#he's not really trash he just appears that way at first (i hope)

[ceruleanchillin]

But is she really yours? (141 x Reader)

Note(s) -

It's long, so be warned.

The guys are doing a little of what we like to call Dirty Mackin, and yes, I think this is something they’d all do in their own way.

Still working on getting those accents to come through, while not stepping into cringe/wrong territory. 

I apologize, this is a very messy format (borderline stream of consciousness), and I’m trying to figure out a cleaner way to do this. I hope it doesn’t hurt the reading experience.

And I am the only one who kinda wants to see the reverse scenario, where Reader tries to get the guys away from their trash gfs? 👀Thanks to @bunnyreaper for the idea, it wrote itself as I read that.

Simon:

Annoying. That was the first thing Simon thought of you. So of course you had to work at the only cafe near his flat that made tea the way he liked.

You were always on your phone, arguing with someone (he guessed a boyfriend), and he hated getting stuck at your register. The calls clearly distressed you, and he didn’t know why you kept taking them. Especially on the job.

You’d gotten his order wrong more times than he could count, and you were always having to turn around and ask him to repeat the things he wanted. It got to the point where he waited until the other barista’s line was open.

Unfortunately, other customers had done the same, and it was causing a backup.

Then there was the day. His day started as it always did on his off time. The three S’s, and then he was at the gym to get his time in when he knew it was mostly empty. Then finally, his black tea.

He sighed, mentally preparing himself for the wait before he entered. As expected, there was a line.

You were there, and you appeared to be deeply engaged in conversation with the only person at your counter.

He was surprised to see you had a customer. ‘Must not be a regular.’

As he got closer to the counter, he could overhear the whispered argument. The man wasn’t a customer at all, he presumed he was the boyfriend from the phone calls. Based on the things the two of you were saying, that made the most sense.

‘Great. Getting the live version today.’ Simon had to wonder how you kept this job. Were you the boss's daughter? Did you own a share? Could he steal enough of the signature black tea blend and go into hiding until he had to ship out again?

You looked exasperated, and your co-worker stepped over to your side, coming to your aid.

“Oh for fuck’s sake.” Simon groaned, realizing the wait would be longer. 

He stepped outside for a cigarette, making the mental decision that if by the time he was done with it there was still a line, he would forgo his drink that day.

He chose the alley on the side of the shop, not liking the openness of the sidewalk, and staked out against the opposite building’s wall.

He was halfway past the tip of his cigarette when the side door he’d been eyeing warily opened, and out came you.

You looked frustrated, anxious, and maybe a little embarrassed. He didn’t think you noticed him, instead, walking over to the dumpster and kicking it, hard. It sent a loud, tinny groan echoing through the alley. He narrowed his eyes, feeling that itch of frustration under his skin.

You noticed him finally, and stopped angrily muttering to yourself. Instead, you started talking to him. It was mostly an uninterrupted stream of dialogue for two minutes straight (he timed it), before he could finally understand you.

“Mandatory break! That’s the second one this week, can you believe that?”

He started to say yes, and that he hoped the third one won you a prize: getting fired. He kept his mouth shut though.

“It’s not even me, it’s my boyfriend. He means well, but he just…I don’t know. I don’t know anymore.” You were searching for something in your apron, but he couldn’t tell what, out of the corner of his eye.

Simon flexed his fingers, eyes narrowing until the shop’s logo mural was a blur. You found it, and walked closer to him until he turned both eyes to you.

“Can I get a light?” You gestured with the unlit cigarette between your fingers to the one burning between his lips.

“Bloody. Fuckin’. Hell, Bird! S’not enough you keep half the fuckin’ place backed up on a good day, but then you prance your arse out here to annoy me some fuckin’ more? Fuck off.” He jabbed his pointer finger at the door you’d come out of.

The alley echoed his baritone, and somehow made his outburst sharper.

You stared at him like he’d taken his head off, instead of having bitten off yours. Eyes wide, bottom lip trembling, he thought you might cry, and he began to feel guilt grow in the pit of his stomach. He’d forgotten, in the midst of you stirring up similar agitation, that he wasn’t on base talking to some recruit dumped on him. 

You did cry, but once you started talking, he suspected it was more due to anger. “Fuck you! You fuck off, I work here!”

He ignored the small voice telling him ‘stop’, and fired back. “Work?” He snorted. “Real fuckin’ rich that is. Don’t confuse work with your million mandatory breaks.”

You clenched your fists, eyes wild with adrenaline and voice shrill with anger. “Go to hell. You’re just some freak in an alley who can’t remember when Halloween is. You don’t know me.”

You angrily wiped at your tears to no avail, as more quickly took their place, and then you started sobbing. 

Simon sighed, feeling like shit and wishing he’d held it together just a little more. “Alright. Alright. ‘Nuff of that now.”

“I’m not crying *hic* because of you…” you huffed, trying to get your voice under control. “Just go back to your cigarette. I hope you suck it up and *hic* choke!”

He chuckled, you were the first person in a while who’d lashed back out at his harsh disposition. At least to his face. “Was uglier than I should’ve been, but won’t pretend there wasn’t some truth to it.”

“You’re an asshole.”

“You’re a shit barista, wanna form a band?” His lips quirked into a smirk around his near-stub cigarette.

For a beat there was silence, until the two of you burst into laughter. Yours a raucous peal of giggles, and his, raspy chuckles.

“Well, you earned that light. Got more balls then a lot of soldiers I know.”

The two of you stayed in that alley for thirty minutes just riffing off different topics. It ended with Simon giving you the friendly (read: rough) advice to not let your boyfriend cost you your job.

That’s not how he saw his day going. Having the most interesting conversation he’d had in a while with the woman who annoyed the piss out of him for the better part of his leave.

You were no longer annoying, you’d been upgraded to interesting, and that was the second thing Simon thought about you.

After your talk in the alley, Simon was pleasantly surprised to find that you’d taken his advice and stepped your skills up. It turned out, you were distracted by your boyfriend, but Simon had come to see why. He was obsessed with knowing where you were, and if you were thinking of him, and wondering if he should drop by. 

Simon felt more guilt for being so impatient, and he decided no matter what, he would pick your line. That was the only reason too. It certainly wasn’t because he couldn’t stop thinking about you after your last conversation. 

Sometimes you would take your breaks with him now, exhibiting that same forward nature from the alley, but it no longer annoyed him. He’d tease you about whether or not that break was mandatory, but he looked forward to it all the same.

You talked about anything and everything, from where you were from, to Simon having to explain the delicate ins and outs of football to you. (He was pretty sure you were pushing him to have a heart attack by pretending you forgot a different detail every time you talked).

It was an unstated, but mutually understood, thing that your time together fulfilled something missing for both of you. For him it was cutting into his habit of cutting off socialization until he was back on base or a mission, and for you, it was a break from your relationship.

He liked to think that you looked forward to your talks as much as he did, if your expression every time you saw him was an indicator. 

Unlike him, you were an open book, so you did most of the talking. Simon soaked up everything you told him, filing it away. You were funny, and fascinating.

On his end, he was careful about some of what he shared, and nervous about other things. He had more dark or restricted anecdotes than humourous or endearing ones, and he didn’t want to bring you down. After all, you had more than enough of that to deal with.

The boyfriend. He was a nightmare of obsession and insecurity. It was perhaps your fourth break-hangout that Simon saw it completely for himself. He’d all but dragged you out of your seat, which made Simon rise from his so quickly, it almost toppled over behind him. He wasn’t unaware of his size, nor was he afraid to use it on the shorter man, but you assured him it was fine until he sat down.

Your boyfriend was panicking, wondering why you were keeping someone like him company. He wanted to know what it meant for the two of you, and Simon hated seeing you in an endless loop of begging the pathetic prick to believe you loved him. All of your humor and your cute little habits disappeared as he forced you to become a helicopter girlfriend, concerned only with his fears.

Simon decided then he would sway you away from him. He didn’t deserve you, and Simon may not have known you long, but he couldn’t stand to see you withering under him and his emotional blackmail. No one ever accused Simon of being sane.

You would be his, and that was the third thing Simon thought about you.

If he said so himself, he was slick about it. He’d forgotten about the amount of energy it took to pursue a relationship with someone, and why he limited his romantic interactions to hookups with women he found interesting.

You weren’t just interesting, he was fully infatuated with you by the time he started to actively move towards getting you away from that neurotic dumpster. You were worth the effort.

It started with seeing you outside of the cafe in a way that seemed natural. He thought about it for a while, before he settled on inviting you to a football game. He couldn’t believe he’d worried that you’d say no, your ‘yes’ came out before he was even done asking.

You were impressed with his timing, confessing that the night before, your boyfriend had thoroughly embarrassed you at a party, and you needed a fun day.

Simon had smiled tightly all through your hurried explanation that everything was fine, and that he had apologized once you got home with him.

The day of the game, you were absolutely adorable when he picked you up. Giddily introducing him to your roommate. She eyed him with approval, and even congratulated you for trading up.

Before you could correct her, he slipped in his answer. “That remains to be seen. Depends on if she embarrasses me at the game.”

You snorted, launching into that now familiar peal of giggles. “I promise I won’t. Now, which of these soccer teams is yours again? The Manfordshire Mermaids?”

“You wanna ride there on the roof?”

The trip was a better investment than he thought. You were enthralled with what was going on, the hype of the crowd, the skill of the players, and just being there in person. However, you had to rely on him to translate this new world to you, and that left you literally clinging to him in interest. Simon was your whole world in that stadium, and he locked that feeling down tightly for motivation.

Step one had gone off without a hitch, and now it was on to step two. 

Outings with you became a series. Simon encouraged as many as possible in order to trigger the response he wanted.

He knew it wouldn’t be long until your boyfriend started getting antsy, and insecure again. You were going out twice as much as you had before you started hanging out with Simon outside of the cafe.

To push the matter, Simon told you his work schedule was getting hectic. It was a half truth, the training period before the announcement of a deployment had commenced, and Simon planned on having a girlfriend to come home to this time. Namely you.

He used the excuse to create later meetups. Dinners, movies, wandering the street and stumbling into things to do. All the while getting you hooked on his touch. Simon wasn’t a touchy-feely person by nature, and this was something everyone who knew him picked up on quickly. You picked up on it too, but he wanted to touch you. He didn’t though, at least not often. 

Starting off with little touches that could be confused as an accident, he increased the pressure but kept the frequency low so you became addicted to his rare touches. He wanted you to feel special that someone like him indulged you in that way, so that you’d seek out more, even though HE was the one who felt blessed every time he felt your skin on his.

When you were together, he made sure things were about you. He didn’t imagine your boyfriend left much room for that with his paranoia, but he wanted to show you what you were in for once you were together. 

One night, Simon kept you out later than usual. He’d stayed away from you for two weeks, which wasn’t hard, work was starting to pick up. He could’ve carved out a day or two though, but he wanted to make you crave his time like he did yours. 

It worked. He scheduled a late dinner at an upscale restaurant, letting you fill him in on all that he missed. Namely, you missed being with him. You weren’t the type to keep your feelings to yourself, and you’d inevitably vented to your boyfriend about missing your friend. He didn’t like that label at all, but he liked what would come from your actions.

Periodically throughout the dinner, your phone rang, increasing in frequency as the night wore on. 

You had to excuse yourself multiple times, and Simon pretended to be annoyed. In reality, he anticipated that. Each time the phone rang, you cringed and looked at him apologetically. 

On what had to be the tenth time, Simon said. “Go on then, run off to pamper the pathetic bastard. Powder his arse too this time.”

Your face screwed up in objection to his barbed words. “He’s just worried…”

He shrugged. “Don’t owe me an explanation lovie. S’just a mystery why you’re in such a rush to be a nursemaid.”

Rolling your eyes, you stood up from the table. “I’m in a rush to be a good girlfriend thank you. Stop being an ass, I’ll be back in a minute.”

“S’go,” he downed the last of his bourbon before he pulled his wallet from his pocket. “I’ll pay the tab and take you home.”

“What? We’re supposed to have dessert, and then maybe a movie.” 

Simon watched your distressed body language and expression with mild amusement, and he was proud of being able to hide it, even though he’d forgone his mask that night. “You’ve gotta tuck in your kid. S’not on me you won’t date a man.”

You pouted and sat back down. “If I put my phone away, you put your wallet away. You promised me dessert.”

He smirked, refusing to hide it now. This was the first time, since he’d met you, that you’d ignored your boyfriend, and it said a lot.

You did it once, so Simon was able to turn it into a habit. Your boyfriend looked increasingly unhinged as Simon made sure you starved him of your attention.

The ugly voicemails and text messages began soon after. He didn’t like that at all, and he had to remind himself the time to deal with your boyfriend would come, but he did appreciate that you were becoming less tolerant of him. 

Every time you returned to Simon after having to soothe your boyfriend’s ego, and stop his tantrums, Simon made your life easier. He worshiped you in subtle ways, reminding you of what a man was, compared to a child.

There was guilt on your part, but it felt so good to be taken care of for once. To not have to worry about Simon bursting into a fit of insecurity that made you completely responsible for his feelings, and left little to no room for anything else. 

When he touched you, it lit your nerve endings on fire. You knew that the touches were bordering on inappropriate, since you were still taken, but you also knew that your brain went numb with good vibrations with even just a brush of his fingertips.

Simon still kept it light, almost questionable as to whether it even happened, and you finally began to seek it out. Wearing backless tops so that his fingertips would brush your bare skin, sitting next to him in diner booths so a thick thigh was always brushing your own, going for things in high places so he’d steady you by your waist.

He never seemed to miss a beat on when and where to touch you, but it wasn’t enough.

The breaking point came when he invited you to a dinner Price was holding as a goodbye to civilian life until next leave. The verbal invitation was the most valuable thing to you in a while. Not only because you were increasingly becoming addicted to him, but because for someone like Simon to invite you into that part of his life, it meant that he was in deep with you too.

All of Simon’s friends were funny, inviting, and very taken by you. They were so polite to you, complimenting you, and telling you as much as they could about their work, trying to impress you.

You were having fun trying to keep up, but you got the impression that Simon inviting a woman he was seeing to meet them was a new thing, and they didn’t know the protocol.

You were surprised to find he went by Ghost in his field, and they were unused to hearing Simon. You shared how the two of you met, and how polite he wasn’t in your first conversation, and they weren’t surprised.

You were enjoying your time with them, the conversation never stopped, and you would venture to say Simon looked fond at times. Though, as each man became more flirtatious, his expression would change. It became an unspoken game between you and his team to try and make him speak up about it. He didn’t take the bait.

Then came the topic of your boyfriend.

“Come now love, you’re a smart girl. Why do you wanna waste your time with that bellend?” - Price

“I don’t ken what the situation here is, but if Ghost and the other one don’t appreciate you, I promise I will.” Soap

“I had a girl once, who used to follow me in her friend’s car, sit outside my apartment, and call me from different phones to test me. You’re fit as hell love, dump him.” - Gaz

 It was a little embarrassing, and you were slightly annoyed that Simon had told them, but your mind kept shortening it to ‘he talked about me to his team.’ 

During dinner, you excused yourself to the bathroom. While you were washing your hands, Simon slipped into the room, making you jump.

Your eyes met in the mirror, where Simon just glared.

“Have fun with the boys, bird?”

“Have fun broadcasting my business?” You raised an eyebrow, but your tone held no anger to it.

Simon chuckled, locking the door. “S’not my business is it?”

You swallowed hard, shaking your head slowly.

He trapped you between the sink and himself, hands locking onto the counter on either side of you. 

“Let’s fix that.” His lips pressed to the pulse point on the side of your neck, speaking his command against it. “Get rid of him lovie, and come home where you belong.”

You tried to do just that, but for the first time that you could recall, your boyfriend wasn’t taking your calls.

Simon watched you while he packed, tucked beneath his sheets where you belonged, bare. It’d been a week since you took that next step in his captain’s guest bathroom, and you’d been trying to inform your ex he was now in fact, your ex.

You gingerly rolled over to face him, mindful of all the reminders that he loved you he left your body. “Si, he’s still not picking up. I don’t want to do it over the phone, but…”

“Don’t get worked up. Maybe he got the message already...”

Kyle:

He’d re-visited Chicago on his downtime, and met you in a club. Unknown to him at the time, your boyfriend had stood you up for the third time that month, and you decided not to waste the night. It’d made you so free and enthralling to watch, he couldn’t look away.

Gaz spent the entire night with you, glad he’d ignored the jet lag, even when you took him to all the best after-hours spots.

The only problem was your boyfriend, Keith, who Gaz personally believed formed in the bottom of a toilet, and sought life elsewhere. His team thought he was delusional, and/or giving you too much thought.

“You hitting the States again then? Don’t get in the kind of trouble that you can’t get out of because you’re jealous.” - Price

“Garrick! Get your fuckin’ head off your cock, and on the exercise, before I shove my boot down your throat!” - Ghost (after he fumbled a training exercise twice)

Except for Soap, Soap backed his delusions %1,000. “She let you charge your phone when hers needed it more? That’s wedding bells lad, and I wanna be best man.” 

Then there was the relentless teasing every time he spent his leave with you, but Gaz didn’t care. He couldn’t bother being embarrassed when you were waiting for him. Your grin was for him, your excited laughter was for him, and your hug was for him. The one he always held longer than friends do, his heart racing when you relaxed in his hold. Smirking when he felt your nose brush over chest quickly. You were sheepish when he grinned down at you, realizing what you were doing.

You’d gotten him cologne on his first (date) daytime hangout with you. You’d been strolling through the mall, Gaz trying to make you forget about the ugly scene he’d walked into between you and your boyfriend when he arrived at your place.

You’d been so sad, and it didn’t suit you at all. He just wanted to take you out of that environment, and let your real-self blossom again.

His hand brushed with yours, pinkies locking and unlocking so he could feel his stomach dip again and again.

He was able to slowly bring you back, into a little world of inside jokes and friendly culture clashes. Gaz fully had you back by the time he stopped in front of an expensive looking fragrance shop and said:

“You know what? I need a new aftershave, but I’m clueless about shopping for that stuff.”

“Uh, aftershave?” you’d looked puzzled, peering into the store window. “Do they even sell that here?”

He let out a confused laugh, pointing at the bottles on the glass shelf. “We’re looking at it, so I’d guess yes.”

“You mean cologne?” you gave him your first real smile since you’d gotten there, and Gaz forgave yet another correction in favor of it.

“Get in here, and help me find an aftershave.”

He proposed that you guys find the perfect scent for the other and buy it as a gift. The two of you spent the better part of thirty minutes teasing and sniffing each other. Every time Gaz lifted a part of your arm or wrist to his nose, he let his lips brush across your skin accidentally.

“Kyyylee..” you whined every time, making him stir in the right places at the wrong time. 

Eventually you both settled on something for the other, but Kyle slyly placed himself in the position of paying for both. The thought of you paying never having been a real thing in his mind.

“You’ll get it next time, love.”

He treasured that scent, you’d specifically picked it out for him, and he’d savored the look you gave him when you’d finally found it. Now he was in front of you again.

“Yeah, it’s the one you bought me. Did me a good turn with that. I get compliments like they get paid to give ‘em.”

“Who’s complimenting you?” you asked, your wince revealing it’d probably come out sharper than you meant for it to.

Gaz didn’t mind, he liked you as jealous as he was. 

He chuckled, reaching out to squeeze your hand. “Just..other girls with good taste.”

Your pout and sharp head turn went right on display in the mental gallery he had of you. He couldn’t resist teasing you again.

“Are you wearing the one I picked.” he leaned down hovering just over your neck where he knew you could feel the soft puffs of breath on your neck. He heard your breath hitch when he hummed, confirming that you were.

“I am, and don’t worry about who’s complimenting it, since you have sooo many of your own.”

Gaz laughed as you yanked him after you with a huff. If he was delusional, you weren’t helping.

This visit was going how he imagined it, and he intended to end it exactly that way too. Finally getting that bastard out of a picture he should’ve never been a part of. 

When clubbing, Kyle kept you close. You both loved to dance, and every song that came on seemed out to prove that your bodies were built to fit together like a puzzle.

He took an interest in your life, wanting to see what you got up to when he wasn’t there. You’d resisted, thinking it’d bore him. It did not.

 He enjoyed meeting your co-workers, and eating at the cafe you loved a block from your job. You even took him to spend an afternoon with your family. Every time he scored a point with them, you gave him this dreamy expression he was determined to see for the rest of his life.

When he suggested making plans with your friends, so they didn’t feel like you were ignoring them while he was there, you were thrilled at how considerate he was, and he got the pleasure of overhearing you hype him up to your friends while you invited them out to do something.

It was you blocking your girlfriends every time one of them tried to push the flirtation with him too far, that let him know it was time.

He decided he would make his move when the two of you were having a movie night at your place. It wasn’t ideal, because that piece of shit was lingering around the place. Kyle hated that you lived together, but wouldn’t let that interfere. He had work to do.

“Kyyyleee.” you giggled, dragging his name out the way he loved when he ran a finger down your cheek to your neck, complimenting your skin.

“Just admiring your skin routine. You’ve gotta share.”

Or, when he shivered, and you instinctively extended your blanket to him. He took it without question, trying not to think about all of the things you could do under a shared blanket. Although, your boyfriend walking in and out of the room, pretending he had things to get out of the kitchen, made the thought more enticing.

You’d invited him to watch in earnest, and he’d just cut you down in a way that made Kyle quickly remind him he was in your apartment, because he’d lost his job, and had nowhere else to go. That you’d sweetly taken him in, and that he should remember that.

He enjoyed kicking him down while raising you up.

Your boyfriend finally just sat at the kitchen table in the dark, fuming. The living room was visible to him from there, but Kyle was glad to have him as an audience to him reminding you of your worth.

You two exchanged snacks and commentary, easily ignoring the unwanted third party.

“No offense love, but beer here is straight piss.”

You laughed, stealing one of the cookies left on his plate. “Beer tastes like that in general.”

“How would you know? You’ve never been anywhere.” your boyfriend snapped at you nastily, from where he’d been glaring at the two of you for an hour. “And why don't you go back to jolly old England if you hate it so much?”

Gaz lazily rolled his head in his direction, body language shouting how much he didn’t respect him. “Mate, you’re being a right prick right now. It’s not like you bought the beer, or anything else you’ve been shoving in that hole.”

Your boyfriend leapt to his feet, fast enough to knock over the chair. “Come over here and repeat that teacup.”

“Blud, that’s not what you want.”

“Kyle don’t, he’s just drunk and embarrassed. Ignore him when he’s like this.” you quickly passed a hand over the back of his, but he just gave you a soft smile instead. 

“That’s his problem, he embarrassed himself. Why don’t you go in the back and find something to do.” He was so effortlessly dismissive, that your boyfriend mistook this for being unprepared to fight.

Kyle’s one rule for his plan was that he wouldn’t physically handle your boyfriend unless he got physical with you. He’d planned to show you how you should be loved, and let a smart girl like you do the rest. That went out the window.

He kept it clean, the other man was stocky, but didn’t stand a chance against his training. If you hadn’t been there, he might’ve taken it further, grinding his hatred of him into harsher blows. Instead, he gave him quick, almost surgically effective, blows to put him down. He was too intoxicated and unskilled to retaliate. 

“See, he just needed a nap.” Gaz tried to lighten the mood.

“I’m so embarrassed,” you whispered. “I don’t know why he’s always like this now. He didn’t use to be. I just want this to stop.”

Kyle shushed you, crossing the room to pull you into his arms. “You don’t have to be embarrassed. You’ve been dealing with this for too long.”

“I’m so tired.” you admitted, clutching his soft shirt, and inhaling his scent (your scent, that you gave him) that made your eyes roll back in your head. He was so solid, warm, and a darker word popped into your mind, ‘mine.’

“You’ve been so good to everyone, too good. Let me take care of you.” he whispered, hands roaming from your lower back to cup your ass.

He heard the hybrid of a whimper-moan, and it had him at attention before you were done.

“I’d be just like him…” you trailed off weakly.

“That’s not possible.” He lowered his lips to yours, giving you the first kiss from him that couldn’t possibly be mistaken as platonic. You kissed back without any hesitation, not even willing to pull away when he started to lead you to the back. To your room.

Hate him as he did, Gaz noted somewhere in his mind how dark the scenario was. The location, and situation, in which he was about to fulfill the second-to-last step of his plan was kind of fucked.

He cupped your jaw in both hands,“Babe…we can go back to my room at the hotel.”

He didn’t want to. He wanted to erase any trace of him here, starting in your room. He wanted you everywhere he could have you in the apartment, and he wanted him to come to just enough to hear it.

“Makes no sense. Too far. Here.” you murmured, pupils blown wide. 

Gaz didn’t need to be told twice. You were barely able to string a sentence together, and it was top three one of the hottest things he’d ever heard.

“Yes ma'am.” 

Kyle didn’t doubt you’d complete the final step in the morning, and officially dump the forgotten man on the floor.

Johnny:

You and Johnny met through social media. He thought you were gorgeous and, being John “Soap” MacTavish, couldn’t leave your profile without letting you know. Though he threw in some playful critique.

You responded with a thanks, and a challenge for him to do the picture better. It resulted in a months-long photo battle that quickly became a real friendship.

Late phone calls, video calls, and constant strings of texting built a whole world between the two of you. 

You were the highlight of his day sometimes, especially when he’d been gone awhile. You helped him reconnect with the world after shutting it out to defend it.

The only problem was your boyfriend. Johnny prided himself on being able to get along with all kinds of people. It was just in his nature. Hate was so rarely felt by him, that he always had trouble identifying it when he felt it. 

He felt hate for your boyfriend, and it didn’t take him long to figure that out. He thought he didn’t deserve you. He was always talking to you reckless, like he didn’t have the most beautiful woman in the world in his life. Johnny wouldn’t talk to you like that, he wouldn’t have time to even consider it for all the worshiping of you he’d be doing. 

He’d cheated, only to make you feel like that was on you, and you took him back. 

When Johnny heard your pained sobs for the first time, he’d been halfway through texting Simon to ask for help with a dark favor before he was able to talk himself down.

It was then Johnny realized how much you’d come to mean to him, and that only made him hate your boyfriend more.

Your conversations ranged from anything to everything, but they always ended with you venting, and Johnny comforting. He didn’t mind it, in fact, most times he initiated it.

He realized, he must mean a good deal to you too, because you got all your comfort from him. Johnny’s thoughts mattered to you, and you sought his advice all the time. He hated what for, but he loved that you did.

“He didn’t even like the dress Johnny. I told him you thought of it, and he accused me of wanting to wear it for you.” your screen shook violently as you stomped into your bedroom, sending said garment sailing through the air.

“M’sorry to hear that. I meant what I said when you showed it to me in the shop. Any guy that doesn’t lose it to you in that dress deserves to be committed.”

You sniffed, choking out a humorless chuckle. “I’m glad you liked it at least.”

“Oh, you don’t ken how much sweetheart. In fact, put it on for me again.”

Six months into the friendship, he convinced you to come visit him in Scotland. You’d been having more trouble with your boyfriend than usual, living with him didn’t exactly give you a lot of places to take a breather.

Once Johnny confirmed he hadn’t hurt you physically, he’d switched to coaxing you into coming to see him for a couple of weeks.

“C’mon bonnie, I’ve been stateside more times than I can count. You haven’t been here once.” He watched you do your bedtime routine, as the sun came up in the windows behind him.

He loved how despite being countries away, the moment felt as intimate as if you were with him. In his home, getting ready to come to bed with him. Except if you were, he’d tell you not to bother brushing your hair. You’d just have to do it again later.

You laughed as you ran a comb through your hair. “It’s not like you came here for me Johnny. We didn’t even know each other the last time you were here.”

“So…you’ll return the favor later. Be my pretty tour guide.”

You wound up in Scotland barely a week later. A suitcase full of clothes haphazardly thrown into it.

“I don’t even know what I packed, it's a mess!” 

Cue Johnny, who can’t quit hugging you, and they feel less and less platonic. “Don’t worry ‘bout it bon. I’ll find somewhere for it all to go.”

Somewhere turns out to be designated drawers and shelves, that he’d cleared in advance, for your clothes and bath products. Johnny putting them away himself like the simp for you he is. All the while distracting you from stating how you wouldn’t be there long, and you don’t need all that space. 

“We’ll see.”

Johnny had been coaxing less and less innocent behaviors out of you all week, and just worshiping you when he wasn’t. You were a worked up hybrid of desperation, and restored self-confidence. It was addictive, and you started to lean into Johnny’s touches and kisses. You pretended you didn’t hear his murmured dirty statements so he’d have to try again and again.

It came to a head when you finally accepted a video call from your pathetic boyfriend. 

You were in Johnny’s living room, wearing his favorite football jersey, with him behind you, absolutely refusing to make himself scarce. You didn’t want to take the call anyway, but Johnny convinced you it’d be good for closure.

Your boyfriend started going off, yelling about how you didn’t respect him or your relationship, and demanding that ‘you bring your ass home’.

“The thing of it is lad, there’s not really anything about this relationship to respect.” Johnny slipped around to your side, tilting your head up to press his lips to yours. 

You hummed in surprise, but all of his gentle touches and sweet kisses over the week had you pliant. You immediately responded, squeezing his arm when he slipped his tongue into your mouth as a tease.

He pulled away, looking way too smug, and looking all the more impossibly-handsome for it. “Say bye to your ex-boyfriend then bon. The rest of this isn’t for him.”

You gurgled something like goodbye as you slammed the lid on your laptop, attention still fully on Johnny.

John Price:

Price thought your fiance should crawl in a fire and stay there. Yeah. He wasn’t ashamed.

The man was garbage, and hardly worth you giving him a glance, let alone this much sacrifice. You’d moved countries for him, happy to make your home with him because of his job. He treated it as though that should’ve been a given.

That’s how Price had gotten to know you. You lived in the apartment across the hall from him, and the first moment you smiled at him, John was a goner.

You introduced yourself with a smile, your pretty little hand extended out towards him. He’d stood there, wishing he hadn’t worn his ratty sweatshirt with his old football team logo in fading letters. You looked gorgeous, hair framing your face, slightly out of breath from lugging in your things.

He’d stumbled in his mind until he finally remembered proper social protocol. “Price…Captain John.” He cleared his throat. “Captain John Price.”

Your mouth formed an ‘o’, you were visibly intrigued.“Captain? You’re in the military.”

“Yes.” 

“Well…thank you for your service.” 

Normally, John didn’t react to that line as expected. He’d heard it enough times to wish he had a pound for every time, but that was about it. He didn’t do his job for thanks, and sometimes felt they shouldn’t be for him anyways.

Coming from you however, it was different. He had the reaction he knew most people wanted. He knew from the heat in his cheeks and the tips of his ears, they were red.

Your fiancé, who’d appeared in the doorway behind you, stole his chance to answer.

“Yeah, thanks or whatever. (Y/N), come in here and figure out where you want your hair crap to go. I’m just going to toss it anywhere in a moment.”

“Oh, you could’ve just put it under the sink.” 

“You should be getting ready anyways, we have a dinner engagement.” He adjusted his shirt cuffs, eyeing John like he was picturing ways he could kill him.

John wanted to see him try just one.

“Bye John,” you gave a wave, a soft smile on your lips. “I’ll see you.”

You disappeared inside, leaving the two men in a stare down. There was a silent conversation at play, what your fiancé wanted to say was stated without a word. How much John cared about that was conveyed in the same manner.

Your fiancé broke first, slamming the door behind him. 

“We’ll see if I’ll stay away.” He muttered, going into his own place.

Over that first month, you two got to know each other well. Your fiance was often at work, and you turned to John with your questions as you tried to settle into your new home. You had no one else there, and even though John had planned to decompress in complete isolation, he couldn’t do that to you. Didn’t have a part of his being that wanted to. 

However, as John got to know you, he got to know your fiance too. Enough to know if he was ever going to murder someone outside of work, it’d be him.

It started with small things like what takeout you should go for, or which grocery store did he use? It seemed your fiance was useless.

One day, you needed help putting together your beauty table. You’d come to John, clearly embarrassed, and something told him you’d debated on asking him for a while. Your fiance refused, because you hadn’t paid attention when you were checking out, and didn’t select the construction help option.

“You’ve gotta be fuckin’ kidding me love. You mean to tell me that he never made a mistake?” John was already coming out of his apartment, ready to help.

“It’s stupid, but I don’t feel like arguing with him over it. We’re in an ok place right now.” you laughed awkwardly, leading him inside.

“Ok probably isn’t a place you want to be when you’re headed for the church.” it came out of his mouth before he could think about how it wasn’t his place.

He was so used to being blunt, and dealing out cold, hard facts or opinions. It always took him a minute to readjust to what was appropriate, but by then he was back on duty.

You looked stunned, clearly not expecting that from him. Your arms crossed defensively, giving him a side glance while you mulled over responding. 

He meant what he said, but he never would’ve delivered it to you that way, or at all, if he had thought two seconds more.

“‘M sorry. It’s really not my place is it?” he gestured to the back of the apartment. “Where do you need me?”

There were many more opportunities to spend time with you, and with them, opportunities to point out the toxicity he was seeing. It wasn’t in John’s nature to ignore obvious problems, he got paid to do the opposite. He had to resign himself every time so he didn’t upset you.

With every time he gave you directions, or answered a local cultural difference that confused you, you two lingered in each other’s presence a little longer. He wasn’t going to spoil that. 

Your requests started to leave the territory of furniture building and directions, and started to cross more into trying a new recipe, and how you could do better at fitting into your new home. Your conversations started to get deeper, more information about each other being shared.

There were times where you dropped off food, having made too much, or your fiance didn’t want what you cooked. John loved your cooking as it was, he normally lived off whatever he could grab and nuke, but he threw in extra enthusiasm for spite and your pretty smile. 

Sometimes John found reasons to come over to your place. 

“Share a cake love? Don’t get excited, I picked it up at the shops.” “Just bringing back your bowl.” “I can take a look at that window if maintenance is still laying about.”

And without fail, you made him stay every time. You got lonely, and you still knew very few people in the area outside of him. Your fiance didn’t seem to care, he felt he’d set you up with plenty of friends in his circle. John called them posh knobheads, and you couldn’t agree more. You had nothing in common with them, and you always wound up back with John to vent.

He found it easier to talk to you than he had anybody else, and from the never ending conversation between you two, he guessed you felt the same. The topic of the nature of your relationship was verboten, but that was fine by him. By that point, he was more interested in making you forget you even had a fiance. He really hadn’t even made an effort to do it, it just tilted that way, and he leaned into it.

You weren’t exactly stopping his flirtatious comments, in fact, you seemed to light up in ways he hadn’t seen until then.

Then came the outings. As your fiance got more negligent, you got bolder. It started with you taking a chance to invite John to a movie when you two bumped into each other in the mailroom. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d gone to the cinema, and he couldn’t say what was playing if someone held a gun to his head, but ‘don’t see why not’ fell out of his mouth with no resistance.

Then it was shopping together, or you dragging him to a museum and him bullshitting his art knowledge to make you laugh. He didn’t normally spend his time off being this active socially. He decompressed, and prepared for the next assignment. Maybe he’d meet a woman at a pub and bang out some release before getting back into formation.

He’d wondered if he would regret doing things differently on his next deployment, but that stopped the first time someone mistook the two of you for a couple. That alone would’ve been enough for him to keep his delusions (that he definitely did not have) going, but it was the fact that you didn’t correct them. It happened again, and if he thought he imagined things, he hadn’t. You never corrected the person, just gave a coy smile and accepted the compliment.

Well if you didn’t, he certainly wasn’t going to.

The final time that John could say he only found you attractive, instead of wanting you completely, you’d come to him to ask him if he could drive you to a little farmer’s market outside of the city. Things hadn’t been going well with you and your fiance.

You didn’t have to tell John, he could attest to that himself. He’d heard your arguments in his place, and between the noise level, and trying to make sure it didn't go to a place where you weren’t safe, he wasn’t getting much sleep.

Your plan was to cook your fiance a favorite meal from his childhood, using nothing but farm fresh ingredients. You figured that all you needed to get things on track was a quiet night in, focused on reminding each other why you were engaged. John nearly bit through his tongue to keep himself from bringing up the fact that it seemed the workload on maintaining the relationship fell solely on your shoulders.

Instead, he shoved his bucket hat on his head, and lied about needing to head out that way anyways.

The car ride started out quiet on his part, with you filling in the conversation. Price may have flexed his fingertips in jealousy more times than he could count, but you were so goddamn beautiful when you were excited. It almost hurt to look at you head on, so he gave you side glances to show he was listening.

At the market, your excitement didn’t die down. In fact, it turned into infectious playfulness. You two teased each other, engaged in playful scams to get more samples, and dared each other to come up with crazier and crazier stories about yourselves for the owner of each stall you visited.

Price would die twice before he admitted that he imagined you were on a date a couple times during the day. You never brought your fiance up, and he had to remind you to check your grocery list more than once.

It was late afternoon when you returned to the car, laden with goodies and constructing inside jokes. John was enjoying his time with you so much, he almost forgot he had to tell you he was shipping out the following week. He didn’t know if you’d care so much as to need an announcement in advance, but he felt he should.

 He was worried about you, and he would think of you wherever he was bound to wind up, hoping you’d come to your senses and leave the garbage behind. Of course, he’d miss you…and he certainly wasn’t under any delusion that when you’d taken out the trash, maybe you’d consider him.

“Why’re you so quiet?” you’d squeezed his bicep to get his attention, and he instinctively pushed his arm into your hands, encouraging the touch.

It was quiet for a moment, before you slowly uncurled your fingertips, and placed your hands in your lap. His face flooded with embarrassed warmth. 

Had he gone too far by leaning into the physical?

Price white-knuckle-gripped the steering wheel, swallowing down what he thought was a rejection he had no right to be hurt about, and cleared his throat. “Right. I’m heading out next week, and it won’t be short. Just thought you should know.”

Whatever reaction he expected from you, it wasn’t the one you gave.

“What?” You placed a hand on your chest, and then rolled your eyes. “Well that’s great.”

John gave you a bewildered expression, and it must've shown, because you quickly straightened up and faced forward. 

“I don’t know about great, but it is my job. The one I was quite clear about when we first met.”

“Pull over.” you said so quickly, he wasn’t even sure you’d heard his response.

“What? Why? Are you feeling il-”

“No..just..please.” you gestured to the side of the road.

He obliged, brows drawn tight and carrying all of his questions. “Your boy is going to be home soon, and we still have a bit of a drive ahead of us. What-”

“I wanted to come here because of you.” you breathed out, still facing forward, your posture almost impossibly rigid.

“Me? You’re not making much sense (Y/N).” 

You huffed, and when you turned to him, your expression took his breath away. In that moment he could read every thought you were thinking, and it would’ve bowled him over if he wasn’t sitting.

He felt electricity beneath his skin, the feeling he got any time he was about to do something drastic and dangerous.

It was the little hidden thing in your eyes that he couldn’t place that gave him pause.

“I came here, because I wanted to get away with you for today. I needed to.” you turned your whole body to him. “I don’t give a fuck about fresh ingredients for him, he probably won’t eat it anyways.”

You huffed, rolling your eyes. “We agreed to start over. And I’m going to try, I really am, but…I still can’t stop feeling need.”

In the looming silence, all John could do was scratch his beard, and try not to look as stupid as he was sure he did. He knew what you were saying, what you were toeing at, but surely you were just venting. You couldn’t-

“S’not right love.” Now it was his turn to look ahead. “Not for him, fuck him. For you. You’re upset and you’re scared, and you're raw.”

“And I need this.” you breathed. “If you’re trying to protect me, stop. If you don’t want me in that way..ok, I’m a big gi-”

“Oooh,” his voice came from deep in his chest, baritone thrumming through the car. “That’s not it. I promise you, that’s.not.it.”

Your fingertips gently pulled his face in your direction. “You’re leaving me…and when you get back things are going to have to be different.”

There it was. John swallowed, hard. 

“I’m being selfish, but..I thought I’d have a little more time with you before..” Your eyes watered. “It’d be one thing if you really were just my friend, but that’s not right is it?”

John wiped at your eyes with his thumb before cupping his cheek in his hand. “No, it’s not.”

“Just one time.”

It was a struggle to say no to you, and that didn’t stop now. He pulled your mouth to his, hands gripping your shoulders in a subconscious effort to prove this was happening. You were in front of him, kissing him back as hard as he was kissing you.

He unbuckled you, and pulled you into his lap, sliding the seat back. 

“I’m gonna miss you.” you were crying now, and neither one of you did anything about the tears.

His hands cupped the back of your head, fingers gently threading through your hair. “Oh, sweet girl. Why didn’t you meet me sooner?”

What transpired after was the most bittersweet moment he could recall. He had heartbreaks and troubled relationships before, but he’d never had to have a breakup with a woman he wasn’t sure he’d been seeing in the first place, but knew that he loved.

He took you twice in his car, before finally, the two of you could no longer ignore the setting sun and had to return home.

John remembered why he preferred to take a girl somewhere quickly, and then spend the rest of his leave in solitude, occasionally seeing a trusted friend. It wasn’t as fulfilling as what he had with you, but it didn’t hurt this deeply either.

He sat in his apartment for hours after he watched you disappear into your own. He didn’t even bother turning on a light when it got too dark, he just sat there, continuing to contemplate how things had gotten to be such a mess. How could he continue to pride himself on being the logical leader he thought he was, when he’d made such a mess of himself so quickly?

How was he supposed to forget you? How was he supposed to forget that he loved you, and that you loved him with another man’s ring on your finger?

The thought of seeing you, carrying your fiance’s child, and looking miserable during what should’ve been one of the happiest times of your life made Price leap from the couch. That familiar electricity raising every hair on his person to a point.

He didn’t know what he was doing, or what he was going to say, but he was moving like he’d planned it for months.

When he stepped into the hall, he paused.

You were sitting on the plush hall couch, eyes puffy, with a death grip on a pyrex dish. Your hair was perfectly styled, and you were wearing a low-cut silken dress that made him want to fall to his knees now that he knew what lay beneath. Your eyes widened at the sight of him, trying to curb your sniffles.

“I was right, he wouldn’t eat it. He got mad and left.”

“You should’ve made him wear it instead.” John’s fist clenched at his side, itching to do what he wanted from the moment he first saw him get short with you.

You shook your head, rising to your feet. “I don’t blame him this time. I didn’t make it for him, anymore than I shopped for it with him in mind, and I told him so.”

You held up the dish, and John saw it was his favorite. His idea of a perfect Sunday roast in one pot. Your meaning was clear.

“I just kept thinking, it shouldn’t be this hard. I mean, it shouldn’t be, right?” you stepped forward.

“No, it shouldn’t be.” He also took a step forward.

“It’s not that way with you.” Another step.

“I would hope not.” he also took another step

You stopped when all that separated the two of you was the dish.

“So this belongs to me then?” he was staring at the dish, but his hands gently grasped your wrists.

You, however, were looking directly at him when you breathed out. “Yes.”

#141 x reader #cod #call of duty #cod x reader #call of duty x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #john price x reader #kyle gaz garrick #john price #reader insert #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #Soap #soap x reader #tf 141 x reader #fem reader

[doki-doki-imagines]

author note: fic written a long time ago, but that is really fitting now. Hope you'll enjoy reading it!💫

“Michael is inside the locker room, you should see him.” Noa’s voice is firm, as always, even after such a big defeat, for him, it’s just like finishing a chapter, ready to start the new one, not many afterthoughts to ruin his next steps.

Michael Kaiser, your boyfriend can’t deal with defeat as well.

You enter the empty room, only your boyfriend is in, sitting in his sweat-drenched uniform, a towel covering his face.

You take uneasy steps toward his figure, he doesn’t even look up, too absorbed in his own world.

“Michael, I’m here, can you look at me?” You sit next to him, the bench creaks under your weight, you pinch the corner of the towel trying to lift it up, to finally see Michael’s face.

Your hand gets slapped away.

“Don’t even try it.” Some time ago this crude and cold voice would have swollen your eyes with tears, you would have been able to hear just the crippling hate in his voice.

Now you can hear the sad undertone and how the hate isn’t for you, but only for himself.

“What do you want to look at-“ he stands up abruptly, the bench recoil, the towel falls on the ground “At this failure! At this poor excuse of a player, walking trash-“ Michael can’t finish his phrase, broken sobs interrupt.

His blue eyes are bloodshot, the red of his makeup staining his face, sticky with dried tears. Michael is trembling, you don’t know if for sadness or anger, he is hitting his chest with his left fist, while the right hand is pinching his neck, the skin is broken, some drop of blood on his roses tattoo.

“Michael stop-“ You try to walk near your boyfriend, but he pushes you away and crouch on himself hands now covering his face

“No! You can’t understand, you don’t want to understand! This is all my life, I’m nothing- I shouldn’t even live if-“

“Michael!” You shout, finally stepping closer “Don’t you dare finish that phrase.”

It wasn’t the first time Michael got depressed after a match, but this is a peak he never reached before and it indescribably broke your heart.

He finally looks up, new tears forming in his deep blue eyes, you gently hold his cheeks with your hands, and lift his face up so you could look at him straight in the eyes.

“Your value as a person doesn’t depend on a match, no wait let me reformulate. Your value doesn’t depend on football. And don’t you dare-“ This time you are the one letting out a sigh “to say that you shouldn’t live anymore, because I can’t imagine a life without you.”

You kiss his forehead just before hugging him tight against your body, your right hand caressing his head.

Michael doesn’t reply back, he just keeps sobbing and crying on your shoulder.

“Please Michael stop crying, but I promise, losing this match won’t be your end, there will be a ton of other occasions, please Michael believe me.” You coo at him.

“O-Ok” His body still trembles under you.

“Can you look at me when you say that?” You say softly before kissing the top of his head.

He lift up from your shoulder and nod, a wobbly smile appearing on his face, his breath still being broken by sobs.

You smooch his forehead again, this time the contact last longer and he closes his eyes in relaxation, finally the sobs and sighs are slowing down and he is regaining control of his body.

“Can I kiss you even if I look like a mess?”  

A small laugh escapes your lips but you nod.

“I find you handsome-“  “you look like a wet kitty, love it.” You wanted to say, but his mouth catch yours before you can finish.

His chapped lips find yours. It’s a slow dance, made of broken breaths bound by a strong love. Your right hand drying away those fresh tears, your thumb moving slow circles on his sticky cheeks, the left one finds peace in the back of his neck, scratching his little hair knowing full well he loves it.

He is way more restless, the right hand that was holding your arm to keep you as close as possible to his body find soon his way to your waist, fingers moving up and down pressing and releasing your waist like a piano key hoping to generate a new sound at every broken breath. His left one is kept firmly in the back of your head, pushing your face impossibly close to his, nose bumping, eyelashes caressing each other faces.

It’s when you feel the familiar feeling of something wet in your mouth that your mind return to reality.

“Michael, ehi-“ You put both your hands on his chest gently pushing on his pecs “I think you should take a shower.”

He looks at you with his wide blue eyes and tilts his head clearly looking at you like you just said the dumbest thing on Earth.

“Are you saying I stink?”

This time it isn’t small laughter that leaves your lips, but one of those that shakes your entire body and that makes Michael look at you with even wider eyes.

“Yes a little, but that wasn’t my main point. I think you need to take a hot shower, relax and come home with me and watch a film that neither of us is gonna finish because we’ll both fall asleep the second I press play.”

The blonde seems to think about it a little before nodding, walking towards the locker room’s showers stripping at every step for the joy of your eyes, till he disappears around the corner the sound of running water filling the room.

“Are you sure you don’t wanna join me?” Just his head pop out from behind the wall, water already dripping down his face and hair, a particular droplet following the line of his veins down his neck, skin shiny and inviting-

“Go finish your shower, there will be better times.” You see his head bending down, probably preparing his better kitty eyes to convince you “At home we’ll have all the time of this world for example.”

Michael never finished a shower so fast.

#bllk x reader #blue lock x reader #bllk imagines #blue lock imagines #michael keaton #michael kaiser x reader #bllk x you #blue lock x you #bllk x y/n

[angelzai]

crush

good men die too, so i’d rather be with you

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

wc: 3.5k

cw: gn!afab!reader, bathing/washing, alcohol, mild hurt/comfort, fluff, implied/referenced self harm, implied/referenced substance abuse, post-dark era, intimacy, explicit sexual content, spitting, soft (ooc?) dazai

reid: this has been sitting a bit and i finally got around to fixing it up :,) sorry again for my absence i am unwell but surviving and i hope to keep sharing with you guys what i can. thank you for all your patience

. . .

He’s never admitted how much he delights in crawling back to your apartment after he’s been gone for too long — long enough to make you worry a little. It’s cruel of him, really, to keep you waiting around so much. But you’re going to be here waiting anyway! So, he figures, why not? It’s a few miles off Port Mafia turf, and you always have hot food and plenty of sake. Not to mention that your hands were the first to ever hold him so gently — to hold him like a lover — and that’s plenty to keep him coming, even if he sometimes takes weeks at a time to find his way back.

It’s always worth it to have Osamu half undressed in your bathroom. A decent meal and the humidity fogging up the tile walls usually melts his resolve just enough so you can work his crumpled white tee off without him sending you any sort of eyes; tonight though, the human spirit is unbreakable. You brush the small of his back as you lift his shirt and it has him hitching his hips toward yours.

He’s truly a sight.

His brown mop is greasy. Accumulated sweat is beginning to force the dramatic lengths of bandages to curl away from his skin. He looks little more than empty and tired, but there’s a shadow of contentedness in his sharp features — you’ve just fed him seafood boil and a couple of Tokyo Mules (heavy on the American vodka), after all.

You reach down and dip your fingers in the filling basin; scalding, how he likes it.

“Drawers off, please.” You poke his chest with a damp finger pad and disappear into the hallway in pursuit of linens.

Dazai sits naked (save for bandages) and curled in on himself on the edge of the bathtub when you return. You stack a change of clean clothes on the sink, and his ankles knock together as he waits for your attention to fall back on him. Your towels sling over the door before you turn to him with your hands tucked together. He looks uncharacteristically meek, not unlike a fawn before it first walks -– the way he only ever does before what happens next.

He holds his arms out, wrists up, and smiles like the sunshine.

You smile back uneasily, appearing much less enthused than he; you know that sunshine smile well enough to know it only ever comes out as a shield. You know no matter how many times you unwrap his dressings, he's always going to hate it.

So, you start with the butterfly clip secured at the crook of his elbow, and you talk.

"I have a slice of tiramisu in the fridge for after."

"From that place I like?" His eyes get wide.

"From that place you like," you sigh, grinning.

"You must've had a feeling I was dropping by."

You usually encourage him to reuse the strips of fabric when possible, sometimes going so far as to let him hide from the city while you take them to the laundromat with your own clothes, but these ones are far past help —barely white, significantly bloody in spots and dirtied in others, so you just ball them up and toss them in the trash. You're stocked anyway, and you reassure him of this by retrieving a few fresh rolls from under the sink.

"Maybe I did."

You finish one arm and move to the other. Osamu lets his marred, bare skin dangle in the air. The sunshine is gone. He’s zoned out. You know he’s protecting himself.

You push his hand down to rest in his lap and your mind selfishly drifts to later, where you hope he'll sleep without his bandages, too — he had traipsed into your apartment lined up to his fingers, and all you had wished for was that you could’ve felt his palms, his knuckles, his nails when he hugged you back. You take as much of him in as you can in these kinds of moments; it’s just the kind of person you are. Damaged or not, his skin is your favorite place to be. You’ve told him this, but it seems to come across much clearer when you look into his sad brown eyes like they’re the only ones in the world while your fingers trace the tracks across his thighs like they’re no one’s in particular.

“So pretty,” you mumble.

It’s so well received this time around that Osamu sinks into the water with barely a shred of apprehension. Granted, he’s still a bit glazed over.

He really snaps to once his shoulders are beneath the water and you’re lathering shampoo — the coconutty one — between your hands.

He speaks your name with an earnest that’s almost mocking. “What are you doing?” But he knows what you’re doing, or what you’re not doing, rather, and he’s not going to let you get away with it.

“What?” Your hands are sudsy and he has the audacity to be yanking at your shirt now. You bat him away as well as you can, flinging some bubbles at him in the process. “What?”

His bottom lip pokes out as his wet hands find purchase around your wrists. Dazai has manipulated a lot of people with nothing but the look in his eye, but it’s never this one; this specific look is reserved for you, and he figures it’s hardly manipulation if he knows you’d enjoy it too. “Get in with me,” he whines, drawing out his ‘e.’

You grumble something about your soapy hands, something about not wasting a perfectly fine handful of your good shampoo, but it just allows him to insist even more on helping you out of your clothes. You sigh, but really, it’s these silly idiosyncrasies about him that make you cry when he’s gone. So, you indulge him. You commence an awkward and wiggly dance in which his fingers stretch your sleeves over your hands with care. You kick your pants off and shimmy out of your undergarments, feigning annoyance as you give into his whims so easily.

The bath is still nearly boiling. You make peace with it by hissing hot, hot, hot, hot, hot (he chuckles at you) until either of your knees are nestled underwater on either side of him. You rub your shampoo hands together and — now that Osamu’s gotten his way for one of many times tonight, for the millionth time ever, never for the last time — he graciously lets you wash his hair.

You inhale all the little hums and sighs he gives you. He tastes like every emotion you’ve ever felt. Heaven is a bathtub in a crummy apartment.

“You smell much better. Let’s rinse.” You go to push yourself up after you’re finished with him, but Osamu grips you unceremoniously and by both of your ass cheeks, so you look sternly into his face.

“Wait, wait, wait, just—” he pleads.

You flick water at his eyes. “We’re wading in your filth, thank you. Get up.”

“Just a second, damn it.” He clutches you closer, hands clasped behind your back, and you settle with shattered resistance against his chest. He mumbles something about who you think you are, telling me what to do.

Not that you try all that hard with him anymore; you both know well he’ll get what he wants, and right now he’s intent on holding you in the cooling water, so you loop your arms around his neck, unable to help the kiss you press to the side of his jaw or the stifled roll of your hips against his.

He’s silent for a moment as he traces the expanse of your back. You hope his eyes are closed. You know they’re probably not.

“Thank you.”

It’s something Osamu says quite a bit. He doesn’t get terribly sentimental often, but it’s usually after you’ve rid him of those wrappings that he comes close. Although, he never says exactly what for. For bathing him. For feeding him. For loving him. You understand well enough.

He’s still a little shit. He squeezes your ass and bites the shell of your ear.

“That’s it,” you yelp. “We’re rinsing.”

His laugh is whole as you pull the drain and start the shower, dodging your (mostly) dry hair.

The promise of dessert lets you get him into a pair of shorts at the very least. Once again you return to him — you wait on him like he’s a prince, and he looks like one on your bed with the blankets pooled around him as he towel dries his hair.

It’s so unfair, you think, how angelic he gets to be no matter what he’s doing. It’s something so mundane; his scars are on display, he’s tipsy and damp and has your plush cat-printed blanket acting somewhat like a cape, yet he steals your breath as you enter your bedroom. To top it all off, he pretends not to notice your presence right away.

You fold your legs beneath yourself, unfinished bottle of sake in one hand, delicate plate of tiramisu in the other, and Osamu finally acknowledges you with owlish eyes, raised brows, and a grin that reprograms the pattern of your heartbeat. He tosses the towel aside, eager, and reaches out.

“This—” his mouth is full, “this shit is…God. Heavenly.”

“Share.”

“Should’ve brought two forks.” He makes a show of lifting the plate out of your reach. You grasp at it lazily, uselessly, and he laughs, taunting you. You’re tired so you hoard the sake in response, which he’s fine with only until the tiramisu is gone — you only got two bites in — and he goes for that as well.

“Greedy!” you accuse, but you can’t help your laugh. You’re warm — the few swigs from the bottle are doing their job, and you let Osamu know this by giving in; you steady his head with one hand, and with your other you press the bottle to his lips and tilt it up. He drinks like it’s cider, and comes up for air with a soft curse.

The way he licks it off his lips wants to draw a gasp out of you, but you’re trained like a skilled gunman when he gives you targets like these — you’ve built up trigger discipline, and there are some things, you suppose, that you don’t let him have so easily after all.

Nonetheless, it’s like Osamu reads this mechanism working in your mind and takes it as a challenge. The bottle is transferred from your hands to his somewhere in the searing kiss he gives you; you fully register a hunger buzzing between you both that has nothing to do with tiramisu as you reach out for him, fumble toward him until you’re in his lap — you almost overwhelm his lithe frame with your tenacity, but he catches you, bottle tapping your back as you engulf each other.

Osamu is sneaky, he is; he never executes even the smallest action without meticulous thought. The way you end up under him might’ve been planned out from the bath, or maybe even before he was on your doorstep — either way, you give way to his weight; the bottle’s in one hand, somehow your wrists are in the other, and his waist connects with yours.

If nothing else predicts what you say next, it’s his restless hand clutching your hip, pulling at your shirt, clawing up your side.

“Missed you,” you slip into his mouth. You’ve already said this over dinner, but it’s different, heavier, when you’re breathing him in. Osamu lifts away from you for a kiss from the bottle. In brief control again, you wring your hands.

He’s statuesque above you. You wish you could snapshot the seconds in which he tilts the bottle back, where his drying hair falls in those loose waves around his angled jaw and his eyelids flicker. You reach out to trace him. His severe collarbone to his lean shoulder, down the thin valley between his bicep and tricep. You ghost around the fingers suspended in midair and bridge the gap to end on his pretty waist.

The bottle disappears onto your nightstand. Your eyes are wide as he grips your chin. He holds his breath, plants an elbow by your head, thumbs your bottom lip — all a means to waterfall the sake into your open, waiting mouth.

Liquor drips off him, into you; how are you supposed to keep from the way your legs demand his hips toward yours? The way you grind into him from below? You’re a live wire and he’s fraying the hell out of everywhere you end and begin.

You swallow what he gives you before he pulls back. You’re breathless, and he’s laughing. He’s laughing. This is what he does — he gets you under him and he laughs, so beautifully that you can hardly be mad, and sultrily enough that you flush pink.

“You should see your face!” he exclaims. Osamu is truthfully at his most joyous when he’s catching you off guard. “Little too filthy for ‘ya?”

“Please,” you scoff, willing him toward you again as you recover, more from the sting in the back of your throat than anything, pressing all your love into each of his mangled wrists with your palms and fingers. “As if that’s the filthiest thing we’ve done.”

“Jog my memory,” he suggests as he puts his smile back to yours, and so you work him out of the shorts you just got him in less than ten minutes ago.

As for yourself, well — you’re only naked from the waist down before you’re working your own slick up and down on him, biting your lip with anticipation, all but pulling him into you. You don’t even care if it hurts, and you almost say it, but you don’t — everything you’re doing is saying it for you — you just want him in you right now, right now, and he touches you between the gasps you draw from him; he watches the way he slides into you like you’re meant for him, like he’s meant for you, and you dig your heels into him as you whisper his name.

“Baby,” he whispers back. Those sad brown eyes flicker, shut, open, find you. “Oh.”

He rocks into you softly, such a contrast from the urgency with which he was kissing you mere moments before. Osamu’s a natural at giving you whiplash, sometimes in ways you didn’t know him to be capable of. He’s concentrated; you watch him, the slightest bit confused as his lips purse shut. You want to hear him, he knows, but it’s all welling up within him, he can feel it on his lash line, so he tucks his face into your neck and hopes you won’t say anything. You don’t, not for bit. You just circle your arms around his neck and groan at the way he grips you, feels you all over; you clench around him and pretend you don’t feel the tears beading along your shoulder.

“Too filthy for you?” you finally tease, but gently; you cup his face in your hands, push his hair from his forehead, and kiss the wetness away. He half-laughs, half-sobs. He obviously wasn’t expecting this. “Oh, ‘samu. Honey.”

“Don’t know what the fuck’s going on.” It’s his way of apologizing. He sniffles and follows it with an explanation. “You feel so good.”

You know they’re not tears of pleasure, but you let him write it off as he fucks into you. “You- uhn- you feel so good,” you echo.

It’s not unusual for him to be vocal — he moans, he gasps, he gives you delicious noises to make up for the words he can’t ever find, but tonight is so different; you don’t know what it is, but he talks. He’s talking, and it’s not the lewd musings you expect from Osamu Dazai, much less while he curls his hands into your hair and begins to pound into you. Yes, it’s much different tonight.

“Missed you too,” he finally gives you. “Missed you. So fucking much- fuck- I’m- oh, fuck…”

“Stop leaving,” you say breathlessly. “Stop leaving me. Just move in.”

“Shit, I might.” His hair is your lifeline. You knot your fingers in it like you hope you become part of it. “Might just have to come home to this every day. Y’take such good care of me. Don’t know wh- hah- what I did to deserve this pussy.”

“Please, please, Osamu.” You’re begging for more than one thing. “Fucking stay.”

So he keeps his pace, staying in one way or another — at least he can say he’s done that much. Whether or not you’ll wake up next to him tomorrow morning doesn’t matter right now; right now he’s fucking you, right now he’s yours, right now he’s ripping himself open a little further to let you see his rotten soul and you’re giving him everything he could never ask for, everything he doesn’t think he deserves — it’ll be enough, you’re sure, even though it’ll hurt when he disappears again; at least you’ll know you opened up in return, reflected his rottenness in the way that you know how. You’ve made a place for him in your home. You’ve made a place for him in your heart. He knows you want him to take it. Take it.

“So pretty, my baby, takin’ it so good.” He looks at you with those wet eyes between pressing bruising kisses to your lips, chin, neck. “Y’feel like fucking heaven. God, fuck. Don’t know if I- don’t know if I deserve it. So fucking good. So good. So good.”

“You d- you don’t have to do anything to deserve it- just fucking stay, please,” you plead with him. You’ll plead with him until he understands. “Oh- Osamu- ah!”

Your hands flail for a resting place — his head is restless with his kisses, his calloused hands and ridged arms are moving too fast for you to keep up with, the expanse of his back isn’t nearly close enough amid his wild pace, so you claw into the peaks of his shoulders and give all your sound and breath back to him while he rains praise upon you. He’s almost frantic in his task, like he needs you to know.

“Need you to know how much I love comin’ back here.” Osamu grabs one of your hands and guides you to your clit. “Touch yourself, please- please- want you cummin’ on me, baby, give it to me. Please.”

He pleads with you until you do.

You’re well aware that everything you can give him might not be enough to convince him. Convince him he’s not rotten. Convince him he does deserve it. Convince him he’s worthy of love. You know the best thing you can do for him right now is rub yourself quick and hard in time with his heavy thrusts. You keep giving him what he needs — you give him all your moans, grunts, curses, and he reflects them right back — you match each other, sobbing, twitching, biting, heaving until the wave rolls over you and you’re collecting him, throbbing around him and telling him it’s all for him, he’s so perfect, don’t stop, it feels so good while he spills into you, fills you up in that familiar way you don’t think you want to live without for weeks at a time anymore. Osamu’s tense as he drags both of your climaxes out for as long as he can; you’re crooning out his name and Osamu’s panting out yours and he’s so beautiful as he cums, he’s so beautiful while he cries, he’s so beautiful when he’s raw and selfish and fucked out of his brain, he’s so beautiful, he’s so beautiful, he’s so beautiful.

“So afraid to hurt you, baby,” he mumbles into your cheek minutes later, half-asleep and tipsy and still pulsing inside you. “You don’t deserve my shit. Get caught up in my shit.”

You don’t care about his shit, is what you tell him in return. You want him. You want to show him all the wonderful things he does in fact deserve.

Like the picturesque breakfast you cook him after you do wake up next to him in the morning. Like the tender way you rewrap his dressings as the afternoon sun gleams in white columns through your window. Like the first day he spends completely sober and well-fed in a long time.

“I don’t know if I deserve it.” All this, he means. You, and how wonderful you are. He says it again and again.

“I don’t care if you don’t deserve it.” You secure the butterfly clip in the crook of his elbow and meet his eyes. Far off. Waning sunshine. “Wanna give it to you anyway.”

For a moment the sunshine returns, and for the first time in a long time, if not ever, you see it reach his eyes. They don’t look so sad. Big, brown, maybe hopeful. Maybe sweet with preemptive regret. You hug Osamu in the still air of your apartment.

“Stay,” you whisper.

He hugs you back, limply, like he’s scared to break you. He trembles out, “I will.”

#bsd dazai x reader #dazai x reader #osamu dazai x reader #dazai smut #bsd x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader #bsd smut #angelzai original.ᐟ #devilzai hours.ᐟ

[littlexdeaths]

bye bye bye - e.m.

y2k eddie munson x girly reader

opposites attract masterlist

warnings: gareth is a dickhead, hope y’all like some cheesy fluff, eddie is a complete dork but we love him for it.

a/n: this is a repost of my first y2k eddie fic, with some much needed edits and additions. i will be working on editing and posting the rest of this series soon. i hope you enjoy 💕

word count: 1.5k

Today really hadn’t gone how you’d planned.

You had been hanging out with Eddie and his band mates, something you’d done quite often. Only this time you made the mistake of wearing your *NSYNC tour shirt.

It wasn’t a secret that you and Eddie had polar opposite tastes, it was apparent by just looking at you. You were all pink, bubblegum and boy bands. And your boyfriend was a leather clad, heavy metal enthusiast.

Despite these differences, you fit so well together.

And as they say— opposites attract.

But one of his friends was always more standoffish towards you because of it. While you were always nice to Gareth, he seemed annoyed anytime Eddie brought you around. But today that annoyance had seemingly reached its peak.

And all over a stupid t-shirt.

Eddie had gone to get you both a drink, leaving you in the living room with the three other males. They were discussing the newest Linkin Park album. Which oddly enough, was a band you actually enjoyed outside your normal realm of music.

You perked up at the mention of the album, as it had been the only thing Eddie had been playing since it was released. Feeling eager to see what they also thought of it.

“Oh come on man, you can't say Meteora is better than Hybrid Theory,” Jeff scoffs, shaking his head in response to Gareth’s admission as Eddie leaves the room.

The male rolls his eyes before tossing a piece of popcorn at Jeff’s head, “See that’s where you’re wrong dude, have you tried listening to the albums back to back?”

You take this as an opportunity to add in your two cents, trying to include yourself in the conversation despite your nerves.

“Well, personally I think both albums are great in their own—”

You are interrupted with a loud snort as Gareth rudely cuts you off, glancing down at your shirt before meeting your eyes.

“Why would we care about your opinion of it? All you listen to is boy band trash pop,” he sneers, rolling his eyes as he turns back to his friends.

It felt like someone had punched you in the gut, any other words became lodged in your throat. Jeff and Grant throw apologetic glances your way, but continue on with the conversation as if nothing had happened.

Eddie returns shortly after, completely oblivious to what had just transpired. He plops down next to you on the sofa and passes you a can of coke. Due to your solemn appearance, he knew something was wrong. He just didn’t know what.

A frown tugs at the corner of his mouth as he wraps an arm around your waist, tucking you into his side.

“Hey, you okay?” He asks softly, replying with a shrug of your shoulders.

You let your eyes fall to the open can of soda clutched in your fist. You didn’t want to talk about it, especially not in front of them. The last thing you wanted was to cause a scene, or to give Gareth the satisfaction of seeing you cry.

So you sat quietly through the next half hour, letting Eddie enjoy the time with his friends.

But he couldn’t seem to let it go, far too focused on what had caused this sudden shift in your mood. So he ended the hangout early, claiming to be too tired from work. But all of you knew the real reason, guilt filled your chest as he walked you out to his van.

They must think you’re a buzzkill too.

The questions started the moment the door shut behind him, badgering you the entire way back to your house. You easily dodged his line of questioning, claiming to be tired. But Eddie wasn’t having any of that, he could see right through you. He always could.

“Baby, come on. Talk to me please,” he pleaded as he followed you up the stairs to your bedroom.

You continued to ignore him as you sat on the bed with a sigh. You felt embarrassed, knowing such a silly comment shouldn’t bother you as much as it did. All you wanted was for his friends to like you, but it was made abundantly clear that they didn’t.

All because you favored pop music? It all felt so trivial, like they weren’t even willing to give you a real chance. It hurt your feelings more than you cared to admit.

But Eddie being the sweet, doting boyfriend that he was— wasn’t giving up that easily.

“Just tell me what happened, sweetheart.” He says, kneeling in front of you, palms resting on either side of your thighs.

“It’s stupid,” you mutter, avoiding his curious gaze.

“Nothing that upset you this much is stupid,” he counters as you let out a groan, dramatically falling back onto the mattress and covering your face.

You hear his exasperated sigh, feeling the weight of his chest against yours as he leans over you. Eddie carefully removes your hands from your face, looking down at you expectantly.

“Your friends don’t like me,” you utter softly.

He frowns, confusion settling on his features.

“Why do you say that?”

You sigh, rolling your eyes which causes his frown to deepen.

“Well, just look at me…” you trail off, gesturing to yourself. “And look at you.”

It’s his turn to sigh now, taking your hands as he guides you back into a sitting position. Eddie cups your cheeks in between his palms, leaning forward to press a kiss to your forehead.

“I know what you’re insinuating, but I promise that’s the furthest thing from the truth.” He reassures you, his dark eyes utterly sincere.

And as much as you want to believe him, there’s still a small part of you that wonders if maybe they are right. Maybe you’re too different. He must be able to read the apprehension lingering on your features, as one of determination crosses over his.

“I don’t know what they said to make you think that,” he pauses to press a kiss to the tip of your nose. “But I won’t hesitate to kick some ass, sweetheart.”

Despite the teasing lithe in his voice you know he’s serious, quickly shaking your head. The last thing you’d want is to cause more beef with his friends.

“It’s fine, Eds, I’m just too sensitive.” You give him a quick peck on the lips, “Let’s just drop it, yeah?”

You pull away to scoot further up the mattress, patting the spot beside you. But he shakes his head, remaining on the floor for a moment. His eyes dart contemplatively around the room, stopping on the shelf that held your extension CD collection.

A Cheshire-like grin tugs at his lips as he moves towards it, balancing on the balls of his feet. Your brows knit together in confusion as his ringed fingers graze over the plastic spines, stopping once he finds what he was looking for. Eddie pops the disc out of its case and into the clunky boombox before pressing play.

The beginning chords of Bye Bye Bye fill the once quiet space of your bedroom. Your boyfriend quickly jumps to his feet, spinning around to face you. He plants his feet on the carpet, head falling forward as his hands raise up in a marionette style.

Your eyes widen in realization as you crawl back towards the edge of your bed, suddenly intrigued. Eddie shoots a wink your way once he meets your gaze, beginning to sing along. His voice stood out amongst the others, the raspy quality brought a new edge to the track.

But he didn’t stop there.

You watched in amazement as he nailed all the choreography from the music video. You had no idea when he found the time to study all the moves. Between classes, work, hellfire and band practice he barely had time to think.

But knowing he took the time to do this, specifically for you— made your stomach flutter.

You can’t stop the smile from lighting up your features, giggling as your boyfriend continues to serenade you.

“I don’t want to be your fool, in this game for two…”

Eddie drops to his knees at your feet again, coaxing you onto the floor with him. He presses feather light kisses all over your face, the sensation causes you to giggle more. As hurt as you had been, the male always knew how to make you forget your problems.

At least for a little while.

“That’s my girl,” he mumbled, grinning down at you.

He’s a little out of breath from his impromptu dance routine, bangs lightly sticking to his forehead.

“You’re an absolute dork, Ed,” you giggle, ruffling his curls in a playful manner.

But the way he’s looking at you has your heart racing. His head dips, capturing your lips in a gentle kiss as the song comes to an end.

“Now, admit it,” he chuckles against your mouth, nudging his nose with yours. “I’m a much better dancer than that Dustin Timberlake.”

You laugh loudly, fondly shaking your head at him.

“It’s Justin, baby…”

#the freak writes 🫧 #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x fem!reader fluff #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson one shot #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x female reader #y2k!eddie munson #y2k!eddie munson x girly reader #eddie munson x girly reader #my series: opposites attract 🫧 #early 2000s!eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x you

[roosterforme]

Adult Education Part 5 | Hangman x OC

Summary: Jessica knows she should just head home for the night, but Jake's sincerity keeps her at Chippy's. He tries to secure a second date and her still elusive phone number as he learns bit by bit just how sweet she can be.

Warnings: Fluff, angst, swearing, eventually 18+

Length: 4500 words

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Female OC

This story is part of the Beer Boy and Sugar universe but can be read on its own! Adult Education masterlist

Seriously, who let Jake on my masterlist!? Banner by @mak-32

There was a first time for everything. At least that's how the saying went. Jessica had never been stood up before. But it was the fact that she was completely blindsided by it that really got to her.

It was 7:34. Jake was more than thirty minutes late. He wasn't coming. She had been stringing him along for too long without giving him her phone number. Or maybe she really was just as dull as she thought she was. Regardless, she was going to have to stand up from her table and walk back past the bar and out the front door. Alone. She recognized two of her students sitting a few tables over, and she wanted to cry. Doing this pathetic walk of shame out of Chippy's would be enough to have her in tears on the drive home. She just knew it. 

"Shit," she muttered to herself as she slid off of her stool so her heels clicked against the dirty floor. She adjusted her glasses with the backs of her fingers and then picked up the journals she brought with her along with her purse. Then she tried to keep her face neutral as she nodded at Chippy who looked extremely displeased behind the bar. 

"Night, Reedy," he murmured as she walked past. She wished she could reach the big trash can from this side of the bar, because what sane woman keeps giving a hot man scientific journals all the time? She'd throw them away in the dumpster near where she parked. And then she would go home and reevaluate just how she managed to mess this whole thing up in the analytical way her mind wanted her to. 

She skirted past her students and pushed the door open to the cool, evening air and the sounds of traffic. She managed to let out the breath she had been holding, but now the tears were right there, and she was hoping to get home before they spilled over. 

"Jessica!" 

She knew it was Jake. She knew his voice. She also knew she couldn't run to her car in high heels fast enough before he caught up with her. So she turned toward his voice and waited on the sidewalk as he rushed toward her.

He looked like a mess with grease stains on his jeans. His hair was disheveled, and he was all sweaty. "I'm sorry I'm late," he panted, out of breath with his hands on his hips and his head tipped back as he gasped for air. 

She wasn't sure what to make of him like this. She didn't know if she even wanted to try. "I'm just going to head home," she replied softly, taking a step in the opposite direction. "It's already 7:40."

His eyes looked desperate when they met hers. "Fuck!" he grunted under his breath, broad chest rising and falling rapidly. "Stay? Please? Just let me get you one drink? And we can talk?" He was so handsome, she desperately wanted to cave and still spend the rest of the night drinking cheap beers and eating peanuts with him. 

"Why are you late?" Jessica asked, adjusting her glasses. "I thought you were looking forward to Chippy's." She kind of shrugged like she was already expecting some stupid excuse, and then Jake brought his hand up to her cheek and brushed her hair back with his fingers. 

"My truck was in the shop last week, and it appears to be having problems again. Once it stalled out and I couldn't get it started again, I just left it and ran here. Because I have absolutely been looking forward to Chippy's. And you look beautiful, by the way," he drawled softly, fingers tangled with her hair as his breathing evened out.

"Where did you leave your truck?" she asked, leaning slightly into his touch. 

"By the Starbucks on Collier Avenue," he replied softly, green eyes fixed on hers.

Then Jessica gasped. "That's like five miles away!"

"Mmhmm," he hummed. "I should have just left it there as soon as it died, but I tried to mess with it first. That's why I'm so late. I'm sorry."

"Oh." She didn't know what else to say. He ran five miles to get here. 

"Yeah. Oh," he said with an edge to his voice. "I emailed your university account, but I figured you don't check it after you're done working for the night. And I still don't have your phone number, or I would have called you immediately."

Jessica felt warmth in her cheeks as Jake closed the distance between them like he was going to kiss her. "If you give me another chance and your phone number, I'll buy a new car before our next date to guarantee I'm on time. Or I can just leave early enough to run the whole way."

She giggled softly. "You're funny, Jake."

He just shook his head and said, "I'm pretty serious right now, Reedy." Then his gaze dipped down to her lips, and Jessica could tell he wanted to kiss her. His fingertips were still gently tangled in some strands of her hair. His body was warm as he crowded her against the outside of the bar, and she was flattered that he ran to get to her. 

"You must be thirsty after all that running," she whispered, tugging on the collar of his shirt. 

He turned his head so his lips brushed along her knuckles, and she gasped as he said, "I'm thirsty for more than beer or water, Jess. But I'd still love to take you inside and get some drinks and some peanuts."

And then she found herself nodding and leading him toward the door.

----------------------------

The bartender was glaring at Jake as soon as he held the door open for Jessica, and it just intensified when he let his hand rest on her lower back. "Reedy?" the other man called out, absolutely scowling as he let his fist rest on the bartop. 

"It's okay, Chippy," she replied, glancing up at Jake as she walked toward the only empty table in the dive bar. 

"The bartender is actually Chippy himself? The man, the legend?" Jake asked softly as he pulled out one of the stools for Jessica and watched her set her journals and cute little purse on the table. 

When she slid onto the seat and crossed her legs, she said, "Yes. Don't mess with Chippy. That man was nice to me when nobody else was."

Jake studied her pretty face as she adjusted her glasses. "Who in their right mind wouldn't be sweet to you?"

She looked down at the journals and pushed them aside like she was suddenly embarrassed. "It's been known to happen."

"Shouldn't though," he replied, brushing her hair behind her ear. "Now let me go mend fences with your main squeeze. I want to be able to show my face in this fine establishment again in the future."

Jessica was smiling brightly at him as he turned toward the bar where Chippy was wiping the same spot with a rag over and over again. "Good evening," Jake said to the older man who still looked like he wanted to snap Jake in half. "Could I get two pints of whichever beer is Reedy's favorite?"

"Sam Adams," he grunted, tossing the rag aside. "And sometimes I get the Sam seasonal kegs for her. When I can." 

Jake just nodded. Chippy was a big fan of Jessica's. He really needed to make sure this guy liked him, and he was pretty sure leaving another massive tip was not the answer. "Right. Two Sam Adams pints then, please."

Without another word, Chippy pulled two beers from the tap for Jake, setting them down a little hard in front of him before he scooped a bowl of peanuts. 

"Thank you," Jake told him as the bowl of peanuts came thudding down next to the beers. 

While Jake dug a ten dollar bill out of his wallet, Chippy grunted again. "She waited a long time for you to show up." His voice was accusatory. 

Jake smoothed the bill between his thumb and index finger, stealing a glance at Jessica a few tables away. She was playing with her hair and reading something with a soft smile on her lips. He turned back toward the bar and met Chippy's eyes. "It won't happen again."

"No. It won't. Because next time I'll kick you out permanently," he said, crossing his arms over his chest. "If you can even manage to get a next time, that is."

"That's certainly the goal," Jake informed him. 

"Well, a lot of men look, that's for sure. And I think she's oblivious to most of 'em. But not you, for some reason," Chippy said, scowling once again. "Handsome and annoying," he muttered. "Be nice to her or I'll kick you out once and for all." Then he reached for the rag again, completely ignoring Jake. 

"Right." Jake picked up both glasses in one hand and grabbed the pretzels, and he headed back to the table and Jessica.

"Did you have a nice conversation?" she asked with an amused expression as Jake slid one of the beers in her direction and sat on the stool opposite her.

He leaned on the table and whispered, "Not particularly. Pretty sure he'd happily kick me out given the opportunity. I had to swear on my life I'd never be late again."

She laughed behind her pint before taking a sip. "His bark is worse than his bite. Mostly. But actually, the head of the chemistry department has a lifetime ban, so maybe not."

"Damn," Jake murmured, taking a sip of his own beer. "Was he late meeting you two times in a row?"

Jessica looked down into her beer, swirling the glass gently, a solemn look on her face. "Something like that...let's just say the fact that Brian Conley isn't allowed in here is just one of the reasons this is my preferred hangout."

"Okay," Jake said softly, wondering if this Conley character had anything to do with the rumors Bradshaw's wife had been telling him about. Regardless, he was going to side with Chippy on this one. Conley could eat shit if Jessica didn't like him. "We hate Brian Conley," Jake told her as they both reached for the peanuts. 

For some reason this got Jessica laughing again. "We do," she said as she picked up a few peanuts and held her hand open to him. Jake rubbed his thumb along her palm before selecting one and cracking into it. "Now, did Chippy tell you I like Sam Adams? Or did you guess from last time we were here?"

Jake tossed the shell on the floor and said, "You think I'd leave that up to chance? I one hundred percent asked him just to be sure. And now I know what kind of beer to buy if you agree to come to my place and let me cook dinner for you."

Jessica froze with her hand in the air, ready to throw her peanut shell. "You know how to cook?" 

"Yeah," he replied with a smile. "I love it, actually. I usually meal prep on Sundays after I buy all my groceries for the week."

She was gaping at him. "There are two of you with the uniforms and the kitchen skills?"

Jake laughed, realizing she must have been referring to Bradshaw as well. "First of all, he's married. I'm single." She finally tossed her peanut shell and rolled her eyes. 

"I finally made a friend at work," she said, cracking another shell and throwing this one at him. "You think I'm going to risk that by even looking at her husband for a second too long? No."

Jake tried to keep a straight face as he said, "Nobody's gonna get mad if you look at me all day long, Reedy."

"Tempting," she said before sipping her drink without meeting his eye.

"And," he added, running his fingers along her palm as she handed him more peanuts, "the kitchen isn't the only room where I have skills."

She met his eyes and adjusted her glasses with a smirk. "Care to tell me more about that, Lieutenant Seresin?"

He nodded and said, "I'm really good in the living room, too. You should see how well I can lay on the couch and watch University of Texas football."

She laughed and said, "I almost forgot for a second that you're from Texas."

"How did you know I'm from Texas? And, oh shit... did all those A&M boys already ruin my chances for me? I almost never wear my boots and hats around, I swear."

Jake grinned as she threw more peanut shells at him. "Stop!" she whispered as she laughed, and Jake loved the sound of it. "The only thing they ruined for me is Lone Star beer and line dancing."

Now he was laughing, because yeah, that made sense. "You're a Yankee, obviously. Don't tell the Texans I've been visiting you at work. They won't stand for it."

"Oh, sounds like Romeo and Juliet," she replied. "Except without the balconies, old English, and hermits giving out free drugs to children."

"Wait," he said, now the one who was laughing too hard. "My condo has a balcony."

"Shiiit," she whispered, eyes wide in feigned shock. "I was hoping this was a comedy, not a tragedy."

"Oh, it's definitely a comedy, Jessica. The audience is in riotous laughter over the fact that I still don't have your phone number."

This time she had to cover her mouth with one hand as she laughed. And when Jake glanced toward the bar, Chippy looked decidedly less aggressive now when he met his gaze. 

"You Yankee girls must have a very particular vetting process. You from New York?"

"Massachusetts," she replied, still giggling. "I went to MIT undergrad."

"That explains the Sam Adams. Also, I'm never getting your phone number, am I?" he asked playfully, reaching across the small table and tucking her pretty hair behind her ear again while she laughed. "You've got me showing up to see you at work and running five miles for dates."

"Don't count yourself out quite yet," she said as he stroked her cheek. 

"And you got me reading physics journals on my couch while the college games are on," he added softly. "You brought some more for me to take home?" he asked, dropping his hand and tapping the stack on the table next to her elbow. 

But now she had a dreamy look in her eyes. "You really read them instead of watching the game?"

"Mmhmm." He nodded and said, "Picked one up at halftime and realized I missed the entire third quarter before I was done reading it."

Her lips were softly parted as she blinked at him. "Yeah. I brought you some more. But you have to promise you'll read them all cover to cover."

"I always do."

"Good. You won't be disappointed."

Jake laughed and looked down at the peanut shell in his hand before he tossed it over his shoulder just to make her smile. "I doubt you could ever disappoint me, Jessica."

God, the way she looked at him when he dished out something sweet could probably bring him to his knees. And the thing was, it was never a line. He wasn't throwing out bullshit to see if landed. He meant every word of it. Her eyes were unguarded as they always seemed to be with him now, and he couldn't believe he almost completely blew this evening with his fucking truck. 

It was getting a little late now, and he needed to try to secure the next date while she was still looking at him with those dreamy eyes. He just didn't want her to think he had any certain set of expectations but suggesting his place. 

"You know," he started, "my couch is big enough for both of us to watch some football and read some journals together. I could buy some Sam Adams, and we could make dinner together on Saturday night."

He watched her front teeth sink into her lip. She was hesitating. And it was killing him a little bit. "I think I can make that work," she said slowly, sliding the journals across the table as his heart pounded. 

"Gonna need your phone number so I can text you my address," he whispered, reaching for her hand before she pulled it away. "Please?" 

He drew a little heart on her palm with the tip of his index finger, and a smile bloomed across her face. "You'll find it, Jake. I know you will." And then she slowly closed her hand and stood, leaving him to pick up the journals. "But it's getting late, and Thursdays are early for me."

"Right." He followed her past the bar and watched her wave to Chippy who looked at her with a very kind smile before giving Jake a look of warning. And maybe he needed that warning, because he was looking at the gorgeous swell of her ass and enjoying the way she walked in high heels a little too much. So he nodded at Chippy, and kept his eyes on her wavy hair instead.  

Once they were outside, Jessica dragged the toe of one of her shoe a few inches along the sidewalk as she leaned against the building. "Thanks for the three dollar beer," she said with a smile. 

"You know, I'm pretty sure Chippy would give them to you for free if you were alone."

Her smile turned into another pretty laugh. "You're not wrong. Do you need a ride back to your truck?"

"Wouldn't mind one since I need to get it towed," he murmured, not quite ready to move from this spot where her face looked so perfect in the dim light. "But I'd be more than happy to run the five miles back."

And then her right hand reached up to tug on his shirt collar, and she didn't look so hesitant now as he eased himself closer, letting his hand rest on the wall next to her. "You have a peanut shell in your hair," she whispered, releasing his collar and brushing her fingers along his temple. 

Jake swallowed hard. His lips were just a few inches from hers as he softly said, "That's probably because a beautiful woman was throwing them at me."

Her laugh was quiet and breathy, and then the space between their lips was negligible. And then she was kissing him with her small hand wrapped gently around his neck. Jessica was smiling against his lips, and he wasn't used to it being this sweet. He didn't kiss the girls from the bar like this, and they never teased his cheek with the tip of their nose or ran their thumb delicately behind his ear. 

Oh, he was going to crave this now. Soft, exploratory kisses that tasted like beer and peanuts. And the sound of her soft moan as he let his hand trail from the wall near her shoulder down along her side to her waist. Yeah, this was going to become a necessity for Jake. 

She brushed her lips along his again before looking up at him with surprised eyes as he held her a little tighter. And then six more little kisses while her hand trailed down his neck. "I was really afraid you stood me up earlier," she whispered, trailing some kisses along his chin.

"I wouldn't do that, Baby. You have any idea how much I wanted tonight to happen?" Jake had one hand full of physics journals and one hand full of Jessica, and he was already thinking about what he might cook for dinner on Saturday night. 

With a soft laugh, she started to lead him down the sidewalk to her car. And he got to do even more things he never really did. Like open her car door instead of call her a cab at two in the morning. And lean over from the passenger seat and kiss her cheek gently as she started the engine. 

"What's your day looking like tomorrow, Dr. Reed?" he asked, linking his fingers loosly with hers for the short drive to his truck. 

"Department meeting, lectures, more lectures, a lab, and then my office hours."

Jake's mind was already working on a plan. "I have a long day ahead of me, too. There's my truck," he said, pointing to the piece of shit he was afraid he was going to have to replace. 

Jessica pulled up next to it and put her car in park, but when she reached for the key, he covered her hand with his. "Just leave me here. I'll get it towed to the garage again and then get Bradshaw to drive me home from there. I want you to go right home. It's late and it's dark out."

Jake wrapped her hand around the steering wheel again as she said, "Okay." But the single word was muffled by his lips crashing against hers. He kissed her long and hard one time, and her glasses were a little crooked when he was done. He straightened them out before he reached for the door handle. 

"I had a great time tonight. I'm sorry I almost ruined it by being late."

"You made up for it by running five miles," she whispered. "Night, Jake." 

And then he was watching her pull back into traffic as he called for a tow truck, keeping his eyes on her brake lights until they were out of sight. Just for good measure he looked up some new trucks for sale as he sat behind his steering wheel, but that got boring after a few minutes. And then he thought about the way Jessica told him she was confident he would find her number. 

He lunged for the journals sitting on the seat next to him, and he spread them out to read all the covers. His eyes caught on an edition of Applied Physics from late last year that said Jessica Reed, PhD. on the cover under an article title about combustion in jets. 

"It's gotta be," he whispered as the tow truck arrived, and he frantically flipped to the page where her article had been printed. He would read the whole thing later. He wanted to read the whole thing later. But right now his eyes settled on a small, handwritten note. He recognized her writing from the mini lecture he'd accidentally attended, and a smile crept along his lips. 

Jake,

If you made it this far, you can call or text me anytime. 

Her number was written beneath it, and he was entering her as a contact in his phone when he got out to talk to the tow truck driver. He felt like he just won the lottery as he added the picture of her he had saved from the San Diego State University website as her contact photo. 

Jessica, I'm sending you my address for Saturday. You and me, my couch, physics journals, college football and dinner? Please say yes. 

It was getting very late now, and maybe she wouldn't respond until tomorrow, but Jake felt like he was on cloud nine. He just kept thinking about how sweet Jessica was. About how he wouldn't mind wrapping her up in his arms for some more soft kisses on his couch. 

Once the driver was unloading his truck at the garage, Jake opened a different contact on his phone and made a quick call. 

"It's 10:30, Hangman. This better be important."

"Bradshaw. I need a ride home from the garage. My truck is acting up again," Jake replied, trying not to smile at how annoyed Rooster sounded. 

An exasperated sigh carried through the phone, and then Jake could hear his wife in the background asking, "Who is it?"

"It's Hangman. He needs a ride."

"Oh, well we can always finish this later, Beer Boy." His wife sounded less annoyed than him, thankfully. 

After a brief pause, Bradshaw said, "Give me twenty minutes. I need to get dressed."

"Thanks. Much appreciated," Jake replied. He dropped his keys into the overnight box with a note telling the mechanic he was having the same issues as last week. And then he waited for that blue Bronco to pull into the lot, and when Jake climbed in, Bradshaw looked pissed as hell. 

"Do you have any idea what my wife was about to do to me when you called?" he growled, shifting into reverse before Jake even had the door closed. 

"Come on, man. Your wife's hot, but I don't want to be imagining what the two of you get up to."

"She was about to reprimand me for turning in sloppy math homework," he said, completely disregarding Jake. "And I'm virtually sure she will no longer be in the mood for that when I get back at 11:30. So you owe me. I don't even know what you owe me yet, but it's going to be big. Because I'm assuming you expect me to give you a ride to work in the morning, too."

Jake cleared his throat and said, "If you wouldn't mind."

"Fuck," Rooster growled as he pulled up to Jake's condo building. "I'll pick you up at 7:30. Get the fuck out."

"Thanks," Jake said, trying to keep his face as neutral as possible. Jessica had just texted him back, and he was all smiles even as the Bronco peeled away. He was in.

------------------------

As Jessica undressed in her bedroom, she ran her fingers along her lace bra. She wondered what Jake's favorite color was, because she probably owned a pretty matching set that she would love to wear for him. She should have known this was going to happen; one kiss from him, and she was thinking about spending a lazy Sunday in bed with her fingers tangled in his hair. 

"Stop," she told herself half heartedly with a dreamy smile in the mirror. She'd given him the journal with her number inside, and now she just had to wait. He'd probably find it by tomorrow. Maybe she would see him at her office hours again. Her whole body was tingling with excitement as she unclasped her bra, and then she heard the ping of her phone notifications. 

She tossed her bra and bounded across the room in just her panties and saw a text from an unknown number. 

Jessica, I'm sending you my address for Saturday. You and me, my couch, physics journals, college football and dinner? Please say yes. 

She squealed as she flopped down onto her bed. He was good. It took him almost no time to find her phone number. She typed back a message as she thought about his big hands and his southern drawl. After she hit send, she closed her eyes and imagined everything she wanted to do to him in her office as she let her fingers glide along her body.

Don't forget the Sam Adams. See you on Saturday.

-----------------------------

Yes! You run those five miles, Jake! Anyone else just love Chippy? Thanks to @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 6

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#jake seresin x oc #jake seresin fic #jake seresin fanfiction #hangman x oc #hangman fic #jake hangman fic #jake hangman seresin #hangman imagine #jake hangman imagine #jake seresin #top gun hangman #hangman fanfiction #jake seresin imagine #hangman top gun #top gun imagine #top gun maverick imagine #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick fanfiction #roosterforme #adult education

[nina-renmen]

I really like your Yandere team 141. Would it be too much to ask for headcannons of what type of Yandere Simon, Price, Soap and Alejandro would be? (separate) And how they would react to the reader reciprocating their feelings?

That’s not too much at all! I hope this is what you’re looking for.

The Stalker:

•Ghost likes to lay low when it comes to these types of things.

•You definitely wouldn’t see it coming, especially if you don’t pick up signals easily.

•Ghost is the type of Yandere to rummage through your belongings while you’re out and about. He wants to get to know you without directly asking.

•If you were to subtly flirt with him or show any kind of interest in him your chances of getting kidnapped have drastically decreased.

•If ghost was drunk enough he would confess. That being said, I think he has a high tolerance for alcohol. It’ll take him a while to actually get drunk enough to tell you.

•On the event that he does somehow confess his feelings, don’t expect it to be a big thing. He might just look at you and say something along the lines of “Let me take you out to dinner.”

•If you agree to be his without any pushback then great! You now have an overprotective guard dog that will scare off any man that tries to approach you. •Ghost dosn’t like to share, he’ll keep tabs on you with the help of soap or implanting trackers on your phone. He tells himself it’s for your safety but in reality he wants to know where you are at all times.

The clingy/touchy one:

•Soap likes to have his hands on you at all times.

•It dosn’t necessarily have to be sexual. Sometimes he’ll wrap an arm around you or place his hand on the small of your back. •He’s the type to get annoyed if you don’t pay him any attention. He’ll hide your phone from you so you have to come to him for help. •If you reject his advances towards you he’ll disappear for a while and make you drop your guard. When you’re finally settled his appear in the middle of the night and forcefully take you away. •But that scenario is for another time.

•Johnny is the type to buy you flowers, a stuffed animal (that has a camera in it) and chocolates before he asks you out. He’s visibly nervous when he hands you the ‘offerings’ and confesses his feelings to you. •If you accept his shoulder visibly loosen. A stupid grin will cross his face and for the rest of that night he’ll subtly touch you. Maybe he brushes past you and places his hands on your hips to get by. Or he’ll place a hand on your shoulder or thigh.

•Soap is a little more lenient than ghost when it comes to you going out without him. He won’t involve Ghost unless you’ve run away. He’ll probably install a tracker on your phone and send you on your way.

The gift giver:

•This one isn’t as sweet as it sounds

•Price likes to woo you with little gifts and trinkets. He’s the type to implant trackers and cameras into gifts like stuff animals or jewelry. He’ll even get you a phone that he secretly has access to.

•Price can be a bit manipulative at times. Especially if you have daddy issues. •Before he confessed to you Price was the first person to tell you that your new boy toy isn’t good for you. Price will dig up dirt on your recent date and completely trash your perception on them. Afterwards he’ll give you a gift to ‘make you feel better.’

•It you reciprocate his feelings Price is a bit taken by surprise. He had all of the necessities to kidnap you in his car. He was ready to take you by force, and he was expecting to. •With price, he’s the type to give you items that symbolize that you’re taken. For example a necklace that has a locket with his initials on it. Or a ring.

•Price wants you taken care of. Literally and figuratively. Do you want to go shopping? No worries he’ll give you his card. Are you sad that your friends ditched you? No worries, the next day their faces are in the news as ‘missing’. Are you hungry and don’t have the energy to cook? Lay down, he’ll run you a bath and order take out.

•It’s an absolute dream to be with price willingly and be naive to what he’s doing around you. But if you find out about his doings and don’t respond in the way he likes he’ll just have to resort back to plan A.

The manipulator:

• Alejandro can be sneaky sometimes

•He’s usually somewhat similar to price. Whatever you want he’ll buy for you.

•But on the off chance one of your friends notices the way he’s unhealthily protective of you or making you miss out on friendly gatherings this man will gaslight you

• If you go up to him complaining about his over protectiveness he’ll just blow you off

•”You know I’m doing this for you right?”

•After an argument that may or may not leave you in tears he’ll always say ‘I love you’. Not as a gesture to show how much he really love you. But as a manipulation tactic.

•If your gullible or naive you might have a tough time getting away from him

•Especially since he has his men stalk look after you when he can’t be there.

•If you reciprocate his feelings it’ll still be a toxic relationship

•He has more control over you now. He’ll slowly make you disconnect with family and friends so your life only revolves around your relationship with him

•If you notice early on you might be able to get out of it with the help of someone from the 141 team. But that’ll just land you in their arms instead

#x reader #fem reader #yandere #yandere x reader #black reader #x black reader #cod x reader #john price cod #captain john price #john soap mactavish #john price #yandere John Price #yandere soap #yandere soap mactavish #john soap mctavish x reader #soap cod #yandere ghost #Yandere ghost x reader #Yandere cod #yandere 141 #Price x reader #ghost x reader #soap x reader #alejandro vargas #Alejandro x reader #yandere Alejandro x reader #Yandere Alejandro #Yandere price #Yandere John soap mactavish #John soap mactavish

[ourautumn86]

come over.

+18 fem! reader

synopsis; strangely enough, your number one enemy since kindergarten and captain of the basketball club of your college calls you up one night begging you to come over to his dorm room. after knocking on his door, things will take a turn that you would have never expected.

REMINDER: english is not my mother language so i apologize if there are some mistakes <3 !¡ either ways, i hope y’all like it. <3

a/n: i don’t feel too confident about this shot, but i miss y’all and i need to get over my writer’s block. i hope it’s not as much as a disaster as i see it and that you all love it. （ ; ; ）

CW;; cursing, dirty talk, nipple play, bullying and fights, teasing, smut, p in v sex, dacryphilia, overstimulation, squirting, spanking, non protected sex (GUYS STDS ARE REAL, WRAP THE DONG UP), cream pie, finger fucking, hair pulling, praising, degradation, multiple orgasms… MINORS DNI!!!

word count;; +5k!

Please, under no circumstances, repost my work on any other sites. I do not consent to anyone taking my work and posting it as their own.

You were having a really bad day. Not bad, horrible.

First of all, your alarm didn’t go off for some stupid reason and caused you to 1. getting late to school and 2. getting your teacher to lower your grade just because he’s a goddamn asshole that hates you. Second of all, you’d forgotten your lunch and your wallet, so you were now starving unable to buy anything to eat (thank god your best friend Robin shared with you her sandwich or else you would be dead by now). And third of all…

“And what do we have here?”

Him.

You rolled your eyes, feeling your skin heating up and your insides turning with disgust and anger as you turned around to face the most annoying fucking person you’ve ever met.

“Give it back, Harrington.”

Steve Harrington, the name that would appear on your worst nightmares, the monster under your bed, the last person you’d ever want to live through the end of the world with... Your enmity had been going strong since kindergarten, when he had picked on you for your looks since day one just because. Then, he started to tell his friends and those around you to not go near you or else they’d catch lice. He needed to be on top of you all the time; if there was a race on P.E, he’d make you trip with his foot to get you on your knees and win (leaving you all bloody and injured), if there were presentations to be made in front of the whole class he’d crack up jokes to make everyone laugh at you, giving you quite the public anxiety and if you somewhat got to win him in anything (probably at grades) he’d go nuts and get so pissed that he’d make your life impossible for the next few months by trashing your locker, ‘accidentally’ throwing his drinks all over you, telling the teachers that he saw you cheating…

It only got worse when you found your best friend: Eddie Munson, who was too an outcast. You became inseparable, and since then you two were the ‘freaks’ to the whole high school just because you liked rock and metal songs.

He smirked, taking a look at the poster that you were just about to hang on your university’s ‘news wall’. It was Eddie’s, he was about to go on a tour and had asked you if it would be okay to hang some posters to let everyone know. Through the years, Corrored Coffin had gained fame and a lot of followers.

“The freak is going on a tour?” he scoffed, raising his eyebrows. “Disgusting. He really thinks he’s gonna become a superstar or some shit…”

You fisted your hands, your heart being squished under the nickname that your friend had had to grow up with just because he liked things the others didn’t.

“Don’t call him that.” you said, your eyes straight into his.

“ ‘Freak’?” he teased you, swaying away the poster when you tried and take it back. “What do you want me to call him then? I could call him a girl, because he surely isn’t a man with that hair of his and that stupid makeup he’s always wearing…” he though out loud, when he noticed your furious expression, he simply shrugged. “Just stating facts.” the people around you had gathered to listen to your bickering. It was a daily coincidence now, Harrington being always the one looking for trouble. Some of them laughed at his words… Jerks. Just like him.

“You know what, Harrington? Sure, call him whatever you want.” you said, ripping from his hands the poster. “But I assure you, that you’ll never be not an inch of a man that he is, if you are bright enough to know what I mean by that.” your eyes wondered to his crotch and that made the crowd burst out in laughter. You were filled with proudness when you noticed his jaw tightening and his body going stiff. You were no outcast now, you were popular to be honest, and everybody knew the two of you since Harrington was the basketball team captain and you the cheerleader team captain. It was hell on the games, each of you always fighting each other off. But your teammates had grown so accustomed to it that they just laughed at your little fights. “So go ahead and run your mouth, ‘cause I’m sure yours will never get to places his have never been.” you leaned in. “And hold your tongue, ‘cause Eddie knows how to use his really well.” you whispered inches away from his face, giving him a wink before stapling the poster to the board and leaving him behind with tightened fists and heated cheeks.

It was a big day for you and your team, and you didn’t have time for play dates.

—

“y/n!” your eyes shone when to your ears the familiar sound of your best friend’s voice ringed.

You turned around, with your pompoms in hand and high ponytail, your college’s cheerleader uniform shining due to the lights that lightened the whole basketball court.

“Eds!” you smiled, so bright that almost blinded, running and jumping on your friend’s arms, who easily caught you and squeezed you in a tight hug. “You made it!” you laughed as he twirled you around.

“Of course I made it, it’s your big night after all. Although I still don’t get this basketball and cheering thing…” he left a sweet peck on your cheek. “But look at you all dolled up! Is it for me?” he winked, leaning just the slightest in, enough for him to whisper on your ear.

You laughed, playfully pushing at his chest. “Of course Munson, you know I’m all yours.” you winked back, making him let out a quick laughter.

“I really need to put a ring on you, Mrs. Munson.” he pointed at you as the music that let the public know that the match was about to start started to play through the speakers and he backed off to the stairs to sit and leave you to your cheerleading.

“I’ll be waiting on it, Mr. Munson!” he sent you a flying kiss that only made you giggle and roll your eyes. You loved Eddie, he always found a way to make you laugh and that’s something that you truly appreciated. He was the only one that truly got you.

You turned around to call for your teammates, your smile fading as fast as your eyes bumped against those brown ones that you do well knew at this rate. Harrington looked at you with such a pissed expression… Water bottle tightly clutched in one of his hands, about to burst. He let it fall to the ground along with the towel that stood on his shoulders when his coach called out for him with his whistle, giving Eddie, who was on the first step on your back a death glare as he ran to the center of the court to shake hands with the other team captain.

What the…

“Girls come on!!” you called for the cheerleaders on your team as you still looked at the stiff body of your incarnated hell. What the fuck is wrong with him? “Assume positions!”

Not my problem.

You shrugged it off and started to cheer for your team along with the public that had come to watch the match, most of them students from both colleges. And through all of it, you tried and ignore the harsh eyes that bore holes on the back of your neck, even if your skin felt like being on fire.

…

It was late at night in your dorm room, Robin having left to stay at his girlfriend’s, Nancy, house since it was Friday. You were snacking on some candy and chips as you watch your favorite show, Teen Wolf along with Eddie, who had sneaked to your bedroom, laying in your bed fully covered and with your pjs on. After the game, which you sadly had lost, you had watched as a very infuriated Steve walked out of the court and the gym, not without giving you and Eddie, who was hugging you and congratulating you for your efforts regardless of the result of the match, a pretty harsh glare that clearly said ‘fuck you two.’

Jeez, you didn’t know what has gotten him so riled up that afternoon but you surely hoped for him to go and drown his sorrows somewhere as quietly as possible and leave you alone.

“Hell yeah!” you cheered to the power couple as they shared their first kiss, almost jumping and throwing all your chips around and on your best friend when Isaac and Allison finally shared their first kiss.

“Ugh. Really Allison?! I was expecting better from you.” the curly haired metal head gasped, acting hurt at the ‘betrayal’. He was team Scott. Which was obviously stupid since he now liked Kira.

“What are you talking about?! Scott has moved on, doesn’t she have the right to do so too?” Eddie gave you a side glance as in a ‘no’, but he quickly laughed when you hit your shoulder with a ‘hey!’.

Your attention was completely on the screen when your phone started buzzing on your side table. You took a new bite at your candy as you reached for it, still not focusing on it as you took. the call. It was probably Robin calling to check in.

“Hello?” you talked into the line, waiting for a few seconds for an answer that never came. You checked the screen, ‘Unknown number’ showing on its center. You furrowed your eyebrows “Hello? Who’s this?” Eddie paused the series and rose to sit up on your bed along with you, mouthing a ‘who’s it?’. You simply shrugged and mouthed back a ‘no idea’. The sudden appearance of a sharp and heavy breathing caught you off ward for a couple of seconds before you rolled your eyes.

“Are you serious?” you huffed, thinking it was a stupid phone call. “We're in college, how about we stop playing Scream and start being more matures?” you said, and just as you were about to hang up, a rather familiar voice croaked out:

“y/n."

You froze, your breath hitching as your brain tried to convince himself that you had heard right “Harrington?” you were in shock for a couple of seconds, Eddie furrowed his eyebrows and looked at you in utter disbelief. When the casual anger grew inside you with just the mention of his name appeared you snapped at him. “Do you know what hour it is… No. Why the fuck are you calling me in first place?” you rolled your eyes. For just a couple of hours that you were enjoying yourself with your best friend, of course he had to come and ruin it. He always does and always will.

He was silent for an instant before his voice breaks out in a whimper that makes your stomach flip.

“Please.”

“W…What?” your eyebrows were knitted together so hard it was painful. Eddie just hits you in the arm, silently asking you to tell him what’s going on. You just swatted his hand away and lift a finger to quiet him.

“Please.” he repeated.

“Are you drunk or something? You should-“ you started, but he was quick to cut you off.

“y/n…” that was something different. The way your name fell from his lips in such need, hunger… “Come over. Please come over. I need you so bad…”

“I-“

“y/n, what is it?” Eddie spoke up, and you could hear the tension from the other part of the line rise.

“Fuck. Is Munson there with you?” Harrington affirmed more than asked.

“y/n!” Eddie asked again.

“y/n.” but the voice of Harrington on the other line had you too out of focus. The way you could hear the begging on his tone, the need…

You didn’t know what had gotten over you, but you found yourself quick on your feet to grab your dorm keys.

“Wait for me.”

Eddie stood up as well and watch you hang up and made your way out of your room after putting on a pair of shoes.

“Where are you going?” Eddie inquired, completely and utterly lost. “You’re leaving?”

“I’ll be right back, I promise. I think there’s something wrong with Harrington. You can continue with the serie and use my bed, alright?” you quickly muttered, and when you caught him stepping closer and raising his hand to say something and find out whatever the hell was going on, you closed the door on his face.

You made your way over to the guy’s room wing, having been there before to parties and so. And before you knew it, you had knocked on his door. You didn’t have to wait a long time before he appeared on it’s threshold, his normally perfectly combed hair being a mess, shirtless and with only a pair of sweats on. He looked like a mess, with red cheeks, swollen bitten lips, glassed eyes and shaky breathing.

“Harrington, what the hell are you…” a scream almost got ripped out of you at the harsh yank that took place on your arm. Before you knew it you had been pulled inside and smashed against the now closed door of his room, his body towering over yours and his breath caressing your face.

Fuck. You’ve never been this close before.

“You’re driving me insane.” he said, one of his hands cupping your cheek, dark shiny eyes connecting with yours before they’d drift back to your lips. “I’ve been thinking about what you told me all day. Knowing that Munson got to touch you, taste you… Is killing me. And him being in your room? Having you in his arms? Thinking about him just touching you is… Fuck.” you chocked. You didn’t understand. Wasn’t he supposed to hate you? Despise you? Then why…? “I can’t stop imagining him kissing you, holding you…” his thumb pressed over your bottom lip, tugging on it, admiring. “You were supposed to pay attention to me. You were supposed to think about me.” your heart was thumping against your ribs, and you felt like dying when he harshly kissed you. It was fast, and angry. His tongue was quick to push inside your mouth, your teeth clashing and your body being pulled against him. You whimpered, your hands finding his hair as you pulled him closer. You’d never felt that way. How your whole body seemed to combust, the shaking of your limbs, the thumping of your heart…

But what was going on? ‘Pay attention to him’? ‘Think of him’? What was that supposed to mean? Did Harrington always treat you badly to get your attention? To get under your skin one way or another?

You were burning, so badly that he felt like snow.

“Fuck.” he muttered as he pulled away. “Been dreaming of doing that since the first time you yelled at me.” you whimpered when his warm hands took a harsh hold of your waist, pulling you against him close and tight enough for you to feel just how hard he already was on his sweats.

His mouth was back on yours, and your whole world was spinning. His hair on your hands, his gasps against your lips, his musky scent…

“Yeah, that’s right.” he muttered, a little smirk showing in his factions when he noticed your daze and unfocused eyes. “Focus on me. Just me.” he whispered on your ear before his lips latched to your neck, sucking on your skin hard enough to mark you up. You moaned, his hands sneaking inside your pj’s shirt and slowly making its way upwards, towards your chest.

“Fuck, Harrington.” you gasped when his warm hands took your tits, massaging them and rolling your nipples in between his fingers as he pressed a leg in between your legs, making your aching pussy brush against the lean muscle of his thigh.

“Steve.” he corrected. “It’s Steve for you, baby.”

“Steve.” you moaned when he pushed upwards with his leg, helping you ride it.

“That’s right. But you need to say it a little bit louder, hm? Need to let everybody know that it’s me who you are moaning for.” you whimpered at his words, his large hands leaving your chest to take your hips and pick you up to make his way to his king size bed.

You felt almost crushed against the duvet when he pinned you down to it underneath his weight. Almost, ‘cause right at that exact moment, you just wished he could be closer, he could be harsher, smush you against the bed and fuck you senseless ‘till you are nothing more than a babbling mess.

“That’s right.” he smirked when you pulled him closer, choked when his hands where once again pulling your top up slowly. “Fuck. You drive me insane.” he muttered when your chest was fully uncovered. “Fucking beautiful.” you moaned when his mouth left wet kisses on your chest. His tongue circled your nipples as one of his hands made its way to the seam of your pajama pants and panties, which stood completely soaked in arousal.

“Steve.” you cried out when his fingers caressed you from over the lace of your underwear, chuckling at the wetness of them.

“You are so wet for me already, such a good girl…” you almost whimpered, your cheeks blushing at the praise, something that didn’t go unnoticed. “You liked that, hm? Like to be my good little girl?” you nodded, your legs shaking when he finally pushed down your underwear and pjs to touch you. You gasped when his rough and thick fingers pressed against your core, sliding through your folds, pooled in your arousal. “So fucking wet.” he cursed as he circled your clit, making you moan. His touch was electrifying. “Is all of this for me?” you once again nodded. “I need to hear your pretty voice. Speak up for me, sweetheart.”

“Yes… It’s all for you.” you managed to sputter out.

“Mmh…” he hummed happily with the answer, smirking when you let out a loud moan as he pushed his middle finger inside of you, instantly hitting that spongy spot that could make you come over and over again. “Then I guess that if it’s all for me… I could have a taste. Isn’t that right?” your eyes rolled to the back of your head when you suddenly felt his tongue around your clit at the same time as he thrusted his finger in and out of you, slowly enough to have you gripping at his hair and bucking your hips in search of more.

He complied, starting to eat you out like a man starved. And he kind of was, having been craving you for years and years… He craved you, needed you so badly that his composure had plummeted once you’ve told him that Munson had touched you, kissed you, tasted you first… He wanted you. Wanted you to be solely and completely his.

“Ah, Steve, shit…” you were so sensitive. More than usually. Was it because Steve was too good at eating you out or because it was Steve who was eating you out?

“Louder, baby. I need you to be louder for me.” he said before going back to you, his tongue lapping up at your juices and adding another finger. Their thickness made you cry out his name loud enough for the whole floor to hear. You just hoped that there was no teacher doing the check-ins that night or you’d be screwed.

“Steve, I’m… I’m gonna…” your grip tightened on his hair.

“You’re gonna come? Gonna come on my face, hm?” he curved his fingers upwards, relentlessly hitting your g spot over and over again, pulling you closer to your orgasm. “Go ahead, come for me. Let me have it.”

He didn’t need to say it twice. With his tongue back circling your clit, you moaned as you came, harsh, on his tongue, him helping you to extend you climax by thrusting in and out his fingers whilst lapping at your release, drinking everything you had to offer in between moans and hums.

When he let go of you, licking his two fingers clean, you where a flustered mess; with your hair sticking everywhere, red cheeks, swollen lips and glossy eyes. And he wasn’t that different from you, with his chin and red puffy lips shiny with your juices, his cheeks were flushed and his hair a beautiful mess that you had created in between tugs and caresses. He looked beautiful, so beautiful that you couldn’t help dragging him towards you to taste yourself off of his lips, one of your hands finding his aching and swollen cock, that pushed against his sweats in need of release. He groaned in your mouth, pulling from your hair to part ways.

“Steve…” you cried out, your eyes half-lidded with need, your pussy aching for him, for something to fill you to the brim, to stretch you out, break you.

“What is it, hm?” oh but he already knew… “Haven’t you had enough already? I gave you my fingers and my mouth, is that not enough for you? What a needy slut…” you moaned at his harsh tone and degradation, the contrast with the recent praise making your skin burn and your body cry for him. You needed him so badly… So much that you swore you could die. “Want me to fuck you, hm? Want me to make you cum all over my cock? Have you all brainless as I use you? Pump you full of my cum?”

“Yes please Steve, please, I want it.”

“So pretty begging for me, do you want it that bad?” you nodded, squirming under his touch and whimpering when he gave your thigh a harsh slap. “Can’t hear you, beautiful.”

“Yes.” you cried out, loving how harsh he was treating you, loving the idea that he would use you just for his pleasure.

“Then say it. Beg me to fuck you.” another spank.

“Please Steve, I want you to make me cum all over your cock, please, please, please… I need it. I need you.” tears swelled in your eyes as you stuttered.

“Good girl. Wasn’t that hard, was it?” he said with a smirk, quickly shoving his sweats and underwear down his thighs to discard them aside. You almost choked at his size. You couldn’t take that.

Steve’s dick was huge. So thick and large that you knew that he’d tear you apart, stretch you out so good that would leave you sobbing and drooling against his pillow as he fucked into you over and over again.

“Gonna let me fuck you raw? Let me cum inside and fill you up?” he inquired, and you just nodded, too focused on the pink of his head beaded in pre-cum, on the veins of its sides and the brown curls at its pretty base.

“Yes, please, Steve, I want your cum.” you pleaded, and he groaned, once again pinning you underneath him and kissing you feverishly. You parted your legs for him to position himself in between them. You gasped on his mouth when you felt his head play with your cunt, slowly dragging himself up and down in between your slicked folds to lube himself up, teasing you at your entrance, pushing just the slightest against it. You were so fucking wet… More than you had ever been before.

Your nails found his back as he finally, after hearing your pleads and begging, aligned himself and started to push the tip of his cock inside, leaving you breathless at the stretch.

“Shhh, it’s okay.” he hushed you as you whimpered with every inch. “You are gonna do good for me, isn't that right baby? You are gonna take it, gonna take my cock and cum on it over and over again, right?” you nodded, sinking your nails deeper in his skin, deep enough to make him bleed. But Steve didn’t care, ‘cause he was finally making you his, and you were so goddamn tight he was losing his mind.

You were crying of pleasure and due to the overwhelming sensation of his huge cock when he finally had settled himself fully inside, his tip reaching places you’d never dreamed of, his girth stretching your walls so good it was almost painful. Almost.

"Fuck. Look at you. Already crying and I haven't begun to fuck you yet.” you moaned when he started to slowly fuck into you, so deep that you were going crazy. You needed more, so much more. “Shit, you’re so fucking tight and wet.”

“More. Please Steve, more.” you called out for him, your whimpers filling the room more and more as he started to move faster and faster.

“Yeah, that’s right. Fucking take it.” he groaned, lost on how good you felt. He never wanted to leave. Never wanted to stop feeling you this close. “Such a good girl.”

You moaned, your eyes turning white at the pleasure. This was like nothing you had experienced before.

“Tell me, did Munson fucked you this good, huh?” he asked, taking your cheeks with his right hand as he rolled your clit with his left to make you look at him. “Did he make you drool? Made you cry?”

You shook your head, but he wasn’t happy with that.

“Say it. Say that no one’s has fucked you like me. Say it, baby. Use that pretty mouth of yours.”

“No one has ever… ever fucked me like you.” you somehow achieved to say in between moans and gasps.

“That’s right. Look at you, your pussy is taking me so good… Sucking me in as if you don’t want me to leave.”

Suddenly you were in all fours, your chest against the mattress as he pounded inside of you harder and harder, so hard that you could feel him in your cervix, hitting your sweet spot over and over again.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck…” you cried out, drooling on his pillow, tears spilling due to how good he was making you feel.

His hands found your hips, pulling you against his hips with every hard thrust, leaving you breathless.

You were a babbling and moaning mess, incapable to form any words, even his name.

“Look at you, so cock drunk you can’t even speak.” he said, and moaned when you clenched around him. “Such a slut.” you whimpered when he gave you a harsh slap on your ass, his eyes focusing on how his dick disappeared in and out of your pussy, which now seemed to be molding around him and just him.

“Steve…” you dragged the ‘s’ as he sped up, fucking you brainless, calling his name over and over again.

He could feel the way you started to clench around him. The wet noises of your juices and his thrusts filled the room with your high pitched moans. You were close. So fucking close…

“Steve, I’m gonna cum… I’m gonna…” your voice was so fucked up due to your screams that you swore you’d have a sore throat tomorrow morning, but you didn’t care.

“That’s alright sweetheart. Why don’t you come all over my dick, hm? Let me see you fall apart.” and you did. You came so hard you saw stars, your ears ringing as you squirted all over his bed sheets. “Fuck, good girl. Good. fucking. girl.” he groaned at the sight and the feeling of your cunt gushing around his whole cock. “I’m gonna fill you up. Gonna fuck you so full of me I’d have you dripping for a week.”

“Yes, please… please, please, Steve…please.” you babbled as you came over and over again, throwing him over the edge with a ‘fuck’ and moaning when you felt him spill inside you, painting your walls in white.

And maybe and just maybe, you stopped hating Steve that much from now on.

‘Cause we all know what they say… From hatred to love there is only one step.

a/n;

i hoped y’all liked this college stevie!! love you!!!!

REPOSTS AND COMMENTS ARE VERY MUCH APPRECIATED!<33333

#stranger things 3 #stranger things #stranger things 4 #stranger things x reader #stranger things smut #steve harrington #stranger things fic #steve harrington fic #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington smut #college au #steve harrington basketball #steve harrington team captain #steve harrington college #stranger things 1 #stranger things 2 #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington x reader #dom!steve #dom! steve #dom!steve harrington #dom! steve harrington #fem! reader #fem reader #s.h.

[ratsonastick]

Clarisse with a mermaid/lake protector girlfriend? as if they were talked about a lot by the reader only appearing to talk to her or when Chiron called her, however she manages to transform into a human, and she doesn't talk to anyone other than Clarisse because she is shy and also doesn't like demigods ( except Clarisse, of course)

Lakeside

Clarisse La Rue x FemMermaid!Reader

A/N- I hope this is close to what you wanted!

Requests Remain Open

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Clarisse has never liked the lake, it reminded her of too much and she could never sit down and focus because of the many sounds. 

But one day she spotted something stepping out and walking towards the shore and she became curious. At first, she thought it was another camper, but then she noticed how you had a different type of shine to your body. 

She drew a dagger from her pants and crept forward thinking it was a monster that had split in. Taking shallow breaths she approached you. When she stepped on a branch and broke it she mentally cursed at herself as you turned to look at her with fright. 

You quickly ran back into the water, your skin merging and forming what looked like a tail. Clarisse had heard of you, a myth around camp that she never believed. 

You were the protector of the camp lake, saving drowning children and whatnot. Aphrodite cursed you for loving one of her children. It was said that the girl had asked her mother to get you to leave her alone and this was the first thought.

What was meant to make you ugly, simply only made you more beautiful – or that's what Clarisse thought 

She heard Chiron make an announcement once about leaving trash around the lake, saying the living species were getting upset. She didn't realize it was you they were upsetting. 

Once she left she still had the curiosity to see you again, she asked her siblings if they had seen anything like you but they all just brushed her away. 

So she left it up to herself to find you again. 

She went at the same time she did the day before, this time she went slower, being careful not to scare you. 

She spotted you once again, you had small fabric pieces covering you, and vines, necklaces, and bracelets decorated you adding to the shine of your skin. 

And most importantly you had legs again. 

The night before Clarisse had asked Chiron about you. He told her that you do exist, but you dislike demigods – or any type of god really because of your past. So if she were able to get to you then he would be amazed. 

She wanted to get to you … boy did she want to. 

She walked over the pebbles and cleared her throat, you placed your hands on the ground to quickly stand up but she put her hands up trying to show that she wasn't a threat. 

“I'm Clarisse” she spoke softly, taking a step forward. “What do you want?” You asked in a soft and shy voice which surprised her. 

Clarisse shrugged her shoulders, not even sure what her reasoning was, she just felt drawn to you. “I haven't seen you before.” 

“Good” You answered, simple and plain, not wanting to add more as you took another step away from her. “You're afraid of me?” Clarisse asked, but it came out more as a statement. 

You scoffed turning to face her “No … I hate you.” 

“You don't know me.” Clarisse challenged, if there was one thing Clarisse hated, it was losing a challenge. 

“I've heard the children speak from the boats, they are afraid of you,” you spoke softly, but there was a certain sternness in it that made Clarisse’s heart pump. 

“I’m sorry … but that is simply the way I am. Mean. But I will be nice to you … I’ll try.” Clarisse found herself apologizing for no reason, her shoulders kinda shrugged and she had a straight face. 

It wasn't long until she convinced you to sit down with her, and eventually, she got you laughing. Clarisse was still her anger-driven self, but she mellowed down when she was near you, bringing out a more flirtatious side of her. 

After a few weeks, another camper noticed the two of you talking, and when Clarisse was questioned she gave them an aggressive look and told them to ‘back off’ and that you were not theirs to know about. 

She wanted you to socialize with others, to get over your hatred towards others, but at the same time, she liked having you all to herself. She couldn't help it but it was in her blood to be selfish. 

So the day when she saw you talking to another camper she lost it. She stormed up to the two of you and watched as you stroked the kid's back. “What the hell is going on?” Clarisse pretty much growled at you. 

But the look you gave her was unphased, and that made her even more annoyed. Her arms were crossed as she looked down at the two of you. “He was drowning … it's my job to save the children.” You spoke softly looking back at the kid. 

When Clarisse walked around the kid to see his face, she noticed the snot rolling down his nose and how he was drenched. She felt stupid, but to keep up her strong act she rolled her eyes “You're fine, now get lost.” She told the kid, tilting her head towards the cabins so he would get the hint. 

The little kid who was terrified of Clarisse got up and stumbled away. 

Clarisse watched the kid leave and then turned to face you as you stood up, “You let your imagination control you.” you spoke softly meeting her gaze, “Nothing controls me.” 

“Except for your anger and jealousy.” 

Clarisse scoffed and shook her head “Whatever I'm leaving.” 

“Don't,” you called out to her as she was already walking away, she stopped and swung her foot so it almost twirled her body for her.  She stopped, still a distance away from you as she waited for something else. 

“You're my only friend … I want your company.” You admitted for the first time since she started talking to you. Clarisse couldn't help but smile, so she looked down trying to whip off the smirk and play it cool. 

“Fine only because you are so sweet.” She teased, but she was gonna stay anyway, whether you wanted her to or not. 

She sat down and you followed her, you shyly scooted your hand towards hers, still afraid that Clarisse might get angry and curse you, like that camper had done in the past. 

But Clarisse smiled and took it, letting her hand interlock with yours, feeling your skin and how your hand was so smooth compared to hers. 

You sat together in silence, Clarisse drew patterns into your skin with her thumb, enjoying how you felt, and for the first time, she enjoyed sitting by the water. 

#luke castellan #x reader #percy jackon and the olympians #clarisse la rue #wlw #dior goodjohn #clarisse x reader #camp half blood

[avastrasposts]

A Baker's Dozen - Seven

Twelve Pedro boys, twelve stand alone short stories, all set in the same bakery.

Hello!

Javi P got a lot of attention last week, both his visit to the bakery and for the many Pickled Peña fics he starred in. Thank you so much for all the lovely comments! It really means more than you probably reaslise! It's been a rough week and I feel lucky to have found a great community here and to have found so much fun and enjoyment in writing to keep my mind off things.

This week's Pedro boy is dedicated to my lovely friend @secretelephanttattoo who is not only an amazing writer, but also one of the best people I've meet on Tumblr. Love you ❤

Series Master List

Working in a bakery almost every day means you pick up on people’s habits, whether they come into the shop or not. You know the bookshop owner across the streets always arrives ten minutes late on Tuesdays. The bodega owner next to your bakery always picks up his dry cleaning on Fridays and the dry cleaning lady always throws out her trash on Thursday evening. And you know that the cute guy with a dimpled smile always walks past your shop at about eight forty-five every weekday morning. 

He hasn’t always walked past, it started just a few weeks ago, but now it’s routine. You’d first noticed him when he stumbled over something on the sidewalk, smacking his hand against your window to keep his balance, and making you jump. He’d given you an apologetic smile, that’s how you know he’s got a deep dimple on his left cheek. And a really, really, great smile. 

The next morning you noticed him again as he glanced in through the window and smiled, a quick wave as he hurried down the street. And the same thing the next morning and then it was a routine. Around eight forty-five, between customers, you’d keep glancing over at the window until you see him walk past in his well fitted business suit, always a tie flapping in the breeze. He has a routine with those too you notice; a blue tartan pattern on Mondays, slate gray on Tuesdays, navy blue with white dots on Wednesday and the then tartan one again on Thursdays before he ditches the ties on Fridays. You wouldn’t go as far as saying that seeing him is the highlight of your day, but when one day he doesn’t pass by, you notice. And when the rest of the week passes and he doesn’t show up at all, you feel a little bit sad, even though you never even spoke with him. 

Monday morning, eight thirty, and you’re working your way through the morning rush, serving coffee and selling croissants and cinnamon rolls, he suddenly appears again. But this time he’s in front of your counter, holding on to a credit card as he smiles down at you. 

“Hi,” he says, the dimple deep in his cheek, “I thought it was about time I stopped by and said hello properly.” 

“Hi,” you say, a little breathless, he’s even cuter, and handsome, up close, and you’re suddenly very aware of your shiny face, straggly hair and stained apron. 

“I’m Marcus, Marcus Pike,” he says, holding out his hand, “I’m the creepy guy who slams into your window and never comes inside.” 

“Hi Marcus,” you reply, taking his hand, hoping yours isn’t too sweaty and clammy, “I’m the creepy baker who stares at you every morning.” 

He laughs at that, a warm sound that makes your spine tingle as his eyes crinkle at the corners, a wide smile making another dimple pop on his cheek. 

“I guess we need to be less creepy then,” he chuckles, “maybe I can start by buying a coffee like a normal customer?” 

“That sounds like a good start,” you smile back at him, “what would you like?” 

“A cappuccino, please,” he glances up at the coffee menu behind you. 

“Coming right up, anything else?” You motion at the fresh croissants and pain au chocolat piled up on the counter and he looks at them with longing. 

“I would love too, really…but my job, we’ve got this fitness test thing in a few weeks and I’ve got to be in shape for that. That’s why I started walking to work, instead of taking the metro.” 

“Come back when the test is done then, if you pass, it’ll be on the house,” you wink at him over your shoulder as you start preparing his cappuccino. 

“Now there’s the motivation I need,” Marcus laughs, stepping back and glancing over the selection inside the display cases, “But you don’t have my favorite I think.” 

“No? What’s your favorite then?” you ask, “No, wait, don’t tell me, let me guess.” 

“Ok,” Marucs smiles as you hand him the cappuccino in a takeaway cup,” what’s my favorite?” 

You look him up and down, and he grins and takes a step back so that you can see all of him, holding out his arms and giving you a little spin. 

“Hmm…business suit, always a tie, well polished shoes and a job that requires fitness tests…” you hum, enjoying the chance he’s given you at properly taking him in. His suit stretches almost  tight over his broad shoulders, hugging his biceps, and when he holds out his arms, the shirt underneath hangs on for dear life. The suit jacket lifts up over his butt as he turns and you’re given the privilege of eyeing it for the first time. It’s just as cute as the rest of him and you have to mentally chastise yourself for ogling. 

“What’s your guess?” he smiles, coming to a stop in front of you again. 

“Carrot cake, but you wipe off the frosting to stay healthy,” you say and he manages to look both cute, amused and offended at the same time. 

“No way, I would never sacrifice the frosting!” he says, pretending to be insulted as he grins, “but nice try, I really like carrot cake, but it’s not my favorite.” 

“Hmm…maybe-”

“No,” he interrupts you with a wave of his hand, “you get only one guess per day, you can guess again tomorrow.” He gives you a warm smile and as he taps his credit card to pay for the coffee.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, keep guessing,” he says, stepping aside to let the man who’s just stepped into the shop approach the counter. With a final wave he disappears out through the door. 

The next morning he turns up again, as the morning rush dies down, and orders another cappuccino. 

“Canéles,” you say, pointing at him. “Fancy, French, just the thing a guy in a smart, well tailored suit would like.” 

Marcus grins and shakes his head, “I don’t even know what they are, but keep guessing!”

“Give me more clues then!” you protest as he takes a sip of the coffee you just handed him. 

“Hmm…I used to play bass in a band in college,” he says and you raise your eyebrows. He does not look like a bass player, or any kind of band member for that matter. 

“Special brownies?” you ask with a wink and Marcus almost spits out his coffee. 

“Definitely not,” he splutters, chuckling as he wipes his chin, “and you only get one guess per day.” 

“Says who?” you ask, but you already know the answer, Marcus’s grin tells you. 

“I do, my game, my rules,” he gives you a wink and heads for the door, “see you tomorrow!” 

Wednesday he comes in a little bit earlier and hands you a travel mug. 

“This looks brand new,” you say and he nods. 

“Decided I should save on the environment, and your takeaway mugs,” he smiles, leaning on the counter while you start preparing his coffee, “What’s your guess today then?” 

“Cinnabons,” you say, glancing over your shoulder, feeling butterflies erupt in your belly when his face splits into a wide grin. But he shakes his head and you give him a mock scowl. 

“You’re impossible to guess!” 

“Keep trying, gives me a reason to come in every morning,” he replies, “Not that I need a reason though,” he adds, a pink flush suddenly creeping up from beneath his shirt collar as he gives you an uncharacteristically shy smile. 

“I’ll keep trying if you promise to keep coming in,” you smile back at him, you can feel heat creeping up your own cheeks as you hand him his travel mug. And of course his fingers touch yours, just a light brush, but enough for both of you to glance down at your hands. You jump a little as his breath catches and when you look up at him again, his lips are parted and you see the tip of his tongue peak out, just for a split second, before he composes himself. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow then,” he smiles, “thanks for the coffee again.” 

Thursday he’s a little bit late, and he hurries through the door with his tie hanging around his neck, untied. 

“Sorry, I worked late last night and slept through my alarm this morning,” he huffs as he reaches the counter. 

“You don’t have to apologize to me,” you smile, “I only sell you your coffee,” you hand him the cappuccino you’ve already made him and he gives you a grateful look, “and let me fix your tie while you caffeinate yourself.” 

“Thanks, you’re a lifesaver,” he sighs and takes a long sip of the coffee as you walk around the counter and stand in front of him. You look up at him, taking hold of each end of his tie, and you suddenly realize you’ve never been this close to him before. There’s always been a counter between the two of you. Now he’s standing barely a foot away and you can smell his aftershave, warm and woody, as you adjust the tie. 

“Over…under…over again…” you mumble to yourself, trying to remember what your dad taught you, “up through the neck and down…there, got it,” you say, gently tightening the tie up against the collar as Marcus lifts his chin up, “but you might want to adjust it.” 

“No, it feels perfect,” he says, giving you a warm smile, “thank you.” 

“You’re welcome,” you smile back at him, tilting your head up a little to be able to meet his eyes now that he’s standing so close. You should really move back but he smells good and his eyes are so soft looking, the way he just smiles at you. 

“What’s your guess?” he asks, smoothing his hand down over his tie as you drop yours to the side. 

“What?” you mumble, slightly distracted by how his throat bobs just over the knot in the tie where your hands just where. 

“What’s your guess for my favorite baked thing?” Marcus says again and you blink, catching on. 

“Oh, of course! Uhmm…brownies? But real brownies, gooey in the middle and crunchy corners?” 

“Oh….that is definitely high up on my list, but not my absolute favorite, you’re getting close though,” he grins at you, putting down his coffee mug on the counter. 

“I’ve got to run, but….are you free tomorrow, after work?” he asks, his eyebrows knotting together as he waits for your answer. 

“Yeah, I’m free,” you say, you can’t stop the smile breaking out on your face at the question and he smiles back at you. 

“If you want, I’d really like to have dinner with you, maybe we can both drink something this time?” 

“That sounds nice, I’d like that, Marcus,” you reply, butterflies multiplying in your belly as he gently puts his hand on your arm, “and I’ll definitely figure out what your favorite is by then.” 

“It’s a date then,” he grins, “you supply my favorite and I’ll sort the rest, I’ll come by at closing, ok?” 

You nod and before you know it, he’s leaned in and pressed a soft kiss on your cheek, “I’ll see you tomorrow evening.” 

Friday morning Marcus stops by and buys his, by now, regular coffee, “So what’s my favorite?” he asks with a cheeky grin and you stick your tongue out at him. 

“Not telling you,” you smirk at him, “I’ll serve it tonight, I’m pretty sure I’ve got it figured out now.”

“I can’t wait,” he chuckles, winking at you before he grabs his travel mug and hurries off to work. 

Your day drags on and your nerves tingle every time you glance up at the clock at the wall. When the shop quietens down after lunch you prepare what you hope is Marcus’s favorite dessert, putting it in the fridge for baking later. 

Just a few minutes before the clock hits closing time you hear the jingle of the doorbell and look up to see Marcus step through it. He’s changed out of his usual business suit and is wearing a leather jacket over a gray t-shirt and jeans, a bright smile as he gives you a wave. You ring up your final customer, bidding them a nice weekend as Marcus lingers to the side, and then you get a chance to say hello to him as you go to lock the door and flip the sign. 

“Hi Marcus,” you smile at him as he steps forward.

“Hi,” he says, leaning down and brushing his lips against your cheek, leaving the spot tingling and your skin warm. When he straightens up he smiles at you, his eyes soft and crinkling at the corners, “I hope you don’t mind, but I have a slightly unusual plan,” he says, pointing to the duffel bag he’s got hanging from his shoulder, “Dinner’s on me, but in your kitchen.” 

“You’re cooking for me?” you ask and he nods. 

“Seems only fair, you’re making dessert, so I do the rest….well…” he gives a little embarrassed shrug, “with a little bit of help from my favorite restaurant.” 

“Sounds like a nice plan,” you say, putting your hand on his arm and his smile brightens again, “come, let me show you the kitchen then.” 

You lead him past the counter and into the back room, the kitchen clean and ready for tomorrow, except the dessert for Marcus. “What do you need?” you ask, “Help yourself to anything.” 

“First of all, I need you to sit down,” he says with a smile, looking around the kitchen for a chair and spotting only the stool with wheels on, “Not many places to sit in here, huh?” 

“When would I have time to just sit around?,” you laugh, taking your apron off and throwing it in the dirty laundry basket in the back room, “I usually just sit on the counter.” You heave yourself up onto the large workbench as Marcus starts unpacking his duffel bag. He’s hung his jacket on the hook by the door and now he’s crouched down, digging through the content at his feet. The gray t-shirt hugs his shoulders, stretching tight over his back and riding up, exposing a strip of bare skin just above his jeans. It’s so far from the man in the well fitted business suits you’ve been seeing every morning for the past few weeks, a much more relaxed Marcus. 

“Do you wear the suits every day because your job requires you too?” you ask, taking the opportunity to stretch your tired back as you get settled on the counter, baking all day takes a toll on your body. 

“Yeah, I don’t mind them but I prefer the days when I don’t have to wear them,” he answers, standing up and placing a stack of boxes next to you on the counter. “No peeking,” he says in a stern voice, smirking at you and you hold up your hands. 

“I’m not touching anything,” you reply, “But I never asked what you work with?” 

“I work at the FBI, with art theft,” he says and you widen your eyes. 

“Don’t tell me you’re an FBI agent?”

“Yeah,” he furrows his brow as he looks over at you, “do you..is- is that a problem?” 

“No, no, not at all, I’ve just never met an FBI agent. It makes being a baker seem very tame is all.” 

“Maybe tame is good sometimes,” he chuckles and looks around the kitchen and his brow furrows again, “Hhmm…hang on, I’ll be right back,” he says, grabbing the bag and going out into the shop again, “No peeking!”. 

“What are you doing?” you call out to him as you hear tables and chairs being moved around. 

“Nothing, just setting things up, just wait there,” he calls back and a few minutes later he comes back to the kitchen. 

“Now, let’s get dinner ready,” he smiles, “Plates and a small saucepan?” 

You direct him to them and soon he’s arranging food on two smaller plates. 

“Miss,” he says, winking at you and holding out his arm, “Let me show you to your table.” 

“How nice, please lead the way,” you smile at him and slip off the counter, taking his arm. He brings you out into the café part of the bakery and leads you to one of the small round tables by the window. He’s put a white table cloth on it and set two candles in the middle, another few candles arranged around the shop. The sun is setting outside and in the dim light of the shop the candles spread a golden glow, giving it an atmosphere you’ve never seen before. 

“Marcus…this is lovely, I’ve never had my shop look so nice before,” you say, sitting down as he pulls out the chair for you, “It’s so…romantic,” you let it slip out without thinking but Marcus puffs up a little and beams down at you.  

“I’m glad you like it, I really like your shop,” he smiles, “and I really like the shop owner, I wanted to make it special for you.”  

“You might be my very favorite customer, Marcus,” you smile back up at him, your cheeks heating up and he grins. 

“First course is coming right up,” he says with a smile and disappears into the kitchen. 

“You should give food walking tours of the city,” you joke as Marcus smiles at you from across the table. “I’m so full but I still want to go and eat at all your favorite places right now.” 

“I’d take them here first,” he says, “and make sure everyone knows where the best bakery in town is, but…” he leans forwards and grins at you, “Speaking of baking, I want to know if you’ve guessed my favorite dessert yet.” 

You give him a soft laugh and mimic his movement, leaning forward to meet him across the table, “I think I might have, I just need to go and turn on the oven and then they’ll be ready in a few minutes. But I just realized, you never said what my reward would be for guessing correctly.” 

Marcus hums, tapping his long fingers on his chin as he looks at you, a mischievous smile making the corner of his mouth curl up. 

“I don’t think we agreed on anything, but if you go turn on the oven and I’ll come up with something good,” he says, his smile widening, making your skin heat up as his eyes seem to suggest something enticing. 

Thank god for your industrial oven, it turns on and heats up to the right temperature in no time. While you pull out the dessert plates and take the ice cream out to soften, it hums to life and pings. The dessert goes in and you set a timer and go back out to Marcus, sitting down at the table again. 

“It just needs a few minutes,” you tell him, “did you come up with a reward?” 

“Yeah, I did, but what if you guess wrong?” he asks, “I need a reward too.” 

“If I’m wrong…” you say, thinking out loud, “you tell me your favorite, and no matter what it is, I’ll make it for you.” 

“That’s a nice idea,” Marcus smiles, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms, the t-shirt stretching tight over his biceps, you swear you can hear a seam ripping behind him, “but I like my idea better.” 

“What’s your idea then?” you ask, giving him a suspicious look, he’s got a very happy grin as he looks at you. 

“If you guess wrong, I can take you on a second date,” he says and you laugh, that’s probably the easiest reward he could’ve asked for and you see the corners of his eyes crinkle as he sees your laughter.

“Hardly a difficult reward, Marcus,” you smile at him and he gives you a warm smile back, “But what if I guess right, what’s my reward then?” 

“If you guess right, you get to take me on a second date,” he grins and you feel little happy bubbles in your chest as his soft eyes stay locked with yours, you can’t help but smile widely back at him. 

“Deal, Marcus,” you say, holding out your hand to him. He leans forward and takes it, his large hand enveloping yours, thick fingers gently closing around yours as you both shake on it. 

“I can smell chocolate,” he grins, glancing at the kitchen, “I think you’re on the right track.” 

“I know you, Marcus,” you laugh, “all serious business suits on the outside, but a wild child on the inside, bass player and all.” 

“Hardly the definition of a ‘wild child’,” Marcus chuckles, “now, if I’d been lead singer or lead guitar, then maybe.” 

“Well, the dessert is only a little bit of a wild child, the defining factor is that at its heart, it’s very romantic, just like you.” 

Marcus gives you a slightly embarrassed smile, “It’s that obvious, huh?” 

“That you’re a romantic? Of course, but I like it,” you smile softly back at him, turning off the timer that’s just gone off, “Moment of truth. Did I guess right or not?” 

“Doesn’t matter, I’m getting a second date either way,” he says, winking at you as you stand up and head to the kitchen. 

Pulling them out of the oven you quickly plate the dessert and scoop up the vanilla ice cream, finishing with a light dusting of cocoa. Your hip bumps open the door to the shop and Marcus watches you eagerly as you bring the plates over and set them down on the table. 

“If this is what I think it is, you’ve got yourself a second date,” he jokes and grins up at you. 

“That’s not helpful, Marcus,” you laugh, “either way, you’ve got yourself a second date.” 

“I know, that’s the beauty of this deal,” he chuckles, picking up his dessert spoon and looking at you expectantly, “Can I guess?” 

“Sure, go ahead,” you smile and he pokes the dessert lightly. 

“Chocolate fondant?” he asks, looking up at you, raising his eyebrows, before he digs the spoon in and cuts it open. The soft chocolate cake exterior gives way to a thick river of chocolate that pours out of the interior of the little cake. Marcus giggles and scoops up a bite of both cake and sauce and puts the spoon in his mouth, humming at the flavor and closing his eyes. You watch with pride as he tips his head back and moans, the spoon still in his mouth as he sucks it clean. 

“How did you know?” he asks, a bright smile on his face when he’s finally done with his first bite. 

You shrug and smile back at him, “You’re not a health freak, you didn’t recognise the more complicated French pastry, you like gooey brownies and you’re a romantic. Chocolate fondant seemed like the obvious choice. Decadent, sweet and just the right amount of fancy,” you grin at him. 

You take a spoonful from your own fondant and put it in your mouth, watching the chocolate flow out from the inside, just the right amount of undercooked to keep the inside flowing and warm. The chocolate flavor spreads across your tongue, paired with a hint of vanilla and salt, rich and warm and you let an involuntary moan escape. When you glance up you don’t miss the dark look Marcus gives you, his eyes fixed on your mouth as he takes another spoonful. 

“You really guessed right, I love chocolate fondant, but I’ve never had one this good before,” he says, humming around the big piece in his mouth. “How come you don’t have them in the shop? Actually, don’t have them in the shop, I’d buy them all every week.” 

You giggle at his blissed out face as he takes another big bite, dropping his head into the palm of his hand as he sucks the spoon clean, “It’s like hot chocolate, brownie and chocolate sauce all in one fluffy soft shell of cake.” 

“I’m glad I guessed right, seeing your happy face makes me happy,” you smile at him and the tips of his ears go a pink in the dim light as he clears his throat and chuckles. 

“Coming to your bakery makes me happy,” he smiles, scraping the last bit of fondant from the plate while he looks up at you, his eyes crinkling at the corners and it’s your time to feel the heat rise in your face, his grin widens as he sees you shift awkwardly in your chair and glance at him with a smile.  

“Really, getting my morning coffee has become the highlight of my day,” Marcus says, “How sad isn’t that?” 

“Not sad, you coming into the bakery every morning has been the highlight of my day,” you say, finishing off the fondant and putting the spoon down while Marcus watches you with a smile. He suddenly pushes his chair back and stands up, holding his hand out to you. 

“Dance with me,” he says, the warmth of his hand spreading across your palm and down your arm as he pulls you to your feet. 

“There’s no music, Marcus,” you laugh but he just grins and spins you around before catching you in his arms, one around your waist, the other still holding on to your hand as you put your own hand on his shoulder. 

“Who cares about the music,” he says, gently swaying you back and forth while he gives you a soft smile, “it was just a clever ruse to get to hold you.” His hand on the small of your back is lightly stroking the fabric of your shirt and you’re very close to him, pressed up against his chest as he holds you near, moving slowly in a circle. You can smell his aftershave, mixed in with the dark chocolate of the dessert and without thinking, your hand slips into the soft looking curls at the back of his neck. Marcus tilts his head as your fingers play with the silky strands, letting go of your hand and moving it slowly to cup your face, his thumb stroking the soft skin on your cheek as he seems to inhale slightly and dip his head to yours.  

His lips are just as soft as you’ve imagined them, warm, gentle, as he parts them and tastes you. His steady hand holds you close, the curve of his strong nose brushing up against your cheek as he angles his head to better kiss you. You feel your fingers gripping his hair, willing him to press you even closer to him. All of his warm, solid body is pressed up against yours, his hand at the small of your back sliding up to hold you closer to him, your own hand gripping his shoulder, steadying yourself as you feel like melting into his touch.  

He’s still swaying the two of you gently, your lips moving slowly together, tasting the chocolate on each other's tongues. Heat is creeping through your body, wrapping around you, as you feel him tighten his hold on you, his breath skating over your lips as he exhales, a quiet groan leaving his throat. 

“You taste so sweet, even sweeter than the dessert,” he mumbles, his mouth close to yours, “I never want to stop kissing you.” 

You stand on your tiptoes to reach more of him, your hand around his neck, and part your lips for him, letting his tongue lick into your mouth with more fervor. He also tastes sweet and the way he pulls you closer as you steady yourself against his chest makes you moan under his increasingly heated kisses. He’s not swaying you anymore, instead he lets you melt into his body, his arm holding you up, as he bends his head, another groan slipping from him as he feels your tongue slip around his own. 

Marcus’s kisses make you forget the time, where you are, and not until he pulls away with a sigh, do you open your eyes and look up at him. His eyes are dark, filled with lust, and it’s mirrored in the way his body feels against yours, his arousal a clear presence between you. And you can feel your own fill your core with heat, a slow shiver as you touch upon the thought of having him even closer. 

Marcus keeps his eyes locked on you, his warm hand gently stroking your cheek as he seems to take a deep breath, composing himself. Your fingers are still toying with the impossibly soft curls at the back of his neck, letting them slip through your fingers, and you feel like you might drown in his dark brown eyes if he doesn’t release you soon. 

“Is it too soon to ask for a second date tomorrow?” he whispers, his eyes dropping down to your lips again, and then back to your eyes as you shake your head. 

“No, tomorrow sounds like a very good idea,” you mumble, slightly hazy from the way his hands never stop touching you, warming your body and sending shivers to your core. 

“Ok,” he mumbles back, “can I kiss you again?” 

“If you do, we might not get out of here tonight, Marcus,” you smile at him and he chuckles, nodding and pulling back a little. 

“You’re very right, maybe it’s best to save more kisses for tomorrow.” 

“I look forward to them though,” you say, letting your fingers slip from his hair and down over his shoulder, caressing his arm, his wrist, and finally his hand. He takes your hand then, enveloping it in his larger one,  and brings it to his mouth, pressing a soft kiss to it. 

“Tomorrow then,” he smiles. 

Part Eight

@harriedandharassed @inept-the-magnificent @sheepdogchick3  @readingiskeepingmegoing @noisynightmarepoetry @survivingandenduring @vabeachazn @amyispxnk @oberynslady @vabeachazn @amyispxnk @thewiigers

#pedro pascal character fanfiction #marcus pike fluff #marcus pike #marcus pike x female reader #marcus pike x you #marcus pike x ofc #marcus pike x reader #a baker’s dozen

[funnyexel]

Back For More - Miguel O’Hara x Black Female Reader

The sizzle of eggs frying in the pan echo throughout your kitchen. Practically rushing as you fry it on a low heat, moving back and forth between the kitchen and your room. Hoping it doesn’t burn. Placing a dress against your chest, you move your shoulders from left to right. Briefly imagining yourself wearing the clothing. Placing the perfect sundress on the bed, you check the time, running into the kitchen taking your eggs off the stove once and for all.

“Oh shit.” You sigh, seeing your eggs are dancing on the edges of well done and burnt.

Shrugging and eating it anyway, a tingling feeling glides up your back. Now that you’ve given it the time of day, you shiver at the thought. Ignoring it, knowing that you have somewhere important to be in less than an hour. Throwing the empty plate in the trash, you go to your room. Glancing towards your window for a moment, purposely leaving the blinds cracked as you take off your top. Breasts moving freely as you stride to the bathroom for a quick shower. Taking off your shorts and panties at the same time. Shower cap sitting comfortably on your head as you wash off the heat of the stares. The water moving irregularly each time your mind revisits you being watched. Although eyes aren’t on you at the moment, thankfully. Once you step out the comfort of your own bathroom, you feel dilated pupils drinking in your wet, dripping form.

Dropping the towel on the floor once you’ve dried your skin, you put on your skimpy underwear. Struggling to latch your strapless bra. You check your phone when you succeed. Cursing yourself at the fact you’ll be late for brunch. Rushing through your makeup routine and hairstyle, you still manage to look flawless as you slip on your flowery sundress. The noodled strap dress hugging your curves, plumping out your boobs and butt. All the while staying slightly modest with the length that went all the way to your ankles. Looking around for your sandals as you spray loads of perfume on your body, your head jerks towards the window. A shuffle heard close, almost like someone tripped on something. Brushing it off, you slip on your sandals and grab your purse. The main thing on your mind in the moment being, which route will get you to the restaurant the fastest.

Coming back to your humble abode three hours later, you drop your bag on the side table by the front door and huff. Smiling to yourself at the new memories you just made with your friends. Stumbling in the slightest as you make it to the kitchen for a glass of water, it presents itself to you. The water filled cup resting in your hand as if someone handed it to you. Gulping down the water, you roll your neck and shoulders. The feeling of being watched appearing again.

“Can we just talk.” You exclaim closing your eyes momentarily then opening them. “One conversation.” You slur.

When met with silence, you look out your window, the abandoned building across from you being empty to your glance. Shaking your head, you watch as your window opens for itself, unlocking its mechanism and sliding up, letting a stiff figure through the small space. Hovering over to you in a slow manner.

“I know you can hear me.” You point to the man, his feet connecting with the floor as he gains control over his limbs.

“If you have the guts to watch me you should have the same to talk to me.” You put your hands on your hips, looking up to this built man.

“I wasn’t watching you.” He sternly says, grabbing the top of his mask and yanking it off his head. “I was looking over you.”

“You really think I’d be in danger.” You plainly say, not amused. The water moving through your body is turning into irritation by each passing moment.

“First you wanna move out and now you wanna stalk me. The least you could do for me is answer one question.” You state, watching as he puts his mask aside on the granite counter.

“We aren’t getting back together. There, answered.” He moves his roughed up hair out his face and turns to leave.

“That’s not what I meant.” You grit your teeth, his body immediately going stiff and turning back to you unwillingly. The fluids in his body granting you complete control over him.

“What do you mean, hm? I’m trying to do my best. What do you want from me!” He raises his voice, looking down to you from his elevated position.

“DO NOT YELL IN THIS APARTMENT I PAY FOR!” You snap back.

“I’m sorry.” He hesitates his words, looking over you curiously.

“What did I do to you? Huh? Is it because of how I am now..? Because I can control it.” You plead, sobriety washing over you. And you immediately let him down.

“That’s not it.”

“Then what is it?” You ask, hands on your hips waiting for a response. Letting out a strong exhale, he takes a slow step towards you. Holding your hands weakly and moving his hands up your arms to hold you by the shoulders.

“We can’t get back together.” He says to you, leaning in and practically seducing you with how low his voice is.

“why not.” You whisper, swallowing thickly, “You refuse to tell me why…please.” You beg, looking up at him with glossy eyes and a small pout tugging at your lips.

“Stop that.” He defensively says, watching how the water builds up at the burrier of your eyes. Opening his mouth to say more but being at a lost of words. Blinking the innocent tears out your eyes, to which start the waterworks.

“Stop crying.” He utters, all resistance breaking at your vulnerability.

“hey,” you hear him as you weakly wipe the oasis of tears on each cheek, “look at me cariño.” He says, almost sweetly, his voice still having that rugged nature to it.

His bloodshot eyes capture you, not finding it in yourself to look away as he leans in. A burning sensation moving from your chest to your arms, legs and traveling up to your cheeks. Him kissing your right cheek, inhaling your scent all the while your mind is in overdrive with the amount of physical contact. Taking you a moment to release he’s resorted to licking away your tears, his sharp fangs brushing against the soft flesh of your tinted cheek. Watching him from the corner of your eye, he entraps you once more, using his index finger to turn your chin to him. Closing your eyes, your scared of what you know he’ll do.

Smashing your lips in a frenzy of heat and want, you hum into the kiss. Your fright leaving you once your hands reach up into his hair. The fluffy feel pleasant to your fingertips as you massage his scalp. His hands roaming freely down your waist, over your ass and squeezing your plush thighs. Breathing in each-others faces as you move your head from side to side in order to match up with his rapid movements. Breaking away from each other, you look at one another, inhaling and exhaling heavily. Reaching his hand behind your back, he unzips your dress and watches as you slip the straps off your shoulders. The dress tumbling into a pool of lively fabric on the floor.

Spinning your body around, he pushes you towards the counter, prompting you to lean on it. Ass perking up as he plays with the hem of your panties, lifting up the elastic and letting go harshly. The snaps and jolts from your body forcing him to smirk. Waiting patiently for him to make a move, you spread your legs more when his foot taps your ankle. Holding your breath when his finger grazes your pussy lips while pulling back the sticky fabric. Focusing your eyes on the bricked pattern on your kitchen back splash you fight to hold back a scream when he licks your clit. Parting your soaked lips with his tongue. Going as far as teasing your aching hole with a teethy kiss. A hot moan leaving your throat when his sharpened teeth brush against your heat. Using his whole mouth to engulf your pussy in his burning saliva, his tongue to play with your hole.

Feeling how you squish him tightly at his moments. Your mules and shrieks transitioning into a full on scream when his thumb rubs circles on your clit. Guiding you through your first orgasm and abusing your tired core with his quick licks and passionate kisses. Giving your pussy one last kiss he stands up. Looking over your shoulder dazed, he’s naked and sliding your underwear down your legs. Slouched back straightening at the sudden pushing of his dick forcing its way in your shuttering hole. You claw at the granite, running your fingers though your braids and tugging at the roots. Battling another scream when he pushes more, his hips fitting against the round of your ass perfectly. Moving your hips a bit you quickly get used to his abnormal size. The veins that pump through this hot blooded man, shifting along your mushy walls and sending shivering sensations through your stomach.

Snapping his hips into you, he huffs. Understanding how tight you are with every moment he makes. Pulling up to his pink tip and slamming right into your small hole. A mix of grunt and moan coming out your mouth, causing you to rise up off the surface. Doing short yet powerful thrusts, he holds the back of your throat, squeezing on the sides and lowering you back on the counter. Leaning over your body so he could press your face onto the cold material with his hand on your cheek. You view now being the front door and Miguels fit body. His six pack flexing with each slam of his hips into yours. Crossing your legs at the ankles, your pussy pulses more under his gaze, his eyes rolling to the back of his head for a second. At the heavenly feeling of you milking him.

“hm…hah..miguel please.” You plead, unsure of what you’re asking for in particular.

A feeling of estasy and euphoria washing over you as you whine loudly. Left leg shaking under you as you uncross your ankles and try to keep yourself from falling. Miguel leaning down on top of you, swallowing air as if he was holding his breath. Grabbing your waist when he feels you lose your footing under him. Deeply chuckling at your weaken legs, he lifts you off the counter and into his arms bridal style. Moving you to the couch he throws you onto the cushions. Your leg shaking as you sit up from your odd laying position. Pushing you in your chest, right below your collar bone your bare back hits the icy fabric.

“Quédate abajo,” He breathes chest heaving up and down, “this is what you wanted, isn’t it?” He mutters, moving your legs to surround his hips and digging his knees into the couch. Once he’s situated, leaning forward over you and snaking his hand onto your neck. Loosely holding the flesh as he looks over your body to make sure you’re fine.

“You wanted to cry your way into my pants, hm? Pequeña zorra.” You nod to the best of your ability as he shakes you. Your mind not processing the language switch.

His one palm hiding your neck entirely, holding you in place as he slaps your sensitive pussy with his cock, and sliding it inside you. Grinding into you, his tip kisses your cervix and he pulls out, head tilting back for a moment as he sighs. Looking down again, he aligns himself up and snaps his hips back into you. A whine leaving your lips. His crimson eyes burning into yours and keeping your attention.

“keep makin’ those dumb noises…you dumb girl.” He huffs, croaking out a soft moan as you squeeze him tightly.

“oh fuck cariño, fuck, fuck!” He recites, pounding into you with each breath shattering stroke. Your gasps bringing him pleasure, your shaky legs giving a huge stroke to his ego.

“m-more…oh-“ You stutter shamefully, his hips speeding up, chasing his high as he bites his lip drawing blood.

Focusing your blurry vision on his blood dripping onto your stomach. But he doesn’t care, all you see is a man in heat. Chasing his own release as he uses you, seeing you as nothing more than his dumb play thing, a simple cock sleeve. And he gets what he wants. A steaming hot fluid flowing through your gummy walls as he continues to grind his hips into you. His elbows on either side of your head as he catches his breath above you. Your hands sneaking to his muscled shoulders, a small smile creeping to your lips as you rub and massage the tuff flesh. Right when you think he’ll collapse right next to you, he jumps up. Pulling you into his lap, his cum traveling down your womb and leaking out of your plugged pussy.

“You wanted this, remember?” He whispers against your cheek, getting no other response from you than a throaty moan.

A/n: Isn’t this man so fucking fine omg. When I saw him at the early release I swooned, even though he was trifling, he’s still so damn hot.

more of my stories

#miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara x you #miguel o’hara x reader #fanfiction #black fanfiction #y/n #black y/n #black girls matter #black girl magic #black women #lemon #smut #marvel smut #oscar issac #mcu fic #spider man: across the spider verse #spiderman 2099 #spiderman x you #spiderman x y/n #spiderman 2009 x you #miguel o’hara x y/n #spider 2099 x reader

[harrywavycurly]

Eternal Obsession Part 1: Evening Stroll

Masterlist: here

TW: Slight obsessive behavior

Tag List: @dream-a-little-nightmare @josephquinnsfreckles @chickenandsheep-blog @sweetmoonlove0214 @justheretoreadleavemealone @eddiesgirlforever @ali-r3n @joantje @mrsjellymunson @munsons-mayhem28 @manda-panda-monium @cherrymedicine13

A/N: I am so excited for this mini series! There’s going to only be six parts and you’ll get a new update once a week the last one being on Halloween! I hope y’all enjoy this first look at Vampire Eddie and also in this series it’s modern day and you’ll get more details on when Eddie was turned as the series goes on✨

Eddie lets out a sigh as he zips up his leather jacket before walking down his driveway towards the sidewalk. He might not be able to feel how cold it is outside but he can tell by the orange and brown leaves taking over the ground that there’s a chill in the air and he likes to do what he can to blend in with the people of Hawkins as best he can even if it means wearing a ridiculous jacket that doesn’t do anything for him besides be a source of annoyance. He returns a semi friendly smile to his neighbor Greg who’s putting his trash by the curb, he’s always enjoyed having him as a neighbor because he never actually talks to Eddie but he’s always polite and offers a wave or a smile when he sees him.

Eddie relaxes as he starts on his now routine evening walk around his neighborhood and downtown Hawkins. He likes how peaceful and empty everything is at this time of night, when everyone is getting ready to turn in for the evening. He doesn’t ever have a route in mind for these walks he kinda just goes where he feels drawn to the most and tonight that means he’s turning left at the end of his street, leading him to a dead end at the beginning of the forest that eventually would take him all the way to Lover’s Lake if he kept his path. He raises an eyebrow as he looks around the trees as he takes a few steps into the forest, something isn’t right but he isn’t quite sure what.

“Oh fuck.” His ears twitch a bit as he hears a voice mumble from what sounds to be at least a few hundred feet away from where he’s stood. “That’s just great.” The voice adds with a bit of concern mixed in with what he can only guess is sarcasm. Eddie’s feet lead the way and within a few seconds he’s a mere few feet away from where the voice is coming from.

“Do you need-“ Eddie stops talking the moment you turn around and face him, your eyes lock with his and at that very moment Eddie swears a chill ran up his spine. Eddie notes the way your cheeks get flushed as you break eye contact with him making him smile as he thinks he quite likes the way you look when you blush.

“Do you need some help?” Eddie asks again as he looks around at what appears to be a very sad excuse for a campsite of some sort. “Bit cold for a night in the woods isn’t it?” He asks as he bends down and picks up a lantern that had been knocked over.

“I’m not spending the night out here.” You explain as you turn and watch him turn on the lantern allowing you to see his face for the first time. You have to remind yourself to breathe as Eddie’s eyes find yours as he lightly chuckles before offering you a smile. “I uhm…” you take a calming breath as you look away from him after grabbing the lantern from his hand, mentally taking a note at how cold it was when your fingers brushed with his. “I’m uh..erm..star.. stargazing.” Eddie takes a small step towards you as you struggle to form complete sentences.

Eddie takes this moment to really look at you, he doesn’t know why but he’s overcome with the urge to pull you into his arms and never let you go. He doesn’t know what’s happening as he gets hit with an emotion his hasn’t felt for decades, nervousness. He tilts his head to the side as he watches you struggle to compose yourself and he can’t help the laugh that escapes his lips as you let out a huff and turn so your back is now facing him.

“Stop doing that.” Eddie raises an eyebrow at your request as he takes another step towards you.

“Doing what?” He asks as his curiosity gets the best of him as he reaches his hand out and places it on your shoulder turning you around so he can once again look at your face that’s being illuminated by your lantern.

“Making my mind all mushy.” Eddie carefully reaches his hand that’s on your shoulder up to your face so he’s every so gently caressing your cheek. You flinch at how cold his hand is but you get over it quickly as you find yourself leaning into his touch.

“Mushy?” He questions as you reach up and place your free hand over his that’s still on your face. “I’m afraid I’m going to need you to elaborate on that sweetheart.” He smiles as he hears your heartbeat almost sound like it fluttered as the word sweetheart slipped out of his mouth.

“I know it’s a vampire thing.” You close your eyes as you speak, hoping it’ll help you get control of your thoughts enough to be able to have a normal conversation. “You can make people’s thoughts all cluttered and make them confused and disoriented.” Eddie studies your face as a small wrinkle appears between your brows as you slowly open your eyes and instead of the soft gaze he was expecting he’s met with a hard glare. “It’s rude.” You snap as you drop your hand from top of his making him frown at the slight loss of contact.

“Am I making you disoriented?” He asks as his thumb begins gently rubbing over your cheek bone. Eddie doesn’t know what’s happening as he fights the urge to grab your face with his other hand and pull you into a kiss, he hasn’t had these urges since his human days and he’s confused as to why one look from you has almost sent him back in time as his heart feels like it’s getting closer and closer to actually beating with each second he stares into your eyes.

“Just uhm a little.” You know he can tell you’re lying but you don’t really care as Eddie’s almost dazzling beauty finally hits you when you raise your lantern up allowing his jawline and smooth skin to get hit by the light.

“You’re beautiful.” You’re caught off guard at his compliment making you blush and look down at your boot clad feet. “On second thought.” Eddie’s hand slides from your cheek down to beneath your chin so he can make it to where you’re looking up at him again. “Beautiful isn’t good enough…I don’t think there’s a word that accurately describes how…you look to me.” You feel your hand that’s holding the lantern fall to your side as Eddie’s sweet breath fans across your face making your knees begin to feel weak as he slowly places his other hand on your face so you can’t look away from him.

“Who-” your voice is more like a whisper as your knees finally give out on you causing your lantern to fall to the ground with a soft thud, but before you can even think about hitting the ground Eddie’s arms wrap around your middle holding you up. “Who are you?” Eddie just laughs and shakes his head at how silly he’s been having not introduced himself to you yet.

“Please forgive me I normally have better manners.” You watch him smile as he helps you get steady on your feet again. “I’m Eddie Munson.” His name is one you feel like you’ve heard before making Eddie raise an eyebrow at your confused look.

“The mechanic?” You ask after you quickly introduce yourself making Eddie laugh and nod his head, everyone in this town knows him as just being a mechanic. “You’re friends with Steve Harrington right?” Eddie feels a sense of jealousy overtake him as he rolls his eyes and releases his hold on your waist.

“Friend is a strong word.” Eddie argues as you take a seat on the fold out chair you’d brought so you could sit comfortably and watch the stars. “Just because we are both vampires doesn’t mean we are friends.” He adds as he takes a look around your little set up, he smiles as he finds a notebook sitting on top of a backpack that says “important things” in what he can only assume is your handwriting. His mind begins to wonder what kind of things you deem important enough to be write about in the notebook but before his curiosity could get the best of him he takes a few steps so he’s standing in front of you.

“Don’t you guys sort of stick together?” You ask shyly as you look down at your hands that are in your lap, needing a minute to breathe normally before you look him in the eyes again.

“Some form little gangs.” Eddie chuckles to himself at his use of the word gang, the crowd Steve hung out with is far from a gang. In reality they’re just a bunch of misfits who think they run Hawkins but the embarrassing truth is that Hawkins is just incredibly boring so they don’t have much to do besides annoy the locals any chance they can get.

“But not you?” Eddie bends down so he’s face to face with you while you’re sat in your chair. He places a hand on your knee and you’re not sure why but you find yourself reaching for his hand so you can place your smaller one on top of his.

“No not me.” He answers as you flip his hand so it’s palm up allowing you to interlock your fingers with his. “I like to keep to myself.” You smile when he gives your hand a small squeeze.

“This doesn’t look like you keeping to yourself.” Eddie just shrugs as you look at your hand in his wondering if he’s bothered by how warm your skin is compared to the coldness of his.

“Meeting you has changed me.” You know his words should spark some sort of confusion or at least a slight sense of worry in your mind but yet you find yourself feeling the exact opposite. “You have awoken something inside of me that I thought died a long time ago.” His voice is like velvet as it brings you a sense of warmth that you can’t help but find comfort in.

“I don’t understand.” You mumble making Eddie laugh.

“Isn’t it thrilling? Not knowing?” You feel a gust of wind as Eddie quickly and effortlessly picks you up and places you in his lap as he sits in the chair you were just occupying. “I don’t know what it is about you that has me feeling like this but I’ll figure it out eventually.” You feel his arms snake around your middle pulling you closer to him so your back is flush against his hard chest.

“Feeling like what?” Eddie leans his head down as you speak so his nose is tucked in your hair allowing him to be engulfed in your scent.

“Like death would be easier than being away from you.” Eddie frowns when he feels a shiver run through your body reminding him that unlike him you can feel the chill in the air and his abnormal body temperature isn’t helping.

“You feel that way about me after meeting me not even an hour ago?” Your voice betrays you as it makes you sound like you’re in awe of what Eddie just told you instead of the alarmed tone you meant for it to have.

“Yes? Is it not like that for humans?” He asks as he wraps his jacket around your shoulders allowing there to be extra fabric between your body and his hoping it’ll help warm you up.

“Not exactly.” Eddie’s brows furrow as he begins slowly running his hands up and down your arms.

“There’s love at first sight isn’t there? I distinctively remember learning about that when I was still alive.” You roll your eyes at the idea of love at first sight because there’s no way that’s what happened between the two of you, it has to be more of a vampire thing than just a love thing.

“Well yeah but that’s for humans.” You argue as you get comfortable in Eddie’s lap. Eddie just smiles as you rest your head on his shoulder so you can look up at the sky.

“I was human once.” Eddie whispers in your ear causing your cheeks to get warm at the feeling of his breath on your neck.

“Can I ask you something?” Eddie just hums in response as you all of a sudden become aware of the situation you’ve gotten yourself into.

“I won’t let anything harm you…including myself.” Eddie promises as if he can hear your thoughts but really he can just hear the way your heartbeat began to accelerate and your pulse quickened. “Ever.” He adds in hopes it’ll help you relax and to his surprise and yours you do find his words making you feel at ease.

“How’d you find me?” Your voice is quiet as you look at the stars as Eddie tightens his hold on you ever so slightly.

“I just knew where to go.” He explains because he hasn’t really got a logical answer. “I just went for a walk and wound up here.” You just nod as you place your hands over his that are resting in your lap. “How come you didn’t scream when you saw me? I know vampires aren’t a rare sighting but still you didn’t even try to run.” You feel your face get hot as Eddie asks you a question that you know the answer to is just going to feed into the already oddly intense relationship the two of you have.

“I knew you weren’t going to hurt me.” Eddie smiles as he leans back so he can look up at the sky. “I honestly felt relieved when I first saw you.” You mumble but you know Eddie heard you loud and clear.

“Relieved?” You just nod and Eddie smirks as he looks down at you just to find you’re already looking up at him. “I thought you were feeling…what was the word? Disoriented?” He teases making you roll your eyes.

“That was afterwards.” Eddie takes in every detail of your face so he can think back on it later as you give him a small smile. “But first I felt this sense of relief as if..I’d been waiting for you my whole life I just…didn’t know it until I saw you.” Eddie swears his heart almost leaped out of his chest at your confession, a silly thought since his heart hasn’t been functional in over forty years.

“Well I’m here now.” You watch him lean down so the tip of his nose gently brushed against yours. “And I’m always going to be here.” He smiles before he ever so softly places a quick kiss to your forehead.

“Forever?” Eddie knows your version of forever and his are entirely different so he just smiles as he leans in to place a kiss to your rosy cheek.

“Didn’t you come here to stargaze? I’ve been extremely rude and distracting to you and I apologize.” You can tell he’s changing the subject but you don’t mind as you look away from him and back up at the stars. A wave of exhaustion threatens to take you under into a deep sleep as the realization of the situation hits that you’re sitting in the woods with Eddie Munson, who is a vampire that seems to be in love with you and you don’t really mind because you might possibly feel the same.

#eternal obsession #eddie munson series #eddie munson au #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson soulmate au #vampire!eddie #vampire!eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie Munson x you fluff #eddie Munson x fem!reader fluff #eddie Munson x reader fluff #eddie Munson #vampire!steve Harrington #stranger things au #stranger things fanfiction #my little dungeon master baby #Steve Harrington #tw obsessive love #tw obsessive behavior #vampire!eddie x reader

[igotanidea]

Quiet: Dick Grayson x fem!reader

Stubborn like a mule, Dick would never admit he fell for a teammate. Of course everybody knows and with the amount of teasing it won't take much to push him over the edge.

Inspired by Charlie Puth;s song Charlie be quiet.

Warning: it's long :D (20.971 words!) - that part was not planned :D

Seven years ago

„Stop staring.”

„What?”

„You heard me. Stop ogling her.”

“I am not….”

“Dick.” Donna’s voice was as stern as it possibly could. Despite her best effort she was slowly losing patience with Robin’s childish play of cat and mouse. Everyone, literally everyone, team or not could say he was head over heels in love with his teammate, Y/N Y/L/N, who also happened to posses the power of blue lantern. She was the third one to join the Titans, after the corps decided that the girl, born human, had to be near Earth’s green lantern to get access to her full power. Hal, who was supposed to be her mentor trained her well for a couple of years and despite their differences they become friends. So when the green one left her at the tower, arguing that she needed friends at the same age and with similar capabilities and assuring that she could always reach him if need arises, her heart broke a little. At first she was withdrawn, intimidating and hard to understand but soon her other, lighter side emerged. One thing everyone noticed about the girl was that everytime she was indulged in things that gave her sense of fulfillment the lantern’s blue light surrounded her, making her look ethereal and beautiful. Perhaps that was the thing that quickly caught Dick’s attention. Despite their initial fights and a lot of misunderstandings and communications problem they worked through it. Of course, only for the sake of the team, nothing else. Both Dick and Y/N were individuals who hated being told what, how and when to do, but also knew when to step down. She was the one to make him stop, think and analyze the situation before acting, he helped her in developing her intuition. In no time, he found himself falling for that introverted analyst who always, always had  a plan and was way too much in her own head.

“She’s gonna figure it out. Is that what you want?” Wondergirl mocked, knowing well enough that for the last couple of years Dick was doing everything in his power to keep this infatuation a secret. In his own words, it was not wise to get into relationship with someone who could be called into space at every second. And definitely stupid to love a teammate, which may cause a distraction and damage while fighting. He just kept coming with so many dumb excuses to adore her from the distance. At this point he didn’t even bother to answer Donna’s question since it was obvious Y/N realization of the situation would be the end of him. So he kept it quiet. Y/N was that kind of person who preferred to keep the emotions at bay as well, never giving him any sign she was interested in forming a relationship, more often than not pushing people away when she was scared and worried and stressed and vulnerable. Not really talking about it but separating to gather back her strength and balance. Well, she was the blue lantern, who got power from hope, so what else could you expect.

“Did you guys want something?” said blue one turned around towards her friends “you’ve been standing there for like a quarter now and it’s getting suspicious” she mocked

“it’s fine. We were just trash-talking you” Donna smirked

“Oh thank god, I was getting worried you were saying some good stuff about me. Such a relief” she fake-brushed her forehead. “Anyway, is anyone up for some sparring? I need to keep my spark up.”

“I thought you were  supposed to recharge? I mean… meet with Hal?” Dick frowned and a shadow of disappointment crossed the girl’s face as she shook her head.

“He was called on Oa. Apparently some threat appeared in the north side of the galaxy and Green Corp needs his immediate help. Nothing new, so yeah, I’m gonna go workout. Want to join me, Grayson.”

“Nope.” He felt his heartbeat fasten. Shit, it was getting harder and harder to be around her.

“ Ok. Donna?”

“Sure. I’m game. You can never count on the boys, right.”

“Hear, hear, sister.”

Just as Donna and Y/N left, heading towards the training room, Hank appeared on the other side.

“You did it again, didn’t you?” he let out a laugh “I would love to see you breaking one day.”

“Not a chance.”

***

Four years ago

“You’ve got to be kidding me” Y/N eyes went wide the second she entered the lab at the precinct. “it’s all for me?” it took a lot of strength not to jump out in joy. When, after the Jericho incident, the Titans fell apart and everyone went their own ways, she put all her intellectual efforts into science, biology and chemistry, taking first steps on a path to become a Forensic Scientist. With her stubbornness, passion and insight she soon got to be the best in the field. Last year was spend on working with the best detectives and investigators (including detective Chloe Decker from LAPD), getting hell of a knowledge and experience. And now, she moved to new city and easily scored a job at the best precinct in the whole country.

“Yep. All yours. Take your time and when you are ready, come meet the team. It’s quite big if you ask me, may be a bit overwhelming, so at first you’ll only meet with the best of the best. Those will be your regulars.”

“Good. I’m not exactly good with people.”

Half an hour later, the girl finally left the lab equipment, the books and agents and came down to the main office of detectives. With every step the feeling of something strangely familiar of this place was consuming her more and more and that hope of good things to come made her hand glow blue. A single raise of an eyebrow of one the officers was enough to snuff it.

“Y/N! Oh, you decided to grace us with your presence.” Her boss was talking to some man, whose back was turned to her so she did not see his face. “good timing. I would like to present to you our top investigator. Meet detective Richard Grayson.”

“Wha.. what?” she stuttered a little bit, pure shock reflecting in her eyes as the man turned around his expression being a mirror reflection of hers. “Dick?”

“Y/N?” he hadn’t seen her for two freaking years. Hell, he did not contact her in any way, despite a bit of stalking to make sure she was doing fine. And after all this time his heart skipped a beat at the sight of the girl he was still in love with. Time did nothing. And she was going to work with him, again.

“Hi.” She tilted her head and smiled lightly as the first surprise passed

“You know each other?” the captain caught up on the scene happening in front of his eyes

“From the previous life.” Dick said without looking away from her. It was real, she was real and here. He got her back.

“Should I be worried then? Will your past cause any problems in professional relationship?”

“No, sir. Not at all.”

Dick Grayson was always a good liar.

***

 “Hey.”

She wasn’t even doing anything, just sitting at the desk, covered with document and samples collected from the crime scene. Her eyes were a bit puffy and red,  clear sign she did not sleep much in the last days, her thick h/c hair a perfect mess. Lack of makeup and lab’s soft light mixed with her blue aura made her look young, fragile and innocent. All those adjectives far from truth given her secret identity.

“Hey Dick.” She smiled softly, yawning and stretching “I’m so glad you’re here.”

“You are?” that was surprising. Maybe she did change during the last time he saw her. There was something more gentle in her action.

“Mhm.” She rubbed her eyes in child-like manner “I need to stand from behind this desk like now. I’m way too sore. I’m going to grab some coffee. Would you mind staying here and watching the documents? Can’t risk anyone getting the confidential information about the investigation. And since it’s yours….”

“Sure.” His heart dropped a little but he did not let it show.

“Thank you.” She hopped down from the chair and suddenly lost her balance. Dick’s instincts kicked in and he was quick to catch and hold her before she fell to the ground. For the first time since the Titans she was so close to him, yet not close enough. He wanted to embrace her fully, stroke her hair, feel her heartbeat next to his, feel her. Sad thing he couldn’t.

“When was the last time you slept?” he asked instead, unwillingly letting go.

“Not sure. I took a nap yesterday, but…”

“Y/N.”

“What?” she scoffed “to much to do. You know…. the other job…. And it’s not like you are not running around the streets dressed in red and green.”

“You….?”

“Yeah, of course I know. I observe. And did you really think I bought that story about your injuries being the effect of the latest work action? Please, I know you better than that.”

“And I know you. How’s your light doing? Hope still up?”

“Never dying. But I’m not going to lie. Given the condition of the world last two years was a rough ride. I was even summoned by the Blues.”

“You were in space, huh? Why?”

“They thought I was getting weak. Wondered if I deserve the power of the lantern. But you know, the ring know what it does. I was just cut from using it for a bit. Last week of my suspension and then I’m back at my full capabilities.”

“I’m sorry about it.” He took a step closer and grabbed her hand. She didn’t even flinch when he started caressing her palm. It was nice and comforting and moving something inside her.

“It’s fine. We learn from mistakes, right? At least some of us” she shoved him playfully killing the atmosphere in effect.

“Sit down, Y/N. I’ll fetch you coffee and then we’ll talk about my case.”

“Ok, thanks. I want…..”

“Black, no sugar. I remember.”

***

“I’m sorry I dragged you into this” Dick and Y/N were standing at the crime scene. Or rather a battlefield scene. Blood and dead bodies were everywhere reminding of horror movies, especially those where the chainsaw was used.

“I’m not an amateur, Dick and this is not my first rodeo so stop it. I’ve seen worse. In both lifes.”

“Right. Sorry.”

“It’s ok. That little protectiveness of ours is touching. And gives me a reason to mock you freely.”

“Don’t you dare” he hissed grabbing her by the waist “I can always go full Robin on you” he whispered his face centimeters from her, unwillingly leaning in, forgetting where he was, who he was and what he was doing.

“Well than, I’ll go full blue lantern on you” she smirked and wriggled from his arms “but now, I have work to do. Genetic material, my favorite kind”.

As Y/N came closer to the one of the bodies Dick was completely consumed by his own thoughts. He loved her even more now and it was getting impossible to hide it.

Two years ago

Two years of working together did not bring him any closer to confessing his feelings. Even when after night patrol he showed at her apartment to get patched up and stayed the night watching her sleep on the other side of the same bed, unable to even close an eye. Her obliviousness was no help, since she was always calling him a friend, a coworker, a team member, even a mate. It was killing him. 

“Why aren’t you sleeping?” she muttered shifting her position  a bit. She knew he was awake and there was no point denying “how are your injuries?” she reached towards his arm covered with fresh cuts almost touching it, but stopping a few millimeters away from the skin. Luckily for him, since he knew her single touch would make him burn. He wanted to kiss her, to do more – to make her feel good, to make her his and only his…….. Dirty thought and images was now creeping in his mind “Dick?” she frowned “you are distracted, officer”. That last word and her body so close made him jump out of the bed immediately, terrified his self-control was failing him.

“I’m fine. I’m gonna get some water. Go back to sleep, you need to rest.”

“But…”

“No buts. Sleep. I’m taking the couch.”

He did not get any rest that night. Crazy dreams that could never happen were enough to keep him up.

***

She got hurt. Because of him. Because of his recklessness and distraction. He shouldn’t have left her alone. Y/N was just doing her job, securing the evidences. Every other detective was in the other room of the house when shooters came through the door, firing their guns in every possible direction. Before anyone could react three policemen where bleeding, and one was dead.

“Shit! Y/N!” Dick hissed and rushed to the place where she was hoping nothing happened. He managed to disarm three of the attackers on the way, but judging from the sound she was dealing with the fourth, doing pretty good job. Even if blue lanterns were never considered the fighters, she was an exception, years in Titans and Hal’s upraise giving her exceptional skills in hand-to-hand fight, blue constructs adding to that. She was spinning, ducking and sliding, creating blue daggers and blades, going for the win when she saw him. A second of hesitation was enough for the opponent and she ended up with a knife in her stomach and  blood flowing everywhere. The last thing she felt was a pair of strong arms embracing her and lifting her up, holding close to wide chest whispering the most cliché words – it’s gonna be ok.

And now she was on the ICU, looking small and pale in hospital bed with Dick sitting on the uncomfortable chair holding her cold hands.

“Detective Grayson?” doctor’s voice made him stand up immediately “she’s going to be fine. No serious damage was done, luckily the blade missed the organs by an inch. And this girl, she’s strong, a fighter.”

“You have no idea, doctor. Thank you.”

“Just doing my job.” The MD shrugged but smiled happily “you got couple minutes left, and then she’ll need rest.”

“Ok.” When the doctor disappeared he leaned over girl’s sleeping figure and lovingly kissed her forehead “I’ll take care of you.”

***

Year ago.

 “I need your help.”

“My help of Blue’s help?” she asked “wait, don’t answer. I know what it will be.”

“Of course you do.” she could tell he rolled her eyes on the other side of the phone line.

“So? what’s the case? Go on. I got work.”

“There’s this girl. Her name is Rachel…..”

“Wait, are you talking about the teenager that run away from the house? The one, whose mother was shot straight in the head?” Y/N voice came up an octave.

“Yes. Wait, how do you…..?”

“So it happens I’m at the crime scene, detective.”

“Right.” Of course, he should have known she would be called there right away. And he did not like the fact that he wasn’t there with her to keep her safe. He didn’t trust anyone else with that.

“Relax, Dick. Everyone’s safe and I know how to protect myself. I can’t understand why do I have to assure you of it every time you are not around. I thought you knew my killer skills.”

“I know, but remember what happened last time?”

“It was a year ago, you fool! And it was your fault.” He went quiet for a bit too long “Dick? Are you still there?”

“Yes.”

“I didn’t mean to make you feel guilty.”

“I know.”

“But you’re sulking. We’ve been through this. All is forgiven and forgotten. Now, what about this Rachel girl?”

“She’s like you. She has powers. And she’s terrified.”

“she just lost her mother, no surprise with that.”

“Not only about that. There’s something dark about her. Can you come?”

“Give me an hour.”

***

“Hey, you must be Rachel? I’m  a friend of Dick.”

“Where is he?” the girl truly was terrified

“Dealing with paperwork. He asked me to watch over you.”

“I don’t think it’s safe to be around me.”

“I can handle myself. Now, since I work on the case of …. Nevermind. Can you tell me what happened?” Y/N held Rachel’s hand trying to reach for the hope inside the girl.

“I…. I……”

“I won’t push you. But I know Dick promised to help you and I’m going to make sure he keeps that promise, all right?”

“Ok. I need help…..”

***

Today

“What exactly is the case of Dick and Y/N?”  Gar could not hold back the question

“Are you asking me?” Donna raised an eyebrow at the green haired boy.

“Well you are the only one here who knows about their past.”

“Yeah, everyone can tell he’s in love with her.” Rachel added “so why does she keep pushing his limits?”

“Well it’s not my story to tell” Donna scoffed “if you want to know anything you may as well go the subject of this discussion and …..”

“So you are now talking shit about me behind my back?” Y/N leaned on the doorframe and crossed he arms “come on, I;m a big girl I can handle anything. Donna?”

“Nope. I’m out. You can talk to the kids, they seem very interested about your past.”

“Really? Why? Rachel? Gar?”

“Y/N, I love you, but I need to speak with Dick. Gar can explain. Right, Gar?” she eyed him suggestively.

“What?” he frowned but soon the realization dawned on him “oh, yeah, right, sure. I’ll explain.” Rachel and Donna nodded and left leaving Y/N with the boy.

“So, what’s up shifter?”

“Why don’t you love Dick back?” Gar blurted before realizing his words

“What?” she was taken aback “what are you talking about?”

“Nothing.” He tried to escape but she was quick to pin him back to the chair

“Oh, no, no, no, no. You are not running away from me. Talk. Now.”

“Don’t shoot the messenger.” Gar raised both his hands in surrender “but how can you be so oblivious? Everyone knows he loves you and you miss all the signs!”

“that’s absurd! He’s just a friend. Which is a progress, since we were more like enemies at the beginning. And who’s everyone? And since when you are so gossiping?”

“Donna. Rachel. Kori. Me. Everyone! From what I can tell even Hank and Dawn get the message. And I’m not gossiping.” He sighed “Look Y/N, you are my best friend, you know it, right?” the girl nodded “and that’s why I care about your happiness.”

“But….”

“No, no buts. You are making two people unhappy. Three if you count me. Do you love him?”

“Gar…..”

“Do you?” he studied her face carefully, his tone now gentle. They only knew each other for a while but he already knew talking about and expressing emotions was not her stronger suit.

“I do….” She whispered looking down.

“Well I can assure you he loves you to. Why do you think Rachel went to talk to him?”

“You two are unbelievable.”

“And that’s why you love us” he grinned “now go talk to him.”

***

“Dick? Can we…. Can we talk?”

“I’m actually a bit busy.” He was tensed so his conversation with Rachel must have been emotional

“Come on, Dickie, I bet you have five minutes for me.” She came closer and put an hand on his arm from behind gently stroking his shoulder. Out of instinct he leaned more into her touch wanting more. “So, Gar talked to me.”

“About what?” he turned around making her hand drop and immediately missing the contact.

“You. And well.. um.. me being blind.”

“How so?”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Tell you what?”

“You know what!”

“Well maybe I’m tired of guessing!”

“Putting the pieces of information together is your job! So quit playing!”

Instead of soft conversation they were now yelling at each other. Not how it supposed to go.

“I hate you! All those years I held it back but I hate you!”

“Really?” She mocked “what do you hate about me the most?” she started circling him like a predator

“don’t do this.” He warned, his eyes glistening

“my blue light?” she took a step letting some of the aura out “or maybe my hands?” she brushed her fingertips on his arm causing him to close his eyes

“You’re walking down a dangerous path….”

“Sure, what’s new. Oh,I know” she faked surprise “I know what you hate about me the most.” She leaned close to him “I bet it’s my lips, right?”

He didn’t answer as he could not hold back anymore and closed the distance between them crashing his lips on hers. She was right. He hated those soft pink, plump and kissable lips he was dreaming about for so long. He hated her aura, full of hope. He hated her hands that patched him up so many times and that brought him comfort and sense of safety everytime she touched him. He hated what she was doing to him, how she was messing with his head, how vulnerable she was making him, he hated…..

“I love you” he whispered pulling away, letting his arms sneak around her waist, holding her tight, not wanting to let go. “I loved you since the day you showed at the tower. I wanted you for so long.”

“Why did you hold it back? I really thought we were just friends. You were withdrawing every time I tried to…."

“Stop talking.” He pressed their lips together again, drunk on the feeling of her, craving her, tightening the embrace trying to get her closer than it was physically possible.

“Ouch, not that I’m complaining, but Dick that hurts. You’re strong, remember?” she whined as he started to crush her.

“Sorry. But I love you so fucking much. Feels good to say it.”

“Why don’t you let me try then?” she smirked locking hands on his neck and looking him straight into the eyes “Richard Grayson, I love you too. But you are an idiot! Why the hell didn’t you tell me?!”

“I was scared you would run away. You always displaced the emotions, so….”

“Dick, you dumbass. I am a lantern, I thrive on emotions, I just can’t let it consume me. Don’t want to turn into the red lantern, or worse – a black one. Do you know the latter drive on death?”

“Is that possible? For you to change color?"

“Don’t know, but I can’t risk it.”

“Well, I’ll make sure to provide you with hope if that’s what you need. Hope for us, for starters.”

“Ok, Mr. Grayson, so why don’t you kiss me again?”

“Gladly.” He would never get tired of holding, touching and having her. He was dead set on making up for the lost seven years.  

@somest1 @pinksirensong

#dc #dc imagine #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson imagine #nightwing x reader #nightwing x oc #dick grayson x you #nightwing x you #dick grayson #nightwing #batfamily x reader #dc titans #dc titans x reader #gar logan #garfield logan #beast boy #donna troy #wonder girl #rachel roth #raven #dick grayson fanfiction #dick grayson x y/n #nightwing x y/n #nightwing imagine #nightwing fanfiction

[hockeyboysimagines]

Can you write smut prompt 10: “Don’t worry. I’ll take good care of you.” With Arber?

also. Any chance we get something longer for him? Like a one shot or your usual 10 chapters?

My first Arber prompt and I’m SCREECHING. Thanks anon.

To answer your question yes, there will be a full 10 chapters for Arber coming soon…I hope. I have some other projects to finish up. Can’t justify posting something new right now. I hope you like this!

“Is it me? Am I the problem?”

Arber made a face and scoffed “What? No. Your boyfriend is an asshole that’s the problem.”

You let your head fall back on to the cushions of his sofa. Your relationship sucked, there was no other way to put it. It was a revolving door of arguments, storming out of the house, and returning to do it all over again. You had liked him once, but it was getting really old really quick and you had about had enough. Arber had been a saint, listening to you whine and moan constantly, but he always sided with you, and would have even if you’d been wrong. He had never liked your boyfriend, insisting he wasn’t good enough for you and that you should drop him on his ass.

He’d also offered to punch him.

“You need to start listening to me. I know what I’m talking about.” He tipped the beer bottle at you and then leaned back, brushing the hair off his forehead.

“I just don’t get it. Like what’s this guy want from me?” You stood and walked to the trash to throw your empty beer bottle away and glanced at him over your shoulder. He was watching you walk, eyes moving down your legs and back up before he met your eyes and cleared his throat.

“Beats me. He’s already dating out of his league. He could at least show his appreciation.” He mumbled.

“I-what?” You paused and turned to look at him confused, eyebrows knitting together.

He rolled his eyes and let out a small laugh “Oh come on. Don’t be coy. You know you’re hot.” You watched as he stood, eyes catching yours, as he rounded the couch.

“I mean I don’t but.” It was true. Your self esteem had never been overly high, and this mental manipulation had fucked you up over the last year. You had been gaslit into thinking you were the one in the wrong no matter how many people, Arber included, told you that you weren’t.

“That’s cuz that idiot you’re dating doesn’t tell you enough. If you were my girl I’d be showing you all the time.” He said taking a step forward.

“Oh yeah? How?” You felt a littler jitter of nerves ans butterflies as he moved slowly across the room, eyes on you like a cat stalking its prey.

“You deserve to be told all the great things about you. To be told you’re beautiful, and hot. To be told your ass looks phenomenal in those pants.” He was close to you now, enough that you could reach out to touch him. The butterflies were now bouncing around your insides and he knew it “Just tell me to stop if you want me to stop.” He reached a hand forward to push a lock of hair away from your face.

You shook your head, eyes moving to his mouth and back up before he pressed you up against the counter kissing you heavily.

It had been a long time since you were kissed like that, and it sent an immediate heat between your legs.

“You should always be kissed that way.” He said when he pulled away from you. His hands were resting low on your hips, breath hot on your face.

“What else?” You whispered, running a hand up his arm.

“You deserve great sex.”

In one swift movement he was carrying you out of his kitchen and into his room, yanking his shirt over his head and helping you out of your clothing. Your breath was heaving and you shivered in anticipation as he stepped out of his boxers and hovered over you, slotting himself in between your legs. He leaned forward, lips moving across your jaw before the moved down your neck.

“Don’t worry. I’ll take good care of you.” He said lowly against your ear, as he pushed inside. Everything about Arber was thick, muscle rolling under his skin as he moved above you, a thin sheen of sweat appearing on both of you. If you hadn’t been totally enthralled with what was happening you would have been smacking yourself in the face for going all this time without this. And then he was kissing you, tongue moving against yours in a way you had never felt before.

You had been missing out.

Arber very gently, but firmly wrapped one large hand around your neck squeezing slightly, splaying the other hand across your hip.

“Arber I-“

“Shhhhhh. Hang on-“

He pulled out suddenly and flipped you over, pulling your hips up to meet his before he pushed inside. You gasped and let out a tiny scream as he wrapped your hair around his hand and gave another rough thrust.

“Ohmygod.” He slid one hand across your lower back, and pushed in harder and faster each time. Your knees were aching and your body felt like it was on fire, but it felt fucking fantastic and you never wanted it to end.

But it did. And it ended with an earth shaking, swing from the chandeliers orgasm you never thought you’d have.

“Now that’s what you deserve.” He said breathlessly as he landed on the bed with a squeak next to you. You gave a breathy laugh and leaned forward to kiss him before you whispered “How about I show you what you deserve.”

#arber xhekaj #arber xhekaj x reader #arber xhekaj fic #hockey fanfiction #hockey tumblr #hockeyblr #nhl fanfiction #hockey fic #hockey smut #hockey romance #hockey fandom #hockey blurb #hockey rpf #hockey writing #hockey tag #hockey x reader #nhl fanfic #nhl fic #nhl oneshot #nhl smut #nhl rpf #nhl imagine #nhl x reader

[munson-blurbs]

Hurt People

This is just me giving an accurate depiction of what would most likely happen if Eddie Munson was real and went to high school with me. I’m sad tonight.

Warnings: hurt/no comfort, angst, insults, bullying

WC: 718

—

You don’t know how you didn’t see it coming. Maybe it’s because he’s Eddie, the boy—young man, really—thrust into the fringes of society because of his affinity for metal music and fantasy games. Maybe it’s because you’d assumed outcasts, loners, losers, looked out for one another. Or maybe you were just delusional, rose-colored glasses shielding you from what you couldn’t, wouldn’t see.

You and Eddie don’t have any classes together, with you electing to take honors classes and him struggling with introductory courses. You’d never judged him for it, never thought less of him because of it; some people’s talents lay outside of academia. Rumor has it that he’s a decent guitar player, though your parents’ strict rules forbid you from checking out a gig. Truly, you don’t know much about him except that he’s on his third round of senior year and, in your opinion, is the cutest guy at Hawkins High.

The opportunity to befriend him presents itself in the unassuming form of Honor Society volunteer hours. Mrs. O’Donnell needs someone to tutor Eddie in chemistry so she can get him the hell out of her class, and you eagerly offer to be his teacher. Quiet afternoons together in the library might lead to secrets whispered, kisses shared…

The first tutoring session is…fine. Eddie’s completely disinterested in the material, which is to be expected. You keep drawing his attention back to the lab report he’s supposed to be writing, trying to maintain your composure as your patience wears thin.

When he’s barely accomplished anything at the end of the hour, you tell him to meet you back in the study room tomorrow after school.

“You need to hand this in on time,” you say softly but firmly. “Don’t wanna lose points for late work.”

He grumbles as he grabs his tin lunchbox and carelessly shoves the lab report into his backpack, not even saying goodbye.

The next day, you muster up the courage to approach his lunch table. You’ve got your old chemistry study guides clenched in your fists; the idea is to offer them to him so he doesn’t have to reference his own scribbled notes for his upcoming quiz. Just a casual, “hey, I figured you could use these.” Yeah, that could work.

You’re ten feet away when you hear his boisterous laugh. “Oh, and get this,” he’s saying to his friends, “she wants me to study again with her today! Like yesterday wasn’t bad enough.”

“Dude,” one of his buddies chuckles, sympathetically shaking his head and clapping his hand on Eddie’s shoulder, “it’s just your luck that the one girl crushing on you happens to be the ugliest girl in the school.”

Your blood runs cold, nerves buzzing in anticipation of Eddie’s response. Surely he’ll tell the guy that he’s gone too far, that poking fun at your appearance is uncalled for.

But Eddie just gives him the finger and replies, “tell me about it. And now I gotta sit there while she makes heart-eyes at me, unless I wanna face O’Donnell’s wrath. Again.”

Tell me about it. Tell me about it. Tell me about it.

There’s no defending you, no sense of irritation with his friend’s statement. It’s pure, unfiltered agreement.

You’re the ugliest girl in school, and even Eddie Munson thinks so.

Tears blur your vision as you make a beeline out of the cafeteria, dumping your papers in the nearest trash can. You’re sorry you wasted your precious time digging them up. Humiliation seeps into your skin. It doesn’t matter if no one else heard him, because you did. And the information isn’t novel to you—you’re not Chrissy Cunningham or Nancy Wheeler, not by a longshot. No, you’re embarrassed because you’d deluded yourself into thinking that Eddie could see you in a way that others didn’t, in a way that you simply couldn’t.

A large part of you hoped that Eddie would see your status as a fellow freak and applaud you for it, welcome you into his group, take you under his wing. That seems like a pipe dream now.

It’s like that old cliche: hurt people hurt people. Maybe if you were bravier—bitchier, even—you’d hurt him back. But for now, you’re too tired from dragging around the burden of your existence.

Hurt will have to wait another day.

—

#eddie munson #stranger things #fanfic #stranger things fanfic #eddie stranger things #eddie munson angst #angst #hurt/no comfort #eddie munson x reader

[ncteez]

beloved🥹 for ur sleepover could you perhaps consider #96 from that list (“I had this dream and- fuck- you couldn’t keep your hands of me.”) & vernon🫶 congrats on the 6k again you’re so talented and deserve the world and i’m so glad ur here🫶 - 🍿 x

Vernon + “I had this dream and- fuck- you couldn’t keep your hands off me.” 

wordcount: 3.1k

tags: stoner!vernon, stoner!afab reader, clearly the use of smoking weed, awkward best friends who only share their attractions to each other when they’re zooted as fuck, no joke– weed is a personality trait in this. 

warnings: mentions of anxiety and panic attacks. 

note: hi my popped p(ussy)opcorn anon! i was rly excited to write this so i hope you like it even tho i went kinda overboard. not proof read, as you know. 

~

You’re not entirely sure how you became so close with Vernon, the guy in highschool who definitely carried his lunch back to class in his pockets. Maybe it’s because college is hard, and Vernon is easy to be around. Kind of like a breath of fresh air except all the air you breathe in with him happens to be incredibly thick with smoke.

Never in your life did you consider weed as a personality trait. Not yours, anyway, until Vernon is around you. Honestly, it’s like being a burn-out during your down time is actually quite relaxing, as long as you keep up with your GPA and assignments, there’s nothing wrong with wake n’ baking. Or like, taking a few hits before a big exam to calm the anxious energy inside of you, right? 

The thing is, it’s gotten to the point that you’ve smoked in all sorts of scenarios and find the least anxiety ridden experience to be the one where it’s just you and him, sitting outside of his shitty apartment and pretending like every college kid within a six mile radius can’t sniff the two of you out.

Peer pressure be damned, Vernon was the first one to ever pass you a joint at a random party you both happened to attend. You didn’t really know why you grabbed it because you swore to yourself that you’d be straight edge until you get a degree, and then you’d maybe try buying a bottle of vodka and a sack of weed just to see what you missed out on. It was something about that night, your first college party, the first familiar face at a party, and the urge to say fuck it. 

You didn’t mean to actually inhale it, but somehow it was a natural thing your body did and Vernon didn’t even laugh at you for choking. That’s when you became friends with him, and ultimately over the months the two of you would often run into the other. 

Your first weed-induced panic attack was at a party with him, and he was honestly so fast to get you out of there without so much as knowing where you needed to go. Calming you down and very aware that you probably smoked too much, and had a little too much to drink as well. The weed wasn’t laced, he said, the alcohol wasn’t spiked, he assured. Somehow, and someway, his fried ass got you through it and the night ended much better as the two of you sat in a random person’s back yard picking their grass and talking about gods, and universes, and the theory of giants roaming the earth in ancient times. 

By now, he should know you don’t prefer the parties. It doesn’t stop him from trying to include you every single time though. Tonight was just another invitation, one in which you declined. 

Why? Smoking around other people isn’t fun. It makes you paranoid and uncomfortable. Being hit on ruins the fun too. Plus, the music is almost always trash. 

Vernon: why won’t you come?

You: you know i don’t like smoking in groups

Vernon: but free weed :( 

You: just bring some over when you’re done doing whatever you wanna do.

The way he does just that. Appearing at your door a mere four hours after he told you he was leaving for the party and smiling at you with already reddened eyes. 

“Free weed,” He starts, patting his jacket pocket and then stepping inside. “And snacks.” He adds, revealing a bag from behind him that contains the majority of snacks the two of you tend to gravitate toward. 

“God, just how much did you spend on the food?” You laugh, reaching for the bag and peeking inside. “Wait, why are you trying to butter me up?”

He scratches his ankle with his socked feet for a moment, avoiding eye contact with you and then shrugs again. 

“Because you’re my best friend?”

“Vernon, you never buy the snacks.” You narrow your eyes at him.

Another shrug before he defensively pulls the bag back, only to immediately toss it onto your counter and make himself at home in your living room. 

“Seungcheol disappeared with someone for a while and forgot that I know where his stash is.” He says, pulling out the little bag of definitely stolen weed. “I’ll pay him back later.”

You make your way next to him, immediately smelling the scent.

“How does he always manage to find the good stuff?” You ask with a chuckle, reaching forward to grab the candle lighter from your coffee table. 

“Fuck if I know.” Vernon is too focused on inspecting the buds he managed to pluck out of the original stash then turns to you. “Bong or blunt?” 

You look around. 

“Well, we aren’t at your place so unless you want to get kicked out of school I suggest we just roll a blunt and step out on the patio.”

Obviously, he’s already high and probably forgot that your place isn’t his, or that his place isn’t also yours.

“Smart girl. Always keeping me on the right path.” He compliments with a nod and a smile. “Do you have any wraps?”

That, you do. Because of course you do.

“Mango good?”

A nod. 

And you know, Vernon never was good at rolling blunts but they all smoked the same anyway. You didn’t mind the small bud leaves sticking to your lips by the time half of the blunt was smoked and you’re all curled up on the patio with your best friend beside you. 

It’s kind of weird, actually, how many times you’ve been high out of your mind and looked at him like this. It’s probably because the two of you always smoke together in the early morning or when the moon is out. You still remember the first time you looked at him this way. 

You crashed at his house after a particularly bad party and he woke you up from the couch that next morning offering a parting gift before he walked you home. After all, it was only a few streets away. His hair was a fucking mess, and his eyes were so drowsy with sleep that you could tell that he was even more groggy than you were to be awake. The morning sun burned his eyes, and likewise for you. You could see them glisten through the pain of light penetrating his pupils, and you could hear the way his nails scratched at his bed head after a winded stretch. His oversized hoodie offering the look of a particularly comfortably, but pissed off best friend for waking up so early. 

The smoke inhaled more smoothly that morning, and his smile seemed a little brighter than usual too. 

Right now, as you look at him, he’s in that exact same oversized hoodie with a beanie covering the hair he likely decided not to brush today. Despite a party, despite being out and about, he’s just….Vernon. With his febreze scented everything to hide the smell of his burn-out ways, and his stupid eyes that are always glassy and offering a watery, sparkly look. 

“What the fuck are you looking at?” He half-giggles under the discomfort of your gaze. Feeling a little insecure, in all honesty. 

“Oh, sorry.” You shake your head in a way to shake your thoughts of the constant fondness you feel for him. You’re not entirely comprehending that you admire him, you just happen to like noticing things. “I zoned out.”

“I can see that.” He smiles, turning away from you and facing the night sky. “It’s muggy out here, we should go back inside. We can finish the rest of this later?”

You nod, staring him down. Only he would wear a fucking hoodie in humid ass weather like this summer offers. He should know by now that even at night, it feels disgusting outside. 

It’s silent save for a few laughs as the two of you make your way back inside. The air conditioner hits your skin in a wonderful way, bringing goose bumps and causing you to let out a small shiver. 

“So much better,” You nearly sing-song out as you flop yourself down on the couch, your body feeling that familiar heavy feeling. “Do you think Seungcheol has noticed by now that you stole his weed?”

“Nah, he usually gives me some anyway since I’m always sharing with him.”

That’s fair. Still, the whole idea of stealing it felt dangerously funny and weirdly attractive. 

“Thanks for coming over by the way, I’m glad you weren’t too tired.” You smile, zoning out entirely by now.

Vernon hums out a response, now flopping down next to you and just lying there to feel the high he’s always chasing. 

The silence is short lived though, as he starts laughing out at nothing. You turn to look at him, waiting for some sort of joke or explanation of what he’s thinking about. 

“What’re you thinking about?” You say, almost laughing with him because it’s kind of contagious. 

“I just, like, it’s so stupid actually–” He starts, laughing out a breathy type of laugh and then taking in a breath to be able to speak again. “I was just thinking about how like, I had this dream the other day and it was literally just my old communications professor running away on stilts.”

Okay, now, hold on. That image is actually hilarious and it kind of sends you into a laughing fit too.

“What the fuck?” You laugh, wondering what he must be thinking about all the time to have dreams like that. “I never have funny dreams, mine are always scary or like…”

You trail off in a very obvious way, but thankfully Vernon isn’t amazing at finishing your thoughts or picking up on hints as to what you may have been about to say. 

Until like, fucking now apparently. 

“Oooooh,” He laughs, looking away from you. “You got a spicy dream to share?”

Man, you’ve got plenty but probably none that he’d be too interested to hear about. 

“Nah, nothing of note to really mention.” You say back, the laughing fit calming itself within you. 

“Well, that’s some bullshit. I have some pretty wild dreams, the sex ones can be kind of funny too.” 

Oh, your ears perk up. 

“What’s the funniest one you’ve ever had?” You ask, narrowing your eyes at him. 

“There was this one time I had a dream about Mingyu’s cousin.” 

You dead-pan stare at him in shock.

“I’m gonna tell on you.” You say, but he completely brushes you off.

“No! I mean, it’s not like I enjoyed it actively, but whoever I was in that dream was really going to town. I mean I was like, man–” He pauses, remembering the dream. “I’m pretty sure my dick was crying when I woke up because if I remember correctly, she was gnawing on it like a piece of beef jerky.” 

You snort and roll your eyes. 

“You’re totally the type to get off on some weird shit like that. Oh my god. Do you ever have a normal dream? Or like, a normal thought for that matter?”

He stares at you and you swear you can see his cheeks fan over with a blush. 

“Well….” He says, trailing off. “I mean, yeah. Of course I do, but you seem to like the funny ones the most.”

“Okay, then try and tell me a normal one and let’s see how it goes.”

Normal to Vernon may not be normal to you, but also he can’t tell if you’re referring to a sex dream or not. He’s not entirely the type to shy away despite feeling a little shy. 

“Sex dream or non sex dream?”

You think hard about which type of dream you want him to describe to you (no you don’t.)

“Sex dream.” 

He smiles, flicking his eyes to the bag of snacks on the table but opting to give it some more time before he starts eating like a damn goblin. 

“Let me think of one, hold on.” 

You sit there patiently, which probably doesn’t look very patient considering you quite literally turn your entire body to face him and rest your chin on your palm as if you’re expecting some inception styled sex or something. 

“Um…” He trials off, remembering very little of most of his sex dreams besides, well, the one he had of you. But to be fair most of them are about you, and he sees you so often that they’re kind of hard to forget. 

He can’t just tell you that though. He might be fucking zooted but he’s not an idiot. 

“Last week I had this dream about you.” 

Okay, maybe he’s an idiot. 

“Oh? Me?” You adjust your posture even more to that of interest, for no reason other than curiosity. You’re a bit flattered. 

“Yeah but that’s probably not one you wanna hear. There’s also one I had about–” Right, that one was about you too. “Or maybe…” Still about you.

You narrow your eyes.

“Just tell me the damn dream. I wanna know if I was any good.”

Vernon, for the first time in what feels like years, is experiencing extreme awkwardness. Nervousness. Dare he say, anxiety. Probably because of the way you blink at him with some type of expectation for this to be totally normal. Definitely a situation where he shouldn’t be feeling shy or even slightly turned on simply for thinking about all of those dreams he pretended he never had when you were with him.

Why did he have to tell you about this? Because now he has to actually tell you about it.

You watch him and the way he’s acting, noting that glimpse of nervousness and reaching forward to clap your hand on his knee. 

“Vernon, it was a dream, it’s not that big of a deal. You’ve been in a few of mine too.”

Well, that’s both comforting to him and terrifying because if he was in your dreams, the vernon in your head probably couldn’t even get you off. Which is fucked up of him. 

“If I tell you, you gotta tell me one of yours then.” 

You nod, resuming a more slouched posture and preparing to listen to him and his god awful story telling.

Except, it’s not awful. In fact, you can see him physically react to the images in his head as he re-tells the story. Those little movements in his legs? They don’t go unnoticed. 

“Last week, I had this dream and–” His eyes closed as he leaned himself against the couch, bouncing one leg up and down as if to calm his energy. He remembers it so clearly, and it’s kind of hard to admit with you right next to him. “Fuck,” He sighs out, ultimately choosing to leave the real life situation and instead live in his head for a few moments. 

Then, he opens his eyes and looks at you. 

“You couldn’t keep your hands off of me.” 

There’s a swirling inside of your belly at the way he is telling you this dream. One that makes you feel as though your initial reaction to his reaction isn’t so wrong after all. The dream turned him on. 

He liked it. 

He probably wanted it to happen after he woke up. 

“Then what happened?” You ask in a voice much smaller than you intended. 

Another sigh comes from him as he closes his eyes again, thinking hard about how detailed he should be about it. 

“Are you really wanting me to go into detail about how I dreamed about us fucking?”

You nod immediately, and then try to offer some form or relief. 

“If you don’t want to, that’s okay. Can you at least tell me if I was any good?” 

The way his eyes stay closed as he hums out. He is thinking. Very hard. 

“Well, it’s the only thing I’ve been jerking off to since it happened so I could argue that, yeah, you were pretty good.” 

You weren’t expecting him to admit how real he made the dream in his waking life. It’s an image he seemed to cling onto, and now, it’s an image you kind of want to cling onto as well. 

“Then tell me what happened.”

“I think I’ve admitted enough, it’s your turn now.”

Suddenly you feel shy. Yeah, it’s just a dream and all of that but now, seeing the way he seemed to really enjoy fucking you while being asleep, maybe you can admit to have liked the dream you had about him too. 

“We were in your living room and you went down on me. Absolutely rubbed one out when I woke up. Now, continue with yours.”

The fucking whiplash he gets from those string of words only drives him to continue.

“Oh how funny, I also went down on you in my dream too.” He tries to be normal about it, you can tell. “Would’ve been nice if I could actually taste it but as you know, I was like, asleep, and you’d probably never let me do that anyway.”

The side eye he gives you after saying that is almost hilarious. Almost.

“Well, were you any good at it?” You ask, leaning back against the arm of the couch and also pretending to be very normal about this sudden shift in friendship. 

“I’d say I was. Are you as vocal as you were in my dream?” He prods, still side-eyeing you. 

“Oh, most definitely.” 

He watches the way you lean back, the way you squeeze your thighs, the way you look a little flushed and he’s sure it’s not just the high doing it. 

“In my dream, you were also really wet for me.”

That, you can believe. 

“I’m really wet right now.” You admit in a monotone voice, staring straight at him and the way he turns his face away from you. 

“I’m also really hard,” He whispers out, not at all hiding the fact that his length is showing blatantly through his jeans. “We could, um, maybe…”

He didn’t even have to finish the sentence before you move yourself directly next to him, almost on him. You lean your head on his shoulder, feeling how warm he still is in this hoodie. You reach your arm up, pull off his beanie, and ruffle his hair once before smiling. 

“Are you going to eat me out first?”

It’s the way he nearly chokes, drowsy eyes no longer staring into space but staring directly at the way his cock twitches as your voice asks him such a thing. 

He nods.

“Yeah, yeah.” A cough. “Yes.” 

#[sleepover] #vernon smut #[m] #[h.hours] #[vernon] #I HOPE YOU ENJOY <3

[thecuriousquest]

You Know You Love it Part Four

Yandere!Bully KiriBaku x Reader

Warnings: Bullying, sex, spanking, slapping, degradation, masochism, sadism

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Five

Checkout my Master List here.

————————————————————————

As the class files out of the room for the day, you lean over your desk to grab your bag. Your glasses fall off of your face, and you mutter a curse.

Your face blushes bright red as you jerk up in response to someone raising your skirt to your hips. Turning around, Eijiro has that signature shit eating grin.

“Nice panties. Blue. It’s cute on you.”

You struggle to see more of his facial expression without your glasses, but you know he’s smirking at you. It’s blurry, but you can just make it out.

He grabs you by the hips when you try to pick up your glasses from around the desk by your book bag. His muscular form easily lifts you up onto the wooden surface.

“Let me get my glasses,” you demand in a small voice.

“Oh, someone forgot their manners.”

Katsuki is the one who picks up your glasses and holds them just out of your reach. “What? You want these? Are these the glasses you want?”

Anger bubbles just beneath the surface, but something begins to mix with it. “Yes, I want those glasses.”

“Well, what are you gonna do to get ‘em back?” Kirishima asks this time.

You feel the redhead nudge his way in between your legs. You grow hot when his thigh bumps that sweet spot at the apex of your thighs. You bite back a moan, not wanting him to know that you want more.

You couldn’t help but want them. You hate them, but your mouth waters when you see them shirtless. Your wanton sex dripping like a juicy peach, ready to take both of their cocks and deliver satisfying speed.

The bullying is something you can’t live without. It’s part of your whole dynamic. Something within the bullying lies passive aggressive dominance. It’s the way the duo marks you as theirs. Kirishima and Bakugou honestly treat you like a rag doll. They taunt you, degrade you, treat you like absolute trash, but it just makes the inside of your thighs slick with lust.

You hope they haven’t caught on. You hope they never do.

Trying to fake a protest, you shove at Kirishima’s chest. You don’t really want him and Bakugou to go away, you just want their reaction to you putting up a fight.

“Leave me the hell alone, and give me back my glasses!”

Katsuki reaches out and slaps you. It’s not enough to send you falling off the desk, but he does cause your head to turn. A hand instantly flies to your cheek to soothe the redness, and you feel heat rising in your womb. You’re needy. You want more, and you’re gonna fucking get what you want.

“It really does look like our little mouse forgot her manners and all of her lessons,” the blonde teen says to Kirishima as he glares at you.

“We oughta do the right thing and re-educate her. What do you say, Bakubro?”

They talk about you like you’re not even there, and by God do you love it.

Kirishima pushes your thighs farther apart and cups your cloth covered cunt. You can’t help but gasp as you welcome the invasion, not doing anything to stop him. It’s the first time he’s touched you like this, and you hope it’s not the last.

A devilish smirk appears on his face. Your panties are absolutely soaked with arousal, and he can feel it. “I think someone’s enjoying this.”

“Holy shit, really?” Bakugou questions.

“Yeah, man, she’s fucking dripping. Feel.” He moves his hand and lets his best friend have a turn feeling you up.

He feels your southern zone and mutters, “No way…” Raising his red eyes to look into yours, Bakugou’s smile is sardonic, sinister even. “You little whore. What? You really get off to the shit we do to you?”

You bite your lip and shake your head, lying to yourself and them. Trying to anyway.

The ashen blonde moves your underwear to the side and sticks two fingers in your soaked pussy. He rubs his digits along your wet walls three times before pulling out and shoving his slick fingers in your face. “What the fuck is this then?”

When you keep your eyes closed and shake your head again, he slaps your bare thigh. The sound is just as bad as the pain, but you relish in it. You can’t help but open your eyes and let out a gasp.

“I asked you a question, bitch!”

You look at his fingers covered in your juices and moan. “I don’t fucking know. Let go of me!”

You want to fight. You want to be fierce, but you also want them to force your submission. You want the feeling of someone not giving up on you. That’s another reason why you’re so attracted to them. Despite all of your rebellion, they never walk away.

“Like hell we will,” they both say at the same time.

You still don’t have your glasses, and you think the world is spinning as you’re tossed over one of their broad shoulders. You can’t tell who it is until they start walking out of the classroom with an arm wrapped around your thighs to keep you steady. You push yourself up and see red hair walking right behind you.

You let out a whine, and Bakugou smacks your ass. “Be quiet, slut.”

You whimper and let your cheek rest against his lower back.

Kirishima stands right next to his best friend. “Your dorm or mine?”

“Eh. Yours.”

———

You arrive to the dorm room faster than you thought it would take. Bakugou dumps you onto the bed unceremoniously. Your head bounces against the mattress before your body settles, and you try to push yourself up only to have Kirishima pull you onto his lap. He pins you with a strong headlock. You can just barely manage short breaths. It feels so good.

Bakugou works on removing your skirt and blue panties. He even unbuttons your shirt, sliding the long sleeves down your arms. He wraps his arms around you, hands going underneath your back to unclasp your bra, discarding it on the floor with your pile of clothes.

You wriggle, trying to fight your way out of Kirishima’s strong grip, but it’s a fruitless task. There’s no way to get out of those strong arms. They laugh at you for even trying.

“That’s your problem,” Kirishima starts. “You think you can do all sorts of things. You’re school smart, but you’re one stupid fucking bitch if you think you can beat me in a strength match. You can’t stop thinking. What you need to do is just let us think for you.”

Bakugou begins rubbing that little clit of yours. You release a sharp breath as his fingers work you into a climax. Hunger. Pure unadulterated hunger lingers within your needy cunt. You’re not even ashamed as you grow wetter by the second.

Kirishima holds you tightly against him as he plays with your bare tits, whispering salacious things into your ear as if they were sweet nothings. “You’re being such a good little whore for us. Listen to you, moaning. Where is your place? Tell us where your place is.” He nibbles on your ear, waiting for your answer.

You, however, haven’t been tamed yet. You still want to be a defiant little brat. You bite your lip and shake your head as much as you can in his stiff headlock.

Bakugou chuckles and removes his hand from your stimulated bead. It takes you a second or two to notice what’s missing. Opening your eyes, you look at him with desire and impatience. You’re practically drooling with lust.

He pays your low growls no mind and simply pats your thigh where he smacked it earlier. “Kirishima gave you an order. What do little sluts like you do when someone gives you an order?”

‘Follow it…’ Just say the fucking words! “Fuck you!”

Bakugou looks at Kirishima. “She’s gonna take a while to learn her lesson.”

The redhead looks down at you and tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear. “That’s okay. It’s the weekend, and we don’t have anywhere to be.”

The explosive blonde grabs your ankles and pulls them up with one hand. You wriggle as your ass is vulnerable to his touch. You squeal when his palm cracks down upon your bare backside.

“I can do this all day, Little Mouse. Go ahead and push us as hard as you want. We’re not going anywhere.”

His words don’t come off as threatening as he intended. They come off as comforting. A part of you wants to cry at his promise, but you swallow your tears and moan when his heavy hand crashes down upon your tender skin.

He makes quick work of beating your flesh, striking you until you’re a crying mess and apologizing, all the while you’re loving how red he marks you.

Putting your legs back down, he leans over you with his hands on either side of your hips and looks you in the eyes. “Now, tell us where your place is.”

“Underneath the both of you.”

You feel Kirishima’s erection poking your back, but you don’t mind how hard he is. If anything, it makes you even wetter.

Bakugou lightly slaps your face. “Good girl. You can listen. It looks like there actually is something in between those ears after all. Might not be much, but it’s something.” He smirks at you.

Kirishima pinches your nipples roughly as Bakugou begins to delight in your pussy again. You feel something wet chase your clit. Something slippery swirling around it. You look down to see his mouth pressed against you like he’s eating his last meal.

Nobody has ever done that to you before, and you want him to do it over and over again. You can’t help the squirming. It’s so good that you can’t stay still. Your loud moans fill the room, and you barely register Kirishima’s grunts as your writhing creates friction against his hard cock.

When you come, you come hard. Your orgasm is sticky and tastes wonderful on the ash blonde’s lips. He cleans you up with his tongue and smacks your pussy. There’s nothing he likes more than seeing you get off, but he loves the fact that he made you get off.

Your eyes begin to close. You feel so tired, like you could drift off into a good sleep for a few hours.

“Alright, our turn.”

And suddenly your eyes shoot open. You look up at Kirishima as he releases you.

“I wanna stuff her mouth.”

“I’ll take her cunt. We can take that cute ass later. A slut like her is probably used to it though.” Bakugou tells his friend.

You sit up and shake your head, denying that anyone has been…back there.

They don’t pay any attention to you as Kirishima and Bakugou strip in front of you. The muscle. Oh Christ, the muscle on these beautiful bastards! You could come again just by looking at them. Your thighs quake with lewd suggestion.

Kirishima chuckles as he kneels on the bed on your left. That leaves Bakugou to manhandle you so that you’re on your hands and knees.

Already soaking with anticipation, Bakugou sticks his hard cock between your slick folds. He buries himself inside of you, pumping you with a mind blowing speed. Your jaw goes slack, giving Kirishima the opportunity to sheath his sword with your mouth.

Everything you want to say becomes muffled. “Oh, fuck, I’ll be a good girl. I’ll be such a good girl for you. You won’t even recognize me. Please, don’t stop!” Your words are incomprehensible, though.

Your bullies grip you in different ways, smack you in various spots. Kirishima gropes your breasts, clenches your hair in his fist. Bakugou leaves punishing bruises on your hips as he rocks you backwards and forwards. He has full access to slapping your ass, and he takes advantage of it.

Tears of pleasure fall down your cheeks as they fuck you stupid. That’s all you are. Their stupid little slut. Your place is right here: under them, between them, getting railed by them. It doesn’t matter. As long as you have their cocks in you, you’ll be on your best behavior.

It seems as though Kirishima is trying to specifically torment you further as he comes halfway in your mouth before pulling out and squirting jizz all over your face. The thick liquid fills up your mouth, but he orders you not to swallow until Bakugou comes.

He holds you by your hair firmly, making sure that you look at him to know how serious he is. You nod with understanding.

Bakugou releases his seed into you. He rests on your back, needing a moment to collect himself as he huffs with relief. Giving your ass a good smack, he stands up.

“Okay, you can swallow now,” the redhead tells you.

Obeying immediately, the thick fluid goes down your throat smoothly. You kneel on the bed, feeling Bakugou’s come dripping out of your soft cunt.

“We’ll have to get the whore a pill.”

“That’s okay. There’s a pharmacy not too far from here. We can go there once we get her all cleaned up,” Kirishima suggests.

“Yeah, but first…” Bakugou pulls out his phone and captures a picture of you kneeling naked on the bed with come coating your face while feeling your drenched pussy.

———

On Monday in class, you take your seat next to Izuku. You say a quick “hello” to him.

Your bullies saunter in, looking for you. You shrink down a bit, but it’s useless. They see you and walk over to your desk.

Standing in front of you, Kirishima and Bakugou look at you expectantly.

You know what you have to say, but here? Really?

You look up at them with pleading eyes, but they don’t budge. They have that picture of you, and they’re willing to share it with everyone at UA if you don’t follow their new rule.

You sigh and look at Kirishima mumbling, “Good morning, Daddy.” You look at Bakugou. “Good morning, Master.”

Bakugou grabs you by your chin. His gruff voice grumbles in a warning, “What was that?”

Your voice only goes up a few notches as you try again. “Good morning, Daddy. Good morning, Master.”

Satisfied, they return the greeting with a “good morning, Little Mouse” before going to their seats.

Izuku gives you an odd look, and you slump your shoulders. “Don’t even ask, Midoriya.”

#my hero acedamia #boku no hero academia #yandere #bullying #yandere katsuki bakugou #yandere katsuki #yandere kirishima #eijiro kirishima #eijirou smut #katsuki smut #yandere bully #bully bakugou #trigger warnings