it was about him, but you were quick to flutter around him, and that had him pulling out, stroking himself for mere seconds until white stripes fall in messy streaks across your skin. 

he pulls you closer when your lips move so your head tilts onto his shoulder, both of your guys’ chests heaving as if you had just been working out, as if you were running towards danger and felt the warmth of it’s embrace reel you in. it was billy’s arms, his eyes closing for a mere second before they open again, “thought i couldn’t make you cum.” 

you hate the way you smile so easily at anything he says, the way you melt into his touch, the way even though you were merely a one night stand it felt like you wanted this to be an eternity, you wanted him to be a regular. 

“mm, i faked it,” you say with a smile, so clearly a lie. 

you move so he slips out of you, your cunt clamping around nothing as it missed the feeling of him inside of you. soon, you reassure yourself as you stand, convinced he will be returning. poor, poor girl, you were just another victim of the sweet talkers with pretty faces. it worsens as your legs become jelly, and he’s quick to stand, hands fastening to your waist and holding it to keep you balanced. his chuckle turns to a laugh, a deep, hearty laugh, “you sure, doll?” 

you roll your eyes, pressing a kiss to his cheek, somehow your lipstick remained and it kept the mark staining his cheek as you left your kiss there. then you moved, taking your clothes and putting them on, “goodnight, billy.” 

#billy the kid #tom blyth #coriolanus snow #coriolanus fanfiction #coriolanus x reader #billy the kid x reader #billy the kid x you #billy the kid smut #billy the kid fanfiction #tbosas #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #smut #coriolanus smut

[ohmygraves]

the first time you and ghost became roommates, he didn't have a lot of things.

he had his essentials, packed in a duffel bag and like, two moving boxes and that's it. he didn't even have his own furniture or pots and pans, so the two of you didn't cook for the first few weeks living together. he seems perfectly content with just living with the furniture that came with the apartment, an old beat up sofa and dirty stained dining table, together with a few chairs and old mattresses in each bedroom. you made it a goal to get rid of the smelly bed as soon as possible, working your arse off to afford new beds for the sake of your back.

ghost, or well, simon, don't feel the need to own too many things. he thinks it's a nuisance, since well it'll be tiring to pack so many things when he needs to move again for some reason or another. even when he stayed in the barracks, his room was always the most bare out of everyone.

you were the opposite, of course. you liked having lots of personal items and memorabilia, or just trinkets that you like in general. your shared flat is full of your items, posters hung up on the wall, framed pictures, potted plants, consoles and books, whatever you have. it felt like the place was only occupied by you, and with how often simon was away on deployments and missions, it might as well be.

you both split duties when he's around. you cook, he does dishes. you take out the trash, he cleans the bathroom. you tidy things up and he'd mop/vacuum it. he insisted that you cook since he's not much of a cook himself (which, explains why he doesn't have a single kitchen utensils in his stuff) and that you're better at cooking than him. he'd gladly deal with all the dirty jobs for you, wouldn't be the worst thing he did anyway.

you and simon get groceries separately (his "groceries" consisting of some type of booze and maybe toiletries, perhaps some snacks if he's feeling fancy), but very rarely you go together with him to tesco or something. you always have to remind him to note whatever things needed to be replaced at your shared flat, so that you don't have to go multiple times just to get a bottle of dish soap or toilet paper.

you two bicker like an old married couple sometimes, because he's a smart ass and would tease you, and you'd get mad at him for eating your things or using your soap/shampoo.

sometimes you wondered if rooming with simon was a bad idea, but he had always made sure to keep your job easy for you except for a few minor inconveniences he did on purpose just so you'd scold him. he helped move furniture and do the heavy jobs for you, and not to mention he leaves you alone, never nosy or get too friendly with you. although at the same time, he expected you to do the same for him.

if he tells you when he's coming back after missions, you'd get him a treat when he gets home, some beer already chilling in the refrigerator and his favorite snacks on the counter, together with his favorite takeout dinner (of course, you'd ask for the money back. you're not made of money if you're rooming with someone). some snarky note like "shower first before you sleep, stinky" or "it's 30 pounds for everything, you're welcome".

simon didn't think much of it, but he definitely took you for granted. you're a nice roommate, you two get along, and you're a great cook. you made sure to feed him whenever possible (because you're convinced he'd actually forget to eat when he's alone, considering his groceries as mentioned before), and not to mention you made his masks and balaclava smell nice and clean when you do laundry.

you'd patiently help him sew, teach him how to mend his clothes when he has the time (which is still a funny sight seeing how small the needles looked between his thick massive fingers). he always gets frustrated, telling you that you did a much better job than his lousy stitches that wouldn't even hold up after one wear. you'd sew all tears and holes on his masks and clothes, patch the holes up when you could.

in return, he'd bring some of your favorite snacks home. he always said something along the lines that it was on sale, or that it's buy one get one free, but you noted that he always brought home your favorite things after you mended his clothes, or helped him in some way. you didn't mind, you liked the snacks and it's nice that he shows his gratitude in this way.

you try to ignore the thumping of your heart every time he hands you things while saying "reckon you'd like this."

#he's so simple #its so cute #call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty headcanon #simon ghost riley #cod headcanon #simon ghost riley x reader #cod ghost x reader #roommate au

[amentomensmut]

I've never asked for a request before and i dont have clout to write it myself so i thought id ask since i like some of your Mike stuff but

What about something like reader and Mike are friends and he goes to a wedding her as a favor cause i like the idea that he has like a messy suit, loose tie kind of hot mess vibe and smutty things happen lol I dont have much in mind but the idea of him in a messy suit trying to look cleaned up is just like ...drool idk

Plus One

Mike Schmidt x fem!reader wc: 3.1k+

Summary: You invite Mike to be your plus one at your sister's wedding, but things go wrong during the reception and Mike uses you to take out his frustrations.

Warnings: 18+ CONTENT, okay so like reader and Mike are friends but also its kinda angry sex??? You’ll see. Manhandling (sorta), slight exhibitionism, degrading, praise, dirty talk, finger sucking, fingering (f receiving), unprotected sex (wrap b4 u tap pookies)

Note: oh my GOD this one got away from me and i'm NOT sure about it, I feel like i could’ve written this a bit better but i just started babbling and now we're here. to the person who requested this: THANK YOU.  i loved ur idea and him in a suit like makes me drool too omg. i also couldn’t help adding a little angst in here. also so nevry to post this?? so lmk what u guys think! enjoy :)

“Please, Mike. I swear this is the last thing you’ll ever have to do for me!” You plead, trying to reason with the very unimpressed looking man in front of you. You’ve been stuck in Mike's kitchen for the past half hour trying to convince him to be your plus one to your sister's wedding next Saturday. Clearly, your convincing hasn’t been successful so far. 

“The last time I did a favour for you was supposed to be the last time.” Mike says with a knowing smirk, and you roll your eyes. A few weeks ago, you went out to a bar with some friends and you may have had a few too many long island iced teas. The owner had forced your hand into calling someone to pick you up, and it was Mike's number you had dialled that night. As he drove you back to your apartment with an unpleasant look on his face, you swore to him that that would be the last favour you'd ever ask of him. How you wish you could take that back right about now. 

“Okay, well, I was drunk when I said that. So it doesn't count.” You say with a frown, crossing your arms against your chest like a child who was denied candy. 

You can’t really blame Mike for not wanting to go. Your family is…a lot. You love your family, you really do (most of the time). But, they can be judgemental. You were the kid in school who always got the hottest new toys for Christmas, and had big themed parties for your birthday every year. It had never really dawned on you that you were more well off than other kids until you had met Mike. You became friends with Mike when you were both 15. When you first brought Mike over to your house to hang out, you heard your parents whispering about him that night when you were supposed to be in bed. Your parents gossiped about the kidnapping of his brother, the suicide of his mother, and how Mike and his sister were essentially left to their own devices with their father paralyzed and consumed by grief. It made you sick to hear your parents nitpick and discuss Mike's life like it was a reality tv show. Your parents never really approved of your friendship with Mike, and they tend to not-so-subtly make that known whenever you make the mistake of bringing him up in a conversation. 

“I don’t think that’s how that works. Besides, when your sister offered you a plus one, I really don’t think she had me in mind.” Mike says as he reaches into his fridge for a beer. “In fact, I think she’d prefer you to invite that guy who works at the convenience store and catcalls you everytime you go in, instead of me.” He says, cracking open his beer and offering you a smile before he takes a sip. 

“Well now you’re just being dramatic.” You huff as you walk over to the couch in Mike's living room and take a seat. Mike follows you from the kitchen and sits down in his armchair, kicking his feet up on the coffee table. Mike sticks his tongue out at you and you have to restrain yourself from strangling the man. If it were any other wedding you would’ve just gone on your own. However, your family events tend to…take a turn for the worst. Your family's gatherings usually end with drama, and you know that even though it’s your sister's wedding, this will be no different. That’s why you're insistent on bringing Mike as your plus one, so you can have a little support if things go awry. 

“Very mature.” You say with a shake of your head, once again rolling your eyes at the rude gesture.

“Listen, I’ll go. But, on one condition.” Mike says, and you sit up straight at his words.

“What’s the condition?” You ask suspiciously, but at this point you think you’d agree to almost anything.

“You babysit Abby for a month,”

“Deal.”

“And do my laundry for a month.” Mike adds.

“That’s two conditions actually, Mike.” You scoff as you get off the couch to leave.

“So you’re inviting the guy from the convenience store then?” Mike teases, knowing he's your only option.

You turn around to face Mike, squinting your eyes at him. God, you hate that cocky smirk he does when he knows he's winning. Bastard.

“Have a suit by Saturday. I’ll be over at 10am.” You sigh, flipping Mike off as you leave through his front door.

“Very mature.” You hear him mumble on your way out.

—-----------------------------------------

“Mike, it looks like you just came back from a bachelor party. Not like you’re going to a wedding.” You say, noting the way Mike’s tie hangs loosely around his neck and the first couple buttons on his white button up are left undone. Mike runs his hands through his hair and you quickly bat them away, scolding him for ruining the hair you had just attempted to fix in the car only moments before you arrived. You can’t deny that he looks handsome. He surely looks charming with the way his gelled hair falls messily on his forehead, and the way his dads old suit fits him almost perfectly.

“Well, hopefully your sister doesn’t mind.” Mike says sarcastically as he adjusts the cuff links on the ends of his sleeves and steps out of your car and towards the church where your sister is getting married. 

The first half of the wedding went pretty smoothly. You and your sister have never really been close, so It wasn’t a surprise to you when she didn’t ask you to be a bridesmaid. You and Mike sat a few rows down, occasionally playing footsies under the pew when you’d accidentally bump feet. A kiss was shared between the bride and groom, and everyone left to go to the reception. 

You were nervous about the reception, to be quite honest. Mike could tell, and he put his hand on your lower back, resting it there as you both walked into the banquet hall. You nearly faint when you see the sheer amount of people that fill the room. There have to be about 200 people minimum. It seemed like way less in the church, you think.

“I need a drink.” You mumble to Mike, dragging him over to the bar. 

Both you and Mike order a drink, and you want to be swallowed by the ground when you hear your mothers shrill, sing-songy voice behind you. 

“Darling! I didn’t see you during the ceremony, I thought you hadn’t come.” You turn around and she pulls you into a tight hug, pressing a kiss to both of your cheeks. She pulls away from you and you notice her eyes immediately land on Mike. “Oh, and what a surprise. Mike, how are you and your sister?” Your mother continues, and you bite the inside of your cheek. 

You watch as Mike plasters a big, albeit fake, smile on his face and shakes your mothers hand. 

“Abby and I are doing well, thank you for asking.” Mike says, and you almost laugh at his cordial tone. Mike sends you a ‘help me’ look and you mouth a ‘sorry’ to him.

“Gosh, it just devastated me to hear about your fathers passing.” Your mother says, clutching her chest like she's in pain, and you think she deserves an Oscar for the way she acts like she gives a shit. “I’m sure it must be so hard for you to provide for your sister alone.” Your mother adds and you watch the smile slowly slide off of Mike’s face.

“Why do you say that?” He asks, and you suddenly regret ever asking Mike to be your plus one. 

“Mom-,” You start to say, but she disregards your voice, raising her hand as you speak to stop you.

“Well, I know you struggle keeping a job. You know, not everyone is cut out to raise a child.” If you could see yourself, you’re sure all the colour would be drained from your face. You’re left speechless, mouth half hung open at your mothers words. How could she say that? She doesn’t know him like you do. She doesn’t know how much Mike sacrifices to provide for Abby.

You look over at Mike and his jaw is tightly clenched. You brace yourself for Mike's next words, but they don’t come. Instead, you watch as he excuses himself and walks towards the mens bathroom.

“Well, he woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning.” Your mother jokes once Mike is out of earshot.

“Jesus Christ, mom.” You say incredulously as you turn to go find Mike. 

You walk towards the bathrooms, entering the men’s restroom with only one thing on your mind. Mike. Luckily the restroom is empty, save for Mike who is leaning over the counter. You slowly reach behind yourself, locking the bathroom door. You begin to step towards Mike, but you stop when you hear his voice.

“Do you think I'm not fit to raise Abby?” Mike asks you angrily, not even turning to look at you. You just stand there like an idiot, reaching down to fidget with the hem of your shirt.

“I-, no. Of course not.” You say, and the music that was loud in the hall, is now only a low hum in the bathroom. 

It’s silent for a moment, and you’re not really sure what to say, or how to make things better. You resume taking slow, tentative steps towards Mike and you stop once you’re behind him. You place an uncertain hand on his back, softly rubbing it up and down to comfort him. He lets you touch him and you hear him let out a breath. He turns around to face you and you look up to meet his eyes. He studies your face for a moment, and you inch even closer to him. 

“I’m sorry about my mom. That was inexcusable.” You sigh. If you were in Mike’s shoes, you probably would’ve left the reception entirely, and you’re not entirely opposed to that idea right now. 

“Your mother doesn’t think I’m good enough for you.” Mike finally says, and there’s distaste in his tone. You don’t say anything, you know it's true. Your family, especially your mother, has never approved of your friendship with Mike. 

“Do you think that?” Mike asks you, and you’re just now realising how close Mike’s face is to your own. You look up at him with furrowed brows and shake your head.

“No, Mike. I don’t think that.” You say quietly, and you swear the tension between Mike and you is so thick, it could be cut with a knife. You look down, but you feel Mike's hand grabbing your jaw and forcing you to look back up at him.

“You can’t even look at me when you say it. Pathetic.” Mike seethed. You let out a hushed whimper at his words..

“Sorry.” You say, but your voice sounds small. “I know you are.” He coos, rubbing his thumb back on fourth on your cheek.

“I need you to do something for me, okay?” Mike says, leaning down to speak in your ear. His voice is sweet and the switch in moods makes your head spin.

“Okay.” You nod and Mike pulls away from your ear to look you in the eyes.

“Be fucking quiet.” He says, and he presses his lips to yours. You softly gasp in shock, but quickly kiss him back as he turns you around to hoist you up onto the counter. He grabs both of your knees, opening them to make space for him to stand between your legs. He grips your thighs harshly, and you sigh when he sucks on your bottom lip. He puts one of his hands under your jaw, using it to hold your head in place as he kisses you. His lips are slightly chapped, but you don’t mind. He kisses you with fever, and you can’t deny that you haven’t thought about this. 

He kisses down to your jaw and neck, sucking the skin in a way where you know there will be bruises. Jerk. You run your hands through his hair, throwing your head back at the pleasurable feeling of his lips gliding over your skin. The hand that was on your thigh is now trailing up your leg and under your skirt. You clench your legs around his hand and he softly bites your neck, wordlessly scolding you for your actions. You reopen your legs and his hand comes up to make contact with your clothed clit. He rubs slow circles and you let out a soft whimper.

“You gonna let me fuck you?” He slurs in your ear, and his fingers move from your clit to the waistband on your panties, pulling it back and slapping it against your skin. You nod and he’s pulling you off of the counter and flipping you around. Mike bends you over and your chest meets the cold granite. You look in front of you and you can see Mike behind you in the mirror on the wall. He pushes your knee length skirt up and around your hips, and groans at the sight of you bent over for him.

“You okay?” He asks genuinely, running his hands along the sides of your body in a comforting manor.

“Yeah, keep going.” You breathe out and he hooks his fingers into the sides of your panties, pulling them down. You clench around nothing as the cold air hits your cunt. You moan softly as Mike spreads your pussy open with his thumbs, groaning at how wet you are. Without warning, he inserts his pointer and middle finger inside of you, thrusting them in and out. The lewd, squelching sounds of Mike fingering you fill the bathroom and you suck in a sharp breath as his fingers curl up into your sweet spot. 

“Apparently your pussy thinks I’m good enough.” Mike says and you look up into the mirror to see his jaw slack, watching the way his fingers move in and out of you. You can feel Mike's erection brushing against the back of your thigh as he rocks his hips with every thrust of his fingers. 

“Mike, fuck me.” You whine, and Mike takes his fingers out of you. He brings them to your lips, pushing them inside your mouth, and you can hear him undoing his belt with his other hand. 

“Thought I told you to be fucking quiet.” He murmurs and you watch in the mirror as he shoves his pants and boxers down just enough to pull his hard cock out. He removes his fingers from your lips, using your spit as lube to pump his cock a few times before lining it up with your pussy. He slowly inches himself inside of you, pushing you down onto the counter. Your mouth drops open in a silent scream and you hear Mike let out a whine at the feeling of being in you. 

He starts to pump himself in and out of you, and he pulls you up by your shirt into his chest to make you watch yourself in the mirror. He fucks into you like he can’t get enough of you. Like being inside of you isn’t close enough.

“What would your mother think? Hm? About her sweet little angel getting fucked in the bathroom?” Mike says in your ear, with a sickeningly sweet tone. It's like he just knows how to push your buttons. You let out a low moan at his words. 

“Fuck, I’ve wanted to do this for so long.” Mike adds and your legs shake when he uses the hand that was holding you up to rub your clit. You drop back down on the counter and Mike grabs your hip with his free hand, using it as leverage to bottom out in you with every single thrust. He throws his head back in ecstasy and you clench around him, signalling your impending orgasm. 

“You wanna cum?” Mike asks, and his voice is raspy and fucked out. You nod your head ‘yes’. 

“No, want you to say it.” Mike says, and you can tell he’s close by his sloppy, less rhythmic thrusts.

“Please, Mike. Please, can I cum?” You beg, your voice hoarse. The filthy sounds of skin against skin echo throughout the bathroom, and if someone has tried to enter the bathroom since you’ve been in here, you’ve been too fucked out to hear it. Thank god I locked the door, you think.

“Cum, baby, Fuck.” Mike chokes out. Your legs shake as you cum around his cock, your orgasm only heightened by the feeling of him filling you up. You bite down on your hand to muffle yourself and you swear to god you hear Mike whimper, pussy drunk as he continues to ride his high thrusting in and out of your sloppy pussy.

After catching his breath, you feel Mike pull out of you and you wince at the feeling of his cum dripping down your inner thighs. You slowly tilt your head up as you watch Mike get some toilet paper to clean himself up. He tucks himself back inside his boxers and pulls his pants up. You flinch a little as you feel him come up behind you, cleaning you up with more toilet paper. 

“Sorry, was I too rough?” He asks softly, looking at you through the mirror and you shake your head.

“No, just sensitive.” You say as Mike finishes cleaning you. You pull your panties back up, letting your skirt fall back over your legs. Your knees buckle a little bit as you try to stand straight and Mike rushes over to you, lending you a hand.

“You know, I actually think you’re one of the only people who genuinely thinks I am good enough.” Mike says, and you look up at him.

“Of course I do. I always have.” You say softly, gently touching Mike’s cheek.

#smut #mike schmidt #josh hutcherson #josh hutcherson smut #fnaf #fnafmovie #mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt smut

[sanakiras]

IN THE DARK CORNERS

PAIRING — kim mingyu x reader | choi seungcheol x reader

WORD COUNT — 2.2k

SYNOPSIS — mingyu used to be your lover. now he has to watch from the sidelines as you’ve moved on to someone else.

TAGS — once again a college au, fem!reader, jealousy, explicit sexual content, voyeurism, pretty much just porn with no plot, semi-public sex, dom!cheol, read at ur own risk !!

mingyu would overall consider himself to be a smart guy.

he never needs to put a lot of effort into his classes to pass them, he’s quick-witted and pays attention to detail. everyone around him has always praised him for his intelligence.

but right now, he feels stupid. he has for a while at this point.

his jaw is clenched as he leans against the wall with a cup of beer in hand. normally he very much enjoys the parties hosted by his friends — today is a different case.

it’s not just anything that’s making him feel this way.

at the other side of the crowded, warm room stands his former teammate choi seungcheol. he was their team captain up until last year, having to resign from the position after suffering a leg injury, and he apparently hasn’t felt the need to return to the football team yet despite his leg being all healed up.

choi seungcheol is a nice guy. he can also be real damn scary if he wants to be.

he’s about two years older than him. mingyu found he was always easy to get along with — until two days ago, when he discovered you out of all people had started dating him.

you. his ex-girlfriend. you broke up with him a while back after a fight he honestly can’t even remember the words nor the cause of. it was bullshit. something that shouldn’t have happened but did.

somehow, he’d let you slip through his fingers. like many people, he failed to realize what he had until it was gone. failed to see the signs he was supposed to see until it was too late. he feels stupid because he’s always so fucking smart — until the one time he wasn’t.

he tried to get you back. you wouldn’t let him.

now all he can do is stare at you from the other side of the room and watch you kiss a guy that isn’t him. you’re all over him, sitting on his thigh, and he’s constantly got his hands on you, arm looped around your waist, fingers rubbing your clothed skin.

wonwoo suddenly comes up to him, nudging him in the side. “are you trying to kill the guy by looking at him?”

“hm?”

“seungcheol. green with envy much?”

mingyu shrugs. “maybe.”

“well, you’d probably be smart to make it less obvious,” wonwoo remarks before leaving, “for your own sake.”

the words leave a bitter aftertaste in his mouth. he wishes he could just stop looking at the two of you, wishes he could just stop thinking about it for a damn second.

he’s certainly not a lightweight, but even he suffers the consequences of taking too much alcohol. his head feels fizzy, and he loses focus for a second, only to realize you and your boyfriend are gone from your places by the couch.

looking around frantically, he suddenly catches the glimpse of the little red dress you’re wearing at the other side of the room — you’re going upstairs with him.

and he finds himself desperately eager to follow you. that’d be so wrong though, wouldn’t it? he’s not some stalker, obviously. he just wants to check things out.

or so he convinces himself.

his brain is against it, his heart has other plans.

his legs seem to have their own will. before he can stop himself, he’s walking up the stairs, cursing to himself when the hallway is somewhat empty — until he hears the noise of something clattering onto the floor two rooms further.

taking a few steps into the direction of where the sound came from, he briefly looks behind him to check whether anyone’s there, proceeding when there isn’t.

the moment he pushes the door open just a bit further, he spies the office supplies carelessly thrown on the floor, his ears catching onto the familiar sound of your soft laughter.

he takes a step forward, detecting motion at the other side of the bookcase. he’s able to hide right behind it, watching you lie down on the wooden surface from the open cracks of the shelves.

the tight dress on your body is hiked up by your boyfriend as his hands roam all over your body, the sounds of your shared kisses making mingyu feel warm, his cheeks flushing, adrenaline rushing through his veins.

he knows how much you love a good make-out session — he also knows you like to speed things up a little when you need to be touched.

he’s frozen in his spot behind the bookcase when he hears you let out those needy whimpers that would turn any man on like crazy.

“shit—i should probably be quiet.” you giggle with your hand half over your mouth while cheol has you pinned underneath him, right on top of the desk.

“i’d love to see you try.” he mutters to you, fingers already hooking on the fabric of your matching lacy, red panties.

the worst part is that mingyu remembers that pair — one of his favorites. you look stunning in that little red set.

but your new boyfriend doesn’t appear to be paying that much attention to your lingerie. you’re both panting, all hot and heavy, clearly not in the mood to take things slow right now.

he sinks down to his knees on the floor, fingers harshly digging into your thighs as he spreads your legs to give him the access he wants, and you so eagerly let him.

“so gorgeous, baby.” cheol whispers to you before burying his lips and nose into the wetness pooling between your legs.

mingyu feels himself growing harder when he hears you cry out, your back arching off the cold desk, his teeth digging into his lower lip.

with your dress pushed up to your upper chest and your panties discarded on the floor, you gasp for air, fingers pulling on his dark strands of hair. you won’t last long if he keeps this up.

the first loud noise escapes you when he suddenly slips his finger into you. “cheol!”

the man between your legs shows his disapproval. “c’mon, baby, keep quiet for me. you want me to keep going, right?”

“yeah, yeah—” you nod almost desperately, “—‘m sorry.”

he cocks his head as if to say, that’s what i thought.

sly fucker.

he’s got you in the palm of his hand though — especially when he dives right back in, eager to see you fall apart while pumping his fingers in and out of you.

mingyu is so lost in the sight that his hand travels down to his belt buckle almost automatically. he’s so rock-hard in his pants that he could cry.

it doesn’t take cheol long to get you so worked up that you’re about to cum — which is exactly when you beg for him to fuck you instead, claiming you just need him inside you.

and your boyfriend happily obliges.

with your legs hoisted over his shoulders, he hovers above your body, watching the way you gasp and whimper when he pushes himself inside you.

“so full, cheol—” you moan once he’s nearly balls deep inside you, biting your lip to keep the noise down.

“you can take a little more though, can’t you, sweetheart?” your boyfriend asks teasingly, the subtle mocking undertone making you shiver. you love it when he’s all dominant and cocky like this, and you love to play into it.

a lazy smile appears on your face. “depends on how hard you give it to me.”

he smirks, biting his plump lip as he picks up the pace. you hold onto him, relishing in the sound of his moans by your ear.

“always so greedy,” cheol muses, eyes shining as he scans your figure, “always wanting more.” he pushes into you with the last syllable, unable to hold down a grin at how breathlessly you gasp.

oh, the guy gives it to you good. something you absolutely deserve — mingyu just wishes it was him giving it to you instead.

he hates it. he hates how pretty you look in his arms, under him. he hates how you both look so fucking perfect. he hates how dirty and perverted he feels.

he hates that the thrill of possibly getting caught makes him harder.

he watches as seungcheol takes you fast and hard, his hand pumping his own cock at the same pace. your body welcomes the muttered sentences of praise; pulling his body as close as physically possible, spreading your legs a little wider, fingers digging into his back a little deeper.

mingyu knows you love your praise just as much as a bit of force, and your boyfriend seems to know it too. he leaves red marks over your body, sucking at your skin, pulling out for a moment to shove his fingers back in instead.

you’re a whiny, moaning mess as three of his long fingers pump in and out of you. “thought i told you to keep it down.”

“fuck—just feels so good, cheol—”

“i know, pretty girl. you’re doing so good.”

god, you’re just so engulfed in your need to be filled up that you’re willing to do anything for the man currently in between your legs, and he fucking knows it.

mingyu is obsessed with the way your cunt sucks in his fingers so easily. he can literally hear how wet you are — cheol’s quick fingers are squelching into your heat, thumb circling over your clit until all you can do is make sweet sounds into his mouth.

it all gets too much, and your hand reaches down to take a hold of his wrist, but his movements don’t falter. it takes less than a minute before you cum on his fingers, desperately clinging onto him. sharp overstimulation hits your body when he pushes his cock into you again, not allowing you to come down from your high.

the feeling makes you go insane. you clench on him as a reflex, and he groans in response because you’re just so damn tight, almost suffocating him.

his big hands are grabbing your waist, basking in the feeling of your warmth wrapped around him. you notice through your bliss that he’s getting more desperate, movement more erratic, kisses sloppier, breathing heavier — how you love seeing him fall apart.

“takin’ me so well.” he smiles, biting his lip as you rake your nails over his abdomen.

“mhm. ‘s all for you, baby.”

he physically can’t not cherish the way you gaze at him so lovingly while getting your back blown out. if anything, it’s a talent. “yeah? such a good girl for me.”

you capture his lips in another kiss, one that’s a little sweeter than before. his hair is soft, the roots of his strands a bit damp from the sweat, but you don’t care.

you’re mewling in your spot on the desk, every other thought you ever had thrown out the window. all you can focus on is cheol fucking you like his life depends on it.

his chest is then pressed up against yours, his one hand on the back of your head, holding you still and close while he gives you hard and deep strokes.

“shit.” he curses, getting closer now that you’re tightening up more.

he’s reaching down to touch your clit again, rubbing the sensitive spot, causing you to buck your hips against his.

“cum with me, cheol.” you beg him, your sharp nails digging into his shoulder blades, which always works well on him — it makes him so utterly weak.

it brings mingyu just as close to his release. he’s so lost in his lust that it almost feels like you’re saying the words to him and not seungcheol, so he lets his back rest against the wall as he gets himself off at the pleasure of watching you.

“i’m so close, baby.” cheol mutters, his thick brows knitting together once he throws his head back in pleasure.

your body shakes as you come undone underneath him, your arms wrapped around his back. your boyfriend can’t hold back any longer when he feels you hit your peak — his hips stutter, eyes squeezed shut as he buries his face into the crook of your neck, muffling his moans.

your secret spectator has to cover his mouth to avoid making any noise. his balls are tightening, sweat beading at the nape of his neck right before he pathetically cums in his pants, some of his release dripping on the floor.

his own chest still heaves as his eyes find the little drops of sweat rolling down cheol’s back, his eyes moving down to the sight of your boyfriend pulling out of you, leaving a trail of his cum seeping out of your pussy.

the sight is enough to make him hard again.

you’re panting in your place on top of the desk, still coming down from your high before your boyfriend speaks up — but his words aren’t directed at you.

“did anyone ever tell you it’s rude to stare?”

mingyu’s heart drops in his chest. shit, was it that obvious? he thought he did a good job at being relatively quiet.

now he’s left with two options of what to do next. either he owns up to it or gets the fuck out of here.

and he thinks to himself, fuck it. not like the situation could get any worse anyways.

so he steps forward, into the light.

thanks for reading! let me know if u liked it x

® SANAKIRAS — do not repost, remake or copy my work in any way whatsoever. translations are not allowed.

#kim mingyu x reader #choi seungcheol x reader #kim mingyu fanfic #choi seungcheol fanfic #mingyu x reader #seungcheol x reader #scoups x reader #scoups fanfic #seventeen x reader #seventeen smut #seventeen fanfic #caratwritersclub #kim mingyu smut #choi seungcheol smut #scoups smut #mingyu smut #original post

[sergeantbarnessdoll]

Didn’t Mean It » Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier

Pairings: Boyfriend!Bucky Barnes x Girlfriend!Reader

Summary: After a bad day at work, Bucky accidentally yells at Y/N without realizing it. When he does realize it, he buys her favorite flowers and snacks in a way of him apologizing.

Warnings: Angst, Fluff, language, brief mention of alcohol, yelling, crying, kissing, pet names (doll, babydoll)

Written on my phone. I’m sorry for any mistakes and typos.

Header made by @buckys-wintersoldier

GIF IS NOT MINE! Credit goes to the creators.

Bucky sighed as he walked through the door of yours and his apartment. He took off his jacket, tossing it onto the back of the couch before taking a seat and running his fingers through his hair. You walked in the living room, smiling when you seen that your boyfriend is home.

“You’re home!” You say, sitting down next to him.

You went to kiss his lips, but he turned his head and you ended up kissing his stubbly cheek making you frown in confusion.

“What’s wrong, Buck?” You asked, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“Nothing.” Bucky says, unwrapping your arms from his neck and stood up.

You stood up too and followed him to the kitchen. You watched as he opened the fridge and grabbed a beer. He opened it and took a sip of it. You approached him and wrapped your arms around his waist and looked up at him.

“Are you sure nothings wrong?” You asked.

“Nothings wrong! Stop asking!” He sets his beer on the counter. “I haven’t been home for 5 minutes and you’re already clinging to me!” He yells, pushing you away from him causing you to stumble a little.

He grabbed his beer and went back in the living room with you following behind him.

“Did something happen at work?” You asked.

“Nothing happened at work! How many fucking times are you gonna ask me the same damn question?!” He asks.

“I just—” Bucky interrupted you.

“You just what?” Bucky mocked you causing you to go quiet. “That’s what I thought. Now why don’t you shut the fuck up and stop being so god damn clingy.” He says.

Bucky has never yelled at you. Your bottom lip quivered. You turned around and went to the bedroom, closed and locked the door behind you and threw yourself on the bed and started crying. Realization hit Bucky a few minutes later.

“What the hell did I just do?!” Bucky asks himself.

He got up off the couch and went to the bedroom, only to find out that the door was locked. The door knob jiggling startled you.

“Doll?” He knocked on the door a couple times. “Doll please.” He pleaded.

You didn’t stay anything. You tried your best to muffle your cries with a pillow.

“Babydoll, I’m so sorry.” Bucky starts. “I didn’t mean to yell at you and say all of those things.” He says.

Bucky waited a moment, thinking that you would forgive him quickly and open the door, but you didn’t. He sighed and sat down on the ground next to the door, leaning his back against the wall.

“I’m here if you want to talk or if you need anything.” He says.

You didn’t even realize that you fell asleep until you woke up the next morning, still wearing the same clothes you wore yesterday. You rubbed your eyes and got out of bed and went to the bathroom. You looked in the mirror and seen your eyes all red and puffy from crying. You sighed and splashed some cold water on your face and dabbed it dry with a towel. You walked out of the bathroom and unlocked the bedroom door and opened it to see Bucky sleeping with his back against the wall. You quietly walked past him and went to the kitchen to make coffee. Bucky woke up after a few minutes and seen the bedroom door open. He quickly stood up and went in the bedroom, but didn’t see you in there. He checked the bathroom, but didn’t see you in there either. Bucky began to panic, thinking that you left him. That’s when the smell of coffee hit his nose. He immediately went to the kitchen to see you pouring yourself a cup of coffee. He let out a breath of relief and approached you, hugging you from behind.

“Morning, doll.” Bucky says softly and kissed your cheek.

You didn’t say anything. You used all of your strength to push him away and went to the living room with your cup of coffee and turned the TV on. Bucky followed you like a lost puppy.

“Babydoll, I’m sorry for the things I said last night.” He apologizes.

You still didn’t say anything. You stared straight at the TV and took a sip of your coffee.

“Babydoll please.” He pleaded, putting a comforting hand on your knee.

You pushed his hand off of your knee. Bucky sighed before standing up and grabbing his jacket.

“I’ll leave you alone if that’s what you want. Let me know if you need anything.” He says before walking out of the apartment.

Bucky walked down the street with his hands in his pockets and looking down at the ground. His mind reflected on the memories of him yelling at you last night. “What the hell is wrong with me? Why the fuck would I yell at the love of my life?” Bucky thought to himself.

He looked up and seen your favorite market that’s down the street from the apartment complex you two live in. Bucky smiled to himself and went inside of it. He seen your favorite flowers and some of your favorite snacks. He picked out one of each snack and grabbed a bouquet of your favorite flowers and paid for everything. Meanwhile, you’re sitting on the couch and scrolling through social media with the TV playing as background noise. A shiver went through your body. You went to the bedroom to change into something warmer when one of Bucky’s sweatshirts caught your eye. You grabbed it and put it on, already feeling yourself getting warmed up. You went back to the living room and sat back down on the couch when you heard the door open and close. You knew it was Bucky, but didn’t pay much attention to it. Bucky walked in the living room with a couple of plastic bags and a bouquet of your favorite flowers.

“I got these for you.” Bucky says, handing you the bouquet.

You looked at him silently and took the bouquet from his hand.

“I got you some of your favorite snacks at the market down the street.” He says, sitting next to you.

You looked in the bags without saying anything.

“It’s ok if you’re not ready to talk to me yet.” Bucky starts. “I just want you to know that I’m really sorry for the way I acted last night. I didn’t mean to yell at you and say all of those rude things to you. I just—” You silenced him with a kiss.

Bucky smiles against your lips and cupped your cheeks. You pulled away, looking into his beautiful blue eyes.

“I forgive you.” You say.

“You do?” He asks.

“Yes.” You nodded. “I mean I was upset that you yelled at me and then I realized that people have their moments.” You say.

Bucky smiles and kisses you passionately.

“I love you so much, doll.” He says softly against your lips.

“I love you too, Buck.” You say with a smile.

You pulled away from Bucky and stood up to put the flowers in a vase. You smiled when you felt a pair of strong arms wrap around your waist from behind.

“You’re wearing my sweatshirt.” He says, kissing your cheek.

“It’s warm and smells like you.” You say, leaning back against his body.

“How about we spend the rest of the day watching movies of your choice and eat those snacks I bought.” Bucky suggests.

“Mhmm, I like the sound of that.” You say, leaning your head back against his shoulder.

🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵

-Bucky’s Doll

#sergeant james buchanan barnes #sergeant james barnes #sergeant barnes #james buchanan bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #james barnes #bucky barnes #winter soldier #sebastian stan #sebastian stan characters #avengers #the avengers #marvel #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes imagine

[stylesharrys]

special smokes [weedrry]

summary: harry and y/n struggle with their self-control after sharing a joint at niall’s house party. 

word count: 3,774

warnings: mentions and consumption of marijuana (smoking a joint) and alcohol, smut; kissing, teasing, swearing, dirty talk, oral (male receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, cream pie, light spanking 

a/n: at first i had no intention of following up on weedrry and y/n but so many requested it and the more i considered it, the more ideas i kept getting hehe. they’re probably one of my favourite couples to write at this point and i have some other ideas in the woodwork for them aswell!! this is technically part two of special brownies but it can also be read as a standalone :) anyway, i hope you enjoy darlings and happy belated 420 hehe <3

//

They promised to never talk about it again. But that didn’t stop either of them lying in bed at night, reminiscing how each other tasted. It didn’t stop Harry from thinking about his roommate as he touched himself in the shower and painted the tiles with his come. Just like it didn’t stop Y/N from pretending her thick dildo was Harry’s cock when she got herself off at three in the morning.

Neither of them was aware of the other's shenanigans. Harry thought Y/N was too embarrassed to think about it and Y/N thought Harry just forgot. Of course, Tom’s none the wiser to anything that’s happened. Even living with the two, he’s yet to notice that slight shift in the atmosphere – that tension that seems to follow wherever they go together.  

And tonight is no different. They’re both slightly turned on at the thought of one another as they sit huddled around the fire in Niall’s garden. He’s one of the few friends who was sensible enough to apply for a house rather than an apartment, and Harry is always sure to reap the benefits of it. 

It’s nearly ten o’clock and the house party Niall threw for his birthday is in full swing. Y/N recognises a few faces, not nearly as many as Harry (who’s known to have been a bit of a serial dater in the past), but it doesn’t change her mood in the slightest. 

She’s been perched on a sun lounger for the past forty-five minutes, five drinks in and slowly starting to feel the buzz of the alcohol. She promised herself she wouldn’t drink too heavily tonight – not when she knows how sleepy she gets with alcohol. She doesn’t want to be found passed out on some random person's bed that Niall houseshares with. 

Harry’s been sporting the same beer for the past half an hour. Much like Y/N, he also wasn’t really in the mood to get shitfaced, despite it being his best friend's birthday. He has a job interview tomorrow afternoon and he cannot deal with cradling a hangover at the same time. 

His eyes have been on her body most of the night. Despite living together, he’s hardly seen Y/N at home in the past two weeks since… well… you know. At first, he thought she was just busy, but now he’s starting to get the idea that she’s avoiding him. 

Harry’s sure it’s down to embarrassment, and as much as he wants his friend back, he promised he wouldn’t bring it up again. He doesn’t want to embarrass Y/N any further. It hurts his ego a little bit if he’s honest. Harry struggles to understand if she’s embarrassed she slept with her friend, or if she’s embarrassed because she slept with him.

If he pulled his head out of his ass, he might realise that it’s the former. Mostly. Because the other half of what she’s feeling is pure lust. Y/N struggles to even look at Harry the same since they hooked up two weeks ago. When she looks at him, all she sees is him naked – so she’s certain he sees the same when he looks at her. 

She takes another swig of her drink in an attempt to drown the groan that tries to escape. God, it’s criminal how even just the thought of him naked manages to get her worked up like this. He’s her friend for crying out loud. She needs to get her thoughts in order.

Harry’s telling himself the same thing. Struggling to think of anything other than kissing up her smooth, exposed thighs and burying his head under her little sundress right there, in front of everyone to see. His cock stiffens slightly in his pants and he shifts a little in his chair – as discretely as he can. 

“Who’s up for a round of spin the bottle!”

The group in the garden chant a groan in unison at Niall’s suggestion. “We’re not fifteen, Ni… nobody wants to play spin the bottle.” Alfie pipes up from his crisscrossed position on the patio floor. 

Niall rolls his eyes and places an empty wine bottle in the middle of the group anyway. Involuntarily, everyone begins to form a circle around it, knees knocking as they do. Y/N remains on the deck chair, pulling the back up so she sits upright like Harry who’s still opposite her.

Niall gets comfortable on the ground, his eyes alight like a kid on Christmas. He’s about to take his turn when he furrows his brows and begins to pat down his pockets like he’s forgotten something. 

“Anybody got a smoke?”

“Nah,” Jessie calls back, “I’ve got a couple of joints, though.” 

Harry and Y/N’s eyes find one another as their bodies grow paralysed at the mention of the one thing that got them in this situation in the first place. 

Shit. Shit. Shit. 

“Oooh,” Niall grins, “Jessie’s got the special smokes… come on then, lad. Light ‘em up and pass ‘em around.” 

Y/N’s heart begins to thump against her ribcage as she tears her gaze away from Harry’s. There’s no way in Hell this is happening right now. She tells herself to calm down, that she doesn’t have to have a pull of the joint. 

But as it makes its way around the circle until it’s between her fingers, she finds herself taking a long, deep drag of it anyway. It burns the back of her throat, as weed always has, but she holds it for as long as she can before slowly exhaling and passing it back down to Niall who sits in front of her. 

When she lifts her gaze, her eyes lock on Harry’s. There’s a shit-eating grin on his face as he holds the second joint between his fingers – like he knows they’re going to end up in the same situation as last time and he’s more than okay with that. Harry takes a drag just as Y/N had and passes it off to Genevieve next to him. 

Harry manages to hold it in longer than Y/N can and he keeps his eyes locked on hers when he slowly exhales. When the joint makes its way back to Y/N and she’s taking her second pull, she’s giving in to all the dirty thoughts in her head. Her wicked smirk matches Harry’s now and the game of spin the bottle begins. 

Niall starts first, landing on Genevieve who he kisses quite happily. Gen spins and lands on Jessie. Then when Jessie spins, he lands on… Y/N. 

Her eyes are quick to flicker between him and Harry as she registers the situation. There’s a third and fourth joint passing through the group and for a moment, she’s too stoned to realise what’s going on. 

There’s a look on Harry’s face, though – an unamused one. His jaw is set tightly and his brows are gently pinched as he watches Jessie approach Y/N with a lopsided grin. He doesn’t understand why anger begins to bubble in the pit of his stomach. And Y/N doesn’t understand why she feels so weird about being kissed by someone else in front of him. 

But she welcomes Jessie’s lips against hers anyway. It’s soft, gentle. He’s not a bad kisser, but after a few seconds, he pulls away and hands her the joint before returning to his seat. She looks to Harry again with pursed lips and he’s chewing at the inside of his cheek. 

Y/N takes another pull for the joint and reaches for the bottle when Niall’s hand on hers stops her. 

“I have an idea to make this more interesting.” 

She looks at him, eyebrow raised. 

“You have to hook up with the person it lands on.”

Her eyes widen and a laugh rumbles from her chest. “Niall, you can’t make me hook up with anyone. That’s not how this game works. You’re not fucking Cupid.” 

Niall frowns, displeased by her attitude. He crosses his arms over his chest and pinches the joint from her fingers, huffing. “Fine.” 

Y/N spins the bottle, leaning back as she watches it rotate until it lands on Harry. His eyes are on hers, hungry. She takes a deep breath and clears her throat, stepping between people as she approaches him. 

Harry cranes his head up, still not entirely happy that she kissed Jessie, but he welcomes her mouth on his instantly. They’re lustful, almost forgetting their surroundings as Harry swipes his tongue across her bottom lip. She’s about to do the same, to tangle her fingers in his hair when whistling and cheering breaks them apart. 

They’re both incredibly flushed and hot as Y/N moves back to her seat, licking over her bottom lip for another distant taste of him. Harry’s no better, his cock beginning to swell. He clears his throat and leans down to take his turn.

There’s a resounding gasp as it lands on Y/N and they're forced to kiss again, this time Harry approaching Y/N and kissing her a little hungrier. When she spins her turn, it lands back on Harry and the group is growing both tired and a little suspicious of the game. 

It gets harder and harder for them to keep their hands to themselves. The stolen kisses feed the fire in their bellies and Niall is quick to call off the game and suggest some truth or dare instead, like the fifteen-year-old he seems to be. 

Both Y/N and Harry hardly listen to the game unfold. Both are too stoned and lust-filled to pay attention to anything. They’re stealing glances from across the circle, sharing knowing looks that they’re both desperate to escape everyone else and hide away together somewhere. 

It goes on like this for another ten minutes and pinching the joint from Niall’s hand, Harry takes initiative and stands from his chair. “Y/N, shall we go and sort out Ni’s present now?” 

He’s got a brow raised expectantly and her eyes widen at his little fib. They both miss the way Niall looks between them with a beaming smile full of excitement. 

“You’s got me a present?” 

Y/N blinks, finally looking at her friend. “Oh, yeah! Sorry, we completely forgot. Do you mind if we get it sorted? It’s not quite finished yet.” She lies through her teeth. 

Harry’s smirk grows tenfold at the way she plays along with the little game and Niall nods his head. 

“Thanks, Ni,” Harry says kindly, voice a bit condescending but Niall’s too stoned to notice. “Do you mind if I smoke this in the house?” 

Niall waves his hand dismissively. “I don’t care, I do it all the time.” 

Harry looks back to Y/N, tilting his head to the door with a smirk. She follows him inside, giddy with lust and anticipation. He takes her hand in his, guiding her as he weaves through other party-goers until they reach the stairs. It’s a little quieter when they reach the top, Harry opening doors and quickly closing them when he finds they’re already occupied. 

He’s growing frustrated, only one room left that he hasn’t checked – Niall’s room. He tugs them both inside when he realises it’s empty, closing and locking the door behind them. Harry takes a pull of the joint and leaves it hanging between his lips as his fingers work on the buttons at the top of Y/N’s sundress. 

She’s full of adrenaline and arousal, unable to think clearly – her mind far too consumed by lust. Harry pops open just enough buttons to reveal her bare chest, breasts exposed to his hungry eyes and he groans. 

Taking the joint from his lips, he brings it to Y/N’s, encouraging her to take a hit. She does as instructed as Harry’s hands find her tits, kneading softly before he leans down to envelop her left nipple in his warm mouth. 

She exhales the smoke a bit prematurely, taking another pull to make up for it and with her free hand, her fingers tangle into his brown locks. 

“Harry,” she breathes and it’s like crack to him; hearing his name tumble off her lips like that. God, he wants that on repeat in his mind forever. 

He nips at the underswell of her breast, pinching the perk nipple between his fingers. “What do you want?” he mumbles against the fleshy skin.

Y/N tugs at the roots of his hair, forcing his head up until their eyes are level. She places the joint between his lips now and slowly begins to sink to her knees. 

“I want to taste you.” 

Harry’s eyes are blown and bloodshot as she begins to unbutton his pants, shimmying them down his thighs just enough to allow his cock to spring free. He’s bigger than she remembers him to be; thick and full and his ruddy tip begins to leak with arousal.

Y/N laps at his slit, allowing herself a taste. It’s an unholy sight – the way her breasts gently move as she closes her mouth around him. In Harry’s intoxicated state, everything feels so much more heightened. Her mouth feels warmer, wetter… the whole thing feels filthy and he loves it. 

She’s pressing slopping kisses along the length of him, angling her face to take his balls into her hot mouth as she pays them a little more attention. She pulls off him with a gentle kiss, staring up with doe eyes and a devilish grin. 

“Fuck my throat.”

Harry could’ve come there and then, hearing those words fall from her lips. He takes another drag of the joint before pinching it back between his fingers and placing his open palms on the side of her head – the smoke from the joint no doubt clinging to her hair. 

If she was sober, she’d tell him off for it. But she’s not and she doesn’t. 

Instead, she relaxes her jaw as her mouth opens and her tongue lays flat as Harry guides his cock back to the waiting hole. Taking a shaky breath, his hips slowly begin to move, getting her used to his size until he picks up momentum. 

Y/N’s eyes begin to sting, tears welling and his head hits the back of her throat, knocking the air from her lungs. Harry grows faster, eager. His chest is heaving and his lips part as he fucks into her. 

It’s obscene, the noises her throat makes as he shoves himself further down with every snap of his lips. Strings of saliva begin to drip from the corners of Y/N’s mouth as she gags around him, her throat contracting as she splutters on his cock. 

“Taking me so fucking well, baby.”

The praise goes straight to her cunt, wetness seeping through her little panties with every syllable he throws her way. Her eyes are shut tight now, unable to keep them open as Harry uses her for his own pleasure. 

It’s sloppy and messy and needy. Neither of them have experienced anything so fucking sexy in their lives. The sex was good before, but this time – sneaking around and much higher than previously – it’s even more intense. 

It doesn’t take much for Harry to near his end. And when Y/N cradles his heavy balls in her hand, fingernails ghosting over the divots of skin, Harry’s certain he’s about to meet his maker. 

He pulls out of her mouth harshly, not giving her the chance to tell him she needs his cum drowning her throat. His arousal is too quick to paint her chest, coating her nipples in creamy ecstasy as Y/N struggles to catch her breath. 

He comes, a lot, but his stamina doesn’t falter. She’s barely given chance to admire the artwork he marked her with before he’s tugging her up by the crook of her elbow. Y/N’s shoved against the foot of the bed, legs spread and ass in the air, tummy on the mattress. 

Harry’s hands are hungry on her hips, bunching up the bottom of her sundress until it rests on her lower back. He feels over her subtle asscheeks, offering three spanks to her left and whimpering as the fleshy skin wobbles. 

“Harry, please.”

She’s whining now, eager to be filled again. Harry tugs her little thong to the side, her cunt glistening and puffy from neglect. He wants to taste her, spend an eternity between her soaked thighs but the way Y/N wiggles her hips and backs up against him suggests she needs something more right now. 

“I just wanna taste you for a bit,” he says. 

She’s shaking her head, despite how badly she wants to feel him lapping up her pussy. She’s far too soaked and horny to settle for his tongue right now.

“Next time.”

Harry’s heart races a little at that. Next time? So, she plans for there to be. Not that Harry has a problem with it. He’d be more than fucking happy to make this a regualr thing if she wanted it. 

Listening to her request, he lines his head with her entrance, pushing through her folds to coat himself in her slickness. Her legs are trembling in need, face smushed into the blanket and she knows she’s ruining it with her makeup and the come that covers her tits, but she cannot bring herself to care. 

With the joint still between his fingers, Harry brings it back to his lips for another drag. He lines himself back with her puckering hole and gentle sheaths inside. She’s tight – tighter than he remembers – and her walls are so fucking slick it feels like he’s being swallowed whole. 

A shriek escapes Y/N’s mouth at the familiar intrusion, the way he stretches and fills her to the brim. Her mind feels dizzy, vision dotting with white lights as Harry begins to fuck the soul out of her. 

It’s fast and deep, and she’s quick to soak his pubic bone with arousal. Harry leans over her body, guiding the joint to her lips, allowing her a puff. “Hold onto that for me, gorgeous.” 

She takes it from her lips and stretches her arm above her head, wrist against the blanket and joint pointing in the air. His hands are back on her hips as he grips her tight. 

“Good girl, angel.” 

Smack!

His pace is criminal, balls slapping against her throbbing clit with every hit of his hips that he delivers. She’s struggling to stay coherent, unable to string a sentence together as she begs him for more, more, more. 

Harry grips her hips hard, bringing her cunt to him as he fucks into her. Y/N’s body is limp — lets him use her as a toy for his own pleasure and takes whatever he offers. 

She shouldn’t enjoy this so much, getting fucked by her friend, her roommate. But it’s too good to realise they’re stepping on dangerous territory. With the promise of next time. 

“Tight little cunt was fucking made for me.” 

“It’s yours! I’m yours!” 

Her words are a struggle to speak, heart in her throat as her pussy drips for him. It’s too much for Harry. To see her so bare and willing and done for him. To know the affect he has on her, to be buried so fucking deep in her cunt that she can hardly talk. 

His orgasm creeps up on him quickly, cock twitching within the tight confinements of her walls. She feels it, she feels everything. And it only spurs her release on, too. 

Her cunt clenches around him, legs beginning to tremble and a wanton cry crawls out from her lips. “I’m gonna come!” 

Harry keeps his pace steady, coaxes her through it with deep and precise strokes. The tip of his cock continues to pinch at her cervix, the curve in his length rubbing deliciously against her g-spot. 

Y/N shudders around him, desperate to milk him for all he’s got as she explodes. She’s quick to bury her face into the blanket, muffling her screams as her vision spots black and white kaleidoscopes behind her eyes. 

“Give it to me, baby. Come all over me… that’s it.” 

He’s quick to follow, bursts of hot come painting the walls of her cunt and Harry stills inside of her, knees buckling as he tries to keep himself steady. 

It’s quiet for a moment, save for their heavy breathing and wheezing chests. 

It must be true what they say about post-nut clarity. Because as they come down from their highs, there’s a tension in the room that’s far too suffocating. And it only gets worse when Harry slowly pulls out of her cunt and leaves her bent over Niall’s bed, dripping onto the blanket beneath her. 

Harry clears his throat as he tucks himself back into his pants and watches Y/N wobble to her feet as she stands. They don’t look at each other, at least not face-to-face. 

Her tits are still out and his arousal on her chest has transferred to the blanket. She's quick to fix her dress and her underwear — more than a little uncomfortable with the feeling of Harry’s come dribbling out of her. 

She gnaws on the inside of her cheek. “We should leave separately, so no one suspects anything.” 

Harry’s not given much time to confer before she shimmies out of Niall’s room and down the hall to the closest bathroom. He’s left there, slightly stunned and a little embarrassed. It’s a bit confusing, it didn’t feel like a mistake after the last time. But now, with how quickly she wanted to leave, Harry worries she regrets it. 

He scratches at the back of his head, wincing at the sight of Niall’s blanket. There’s come stains on the green fabric and the joint that Y/N was supposed to hold had been dropped mid-orgasm and burnt a small hole through the blanket. 

Deciding it would be best to just replace it, Harry bunches the blanket up into a ball and shoves it in the trash can in the corner of the room — making a mental note to buy Niall a new one. 

It’s the least of his concerns, though. 

Because despite Harry’s worry about Y/N’s regret, he still craves her touch and her presence. And she’s just the same — cleaning herself up in the bathroom and splashing water in her face to try to calm down. 

All she can think about is how much she needs him and it doesn’t feel just sexual anymore. For either of them. 

What the hell have they gotten themselves into? 

//

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tags: @stilesissaved @kiwitsayedsugar @savannahwendel @triski73 @stylesfever @kissfromadove

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles smut #imagine harry styles #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader #harry styles oneshot #harry styles fluff #harry styles fic #harry styles angst

[totalswag]

bar fun — DREW STARKEY

authors note thank you lovies for 700+ followers!! forever grateful for you guys and the support you give me. here's a little/not so little drew fic teheh.

summary going out in charleston with the cast after a long week of filming and enjoying your friday night with your friends.

requests open

warnings mentions of drinking, going to a bar, kissing, cussing, and drew being a sweet boyfriend.

"If you start to feel uncomfortable just let me know, baby" Drew whispered in your ear, placing his hand on your thigh and tapping it a few times as the car drew to a stop in front of the bar.

Turning back with a modest smile on your face, you say, "I will, don't worry," before kissing his cheek.

He smiles. Such a beautiful smile.

Drew's willingness to make you feel at ease is one of the many things you appreciate about him. No matter where you are, he wants you to be comfortable rather than uncomfortable.

After a hard week of filming season four of Outer Banks, the cast decided to spend the evening at one of their favorite bars in Charleston and unwind. You're not a member of the cast, but you tag along whenever there’s an outing.

Downtown was incredibly busy tonight, so the cast will be spotted by many. The plan was to keep close together in case something happened. Security informed Chase that they would have security inside to keep an eye on everyone.

"I can't wait to have a drink," Carlacia groans as she steps out of the SUV and fixes her hair.

"I feel you on that one," Maddie agrees.

Drew pushed you in front of him as he walked through the crowded bar, grabbing your waist with both hands. He made sure to keep you near to him since he didn't want you to leave his sight or be pushed back at random.

Second outing with my very well known boyfriend and I’ma shit my pants.

The moment you walked inside the bar, everyone turned their heads. This is nothing new. When fans greeted them or spoke with excitement, everyone smiled and waved in response which made fans even more excited.

Once you guys got your drinks, you guys started talking about various topics. The guys were in their own little group and girls were in theirs.

You and the girls were talking about going on a week-long girls' getaway this summer. Carlacia brought it up first a few days ago; she always has great ideas.

"I think it would be a lot of fun, and we'll be laying by the beach," Carlacia says, moving her hands in ocean wave motions that make the rest of the girls giggle.

After talking about the girls trip, Madison breaks the silence asking you about going out with Drew in public.

"So, Y/N, how does it feel being in your second outing with Drew?" Madison asked as she swirled her straw in her drink.

“Ooo good question,” Carlacia nudges Madison’s arm softly.

"It's still nerve-racking, but I think the more we go out as a couple, the less nervous I'll be," you explain to your friends, then look in Drew's way; he's chuckling at something JD said.

Drew and you have been together for three months, and the relationship is still fresh. He’s everything you ever dreamed of. The first time you went out as a couple was last month in Los Angeles, to one of your favorite cafes. This is your second outing together.

"I mean, that's completely understandable, Mariah and I were in the same boat when we first started dating," Madison says with a reassuring smile.

“Plus, you two make each other very happy and we all see it,” Maddie nudges in with complete honesty in her voice.

Hearing other people mention how Drew and you make each other happy undoubtedly makes your heart flutter with joy.

"Aw thank you, we always tell each other that we're each others person and the timing of us meeting was perfect" you continue to say.

After forty minutes, you've had two beers and are enjoying your time with your boyfriend and friends. Everyone was having a wonderful time. Fans came over and took pictures with the cast and a few of them took some with you too.

Conversations regarding filming were brought up, but the cast simply said what they were expected to say because Maddie had informed everyone before arriving at the bar that she would not be announcing the release date for season four.

We all know how that went the first time.

Drew's tall body stood behind you, one hand around your waist and the other holding a drink; your back rested on his chest, drink in hand. Every now and again, you'd sway to the music and chuckle.

“How are you feeling?” he asks you softly, only for you to hear.

You raise your free hand to his neck, bringing him down so you can whisper in his ear, "feeling quite great, you?" The sensation of his breath on your skin sent shivers down your spine.

"That makes me feel better, and if you're feeling great, I'm feeling great," he chuckles in your neck before giving you soft kisses, which caused you to giggle in response, so he kept doing it.

The feeling of phones in your direction, capturing the sweet moment between you and Drew.

As Drew pulls away, a bunch of fans appear in front of him, beaming with joy. Everyone then hugs the girls and asks how they are doing. They even requested to give you a hug, which surprised you because this never happens. It felt nice.

"Y/N right?" A fan asks with a smile, putting out her phone to take a picture with you. She wanted to make sure she got your name right, so she asked in this way.

"Yes, that is me. Would you like a picture? You inquire as you tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear. That’s the first thing you asked because typically fans come up asking for pictures.

She quickly nods, smiling, then pulls her phone out. You take a couple pictures together and start a conversation.

While having a great talk, you discovered that her mom and your aunt are really close friends. She was even more thrilled to hear about it. A few of her friends joined the chat, and they were all quite nice to you.

Drew appeared behind you, causing the girls to glance up in surprise that Drew Starkey was actually standing in front of them. Drew grinned, waved, and hugged them.

“How are you girls doing? Being safe I assume?” He asks with honesty, wanting to make sure they’re making good choices.

They answered with the same response.

"Oh get this, Taylor," you add, pointing to her so Drew understands who you're talking about, "mom is best friends with my aunt," chuckling with delight. Drew's jaw fell in surprise.

Eventually, the group of girls returned to their original spot, allowing you to enjoy the remainder of the night. They were really respectful throughout the entire process. 

You spent the remainder of the night close to Drew's embrace, drinking more with friends before returning to your apartments for a nice night's sleep.

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[augustinewrites]

[twenty-two minutes to midnight]

hange zoe is a special brand of stupid. 

at least that’s what levi thinks as his friend says, stupidly, “if neither of us are kissing anyone at midnight, i guess i’ll have to kiss you, levi.” 

levi ackerman makes it his special mission to be as far as possible from his friend before the clock strikes 12. when it comes to hange, his ever-scowling lips are for critical judgment and insults only. 

“pass,” he scoffs, rolling his eyes when they pout at him. 

“but what about all those times you asked me how to—”

“this conversation is over,” he deadpans, emphasizing his point by walking away. 

but levi has learned long ago that there’s no walking away from hange. they drags themselves up and away from the table to follow, throwing a heavy arm around his shoulders. “why not though? are you planning on kissing someone else tonight?”

their tone is teasing, but their eyes give them away. hange’s fishing for a specific answer. 

“no,” he answers much too quickly to be nonchalant.

his friend just smirks. “she’s here, you know. erwin said she just got back a few weeks ago.”

“i had no idea.” (he already knew.)

“she’s still single.”

“i don’t care.” (he might care.)

they hum thoughtfully. “so you wouldn’t mind if i kissed her instead?”

levi doesn’t answer this time, shoving his friend’s arm off his shoulder and trying to disappear into the party. 

erwin’s parties were always too big, in his opinion. he packed his penthouse apartment to the brim, and how anyone had this many friends, he had no idea. at least the sheer amount of people would allow him the opportunity to slip away, maybe hide in some quiet corner wearing a scowl that could repel the bravest souls.

(and if he hides, there’s no way he’ll run into you, right?)

[twelve minutes to midnight]

by merely thinking of you, levi’s mother would probably say he was tempting fate. his mother was almost always right, loathe as he was to admit it.

because, yeah, it’s barely twenty minutes later when he spots you across the room, sipping champagne while chatting with miche and hange. 

you have your back to him, but he knows that it’s you. it’s instinct— the way his eyes linger down the familiar shape of your body. he traces each curve draped in blue silk the way his hands once did.

levi could go over there. he could tell you that you look gorgeous in that dress. he could tell you that he misses you, needs you, loves you…

but then miche would make that face, and hange would fail to bite back that smile, and levi would have to block both their numbers and all their social media accounts again. 

he could tell you these things, but he’s never figured out how. levi likes to handle things on his own and refuses to show weakness to anyone. 

so he turns on his heel and heads in the opposite direction instead, towards the kitchen to look for a drink. he wasn’t really one for alcohol, but he needed it tonight. 

he’s frowning over the various bottles when erwin appears, a knowing grin on his face. he has a habit of materializing out of nowhere when levi’s at his weakest.

“looking for anything in particular?” the blond asks. 

“just a beer,” he mutters. 

erwin hums, contemplative, then lists various drinks. “let’s see. there are have craft brews, ipa, winter wheat—”

levi makes a face. when the fuck did beer get complicated? “what the hell is a winter wheat?”

“it’s beer, levi,” he chuckles, shooting him an amused look. it lasts a second too long, and is followed by, “you saw her, didn’t you?”

“what does that have to do—”

“are we talking about levi’s love life?”

“no, we’re not,” levi snaps, shooting miche a warning glare that his dumb friend chooses to ignore. 

“come on, we’ve known about your crush for years now,” the man continues, judging him slightly. “remember when you got drunk on hange’s birthday?”

“ah, yes,” erwin sighs, as if he’s recalling a particularly fond memory. “when you announced that you sorely missed—”

“oh my god. i hate my life,” levi mutters, turning on his heel and making his escape as the two grown men giggle like schoolgirls. he grabs the most expensive looking bottle of liquor, yanking the cork out and tossing it onto the counter. 

“maybe you’ll hate your life less if you get laid!”

levi flips them both off before slipping out onto the balcony, content to hide out here until the countdown is over. the door slowly slides shut behind him, muffling the mellow music and cheery laughter inside. 

he sets the bottle he’d swiped on the parapet, looking out at the twinkling city lights. these parties were much too suffocating, full of bright-eyed people that seemed keen on conversing with him no matter how reproachful his gaze. 

he doesn’t turn around when he hears the door slide open and shut behind. he already knows who’s followed him outside.

winter here provides a crisp cool, but levi doesn’t mind, slipping his suit jacket off and tossing it onto a patio chair. you don’t seem to mind it either, bare back pressed against the parapet as you smile over at him.

“you didn’t say hello,” you murmur, leaning towards him. levi steals a glance at you, eyes wandering down the column of your neck to the tempting plunge of your neckline. 

“hey,” he grunts, holding out the bottle he’d swiped in offering.

you accept it, taking a small sip. your face immediately pinches in displeasure, causing levi’s to crack with a small grin. 

“how’s your night?” you ask out of nowhere. 

“bored,” he answers stiffly, scuffing the toe of his shoe against the patio. “though i don’t suppose you actually care.”

you chuckle at that, your amusement barely audible over the breeze. you both know that’s not true. “just making conversation.”

“you’re pretty shit at it.”

the air between you both is suddenly hot, but levi shivers at the brush of your fingers against the corded muscle of his arm. your touch burns like fire across his skin as you murmur,

“shut me up then.”

his gaze falls to your mouth, pulse thundering in his ears as he leans forward and closes the distance. levi moves on instinct, locking a hand around your hip and pulling you closer. he swallows your surprised gasp with a kiss, but you don’t pull away.

he kisses you softly at first, each touch and movement of his mouth hesitant as he tests your boundaries. your hands move up his chest, grabbing fistfuls of his shirt collar and somehow pulling him closer, kissing him back with a fervor that makes him dizzy. your insistent mouth parts his lips, sending tremors through his nerves and awakening sensations he wants to feel again. it’s a good kiss. not bad for the first one you share in front of your friends (who are all gathered at the window) announcing your relationship as the clock the strikes midnight.

#levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #aot x reader #aot fluff #levi ackerman x you

[placeinthemiddleofnowhere]

Reign down on me - Part 6

Pairing: Ghost x Hybrid!reader (eventual poly!141)

No use of y/n or mention of gender/race

Summary: Reader is a wolf hybrid in a world that treats them like second class citizens, given a horrible start in life after being thrown into the military with no preparation. After years of struggle, they're finally taken away from their base by Ghost, now a permanent member of taskforce 141 reader struggles to come to terms with the fact that perhaps there's a life there for them - if only they reach out and accept it.

Warnings: hurt/comfort, Angst, abuse mentions, self doubt, violent scenes

A/N: Hi, helooooo! Sorry for the long update times, my life has been super hectic. So this chapter didn't go where I thought it would end up going, so there's some things I think I said I was gonna explore that will be in the next chapter instead. However I hope you enjoy this one 💕 thanks for waiting

-🐺-

There was a quiet hum pulsing through the room, the buzz of everyone around you tending to their own conversations and hoppy drinks which allowed you to relax and attempt to tune out the busy environment. After another successful mission, the 141 wanted to unwind- which apparently meant going to the pub for drinks, darts and, according to them, mediocre grub. Although after dining fine on MRE’s for the majority of your life, you had to disagree. That sausage and mash was the some of the best you’d tried. 

Ghost had forced you to change into some civvies before you’d left, which meant doing another embarrassing repeat of the shopping experience hed’d taken you out on. You still weren’t convinced you were able to put together a good outfit, fussing and trying a few different combinations of things, but once Ghost had looked you up and down and given you a nod of approval you’d relaxed.

When you’d all gotten to the pub and you’d seen that less people stared at you while in your new attire, you were soon thankful for the change. A hybrid in military gear drew attention, it probably made people think the area was being worked, but a casually dressed and collared hybrid was apparently nothing to get too concerned about. Huh.

Once you’d pressed yourself to the back of the booth, you barely worried about being out in public anymore. The world was the confines of the table, the edge of it stretching no further than your now trusted teammates. That became all the more true after you were offered a drink and then another and another. Once the buzz had started, the last of your lingering anxieties around being out floated to the back of your mind and disappeared like smoke. None of the other patrons were even a blip in the back of your fuzzy little head. 

“So Pup, what’d you reckon?” Gaz asked, spinning his pint glass around in his hand. “‘Nother drink?”

How many were you actually allowed, you wondered, you’d already had a few. When you turned to Ghost to try and gauge your answer, he was too busy talking in hushed tones to Soap, so instead you employed your backup. Price smiled wryly the second you clocked eyes with him across the table. 

“Like most things, Pup, this ain’t a test,” Price chuckled. “You know your own tolerance don’t you?”

“You think I’ve done a lot of drinking before?” You asked back, innocently dodging his question.

You twiddled with your own glass, rolling it between your palms and watching the dregs inside twirl. Bubbles of the beer still continued to fizzle across your palette even as you watched it dance below you. The hypnotic show only served to further make you aware of the hazy sheen across your eyes, and you were sure that if you stood up you’d probably feel like you were walking on foamy clouds. 

You’d have to be careful. Wouldn’t do to overindulge, you tried to remind yourself. Though that voice was quiet compared to the euphoric beast in you that cried out for more, that wanted to keep going until you forgot about every sordid thought in your head as easily as you forgot about how uncomfortable crowds made you. 

“Well you sunk those pretty quickly,” Gaz said, motioning his glass toward you.

“Not to mention Branhaven has one of the highest rates of contraband seizure for a UK base,” Price noted, finishing the last of his drink. “Reckon you’ve probably indulged a time or two, no?”

You couldn’t conceal your smile. Though your ears soon pinned to your head, realising that the implication that you were engaging in illegal behaviour was floated out wide in the open. It was true, hybrids would often do chores or other kinds of favours for human soldiers in exchange for goods, which often meant working for booze or cigarettes or stronger stuff on occasion. You’d been more than happy to help with boot polishing and patch sewing on an occasion or two. Some nights it helped with the pain, on others it just kept you from going mad.

“Don’t worry, we won’t tell anyone your secrets,” Gaz winked. “I’ll go get us another round.”

You bit your lip and nodded, watching as he made his way over to the busy bar, casually floating around a group of men before seizing an opportunity to break through to the oderous wood top. Once at the counter, he folded his arms over it and leaned his body out ever so slightly, his hips angling back toward the table. 

It was hard to tell if it was entirely the drink, but as you watched him, you found yourself really looking what you saw. Gaz was a well built man, lean and proportioned well, but it was his face that your eyes were stuck on. He looked good that night, his smiles came easy, the full ones that showed his fang-like teeth. They glinted in the soft light when he turned around to say something to the man next to him, shining like pearls. His shoulders were relaxed, back untensed, his body shook with laughter when the other man made a joke. 

Truth be told you couldn’t be sure how long you stared after him, but it was safe to say your roving eyes didn’t go unnoticed. 

“See somethin’ you like over there?” Price asked, jerking his head back to the Sergeant. 

You blinked slowly. Your head felt like it was rushing with syrup, getting flustered but too tipsy to respond with anything smart.

“What?” 

“You’re lookin’ awfully hard is all,” he shrugged. 

The room felt like it heated a few degrees. In an effort to not meet that crinkly eyed grin of your captain, your gaze floated along the arm hed slung over the back of Gaz's chair. However, that only gave you more problems. You immediately imagined him slinging that arm over you, holding you close and sharing his heady body heat. Smelling his scent, bathing him in yours.  

It’s happening again! 

Your ears perked up like lightning rods when you realised that some baser part of your nature was taking over yet another time that week. The feral little creature that usually kicked around somewhere in your hindbrain was clawing its way to the forefront. Now you were practically panting after half your team. You needed to get a hold of yourself, you reasoned,  surely you weren’t going to give into whatever random desires you were getting for closeness. Stupid Pack bond - or whatever it was that Ghost had chalked it up to. 

“I, uh- there’s pool over there,” you shrugged lamely, gesturing to the tables just off to Gaz’s right. 

Someone managed to pot a ball not long after you’d said it. Your ears tilted toward the sound, then swivelled again when you heard Gaz’s familiar huffs and puffs of effort. He was now stepping toward you with a trayful of glasses, clenching his teeth whenever he came close to spilling or bumping into someone, walking ever slower with the wobbling glasses as he realised how precariously they were balanced. His muscles bulged a little with the effort. 

Price caught your stupid staring again, but he didn’t say anything about it this time. His eyes just narrowed knowingly at you, not with accusation but with concealed humour. You could tell by the subtle pull of his lip. 

“Gazzy. You up for a game?” Price barked.

“Depends, what are we playing?” Gaz asked, raising a brow as he snatched his pint.

He took a sip of it, coating his upper lip in a little sheen of foam. He licked it off in short order. 

“The wolf wants to play pool,” Price said. 

Price once again interrupted your brain fog from taking over. Knowing full well that he would be wearing that same stupid ‘I know what you’re thinking’ look on his face, you looked up at Gaz and reached out for your own drink. That one had to be your last before - god forbid - you were left drooling over anyone else. 

“Oh yeah? You a secret pool master?” Gaz asked. 

“Oh…no,” you clarified, awkwardly swallowing a gulp of beer. “I’ve watched it being played enough times though. I always wanted to try it.” 

You’d never actually been that bothered about it, you preferred to blend in rather than get caught in competition, especially when it came to games with humans. However as far as any of them were concerned, it was your life’s dream. Anything, as long as it stopped anyone from thinking that you were obsessed with your teammate. 

“You wanna pair up with me then? Reckon you should be on the winning team for your first game.”

“Pfft, winning team? Sure that’s with you, son?” Price scoffed.

“Beat you last time didn’t I, old man?”

“Fuck off.”

Price took a dramatic gulp of his beer then loudly pushed off from the booth, marching toward the pool table as if it were a mission objective. You laughed noiselessly to yourself, but soon had to stop yourself from choking on your own drink when the little demon inside you commented on how nice his big broad shoulders were, perfect for holding you close.

How were you going to survive the night?  

You looked back over at Ghost to try and regain some sense of composure only to see that Soap was shuffling along the bench to leave and your handler was about to follow him. Giving him a slight head tilt in question, you wondered where they were going. To which, Ghost answered by pulling you in close, wrapping his arm around you and leaving you practically choking on his forearm for a second, before he released you with a messy pat on the head.

“We’re goin’ for a smoke,” he chuckled, watching your annoyed glare with amusement while you fixed your hair. “Be good while I’m gone.”

The smile lines broke out under his eyes, and for a ditzy second all you could do was stare. All thoughts of telling him off left your mind, instead you were stuck looking above his face mask, drinking in the glittering pools of his irises and the blush tinged tops of his cheeks. Your tail wagged traitorously when he continued to stare back.

“What?” he huffed, smile still not leaving his eyes.

Your entire body flamed at being caught this time. 

“Nothing,” you shrugged, shrinking back into the chair.

You hoped that the chair would swallow you. 

“Silly thing.”

Ghost gave you a scratch behind the ears then finally slid off to join Soap. However, you weren’t left alone to your own self-deprecating thoughts. Gaz was watching you, his lips curving in amusement. He started to twirl his glass again, spinning it around on it’s axis. 

“So how do you like being with the 141 so far then?” 

The question caught you off guard, but you had to admit it was a welcome distraction. You unpinned your ears from your shameful, burning head and relaxed once more. 

“I like it,” you said simply. 

“Oh yeah? How’s staying with Ghost?”

“Oh uh, Ghost is nice. It’s been cool having my own room,” you said, smiling as you thought about your big comfy bed. “He’s been really good to me.”

Gaz snorted out a laugh before he could stop himself. 

“What?” You glared. “What’s so funny?”

“Nice isn’t the first word I’d use to describe Ghost, but….” He shrugged. 

“Ghost is nice though,” you frowned, body growing tense at the hint of any accusations of the contrary. 

“Sure, when he’s not telling awful jokes or burning holes into your head with that stare he has,” Gaz laughed, outstretching his hands and wiggling his fingers. “I’m from Manchester and I’m gonna steal your soul with me spooky eyes.” 

You giggled at his terrible impression, back unfurling from its defensive hunch, then hit his hands away playfully. Normally you would’ve worried about the repercussions of doing something like that to a superior, but the drink was still buzzing through your head and if that weren’t enough Gaz’s smile shone brightly back at you. 

“Ghost isn’t spooky,” you affirmed.

“Seriously? Next you’ll tell me that you don’t live in a big haunted castle together.”

“We don’t!” You laughed.

“I bet it has skeleton decorations everywhere. Skull pillows and skeleton paintings, table and chair legs shaped into bones.”

“No!”

“Really? Damn, the man isn’t as predictable as I thought…but honestly tell me. Does he have little skeleton jammies? You can’t seriously tell me that he doesn’t keep the skull look going when he gets home. He probably sits and watches Netflix with his skull top and bottoms and skeleton cuddly toy and skeleton sockies. No? Genuinely?”

You only continued to laugh and shake your head, denying his silly accusations. Gaz smiled back at you, shifting his eyes over you as if he were cataloguing every sign of your delight. 

“Oi, time for hilarities is over,” Price said, appearing through the parting crowds. “get ready to get your arses handed to ya. I got us a table”

“You sound awfully confident, Captain,” Gaz said, scraping his chair across the rough floors. 

“Because I’m not drunk this time.”

“Don’t need you to be drunk to beat you. Got Pup on my team, we can’t lose.”

-🐺-

“Maybe I should sit this one out,” you murmured, flinching as the cue white ball barely even tapped the yellow ball that you were trying to hit. 

Your ears pinned low to your head and your temperature grew as you looked up and down the table and failed to see how you were going to pot even a single ball at the rate you were going. When you’d watched the game being played in the past, you’d assumed it was easy, but apparently the human soldiers were just skilled at it.

Your failure was made all the worse by the fact that Gaz and Price had very dutifully stood and explained the rules and how to use the pool cue when the game had begun. In fact Price had been so thorough on his explanation it prompted Gaz to assert once again that you were going to beat his arse easy. However…

You had taken two attempts and in that time had only nudged that mockingly cheerful yellow ball once. The first attempt where you almost missed even hitting the cue ball altogether didn’t bear thinking about. Meanwhile Price had already potted four. You chewed your lip, hoping Gaz wouldn’t be too annoyed that his tutoring was apparently falling on deaf ears.

“Aw, don’t worry Pup. You’ll get it,” Price chuckled.

“Yeah, don’t sweat it. It’s your first game!” Gaz reassured

He leaned over then and zeroed in on a striped orange ball, setting his cue across the back of his roughened hand and sawing it back and forth like a wary snake. He’d taken off his brown trucker jacket at the beginning of the match, so now his arms were out in full display, practically suffocating inside the short sleeves he wore and bursting to get out. Your eyes grazed along the cue and danced between the thick hairs on the backs of his forearms and up to his biceps, mesmerised by the shifting muscle. 

You missed seeing him finally hit the cue ball, but your ears twitched at the sound and your heart sunk when you both saw and heard the resulting ‘plonk’ of the orange stripe rolling merrily into its pocket. You were so screwed. 

“Gonna hold back on making eyesight jokes now, Garrick?” Price questioned, already lining up his next shot.

“Only if you manage to get that blue,” Gaz winked, pointing to a ball that sat nowhere near the cueball. 

“Easy, I’ll just hit the ball off the side, let it bank left and then it’ll roll into the pocket,” he grinned.

“Oh yeah, easy,” Gaz scoffed, nudging you with his shoulder. “Watch this, Pup. Captain’s about to embarrass ‘imself.” 

“Oi. Keep your shit opinions to yourself!”

Gaz rolled his eyes, but nevertheless the two of you watched in concentrated silence as Price actually started to line up the shot he called. After a few tense seconds of watching him adjust and readjust once more he took a breath then whacked the ball with all the force of a train going through a brick wall. The white ball smacked into the fuzzy green side then banked just shy of the blue striped ball, rolling furiously into the pocket straight after. It landed with a heavy thunk to boot. 

“Fuck me,” Price muttered to himself, immediately grabbing for his beer straight after.

“Wahey! Look at that Pup, we’ve got two shots,” Gaz said, heavily patting your shoulder. “We’ve got this.”

“Yeah,” you laughed weakly, handing him the cue. “You got this.”

“Woah woah woah,” Gaz said, tilting his head dramatically. “We’re a team, we got this.”

“Well it is your shot.”

“Nah, I don’t think so.”

He shoved the pool cue back into your hands, but he didn’t step away from you after. He pressed you insistently toward the table and caged his arms between yours, taking your hands with his and adjusting them up the smooth wood. You shivered at the feeling of his warm breath tickling at your neck and teasing through your hair. You stiffened up like drying clay when he moulded himself closer into you.

“Don’t freeze up like that, you’re not under attack. Look, I’m gonna show you how to hold it properly and that way you’ll get a good hit alright?” 

You chanced a look back at him and caught a look into those molten honey eyes, knowing full well you were a goner. You’d just have to go with whatever he said. After giving him a gentle little nod, you swallowed the lump in your throat and turned back toward the table, allowing him to slowly arrange your body so that you were in the supposed perfect stance.

His hands were silk, gliding delicately across your arms so that you would place yourself how he wanted. You had to hold yourself back from shivering every time his touch came. Once you were standing how he wanted, he took to laughing and tutting at you until you got your finger into the correct position to support the cue, and only when that was Gaz certified did he allow you to start readying your shot. 

“Ok, take it away, Pup. You got this!”

After a couple of practice slides, you drew the cue back one final time, holding your breath as you prepared to send it flying forward and into the purple ball that Gaz had lined up for you. You finally took your shot, watching with wide eyes as the cueball barrelled forward and shunted straight into the purple, sending it toward the pocket while it landed neatly beside a couple more of your balls, ready for the next shot. As soon as the purple landed fully down, you were jumping up in an instant.

“I hit it! I hit it and scored a point,” you said, full smile beaming as you turned to Gaz. “Did you see how fast it went? I wanna do that again!”

Gaz’s sharp canines were on full display again. His eyes travelled low down on your body and he chuckled, and only when you followed his eyeline did you see that your tail was furiously wagging up a storm behind you. It wafted up a big draft of air, blowing gusts through the old newspapers that were piled on the low table behind you.

“I saw. You did good,” Gaz praised, laughing while rubbing the little spot on your cheek that he always did.

“Yes, Pup - very good,” Price added dryly, shaking his head while taking another swig of his drink. 

With that the newspapers behind you turned from almost the front pages, toward the nonsense stories at the back.

“What’s got you so excited, fuzzy lugs?” 

You turned and saw Soap leaning over the end of the table, slowly swirling his whisky while he assessed the game. His blue eyes rolled from one end and to the other then settled on you, pinning you in place for a moment until you’d realised that he’d asked you a question. You bit your lip and shrugged, trying to downplay yourself a little as you remembered that your victory was being celebrated a little too early. 

“I potted a ball,” you shrugged, trying to hide your mellowed tone with a drink. 

“Oh did ye, aye? You’ll have to do it again for me and Ghost,” he grinned. 

Soap motioned his head to the left, pointing toward Ghost who was taking his time wandering back to Soap’s side. You could smell the cigarette smoke cloying to him as he walked by. It made your nose wrinkle. Though you soon forgot all about it when he shot you a wink.

“Gonna show us your new skills?” He asked. 

Now everyone was watching you. No pressure. 

You gulped and made your way back to the table side, using your cue like a walking stick. Poking your tongue out, you stood for a second and swayed a little on your unsteady tipsy feet, thinking through your next move. Your eyes roved over the balls, moving between the two most likely candidates until you settled on the green. 

After looking up and confirming everyone was still staring, you shuddered. However Gaz gave you an encouraging smile, which spurred you on all the more. A few awkward seconds passed while you tried to reform yourself into the same position Gaz put you in before. Even in your drunken state you still recalled most of the ways he’d shown that you were supposed to position yourself, all the while keeping your hands further up the stick so that you could hit harder and keeping your finger ridgid against it. 

You slid it back and forth, once, then another two times and finally you made your move. The cue thwacked into the cueball and sent it rocketing into the green, sending the green ball rolling forward and flying toward the left side pocket. The ball began to lose its momentum just toward the end, it slowed just a little more and then a little more and just when your ears started to collapse downward in disappointment, it managed to creep into the pocket at the last second. 

“Holy shit I did it! I did it all by myself!” You squealed, perking back up again and grinning like an idiot. 

You turned, making sure everyone had seen it, but before you could take stock everyone you were surrounded by two massive chests. The pressure came quickly crushing you up like a scrapped car. Though you didn’t mind, when your panicked mind realised they were hugging you, you settled into it and wagged your tail. 

“That’s my good Pup,” Ghost crooned, his voice even more gravelly than usual. 

“You did so good!” Gaz whooped.

They both parted from you and just when you’d adjusted to having full lung capacity again, Soap all but whacked all the air from you with a couple of big pats on the back. 

“Well done, furball,” he said lowly, throwing you a sly smile. “Knew you had it in ya. You’re my wee pack mate after all, aren’t ya?”

Your tail wagged even harder at that. 

“Yes, very good,” Price barked, smiling despite the faux stern expression he tried to hold. “You taking your next turn or not, Pup?”

“I get another one?” You gawped, looking at the last few balls in awe. 

“You get one every time you pot. And if you don’t get on with your next one I’m confiscating it from you.”

“Don’t think that’s in the rules, old man,” Gaz laughed. 

“Gotta give myself a chance here, Garrick. You two have bloody hustled me,” Price retorted.

“Oh you think you’re hustled now? Just wait for this next turn.”

-🐺-

You helped Gaz win that game in the end, and as a reward he insisted on carrying you to the taxi on his back. Well, that’s what he intended anyway. He stumbled just as he got out the pub door and collapsed in a fit of drunken laughter. At that point Ghost took over and hoisted you up on his shoulder, carrying you like a sack of potatoes. 

Had you been in any state to complain you might’ve, however you were still riding on a winning high and your head was full of bubbles and fizz. No matter how hard you tried to stop it, your tail continued to sloppily wag even while Ghost carried you, and for the rest of the night he complained about having fur in his mouth. Normally something like that would worry you, thinking you’d annoyed him, but you’d been so carefree you fell asleep on him once he’d lugged you to the sofa. 

You’d woken the next morning stretched out fully over a sleeping Ghost and Soap, jumping up in mortification when you realised what you’d done and running to your bed for what felt like an extra five minutes of sleep. Then as a grand result of your wild night out (compared to anything else you’d ever done), you were exhausted the whole next day. So much so that you’d been flagging through a lot of your exercises, but luckily Ghost went easy and structured training so that you got more breaks and got easier tasks to complete. Whether that was more for you or him, you couldn’t really decide. 

“Sleepy Pup,” Ghost chuckled, rubbing your cheek with the back of his greasy hand. “We’ll get an early night tonight, huh?”

You hummed in response. The sound of him cleaning his rifle had been relaxing, the cloth fibres smoothly running along the barrel while you leaned against his leg and caught up on a little napping. Normally he would send you off to do something while he did upkeep, but given your low energy he was quite happy to have you rest with him while he worked. 

“Alright then, Pup. Time to head off home,” Ghost grunted, giving your shoulder a gentle shake. “We just gotta swing by Price’s office first.” 

“Ok,” you said through a yawn.

Your tail crooked off to the side more than usual, and you could feel the fur on your ears sticking up like an animal that had just emerged from hibernation. Had there been a mirror around, you knew you’d be jumping back from it,though luckily that wasn’t the case. Instead you followed listlessly along after Ghost, plodding through the hallways like a mindless golem after its master. 

“You ok to wait out here?”

It had barely even registered that you’d reached Price’s door. However when your mind came too, you were out in the dingy hallway that proceeded his room. The two of you standing by the chipped paint patch that looked suspiciously like someone had slammed a chunk out of the wall. You slowly nodded when you finally caught up, the joint in your neck rolling as if automated.

“Try not to fall asleep out here. I’m not carrying you again,” he chuckled. “You need anything, just knock.” 

You nodded again and watched him quietly open the door and click it shut. He left you alone in the corridor, staring bleary eyed at the flickering light, absentmindedly falling back against the wall and counting out the seconds between its full beam and little strobe dance. Without fail it would flicker every five to seven seconds. 

Footsteps marched down the hallway in the distance, and your ears twitched to their rhythm. The boots slapped against the floors at a quick pace, and slowly muffled voices echoed from out of obscurity and rang through your ears. The two men became clearer by the second, and before long they were crossing your path, just about to walk past you until one of them caught eyes with you and halted as if stopped by an invisible force.

“Care to explain what you’re doing leaning around like that, hybrid?” he growled.

You frowned at him. The man had dark hair closely cropped to his head, save for a small combed over patch on the top and big bushy eyebrows that fell heavy over his dark eyes. His friend meanwhile was almost completely bald, but had a striking scar across his cheek and a birthmark on his neck. Both of them seemed young, though not young enough that they were too fresh to think about messing with you apparently.

“I’m waiting for my handler to finish his meeting with Captain Price,” you said evenly, figuring it was easiest just to answer him. 

He didn’t look satisfied with your answer though, his eyes lit up in challenge and his jaw twinged as if biting through bone. All traces of tiredness left you in that instant. Whatever was about to happen couldn’t be good, you were experienced enough to know that much.

“What was that?” the man said, tilting his head for emphasis.

His friend raised his brows, looking between the two with a vexed expression. He musn’t have been as familiar with hybrids, you thought dully, glancing at him while still keeping yourself focused on the combover man. If only one of them was going to be aggressive then defending yourself from whatever they were going to do would be easier.

“I said that I’m waiting for my handler,” you ground out, stiffening your posture.

“Waiting for your handler, sir,” the man corrected, his thick eyebrows casting a dark shadow over his eyes. “You have to show respect to your superior officers.”

You said nothing in response, only nodding your head once and gritting your teeth. Technically that was true, but given Ghost was a Lieutenant that meant that you likely outranked them (given that you were automatically ranked the same as your handler as a hybrid). Those assholes could kick rocks as far as you were concerned, you’d earned your right to speak on their level.

“Do you want a last chance to fix your attitude, hybrid?” he asked, tensing his arms as he leered over you.

His shadow flickered in the wavering light and you couldn’t help but think of him as a demon. His friend put a hand on his back and urged him to ‘just forget about it’, but still the man didn’t budge. He continued to loom over you and stare expectantly, though as far as you were concerned he could wait forever. 

He didn’t though. The little shit, took your silence as insolence, and just when he was about to reach out and grab you, you strafed back from him and growled. The sound had the other man widening his eyes, but your main attacker only glared. It spurred him to come for you once again, but again he missed you and then failed to grab you another time after that.

“Get the fuck over here, you little-”

He reached out again to grab you, and finally he’d succeeded, clenching his hand painfully around your arm. However you weren’t going to let him manhandle you like that. You barked out a fearsome roar of defiance and dug your nails, more like claws, into the thick uncovered flesh of his arm and yanked it backward while spinning away from his grip. The yowl of pain he let out interrupted his sentence and sent his friend into a panic trying to drag the man back.

“What the fuck is going on out here?”

The shout echoed out across the concrete walls and all at once you all ceased your rebuttals. Your teeth stayed bared and you continued to pant, staring down the hallway as if possessed by a vengeful force. Meanwhile the two men looked fearfully over at the source of the voice, paling noticeably when they were forced to reckon with your fearsome handler. 

Your attacker gulped, loud enough that your sensitive ears picked up on it and swivelled in his direction. He flinched at the movement, but soon straightened up. The pitiful man held out his arm and set his face in a grim expression, using his other hand to motion down at the bleeding claw marks.

“This hybrid attacked me, sir,” the man said, voice far more subdued than it had been before.

Ghost raised his eyebrow from behind his mask and looked over at you. Once he’d finally assessed the state you were in, he put his body in between the two of you and set to work calming you down. He took your collar in his hand and directed you to look at him, smoothing his hand down your back and blocking your view of the perceived hostile. After which, he took to gently shushing your panting and making calming noises.

“Can you tell me what happened?” He asked after a few moments, smoothing his hands over your ruffled hair.

“Well, what happened was-” the man’s friend began. 

“Wasn’t fucking talking to you,” Ghost growled, not even sparing a look back.

Your mouth twitched into a smile, but Ghost didn’t indulge it. He set his eyes on you with a serious frown and forced a sigh from your lips. Part of you had thought that Ghost might be on your side, but now a little voice in the back of your mind was trying to scream past a crumbling barrier - it told you that maybe Ghost was going to give up on his gentle handler act. It would make sense, you thought, you were a bad soldier, you didn’t deserve the nice treatment to begin with. 

“I was waiting for you and then…I was asked what I was doing and then, when I explained myself, I was told I wasn’t being respectful enough. He tried to grab me and I fought him off,” you said awkwardly, not wanting to meet his eyes any longer. 

“Sir, that hybrid was leaning around - not even waiting at attention and when I tried to address their behaviour, I was given nothing but bad attitude back. I was trying to correct it’s bad behaviour when it saw fit to scratch me up like a fucking feral cat!” The man fumed.

“Correct their behaviour?” Ghost asked, turning to man finally. “How were you going to correct my hybrid’s behaviour exactly?” 

Your heart dropped into your belly. Every instinct within you screamed out that you were about to meet Ghost’s iron fist at last. You were going to experience a lashing at the very least and at worst, he might take everything you had come to care about away from you. Hot salty tears brimmed on top of your cheeks, finally overflowing at the thought that Ghost might’ve only given you all those things so that it would hurt more having them taken away again. 

You made sure to sob quietly, sniffling softly  into your hand so that you wouldn’t antagonise Ghost any further. Tears won’t get you anywhere in the army, mutt, Maddox’s voice chirped in the back of your mind. You almost missed the man’s pathetic whimpering answer.

“Well…I was going to give it a slap, sir. Strike some sense into it.” 

“I see,” Ghost replied, wide back still obscuring the man from you.

You doubted you’d make anything out past your tears anyway. In your mind everything was in the process of being ripped out of your life again, the team were going to look at you like the disappointment you knew you were, your things were going to be scrapped and stripped down to bare essentials once more and you’d never get to feel Simon the cuddlytoy’s soft fur ever again. However you were ripped out of your little pity parade with the sound of a hard smack. 

Your ears perked up and you jumped back a pace or two, looking around for the source of the noise until you looked past Ghost and saw your attacker rubbing his cheek and groaning. For a second, you couldn't quite believe what had happened, but soon enough the man was wrenching his hand away from his face in an effort to save face and it revealed an angry looking red patch of skin. It really had happened - Ghost had slapped the soldier. 2

“You think that’s knocked some sense into you, Second Lieutenant?” Ghost sneered. “Don’t you fucking dare breathe in the direction of another handler’s hybrid ever again, nevermind think that you have the right to discipline them, you self-righteous little cunt. Get out of my sight the pair of ya.”

The man opened his mouth, about to say something in his defence until his friend nodded sharply and began to drag him away. Not wanting to cause more of a scene the man relented, but the way he glared as he turned told you that this wasn’t over. There was a new target on Ghost’s back now. 

However, said back was turning away from you now and Ghost was facing you once again and pulling you into his arms. After a shocked second of fear, readying yourself to be hit or similarly reprimanded, you slowly came to realise he didn’t mean to hurt you at all. He was hugging you and rubbing your back, telling you that it was alright. 

“Wh- what are you doing?” you asked feebly, trying your best not to hiccup or sniff through your words.

“Trying to comfort you, if you’ll let me,” Ghost snorted, slowly walking you backward. 

You walked with him, but only grew more confused as he dragged you into Price’s office and forced you to sit on the old ratty couch and curl up with him. Out of the corner of your bleary eyes you saw Price sitting at his desk and watching you both with concern, gathering up a few bottles of water onto his desk. In front of you, Ghost wrapped his grip ever tighter round you and got you to bury your head into his neck.

“It’s over now, Pup,” Ghost said softly, smoothing over your salt scorched cheek. “You’re ok.” 

“But…you- aren’t you going to punish me?” you asked, freeing yourself from his hold a little and drawing away from his usually relaxing scent so that you could make an effort to think straight. 

“You’ve not done anything worth punishment,” he said gently.

“I scratched someone,” you whined, looking down at your still bloody hands with a wobbling lip. 

“Someone that saw fit to break protocol and try to discipline a hybrid that wasn’t theirs. You had every right to defend yourself. You’re not going to be punished for that.”

“Especially not when the punishment he had in mind didn’t fit the crime in the first place. Corporal punishment is supposed to be reserved for serious offences Pup, not for leaning or having a bad attitude,” Price added, coming to sit at your other side. “Here, take a drink of this. You need it, you’ve made yourself unwell.” 

He handed you a water bottle and gave you a serious look until you finally took it from him and slowly uncapped it. Through a series of uneasy sips, your heart began to regulate and your body stopped shaking. You hadn’t even realised that you had been shaking. The realisation made you sign, taking a couple breaths until you could clear your mind enough to reach some level of proper awareness again. 

“I thought it was all going to go away,” you sighed, leaning against Ghost’s chest when you knew that things were normal again. 

“What was going to go away?” Ghost asked, rubbing his thumb over your cheek. 

You bathed in his and Price’s joint attentions, letting Ghost rub your cheek and Price smooth a hand over your shoulders and back. For a few luxurious seconds you let yourself revel in the fact that you were wrong. The stupid little panicky voice in your head was a liar. Everything was just as it had been. 

“Everything,” you said eventually, voice barely a whisper. “I thought you were going to take all my things away and start treating me like they did at my old base. Thought I was going to be sent to the post…”

“Mark my words, anyone tries to lash you again and they’ll have the entire 141 to answer to, Pup,” Price said, voice coming through in a low growl. 

“And I’d never take away your things,” Ghost vowed, cupping your cheek so that you had to look at him. “They’re given to you as payment for your service to us. They’re not for me or anyone else to take away, just like Price can’t rip my things from me. Nothing’s going away and you’re never going to be treated the way you were ever again. You’re ours, alright? We always protect our own.” 

You stared at them both in disbelief, but couldn’t think of anything to say. The exhaustion and the upset combined and you were left feeling more drained than you had been in days. Instead you settled down back into Ghost’s collar bones and let yourself be petted and fussed over, sleepily letting your eyes close for the last time that day.

“Just wait till Soap and Gaz hear about this. That bastard’ll be lucky to see sunrise tomorrow,” you only just heard Price whisper darkly, before scratching a calloused hand over your ears. 

“Now now, Price,” Ghost murmured back. “Gotta make it look like an accident.”

#reign down on me #simon ghost riley #Simon Riley #Ghost #mw2 #ghost x reader #Hybrid!reader

[softspiderling]

think you're a genius (you drive me up the wall) | r.c.

summary: it wouldn't be an outer banks party if there wasn't at least one fist fight. also, rafe is trying to turn over a new leaf.

pairing: rafe cameron x reader

word count: 3,8k

warning: mention of blood, violence (reader gets punched in the face, but there are no graphic details), shitty topper (sorry top)

author's note: long awaited (at least by me) rafe fic, whoop whoop!!! no usage of Y/N, happy reading, don't forget to reblog!!! also tagging @sunderlust bc i borrowed some of our conversation in this fic😘love you sol

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“Since when do you drink beer?”

Barely pausing at the words, you continued to stack cold beer cans in your arms, the condensation dripping onto your skin. You didn’t have to turn around to know who the voice belonged to, having heard it so many times. And this was his house after all.

“Wasn’t aware you kept track of my drink of choice,” you retorted, turning around to face him, while simultaneously trying to balance the cans.

Rafe raised an eyebrow at you before his gaze lowered to the beer in your arms. “… You trying to tell me that all that beer’s for you?”

“You calling me a lightweight?”

The corner of Rafe’s mouth ticked up and he took a sip from his drink, the ice clinking in the glass.

“I think we both know I’m not.”

If someone had told you that one day you’d be standing in the parlor of Tannyhill, having a mostly civil conversation with Rafe you’d have them institutionalized. But things have changed. When Sarah returned with the news that Ward has died protecting Sarah, Rafe imploded at first. Blaming her for his death, the downfall of their family and generally being ungrateful for Ward’s love for her.

Everyone avoided the Cameron estate for a while, hearing stuff crash and yells from a mile away. No one dared to step close. A few days after, the disturbances stopped, being replaced with complete silence.

It was so silent, you actually grew concerned until Rafe turned up at Heyward’s setting up a weekly grocery delivery. Pope had dumped the stuff he was holding as soon as Rafe had stepped into the store, storming outside, with Cleo hot on his heels, leaving you to set up the standing order.

“Can you tell Sarah I’m sorry?”

“What?”

You looked up from the register and Rafe clenched his jaw, giving you a look.

“You really gon’ make me say it again?”

“How about you call her yourself instead of making me deliver your message like a post boy?”

Rafe exhaled deeply, knitting his eyebrows together like he was really trying not to explode and honestly, you had to respect him for that. You know how impatient he could be.

“I tried, okay? Don’t you think I’ve tried? I’ve tried to call her, she’s not picking up. Fuck, I don’t even know if she still has the same phone number,” he said, like the words physically pained him. “I don’t even know where she’s staying. Is it at John B’s new place?”

Somewhere between his words, Rafe had started pacing up and down the stairs, making you antsy.

“Hey,” you said, coming around to slowly, carefully - like you were trying to pet a stray cat - curl your hand around his wrist. Rafe immediately stopped, eyeing his wrist where you were touching him.

“Sorry, I’ll take my hand off,” you quickly said, but before you could, Rafe stopped you.

“’s fine,” he muttered, meeting your eyes for a second before looking away again. “Physical touch grounds me… Y’know… When my thoughts get too… Much.”

You swallowed thickly, nodding at him and staying in place, for god knew how long, until Rafe had seemed to calm down.

“Thanks.”

“Sure.”

You drew your hand back, crossing your arms over your chest and leaned against the counter to put some distance between you and him, wildly overwhelmed with this situation. Rafe didn’t seem like he knew what to do either, turning his ring on his finger, his eyes cast on the floor.

“If you really want to apologize to Sarah,” you started, making him look up. “Maybe I can talk to her. Ask her if she’s willing to meet up with you.”

Rafe raised an eyebrow at you, clearly surprised. “You’d do that for me?”

“Don’t let it get to your head. I’m mostly doing it for Sarah,” you scoffed and Rafe only smirked, shaking his head.

“Sure, tough girl. Gonna ring me up now or what?”

Rolling your eyes at him, you returned to the cash register, finishing up his order. You still felt his eyes on you as you worked away.

“Thanks,” he finally said, and you lifted your head, briefly meeting his eyes.

“Don’t mention it.”

And he never did.

Miraculously, you had managed to get Sarah to agree to talk to Rafe and while you had accompanied her to the beach, where she had met up with Rafe, you stayed behind to give them privacy. You weren’t sure what they had talked about, but you didn’t press her about it either when she came stomping back to you with tearstained cheeks. Whatever they have talked about must have helped though, because even though Sarah still stayed with John B of the the times, she went home every odd night, returning with sandwiches and drinks the next day like a soccer mom. It went unsaid that Rafe had provided her with everything and Sarah avoided talking about him, mostly because Pope still got that distant look in his eyes whenever she mentioned her brother. Which is why you were surprised that he was the first one to agree to go to a party Rafe had invited Sarah to, forwarding the invite to her friends.

“What?” Pope had said everyone gave him an odd look. “He stole a family heirloom of mine. The least he can do is invite us to a party of his.”

“Okay then,” JJ jeered, beating on Pope’s back with his opens palms. “Let’s go to a Kook party.”

You had to admit that it was nice to see that the two tribes of the island coming together. The fact that Pogues were invited to a party on Figure 8 was huge. Granted, it was just you and your friends, but still. It was a start.

Loud cheering from outside brought you out of your thoughts, you and Rafe both looking towards the dimly lit backyard, where the main attraction of the party took place.

“JJ and John B are destroying a group of Kooks at Rage Cage right now,” you then explained, lifting the beer in your arms. “Hence... You know.”

“Right right, I was starting the wonder what all that yelling was about,” Rafe mused.

“So how come you’re not out there?”

Rafe shrugged. “Needed some quiet.”

“What, you having your private party in here?” you teased and Rafe smirked, raising an eyebrow at you.

“Why? You jealous?”

You rolled your eyes, shifting the beer cans in your arms, the weight slowly getting to you.

“In your dreams, Rafe,” you scoffed. “I got to go, get these beers to the boys before they’ll get warm. You should come down, when you’re done brooding and shit.”

Throwing your last words over your shoulder, you returned to your friends, being welcomed with loud cheers as the empty cups get filled rather quickly. You dropped down into your empty chair, taking your drink from Kiara who had been holding onto it during your absence.

“Pope was about to send a search party because you were taking so long,” she said and you gave Pope a look over the brim of your cup.

“You’re such a mother hen. I was talking to Rafe.”

“Why the hell were you talking to Rafe?”

“You talked to Rafe?”

“Jesus, guys relax,” you groaned, leaning your head back. “He’s fine. He didn’t even do anything. We just talked.”

“It’s never just anything with Rafe,” Pope muttered.

“I get that,” Sarah started, rolling her empty cup in her hand. “But he’s different.Like… He regrets a lot of the thing’s he’s done and trying really hard to make up for his mistakes,” she paused, pressing her lips together tightly. “I’d be the last person to defend him, but I feel like he’s trying to turn over a new leaf.”

Before Pope was able to list all of the bad things that Rafe has done in the past, your conversation was interrupted, angry yells ringing over the music.

“So now you’re just all buddy buddy hanging out here, huh?”

The new voice wasn’t really new and everyone looked at Sarah, who paled, slowly pushing herself up from her chair, looking towards the disturbance, the rest of the group following her.

“Shit. What the hell is Topper doing here?”

The sudden intrusion of a rather inebriated Topper had immediately tanked the relaxed and laid back atmosphere; suddenly, everyone was tense, not daring to make a move in fear of making the wrong one.

“What? Aren’t we here to party?” Topper cajoled, waving a half empty bottle of whiskey around. “Let’s get rid of these Pogues and party!”

The rest of the Kooks looked between themselves, not really wanting to follow Topper’s request but also not wanting to defend your friends. Even if they just had fun together, the Kooks wouldn't go as far as openly defend Pogues, you knew that.

“You should leave, Topper,” John B said, his hands curling at his sides, which was fair, honestly. Even though you had rebuilt the Chateau, bigger, better and most importantly more fire resistant, Topper burnt down John B’s home. His safe space. Topper only widened his eyes at John B comically, snorting.

“Who are you to tell me to leave?”

Sarah pushed herself to the front, pressing herself to John B’s side, which was probably not the smartest thing she could have done, as it only aggravated Topper even more to see her next to John B. You and the others stood right behind her, ready to step in as soon as it escalated.

“Leave, Topper,” Sarah snapped at him. “Nobody invited you.”

“Yeah, as far as I know, you don’t even live here anymore, Sarah,” Topper said, spitting out her name like it was venom in his mouth.

“I didn’t invite you.”

You hadn’t even noticed Rafe having joined you, not really standing on your side, but not on Topper's side either. Suddenly, the tension had grown even thicker and by now, you realized this could go wrong in about a 100 ways.

Topper stared at his friend, mouth agape, before he collected himself, pulling a face.

“Seriously, Rafe? Weren’t you the one who told me that I’m better off without your bitch of a sister and now you’re taking her side?”

“Watch it, Top,” Rafe only said, not even moving an inch.

Not that he had to. Everyone knew what Rafe was capable of, if he was angry enough. Topper only narrowed his eyes at his friend, weighing his options.

“Topper, just go,” Sarah yelled, walking towards him for good measure, trying to offer some sort of olive branch, but Topper only pushed Sarah roughly, causing her to stumble to the ground.

“Jesus, fuck, Topper,” you snapped, rushing to get Sarah back on her feet again, making the fatal mistake of getting between him and John B, as you received a sickening punch to the side of your face.

“Fuck!”

“Holy shit, Topper are you insane?”

You had toppled over your feet to the grass, not having expected the punch at all. Disoriented, you touched your throbbing cheek, your fingers stained red when you looked at them.

“Fuck,” you moaned, feeling like you were about to pass out. Your friends quickly crowded around you, helping you up.

“Shit, girl, you alright?” Cleo asked, carefully pushing your hair to the side to assess the damage.

“Is Sarah okay?” you only asked, pausing to spit out some blood, leaning on Cleo, your legs still shaking.

“Dude, I’m fine!” Sarah said, wrapping an arm around you, still shaking herself.

Your vision was still dizzy, and the voices were not helping, but it seemed like most of the party goers had dissipated as the argument had started. As your eyes adjusted, you could just see Rafe holding Topper by the collar of his shirt and saying something you couldn’t quite understand, before he tossed his friend on the ground. Topper didn’t take long to get back to his feet, fleeing from the scene.

Rafe turned around, his eyes scanning over you before turning to Sarah.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, just a bruise,” Sarah said, her eyes fixated on you. “But you should definitely get checked out. I can't believe Topper punched you."

“Come on, I got a first aid kit upstairs and some ice for the swelling.”

Rafe reached out to grab you under the arms, but Cleo was reluctant to let you go.

“Maybe I should help.”

“Seriously?” Rafe asked, incredulously and you only watched with narrowed eyes, your reaction time still limited.

“We should just take her home,” Pope chimed in, grabbing you by the shoulder gently, jostling you around.

“Guys, I’m gonna be sick if you keep handing me around like a joint,” you groaned, shutting your eyes, in the hopes of making the dizziness better.

“Pope, it’s fine. Rafe’s not going to hurt her. And he knows a thing or two about patching up wounds,” Sarah said, Pope’s grip on you loosening.

“Fine. But you even look at our girl funny, and you got another thing coming, you hear me, Rafe?”

“Yeah yeah, I got it,” Rafe grunted.

You peeked an eye open, when your friends let go of you, Rafe looping his arm around your shoulder, pausing to look at John B. “You got Sarah, right?”

“Yeah, don’t worry about her.”

Rafe nodded his head in thanks, before leading you towards the house.

"Hey, just call if you need anything!" Kiara called after you, which you only replied with a weak "Okay!", your focus on putting one foot after the other. Rafe had his arm around your waist, taking most of your weight.

“Can you walk alright or do you need me to carry you?”

“If you pick me up right now, I will vomit on you,” you moaned and Rafe snorted.

“Right, and neither of us want that.”

It took you guys an embarrassing amount of time until you reached the house, since you kept making Rafe stop because you thought you were going to throw up. When you finally walked inside, Rafe lead you upstairs, instead of steering you towards the living room.

“Where are you taking me?”

“First aid kit is in my bathroom,” Rafe replied, mostly supporting your weight as you climbed the stairs.

“Ugh, your bathroom? Am I gonna get infected with herpes or something?”

“Is it the smartest idea to insult me in your position right now?” he asked dryly, and you almost sighed in relief when you reached the second floor.

“Just take me to your bedroom Rafe.”

“Alright, Princess,” Rafe sighed, a hint of exasperation in his voice as he guided you to his bedroom, carefully depositing you on the bed. While he went to the bathroom to fetch the first aid kit, you took a second to catch your breath, hoping the world would stop spinning.

Rafe returned with the first aid kit, moving slowly so as not to startle you. He set it down on the bed and then looked at you, concern flickering in his eyes. "You okay?"

"Yeah," you mumbled, pressing a hand to your throbbing cheek. "Just a little dizzy."

"Right." Rafe opened the kit and began to rifle through it, pulling out a bottle of disinfectant and some cotton pads. “This is probably gonna sting,” he warned you.

“Do your worst.”

You managed to flinch only slightly as the cool, yet burning liquid hit your skin, with Rafe’s surprising gentle touch as he cleaned your wound. He put a small bandage on the cut, before sitting back to inspect his handiwork.

“I’ll go grab you some ice for the swelling,” Rafe then said, standing up. “No dozing off, though, a’ight?”

Without waiting for an answer, Rafe left the room, leaving you by yourself yet again. Even though he explicitly told you not to doze off, you laid down on the bed, figuring that it might make the pain a little less bad. As soon as your head hit the pillow, Rafe’s scent engulfed you, and you weren’t sure if you lying down in his bed was too... Intimate? Then again, he was the one who had left you in his bedroom by himself. Before you could sit up again, Rafe reappeared in the room, holding a bag of in his hand, an unreadable expression on his face as he took you in on his bed.

“Sure, go ahead and make yourself at home,” he huffed, but you could see the frown on his face. Rafe sat down on the bed next to you, carefully wrapping the ice bag in a small towel and pressing it against your bruise, his other hand cradling your face. Despite the ice on your skin, you felt your cheeks heating up.

It was odd. You’d never have expected that Rafe could be able to be so gentle, so caring, and you suddenly felt the overwhelming urge to kiss him.

“What’d you say to Topper?” you blurted out instead, breaking the silence. You reached up to hold the ice bag, and Rafe pulled his hands back, raising an eyebrow at you.

“What?”

“After he hit me. What did you tell him to make you leave?”

Rafe sighed, leaning back a bit, staring at the wall as his eyes hardened. “I reminded him of what he did to me when I… Hurt Sarah. Asked him if he was willing to beat me to a pulp for my sister, what he thought I’d do to him for hurting her.”

His eyes flickered back to you.

And you.

You let out a breath at the pregnant pause, scared he’d say something he couldn’t take back. Something real. Maye you had been flirting with him, but so what? There was no harm, they were just words. Right? But admitting something real? That was a whole other story.

“Who would’ve thought Rafe Cameron could be so nice?” You said instead, a teasing lilt in your voice.

Rafe snorted, shaking his head with a laugh, the moment dissipating. “Yeah yeah, don’t get used to it. It was a one time thing.”

“Right, right, we wouldn’t want people to think that Rafe the Kook prince actually has a heart.”

“Does that make you the Pogue Princess then?”

“What?” you asked, flushing. “Where’d you get that idea? That’s obviously Kie.”

“Come on,” Rafe huffed, rolling his eyes. “Kie’s half Kook. And don't even start with my sister. Sarah’s… Half and half, at least.”

You eyed him in amusement. It was clear that he’d spent a good amount of time on that analogy.

“What about Cleo?” you asked, humoring him.

“Ehh. She would’ve made a good Pogue princess, too bad you’ve already taken the spot,” Rafe said with a shrug. “Pogue Princess. Flirts with everyone, heart of gold, never hesitates to get right between a brawl to help out a friend and to call people out on their bullshit…. Should I continue?”

“Please don’t,” you laughed, pressing the ice bag to your cheek. “You’re talking shit out of your ass right now.”

“I’m talking shit out of my ass? You’re the one saying everything that comes to your mind to stop yourself from kissing me right now.”

What?

“What?”

You never thought he’d actually say it out loud. Mention the elephant in the room. The tension you had been trying to ignore all this time. The silence that followed was deafening as you tried to find the right words, your heart beating in your chest.

“In your dreams,” you muttered hotly, repeating your words from earlier in the evening, looking everywhere but at him. It didn’t take long for Rafe to grab you by the chin gently, forcing you to look at him, his eyes piercing yours.

“In my dreams, yes,” he said quietly, inching so close that his warm breath was fanning across your face. “What about yours, princess?”

Gaping at him, speechless, you knew you didn’t have long until Rafe would take your silence as rejection. Your mind was racing, but ultimately, you leaned in, closing the gap and finally kissed him. Rafe let out a soft grunt, dropping his hand from your chin and cupping the back of your head instead to press even closer to you. The kiss deepened, becoming more passionate, as you finally admitted the attraction you felt to another, but you pulled away, when you felt a tad too dizzy.

“Right, shit,” Rafe cursed, knitting his brows together, examining your cheek. “Got too carried away.”

You flushed, handing him the small ice bag, that was more or less a bag of water now. Rafe dumped it in the trash next to the nightstand, before turning back to you with a smirk.

“Took you long enough.”

“Shut up,” you huffed and Rafe only grinned, pushing your hair out of your face, where it stuck to your wet cheek. You leaned in for another kiss, only for Rafe to stop you, holding you back.

“Nuh-uh. You get better first. Next time, I want you to get dizzy because of my mouth and not because you just got punched in the face.”

“You sound real confident there will be a next time,” you pointed out.

Rafe sighed, faux-exasperation. “Princess, don’t act dumb, it doesn’t suit you. You really think I’ll let you go after you’ve professed your love for me?”

“After I did what?” you shrieked in laughter, and Rafe only laughed. It was nice seeing him laugh for real for once, not the smarmy, smirk he used to do. After your laughter subsided, your pursed your lips, serious.

“You know my friends won’t take this well, right? Especially Pope.”

Rafe ran his hand over his buzzed hair, exhaling softly. “I know. But I won you over, didn’t I? Rest will be a piece of cake.”

“I’m serious, Rafe.”

You gave him a look and he leaned down, clasping his hands in his. “So am I. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I have been trying to make things up to him, to Sarah. To everyone. It might take a while… And I don’t blame him.”

“As long as you’re aware…. Now, can we get back to kissing?”

“Didn’t you just hear what I said?”

Pushing your lower lip forward, you pouted at him. “One kiss.”

Rafe stared at you for a hot second, frowning. “Fine. One.”

But when he leaned down to give you a chaste kiss true to his words, you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him down on top of you.

"Jesus, are you trying to kill yourself?" Rafe hissed, but you only cackled, almost taking your bandage off in the process.

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author's note: pls leave a comment/reblog/like if you liked it🥹

#rafe x reader #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron fanfic #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron fanfiction #drew starkey #obx #outer banks

[erwinsvow]

They call you the clueless pogue. The pretty one. 

You don’t care much either way—that comes from years of being Kiara’s best friend, she’s taught you well on how to ignore what other people think and say about you. Maybe you would care more, you think one day, watching JJ and Pope drive each other crazy while trying to fix something that’s inexplicably gone wrong with the Twinkie. John B is swinging in the hammock, eyes closed, empty beer in his hand that is soon replaced with a fresh one by Kie. She drops the old can into a bin that has the recycling symbol drawn on with a sharpie, her own creation. She walks towards you with a can of fruity seltzer since it’s well known with your new friends that you refuse to drink beer—and it all feels very domestic.

You might care about what other people say if you didn’t love your friends so much.

You are a little clueless though—at least the boys think so. They wouldn’t dare to say anything when your protective best friend was around, but when it’s just you and one of them, or all of them, it comes out a little more. 

You wear the kind of clothes that they wouldn’t let a sister of theirs be caught dead in. They never used to care about stuff like that, not until you started hanging around more often. It was the result of absent parents that were only on the island a few months out of the year. The rest of the time you had free reign, and an unlimited credit card that often funded their adventures—gas for the Twinkie, beer for the night, a new outfit to wear to the party. 

JJ gets into a fist-fight with a guy who keeps offering you a drink from the keg, not listening no matter how many times you refuse and grabbing the short hem of your yellow dress to yank you back. JJ doesn’t mean to knock him out—it’s just like instinct, he explains later that night to John B and Pope while you’re sound asleep on the pull-out with Kiara—the way he feels protective over you.

“Are you okay?” Kie asks, and you smooth out your dress from where that guy had grabbed it.

“Only because JJ saved me,” you say, looking at him with big doe eyes and fluttering eyelashes. He swallows uncomfortably.

“No biggie, princess, I mean you know me, I’m a big damsel-in-stress kinda guy-” Kiara rolls her eyes and brings you inside, and he’s left standing there with pink-tinged ears.

He doesn’t tell them about how you were looking around for someone, anyone to help, how scared you look when he touched you, how your face visibly eased when you locked eyes with JJ, how you held a bag of frozen peas to his black eye and kissed his cheek before going back to find everyone earlier. He decides to keep that for himself.

You don’t keep an eye out for your surroundings when you tag along on their adventures either. That’s pretty much John B’s responsibility now, walking towards the back with you. You often start looking around, head in the clouds, staring at the trees and sky and walking right into a pile of mud or a puddle.

“Wow, the air is so clean out here,” you comment while taking a deep breath. It’s said quiet enough that only he can hear you.

“Yeah, pretty girl, that’s because of all the trees.” You laugh and shove his arm, because duh, but you can’t respond because the others are yelling for you two to catch up.

He doesn’t let you lead—you’ve cried over too many ruined shoes for him to risk it anymore—instead he holds onto your hand firmly, gripping tight when he needs you to slow down and pulling gently when it’s okay to proceed. It’s his job to make sure all the bugs are out of the way, that you’re not walking into a spiderweb or running after a butterfly or pretty bird. The others tease you two and laugh, but you still thank him with a tight hug, the thin material of your sports bra not really hiding much, murmuring something about no signs of mud on your new sneakers.

“Yeah, anytime,” he breathes after you’ve already walked away. You turn back to smile at him, adjusting your ridden-up tennis skirt you’d sported today. “Wouldn’t wanna dirty those shoes.”

You make Pope feel like the smartest guy in the world sometimes, without even trying. It’s not like you’re stupid, because he knows you’re not, but when you bite your cheek and tap his shoulder to ask him another question about whatever you were working on, your words start going to his head. 

“So if I wanna save this and put them all together, I just use this program? And I just use the mouse?” you say thoughtfully, repeating his instructions back to him.

“Yes, sweetheart,” and he tries his best to make sure he sounds patient—he’s learned from experience you don’t react well if you even suspect he’s getting frustrated.

Pope watches you play with the thin straps of your shirt before the string idly falls off your shoulder, exposing a swath of soft, sweet-smelling skin to him. Staring at your bare shoulder, he thinks he could never get frustrated at you even if he tried his hardest.  When you finish making your little vision-board on photoshop, you turn to show him proudly, and he is proud, with how well you followed his instructions and weren’t too shy to keep asking for his help. Later that night at the Chateau, you lean against his shoulder with his arm swung around you on the couch and explain what each of the images mean until you fall asleep. 

They’re all playing a game of chicken—wondering which one will be the first to cross that line and suggest something more than just friendship to you. Through empty cases of beer and boys-only fishing trips they’ve briefly discussed to each other that they’re interested, but of respect—to each other, not really to you—they haven’t made the first move just yet. No matter how difficult you make it.

At the beach you help the boys wax their surfboards, taking turns with each one, floating around a little tipsy already from your fruity drink. They’re all talking, but you don’t really pay attention, eyes staring at something in the distance.

JJ covers his mouth, imitating a walkie noise. 

“Hello, uh, earth to princess, over.” 

You turn back to him and his board, dropping the chunk of wax and leaning in. He blanks for a second—your pretty face getting closer, an eyeful of your tits in the tiny bikini you’re wearing today making his head spin. And you’re infront of everyone, which is definitely not how he’d thought he would win this little competition. 

“Do you see that pretty girl over there? Three o’clock?” 

“I see a pretty girl right in front of me,” he says, and you laugh, pushing his shoulder. He doesn’t realize that you think he’s just joking. 

“Jayj, seriously. See her?” He nods, but still doesn’t turn to look. “She’s been staring at you for, like, ten minutes. You should go over there!” 

You’re smiling big, like the idea of another girl talking to him sounds fun. He pulls back from you, confused.

“I need another beer.” He stalks off, walking to the boys while you turn to Kiara.

“What did I do wrong? I’m trying to get him laid-” Kiara rolls her eyes. You turn and see the boys in deep conversation, occasionally glancing back at you and Kie.

“She just told me to go flirt with some girl, like, right in front of her. I mean is this some kind of test?” He takes a long chug of the beer, sounding about as stressed as Pope and John B have ever seen. “Do I fail if I hook up with some rando? Or do I fail if I don’t hook up? It’s Schindler’s cat, man-”

“That’s not-” Pope starts, before being cut off.

“Sorry, sorry. Schrodinger’s kids.”

“No, JJ-”

“What the hell does she mean? So she wants us to hook up with other people?” John B cuts in, looking back at you, but something else on the beach seems to have caught your attention.

“Woah, I’m not doing that, but you two are more than welcome-” 

“Yeah, nice try, Pope. We get with some girl so you can tell her you stayed loyal and win her over? I don’t think so, genius-”

“Well, you’re the one she’s trying to set up so I think I’m pretty safe right now-”

“It’s not a reality show Pope, you can’t eliminate me.”

“Guys,” John B speaks up.

“If this was a show, I’d clearly be the fan favorite and the winner-”

“Uh, says who? I would so win, let’s do a poll right now and survey this beach-”

“Guys.” Louder this time, they listen to John. He doesn’t say anything, just stares into the distance and soon they join him, to see what he’s looking at.

“Y’gotta be fucking kidding me,” JJ says, watching you run into Rafe’s arms, swinging around before giving him a kiss. Rafe pulls away and looks straight at the three of them, while giving them a wave.

#i am a proud supporter of reader x all three pogue boys <3 #obx #john b routledge #jj maybank #pope heyward #rafe cameron

[yournowheregirl]

thinking about italian steve today

thinking about steve, who loves to cook and wants to get better at it, so he starts digging through the many, many cabinets in the harrington home until he finds an old recipe book written by his great-grandma. it’s filled with recipes he remembers his mom and nonna making when he was little, only problem is that it’s all written in italian

thinking about robin offering to translate it for him but instead, steve asks her to help him learn the language instead. it’s hard at first - the language is so different from what he’s used to - but robin is patient (surprisingly so) and helps him with the pronunciation and sentence structures until it gets easier and easier.

thinking about steve finally getting the hang of the language and inviting everyone over for a big italian dinner once he translates his great-grandma’s recipe book and basking in everyone’s praise and incessant begging to bring his tiramisu to every hellfire meeting and movie night from now on.

thinking about steve and robin taking advantage of speaking a language no one else knows to talk shit about everyone behind their backs. they bitch all about that one guy who takes forever choosing between two very similar movies at family video. they whisper about robin’s love life, for once not being scared of someone overhearing them. they joke about the party being little shits whenever steve so graciously drives them around town. this, of course, drives dustin nuts - he can’t handle not being in the know about everything that happens around him - which only makes steve and robin cackle even louder.

thinking about eddie somehow never catching steve speaking italian until he shows up unannounced at the harrington home one day (steve had given all of them spare keys to use whenever they needed). eddie’s daydreaming as he walks into the foyer but he stops dead in his tracks when he hears steve talking on the phone. in rapid italian. he stays there, flushed and frozen in the middle of the foyer, until he hears steve laughing and saying a quick “ciao nonna, ti voglio bene” and he has to scramble himself together to look somewhat presentable. steve goes to greet eddie but all eddie can blurt out is “what the fuck was that” as he tries to get his brain back online. steve just shrugs and replies “italian. you want a beer?”

thinking about steve noticing how flustered eddie seems to get whenever he speaks italian and using this to his advantage since eddie’s been having the upper hand in this whole will-they-won’t-they-situation they’ve got going on for the past few months.

thinking about eddie just melting into a puddle of goo whenever steve casually speaks italian and not knowing that steve’s just talking about the weather today or that he’s actually joking about loving eddie’s twenty-minute monologue about the history of metal.

thinking of steve becoming a little more brave every time and starting to slip little compliments in here and there because he’s still too chicken to confess his feelings in english. one time it’s a casual “tesoro mio” when eddie brings him lunch and another time it’s a “sono pazzo di te” when eddie makes him laugh so hard his stomach hurts. one day, when he’s feeling particularly confident and eddie’s looking particularly gorgeous, he leans over the counter at family video and plays with one of eddie’s stray curls as he tells him “mi sono perso nei tuoi occhi”. the rush of seeing eddie’s face turn bright pink stays with steve for the rest of that day.

thinking about eddie falling asleep against steve’s side on the couch one night and steve feel so warm and happy inside, that he whispers a soft “mi sono innamorato di te" against eddie’s hair. that particular phrase - i’m in love with you - had been buzzing inside his brain for weeks now but he couldn’t get himself to say it out loud. it’s too obvious, too revealing. but he figures it’s safe now that eddie’s softly snoring beside him.

thinking about eddie suddenly jumping up, wide-eyed and frantic, his voice a few octaves higher than usual as he says “wait, you’re in love with me?”

special thanks to @legitcookie @sidekick-hero & @cheatghost for cheering me on about this silly little idea. the things steve says in italian are as follows (my apologies to the actual italians, i tried my best!): - ciao nonna, ti voglio bene - bye grandma, i love you (familial) - tesoro mio - my darling - sono pazzo di te - i’m crazy about you - mi sono perso nei tuoi occhi - i’m lost in your eyes

#steddie #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve harrington x eddie munson #italian!steve harrington #stranger things #this post is sponsored by me listening to maneskin on repeat today

[maybankswhore]

𝐁𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐒 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃.

SUMMARY: jj has always had a tiny crush on you that he never acted on because john b had gotten to you first. . . but one drunken night at the boneyard gives him a taste he can’t forget.

PAIRING: jj maybank x fem!reader , (est) relationship!john b x fem!reader.

WARNINGS: semi dark!jj maybank , naive reader , mentions of alcohol and weed , slight manipulation on jj’s part , coercion , infidelity , p in v , unprotected sex & creampie , choking & spit kink. ( for context , reader does play stupid for the most part. also , her and jj are on the same level when it comes to the alcohol they’ve consumed. reader is consenting though she tries playing dumb. )

There was nothing more that JJ valued more than his friendship with John B.

Their friendship had been un–breakable since the minute they met. The memories the two of them had together would forever be cherished , and JJ would always find himself thinking back on them fondly. It had been the two of them through thick and thin since the beginning of time.

But God , it was the way the alcohol flooded his bloodstream and hazed his mind that threw all his morals out the window. Your back against his chest as you moved sensually to the beat of the music , his hands gripping the forbidden skin of your hips tightly to hold you in place.

John B had been drunk out of his mind. Kiara and Pope had already left. Though it wasn’t out of the norm for you and JJ to be the last ones standing. The both of you loved to party and had a high tolerance. In fact , they felt less guilty leaving places early knowing that the two of you would have eachother.

Yet they didn’t realize the dirty little fantasies that plagued JJ’s mind. The three of them would never think anything more than JJ being taken to you just for the fact that John B loved you— and you were just another one of the Pogue’s. . .

Somewhere the night had shifted. One minute you were kissing your boyfriend goodbye sweetly and dancing around the beach playfully. It was just an innocent night like every other night had been— until it wasn’t.

JJ hadn’t meant for it to get like this. He didn’t know if it was the weed he had smoked or maybe it was one too many beers , but he took one look at you from across the beach and everything in his mind had disappeared. JJ couldn’t even remember his bestfriends name at that point. You weren’t someone elses girlfriend then. You were a girl across the beach that was beautiful. The most beautiful girl. Sweating and laughing as your hips moved rhythmically.

His feet were taking him to you before he could even think about it. You had greeted him with the most breathtaking smile and his knees felt weak. It was then that time moved slower , and your hands grabbed his and that’s when things changed. JJ completely voided his mind of anything but you. But how you danced , how good it felt to snake his arms around your waist and feel how smooth it was on the exposed parts of your hips. His eyes soaking in the sight of you underneath the moonlight while yours were shut while you danced.

JJ felt almost devilishly as he planned the whole thing out in his head. Leaning forward and asking to steal you away for a few minutes to smoke a joint. He knew you’d never refuse that.

His hand in yours , JJ had pulled you somewhere to the back of the beach. It was a secluded spot , one he had known about from previous experiences that he couldn’t even remember then. You giggled and laughed as you followed him , always finding JJ someone that you felt good around.

It happened like clockwork then. It was silent at first. His stomach in knots and nerves as he lit up the preroll , feeling bashful underneath your gaze. You hadn’t thought much of it and bumped your shoulder against his as he handed it over. “I’d never thought I’d see the day JJ Maybank had nothing to say.” You said , meaning to ease the tension.

JJ glanced over at you. His eyes meeting yours in a weird way. A way that the color of his eyes darkened and they looked at you differently. It made your stomach feel weird , almost flip at it. Blinking off guard , you looked towards the waves hitting against one another. “That’s the thing—” JJ started , taking his turn of the joint back and inhaling it a few good times before speaking again. “I have too much to say.”

As he passed it back to you , his fingers brushed against yours. You weren’t sure if it was the wind that was nipping at the two of you underneath the night sky— or the beads of sweat drying , but your spine danced at the feeling. It made you take a shaky breath now that the air was becoming thick. Though you kept telling yourself that it was the beer from earlier and the drugs entering your system. That this was just JJ. You felt normal. It felt the same as it always did.

Yet even then that didn’t soothe the turns in your stomach. Not with the way he looked tonight. Hair disheveled away from his face , giving you a clear view to his bright eyes and apple round cheeks. JJ had always been a good looking guy— everyone in Outer Banks knew that. But you had met him and everyone told you just what he was. . . a Rogue. He didn’t date. He wasn’t one to be in love and you took their warnings to heart and stayed away.

Pushing you into the arms of John B.

John B. . .

The brief moment of attraction towards the blonde suddenly made you feel sick with guilt.

JJ must have seen the expression on your face change. He swallowed before talking again. “Can I ask you something?”

Sighing , you took another hit to ease your nervous system. To try and make you mellow out and to stop thinking so quickly at one time. You were overthinking and over analyzing. “Anything.”

JJ rubbed at his jaw. “If you weren’t with. . . you know—” he couldn’t bring himself to say his name out loud. Knowing what he was doing and what he was playing at. Guilt burned at his throat but he ignored it. It was easy to ignore when he looked at you. “Would you fuck me?”

His question made you gasp audibly. Eyebrows furrowing in confusion and surprise as you watched JJ’s face which stayed still. “JJ! What the hell kind’ve question is that?”

JJ shrugged. Seemingly playing it coy. “It’s just a question. Doesn’t mean you’ll do it.”

You furrowed your eyebrows. “Well of course I wouldn’t do anything! I’m with John B.”

“But if you weren’t with him is what I’m asking.” JJ shrugged. “It’s nothing serious , Y/N/N. Jus’ curious is all.”

Your mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. Your cheeks burned bright pink and you hoped he couldn’t see the color with how dark it was outside. You pushed the joint back into JJ’s hands and moved to stand up but he caught your wrist just as quick— “JJ.” You warned.

“I’m sorry , swear.” JJ begged. He pleaded with you his eyes , bottom lip out as he did so. “You know I say things without thinking sometimes. Don’t go yet. I’m not finished.”

Everything inside of you was telling you staying would be a bad idea. It was deep within your gut. But as you chewed your bottom lip and the wheels turned in your head , JJ casually leaned back on the rock and continued smoking like everything was fine. . . And so , you did the same.

“You can’t say things like that you know.”

“Why not?”

“Because. . .” you stammered over your words. “Because that’s inappropriate , okay?”

JJ nodded slowly. “So no then?”

“What?” You couldn’t help the incredulous expression on your face at JJ playing it so cool. Like this conversation wasn’t disrespectful to not only your relationship but also his friendship to John B.

“You wouldn’t fuck me.”

His sentence yet again made a sound of surprise leave your mouth. Suddenly feeling flustered at what felt like an ambush. “JJ—”

JJ shrugged. “It’s okay. I mean , I’m not offended. I wouldn’t fuck you either.”

His words seemed to sting. You wasn’t sure why it did— but it had and had left you questioning. “What? Why are you even— and why not?”

“Because you’re probably boring in bed.” JJ giggled. The weed he smoked helping him feel warmth as he sat there. His head lazily turning towards you.

You scoffed at that and crossed your arms. “That’s quite rude! And I’m not boring.” You defended yourself. It was silly and JJ had a knack for teasing.

JJ put his hands up defensively. “Okay , whatever you say.” He smirked , finding it amusing to push your buttons. Of course , he had thought the exact opposite. But playing this game was much more fun than the other option , and he knew you. He knew you’d crack. He was hoping you’d crack.

“I’m not! I mean. . . doesn’t John B ever like—” you assumed that boys would be boys and talk with eachother the way you did with Kiara sometimes. Surely John B would’ve mentioned something about it once or twice.

“Talk about it?” JJ quipped. “Nah , not really.”

It wasn’t the answer you were hoping for and deep down it had made you start feeling a little self conscious. Were you boring? As soon as the question came , you shook your head to rid yourself of it. The sex with John B was good. It was always good. JJ was just trying to get into your head.

“Well it doesn’t matter because I’m not boring.” You snapped.

JJ nodded slowly. “I mean it’s okay if you are. As long as you know , can kiss good enough then that’s all a guy really needs to get off.”

You squirmed in your position. Your cheeks felt warm and this whole conversation was out of the ordinary for you. You and John B didn’t really talk much about things like this and you and JJ certainly never had before either. Though it had sparked some curiosity within you. “Really?”

“Totally. That’s the biggest thing for me when I’m with a girl.” JJ responded. “Kissing is the determining factor.”

You shook your head up and down slowly and thought it over. Without saying anything in return , you’d hope that JJ would drop it but instead he scooted closer to you. So close that his shoulder brushed against yours softly. Just enough space in between the two of you that they didn’t bump into eachother , but close enough to where anyone looking in would deem it too close.

“You kiss good , right?” JJ wondered out loud. His voice dropping down to almost a whisper. Softly spoken. You kept your eyes straight ahead while his eyes were burning holes into the side of your face. “I mean , I’d hate my boy to be with a bad kisser.”

“I—I am.” Your voice shook. You fisted the sand in your hands underneath you. “I mean. . . I think.”

“Hmm. . .” JJ nodded. Testing the waters , he leaned closer to you. The smell of your vanilla shampoo filled his nose as it lightly touched the skin of your cheek. Goosebumps rose on his arms at the feeling. “I could tell you—” he swallowed harshly. Bundling nerves right in his abdomen. “If you were , I mean.”

Laughing nervously , you tilted your head away. You tried to ignore how it made you feel. That how close he was made your heart race and your skin burn , like the idea of kissing JJ was anything but repulsive and wrong. This was wrong. You not stopping it was wrong but you couldn’t. For some reason , you couldn’t bring yourself to get up and leave or tell him it to stop talking. Deep down , a part of you wanted him to do it. “W-What do you mean? How could you tell me that?”

“You could kiss me.” JJ offered. “It’s just a kiss. You know , to tell you if you’re good at it. . . For John B.”

“JJ I—” you took a shaky breath. “JJ that’s cheating. It would be wrong.”

JJ shook his head. His hand reached over to grab yours , fingers curling towards your palm. The softness of his touch made your toes practically curl. You wanted to melt into it , feel more of him. Explore more of it. But you couldn’t— right?

“It’s not cheating , Y/N.” JJ assured. “I’m pretty sure John B would appreciate his girlfriend making sure she was pleasing him good enough.” He coaxed. “Besides , we wouldn’t have to tell him.”

“That’s—”

“Kiss me , Y/N.” JJ’s index finger hooked the side of your jaw gently and pulled your head to the side. His eyelashes fluttered against his cheek as he watched you watch him nervously. You hadn’t leaned in— but you hadn’t pulled away. “Or do you want to me to kiss you? Would that make you feel better? If I kissed you?”

His words were almost taunting but it was true. You knew that if you were the one to start it , it’d make you feel even more guilty. You felt horrible even thinking about it — worse about entertaining the idea. But as you went to nod your head , all indiscretion about what was right and wrong had left your mind. JJ’s mouth on yours had shocked you , making you blink a couple times before his hands on either side of your cheeks made your lips start moving against his in the same amount of force.

It was slow at first. He took his time , savoring the taste of the stale weed and strawberry drink you had earlier. Just kissing you made his jeans tighten— his mind go hazy. He was getting drunk just off the taste of you and now JJ felt insatiable.

Nothing else mattered after that. Your boyfriends face had completely left your mind. Kissing JJ made your belly do flips and your heart skip every other beat. JJ kissed you like a man starved— one hand had left your cheek and grabbed at your waist , pulling it towards himself. Your little short–shorts felt like nothing as he pushed himself up against you , and you felt it. It caused you to gasp , and JJ took that an opportunity to slip his tongue in your mouth. It swirled in every place it could find , a soft moan leaving the back of his throat as he did so. “Feel that?” JJ pulled away just for a second to mutter gently in your ear , rolling his hips again. “I’m that hard just by kissing you—”

Something in you began to stir at his words. How desired you felt only added to the situation. Each time his hips rolled against yours and created friction between your legs , it felt better and better. It was like an itch that you needed scratched and you didn’t want to play naive anymore. You were already there— and it felt too good to stop.

JJ hoisted you into his lap with ease. Each hand on either hip while he pulled away to look down at where the middle of your shorts met his. Looking at it made him groan. There hadn’t been anything hotter to him in that moment , then watching you on top of him. “Fuck you’re so—”

You took control of the situation and began grinding down onto him in a way that made you feel good. You could feel how slick you were already , the fabric of your panties sticking to that little bundle of nerves and you reached out to grab his hands and stick them in your shorts. “Since you wanted me so bad you couldn’t just stop talking—” you groaned , throwing your head back when JJ’s thumb immediately went to where you needed it to. “Finish what you started.”

The two of you were a moaning mess together. Dry humping like teenagers who discovered it for the first time with JJ’s hand down your panties. Everything about it was so wrong , but the erotic nature of the situation made it too good to stop. With hooded eyes you watched how JJ’s eyes never left between the two of you , how he panted and groan with each sound you made. Veins coming out his arm from how well he was working his fingers onto your cunt that was screaming for more.

“Tell me you want me to fuck you.” JJ grunted. God , it felt even better than he had imagined. His body was begging to touch you , feel every part of you. He was drunk off of you and he didn’t care about anything anymore. He was too far gone. “Tell me and I’ll do it right now.”

His teeth bit at the protective layer of skin on your neck. Not hard enough to leave a mark , but enough to make a sweet whine leave your parted lips. Through your eyelashes you down at him , your chest heaving while trying to catch it enough to speak. His ring cladded fingers halted their movements , waiting for a response.

“Yes—” you breathed , feeling shame when your hips bucked forward for more of him. “I want you to fuck me.”

That sentence made him groan in response to it. He wasted no time in moving you around , laying you flat on your back to pull down your shorts. “You’re so beautiful , Y/N.” JJ praised as he looked at you , your cheeks burning red and body glistening underneath the moonlight. It all seemed so surreal to him , having you there for him— “I’ve wanted you for so long , always walking around in those tight little shorts. Pretending you’re such a good girl when I know what you really are.”

Holding himself up on his knees , JJ quickly unfastened his belt and pulling down his shorts. You watched him , your hands fisting the sand yet again.

“You’re a dirty little girl , baby. You wanna be fucked so bad , huh? John B’s the boring one , isn’t he baby? You want someone to fill up this pretty little pussy , make you cry—” JJ’s voice was like sugar. Sickly sweet as he said the dirtiest of words that emitted a quiet moan from your mouth. JJ barely caught it , finding it amusing the way you still pretended as though you were the exact opposite.

“Stop teasing.” You whined , allowing your leg to venture up and snake around his waist to pull him towards you. “You’ve done it enough tonight.”

JJ tutted as he grabbed your leg from around his waist. “Open your legs for me.” He instructed , guiding your legs to how he wanted them. With your knees propped up and your legs as open as they could go , JJ swore he’d been starved his whole life as he looked down inbetween them , your pussy slick with arousal , practically begging for him.

The cool air nipped at your skin making you shiver. It almost hurt the way you were throbbing , needing him to do something— anything.

All air left your lungs the minute JJ disappeared. His tongue lapping you up feverishly. Your jaw became unhinged while your back arched off the sand , a series of crude moans and whines escaping your mouth embarrassingly so the way JJ’s mouth worked on you. Sucking your clit in an agonizingly slow pace , vibrating the area as he moaned. “You taste just as good as I thought you would.” JJ mumbled when he pulled away for a minute to slip in his middle finger.

“JJ. . . yes—” your head fell back while your eyes rolled to the back of your head.

Everything went blank. All you could focus on was JJ’s messy blonde hair inbetween your legs. His tongue worked on you , fucking you with it as his thumb rubbed soothing circles on your clit. It sounded like he was a man starved , the sounds his mouth made for you. Desperately gripping at the roots of his hair , shamelessly pulling him closer and closer towards you. “God , like that JJ— just like that.”

Your praise earned a grunt in response. The tightness of his jeans and underwear beginning to feel uncomfortable and he tried rocking against the sand to relieve it. He loved the way you sounded , the way you tasted , the way your body reacted to him. Your legs were smooth to the touch when he rubbed them , your pussy just as perfect as he imagined— his jaw began hurting but it only pushed him harder to keep going. He had thought about this , about you , for far too long to stop now and it only pushed him harder to make you cum.

You yelped when JJ sat up on his knees again , hooking his arms around your waist to lift your bottom from the ground. His tongue fucking you deeper , licking and sucking all that he could. He watched your face and how it contorted , how your head went back and your hands reached for just about anything to hold onto. “So good , baby. So good. John B doesn’t deserve a pussy like that.” His mouth pulled away from you to insert his fingers , curling them to find the spot that made you tick.

Something started swirling in your stomach. A feeling that washed over you and settled within your bloodstream , pumping blood faster than you had felt before. It was euphoric , how your toes curled at it. Everything about the situation helping you get off , the clapping of JJ’s ring decorated fingers and how he looked at you like you were the most beautiful thing to ever exist. How wrong it all was but felt so right at the same time.

“ ’M gonna cum.” You babbled out , drunk off of him. Almost fucked dumb just by his fingers. “JJ I’m gonna—”

The orgasm hit like a wave , shaking your body as it did. It was hard to catch your breath. You couldn’t stop your legs from shaking while you tried to sit up and a cocky grin was left on JJ’s face. His index finger wiped the remnants around his mouth , sucking on it afterwards. “So fuckin’ hot.”

You couldn’t help yourself. You grabbed his shirt and brought him down to you , kissing his mouth. JJ moaned in the kiss , allowing your tongue to be the one exploring his this time. You could taste yourself on him , a salty sweet mixture that made his mouth water.

Gently JJ’s hand snaked around your throat , squeezing it to test out the waters. When you made a noise in response , bucking your hips greedily again— JJ pulled away from you with a smirk. “My dirty little girl , huh?”

As you whimpered in response , JJ tutted. His pupil’s dilating as he laid you back down and went to tug down his own shorts. “I’m gonna fuck you so hard you’re gonna be mine—”

A moan escaped your mouth at his words and JJ laughed tauntingly in response. You waited anxiously as he lined himself up with you , holding your hips in place. His eyes were stuck on your bodies and how his tip teased your slit , running along it to lubricate it just enough to slip in which was enough to make his mind go crazier.

Slowly he entered you. Making sure to savor every second , JJ memorized how it felt to squeeze himself in between your walls. He’d forever replay the sound of your gasp as he slipped it in , breaking you apart.

John B wasn’t small necessarily , though your boyfriend had more girth. JJ was long , it was pretty to look at it and it had just enough width to stretch your walls at an agonizing pace. The feeling of him filling you up was good , but as his hips started snapping , it was better.

Whining for attention , JJ leaned down to kiss you again only stopping to pry your mouth open with his thumb and tap your tongue. Your eyes widened at the action but JJ’s thrusts didn’t give you any time to stop and process it. Instead you opened your mouth willingly , moaning in return when he spit into your mouth. JJ’s jaw tightened as you swallowed it , doe eyed.

“Good girl.” He praised. “Such a good girl.”

You clenched around him at that and a wicked smile took place on his face when he realized how much you liked it when he praised you. He could tell in your body language , how needy you were and how your legs wrapped around him to trap his dick inside of you that you hadn’t been fucked like this.

He knew his friend too well to know John B was vanilla.

“You’re so wet. You like this? Getting off with your boyfriends bestfriend inside of you?” JJ grunted as he slid in and out of with you ease. You only whined in response , burying the back of your head in the sand. JJ’s hand gripped your chin and forced you to make eye contact with him— “Answer me. How long have you wanted this? Your pussy is practically sucking me in.”

With your bottom lip out you squirmed underneath him for more stimulation. “I–I didn’t. This is the first time.” You lied through burning cheeks. Embarrassment flooding you when you made another sound of approval when JJ’s teeth nipped at your neck.

“You’re lying.” JJ whispered in your ear before nibbling on the lobe. “You can tell me— our secret.”

Whimpering your eyes watered. Thinking about it made you feel guilty. How much you were enjoying it made you feel even worse. “Just. . . just a couple times!”

JJ hummed as though he didn’t believe you but he decided not to push the issue. He angled himself to be able to go deeper. Your left leg straight up in the air while his skin slapped against yours. “I’ve thought about this every night since I met you.” JJ admitted while he groaned. “Always walking around in the small little bikini. . . Fuck , if only John B hadn’t gotten to you first.”

You felt pleasure through the tears that coated your eyes. You couldn’t tell if you were crying from the guilt or from how good it felt to feel JJ inside of you. There were so many sensations hitting you at once , so many feelings but your toes curled and your hands were clammy. They gripped onto JJ for dear life , loving every second of it despite what your heart kept pushing away. You writhed underneath him , your orgasm coming on for the second time. The noise that escaped your throat was filthy.

“You’re gonna cum for me , baby? Huh? Cumming again for your boyfriend’s best friend?” JJ grunted. “Me too , you suck me in so good. This pussy was made me for me. You were supposed to be for me.”

You shouldn’t have came as hard as you did from his words. You couldn’t contain your moans that just kept pouring out of you , watching JJ’s hips struggle to keep their movement as they followed suit.

You felt warmth coat the inside of you and immediately you gasped. Your legs pushing you away but JJ held you in place.

His head fell into the crook of your neck as he breathed , letting his dick go limp inside of you. “My girl.”

#jj maybank x reader #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank #outer banks imagines #outer banks #jj maybank fanfiction #dark jj maybank #dark!jj maybank #dark!jj maybank x reader #smut jj maybank #jj maybank x reader smut #jj maybank outer banks #jj obx #jj outer banks #obx jj #jj x reader #dark jj maybank smut

[arachine]

— 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭'𝐬 𝐠𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐧 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞?: 𝐚 𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐲𝐬𝐢𝐬

+ 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐝: multiple stranger things men

+ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: mature

+ 𝐜𝐰: explicit sexual content

+ 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: so…i’m back. It’s been so long since i’ve posted the first dick analysis, and i just couldn’t resist doing one for the stranger things men! this is just a filler post until i finish writing some of my requests and outlining the first few chapters of my eddie munson series. until then, please enjoy this, i had a lot of fun just spewing all of my whore thoughts into this >.<

+ part two here !

+ 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐫: the small font is a stylistic choice. if you are having trouble reading, i suggest you adjust your iphone’s settings!

eddie “the freak” munson

↻ length: the social pariah, eddie munson, is many things. he’s loud, obnoxious, witty, and…a freak. yeah, he roleplays with 15 year old kids, and yeah, he very well may be a super senior–having repeated the 12th grade three times–but those things don’t really make him a freak. no, the thing that makes him a freak is the unnecessarily long, heavy piece of meat that swings between his legs like a pendulum. 

coming in at just about 6 inches flaccid, and 7.5 inches fully erect, eddie takes the cake for this lists’ third longest dong. 

↻ width: eddie’s a pretty skinny guy, and so, his dick’s probably not much thicker than a febreeze bottle. but it’s okay, because skinny dick, is still good dick. 

↻ color: he’s pale but it’s definitely a little tanner than the rest of his body. i’d say it’d progressively get darker the closer it gets to his tip (which is a beautiful mauve-y color that darkens when erect).

extra: 

↻ groomed: it’s the 80s, and he’s a metalhead with a wild mane of hair on his head, so naturally, i think he’d rock a little bush. just a little one, but on occasion, he will tackle it with some scissors and trim it down a bit. 

↻ curved: oh, god, yes. deliciously curved to the left with a plump, mushroomy head. 

↻ veins: duh! two thick veins that begin underside the shaft and split into a fork just beneath the head. 

↻ how he uses it: gonna just go ahead and say it, and this may be controversial, but i honestly think eddie would love putting you in a full nelson. now before you scrunch your nose in disagreement, just LISTEN. he’s such a skinny motherfucker but i just know there’s some muscle under those black skinny jeans and tees. i mean, we all saw that scene where he pinned steve against the wall with a broken beer bottle to his throat—albeit because he was defending himself—but that’s neither here nor there. eddie fucks, and he fucks good. 

steve “good hair” harrington 

↻ length: steve is a ken doll personified. except, unlike a ken doll, there’s actually something down there besides a flat surface—so rest assured, you won’t have to worry about bumping purses when doing the woo hoo. but here’s another controversial opinion: steve doesn’t have a big dick—it’s average, and that’s okay!

steve’s dick rests at a firm 5.3 inches flaccid, and a good 6.5 inches erect. not too big, and not too small. just…perfect, like him. 

↻ width: for what he lacks in length, he makes up for in girth! yeah, you’re getting 6 inches, but he’s hitting you with that stretch—and it burns, but in the best way imaginable. 

↻ color: the prettiest boy in hawkins has to have the prettiest cock, right? i think it’d be pretty light in comparison to the rest of his body. when i think of him, i feel like he’d be one of those guys who are kinda tan but when they take off their pants, they have the most bizarre looking tan lines ever, and their ass is brighter than the moon! anyway, i digress; it’d be pretty pale with a mean, red tip when aroused, and strawberry pink when it’s soft. 

extra: 

↻ groomed: yes. he keeps it really simple. shaves it down real low but not enough to the point where he’s bald. 

↻ curved: as straight as a pencil 

↻ veins: has one on the top of his shaft that wraps around the head 

↻ how he uses it: we’re talking about steve here. steve the womanizer, steve the public enemy and panty dropper of seasons one through three. he’s all about that doggy style life. don’t let his himbo persona in season four fool you, that man is a whore! he likes to get down and dirty, and if that includes you on your hands and knees, with your face shoved into the sheets while your tears drip down onto the sheets…then, so be it. 

billy “ima turn you out” hargrove

↻ length: i am not a billy hargrove enjoyer but i can’t sit here and lie to you, i just won’t. that silly little fella’s got a cock the size of a bull… 

8.2 inches. 

no, i’m not taking criticism. he’s big, end of story. 

↻ width: the length matches the girth, sis. if you think you can take him—you can’t. and if you think i’m kidding—i’m not. think coke bottle, but longer.  

↻ color: tanned to perfection, because of course it is, he was a lifeguard for god sake! 

extra: 

↻ groomed: like steve, he keeps it pretty well trimmed. although, sometimes, he lets it grow out so he can show off his happy trail. and a sight to see it is!

↻ curved: oh my days, it curves to the right—like a lot. a real captain hook. 

↻ veins: absolutely covered in ‘em, but the most prominent one resides on the side of his shaft and if you really look at it, it kinda looks like a little lighting bolt. 

↻ how he uses it: you can’t have sex with billy and expect intimacy, that just isn’t happening. he likes it with absolutely no strings attached and no eye contact. so, expect to be thrown into all types of obscure positions, his favorite of which includes you with half of your body hanging off the bed and him pounding mercilessly into you from behind. honestly, as long as billy gets a view of your ass, he doesn’t really care.

jim “big zaddy” hopper 

↻ length: the biggest dick on this list. a true monster cock, that is it, that is all. 

but if i had to give a specific measurement…9 inches. whether that’s his measurement soft or erect, i’ll let you be the judge of that.  

↻ width: he’s so thick that he’d probably split your pussy open if he didn’t properly prepare you, and even then, you’d still never be prepared enough :(

↻ color: i’d say it would be one or two shades darker than his complexion, and the head is definitely not pink. more like a rouge mixed with a little brown.  

extra: 

↻ groomed: jim just gives grown man, you know? like obviously, he is one, but i just think there’s something so sexy about a man with body hair! so, i don’t think he’d keep it well trimmed, or trimmed at all for that matter. and if he does decide to take a pair of scissors to it, it’s very, very rare. 

↻ curved: surprisingly, no. it’s straight, but extremely heavy and he has big man balls to match. 

↻ veins: yes, just like billy, they’re all over. with a dick as big as his, he’s gonna need all the veins he can get to transport the appropriate amount of blood to it. 

↻ how he uses it: very traditional, very cute and sweet. likes to fuck in missionary because he’s a real man, and he prefers to look into his lover’s eyes while pleasuring them. however, that doesn’t mean he’s a prude. if he wants to, he could put you in a full nelson, but he usually just opts for something that won’t throw his old man back out :)

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