#makeshift hook <:3

[pcktknife]

I think you would be a good castle guard. can you try saying who goes there

Who Goes There ? 🤺 <- putting on a tough guy voice

#the best i can do you is one of those sleepy guards for the dungeons that always gets their keys stolen off them with some sort of #makeshift hook <:3 #asks #anon

[upsidedownwithsteve]

Steve Harrington x fem!reader

[2.7K] loosely based on the movie float, lifeguard!steve, a summer full of swim lessons. mentions of drowning, eventual smut 18+

SWIM LESSON SCHEDULE

LESSON #3

You didn’t have to wait seven whole days to see Steve again, and when you did, it wasn’t poolside.

This meant that between you both, there were a lot more clothes than normal, but you found out the hard way that that fact didn’t really make a difference to the effect he now had on you. There was a party at some rich kids house on the outskirts of town, someone called Sam that neither you nor Eddie knew all that well but Robin used to work with him at the Shake Shack and well-- if Robin was going somewhere, Steve followed, and if Steve was allowed through the door, that meant Eddie had a ticket in too.

If Eddie was there? High chance you were too.

It’s how you ended up in a neighbourhood that rivalled even Steve’s, each house sprawled out across green manicured lawns and the pools out the back were almost as large as the one you were learning in, a shiny red slide to boot. Three stories, arched windows, a winding driveway to a three door garage and when you entered behind Eddie, the crystal chandelier in the foyer was vibrating to the beat of the music.

Two guys you recognised from the trailer park grabbed Eddie as he pushed his way through the crowd, your fingers hooked in his as he dragged you behind him. They were ready with cash, bills rolled up and an eagerly impatient look in their already glassy eyes, so you waved the boy away and headed to the kitchen, a safe enough sanctuary as you skirted around the makeshift dance floor that had been created in the living room. It seemed that anyone over seventeen and anyone under thirty was at the party, the large space full to the brim with drunken strangers, people moving to the synths of INXS.

The pushed back furniture made it difficult to move around the gyrating bodies, Sam’s parent’s cream coloured carpet already stained and sticky with questionable substances. The lights had been switched off and someone had strung multicoloured Christmas lights around the curtain poles, around the second chandelier above the coffee table. There was a broken disco ball sitting in a wall sconce, pink and green and blue hitting off each mirrored tile, making everything glitter.

You saw Steve before you could make it to the kitchen, rainbows on his cheeks, a stripe of colours across his lips. He was talking to a girl - a pretty redhead who had a drink in one hand and Steve’s bicep in another. The sight of him made you feel as warm as a saturday morning, as if you were walking into water with his naked chest in front of you, his pink cheeks and sleep mussed hair just for your eyes only. It felt almost unfair to see him now, surrounded by others, touched by someone else. He looked just as pretty with a striped shirt on, his hair styled and curling around his ears and neck, one hand shoved into his jeans pocket as the other gripped a beer.

His gaze caught your own, a fleeting thing before recognition clicked at the sight of you and then Steve was moving, the redhead’s fingers catching at his sleeve before he was in front of you, her frown behind him.

“Didn’t expect to see you here.” Steve was smiling, eyes drinking in the corners like he was genuinely happy to bump into you. He craned his neck and spotted Eddie, raising his beer in greeting. “You want a drink?”

“Uh, yeah.” You smiled back, heart in your throat because Steve was placing a familiar hand on the small of your back in order to steer you into the kitchen and Eddie was grinning, a full beam that made your cheeks warm. “A drink sounds good.”

You let Steve pour you a vodka and lemonade, and he fumbled an ice tray he found in the back of the freezer, the fizz spilling over the rim of the glass as he handed it to you with a grin. You watched him lick the soda from his fingers, his eyes on yours as he smiled still, his cheeks a little pink and it felt like you were back in middle school and the pretty, popular boy was giving you too much attention.

You weren’t sure why, but you lapped it up happily.

Taking a gulp, you hummed, happy that your drink didn’t burn on the way down and Steve stayed close, his hand gone from the small of your back but his shoulder bumped yours and you could smell his cologne, leftover sunscreen and hairspray.

“You ready for lesson three tomorrow or are you planning on getting black out?” Steve asked with raised brows. “I gotta tell you now, legally, I’m not covered for drownings due to hangovers.”

You rolled your eyes, lips lifting into a smile you tried to suppress because you had absolutely no intention of getting messy drunk in the vicinity of Steve Harrington, with or without the threat of swimming the day after.

“It depends,” you joked anyway, “what does lesson three include?”

Steve smirked, leaning close, hair falling across his forehead and you could see the freckles over his nose, the glint of the chain he wore flashing under the collar of his t-shirt. “M’not sure I should tell you now.” He was all charm, a cheekiness you normally didn’t get to see up close. “You might stand me up.”

You scoffed, a dismissive sound that barely covered your embarrassment because you were sure that your eyes were wide enough to show off how flustered you were. You took another long sip, lemonade and bubbles coating your tongue and you watched Steve stare at the way you licked the vodka from your lips.

“I wouldn’t stand you up,” you murmured, barely heard over the thud of the music.

The boy beamed, ecstatic. “You wouldn’t?”

“Not unless you were planning something drastic, you know, like swimming.”

A laugh burst from Steve’s chest, his eyes shining with an amusement you were proud of producing. He leaned back against the kitchen counter, spreading his feet wide enough that you were able to stand between them. Not too close, not too suggestive, just close enough to each other that girls glared at you and no one tried to interrupt.

“Swimming? In a pool?” Steve cocked his head to the side, one hand nursing his beer, the other reaching out to poke at your side. You squirmed, amazed at how such a friendly touch seemed just as intimate as his hands on your bare back, keeping you afloat. He frowned at you, all faux confusion that made him look unbearably cute. “Who the fuck would think of that?”

You narrowed your eyes at him, unable to stop smiling. Come to think of it, your cheeks ached a little, your grin permanently etched onto your lips since you saw Steve, whether it was from being flustered or amused. Your cheeks felt hot, your chest light and you barely noticed anyone else in the room.

It’s why you jumped when two hands caught your shoulders, a diabolical cackle in your ear as you recognised the scent of smoke and old spice a little too late. Eddie smelled like childhood and home but now, standing in a strangers kitchen with Steve Harrington, you couldn’t have been less impressed with your friend’s appearance.

“Hey, there’s a good chance I can shift the last of this green if I hit up this party on Maple Street,” Eddie half yelled over the music, his arm draped over your shoulder in a too familiar way. You wanted to elbow him. “You comin’ with or—?”

He was glancing at Steve over your head, brows raised, suggestive and waiting on an answer from him rather than you. You swallowed hard, noticing how Steve had seemed just as disappointed as you at Eddie’s arrival but he shrugged, nonchalant. “I could walk you home later,” the beer in his hand glinted in the low light, his fingers tightening around it. He smiled, eyes soft, “I don’t mind.”

You wanted to say yes. Fuck, you wanted to say yes so bad and the word was costing your tongue, buzzing and excited, a fizzy candy explosion. But you took too long to look at the boy, tanned skin and messy hair, scruff on his jaw that he hadn’t bothered to shave that morning, the freckles on his cheeks and neck that made you want to touch them.

You couldn’t remember the last time you’d kissed a boy, never mind one you really liked. And perhaps that wasn’t even on the cards, maybe Steve didn’t like you in that way at all - but the idea of being alone in the darkened room with strangers, people you didn’t know and people who wouldn’t care if you fell into each other - it suddenly seemed a little too much for one night.

“Um, it’s— it’s okay,” you told him regretfully. You hated the way his eyes seemed to lose a little warmth, his lips turning down before he righted himself. “I should probably just go with Eddie.”

“Pussy,” Eddie coughed, barely concealed and Steve stared at the ground, cheeks pink.

You really did elbow your friend then, the sharp point of your arm finding his rims and he kicked at the back of your heel, childlike in the way he scuffled to get you back in a way that really wasn’t subtle.

“Thank you, though,” you smiled at Steve, hopeful that he’d return the gesture. He did, although not as warm as before, not as confident as he’d been as he’d guided you to the kitchen with a wide hand on your back. “I’ll, uh, see you tomorrow, right?”

Steve sank the last of his drink, licking it from his lips before nodding. He was already back out of the kitchen and you tried not to look defeated. “Yeah, ‘course,” he told you. “See you in the morning.”

“Well,” Eddie watched Steve retreat, his hand slapping down on your slumped shoulder. “You fucked that, didn’t you?”

Steve was already in the pool when you arrived the next morning, still sleep mussed and frazzled from the way your alarm had blared too loud. Despite three weeks of early mornings, it was still a struggle to pull yourself from bed. But the promise of a warm day, pink-blue skies and Steve Harrington made it so much easier than you ever thought.

You paused at the loungers for longer than you needed, your toes curling at the thought of stripping off your shorts and shirt because the swimsuit underneath was newer and skimpier and cherry red. Steve was underwater, swimming effortlessly beneath the surface from the shallows to the depths you weren’t brave to venture to yet.

So you took the opportunity to pull off your t-shirt, a ratty old thing that used to be Eddie's and you cursed picking it up from your floor, hoping Steve wouldn’t get the wrong idea despite how many times you’d told him that Eddie was just your friend.

You let it fall to the sun warmed tiles just as Steve broke the surface, pushing his hair back with one hand as he grasped the edge of the pool with the other. He grinned when he saw you, a familiar and friendly thing that made your heart jump but his gaze darted to your chest, just for a second, just for a tiny moment, and you remembered to feel shy.

“New suit?” Steve asked, sounding casual, his brows raised as if it didn’t really matter what the answer was.

You wondered what he’d say if you told him you’d bought it with him in mind, what he’d say if he knew you’d stared at your half naked frame in your bedroom mirror for far too long, inspecting each curve, each bruise, all the old silver scars and stretch marks, stripes along your thighs that seemed to shimmer in the sunlight. This suit dipped low in the back, as modest as it still was in the chest. Would he think your boobs were too small? Too big? Too flat? Uneven? Could he tell?

Would it matter?

It was a vibrant colour against your skin, the same red as the cherries you’d scooped in your smoothie before you’d left, a shade off of Steve’s lifeguard shorts. It seemed too bright now, too silly, but you nodded regardless and tried not to make a big deal out of it.

Steve leant on the pool edge, chin resting on his tanned forearms, water dripping from his wet hair, clinging to his too long lashes. He tilted his head, appraising, gaze gentle, never staring. “S’nice. Colour looks good on you.”

His words made it a lot easier for you to unbutton your shorts and slip the denim over your hips. Chin ducked, you couldn’t hold eye contact, not bold enough quite yet. But you let the shorts drop from your thighs, hitting the tiles and you kicked them under the sun lounger as you flicked off your sliders at the same time. The sun was already blazing, rising higher in the sky, turning the tangerine edges into a warm blue and the heat of it slipped over your skin like a blanket.

Feeling a little less naked than before, you walked to the shallows, Steve swimming the length of the pool to meet you. You stopped just shy of the stairs, lips pressed together and brow furrowed, contemplating. Steve stopped too, watchful as you considered your next move the boy positively beamed when you dropped down to sit at the edge of the water.

The surface lapped at Steve waist when he stood, not too deep but certainly not the gentle entrance you’d become accustomed to. You cringed as you slipped both feet into the cool water, hands curling around the edge of the pool until your knuckles burned.

“Yeah?” Steve coaxed, sounding impressed. Proud. “You’ve got it. You can just slide right in, you’ll touch the bottom.”

You knew you would. The logic was in front of you, just like the bottom of the pool was very much visible. Looking down, you could see Steve’s feet on the tiles, rippling into funny shapes and sizes, his bare legs, just as tanned as the rest of him and dusted with coarse hair. He was planted there firmly, no current or waves to knock him over, steady as ever.

He lay his hands on the top of the water, palms up. His gaze met your own, his smile warmer than the morning. “I’m right here.”

It was comforting, his words, his closeness, even if you didn’t take his hands, he kept them there, waiting. It was enough for you to lean forward, bum slipping off of the warm tiled edge and into the cool water. You gasped as always from the shock of the temperature difference, the water rippling around the tops of your ribs and it was enough to make your nipples pebble, glaringly obvious under the new, thinner material of your suit.

If Steve noticed, he didn’t dare look down.

He did take a step forward though, enough for his toes to touch yours and you could count the freckles on the bridge of his nose, could see the chlorine water that still made his lashes cling together in spikes. It was intimate enough to make you wonder if something like this would’ve happened the night before if you’d stayed. If you had let Eddie and the boy shaped comfort blanket that he was go, if you’d hung back with Steve and shared secrets and drinks under the multicoloured lights, if you’d let him walk you home under the glow of street lamps.

If he would’ve kissed you at your front door.

But then the gate clanked noisily against the chain link fence and there was a splash big enough to soak your chest and the side of your face - Steve’s too - both screwed up in shock.

Eddie appeared from the water - the deeper, indigo coloured end - shaking his sopping curls like a wet, disobedient dog, his tattooed chest bare and much paler than Steve’s. He grinned through his curls, oblivious to whatever he’d just interrupted, his arms spread wide.

“What’s up, fuckers?”

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfic #Steve Harrington fanfiction #Steve Harrington oneshot

[nicksolemnlyswears]

DUDDDDE!!

I am in LOVE with your writing. I have been craving some good Han Lue works and you're filling the hole!

Everywhere is extremely lacking in quality Han Lue content bro 😭😭

But any whosies.

I was wondering if it were at all possible to request a Han work from you (from what I've seen you still have requests open so if you don't im sorry)

Specifically something about a reader who's fucking amazing at driving, and has been crushing on Han for a while, and the two decode to race (set in Tokyo) and whoever wins gets the loser to do what they want. Y'know classic setup.

You could choose where this leads to. Idc if we win or loose. All I want is a little bit of fluff sprinkled amongst some smut mayhaps. You could do this in headcannon format btw don't feel obligated to write the whole thing.

I'm just thirsting for any thing I can take 💀🙏🏼

Take your time! <3

pairing: han lue x racer!reader

words: 11.4k

warnings: some cursing and smut (pls wrap it before you tap it) don't judge my smut too much, it's been a while since i've written one

notes: hi anon! thank you for all your sweet, sweet words 🥺 i hope this is somewhere along the lines of what you were thinking of. as soon as i saw your request i was ✨inspired✨ it's been a long time since i've been so hooked by a oneshot. i have worked on it almost everyday since i received it so thank you! i changed the request just a little bit, i hope you don't mind.

trust me i know there is a ridiculous lack in han content! it's the reason i'm here writing over this man! there is not enough content for the speed i consume it, lol. i've read my own headcanons like 10 times already, excluding the times i was working on it.

anyways! might have gotten a little carried away but i enjoyed writing it so much! here you go! enjoy!

i really really hope you like it!!

Tokyo was the city where you learned how to street race. Weaving through the cars on the highway became second nature the harder you pressed the gas pedal. The neon lights turned into blurs as you sped down traffic, whether it was in search of a prize or a thrill.

You were meant to meet Han Lue. His presence became known as soon as he stepped foot in the parking complexes that serve as makeshift race tracks. He quickly became popular with the crowd, especially when he joined DK's crew.

His races were seen as exclusive, known to happen once in a blue moon. He was totally opposite to you. You took the opportunity to race any moment you could. It's what lead you to become a good racer. Practice makes perfect, after all.

'Good racer' is a bit of an understatement. You're one of the best right after DK. There's a debate about whether the second best is you or Han. Each person can take their pick. Many have suggested the idea for the both of you to race, but Han has shot down each and every one. He doesn't need to prove himself to anyone. Besides, he hasn't had anything to gain from racing you.

People like to call you 'Angel' because when you started participating in the races, you looked like an absolute angel, but soon after, they discovered you raced like the devil. You fool everyone around you, even with the way you drive. Whenever someone has to go against you, they think they have your strategy down, yet you switch it up every time.

The distinctive revving of your car alerts Han of your presence. He glances to his left, where you've parked right beside him. As you open the door and step out of your car, he opens a bag of chips, depositing one into his mouth.

You walk over to him, leaning against his car like he is. The bare skin of your back arching slightly as it touches the cool metal. "Have I missed anything?"

Han shakes his head cooly, watching his surroundings. He spares you a glance, taking in what you're wearing. A short, shimmery dress with an open back and high heels. Seems like you don't plan on racing tonight. You refuse to race in high heels. You've tried before and failed. You didn't lose, but you did break off both heels.

You feel his eyes trailing over your body, and you don't mind it. You like that you can catch his attention that way. Having a crush on a guy like Han takes work. He has every woman's attention in the racing underground. They often cling to his arms and bat their eyelashes his way, and he has gladly taken a few of them home.

"You done judging my outfit?" You say, looking at him.

"Not judging, admiring," he promptly replies with a small shrug.

That right there is what feeds into your silly little crush. Han isn't afraid of your comments or banter. If you look good, he'll say it. It's the way he says it that irks you, though. He is so nonchalant and aloof like he's commenting on the weather.

It doesn't help that he's never truly made a move on you. He considers you his friend and acts that way (most of the time, at least). You hate every moment because being his friend is the last thing you want.

"I take it you're not gonna race tonight?" He asks, already knowing the answer. He just needed an excuse to talk to you. Digging into his bag of chips, he grabbed another one to pop into his mouth.

"Not unless it's against you," you respond cheekily.

Han chuckles, "Not you too."

"Are you afraid of losing, Han?" You ask him, keeping your eyes on the race about to start. Why else would he avoid racing you?

Han props one arm on the roof of his car, facing you and saying, "If you're into racing, you can't be afraid to lose, Angel."

"Then why don't you spoil me a little and race me?" You hum, turning your head to face him. He's much closer than you anticipated, but you resist the urge to pull back despite the reddening of your cheeks. You want Han to know you like him even if you refuse to say it out loud.

"Maybe one day when I have something to race for," he responds simply, kissing your cheek and turning back to watch the race.

You release a shaky sigh and try to calm your pounding heart. Extending a hand, you dip your fingers into Han's nearly empty bag of chips and steal one for yourself. Han doesn't mind lowering the bag to make it easier for you. There's a smirk on his face as he fully well knows what he did. It's fun to make you flustered.

Han is out on the streets of Tokyo doing business or collecting his money from the greedy hands of wanna be gangsters. It's entertaining, to say the least, although sometimes it gets tedious. It's only fun when they get rowdy and want to intimidate him. They should know better than to judge Han by his calm exterior.

He's walking by the busy streets of Shibuya, the shopping district of Tokyo, minding his business. Han avoids the masses of people until he looks into a store and sees you. You're by the checkout desk, ringing out a client.

Han can't help it; he's drawn to you. Forgetting the wad money he has to collect, he enters the store. The bell on top of it chimes, prompting you to greet the customer in an abnormally cheery tone.

"Hello, welcome to-Han?" You stutter over the greeting, seeing his slightly mocking grin.

Han walks over to you and leans on the counter, there was barely anyone in the store now. Perfect timing. He assesses you and your overly pink clothes, bedazzled name tag, and glossy pink lips. It's unlike you to be so pink. He recalls you telling him you hate the wretched color.

"So this is where you work, Angel," he hums, toying with the trinkets on the checkout counter.

"Not everyone can survive with racing and sketchy side deals," You mutter. One hand on your tilted hip as you shoot him an annoyed look.

If racing made you enough money, you certainly would not be working in a store that makes you wear pink on every single shift. You could get more involved in the sketchy part of racing, but things are alright for now.

"True," Han stifles a laugh. He grabs a lollipop from the big jar filled with sweets for the paying customers and pops it into his mouth.

You extend a hand to throw away the colorful wrapping, and he places it gently on your hand, fingertips grazing your palm. You're not a teenager to be reacting over such minuscule actions, yet you do.

"What are you doing here, Han?" Han adores it when you say his name that way, pretending to be annoyed by his presence when in reality, you love having him around.

"Wanted to visit my favorite girl," he responds aloofly, carefully gauging your reaction. As he expected, your cheeks redden, and you try to hide it.

"Did you know lying makes your nose grow long," you scoff, rolling your eyes.

"Could be useful," Han says cheekily, causing your blush to deepen.

"If you're not going to buy anything, you can't be here," you shoot with a pout.

You weren't prepared to face Han this afternoon. You didn't get to repeat your affirmation as you do every night you encounter him. His constant playfulness throws you off, not giving you the opportunity to compose yourself.

"Oh no, consumerism got its claws on you," he jokes sarcastically. You glare at him and cross your arms over your chest, which only emphasizes the size of your chest. "Fine, help me find a new jacket?"

You round the counter and motion for Han to follow you toward the men's section. Your coworker will have no problem taking over the checkout counter.

You shoot Han question after question in search of the perfect jacket for him: colors, textures, durability, versatility, sizing, and so on. He responds just as quickly, propping an arm up and leaning against a rack of clothes as he watches you storm all over the store in search of the item that screams Han. He had no intentions of buying anything today but seeing how invested you got it leaves him no choice.

"I quite like this one," you beam, standing Han in front of a full-length mirror. You slide off the jacket he's wearing and replace it with the nice black leather jacket you found for him. Dusting him off, you look into the mirror seeing how perfectly it fits his broad shoulders.

"Why do I feel like you're giving me the most expensive one?" Han asks, looking at himself in the mirror.

He had to admit you picked well. He looks great in the black leather jacket. It didn't have too many buckles to make him uncomfortable, and it wasn't too warm either. The material felt nice and luxurious hence his comment.

"You asked for my help," you shrug, "It's not my fault I have expensive taste. Besides, you look hot in it." You wink at Han through the mirror.

Han tries to hide the smile forming on his lips. You were getting bolder and bolder. He knows about your crush on him; you're terrible at hiding it. Truthfully, he's felt the same from the moment he saw you race. You're oblivious, though, so he likes to tease you.

"I'll take it," Han sighs, refusing to look at the price tag. "Might even wear it on a date."

"Oh, you've got a date?" Your smile falters, quickly regretting picking such a nice outfit that makes him look so handsome. You'd definitely put out if a man wore that to a date and was as lovely as Han. All of your hard work just for another girl to enjoy it. If you catch one of Han's little friends wrapped around the jacket...you will burn it.

"Not yet," he says mysteriously, taking off the jacket and returning to the checkout counter. Han has to get going. He does have to collect his money. Especially now that you've convinced him to buy the expensive leather jacket. 'It's an investment,' he tells himself.

"She'll be one lucky girl," you huff, scanning the tag, carefully folding it, and placing it on a bag. "Don't worry, I'll apply the friends and family discount."

You watch Han go through the display window and hope he was just fucking with you on the whole date thing. You can live with your crush and have him as just a friend, but if he gets a girlfriend, you will not be able to manage it. You scold yourself silently for acting like a lovesick teenager. You're better than that. Right?

Taking the party to Han's club after a race is a must, especially after winning six thousand dollars. You won't have to worry about rent for at least six months, which is something to celebrate.

You park next to Han's car, and he waits for you to enter the plain-looking building. People greet him left and right as they go through the door that pours music and lights each time it's opened.

"You sure are popular," you tease him, leisurely walking towards him.

"Comes with the territory," Han responds without missing a beat. "Ready?" He asks, motioning for you to walk ahead of him.

"Always," you chirp. You purposefully accentuate the sway of your hips, giving Han something to look at.

Being a Friday night, the inside is filled to the brim, there isn't any space for more drunken people. Using your short height to your advantage, you easily find a way to the connecting hallway between this part of the club and the more exclusive one.

Han isn't as lucky constantly losing you from his sight. He's conscious that you are a grown woman capable of making your own decisions and caring for yourself, but he'd feel better being with you.

When he catches up to you at a point, he grabs your hips, pressing you against him, preventing you from getting lost again. You look back, startled, expecting to see a stranger rubbing against you. Noticing this, Han quickly calms you, "It's just me, Angel."

'It's just Han,' you repeat to yourself. You grab onto one of his hands, holding onto your hip, taking full advantage of the situation. Having Han wrapped around you feels like being on cloud nine. If this wasn't his club, you'd be going in circles, so he never pulls away.

With Han holding onto you, the way to the 'not-so-secret' hallway takes longer than usual. Not that you're complaining, though! Han's firm grip makes you fall harder for him. It fuels your imagination on how it would feel in other situations.

Han enjoys this position just as much as you do. He can pretend it's a safety thing as he steers you away from the sweaty bodies of drunks dancing, but it's for his selfish gain.

Having your body close to him reminds him of what he's missing and desperately desires. It started as a little innocent game for Han, knowing you had a crush on him, but then it turned into something more. He likes that you have feelings for him and wants it to stay that way. Han wants your attention on him all the time. His games are over; he wants you.

To your surprise, Han doesn't let go of your waist when you enter the hallway. Instead, he slings one arm around it as he walks beside you. "Maybe we should've taken the other entrance," he smirks.

"And miss the show?" You chuckle, finding a couple making out in the deserted hallway. Neither is willing to admit it's not about the show but about Han's proximity.

Unlike all the other times in the past you've partied with Han, he doesn't let go of you for more than two minutes. You dance all night together, just the two of you, no girls coming up to Han and no guys coming up to you. There simply wasn't a window of opportunity.

"You enjoying yourself?" He says in your ear over the loud music. Your back is against his front as your sway and roll your body to the beat. One of his hands is nursing a drink, and the other is right where it should be, on you.

"I won 6k and have a cute guy buying me drinks and dancing with me. What do you think?" You giggle, turning in his arms to face him instead. The drinks stop you from overthinking and let you wrap your arms around his neck. Faces close. You want to kiss him so bad you're not drunk enough, though, and it's not the way you'd like to do it, either.

"Just making sure," he smiles down at you, hand on your lower back.

The night is long, yet with Han, it goes by so fast. Sooner than you'd prefer, he walks you to your car, no longer holding onto your waist but your hand. There are only a few stragglers left behind who refuse to acknowledge the night is over. You and Han are two of them.

Reaching your white and red, modified skyline Han opens the door for you. With one arm propped against the open door and the other extended onto the roof, Han cages you against your car. Before you get in, you turn to face him, finding the bravery to do something you've been thinking about all night.

"Thanks for tonight, Han. I had fun," you say softly, suddenly feeling shy.

"Anytime, Angel," he responds smoothly, brushing his fingers on your naked shoulder. The jacket you wore earlier was discarded somewhere in the bar. An excuse for Han to see you outside the races.

"Well, goodnight." Gathering every particle of bravery, you stand on your toes and peck his lips softly.

It's only a tiny, innocent kiss, yet it makes Han close his eyes. It happens too quickly for his liking. You have been growing bolder, bold enough to kiss him. He needs to step up his game.

Taking advantage of his distracted state, you close your car door and rev the engine. On the drive to your apartment, you squeal in excitement. Fingers ghost over your lips, replaying the small kiss over and over again.

Another chance at a race becomes available only days after your win. Men love to challenge women, especially those who are winning, much like you are.

They hate seeing you be successful, but it doesn't bother you in the least. It's another opportunity to win cash or a car, which you can use for parts and sell what you don't need.

As you roll up to the starting line, Han approaches your window, leaning down to duck his head in.

"Come to give me a good luck kiss?" You speak playfully, lips turned up into a smile.

You two haven't talked about what happened at the club and have continued to act as you usually do. He's been more touchy with you, though, often trying to find a way to be close to you. Being the lovestruck fool you are, you've encouraged it, finding those ways to let him be close.

"We both know you don't need luck. You've got this in the bag, Angel." Han speaks encouragingly, "Tell you what, though. You win, and it's yours."

"Making me earn it, I see," you laugh, shaking your head. "Alright, you've got a deal. See you on the other side."

Han is confident you'll win. With a last reassuring tap on your door, he steps back, finding his place in the crowd.

Your opponent finally drives up to the starting line, sending you an unnecessary nasty look you laugh at. The flag girl stands between the two cars, her dress leaving nothing to the imagination. You respect it. They are a lot more confident than you are in that department.

You are off when the word 'go' falls from her lips. You knew this track by heart, having raced it so many times. You knew exactly when to hit the gas and when to press the brake to get the car to swerve. Han's full attention is on your race, and when your car disappears to another level, he takes the elevator up to the top floor, where the finish line is. Watching you race is interesting. You always come up with ways to confuse your opponents.

With a bag of chips, he anxiously waits for your victory. Regardless of your ability to race and win, your races make him nervous. He cares about you, and so many things can go wrong.

The noisy crowd gets louder as the sound of tires screeching gets closer. In seconds, your car swerves onto the top floor, again marking you as the victor. There's not a scratch or bump in your car. Your opponent arrives shortly after with dents and long scratches in his paint.

The crowd cheers loudly for you, coming up to you to congratulate you and tell you how cool you looked. Your opponent comes up to you and hands you his keys with a scowl. You shrug it off. A deal is a deal.

Winning leaves you on a high, a feeling of invincibility wrapping around you. You've learned to control it because that feeling caused a big loss years ago. You get distracted by the people around you and forget Han's promise. It's funny because it was the only thing running through your head while you raced.

"Good job out there," Han says, catching up to you later in the night once the hype died down.

"Why, thank you!" You chirp, closing the hood of your car and leaning back to sit on it.

"I believe I made a promise," Han mentions, stepping close to you until you're face to face, only a few inches between the two of you. "You did," you nod, biting your lip.

Han notices this, bringing a hand up to cup your face, his thumb tugging your lip loose from the tight hold of your teeth. The other wraps around your waist, pulling you close. You slide on the warm metal of your car, placing a hand on his chest to brace yourself as Han settles between your legs.

"I'm a man of my word," he whispers, finally leaning down to press his eager lips against yours. Han is greedy for many things, and your lips are one of them. Ever since that night at the club, he's wanted to smash his lips against yours, to feel you close, taste you.

Your eyes instantly flutter close, fisting Han's shirt in your hand as if afraid he'll pull away too quickly. The kiss starts slowly as you both test the waters, but it soon becomes not enough. Han tilts his head, deepening the kiss.

It's an electric shock that consumes him and doesn't let him go. This is the result of Han holding himself back, and you made it worse when you gave him a taste the other night.

Han slips a hand under your shirt, feeling the warmth of your skin. You gasp against his lips, arching your back as his cold fingers catch you by surprise. It serves as an opportunity for Han, his tongue pushing past your pouty lips, savoring the moment.

You gave into him, offering everything you have in exchange for this moment. His warmth wraps around you, burning you from the inside out. The need to breathe makes itself present too soon and becomes far more demanding than the need for each other's lips.

Han pulls away, your bottom lip between his teeth. You're breathless, as if you ran a marathon. You feel lightheaded, intoxicated by Han, who continues to peck your lips softly. He might be addicted already. The tips of his fingers draw soothing circles on your lower back, grounding you in the moment.

"So this is what winning feels like," you breathe out, smoothing Han's shirt with your palms. A futile way to hide their shakiness.

Han laughs, pressing his face against your neck and leaving a fleeting kiss behind. "Appears so, Angel."

A perk of being Han's friend is using his garage whenever you want. The days of paying for a spot to fix your car in a stranger's garage are far in the past. At the moment, you've spent the most part of the afternoon upgrading your car. The car you won on your last race sits beside yours with the hood popped open as you switched around pieces. He had quality parts, and his driving still sucked.

Twinkie, Earl, and the others are scattered around the large garage, working on different things and chattering. You had purposefully picked a spot away from them so you wouldn't get distracted. With work, your time is limited.

Han is on the second floor, leaning against the railing and pretending to watch the first floor and what they are doing. In reality, he is watching you closely.

You're bent over the hood of the car, working on unscrewing a tight bolt, cursing at the man who installed it initially. It's a sight straight out of his dreams. Your Nike sweatpants hung low on your hips, framing your ass perfectly. If he focused, he'd see the dimples on your lower back. His mind ran wild at the thought of pressing his thumbs against them while taking you from behind.

It's been a while since he's slept around. He cut himself off when he realized his feelings for you. What was the point of sleeping around if he wouldn't be satisfied? Those girls weren't you. They were temporary relief. Now, his pants tighten at anything you do. It's like he's seventeen again and unable to keep it in his pants.

He followed the curve of your ass to your arched back and the cropped shirt you wore. The matching crew neck sweater you arrived in is discarded in your car due to the heat. The revealing shirt rose with each of your movements, revealing the band of your baby blue bra. You tug on it for the millionth time today, annoyed.

The strands of hair you curled to frame your face stick uncomfortably to your sweaty forehead. You regret not putting them back into the two braids that fell over your shoulders.

Han needed to rip his eyes away from you before the others noticed. He's been staring for too long, fantasizing about everything he could do to you. To Han, you looked even more beautiful than you did that night with your sparkly dress and makeup. A woman who knows her way around a car is instantly a hundred times more attractive in his eyes.

As he accidentally visualizes you taking his cock from that same exact position, car included, you groan and straighten up. "I need help," you whine to no one in particular. The bolt is not budging, no matter how hard you try.

Han snaps out of his fantasy and springs into action, quickly appearing by your side. You've bent over again, wrench in hand, to give it one more try before giving up. He leans beside you, a hand on your lower back for faux support.

"What's the matter, Angel?" He says softly, one hand propping him up as he looks at the machinery under the hood. It's better if he helps you. He can't continue listening to your whines and groans.

"I need to unscrew those," you point at the bolts giving you a hard time.

Han asks for the wrench in your hands, and you place it in his hand, annoyed. You don't need the help of a man to do this, but it's Han, so you'll take it. You watch him as he places the wrench around the bolt, his arm tenses, emphasizing his muscles hidden by the short-sleeved button-up he wore over a white wife-beater tank.

His hair fell around his eyes as he successfully unscrewed the bolts. Feminism died as you lustfully took in Han, biting your lip. 'What a man,' you thought. You would've instantly refused the help if he had been any other guy.

"There you go," Han says, handing you the wrench. When he spares you a glance, he laughs softly. Good to know he has the same effect you have on him.

"Whatever would I do without you," you purr, shooting him a mischievous smile, "You deserve a reward." That's what it has come to, silly excuses to kiss Han because you're just friends. Nothing more.

Han looks at your lips briefly before snapping back to your eyes. You grin at him, leaning closer to kiss him for his 'hard work.' You know that he's been watching you all this time; you saw it from the reflective surface of the toolbox. Seeing his quickness to help you makes you believe he enjoyed the show.

Your lips brush teasingly against his, and just before Han can grab the back of your neck to stop the teasing, a loud bang tears through the room. Both you and Han pull away to see where the sound comes from, but Han bangs his head on the car's hood in the process.

"What the hell was that?" Han yells, rubbing the back of his head. He's annoyed that he's been interrupted.

"Sorry! The motor I was working on fell!" Earl exclaims from the other side of the garage, unaware of the daggers Han is throwing him.

"Best I get back to work," you quietly say with a chuckle, taking the piece you needed out of the car to bring it to yours.

"Yeah," Han says simply, reluctantly leaving to do his own thing.

Each and everyone that's in Han's garage returns to their business after the noisy interruption. Twinkie turns on a radio, blasting music to drown out the silence and clanking of tools. You work without interruption for the next three hours, giving your car all the love it deserves.

You clean your hands free of the motor oil and grease and search for Han. Your work for today was done. Now that you took anything valuable from the car you won, you had to sell it. You figured Han could do that for you.

"Hey, are you busy?" You ask him, seeing him working on a part by his desk.

"Nah, what's up, Angel?" He questions, dropping the screwdriver in his hand to focus all his attention on you.

Leaning on the desk casually, you begin speaking, "After I replace the bumper and give it a new paint job, can you sell that car for me?"

"Shouldn't be a problem," glancing at the car, Han agrees. It's a popular car in the racing world, and as soon as he gets the word out he's selling it, many offers will pop up.

"You're the best, Han!" You beam at him, pushing yourself off the desk to return downstairs.

"Angel, wait," he calls after you. Being your friend has been fun, yet he needs more. You shouldn't have to come up with excuses to kiss him; you should be able to do it freely whenever you want.

"Yes, Han," you ask softly, tilting your head in question.

Standing up from the rolling chair, he approaches you, "Do you want to go on a date?"

A grin sneaks past your lips before you even process what he said. Instantly, you nod your head, "I'd love to." You could combust at that moment. Finally, after months of pining, Han asked you out.

"Let's go," he smiles, grabbing your hand and guiding you to his car.

"Wait, now?" You furrow your eyebrows.

"Yes, unless you have something more important," he asks, teasing you.

"Nothing is more important, but I'm a mess," you shake your head hesitantly. You spent your afternoon working on cars, sweating, and getting covered in grease. You didn't think it would be in sweatpants when you pictured going on a date. Not to mention the state of your hair.

"No, you're not. If you must know, you've had me distracted all day," Han whispers the last part in your ear, trying to convince you even if it means giving himself away.

"Am I supposed to apologize?" You question, the corner of your lip curving into a sultry smile. You had been right all along.

"No, just agree to the date. Be spontaneous," Han bounces his eyebrows cutely.

"Let's do it," you sigh, hoping you won't regret it.

"Atta girl," Han smiles victoriously.

Han tries to remember the last time he had a proper date. Even with his ex, they just sort of happened. No date ever officially branded as such. It's why rather than asking you and waiting for the day to arrive, he decided to do it spontaneously. It leaves him no time to be nervous or to overthink things.

You slide your sweatshirt back on on the way out to shield yourself from the chilly Japanese night. Han opens the door to his car for you, shutting the door when you slip in. The drive is short as he takes you to a small family-owned sushi place he swears by.

"I'm surprised you eat more than chips and crackers," you joke with him as the food arrives, and he takes a bite.

"I definitely eat more than that," Han replies nonchalantly, referring to something else entirely. It's something you don't catch despite your dirty mind.

A discussion develops when you discover Han always orders the same thing in the restaurant. He's in Japan. He needs to throw himself into the culture and try new things.

Starting easy, you grab a piece of sushi from your plate, "You need to try this."

"I don't know," Han grimaces as he looks at the sushi held in your chopsticks.

"That's not an answer. Open your mouth," you groan, gently placing the sushi roll in his mouth.

You watch him chew slowly, getting a feel for the new food. "It's good," he agrees, liking whatever you had ordered. It was delicious, actually.

"Better than yours, right?" You ask him, knowingly, pointing your chopsticks at him.

"Yes," he rolls his eyes, refusing to give you the satisfaction.

"Told you," you sing, grabbing both plates and placing them in the middle of the table. Now you could each grab from both and share your meals.

The date goes smoothly. It's a wonder why the two of you hadn't gone to dinner before today. You already know Han is attentive and funny but his wisdom surprises you. He's already lived through so much, more than an average person. Despite being a couple years older than you, he retains his youth. That may be why he appeals to a younger crowd as well.

"What was your life like growing up?" You ask him, taking a drink from your Coke. Han ordered another plate of sushi to share, the one you chose earlier.

"My upbringing wasn't the best," he shrugs, remembering his life in California as a teen. "I was always in trouble."

"Why does something tell me that you were the one causing the trouble," you say, narrowing your eyes.

"I definitely was," he chuckles, "But in the end, it brought me here, and I'm happy."

Han believes in the timing of life. He's been after Tokyo for so long. Before stepping foot in Tokyo, he had to go through the Dominican Republic, Rio, Germany, Shanghai, London, and many more places. It was supposed to happen that way, or he wouldn't have met you.

"I knew it," you sigh dramatically, "I've always been into bad boys."

"What about you, Angel?" He returns the question, curious about your past.

"I grew up in a normal Japanese family. My dad's a mechanic, my mom a nurse, and my sister a pain in the ass. I went to school for engineering and graduated with top honors," you tell him, reminiscing on your not-as-impressive past.

"You say that as if it's easy to graduate with top honors," Han chides you, to which you roll your eyes. "Why work retail? Doesn't engineering make you a lot more money?"

"Don't laugh, okay?" You point at Han. When he agrees not to laugh, you continue, "I wanted to be a Formula 1 racer when I was younger. My dad signed me up to participate in smaller competitions, and I was pretty damn good. My mom was totally against it and forced my dad and me to quit.

Fast forward, I'm in college, and engineering seemed like the way to go. Learned about street racing and figured that could be a way back into my dream. It's a foolish thought. The professionals spend years in proper circuits practicing and competing. No one comes with a background of illegal racing."

Han wasn't expecting that answer. He assumed you hated engineering and did it to appease your parents. He wonders why you thought he would laugh. Your dream is nothing to laugh at. Having witnessed your racing, you undoubtedly had the innate talent. "So retail?" He prompts, realizing you didn't answer the first question.

Snapping your fingers, you say, "Right! I figured I'd always have my degree. I'd rather spend my time having fun now; when the time comes, I'll return to that. I do like it, but I'm not ready to commit to a life of 9 to 5's. I prefer spending my time in the wee hours of the night racing. Since I can't be a Formula 1 racer, I'll be a street racer. Much cooler, anyways."

"That takes guts," Han tells you, "I'm glad you're doing it."

You give him a little shrug and a smile because you were too. Despite your childish dream dying when your mom forced you to quit, you're still happy with your life. Especially if you end up with a guy like Han.

Han, being a gentleman, pays for dinner. Before returning to the car, you stop by a convenience store for dessert. Han follows you buying snacks for himself. In search of something sweet, you find a shelf filled with Pocky. You grab the chocolate-covered ones with a plan in mind.

You and Han sit at a table outside the convenience store. It was getting late, so only a few people were around. You open the packet of Pocky, taking out a chocolate-covered stick.

"Have you ever played the Pocky game?" You ask, taking a bite of the treat.

"No. What is it?" Han looks at you curiously.

"Essentially, you grab one end of the Pocky stick, and I grab the other. We have to eat it, but if one of us pulls away, they lose," you respond simply, hiding the game's purpose.

"That sounds awfully like Lady and the Tramp," Han mentions, catching onto your intentions.

Offering him a stick, you say, "Want to play?"

Han smiles at you and grabs the Pocky stick placing the biscuit end between his teeth. You hold the chocolate-covered end and tap his hand to start. You both take it slow, Han opting to stay still as you near his lips. You tilt your head when you're close to his lips, giving him the perfect opportunity to kiss you when only a small piece is left.

You smile into the chocolate-flavored kiss. If you wanted to kiss Han, you could've done it without so many sneaky plans or excuses, but it wouldn't be as fun.

"So, who won?" Han asks when you pull away.

"Does it matter?" You cheekily say, pulling him back in for another kiss.

There's no flaw in your reasoning. Han pulls you close, lifting your legs to lie in his lap. You spend more time than you care to admit making out outside the convenience store.

Han offers to drive you to your apartment since your car needs to be finished. Throughout the drive, his hand is laced with yours in your lap. Small talk flows between you as you continue to learn about each other.

Smoke coming from your apartment building cuts that conversation short. Firefighters stand outside the building, spraying water into the source of the fire. Han steps out of the car with you to ask anyone what is going on.

Noticing the building manager across the street, you approach him. He quickly blurts out all the information he knows. You're one of many of the tenants to approach him. "There's a fire on the sixth floor. We don't know the damage yet. I understand this is your residence, but you need somewhere else to say for the next few days while we asses the damage and inspect the building."

"What am I going to do?" You groan, covering your face with your hands. You worry about where you'll stay and your stuff in your apartment. You have important documents in there.

"You can stay with me," Han offers without a hint of hesitation.

"Are you sure? I don't want to impose." It's nice of Han to offer you a place to stay, but would it be too much at this stage of their situationship. Last thing you want is to push boundaries.

"You're not imposing. Let me help you," Han insists, grabbing your hand to rub soothing circles in it. It's a given he has feelings for you, but before that, you are his friend, and he's not going to leave you out on the streets or sleeping in your car.

Han offers you calming words on the way to his apartment. Your apartment is on the twelfth floor and the other side of the fire. Chances are that your stuff will probably be fine. Whether the building will close for renovations is another matter entirely.

His apartment is just another level to the building he owns. Its entrance is on a more private side. Inside, it's very clean and organized, a surprise since you expect most guys to be messy. Picture frames and knick knacks are scattered throughout the space, giving you more of a glimpse into Han's life.

It's quiet between the two of you but comfortable. Han is giving you time to process what you saw in your building. He offers you his shower if you'd like, and when you brought up you didn't have any clothes, he searched for a clean t-shirt and sweatpants you could borrow from him.

A shower is just what you need as you let the water cascade down your body. Fire aside, it has been a great day, even before Han asked you on a date. Hope fills your being at the prospect of soon beginning a relationship with Han. So far, everything points out it can happen. There haven't been any red flags or hesitation from him.

You change into the oversized t-shirt Han picked out for you and the spare pair of underwear you always carry in your bag. Smart girls know to carry a spare in case of emergencies. You debate about wearing the sweatpants he left for you but choose against it. The t-shirt covers enough.

You shyly make your way out of the bathroom in search of Han. You find him in the bedroom, grabbing an extra pillow and blanket. "The bed is yours," he mentions, eyes briefly trailing your naked legs.

"Where will you sleep?" You ask, furrowing your eyebrows. If anyone has to sleep on the couch, it should be you.

"I'll take the couch," he responds, as you expected.

"Han, stop being a gentleman and get in bed with me," you say, taking the pillow from his grasp and placing it back on the top of the bed.

He offers you an 'Are you sure?' look, and you nod confidently. He doesn't need to be told twice. Han steps out of the bedroom for a few minutes and grabs a shower. Taking that time, you get on the bed to get comfortable, it's soft, and you sink into it.

You're snoozing off when he returns to the room. Han carefully peels back the sheets and gets under them. Feeling the bed dip, you turn to the side to face him.

Your sleepy mood makes you cuddle up to him without much thought. The smell of his soap invades your senses. Han naturally accepts it, throwing an arm around your waist and hugging you closer, legs intertwined. He kisses the top of your head, finding comfort in the position.

Thankful doesn't begin to cover how you feel. There's this overwhelming sense of security that comes with Han. There is something about him that makes you trust him. Deep down, you know he wouldn't intentionally hurt you.

"How are you feeling?" Han checks up on you before you fall asleep.

"I'm okay. I hope none of my things got damaged," you mumble into his chest, pressing a kiss into it afterward. "Thank you for everything, Han. Your help with the car, the date, letting me invade your bed," you finish with a soft laugh.

"Anytime, Angel," he responds truthfully. If he can help you in any way, he will. Sleep consumes both quickly after, and it becomes the best night you've both had in a while.

The following day you're the first to wake. Han's arms are around your waist, and you feel his breath tickle the back of your neck. He's warm, and you just want to sink into it even more. Your need to pee pries you out of his embrace, though. 

As carefully as possible, you slip out of his loose grasp and head to the bathroom. Han had picked out a toothbrush for you the night before, which you're thankful for. Shuffling out of the bathroom, you cook breakfast for Han as a 'thank you' for his hospitality.

You pick the ingredients you need from his fridge, careful not to make too much noise. Your progress is slower than you prefer as you get used to the kitchen layout and localize everything you might need.

Soon enough, you drop pancake batter into the pan, and while that cooks, you scramble eggs with veggies. Since it's his kitchen, you assume he'll like what you make. It's his ingredients, after all.

Just after finishing the last batch of pancakes, you hear the patter of Han's feet entering the kitchen. You turn to glance at him quickly and greet him, "Good morning! I made you breakfast, sit!"

"You didn't have to do that," Han says, coming up behind you. He traps you between his body and the stove as if having you close last night wasn't enough.

"Yes, I did! You let me stay here, borrow clothes, sleep in your bed," you flip the pancakes as you count all the nice things he's done in less than 24 hours.

Humming, unconvinced, Han kisses your cheek and thanks you. It sends a tingle between your legs as his voice is raspy and deep from sleep. Your cheeks flare up, betraying you as always.

Han follows your orders and sits by the kitchen table, waiting till you're done to begin eating. With that time in his hands, he observes you. You're wearing the t-shirt he loaned you, which swallowed your frame. Each time you flipped a pancake, it rose slightly to reveal the light green fabric of your panties. Han soaked the sight in and wondered if this was what waited for him in the near future.

His eyes continue trailing down to your thick thighs. He wouldn't mind being trapped between them. Lower and lower, his gaze went from your pretty legs to your varnished toes. Back up, it went as you turned off the stove and approached the table. You weren't wearing a bra under the t-shirt, as your nipples poked through the thin fabric.

Han's glad he didn't notice these things last night, or he wouldn't have been able to sleep a wink. Spreading his legs, he tried to hide the hard-on he was sporting. None the wiser, you sit on the empty chair near him and tell him to eat up.

Shooing the dirty thoughts from his mind, Han thanks you one more time and digs in. It's a lovely morning, with light chatter bouncing between you. Han praises your cooking every chance he gets and even finishes the pancakes you left over but not before drenching them in more syrup. When both of you are done, you clear the plates and place them in the sink to wash.

"Angel, come 'ere," Han calls from behind you.

Mindlessly you walk over to him, wondering what he wants. Han grabs your waist, pulling you to his lap. "Han, what are you doing? I have to do the dishes!" You squeal, holding onto him, afraid he'd let you fall.

"No, you don't," he speaks softly, one hand cupping your cheek.

"I don't?" you prompt, leaning into his touch.

"Let me properly thank you," he offers, lips chasing yours. Han can't contain himself any longer. You've done a number on him, strutting around his kitchen in your underwear. He wants you. He needs you.

You lean into the kiss as you always do, pouring everything you have into it. Tasting the coffee on his tongue, you bring your hand around the back of his neck, softly tugging the long strands of hair. Han groans into the kiss, having missed that sensation.

Repositioning yourself, you straddle Han in the rickety kitchen chair. You feel his hands all over your body, trailing down your back to grasp your ass in his palms. Every so often, you'd resurface to breathe but dip down again and again to continue kissing him.

Han feels himself harden as you rub your center against him deliciously. It's clear as day you want him just as much as he wants you.

"Want to spoil me and fuck me?" You breathe heavily, kissing Han's neck.

"So bold," Han chuckles, his hands wandering under the t-shirt to feel your warm skin, his nails faintly scratching your back, sending shivers down your spine. "Six months ago, you would've been too scared to ask me that."

Six months ago, you would've been too scared to kiss him on the cheek, but you've come a long way. As time passes, you realize your feelings are not one-sided because Han means every word he speaks to you despite his taunting nature. Each and every complement is honest.

"I got tired of waiting around for you," you bite back, nipping his neck and sucking a pretty bruise on it.

Han hisses at the momentary sting, "I thought I was just a friend?"

You laugh sarcastically, picking your head up to stare at him, "I don't let friends kiss me or grope my ass."

"What does that make me then?" Han raises an eyebrow, cheekily squeezing your ass as a smirk forms on his lips.

"Special," you shrug, lips pouty and swollen.

"Because?" He wants to hear you say that you feel something for him. It's a last hurrah on giving you a hard time for fun.

You realize it's time to be honest and come out with it. You stopped hiding your feelings a while ago. Hell, you even asked Han to fuck you. All that's left is to admit your feeling out loud. "Because I have feelings for you, Han Lue," you whisper, brushing the hair that threatens to fall over his eyes.

"That's all you had to say," Han murmurs, catching your lips in a passionate kiss.

The heat rises with each passing moment. Your feelings have now come to a boil and bubbled over. Han picks you up easily and sits you on the kitchen table. He leaves his touch on your naked back to trace the outside of your thighs. It's time to give you precisely what you asked for and what he has been fantasizing about for far too long.

Grabbing the elastic band of your panties, Han slides them down the curve of your ass and your thighs until they are off. He throws them somewhere in the room, the information unimportant for now.

"Han, please," you whine, spreading your legs wider and giving him access to your most private part. You beg between kisses to feel his touch where you need it most.

"So impatient, Angel." Han jabs lightly as his right-hand touches the inside of your thigh. The pads of his fingers brush over your thighs repeatedly, nearing the apex more and more with each stroke.

You gasp as he finally dips a finger into your folds, gathering the slick that formed to spread it around your bundle of nerves. You gasp, breaking the kiss and throwing your head back.

Han sucks on your neck and collarbones as you moan into the air. Slipping a finger into your tight walls, he groans, thinking about how they'll feel around his hard cock.

"Fuck, Han, feels so good," you sigh when Han adds another digit into your soaking core and presses on your clit with his thumb.

"I didn't realize I made you this wet," he says into your neck as you grind your hips into his hand. You must've been wanting this for as long as he has.

"Liar," you respond, staring at him with hooded eyes. The nights you've touched yourself while thinking about him are many. The real thing is a million times better.

Han watches you intently, catching every little reaction you have to his touch. The moans and whines echo through the room and are music to his ears. Without a doubt, there's a wet patch in his boxers as his tip leaks precum from the erotic sight in front of him.

Your walls clenching around him alert him you're close, and promptly after you make it known as you beg him not to stop, except he doesn't listen and stops just as you're about to cum.

"Why did you stop?" You complain, eyes wide in desperate need.

"Want you to cum on my tongue," he responds, stealing a quick kiss before he kneels on the floor. Wrapping his strong arms around your thighs, he scoots you closer to the edge.

His words shoot another current down your legs, no doubt making more of a mess. You wait with bated breath as Han kisses the inside of your thighs, making eye contact with you as he delves into your pussy.

He licks up from your hole up to your clit. You grasp his hair with one hand, pulling the t-shirt up with the other to better look at him going down on you. Your eyes roll involuntarily when Han wraps his lips around your clit, sucking and flicking it with his tongue. His long fingers find your opening once more, sliding in effortlessly.

You try to maintain eye contact with Han through it all. If his hair fell on his eyes, you'd quickly brush it back, not wanting to miss his lustful gaze. It spurred Han on to see you crumbling over him, biting your lip as you tried to hide the pretty cries that wanted to fall from your lips.

Han stops licking your clit and slows his thrusting fingers each time you near your orgasm. Time and time again, he repeats this when you're near the edge. Only when your arousal coats his hand he keeps his pace, and as you whine out, 'gonna cum, don't stop,' he slips his tongue into your pussy, tasting your cum directly from the source.

He makes a great example of what his nose can do as it brushes over your clit while he tongue fucks you. You trap Han between your legs as your pussy clenches, your orgasm coming in waves. As you relax back onto the kitchen table, Han continues to lick your puffy center, being careful with your sensitive nub.

When he stands, you fist his t-shirt, smashing your lips together, tasting your essence. "Let's take this to the bedroom," Han pants. You nod eagerly and squeal when he picks you up, your legs wrapped around his waist.

You leave a trail of kisses on his neck as he makes his way to the bedroom. Once there, you both fall on the bed, Han hovering over you. He tugs on your t-shirt, "As much as I love seeing you in my clothes, this has to come off."

Without the shirt, he can admire your naked body. A lone finger slides down from your neck to your sternum. It slides to your side near the curve of your left breast, where a small sakura flower is tattooed.

"This is my new favorite thing about you," Han softly says, noticing you staring at him.

The tattoo was an impulsive thing to do. You had wanted a tattoo for years but never knew what to get. After your last breakup two years ago, you got the little flower instead of getting bangs and dying your hair. It has no real meaning to you. It's just a cute flower.

"You're the first to see it since I got it done," you tell him, a laugh bubbling from your lips as his touch on your ribs tickles.

"And I hope it stays that way," he responds. It's an unspoken promise. He wants you all to himself for the foreseeable future.

His finger continues the trajectory down your tummy, lightly going over your belly button before it traces over your mound and dips to touch your clit.

You gasp at the surge of pleasure as your clit remains sensitive from his previous actions. "Gotta say it's not fair that I'm the only one naked," you moan when Han continues to circle your nub.

"What are you gonna do about it?" Han incites you to see what you'll do.

Any remaining shyness you had is long gone as lust replaces it. You kneel in front of Han, who leans back to watch you. Your chest is close to his face, so when you lean closer to grab the hem of his shirt, he sucks one of your nipples. 

"Han," you whine, arching your back," "Stop distracting me."

Ignoring his mouth on you, you grab his shirt and pull it off. Successfully making him stop his attack on your breasts. You peck his lips and kiss down his jaw.

You take your time kissing his toned chest and stomach. You wish to memorize every part of him. "You're so handsome, Han," you purr, glancing up at him.

Those simple words that spilled from your mouth made his heart flutter. Han is used to being the one to dish out compliments and praise the women he's with. To have you say that is like a breath of fresh air, and he can't wait to have more.

"Fuck, Angel," he groans, grasping your chin. You kiss his palm with a smile that's equally angelic and devilish.

You want to peel two more layers off Han's body and decide to do it all at once. Grasping the band of his pants and boxers, you slowly pull them down, building anticipation.

His cock springs out of its confines, landing on Han's abdomen. You don't hide your curious gaze as you take in his cock. It's so big it makes you bite your lip in anticipation. The tip is a dark pink as it drips with precum.

After you remove his pants entirely, you grasp his cock, feeling the warmth and weight of it. Han breathes out through his nose, a futile attempt to keep his cool. A string of saliva drips from your lips, coating his hard length. Each stroke you made caused a bead of pre to spill from him.

You take it as an invitation to taste him, wrapping your lips around his head your tongue licks the beads of white. 

Han does the impossible not to push your head down to take all of him. The thought is present, though. You've barely teased him compared to how he teased you, but Han can no longer resist. 

"I need you," Han groans, calling out your name, not the nickname you've been donned for the past three years.

You don't take it for granted. Hearing your name sends you into overdrive. Han pulls you up to kiss you and lies you down on the top of the bed. He comfortably gets between your legs that hug his waist to bring him closer. His cock brushes your wet pussy, and you both hiss at the sensation. Your pussy clenches around nothing at the thought of having Han fill you entirely.

"You ready, Angel?" Han asks you. One arm holding him up and the other wrapped around your thigh, giving you a comforting squeeze. Time stops ticking at that moment. It's just you and Han wrapped in each other. 

"I've been ready for the past month, Han. Fuck me, please," you plead quietly, your fingertips running up and down his back. 

"Just because you said, please." Han lines his cock up to your entrance and pushes past your lips into your warm center. Relief floods through the both of you, but it soon dissipates, and it's replaced by waves of unfiltered lust.

Han starts fucking into you deep, at the perfect pace. Your eyes involuntarily close as you feel Han's cock stretching you open and filling you like never before. Han kisses your temple and releases sexy moans into your ear with words of encouragement.

'Such a tight pussy just for me.'

'Taking me so good, Angel.'

'Can't get enough of you.'

You echo his words, encouraging him to keep fucking you. Your nails dig into his back as you try to hold on to anything, and your heels dig into his lower back. The closeness between you is intoxicating, your scents mixing and becoming one, his hair ticking your face, his warm skin heating up yours. 

Han slows the pace momentarily, leaning back on his knees to see your pretty cunt taking his cock. He wants to commit to memory how your pussy spreads to make way for his cock, a white ring on the base of his cock, and how your little clit is exposed and vulnerable to his touch.

The other girls he's slept with only got part of his attention and dedication. He didn't mean to make a huge impression. He only did his job, often choosing to lie back and let them do as they pleased with him. 

With you, it's different. He wants to give you his all and leave a great impression. He'll do all the work; you can just take it if that's what you want. That's the difference between you and the other girls. He lived to spoil you.

Meanwhile, you fall apart under him, moaning incoherent phrases he can barely make out. He loves hearing them, though. You reach for Han's hand as he increases his pace and grips it tightly.

Han slips his cock out of you, wanting to make his fantasy a reality. You shudder at the empty feeling and whine, "No, don't stop." 

"Come on, Angel. Get on your knees," Han coo's at you, kissing your pouty lips. "Promise you'll cum soon."

Han positions you on your knees, your back arched as your tits rub against the bed sheets. You huff through it all, desperate to have him pounding into you again. He smacks your ass when you wiggle it to get him to do what you want.

Han enters you in one smooth motion, this position amplifying your pleasure as he hits the spongy spot inside of you more directly.

"Han!" You cry out, fisting the sheets underneath you. 

"I'm right here, Angel," Han breathes, snapping his hips rhythmically. 

Just as he visualized, he grabs your hips in his large hands and digs his thumbs into the dimples on your back. With a tight hold, he thrusts into you unrelentingly, and you push back onto him just as eagerly. Your cries are muffled by the pillow you're hugging to your face.

Your pussy swallows him with each thrust, even as it clenches to prepare for orgasm. He can't hold back any longer as his balls clench with each faltering thrust, and your walls squeeze him tighter than ever.

" 'm cumming," you squeal, your legs tense up and shake. Your walls contract and release in a rhythmic motion that sends Han over the edge, your name on the tip of his tongue.

Han pulls out of you, helping you get back onto a comfortable position, and lies beside you, catching his breath. He turns to look at you, and you do the same. You can't hold his gaze long as you furiously blush.

Han laughs, grabbing your hand to lace your fingers together. "You can't get shy now!"

"I can't control it!" You exclaim, hiding your face with the same pillow as earlier. 

The rest of the day is spent in bed. Han ignores his daily responsibilities and stays in, getting lost in your touch and making promises he hopes to keep.

One Year and a Half Later...

You drive up to the empty parking complex. It's similar to the one you spend your nights on. Driving up the floors, you find Han where he told you he'd be. He leans against the familiar orange car, a bag of chips in his hands. A nice lather jacket covers his arms, making you smile when you remember how he got it in the first place.

"Hey, you wanted to meet me here?" You question, getting out of your car.

Approaching him, you kiss his salty lips and wait for an explanation regarding the random meet-up spot. In the entire year and a half of you dating, he's never asked you such a weird request.

"You feeling up to race?" Han asks you, holding your hand in his.

It's been years since the two of you met, and for the same amount of time, people have been pining you two to race. He denied every request, including the ones you threw every once in a while.

"It's about time," you exclaim, excitement filling your body. "What's at stake?"

There is something up Han's sleeve. You know that much. There is something he wants from you if he suddenly wants to race you. He could just ask. You'll give him everything he desires. You play along, though.

"Winner gets the other's car," he offers, pushing himself off the car to wrap his arms around you to hug you, his thumb soothingly brushing over the spot where your tattoo is. He last saw you when you left for your new engineering job early in the morning.

"You're willing to sacrifice your car?" You chuckle, implying you are going to win.

"It's only fair," he shrugs, kissing your cheek.

With one last peck, he lets you go and gets in his car. You follow his lead, lining up your car to the imaginary starting line. Han sets up a timer, and once it went off, both cars lurched forward at high speeds. 

You focus on the race, forgetting it's Han you're competing with. You've been dying to go against him for so long, desperate to find out who was the better racer between the two. 

As expected, Han makes it hard for you. The race is neck and neck as you drift up the floors of the building. Whenever Han takes the lead, you find a way to get ahead. You see the end near, and Han threatens to surpass you, but with one last boost, you keep your position, winning the race.

You leap out of your car, feeling the high of the race. No one has kept you on your toes for so long. It's a satisfying win. Han walks out of his car more calmly, smiling, happy to see you celebrate. It didn't matter to him that you were better. You deserved it.

"I can't believe I won," you exclaim, jumping into his arms as he spins you around.

"I can, and I'm so proud," Han says, kissing all over your face.

The race's prize is forgotten as you celebrate, but Han reminds you by handing you his keys, "A deal is a deal." You take the keys from him as a mere formality. You're not taking Han's precious car. Racing him is enough for you.

The weight of the keys is strange to you. They tend to be much heavier. Opening your palm to inspect them, you see that his keychains and spare keys are missing. In their place is a diamond ring.

"Han, what-" you stutter, whipping up to look at him.

"My car is yours. I figured I could be yours too. Will you marry me?" Han takes the keys from you, getting down on one knee and removing the ring from the holder. 

From all the possible scenarios you had in mind from this clandestine meeting, Han's proposal was not one of them. Nevertheless, you have your answer instantly.

"Yes," you nod, choking back a sob.

Han grabs your hand and slides the ring onto your fourth finger. It's a perfect fit, just like Han. You drop down in front of Han, ignoring the dirty floor, to kiss and hug him.

Han kisses away your tears, a smile permanently etched on his face. He never thought he'd see the day he would settle down, but this past year has been near perfection with you, and he doesn't see himself with anyone else.

"Did you let me win to set this up?" You ask him later that night. His arms are wrapped tightly around you as you lie on his chest.

"No," he answers simply, kissing your head.

"You let me win," you then say assertively.

"No, I did not, Angel," he answers again, hiding his smile in your hair.

"I don't believe you. We have to race again," you tell him, lifting your head to glance at him.

"I don't have a reason to. I've got everything I want right here. Take the win, Angel," Han tells you sweetly, his fingers playing with your ring.

"For now," you huff, settling back down and cuddling up to him.

Fin. 

thank you for reading! i didn't mean for it to be this long although i'm sure you guys are not complaining!

this was so much fun to write. guys like i am in love with han lue, i've spent hours on tiktok watching han lue and sung kang edits. i need help! tell me i'm not the only one like this!

requests are still open ❤️

#request #han lue imagine #fanfiction #fast and furious fanfiction #fast and furious #han lue fanfiction #han seoul oh #han lue x reader #han lue request #han lue #han lue imagines #han x reader #han x you #han lue smut #smut

[munsonslove]

Hi! I love you writing and I was wondering if you could write a fic we’re Eddie and the reader kinda have like a frenemies vibe going on and then one day they sleep together but Eddie has no idea the reader is a virgin because of people saying stories about her and then they sleep together and he finds out after they did it??

Can I Kiss You?

(18+ only)

a/n: thanks so much for the request, & thank you everyone for 1k followers!!! i’m so happy people are liking my little stories <3 a few notes: reader is dustin’s older sister in this fic, but i make it a point to say that she was adopted, so you can def read this as not white reader still. i also briefly mention the reader’s birth parents passing away when she was very young, so tw for family death. and there’s a part where it’s said that the reader’s last name isn’t henderson (because she kept her original surname after being adopted) so if anyone’s reading this and your irl last name is henderson… just like pretend it’s not for a sec? oh also i hid a taylor swift lyric in here. first person to find it wins! anyways i hope y’all like it!!

summary: Your little brother's annoying DM is always hanging around and trying to bother you. Embarrassingly, you developed a crush on him, you were just too proud to do anything about it.

wordcount: 7.3k

tags/warnings: fem!virgin!reader (18+ and a high school graduate), also adopted!henderson!reader, slight mention of family death, fluff, smut, friends/frenemies to lovers, praise kink, fingering (f receiving), descriptions of masturbation (both f and m receiving), use of pet names (baby, princess), unprotected p in v penetration (she’s on the pill, use condoms irl of course), no use of y/n

“He’s not here,” you deadpan with a roll of your eyes as you open the front door. You weren’t expecting any visitors, so when you heard knocking you were quick to find a makeshift weapon before seeing who it was. Your paranoia diminished when you saw it was merely your little brother's DM.

“I’d be tempted to say ‘how do you know I’m not here to see you?’, but that lamp in your hands has me second guessing myself,” Eddie replies with a laugh, pushing past you to enter your home without permission. “You gonna attack me, princess? Didn’t know you found me that annoying.”

“I’m a young woman home alone, and a lot of really strange things happen in this town,” you explain, setting the lamp back down on the end table. “Sue me for being defensive.”

He shakes off his backpack and tosses on the floor. “Better safe than sorry I guess,” he agrees, though you can hear his amused smirk in his tone. “Why you home alone? Your mom got a hot date or something?”

“Book club,” you correct him while crossing your arms, “And Dustin’s sleeping over at the Wheeler’s.”

Eddie hums in response, licking his lips as he looks you up and down. “Cute pajamas,” he says, winking at you.

At his comment, you realize with a start that your robe had fallen open, and crossing your arms only accentuated the suggestive low cut of your silk nightie. Quickly scrambling to cover yourself and retie the knot, you frustratedly grumble, “What are you even doing here? Dustin didn’t say anything about you coming over.”

He flops down on the couch, kicking his feet up on the coffee table and settling into the well-worn cushions, making himself at home. “He talked me into letting him DM for a campaign, so I thought I’d stop by with my copy of the Dungeon Master’s Guide. He was bitching about only having the Player’s Handbook and Monster Manual, so…” he trails off with a shrug as he leans forward to snatch the remote to the TV from next to his boot.

“Get your dirty shoes off of my mother’s clean furniture,” you scold before physically grabbing his ankles and forcing his feet to the floor. “Can you at least pretend to have manners?”

“I could try, but then you wouldn’t have a crush on me anymore,” he laughs, then hooks one of his fingers into the belt of your robe, pulling you down to be seated next to him. He rests his arm on the back of the couch behind your shoulders, not reacting when you retort with a curt ‘In your dreams.’

You know that logistically you could make him leave- this was your home, after all- but the possibility of him actually going without protest was very low. It seemed like Eddie’s favorite thing in the world was annoying you, and sometimes you find yourself missing the days back when he barely acknowledged your existence. He was originally two years ahead of you in school, but due to him being held back twice he ended up being a part of your graduating class. You didn’t run in the same crowd, in fact you couldn’t have been further out of each other’s social spheres. You were quite popular, invited to many parties, even won prom queen your senior year. Eddie, on the other hand, only showed up at parties to sell drugs, and didn’t attend prom for any of his senior years. 

When your little brother entered high school, you worried about him being bullied. You were aware that most of the school’s population were under the impression that Dungeon and Dragons was a devil worshiping cult, and the Hellfire club along with it. Having been exposed to the game for so long thanks to Dustin’s nerdy interests, you knew better than what the propaganda surrounding D&D tried to peddle to the public, but you held concerns that your status-obsessed ‘friends’ wouldn’t be so easily convinced otherwise. Popularity was never something you sought out, it just came naturally to you, and while it was nice always having weekend plans there was no way in hell you were going to let anyone give your baby brother and his friends any shit. If sticking up for your family made the ‘cool kids’ at school not want to have you in their clique, then that was fine by you. To your surprise, everyone seemed to get the message loud and clear that Dustin and his band of misfits were off limits bullying-wise, and you were able to stay relatively well liked by your peers.

The first time you stood up for Dustin, it was a few weeks into his freshman year in the hallway before first period. One of the guys from the basketball team was giving him a hard time, and you marched right up to the meathead jock and shoved him away. You made sure to get your point across that if you ever saw him fucking with your brother again that you weren’t afraid to fight back. The opposing boy cowered away, not expecting one of the most popular girls at Hawkins to so adamantly defend who he considered a ‘nerd’. Word traveled fast, and by lunchtime the hottest gossip was how you sucker-punched Damian Smith square in the jaw outside of Mrs. Hackett’s classroom this morning. It wasn’t true by a long shot, but you found it rather amusing how much the story got twisted when there were so many witnesses. That day was also the first time you spoke to Eddie.

He had cornered you in the cafeteria, and was attempting to use his ‘bad boy, outcast’ demeanor to intimidate you into leaving Dustin alone. Some of the cheerleaders got the attention of their boyfriends, and pretty soon a group had gathered to see why someone at the bottom of the food chain was messing with you. You called them off with a wave of your hand, then took Eddie’s arm to drag him out into the hall and figure out what the hell he was talking about. He clearly had the wrong idea, because he was telling you off about ‘pretending to stand up for the nerdy freshmen’ and how he ‘knew this was part of some elaborate prank’.

He had no idea you were Dustin’s sister. It made sense, you didn’t look all that similar and you didn’t even share a last name. Your biological parents were family friends of the Hendersons, and they died when you were fairly young. You were legally adopted by your godmother, and were raised as a member of the family. Most everyone who you’ve told has tried to console you after learning the truth, and while it is sad that you didn’t get to grow up with your birth mother and father, you know you were lucky to be a Henderson (by love, not by name). Family is family, even if there’s no blood relation, and that’s exactly what you told Eddie. You let him know that he could accuse you of being one of those airheads whose main concern is how many pages of the yearbook they make it on, but that wasn’t going to stop you from beating the shit out of anyone who tried to give your brother a hard time.

With Eddie becoming a close friend of Dustin’s, even somewhat of a role model (much to your dismay), you saw him pretty often. He was always finding excuses to come over, and you suspected it had something to do with his new life mission of bothering you at every waking moment. The two of you didn’t hate each other per se, on the contrary you actually always secretly enjoyed spending time with the metalhead, despite your differences. That being said, your rapport consisted mainly of jestful bantering, constantly trying to have the one-up in the exchange. You both finished high school together, he actually gave you a ride to graduation (not without a snide comment on the length of your dress, prompting a middle finger from you). Now you were taking a gap year before college and he was staying in Hawkins to focus on his music, the plan being to move to Indianapolis when the final member of Corroded Coffin graduated. With the freedom awarded by not attending Hawkins anymore- from both the stressful preparation for another four years of school and the pressure to stick to the status quo- you found yourself spending a lot of downtime with Eddie. You’re not quite sure either of you would readily call the other a friend, but maybe relationship labels were overrated. All you knew was that if Dustin was hitching a ride home, you could count on Eddie’s van being parked in the driveway for at least a couple hours while he berated you inside.

Lately though, the playful bickering between you two morphed into what almost felt like flirting. Eddie seemed to be laying it on thicker and thicker each time he came to see you, as if he was testing the waters for how much he could get away with without you getting upset. What he didn’t know, however, was that you’ve been harboring a secret crush on him for a while now. After actually getting to know him through the excuse of you both caring about Dustin, you came to the realization that he’s not all bad like his reputation.

Eddie switches on the TV, turning it to your favorite channel without asking and setting the remote back down on the table. It’s the little gestures like these that have you falling harder for him everyday. You lose your train of thought getting lost in fantasies of doing exactly this with him, only while being able to call him your boyfriend. You’re ripped back to reality when his arm shifts from the back of the couch to actually over your shoulders. His face doesn’t show any sign that he thinks of this as overly intimate, so you try to not let any reaction show.

Some hours pass this way, and you wonder how long Eddie plans to stay for. You silently pray that your neighbors won’t say anything to your mom about his van parked in the driveway, but even if they do, the tingling you felt in your chest was well worth it- and besides, no matter what she said, you were an adult. Just as you're thinking this, Eddie stands to pick his bag up off of the floor, slipping the books he brought out onto the coffee table, before zipping it back up and holding it awkwardly in his hands.

“I guess I should probably get going,” he says with a shrug, “It’s getting late, and your mom will be home soon.”

“She said they were going to drink wine,” you respond. “You know Claudia, she wouldn’t drive after having even a sip. She’s going to sleep on her friend’s couch.”

“Oh,” he says, his eyes lighting up a little before he purses his lips and looks out the window. “Well, it’s pretty dark out now. I don’t wanna keep you up…”

There’s a brief pocket of silence, neither of you wanting to be the one to suggest what you’re thinking for fear of the other not returning the same feeling. You don’t want your disappointment at the idea of him not staying to be too evident, but you’re not sure how convincing you’re being. Your gaze drops down to his pretty lips, distracted by how he’s biting them, and wishing you could bite them instead. Faintly, so faintly you’re almost unsure if you even really heard it, he speaks your name, bringing your attention back to his eyes. You watch as he gathers the courage for his next words. 

“Can I kiss you?”

It’s like time stops. You resist the urge to squeal like a little girl with a crush, but that is exactly how you feel. Slowly, you nod your head before moving your lips to say, ‘Yes,’ though no sound escapes you. He drops the bag, and kicks it out of the way when it lands at his feet before taking long strides toward you. The both of you lean forward, and he tilts his head slightly to make room for your noses. His breath fans your lips as he hesitates to close the distance. Impatient after months of pining, you grab him by the zipper of his jacket and finally do what you’ve been dreaming about for so long. 

His lips are as soft as they look, and you conclude that your theory about his chapstick addiction is correct. With as much as he smokes (medicinal or otherwise), he must moisturize them pretty often. He actually tastes very faintly of tobacco, and you remember how he said he was trying to quit and only smoked cigarettes when he was jittery. You wonder if that meant that you make him as nervous as he makes you. The dirty taste was thankfully mostly covered up by a strong minty flavor, and that only makes you wonder even more, this time about if he also obsesses over little detail when he knows he’s going to see you. Whenever Dustin would inform you Eddie was on his way over, you would find yourself primping in front of the mirror, making sure your hair fell in place just the right way and your skin was clear of any blemishes. You even did this before you fully understood your feelings for the man were romantic. Picturing him having the afterthought to pop a mint before driving over to see you had you smiling against his lips.

“What?” he laughs, pulling away from you slightly and raising an eyebrow with both curiosity and amusement.

“Nothing,’ you reply, giggling softly. “Just thinking.”

“Oh? What about?” he asks, leaning in once again to peck you chastely before simply resting his forehead against your and gazing into your eyes. He walks you backwards, back to the couch and sits, pulling you down next to him.

You shake your head, still smiling. Your mind was racing a mile a minute and it was too much to explain, especially when the only thing you wanted was for him to kiss you silly. “Not now. Just come here,” you whisper as you thread your fingers through his hair and push yourself flush against him, ending up fully sat in his lap with his hands gripping your thighs.

You two last like this for a while, (mostly) innocently kissing, just enjoying the feeling of finally giving into temptation. Pretty soon, Eddie’s touch begins to roam, and your hips begin to rock. It was very quickly crossing the line from PG-13 to R. When you feel his cock harden beneath you, you make up your mind about what you want to happen.

“Eddie,” you moan while his tongue circles a bite mark he left on your neck, soothing the sting. He dismisses the sound, lost in his own world as his hands find purchase on your butt, assisting your movements against him. “Eddie,” you try again, shaking his shoulders slightly.

He immediately slides his hands up to a more modest area on your waist, and he lifts his head away from your neck to look at you. His pupils are blown wide, and his hair is wild. “Yeah, baby?” he says, sounding out of breath.

“Do you want to go to my room?” you ask. You can tell by the way he glances back down at your lips, then to your thighs, and finally back up to your eyes, that he knows exactly what you are implying.

“A- are you sure?” he forces out, barely believing what he’s hearing.

“I’m sure,” you confirm. “I’m ready.”

You’re both hurrying down the hallway, nearly tripping over each other’s feet in your haste. The walk to your bedroom is short, but after putting off the inevitable for so long, you can barely wait and have to resist jumping his bones before reaching your destination. Throwing open the door, he ushers you inside and shuts it behind him.

Eddie’s heavy leather jacket thuds as it hits the floor, his shirt being discarded soon after. Your mouth waters at the sight of his tattoos, but you barely have time to admire his partial nudity. He’s on top of you in a flash, pressing you into the wall and kissing you passionately. His curious hands rake over your body, and their wandering loosen the knot on your robe’s belt, causing the thick fabric to open slightly and expose your collarbone. Like a man starved, Eddie’s lips never lose contact with you as he rips the tie from your body, almost making you fall with the force behind it. He steadies you with his hands back on your waist, this time underneath the robe, and you can feel his touch so much better with only the thin silk of your nightgown between you. Shrugging the robe off, he helps you pull it down your arms before tossing it onto your carpet, and the cold air of your bedroom is fought off by his body warmth invading every inch of you.

“Do you want this as much as I do?” he whispers gravelly after parting his lips from yours.

He doesn’t need to clarify what exactly he wants, because you want it all with him. “I do,” you confirm.

He leads you over to your bed, a queen-sized four-poster, still unmade from this morning. You climb on top and turn to face him while sitting on your knees. He looms over you, standing at the foot of the bed with you kneeling on the mattress in front of him. His pretty eyes darken as he looks down and takes in your form.

“God, I like you like this,” he laughs from above you, “Is this what I gotta do for you to shut your mouth?”

“You like my mouth” you shoot back, sitting up to reach him and tangling your hands in his curls. You make a fist, thus pulling his hair slightly.

He grunts as you tug on his locks, but doesn’t let the innuendo in your last comment go. “You do have a real nice mouth,” he says as he swipes his thumb against your bottom lip. Before he can retract his hand, you open your mouth and suck the digit into it, swirling your tongue around the tip while looking up at him from behind your eyelashes.

“Fuck, baby,” he brokenly breathes out. 

The only thing you see in his eyes is pure unadulterated lust, and you feel your belly grow warmer at the thought of what he was going to do about it. He withdraws his hand only to place it on your neck, his palm on the front of your windpipe. He’s not applying any pressure, so you can’t call it choking, but just the implication of such a touch has arousal pooling in your underwear. His thumb is warm and wet on your throat, and when he trails his hand from your neck to the back of your head, the breeze of air on the leftover saliva makes your skin feel cool. Eddie drops his head and his lips meet yours once again, but only just barely making contact. You try to deepen the kiss, but he’s returned the favor of holding onto a tuft of your hair, making it impossible to press against him more firmly without your hair being pulled. He laughs at your cries of protest, but gives in, sucking on your bottom lip and nipping at it before licking his tongue past the threshold of your mouth.

Kissing like this isn’t the most comfortable, what with the springs of your mattress digging into your knees and your neck craning up to be able to reach Eddie, but you could stay in this position for hours if it meant he was going to keep touching you the way he was. The hand not tangled and tugging at your hair was sliding up your side, dragging the silk of your nightie up. He bunched the fabric up in a fist, which caused it to be lifted enough that your cotton panties were on display. You briefly worry about whether he was going to think the underwear you had on was sexy or not, considering it wasn’t silky or lacy like your nightgown was. It was just a simple and comfortable pair of navy blue panties with a white elastic waistband. 

While you were busy overthinking, Eddie bent at his knees and kissed down your jaw, releasing your hair to raise the fabric on the other side of your nightie up to the same level, then backed away to pull it the rest of the way up over your head and off your body. You felt a little self conscious, bare chested in nothing but a pair of underwear that wasn’t even sexy. Your arms went to fold in front of you, but Eddie dropped the silk and  grabbed your wrists, stopping you.

“Don’t cover yourself,” he whispers, his eyes glued to your body, “You’re so beautiful.”

Blood rushes to your head as you bite back a smile at his compliment. Any anxiety you previously felt about him judging you vanishes, and in its place comes even more need. Eddie tells you to lay down as he softly nudges your shoulder, and you do as he says with no contest. He hooks his fingers underneath the elastic of your panties before waiting for one last head nod from you. When you give the okay and lift your hips, he slowly pulls the fabric off of you, sucking in a breath when your bare pussy finally crosses his line of sight.

He crawls onto the bed and kisses up your torso, starting at your hip bone and making his way all the way up to your clavicle. The hard tent in his jeans rubs against the delicate skin of your inner thigh as he spends extra time marking up your neck, and you get impossibly wetter at the proof of the effect you have on him. When he pulls away, the mattress dips by both sides of your face due to him propping himself up by his arms. His legs bend as he sits up, successfully caging you in, and he takes a moment to just look at you.

“I’m gonna get you ready for me, okay baby?” he says quietly, one of his hands leaving their spot next to your head as he traces his fingertips lightly down the dip in between your breasts, over your belly button, and caresses your dripping slit.

“Yeah, okay,” you mutter out your consent. With your brain as cloudy as it was, you weren’t entirely sure what he was proposing, but you were at a point by now where you would agree to anything.

His middle digit slips easily past the soaked folds around your weeping hole, and he circles the entrance teasingly, collecting your juices before finally breaching, and just his fingertip enters into you. An embarrassing high pitched squeak escapes from your throat, and you raise yourself up onto your elbows to get a better look at what he’s doing to you.

“You wanna watch as I warm you up with my fingers, princess?” he croons at you sweetly. “It’s pretty, ain’t it?”

You take a deep gasp of air as his finger disappears further into you, his hands are bigger and tougher than your own, and the difference is very noticeable. He bends and straightens his wrist over and over, pumping in and out of you with ease, and the foreign feeling is strange yet pleasurable. Another finger slides inside, and he works them into you, opening you up. He’s determined to make the next step after this as satisfying for you as possible.

“You’re so wet and tight, baby. You’re gonna feel so good on my cock,” he practically mewls. There’s a wild look in his eyes, and it only steers you closer to your climax. “You want that, baby? You wanna make me feel good? Make me crave you all the time, even more than I already do?”

His words are slurring together as he rambles on about how perfect he knows your pussy is going to feel around him. For the life of you, you can’t form any response that isn’t loud moaning, but Eddie doesn’t seem to mind one bit. You feel the build up inside of you start, and your entire body tenses involuntarily as you prepare for what you know will be a mind-blowing orgasm.

“Are you gonna cum? My princess is gonna cum?” he asks, and you nod your head to the best of your ability given that the muscles in your neck are locked up. “You’re squeezing my fingers so fucking tight, baby. Show me how pretty you are when you cum. Show me, and I promise I’ll fuck you so good, so right. I’ll fuck you as many times as you let me, and I’ll do it anyway you want. Hard, slow, soft, fast… Just show me how perfect my girl is when she’s cumming around my fingers and I’ll give you what you need”

His promises push you over the edge, and you finish while crying out his name. Literally, you feel moisture leak from your eyes as your head pushes into the pillow beneath you. Eddie leans forward to kiss away the tears, all while still fingering you, helping you to ride out your orgasm for as long as possible.

“That’s it, that’s my girl,” you hear as you start to come back to the world. His hand slows down slightly, more focused on a deep and sensual rhythm, and you feel his hot breath on your temple as he continues to soothe you through your come down. “Did such a good job, sounded so pretty moaning my name, wanna make you make those sounds forever…”

He trails off as he pulls his hand away, and you both stare at his hand and watch how the light reflects off the glistening slick coating his fingers. He plunges them into his mouth, and groans around them at the taste as your jaw drops in disbelief. It was the hottest thing you’ve ever seen. Still recovering from both your shock and intense orgasm, you grunt out in annoyance when Eddie rolls off of you and stands up. You’re about to complain at the loss of contact, until you realize his reason for doing so was to unbutton his jeans. You instantly rise. Your head feels dizzy from sitting up too fast, but you push through the lightheadedness in order to give your full attention to what was about to happen.

Eddie hurriedly moves to yank his tight jeans down his legs, stumbling slightly but regaining his balance enough to not fall, then succeeds pulling down the denim and kicking his legs out of it. His legs are pale- as could be suspected from wearing nothing but full length pants in Indiana- and they look rather soft. You want to reach your hand out and graze his calf to see if they’re as soft as they appear, or if looks are deceiving and his dark wisps of leg hair actually have a coarse texture. There’s no time to dwell on that instinct, as very soon after discarding his pants he follows his boxers with them, and you’re distracted by hair in another area.

Eddie’s cock springs to his stomach when he straightens up from pulling off his underwear. The sight of it both makes you want to spread your legs and squeeze your thighs together, but the choice is made for you when Eddie takes your knee with one of his hands and settles between your legs on the bed. His lips met yours as his shaft grazed your soaked lips, brushing against your clit and causing you to buck up into hip, but your hips are pinned down by his pelvis. The pressure allows some relief, but you crave more.

“Fuck me,” you beg, “Please fuck me, Eddie.” You sound pathetic even to yourself, but you’re far past the point of no return as far as shame goes.

“Do you have protection?” he asks, in between kisses. “I didn’t bring condoms. I didn’t think- I didn’t expect you to actually-”

“I’m on the pill,” you cut him off. “Just fuck me.”

“Oh my god,” he groans, “Are you sure, princess?”

“Please, Eds,” you whine, “I need you.”

“You need me, baby?” he smiles against you while you nod your head. His teeth clash with yours as you try to pull him somehow closer to you than he already is. “I know what you need. I’m gonna give it to you, don’t worry.”

He lifts himself up so that he can grasp the base of his shaft, and slides up and down your slit before he positions the head of his cock to be poking your entrance. There was a stinging sensation as he stretched you out, sinking in slowly inch by inch until you can’t take anymore and have to stop him.

“Too big?” he asks, and the tone of his voice leads you to believe he’s asking this with genuine concern rather than inflating his own ego. He really doesn’t want to hurt you.

“I just need a s- second,” you stutter out while adjusting your pelvis, trying to ease the dull ache.

“Take all the time you need,” he murmurs while pecking you on the tip of your nose. Your hand immediately flies up to guide his lips to your own, and the emotion behind the kiss distracts you from the tenseness you feel, allowing you to loosen up slightly.

“God,” he moans, “you feel even more perfect than I imagined.”

A smug smirk crosses your face and you lift an eyebrow at him. “So you’ve imagined?” you ask, tilting your head and chuckling.

“Don’t act you haven’t fucked yourself with those fingers of yours while calling out my name,” he responds with a challenging look, “I can just picture it now, your sheets all crumpled from you tossing and turning, your hands cramping up but you ignoring it cause you’re so desperate to cum. Tell me, princess, when we would hang out, how long would you wait after I left to run up here and start rubbing this pretty little clit.”

As he tortures you with these (very true) accusations, his right hand snakes its way in between your bodies to start playing with your clit. He touches the nub with the tip of his thumb, applying pressure before rolling it in gentle circles. It’s too much and not enough at the same time.

“I asked you a question, baby,” he says, his lips now moving against your jaw as you focus on relaxing and getting used to the feeling of him inside you. “You gonna be a good girl and answer me?”

His vulgar words combined with his hand’s actions send you a wave of slick arousal, and suddenly you’re ready, and you want him deeper. “Eddie,” you whine, “more.”

“Nuh-uh,” he mutters, not moving an inch and keeping that deviously slow pace with his fingers. “I wanna hear about you touching yourself, princess.”

“Ugh!” you groan, kicking your leg out like a kid throwing a tantrum. “Eddie! It’s embarrassing!”

“No it’s not,” he comforts you, his left hand stroking your cheekbone as he leans down to kiss you sweetly on the lips. “When I’m thinking of you, I like to go nice and slow at first…”

Your breath gets stuck in your throat as you realize what he’s about to do. He’s going to tell you about him getting off to dirty thoughts of you. It should disgust you to know the boy who was teasing you and picking little fights for the past almost two years has been fantasizing about you, but it only gets you going more. You force your eyes open to look at him, and he’s already staring deeply at you, his face showing no signs of mocking.

“I think about those pretty lips, so soft. I think about what they’d feel like on my skin, around my cock.” His unabashed admissions are doing nothing to help with how impatient you’re getting, but his fingers stop circling your clit when you try to slide down deeper onto his dick yourself.

“I know you want it baby, but I’m trying to talk to you,” he whispers, “You don’t wanna be rude, do you? You already wouldn’t answer my question.”

“Sorry,” you whimper weakly, hoping that if you play along he’ll hurry up.

“So sweet for me,” he says as his hand starts up again and he nips at the sensitive skin in the crook of your neck. “I knew you’d be sweet. I knew your tough girl act was a show. All the times you got mouthy and bratty with me, you just wanted to be my sweet, good girl.”

“I take off everything but my panties. And then I lay down in bed, with the fan on cause I get hot. And I start feeling up my stomach-”

He cuts you off with a chuckle. “What are you talking about, princess?”

You bang your head on the pillow and start squirming. “I’m answering your question,” you whimper, “You’re taking too long, Eddie, I need it!”

His fingers circle your clit fast and he finally, finally sinks the rest of the way in you, bottoming out and filling you up so deep and full. “Keep going,” he orders as he starts rocking in and out of you at such a cruelly slow rate. As if reading your mind, he adds on, “I’ll go faster if you keep going.”

“Fuck, Eds,” you moan out in ecstasy, your mind empty and only able to think about his cock and what he’s doing to you. But you want- no, need- him to go faster, so you summon every brain cell you have and force yourself to speak semi-coherently.

“I feel up my stomach til I get goosebumps, and I start massaging my tits and thinking about what it would feel like if it was your h-hands,” you start to stutter as his left hand mimics your descriptions, tickling your abdomen as it makes its way to your chest. “And while I did that, I would spit on my fingers a little bit then stick my hand in my underwear, and I would start rubbing my clit.”

“And you imagined it was me doing it?” he interrupts, now thrusting into you a little harder and a little deeper, his hand massaging your breast before taking a nipple in between his thumb and pointer finger and rolling it gently. 

You nod your head, too lost in the feeling to answer verbally. He really started to pick up the speed now, hitting a spot in you that you were never quite able to reach on your own, and it’s so sinfully delicious that you feel like you’re going to black out from the intensity of the pleasure. He feels so perfect moving against you, the velvety skin of his cock merging so right with your inner walls. You chastise yourself for holding out for so long, if you had known how blissful it would be, you would have confessed the day you realized your feelings. The idea that you could have been doing this for nearly a year has you cursing whatever forces that kept you apart, though a bitter voice in the back of your head reminded you it was your own stubbornness.

“Then what do you do?” he urges you on.

“Um, I would stay like that for a little while,” you continue, finding it difficult to get your thoughts out into full sentences, “and then when I was close I would… um, like stop playing with my tits. So that I could use that hand to finger myself.”

“Fuck, princess. The way you describe it… I bet you look so pretty when you’re touching yourself,” he groans, now pummeling in and out of you in a steady, fast rhythm. His eyes keep switching between watching you and being scrunched closed, like he’s trying to focus on making this last but still wants to look at your face. “I wanna see it someday. Will you show me?”

“Yeah, mhm, sure,” you agree, not even really paying attention to what he was asking you due to being too lost in what you were experiencing. Your orgasm was near, and you wouldn’t be able to hold it off for much longer. “Eddie, I’m close,” you warn, your nails digging into his back as your arms tighten around his neck.

“Me too, baby,” he says back. The rocking of his hips combined with the closeness of his face caused his lips to brush against yours in a repeated pattern, and the intimacy of that only builds your climax up faster. “Where do you want it?”

Eddie Munson, the bane of your existence for the past couple of years is asking you where you want him to cum. “Inside,” you answer without thought. “Inside me, Eds, I wanna feel you leaking out of me.”

“Oh fuck. You can’t say shit like that to me. How am I supposed to keep living my life like normal after this?” he whines, “Are you gonna cum for me, baby? I want you to go first.”

As he finishes telling you this, the wire snaps and you feel electricity shoot throughout your body. Your second orgasm is much stronger than your first, and considering how the first one had you nearly losing consciousness, that was really saying something. The shockwaves make you feel like you’re literally vibrating around him, and being able to feel his dick twitching as he released his load into you only added to that feeling. You were a moaning mess, gasping in and puffing out little breaths of air as you hopelessly cry out, ‘I’m cumming, Eddie, you’re making me cum,’ along with assorted swears over and over and over. His grip on your waist loosened as he wrapped his arms around your middle and held on tight, burying his head into your neck as he rode out his own orgasm. He muttered something into your skin that you couldn’t quite make out with it being muffled, but it sounded suspiciously close to, ‘I love you,’ and your heart leapt at that possibility.

After a few minutes, after you both gathered yourselfs, he rolled over onto his back and you cuddled up to his side. Your head rested on his bare chest and your arms hugged around his stomach, pulling him as close as you could.

“So,” he starts, his arms folded behind his head and a crooked grin adorning his face, “was I the biggest you’ve taken, or does that happen with all the guys you bring home?”

You furrow your brows in confusion as you turn your head to look at him. “What do you mean?” you manage to mumble out.

“I mean, how tight you were. And how you couldn’t take all of me at first,” he says, like it was obvious.

“Well, in sex-ed they said the first time usually hurts. This wasn’t as bad as I was expecting though, just kinda stung a little bit at first,” you explain, laying your head flat against him once more and scraping at the nail on your index finger with your thumb.

Eddie stops moving and is quiet for a good thirty seconds. You start to feel a trickling of doubt, and become anxious that you somehow said the wrong thing. He reaches up to take your hand in his, effectively stopping your nervous finger picking and stealing your attention. When you glance back up at him he’s staring at you with wide eyes and an open mouth.

“Princess,” he says slowly, like somehow you were the one in this situation not making any sense, “You’re not telling me that was your first time.”

Oh. You suppose that was a pretty important tidbit of information you withheld that he probably would’ve liked to have known before you engaged in intercourse. In your defense, there was no reason for him to assume you weren’t a virgin. You only graduated high school the year prior, and during your time at Hawkins you never had a serious boyfriend. Even when you were being crowned prom queen, your date to the dance was James McKenna, and he came out as gay the week after graduation before moving to New York. Sure, you were privy to the rumors thrown around in the boy’s locker room about what you did to this guy under the bleachers and what you did to that guy at Skull Rock, but there was no more gossip surrounding you than the average cheerleader.

“I’m sorry,” you apologize, suddenly feeling guilty for not being completely transparent. “I guess I just thought you knew, or like, would be able to tell?” you say, your intonation changing to a questioning lilt by the end of your sentence.

He starts blinking his wide eyes frantically, his head shaking in disbelief as he tries to think of what to say. That self conscious dread from earlier starts to sneak it’s way back in, and you begin having second thoughts, worrying if he- like your high school friends- thought it was weird that you waited to have sex. He must have noticed the fear in your eye, because he held you tighter against him and comfortingly rubbed up and down your forearm.

“It’s nothing bad, I promise,” he says, speaking quickly. “I guess I just assumed. I mean, you were so popular. Everyone wanted you, anyone would have been lucky to have you-” you smile and blush at his words- “And those guys on the basketball team were always bragging and telling stories-”

“If a plate of spaghetti grew legs and started walking around, those guys would claim that they fucked it. Why would you listen to that noise?” you interjected, your annoyance clear.

He held his hands up in defense. “You’re right, I don’t know why I believed any of that crap. I know you have better taste than that. I mean, you like me, so that proves you have a much more sophisticated taste in men.”

“Sophisticated is one word for it, I guess,” you mumble while rolling your eyes, before sitting up to grab your nightie from the foot of the bed.

“If you weren’t active, why were you on the pill?” he questions you while rubbing your back.

“I’m a grown woman. I figured it was going to happen eventually, and I wanted to make sure I was ready when it did,” you answer distractedly as you work on turning your pajamas the right side out.

Eddie hums in understanding but is otherwise quiet as he watches you redress yourself, except for a cheeky wolf whistle when you need to bend over to pick up your panties. Once you're covered up again, you turn around to see him staring at you in amusement.

“What?” you ask with a smile, climbing back onto the bed and throwing a leg over his thighs, settling onto his lap. The tips of your noses brush against each other as you see that gleam in his eyes you recognize as him trying to stifle laughter when teasing you. “What is it?” you repeat, shoving him gently on his chest before looping your arms around his neck.

He shakes with silent laughter then leans back to quirk a brow at you. “A plate of spaghetti?” he asks. You grab a pillow to hit him in the head with, but drop it when you’re tackled and pinned down, giggling and kicking your feet as he kisses up your collar bone.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson smut #stranger things x reader #stranger things x you #stranger things fanfic #stranger things smut

[pretty-little-mind33]

Call It What You Want

Tangerine x fem!reader

Summary: After accidentally killing your kidnappers, the twins—especially Tangerine—seem determined to keep you away from harm.

Genre: Fluff, hurt & comfort

Warnings: protiective!Tangerine, innocent!civilian!reader, kidnapping, swearing, mentions of injury and blood, canon violence, plot diverts from canon, No Ladybug—the other assassin is supposed to be Carver (since i felt the characterization would have been too off otherwise!)

Thanks for requesting! I hope you like this hehe <3 @kpopgirlbtssvt

So far, the mission was running smoothly.

Lemon and Tangerine had killed all the men in the warehouse and were now making their way out with the White Death's son. Approaching their car, Tangerine throws his bloodied poncho into the trunk as Lemon stuffs the son's passed out body in the backseat. 

"Shit, bruv, I dropped my knife in the warehouse," Lemon suddenly whines with a grimace. 

His brother sends him an annoyed look, "Fuckin' cry me a river will ya? It's just a knife."

Lemon narrows his eyes at Tangerine and slams the car door shut. He deadpans, "It's not just a knife. It's Willa. You'know she's my fav."

"Shouldn't have dropped 'er then, yeah?" Tangerine snaps. 

Lemon ignores him and walks back into the warehouse. He's gone for a while and Tangerine wonders if perhaps he'd been hurt. Just as his annoyance turns to worry, he sees Lemon emerge from the warehouse, looking incredibly concerned. 

"Tangerine, come here," Lemon calls him over and based on the seriousness of his voice, Tangerine reluctantly follows him. His nose scrunches as they walk around the dead bodies they are responsible for. Lemon pulls at a filthy white sheet that hangs in the corner and it falls to reveal a makeshift room with old, beaten, boxes.

However, Tangerine's blood runs cold when he sees you splayed across the mattress in the opposite corner. 

Lemon sends him a look. "Heard 'er shift. I think she's asleep," he says. 

Cautiously, they move closer and Tangerine hears the occasional quiet whimper escape your lips. He kneels beside you, brows furrowing heavily, as with a gentle hand he pulls on your shoulder so you shift from your side onto your back. Your arm falls limp over the mattress and your head rolls to face him, causing Tangerine to inhale sharply. 

Your eyes are shut and your hair is messily splayed around and across your face. You're dressed in a pair of pajama shorts, worn out sneakers, and a tank top, the flimsy bedsheet the bastard that had done this to you had provided you with barely covers your bruised and exposed skin. 

Tangerine's jaw clenches when he sees the fingerprints on your thighs and arms. He looks at Lemon, who shrugs his shoulders and then leans over you to take your wrist and check your pulse. 

"Sleeping," he repeats. 

"Drugged," Tangerine argues and runs a hand over his face. Part of him wants to leave you here. You aren't his responsibility. He has a job to finish and anyway, he'd already killed the men who took you—probably? Hopefully? Fuck. He glances at Lemon, who seems debating the same thing and then Lemon catches his eye, as usual, his brother reads his fucking mind. 

"We have to take 'er," Lemon whispers, "She's innocent."

Tangerine looks at you again and his frown remains. Innocent. For all they know you could be the fucking evil mastermind behind it all. Maybe this was your plan all along and they're the fools who have fallen for the trick.

Only, his eyes soften when he watches your chest lift and fall a little harshly. You look so strangely delicate and it's making Tangerine lose his mind. 

No, you couldn't be anything other than pure innocence. 

Without another word, Tangerine shifts and hooks his arms under you. Your dead weight leans against his chest as the sheet falls from the curve of your foot and his hands tighten around you in fear you'll shiver from the sudden cold. 

Lemon watches his brother for a moment, a small smirk tugging at his lips. As much as he wants to, he doesn't comment on the scene in front of him.

* * *

Your head feels like it's spinning. The man you learned is named Lemon is yapping your ear off as you squeeze through the train aisle. You almost bump into him as he struggles with the poor man they'd told you bumped his head, and then the second man who'd introduced himself as Tangerine almost bumps into you.

You squeal, almost tripping, but Tangerine grunts and wraps his arm around your stomach so you don't fall. 

Quickly, as Lemon finds a booth and pushes the third man to lean against the window, Tangerine removes his arm and pretends like he didn't feel how badly you tensed under his touch. Raw anger simmers inside him at the mere idea of what your kidnappers had put you through.  

You watch as Lemon disappears with the silver briefcase for a moment and you wrap Tangerine's checkered coat closer around you. It's cool in the train and your exposed thighs and arms prickle with goosebumps. You don't dare complain. Tangerine sits next to you and he sends you a look. 

"Ya cold, luv?" he asks seriously. 

You look up at him, eyes widened innocently, and hesitate before you nod. Tangerine hums, happy you're communicating in some way, and he looks around. He stands and disappears down the aisle.

Lemon obscures your view for a moment when he sits across from you and when Tangerine returns, he's holding a sweatshirt over his arm. He hands it to you without a word and when Lemon gives his brother a confused look. Tangerine rolls his eyes and says, "What? I nicked it for 'er. She's cold."

Lemon hides a smirk as he holds up his arm in surrender and doesn't say much more. You slowly let Tangerine's coat fall from your shoulders as you slip on the sweatshirt. It's large enough to cover up to your mid-thigh and you feel less uneasy.

"So, ya really don't remember what those men wanted with ya?" Lemon interrupts.

You shrink in your seat. You wish you could remember more of your kidnapping so you could tell them. When you came to, you were already in the Twins car and they'd informed you you had been drugged and most likely kidnapped. You couldn't remember why. 

While the Twins had been nothing but kind to you, you still can't shake the feeling that they aren't the knights in shining armor you want them to be. You peer at Tangerine as he plucks a pack of snacks from the passing trolley. Without hesitation, he turns and hands them to you. 

You sit up a little and look at the snacks, eyes round. Tangerine nods silently as if to say, "It's okay," and then turns his attention to his brother, his blue eyes sharp. "She said she doesn't remember. Will ya lay off her?" he snaps.

You open the snacks and eat them up quickly. You hiss as your split lip opens from your carelessness but you continue to eat anyway.

Lemon and Tangerine bicker again but you're too focused on the food in your palms to care. Lemon sends you a sympathetic look as Tangerine calms down and the third man, who is sitting in a booth across from you all, starts to stir. 

* * *

"I am not leaving 'her alone with 'im!" Tangerine exclaims as he stares at Lemon like he's lost his mind. Lemon throws his hands up in the air and glares at his brother. "I don't trust 'im. If he's anything like his Daddy then he's bad fuckin' news," Tangerine reasons.

"So, what's your plan then? You gonna keep her safe by your side, hm? Someone took our case and I can guarantee they aren't gonna play nicely, bruv! She's a fuckin' liability, that's what she is!" 

Lemon raises good points but Tangerine ignores him completely. 

"She's our responsibility now, Lemon," he says sternly but he's distracted by the doors to the cabin sliding open and your frame slamming into his chest. Surprised, he tenses as your hands grasp helplessly at his suit and hide behind him. Lemon looks as puzzled as his brother when he sees how scared you look. 

However, unlike Lemon, Tangerine is in a panic. He spins around and holds onto your shoulders. He leans down as you hyperventilate, his heart beating so loudly. "Hey, hey, luv, what happened? Are ya hurt? What's wrong? Tell me," he says. His large hands move up to cup your tear-stained cheeks as he tries to calm you down.

You make small gasping sounds and point to the now shut doors you just came from. "T-the man! H-he w-was poisoned! I saw the person in the costume prick him with something and now there's blood coming out of his eyes. I think he's dead!" you sound completely horrified and Tangerine can't help himself when he wraps you in his arms and holds you closer.

Lemon paces behind him, clearly alarmed that the white death's son was murdered under their care, but Tangerine is only focused on you.

"Hey, darlin', can you look at me," he whispers as he tries to ground you. "You're fine. Shh, you're okay now. You did the right thing running to us, hmm?" you nod, still clutching onto Tangerine. Lemon scoffs from behind you and his brother sends him a dark look. "She's staying with me," Tangerine says. 

"Your funeral mate," Lemon says and unlocks his gun. He looks at you and his eyes soften for a moment before they land on Tangerine. "You've gone completely sweet for 'er," he says in a whisper, almost like he can't believe he's saying those words out loud, "be careful." 

You look up at Tangerine and see his jaw clench for a moment. Something flickers in his eyes—denial perhaps—but he just ignores Lemon's warning and guides you back into the train compartment to make a plan. 

* * *

Your head is throbbing as it hits the wall of the train. You hear ringing in your ears as Tangerine's shouts become hazy. You feel a hand curl around the hood of your sweatshirt as you're yanked up and thrown to the opposite side of the room again. You crash into the cupboards as foods from the shelves fall onto you.  

"Fuckin' bastard," Tangerine seethes, recovering from a punch the man had landed in his stomach. He lunges and hits the man in the nose, the crack audible, as the man crumbles to the ground. Tangerine sees red as he straddles the man and punches him repeatedly. "Ya don't fuckin' touch 'er! Ya hear me? I see one fuckin' bruise from your fingerprints on her again and I'll break all your fuckin' bones!" 

You struggle to stand, shards of glass stuck in your palms as you watch the scene with a scared expression. The man slams a glass onto Tangerine's head and taunts cruelly, "What's she to you, hm? One of your little bitches? Your reputation betrays you, Tangerine." You wince at this man's words and when he stares at you, your breath hitches.

"Huh, you one of his bitches, girl? A stunner like you shouldn't be involved with men like him, you know—but, I can see why he keeps you around, I mean you're—" 

Tangerine interrupts him with a hard punch in the jaw and his sentence falls short. Without hesitation, Tangerine takes your wrist in his hand and speed-walks away from the scene. You stumble after him as he grunts in pain from the blows he'd taken. When he finds an empty bathroom, he pushes you inside as he crams into the small space. 

Tangerine's hip is digging into the sink as he holds up your palm. "Shit, look at your hand," he mutters and then looks up at you more closely, "You aren't too hurt, are ya? I'm sorry, darlin'." 

You stare at him, your adrenaline pumping, and blurt out the first thing you think of as you look at the cuts and bruises across his face, and at how disheveled and bloody his suit has become. "You look like shit," you say with concern, and with your other hand, you push some curls away from his forehead. Your fingers dance across his skin delicately, too worried for him to realize what exactly you're doing

Tangerine's eyebrows raise in surprise and he laughs. You pull your hand away and stare up at him, your wounds obvious from the blows that the other assassin had landed on you. However, he just smirks. "Atta girl," he whispers, and almost as if on instinct he moves to press his knuckles to your cheek. You feel the warmth spread across them. 

Clearing his throat, he pulls his arm away and looks down to unlock his gun. "We gotta find Lemon and we need to get off this god-forsaken train—job be damned. I'm not putting you at risk anymore." You nod, wiping some blood from the corner of your mouth with your sleeve.

"You stay behind me and listen closely. If I say jump, you jump, understand?" he says and slides the door to the bathroom open.

* * *

Tangerine feels his eyes hang heavy as he tries to erase the memory of Lemon's dead body. His heart is pounding as he feels your hands clutch around his arm. He hadn't let you see Lemon, not fully, but you'd cried from the situation anyway (and in fear of his anger he assumes). 

After all, he is furious.

"Fuckin' diesel bitch," he mutters, his gun pointed at the girl dressed in pink.

The young girl snarls and stares at him defiantly. She doesn't seem scared of him. However, as soon as the third assassin—the brown-haired man from earlier—enters, she screams. Tangerine senses you tense beside him and he quickly moves to shield you as the man points his gun at you and him. 

Tangerine fires his gun sloppily and it hits the man in his neck. However, he's too slow to prevent the man's bullet from hitting you in the shoulder.  

You shriek and the pain is excruciating as you fall to the ground. Tangerine spins around, catching you in time as he holds you close and applies pressure to your wound. He holds up your head as he looks into your teary eyes.

"Shit, fuck, fuck, hey–shh, you're okay," he promises, his voice strained. You're not trained for the pain and as much as Tangerine tries to prevent you from looking, your eyes move to your shoulder. 

There's blood everywhere. 

Tangerine can see that you're in shock as your eyelids flutter. He holds you up but he can't think as you lose consciousness. He wants to scream and he slams his hand onto the ground next to you, desperately holding you to him. 

He needs to help you.

Somehow.

* * * 

When you wake, you hear Tangerine's voice loud and clear— "You told me you weren't wearing yer fuckin' vest!" he snaps, pacing around the small motel room. Your eyelids flutter and you see Lemon—Lemon!— sitting on the second queen bed, his head in his hands. Tangerine's pendant still hangs from his neck. 

"Will ya stop screaming at me!?" Lemon hisses, pinching his nose.

"I though' ya'd died!!" 

From where you lay you can see how furious Tangerine looks. His suit is still bloody and he looks as disheveled as he did on the train. You can hear how pained he sounds and your heart sinks.

Lemon is silent for a moment and then he stands. Without any smart comment or argument, he walks over to his brother and wraps his arm around Tangerine's shoulders. Instantly, Tangerine's body seems to melt into Lemon and you hear a choked sob as they hug—you aren't entirely sure who it's from. 

After a moment, Lemon pulls away first but puts his hand on the back of Tangerine's nape. "I see ya managed to keep 'er safe," he says, amusement in his voice as he turns to you and you shut your eyes so they'll think you're still asleep. 

"Barely," Tangerine's voice is strained, "She's hurt. I tried'a stitch her up as best I could but I ain't no fuckin' doctor. She was passed out the entire time—hope she didn't feel a thing."

You hadn't.

"You care about 'er," Lemon states and you hold your breath. 

"I don't," Tangerine insists quickly. "She's just a responsibility. Nothin' more, nothin' less."

Your chest tightens at his words and you feel very stupid. Why would he care more than that? You're still strangers. You don't even know his favorite color. All you know is that you care.

He'd saved you. He was your savior. How could you move on and pretend he wasn't? How could you move on and just not see him anymore?

Lemon sighs sadly, "Why is it so hard for you to admit you care about someone?"

"Because everything I care about dies. Gone. Just like that, Lemon," you hear Tangerine snap his fingers and you flinch, "I don' want 'er to die because of me. Because I cared too much to let her go and live a normal fuckin' life!" 

You bite down on your lip—hard. 

"I–fuck, you don't understand Lemon," Tangerine says and you wish you could open your eyes to see him. You want to see him so badly but you can't so you stay still, listening in. "I almost lost you and you're a trained assassin! She's just a girl. I can't protect her. I couldn't even protect her tonight."

You want to tell him that he's wrong. He can! He had! Without him, you'd still be kidnapped or worse, dead. 

"Mate, you're too hard on yourself," Lemon reasons. 

"No. I'm not. I can't fuck up. Fuckin' up means death," Tangerine says sternly, his tone ending the conversation.

You hear faint footsteps and then the mattress dips as someone's nimble fingers find your hairline and push away some stray hairs. Is it weird that you recognize his touch already? You stir unconsciously and shift onto your back, your eyes opening. 

You're unaware that as they flutter, all Tangerine is picturing as his blue ones staring back at you is the way you looked when they'd found you—hair messy and spilled across the dirty mattress, skin bruised and bloody. His stomach churns and he feels sick. 

"Hi, darlin'," he mutters, and then his fingers, slow and deliberate, move to pull down the blanket so he can access your bound shoulder. You tilt your head and wince when you see the blood seeping through the plaster.

"May I?" Tangerine asks as his hand hovers over your shoulder. You nod, staring up at him with widened eyes as he checks over your wound. 

As he works, you're overwhelmed and you have to look away. When you do, your eyes fall on Lemon. "Lemon," you say, "you're alive!" 

Lemon cracks a smile and runs a hand over his face, "I am. Were ya sad, bird?"

It's meant to be teasing but you nod instantly and Lemon's eyebrows crease. He looks at Tangerine, who stands up and pulls the covers over you again. "She's a sweet bird, ain't she?" Lemon says as he smiles fondly. Tangerine nods and moves some hair behind his ear as the strands fall messily. 

"Yeah," is all he answers and then he tells you, "Rest up now, luv. Your stitches are solid and you need sleep. It's been a long day." You wonder if he knows you'd overheard his conversation with Lemon or if he's blissfully unaware. You try and sit up but Tangerine scowls, "Hey, now, none of that," he reprimands. 

"Don't leave me," you say seriously and Tangerine's eyes round.

"Pardon?"

"I don't want to be alone—" you whisper and settle into the pillows again, looking up at him. 

"Lemon and I will just be over," Tangerine starts to explain but you reach out and grasp his wrist. You stare up at him silently and Lemon chuckles. 

"Think she wants ya to sleep with 'er," he says and Tangerine's cheeks turn pink at the double meaning. He sends Lemon a glare but sits back down beside you. He lets you hold onto his wrist as he thinks of a plan. 

You wonder if asking him to lay next to you is too much. You would understand if he refuses.

"I'm gonna clean up a little," Tangerine finally says, "and then Lemon can take the other bed and I'll—I'll sit here, on the floor, and hold your hand so you can sleep?"

His voice has a slight tremble you wonder if he's suppressing, and you can't help but wish he'd just hold you.

"You'll be uncomfortable," you try persuading him as he stands and his wrist slips from your hand.

"I want to keep watch tonight anyways," Tangerine says and smiles. It isn't a smirk—no it's a real smile. You don't argue as you nod.

Your arm dangles from the bed as you try and stay awake long enough to know Tangerine will actually hold your hand. You feel your body slip in and out of sleep as you catch only fragments of Tangerine's conversation with Lemon through the open bathroom door. 

"We'll call Billy tomorrow morning and she can call 'er family—tell'em she's safe."

"Ya know, ya could just sleep in the bed—next to her—it's really not that odd,"

"Shut up,"

You're so close to sleep your eyelids feel so heavy that when you hear quiet shuffling near your ear, you can't even open your eyes. Your hand twitches and a soft sound escapes your lips when you feel Tangerine's fingers interlock with yours. 

"I'm here," he whispers, the sound so quiet if you weren't so close to him you'd miss it. You hear the sound of his head hitting the bedside table and with an exhausted wince, you shift closer, your hand squeezing his. 

"Thank you f-for everything," you manage to mumble, your eyes remaining shut. You aren't sure your thanks escaped your lips audibly because he doesn't answer. You slip into sleep, unaware of Tangerine's mind racing as his hand remains in yours. 

Don't thank me, he thinks, please. 

His drowsy eyes are trained on the motel door as Lemon washes up in the bathroom. He refuses to shut them. While his back is already aching from sitting on the floor and his arm is tired from being in such an awkward position to hold your hand, he doesn't move. 

Instead, he listens to your calm breathing as you sleep. It's so different from when he'd found you—you'd been so scared and, even drugged, your body had been on edge.

Now, you sound so calm and secure and as silly as it sounds, Tangerine's chest tightens. As long as he can help it he'll make sure you're never that scared and vulnerable again.  

#tangerine x reader #tangerine x fem!reader #tangerine bullet train #tangerine x y/n #tangerine x you #tangerine #lemon and tangerine #tangerine bullet train x reader #tangerine fanfiction #tangerine fic #tangerine smut #bullet train fanfic #bullet train #bullet train fanfiction #aaron taylor johnson fic #aaron taylor johnson #atj #bullet train tangerine #bullet train movie #bullet train lemon #lemon bullet train #aaron taylor johnson fanfiction

[spatialwave]

Can you do an Angus Tully NSFW alphabet?

𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐔𝐒 𝐓𝐔𝐋𝐋𝐘 – 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐬𝐟𝐰 𝐚𝐥𝐩𝐡𝐚𝐛𝐞𝐭.

notes: 18+. fem!reader/college au. 18+ characters. thank you for asking me to do this. <3

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

angus tully is a darling with aftercare, something that comes naturally to him. he loves to pepper your face with chaste kisses and coo gentle praises in your ear as you cuddle. if you don’t use a condom he’ll make sure to get a towel to clean you up, or you two will sneak to the showers together. 

he’s so fucking kind with you—always making sure you know how loved you are after he’s made ruins of you.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

he loves your tits, they’re his favourite thing in the entire world. he’ll touch them any chance he gets and will constantly ask you to wear something low-cut. it makes him so incredibly hard when you don’t wear a bra, his cock twitching in excitement anytime he can see your hard nipples pressing through your shirt. 

his own favourite body part is his cock. he’s well endowed and you were the one to tell him that. angus thought he was very average, but when you dropped your jaw the first time you saw him hard and naked he grew very smug and not-so-humble. his ego was never the same.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

angus cums a lot and he likes to see it on you. he loves cumming on your face with your tongue sticking out, seeing how it decorates you. he thinks you look so pretty when it dribbles down your chin. 

his favourite place to cum is inside you, though. he ruts into you as he finishes, slowly rocking until he pulls back and watches how it drips out of your pussy. he’ll use his fingers to push it back inside of you, fucking you with them until your reach your peak.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

angus likes stealing your panties after you fuck. he'll keep them to jerk off with, sometimes putting them in his mouth to bite them. when you find out he's embarrassed as hell, but when you suggest that he can use them to cover your moans that becomes his new favourite thing.

anytime you get too loud, he'll bundle up your panties and shove them between your lips as a makeshift gag.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

angus tully has little experience—he’s had his first kiss & made out with girls before. nothing serious, especially since graduating from an all-boys school. when he met you he was lacking in recent experience and was still a virgin. though, after reading enough porno mags, he had a general idea of how to please a woman, but he learned the most from you.

he listens to your soft sounds and whimpers when his fingers curl inside you, how your moans choke in your throat when his tongue circles your clit. he’s a perceptive person, you hardly have to show him a thing and by your third time sleeping together he has you writhing on the bedsheets crying out his name. 

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

he loves when you ride him because he has the perfect view of your tits bouncing. he likes holding onto your hips and helping you bounce up and down on his cock. however, he greatly prefers when you grind on him and fucking yourself on him, his eyes staying focused on you as you moan and mewl as you feel him hit deep inside your pussy.

he also loves the hook position because sometimes he needs to control the pace and fuck you like crazy. your thighs pressed against your chest and calves resting over his shoulders, giving him perfect access to thrust into you as deep and hard as you both crave.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

it depends on the situation. if you’re high, he’s always laughing, especially when you two are kissing—he just feels so elated and happy to be with you. effortlessly pleased and madly in love. early in your relationship, he was goofy too, mostly out of inexperience as you two learned each other’s bodies and made mistakes.

he’s mostly serious now, concentrating on how his cock penetrates you just right and making sure you get nothing less than euphoria.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

angus doesn't groom that much, mostly thanks to hippie culture. he will give himself a good trim if you request it. he also has a happy trail that he's very proud of.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

this is something that depends on your 'style' during the act. if the two of you are feeling desperate and needy, there's little romance and a ton of heady passion. if you're more vanilla and gentle, he'll whisper in your ear how much he loves you, how lucky he is, etc.

he's a romantic at heart, so sometimes he prefers to have those gentler moments with you to remind you of his love.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

he masturbates so much. it started with porno mags, but now all he needs is to picture your tits and he’s hard and ready to go. he jerks off any chance he gets when he’s alone, which is a lot more now that he has his own dorm room.

he loves watching you masturbate too, his eyes fixated on you while your fingers push inside your pussy and circle your clit. he’ll oftentimes stroke himself when watching, licking his lips as you toy with yourself under his gaze.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

teasing, biting, mild exhibitionism, giving praise, edging/orgasm control, watching you beg for his cock.

angus is a kinky man, but like many others, it comes with the more experience he gets. when he learns about edging, you can say goodbye to the times when you were able to cum as freely as you wanted as he fucks you. now he prefers to tease you and watch you beg for him to put his cock back inside your aching pussy.

(he also has a breeding kink that he's embarrassed about.)

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

his bed, by far. it's private and away from the other college students, the only downside is having to try to be quiet so the r.a. doesn't knock on his door mid-orgasm again.

angus likes the showers, too. they're not co-ed, but that doesn't stop him from sneaking you into the men's washrooms so you two can fuck in one of the shower stalls. to the boys that pass by, they usually try to ignore the muffled moans coming from the stall with two sets of feet visible from where the curtain ends.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

his biggest turn-on is when you're flirty and touchy with him, especially in public. he likes it when you bat your lashes at him and chew on your lip coyly, or when you're walking through campus together and your fingers brush along his hand slowly and softly–making his skin tingle.

when he's extra sensitive, sometimes he'll need to pull you aside somewhere private so you can get on your knees and take care of the problem you created for him. most of the time you two will decide to skip class and head to his dorm.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn-offs)

he doesn't like being called daddy... for personal reasons.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

he loves when you suck his cock, seeing the way you look up at him with your mouth and throat full of him. his hands in your hair, tugging as he pushes himself deeper and seeing how tears prick your eyes when he cums.

his preference is eating you out. he wasn't as skillful at first as he is now, so expert in his skills that oftentimes he can make you cum in a few minutes with just his tongue and fingers. he loves how you taste, swirling his tongue around your clit and licking you up and down until his mouth and chin are dripping with your juices. he especially loves when you ride his face because he gets the perfect view of your bouncing tits while indulging in your heat.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

angus usually leans more toward fast and rough with his movements, he isn't sure where exactly he gets his energy from, but lord knows he uses it well. he loves seeing how big of a mess you turn into when he's fucking you from behind with quick, hard thrusts–fingers digging into your hips as you cry out his name with your face shoved into the pillows.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

angus loves quickies, especially the ones that could potentially lead to you two being caught. quick fucks in the showers, a janitor's closet, or hidden in the quietest section of the library. you two don't do them often, but when life gets busy around midterms and finals, you two find yourselves needing those bursts of release.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

the biggest risk angus takes with you is not using condoms. he loves filling your pussy with his come and watching how it spills out of you and he never wants to change that. when you told him you were on the pill it was like all his wildest fantasies came true.

he also likes to experiment with semi-public sex. you giving him head in the back of a dark movie theatre or going shopping and fucking in a changing room.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

he can go for a looong time because he's learned how to pace himself. there was one time you realized that you'd be fucking for nearly two hours, your bodies were so sore that the next day you both had to skip class because there was no way your legs weren't giving out.

he usually has enough energy to go out at least two rounds, at the very least enough to make sure you still cum after he does.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

angus doesn't own any toys himself, but is curious about them when you mention it. the only toy that you two purchase together is the hitachi magic wand after spotting it in a sex shop. it becomes a staple in your sexual escapades. he loves using it on you, watching how your hips twitch when the vibrations overstimulate you while he fucks you slowly and steadily.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

oh, how angus loves teasing you. it all started when you two were just friends, he'd notice how his teasing remarks about you would make your cheeks and ears turn red. then, when you two became sexual with each other, he wondered how that would translate into sex.

it worked wonders on him, loving the way you'd blush underneath him when he teases you. "you want my cock so bad, don't you?" he says as he just barely pushes the head of his cock inside of you, smiling when you pout and whine for him to keep going.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

he isn't that loud, usually groaning and grunting in your ear with each snap of his hips. his words are breathy and heavy when he talks to you while fucking, his warm breath tickling your ear and neck.

when he cums, though, he'll moan loud enough that you're certain the other students could hear from their dorms. he loves when you're riding on top of him and your hand covers his mouth when he cums, enjoying the bit of dominance you get over him.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

if there is one way to get dominance over angus it's to kiss and bite at his neck and ears, it'll leave him melting and begging you to keep going. when you bite and suck at his skin he'll let out the most pitiful, whiny moans and can be convinced to do almost anything.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

angus is a thin and lanky guy, muscle mass isn't his friend and it never will be. you love that about him.

he also has a bigger-than-average dick, that's what you love about him even more. it's around 7.5" and it's decently girthy, but not crazy. the best part about him is that he can actually use it well–lucky you.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

angus has a high sex drive and it surprised you. it can even be a little annoying sometimes, especially when you are stressed with homework and he's sitting next to you in the library with his hand trying to find its way into your skirt while hidden under the table. you can't hide the fact that you love the attention and whenever you're in the mood he's ready and waiting patiently.

he always says how he's so lucky to have the hottest girlfriend, so can you blame him for being constantly horny around you?

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

he's a heavy sleeper. seriously, the dude is like a rock when he falls asleep and he falls asleep fast. one second he'll be cleaning you up with a towel and the next his face is buried into your neck and hair, snoring gently into your ear. it's very cute.

#angus tully #angus tully x reader #dominic sessa #the holdovers #wordsbyspatial #spatialanswers

[junosmindpalace]

DOWN IN THE MEADOW

🎧 deep in the brook, catfish are waiting for the hook!

pairing: arthur morgan x fem!reader

synopsis: you, a former saloon girl, and your relationship with arthur through a song in accordance with the seasons.

content: family dynamics, domesticity, relationship timeline, a little bit of insecure arthur, horrible transitions between jack and arthur povs, messy intro and conclusion, soft gentle love thats the fic

wc: 2.9k

a/n: i haven't posted anything in nearly a month...SO sorry about that but here's this! i promise i've been working i've just been pickier with what i choose to post + theyre all lengthy as shit. this is different from what i usually write but we're trying some new stuff </3

Something that not many people were aware of was how very boring the outlaw life could be.

More often than not the lifestyle meant a whole lot of housekeeping, hunting and fishing; and that was only if you were old, strong, and experienced enough to handle such activities. To Jack Marston's misfortune, he was none of those things. 

Life as an outlaw could be especially boring for a young boy such as himself, with no one of his size to cancel out each other’s boredom by becoming playmates. His momma and various aunts and uncles did their best to entertain him when they had the spare time, and he too found amusement in the beauty and wonder of the outdoors.  

Fortunately, the worst of winter's wrath was over with, and beside the occasional snowfall, the weather was tame enough to settle down in a new camp and lounge about.

Because he cannot leave the camp very often, Jack settles for sitting by its outskirts. And it’s one of these even days that become odd when he spots his Uncle Arthur return from a trip into town accompanied by a stranger on the back of his horse.

Jack was closely acquainted with every member of his misfit family; he could recognize every worn face within it. Who wore which scar and where, which voices were more often fussy or brimming with glee, and even the ones that one day disappear and never return. This face that his Uncle Arthur brought back with him was a face he didn’t recognize, kind and curious as he observed it to be.

The small boy had been taught from a very early age not to trust strangers. There are few people in this cold and cruel world that wholeheartedly care for him; the vagabonds in this makeshift home of his were a couple.

But Uncle Arthur had brought her to them with reassurances that she would fit in just fine within their family, to them and seemingly the timid woman herself, who looked onward on at him for guidance. And Jack trusted what the older man deemed safe to accept this new member with hardly any worry in the back of his mind.

It didn’t take long for all of camp to learn that she had been a saloon girl from the town over where Arthur had been frequenting on business. It explained why she had arrived with nothing but a dagger in a holster sewed to her boot and a guitar on her back. 

The strange woman, however, adored Jack from the moment she had introduced herself to him, sitting in the tallgrass and braiding its strands. Jack observed, outside of her initial nervous demeanour, that she had kind eyes and a wit about her that he observed in many members of the gang, including those he loves and cares for the most. A mouth that his mother found often laughing as a result of and along with, and one that spun tall tales in the form of song and dance with various camp members. 

However, everyone was expected to contribute to bringing about funds and resources for the gang. It meant Arthur, the primary enforcer, spent most of his time out of camp running errands. 

You often asked to tag along in the shotgun seat of his wagon, whether to satisfy your own intrigue of the terrain or on Miss Grimshaw’s orders, but the extension of his hand gently escorting you on board was confirmation that Arthur didn’t have very many qualms with his company. 

Between light-hearted conversation, the two of you admire the thick blankets of shiny snow that had built up over various days of steady snowfall through squinted gazes as the light reflected back into your eyes. It glimmered and gleamed under arrays of sunlight, and crunched satisfyingly beneath each turn of the wheel. Your boots are thick and comfortable enough that you’re also able to enjoy the crunch beneath your feet when you arrive into the nearby town and hop off the wagon, with Arthur assisting in steadying you on your way down. 

You scout the town for work while Arthur does his shopping, and it isn’t all that long until you find it in nearby saloons. A couple of standalone gigs for a fair sum of money is perfect for your circumstances. Arthur offers to drive you into town nearly every day, the exception being when he’s already out of camp prior. It’s your primary contributor to the gang’s stability, besides helping around camp when you could. 

Uncle Arthur and the saloon girl often accompanied one another in their errands, by the shore of a river, or on a log beside the campfire. Jack could often find the two of you exchanging everything from anecdotes to laughs to something more shy and intimate. There are a set of unspoken social customs and courtesies when it came to confronting such curiosity, but Jack was too young to understand such customs; and far too curious.

So curious as to go so far as to one day innocently ask his Uncle Arthur if he was sweet on the girl—in front of her. His bluntness had the poor man choking on the rum from his flask as his cheeks flushed from either the suffocation or the embarrassment he felt over the situation--or perhaps both.

“Wha…N...No, you can’t just—“ he attempts to recollect himself, letting out a couple of coughs into the crook of his elbow before inhaling a strangled breath in. His eyes dart nervously between you and the boy. “You can’t just ask things like that, Jack. It ain’t polite. Where'd you even learn that...?"

But your warm eyes only crinkle in amusement as you laugh.

“I don’t mind. Besides, what does your lot know about polite?” 

Jack liked her songs, and found his feet eagerly carrying themselves over when he hears her by the campfire with Javier, guitars out and voices in sweet harmony. Sometimes she’ll get up and dance, and Jack will join her on her feet. One evening, there's already someone else swaying with you to a melody, and your gleeful laughter is paired with Arthur's bashful chuckles.

Oh, curse his northern attitude for leaving him so stiff, burning under the intensity of your warm gaze. The ambers from the campfire leave a little twinkle in your eye that makes his stomach stir uncomfortably, his muscles seize up the slightest bit. But your appreciative smile and courtesy as he bows playfully tells him there was nothing to forgive in the first place. 

Spring eventually sprouts up from the ground, and with it, more opportunities for leisure activity. Abigail kindly asks if you would take little Jack with you and Arthur to bask in the serene nature trails by the meadows, to which you happily oblige her request. 

Arthur leaves camp with you on the back of his horse or on the shotgun seat of the wagon more often than not. Sometimes--Jack overhears--it's on Miss Grimshaw’s orders. Other times, one or the other is in need of some company to assist with a personal chore. And very occasionally, the reason lies solely in wanting to be around one another (though this is more speculation on the gang's part, who by now have also taken note of that lingering something, and coming to this conclusion from the longing gazes as if it were obvious). 

In the back of the wagon, you observe the thawing of the snow with Jack through the harmony of your guitar, each firm, yet soft, strum ringing through the warm spring air. The smiles in your voices coupled with the gentle hum of your singing soothes something hard and tense in Arthur’s soul as he too basks in the sweetness of your melody while he drives at the front, melting it to the equivalent of the sludge of the snow. 

When Mr South Wind sighs in the pines

Old Mr Winter whimpers and whines

Down in the meadow, under the snow

April is teaching green things to grow

From prairies to creeks to small forests, your journeys take you in all sorts of places. The grass only grows greener, the sun only shines brighter, and the day is perfect when the wind is cool, too. More and more often are you and Arthur out of camp, and every time you return, Jack observes, you’re both in quite high and satisfied spirits. 

Arthur sits cross legged in a meadow just along one of the trails he takes to and from town filled with wildflowers. His journal sits in his lap, and he carefully sketches a scene not too far down from him. Just a few meters away do you sit with Jack by the wagon with your guitar on your leg as you sing affectionately, with grins plastered on both of your faces as you sway with the rhythm. 

When Mr West Wind howls in a glade

Old Mr Summer nods in the shade

Down in the meadow, deep in the brook

Catfish are waiting for the hook!

You participate in crafting jewelry out of the yellow flowers alongside the boy, using the back of your guitar as a makeshift table as you carefully pluck the dandelions and daisies surrounding you, watching one another as you weave the stems and excitedly present the final products to one another. Later, you’d teach him how he can store all kinds of leaves and flowers and herbs between the heavy pages of his storybooks. That was just the sort of thing you did; bring about this an innocent wonder and awe into peoples lives like no strange character Arthur has ever met; and he’s had quite his share of encounters with strange folk. 

He doesn’t remember the last time the world has brimmed with so much color, full of a kind of special magic. He finds it impossible to replicate the scene to perfection in his journal, but each additional detail--your tooth peeking out from your smile, the crescent shape of your eyes, the gentle dexterity in your hands-- reduces him to some sort of breathlessness.

And each time he picks up his book and flips back to his illustration, he returns to that beautiful day, the same feeling of sheer admiration returning with it, so maybe he didn’t do too terrible of a job.

Arthur's journal holds a dirty secret: that perhaps he was in love with you.

A fair portion of the pages were filled with sketches of you, whole portraits and mini doodles, of passages detailing your endeavours together, transcribed song lyrics of yours, and worst of all, the ever changing feelings of his toward you. They aren't very becoming from a man such as himself, but perhaps nothing good really was. A sort of guilt and hefty embarrassment weighed on his heart the more he reflected on it, too depressingly for a man who should be only elevated by the realisation. But what other than sorrow did love ever promise Arthur?

Old Lady Blackbird flirts with the scarecrow

Scarecrow is waving at the moon

Old Mr Moon makes hearts everywhere go bump, bump

With the magic of June

It’s Jack’s favorite part of the song because of a little smack! you give the body of the guitar over halfway through the verse, and he either claps or slaps his own knees along to the rhythm with a giggle. 

As dusk approaches the horizon, Jack finds the two of you sitting on the shore of the river just beside camp, and through the gaps between tall pine trees and tents with their equipment alike, Jack can see your legs thrown over Uncle Arthur’s lap. A gentle hand of his rests on your clothed thigh, smoothing down the fabric of your skirt as the other is placed behind him, keeping him upright. You play around with the placement of Arthur’s hat on his head. For whatever reason, it amuses you to no end, and the unimpressed look on Arthur’s face only fuels your laughter. Still, he’s only able to maintain the expression for a moment before it morphs into one of endearment. 

The water from the river sparkles behind the two of you as the scene unfolds before the boy’s eyes, and he’s forced to look away when he feels a tug at his arm.

“Oh, Jack, aren't you nosey? Let’s not bother Uncle Arthur right now,” his mother quickly ushers him away toward the opposite side of the camp, glancing between her son and the pair of you. “He’s busy.” 

Jack is able to spare one final glance over his shoulder in your direction, catch a glimpse of your foreheads resting against each other as your laughter subdues, before he turns away and allows his momma to lead him to help his pa with some of his chores. 

When Mr East Wind shouts over head

Then all the leaves turn yellow and red

Down in the meadow corn stocks are high

Pumpkins are ripe and ready for pie

Autumn, specifically, is an interesting time to be out and about. Arthur chaperones you and Jack on your scavenger hunt of various fall plants and beauties. The two of you point out the various colors in the trees and on the ground, the mushrooms growing between blades of grass, and the various herbs and flowers and crops that grow in the fields. Arthur doubles as a delightful treasure trove of knowledge, with some of the items already having a portion of his page in his journal dedicated to its likeness, and some he adds in as you go along. 

You entertain his insight as you walk arm in arm, and something about it is just so delightfully domestic, Arthur recognises, that it makes him feel like mush again.

For a moment, he nearly forgets what his life really is, what sort of gruesome deeds he’s responsible for, the consequences of this lifestyle, and he’s desperate to hold onto the moment. Innocent and peaceful, a life he's been unrightfully yearning after for a while now. The foraging all in all reaps well, yet Arthur can’t help but find the real reward in the way you lean your head against his arm as if he were a pillar of security, not an anchor that weighs you down.

Old Lady Blackbird flirts with the scarecrow

Scarecrow's waving at the Moon

Old Mr Moon makes hearts everywhere go bump-bump

With the magic of June

Unfortunately, the magic of the warm weather does not last forever. Yet not even the encroaching winter chill could freeze up the warmth in your chest. But it did nip at your fingertips--at your’s and Arthur’s and Jack’s. 

The groups joint efforts are relied upon a hundredfold when the snow starts to fall and the chill breezes through the flaps of the tents in the camps. Like a clock tower bell, it indicates that it’s time to up and move and find more secure shelter, with stronger walls and better furnaces. Somehow the bitter cold doesn’t leave a quiver in your heart, and it's proven when you sit on the edge of Arthur’s wagon with Jack and Abigail and your guitar in your lap as you strum through a melody for Jack’s entertainment. 

When Mr North Wind rolls on the breeze

Old father Christmas trims over trees

Down in the meadow snow shoftly gleams…

The lengthy trip wears everyone down eventually, and after an indefinite amount of time consolidating the various paths, the gang happens along an abandoned town in which to take refuge from Demeter’s grief. 

By the time you arrive at the safe destination to set up camp, the stars have made themselves visible in the sky. Arrangements are quickly made to set up camp and settle everyone into a room with a place to sleep, wagons being unloaded and horses tied to posts. Thankfully, the snow has ceased attempting to bury the gang in a thick blanket, and the winds howl has lulled to a short whistle. Arthur’s sleeping arrangement differs for the first time in years; Miss Grimshaw tells him he now shares a room with you. 

As it is your first time relocating, the move takes a harsh toll on both your physical and mental exhaustion. Along with young Jack at the back of Arthur’s wagon you both lie dead to the world with uncomfortable expressions. Abigail raises the boy into her arms when she comes around with a huff, cradling him close to her jacket. 

“Alright little man,” she tells him with an affectionate, exasperated tone as she turns to trudge to her cabin, “let’s get you to bed now.” 

Arthur turns to stare at you, hugging your body in an unconscious effort to keep even the slightest bit warm and relaxed, and for some reason cannot find the heart to wake you from your uneasy slumber. So he huffs, strides over, and situates an arm under your legs and another behind your back.

“C’mere, sleeping beauty…” he grunts as he lifts you in a similar fashion close to his chest, slowly making his way toward your shared cabin. “Didn’t realize you were so adverse to traveling.” 

Then again, it wasn’t anybody’s particularly favorite part of the lifestyle. 

Yet an endearing smile plays on his lips when you unconsciously snuggle closer to him, and he knows that the love in your touch and the song in your heart would keep him warm even after the thaw. 

…earth goes to sleep and smiles in her dreams...♡

return to masterlist.

#arthur morgan x reader #i dont knkw how big the self insert fandom is for arthur on here but #self indulgent i’m never writing him again #arthur morgan fluff #arthur morgan oneshot #arthur morgan x fem!reader #rdr2 x reader #rdr2 fluff #rdr2 oneshot #rdr x reader #rdr oneshot #rdr fluff

[bisexual-horror-fan]

Hear me out!

Sam’s killer side is more dormant and her bloodlust is out of control and she’s feeling the overwhelming need to kill someone. By this point, she’d stopped trying to fight it. Reader is a friend/girlfriend who knows enough about Sam and her urges to offer her a substitute; letting her fuck you stupid. As kinky as you can think of with sprinkles of blood play, knife play, heavy degradation and praise. Sam 100% has a strap, she just does and loooooves to make her choke on it. You didn’t really believe Sam would hurt anyone and you’d never seen her kill anybody first hand before but by the time she was finished with you, you knew that she was far more than capable and the thought of that was nothing short of a turn on.

Oh, Anon. You were the first person to submit for the Ghostface Sam fic prompts, and you nailed it in one. So here we are! My first Sam Carpenter fic! And the first fic of the new year! Let's get into it, I hope this is dirty enough for you!

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Rating. Explicit. Length. 3.8K. Ghostface! Sam Carpenter X FEM! AFAB! Reader. She/Her Pronouns. Warnings: Blood. Mentions Of Murder. Begging. Oral Sex. Cunnilingus. Face Sitting. Cum Eating. Strap On Sex. Spanking. Knife Play. Blood Play. Knife Used As A Makeshift Sex Toy. Multiple Orgasms. Squirting. Praise. Degradation. Dirty Talk. Rough Sex. Sam Is Mean. You Love It. Edging. Mild Orgasm Denial. Asking For Permission.

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"Make It Hurt."

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The itch is becoming completely unbearable. How is she meant to cope with this? Nothing is able to keep her mind off the intense want to maim and destroy. 

She should be happy. Her last spree went so well, she got away scott-fucking-free, everyone views her as the helpless survivor of an attack when in reality she did it and framed the real victims. It’s been months, far too long, and she is feeling the urges bubbling up inside of her once again. She can’t go around killing without some sort of plan, it’s just asking to get caught and if she ends up in jail then she’ll never get to again. A complete nightmare, and one she wants to do everything possible to prevent. 

It is to the point she is having trouble sleeping. Other hobbies are dull and lifeless, she has low motivation, food is bland, her mind is just consumed with thoughts of running through warm bodies with cold steel, of slicing, cutting, draining every single last drop of blood from a person. She needs to plan appropriately so she can hopefully satisfy her bloodlust, but she’s waited too long, the planning stage isn’t working as it normally is, it’s not fun, it’s frustrating her even further. She doesn’t want to plot, she just wants satisfaction now, she wants to feel the hot spray of blood hitting her face, soaking into her clothes, she isn’t able to pull the creative resources she needs from herself to do what the job would require, the well is dry. 

You wake up to find her side of the bed empty and long gone cold, rolling over your check your phone, it’s past 3 AM. You groan and sit up, why isn’t she in bed? Furthermore, you’d insisted she get some sleep with you tonight, she’d been up late a lot this week, and you could see how restless and antsy she was getting, irritable and unable to keep her mood even. You get out of bed, pausing to get your robe off the hook on the back of the door, you pull it on and tie up the belt at your waist as you leave to go find her. 

Sam is unable to sleep, she’s in the living room in the dark, a favoured gore fest of a horror movie on the TV and her favourite knife in her hand. She has her feet up, one hand is playing with a lock of her hair curling it around her finger, winding and unwinding it over and over, the opposite hand occupied with flipping the knife, a casual but impressive trick, the flick of her wrist practised, natural, complete muscle memory. She is still dressed in what she wore to bed, braless in the well fitting and tight white t-shirt, cotton dove grey shorts that creep high up her thighs. You lean against the wall and watch her for a moment. 

You know what this is, you can see it in her body language, the tension is radiating off of her. She is unfulfilled, she is craving to hurt, she wants to kill, enact things she is watching on the screen, the desire to spill blood is overtaking her. She is smart, calculating, she knows that now is not the right time, but that doesn’t change the frustration she feels. You wish she could do what she really wanted to, but you know just as well as her it’s a bad fucking idea. 

You knock quietly on the wall, and it makes her react immediately, sitting up, even more tense, she stops flipping the knife, gripping the handle, her head turns and upon seeing you she relaxes slightly. She slumps back into her original position, still holding the knife, she says quietly, “Hey.”

You walk over, returning her greeting, “Hey yourself.” Taking the seat next to her, you look over to her, a hand rests on her thigh, and you ask, “You okay?” 

“Can’t sleep.” She sighs, and you laugh lightly, your hand squeezes her thigh, “Yeah, I can see that.” 

“Sorry, I know you hate waking up alone I just, I couldn’t keep lying in bed awake-” Her dark brown eyes meet your gaze, and you lean closer, shushing her, “Stop that, you’ve got a lot on your mind right now clearly, stop worrying so much about me.” 

You are much more concerned about her than yourself, you adjust, one knee on the couch, you lean over further, one hand still firmly on her thigh and the other on the backrest of the couch. “I know what’s up with you-” 

A dip of your head, your lips brush hers, a small peck before you pull back, continuing your thought, “-all pent-up, like you are locked in a cage, unable to do what you really want.” 

She leans up, steals a kiss, and you indulge her momentarily before breaking it again, “We both know you can’t, not till you relieve some of this stress, so…”

Your hand leaves her thigh, fingers curl around her wrist and pulling up her hand, you have her slip her fingers through the opening of your robe over your chest, let her get a handful of you, arching closer into her touch you offer yourself up, “Take it all out on me.” 

Her breath hitches, she doesn’t pull away, in fact her touch gets bolder, greedier, feeling you up, your lips barely an inch apart as she responds, “Baby, I can’t do that, I’ll hurt you-”

“I want you to hurt me. You need to draw blood to feel better? Why not mine?” Your hand is off her wrist, instead it latches onto her hand, the one holding the knife. Your head moves, gives some more breathing room, you hold the blade to your own thigh, exposed between the folds of your robe, the one you are kneeling on. You press, drag the unyielding silver over flesh, and you gasp from the jolt of pain, both of you watch as the skin splits and crimson begins to drip. Her resolve is splintering, you whimper out, “Please Sam?”

Those two words, that plea, begging, unlocks something in her. Makes some part of her snap, the last vestiges of self-control are abandoned in short order. 

She practically drags you back to the bedroom. 

You think at first she is going to have you on the bed, toss you onto the comforter and plush sheets, no that is apparently too good for you when she is in the mood, and you know that because she tells you as much. She pushes you down onto the dark hardwood floor, your eyes are questioning, which leads her to tell you, “C’mon sweetheart, you told me you wanted it to hurt, and I’m going to give you just what you asked for.” 

She’s standing over you, passing the knife from hand to hand, sadistic smile playing on her lips and as she stares down at you, her look tattles on her thoughts, she's considering what to do with you, playing around mentally with just what she wants to do to you first. You watch as she starts to take her shorts off, knife still in one hand, she drops the fabric onto the floor and then next she is removing that all lace black panties she had on underneath, and you are already salivating at the view of her. 

Your eyes are locked between her legs, you love every single part of her, but you’d be a filthy fucking liar if you couldn’t be honest about how much you adored her bare like this. You roam, from the well maintained patch of black hair to her prominent clitoral hood and the plump lips you could suck and toy with for hours. 

You get your wish, she knows you well and what you are craving. She moves, standing over you and then lowers herself down, her knees on either side of your head as she straddles your face. Hands move on instinct, you reach up and grip her hips, moaning against her as soon as the flavour of her hits your tongue. Swiping up through her folds, getting a better taste before passing over her clit, you hum indulgently and repeat the motion. Over and over, taking care to spend more time focusing on that most sensitive part of her. She is moving her hips, grinding herself down on your lips and tongue, with a deep moan, “Fuck, you are the best little cunt eater around.” 

You preen under her praise, it makes you work harder to please her, sucking deeply, eyes falling closed with another hum that makes her body buck on top of you. She is loving this, riding your pretty face, and you love it too, the taste of her, getting her wetter and wetter, listening to her moans and feeling her thighs clenching around your head. It is bliss, it is your purpose, to be used for her pleasure and enjoyment, nothing is better. 

She reaches back and her fingers press on the cut on your thigh, the blood had slowed significantly and the rush of pain makes you moan louder against her. “What a pain slut you are. I bet if it touched you that you’d be fucking soaked.” 

You know that to be true, your thighs rub together, and you feel the wetness staining them, you want some attention for yourself, but you want to keep pleasing her much, much more. You forget your own leaking cunt and choose to continue focusing on her instead. 

She rolls her body again, her wetness is all over your face, it had started to run down your chin, you feel it on your neck. Your fingers squeeze her hips, and you continue to eat her out, you knew you were affecting her, her dirty talk is becoming more fractured, moaning much more. “God yeah-ugh-there you go, jus-just like that, ohhh, suck that fucking clit like you mean it.” 

Her body starts to react in that way that you know all too well, tensing, breath coming in shorter gasps. She hadn’t even been riding your face for that long, but you were exceptionally skilled at this, had more than enough practice and knew how to get her off quickly, adept at giving her powerful orgasms with nothing more than your mouth. Knowing much better than to stop now, you keep going, unrelenting, feverish, you continue your current action, having pulled her clit into your mouth, tongue flicking over it while it is encased in the wet heat of you and in less than a minute more you are rewarded with her cumming on your face. You never grew tired of this, of her shuddering on top of you through her release, the minute movements as she wrung out every bit of sensation she could, the near guttural moan of your name that would pass through her lips. 

It made you leak more, clench around nothing, long to feel the same.

Her body becomes still, but her breathing is still erratic, she raises up on her knees a little to give you some breathing room. You are staring up at her, you watch with rapt interest as she removes her shirt and tosses it, leaving her totally naked still on top of you. She is looking back down at you, a half smile playing on her features, one that is dangerous. She sets the knife down on the floor, and you know better than to even think about going for it. After a moment more to recover, she is getting up, ordering you firmly to, “Stay.”

You do as you are told. Laying there on the floor as you watch her move, she steps over you and out of your line of sight, you don’t even dare to turn your head to follow where she goes. You hear the opening of some drawers, you know what she is after. You hear her speak from somewhere behind you, “Strip.” 

Hands scramble, rushing to comply, you take your robe off and toss it into the far corner of the room, leaving you totally bare. Sam insists you sleep naked, much prefers having you open and exposed, something you do not mind at all and do for her willingly. The floor feels hard and cool against your back, you have no real time to rest, you hear her footsteps coming close again and then there are fingers in your hair, they twine and twist, she pulls, tugging hard, “On your knees' whore, now”

You suck in a harsh inhale through your teeth, the sharp stab of pain radiating down the base of your skull, and you do as asked, getting up onto your knees, her firm hand guiding you. She’s back in your field of vision now, and she’s gotten her favourite toy to use with you, her strapless strap on. 

It is dark purple and looks striking, totally stunning against her skin, it’s long and thick as it sits heavy between her legs, jutting outwards, it’s ribbed and whenever she has you it fills you up beautifully, hits all the best spots. In short, it makes you into a totally blissed out well fucked mess whenever she fucks you with it. With no straps, the way it is secured is with a curved and rather bulbous end that she inserts into herself, gives her something to clench on and when she gets into a good rhythm with fucking you it presses over and over into her g-spot. Further still, the toy contours and curves with her body, a textured pad right behind the shaft that pushes against her clit, giving her a completely perfect way to stimulate herself with ease while she is fucking you, every thrust in and pull out, hitting her both externally and internally. 

You knew this next part very well. You needed to prep her strap for you to take it, you were soaked, totally dripping, but with how rough she was every bit helped. She pulls you near, and you move willingly, mouth opens, and with her other hand on the base of the toy she guides it between your lips. Cool silicone passes over your tongue as you close around it, you bob your head down, taking about half of the toy before pulling back, keeping just the tip between your lips. You loved when she made you blow her, she keeps pulling on your hair, guiding you, making you slide up and down her shaft, coating it in spit as you suck it. “You are so perfect, you know that? Just as cock hungry, right?”

You nod, eyes looking up at her as you work, focusing on blowing her and putting on a good show, but more than that too, when she makes you take it deeper? A hand on the back of your head, forcing you to take it as deep as you could, you choke and gag, when it hits the back of your throat she moans, you know this part feels the best. Whenever the tip of that dildo hits on something more solid, it provides a delectable jolt of pleasure for her. Both her hands are in your hair too, tugging and pulling, leading you to suck, drool is running down, drops landing on your own chest as she picks up the pace, moving her hips, fucking your face. 

You gag so hard you start to tear up, “Pretty, pretty girl, you look best with tears all over that face.”  You loved how she spoke to you, the mix she strikes of praise and degradation, of warmth and filth, it makes your blood sing. 

When you gag again, a bit too hard, that kind of gag that makes your pace falter and the tears finally start to fall she clucks her tongue disapprovingly, “Are you even trying?”

You nod and Sam urges, “Show me then. Prove me wrong.” There is a light slap to your cheek that makes you inhale sharply though your nose and work harder. You want to please her, you do the tricks you know, you try to get a handle on your breathing, you squeeze your thumbs in your fists to help tame your gag reflex, and you push yourself. When she is moaning in that particular pitch, you know you are doing well. 

You are doing so well in fact that she pulls the spit soaked shaft from your mouth, and she pushes you down, “Face down ass up.”

Your face is put down right there, into the mess that has collected, drips of spit and her arousal staining the wood, and your cheek is put into it, and you don’t fight it. She gets behind you, a rough slap to your ass that makes you groan, she loves how it sounds so she lays down a few more as she gets on her own knees. 

“You are leaking everywhere oh my God-” She laughs, but there is no malice in it, she spanks you again, the pain is slight but strong, burning, you take it just as she wants you to and then all of a sudden hurt gives way to ecstasy. She slid inside of you with no issue, complete ease, because just as she said you are drenched. How could you not be, after all the build up and what she said to you? How she treated you. Her hips are flush with your ass, she is completely inside of you, and she moans, grinding herself against you, and you moan too, after inhaling you finally push out that sound showing how good it felt. 

She pulls out halfway before slamming back into you to the hilt, the sensation rockets up your spine, the force of her thrust makes your body move, your cheek drags through the mess it is resting in and you moan. “Awe, you like that?”

You nod weakly, inhaling shakily, and the end breaks off into another choked off sob, “Course you do. You are so nasty, getting fucked face down in a puddle of drool.” She starts an even and steady pace, her hips slamming into yours, the sound of skin on skin filling the space of your shared bedroom. 

“Depraved, disgusting-” She changes the angle, brushes that place inside you that makes your nails bite into the wood below you and cry out, “Right there!”

Another hit to your ass so hard that you yelp, she degrades you further, “I know where it is. You are stupidly easy to please, then again, all bitches like you are.” 

“Sam, oh my God-” You gasp, and she laughs, “Sam, oh my Godddd-” she taunts, parroting back what you said, letting you really hear how needy and pathetic you are. 

“Aren’t you even a little embarrassed?” She asks, and you moan out, “Noo-ooohhhh-” 

“Course you aren’t, you’ve got entirely no shame.” She muses, her breathing is picking up as she is slamming into you, knowing she has found a particularly good rhythm that is working for her just as well. You are so consumed with everything she is doing to you that you don’t hear the sound of metal scraping, you don’t register her picking up the knife. 

You feel it. 

She cuts, desperate to harm and see more blood. The cuts are quick, light, surface level and each one is punctuated with another brutal thrust into you. One over your hip, outer thigh, the curve of your breast, you sob from each cut, hiccuping and wet and moan, deep and long from each hit of the head of her false cock on that swollen spot inside of you. The blood pours, it joins the mess on the floor, she presses her fingers to the wounds, causes more pain, you clench around her, she holds pace, but it gets messier, sloppier, she’s going to cum and you are so fucking close. 

You are a pain slut, but the bright bursts of hurt are keeping you on the opposite side of the edge, she can tell, you are struggling, crying, desperate, “Awe, you havin’ trouble cumming baby?”

“Ye-yes!” You whine, she tsk’s, “Need some help?”

“Puh-lease?!” You don’t give a shit how pathetic you sound any longer, all you know is the intense and all consuming need to cum already. You are dripping down your thighs, totally frustrated and keyed up, you feel like if you don’t cum soon you might die, it’s hard to breathe, as if you are drowning, choking on sensation itself. 

“Okay, I’ll help you, sweet thing.” You feel her move, her tits press into your back, her arms loop around you, one around your middle, over your waist and the other hand, the one still holding the knife is between your legs. The smooth and rounded end of the knife is dragged over the fresh cut on your thigh, it hurts, you yelp again, she catches the mess of blood, and then it is pressed to you. She used the blood for lube, the end of the knife was being pressed to your straining clit, she moves it in tight circles in time with her thrusts and having both spots abused inside and out has you falling apart in less than ten more thrusts. 

You don’t forget yourself, still, before you do tip over, you are good, you ask, “Sa-Sam, close, please? Fuck, fuck, please?!” It spills out in a rushed babble, breathless, she is panting too, and you can tell by the tone of voice in her reply she is near her end too, “Fuck yeah, good girl do it, you’ve earned it-”

That’s more than you need for it to happen. You cum so hard, you make a mess, moaning incoherently and loud enough you are positive you will get a noise complaint, thighs feeling like they will give out, shaking, sweaty, bloody, cunt spasming around her shaft still driving in and out of you as you squirt onto the floor. 

She loves when she makes you squirt, she is fucking you through your complete high, the mess is on her too, running down her toy and over her own slit, down her thighs, and it is enough to make her reach her end too. Your name stains her tongue as she peaks and holds deep, she grinds through the aftershocks of your orgasm, your body feels heavy and weak, the only thing holding her up is you. She doesn’t relent, over stimulation starts to set in, and you beg, “Stop, fuck-”

She drops the knife onto the floor, and you breathe a sigh of relief. Her hips have completely stopped, she is just sitting inside of you. Both of you are catching your breath, you ask, “Feeling better?”

“It’s a start.” She hums, and you laugh lightly, eyes falling closed, she slowly pulls out, and you wince slightly, feeling fucked out and sore in the best way, “Don’t get too comfortable, you have to clean me up still.” 

You knew she meant not only the end that was just inside you, but the one that was still resting snugly inside of her. 

#Ghostface x reader #Sam Carpenter x reader #Slasher x reader #BHF asks #BHF writing #HERE WE ARE #ENJOY THE FILTH #Scream 6 x reader

[cheesemonky]

Chapter 2: Just Listen To Me!

pairing: fairy!felix x fairy!reader

Series Masterlist

Word count: 2k

summary: A fairy gets their wings once they're 13. A normal one at least. You're 23, and still without any. This leaves you without a mate, because who would love a wingless fairy? So when you decide to leave, it's quite the surprise to find a fairy with a wing missing…

warnings: swearing, a shitton of dialogue NOT PROOF READ lmk if i missed anything :3

You hesitated for a moment, taking in the sight of the injured fairy before you. His breathing was laboured, and his body lay still as if he were dead. Almost his entire back was bloodied, as well as the ground around him. How long had he been here like this? After some contemplation, you approached his body slowly. Crouching down, you managed to get a closer look at his wound. Someone or something had completely ripped out his left wing. There was no sign that any animals were recently in the area, nor any humans. Dread settled in the pit of your stomach as you examined the gruesome scene before you. The absence of any immediate threats allowed you to focus on him. Gulping down your unease, you carefully inspected the wound. It was a clean tear, as if someone deliberately removed the wing. The unnatural precision made shivers run down your spine.

“Who could have done this..?” You muttered to yourself. Broken wings weren’t a rare sight, but to have an entire one torn out was… more than unusual. Your fingers traced the edges of the wound, and the blood felt far from fresh. Suddenly, you heard the caws of birds overhead. You had to get him out of the open. Hooking your arms under his, you dragged him out towards a large tree. Propping him up against the trunk, you set down your backpack, rummaging through it to find a shirt. You ripped a long piece of cloth out of it and wrapped it around the wound and across his chest. He didn’t sustain any other injuries, as far as you could tell. Maybe… you could stay with him a while. Just to make sure he was okay when he woke up. So for hours you waited, waited for him to come to his senses.

Just as you began to doze off next to him, you heard his breath hitch. It was a few seconds until his eyes finally fluttered open, and god, were they the most perfect things you’ve ever seen. He looked over at you for a moment, confusion and pain evident in his gaze, before he shuffled away from you. His eyes widened as he took in his surroundings and the makeshift bandage on his back.

"Where... am I?" he rasped, his voice barely audible.

“Australia.”

“Yeah, well, I know that…”

“Then I don’t know what to tell you.”

“What state..?”

“Sydney. What, you not from around here?” He sighed deeply at your words, rubbing his temples partly in weariness and also in annoyance.

“I am but… this isn’t my home.”

“Where is it then?”

“Well, you see, I’m a fairy so I live in a village with other fa-”

“I know, idiot, but that’s not what I was asking.” He looked at you in confusion and a hint of hurt. You were coming off a lot harsher than you wanted to. Maybe so long without any interaction was the cause.

“Sorry- let’s try again. What’s your name?”

“Felix. You?”

“Y/N. You’re a fairy, right?”

“Yeah. What about you?” You fiddle with your hands a little, attempting to keep your voice steady. To be fair, it wasn’t his fault. You don’t have any wings, so how could he tell?

“A fairy…” You mumbled, hoping he would sense how uncomfortable you were and drop the question.

“Hm? What did you say?”

“A fairy.” You said, slightly louder and firmer this time. And once again, the now familiar face of confusion he seems to like bearing appears.

“Where are… what happened to your wings?”

“Does it really matter?”

“I’m just asking… did they take yours as well?” You felt a little bad for him, honestly. You were being so unpleasant to someone you had just met and saved the life of. 

“I never had any.”

“What?”

“Wings. I never had any wings. I never got mine.”

“I feel like you’re lying to me.” This time, instead of snapping at him, you turned your body to face him. You hadn’t noticed, but he was listening quite closely to everything you had been saying. Hands in his lap, head tilted to the side and his face was clearly focused on what was being said.

“I’m not. I just… never got wings.”

“How do I know you aren’t just a tiny human?”

“Have you ever seen a human this small?”

“... no.”

“Exactly.” For a while, he looked away and at the tree in contemplation, fiddling with some of the peeling bark. You weren’t sure if he believed you or not, especially with how unreal your story sounds to others. With the silence dragging on, you decided to raise a question that should’ve been asked at the start.

“So what happened to your wing?” His eyes widened as he realised that he in fact did have a problem with his wing. He turned his head to get a good look at the shiny piece of him that was laying a few metres from where he was before, still with ling

“I… don’t think you’d believe me if I told you.”

“I literally told you I was a fairy without wings.”

“Well-... okay, fine. In my village, I was part of this group called Stray Kids.” Strange name, but okay. Who were you to judge? Plus, the name sounded somewhat familiar.

“We’re… not really superheroes, but we did help in defeating the Sound Monster.”

��Wait, that was you? The news of you guys taking it down was going around everywhere! I heard it even reached parts of Korea, which is like, really far away. Maybe not superheroes, but definitely celebrities. Is that how you lost it?” Though you chose to believe it, you still had a few doubts. Was it really this sweet and adorable young man who helped kill it?

“Nah, it was too long ago for my back to be bleeding out now. You see, after we took it down I went back to just see if we missed anything. And we did. There were these strange pieces of… something that had formed after the battle. I picked one up and I felt more magic in that moment than I have in my whole life.” The story started to sound a little more unbelievable now, yet you continued to trust him on it.

“I hid it well for a while. I didn’t even tell my friends. Until I had to defend myself and some other against a human. I used a bit too much magic and someone from our council was there to see it. I had an entire court trial and everything! I didn’t realise having too much magic was a crime.”

“It isn’t. Not where I’m from.”

“Well, it was more “illegal possession of unidentified magic” and “dangerous use of magic”. But how was I supposed to know?”

“Okay, those sound more like things you could be arrested for. But the wing..?”

“Right. So, it turns out fairies are idiots and the only way that they know how to get rid of someone’s magic is to take away a wing or two.”

“So they just… ripped it out?”

“Basically.” You couldn’t help but feel bad for him. To have a part of you just taken away like that would mean immense pain, physically and mentally. And it makes sense now as to why the cut was so clean. 

“Did it work though?”

“A little too well. I lost that extra magic plus some of my own. I haven’t got much left anymore.”

“So what now? I mean, I could teach you a thing or two about living out here but I'm not letting you follow me around." Actually, you probably would. Even though you're glad that all those who hurt you are in the past, you still get lonely. Plus, he's kind of like you in a way, no? With a missing wing and all.

"Huh? What, no way! I need to get my magic back!" He said with a bit more cheeriness than necessary. It was your turn to be confused now.

"And how do you plan on doing that exactly?"

"Okay, now you won't believe me." Has this guy really not learnt anything? If an anomaly such as yourself can exist, you're sure that others could as well.

"Just tell me. It's not like my opinion will stop you anyways." Glancing at you once more, he took a deep breath and continued his story.

“Well, since I was young, my mother always told me this story about-”

“Wait, wait, you’re going off of a children’s story?”

“I-I mean, it’s pretty believable… Plus it's not a children’s story! There’s been a lot of people who’ve actually managed to do it…” You were starting to get a little suspicious with his story. You didn't want him to get into any unwanted trouble or danger.

"If you want me to be convinced, you should try a bit harder to make the story believable."

"Didn't you say it didn't matter what you thought?" You opened your mouth to respond, but you closed it straight after you realised you had no response. There wasn't anything you could say about that. You sighed, nodding once for him to continue.

“It’s been rumoured that somewhere deep in our Bush, the Heart of Eris is still there.”

“Eris… Eris as in the Goddess of Fairies?”

“Yes, that Eris. It’s the thing that sourced all fairy magic and the reason we still have it.”

“... please don’t say what I think you’re gonna say…”

“Look, just listen to me, yeah? I’m gonna try to find it!” You fucking knew it. He really did live up to the ‘dumb blonde’ name. What was he thinking, following the story of a children’s tale? And he didn’t even have a proper amount of magic!

“You are literally gonna die out there.”

“Then come with me.”

“...huh?” You stared at him a while, trying to see if he was being serious or not. You felt like you were the only one using any of their brain cells at that moment. He wants you, a fairy without wings or any magic, to go with him, an injured fairy who has barely any more magic than yourself, to find something that probably doesn’t even exist?

“No.”

“What- why?! Come on, maybe we could even get you a pair of wings!” For a moment, you were tempted. Even after learning to live without any, you’ve always known that you would be happier if you did have them. But wasting all of your hard work out here to go look for something that could get you killed? Not worth it.

“I said no. That’s it.”

“I-... fine then. It’s not like we’re friends anyways. I’ll go myself.” As he began to stand up, you grabbed his arm gently. You were a little surprised he didn’t put up more of a fight.

“At least rest for a while. You’re still injured.” He stood still for a moment, not facing you, before settling down back where he was before. You had to stop yourself from smiling at the small pout on his face as you grabbed some things from your bag. Pulling out a small blanket you had brought from your old home, you passed it to him while you grabbed a sweater for yourself. He mumbled a small thank you before turning to lay on the ground. You stayed up for a while, just until he fell asleep before falling into your own slumber. But your dreams were unexpected. They were those same nightmares. The ones you hadn’t had for ages now. They were back and they hurt so much more than last time. Though, there was someone in the background. You heard Felix’s voice, talking so sweetly about something or other. And then there were wings, and the Heart of Eris and everything he had talked about. Was this dream telling you something?

The next morning, you woke up early to find some berries or small nuts and seeds to eat. By the time you got back, Felix had woken up too and had folded your blanket for you. Holding out a seed for him to take, you packed your blanket back in.

“I’ll be going now. Thanks for the help though.” His smile was far too bright for you not to change your mind. Plus, that dream wasn’t any help.

“Let me help you more.”

“What?”

“I’m coming with you.”

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leisel's note: helloo!!!! this is kinda of rushed and there is a lot more dialogue than i wanted but i cant help ittt im sorryyyy but yeah thanks for reading and reblogs are always appreciated :3

#skz #skz fics #stray kids #lee felix #felix angst #felix fluff #skz fluff #stray kids x reader #fairy felix!! #<3 #felix x reader #skz Felix #lee yongbok #skz angst #skz series

[dahliamalfoy97]

ETERNALLY YOURS- Kokushibo x reader one shot

Synopsis: this is an au where Kokushibo is still a demon but it’s more of a legend type thing and the villagers fear him because he steals girls at night and disappears with them. I’m not going to give too much away because I don’t want to spoil. You’ll just have to read below to find out what it’s about.

Warning: SMUT 18+ content, MDNI, kidnapping, mentions of murder and killing, loss of virginity, unprotected sex, oral sex, blowjob, penetration, praise kink, degradation kink, choking, blood, umm just explicit content so beware.

Word Count: 3,924

———-

They say he comes at night.

On the night of every full moon, the Demon of the Night will randomly kidnap a girl and that girl would never return. No one knew what this monster did with the girls he took but everyone had a feeling he either fed on them or killed them.

So everyone was terrified of him. Everyone except for you. You were curious of the man of legend. But you yourself wanted to be taken away from this place. You hated it here in your hometown. You hated the people. They had tormented you ever since your parents had died in a fire. You had been the survivor but you had been left with some gnarly scars specifically on your face. So you were often bullied and mocked for your appearance. Even the adults would take part in your torture. You hated everyone of them. And wished death would either come to them or to you. To save you from this never ending hell.

Since no one would take you in, you were left sleeping in a barn in a loft, up above the horses and cows. It often stunk and your clothes were always filthy and torn, but it was better than nothing. You often were able to sneak into the baths at night to avoid the townspeople. You had often wondered about running away from this hometown and starting a new life, but you were worried about how outsiders would see you. So you stayed.

It was a few minutes before midnight, the moon was full and brighter than ever. But tonight instead of it's usual white color, it was a deep red. You wondered if this would be your night. this had been a night you had definitely cleaned yourself for. For you didn't want to be filthy. You wanted to be ready for him.

Unable to sleep, you lie awake on the makeshift bed you had created from your clothes, staring out the window at the moon. Waiting.

Thirty minutes had passed and there was still no sign of the demon.

Suddenly, screaming fills the night outside. You get up to peak outside the window. Your eyes widen when you see the town in flames. You scramble up, and head down the ladder. You run outside but a hand grabs you, and you're yanked against the barn wall.

A tall figure has you pinned but you can make out the face because it's covered with a hood.

"Are you ready my love?" A deep low voice rumbles and you can't help but bite your lip.

"Are you him? The Demon of The Night?" You ask, desperately trying to get a look at what hid underneath the shadows of his hood.

"Yes, I've come to take you with me".

"Then please take me away."

Urgently, he scoops you in his arms, arms hooked underneath your legs, bridal style you are whisked away through what appears to be black mist. You cling tightly to him, not sure where he was taking you. But you didn't care.

He sets you down on what appears to be a bed in a darkly lit room. He sits beside you.

"Are you going to kill me?"

"Not you, dear one. You're the only one I don't want to kill. I want you to be mine, my queen."

You shake your head covering your face, "but why me? I'm ugly. A monster. Were the other girls not enough for you?"

Ripping your hands away from your face, He yanks his hood down and suddenly you're met with not one but 3 pairs of golden eyes, covered in deep red sclera. You reach out to touch his face, with is marred with reddish flame scar like mark decorating the left corner of his forehead stopping right above his ear and then he had some more on his right chin. You weren't disgusted. But merely curious. You were sure most people would be repulsed by such a face. But you- you found him beautiful. He had long black hair that cascaded into waves all the way past his waist.

"You're not ugly, you are gorgeous," he growls, "Compared to me you are everything this world doesn't deserve. Those girls causes you harm. That's why I kidnapped and killed them."

You gasp, eyes widening, "you killed them for me?"

He holds your hands in his letting you continue to map him with your hands, "you prayed for someone to save you from that hell of a town right? For someone to make them pay for hurting you every day?"

Again you're taken aback, "how did you know?"

He presses a kiss to your right hand, fire shoots into your entire soul, you didn't know why a demon made your soul soar. Him, out of all beings was the one to send shivers of warmth down your spine, the one to make your twos curl. But here you were out of breath from just the small gesture alone.

"I heard your prayer, dear one. I heard you calling for me. Do you believe in reincarnation?"

"Well it has to be possible if you are," you reply.

"You may not remember me from our previous lives. Because every time your memory is erased every time you are reborn. But you and I have been destined as soulmates for eternity. But since i am a demon and you are a mortal, life always seems to take you away from me. I can't die but you can. For I am not allowed to have a happy life for destroying so many. So it is my curse to always watch you die. But I am always finding a way to break this curse. But the only way to do that is for you to become a demon. With me."

"So why haven't I become one before?" You felt an immense pain in your gut even though you had no memory of your past lives with him. Something untethered bound you to him you could feel it in the way he touched your hand. There was an invisible string that connected your soul to his and you knew he was telling the truth. Your heart hurt to know he's been suffering this curse for so long.

"Because in your past lives you've had everything you've needed in your mortal life so you haven't wanted to become one. And something tragic always happens to you. So I've never had the chance-"

"Then take it now," you demand, "make me yours, Demon of the Night."

"Please, my name is Kokushibo, call me by my name, and you really want to bind your soul to mine forever and surrender your mortal life to me?"

"Please," you cry. "Please make me yours, Koku."

That's all he needs to cradle your face in his hands and to close the gap between you. You gasp when his hot demanding lips collide with yours ever so gently, yet all consuming at the same time. You move so you're straddling his lap. Legs booked around his waist as you cling to him in lotus like position. You wound your hands in his long hair, whimpering at how soft and silky it feels. He growls when you tug at his scalp, trying to pull him as close and the gentle rhythm is replaced with hungry, desperate one as you desperately try to press yourself even closer- as close as possibly could get your bodies with all the in between. You rock yourself against his hard length that's hidden underneath his purple kimono. You could tell he was massive with how heavy and hard he felt underneath you. You pull eagerly at his kimono wanting it off. But he pulls away.

"Not so fast dear one", he chuckles, his deep voice going straight to your core and you let out a whine. "I really need you to understand that once we do this, once we cross this line, there's no going back." His breath hovers above your exposed neck peaking through your flimsy shirt that did nothing to hide you since it was full of holes. You knew your nipples were pebbled against the fabric, just his mere presence was enough to turn you on.

"I know, I want this," you whisper, with determined fervor. "I may not remember my past lives with you, but something in my soul is tied to you and I know I can't live without you. So please let's not repeat the past.  Make me yours so we can be together forever."

"You're absolutely sure?"

You nod, "one hundred percent."

With no further hesitation, his mouth on yours again. This time with way more force than before. His hands reach up, ripping your shirt into shreds and discarding it's pieces on the ground. He takes them both in his large hands and fondles them, you arch and moan into his touch. Coming alive with every kneed and tweak. It felt like you were clay in his hands. For him to mold and break. To tear and piece back together. His lips left yours to leave hungry kisses along your neck. You felt sharp scrap along your skin as his fangs grazed it.  Nibbling on slightly enough to sting and leave a mark but not enough to make it bleed.

You were a mess in his lap, rocking and whimpering over his clothed member frantic for more of whatever he gave you.

"Please Koku, take me," you murmur in desperate pleas.

"Fuck, I already love hearing you beg for me," he rasps, against your skin. Nipping on your nipple, causing you to cry out.

He lets go of your breasts push you back on the bed, he towers over you, before leaning back down to kiss you again. He trails kisses down your body from your collarbone, down your stomach, his hands caressing running along your thighs, ripping the rest of fabric you wore off of you. Leaving you in just your panties, which were soaked already. His kisses move to your thighs, creating a path up to your center. Each kiss sending bolts of electrify. He pauses , hovering, over your clothed core. His gold irises glow in pride at the dampness of them. His index finger runs along the material.

"I can't wait to taste you, dear one. I can smell your sweet arousal from here and it makes me insatiable."

Immediately , he tears off your panties and wastes no time diving in, making you his own personal feast as he devours you with his mouth. His tongue swirling around your clit in delicious patterns. You grip his hair tugging him in deeper and eagerly grind on his face. Eliciting appreciative growls and hums that end you into overdrive with the vibrations.

"Shit, Koku, don't stop," you cry, head thrown back. Eyes shut. Immediately, you feel a sharp pain on your clit, your eyes blink open. Finding those golden eyes glaring at you in disapproval.

"Don't close your eyes," he growls, then he resumes, fûcking you with his mouth, as soon as he deems you wet enough, he inserts a finger. You whimper at the foreign feeling. For this was your first time.

"Koku," you murmur softly, "you should know I've never done this with anyone."

He stills immediately gold irises locking on yours with surprise, "you mean no one's ever touched you? You're a virgin?"

You shake your head, "no, you're my first."

He smirks, something feral brews in those eyes, "oh you have no idea how happy that makes me. That I'll be your first and I'll definitely be your last, and anyone who tries to look at you or even think about you. I'll kill them. You're mine, and mine only. You got that?"

You nod, tears forming in your eyes. For no one had ever wanted you. "I just can't believe you want me as yours. No one has. They've always said I'm ugly and that I'm a monster."

"Well those fuckers are wrong, they're the monsters. You are magnificent and absolutely beautiful," he growls, "you're a fûcking queen. A goddess meant to be worshipped. And that is what I'll do as your king and your mate I'm going to worship the fuck out of you."

You can't help but cry at this, you had never felt so desired. So wanted. Those cries turn into moans as he continues to eat your pussy, adding a second and third finger. Curling them around you to find your sweet spot. Once he does he begins fucking you mercilessly with his fingers. Stretching you out so good.

"You feel so good, Koku," you praise.

"No, you’re the one who feels exquisite," he grunts. With the combination of his praise and the rapid thrusts of his fingers, you feel yourself clenching around his fingers and coming undone.

You watch in a daze as he stands up sucking your juices off his fingers. He discards of his own clothes. Your jaw drops at how beautifully ripped he is. As if cut from marble. Every ridge and plane of his body was pure art. And his cock, it was massive. You immediately sat up and crawled to him, reaching out to grasp it but he stops you.

"You can do that another time ," he says. "Right now I need to be inside you. This night is all about making you feel good."

"But I want to make you feel good too," you beg.

"Making you feel good will make me feel good."

"Please," you demand again. "To thank you for saving me."

He grins, "okay. Since you beg so prettily."

You first reach up to touch his chest though, running your hands to feel the ridges of his chest. He inhales sharply. Feeling your warm touch against his. You truly were a miracle for his cold and dark heart. You press some kisses along his chest and down towards his awaiting cock. Which was standing hard and stiff against his stomach. You take it in your hands, gently stroking in. You didn't really know what you were doing, but something in you seemed to remember how to touch and please him. For he let out a groan of pleasure as you stroked his shaft. His cock much bigger than your hands. It was thick and girthy. Hot and heavy against your touch. Your thighs ached. You lean forward, running your tongue along his slit before sucking on his head slightly. Before licking along his shaft and along his underside. Humming in pleasure at his salty taste. You take him further into your mouth, hollowing your cheeks to take him in as far as you go. Choking slightly when it reaches the back of your throat. You pull off only to take him again setting a rhythm of bobbing your head up and down, gripping his thighs as you continue to suck him off.

He grips your hair to tug it out of your face, deep moans fall from his lips, "you're doing so good, goddess. Your mouth feels so good around my cock."

Tears spring from your eyes the deeper you take him, saliva dripped from your mouth. But you didn't stop.

"Keep going", he urges, guiding your head helping you keep a steady rhythm. "Such a good girl. "

His grunts become more erratic and you reach to cup his balls, squeezing them lightly. But when you do that he pulls out.

"You do that and you're going to make me cum," he growls. "I don't want to cum yet, not until I'm inside that pretty pussy of yours."

Shortly he's pushing you down on the bed, pulling me towards the edge of the bed. Spreading my legs wide. He grips his cock, stroking it. "You don't know how long I've been aching to be inside you. To make you officially mine."

He takes his cock and runs it up and down along your slit. Mixing his precum and your arousal together. Before lining up with your entrance.

"Since it's your first time, let me know if it hurts. I'll try to be gentle at first. But it'll probably sting just a little. But I got you"

"I've taken worse in my life, Koku," you assure him, "I'm sure I can handle you just fine."

That's all the encouragement he needs, to begin pushing his tip inside you. And god, just his head alone was big. It stretched you out in ways you had never been stretched before. Your walls clenched around as he pushed his way through. The stretch was unfamiliar and was a little painful but it felt good the way he filled you up. The way you two were connected.

"Goddamn, you're so fucking tight," he growls.

At last he's fully seated inside of you, once you've adjusted to his size he slowly pulls out before slamming in again. He grips your waist in his hands as he begins pounding into you. You reach up to pull him down into a kiss, your moans mixing with his grunts.

"You are so fucking tight," he growls. "I love the way your pussy hugs my cock, as if it’s specifically made to take my cock and mine only. Desperate to be stretched by me and filled by me.”

You whimper at his dirty words for they only seemed to heighten your pleasure. He felt so good. Every inch and vein of his cock stretched you out so perfectly. Each thrust seeming to go deeper and deeper.

"That's right, make those pretty noises for me, let me hear how I make you feel."

He hooks your legs over his shoulders. This angle deeper than before.

"Fuck don't stop, Koku!" You cry.

"Trust me, I'm not planning on stopping any time soon."

Soon, all you can hear in the room is loud slapping of skin, and a series of moans and groans and you lose yourselves in the feeling of each other. Both you so wrapped in how each other felt. Not being able to get enough, not wanting separate. Your hands were on his back, nails digging as he pounded into you with such animalistic speed. His yellow eyes glowed with pleasure and love.

Even though it was your first time, it felt like you guys have been connected before. As if the feeling of him being inside you was awaking some of those lost memories.

When he hits your spot, you cry out, every thrust sending you into overdrive.

"So fucking gorgeous," he praises, "every inch of you deserves to be worshipped."

You can't help but fall apart at his words, "Koku- " you whimper,  "I'm going to cum. Mark me."

"With pleasure, my queen," with that his fangs find the skin of your neck and sink into your flesh. You cry out, the overwhelming sensation of his bite, his cock and his words is enough to send you crashing around him. Not soon after do you feel him releasing into you. You feel his hot cum filling you. "Look at how pretty you looks with my cum filling you up. You're so perfect for me, My Queen."

Feeling the adrenaline from the bite, you can feel the shift in your body as you can feel yourself beginning to change and all your memories come rushing back. You flip him over, so you're straddling him. You line him back up with your slit, before sinking back down onto him.

"'Now let me show you how much you deserve to be loved," you lean down to kiss him, biting his lip with your new fangs. You run your nails down his chest as you bounce up and down his shaft. This new position filled you up in new ways. It stretched you out even more deliciously. You looked down to see where you two were connected. Loving the sight. Then you meet his gold irises. "For you killed an entire village for me, and saved me. So now it's my turn to return the favor."

You quicken your pace, up and down. Swirling around his cock with your cunt. His moans become deeper. Your moans higher as his tip hits your spot.

"Take what you want, my Queen. I'm yours."

You can feel the pressure in your stomach building as you feel yourself clenching around him again. You slow your pace, to prolong the orgasm, wanting to make him cum first.

"Your cunt feels so good gripping me like this, you are so fucking perfect," he moans.

Sneaky bastard as he reaches in between to rub your clit, making you come undone again in instant. Feeling you tire, he starts thrusting up into you. Making you arch your back, and grip the sheets for purchase as he slowly but surely regains control. Flipping you back around so you're under him once again. Brutally slamming into you once more, this time his thrusts feel even deeper than before. The bed begins to creak underneath the constant movement.

"It's becoming too much," you cry out. But it's like he's lost all morality, as he's focused on bending and using you to his will.

"You can take it," he growls. "You'll take everything I give you," with that he sinks his fangs into you again and you cry out. Loving the mix of pain and pleasure. "Because you're mine for eternity now. So this body will become so used to my cock it won't be able to function without it."

"Koku," you sob, you cum again. immediately at the sight of your blood dripping from his fangs. The sight turning you on even more. "Give me everything you have."

His detaches his fangs from your neck. Shifts you once again, to where your stomach is pressed against the bed and your ass is forced upwards. He's slamming into you without any warning. He yanks your head up so it's pressed against his chest hammering into you over and over. You crane your neck and bring him in for another sloppy kiss.

He wraps his hand around your neck, squeezing lightly, causing your air to be cut off slightly and for your to tighten your walls around his cock even more. You loved how he was becoming more and more demonic. Not holding back a single ounce of remorse as he broke and mended you over and over.

“I’m going to cum again,” you cry.

“Do it,” he doesn’t stop his hard fast thrusts, “cum for me once more.”

“Cum with me this time,” you plead.

“God I love you,” he says.

“I love you too, Koku.“

Kokushibo lets out one last roar as you come together. He pulls out. And leaves for a moment only to come back with a wash cloth. Once he’s done, he lies down next to you, pulling you into him.

“Finally,” he says, give you a gentle kiss, “we’re officially together and nothing will ever separate us again.”

“I am eternally yours, Koku.”

#kokushibo #kokushibo x reader #kokushibodemonslayer #demon slayer kokushibo #kokushibo smut #uppermoonkoku #kokushibou #kokushibou smut #demon slayer #kny kokushibo #readerxkokushibou #kokuoneshot

[neteyamssyulang]

⌖ Lustful Vengeance ⌖

⌖ Part 2 ⌖

⌖ Pairing: So’lek x Fem human soldier ⌖

⌖ Part 1 here ⌖

⌖ Background: After So’lek took you as his mate things changed, you both got to know eachother well and understood why he hated humans. Even though your human he would never deny his mate anything. Eventually you found out you were pregnant

⌖ Warnings: None, just talk of baby names, fluffy

⌖ Total word count: 788 ⌖

⌖ Translation(s): Yawne -> Beloved, Paskalin -> Honey, Muntxatan -> Husband, Ma nalor muntxate -> My beautiful wife.

⌖ A/N: I hope this is alright <3

A few weeks passed after So'lek took you as his mate, you learned that he wasn't so bad he just had a rough past with humans. You both got to know each other and eventually fell in love.

Even though So'lek still hated humans he could never deny you anything or hurt you, you were his mate after all and he wasn't like that.

You both lived in his makeshift campsite deep in the woods, he would go out hunting during the day and you would stay back just tidying things up or making new clothes for yourself.

Today was no different, he bid you goodbye giving you a kiss on your head before walking away disappearing into the pandoran forest.

You were nervous the entire day finding out ways you could tell him you were pregnant. Yeah it was a shock to you aswell, a human and na'vi having a child wasn't heard of so you didn't know what to expect.

So'lek came back just as eclipse had begun, he gently patted your hair as he came into the tent taking off his metal chest piece and bow placing them along the wall.

You sat down infront of the small fire you had made to cook the yerik meat he had brought back. Besides being very handsome your mate was also a skilled hunter.

Something was off, he felt it. Normally you'd be all happy asking him about how his day had gone while hunting and vise versa but that didn't happen.

Slowly walking over he crouched down beside you "Ma yawne.. what is wrong?" He asked while hooking two of his long slim fingers under your chin gently turning your face to look at him.

"Nothing is wrong, I am fine" turning your face away you put your attention back on the yerik now taking it off the fire.

Getting a cutting board off to the side you unsheathed the dagger he made for you and carefully moved the yerik onto the board beginning to chop it.

Your mate didn't let up, placing his hand on yours he took the dagger placing it down and picked you up moving you onto his lap.

"Paskalin don't lie to me, what's going on in that pretty head of yours?" His voice was firm but gentle.

Sighing you decided to just tell him, he had the right to know of course. "Ma muntxatan.. I'm pregnant-" Silence filled the tent as you looked at him begging him to say something, anything.

For once So'lek was stunned, never in all his years did he think he'd ever become a father. Then again he never expected to take a human as his mate.

Feeling hurt you tried getting off him but he pulled you back down gently capturing your lips with his in a loving kiss.

Pulling away he brushed a strand of hair from your face smiling "Ma nalor muntxate.. Eywa has blessed us."

The two of you stayed within each other's embrace before deciding to eat. So'lek may have also been an excellent cook but nothing compared to when you made the food.

After you both finished eating you made your way to your shared sleeping mat snuggling underneath the blanket you had woven. Your mate cleaned up the area then moved to close the flaps of the tent so nothing could get in during the night.

Blowing the fire out he walked over to the sleeping mat carefully getting in next to you. He pulled you close so your head was now on his chest "Rest now little one."

Kissing the top of your head he waited till he knew you were asleep then finally allowed himself to fall asleep.

The next day came quickly and when So'lek rose from his sleep you weren't next to him or anywhere in the tent. Panicking he got up grabbing his bow running out only to be met with you laying in the hammock he made.

Sighing in relief he placed his bow down and walked over, you noticed him and smiled “Good morning ma muntxatan.”

“Ma yawne you scared me, why weren’t you in the tent?” He asked while situating himself in the hammock beside you.

You frowned turning on your side to face him “I’m sorry..I did not mean to scare you, I just needed some fresh air and I was thinking of some baby names.”

So’lek pulled you into his arms kissing your head softly “It’s alright little one, what names were you thinking of?”

Giggling you leaned up a bit so you could look at him “Well if it’s a boy maybe Ko’tey, if it’s a girl then Saya’li.”

He smiled “Those are beautiful names my love.”

#neteyamssyulang #so’lek avatar #avatar frontiers of pandora #james cameron avatar #so’lek x fem!human reader #comments really appreciated #avatar pandora #follow #please like and reblog

[sherewrytes]

You're the baddest Girl

(I'll always want you part 3)

Link for part two here

Banner art by @Cafekitsune

Song inspo: Childish Gambino: LES

C.W: angst, drug use, drinking. MORE ANGST (sorry not sorry)

Ony strolled across campus thinking about his interaction with you. He knew he brought this upon himself by hooking up with Annie. He saw Annie walking across the courtyard heading to class. He ran up to her to ask her a simple question.

"Yo Annie wait up real quick!" Ony yelled. Annie stopped and turned to Ony and rolled her eyes. "How can I help you Ony. I have to get to class" "Yah yah whatev Imma be quick. Why did you come over to my place that day really."

Annie rolled her eyes and said "Oh you mean *giggles* Ony Ony Ony anyway. Im sure the question you wanna ask is why I told you about Y/N and that guy from her class. Honestly, it did look that way and Y/N was being vague about him when I asked. But then I realised she wasn't interested in him. Here's a fun fact to why I did it Y/N knew I was interested in you when we all met first week of Uni but she went out with you anyway so I dubbed her. Yah yah I'm wrong but *shrugs* Oh well. Anyway bye" Ony stood there in shock. All these years he didn't know Annie was being shady with you. He saw the signs but you and everyone said that's just how Annie behaves. Ony turns around and practicvally walk right into Mikasa who looks furious.

Ony immediately thought "Damn Kasa looks pissed tf off" Mikasa looked right passed Ony to Annie's back strolling gleefully to her class. "Ony tell me what I heard come out of Annie's mouth isn't real. cause if it is. I swear.." Mikasa pulled out her phone and called Eren to meet her on the other side of the courtyard. Ony wasn't in the mood for confrontation or drama, he wanted to go home, chill maybe go to Armin's party later to clear his head. Eren came over with the quickness with Connie in tow.

Mikasa started going off telling Connie and Eren about what she overheard from Ony's and Annie's conversation. "Ony, is what Mikasa saying the truth cause this changes the whole thing up." Eren said looking between Mikasa and Ony. Ony stared back at Eren then at Connie and Mikasa "It does but it doesn't I still cheated on Y/N regardless. It's..Anyway guys I gotta go home."

"To smoke weed and cry again." Connie blurted out. Ony stared at Connie and was ready to square up but then he knew Connie was just telling it to him straight, disrespectful but he knew connie was a real one especially to him. "Nah. I'm going to the mall to get a new fit. You guys know Armin parties are insane." "Oh, so you coming then" Eren said with a smirk. Ony laughed and walked off yelling "Like imma miss it."

Ony finally got home from the mall. He finally got his hands on the Spiderverse Jordan 1's he's been wanting. He got a Represent T shirt and a True Religion Jeans paired with His watch and chain and bracelet. He didn't know if you were gonna show or ot but he decided to not let it bother him too much. He sat out on his balcony and rolled up a blunt and scrolled through his IG. He saw the usual IG baddies in his DMs tryna move to him. He wasn't interested in dating anyone. He scrolled through his Spotify and pulled up Asap Rocky's -I Smoked Away My Brain  and got ready for Armin's party.

Ony rolled up to Armin's party 11:30pm, blunt hanging out his mouth as usual. He was greeted by upper classman Hange, Levi, Zeke and others. He grabbed himself a shot of wreys and nephews and took it down in one go. He walked around looking for Eren or Armin to let them know he's here.

He found Mikasa, Sasha, Pieck, Eren, Connie and Jean chilling up near the makeshift DJ booth where Armin is shouting and acting a fool as usual. As he walks closer. His eyes connect with you. You were there with them laughing decked out in a short black dress paired with a pair of red heels.

Your eyes connected with Ony somehow you were both matching in some odd way, both wearing red. You were here to chill, turn up hang with friends and not beef with Ony. You did the mature thing and greeted him. Everyone around you looked a bit shook. You disregarded their reactions and took the blunt hanging from Ony's mouth and took a toke and handed it back to him.

He just stood there staring at you then he smirked. Annie walked into the fold and wrapped her hand around Ony's waist. You were seeing red. Before Ony rolled up Mikasa told you that Annie isn't to be trusted and she a messy ass hoe. You watched Ony glare down at Annie mouthing "WTF are you on". Your mind was running wild. Why is Annie all up on Ony like that? Are they fuckin'. You glanced at Mikasa who was already making her way over to Annie. Eren tried to pull her back, but she pulled away.

"Annie, really. You really trying to move to Ony after you fucked Y/N over." Mikasa was all up in Annie's face pointing her manicured nail at her temple. Before things escalated, Ony sighed and walked off knowing he didn't want to get mixed up in anymore drama.

At the same time, you were trying to understand what Mikasa meant by when she said Annie fucked you over for Ony. Mikasa slapped Annie across the face and they both immediately started scrappin'. Mikasa was beating the brakes and lights out of Annie.

Armin and Eren eventually pulled Mikasa off of Annie but not before they made sure Annie got her ass beat a lil. You questioned Mikasa on why did she jump Annie like that. You were calling her messy and all kinda nonsense then, Mikasa dropped the bomb she heard. "I'm messy, gurl that bitch Annie went to Ony knowing you weren't fucking around with your group partner to break you both up. Why cause she wanted Ony and you started dating him."

You stood there in shook. Your memory took you back to the first week of Uni were you both saw Ony and suddenly everything clicked. You wanted to swing on her immediately, but Mikasa already did that. You cussed Annie out, Annie looked like she didn't give one fuck about you cussing her out, so you jumped her ass. You stopped caring if Mikasa just jumped her. She deserved another beating for being disrespectful.

Annie was pretty strong; you knew that but the rage in you made you really go toe to toe with her. The fight only got separated because you tried to smash her head on the DJ booth. Connie pulled you away from her. Armin escorted Annie out the party while Eren, Sasha and Connie made sure you were okay checking you for bruising and other stuff.

Mikasa and Sasha took you to the upstairs bathroom to help you freshen up after the fight. Mikasa told you what she overheard from Ony's conversation with Annie in uni earlier. You always knew Annie was messy, but you didn't think she'd dog you for a man. You all let the bathroom and headed back to the group. Connie and Armin were choppin it rolling a fat ass blunt. You watched Eren leave the group saying he's gonna check on Ony.

Eren finally located Ony. He was sitting on top a semi short wall in back yard of Armin's yard, eyes low with the usual tint of red in them. Eren strolled over, rolling a joint in his hand, hopped up on the wall sitting next to Ony. Ony glanced at Eren from the corner of his eyes and said "Go keep Y/N company. I'm sure Mikasa spilled what Annie did. I'm good out here man."

Eren ignored Ony's words in favor of lighting the joint and passing it to Ony. Ony shook his head saying "I'm good man. Think imma head home. Tell Armin, thanks for the invite."

Ony hopped off the wall strolling back inside to go grab a water to sober up. He bumped into you. You looked a bit distressed. He knew you were taking the news badly. He wanted to comfort you, but he knows he was still part of the reason you were hurting. Ony tried to walk right pass you, but you pulled him back.

He turned,looked down at you, he sees you looking up at him with a look in your eyes begging him to stay. He knew he would regret it if he did something dumb by the end of the party but he decided to stick around.

You heard the bass thumping of Childish Gambino's song LES while you made out with Ony in the bathroom. You were leaning against the bathroom sink, arms wrapped up around Ony's neck, one of Ony's hand is wrapped around your waist the other gripping your jaw.

You really missed this but a part of you knew this wasn't right. You pulled away from him looking up into his eyes. It was low and red. He was faded, he was staring at you with so much emotion but also some desperation. "I just can't" you looked into his eyes saying. Ony pulled you closer against him, leaning closer to your ear saying, "Nobody else matters Y/N. Tell me what I can do to make you stay."

You stared at Ony, knowing you shouldn't have kissed him and started all this. It was wrong of you to do this to him. You were acting reckless. "I don't think we should continue this Ony. I'm sorry." You placed your hands against his chest to attempt to push him away so you can leave. Ony grabs both your hands in his, staring into your eyes. His eyes were getting glassy. "Stay with me please, Y/N. Please I'm sorry for sleeping with Annie, for causing you so much pain and heartache. I'm sorry I didn't express how badly us drifting apart hurt me. I'm sorry for everything y/n."

You waited so long to hear these words from him, but it felt late, right but late. You felt like you weren't sure if you both would ever come back from this. You pulled your hands from his and started walking away from him to exit the bathroom. You heard Ony blurt out behind your head, "Don’t you understand how much it would hurt me to see you go again. Why? Why are you running away from us?” Ony was up on you pushing the bathroom door closed again.

“I love you. And that’s why I have to leave.” You said to him attempting to leave the bathroom again “Well, I love you too and that’s why you have to stay.” you sighed, "Goodbye Ony. I hope you take better care of yourself." You left Ony standing in the bathroom alone.

Ony took a minute before he left the bathroom looking around the party for you. He ran into the Connie and Eren choppin playing pool and smoking.

Ony asked them both if they saw you. Connie responded "Yah she left with Sasha and Mikasa. She didn't look...wait what happened?" Ony relayed what just happened back to them both.

Eren sighed saying "Ony cause you're my bro and I love you man but you gotta drop it. it's gonna just turn toxic between you two." Ony felt his heart break again, this time worse than before. He really lost the one person he truly loved.

Previous Next

Note

I got one more part of this riddled with more angst it would be more of closure. Kinda maybe, who knows.

#aot x you #aot x black reader #onyankopon x reader #black reader #aot onyankopon #black tumblr #aot x reader #onyankopon x black y/n #aot smut #aot scenarios #aot angst

[withahappyrefrain]

Work From Home

Summary: Working from home benefits both you and Peter.

Warning: cockwarming, Daddy kink, orgasm control, oral, switch!Peter, switch!reader, language, unprotected sex, p in v, afab reader, choking, I just wrote almost 5K of smut don't look at me

This is dedicated to the Spidey Simps <3

 When it was announced that the Daily Bugle was transitioning to working remotely, you didn’t think much. 

Peter was a photographer, which meant he still had to leave the apartment for events. 

But it did mean that when it was time to edit his photos, he could do so from the comfort of your shared home. 

Truth was, you weren't able to notice any differences until the school year ended. 

And that's when some things began to change. 

First, was the facial hair. Peter usually didn’t keep it past a light stubble, but with the new found freedom of working from home, he wanted to try it out.  You noticed it one day when Peter came up from behind you to wrap an arm around your waist and give you a kiss on the cheek before going into his makeshift office. 

The hair on his cheek brushed against your skin, providing a soft friction that sent electric sparks throughout your body. Your mind couldn’t help but wander about how it would feel against other parts of your body, the more sensitive parts of your body. 

“You good sunshine?” He murmured into your neck, squeezing one of your hips. Curse that radioactive spider bite that made him hyper aware of every little change in your body, like your thighs clenching. 

“Like the facial hair,” You mumbled, looking down to see how his large hand covered not only your hip, but his fingers spread down to your upper thigh, “That’s all.” 

“Yeah?” His lips brushed against your jawline, the hair above his upper lip tickling your skin. 

You nodded your head. Trying to hide how flustered you were was pointless. Even if you didn’t show it on your face, he could feel the heat radiating off your body, hear your heartbeat racing, and the pitch of your breathing increase. 

“Maybe we should see how much you really like it,” He said before spinning you around. You couldn’t even get a word out, as Peter had already lifted you up onto the kitchen counter. His large fingers hooked around the waistband of your shorts to easily pull the fabric down your legs. 

“Y-You have work in t-ten minutes,” You gasped at the sensation of his beard brushing against your bare thighs. 

Peter simply shrugged, a devilish smirk adorning his ridiculously handsome face as he looked up between your thighs. 

"You know I can work quickly." 

The noise that left your throat was nothing short of animalistic. You normally would attempt to contain yourself when Peter's mouth moved against your cunt. 

But that was impossible with how the hair above his lips brushed against your clit. 

The noise complaint was well worth it.  

—------------------- 

The facial hair was the first change. After that morning in the kitchen, his beard remained. Not that you were complaining. 

Then came the second change. 

"Betty says I look like I should be taking a group of kids to their morning soccer practice," Peter said before taking a bite out of his eggs. 

You looked up, taking him in. The beard did make him look older, combined with the eye crinkles that had become more pronounced over the years and the flecks of gray that were scattered throughout his beard and now hair. 

"You do look like a Dad," You commented, smiling as you took a bite out of your bagel. 

"Guess you should call me Daddy now," He muttered. 

"Only if you want me to." There was a slight smirk on your face, a touch of mischievousness to your tone. All in good fun. 

But then Peter's eyes widened and he dropped his fork upon hearing your statement. 

Oh?

The lack of response and eye contact caused you to raise an eyebrow, "Do you want me to?" 

The tips of his ears were turning red, "I mean it's um, it's a two way street. So d-do you want to?" 

"I wouldn't have offered it if I didn't." Even though his beard covered much of the lower half of his face, it was still clear that Peter's face was beet red. 

"I-I mean, I guess…guess it's something we could try," He muttered to his eggs. He shifted his body in the chair, as if he was trying to hide something. 

"Yeah?" You asked, voice raspy and low. Peter didn't have to look up to know you had that infamous smirk on his face. The one that caused your eyes to narrow, looking at him through your long lashes. The one that made his knees buckle, ready to fall.  Ready to worship you. 

The one that made the fabric around his crotch tighten. 

His honey glazed eyes continued to avoid yours as you waltz over to his chair. You straddle his thighs with yours, your arms wrapped around his neck. 

A soft yet strangled whine escaped his lips when you ground your hips against Peter's. It was cruel of you to chuckle, but you couldn't help it. Peter being flustered wasn't a new concept; he had quite a difficult time coherently asking you out when you two first met.

But that was romance and intimacy. When it came to the more physical aspect, he wasn't shy. It was well known how much he craved you, your body. 

So when he was flustered in these moments, you relished in it. 

Peter's neck was warm as you pressed your lips against it, placing kisses and light nips all the way up to his ear. 

"You want me to call you Daddy? Hmm? Want me to call you that while I come around your cock?" 

Peter's long fingers stilled for a moment before gripping the fabric of your large Tshirt. 

"Only one way to find out."

You often forgot how quickly Peter moved. In mere seconds, he had picked you up and thrown you over his shoulder. A loud smack across your ass silenced your surprised shrieks. 

—--------------------------------- 

The bedroom nickname stayed, along with the facial hair. 

The other change was just how nice it was to have Peter home with you. Even just a quick peck on the lips as you two passed each other in the hallway brightened your mood. 

You had finished work early one afternoon and your mind couldn't help but wonder as to what Peter was doing. 

Now you didn't have to guess. 

Now you could just walk over to the spare bedroom, which had been turned into his makeshift office. 

Fuck. 

You and Peter had been together for years. On your left hand was his Aunt's engagement ring. You saw the man every day. But sometimes, randomly, it would just hit you like a train. 

Fuck, was he attractive. 

His brown hair was slightly disheveled, one lock in the front curled over and moving slightly when he moved his head. 

The light seeping in through the window illuminated the few gray hairs in his beard. You had to beg him to not pluck them out, and were glad your pleads worked. The top few buttons of his white shirt were undone, revealing a glimpse of his toned chest. 

A large hand of his came up to his chin to scratch the skin and your mind was flooded with thoughts of this morning, when he made you come twice on his fingers before fucking you with his-

“It’s rude to stare, sunshine,” His honey glazed eyes never left the computer screen. 

“I wasn’t-”

“I can also smell you.” Somehow, that specific trait he gained from that spider bite always evaded your mind. 

He finally looked up at you, a smirk forming on his handsome face, “Ya done with work for today?”

“Yeah,” your voice was breathless, “W-what about you?”

He shrugged, as if he didn’t just mention that he knew how aroused you were, “Just gotta edit this last set of photos and then I’ll be done. Wanna keep me company, bug?”

You nodded, walking over to his chair. Carefully, you swung a leg over one of his. Peter grabbed the back of your thighs, pulling you into his lap. As your arms wrapped around him, you placed your head in the crook of his neck. 

“You smell nice,” He murmured, his large hands moving to your ass, grasping and kneading your flesh through the thin fabric of your shorts. 

“So do you,” a gasp escaped your lips when he moved you back and forth over his crotch. Through his sweatpants, you could feel his erection growing. 

“Yeah?” Peter chuckled before pressing his lips against your neck, finding your pulse point with precision, “Ya wanna keep me warm sunshine?”

A whimper was your response as you nodded your head eagerly. 

“C’mon then,” His voice was low, seductively sweet. The smirk remained on his face as you stood up, pulling down your shorts and underwear. Peter quickly adjusted himself, pulling down his sweatpants and boxers just enough to free his hardened cock. 

“C’mere sunshine, let’s get ya ready,” His hands grasped the soft flesh of your thighs, pulling you back into his lap. A moan fell from your lips upon feeling his cock slide through your folds. 

“Ready to keep me warm until I’m done with work?” You nodded eagerly, any cares about appearing desperate now gone. 

One of his hands reached up to the back of your neck, pulling you down for a kiss while the other hand gripped one of your hips, aligning his cock to your entrance. 

The initial stretch was a delicious pain, one that you now craved. Slowly, you guided yourself down on his cock until all of him was inside you. 

“F-feels s’good,” You muttered against his lips. You began to raise your hips upwards, when both his hands pulled you down, keeping you in place.

“Not a chance princess. You’re keeping daddy’s cock warm until he’s done with work. Understand?” 

You nodded, knowing it was either this or be empty. 

“Good girl,” He whispered, the praise making your thighs clench. 

Your head settled into the crook of his neck once more, a hand playing with some strands of his hair. You tried to focus on finding any gray hairs, on counting the different colors in his beard- dark brown, light brown, red- on anything to distract you from the rising temptation of moving your hips. 

Every once in a while, Peter would shift in his chair, leaning in to focus on a detail of the photo, causing his cock to shift ever so slightly against your walls. The first time it happened, you tried moving your own hips, wanting to test the waters. 

A light but firm smack to your thigh told you that wasn’t allowed. 

So instead, you bit your bottom lip, trying to hold back a whimper, trying to keep your hips still, despite the fact that your mind was telling you to move. 

“I know, I’m sorry,” He pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, “You’re doing so good for daddy.” 

The praise made your head feel fuzzy, combined with how full you felt, his cock nestled inside you. Every movement, every twitch was heightened, a cruel reminder of how desperate you were to move and that you couldn’t. 

Not yet. 

Peter’s hand moved from your hip to your back, slipping underneath your shirt.  

“No bra today?” You shook your head, unsure if the decision would result in pleasure or punishment. 

“P-Peter!” His name came out in the form of a desperate groan. Not that he minded. In fact, it spurred him on, his fingers continuing to tweak one of your hardening nipples. His hips shifted, causing his cock to move ever so slightly inside of you. Despite how small the movement was in reality, it began to fill the desperate ache you had been experiencing for the past twelve minutes.  

His ministrations would have continued, and perhaps you would have been able to move your hips without receiving a warning, had it not been for the stiff, robotic melody that signaled a video call request from Peter’s computer. 

Peter sighed, removing his hand from your shirt, “I’ll make it quick, okay? Just keep being a good girl f’me, kay?”

All you could do was nod. Being a brat wouldn’t get you what you wanted, if anything, it would make things worse, make him delay your pleasure even further. And you were already so close. 

“They-they can’t see us, right?” You whispered.

Peter shook his head, “I don’t turn my camera on.”

Betty Brandt’s voice quickly filled the room, “Parker, you done editing those photos?”

“Funny story, I was a few clicks away from finishing before you interrupted me, Brandt.” Peter shifted in his seat, leaning forward. Your teeth dug into your bottom lip, your grip on his white shirt tightening.

“Not my fault you work so slow that Jameson told me to check up on you. He’s worried you’re fucking around while at home,” You could hear the eye roll. 

Peter chuckled, his free hand squeezing one of your hips, “I’m not fucking around." 

Liar. 

"I’ve been doing my work from the comfort of my own home. Not my fault that good work takes time.”

“When do you think you’ll have it done? In ten minutes? I need a specific time so I can get him off my back.” 

“How about in five minutes?” Peter offered, shifting his hips again. Was he doing this on purpose? The smirk on his face, the way his eyes darted back and forth between his computer screen and you indicated so. 

“You can actually do that?”

“Absolutely. I don’t have anything else to do for a while.” Another lie. 

His hand guided your hips upwards, then promptly pushed them back down until you were flushed against the base of his cock once more. 

“Peter,” you whispered, your voice dripping with desperation. 

“Be a good girl and stay quiet for me,” His voice was hot against your ear.

“What was that Parker?”

“Just my fiancé asking me about dinner, that’s all Betty,” Peter said, sounding ever so casual, like you weren’t in his lap, like his cock wasn't nestled inside of you. 

“She enjoys having you home or is she already sick of ya?” Betty asked with a chuckle. You didn’t mind Betty, she was actually one of your favorite coworkers of Peter’s. 

Except for right now. 

“Get her off,” You whispered into Peter’s ear, earning a smack on one of your thighs. 

“The hell was that Parker?”

“Just a fly! Pesky little things.” You were mesmerized as Peter balanced talking to Betty, making edits to the current set of photos, all the while his free hand was moving your hip up and down ever so slightly. 

It was torture. The flooding sense of relief had now turned into desperation for more. You wanted all of him, wanted to be able to raise your hips upwards until just the tip of his thick length was inside you, only to then slam down, providing immense pleasure to yourself and him. 

You wanted to tell him how good he felt inside of you, wanted his hands everywhere on your body, grasping and grabbing your flesh just so, his teeth nipping along your skin in a way that made your back arch. 

Instead you were clenching your thighs, trying not to move, trying to fight against his enhanced strength. It was a losing battle, one you weren’t sure how much longer you could keep silent. 

“She loves having me around. We keep each other company,” He said, placing a gentle kiss on your jaw.

“Parker, I still don’t know how you managed to land her.”

“What’cha trying to say Brandt? That she’s out of my league?” His teeth nipped along the soft skin of your neck, leaving what would later form as marks. 

“That is exactly what I’m saying, Parker.”

You often thought it was the opposite, much to Peter’s dismay. 

“You’re absolutely right,” He admitted before pressing another sweet kiss to your cheek. The gesture made you flustered, causing you to bury your head into the crook of his neck once more. 

“Don’t hide that pretty face from me,” He whispered, his voice now soft and sweet. It was moments like these that made you fall in love with Peter. How no matter what -even now- he took the time to sing your praises, to make you feel loved.

You lifted your head up, your bright eyes meeting his honeyed ones. His soft lips pressed against yours in a quick kiss. 

“Parker, are you done yet or are you truly just fucking around?” Betty’s voice interrupted the sweet moment, reminding you of your goal: for her to not know you were there. 

“Oh, I finished up those edits five minutes ago,” Peter replied, voice cheeky and smug. 

Asshole. 

“You asshole!” Betty cried, echoing your thoughts. Not that she knew. Or would ever know. 

“Careful Brandt, those are words that HR don’t like,” Peter laughed, bouncing one leg up and down, which made you cling onto his shirt once more. 

Betty scoffed, “Like HR will do anything, have you met our boss?” 

“Yeah, and I’m sure he’s waiting for you to tell him that I sent those edits to him.” Thank God. The conversation was nearing the end. 

“You sure bet I will. You’re not the only one who wants to get off Parker.” Interesting choice of words. 

“You know me so well Betty.” You wanted to wipe that cheeky smirk off his face. In fact, you had half a mind to raise your hips and slam them down, torturing him for a change. 

But that would create noise. 

That didn’t stop you from wanting to tease back. You just had to be creative about it. 

So instead, your lips started at his collarbone, leaving tiny kisses along his skin. Peter shot you a warning glancing, one that you merely fluttered your eyelashes in response as your lips began trailing upwards. 

As Betty began to ramble about the latest thing Eddie did to piss her off, your lips moved closer and closer towards that spot. 

“Don’t,” Peter quickly muttered, his grip on your hip tightening. Not enough to hurt you, but enough to let you know he was paying attention to you. 

“I’m not moving, like you said,” you muttered into his skin. Peter shook his head, knowing better than to let it slide. 

And he shouldn’t have. But then, as he often does, he got distracted by something Betty mentioned. Leading to the perfect opportunity to sink your teeth into that spot between his jawline and neck. 

What could best be described as grunt left Peter’s lips, both of his hands now gripping your hips in a vain attempt to stop you. The action caused his cock to shift inside of you, causing another strained groan from your fiancé. 

“You good Parker?”

“Yeah,” Peter all but grunted, leaning forward so he could better see the computer screen, specifically the exit call button, “Just bumped my knee against my desk. Anyways, I gotta go Betty. Bye.”

He didn’t bother waiting for his coworker to say goodbye, his attention fully on you now that the call was over. 

“You little-” His hands lifted your hips up, leaving you almost empty for a brief moment before he pulled you back down to the base of his cock. 

You threw your head back, releasing a high pitch whine that had been bubbling in your throat for the past twelve minutes. 

Peter didn’t relent, using his strength to move you up and down on his cock, like you weighed nothing, “Take off your shirt. Now.”

But that would mean stopping. That would mean his cock would no longer be thrusting in and out of your soaking entrance, and you had been waiting so long-

“What did Daddy say?” His hands stilled, keeping you firmly in place, “Did you forget your manners? Need Daddy to teach you?”

“No!” Flashbacks of the last ‘lesson’ appeared in your mind. How he teased you for hours, how you were unable to move due to the webbing that was on your wrists and ankles, how he made sure you teetered on the edge of pleasure for so long, before finally letting you fall over. 

With shaking hands, you removed your top, now completely bare to him. 

“Good girl,” He chuckled, “Not that you deserve to be called that after the little stunt you just pulled.”

His lips attached themself to one of your breasts, his teeth sinking into the hardened bud. The sudden pain made your back arch, desperate to curl into him, to be as close to Peter as possible. 

His hands continued moving your body, as his mouth alternated between your breasts. Meanwhile, your hands found purchase in his hair, grasping onto the short locks to steady yourself. 

Peter’s eyes looked up, taking in the sight of you with your lips parted and head thrown back in pleasure. 

Fuck you were beautiful. And all his. 

The tall tale signs of your impending orgasm were overwhelmingly clear; your whines increasing in pitch with each thrust, the way your teeth were digging into your bottom lip. 

“Ya gonna come for me bug?” He asked, his voice now gruff. It reminded you of how he sounded in the morning, when he just woke up. 

But there was no sleep lacing Peter’s voice this time. 

“C-Can I?” You stammered, barely able to focus on anything other than the way his cock brushed against that one spot that made your legs tremble. 

“Sure,” Peter chuckled before sinking his teeth into your collarbone, “But ya gotta ask nicely.”

“Can…can I-I,” his thrusts were unrelenting, making you see stars when your eyes fluttered shut. 

“Don’t think so. Look at me when you ask,” Long fingers gripped your chin, your eyes opening to find him staring into what felt like your soul. 

“Can I-I come? Please?” 

He shook his head, the downright devilish smirk adorning his face charming (though you should find it repulsing in this moment). 

“Who ya asking bug?”

Your voice broke, like a dam finally breaking, “P-Daddy! Daddy, please, can I come? Please?”

He pressed his lips against yours, the gesture would have been sweet if not for what you just begged for mere seconds ago. 

“‘Course ya can bug. You can always come on Daddy’s cock.”

Your fingers gripped his hair. The name asshole would have fallen from your lips if Peter’s calloused thumb hadn’t moved downwards to rub tight circles against your clit. 

A white hot pleasure overtook your whole body as you shook. You slumped over, head resting on his shoulder. 

His fingers didn’t let up, continuing to draw tight circles, prolonging your pleasure. 

Your eyes met his, that smirk remaining on his face. It then hit you that he wasn’t letting up, that he was going to continue. 

“A-asshole,” You gritted your teeth. 

“You fucking love it,” He simply grinned before attaching his mouth to your neck, his eyes never leaving yours. 

Your thighs seized up, hand gripping his shirt so hard, it was a genuine surprise the fabric hadn’t ripped yet. 

His name came out in the form of a broken, desperate chant, your body moving to continue chasing that delicious surge of pleasure. 

Peter's own desperate moans began filling the room, his own (rather successful until now) attempt of keeping himself together finally falling apart as he felt your walls squeeze his cock again. He buried his head into your chest, his moans sending vibrations along your bare body. 

“You-fuck-you want me to fill ya up, sunshine?” He grunted, voice now strained and shaking as he tried to keep his composure long enough to draw one more out of you. 

In the haze of pleasure, you saw how he was barely holding on; his calloused fingers were gripping the flesh of your hips harder than usual, enough for hand-shaped marks to appear the next day. His breathing was now irregular, coming out in the form of shakey moans that fell from his swollen lips. 

Peter may be able to crack jokes with thieves and criminals, but when your lips found that spot again, the one where his jaw and neck met, it was truly his weakness. 

His grip on your hips softened. Somehow, you found the strength to continue riding his cock, moving your hips up and down. 

Your name came out in the form of a broken whine, said over and over again like some sacred prayer. 

You brought your hips down once more, this time with more force. The sound of skin slapping against skin quickly filled the room, mixed with yours and his obscene moans, creating a sound so lewd, it would have anyone nearby turning bright red. 

"Want you t'fill me up," You whispered into his skin, the facial hair along his jaw brushing against your nose. 

"Wanna-fuck- wanna make you full of me," He could barely get out words to form a sentence, the sensation of you squeezing him so tight, your body so close to his, overwhelming. 

Your hands thread through his hair, tugging on the slightly sweaty locks. The sudden pull forced his head up, his eyes now boring into yours. 

“Yeah?” Your voice was raspy. Though he’d never say it out loud, you knew from the way his cock twitched inside of you how much he loved when your voice got like that; low and desperate, dripping with seduction. 

He weakly nodded. 

Your lips captured his in a desperate kiss, your tongue slipping past his lips to tease and taste him. Peter was fully at your mercy now, letting you guide the pace. 

“What are you waiting for then?” Your lips trailed up to the shell of his ear as your hips continued their ministrations, “C’mon Peter.”

It was hearing you say his name that led to his undoing; that led to him saying your name in the form of a beautifully broken moan, that led him to pulling your hips down, keeping you still as he filled you. 

You loved it when Peter came inside of you; loved how his eyes were slightly closed as his red lips parted, moans escaping. 

The sensation of being completely full of him spurred you on, your hips continuing to rise and fall. 

His thumb found your clit, rubbing lazy circles as you neared the edge of your next high. 

"C'mon sunshine," He groaned, "Use me." 

Your nails dug into his broad shoulders as you did exactly that. 

Peter loved when you got like this; gone with that sweet smile and in its place was a look of sheer, determined focus. 

His other hand came up to your throat, his fingers spreading across your skin as his grip tightened. 

As the oxygen slowly left your body, all you could focus on was how good it felt, sliding in and out of him. How loud the lewd reminder of how much you both had come echoed throughout the room. 

How good he felt. 

With one last thrust, you seized around him, back arching in pleasure as your body shook. 

"Attagirl," He encouraged, his grip on your throat only loosening slightly, still firmly in place as he watched you come. 

You slumped forward, your legs now jello. His arms wrapped around your back as he whispered soothing praises against your soft skin. 

"There she is, there's my girl," He murmured before placing a soft kiss to your bare shoulder. His smile burned into your skin, something that always made your heart flutter. 

Fingers trailed up to his dark locks, twirling several languidly, "Hey babe." 

The nickname never failed to make Peter blush. Which, in turn, never failed to make you giggled as you peppered his bearded cheek with light pecks. 

"Let's go get cleaned up, okay?" His hands moved to the backs of your thighs, ready to carry you. 

"Can we stay like this for a little longer? Please?" How could he say no to you? To spend more time being close to you? 

So his hands moved once more, one wrapped around your waist while the other gently stroked your cheek. 

"'Course sunshine. We have all the time in the world." 

You two did. 

#my writing #peter parker x reader #peter parker x reader smut #peter parker smut #peter parker oneshot #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x you #peter parker fanfic #peter parker imagine #tasm!spiderman x reader #tasm peter x you #tasm peter x reader #tasm!peter imagine #tasm!peter x you #tasm!peter parker x reader #tasm!peter x reader #andrew garfield x reader #andrew!peter fanfiction #andrew!peter x you #andrew!peter imagine #andrew!peter x reader #andrew!peter smut #tasm fanfiction #tasm fic #tasm smut #peter parker fanfiction #spiderman smut #spiderman x y/n #spiderman x reader #spiderman x you

[deerlottie]

🪂 — if you come at four in the afternoon, i’ll begin to be happy by three.

summary: all those times riley was with you, she never thought of you like that. i mean, of course, she liked you but it was just a friendship, right? friends could hook up sometimes - it's normal! everything changes when her therapist asks if she wanted to be in a relationship with you. warnings: tooth rotting fluff., slight angst?, transmasc!reader.

1.

the first time riley met you was at a bar.

her friend had asked her to come, only if she wanted to of course. riley reluctant agreed, thinking it would be good to get out. she regretted it not even 10 minutes after sitting down.

you saw her sitting awkwardly in the booth next to yours, only noticing her after your friends had left you to go sing karaoke. you struck up a conversation and asked her if she wanted to grab a bite to eat, intent on leaving the people-infested place.

definitely not because you saw your ex.

after eating with her, which she gratefully paid for, you walked her back to her apartment and contemplated giving her your number before she blurted out she wasn't looking for sex. or a relationship.

you laugh awkwardly, saying that's not what you're looking for either. she explains something about 12 steps and how it's not good to be in a relationship right now. you look at each other intently, riley biting her lip.

you end up making out on her couch before she pulls away when you get too handsy. you stay the night and sleep together under the makeshift fort you made her.

2.

next week, you hang out with her at the arcade.

she texted you that she was free and heard about this old arcade downtown and wanted to go with you. blushing, you text back that you'll see her there.

she spends half an hour looking at herself in the mirror before driving to the arcade.

riley feels as if she's gonna float away as she walks inside, scanning the area for you. she spots you by a machine, face scrunched up in concentration as you smash buttons and she breaks out into a smile. "you started without me?" she pokes your sides as she walks up to you, making you jump.

you clear your throat at the sound of her voice and straighten out your clothes. you give her a shy smile, looking sheepish. "no...i was just testing out the games for you. you know, see if they work." you chuckle, scooting over so she can play.

"well, obviously they do and you suck. you got a high score of 15 on pacman." she teases, starting up her game. you groan, blushing and hiding a smirk. as you watch her play, and absolutely demolish your score, you steal small glances at her face.

and she does the same.

3.

things have gotten kinda serious with you and riley.

and confusing.

of course, you respect her decision of not wanting a relationship, but she's so hard to figure out. it's more than just hooking up now. you practically live at her place, she's always calling you to come over. and you know why. you've been there for her through her recovery but now it's like she's pulling away for some reason.

two weeks pass before she calls you over again.

4.

"hey," you hug riley after she opens the door, inhaling her perfume you've missed so much. "so, i saw this detective game at the store the other day, and i know how much you love that true crime stuff so i thought we could play it?"

riley nods absentmindedly, smiling at you. she feels nervous, like she's meeting you for the first time. she follows you under the fort, her breath catching in her throat when you sit just a little too close. you open the lid to the game, placing the board in the middle and taking out the cards.

"which piece do you want?" you ask, admiring how her eyes shine underneath the lights.

she hums before pointing to a board piece of a dog, and you two grab it at the same time. she gulps hard, fingers gently tracing across your own before she tugs you in for a messy kiss, flipping the board upside down.

5.

riley sighs, licking her lips as she tries to calm her breathing.

"we should put more blankets in here." she breathes out a laugh, rolling on her side to cuddle into your bare chest. she runs her fingers up and down before they reach your cheek, leaning up to kiss you.

you hum in agreement, taking her hand in yours. "i didn't know fucking on a wooden floor would hurt so bad."

"oh, says you - my back probably has dozens of splinters." she pinches your arm playfully and you scoff, rolling your eyes. riley leans up on her arms and feels blood rushing to her cheeks as you stare up at her with adoration.

"i talk about you in therapy." she blurts out.

you chuckle and sit up with her, raising your eyebrows. "oh, yeah? talk about me how?"

"she asked me if i wanted to be in a relationship with you." she mumbles slowly, avoiding eye contact and opting to stare at one of the fallen board pieces. "and i can't stop thinking about it."

you feel something drop in your stomach and nod, scratching your ear. "and uh- do you?" you feel humiliated as your voice cracks, covering it with a clear of your throat. "i mean, wanna be with me...?"

you eye how her throat bops up and down, preparing for the worst as she thinks of what to say. she plays with the ladybug bracelet you got her all those months ago, looking down at it and caressing the gold.

"i think," she starts, scooting closer to you. she places a hand over yours, thumb rubbing against your skin. "that i do."

"and i think that i've loved you for a long time, and not how we usually say it to each other." she confesses, and you give her a soft smile, a warm feeling spreading throughout your body. "i love you. and i wanna be with you."

"i love you too, ri." you press your forehead against hers, grabbing her wrist and kissing the ladybug pendant. "i'll always be here for you."

#riley hart thoughts 💭 #riley hart x reader #.myworks

[haintxblue]

every weapon used in monkey man

the great joy of a martial arts movie with a lot of improvised fighting is the truly ludicrous use of weaponry, both actual and makeshift.

i have made a complete list of everything used as a weapon in monkey man, because i am procrastinating at a level hitherto unknown to mortal men.

did not include body parts (despite the memorable teeth scenes), nor stationary pieces of the environment passively used as weapons by throwing people into them (e.g. a toilet, a sink). also didn't include military-wielded weapons/those wielded by the flashback bad guys, only those used by the protagonist and goons of various types, including cops. had to lump some together. some items are repeated as they are used by different people/swapped off between scenes. items do not have to have a confirmed kill to count as a weapon, just be used in an attack.

in approximate order: .38 revolver powdered bleach cologne bottle toiletry tray toilet chain mirror shard switchblade fire extinguisher various handguns vehicle pry bar (? metal bar of some kind) axe handcuffs sniper rifle knife bat with barbed wire garotte bussing cart saucepan various handguns, again sauce bottle kitchen knife stainless steel kettle oven/microwave/dishwasher (?) door various handguns kitchen knives homemade fireworks table cutlery (fork, steak knives) table leg (?) wine bottles switchblades hook knives metal knuckles short swords homemade fireworks unidentified handgun more liquor bottles chair (not steel) hand scythe (?) unidentified glass object handgun serving tray liquor bottle heeled shoe spike

also, the kid bites at least three (3) people, if you count That One as a bite, and i am not sure, do we? we'll say he uses his teeth to injure at least three people.

#monkey man

[moonlight-tmd]

Whenever I listen to Hooked On A Feeling by Björn Skifs I imagine a scenario of Blitzwing just being totally smitten by the little yellow autobot he just met and he's trying his best to court him.

He doesn't even hide it, he will just straight up ditch the entire fight to go talk and compliment the yellow mini and either the Autobots or Lugnut has to chase/drag him away.

The worst part is Bee is totally into it. He doesn't see why the heck this would be a bad idea, the big goofy weirdo(affectionate) just wants his attention and love. Said goofy weirdo is also not that bad-looking and strong. All of his oddities are just more of a lure to capture Bee's curiosity and interest.

Blitz would go and draw attention of citizen so the the Autobots come and he'd sing and dance on a makeshift disco ring to flirt with Bee. When that fails he'd carve a giant ice statue of Bumblebee and present it to him and Bee will be so amazed. And when that fails due to the other Autobots dragging him away he'd show up to the emergency at the bridge Bee is at with Ratchet, stand nearby and hold up a sign saying "Please go on a date with me! <3" while blasting some love song he heard that the lyrics literally describe his feelings. Bee did jump off the bridge to get to him that time... unfortunately Ratchet had caught him and lifted him back up with the magnets before Blitzwing could catch him and run off.

Bee's teammates have to keep an eye on him at all times so he won't sneak out and go do something he'll regret. Bee is not happy that his friends don't want him to go and try be happy with another mech, he's very pouty whenever they tell him no he can't do that. So what if it's a 'con? He's never truly taken a side and only wears an insignia for the sake of having some leeway with other Autobots. All of them could be organics, monoformers, 'bots, 'cons or other-faction for all he cares. He just wants to have friends, doesn't matter what or who they are.

I imagine at one point in time on earth Bee took off the window in his room and have it on a latch or something so it opens like a hatch so he can sneak out via his room. He has a big trash container with a lid on the other side and few crates so he can climb down from the window. One time he manages to fool whoever is on the nightly watch over him so he won't sneak out (aka they check if he's still in his berth, this time he waited until the check pretending to recharge and then snuck out). He got out and drove to places he usually saw Blitz hanging out on patrols. He wasn't in any of those places but Bee waited some in one of them and sure enough Blitz did happen to come to that location that night. They were so happy to finally talk with each other properly without anyone hearing anything and interrupting every 3 minuites.

They hit it off near instantly. Bee is so curious and amazed by a unique mech like Blitzwing and Blitz is so enamored with Bee's personality and cute appearance. They dance, sing and laugh under the stars and it's like a love story book come real. Of course, they meet few times in secret after that. Bee thinks about how to make others allow him to meet with Blitz... but just as he does that they hear a knock at the shutter and wouldn't you know, Blitzwing is standing there with big boquet of flowers and some small packages. Somehow he learned the location of where Bee lives by himself. Of course Bee grabbed his servo and led him in to play games together despite the others being very much startled by what the heck a 'con is doing in their house on a tuesday morning.

By that point they just give up all efforts to try to keep those two apart. It's pointless... At least Blitz doesn't seem as bad as they thought he was- he did bring them gifts to come into their favor after all.

So Blitz is a regular guest at the Autobot base. Bee is happy, Blitz is happy, and the others still keep an eye on them just in case. But they definitelly stopped being so paranoid over Bee.

#maccadam #tfa #blitzbee