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certifiedcodbabygirl · 14 days

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Simon Riley who realizes how much he fucked up and that maybe therapy isn't such a bad idea

AN: Lil bit longer than usual, but it's been on my mind

Art credit to SubsurfaceChaos on Twitter

Something was off with him all day. It wasn't too noticeable until he began distancing himself, getting irritated at being around anyone. You confronted him, simply trying to see if you could help or maybe provide comfort, and fuck did that backfire.

He was sitting in the living room watching whatever was on the channel, but it's not like he was paying attention to it. Thoughts and feelings of the deployment he just came back from a few days ago build up, irritation filling him like water in a bathtub. He doesn't usually have flashbacks or anything like that, the military would discharge him if he had PTSD, but some days he thinks too much.

He didn't even notice you coming in until you were sitting next to him. He snaps out of his thoughts just to meet your soft eyes. You sat on the other end of the couch, not wanting to crowd him too much while he's like this.

"What." He deadpans, voice devoid of all emotion.

Yeah something's definitely up.

"What's wrong, Si? Somethin' been messing with you today?" You ask gently, not wanting to come off as if you're accusing him.

He gives you and irritated look, suggesting you drop it, "Nothin', 'm fine"

You're not stupid. He tends to need a little push in order to open up.

"I know you're not", tone still soft, "I'm not trying to irritate you or anything, I ju-"

"Well you certainly got an affinity for it" He snaps, "Drop it"

You inhale, trying to not take his words personally, "Si, I'm your girlfriend, it's kinda my job to check in with you"

The bathtub overflows.

"You can't listen, can you? I said drop it, fuckin' 'ell" He stands up from the couch and walks to the kitchen, trying to create distance.

"Simon I'm just trying to help, I'm not here to make things harder for you" You try to reason with him, swallowing the lump in your throat.

You follow him into the kitchen but still give him space. He doesn't say anything back, a small part of him knowing you're right but the larger part won't connect to that. Pouring a class of orange juice, he keeps his back to you.

"Si-"

"Can you shut up for once?! Can you? I said bloody drop it. It's not up for discussion!" He sets the cup on the counter with a thud and snaps at you, "You're always fuckin' naggin' at me, clearly not takin' a bloody hint. Jesus Christ"

That shuts you up. The lump in your throat intensifies, tears beginning to form in your eyes. He's never yelled at you like that before. Sure, he's had bursts of irritation during arguments, but he's worked hard to make sure he never treats you how you don't deserve.

"Why are you yelling at me? All I'm doing is trying to be there for you" You ask quietly, voice not really allowing you to speak louder. a couple tears fall down your face, and your nose begins to get stuffed up. You try to quietly sniffle but he still hears it. He hangs his head down and groans quietly.

"Now you're fuckin' cryin'. Great."

Not wanting to be around him much longer, you turn to leave, "Come find me when you're calmer", Your voice betrays you and cracks a little.

You walk away and go upstairs to your shared bedroom. Once you close the door, the crying begins. His words cut through you like a knife, a deep pressure-like hurt seeping through your chest. Sobs rack your body yet you still try to be quiet, not wanting him to hear. You know he's gonna snap out of it and fuckin hate himself for what he did. You know he loves you, and if he were in his right mind he would have never uttered a single degrading word to you.

You slip into bed and lay there, crying. You guessed he would be up anytime soon and the smell of him on the pillows was both comforting and hurtful.

Downstairs though, Simon was fucking fuming. Seeing you go up the stairs, lip quivering, evaporated every bit of him anger. He groans loudly and throws an arm over his eyes.

'How fuckin' stupid can you be? How the fuck can you speak to her like that?'

He removes his arm and leans against the counter, arms crossed over his chest. You've stuck through with him since the moment you meet. Never once judged his off stand-ish behavior and learned to find ways to work with him. He cherished you so wholly, feeling what he thought he never would. You came into his life and slowly broke down his walls, allowing you to see him apart from his exterior.

He thought he was going to lose you. Sure, you had arguments before, but he had never purposefully tried to hurt you. Knowing that he did made his stomach churn, nausea kicking in. 2 years of the best relationship (not that there were very many before you) all to be broken down, at least what he thought, because he was pissed off.

'Maybe I should fuckin' go to therapy.'

Let's be honest, he could use it. He tried to go through it before but just quit due to how uncomfortable it made him. He figured he was on his own, all before you, and there was no one to deal with his bullshit besides him. Now he has someone who he cares about so much that it doesn't matter if he's uncomfortable. He'd rather be uncomfortable than never be with you again.

He gathers the balls to go upstairs and carefully opens the door. He's met with the sight of you curled up, your sniffles being the only sound in the room.

"Go away" You call out, although not too loudly. Your voice is wobbly and stuffy.

He'd think it was adorable, had he not been the one to cause it. He walks to the opposite side of the bed and gets in, spooning you. He kisses your hair so gently it would give you butterflies if you weren't so upset.

"I'm so sorry, love. I haven't a clue why I did that to you and you didn't deserve a single lick of it." He feels the small burn in his nose as he starts tearing up a little, "I promise it'll never happen again"

You sniffle as more tears fall, the pain sticking to you despite his words.

"I wasn't trying to piss you off" You whisper.

"I know baby, it wasn't you. I promise it wasn't. Could never be that mad at you" He says softly, a tear falling. He grips you a little bit tighter and kisses the back of your neck, trying to bring comfort to both of you.

"Then why did you yell at me? I've never heard you like that before."

He sighs, "Been thinkin' 'bout what happened while I was gone and it came out at you. 'M gonna go back to therapy 'n try to fix what ever the hell is wrong with me" He kisses your neck again, " 'M gonna do better, gonna be better"

He's not stupid, he knows his words aren't gonna go away overnight. He knows how much you love him, even if he doesn't understand it, and knows hearing that from him hurts more than it would anyone else. He knows you're gonna be affected by them for a bit and he's prepared to fix it. Anything for his love.

You turn around so you're both still on your sides but you're cuddled into his chest. Wasting no time, not even hesitating, he wraps his arms around you and holds you tight. He lets out a sigh of relief, knowing this is your way of accepting his apology. He softly kisses your forehead and cheek, whispering how much he loves you and how it's gonna be better.

He knows he can't run from his issues anymore and for once he's ready to face them.

#call of duty modern warfare #cod x reader #ghost cod #simon riley #cod simon riley #cod ghost #ghost mw2 #ghost call of duty #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x reader hurt/ comfort #cod hurt/comfort #ghost x reader hurt/ comfort #cod angst #simon riley x reader angst #ghost cod angst

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tarjapearce · 3 months

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El Diablo Wears Prada (pt. 2)

Mafia! Miguel O'Hara x Reader

WARNINGS: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. Manhandling, mild degratadion, rough sex, mentions of protected sex, angry and unprotected sex, p in v, use of tracking device, smut, No proofread at all.

Summary: Upon new information revealed, El Diablo tries to pry information out of you.

A/N: Centuries later, here is part 2~ Hope you like :'). Feedback and reblogs much appreciated ❤️

The ride back at whatever place you were being taken was definitely taking a toll on your throat. He wasn't nice, nor charming as he initially had introduced himself as.

The coldness of his gun reminisced in your temple, his taste was loaded with so many things. Tangy, rich in anger and frustration, sprinkled with a dash of danger and violence. The perfect treat for someone willing to gain his favor.

Not you though. Not when he nearly choked you out with his cock, with the promise of training you into taking it better. You had to be useful for something, and his purpose was still unclear to you.

After you were released from his steely grip, he just chuckled while you scrambled away from his personal space, sitting deeper in the SUV. He was silent, sleepy almost.

Of course he'd be. After that whole workout session you were spent and quite sore. Hips ached in protest every time you decided to shift in your seat, all thanks to months of being untouched by Massimo.

It was unavoidable to not think about him. Had the police arrived? He certainly wasn't fine but it worried that he was left injured. Had he called someone? You didn't know and as tired as you were, your head truly would start steaming the more you thought about everything.

Ride was smooth. A bit too smooth that when you woke up your head rested on the soft part of the seat. Your mouth was ajar, body had relaxed a bit, enough for the soreness to subside.

He was slanted against the window, knuckles holding his sleepy head. Some fine lines above his forehead along some scarce white hairs out of stress. He looked like in his early to mid thirties.

The ring on his middle finger drew all the attention to it. Golden band with a red ruby in it. If you squinted you could see a bit of an inscription 'Acta non Verba'

Deeds, not words.

His personal mantra and what he actually preached. Miguel had been tired of warning Massimo, he was a patient man, but the fool of a husband you had was all the opposite.

You were certain that he hid things, but never in your life had you imagined that it would end up like this.

"Boss?"

The soft and apprehensive voice of Ben awoke him. Bored eyes turned to you to flash a smirk before opening the door. A ten floor building nested before you. Crystal windows, adorned the layout of the structure, not many people crossed this part of town, making it almost deserted. The only signs of some movements werw his agents scattered outside, that immediately turned their attention to him.

"Let's go" He didn't let you finish your thoughts as he pulled you out of the SUV, his grip steely. A wince rasped in your throat. It all took a slip of his hand for you to dart away in the opposite direction.

There was no people to turn to, none to scream for help yet you didn't care, the need of running away just increased tenfolds, even if you were barefoot and naked under his shirt.

"Jesus fucking christ."

In a few strides he caught you. Strong hands pulled you by your hair, yanking a bit too hard to draw some tears from your eyes while you fell on your butt. Hands immediately trying to pry his hold out of your hair, the henchmen outside just threw quiet and derisive snorts your way.

"Stop! It hurts!"

"Cállate!"

He roared and you remained still, too stunned and pained to actually protest as he pulled you up, you whimpered as your feet scrambled. It was like watching a hungry and pissed cat playing with his food. One of your tears fell on his hand, releasing you to grab your arm instead.

His grip only increased to make his point clear.

Shut The Fuck Up.

But you didn't, instead you yanked and pulled or at least attempted to get away from him, but his resolve was as steely as his grasp. Even if you fought, he wouldn't budge.

"Let me go!"

His brow quirked but instead of releasing into an explosive outburst, He grabbed your waist and threw you easily over his shoulder like a potato bag, Ignoring your wails and tantrums, tired of your antics.

Your yapping was silenced with a rough and stinging slap on your naked rear. It made your toes curl and whimper enough to cut the meltdown. He wasn't in a mood to tolerate bullshit.

"Pinche bulliciosa." (So fucking noisy)

People in the building looked at you, mostly minded their business, others threw a chuckle or a low whistle your way. Upon entering the elevator, he put you down gently, just to feel the soft skin underneath his shirt. You twitched and he pressed the penthouse button.

Jessica and Ben joined in, each way too focused in their own world to actually pay mind to you. Jessica got off in the fifth floor, and Ben on the seventh. All of them full of agents, that undoubtedly obeyed him to the very last word.

As soon as the elevator's door closed, you wiped your eyes while rubbing the back of your head. He had yanked a bit too hard when trying to stop you, a headache simmered under your skull.

He just watched you, not saying a word. Not that he wanted to. What would he talk to you about?

Miguel was sure that you weren't that innocent as you looked, but he was sure that Massimo's betrayal had hurt.

In fact, he knew that the corrupt lawyer had a wife, even imagined someone way much older and wrinkly. Not you. Too pretty for your own damn good to be with someone like that. It made him wonder what made a good girl such as yourself marry a rotten man like Max.

The man in question had been fooling around enough to hide all his wrongdoings to to the point of having a secret life, hiding everything from you. Paying up shouldn't be an issue for Massimo, he was a top notch lawyer after all. Was that what drew you to him? Money? Success?

What did you work as? Who were your parents and why he still hadn't heard a thing on the news about the attack or you missing?

The elevator's door swung open, he pulled you out, but you remained glued to the floor, not daring to foray deeper in his place.

His den, where he could rest from playing the wolf and the rest of the world his cattle. Where he could be a normal man instead of being El Diablo.

Minimalistic, yet luxurious. The smell of his cologne and tobacco filled in the air, ever rich and manly. Like him and the shirt you wore.

"Take it off."

But you seemed set into pushing buttons not even his most trusted allies dared to press. Patience towards tantrums wasn't a virtue he possessed.

You blinked a couple of times before frowning at him.

"What?"

"I said, take it off."

"I'm naked."

He shrugged while prowling his way to you.

"You're not leaving this place anyways. Why would you need clothes?"

"If you wanna see me naked again, just say it. You probably have a shit ton of these in your stupid closet!"

His plump lips twitched into an amused smirk before cornering you against a pillar nearby.

"Ah, mira. La ratoncita tiene agallas." (Oh, look at that, the little mouse has guts)

He toyed with the upper button to loosen it.

"Take it off. I need my shirt."

Nervous breaths made you recoil as he fumbled with the second button, "I've got nothing to wear!"

You shrieked when he pulled the hems up, slapping his hand away, too focused in covering your bits rather than pushing him away. Brain reacting a bit too late when it registered his hand cupping your pussy.

"W-What are you-"

He crashed his lips on yours, angry and borderline famished from the lack of contact. You pulled him away, but his fingers turned bolder and it made your knees tremble. It was enough for him to grab the shirt to hang it loosely on his shoulder and leave you naked once more.

Palms immediately covering yourself, he rolled his eyes. Cold air hit you.

"This is your new home, until your dear husband decides to pay me, so better get used to it-

"How much is it?"

Miguel's bushy brows shot up in a 'Seriously?' look, to then frown at your interruption.

"Unless you have four million dollars to pay back, I'd suggest for you to trust your husband."

"Why don't you spare me the theatrics and kill me, then? I'm dead anyways."

"Killing you won't teach your husband a lesson. I'd be making him a favor if I get rid of you, if anything." He poured a glass of whiskey and downed it in a go, "Besides, did you just admit that asshole won't pay me back?

You gulped.

"N-No. He will, he has to."

The last bit sounded more of hou convincing yourself than the mob lord before you.

"Damn right, he has to. But wouldn't be surprised if he didn't make an effort. As I see it, you were useful for him, until you turned into an issue."

Your eyes widened in surprise and anger. How could he say such things to you? How dared he assuming that he knew Massimo?

"You don't know anything about him!"

"Oh? And you do?" Miguel taunted "You didn't even know who I was until I showed up in your doorstep, ratoncita."

He put the bottle away as he explained, "He got nervous not because of you finding out. But because of those files he tried to protect so badly to the point of endangering you. Call me whatever you want but even I know that's a low thing to do."

Your head shook, denying each and every word.

"I know he is a dick, but he wouldn't leave me sold out."

Miguel chuckled, almost sympathetic at the foolish hope. You still believed in the man, despite him cheating, lying and other horrors. You were either too inlove, or too blind to see.

Miguel leaned towards you, cold eyes boring into yours "Wanna find out?"

"He will pay up. I know so!" You didn't hesitate, almost convincing yourself that one day things would be nothing but bad memories.

"That would be a shame, really. Cause even for us, those lowlifes your perfect man tries to put behind bars, have standards when it comes to our close ones."

Another difficult gulp rolled down your throat. A sudden question popping in your mind.

"W-What if he doesn't pay?" His eyes softened at the underlying fear behind the question. His knuckle grazing your chin, smoothly.

"Then, you're mine."

-----

My property to do as I please.

What he really meant. You rolled on his bed. By the overall state of the place, you wouldn't have to worry for him coming at random hours to try something. In fact, he hadn't been around for days, but was a gentleman enough to provide some clothes for you to remain inside. His shirts and sweaters really.

But it was definitely better than being naked.

The place was a bit too big for your own tastes, yet oddly, it felt familiar. It reminded you of the several days you'd spend up waiting on your own, in your old home's grandeur, for Massimo.

He often left for weeks, due business trips. Or so you thought. Sometimes you'd have friends over, meaning, acquaintances that you made along the way when getting involved with Bianchi.

Miguel's words visited over and over your mind. Had you been beyond stupid?

Your mind replayed the last conversation you had with him over and over. Nothing regarding your safety, or wellbeing but rather a couple of papers.

That last kiss meant something, right? He still worried about you. Or else he wouldn't be furious while Miguel touched you. He wouldn't scream whatever he meant in Italian.

You held onto that. You wanted to believe that he was doing his best in getting his money or at least get Miguel behind bars.

You missed your old life. Although dull, you weren't under the cat's merciless paws, worrying about the police raiding the place or a wacko shooting a gun inside.

But you'd be a liar to say any of that happened, but loneliness was taking a toll on your mind. What was the use of having a large dream-like place when there was none around to even talk? Massimo had trained you well in the arts of seclusion, but being on edge hindered all that progress.

Not even the person that got you food remained too long in the same space as you. Hunger left you ever since yesterday, there was no news of you, of Massimo or anything related on the tv.

He was right

No. You refused to believe your husband had forsaken you, or your parents. One way or another you'd be in their emergency radar and hopefully you'd be able to be free. Where would you get four million? What did Massimo did with all that money?

There was so many questions that left your head pounding. Not that you needed light anyways. The elevator's door opened swiftly, yet you didn't bother to look at whoever had arrived. Too focused on a spot in the wall and lost in your thoughts to care.

"Why aren't you eating?"

The voice made you snap your head towards its owner. Jessica, that stared with a vexed deadpan upon finding the cold foods piled up on the dinner island.

"I'm not hungry."

Jessica huffed and put the food in the table while walking over your slouched form on the couch.

"He'll get pissed if he finds out you're letting food to waste. So stop acting like a-"

A hiccup.

Jessica rolled his eyes and grunted, annoyed at your crying but in truth, she couldn't really blame you for it.

This wasn't your world, your way of living, she still wondered what made Miguel to take you, other than his own amusement. You wiped the tears away.

"Look, as shitty as you feel right now, you need to eat. Won't solve all your problems but will do your body good. You'll need it."

"Why am I here?"

Jessica shrugged while bringing the plate back to you.

"Go figure."

"Where is Miguel?"

A tiny smirk crept up Jessica's face.

"Why? Miss him already?"

"Far from that. I just need to get some things back from home. Can't keep using his things."

Jessica just stared at you, lips about to speak but they remained shut. She looked solemn, like if bad news were about to spill from her glossy mouth.

"I'll see what I can do, got it? Now eat. You're insulting my chef"

Jessica pushed the tray to you, food looking Michelin star quality.

"Don't make me come back and force you to eat it, alright?"

The little smile in your face offered little reassurance, but it wasn't her duty to deliver the bad news.

----

Miguel barely slept, the constant stress of his empire prevented him from getting some full sleep. And the woman straddling his hips while rutting herself into oblivion only made him even more exhausted. Her clumsy kisses stained his neck with the lipstick, music booming around him.

He had to give the femme some credit, if it wasn't for her loud and borderline fake wailing, he'd consider to indulge her again, cause her hips moved rhythmically and nonstop, edging him to the brink of a much needed release. But even so, his body remained tense after spilling into the condom.

He quickly removed the woman off him, annoyed while he cleaned after himself, the week's burden have been greater than he could handle. Peter offered to distract him while visiting one of his clubs. And the distraction had proven to be more a nuisance than anything.

At least she understood the message and left after catching her breath.

Peter entered the vip room, hand full of a whiskey glass, he pushed it back to him as he returned from the bathroom and then sunk into the single couch, quanked. The smell of sweat and perfume lingered in the air.

"Feeling better?"

"No."

Miguel threw his head back, Peter chuckled at his unkempt look. Shirt wide open, mouth flushed and smeared with creamy rouge, a soft hint of pink in his ears and cheeks and hair disheveled as the woman had held onto him.

It took him a moment to fix himself after downing the whiskey.

"I needed sleep. Not another woman with a cheap perfume."

"But she got you tired enough to sleep, didn't she?"

Miguel rolled his eyes and buckled his belt.

"Did Gabriel arrived already?"

"An hour ago actually, he was waiting for you to be done."

El Diablo stretched his long legs over the coffee table, knuckles holding onto his head.

Peter called Gabriel through one of the employees.

"What are you gonna do with that woman?" Peter gestured with his hands, trying to resemble your physical attributes.

"Who? The little mouse?" He chuckled before sighing, a hand rubbed his face, exhausted, "Who knows."

"Have you told her about her home yet?"

"And make her clam up even more? No. Jessica has been taking care of her. She's refusing food, all cause she's really missing that bastard."

"That's all she's known so far. Can't really blame her for it" Peter shrugged while looking through the window. The club thrived as usual.

The couch Miguel laid on was too comfortable to be standing up.

"Why don't you just... let her go?"

"No me digas." Red eyes stared at his left hand, unamused. (Oh really?)

"She's a witness. Plus I'm sure she knows more than she lets on about that pendejo."

"Massimo?"

"He disappeared. She must know where he is. A famous lawyer suddenly going missing? Not good. No news yet about it or his house burned to the ground? Even worst. That son of a bitch is up to something."

"What if she doesn't wants to cooperate?"

"I'll make her."

Gabriel entered the room, hands extended ready to hug his brother but upon looking at his current state, he stopped and chuckled.

"You done or... should I return later?"

"Gabri."

Miguel acknowledged him sleepily.

"Nor a fan of seeing you freshly milked. But I need your help."

Miguel's bored gaze fell on him while straightening his posture on the couch.

Gabriel, also known as Green Goblin, a name that still he was trying to not laugh at, the youngest of the O'Haras. Miguel's gun supplier and most trusted contact inside the bigger companies.

His little brother had followed his steps and now he was making his own name out there. And so far things seemed promising for him.

"¿Qué ocupas?" (What do you need?)

"To find a guy or his wife."

Miguel quirked an eyebrow, and Gabriel continued.

"You see, there is this... son of a bitch that works in a fancy firm, right? A month ago, one of my friends, my best friend, was raided in his home and arrested for drug trafficking."

"You're getting with junkies again?"

"Judge my friendship choices later, ok? As far as I know the guy had been in rehab and was celebrating five years sober. But that was just the tip of the iceberg".

Gabriel poured himself his own glass of whiskey and sat in front of his brother, a staid expression on his usual perky countenance. Miguel's discomfit grew bigger.

"It was him first. Then everyone I was collaborating at the moment suddenly get arrested and sentenced to a shit ton of years in jail." Gabriel crossed his legs before him.

Miguel's mouth soured. Not really liking the route the conversation was taking, the idea of who his younger brother was talking about turned less and less blurred until a clear image came in his mind.

"When I bribed an FBI agent-"

"You what?! Tas pendejo o qué?! Ya te dije que no te andes codeando con la policia-" (Are you stupid or what? I've told you to not hang around with the police!) Miguel’s voice was stern and Gabriel just dismissed him.

"Ay ya, calla. I know what I'm doing, so turns out that this... guy has been cooperating with them in exchange of not going to prison." (Oh shut up)

"A snitch." El Diablo scowled. If there was something he hated the most was snitches. Everyone knew what happened to the rats and snitches.

"He's the responsible of our agents getting shot or thrown in jail. Some say Kingpin is also after him and his family."

Fuck...

"What's his name?" He knew it, but even so needed to confirm the magnitude of the chaos the man had left and dragged you in with his lies.

"Massimo Bianchi."

-----

Miguel's door swung open, Jessica and Peter after him.

"Wait, Miguel!"

Jessica tried to stop him, but Miguel's rage was stronger than her and Peter.

Red eyes searching everywhere, until he spotted you on the couch. The atmosphere felt heavy, just like his breaths and thoughts.

Massimo was the culprit of all the issues he was trying to fix. Some of his most proficient agents in jail, because your dutiful husband was allegedly making things right and Miguel was sure Bianchi was screwing with him just cause. He had underestimated him and now it was giving him a headache.

The cherry ontop of his messy cake was Gabriel telling him that Kingpin was looking for you. And when the big man looked for someone, it meant nothing but trouble.

And still, he was angry cause you had been so damn stupid to sign things on Massimo's behalf and your name was in some documents that undoubtedly had served the police and FBI as evidence to get his agents in jail. Making you a target to many enemies Massi had made along his way to the top.

As lovely as you looked asleep, he yanked you by the ankle and dragged you all over the couch, your startled yelps echoed in the room. His shirt railed up, exposing thw only piece of underwear Jessica was able to get you.

"Stop!" Legs kicked and thrashed, railing the hem of his shirts up even more, upon seeing your panties he stopped.

"Get out"

"No, no, Jessica!" You pleaded but his hand darted over trembling skin to take a hold of your nape. A gasp escaped you as your face was buried on the cushions of the couch. Ass up high, clothed holes with a filmy red panties.

"Que te calles, pendeja!" He pushed the face deeper in the cushion while seething, "Why are you still here?" His question dripped with venom as his hand tangled in a fistful of your hair. (Shut up, dumbass)

Both of them left, Jessica threw you a subtle look of concern before going away.

A stinging spank echoed in your flesh, it had tears welling up your eyes while wincing painfully.

"God... I swear... I've known dumb ass people, and then there's you."

He pulled his trusted pocket knife out, flickering the blade alive in a swift swoosh. He was pissed. Now you were a real problem, not a mere plaything or guarantee he'd keep around for shits and giggles as he had originally planned.

"Do you know how many of my agents are in jail because of your stupid signature? Where is your husband?"

Another spank and your tears rolled

"You fucking crying? No, no, no." Miguel hovered over you while dragging the tip of his knife over the curvature of your rear, a pink welt trailing in it's wake. The blade slid horizontally on the panties, cutting the feeble fabric in half.

To then sit yourself properly to kiss you with all his anger. Assailant mouth devouring yours with such expertise you barely had time to breath properly, his tongue mercilessly curled and tasted around yours. Strong arms caged you as he ate your lips with hunger, leaving no room for gentleness.

Hands tore the remaining bits of fabric you had around your hips, as you gasped for a much needed gulp of air.

"I won't ask you again. Where is Max?"

"M-Massimo" you mumbled, trying to recover from the dizzying effect lingering in your senses.

"Me importa un carajo como vergas se llame, Where the fuck is he?" (I give two flying fucks on what his fucking name is)

"I don't know!"

His eye twitched but seeing your own spark shining through, amused and irked him equally. He pulled his shirt off you with a few tugs, since you refused to cooperate

Long and big hands squeezed your neck as he pushed you against the couch's back support, his other hand immediately cupped your pussy, fingers deftly exploring between them leisurely.

"Lemme refresh your memory then." He purred and your pelt crawled on its own. It wasn't full of that rich entice he first gave you, tempting you to drown in that corrupting well you ended up falling as he fucked you before your husband, but a much more dern and dangerous thing. Equally alluring.

Your legs trapped his hand in between, twitching at the contact. Your own hands grope at his wrist in a rickety attempt to release yourself.

His fingertips prodded viciously at the hardened nub between your puffed folds.

"You have no idea what you've done." He seethed in your ear. His touch was as delicious as painful.

"F-Fucking explain then" You moaned in between clenched teeth and breaths. And oh, you now were scared. The glint in his darkening eyes only matched the creeping darkness in his smirk

With a renovated vigor he took your ankles and folded them over you exposing your snug cunt, breath blown as your spine curved inwards, just like your legs, pushing them against your trembling hands.

A simple a quiet order. To hold them. He shook off his suit and unbuckled his belt, fumbling with his pants and underwear to finally release his hefty and hardening cock that landed on your shivering slit with a quiet slap. Feet kicking off his clothes.

He slicked his tip with his spit and rubbed between your awaiting folds.

"You" He sunk in, inch by inch, letting his girth to stretch open your slurping hole. Your lids drooped as a languid moan escaped your heaving lips. His hands trapped yours while holding your ankles, securing your and his grip on them. Making sure you wouldn't falter, "You're a target now"

He gritted his words as he pushed balls in deep. Earning a sweet shuddering squeak off you.

Eyes trailed down in the junction of your legs, mesmerized and marveled at how his thickness delved in with such ease in between your gummy and snug walls, with such slug speed it had your toes curled in. He made sure you felt everything.

When he pulled out, you could see your walls etching to him, begging to get back as your own creamy slick soaked him. Your fingertips curled underneath his larger palm, and he frowned.

"No, no, you'll fucking take it. You wanted me to explain, you'll take it."

There was a thrust. A wet one that had your jaw slacking open.

"That fucker is messing with me" Another thrust and it made you sputter a garbled moan, "And you know where he is"

"I-I don't knng-"

Your teeth clenched upon his tip rubbing your cervix. Cunt so full of him, twitching at the minimal movement.

"Where" A thrust, "Is" A deeper one, "He?" His hips slapped yours with all his might, dropping all his weight on your tightness, your eyes almost rolled back with a trembling sob.

Pants turned erratic, your head shook as he caged your folded frame in between his muscular thighs, accommodating deeper. There was no room for you to move, sweat begun forming on your forehead and neck. So far he had given you a few ruts and you were already hazy.

The couch creaked under your weight. His hands grope your ankles tighter, spreading them as further as they could go. Your hands were numbing. His weight crushed you so deliciously it had you watching, enthralled as he disappeared inside you.

"I don't know" words came in a shaky and husky breath, "I swear he-"

He released one of your ankles to squeeze your cheeks together, smirking darkly as he pulled out again.

"We'll do it my way then."

Before you could even reply, he held on once more on your ankles, a loud sob came out while he plowed relentlessly, unable to keep your squeaking and hiccuping away. His little mouse, ever compliant.

Loud and pleasurable wails filled in the room. Your jaw tightened and grunted, body bounced underneath his frame, taking each and every plow like a champ.

Feet swayed violently, like your breast. The heels of your soles dug in every side of his shoulders. Air lacked in your burning lungs. His muscles rippled and contracted with every remorseless plunge.

Wet and scummy slaps of flesh echoed unceasingly. Eyes bounced at the beat his creamed cock rutted into you. Fast enough to have your brain rewired, deep enough for your walls to feel each and every inch, taking the delicious beating of his cock in your already bullied cervix, and hard enough to mess with your thoughts in such way you were forgetting your own name.

Maddening, aggressive, dangerous yet addictive, like his thrust. Like him.

Oh God

He cupped your cheeks as your dazed eyes tried their best to remain awake.

"Fucking look at me" he growled

You were really really trying to. His forehead rested inches away from yours, letting your moanings turn into acute and desperate wheezes when he picked up the pace. You were sure your ankles would end up bruised and scratched, but in truth, right now it was the least of your concerns.

You were sure your brain shut off for a second or two. Panting and gasping for air like a fish out of water. Throat dry and hoarse.

Too much

Your legs shook and your mind snapped. You came, and came hard, squeezing his cock so tightly it made him whimper at the overestimulation. Juices coating him and rolled down your belly in a wet and explosive climax.

Walls spasmed so deliciously around him in a pompoir-like hug, that ignited his own peak.

Miguel had to support on the couch's frame to catch his breath as his hot spurts of cum painted your walls white. Forehead finally collided against yours.

Gaze locking on your dazed eyes as he left your insides with an approving hum.

One of your legs fell on the couch, a little whine accompanied the limb's fall. Miguel bend to pick up something from his pants. A little clink and a beep made your attention to snap at him.

El Diablo gave a brief kiss on your ankle to then wrap the tracking device on it. To then let your leg fall next to you.

"Beg for me to find him first instead of Kingpin."

You curled on the couch, catching up your breath.

His eyes lingered on your body. Gorgeously tussled and flushed, marked by his own hands. A proud smirk crept up his face, but it quickly faded when staring at the golden band in your finger.

You were now his, but a problem. His problem. He believed you when saying you had no idea where Massimo was. But eventually you'd have to cooperate. If he was to keep you alive, the least he needed was honesty.

But how to get it when you were kept in the shadows for so long? An idea popped in his mind. Sex wasn't a good incentive, he noted. Not that it wasn't great, all the opposite really as he was ready to sleep, finally able to relax. Maybe he'd try a different and less physical approach.

He picked up his clothes and spoke over his naked shoulder.

"We'll leave tomorrow." He popped his joints back.

"Better sleep well."

You heard him disappear into his room. Your body protested when trying to sit up right. You reached for the forgotten shirt, and with difficulty wore it again.

His perfume tingled your senses, but you were too tired and sore to walk over the bed. Besides, he was there and as much as his bed was great for your back, you curled on the bigger couch. The way his eyes looked your way when he was done, made your heart leap.

No.

He was dangerous and in truth you were sure he had many other women scattered around. And you were married.

With a man that has gotten me in so much trouble...

For once, it wasn't Massimo that you thought when going to sleep.

----

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#t writes✨#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o'hara smut #mafia miguel #miguel ohara #miguel x y/n #miguel x you

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roosterforme · 12 days

Text

Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw Part 3 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: You rendered Bradley speechless and left him wondering if your students were the ones who wanted to know what he looked like or if it was really you who was curious. He wanted to know everything about you, but the urge to ask for more was mingling with his duty to keep things professional. You and he teetered on the edge... until you didn't.

Warnings: Fluff, language, Bradley looking hot

Length: 3100 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female teacher!Reader

Check out my masterlist for more! Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw masterlist

Bradley found himself homesick in a way he never did before. He still had weeks and weeks of this deployment to go, stuck on the aircraft carrier, endlessly curious about someone he barely knew anything about and a classroom full of kids he'd never met. But he felt like he wanted to know more about you and them.

At least he was too busy now to dwell on the fact that it had been days since the last mail call. He was never one who was lined up, eager to collect something from a loved one. Vanessa and all of his other ex girlfriends never sent him handwritten notes or snacks. He'd gotten sporadic emails in the past, but nothing that made him smile and laugh out loud. Never anything that made him sad when he realized he had reached the end of the note, hoping for more.

He wanted to go back to the lounge and check his email, but he was afraid he'd have nothing new to read. There was really nobody else other than you who would send him anything right now, and he was sure you had something better to do with your time than comment on the photos he'd send of his jet and the engine parts. And even if you had written back, how long could he really keep this conversation with you going? How soon would you run out of interest in his deployment?

Bradley knew he'd be much better at talking to you in person, but how the hell was he supposed to get there? Jesus Christ, you were probably married. You probably already had someone back home wrapped around your fingers, and here he was, still thinking about you.

"Pitiful," he muttered, making his way to the lounge anyway. He would keep it professional with you. One hundred percent. But he still wanted to know if your students got to see the photos and if they had any questions about them.

When he logged into his email account, his heart skipped around a bit when he saw that he had something new from you. Then he opened it up and read it, and his lips parted softly in surprise at what you'd sent.

Thank you for the photos. They were very enlightening. We especially liked the ones where you were showing off your cockpit. Or I did, anyway. The kids liked all of them and started on another list of questions for you. Good luck getting rid of us now.

We were wondering if you could have someone take a picture of you standing in front of your jet. For size comparison purposes. And also because my students would like to know what you look like. Hearing from you makes our day even better.

Bradley read it again. Still surprised, he read it a third time. Were you the one asking for the photo? It seemed like you might be. Or was he just projecting here? Shit. Maybe. He'd been thinking about how he'd respond if you asked him something personal, and this felt like you and he were teetering right on the edge.

You even echoed his own thoughts, but it still made him warm all over to know that you looked forward to hearing from him. That it made your day better when he sent an email. He decided he was going to keep this going as long as he could.

He logged out again and headed to the mess hall for dinner, because there was no point in responding until he had the photo you just asked him for. One where you'd be able to see exactly what every inch of him looked like. As he ate his meatloaf, his thoughts all settled on that one pertinent question: were your students really the ones who were curious about how he looked, or were you? Because it sounded like it could be the latter. He fucking hoped it was. And he fucking hoped you wouldn't be disappointed after tomorrow when he sent you exactly what was asked of him.

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

You thought you were ready, but you weren't. Not for this. Not for him. Not even close. Thankfully it was still early enough that none of your students were in the classroom with you, because Lieutenant Bradley Bradshaw had responded to your slightly tipsy email from a few nights ago. He sent exactly one photo, and your only response was to softly moan, "Holy hell."

To say he was attractive looking standing there in his flight suit next to the jet with his name on the side of it would have been the understatement of the century. He was hot. Unbelievably hot. Top tier. You shamelessly zoomed in to get an even better look at his face which was complete with a crooked little smile and a fucking mustache.

"Who does he think he is?" you asked the empty room, voice filled with need. "The audacity."

Even his messy, wavy hair looked soft enough for you to want to rub your face and lips against it. Where did that idea come from? You uncrossed and recrossed your legs as the most delightful thoughts filled your mind. You already knew he was sweet, kind, attentive and humble, but now you knew he was easy on the eyes, too. If only you could hear his voice.

After several minutes of uninterrupted gawking, you realized he'd written a few sentences to you as well, addressing you just as he always had. But this felt more personal. Maybe a little intimate.

For reference, I'm 6'1" and 205 pounds. That should give you and your kiddos a good size comparison, yeah? Also, just a little curious myself here.... are you sure they were the only ones who wanted to know what I look like? Or did you want to know, too?

So he called you out. Your whole body felt too hot and too light. You were floating off of your chair even as your heart pounded. You must be two feet in the air by now. He already knew what you looked like, but now you cared more than ever what he thought about you. Because you had a massive crush on your classroom pen pal.

"How embarrassing. You drunk emailed him! How are you supposed to respond to this?" you whispered as you closed your laptop and pressed your fingers to your lips. It was hard to tell if his tone was playful or not. He was smiling in the photo, which made you think that he was. But perhaps he was trying to put a stop to any topic of conversation that could be considered personal.

Then it hit you like a bolt of lightning. No way was this man single. He was handsome. That would have been enough on its own. But he also had an impressive career, all of his hair, and he was tall. And that didn't even scrape the surface of his sweet personality! You couldn't embarrass yourself further. You just couldn't. You wanted him to keep writing to your class, because they were already so attached to him. You couldn't ruin this for them.

When your students came flooding into the room, they led off with the same question they had every morning now. "Did we get anything in the mail from Lieutenant Bradshaw?"

"Not yet," you replied, still trying to decide how to respond to his photo. "But hopefully soon. He did email another picture though."

All of them were immediately headed for your desk, wanting to see what their pen pal looked like. You pressed your lips together, bracing yourself as you opened up that photo again, and then the kids all interjected into your thoughts.

"His jet is so cool!"

"It's huge!"

"He looks exactly how I thought he would!"

"Can he send us more stuff?"

It took you a good, long while to get them all into their seats. Clearly you weren't the only one who was entranced by him. Their questions overflowed, most of which still had to do with the aviation topics you'd been teaching them. Bradley Bradshaw had turned your classroom upside down, in a good way. And the more you thought about it, the more you just wanted to make sure you weren't missing out on something here. This man was better looking than the last three guys you went out with all combined, and he already made you feel tingly inside before you knew that for a fact.

You went home after work and did it again. You drank some wine and logged into your work email account and wrote back to him less than a day after he wrote to you. Part of you recognized that you'd look desperate, but you simply had to know so you could stop thinking about him if necessary. You started typing.

It was definitely, absolutely my students who wanted to know what you look like. It had nothing to do with me. That's my story, and I'm sticking to it. That being said...nice photo. Very nice.

My kids also wanted me to ask you if your spouse or significant other is in the Navy. And they'd like to know how old your kids are if you have any. Once again, just to be clear, I'm only asking these things on their behalf...

"Send," you whispered, doing it before you could stop yourself. Then you were left with your intrusive thoughts and the rest of the wine, ultimately deciding to just go to bed. He wasn't going to respond right away. He was busy working. You just hoped it didn't take too long.

But it did. Days passed. You normally tried not to think about your work email account during the weekends, let alone check it. Saturday was miserable as you logged in almost hourly to check and double check if you had something new from Lieutenant Bradshaw. It was so bad, you ended up initiating a movie night with some of your friends, opting to lock your phone in the center console of your car rather than take it into the theater.

Sunday was no better. You took yourself to the beach for the afternoon to try to read and sunbathe. But there was a group of guys in US NAVY TOP GUN shirts playing football, and you wondered if Bradley ever did this kind of thing with his friends. Or his family. Jesus Christ, why couldn't he just write back and tell you if he had a pretty wife and six adorable kids who loved to play football on the beach with him?

When two of the guys in the TOP GUN shirts purposely threw the football toward your towel and tried to play it off as an accident, you didn't even feel like returning their flirtatious banter. Neither of them had a mustache or soft looking brown hair. Neither of them left you wanting to know more.

You went home and tried so hard not to check your work email, but you failed miserably. But then you were happy you caved, because he wrote back. Bradley Bradshaw actually responded again. And a few seconds later, you were giggling and trying to control the squeal that escaped your lips.

When the mail arrived on the aircraft carrier yesterday, I was one of the first officers in line, and I wasn't disappointed. I got the second box from your class, and I can't wait to start reading and responding to everyone's notes this week. I'll let you know when you've got more mail coming your way.

Since your students seem to be showing quite an interest in my personal life, please let them know I actually don't have a spouse or significant other at all. Nor do I have any kids. Their letters (and your emails, too) are the only ones I'm getting this deployment. No one else has been writing to me. Nobody stateside is waiting for me. I hope that answers their questions to your liking.

And now it's your turn to answer a question for me. Is there a guy in your life who is going to try to beat the crap out of me if I tell you that I think you're gorgeous?

I'll just be waiting impatiently for your response.

Yours Truly,

Lt Bradley Bradshaw

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

Bradley was so tired. The kind of bone deep exhaustion that only comes after the completion of a dangerous mission when your adrenaline finally wears off. All he could think about was how badly he wanted to be back at home in his bed in San Diego with a soft, warm body next to his and a sweet voice in his ear. But he was picturing your face and your body, already convinced you'd have the sweetest voice he'd ever heard.

Shit. He needed to focus on what the admirals had to say instead of drift into daydreams.

"No need to report to the strategy room in the morning, Lieutenant," his commanding officer said as Bradley unzipped the top of his flight suit. "Take some time to rest."

He saluted the admiral and walked off toward his bunk and a hot shower. But even as the steamy water eased the ache in his muscles, he thought about how he already knew he wouldn't be able to sleep right now. Not when he still had a few messages from your students to respond to. Not when those notes always made him smile.

This time you'd only included a very short note in the box, but it wasn't typed up and printed out. It was written in your pretty penmanship on a sheet of lined paper.

Lt Bradshaw,

I hope this package finds you well. Please prepare yourself for approximately seven hundred more questions. Thanks again for sharing your time with us.

He didn't mind one bit. In all actuality, he was living for this shit, already thinking about how he could maybe visit your classroom someday soon. Several of the kids asked him if he could. They all asked him to take more pictures of life on the aircraft carrier. Then he laughed for a solid minute over the photo that Jayden sent of his Cocker Spaniel named Vanessa.

But Bradley had purposely been neglecting his email inbox for the last few days. He was too afraid to read your words telling him that you were in fact taken, and that he was stupid for thinking you'd been the one who wanted to know what he looked like. He was rather enjoying the delusion that you might let him tell you how pretty he thought you were over email and maybe someday in person. He decided to respond to the rest of the notes in the box before getting rejected, otherwise it would be too hard to do this.

He finished writing back to Oliver and Cooper and then tucked the box away under his bed before drifting off to sleep while dreaming of his own bed. But the next day, he had literally no work to do. He's been given the entire day off. He hit the gym and avoided the married woman like the plague. Then he ate lunch and contemplated going back to the gym again, but his feet carried him to the lounge instead. At the very least, he promised you that he'd let you know when you had mail on the way so the kids could get excited. He should take the time to tell you he'd be sending more responses to your class by air mail.

Somehow Bradley had convinced himself so thoroughly that you were in a relationship, he almost couldn't fathom anything else. But there was a new message from you in his inbox, and it felt like a gift when he opened and read it.

Lt Bradshaw,

I must say, I was surprised to find out that my emails and the letters from my class are the only ones making their way to you. Not that I'm complaining. Not one bit. I just find it hard to believe that you don't have a lot of interested parties hoping for a chance to be the one you think about when you're deployed and all alone.

My last boyfriend didn't like it when I talked about my fourth graders. He didn't really see any value in what I do for a living. He would have never taken the time to read something they wrote let alone answer their questions individually. So no, there's nobody who would be upset with you for making me feel like there are butterflies permanently living in my belly now. If you want to tell me you think I'm gorgeous, I'm certainly not going to stop you.

Here's my personal, non school affiliated email address. Just in case you feel like using it. If not, you can keep responding here, and I can take the hint that we went far enough.

I hope you're doing well and staying safe.

Frantically, Bradley checked the date and time stamp. "Fuck," he growled, his fingers not quite able to keep up with his brain when he realized you'd sent this to him days ago. More than five days ago! "Shit. Fuck!" He had been keeping you waiting! As soon as he got his hands working at the same speed as his thoughts, he copied and pasted your personal email address and started a new thread like his life depended on it.

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

You were just curling up with a cup of sleepy time tea after a long day at work, wishing someone would put you out of your misery, when your phone vibrated on the couch cushion next to your leg. You were half tempted to ignore it, reasoning that it was probably time to accept the fact that Bradley Bradshaw already lost interest in you and delete his photos from your downloads folder. You should learn how to stop embarrassing yourself.

Then you glanced down and saw that you had a new email. It was from a now familiar sender. It had been sent to your personal account. You immediately scrambled to unlock your phone and read it.

Hey, Gorgeous,

I'd like to take it further.

Yours Truly,

Bradley Bradshaw

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

What the fuck, Bradley, you smooth man! Take it further, take it further, take it further! I love how impatient they get when they want to hear from each other. Now go ahead and get a little more personal. Thanks to @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls and everyone who sent me messages and asks about this fic.

PART 4

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strangersteddierthings · 1 year

Text

"Look, Steve, I don't have any bad feelings towards you," Eddie says, has been saying, talking nonsense, like he and Steve weren't anything more than fuckbuddies, like he isn't breaking Steve's heart. "I used you too, y'know?"

It's then Steve rears back like he been slapped. Or punched. It feels more like a gutting. Joke's on him, he supposes. Once again, he wants more than the other person. He wanted a boyfriend, Eddie'd wanted sex. Why does he keep trying? When Steve finds his voice to speak, it comes out flat and dead and not really like a question at all. "Used me. Like you think I've used you?"

Eddie shrugs, looking for all the world like he's not bothered by that statement. "We had fun, right? So it's all fine in the end."

"Fine," Steve repeats, hollow. They're in his house but Steve feels the need to leave, to run before the reality of how unlovable he truly is sticks inside him forever.

"But I think we should stop while we're ahead," Eddie continues and Steve wonders if Eddie is listening to him at all, or just saying his piece before he goes. Can he not hear Steve's heart breaking? "I want to... I want to find someone to love."

If Eddie's previous words felt like being gutted, these ones feel like cement. Heavy and solidifying. Trapping in the truth of Ever Unlovable Steve. He doesn't even feel heartbroken anymore. Just numb. Dead inside. He should say something encouraging. Let Eddie know that all he's wanted was for Eddie to be happy and loved. But words seem impossible, so he gives one jerky nod of his head. An understanding.

"Right," Eddie says, returning the nod before turning away, towards the door, "I'll just go now. Umm, see ya later, Harrington."

Facing the horrors of the Upside Down should feel like the scariest thing he's ever done but it doesn't. Watching Eddie walk away does. Steve should be able to hold it together long enough for Eddie to leave. He's the tough one. He can hold himself together no problem-

"Why can't you love me?"

Eddie whips back around, an expression on his face like confusion and anger mixed.

It's only then that Steve realizes he spoke. He hasn't meant to. He was going to let Eddie walk away but now his voice has been freed from the cement. His heart has shut down his brain it seems because he just keeps talking, voice flat and hollow, "why can't you love me the way I love you? What is so broken and wrong within me that no one loves me back? My parents, Nancy, now you. Why can't- I thought that we were- where did I go wrong?"

"What?" Eddie asks, and the anger is gone from his face but now he just looks horrified. Which is understandable. It's horrifying to be loved by Steve Harrington. "What did you think we were?"

Boyfriends. Together. Going steady. At the very least, dating without labels. But none of those very reasonable, normal answers come out of Steve's treacherous mouth. Because Steve can't seem to be a reasonable, normal person. He's got to be too much, too soon, too clingy. So, instead, he says, "In love."

Eddie looks like he's just received the worst news of his life. In fact, he looks a little sick. "Oh fuck. Jesus Christ. I can't- I thought- Fuck!"

Steve just nods along. He hadn't actually said I love you to Nancy that night at Tina's Halloween party, but he imagines if he had, the beginning of the bullshit conversation would have sounded much the same as Eddie does now; like anger and regret, the starts and stops. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have- if you want to go, you should go."

Eddie crosses the room back to Steve in half the steps he took when he first walked away, hands reaching to grab Steve's face between them. He speaks quickly and sounds panicked now. "No, no no no. I fucked up, misunderstood. I don't know how I got it so wrong. I don't want to go. I never did."

"What?"

"I am in love with you, sweetheart. I just- I didn't know you loved me back. I thought you didn't- that we weren't..."

"I thought we were boyfriends."

"Jesus, please let me fix this. Let me stay and make it up to you. I'll be the best fucking boyfriend you've ever had."

Steve thinks if he had any shred of self-worth he might step back, make Eddie explain himself, but as it is, he steps into Eddie's space and kisses him, hands pulling him as close as he can get. He doesn't want to think about the cruel things Eddie's said, about using each other. Maybe one day they'll have to hash that out, have that conversation, but Eddie says he loves him too, and that's all Steve's wanted.

#steddie #my fic #angst with a happy ending #or like maybe bittersweet end 'cause of Steve's headspace #i dunno #just a little ficlet as warmup writing #so i thought i'd share

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erwinsvow · 26 days

Note

uuuh love the kook!best friend idea??? the trio would be so overprotective of her??? at keggers she would just make small talk with some pogues and they'll be 🧍‍♂️🧍‍♂️🧍‍♂️like right next to her!

- 🔮

rafe is getting weirdly possessive over you, you think for a moment, standing near the keg and waiting patiently for your turn to get a drink. you don't think he's ever been so.... territorial. or maybe he has been, and you've just been ignoring it, thinking that he's been a really good, really close friend—looking out for you the way he does.

you can feel eyes burning holes into the back of your head, three sets of eyes in particular. your friends are funny—charmingly stupid, annoying arrogant, and a whole host of other things, but they've always been funny. it's why you guys get along so well, you return their jokes and comments at the same pace, more often than not even cracking jokes that make rafe break his stoic facade.

but he has been, you reflect, stepping up to whichever pogue is pouring the beer today—breaking his facade. you thought you were going a little crazy, thinking that he's actually being nicer to you, until kelce and top comment on it too. even today, he picked you up from your place first, letting you crawl into the front seat even though the other boys complain about being smushed in the back endlessly. he complimented your dress, even asked if it was new, which it was. he even got you your first drink without you asking for it, the strawberry seltzer that you're sure the pogues hosting didn't have lying around.

you feel surprisingly giddy about it—after all, you're still a girl, still their newer friend. like any other girl, you worry your new friends won't like you or that there's some ulterior motive going on. rafe's being a little weird, but he's always thinking about something that he doesn't talk about until days later. you think it'll pass like it always does.

"ah, ah," the blond pogue boy says—the cute one some of your girl friends buy weed from occasionally, when rafe can't deliver. "what's the magic word?"

you giggle at his antics, your worry about rafe floating away. you keep chatting with him, reaching in for the red cup twice, that he pulls up and over his head—impossible for you to grasp.

fifteen feet away, rafe watches jj tease you with the beer cup, jaw clenching while top and kelce see what he's staring at.

"see, boys. now that is not okay." he gestures to you with the cup in his own hand, watching your tiny dress ride up as you jump to get your beer from jj. "that pogue is disrespectin' our girl."

"rafe, i think it's just a joke-" top interjects, but he gets interrupted himself.

"nah, nah, man. these pogues. they think it's funny. i'll show him funny. c'mon." rafe stalks over, and the two boys follow. you don't notice but jj does, lowering the cup and staring at something—or someone—behind you.

"havin' fun, huh?" rafe questions, and you spin around. the jerk scared you—kelce and top surrounding you like bodyguards.

"guys, what are you-"

"i think she's all set, pogue. you can fuck off now."

"don't you have some store to rob?"

"guys, c'mon, it's a beer-"

"it's alright, princess, i see these three musketeers have an issue, so i'll just catch you around, hm?"

jj walks away, leaving the beer he poured for you on the log. you smile apologetically at him, fist clenching in anger at your stupid, stupid friends.

"you idiots. what the hell was that? i can't even talk to someone now-"

"what the hell's that mean, i'll catch you around?" rafe says, cutting you off. "you talkin' to that pogue?"

you pick up the beer and splash it over rafe's head.

"no, you asshole. it's a figure of speech and we live on the same island. jesus christ."

#lowkey shes so funny #shes not taking rafes shit n also has no idea hes in luv w her #THIS WAS SO FUN TO WRITE!#im sure no one cares but this plot<3333 im dead #📮 asks #hi angel missed u #🔮 anon #rafe cameron #kook trio reader

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l13 · 9 months

Note

I just saw someone ask if you write for MHA. And girlie. Holy fuck. All Might, like the man is built as fuck but also kind of a loser. If you get my drift? Like yeah he’s this awesome hero, but the man is old, alone and kinda a dork.

I wanna be the young thing that saunters into his life and rides him until he’s begging me to stop. Wanna take lunch to him at work, all cute and lovey and wifey, then lean in to let him know I’m not wearing panties but I do have a vibrator. That man would explode, in more ways than one, and be a constant blushing awkward mess.

Thoughts?

this is exactly how i picture all might as well! we can share him and then he could have 2 controversial young gfs<33

so sorry that this doesn't contain any actual smut tho:(

CW: NSFW 18+, MDNI!!!, f!reader, age gap, lazy ass writing, not proofread

He's a dilf but he's the touch-starved kind, the 'i haven't fucked someone in a long time' type, the one that you'll make a pussy enthusiast in just a couple of weeks, type<3

'cause at first he'd be reluctant y'know. Not only were you younger, but you were soooo out of his league (or so he thought). The prettiest thing he'd ever seen, really. And when you bluntly told him that you're interested in getting to know him better, he'd frowned a bit. He wanted to outright laugh at your words, but he didn't want to seem rude.

Poor man thought you were making fun of him so he tried to let you down gently, saying smth like “If it weren't for the age gap..” “You'll find someone younger, someone better, I'm sure.” and you'd faltered, apologizing for bothering him and scurrying off, embarrassed that you'd misjudged the situation

but then you kept running into him at your favorite coffee shop, politely engaging in small talk every time, and one day you didn't fail to notice how his gaze on you, lingered. How his eyes flickered from your eyes to your lips, down to your cleavage, and back up again. It was so quick that you thought your mind was playing tricks on you but then he cleared his throat hurriedly, his adam's apple bobbing with the movement, and you knew.

“Say.. y'wanna sit with me for a bit?" second time's the charm right?

You watched as his eyes widened slightly, “Well, I was- I'm actually busy right now-”

“Just twenty minutes, I promise,”

And Yagi quickly realized that he couldn't say no to you. So he gave a small nod, his eyes crinkling as he smiled softly, “Twenty minutes,”

He never in his life thought he was going to be put in this situation, and looking back at it, he'd never be able to prevent it anyway. Because just after 10 minutes of you sitting and laughing at his stupid jokes, he'd felt a nudge just under his knee, and he'd pulled his leg back instinctively, not being able to drag his gaze from the way your eyebrows furrowed prettily, “What's wrong?”

He shook his head, chuckling at his pathetic behavior “It's-” but then as he glanced under the table he saw your bare foot, save for the white stockings you wore, inching closer to his shin, and he snapped his eyes to yours, a shiver running down his back when he saw the look in your eyes- the mock concern masking the devilish glint quite well. “..nothing. Nothing's wrong I-” he trailed off as he felt your foot trailing up higher and Jesus Christ- when did you even take off your shoes?

Yagi let out another strained chuckle, looking around the small cafe, when he felt your foot on his plush thigh, making him jump. His hand shot down to grasp your foot reflexively, his jaw clenching as he locked eyes with you again. “What do you think you're doing?” he'd leaned a bit over the table to whisper to you, and you did the same, your head lazily resting on the palm of your hand as you pouted, “Let go of me, Yagi.”

He did as he was told immediately, and a part of him felt guilty, even when he'd done nothing wrong. “I'm sorry- but I just-”

Of course you shouldn't have let her go, you idiot. Did you think she was just gonna stop? He chides himself in his head because he can't do anything else. Because the foot that's pressing against his hard cock is clouding his judgement and he can't think of something to do.

A grunt escapes him when you rub him slightly over his dress pants, his hand coming up to cover his mouth, eyes still locked on yours. “You planned this didn't you?” you smile at that, your pretty lips closing around the straw of your drink as you take a sip, your foot pressing against his bulge harder.

Your gaze was trained on his hand, the one that was clutching the table with all its might (haha, get it), and you followed along the veins of his hand, up his forearms, to the point where they got lost under his shirt, the sleeves rolled up at his elbows. You licked your lips as you ran your eyes over his arms next, eyes hooded at the way the material of his shirt hugged his taut muscles. Finally, you looked up at him, enjoying the droplet of sweat falling down his temple, “I don't know what you mean,”

And Yagi knew he was fucked.

‹𝟹

Months later, you saunter over to Yagi’s office, pretty summer dress swirling as you walk, Yagi's lunch packed with a cute little bow on top, in hand. You knock on his door, not waiting for him to answer before you’re pulling the door open, walking in and pushing it closed behind you. Yagi’s eyes snap to your figure, one eyebrow raised, his gaze immediately softening once he realizes who you are, “Princess? What are you doing here?”

You grin at him giddily, walking closer to his desk as he takes off his glasses running a hand down his face before he’s looking up at you with tired eyes- the corner of his lips quirking up despite his exhaustion.

“Brought you lunch-” his heart swells in his chest, pushing his chair back as he stands and walks around the table to stand in front of you, bending down to give your lips the softest kiss, his hand caressing your cheek. “You didn’t have to, pretty.”

“I wanted to. Besides, I missed you so much Toshi,” he coos down at your words and plants another kiss on your forehead, “I know sweetie, ‘m gonna be home in a few hours, yeah? Then I’ll be all yours,”

“But I need you, now.” you pout, hands coming up to rest on his pecs, fingers sliding under the collar of his shirt to play with his blond chest hairs, and you bite back a smile at the tiniest shiver he gives. “Sweetheart..” before he can say anything else you’re clutching his hand and pulling him with you, pushing him back to sit on his office chair again, and he’s looking up at you, bewildered.

Then you’re trailing a hand from your thigh up to your belly, only you’re slowly lifting your dress as you go. His jaw goes slack once his eyes are met with your bare, glistening pussy, his neck turning red. You whimper, circling your hips around nothing, dropping your other hand to rub two fingers aaall over your folds, gathering up your slick on your fingers. “See? Told you I need you,”

And Yagi can't complain when you push your wet fingers in his mouth, his moan getting muffled as he stares at you with half lidded eyes, his already hard cock twitching at the sight of you, all pretty and ready for him<3

2023 © l13 | Do not steal, copy, edit, translate or re-post any of my works.

#•ूᡣ𐭩 — anime #•ूᡣ𐭩 — bnha #•ूᡣ𐭩 — yagi #anon.<3 #all might x reader #yagi toshinori x reader #toshinori yagi x reader

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peacefxlmyko · 2 months

Text

It's not a one night stand if it turns into two

Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader

Basically just Jake falling for his FWB.

Warnings: some smut, p in v, no physical describtion of reader, no use of Y/N, Jake getting attached, jealousy, sudden love confessions, fluff, maybe a little bit of Angst if you squint your eyes?, swearing

Notes: First smutty fanfic on here lmao go wild yall. All I have to say is Im in love with Glen Powell and so I automatically love Hangman too. Also the title is inspired by a Måneskin Song!

Once again, English isn't my first language so I'm sorry about any mistakes. Also, I didn't prove read this so just be warned.

Story under the cut! ✂️

He simply couldn't take this eyes off of you. The way you were standing at the bar, slightly leaning onto it as you were talking to Penny. The way your dress was hugging your body, perfectly showing off everything. Everything he had already seen but couldn't get enough off.

His mind drifted off to the first night you spent together. He didn't even remember anymore how you two ended up in bed together, but it was amazing.

Jake could basically still hear your whines and moans. They were music to his ears.

"Jake, oh, oh god- please!" You whined and begged, craving release. The room was filled with the sound of skin slapping against skin, your shared moans and the headboard banging against the wall.

He was so big and he was fucking you so well. You always thought he gave off big dick energy but jesus- this was even more than expected, but you weren't going to complain.

"That's right, just like that- you're bein' such a good girl." He groaned, his hips bucking hard. The feeling of your pussy clenching around him drove him wild, not to mention you moaning and whining his Name.

You ended up coming on his cock, screaming his name. This wasn't your first and definitely not the last orgasm of the night.

"Seresin? Christ, are you even listening?"

He snapped back out of his thoughts as he looked back at Rooster, who by now just looked annoyed. "Sorry, I uh- yeah, I'm listenin'" Jake quickly mumbled and tried to pull himself together.

You both were friends and had told yourselves after the first time it wouldn't happen again. Well, that was 4 night stands ago.

Jake would never admit it to himself, but he was going crazy over you. Not only because of the way you fucked, but also because of your whole being. The way you lit up whenever someone talked to you, how you would sometimes nervously fiddle with your fingers or the hem of your shirt, the way you looked at him with a soft sparkle in your eyes.

But he was also obsessed with the way your hands buried in his hair, your legs wrapped around his hips as he filled you up, the way you held onto his biceps as you rode him.

But he would never admit that. He would never admit the way his heart fluttered whenever you cuddled close to him after sex. The way his heart actually also reacted whenever you kissed him, not only his cock.

The Jake 'Hangman' Seresin falling for someone? Never. He was never the kind of man to actually fall for someone and even think about settling down. But something about you felt different, even if it was only physical, for now.

By now Bradley had completely given up trying to talk to Jake. He just rolled his eyes and joined Phoenix and Bob instead.

Jake's eyes were focused on you the whole time, he was surprised you hadn't turned around at least once to catch him staring. You were still engrossed in a conversation with Penny until she had to serve other customers. You leaned back, grabbing your drink and taking a few sips until you were suddenly approached by a man.

Jake had hoped at first he just wanted to ask where the restroom was or something but when he didn't leave your side, Jake felt something boiling inside of him. His jaw clenched as he saw you laughing and happily talking with that guy.

He didn't even understand why you were so focused on that rando. He wasn't even half as handsome as Jake, hell, even Bradley was more handsome in Jake's eyes!

His patience ran out the moment you pulled out your phone, seemingly to give your number to that ass of a man as Jake mentally called him that.

His legs seemed to have a mind of their own as they stormed towards you. Hangman grabbed your shoulder and quickly turned you around to him, earning shocked looks from both you and that guy.

"What the—"

"What the hell are you doin'? I thought we were a thin'!"

God, that stupid southern accent basically made you wanna melt right then and there.

"Wha- I thought you only saw us as some quick fun!" You protested.

"Are you kiddin' me?! Do you think I'm sleepin' with other girls besides you?"

"....."

Jake frowned at your silence which was basically the most direct answer.

"Listen, I don't usually do shit like this. Normally I move on quickly but you put some kind of spell or somethin' on me because you make my damn heart flutter every time our gazes meet. And I love the way you laugh, I love the way you tease me, I love the way you make fun of me. And I fuckin' hate seeing you with a man that isn't me. So quit your bullshit with this guy and finally go on a proper date with me!"

Jake didn't even think, it was all just blurting out.

You looked like your eyes were about to pop out, you stared at him in complete disbelief. Were you dreaming or something?

"Please say somethin' so I know I didn't mess this up."

"Shut up and kiss me, Seresin" You muttered and promply pulled him in.

This kiss felt so different from all the other ones you shared. This one was so full of emotions and passion. Your hand rested on his cheek, as his hands found their place on your waist.

"I'll pick you up tomorrow at 7." Jake grinned.

You didn't even mind he had just decided that, you were looking forward to that date.

"See you then, cowboy." You grinned and pressed another quick kiss on his lips.

#top gun maverick #top gun #jake hangman seresin #top gun hangman #hangman x reader #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin #jake seresin imagine #glen powell #hangman smut #Spotify

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mvnsvn6 · 7 months

Text

Have a mini fic about Steve annotating books and Eddie finding it really hot🖤

So obviously, Eddie's a bookworm. Before he had any friends, he spent the better parts of his childhood at Hawkins Library after school and Hawkins Middle's library during any recesses and lunches. He constantly read books, this was before Wayne got him a guitar and before he got into dnd, and being a bookworm tremendously helped him fuel both of those hobbies later on. But before then? The library was like a second home to him.

And so, recently founding out that Steve reads, like a lot, is something of a revalation. It's not that Eddie thinks the guy is stupid, but he figured the guy spent time doing other productive hobbies at home. But the guy reads, and as previously mentioned, Eddie considers himself a literature connoisseur of sorts. Writing book reports and essays were one of the few things he actually excelled at in high school.

So anyway, he found out that Steve is a book nerd by finding one of Steve's books open on his bed. Not really the strangest thing that Eddie's come across in Steve's room if he's being honest, and not the biggest indicator of nerdiness, until he focuses his attention and acknowledges the bright colors sprawled across the pages.

A burst of rainbow colors underlining what Eddie guesses are his favorite parts of the story or important stuff he wanted to remember. And obviously, Eddie has to ask him about it. and Steve explains to him that he has a whole color key and it's made up of romantic lines that make him feel warm, sad stuff that makes him tear up, stuff that is word for word undoubtedly Steve Harrington sprawled on a page. Steve won't tell him which color is which, too embarrassed by it, but he lets Eddie read through them, and then he stares at Steve in unyeilding fondness.

The look reflected on Steve's is not the same, mostly anxiety and insecurity, which Eddie immediately wants to soothe. It's so so sweet he thinks but Eddie's mouth translates the words into, "That's so fucking hot." Which, shit man, it is but he hadn't meant to say it out loud.

"Shut up, dude, don't make fun of me right now."

And listen, books are everything to him, this is no joking matter. They inspire his own stories, whether through a dnd campaign or writing song lyrics. It's honestly probably the most attractive thing a person could do in Eddie's opinion, he didn't know how hot until right about now, but he'll die on this hill. Annotating your books is hot.

"Listen to me when I say this Steve, while that is the nerdiest thing I've ever heard and I'm, ya know, me. It's also about the most attractive thing that's come out of that pretty mouth of yours, like ever."

And Steve folds his arms across his fucking beautifully sculpted chest and narrows his eyes just slightly, raising a judgemental eyebrow at him.

"You're being serious."

Oh he's never been more serious about anything in his life.

"Uh...yeah? Yes. Oh my god."

Yeah, real eloquent Edward.

Whatever, his heart is pounding profuesely against his rib cage because holy shit Steve is a book nerd and Eddie wants to kiss him fucking yesterday. So he gets on all fours on Steve's bed to lean forward and basically attacks his mouth before he can even think about it.

And when he pulls back, Steve's pupils are blown wide and his breath has picked up pace, and Steve keeps bouncing between looking at Eddie's eyes and his lips.

"You just kissed me."

It comes out disbelieving.

"Yeah and with your permission I'd like to continue, like stat, immediately, now."

"You're insane."

And hands weave through curls and pull.

Eddie tumbles foward, ending fully sprawled on top of Steve, and, jesus christ, body pressed impossibly close to his.

And after they're romantic, read: nerdy horniness, little makeout session, he forces Steve to read the annotations himself, going through all the books that are important to Steve. He has to stop himself from moaning to really emphasize how hot he finds it, and to make Steve slightly embarrassed, but refrains. Just lets him continue.

Eddie has never been so in love in his life.

#steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #ficlet #stranger things fic #my writing

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sluttych4rms · 1 year

Text

all mine // ethan landry

heyy this is the first time i'm writing fanfic in a while so pls be nice :0 open to requests :]

warnings: 18+ minors dni, slightly jealous!ethan, corn with plot, degregation, light praise, not proofread word count: 2.7k

.・゜゜・.・゜゜・.・゜゜・.・゜゜・.・゜゜・

"havin' a good time?" some blond mama's boy says to you.

"could be better," you say.

ethan dragged you to this stupid party with stupid frat boys who reek of bud light. he'd said chad was really excited about it and that he had to be there to hype him up before he tries to kiss tara for the first time. the tension between the two of them was starting to get unbearable for everyone else so of course you said you'd come, but that was before you knew your boyfriend would be spending all of his time with his boyfriend.

you're not super clingy, and you love that ethan has a friend that helps him break out of his comfort zone, but jesus christ he's barely said five words to you since you got here. they've been nose deep in beer pong since they spotted the table.

"any way i can help with that?" the blond boy says.

you look at him and contemplate for a moment. ever since you and ethan started dating you hadn't stricken up a conversation with a boy unless you needed to. not because he got jealous or anything, you just simply didn't want to. why even speak a word to anyone else when he's all you could ever ask for?

"do you know if there's a secret stash anywhere?" you tap your hand on the keg in front of you. "it's kicked."

although ethan didn't get jealous easily, he was extremely possessive. you recognized this early on in your relationship, how his grip on your hand would tighten a little if another guy started talking to you, the way he'd pull you in closer if he noticed some creep's eyes on you walking down the street. it sent a shiver straight through your spine every time. you're his, and he makes sure everybody knows it.

which is the only reason you're giving this frat bro your time. you know there's a cooler hidden in the corner of the room your boyfriend just so happens to be playing beer pong in.

blond boy leans down and says, "follow me," into your ear, at which you try not to grimace. you let him take your hand and guide you through the crowd of sweaty teenagers, the cheers from the room you're walking towards somehow still audible over the booming speakers playing trademark usa.

as soon as you enter the room your eyes scan for a mop of curly hair. sure enough, he's standing at the table with chad, giving him a high five and saying something you couldn't quite make out. blond boy tugs on your arm a little harder to pull you down to the cooler. he opens it and does a voila motion with his hands.

"take your pick," he says, watching you as he grabs one himself.

you grab a Mike's and shut the cooler, looking back at him. "thanks," you say. "i think i was starting to sober up."

he smiles at you. "no time for that."

he cracks open his drink and motions for you to do the same, so you do. you take a long drink, thankful for the fruity flavors after basically drinking hard liquor all night.

blond boy is watching you as you come back up for air, then he licks his lips and you know what's coming.

"hey wanna go chill in my room for a bit? it's quieter in there." it's so typical you almost laugh out loud. frat boys put out like rabbits.

"i think i'm gonna go find my boyfriend actually," you say, pretending not to see him roll his eyes. "thanks for the drink."

you take another sip, then make your way to the ping pong table on the opposite side of the room. when you look to ethan, his eyes are already locked on you, his party boy exterior temporarily gone before he notices you walking towards him and that pretty smile falls right back onto his face.

"hey, baby," he says, kissing your forehead and immediately pulling you into him with an arm around your shoulders.

there's no sign of malice on his face, no twitch of his lip or excessive strength in his grip.

"hey," you say back with a smile. "you winning?"

"up by two," he says, gesturing to the table.

then he's just staring at you. his eyes are fluttering from one spot on your face to another. you know you're starting to blush because goddamn his gaze is intense.

"oh shit, y/n! where you been?" chad says from next to ethan.

you lean forward across ethan's chest a bit to make eye contact with your boyfriend's roommate. "around," you say. "found another cooler."

you point to the spot you came from. blond boy seems to have found his friends, dancing with a group of boys you couldn't tell the difference between in a lineup. when you look back, ethan's eyes are locked on the corner. or rather, the blond boy in the corner.

somebody else at the table grabs his attention, it's his turn to shoot. he does, and as he turns back around to do so the arm that's around your shoulders slips down to your waist, his fingers running under your shirt and digging into your skin as he pulls you closer. it doesn't hurt by any means, in fact, it feels good enough that there's a familiar flutter in your stomach.

ethan and chad win their game with a shot your boyfriend throws, kissing you on the head and calling you his lucky charm while everyone celebrates.

"i think you're just that good, babe," you say back, patting his chest. he chuckles, then turns to chad and says something in his ear.

chad's face falls as he says, "but we're on a four-time winning streak," in response.

"i know i know i'll be back later just don't lose it," you hear ethan say. they do a bro fist bump before ethan is motioning his head towards another room saying, "follow me," in your ear.

this time, instead of trying not to grimace, you're trying not to soak through your fucking underwear.

he pulls you through multiple rooms until you're standing in a dimly lit hallway where the music isn't quite so overbearing and there aren't as many people.

as soon as he can he's cornering you into a wall, pressing his soft lips against your own almost hungrily.

"i haven't seen you all night," he says, and he's still so close you can feel his lips brush against yours with every word.

"whose fault is that?" you ask teasingly, looking up at him.

"mine," he nearly whispers, seemingly so focused on your pretty face he can barely get the words out. he brushes your hair behind your ear before his hand comes to rest on your collarbone, slowly pushing up to your throat. "all mine."

he's looking at you in that way you love. when his eyes cloud over and you can basically see your name running on a loop in his mind in the reflection of his dark orbs. he's so fucking crazy for you, and it's intoxicating you more than anything you could've drank tonight.

"all yours," you say while staring into his eyes like you know he loves.

his grip around your throat tightens as he kisses you again. you couldn't focus on anything else if you wanted to. your hearing becomes clouded from your arousal because his hand feels so good there and his teeth start tugging at your bottom lip and oh my god he's pressing a knee up your skirt.

"e," you whine against his lips, running a hand down his arm. almost immediately he's grabbing it and muttering a fuck under his breath, pulling you through the nearest open door and shutting it behind you.

it's barely a second before his lips are back on yours and he's picking you up to set you on the sink of the bathroom you wandered into. your legs are spread open on either side of his and you can feel his bulge pressing into your underwear.

you moan into his mouth, apparently prompting him to pull you even closer. the friction nearly kills you.

one thing about ethan - he understands the necessity of foreplay. the man is a god at giving you just the right amount of attention throughout the day to make you lose your fucking mind when his hands finally have free reign.

which is why with just a little friction you're bucking your hips and whining, needing more. ethan just chuckles darkly, he knows what a mess he makes you and loves watching you fall apart because of him.

"ask nicely," he taunts, looking down at you.

you roll your eyes, an action he mocks. he heaves a big sigh as he does so, cramming two fingers under your panties and into your soaking cunt.

"such a fucking brat," he growls as you open your mouth to moan. his other hand makes its swift way up to cover your mouth before any sound can escape.

a deep moan vibrates on his palm and his eyes damn near start sparkling.

you mumble something against his hand, which he then moves, giving you a quiet, "hm?"

"please," you say.

it's light work, you know he won't accept it. but god you just love when he has to drag it out of you.

"please what, bitch?"

you swear you can feel yourself clench around his fingers when he says that. a lot of the sex you guys have is pretty vanilla and lovey-dovey. ethan loves going slow and deep inside you while making you look at him as he tells you everything he loves about you. but every once in a while, usually when you're both so needy you're practically drooling, this dominance flows out of him that you eat the fuck up.

he tilts your chin up to look at him and perks his eyebrows up ever so slightly. "more, e, please," you say, wrapping a hand around his wrist and trying to get him to move.

he just laughs at you.

"so desperate," he says as he curls his fingers inside you, the bare minimum amount of movement making you writhe with need. "and yet you can't even ask for it."

he pulls his fingers out, leaving your cunt clenching around nothing. as you're opening your mouth to whine he shoves his damp fingers in, making you taste yourself as he locks eyes with you.

he slaps your clit once, twice, then his fingers are back inside you, pumping hard as he rubs back and forth on your clit with his thumb. you're moaning to no avail as his fingers stop any sound from escaping.

you can truly never get enough of him.

and he knows this. he feels the same way. which is how he knows when he pulls his fingers out of your mouth that you're gonna give him what he wants.

"please fuck me, ethan, please," you whine, giving him a pleading stare. "need your cock inside me so bad."

he pulls his other fingers out of you, making you whimper.

"need you to ruin me," you say breathlessly.

ethan pecks your lips. "was that so hard?" he asks, a smirk growing on his face as he kisses you again, this time deeply as your hands make their way to his belt that your fingers make quick work of. his pants are coming down and then one of his arms is snaking around your back as your grip finds its way around his shaft.

he lets out a breath of release as you work your wrist the way he likes it.

"i want it in my mouth," you say in his ear.

he whimpers (fucking whimpers) and looks at you, his pupils dilated so much so they may as well cover his whole iris.

"next time, baby," he says as he steps closer, lining himself up at your entrance. you're gasping just at the feeling of his tip. "need your tight little pussy right now."

god he has a filthy mouth for such an innocent-looking boy. the contrast of his sweet voice saying such lewd things is enough to make you cum all on its own.

and you swear you might as he pushes into you, tightening his grip around your back when it starts to arch slightly. he's watching you the whole time, he loves studying every little reaction you have to what he does.

It’s why he knows how to make you feel so good.

he shoves himself into you, not caring about how much noise you make now. and fuck do you make noise.

your moans are filling the bathroom because immediately he’s fucking you like he hasn’t been touched in weeks. it’s almost desperate, the speed at which his hips are moving to stretch you out.

“nobody else will ever be able to make you feel like I do, y/n,” he says, grabbing your face and forcing you to make eye contact with him.

then he stops, and suddenly he’s pulling you off the sink and turning your around to bend you over it. he grabs your hair, pulling your head up a little so he can’t taunt in your ear, “I just want you remember that next time you ask anybody but me to get you another drink.”

then he’s fucking you again, deeper this time. your legs are shaking from how badly you want him because even though he’s inside you it can just never be enough. he really does fuck you the best out of anyone you’ve met. he’s so attentive to what you like, something you’re not used to.

you’re a mess, to say the least. there’s no use in trying to keep your mouth shut or be more quiet. you never can contain yourself around him.

“pussy’s so pretty swallowing my dick, baby.”

especially when he says shit like that jesus christ.

“so fucking pretty,” he says, letting go of your hair and leaning back to slap your ass.

His hands grip your hips, helping him fuck you even harder. you look back and see ethan biting his lip, then letting it go and moaning as he watches himself slide in and out of you.

he glances up and meets your gaze, your desperate little gaze with your mouth gaping open as you moan just waiting for something to fill it up. ethan leans forward and frees a hand to grab your throat, positioning himself above you. he spits in your mouth and lightly slaps your throat, indicating for you to swallow it.

you do, and then you stick your tongue out for him to see. he groans and hits your face, muttering, “such a fucking whore.”

you look back up at him, smiling as you say, “just for you.”

something flickers in his eyes and he gives you a slight smile back.

“that’s my girl,” he says as his hand once again leaves your throat and slips into your hair, pulling you back so you’re nearly standing with him. his other hand moves to your clit where he starts rubbing back and forth.

“fuck, e,” you whine, the over stimulation tightening the knot in your stomach to nearly explode. “fuck ‘m gonna cum.”

“yes, baby, cum all over my cock like the dirty little slut you are.”

that’s all it takes to tip you over the edge. your orgasm shoots through you in waves as ethan mutters “good girl” in your ear and you feel your cunt tighten around his throbbing cock that starts leaking from the feeling not even seconds later.

then he's groaning in your ear as he shoots his load into you and oh my god you could listen to him make these slutty noises forever.

you’re both sweaty and writhing riding out your highs, pulling each other close to feel as much of each other possible. ethan starts leaving a trail of kisses on your neck as your legs begin to slow down on the shaking.

You know if you were home right now he’d be pulling you into him on a bed, wrapping his arms around you and giving you kisses everywhere he can reach while he tells you how much he loves you. you’re a sucker for aftercare and he’s become a pro at it.

for now though, in a dirty frat bathroom, he settles for turning you around to kiss you on every inch of your face, muttering a soft "i love you" between each one.

#ethan landry #ethan landry x reader #ethan landry x y/n #ethan landry smut #ethan landry imagine #ethan landry fanfiction #scream 2023 #scream 6 #scream vi #ethan landry x reader smut

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unclewaynemunson · 6 months

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Pt1 | Pt2 | this one is the last part!

After Steve has dropped Nancy off at her house – and Nancy has talked some courage into him – he drives to the uglier part of town, over Cornwallis and then into Forest Hills. He can only hope Eddie is home. If not, he'll try Jeff's house, and then Freak's or Gareth's. He had to promise Nancy he'll keep searching even if it has him ending up at Reefer Rick's boathouse again.

Luckily, no such search actions seem necessary when he gets to the trailer park: as soon as Steve opens his car door, he can hear loud music emerging from inside the Munsons' trailer. Even though it isn't exactly Eddie's usual taste, something tells Steve that Wayne definitely isn't the one who put this one on.

Should have known better than to cheat a friend And waste a chance that I've been given So I'm never gonna dance again The way I danced with you

He knocks on the door, but is not surprised when no one inside seems to hear him, so he pushes it open to let himself in instead.

He finds Eddie sprawled out on the floor in front of the old boombox. His eyes are closed, but even from Steve's place in the doorway he can see how swollen and red the skin underneath them is. His hair is spread out around his head on the floor like a dark halo, and his fingers are restlessly tapping on his own arm to the melody of the saxophone solo.

Steve finds himself frozen in the doorway, captivated by simply watching Eddie lying there in his own bubble while the music slowly fades out. Despite the sadness radiating off him, there's something weirdly beautiful about it, and Steve can't look away, can't move, can't make a sound.

Then, Eddie suddenly sits up; his index finger is already stretched out towards the rewind button when Steve clears his throat to make his presence known. Eddie whips his head towards him with a startled sound.

'Jesus Christ, what the hell?!' he yells out. 'How long have you been standing there? No, you know what, don't answer that, just get the hell out!'

'Eddie, I-'

'I don't wanna hear any of it, man! I thought – no, I'm not talking to you. Fuck you.' Steve knows it's supposed to sound angry, but Eddie's voice starts wobbling dangerously towards the end of his sentence.

'Eddie, please just hear me out,' Steve says, stepping further into the trailer. The end of Careless whisper has left a deafening silence in its wake. He half expects Eddie to cover his ears and start singing loudly, but he's only met with a teary-eyed death stare and crossed arms.

'I'm not seeing any girl, Dustin got it all wrong,' he starts to explain. 'I wanted to tell him who I was really seeing, but I couldn't - not without your permission - so I told him I was seeing someone. Meaning you. I haven't been seeing anyone ever since that first time we kissed. I didn't need to. I've only been thinking about you.' He pauses. It's scary, to let himself be vulnerable like this while Eddie is still looking at him like he despises him. But he takes a deep breath and pushes himself to say it all.

'I don't want to see anyone, boy or girl, ever again, as long as I can have you, Eddie. I promise. I've been falling for months, but I didn't wanna scare you off with any labels you might not want for us – but you're it for me, Eddie, one hundred percent. I never meant to hurt you like this. It's all a big misunderstanding; there's no one else for me.'

Eddie is still sitting on the floor, looking up at Steve with wide, teary eyes. Something in his face has slowly shifted while Steve was talking; the harsh lines around his mouth have turned softer and the betrayal in his eyes has made way for something Steve can only hope to be good.

'You wanted to tell Dustin about us?' is all Eddie says, his voice croaky.

Steve takes another step towards Eddie, then crouches down to the ground until he's sitting right next to him on the worn carpet.

'I mean, I know I don't wanna hide what I'm feeling for you. Especially not when people are thinking I'm going out with some girl when all I want is to be with you.' He reaches out to grab Eddie's hands in his own. 'So yeah, I think I wanna tell Dustin. And everyone else, basically. That is, if we're on the same page about what we are.'

Eddie frees one of his hands from Steve's grip to wipe it over his eyes. His palm is wet when his hand finds Steve's again.

'What about boyfriends?' he says, a hesitant smile creeping onto his face.

Steve squeezes his hands, unable to stop a matching smile of his own appearing. To hear that word falling from Eddie's mouth... He had expected it to feel good, of course, but he had never anticipated it to feel like this: like the whole world suddenly makes sense again.

'Yeah, I can do boyfriends,' he answers, his voice breathy with the multitude of emotions bubbling up inside of him. 'That sounds – sounds good. Great. Perfect.'

Eddie surges forward to catch him in a kiss that's a bit wetter than Steve is used to. Steve happily kisses him back, though, and he can barely suppress a shiver when one of Eddie's hands makes its way upwards over Steve's back and into the hair in his neck. There's a softness to his touch that easily drives Steve crazy with relief.

When they pull back, both of them are smiling dumbly and breathing heavily.

'I'm sorry I had so little trust in you,' Eddie tells him.

'That's okay, I understand,' Steve is quick to answer. 'As long as you leave listening to George Michael to me again from now on.'

Eddie makes a face, causing a big frown to appear between his eyebrows, along with all kinds of wrinkles around his nose.

'God, I can't believe you witnessed that and still wanted to be my boyfriend,' he says, adding an exaggerated shudder for extra dramatics.

Steve clenches his arms tighter around Eddie. 'You won't scare me off that easily,' he murmurs. 'It was kind of adorable.'

'It was pathetic.'

'Yeah, a little bit. But in an adorable way.'

Eddie rolls his eyes. 'You're an idiot, Steve Harrington,' he says. 'But... In an adorable way.'

Taglist: @withacapitalp @ultimatedreamer104 @irregular-child @jcmadgirl @estrellami-1 @myguiltyartpleasure @hallucinatedjosten @jaybren @thew1ldblueyonder @melodymeddler @alycatavatar @zoeweee @lolawonsstuff @fairy-princette @saramelaniemoon @phirex22 @krazyperson @xxsky-shockxx @candlecatsblog @goodolefashionedloverboi @jojobeaner @pinkdaisies1998 @giverobinagfbrigade @therealscarletpumpernickel @darkwithcoferie @duraffinity @lyriclight @almondflavoredbookworm @kingelyx @vampire-eddie-brain-rot @m-owo-n @altermagic @sirsnacksalot @littlebookworm86 @platinum-sunset @chaosgremlinmunson @morganski-19 @cam-cat-writer @slime-hoe @bat-outta-hel @justsearchingformystory @notfromtwitter @ashwinmeird @marklee-blackmore @warlordess @breealtair @pansexualhousecat @louwilsonscreamingpapa @inikokoru (more tags in the replies bc tumblr is being a dick again)

#don't mind me rambling about stranger things #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #idiot4idiot #stranger things #fruity ficlet

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gffa · 6 months

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JESUS CHRIST, THIS IS THE OPENING ISSUE OF FAILSAFE, like how the hell am I going to survive a storyline that starts out with Tim getting shot in the neck, a terrified Bruce carrying him to the hospital, all while thinking of how he's had to do this before with Jason, how in his worst moment he still had to think of the damned mission, that Tim asked him to do this, another son getting hurt on this mission of theirs, another son throwing himself headlong into a life that Bruce no longer believes can ever allow for happiness, that he truly believes he's damned because of it, that he doesn't want that for his kids, but Tim is bleeding out in the Batmobile and still demands that Bruce not give away their identities, and Bruce can't help thinking of Jason, of how he did die that night, that the world lost a hero and didn't even know it, now it might lose another one--Bruce might lose another one, another hero, another brilliant light in the world, another son--that he has to pull the Robin costume off another of his children, not knowing if he's going to be in time to save this one or if Tim will die tonight, too, all while reliving the night his second son died. Christ alive, this is rough.

#lumi.txt #dc #batfam #jason todd #tim drake #bruce wayne #batman: failsafe

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wynnyfryd · 3 months

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Trailer park Steve AU part 49

part 1 | part 48 | ao3

cw: angst, canon-typical violence

It's a totally normal Tuesday the day it all starts going to shit.

Eddie's got a show at The Hideout, and Wayne's got a rare night off, so Steve's at his boyfriend's place without him catching a basketball game with Wayne and Ernie. He did try to go to the show, to be fair; wanted to, but Eddie took one look at the way he was cradling the side of his head and winked at him to "sit this one out, big boy," so here he is: drinking beer with two old men and watching the most frustrating game he's seen all season.

"Oh, what the hell was that?" he begs the tiny screen, jumping out of his seat to pace a tight circle and rake his hands over his scalp hard enough to pluck a few strands. Beside him, Ernie shakes his head and mutters "goddamn disgraceful, that's what" and in the kitchen Wayne munches happily on a fresh plate of nachos, taps his bald head with a half-eaten chip and warns, "Quit tuggin' at your hair 'fore you wind up lookin' like this."

"Whatever, old man." Steve rolls his eyes, but he loosens his grip. Drags his hands down his face instead. "Don't act like you're not loving this."

Wayne laughs, a broad, smug smile that's pure Munson mischief. "Never claimed otherwise," he says, then he pops a cigarette in his mouth and tells them to get their wallets ready.

Bastard. His team's doing fine tonight. (And sure, the bet was only five dollars, but it's a point of pride, damn it.)

Steve turns his attention back to the game, where the ref is making yet another call that's so laughably bad Steve's not sure how he isn't getting decked for it. A stray elbow to the face, at least. Fucking something.

"Jesus Christ," he mumbles; still pacing, arms crossed. "If they don't fire this idiot, I swear..."

He turns to Ernie for back up; remembers that Ernie's got a lapful of Misty the cat right now and quickly looks away. Creepy little thing still freaks Steve out (even if Ernie's stroking her fur like she's a harmless stress toy and not the razor-clawed, rat-chomping demon she really is.) He still can't look at her. Gets queasy just thinking about all the "presents" she's left him since he moved in.

Ernie catches the way his shoulders tense. "Didn't think you'd be afraid of a little pussy," he teases, scratching the cat behind her ears.

Misty gives a low rumble of approval.

Steve's stomach flips. "Whatever," he scoffs, looking anywhere but at them. "That thing's bad luck. No wonder we're losing."

He settles back into his seat, and the game goes on — and on, and on, until the score gets so embarrassing that Steve considers just getting up and yanking the TV plug out of the wall, or maybe storming out of the place in protest — and he's about to beg Wayne for mercy, ask him to change the station to anything else, when the front door opens so softly it sets off alarm bells in his head.

Steve whips around at the lack of sound. Knows immediately that something is wrong, because Eddie Munson doesn't do quiet. Eddie Munson comes home like fireworks going off: Crack! Whizz! Bang! He's always a burst of noise and energy; he's a fucking racket; Wayne's said so a million times — muttered it angrily when Eddie's music keeps him up, grumbled it fondly over breakfast while he tries to stop himself from falling asleep face-first in a plate of eggs.

Tonight Eddie comes home quiet as a thief. A mouse trying to evade the clutch of Misty's claws. His head's hung low as he shucks off his boots, his face obscured by frizzy hair.

Steve's across the room in a heartbeat.

"Baby?" he whispers, trying to peak behind the curtain. Eddie won't look at him, but his breathing sounds off; labored and whistling, and his hair is matted with something dark. "You okay?"

"Fine," Eddie croaks.

They both know it's a lie.

Steve lifts a hand to gently tip his chin up, but the moment his fingers graze skin Eddie winces and tugs away. "Okay," he says, pulling his hand back. "Okay, I'm sorry, just— can you look at me? Please?" He softens his voice, tries to coax Eddie out. You're safe here; you can trust me.

When Eddie finally looks up, Steve's heart lodges in his throat.

His face is ruined. Caked in dried blood, the skin below his left eye like an overripe eggplant: deep purple and threatening to split down the middle, to spill rotten juices all over the floor. There's a cut above his brow, another nick between his eyes, and— fuck.

His nose is broken.

Steve's gonna kill someone.

"Who did this to you?" he asks, deadly quiet. Whoever it is, they're not living to the morning. Steve's got a car and a nail bat and a boy with a broken nose, and he's going to kill whoever did this to him. "Eddie." He grips his biceps; shakes him a little. Insists. "Eddie, tell me who did this!"

Eddie hiccups a weak sob. Lips shiny with blood and tears, and Steve lets go; feels horrible for making it worse, for letting his anger get the best of him. He wraps Eddie up a gentle hug, cradles him against his chest and doesn't care if Ernie sees. He doesn't give a damn.

"Fucking—" Eddie grunts against Steve's shirt, his teeth chattering around the word. His throat clicks when he swallows. Sticky with blood and phlegm.

Hospital, Steve thinks. Blood loss; sepsis; shock.

Eddie gulps a ragged breath and tries again. "Fucking assholes," he gets out, "they took our- t-took our—" The words cut off with a pained whimper, and he breaks down and just cries. Cries and cries until the heaving subsides, until it lessens to muted trembling in Steve's arms. There's fresh blood on his shirt.

Eddie's blood is on his shirt.

He looks up, eyes wet and wide, and then Wayne's there; two strong, weathered hands firm on Eddie's shaking shoulders. "Is it bad?" he asks Steve. No nonsense; demanding answers. Decorated veteran.

Steve nods without a word.

"C'mon, kid," Wayne soothes. "Let's get you cleaned up."

—

part 50

tag list in separate reblogs under '#trailer park steve au taglist' if you'd like to filter that content. if you want to be added please comment and let me know (must be over 21; please either verify in the comment or have your age visible on your blog)

#trailer park steve au #steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #wayne munson #my writing #my fic

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