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smusherina · 3 days

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yard work - chapter 12 (regina george x reader)

fandom: Mean Girls (all media)

pairing: Regina George x OFC/Reader

summary: You'd been in the same class as Regina George since kindergarten. You'd lived on the same street even longer. Once upon a time, when life was sandbox disputes and who got the swing first arguments, you'd even been friends. Now, in junior year of high school, you doubted she even remembered you. The same couldn't be said about you. You definitely remembered her. warning(s): a homophobic character saying some homophobic shit. listen, it's set in 2004 it was inevitable.

chapter 1 / chapter 2 / chapter 3 / chapter 4 / chapter 5 / chapter 6 / chapter 7 / chapter 8 / chapter 9 / chapter 10 / chapter 11 / chapter 13

"So..." Gretchen drawled from the passenger seat. "You're still not doing the dance with us?"

Regina glanced at her. "No."

"Cady's taking the lead." The brunette said, very badly acting as if she wasn't looking for a reaction. Regina resisted the urge to bite back, to defend her honour, and kept her eyes on the road.

"Great." She said, voice tart. "She's doing the stunt, is she?"

"Yup." Gretchen's breath hitched. "She's, uh, got it nailed down."

A mean smirk spread her lips. "Oh, really? I'm looking forward to it."

Gretchen swallowed. Regina spied from the rearview mirror Karen was watching the scenery pass by dreamily.

"What's up, Karen?" Regina asked.

"The sky!" Karen stated proudly. "And birds, I suppose. Hold on..." She felt up her boobs, pulling at her nipple obscenely. "Ouch. Yeah, it's gonna start snowing soon."

Regina, knowing the forecast had promised much the same thing, hummed. "Gonna have to stay in, then."

Gretchen shifted her weight on the passenger seat. She seemed uneasy. Both she and Karen had been severely late to arrive at her car today and had seemed... Dodgy. Regina could hardly blame her, though. Things had gotten weird recently.

She wasn't being nice. Not exactly. She'd just, kind of, dialled it back a little. A year ago she'd have spent the days leading up to Christmas break making the rounds, spreading nasty rumours about this and that, ensuring everybody's holidays were ruined just the right amount. This time, she'd forgone that.

A part of it, a large majority, was due to the Thanksgiving fiasco with Jorts. Another, smaller part, was because she was tired. She just didn't want to.

Arriving at her house, Regina parked and stepped out of her car. Gretchen and Karen followed her inside where mom greeted them with mugs of hot chocolate. Fancy chocolate and skim milk. Regina pointedly left her mug on the tray.

As she was going up the stairs, she noticed neither Gretchen nor Karen had grabbed a mug.

"Take them." She gestured vaguely back to her mom. "Don't be wasteful, girls."

Making her way up leisurely, she relished in the sound of the two girls scrambling to grab their mugs and then follow her as fast as possible. She might've loosened her hold on the student body, but Gretchen and Karen she'd keep. She didn't care if it was immoral or something, she'd done a lot of work to get them where they were.

"Shane Oman's doing a Christmas party this Friday," Gretchen informed them as they settled around Regina's room. "There's talk he's specifically invited Doris Harris."

"Who the fuck names their kid Doris Harris?" Regina scoffed and inspected her nails. She'd have to get a new set soon. "Are you going?"

"What? You- you're not?" Gretchen sputtered.

"I have... Plans." Important, top-secret plans. "Shane Oman is a sleazebag and a womanizer. Doris can have him." She said airily and looked at the two girls sitting on her floor.

"What plans do you have?" Gretchen probed. Karen looked on, seeming to be in her own world. Little specks of snow were beginning to fall outside.

"Private." She left it at that. "Who are you bringing to the party?"

"Probably Jason." Gretchen sighed. Regina's face twisted.

"You're still with that douche?" She sat down cross-legged near the two. "Why?"

"Oh, do you think I should break up with him?" Gretchen looked between her and Karen, seeming lost. "I can do that."

Regina rolled her eyes. Okay, maybe she'd put a little too much work in these two. They were old enough to think for themselves.

"Look, Gretchen..." She closed her eyes. "I'm not gonna say sorry. I'm, uh, just not going to." She didn't tack on the yet that meant to crawl up her throat. Too much too fast. "However, it's becoming apparent that my usual methods are no longer as effective. Exhibit A, Cady Heron."

Gretchen stared at her. Then, her head tilted to the side like that of an inquisitive dog. Karen was gaping at her, having probably not comprehended a single word. Regina sighed.

"Look, I'm not gonna just waste my time and energy putting people down anymore!" She was feeling way too defensive and the others hadn't even said anything. "I might, like, join a sports team or something for senior year. Focus on myself."

"Wow." Gretchen breathed out. "So, you're just gonna step down?"

"I'm still Regina fucking George. I'm not gonna stop being me." That being a vicious bitch with a lot of hate in her heart. "I'm just saying that it's getting old."

"Why? You- you can't just stop. That makes no sense. Someone's gonna take you over, like- like Doris Harris!" Gretchen took several short breaths, this close to hyperventilating. "Doris Harris is going to be the new Regina George!"

She rolled her eyes so hard her entire head rolled with them. "That statement contradicts itself. If she's the new Regina George, I'm still on top. The original."

"You sound so alike." Karen smiled. "You two are so cute. True love."

"Karen!" Gretchen snapped, sounding like a chihuahua. "Shush!"

"Who sounds alike?" Intrigued, Regina leaned forward. "Me and who? True love?"

"Oh, uh..." Karen looked to Gretchen, who was trying (and failing) to subtly shake her head, and then to Regina whose eyes bored into hers. "Uhhhhhhh..."

"She's rebooting." Regina huffed, leaning back. "Gretch, I just... I don't care anymore."

It had been a startling realization. Not a quick one despite the one eureka moment that'd brought it all together. There were things more important to her than maintaining a hierarchy in high school. It still was important, to a degree, but well. If she had to pick between one-upping some random girl at a shitty party and date night with Jorts, the choice was entirely too obvious. It was going to be date night every time.

(If she even had that privilege anymore. She's called her slurs, for fuck's sake. She could only hope her apology would be good enough.)

"How can you not care?" Gretchen screeched. Karen sipped at her hot cocoa nervously.

"I just don't." Something like this, not caring about something, wasn't a decision she could consciously make. At least, not entirely. Once you stopped caring, you just did. That was that.

It wasn't easy, though. She didn't have the strength of will to be deliberately mean to everyone, every single day, but she would not tolerate people stepping on her toes. If somebody encroached, she wouldn't hesitate to bring them down. Where the line went, distinguishing between a serious threat and a general nuisance, was the hard part.

Letting go of the instinct to just be mean was a challenging hurdle.

"She's changed you. All this time, you've been talking to her, haven't you? J, Jorts, whoever she is. She's corrupted you." Gretchen sneered. "What happened, Regina? Or should I say, Reggie?"

Regina looked at her friend, minion, accomplice- whatever.

"Excuse me?" She said, so quietly it could've been mistaken for a whisper.

"You heard me." Gretchen's sneer dissolved, old instinct to cower kicking in. "Reggie." She hissed, a feeble attempt at keeping her power.

"What the fuck do you know about J?" Regina could feel herself grow cold, anger mixing with panic, mixing with visceral, palpable terror.

Of course, all that manifested as blind fury.

"We know plenty about J. You've never shut up about her. Y'know, I used to think she was an ex-boyfriend of yours 'cause of the way you talked about her. And now, it all makes sense." Gretchen spread her arms provocatively. "Because she's gotten into your head, used her sticky, lesbo fingers to mix you up. Snap out of it, Regina. This is not who you are."

Anger roiling in her stomach, she was about to release pure acid onto the dimwitted, insensitive, stupid girl, when Karen spoke up.

"Gretchen, you're being stupid." She said so lightly. Both of them turned to look at Karen. She was watching the window, looking immensely pleased with herself. Yet another correct weather report.

"What?" Gretchen breathed out.

"Stupid. That's stupid. I didn't know you were, like, homophobic." Seeming to focus, Karen turned to face Gretchen. "I think I told you my brother's gay."

"Oh." Gretchen deflated. Regina didn't know what she should do. "Well, that's different, he's a guy! Lesbians are totally different."

"How?" Karen, more engaged than Regina had witnessed her be in a long time, kept her eerily wide eyes trained on Gretchen. "How is it any different?"

"Listen, everybody can do what they want with... Whoever, like, consents, but it's different when they shove their beliefs in people's faces." Regina, quite astounded, didn't know what to say. Karen did, though.

"J didn't shove anything in our faces. I don't think she shoved anything in Regina's face." She put her finger to her chin. "Unless they're into that sort of thing."

"Karen..." Regina sighed.

"Anyway, I think your opinions about gay people are weird, Gretchen. You should look into that."

"My opinions are just fine!" Gretchen's shoulders rose all the way up to her ears. "You guys are the weird ones! It's not like I hate gay people! There's just, y'know, healthy concern. If it was so easy to turn Regina then what can they do to impressionable little kids?" Gretchen licked her lips nervously. "What about Kylie?" She asked, looking to Regina for sympathy or agreement or something.

By that point, Regina had checked out.

"I don't think Regina's changed. Not really." Karen's owl eyes turned to her. "She's just... Shedding. Like a snake. Getting a new skin." She dragged her eyes up and down. "Yeah. New, shiny scales. Like a blonde, human green tree python. My dad has one. A snake one."

"Thanks," Regina said, tone flat. She then turned to Gretchen. "Get out."

Her hands trembled. Rage or fear, she couldn't tell where the tremor stemmed from.

"Regina, this isn't right-"

Just the sound of her voice made her blood boil. Her eyes stung too, but she refused to feel anything but anger.

"What isn't right is that you're still in my house. J is my childhood friend and the assumptions you've made about her are life-threatening. People are killed because they're gay, Gretchen. She hasn't turned me into anything, much less something you're insinuating." The claim that Jorts had turned her into a lesbian was false. If there were to be a claim about Regina's sexuality alone, then the answer wouldn't be so clear. "Get your fucking act together. I'm too good to bother with high school politics. We're going to college in two years. Stop being so small-minded and do something with your life for once."

She heaved in lungfuls of air. She stood up abruptly, walked to the door and pointed down the hallway.

"I-" Gretchen tried to say something, but Regina just reiterated her point.

"Out!"

She didn't particularly care that her friend (ex-friend) didn't have a ride home. She didn't care that she was a bigot, that Gretchen was right about her and Karen being the weird ones. She didn't care that Jorts had definitely changed her in some way.

As soon as the brunette had scuttled down the stairs, the front door slamming on her way out, Regina slumped against her door. She didn't care. She did not care.

"So, is it just us, now?" Karen asked from her spot on the floor. Regina was pretty sure she hadn't moved an inch since she plopped down. "Is J gonna be our new friend?"

"I don't know, Karen." She buried her face in her hands. Fuck. She wasn't supposed to care. "I didn't know Gretchen was like that."

"Hmm." Karen hummed. "I didn't know you weren't like that."

Her head snapped up, looking at Karen. Her expression was unreadable, like a book with blank pages.

"I... I'm scared, Karen."

"Yeah. My brother's boyfriend is from Alabama and he's been beat up before 'cause he looks gay. And he is gay, but the earring gave it away, I think. And my uncle died of AIDS and my family don't really talk about him and we weren't allowed to see him. My aunt that's in New York's been living with her best friend of, like, thirty years for forever and I went to visit one time and they had only one bedroom."

That was perhaps the longest, most coherent sentence Karen had ever said. Too bad the subject was so grim.

"Wow, Karen. Sounds like your family's full of..." What could she call them? Her mind defaulted to nasty slurs. "People like that."

"I guess." She smiled faintly. "I hear them crying sometimes, in my brother's room, when they're home for the holidays. Mama says I shouldn't go up and snuggle them until they feel better. They're having a moment." Karen looked confused at that. "Are we having a moment?"

Regina slowly unfurled from her slump against the door. "Maybe."

"Oh. Okay." She accepted easily. The familiarity of the scenario had a smile creeping back to Regina. "My brother smiles the biggest when me and his boyfriend team up against him at board games. My mom cries when we visit my uncle's grave. She tells us stories about him and shows us pictures. My aunt has three cats with her bestie and they call them their children and they wear matching rings."

"That's really sweet, Karen." Regina, now smiling in earnest, shuffled closer.

"I don't really get it." She said in the same light tone she'd use when talking about schoolwork. "Like, my brother's boyfriend is really nice so I don't get why people beat him up for dating my brother. And I think it was really mean that my grandma didn't let mama see her brother when he was sick. And my aunt and her best friend already live together, have cat-kids, and kiss on the mouth, so why can't they get married for real?"

Regina stared ahead, more than a little floored. Gretchen, simultaneously surprisingly and unsurprisingly, was a homophobe. Regina knew the political climate and knew that being openly gay was social suicide, and sometimes literal suicide, but she hadn't expected someone so close to her to be like that. They hadn't talked about it much, to be fair. Besides, Regina wasn't much better. While she might've not been a real homophobe, as in actually subscribed to the ideology, she'd done plenty of homophobic acts.

Whether or not in the name of projection or denial didn't really matter. Janis 'Imi'ike had been the first girl she'd subjected to hate crimes and discrimination, but not the last. How many times had she shoved other girls under the bus so she could get off scot-free? How many times had she done it for a twisted sense of fun?

Too many, was the easy answer. Not enough, whispered the scared, hidden thing in the back rooms of her mind.

And Karen was an ally. A supporter of the cause. And unexpectedly well-spoken when she had something she liked to talk about.

"Karen, I like girls."

"Me too!"

Regina's heart beat like a drum. She was beginning to sweat.

"No- I mean, like, I'm... A lesbian. I guess."

"Okay!"

She snuck a glance at the other girl. She was peering mournfully into her empty mug.

"Like your aunt and her best friend." She took a deep breath. "I like girls in that way."

"Uhh, duh," Karen smiled at her, beamed, really. "J is your true love."

"I wouldn't go that far." Regina sighed but had to purse her lips to keep from smiling. At the same time, a knot tightened in her chest, like hiccups trying to escape. She threw her head back and puffed out a breath, blinking rapidly.

"Let's go get more hot chocolate and I'll tell you about my talent show performance." She wiped discreetly at her eyes and extended a hand to Karen.

"Hot cocoa!" The girl exclaimed as she pulled herself up with Regina's help. "Ouuuhh, what kinda performance?"

"A song." Regina guided them down the hallway. "For her."

Obviously, she had more than just a song planned. A proper apology, for one, was in the works. Karen didn't need to know about that, though. That was between her and J.

Notes: Boo I lied it's not the last one. I thought it would be! I was wrong! I did start rambling like I kind of predicted in the notes of the last chapter. Or, like, I felt the ending would be a little too abrupt without some downtime. So have some Regina POV!

Will no longer be making predictions about when the end is. I'll only be contradicting myself lol. But like, the arc is coming to a close, a natural end is coming. And then the epilogue things.

Praying to god the taglist will work. Trying a new method today, fingers crossed! Hand-typing every single fucking name, no commas in between names, the utmost technicalities. This is the night fellas, the night we've been waiting for.

Edit: it didn't work. in fact, it worked worse than the other times! fuck! put another version of the list, back with commas, and it seems to tag some people but not all. gonna have to do some scouring on the internets.

Taglist: @autorasexy, @wedfan2, @unadulterated-moron, @modernsapphicism , @9unknown0 , @sage-rose2000 , @massive-honkas , @nattys-swiftie , @likefirenrain , @luz-enjoyer , @dandelions4us , @natashamaximoff-69 , @alexkolax , @jareaul0ver , @here4theqts , @charleeeesworld , @natsbiggestfan1 , @brocoliisscared , @yellowwallflowers , @scarlettbitchx , @ayoungexwife , @cyberbonesworld , @syddie-reads , @screechcat , @theenglishswiftie , @gabby-duhh , @sweetmissnothing , @masterofpuppets-10 , @l1lass , @starved-mortal , @nothanksbye07 , @nenas19 , @jvuyii , @starry-night17 , @reneeswife24 , @glorioushamsterqueen , @krononan , @slug-on-bike , @rayisaknight , @chaseatlanticlover91 , @reginassweetheart , @mirage018

(if you want to be added to the taglist, comment so on this post! beware it seldom works. i try my best.)

#mean girls #mean girls 2004 #mean girls 2024 #regina george #regina george x reader #regina george x you #regina george x oc #regina george x ofc #mean girls x reader #lesbian regina george #wlw

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imfinereallyy · 2 days

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I wonder if you look both ways (When you cross my mind) pt. 2

pt. 1

🐝･ﾟ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･✦ʚɞ

June 1996, Chicago

Steve doesn’t exactly know when Eddie Munson became one of his best friends, let alone when he fell in love with him.

He supposes both things occurred between the end of the world, and Eddie’s back walking out the door for the last time, unbeknownst to anyone. Though, that is five years of time, who’s to say when it really happened.

Dustin will argue the friend part. He likes to think it was he who brought them together (it certainly wasn’t; in fact, it put a real bump in the road for them). Dustin also thinks, which Steve is more inclined to think is true, that the two of them had become friends during Eddie’s slow recovery and Steve’s guilt complex, which made him feel responsible for him.

Which—ouch, Dustin—but years of therapy would prove him right.

Little shit.

Dustin doesn't know about the love part, though, and Steve doesn’t think much of the party knows except for one or two of the perceptive ones.

Looking at you, Lucas.

Robin likes to argue that Steve doesn’t know when he fell in love with Eddie because Eddie was different from everyone else.

Steve puts everything into love, moves fast, falls hard, and ultimately gets crushed by his own passion. Steve doesn’t know how to take things slow or wait around for the right person.

Until he did, with Eddie.

Steve managed to have a slow decent into the madness of loving a man like Eddie Munson. And he never did anything about it, although he didn't mind. Steve was okay with just being friends and loving from afar.

Until they weren't even that, and Eddie was gone.

Steve can't think about that now, instead he should probably worry about the man himself breaking into his apartment at 3 a.m.

"Get. Out." Robin hisses, breaking Steve from his thoughts.

Suddenly, Eddie stands. His hands thrust forward in a placating nature, and nervous energy radiates off of him. "Robin, please—"

"No, Munson. You don't get to disappear from our lives for five years, and then break into our apartment!" Robin whisper shouts, the metal bat waving around in her grip.

Steve still hasn't said anything, still unsure of any of it is really happening. But he can't help but warm at Robin's fierceness.

She will go down swinging for Steve, even against someone she cares about.

Fuck, he loved her.

"Give me one good reason not to bash your skull in with this thing, Munson. I dare you!" Robin took the metal bat and pushed it into Eddie's chest.

Steve gets a good look at him as he stumbles backward. He doesn't look much different—well that's a lie. He does look different; more tattoos, more piercings and Steve is pretty surprised to catch him wearing anything other than a band tee. It is just so all quintessentially Eddie. The jewelry is all silver, any tattoo he got after 1986 appears to be in black and red ink only. Even his tee is still black despite the lack of a band on the front.

"Birdie, I don't think you should have Steve's bat in your hands, you're a bit dangerous." Eddie tries to grab the bat from her hands but Robin yanks it back.

"Oh, fuck you, Munson! You don't get to call me Birdie, and this is my bat. Steve's is wooden and full of nails and underneath his bed. You should know that, or has the last five years really rotted your brain?" Robin is now waving the bat around with gusto, nearly missing Steve's head at one point.

Trying to shake himself from his frozen state, Steve decides it is probably in everyone's best interest if he steps in.

"Robs." Steve speaks gently, hand on the bat as he slowly lowers it down. Her shoulders drop, the fight draining out of her in seconds. "It's okay."

It's not okay. Steve doesn't understand what's happening right now. But Steve is okay as long as he has Robin, and Robin has him. Steve hopes she understands that's what he meant.

Robin nods her head, and shuffles closer to him.

Steve takes a shaky breath, "What are you doing here, Munson?"

Eddie cringes at the use of his last name but doesn't comment. "Listen, I know it's weird me just stopping by suddenly—"

Robin snorts, "I wouldn't exactly call breaking in 'stopping by'."

Eddie shakes his head, ignoring her. Stray curls start to fall loose from their bun. "I just want to talk, for you guys to hear me out."

Steve rubs a hand down his face, he is getting too old for this stuff. Being blindsided, being surprised—being thrown sideways and upside down. Sure, twenty-nine isn't exactly old, but Steve has lived practically six different lifetimes by now. There is so much damage to him—physically and emotionally. He is supposed to be past nonsense like this.

Robin takes his silence as permission to snip at Eddie, "No. Go away, Eddie. You don't get to do that. Get out."

Eddie moves a step forward, he is now illuminated completely by the side table's light. He looks tired—good but tired. It's not the kind of tired you see of someone in distress, not the ache that comes along in the tunnel that has no light in the end. No, Eddie looks tired in the way that comes with healing. Like working hard exhaustion. As if coming home from a long but good day at work, and the night grows weary.

Eddie opens his mouth to argue, but Steve cuts him off. "It's fine, Robbie. It's late; let him crash on the couch."

Eddie's shoulders sag in relief, "Thanks, Stevie, we can talk—"

"No." Steve chokes out, moving his hand towards his throat so he can remember to breathe. "You don't get to call me that. And we're not talking about anything. You'll sleep here, but that's it. I might not want you here, but it doesn't mean I'm going to let you wander the streets at night."

"Steve, please—" Eddie reaches out his hands to touch Steve. It is most likely going to be a gentle touch, but Steve can't help the way he violently flinches.

Eddie looks taken aback, eyes wide and full of sadness. He pulls his hands back.

"No, Eddie." Steve grabs Robin's hand and starts to pull her to bed. She doesn't protest and instead leans into his touch. Steve turns over his shoulder to look at Eddie again. "You'll stay the night. It's not an option. But my morning? I want you gone. I don't want you to be the first thing I see after sunrise."

Steve turns quickly back around, ignoring the pained grunt from behind him.

Bypassing Robin's bedroom, Steve pulls them both into his. Robin doesn't question it and instead makes herself comfortable in his forest green blankets.

Steve quickly follows after, snuggling into the bed beside her. People have thought them weird over the years—always in each other's spaces and knowing every little thing about each other. Partners, friends, family—all of them had something to say about it, never even bothering to understand.

Well, except Eddie. Eddie appreciated it, accepted it. Adored it at times.

"Are you really okay with this, Dingus?" Robin whispers softly between them.

"No." Steve never lies to Robin; she'll know. "Not at all, but I'm not going to let him wander the streets, no matter what I loved him at some point. I don't let the people I loved, get hurt."

Robin squints in pity, "Loved?"

"Not now, Bobbie," Steve whispers.

Robin nods, "Besides, I'm pretty sure 'Ed Sloane' can afford a fucking hotel room."

Steve lets out a loud snort, it echoes throughout the room. "God, don't remind me. What a stupid fucking name."

The two of them dissolve into giggles, bumping their heads together. Under the covers, they clasp their hands together tight. "I just don't want you to derail your life, for someone who walked so easily out of it. I know you have that important lunch with Drew tomorrow."

Steve takes a breathe through his nose, "Yea, I do. But it'll be fine. He'll be gone before I'm even up. You know Eds, he's a runner. Wouldn't stop trying to prove it, in fact."

Robin's face is scrunched in pain, and her eyes pool with pity. It's as if she knows something Steve doesn't or sees something he chooses to ignore. She doesn't comment on it, though. Instead, she raises an eyebrow, "Eds?"

It isn't snippy or accusing. Her voice is soft against his cheek. Steve doesn't have the mental capacity to argue though. "G'night, Birdie."

"Goodnight, Stevie." She whispers.

Steve closes his eyes, knowing it will all feel like a dream tomorrow.

Steve is familiar with having dreams with Eddie in them.

🐝･ﾟ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･✦ʚɞ

more to come i promise, especially after your (loving demands). especially my mutuals who yelled at me in the tags and my dm's (it made my day).Part 3 is currently being typed up. Also might fuck around and make this a full-blown ao3 one shot; who knows.

tag list!:

@stevesbipanic @withacapitalp @emryyyyy09 @brainfugk @blueberrylemontea-fanfic

@slv-333 @thetinymm @connected-dots-st-reblogger @helpimstuckposting @dreamercec

@goodolefashionedloverboi @stripey82 @little2nerdy @anne-bennett-cosplayer @resident-gay-bitch

@ghostquer @sourw0lfs @devondespresso

(please let me know if you don't want a tag, I had to guess by the comments, and sorry if you’re getting a random tag after posting, I had to fix the tag list cause tumblr is weird)

#okay so now it is a thing #no more idk i promise #also this has a happy ending i promise #steddie #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #my writing #platonic stobin #platonic soulmates stobin #stobin #platonic with a capital p #steve and robin #I wonder if you look both ways (When you cross my mind)#ao3 #ficlet #angst #hurt/comfort

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qveerthe0ry · 1 day

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Your Ride, Best Trip

Summary: You sleep with your boyfriend Marcus for the first time Word Count: 9,001 Pairing: Marcus Pike x f! afab! reader Rating: 18+ Explicit Warnings: 18+ mdni, first time, vaginal fingering, oral (m! and f! receiving), unprotected PIV, squirting, creampie, dirty talk, so much fluff, so much kissing Betas: @for-a-longlongtime and @perotovar as ALWAYS. Love you homies I'm kissing u both <3 A/N: I have nothing to say for myself this time

Marcus Pike is perfect.

He’s your dream man.

He’s sweet. He brings you flowers just because, and he’s remembered your go-to coffee order, and he never goes to bed without texting you goodnight.

He’s effortlessly kind. He offers to walk your dog for you when you aren’t feeling well enough to get out of bed, and he always does the dishes when you cook for him, and he makes sure his bathroom is stocked with all the personal products you use at your own place.

He’s fucking handsome. His smile is straight and pearly white, and his big brown eyes warm you up, and the way his broad shoulders fill out those suits he wears to work never fails to make you weak in the knees.

He’s so smart, and he’s so funny, and he’s all yours… finally.

See, when he hadn’t so much as kissed you by your third date, you wigged out a bit.

How could you not? He’d been so thoughtful and caring and all you wanted was to feel those pillowy, soft lips against your own.

So you asked him what was up, and he told you.

Divorced. Broken engagement. A whole year of therapy to pinpoint what went wrong, what he could change, and how he could do better, how he could feel better. And then, he said, he found you— like fate— when he wasn’t even looking, when he least expected it.

You had no problem taking it slow. You’re still convinced you’d wait forever for him, as perfect as he is.

After too many little dates to count, he told you he wanted to be your boyfriend, if you’d have him.

You told him you’d love for him to be your boyfriend, of course. You’d be crazy not too.

And then he finally kissed you.

It was slow and hesitant, but it still made your heart race, made your stomach do flips. He cut it off before it could become anything more than chaste, and left your front door with a sheepish goodnight.

You’ve kissed a lot since then. You never really enjoyed kissing that much, before. It always just seemed like a means to and end, a formality before moving on to other things.

But now it’s one of your favorite ways to pass the time with him. Waiting for an Uber to take you downtown, finally getting to his place on Friday after a long work week, cuddling in bed together with an old movie playing.

You haven’t made out with anyone this much since high school. And you enjoy it, you do, but Jesus Christ, he’s been your boyfriend for three weeks now and you need him.

It doesn’t help that he touches you like you’re the last person on earth. His hands are so big and they’re gentle and electric when they find the bit of skin just under the hem of your shirt.

You think it’s going to happen, this time. Friday night takeout has long been abandoned in the living room. You’re in his bed, in his clothes, and his pinky is teasing at the waistband of his sweats that you’re wearing.

His tongue in your mouth is making you dizzy, and there’s no more blood in your brain with all of it rushing between your legs. You whimper, and you arch against him, and you want him so bad but you can’t say it. You’d feel bad, making him rush when he’s made it clear he wants to take things slow.

When his lips leave yours, you open your eyes, and find his pupils obstructing all the deep, dark brown you adore.

You have to squeeze your thighs together for a miniscule amount of relief. He notices. Of course he does. Damn that Quantico training.

“Sweetheart—”

His eyes flicker down to your lips. You’re sure they look obscene, red and slick from nearly an hour of him sucking and nibbling on them.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper.

You don’t know why you say it, but you are sorry. You feel so bad for wanting him like this, desperate and aching in his bed, over eager.

“Don’t be,” he shakes his head and gives you a reluctant smile, a smile that tells you you’re going to fall asleep extremely sexually frustrated.

But it’s fine. He’s so worth it.

You give him a soft smile back, and lean in to peck his lips. But he pulls away with his brow furrowed.

“What do you want?”

His voice is gentle when he asks. So is his hand on your back, under his shirt you’ve claimed. But it doesn’t stop that fight or flight response from kicking in.

“Nothing! Nothing, Marcus, I’m okay— I’m great. Just wanna cuddle.”

But the creases in his forehead don’t smooth out, and his hand ceases the soothing circles across your spine.

“You’re lying.”

You sigh and close your eyes.

“I’m not lying, I’m just— I don’t want to push you to move too fast.”

You expect him to be angry. But when you open your eyes again, his own have taken on that puppy-like quality you usually love. Right now, it just makes you feel guilty.

“I’ve been lying, too,” Marcus whispers.

It’s your turn to scrunch your face up. Your blood runs cold, waiting for him to elaborate. A million scenarios run through your head at lighting speed— all worse and worse until your breathing picks up and you beg him with your eyes to just get on with it—

“I have a small dick.”

His face is so flushed. He can’t meet your gaze.

He’s staring at the bedsheets between you, and you’re both just silent for a long, awkward moment.

“I mean— the divorce and all that, it’s all true. And I did want to keep from moving too fast. But— the last few weeks I guess I’ve just been… stalling?”

He finally looks up from the threads to gauge your reaction.

“Marcus…”

“I get it, okay? If you wanna go. I know I lied, and you didn’t sign up for—“

“Marcus.”

You watch his shoulders raise and his mouth snap shut, and he looks terrified.

“I don’t want to leave. You didn’t lie. It’s just— you really think that would bother me?”

He lets out a big breath, and the tension in his body eases up a little.

“I don’t know. Most people were… bothered. I guess,” he shrugs.

You cradle his jaw in your hand, let the day-old stubble tickle the pad of your thumb as you think about how to best navigate this conversation.

Because saying ‘I don’t care’ seems too dismissive. But you don’t. You couldn’t possibly care less about what’s in his pants, when everything else about him has made you fall so, so deep already. But you don’t want to make it sound like it’s something you have to even bargain with, like the pros outweigh the cons, like it even is a con. Because it’s not.

“I’m not bothered,” you finally tell him.

He still doesn’t meet your eyes, in fact, he rolls his.

“You don’t have to lie to me. It’s okay, I’ve heard it all. I know I’ve lead you on—”

“Jesus,” you cut him off, “what did— who made you feel this way?”

He finally looks at you. His eyes are wide and he looks vulnerable and hesitant. You swipe away some hair that’s fallen flat across his scrunched forehead.

“Everyone?”

You sigh his name, and you’re tentative when you lean forward to kiss him, softly, when he lets you.

He looks less terrified when you pull back. You try to smile, but this whole interaction has left such a bad taste in your mouth that it feels more like a grimace when your lips turn up.

“That’s— Fucking awful, to be frank. Pardon my French.”

He chuckles, but his gaze falls away from your face again. His sheets are not that interesting to look at.

“Really, Marcus. I mean— maybe if someone’s just looking for a hookup, then I get it. You want something specific, whatever. But why would you ever think you were leading me on?

All you’ve done is be sweet to me, and shown interest in me, and taken care of me. Unless you’re like, secretly an ax murderer, or committing some kind of major tax fraud, you haven’t led me on at all.”

He’s still not looking at you. Why won’t he look at you, and believe you?

“I don’t want to sound dismissive. I understand you’re insecure about it. I’m insecure about some things too. I don’t want to invalidate that. But I need you to know that the last thing I care about is how big your dick is.”

There. He’s looking at you. He looks a little mortified, but he’s finally meeting your gaze.

“Really?”

You scoff.

“Really really.”

A reluctant smile tugs on the corner of his pretty mouth.

“Why?”

“Because— now, don’t go getting a big head about this— you’re perfect. Like, everything about you. You’re sweet and you make me laugh and you’re gorgeous.”

His face flushes, but he lets you continue.

“And I’m in this, with you. I want this to go somewhere. And I think we’re super compatible.”

“Me too,” he whispers.

“Good, so… we’re on the same page then.”

You watch him lick his lips, and his hand that’s been loosely draped over your waist finally starts back up, drawing little circles across the base of your spine.

“And… There’s other reasons,” you mumble, voice low with a hint of mischief.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah… For one, your hands.”

“My hands?”

He emphasizes his question with a squeeze of your hip, and you giggle at the way it tickles, and also with a bit of embarrassment.

“Yeah… They’re uh… big. I look at them a lot. Honestly surprised you haven’t noticed.”

He huffs, lets his big hand travel further up the shirt on your back.

“Your nails are always trimmed, and— your fingers are long and thick. I’ve thought about them a lot.”

He breathes your name, and now you realize you’re the one avoiding eye contact. When you look back, his pupils are all blown out again, and it spurs you on.

“And I love to give head.”

“Jesus.”

“And the bigger it is, the quicker I get tired. I could stay down there all night, if my jaw didn’t get sore.”

“Sweetheart—”

“Really, it’s one of my favorite things, making someone fall apart under my mouth. But I hate gagging and choking my way through it. It’s tedious.”

He says your name again, this time with a warning tone.

You bite your lip to keep anything from tumbling from your mouth unwarranted.

“You’re not lying.”

His eyes dart back and forth across your face, and you shake your head in lieu of opening your mouth again.

“Fuck.”

It’s the first time Marcus has cursed in front of you. Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise, and your clit throbs.

“I’ve thought about you so much. Your lips, you have to know, right? How plump and full they are… I think about them at night, when I’m touching myself.”

That’s convincing enough, apparently. Before you can embarrass yourself any further with your confessions, he surges forward to press those plush lips against yours and groans into your mouth.

His hand flattens against your back and pulls, manhandling you closer to him. Your fingers find his silky hair and tangle in the strands, holding on for dear life at this shift between the two of you.

You can’t muster up an ounce of shame. Finally, you have Marcus where you want him, pressed against you. You hike a leg over one of his, getting it between your thighs for even the smallest amount of friction.

You feel him gasp, chest inflating to press even closer against yours. It’s a rush, finally getting this after waiting so long.

Your hands scramble to get under his white t-shirt. His skin is hot, even against your sweaty palms. There’s so much to feel, the slight swell of his stomach, and the muscle of his flank, the soft but firm pecs.

You whine when he pulls away from your lips. He shushes you gently, and you open your eyes to watch his slick lips and his hooded eyes and flushed face disappear briefly, just quick enough to shed his shirt.

Smooth, is the first thing that comes to mind. His tan skin has no hair above his belly button, just the errant freckle here and there. His nipples are peaked, and you reach out to press your thumb against one before your mind catches up to the action, before you realize you’re gawking.

But when your hand stutters against his skin and you look up at him, he’s smirking, amused and turned on. You falter a bit, mouth open while you search for something to say, some sort of excuse as to why you’re devouring him like you’re starved.

He saves you though, with his low, grumbled voice.

“I think about you, too. All the time.”

You dig your nails into his soft skin at his admission, scraping against his chest.

“You know that? You think I haven’t had you a million different ways in my head?”

Your heart stops beating, and you stop breathing, and the heat between your legs only gets heavier and wetter.

“You want me to show you, sweetheart?”

Your heartbeat comes back as a rush in your ears, and you squeeze the meat of his pec as you nod.

He kisses you again, licks at your lips until you suck his tongue into your mouth, and now it’s just filthy. No more pretense, it’s been months of pretense, and neither of you have any more patience.

His fingers seek out your own nipple, a tight bud protruding through cloth, and he rolls it between his fingers gently over the material of his shirt.

“You come over and wear my clothes like this, and you think you don’t drive me crazy?”

The words are grumbled into your mouth, against your cheek, then your jaw and your neck as he seeks out more of you to kiss.

“I don’t wash them when you leave. I wear them and I smell you all day and it makes me feel insane.”

You mewl at his admission. Everything he says now is so fucking raw, now that you’ve broken down his walls. He shushes you again, grabs the hem of his shirt to help you pull it over your head.

He curses when he sees you. It’s the first time. You’ve both been toeing this line of modesty, and maybe you’d be more nervous if you weren’t careening toward the pleasure he’s promised you.

He coaxes you to lie on your back beside him, and his mouth works a slow trail down the side of your neck, nipping and suckling until he finally gets your nipple in his mouth. You arch into it, encouraging him with a hand tangled in his thick hair. You feel his groan reverberating around your rib cage when you scrape your nails back and forth across his scalp. You need him, like nothing you’ve ever craved before.

“Marcus—”

“I know, I know.”

His syrupy voice isn’t as soothing as his lips, though, when he cranes his neck back up to kiss you again. He nips there, a sneaky distraction from the way his fingers trail down to circle your navel, and then even farther, teasing the hem of his sweatpants you’re wearing. His featherlight touch makes you jolt when it finally registers, your stomach jumping under his fingers.

“Can I?”

You’re nodding against his lips, into the kiss, and then whining when his hand breaches the waistband. Those thick, long fingers flutter across your mound. Your breath catches on every wiggle. But when his fingers splay out, half on one side of your slit and half on the other, teasing your lips, you exhale hard and press up into his touch.

“Oh, are you that sensitive?”

His voice is half-teasing, half-shocked, as he mumbles into the tingling skin of your neck.

“It’s just you.”

And it’s true. There’s no ego-stroking here. You’ve waited too long to get this and now you’re fiending, any touch is a relief.

And he’s huffing into that skin under your ear, like you’re playing it up too much, but he bites down on the skin anyway and groans.

“So sweet, huh?”

You make a disgruntled noise but there’s not enough blood in your brain to get your point across. Instead, you wrap your hand around his meaty forearm and force his fingers lower, where you know your underwear is a soaking, sticky mess.

He curses and pulls away from his assault on your neck to look at you. You’re certain you know what he sees, blown out pupils and sweat-slick forehead and bitten, shiny lips.

“That’s all for me?”

There’s a sly smile tugging at one side of his mouth, just barely there, but you see it in the way one dimple grows more than the other. You nod in answer, scrape your nails up the hair on his arm and watch him shudder.

But he retreats from between your legs, and chuckles when you squeeze his forearm tighter in protest. The sound makes you shiver, all low and gruff and teasing. But he softens the blow with another one of his kisses, heated and sloppy and needy. His hands, always so gentle and careful and big, find the creases between your hips and thighs. It makes you arch up into the touch and whimper again, and you wonder briefly if you’ll ever not be desperate for him again.

He watches your face twist up when he pulls away from you, watches the way your breasts move with every heave of your lungs. His dark eyes travel lower, where his thumbs sear circles into your hips, and his tongue swipes across his lower lip.

“Can I take these off, sweetheart?”

The tenderness in his voice fills you with a completely different warmth, white hot flames simmering into a blaze of feelings you aren’t sure you’ve ever truly experienced before. You let it consume you.

“Yes, please.”

He hums a satisfied little noise as his fingers hook under the waistband. He takes his time, making sure to catch your underwear as well. It’s a sight, his huge hands working your only remaining cover down, down, until you’re bare to him and he’s gently cradling each of your calves to fully remove the last of your clothes.

Those hands work their way back up, attentive, memorizing the valleys and peaks of your flesh, the nuances of your skin, the way it bends over your joints. Before you know it, he’s propped himself up beside you once again, one arm supporting his weight so his other hand can work its way between your thighs.

You drag your eyes away from his fingers to look at him, only to find him focused on your face.

It’s a few long moments before either of you move or speak or breathe. It’s you who breaks the spell, only because you know you’re at the very edge of control.

“You sure you’re ready?”

You reach up to cradle his neck in your hand. It’s hot to the touch, and so are his ears, the tips of them burning a cute pink where your thumb grazes them. His eyes get softer and crinkle even more around the edges.

“I’m positive… can’t believe I psyched myself out for so long.”

He huffs and shakes his head at himself. You’re ready to kiss that apprehension away again, but his hand on your thigh pulls, as gentle as everything else he’s done, to spread yourself open for him.

The cool air makes your breath catch in your throat. Or maybe it’s the anticipation. So close to what you’ve thought about every single night for weeks. Months– since the day you first met, if you’re being honest.

He keeps his eyes on you, and you hold his gaze even though it burns. But only until his fingers brush you. Your eyelids flutter shut at the feeling, mouth open wide in shock at how electric just one simple touch feels.

His finger glides so easily around your opening, and you hear him gasp as he explores all the slick.

“You’re soaked.”

His voice is thick with awe, as another finger joins in on the fun, gathering up your arousal. But they don’t breach, and you feel like he’s teasing, readying a whine in protest.

The noise gets stuck in your throat when they trail up, gliding through your swollen folds. They find your clit, full and begging for attention, and circle with hardly any pressure.

Oh, he’s fucking good at this.

There’s no apprehension in his movements. It’s like he’s read a fucking manual on how to press all your buttons. The light, slick touches are building up that heat in your gut quicker than you can ever remember with anyone else.

You’re stunned silent, eyes pinched shut and your head tilted back into the mattress, digging in for even an ounce of grounding.

“That feel good, sweetheart?”

Your vocal chords come back to life, finally, as you whimper from the gentle drag of his fingers.

“You have no idea.”

He chuckles, and you open your eyes to see his own still trained on your face.

“I think I do,” he mumbles.

He shifts, presses his hips into you, and the hard line of him digs into your side.

You clench around nothing, and your clit pulses under the pads of his fingers. He curses and responds to the needy little bud, applying more pressure and speeding up those little circles.

All the while he grinds his hips into you, soft little movements that sync up with his hand, and you want him so bad. You’re losing patience by the second, the only thing keeping you from pouncing is the way his fingers work you over so perfectly it’s like you’re touching yourself.

You’re not, though, and that becomes perfectly clear when one thick, long finger presses lower and slips into you. It slides so easily, despite how much girth it has on one of your own. You both make stuttered noises at the feeling, and Marcus’ lips capture your own to let them mingle together.

Your hips egg him on, lifting and shifting, but he is teasing now. It’s a slow drag in and out, his finger pin straight, and if he hadn’t been so diligent this entire time you’d think he didn’t know what he was doing.

But you whine, a soft plea of his name into his mouth, and he obliges. That thick finger crooks up, just as the heel of his hand flattens against your clit, and stars bloom behind your eyelids.

You groan, and he laps it up before his lips leave yours.

“That’s it. This what you needed?”

A pathetic whimper comes out in response as you nod your head. His finger presses harder into that perfect spot, and his palm slides over your wet clit. You’re clenching around him, savoring the feeling of being filled by him, working your hips down and back to meet his motions. It grows and grows, that feeling in your gut, so close that you can’t be bothered to worry about what needy noises you’re making.

He mutters another frantic curse, and his hips jump to press his cock into you harder.

“I gotta taste you, sweetheart. Can I? Will you let me?”

You nod so fast you’re surprised your head doesn’t detach from your neck. He soothes that frenzied part of your brain with another kiss, slips his finger out of you, and moves to get between your legs.

You thread your fingers through his hair to keep him still, even if it’s just for a moment. Your legs instinctively wrap around his waist, and the drag of his sweatpants across your sensitive center makes you arch up into him for more, to seek out more friction.

He just huffs a laugh against your lips and angles his hips away, denying you the simple pleasure of grinding against the tent in his pants.

“Not yet. Let me take my time with you. You’ve waited so long, right? I’ll make it up to you, you just gotta let me.”

You huff.

You should’ve known Marcus would be just as much of an infuriating tease in the bedroom as he is outside of it. The trivia dates and the cocky smirk he always sported when he won, the little bets he’d make on how a movie’s plot was going to twist, the refusal to ever let you pay for dinner— it’s all adding up now, and you can’t believe you didn’t expect it.

Marcus Pike is a smug little prick underneath the humble, sheepish grins, and it’s hot and it’s yours.

“Put your money where your mouth is,” you breathe.

He chuckles and trails said mouth down the length of your naked body. You watch his plump lips explore your skin and leave wet patches littered in their wake, shiny little stakes claiming you. His five o’clock shadow is just long enough to abrade your skin a bit, delightful little pricks that make your muscles jump involuntarily.

He makes it to your mound before looking up at you. His brown eyes are mostly obstructed by his pupils, but they shine all glassy in the dim lamplight of his bedroom. His shitty grin has faded and he looks determined, and it steals the breath from your lungs.

He teases some more, of course he does. His lips peck and tickle the creases of your thighs, the skin of your outer lips, and the very tip of your hood before you finally see his pink tongue slip out.

All of a sudden you can’t watch, can only let your head fall back and close your eyes and drown in the anticipation.

The pointed tip of his tongue just barely grazes you, tracing a razor-thin line from your dripping hole all the way to your mound. It tickles, and your breath comes in faster as he does it again, and again, and again.

Just before you can beg for more, he flattens his tongue and drags it up your slit. He laps at your folds, slow and calculated, and the satisfied noises tumble out of you as you feel his taste buds glide against you.

All you can think to do is find his hair and use it to hang on. Your legs spread wider, and he takes the encouragement. His tongue finds your clit, so swollen and sensitive with need by now. He circles it, then wiggles his tongue back and forth, playing with it, playing with you. He shakes his head from side to side to give you more, presses even more firmly, and the heavy feeling in your gut tightens tenfold.

Your hips start to move on their own, rocking up into his face, helping his motions along. He groans with it, muffled and wet between your legs.

A delirious thought gets stuck in your horny brain. You don’t know how you’ll ever let him leave this spot between your legs now that you’ve finally got him here. It’s so wet and warm and incredible, and your nails dig into his scalp to drive the point home, to try and lock him here forever.

His voice snaps you from your reverent thoughts, thick and deep.

“Fuck, sweetheart. You taste so good, looks so fucking pretty.”

You brave a glance down at him, his red soaked mouth and his dark eyes that are boring holes into your pussy. One of his hands releases its grip on your thigh to glide across the dripping mess of your center. He toys with you, spreading you open with splayed fingers, watching the way your folds bend to his whim. With it exposed and protruding and aching for his touch, he leans down to wrap his plush lips around your clit and suckle. Curses fly from your lips at the concentrated attention, and it’s so so so fucking good you’re sure you’re going combust.

His hand slips lower, and his mouth doesn’t stop, and you’re dangerously close to tipping over the edge. And then two thick fingers slip easily into you, immediately seeking out that spot inside you and tapping there.

It’s blinding pressure overwhelming the two places you need him most. He drums up a rhythm that would remind you of a dance, maybe, if your brain were cognitive enough to form a coherent thought. Down with his head, engulfing your clit, and up with his fingers, squeezing that spongy spot inside you. Over and over, he works you with soft grunts against your cunt until your fingers lock up in his hair and your hips start to shake.

“Please don’t stop,” you pant, “I’m so close.”

To his credit, and this is more than you can say for the majority of men you’ve been with, he doesn’t stop. He doesn’t slow down, nor does he speed up. He keeps at you exactly how you need it, moaning strung-out little noises into your center until you’re dropping.

All the wind is knocked out of you. Your hips jolt into his face and he takes it in stride, lapping at your clit when the seal of his lips is broken from your erratic movements. You tremble through it, clench around his fingers, and squeeze his head between your thighs as you ride it out on his tongue.

As the shivers roll through you, Marcus’ fingers slow, and though he can’t remove his tongue from you because of how your legs have him in a headlock, he stills his tongue so you can take the last bit of what you need from him.

His breathing is just as heavy as yours, wheezing out moans and muffled words of encouragement. When you feel yourself slipping down from your peak, you let go of the death grip on his hair, and open your legs, and grant yourself a few deep breaths before you dare to look down at him.

He carefully, cautiously pulls his fingers out of you. A comforting ‘shhh’ is cooed into the sweaty skin of your thigh when you make a strangled sound. Both of his hands splay out on either hip, a light and grounding touch accompanied by the kisses he’s dropping all over the skin he can reach.

Finally, you grant yourself a peek down at him. The first thing you notice is how his broad shoulders are, heaving with baited breath. Then, his normally pristine hair, sticking out every which way and then some from your frantic fingers.

His face is red, you guess from exertion. Or maybe you really did restrict some blood flow. Christ. That’s what he gets, being so goddamn good at that.

And then his lips. His lips. Those lips that up until now you’ve only ever kissed or dreamed of. They’re even more plump, swollen and slick with you, shining just like his chin is.

You don’t know what to say. You know you want to kiss him. Funny, considering that’s how all this started, but you’re dying to see what you taste like on him.

Luckily, he breaks the silence, after licking those delectable lips and clearing his throat.

“So… How’d it compare?”

Your face contorts on its own, surprised at the sudden and intrusive question.

“Pardon?”

But then he laughs, pressing those wet dimples into your heated skin to hide them.

“To all those thoughts you told me about. How’d I do?”

You laugh too then, a weary huff of breath as you sit up.

“Don’t go fishing for compliments,” you tease, though there’s not much heat behind it with how out of breath you still are.

He goes to respond, but you get a hand in his hair again and coax him up. You meet him halfway, swallowing his surprised noise when you finally get those pillowy lips against yours and lick at them, his tongue, his teeth, until you aren’t sure what taste is you and what is him. Until you realize you’re flat on your back again as he hovers over you, still between your thighs.

You both hum when the kiss breaks, and you rest your forehead against his, nuzzle his nose and sigh at the floaty feeling in your limbs.

“Better,” you whisper.

You feel his grin bump into your own. You nip at it, playful and languid as you finally begin to get some of your bearings back.

And then you’re shocked back into the realization that there’s all this smooth skin right in front of you, this hunk of a man hovering above, the one who just melted your brain into a fuzzy little mold of itself. You grab his hips as he licks into your mouth and scrape your nails up his flanks, unhurried, while the touch makes him shiver.

You feel out the strength in his pecs, those broad shoulders you often daydream about, and then you push. Catching him off guard, he gasps as he loses his balance and tumbles to the side, and then laughs when you press him into the mattress and straddle his hips.

You laugh along with him, but it slowly tapers off as his hands find your naked skin— your stomach and hips and back and then your ass, where it hovers just above that bulge in his sweatpants.

He’s looking up at you with what you can only describe as horny apprehension.

His eyelids droop over his dilated pupils, but his brow is all pinched up in the middle. His mouth hangs open, like he wants to say something, but nothing comes out.

So you kiss him, soft and gentle, as gentle as he’s been with you all night. His sigh washes heat across your cheeks, and you feel him relax under you just a little.

But then you shift in his grasp, lower your ass, and press your soaking center to his crotch. You whimper at the feeling of his sweatpants dragging across your sensitive, wet cunt. He moans and bites at your bottom lip maybe a little too hard.

But it’s okay. He pulls away and pants your name and you settle there, your weight pressed down on his cock. Your lips find that smooth patch in his stubble, biting that chiseled jaw, licking down the curve of his neck, his shoulder, up to his ear. You delight in every goosebump you draw, and breathe in his scent before you speak up.

“Will you let me suck it?”

All his breath rushes out in a big gust. His fingertips dig into your naked sides, and he nods.

“Please.”

It’s a barely-there whisper. You pull away from that silky soft skin where his pulse is hammering to check his reaction.

He’s begging with his eyes. It makes you smirk, sitting up straighter, trailing your fingers down the front of his body until you reach the drawstring of his sweatpants.

You’re still sitting on his groin, though. You give a little playful wiggle, and his hips rock up to grind harder. But you don’t want to tease any more. Every moment spent teasing him, you’re also denying yourself, and you’ve been patient for long enough.

So you shift down the bed, nestled between his legs, and get to work on the tie of his pants. Every time your fingertips brush the hair below his belly button, he sucks in a breath. You finally get the thing untied, and look up one last time for permission before you start to drag the material down, grabbing his boxers as you go.

Your eyes stay trained on his face instead of staring at his crotch, especially as he wiggles a bit and lifts his legs to remove his pants. You don’t want to stare, and you also don’t want to not look, you don’t want him to be uncomfortable at all with you.

You want it to be perfect. You want to make him feel the way he makes you feel.

He nods his head, and you cease averting your eyes to trail down his body, the bushy happy trail and the neatly trimmed hair above his cock and his cock.

His little cock.

It is, indeed, on the smaller side. Probably one of the smallest you’ve seen in real life. Three and half or four inches long, if you had to guess.

And it’s so pretty, cut and on the thicker side, the slightest upward curve that makes your pussy tighten around nothing.

You dive right in, press your nose to all the hair while you kiss at the base of him, humming when his cock twitches against the side of your face. He smells so good and clean, like always, but down here there’s even more of that Marcus smell that always lingers beneath his soap and cologne, salty and warm.

When you drag your eyes up to him, his head’s thrown back against the pillows, not looking at you. You want him to look, you want him to see how much you’re going to enjoy this.

You’ll make him look, one way or another.

For now, you just lathe your tongue up the underside of him, then back down to tickle his balls, all the while enjoying how his prick jerks under the attention.

He’s making little noises, mostly puffs of breath and gasps, and his hands twist up in the sheets beside you. You grab one of them, slow and steady, and lead it to the back of your head.

And then, you finally get your lips wrapped around the head of his dick, and you slowly sink down until he’s entirely in your mouth.

It’s not until your nose presses against the flatness above his cock do you hear him release a strangled groan. That’s when you look back up at him and find him staring down, mouth agape, locked on your mouthful of him.

You pull back up, wiggling your tongue as you go, memorizing the ridges and hairs and veins. Your eyes are locked on his, and his are locked on your lips, so you try to give him a show.

You open your mouth and stick out your tongue, nod your head up and down to let his cockhead tickle your tastebuds. A gruff noise leaves him, hearty and hoarse, and you want to smile but you’re not in a position to.

Instead, you flick your tongue against that little band of tissue just under his slit, and his hips stutter as his grip on the back of your head tightens.

“Fuck, sweetheart.”

Now you do smile, your lips upturned against the head of his cock, and it jerks against your mouth while you kiss it, until you envelop it once more.

You hum around him, at the weighted feeling of him occupying your mouth, how smooth it feels against your tongue and how nice it is to take him all the way in and not gag or choke or drool.

It makes your cunt ache, makes you crave him even more, makes you want to be full of him everywhere.

You reach a hand down to touch yourself. You’re still dripping, can feel it all slipping from your entrance and cooling your skin in the air conditioning. You’ve had just enough time to recover from the mess Marcus made of you. You’re sensitive but not too sensitive, when you trace your clit with your fingertips and moan around the mouthful of cock.

“Oh fuck, are you touching yourself?”

Your eyes flicker open and look up to him. He’s clenching his jaw, grinding his teeth as his nostrils flare. You hum and nod your head to answer, his cock slipping back and forth through the ring of your lips. He whimpers, and his head tips back against the mattress again, and it makes you speed up the efforts on both him and yourself.

He curses, soft little chants, kneading the back of your neck in his big hand as you suck him in over and over. You close your eyes and lose yourself in it for a bit, the way he slips so easily in and out, the way his hips move just a little, like he’s trying not to but he can’t help it. The sounds, his grunts and your sloppy mouth and your fingers working over your slick folds.

He says your name.

You hum, use your free hand to play with the fuzzy skin of his balls.

He says your name again, and this time it’s urgent, almost panicked.

“Sweetheart, stop, please.”

You do, immediately. You open your mouth wide and let him fall from your lips and unhand him while you look at his exerted face.

“Are you okay?”

He huffs, and his cock bobs beside your face.

“I’m so okay. I just— did you want me to…? It’s okay if you don’t, I just didn’t want it to be over—”

“Marcus.”

His heated babbling stops as he clamps his mouth shut. His broad shoulders lift and drop with his heading breath.

“Do you want to fuck me?”

You smooth your hands across the scattered hair on his thighs when you ask. His prick twitches again at your question.

“I— Yeah. Yes. I do.”

He looks almost guilty about it, with his wide eyes and the bashful expression spreading across his face.

“I want you to fuck me so bad,” you tell him, “I’ve wanted it for way too long.”

His breath leaves him in a shuddery exhale, something like relief or awe.

“Yeah? You still want it?”

His hand skates from the back of your neck to your jaw, his thumb brushing the apple of your cheek.

“Please, Marcus. Give it to me.”

You turn your head to kiss his thumb, a sloppy little peck before you take it into your mouth. You smile around it when he groans, and bite it before it slips away.

“Can you get on the edge of the bed for me?”

You can, but not without throwing a cheeky ‘yes sir’ his way. You’re not sure if the noise he makes is from arousal or a lack of amusement, but there will be plenty of time to explore that later.

For now, you do as he says. You scoot so your ass is just about to fall off the side of his bed. The wooden bed frame is the perfect height to rest your heels on, and as Marcus slips a pillow under your head, you’re as comfortable as ever.

The mattress dips when he gets up to stand in front of you. The lamplight from the nightstand is really doing things for him. The slight sheen of sweat on his chest glistens, as does the wetness at his temples where his hair is starting to curl up. All those lean muscles have never been more apparent than they are now, the golden glow creating beautiful shadows across his naked body.

He’s so hot.

It doesn’t help that his big, warm hands snake up your bare thighs as he gets between them. His small dick stands at attention, pointing toward the ceiling, and you feel your pussy spasm with anticipation.

“Please,” you whisper.

He nods, steps closer as you spread your legs wider and wiggle even further off the bed.

“Perfect, sweetheart.”

He leans over you with one hand on the bed to brace himself. The other is wrapped firmly around the base of his cock, and he looks down to watch it as he glides it through your slit.

“Are you ready?”

You nod and hum your affirmative. He takes the go-ahead and his cockhead slides across your clit, down, so slowly, until it catches on the rim of your hole and you both gasp at the feeling.

You look down to watch too, lifting up on your elbows to see the moment your pussy lets him sink inside, fluttering around him, engulfing his prick one inch at a time.

You knew it. You fucking knew his cock was perfect but still you’re shocked at the way the curve makes him drag across your upper wall. And when his hips are flush with yours, all that pressure is concentrated at that bundle of nerve endings inside of you, and you’re going to lose your mind if he doesn’t move.

“Oh fuck.”

You let yourself flop back in the bed, but reach for his hand that’s supporting his weight. Your nails scrabble for purchase against the skin of his wrist as you curse again, your walls contracting around him as you tense.

“Fuck, Marcus, please.”

You’re so far past caring about how desperate you sound. You need him, the textbook definition of it; it’s an absolute necessity that he fucks you.

He curses, and you realize you’ve closed your eyes. When you open them, his jaw is hanging and he’s looking at you, your face, like it’s something he’s never seen before. Like he’s shocked you’re here in front of him.

But his hips are still, and you’re helpless to the way your own cant up to urge him, and finally he’s pulling back out. The slow drag against the most tender spot inside you rips a noise from your throat, involuntary. He pulls almost all the way out, until the head of his dick is kissing your opening and you can feel how he stretches the tight ring of muscles.

And then in again, almost as slowly, and you’re already out of breath. The feeling steals all the wind from your lungs. It’s setting you on fire, perfect friction against just the right spot, the one that’s still tender and alight from your previous orgasm.

“It’s so fucking good,” you manage to choke out.

Marcus moans above you, and his hips snap into you, and his free hand finds your waist so he can dig his nails into your flesh.

“It is, fuck, sweetheart, you’re so fucking good.”

A bead of sweat drips from his nose and lands on your belly, and that seems to make you snap out of it.

“Fuck me. Fuck me hard, please, make me come.”

You watch his mouth quirk up into a pretty smirk, dimples on full display.

“Yes ma’am.”

Your giggles only last for a moment, dissolving into a high whine when he slides out of you and back in, a harsh thrust of his hips that doesn’t let up.

He fucks you. You try to watch; it’s too hot not to. His biceps flex respectively, one with his effort to hold himself above you, and the other where he holds you in place by your waist.

His neck, the one vein there that’s protruding as he bares his teeth. The way his chest is rapidly rising and falling as he drives into you. His big brown eyes, even darker now as he succumbs to the feeling of you.

But you just can’t keep your eyes open for long. It feels too good, you’re too close to the edge. Your insides are so tender and alight from the first time you came. Every single thrust inside you is taking you apart and building your second so quickly. Your eyelids droop closed and there’s already stars blooming behind them.

His little noises are louder, like this. Grunts and gasps and moans, falling over you, all for you.

“Fuck, I’m so close,” you warn him.

Your back arches to encourage his pace. His skin slaps into yours faster as he groans.

“Thank god, me too. What do you need, sweetheart?”

Without a verbal answer to his strained question, you slip your hand down to press against your throbbing clit.

“Shit, yeah, play with your pussy for me. I wanna— fuck— let me see you come. Looks so gorgeous.”

His voice is thick in his throat, and you work your fingers over yourself faster. You’re clenching wildly around him, you can’t help it. Every thrust in sets your nerves on fire, almost too much, but not quite. His grunts are turning into growls, uninhibited and primal. You feel the mattress shift and open your eyes to find him standing up straight.

Both hands grab your hips now, and that little angle change makes him grind even harder into your g-spot, and you’re tumbling over the edge. It’s been building under the surface for so long that when it hits, it’s blinding. There’s static in your toes that washes over you, up, up, dragging a fiery heat with it that consumes your center and makes your head fuzzy.

There’s screaming.

You’re screaming. Your eyes are clenched so tight, as are your fingers, all your joints, your pussy, around Marcus as he fucks you through it with sloppy thrusts.

“That’s it, oh my god, sweetheart, you— fuck. I’m gonna come, I’m— where?”

“In me.”

Your throat is scratchy when you answer, and you don’t have any time to elaborate on why that’s not a bad idea. You’re still coming, wave after wave of warmth rolling across your body, and you’re vaguely aware of how wet everything is, the sound of him fucking you even more obscene.

His shout doesn’t quite rival yours, but you feel it when he empties inside of you. His cock jerks and and twitches, wringing out every little bit of pleasure from you, and you think you’re still coming, the pinpricks of pleasure are still too intense to be aftershocks.

He stays pressed as deep as he can be as his stomach convulses and his thighs shake, just like yours do where they’ve somehow wrapped around him. Your eyes open again, and the lamplight is so bright now, his breathing is so loud. He grunts and pulls out a bit, then presses back in, and again, until it falters and his whole body slumps.

His top half collapses onto you, his little breaths huff and tickle the tingling skin of your belly. Your own breath comes out in a weak moan, and it takes all the strength you can muster just to run your fingers through his sweaty hair.

“Jesus,” he says.

Your name cascading off his lips in such a strung out voice that it makes you clench around him again.

“Huh?”

God, how are you ever going to move again?

“You uh… Is that a common occurrence?”

Christ, why is he using such big words?

“What are you talking about?”

He clears his throat.

“You like— You squirted?”

You laugh, one delirious huff. It makes his head rock on your jiggling belly.

“I what?”

You gather the will to look down at him. His mouth is open, surprised and amused, and his eyes are shiny and bright.

“Yeah, like, a lot.”

He’s still inside you but softening, and his own chuckles make him slip out.

You lift up on your elbows as he stands up straight and the evidence is clear. The hair above his dick and high on his thighs is all dark and soaked.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry.”

The sheets on the edge of the bed are absolutely ruined, and you pray he’s one of those men that has a mattress protector. You’re more than a little mortified, and the way he’s staring at you, silent, is beginning to make you squirmy.

“What?”

“Why do you seem so surprised?”

His fingertips are feather-light across your thighs, and you shiver.

“I’ve never actually… done that? I would have warned you.”

He makes a pained sound, and those fingertips turn into a tight grip just above your knees.

He doesn’t speak up. Instead, he lies on the bed beside you. He holds himself by his elbow, but that hand strokes your scalp while the other traces up and down your thigh, your hips, your breasts, anything he can reach. You avoid the topic at hand to relax into it, and you think you’re finally coming down as that boneless feeling washes over you.

You’re vaguely aware of his cum dripping out of you, but the sheets are a lost cause anyway. You just watch his lax face, the way the wrinkles in his brow are all smoothed out, the way his eyes follow the patterns he’s drawing on your body.

He catches you staring. His gaze meets yours and he smiles and it’s sunny. It warms you through, despite all the sweat that’s cooling on your body.

“Hi,” he whispers.

You giggle, and he does too. He tries to hold it in by biting his lip, but it’s no use. You will your exhausted bones to shift and face him, and he presses his lips to yours and they meld together.

It’s languid, unhurried, just reacquainting after too long apart. It feels a little goofy, with how you’re both smiling so wide, but it calms you into settling down after such a high.

Both of your breathing seems even, when you part.

“That was—”

“It’s never—”

You both chuckle.

“Ladies first.”

You feel shy now. You can’t imagine why, but a fluttery feeling overtakes your stomach.

“I was just gonna say… That was better than all those times I imagined it.”

You didn’t think it was possible, but his smile grows even wider. His eyes flicker from yours to the sheets between you, and you think maybe he feels as bashful as you do.

“It’s never been that good.”

A sigh escapes him when he speaks, and his nervous gaze lands on you when his face falls into something more earnest.

It takes your breath away. Because it’s never been that good for you either, and isn’t that such a perfect coincidence?

You tug him to you by the back of his neck, eat up the surprised little sound he makes against your mouth.

“When can we go again?”

#Pedro pascal #Pedro pascal x reader #Pedro pascal smut #Pedro pascal fanfiction #Pedro pascal characters #x reader #marcus pike #marcus pike x reader #marcus pike smut #the mentalist

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thenickgirl · 3 days

Text

FWB!Matt HeadCanons

matt x fem!reader

disclaimer: this is all fictional, and based on my own conclusions.

warnings: not proofread, suggestive, cursing

a/n: hi, so um i can’t promise how good this will be lmao. i realized half way through that i can really only write for nick 😭

a/n: hiii again, this was a fun lil collab with @nickypooh, she posted a chris version on her account. you should go check it out! ❤️‍🔥

✭ you and matt weren’t best friends but you were sorta close, and it was no doubt you found one another very attractive.

✭ it started one drunken night after a mutual friend’s party, you and matt were dancing then one thing led to another. that was months ago.

✭ you both agreed to not catch feelings, just wanting to keep things physical.

✭ nick finds out after catching you two in bed one morning, but after cursing you both out, he lets it go.

✭ matt is definitely the jealous type, even though you both have made it very clear you’re just friends.

✭ he’s so possessive, he could care less that you’re not actually his girl.

✭ when he’s upset, he loves to take his frustration out on you, and you definitely don’t mind that.

✭ ther’s lots of 3 am “hey u up?” or “wyd?” texts

✭ he hates when you go on dates with other guys, he’ll always try to find a way to keep you from going. just to tick him off more, you would send him your outfit, and after only minutes later your doorbell is ringing.

“you really thought i was gonna let you go out with that fucking loser? hm? no one can fuck you as good as i can, princess.”

✭ at parties, he keeps a close eye on you, watching you dance with some random guy. next thing you know, you’re being pushed against a bedroom wall, his ringed hand snaking it’s way around your throat.

“i told you, stop fuckin playin’ with me, you’re mine and mine only.”

✭ on the nights when you’re not over at his place, he’s constantly texting you, asking for you to come over.

✭ he likes to act dominant, but it’s hard for him not to sub a little when it comes to you.

✭ when you snap him nudes, he’s rushing over to your place, before you know it you’re on all fours, asking him to fuck you harder.

✭ he likes to leave hickies/marks all over you, and watch you struggle to explain where they came from.

✭ even though nick and chris know what’s going on between the two of you, you keep it a secret from your other friends.

✭ this little arrangement seems to work out very well for the both of you.

🏷️: @mattslolita @muwapsturniolo @guccifrog @luverboychris @freshloveforthefit @sturniolossss @mybelovednick @imsosillygoofylol @ghostking4m @orangelala @matty-bear @moonk1ss3d @certifiednatelover

#stromboli hc #sturniolo triplets #sturniolos #sturniolo #matt sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #mega matty #fwb!matt hc #a headcanon

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writersdrug · 3 days

Note

You and Konig spend the night drinking and wake up to each other <3

Unsure if we’re hung over or still drunk

König and you being drunk homebodies

Warnings: vomiting/emetophobia trigger warning!! Mentions of sex, drunk reader and König, fluff, König being the caring partner we all crave

A/N: I know exactly who requested this and I'm sorry it took so long 😭 I don't even have an excuse, it just say on the back burner, but here you go! Enjoy~

Photo credit to 661ave

You don't remember much from the night before: just glimpses of this and that.

You and König dressed up for the awards ceremony, a glass of wine in each of your hands, managing to convince him to dance with you... holding some bronze, dark cocktail in your hands as König insists it's the best thing Germany ever made. From there, it only gets worse.

You remember laughter and giggles, promises whispered into your ear, making you blush... König pulling you outside of the event, nearly tripping over your own feet as he dragged you into a taxi... watching as he threw a wad of cash at the angry driver as you both shamelessly made out in the backseat of the car... continuing the fiasco on the loveseat in your home...

And then it goes black.

Last night, you felt like a couple of teenagers escaping a party. Now, you felt like you'd just finished a triathlon.

You groaned. The sunlight peering through the blinds was too bright, your stomach churned, your head was pounding, and there was something heavy and warm draped over your middle. You tried to push it off, to no avail - König made a sound, and his fingers twitched against your side.

"König..."

"... mm..."

"Get off..."

"... m... mh-mm..."

You sighed. You needed water - your mouth was drier than a desert, and every cell in your body screamed for hydration. You could stand to take a bath, too.

You tried turning your head to look at König - which was a mistake. The entire room spun dangerously, and your stomach threatened to empty its contents then and there. You slapped a hand over your mouth and threw Königs arm off of your body with all your might. You stumbled into the bathroom, crashing into the door frame and collapsing on your knees. You barely made it to the toilet in time to spill last night's dinner, gripping the edge of the bowl like it was your lifeline.

God, you thought, when was the last time I was hungover like this? Highschool?

As you were emptying your stomach, you felt a hand scoop your hair back and away from your face. You saw König out of the corner of your eye - he was only in his boxers, sliding down the edge of the tub to sit next to you, his legs splayed out before him. He held his other hand over his eyes as you finished your business.

You panted, pulling the handle to flush and squeezing your eyes shut. Your stomach felt better, but your head was pounding, like you were being stoned. "Thanks..." You mumbled to König, and he grunted in response.

"Better?" He asked, still shielding his eyes from the bathroom light.

You groaned. "Yeah." You sat back on the cool tile, leaning against his chest. "Never trusting any of your recommendations again, by the way."

He exhaled, possibly meant to be a laugh. He let go of your hair and rested his hand on your thigh. Watching his thumb rub soothing circles into your skin made you feel dizzy. To be honest, you couldn't be sure that you weren't still drunk. Between the spinning room and the lightness in your chest, there may have been a bit of drunkenness left in your mind - but that could have also been from vomiting.

"Let's not do that again..." You mumbled.

"Mhm..." he said, his voice hoarse from dehydration. "What was it we did?"

"Idunno. You told me to try a drink - I think I had three- no, four..."

"Jägermeister..." he mumbled in a pained voice.

You both sat there for a few minutes, eyes squeezed shut as you focused on breathing. The feeling of König's breath washing over the crown of your head was soothing, even in your half-dead state. You would have been content to stay like that, sat up against him on the cold, bathroom floor as you recovered from your hangover.

Eventually, König threaded his hands under your armpits and helped you stand, guiding you into the bathrub behind you. He murmured something in your ear about "need to get something", before he turned on the shower and let the cold water hit you. You griped and tried to change it to a warmer setting, but he told you to let it run for a few minutes. "It'll feel better, schatz."

He left the bathroom door open as he trudged - stumbling was a better word - into the living room. Despite the constant fogginess in his mind, and the ache in his legs, he was a man on a mission to take care of his partner (and afterwards, himself). He began picking up all the clothes that he had torn off of you and himself in a hasty desire for drunken sex. He would have gotten hard at the memory of him plowing you into the sofa, and at the sound of your drunken moans and giggles as he struggled to hold himself above you - but his hangover prevented him from having any sort of reaction to said memories. The most he could do was laugh and snatch your panties that were hanging off the corner of the TV.

He piled the clothes next to the washer and dryer, then moved into the kitchen. He fixed two thermouses of water for the both of you, and grabbed an extra glass and an Alka seltzer for him. He carried the items back to the bedroom, peeking into the bathroom as he passed.

You stood in the shower as the freezing water hit your back, hugging yourself and shivering at that point. You eventually gave up waiting for König and turned the knob to the left; you sighed in relief as the warmth seeped into your bones, melting away some of the fogginess in your head and making you feel less grimy. You leaned your forehead against the tile in front of you - your stomach lurched a bit, but you knew there was nothing else to come up.

You heard König slide into the shower behind you, but you kept your head against the tile. He whispered something in German that you were too exhausted to decipher. His hand gently slid onto your forehead as he pulled you back against him. You leaned there, eyes closed as you let his scent wash over you.

"Mein liebling..." he murmured, massaging his fingers into your shoulder muscles.

"Don't call me that." You spoke softly. "You tried to poison me last night."

He chuckled, rubbing a warm, wet cloth over your neck and shoulders. "Almost took myself out, too, didn't I?"

After a moment of standing in the silence with him, feeling drag the cloth softly over your face, you realized that he was replicating your nighttime skincare routine. Except, it was currently one in the afternoon, and you normally don't do it in the shower. You would have told him that he was using the wrong kind of cloth to clean your face, but you decided to keep your mouth shut. Both out of gratitude and the comfort of his touch.

He carefully finished washing your face, then your body, making sure to be gentle and slow. He whispered unintelligible phrases against your scalp as he turned off the water. He pulled you into the center of the bathroom and wiped you down with a towel - you were practically asleep standing up, but he made sure to hold you steady.

After you both brushed your teeth together, he helped you pull on some clothes, before letting you crawl back into the bed. He then went back into the bathroom to finish drying himself off. You kept your eyes closed, listening to the ambiance of König's movements, combined with the sound of the breeze outside.

You looked towards the window and noticed he had cracked it open. You also noticed there was a thermos and a sleeve of crackers on the nightstand, right within your reach. You felt a sudden onslaught of emotions and tears forming in the corners of your eyes; maybe it was because you were hungover (or at this point, possibly still drunk, you couldn't tell), but it finally broke the damn, and you began to cry, quiet sobs and sniffles breaking the near silence in the bedroom.

Instantaneously, you heard König nearly breaking his legs as he floundered over to you. The towel he had held had yet to hit the floor by the time he was kneeling by your side.

"Was? Was ist falsch? Are you ok?" He said, placing a hand on your forehead with a worried expression.

You let out a sob. "Nothing, it's stupid- you're too good to me... you're hungover too- and you- you did all this shit for me- 'n here I am, not doing anything at all for you-" your words melded with your sobs, which had taken over the conversation.

He sighed with relief, petting the crown of your head and planting a kiss there. "Liebling... I'll always take care of you- even when I don't feel gut." he murmured. "You always come first - but I promise I'll take care of myself too, ok? Just for you."

You sniffled again and nodded. "M'kay..." You mumbled, squeezing your eyes shut and trying to stop the flow of tears - you needed all the hydration you could get.

"Although, promise me one thing-"

"Hmm?"

"Let's not to do this again. It's not good for you, and I can't take care of you properly when I'm like this."

You nodded again. You'd rather be in hell than have this bad of a hangover. "Promise."

König placed a satisfied kiss to your forehead again, muttering a quick "Geh schlafen, süßes Mädchen..." into your scalp. He stood back up and headed back to the bathroom, picking up the discarded towel and rubbing it over his hair. He stared at his reflection in the mirror, scoffing at the bags under his eyes. Not what I used to be, eh? He thought.

He headed back into the room and grabbed a pair of sweatpants from the dresser, and lazily tugged them on. He thought about putting on a shirt, but the idea of it made him cringe. He felt overstimulated enough as it was - the shirt would just feel suffocating. He then shuffled over to the bed and climbed in, pulling you against him with an arm wrapped around your waist. He sighed, tucking your head underneath his chin.

"At least we have all weekend, ja?" He said quietly.

You didn't respond, making him crane his neck to look down at you. "Schatz?" He said, holding his hand in front of your nostrils. He knew you were alive, of course - but the feeling of your warm, slow breaths against his fingers granted him peace of mind.

He chuckled, tucking his hand back around your waist as you slumbered on. "Süße Träume, mein liebe." He whispered, curling around you and letting his eyes fall shut.

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

Bleh I wasn't too confident with this one, but I'm trying to clear out my drafts so I pushed it out. Hope yall like it! Comments and reblogs are always appreciated! 🥰

#konig x reader #konig #call of duty #konig cod #konig fluff #konig headcanons #konig blurbs #cod x reader

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ressjeon · 21 hours

Text

relief | myg (m.)

pairing ⇢ yoongi x reader (hints of ot7)

genre/au ⇢ smut, fluff, idol!au, long time ??

summary ⇢ the nerves have been shaking Yoongi’s usual confidence while preparing for his first solo tour — what a relief that you’re here then.

wc & rating ⇢ 3k | 18+

warnings/content ⇢ dom/sub dynamics, grinding, protected sex, riding, emotional sex?, praise kink, groping, semi-clothed sex, size kink, breast play, temperature play, orgasm control, yoongi’s hands are everywhere help, aftercare, pillowtalk <3

a/n: it's been a year since yoong's tour kicked off so i wanna celebrate with this, along with my return here! never thought i'll do this cuz i don’t usually write nor read this au but he won again on the poll last year so here we are XD! this is mainly inspired by what i was feeling while watching the live stream of both his shows in the first city of his d-day tour! pretty divider by the amazing @cafekitsune <3

after the final song, you were just as surprised as the crowd around you. a faint chuckle leaves you at the way Yoongi ended his concert.

of course, you should've expected that he'll pull something like this.

“i’m so proud of you yoongs”

you greet him enthusiastically as soon as you spot him at the entrance of the hallways near his dressing room. he’s smiling so wide, reaching you at once with his airport-like walk like how he exited the stage quickly earlier.

you beam once he catches you, wrapping your arms around his shoulders despite how sweaty he is.

“it went well” he giggles lightly, caging you in his arms before grabbing your hand to bring you to the backstage area where you both can see the audience without being seen.

the gummy smile plastered on his face never wavered as he watches the fans dispersing outside and you have an inkling that it's reminding him of the world tours with the boys before.

“i told you it would” you whisper once he turns to you, leaning in to give him a peck but Yoongi’s hand reaches up to grab your neck, pulling you in to catch your lips once more and deepen the kiss.

a small whimper elicits from you, both from being needy and worry that any staff might see you both like this but Yoongi seems to not care. it must be the adrenaline and the whiskey combo he had during the concert cause his calloused hands start roaming your body.

a total opposite during soundcheck where he’s simply cuddling you while waiting during the delay that he almost fell asleep.

though Yoongi's performed in front of millions of people for a decade now, he still feels anxious since he’s doing this on his own and it’s been a long time since he met his fans in person. he was naturally nervous about this but you’ve been doing your best to support him so he's really grateful that you’re here.

teasing him earlier when he put those yellow sunglasses on while you rake your hand through his luscious locks thankfully helped ease his nerves.

"yeah yeah i saw the cat edit"

“you’re so cute”

a firm grab of your ass reminds you of where the two of you are, nudging Yoongi slightly to release you. both breathless from the kiss, he’s looking at you in bewilderment until you gestured him to the waiting staff who’s here to take his post-concert pictures.

“pics first”

he only answered with a pout after releasing you but he followed. you on the other hand couldn't look at the photographer as embarrassment floods you, immediately retreating to the dressing room to wait for Yoongi there.

grabbing another glass of Henny, you scroll through your phone for updates on what’s going on outside. you did sneak out earlier and lined up with fans to get some merch and talked to some of them because well, you are one of them.

loving the boys and their music is one thing you share in common.

after a while, the door opens, revealing a smiling Yoongi like he hadn’t been teasing you this whole time.

maybe that was part of his plan but you’ve been patiently waiting. it even came to the point where you can't wait to be all over him now that everything’s done for the night.

placing your empty glass of brandy on the small side table, you drop your phone on the couch before approaching Yoongi. he chuckles when you hastily drag him toward the couch before climbing on his lap.

he doesn’t mind really, knowing how needy you get after he performs like you were in the past. he might’ve unintentionally teased you like he does to everyone else but it's one of the things he loved about you.

how easily you get turned on in every little thing he and the others do but especially for this. knowing his voice can make you crumble instantly gives him that satisfaction that he didn’t know he had when he first met you.

“you’re worked up this much __?” he teases, hands situating themselves on both sides of your waist. “is it the black or white one?” he adds nonchalantly, pertaining to his outfits prior to the one he’s wearing right now.

“shut up, you know what your voice does to me” you whine impatiently, clutching the silver bone necklace around his neck before leaning in to kiss him again.

ah, the chain, another one that you love seeing on him. he'll always be fascinated with your favourites no matter how long you've been with them.

you deepened the kiss this time and Yoongi welcomed them with fervour. it’s his turn to get lost in the moment now that you’re needier than him. his ending fit riled you up this much that now you’re grinding yourself desperately on him but hey, he’s not complaining.

his hands smooth around your covered thighs after, lingering between the crease of your legs before he releases your lips.

“i’m surprised you’re wearing leggings, you hate it”

“it’s cold”

“explains the sweatshirt too” he muses, one hand tugging the baggy sleeve of your white tour sweatshirt with both his aliases on your chest.

his heart warms seeing it on you, the way you’re proudly wearing him even though this whole thing between you and them still remains a secret. his hands creep underneath your top, caressing your sides that hasten your roll against his crotch.

you lean in to kiss Yoongi once more but he grabs your sides, stopping you.

“want it off though” he whispers, the mischief in his eyes shifts to a demanding one.

his darkening orbs are looking straight into yours, making you squirm against him. you didn’t waste any time at once, taking off both your sweatshirt and your bra in a frenzy, much to Yoongi’s satisfaction.

you’d know with that cocky look resurfacing on his pretty face.

now that you’re bare in front of him, Yoongi can see your crotch rubbing along the top of his denim zippers. he could watch you like this, let you get off on your own until you cum like he’s done many times but he relents.

lately, he’s been so busy with the tour preparation that he missed seeing you this needy. he reaches down to cup your pussy, not surprised to find you drenched knowing how easy it is for you to get wet.

you squirm at his touch, trying to get more friction by rubbing your swollen clit on the buckle of his belt. he knows it's you silently wanting his fingers to help you get off but his hand abruptly leaves you.

frustration looms on your face, your lips turning into a frown but Yoongi grabs your body closer and instantly latches his mouth on your tits, earning a surprised shriek from you.

“yoongi!”

you didn’t mean to be loud but with how Yoong’s been licking your pebbled nipples and occasionally nibbling them, you’re starting to forget that there are still people outside the door who can hear you both.

one hand of yours takes a handful of his messy jet-black hair, pushing his face more into your chest. he groans and continues to nip around one tit while his other hand plays around your neglected breast.

kneading and pinching nonstop, you’re unable to hold in the whiny moans coming out of you as your other hand grips his shoulder. you’re relishing it, the rough feeling of callous fingers against your now-swollen nipples.

taking a glance down at Yoongi, you notice how wet he is. he's drenched in sweat but my fuck does he look even hotter when he does. his mouth releases your peppered breasts, opting to fondle your clothed pussy this time.

“don’t tell me you’ve been wet since the first song” he teases and you look away from his heated gaze. he got his answer when he felt your cunt twitch through your clothed core. rough pads of his fingers rub you faster, more of your slickness seeping through your leggings to his hands.

he was clad in all black earlier, one of your favourites so he wasn’t that surprised.

“yoongi..” you’re panting, almost begging him with the way you're gripping his hair and shoulders. you need him to do something, anything more than teasing at this point.

it surprises you when Yoongi grabs the empty glass of Henny that you put aside on the table earlier, taking the ice to his mouth and he’s back to assaulting your breasts. he rolls the ice cube with his tongue around your nipples, making you shiver at the cold and wet sensation.

you’re whimpering, legs shaking as the band on your lower abdomen threatens to snap with how Yoongi’s cold and wet fingertips fondling your core. the multiple stimulations are pushing you nearer to your orgasm. you’re not sure if he’s aware or not, if this was his plan all along.

“..oh fuck”

“hmm?”

“yoongi..i don’t.. wanna cum in this”

you cry, eyes mustering your neediest look towards him, hoping he’ll listen to your pleas. and Yoongi did, his hand leaving your drenched pussy and mouth releasing your breast. relief courses through you, smiling at him despite the uncomfy feeling of your leggings sticking to your core.

“of course, you don’t, always wanting to cream my cock”

he doesn’t say it in a mocking manner, the hint of adoration coming forward within his hooded eyes. you get off of him once his hands release you, quickly shimmying down your leggings while he unbuckles his baggy pants and boxers.

you didn’t miss him whipping out a condom from his front pocket, making you suspicious with your arms now crossed over your chest.

“and why-”

“you’re here and i did remember you love being fucked anywhere”

he answers right away and your face morphs in shame, arms sliding down to your elbows, revealing your breasts again to Yoongi.

you hate being paranoid like this though you know he’s always been prepared. and he’s right, you do love it when they fuck you anywhere they like whether it be on the venue, in their vans or in their hotel rooms.

it’s one of your favourites when you join them on tours before.

“yoon–..” you try but he beckons you closer and helps you back onto his lap, kissing you right away and ignoring your protests because he knew right away what you were gonna say.

“none of that hmm? lemme get you ready”

he took himself out and put on the condom already before his hands skitter around your inner thighs.

“no”

he quirks a brow at you, wanting to make sure if that's what you want. even though you’re stark naked figure’s been enticing him to just fuck it and ruin you like you’ve been begging for, he's been a pro at controlling himself to prepare you.

huffing before wrapping your hands around his neck, you squeeze his nape as an answer.

you just want him inside you and you don’t wanna wait anymore.

a smirk graces Yoongi's face at your impatience before helping your body up to grind on him again.

now rubbing your bare pussy against his dick, you enjoy watching him seethe with each friction. your hips circle until his swollen tip catches your entrance, pausing just to tease him. one of his hands scrambles to grip your hip and you chuckle before lifting yourself, grabbing his dick and lowering slowly.

“fuck,fuck,fuck”

you watch Yoongi close his eyes, a plethora of curses coming out from his mouth. you’re whimpering in return, pussy walls fluttering around him to try to accommodate his thick girth.

“big..fuck, yoongi” you cry, tears threatening to well in your eyes.

you love the feeling though and he knows it but Yoongi still tries to comfort you, roaming his veiny hands around your body till he reaches your breasts.

you start moving your hips slowly, planting your hands against his clothed chest as you try to take more of him. his hands fly on both sides of your waist, feline eyes also watching you while you’re slowly adjusting to him.

“more..” he grunts, prompting you to go faster as he tightens his grip on your waist. you try to roll your hips faster then deeper until you bottomed down.

pausing for a bit, you couldn’t help but lean in and whine against his clothed shoulder with how his cock’s filling you deliciously.

he has other plans though, releasing a deep groan after you unconsciously clenched around him. he starts fucking up to you, pouring all that adrenaline rush coursing through his bloodstream.

a loud moan escapes you when he finds that soft spot, causing you to pull back and again note the cocky smirk emerging on his handsome face.

“yoongi..fuck”

“shhhh”

he silences you with a finger on his puckered lips, hips bucking up to you faster while he repeatedly hits that spongy spot again.

you struggle but you wanna be good for him so you close your eyes and force yourself to keep your moans in. it results in you gasping instead, small whimpers still escaping you with how magnified everything feels.

“you listen really well baby” amusement laces Yoongi’s tone, eliciting deep moans after when you clamp around him with the praise. his groans spur you to ride him faster but you’re starting to feel the burn on your legs.

he must’ve felt you slowing down cause you found him grinning once you reopened your eyes. gritting your teeth, you dig your nails into Yoongi’s clothed shoulders and call his name in a whimper, biting your lip to hold back your release but his praise makes you crumble.

"yeah? come on __" he gauges you, kissing you at once to swallow the moans that you couldn’t keep in once you reach your peak.

he slows down his pace, letting you ride your own high as his mouth peppers your jaw then later your neck with kisses. his hands continue to caress your naked body until they reach down on your ass.

you let out a surprised yelp when he squeezes them hard, causing you to grip his damp hair once he starts fucking up to you again.

calling your name with a deep groan, you whimper by his ear in response as he chases his release. he’s relentless with his fucking, groping your ass nonstop until you feel him explode in the condom.

you do miss it when he fills you up but you both can’t risk anything while he’s still on tour.

“shit..” he chuckles after releasing you, pushing his hair back with a satisfied look on his face but it shortly disappears when he notices the small tears in your eyes.

“was i too rough?” he worries but you shake your head.

“you know i love it” you reply with a quick peck to his now perplexed face. he doesn’t say anything, waiting for you to continue.

“i just got emotional..you know”

a small smile of relief breaks into Yoongi’s face, stroking your naked back while you’re both coming down from your highs.

“i’m glad you’re here” he whispers, kissing your forehead. you don’t fucking know why you're suddenly emotional but it could be because of oxytocin flowing through you right now.

“the seesaw acoustic made me cry” you sniff, nuzzling Yoongi's clothed chest that’s a bit damp now, mixed with sweat and your tears but neither of you mind it.

“why? the lyrics still?”

he did remember you crying after hearing it for the first time years ago, the lyrics being the sole reason of it.

“it’s just.. i don’t know, it reminds me of when you guys were touring before” you admit, melancholy in your voice while you reminisce watching his solo performance during their last world tour as a group.

“thank you” he pauses, looking away from you. “for staying with us after all these years”. he takes your hand and plays with it as he says those words.

you adore this side of Yoongi and now you feel bad for doubting him earlier. meeting them years ago and staying this entire time meant a lot of hardships that you went through together with the rest of his members.

“i miss all of you together” you give Yoongi a quick peck on his heated cheeks before giggling, all the sadness gone at the sight of him blushing. he sits up right away and grabs your face to do the same on your lips before lifting your body off of him.

“you see each of them all the time more than i do, i’m jealous”

he gets up, pulling off the used rubber before picking up your clothes that he threw around earlier. he emerges in front of you after, wet wipes in his hand as he parts your sore legs.

“who knows, maybe me and Jimin will drop by”

he stops, letting out a snort and you raise a brow at him, mind suddenly alert to the possibility.

“he’s coming right?”

“idk babe” he’s got that teasing smile and you wanna cry.

“yoonggiiiii..”

“is this why you came here?”

“no”

you’re back to sulking because the boys won’t tell you anything either. it’s something they’ve all kept a secret cause even Jimin won’t budge earlier when you tried to get the answer from him during pillow talk.

however, Yoongi surprises you amidst your sulking when his head’s suddenly between your legs, licking up a stripe of your swollen folds, causing you to whine at the sensitivity.

he knows you’re tired so he stops your hand from grabbing his damp hair.

“later” he mutters, licking his glistened lips as he wipes your pussy.

you didn’t reply, still lying down on the couch while trying to put your bra, panties and leggings back on. getting up would be impossible so you wanna stay on the couch for a bit to cool down.

“i wanna surprise everyone okay? and you’re always on stan twitter”

he gives up, grinning at you with that adorable gummy smile before grabbing another glass of whiskey on the table.

then instead of wearing it back, you throw your merch shirt at him.

“YOU GET DEETS BECAUSE OF ME” you yell, earning a deep chuckle from Yoongi.

then he pulls out his phone and takes a picture of you, sending it to your group chat with a thumbs up caption. the others surprisingly replied immediately, with Jimin responding with a wink emoji.

oh they will pay for this.

e/n: it's been a long time lmao how are y'all? btw i wrote this during those two days and haven't opened it in almost a year now so 😂

208 notes · View notes

urhoneycombwitch · 24 hours

Note

65 w/ sbeve (if ur up for it 🫶🏻)

65- “you’re being particularly insufferable today”

foreword: for Syl @thecreelhouse <3 from Lulu xx

cw: public sex (bar bathroom, no one sees/overhears), dommy Steve, hittin' it from the back in this one folks, R w breasts + V

___

Your hair is threaded between the fingers of Steve’s right hand, palm warm and wide at the back of your head, pressure light but enough to have your cheek pressing into the bathroom door.

Your entire front is flush to the wood, as well- tits spilling obscenely from the front of your tight dress as Steve ruts into you, cock sliding easily with a coating of your arousal. He slides all the way into your pulsing cunt, hips stilling against yours, waiting for your breath to return in choking gasps before nipping behind your ear.

“Gotta be quieter than the music, right, honey?” His voice is caramel-sweet, in stark contrast to the sharp tug at the roots of your hair. “Don’t want the whole bar hearin’ you get these pretty brains fucked out.”

Another deep drag of his cock in, out, and this time when he sinks back into you he angles his hips up, hitting that gummy spot against your front wall. A whine slips out before you can catch it, thighs and knees trembling; Steve shifts to take more of your weight, pinning you in place and chiding again- “Hush. You can take it.”

You feel a little delirious, orgasm building at the edges of your pleasure, Steve’s fingers (the ones that aren’t pulling your hair) rubbing slick over your throbbing clit. In stilted whisper, you get out- “you’re b-being particularly- ah- insufferable, today, Steve.”

He chuckles without any humor (makes your damn toes curl), hitting that spot again just to see your brows pinch in pleasure. “Careful, baby, you know how riled up I get when you use big words.”

Caramel turned bittersweet, Steve’s using teeth set to bruise at the base of your neck, that sensitive spot where shoulder muscle curves in; a cry gets smothered behind your teeth as you squirm against the full, solid weight of him along your back.

“That’s good,” he coos, purring and kissing over the mark he’s made, lips soft and repentant on your skin. “I’ll let you come before the song’s over if you keep this up.”

“You’re on, Harrington.”

You regret expending the effort it takes to get those words out because as soon as you do, Steve’s setting a merciless rhythm, pistoning into you with impressive speed and strength. The breath gets punched from your lungs (probably a blessing in disguise), jaw going slack in silent rapture, eyes rolling up behind fluttering lids.

Steve murmurs your praises as he feels you clench tighter around his cock, picks up the pace to start fucking you through it. To your credit (and to the tune of Steve’s glowing compliments growing hoarser by the moment), you’re quiet when you come, biting into the meat of your own hand to stifle any noises that do manage to bleed through.

The same can’t be said for the moan Steve lets out as his cock pulses inside of you, way too loud for the small space- Jolene is playing over the bar speakers, but it isn’t totally enough to cover the sound of him coming.

You laugh, unintentionally clenching up further, Steve nudging at your cheek with his nose, panting and whining now- “Honey- please. Please stop laughing. Fuck me…”

“Sorry-” you do your best to relax, giggles still overtaking in brief spasms- “...it’s just. You were way louder than I was. After all that ‘telling me to be quiet’ stuff…”

“All right.” Steve’s huffy (not annoyed enough yet to pull out, apparently), thumb skimming fondly over the curve of your arm. “Now who’s being insufferable.”

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut

149 notes · View notes

satorusugurugurl · 2 days

Note

Never got a request for them you say…

I know i request way to fucking much but I can’t help myself I love ur writing🫶

Butttt hear me out adult trio gojo geto shoko with fem reader. I’m thinking professional reader, who has an exhausting but rewarding job comes home exhausted, but her 3 lovers cheer her right up <333

Could be fluff or smut, I just need them in my life Fr

-🍭

Welcome Home!

Character: Gojo Satoru, Geto Suguru, Shoko Ieiri, FAB!Reader

Word Count; 2,853

Warning: overworked reader, nipple play, oral sex, praising, making out, achohol consumption, Geto in a fucking apron has me FERAL

A/N: Thank you so much for the request! I had lots of fun with this one 🥵🌶 Spicy loved it 1000000/10 would recommend.

Everything hurt, from your feet to your back, as you exited your car, the garage shutting behind you. You had been gone for twelve hours, leaving at six and getting home when you'd left this morning. But you couldn't complain. Your business had taken off, and as CEO, you had responsibilities to take care of, which tended to keep you away from home longer than you'd like, but the paycheck was worth it.

You had started your own candle company in college. Book tropes, characters, and television series inspired the candles you made. Your shop had been small, and you were content with that. Until your partners suggested advertising on social media, reaching out to authors, broadening your horizons. You hadn't expected much, maybe a couple of dozen more orders, a few rejection letters from said authors. What you hadn't been expecting was for your products to go viral, and several authors jumped at the opportunity to commission you for custom character candles.

Your tiny little shop became a big-time shop so fast it had your head spinning. You shipped orders worldwide, made custom customer orders, and were featured on several podcasts. Your company was close to being a multimillion-dollar company with several locations. While exciting, and you didn't need to worry about money, it was exhausting. Long hours, dozens of meetings, and business trips were your new norm; it came with the title CEO. You loved your job! There was, however, one downside.

You missed the fuck out of your partners.

With your position, you could take care of the house payment and utilities. Allowing your partners to do whatever they want without worry. Shoko was studying to become a surgeon, Geto was working on a novel, and Satoru was your biggest investor; seeing as he was from a wealthy family, he could do what he wanted. And what he wanted was to help your company grow. Things were perfect; it justified you working so hard all the time. Some days were more exhausting than others, but it was also gratifying. Your partners could pursue their dreams, and as long as they were happy, so were you.

”I’m home.” You announced mid-yawn, removing your heels and setting them to the side. You ventured into the living room. The condo was clean and tidy, as per usual, thanks to your amazing partners. They took such good care of the house when you were gone.

“Welcome home.” Suguru greeted you from the kitchen. Both the mouth-watering aroma of prepared food and the sexy man stopped you in your tracks. “Thank you for all of your hard work today, Princess.” He wore gray sweatpants, his hair pulled into his signature half up half down style.

The best part of his whole outfit was the apron. Good god, it was illegal! The black apron went around his neck and tied firmly around his waist. It read, ‘My meat is 100% Going In Your Mouth’. It was a gag gift, one you’d need to thank Satoru for purchasing. Suguru was wiping his damp hands on it as he made his way around the island, wrapping his arms around you in a tight hug.

You melted in his embrace, your arms snaking around him as he kissed the top of your head. “Thank you. It’s good to be back.” You sniffed at the air, happily groaning at the scent of food. “That smells absolutely amazing, Sugu!”

“You had a long day, so I made one of your favorites.” You followed him into the kitchen, staring at the four neatly prepared plates of perfectly prepared katsudon and fluffy white rice. ”I was finishing up the salad. It should be done in a few minutes.”

A warm body pressed against your back; the smell of clean linen and musk followed the body's movements behind you as Satoru rested his chin on your shoulder. “I hope so, I’m starving.” The whiny tone that resonated from Satoru had Suguru rolling his eyes at his antics as he chopped up lettuce. “But not as hungry as you probably are. You busted your ass today, as usual.” Soft lips peppered your cheek with kisses.

“It was a very long day.” You reached forward, grabbing a slice of cucumber off the cutting board and popping it in your mouth. “But it’s well worth it.”

“Long day; I guess this calls for some sake,” Shoko added, handing you a glass of chilled peach sake.

You took a long sip, humming at the sweet taste that danced over your tastebuds. “Shoko, what would I do without you?” Your exhausted-looking girlfriend took a long sip of her drink before pressing a kiss against your lips.

”You would be stuck with these two idiots.”

“Hey!”

Satoru pouted, while Suguru just shook his head with an unbothered chuckle. The carefree atmosphere and warm aura had you relaxing, the tension leaving your shoulders as the four of you sat down for dinner. While you ate and conversed with them, your partners looked you over while you weren’t paying them attention. Suguru took note of the dark circles under your eyes before looking at Satoru from his peripheral vision. He had noticed the circles along with how your skin appeared paler tonight. Dark and blue-hued eyes focused on Shoko. Her dark brown eyes examined you as she would a patient.

The three of them reached the same conclusion: you were exhausted, burning the candle at both ends. They knew very well how seriously you took your job; your work ethic was nothing to be sneezed at. No matter how sick or tired you were, you constantly pushed yourself to do more, to provide for them. Your motivation was fueled by positive forces, and there was nothing wrong with being driven by a goal.

However, the moment your goal began to run you down, that’s when you had a problem. You needed a break—some time to rest properly and recuperate. The three of them set their plan into action just with mirror eye contact.

“All right,” Suguru stood, collecting the dishes off the table, “Satoru and I will clean the kitchen. Shoko, why don't you take our sweet girl and get her relaxed?”

“Oh, don't be silly, I can help.” You followed them, collecting dishes that were snatched away from you by Satoru. “Hey, I can help!”

Shoko gently grabbed your hand, her slender, delicate fingers interlacing with yours, pulling you towards the bedroom. “It’s not a matter of you being able to help or not; we all know you’re perfectly capable of that.” Shoko gently squeezed your hand before pushing you back against the bed. “It’s more of a matter that we want to take care of you.” Those same soft fingers that had gently held your hand began working at the buttons of your blouse. “So please don’t fight us on this. You’re exhausted.” Your chest moved up and down, your steady breathing quickening as she exposed your torso. “Just lay back and relax.”

A breathless sigh escaped you as her soft hands groped your breasts in both hands, squeezing the soft mounds. “A-alright, then, let me touch you too.” You reached for her breasts, her nipples erect, peeking through the thin fabric of her white t-shirt. Your fingers just grazed over the fabric, straining against her hardening buds, when she pulled back, out of your reach. “Shoko, why are—” Her lips met yours in a soft, delicate kiss, one that emanated her true intent and desires.

”Have you been hanging out with those two morons too much?” Soft fingers, unclasp the hook in the front of your bra. “What part of ‘lay back and relax’ did you not understand?” Warm caresses of your girlfriend's skin felt like a burning fire over your tingling nipples.

“But I hate not making you feel good.”

“Baby,” Shoko chastised, leaning down, gently flicking her tongue over one of your nipples. “You make our lives comfortable; you do so much for us.” She kitten-licked one of the buds, nearly sending you off the bed. “There will be plenty of other times for you to join in. For tonight, relax and enjoy being a pillow princess.”

You were hesitant to listen to her, but as you relaxed against the bed, you realized just how tired you were. Laying back, your head cradled by the pillow alleviated some of the throbbing pain in your upper back. Plus, you weren’t often told to be a pillow princess, to lose yourself in the pleasure. This might be precisely what you needed tonight.

Without any further protest, you melted against the bed, your hand gently running through Shoko’s long, silky hair as she suckled and nibbled at your nipples while her hands massaged your breasts. I felt so good to be touched so gently. It was a drastic contrast to the boys, who roughly groped and nipped at your sensitive breasts. No matter how many times they saw your breasts, they were still the teenage boys you met nearly a decade ago. Breasts were, and always would be, some of their favorite things. Shoko, on the other hand, knew what felt good, how to get those little moans and whimpers to escape your mouth. If the woman was given the chance, she very well could make you orgasm from your nipples alone one day.

”Oooh my god, S-Sho—” That day was today, “Shoko, f-feels so good, really good.” Your nails gently grazed her scalp before you tugged on the strands of her hair. “H-Holy shit.”

Your girlfriend giggled, sending vibrations to stimulate your already sensitive nipples. “Yeah? Feel good—“ her pink tongue swirling tantalizingly slow around them, “so good you’re going to cum like this?” A tiny whimper was the only response she received. “Such a good girl for me. Go ahead, baby.” She groped both your breasts, pushing them together, allowing her to suck and nibble at both your nipples at once. “Cum for me.”

Shoko pressed her knee against your clothed center, and that was all you needed to cum. “N-Nggh! C-cumming~ S-Sho! Fuck!” you withered and squirmed, your hips rocking g against her knee, extending the sweet pleasurable waves that rocked you to your core.

She was watching you get off from just the brush of her knee, and her mouth on your tits had Shoko giggling softly. Your face was twisted with pleasure, slowly shifting into a more lax face as you finished riding the waves. Once your heavy breathing turned into soft, content sighs, she pulled back with a grin. She’d like to see the boys try and get you off solely from your tits. Because she knew neither had the patience or skills for that.

“Good job, Shoko.” Your eyes fluttered open as the bed shifted. “Got her nice and relaxed for us.” Shoko sat back, watching as Suguru and Satoru crawled up the bed. “How are you feeling, sweetheart, better?” Satoru hummed as he unzipped your skirt, tugging it down.

“Mhmm, a lot better.” You lifted your ass off the bed. Allowing Suguru to tug your thigh-high stockings down. “Sho always takes good care of us.”

“Mmm,” larger hands forced your legs apart, “I can see that.” Suguru hummed, trailing a finger up and down over the wet spot on your panties. “She made you cum, and you did such a good job.” His fingers hooked under the lace hem and tugged them down, throwing them somewhere across the room.

Suguru’s fingers pulled your wet folds apart, admiring the slick coating of your lips and how your arousal seeped out of your tight entrance. His thumb pulled the hood over your clit back just enough, allowing him to rub sweet, gentle circles around the bundle of nerves. While he teased your clit Satoru nestled himself between your legs, kissing and nipping at your inner thighs up to your dripping sex.

“Mmm, I was wanting dessert.” His hot breath teased your twitching cunt. “Thanks for the meal, sweetheart.” His tongue dipped out, tracing teasing circles of your entrance. His wet tongue and Suguru’s thumb had you gasping, arching off the sheets. Your hips jolted forward, silently begging for more. “So fuckin’ needy~” Satoru growled into your pussy. “Normally, I’d make you beg, but you’ve been working so hard you deserve a reward.” His tongue dipped past your tight entrance, gently swirling it as he licked at your inner walls.

With Satoru’s tongue spearing you, working the muscle inside your pussy, Suguru takes the chance to lean down, kissing and sucking at your swollen nipples. “Fuck, you sound so pretty; make more sounds.” His teeth gently graze over the bud. The sudden sensation made your body jerk forward, here widening as his skilled mouth wrapped around your nipple, sucking on it hard.

“Suguru,” Shoko sits on your other side, “try swirling it gently~ like this.” A raspy sigh shakes through your entire body as Shoko demonstrates her technique on your other nipple. “This gets her going.”

“Oooh~ I see now.” The dark-haired man watched Shoko closely, nodding as he observed her momentum. “So I need to do—“ his eyes meet yours as he flattens his tongue, “—this?” His tongue matches Shoko’s face as pressure, sending tingles coursing straight to your pussy, where you clench around Satoru’s skillful tongue.

Blue eyes widen as feeling the gentle spasms of your cunt on his tongue. Your wetness seeped out, coating his tongue, mouth, and chin. “Mmmphmm~ yeah.” His voice is hoarse with unfiltered, pure need. “She fucking likes it~ her cunts hugging my tongue, keep it going.”

Hearing the filthy words, Satoru spoke motivated his best friend. Suguru kept his ministrations up, his eyes darting between Shoko and back to you, doing his best to keep up with her pace, mirroring her movements to the exact inch. In turn, Shoko’s hand dipped down, pressing gently on your lower abdomen.

“S-Shiiit!” You hissed, lifting your head an inch, watching as your three beautiful partners worshiped you. “Ooooh haaah!” You arched, squirmed, and twitched on Satoru’s tongue. Your partner's fingers, tongues, and lips moved faster as you screamed, one hand gripping the sheet as your other hand thrust into Satoru’s hair, tugging and pulling at the strands as you rocked against his face.

“Good girl~” Suguru growled against your nipple. “Goood fuckin’ girl~ cum all over Satoru’s face.”

Shoko nodded her head in agreement, her hand pressing harder against you. In doing so, she put pressure on the coil that was twisting and twisting inside you. Satoru groaned loudly inside of your pussy, feeling your walls twitch slightly around him; the tiny movements had his tongue lapping faster and harder, rubbing against your g-spot with every flick.

The combination of all three of their efforts made you scream and squirt. Coating Satoru’s tongue and face. Watching the stream of clear liquid coat, Satoru’s face had Suguru rubbing your clit faster. Extending your orgasm, making you squirt again again.

“Oooh, that’s it! Good fucking girl!” Suguru praised while Satoru glowered at you. Not in anger or disgust, but in feral fucking need. His mouth and tongue didn’t stop moving as he drank all of you in, working you over the dips and rises of the orgasm that nearly took your life. He only pulled away when you grimaced, shaking at the overstimulation of his mouth, and that only happened because you yanked him out of your pussy.

“Mmm~ such a good girl~” your slack mouth was suddenly being kissed by Shoko before Satoru crawled up, slotting his mouth against yours, allowing you to taste the sticky, tangy essence of your cum. “She was the best, wasn’t she, Satoru.”

The white-haired man pulled back, collecting the remaining traces of your cum with his pointer finger. “She’s the fucking best. No questions asked.” You lazily watched as he offered his finger to Suguru.

“Oooh, thank you.” Dark eyes trailed over you before he smirked, gently wrapping his hand around Satoru’s wrist and leading his finger into his open mouth. You choked on a breath as you watched Suguru bob his head up and down Satoru’s finger, ensuring all of your juices were clean. “Mhmm, so sweet. Shoko, have a taste.” Your girlfriend grinned slowly, leaning over your spent body, kissing Suguru with full tongue to get a taste of you. Their tongues swirled and massaged the other for what seemed like an eternity before they broke the kiss with a string of saliva and your cum connecting their tongues. “Isn’t she delicious?”

“She’s sweeter than the peach sake from dinner.”

With a gargled moan, your head fell back against the pillows as your lovers all leaned over to examine your face. Your pale skin from earlier was flushed a darker shade, your eyes were hazy and distant, and if this were an anime, they were sure you’d be spurting a nosebleed right about now. The trio exchanged knowing glances and gentle smiles. You did so much for them. The least they could do was give you a proper welcome home.

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 1 day

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Follow You Anywhere 8

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, obsession, controlling behavoiour, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You’re online existence threatens to leak into your real life.

Characters: Captain Syverson

Note: double chapter friday.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

You put on the outfit Sy picked out. The lilac skirt and the matching razor back tank top are a bit mismatched in style but the colour is almost exact. You add a silver necklace to add a bit more to the top and even out top and bottom.

You take out a pair of white keds and slip them on. As you do, Sy stand on the door mat with Aika prancing excitedly around him. He deepens his voice and tells her to sit. She obeys, still trembling with elation as he hooks her leash into place.

As you stand, you find his attention on you. His eyes scale up and down your body as you brush your hand up and down one arm. He tilts his head and his cheek dimples as he exhales through his nose.

“Well, let’s go,” he commands and Aika jumps to her feet as you nearly leap in place.

He opens the door, your keys already in his pocket, and he waits for you to go ahead of him. He turns to face the door as he shuts it. He has the leash around two fingers as he slides the keys in the lock and turns.

As he turns towards the hall, he stops and looks at you. You waver, uncertainly, cautious of a single misstep. He offers the leash.

“Why don’t you take her, sweetie?” He says, “two of you needa get used to each other.”

You take the leash as Aika waits patiently. At least she’s trained well. You only ever had cats so you’re not entirely sure about dogs. They’re cute, sure, but a lot stronger.

You continue down the hall and to the stairs. Sy walks calmly beside you. You’re happy at least that the rage no longer roils off of him, though a tension remains. You sense it in the subtle twiddle of his thick fingers and the way he keeps popping and cracking his joints.

Outside, the sun glints blindingly above, casting a shine much too bright for your mood. Aika stops and the leash tugs in your hand. You turn back as she pees in the grass and step closer to slacken the leash. Oops. You make a face.

“It’s okay, sweetie, you’re doing good,” Sy encourages, “she can be a bit wild when she wants to. Probably more like you than you think.”

His suggestion makes you want to frown but you won’t let him see your discomfort. You continue down the sidewalk, keeping pace with the sniffing dog as Sy lazily swaggers behind you. She stops again then crosses to the other patch of grass. You follow her.

If it wasn’t for your company, you might enjoy the day. There’s bumblebee’s digging into stores of pollen, buzzing around vibrant petals, and birds cheeping from the interior of bushes, and wispy clouds across the sky. You might have taken a picture or two, even though your phone lens rarely catches the true beauty of the world.

You continue around the corner and suddenly Aika darts forward. She pulls you nearly off your feet and you stomp clumsily after her, trying not to topple. You see what she sees only as she gets within snapping distance of the fluffy cat. The feline hisses before dashing away and you pull back the barking dog.

“Aika,” Sy says firmly and quiets the canine, “good girl.”

The silt in his voice makes even you freeze. You peek back at him and hold out the loop of the leash. You recoil as you notice the phone in his hand. Your phone. The little pearly wrist band hangs from the corner of the blush pink case. He has the lens aimed right at you.

“Say hi,” he waves from his side of the phone, “got my girls out for a nice walk in the sun.”

“What are you--” you quiet, realising what must be going on.

“Your fans want to see you, sweetie,” he chimes. “Isn’t she cute? My lady. Waited for me so long.”

He turns the camera around, holding it at arm’s length as he comes to stand beside you and faces the sunlight. You gulp as his hand goes to your hip and he pulls you close, leaning in to press his jaw to your head, angling the phone up to capture both of you. You try to smile.

“Finally going public,” he sounds almost giddy, “military sh—stuff. Couldn't disclose it til I got home but here we are.”

He turns his head and presses a kiss to your temple. He purrs and slowly releases you. He stands straight and backs up, once more aiming the camera at you. You feel like you might shatter into pieces.

“We’re gonna grab some coffee. There’s a cafe around here. You’ll remember it. She did a live back in March. Got the vanilla chai, didn’t you, sweetie? I been waiting this long to get back and try it with her,” he commentates, oblivious to the people who glance in his direction. He keeps his arm extended. “Go on, Aika’s getting antsy.”

You look down at the dog and she looks up at you. You spin and continue down the pavement. You should scream and shout and tell the world that this man is crazy. Yet it doesn’t matter. There’s probably a single viewer, if any. You realise now, he was probably your only fan. The others you’ll chalk up to bots or other weirdos.

A trickle of ice flows through your chest. He knows where the cafe is. How long has he been here? How long has he been watching, not just on the phone? You don’t know why you keep asking. It doesn’t change a thing.

You approach the short iron fence that marks off the patio of the cafe. You slow and Sy stands at your side, showing the tables and patrons to the camera. He rubs between your shoulder blades.

“So how ya wanna do it? You wanna wait with Aika or you wanna run in?” He asks.

You gulp. There is not better option. It’s all just the same.

“I’ll get the coffee,” you offer and untangle the leash from around your wrist. “What do you want?”

“Hm, good question,” he says, “why don’t ya surprise me. You know I got a sweet tooth.”

“Right.”

He takes the leash and you turn, stiffly marching through the gate and up to the door. You enter and as you’re shut in, you clutch the sides of your neck and blow out through your lips. No, you don’t know he has a sweet tooth. You don’t know him. As much as he scares you to death, he’s starting to make you really angry. It’s just how he talks as if you actually know who he is! He’s a stranger. A creep!

You stand in line and only remember to step up for your turn as someone taps your shoulder. You mumble an apology and step up. You hadn’t even checked the menu. You look at the specials board and try to wet your dry tongue.

“Um, white mocha,” you order in a croak, “and a uh, a lavender latte. Thanks.”

The barista offers to add on items from the bakery. You decline and pay, already spending enough on the overpriced coffee. You shuffle along to await your order and mull your options. None. You have none.

When your number is called, you grab your drinks and quickly spin around. You follow another customer to the door and he holds it open for you. He smiles as you step through and you thank him.

“Not at all,” he steps out after you. “You got your hands full.”

“It’s really nice of you,” you say as you walk just ahead of him, turning your head to glance over your shoulder.

“Pretty girl like you. How could I not,” he says as you reach the gate, “have a good day, miss.”

“Uh,” you’re surprised by the compliment, “you too, sir.”

You give an awkward purse of your lips as you stand in the open gate. You look around and find Sy watching you. You go to him and hold up the drinks.

“Um, I got the white mocha... not sure if you like that.”

“Ooh, white mocha, sounds delicious, just like you,” he purrs, “and what did you get?”

He takes the cup, Aika’s leash around two thick fingers. You stand dumbly, staring at the phone he keeps pointed in your face.

“The lavender latte,” you answer flatly.

“Well, the lady and I are gonna have our coffee date,” he says to the camera as he flips it around, “walk the pup and all that. Hope you all have a good day. Right, sweetie?”

He once more puts you on the stream. Your lip trembles, “sure, yeah. Have a good day everyone.”

You hold a shaky smile and he taps the screen several times with his thumb. He slides the phone into his short’s pocket and tastes his mocha. He waves you down the sidewalk and Aika takes the lead. He’s quiet as he slurps from the plastic lid.

“That boy,” he speaks at last, “said you were pretty.”

You blanch and turn the cup in your hand. The heat seeps through the sleeve and adds to the sheen across your skin, “er, I guess. I don’t know.”

“Who was he?” Sy asks harshly.

You flinch and peek up at him. He’s not happy. His entire demeanour has shifted.

“I don’t know. A stranger. He just held the door,” you shrug, “guess he was being nice.”

“Being nice? Shouldn’t be talking to strangers,” he reproaches.

You nearly choke. Yeah, you shouldn’t. He taught you that well.

“You are a pretty girl,” he says, “so I’m just lookin’ out for you. Some men...”

You keep your eyes ahead as you fight to hold your composure. You drink from the cup, tasting the floral foam, and swallow. You force the breath from your chest and steady your nerves.

“Sorry, I... won’t do it again.”

He hums and reaches to grab your hand. His large one swallows yours. You don’t pull away, even as you desperately want to . He walks along with you, swing his arm slightly.

“Isn’t this nice, sweetie?” He purrs, “you and me and Aika. Like a little family.”

You grit your teeth and your aching cheeks fall. You can’t smile any long. You try to hide your face as you hover your mouth over the cup, “yeah,” you wisp out, “it’s nice.”

💜

When you get back to the apartment, you’re exhausted yet adrenaline has you wide awake. Sy lets Aika off her leash and feeds her as you toss your empty coffee cup. You linger around the bin nervously, uncertain what to do next. You’re trapped again within these walls that once spoke of your freedom.

Sy groans and stretches his neck. He runs his hands over his shaved head and combs his fingers through his thick beard. You step away from garbage before he notices you hiding.

“Hot out, I’m beat,” he yawns, “what about you, sweetie?”

“Yeah, uh, kinda,” you hug yourself and sway, “but um, not too bad.”

“Ugh, one thing I was happy about was gettin’ outta the heat,” he pulls on his shirt and lifts it over his head. The fabric is darkened around the chest and arms with his sweat. More of it glistens in his body hair as he strips away the tee.

You chew your lip and go to turn the fan on, turning it to oscillate. You sense him in the edge of your vision. He hangs the shirt across the back of a dining room chair then comes back to the living room. You stay close to the wall.

“Er, Sy,” your heart jumps as your doubt clogs your throat.

“Mhmm,” he flops onto the couch and leans back. He’s shameless and shirtless. His muscles flex along his arms and chest. He’s huge.

“Do you think I can have my phone? I wanted to check my messages,” you push your palms together and twist your hands.

“Don’t got none,” he says, “forget about that. Let’s disconnect. You and me, sweetie, let’s enjoy a quiet night in.”

You want your phone but you know better than to push him. You’ve seen what happens when you do. You peer over at the dent in the wall.

“Sure,” you go to him and sit on the couch, keeping a foot between you. “Do you wanna watch something?”

You reach for the remote and he stops you. He snatches your hand back and wraps his arm around you, pulling you to lean into the couch with him. He crowds you as his scent suffocates you. It smells like sweat and generic deodorant.

“We don’t need TV, sweetie, let’s just enjoy each other,” he reaches across you and rubs your upper arm.

“Um,” you nearly choke, “it’s almost dinner time--”

“It’s early,” his voice is rocky, “sweetie, it’s alright. Just relax. It’s finally just us.”

“Sy, I... I should get some work done,” you sniff.

“You should take it easy. You work too hard,” his hand brushes along your shoulder and to your neck. He drags his knuckles up your throat, “you’re gorgeous, you know that? This colour,” he slips his hand back down and touches the top of the tank, “looks so good on you.”

“Thanks, I, er,” you squeeze your thigh and gulp. You can’t help the tremor that rolls through you, “Sy, please,” you reach up and grab his hand, “I should--”

“It’s okay to be nervous. I am too, sweetie,” he rasps as he leans in, “but I can’t wait any longer.”

He frees his hand from yours and cradles your face. He dips his head and you press your hand to his chest, helpless to stop him as he smothers your mouth with his. You let out a muffled gasp as he crushes his lips to yours, his tongue poking around eagerly. His hand crawls around the back of your head as he traps you against the couch.

Your fingers curl against the muscle of his chest and he groans. He pulls you against him, falling back with you until he’s flat on the cushions. He brings you over him, and arm hooked around you as his other hand stays on your head. His tongue invades your mouth as you struggle to breathe past his hunger. Your brain screams at you to bite him, to smack, to do anything, but you’re paralysed with futility.

#captain syverson #dark captain syverson #dark!captain syverson #captain syverson x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #au #sandcastle #follow you anywhere

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renranram · 9 hours

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Baby making ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁

nsfw + fluff

it's literally the title lmfao 😭

let's all be honest here and be straight to the point, schlatt wants to impregnate you ever since he saw you interacting with kids in unpaid intern

ludwig knew by putting both of you two in his show would make great content but he didn't expect he'll actually be an uncle soon

“ baby “ schlatt leans in as you work on editing a new video of yours, “ hm? yeah? “ you look up at him as you lower down your headphones

“ can't you edit later? wanna kiss you “ he states, whiney as he starts pecking your neck, you gasping, feeling his teeth sink in, “ jay… i dont think that's kissing “ you pat his back, hoping to crack a joke

“ y/n… be honest with me okay? “ he pause, pulling away as he faces you, cupping your cheeks as he continues, “ what do you think about children? “ he asks out

as you burst out chuckling, finding him adorable by saying that in a straight face, oblivious of his intentions

“ what? don't laugh im being serious “ he couldn't help but chuckle as he fixes your hair, “ no… it's just… i thought it was gonna be a serious question then you asked me about babies “ you smile

“ it is serious “ he defends himself, smiling at you as you take a deep breath, calming down as you nod, “ uhm… well… i like children..? “

schlatt looks at you weirdly, teasing you, “ ay! i dont mean it that way! “ you playfully hit your fiancé

“ i meant… i wanna take care of children, im happy to take care of children “ you explain thoroughly, as schlatt continues to tease you, as he cocks up one of his eyebrow

“ oh shut up schlatt, you know what i mean “ you chuckle as schlatt sighs, pecking your cheek, “ … okay okay i get it… but you know.. uh.. what about our own children? “

“ our children? “ you repeat, blinking in surprise, “ h-huh…? “ you ask as schlatt caresses your hair

“ toots… i… wanna have children with you “ schlatt confesses, “ our marriage is in 3 weeks… “

“ come on… please… ever since lud’s show… i wanna just… fucking bend you over and fill you up with babies toots.. “ he leans his face on your neck, as your body shivered, feeling his hot breath on your neck

“ jay..! “ you exclaim, surprised, “ what? if you've only seen yourself taking care of those kids, you dont realize how much im excited to wife you up and make you carry my children so badly “ he caresses you hair

“ y/n… babe… please “ he starts pecking your neck, “ toots… please… let me fill you up, let me see you carry our children “

“ … jay “ that's the word that you can mutter out, “ can we do it? “ he gently asks as you take a deep breather, before slowly nodding, “ … okay “

“ fuck… im gonna make love to you all night holy shit “ he chuckles in success as he easily carries you up from your desk as you squeal, surprised

the two of you lock lips, kissing eachother as schlatt holds your back for support before gently setting you down on your guy's bed, hungrily devouring your lips but being so gentle as he slips his hand in your shirt

fondling with your breast, that's why he preferred whenever you don't wear any bras, for easy access if yk what i mean

he gently removes your shirt, liking how your nipples perk up, as he breaks the kiss a string of saliva connects your lips, as he kisses your breast, his lips sucking on your nipples as he looks up at you with those endearing eyes of his

“ angh… jay “ you moan out as he trace kisses all over your body until it reaches your hips, his hand gently guiding you as he removes your pants and panties

“ does it feel good? “ he asks, as he threw your last piece of clothing on your bedroom's floor, as you nod in response, “ i want you to feel so good okay? “ schlatt smiles

as he gently divides your legs, making you spread out for him, “ fuck… how do you get this wet so easily? “ schlatt states before gently entering a finger in, causing you to gasp

“ because… you make me so wet “ you chuckle softly as schlatt chuckes too, slowly thrusting his finger in and out as he leans in to peck your clit

he savors your pussy as he digs himself in, tasting you as he moans out while you arch your back in pleasure, holding onto his hair as you moan his name out, “ jay… fuck “

he swirls his tongue in, fucking your hole with his tongue, he can feel your flaps flutter as he continues on

he licks your clit, swirling his tongue around it even sucking it, “ feels so good toots? feels so good hm? “ he repeats, mumbling as he eats you out

“ yes… yes… ah… schlatt “ you gently pulls on his hair as he continues to thrust his finger in while tongue fucking you, adding another finger causing you to gasp again as you rolls your eyes back

you wrap your legs around his head, locking him in as he notices your breath fastening, you're close, he continues to lick you out as your moans are getting louder and louder every second

“ b-babe… ugh… im cumming “ you breathe out but immediately regretted it as schlatt pulls away, as you whine, “ what the fuck “ you groan out, now pouting

“ dont look at me like that “ schlatt chuckles, “ im not letting my wife get an orgasm because i ate her out “ he replies as he unties his jogs, lowering it revealing his hard dick, not wearing any underwear since it's only you two home

“ remember, our focus here is getting you pregnant with our healthy babies, not tongue fucking you until you're pleasured “ he smiles, teasing you as he pats your cheek, pecking you

he slowly pushes his tip in, teasing you as he rubs it on your clit, “ then get me pregnant already… you're just teasing me at this point “ you pout as he slaps the side of your hips

“ so impatient, are you this eager to be a mother already? “ schlatt pushes his whole size in, gasping, feeling his dick fill you up, you can feel it throbbing inside you

“ fuck! “ you gasp out, as schlatt holds your hips, slamming his dick inside of you, as you gasp again, moaning, enjoying how you easily bounce off just from a thrust

“ you look more prettier like this, “ he teases you, leaning in as he folds your body in half just to able to lock lips with you again, “ i should fuck you everyday so we can be sure you get pregnant “ he added

his rolls his hips, his hands trailing all over your body, touching every part of you, his hands trace your curves, admiring your shape and body

kissing your forehead, cheek, neck, everywhere, this man makes you feel loved everytime, “ you're gonna look so pretty with my kids, yeah? “ schlatt fucks you up

“ you're gonna be my little pretty wife okay, gonna see you carry our kids, gonna make you be a pretty little housewife “

after saying those you can feel his pace fasten, god, it really does feel different without the rubber, you thought, as your room fills with moans, skin slapping, thrusts, groans and squelches

“ ah ngh jay- jay- please… “ you moan out, pulling on his hair as you can feel him throb, his thrusts getting aggressive every second as your body limps in pleasure

“ im cumming.. im cumming.. baby, toots.. ugh.. im gonna fill you up, im gonna fill you up with my babies, you're gonna… fuck… look so pretty pregnant, you're gonna be the most prettiest.. fucking housewife ever “ schlatt starts to peck your face before catching your lips

the two of you kiss, your tongues tangled with eachother as he finally cums inside of you, while you squirt your juices, unison with his orgasm, schlatt pulls out, chuckling in amusement as he sees his semen leaks out of you

“ fuck… you're gonna be a the mother of our children soon “ he smiles, pushing his finger in to keep his semen from leaking

a full year had passed, your child was finally brought on the world, you sigh out as you publish a new video, as you look behind, seeing schlatt was holding your daughter, carrying her as he smiles at you

“ is she asleep? “ you stand up, approaching them, “ surprisingly yeah, she's been behaving for me “ schlatt gently caresses your daughter face

admiring as the 3 month old scrunches her face in her sleep, “ she's a big mama’s girl huh? “ you ask, as schlatt nods, “ i think she loves you more than me “

“ but in her defense, if you're my mom id prefer you “ schlatt jokes as you chuckle, leaning your head onto his shoulder

#chuckle sammy #chuckle sandwich #jschlatt #schlatt #sleep deprived podcast #jschlatt x reader #schlatt fanfic #schlatt x reader #jschlatt x you #schlatt x y/n #jschlatt x y/n #jschlatt x reader smut #jschlatt fanfic #jschlatt smut #schlatt x you #schlatt x reader smut #schlatt smut

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thefirst3chapters · 1 day

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Unpopular opinion (maybe): Luke's ultimatum at the end of Season 3 inadvertently reinforced Jess's choices that stopped him from finishing high school in the first place.

Disclaimer: The intent here isn't to attack Luke for how he handled things. The overall effect of Luke's presence in Jess's life is undoubtedly positive and instrumental to where Jess ended up. Luke was put in an unfair position that he wasn't prepared for, he genuinely cared and tried his best with the knowledge he had, and it would have been well within his rights to say no to Liz to begin with or to Jess when he came back after the car accident.

From what Jess tells Rory in "Teach Me Tonight," it sounds like he never had much academic support from adults, which is of course why Rory's belief in him will end up meaning so much. Details about Jess's childhood that are revealed once Liz is around suggest that Jess didn't have trustworthy adults in his life and had to learn how to be self-sufficient early. Even though we as the audience can see that Luke is responsible and trustworthy through his own actions and his relationships with people who have known him for many years, Jess doesn't have the same history with him, and it can take a long, long time to unlearn those survival instincts. Additionally, Jess's Walmart manager, as gregarious and pro-corporate as he seems to be, doesn't appear to engage in the practice of pressuring introverts to socialize (which happened to Rory at Chilton) and allows Jess to do something constructive and work toward a tangible reward. Some people get these benefits from going to school, but Jess didn't. Then there's a layer of youthful hubris here because Jess really did seem to think that he could manage all of this and go to school just enough to graduate based on what he tells Rory in S3 E17, Luke in S3 E18, and the principal in S3 E19. With of all this information in mind, it's really not surprising that Jess would prioritize work above school. His logic is self-destructive but understandable, and his fatal flaw ends up being that he committed to more responsibilities than a person could reasonably handle. This isn't the standard media portrayal of ditching school.

Luke's approach to being Jess's guardian is fairly hands-off. After Luke's "laying down the law" talk in the first episode Jess is in, the only requirement we see enforced is that Jess has to work at the diner, which Jess complies with. Luke didn't know Jess was working at Walmart at all until Jess bought his car, he didn't know Jess was eventually working more than full-time hours, and he didn't know Jess was missing as much school as he was. (This last one suggests a significant oversight at the school, which is another story.) When the extent of Jess's work hours is brought to his attention and Lorelai speculates about what is going on, he tells Lorelai that there is no way Jess would skip school and doesn't investigate further. When he realizes Jess is working some days instead of going to school, he offers to pay Jess more at the diner (and later steals his car) to prevent him from working at Walmart (the place he worked before he had a car to earn the money to buy it???) but doesn't press him about what is really going on.

So after all of that, it turns out Jess didn't go to school enough to graduate. Luke does give Jess the option to stay in Stars Hollow and keep going to school, but I could never blame someone for not being able to have a rational conversation immediately after a stranger randomly shows up, claims paternity, and runs out. The emotional damage of that incident really can't be divorced from what happens here. Luke is of course also in crisis mode. Jess didn't graduate because he worked too much, so now he's in a position where his consequence is to keep doing what got him into trouble, only this time he doesn't have anyone looking after him. This isn't what Luke is intending, but his ultimatum basically reinforces Jess's mindset of prioritizing work (i.e. short-term financial security) above school and his reluctance to trust other people, and it reinforces Jess's family history (ironically not including Luke) of abandoning difficult situations (in this case, the aftermath of the fight with Dean) and relationships (in this case, Rory) instead of facing them. Jess ends up on his own with the money he had from work that he was saving for a different car, so he probably thinks it's a good thing he worked as much as he did, and he ends up without adult guidance or restrictions to help him sort all this out and repair the harm he caused. This could have turned out much more darkly than it did, and it's really a miracle that Jess got to where he was by the time he was 21.

When Jess is with Jimmy in California, he acknowledges that he's failed and doesn't know where to go from there. It probably isn't outlandish to think that Jess was earning more as a full-time forklift driver than what he is earning during Season 4. Factoring in the lower cost of living in Stars Hollow or somewhere nearby compared to New York, he probably could have been able earn a decent living if he stayed at Walmart (even if he wouldn't have been better off in the long run). That's probably why Luke's "I'm sorry I didn't think driving a forklift for the rest of your life was good enough for you" stung. It was likely a much better situation than whatever Jess is in mid-Season 4.

In late Season 4, Jess seems resigned to where he is. He doesn't complain or blame anyone else for his circumstances, even when Luke repeatedly mocks him in New York. (Even mid-Season 4, Jess doesn't express anger toward Luke about anything other than Luke stealing his car until Luke provokes him multiple times.) Maybe Jess was already thinking about writing a book or studying for a GED during Season 4, but his posture and mannerisms seem to suggest defeat more than anything else. At this point, Jess might not be envisioning anything other than what he has. It is only after Luke accepts Jess for who he is, and stops seeing him as a failed project, ("You are who you are. I cannot change that, and I'm going to stop trying.") that Jess really starts to move forward. Although Luke isn't even very positive in how he says this, it's still the sort of affirmation Jess always needed and maybe never received from a family member before. Then, he's honest with Luke about his emotions, he's receptive to Luke's advice, he expresses appreciation for what Luke did for him, he offers Luke a way to stay in contact, and he makes a commitment to pay him back even though Luke says he doesn't have to do so. He tries (and fails, for the time being) to make amends with Rory, and after all of these things happen, he progresses into the version of himself that returns in Season 6. Jess pursues a path that Luke doesn't quite understand but has accepted and is proud of (it's also a path that Rory does understand and is proud of, and both forms of support are so important).

#gilmore girls meta #luke danes #jess mariano #diner guys

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wlwprker · 3 days

Text

your little things- tom!peter parker x reader

a/n: I have a lot of old stuff that was posted on my old Tumblr, and this was one of them :)

warnings: brief mentions of anxiety, not proofread a lot so I apologize for grammar or spelling mistakes! italics indicate a flashback.

w/c: 1,847

-Peter Parker-

Peter was aware that you didn't think he noticed or paid attention to the little things that you do but he does, he always pays attention to you.

He notices the way that you love to sit by the window reading a book when it rains because the sound of the rain hitting the window makes you feel calm. He admires how you can get so caught up in your books and how your face lights up with different emotions depending on what was happening in the books you always got lost in.

Your little things that make you so wonderful, he notices them all and he loves them all because they're what makes you so beautiful and he loves everything about you.

Peter loves to look at you and he adores all of your little things, especially the ones that you're insecure about but he doesn't know why because everything you do is beautiful to him.

He picks up on things that you didn't even know he knew about or took note of. He knows when you're anxious because of the way you always bounce your legs repeatedly and how you nervously play with the rings on your fingers. He notices it all. Peter notices that when you're incredibly anxious, you draw patterns on yourself to attempt to calm yourself down, but it doesn't always work, which makes you more anxious.

When he senses that you're having one of your really rougher days, he is there to help you because Peter loves and supports you... Always.

Today you were having a hard day, nothing seemed to be making you feel better. Peter knew instantly because when he took peaks at you every so often, he saw the way that you couldn't stop bouncing your legs and the fact that your hair had been messed up from the number of times that you pulled at it in frustration. He takes note of a simple fact: you cannot sit still. Peter worries for your poor lips that you've bitten down on many times throughout the night.

Peter wasn't even doing anything productive if he's being honest, he was just writing out a study guide for a test that wasn't for another 3 weeks. He put his pencil down and walked over to you and sat down on his bed next to you, you were so caught up in your own thoughts that you didn't even know he left his desk. He softly touched your thigh to remind you of his presence because he knew that you were a million miles away.

"Oh! I'm sorry Peter, did I interrupt your work?" Peter's heart stung with pain as he heard the hurt in your voice because you were genuinely worried that you distracted Peter from his work. You turned your head slowly to look at him and his heart swelled because every time that you look at him, it's as if he's looking at you for the first time. Peter took your shaky hands in his and intertwined your fingers with his and placed a soft kiss on your knuckles.

"I don't care about my work; I care about you. What's got you so anxious today, sweetie?" Peter asked while he rubbed comforting circles on the back of your hand, your hands had stopped shaking. He watched as you sighed deeply and laid your head down in his lap.

"There's just so much happening and it's happening so fast, it's nothing particular, it's just well...everything. I don't know but it's breaking me down, Pete." He visibly frowns when he could hear the genuine suffering in your voice, and he knows how much it sucks to be anxious. He took the hair-tie that was practically falling out anyways and let your hair fall down onto his lap.

"Baby, I'm so sorry that you're dealing with this, but you don't have to deal with this alone." Peter played with your hair, and he could physically feel that your rapid heartbeat was returning back to its normal pace, he knows how the simplest gestures can ease your anxiety. Peter used his free hand to draw patterns on your arms because he knows how you try to do that when you want to relax.

Peter easily sensed that you are starting to finally relax, and he can feel the way your entire body is visibly softening just by the touches from your favorite person, Peter Parker.

Peter always knows how to make you feel safe, he's made mental notes of things he does that makes you feel safe, loved and at peace.

You love random displays of affection, which is completely fine with Peter because he loves to be affectionate with you. You love when he is affectionate with you because it reminds you of how lucky you are to have such a lovely person in your life.

You'd never admit it to him but he knows how much you love the pet names and compliments he gives you so he will compliment you any and every chance that he can.

Peter knows how you're not very open to talking about your feelings, but he always feels a sense of pride and love when he realizes that despite you not being open to share your feelings, he's made you feel safe and comfortable enough to share those parts of yourself with him.

Peter always loved to give you small kisses here and there just to let you know he appreciates you, but he had no idea how much those meant to you. He smiles to himself as he remembers the day that you told him how much you like his small kisses and ever since that day, he gives you random kisses throughout the day...every.single.day.

Peter was coming home from his nightly patrolling duties and he climbed through the window that led into your room, you always left the window open for him, he'd always have a place here. Peter watched in adoration as he caught the sight of you lying in your bed, with glasses perched on top of your head and a book lying face down on your stomach as you slept peacefully. He quietly removed your glasses from the top of your head and marked your place in your book (he knew how mad you'd be if he didn't) and placed them both carefully on the bedside table. He removed his suit, took a shower and changed into the spare clothes he left at your place and calmly climbed into the bed next to you.

You were a very light sleeper so no matter how hard he tried to be quiet, you were very aware of his presence. "Peter? Is that you?" He almost laughed at the sound of your sleepy voice. He moved a piece of hair away from your face and smiled to himself at the sight of your half-closed eyes and eyebrows scrunched in confusion.

God, you are absolutely gorgeous.

"Shh, love, it's okay. Go back to sleep." Peter whispered as he watched you drift back to sleep and he pulled you closer to him as you wrapped your arms around his body and he held you close. Peter kissed your forehead and whispered goodnight into your ear and you're a light sleeper so you stirred in your sleep.

"Mmm. I like when you do that, Pete". You mumbled in your sleep-like haze.

If it was anybody else, they would not even knew that you said anything but Peter being who he was and hanging onto every word you said, he heard you. Peter knew you were very sleepy and had very little energy to fight him back which was the perfect chance for Peter to use this to his advantage.

"Do what, pretty girl?" Peter watched as you hid your face in his chest and he laughed, he knew what he was doing, it was funny though because you are just too cute to not mess with. "Don't hide from me!" You begrudgingly lifted your face from his chest and snuggled closer to him.

"I like when you give me random kisses like that, it makes me feel loved and really happy." You sighed happily and began drifting off into the world of dreams.

"Oh how I love you, Y/n." Peter confessed for the first time. The corners of your lips twitched upwards as you started to feel sleep overtake you for the millionth time that night.

"I love you too, Peter." Peter placed a gentle kiss to your hairline, and he fell asleep.

You love kissing Peter; you really do but Peter discovered that you also love other kinds of things that he does to show you how much he adores you. To other people, it may seem small but to you, it was everything which meant that Peter continued to do them. You love when Peter locks his pinky finger with yours and places a soft kiss to your pinky, it's such a mundane gesture but it reminds you of how safe you feel with Peter, and he does it with so much love and devotion that you can't help but fall even harder for the brown eyed boy.

Peter can go on and on about all the things he loves about you. Whenever someone asks him if he has a favorite little thing that you do, his answer is always the same.

His favorite little thing that you do is loving him.

Peter never really had a way with words, when he really cared for someone, he would get starstruck and the words would escape him. He always felt bad about it because he has so much love to give and he wants to share it, but the words never left his lips, he would stutter because his emotions clouded his senses, and the words would dissolve into thin air. You changed that for him. When people would ask him what being loved by you is like, the words poured out of him easily as if it was as easy as breathing, he didn't have to think too hard.

Your love is so warm and comforting and being loved by you is like falling asleep next to a fireplace, on a freezing winter day while drinking a cup of hot chocolate. The feeling of your love is so special, he could talk forever about it but he knows that there aren't enough words in the entire universe to fully express how much you mean to him.

You would so call him super cheesy and a romantic, but he means it. He only became all mushy and lovey dovey because of you.

It's the feeling of his knees going weak as he locks eyes with you from across the room. It's the feeling of safety when he holds you close to him in bed at night.

That is what it's like to be loved by you.

The little things you do remind him of what being loved feels like and maybe one day, there will be a ring on your finger, a forever one.

#tom!peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker fluff #wlwprker🥀💌#peter parker #tom!peter parker x reader #spiderman #mcu spiderman

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