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#and I want to stop venting and complaining about this but I can’t so
sleepymaddy · 6 months
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iamnotoriginalphil · 2 months
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Hello, would you consider writing a unit chief Emily Prentiss x R story? Where reader has nipple piercings and one day at the air conditioner at the BAU breaks so readers in a tank top so the outline of them is noticeable. And of course Derek is the first to notice so he loudly points it out which draws the teams attention to them, and let’s just say Emily very intrigued with them. You could right smut for it if you want to but if not that’s okay.
The Heatwave
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Words: 4.3k
Warnings: choking, daddy kink, praise kink, degradation kink, strap on, alcohol, piercings
“You can’t be serious. Thursday? In the middle of this heatwave? We’re going to die.”
Listening to Garcia complain to Morgan was not helping you concentrate on the report Emily wanted on her desk. You swiped the back of your wrist along your forehead, wiping away the sweat threatening to drip into your eye. Your hair was tied up, exposing the back of your neck, begging for a breeze to come along. You needed some sweet relief or you might collapse at your desk.
Summer was particularly brutal that year. You’d been sweating on your commute to and from the office, the air con the only thing keeping you going through the day. But yesterday there had been a weird noise, a shudder in the vents and the cold air had stopped. You weren’t you’d managed to dry out since.
Wiping more sweat away, you sighed. Your tank top was doing nothing to save you from the fires of hell licking at your skin. You groaned, head thunking against the desk.
“See? Brink of death already,” Garcia said, standing behind you.
“I’m not dead,” you said, muffled into the wood of your desk.
“Yet. I’m going to have to go flirt with the maintenance guy and he always stares because he knows that I am a prime woman that he can not keep up with,” she said.
“Of course you are, baby girl. Now go work that pretty face of yours,” Morgan said.
You sighed, sitting up again. It’s not as if you’d be getting any work done with them at your desk, and nor could you nap in the heat. Just the feeling of your skin was making you feel insane.
“When are they going to fix this damned thing?” Emily said, striding out of her office, file clutched in her hand. You felt your heart skip a beat. She was hotter than the heatwave you were going through, and even sweaty, she still made you catch your breath. It wasn’t fair how sexy she was when you were a gross mess.
“Thursday,” Garcia called over to her.
“Can’t we do something about that? she asked, striding over to the huddle that had sprung up at your desk.
“Do you want to flirt with the maintenance guy?” Garcia asked.
“The one with the lazy eye or the one who always smells like cheese?” she asked.
“That’s the same person and yes, that one,” she replied.
Emily shook her head, nose wrinkled. Garcia sighed, crossing her arms over her chest then immediately uncrossing them.
“Hey, what’s that on your chest?” Morgan asked, pointing.
You looked down, not able to see anything out the ordinary. You looked back up, finding him staring at your chest. Then it clicked. You knew he’d been too quiet, and you’d been so distracted by Emily that you hadn’t noticed.
“Are you staring at my tits?” you asked him.
“No,” he said, looking up to your eye, “yes.”
You sighed, crossing your arms over your chest, much in the way Garcia had. It only pushed your tits up, making them more obvious. Garcia was openly looking, eyebrows drawing together until realisation dawned over her face. Emily’s eyes darted down then up to your face again, tongue darting out to drag along her bottom lip. The tension that had been stretching between the two of you for weeks was making you arch your back just a little, giving her a better view.
“Not that it’s anyone’s business,” you said, trying to not get flustered from the heat in Emily’s gaze, “but I have my nipples pierced.”
You lifted your chin, waiting for one of them to say something. A grin spread over Morgan’s face and you could already hear the comments. You glared, waiting for him to say something.
“The girls like that, huh?” he asked.
“They don’t hate it,” you replied.
You couldn’t bare to look at Emily. You might implode if you did. Her reaction could either make or break your ability to think around her. Although, you were hoping she was one of the girls who didn’t hate it.
“Now, if we’re done talking about my nipples, I believe Garcia has a maintenance man to flirt with so none of us die before Thursday,” you said.
You turned back to your computer, your report waiting for you. You did your best to continue working, feeling the weight of the three people standing behind you slow to move away. You were done talking about it in front of your boss, who happened to be the one person you thought about when your fingers were buried deep within you.
“Turns out flirting with Manny in maintenance did nothing. He’s called a guy from the air conditioning company to come fix it and wouldn’t give me his number so I could flirt with him,” Garcia said, stopping by your desk, “so pool party at Rossi’s tonight. You in?”
“Does he know you’re hosting a pool party at his place?” you asked.
“Of course,” she said, “bring your best bikini.”
It was a relief to change into your bikini after work. The cool brush of air on your skin before you pulled on a pair of shorts and loose t-shirt. The air con in your car was the only thing getting you through the drive, bare thighs sticking to the leather of the seat. You parked, staring up at the big house. You jumped when someone knocked on your window.
“Hey,” you said, stepping out of your car.
“So they roped you into this too, huh?” Emily said, closing the door for you, trapping you against the car. Your eyes flicked down her body, a tank top and jeans covering whatever swimsuit she had on. You hadn’t thought about the possibility of seeing her in one when you’d agreed to come.
“Are you kidding? Free pool and free drinks? Count me in,” you said.
She chuckled, those dark eyes sweeping over you. Your skin felt on fire and you couldn’t tell if it was from the heat wave or from the sexy woman in front of you.
“Earlier, at the office,” she said, that tongue you’d dreamt about dragging along her lower lip, “when you were talking about-“
“Are you two going to stand out there all night or are you going to come get wet?”
You jumped, back hitting the side of your car as you startled. Garcia was standing in the doorway, looking at the two of you like you’d both lost your minds. You laughed, trying to cover the dirty thoughts slipping through your mind at Garcia’s words.
“Come on,” you said.
You slipped past her, body brushing against hers. Her eyes were still trained on you, sweeping over your body, and you were trying your best not to read too much into it. You combed your fingers through your hair, pulling it up into a ponytail to get it off the sticky skin of your neck. With your back to her, you missed the way Emily watched you, eyes darkening and lips pulling up into a smirk.
You were quick to pick up an ice cold beer as you passed through the kitchen, plucking it from the cooler. Derek flung his arm over your shoulders, already dripping from the pool. You wrinkled your nose, shoving his arm off you.
“What took you so long?” Morgan asked, “changing into more pool appropriate jewellery?”
“You keep that up and you’ll never get out of that pool,” you replied.
“Do you have to change them to make them pool safe?” Garcia asked.
“Change what?” Spencer asked, dipping his toe into the pool, trousers rolled up to his ankles.
“My piercings. They’re the big news of the day,” you replied, “we’re not talking about this any more.”
“But you don’t have your ears-“
You shoved Reid in the shoulder. His arms windmilled before he fell forward, a large splash going up, water landing on your bare legs. You bit down on your lip, trying to keep the giggles in. They burst from you, unwilling to be contained. He was gasping for air when he emerged from the water, hair plastered to his face.
“That wasn’t very nice,” Emily chided, coming up behind you.
“I told him we weren’t talking about it anymore,” you said.
“Of course you were,” she said.
You weren’t expecting her hands landing on your shoulders, warm through the thin cotton of your shirt. With very little effort, she shoved you backwards, straight into the cold water of the pool. Your shriek was cut off as you went under.
Spluttering, you surfaced from the water. The laughter was surrounding you. You rolled your eyes, pulling yourself out of the pool, offering a hand to Reid to pull him out after you.
“Alright, point taken,” you said, “can we stop talking about my nipples now?”
“Oh.” Spencer’s face turned into a tomato.
You reached for the hem of your shirt, pulling it over your head. Wringing it out over the pool, you didn’t notice the way Emily’s eyes were lingering on your bare skin, water dripping down your body. You turned, slinging the shirt over one of the loungers, once again failing to notice how Emily’s eyes lingered where your piercings were pressing up against your bikini top.
“Alright, I’m getting another beer since mine is now at the bottom of the pool,” you said, “spoils to the victors I guess.”
Stripping your sneakers and socks off, you left them on the deck and stepped back into the kitchen. Bending, you rummaged through the ice and the cans for a bottle. You stood, empty handed, disappointment making you sigh.
“Oh, have we already run out?”
You jerked, spinning towards the woman you hadn’t heard follow you. Bumping into her, something cold sloshed over your skin. The bottle held in her hand was sweating in the warm air and the scent of beer was on the air.
“I’m so sorry,” Emily said, finger swiping through the beer clinging to your skin, right over the soft skin beside the wet fabric of your bikini.
“It’s alright. It was an accident,” you said, breath catching, heart thudding, skin heating.
“You might want to clean up. We wouldn’t want you to be so…” She raised her dark eyes from where she’d been watching her finger trail through the beer on your skin, “sticky.”
You stumbled back a step from her, heart racing. You had no idea what was going through her head but all you could think was how you wanted her tongue to trace the same route as her finger.
“I’m going to… go wash this off,” you said, slipping past her.
Her eyes followed you out of the room and this time you did notice. You weren’t fleeing but you were strategically retreating or else you might beg her lick you clean. You closed the door, giving yourself room to breathe again.
Turning on the faucet, you dabbed at the trail of drying beer on your skin. When you looked up again you found the door opening and a dark haired figure sliding into the bathroom with you. Your eyes widened when they met Emily’s in the mirror.
“Sorry. I’ll just be a second,” you said.
“No rush,” she hummed.
Reaching around you, she placed the glass bottle down on the edge of the sink, arm brushing against the dip of your waist. You stilled, frozen from how close she was, staring into her face. Lips pulled up into a confident smirk. Your teeth sunk into your bottom lip, holding your breath as she seemed to draw even closer.
“I was hoping to get you alone tonight. I have a favour to ask,” she said, voice deepening as her eyes swept down again, focusing on your bare skin and the way your hardened nipples were showing through your bikini top.
“Oh?” you squeaked.
“Will you show me your piercings?” she asked.
You stuttered over an answer, cheeks heating as the thought of showing her filled your head. Your head quickly emptied of thoughts as her finger came up, playing with the string of your bikini. It brushed up over your collarbone before gently running over your pulse point. She watched you as she gently tugged on it, snapping it back against your skin.
“Please?” she asked, voice lowering until it was an intimate whisper.
“Alright,” you said, breathless, desperate, her touch making you a mess with so little effort.
She stepped back, her hand slipping from you. You took a deep shuddering breath, reaching up to slowly pull the knot free. Her tongue dragged along her lower lip as your top slid free, exposing your chest to her. One hand came up, resting against your ribs, steadying you as she stared down at your tits.
“So pretty,” she murmured.
One finger gently tapped on the ball at the end of the bar of one of the piercings. Your sharp inhalation brought her eyes up to yours, smouldering as she did it again. You weren’t aware of arching your back, pushing them towards her but her satisfied smirk was answer enough.
“Does that feel good, princess?” she asked. That nickname sent a jolt of pleasure right between your thighs.
“Uh huh,” you replied.
She gently tugged on the other, your small whimper making her chuckle.
“Use you words, princess,” she said.
“Feels so good,” you replied.
She did it again, a little rougher. Her name was a soft sigh, arching even further, practically begging her to continue. She complied, both hands playing with the jewellery in your nipples. Your fingers clutched at the counter, holding you up as you lent backwards.
“And what do you say when I make you feel so good?” she murmured, drawing closer.
“Thank you, daddy,” slipped from between your lips, surprising you. Your eyes widened, an apology ready, until you saw the way her eyes darkened, a sharp tug on one piercing then the other making you forget why you should.
She lent forward, breath ghosting over your hardened nipples. You froze, waiting to see what she was about to do. Her pink tongue ran along the length of one bar. Your moan was embarrassing in your ears but her hands were wrapped around your ribs, holding you in place as she did the same thing to the other one. She hummed, doing it again, transitioning from metal to flesh back to metal.
The clack of her teeth against the metal startled you until she tugged again, lips brushing flesh. Your knees were turning to jelly and you were gasping for air, but she held you in place as she played with your jewellery. Your head tipped back, fingers tangling in her dark hair as you pressed her closer. She hummed again, taking your nippled in her mouth, tongue playing with the piercing.
The throbbing between your legs was growing and you could feel how wet you were. You wanted her. You wanted her so badly it was like a physical thing, lodged in your chest. The vibration of her moan while her eyes looked up at you made you make small noise in the back of your throat.
Her teeth closed on the metal, tugging on it to the point of pain curling around the pleasure. The way you moaned her name was filthy, embarrassing in how desperate you were. Her hand was gentle as it skimmed up your body for those long fingers wrapped around your throat. She tugged on your piercing again, fingers tightening just enough for your whine to be quiet.
“Now you’re going to be good for daddy, aren’t you?” she said.
“Yes,” you breathed, not even sure what you were agreeing to.
“Then be good for daddy and turn around.”
You scrambled to follow her instructions, turning to face the mirror. Your eyes were blown wide in the mirror, wild and desperate. Her fingers curled around your throat again, the prettiest necklace you could imagine. With one foot she knocked both of yours apart, her other hand reaching around your body to play with the button of your denim shorts.
“You’re so good at following my instructions,” she murmured, lips brushing the shell of your ear. You felt breathless, and not just from the tightening pressure on your throat.
“Do you see how pretty you are? Looking so lovely for daddy. Wearing such pretty jewellery for me. Flaunting this body. Do you know what you do to me?” she continued, the hand on the waistband of your shorts trailing up, playing with one of your piercings again.
“Those tight little skirts in the office, watching me like you’re just waiting for me to bend you over my desk, asking for discipline. You want me to give you my full attention, don’t you princess?”
“Yes,” you whimpered.
“And that’s why you decided to show off to everyone today, isn’t it? I noticed the way you arched your back, wanting everyone to see these pretty little piercings. Did you want everyone to be imagining what you look like like this, your beautiful body on display, just perfect for my hands to play with? Such a little slut trying to get my attention.”
Her fingers tightened again around your neck. Those dark eyes were watching you, the cocky smirk on her lips only making you shift closer, pressing your hips backwards towards her. You brushed against a bulge in her pants, confusion marring your features before realisation dawned over your face.
“Do you want daddy’s cock, princess?” she asked.
“Yes,” you moaned.
“Then beg for it.”
Her eyes met yours in the mirror, waiting with a patience you did not feel.
“Please, daddy. I want your cock so bad. I need it. I need to feel you inside me. Please,” you pleaded, “please fuck me, daddy. I’ll be so good for you. I want you so much.”
Her hand trailed back down to your shorts, unbuttoning them.
“That’s my good girl,” she said.
She tugged your shorts down, your bikini bottom following close behind. You kicked them away as she tugged her hips back, the bulge in her pants brushing against the bare skin of your ass. A small whine fell from your lips, pressing further backwards.
A finger passed through your folds, gathering your wetness before it ghosted over your clit. If not for the hand still wrapped around your throat, your head would have fallen forward with a small groan. Her throaty chuckle as she teased you only made you whine, begging her for more. She held your eyes in the mirror, finger dipping into your entrance, just barely, stealing your breath again.
“Look at how desperate you are. Such a desperate little slut begging for daddy’s cock. Pretty little whore wanting to please me.”
Her hand disappeared from between your legs and the sound of a zipper made you shiver. The warmth of her body pressed against your back. Your fingers clenched around the edge of the sink, knees turning to jelly.
She held you steady, one hand on your hip as the tip of her strap teased your entrance. She gave a shallow thrust, the strap stroking through your folds. Your breath turned shaky and her fingers tightened just a little bit more, enough that you could only just suck air into your lungs.
“You’re going to make such a mess on daddy’s cock. You’re dripping. Is all this for me?”
“Yes,” came out as a strangled groan, “all for you.”
“That’s my good girl.”
She was slow to push into you, so controlled in contrast to how desperation burned through your veins. Her dark eyes were watching you in the mirror, cataloguing the way pleasure rippled over your face and a moan fell from your lips. She pushed in to the hilt, hips flushed with yours. Pausing there, she let you feel how perfectly she filled you. You wriggled your hips, wanting more, the throbbing more than you could deal with.
“Use your words, princess,” she chided, holding you still.
“Please fuck me, daddy. Please,” you whined, “need you so bad.”
“Good girl.”
She pulled out until only the tip of the cock was left before slamming into you. The cry that left your lips would have embarrassed you if a wave of pleasure wasn’t rolling over you. Your fingers clenched, holding on tight as she dragged the strap out, pausing for too long before plunging in again.
The pace she set was relentless. Harsh and rough, she maintained eye contact with you, fingers clenching around your throat the moment it looked as if you were about to look away. Her other hand was finding its home between your thigh, circling your clit, a slow contrast to her thrusts. The mumbled encouragements in your ears were only setting fire to your bloodstream.
“You’re taking it so well for daddy,” she murmured, “such a pretty pussy hungry for daddy’s cock. My little cock slut.”
“Thank you, daddy,” you sighed.
“So polite.” She sounded so pleased with you.
You moaned as her pace picked up, slamming into you. Her thumb was grinding down on your bundle of nerves and you could feel her panting breath against your skin. Her hand was tightening around your throat, cutting off your air supply. You watched her in the mirror watching you. You met her thrust for thrust, pressing your hips back to hers. You felt so full with her inside of you, her cock emptying your head of anything but her and the way she made you feel hazy with pleasure.
“I’m so close, daddy,” you whimpered.
“No cumming without permission, princess,” she told you, not bothering to slow her pace.
You did your best, holding yourself back, trying so hard not to orgasm. You wanted to be her good girl. To do what she asked you. To please her.
“Look at how pretty your pussy is when I fuck into it. It was made for my cock, wasn’t it, princess? Made just for me to use,” she murmured, hips driving into you.
She wasn’t holding back. She was watching you, so closely, making sure you followed her instructions. From the curl of her lips she knew how hard you were trying and how difficult she was making it for you. Each thrust of her cock hit that place within you that made your legs tremble and your blood sing. Over and over, thumb grinding, the pleasure was turning painful as you held yourself back.
“Please, daddy. Need to cum so bad,” you begged, tears beginning to gather in the corner of your eyes.
“Not yet, princess. Keep making daddy feel good,” she said, “you’re doing so well for me.”
You sobbed, so close to coming undone but determined to be a good girl for her. She kept pounding into you, her praise only making it harder to hold on. With a tight grip, she cut off your air supply completely. Her eyes found yours in the mirror again, and her lips ticked up into a smirk.
“Okay, cum for me, princess,” she said.
It crashed into you the moment you let it. Pleasure ripped through you, wave after wave. You sobbed out your thanks, hips stuttering as you felt yourself begin to collapse forward. The hand around your throat kept you up as she fucked you through the orgasm.
She released you, letting you fall over the sink. Her thrusting slowed until she was sheathed within you, holding you, hands gentle until you caught your breath. Sweat slicked your skin and your breathing was uneven, but when you looked in the mirror your eyes were bright and your smile lazy.
“You were so good for me, princess. Such a good girl. So perfect for me,” she praised, “you did so well.”
She pulled out of you, the feeling of being full disappearing with her. She lowered you onto the edge of the bath, so gentle. Looking up, still with her tank top on and the cock between her legs, you found yourself staring. She’d just made you cum harder than ever in your life and you wanted her to touch you again.
With sure hands, she wetted a flannel before kneeling in front of you, cleaning the sticky arousal from your skin. You melted, watching her clean you up. You reached out, running your hand through her hair. She smiled up at you, fingers trailing over the skin of your legs. Her lips pressed to the inside of your knee and you softened.
“Was that okay?” she asked, “were you okay with that?”
“More than.” You lent forward, cupping her cheeks, “I’ve wanted you for so long, Emily. This was basically my dream coming true.”
“Mine too,” she said, looking up at you.
“Maybe we could do this again,” you said, doing your best not to worry she was about to tell you this was a one time thing. She pushed the hair that had fallen from your ponytail behind your ear.
“Oh, we’re definitely doing this again,” she said, raising from her knees, “I plan on having you in every way possible.”
You heated at the thought. She tucked her strap on back into her trousers, pulling them up and re-buttoning them. She lent forward again, catching your chin between thumb and forefinger. Her lips pressed to yours, so quick it left you wanting more.
“Enjoy the beer, princess,” she said, tapping on the ball of one of your piercings, making you hiss, “you’ve earned it.”
She slipped out of the bathroom, leaving you alone to redress and try to not look like you’d just been fucked in Rossi’s bathroom. The smile on your face was a dead give away. You fixed your ponytail and pulled on your damp clothes, watching yourself in the mirror. Picking up the bottle left for you, you took a long drink from it, your lips where Emily’s had been not so long ago. Your smile refused to dim.
Maybe the heatwave wasn’t such a bad thing after all.
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lunarpeonie · 8 months
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life with poly!geto and gojo
poly!geto and gojo argue about which side of the bed they sleep on, always with you in the middle. neither of them ever wants to sleep on the side closest to the bedroom door. satoru complains that it’s because he can feel the draft and suguru wants to be able to see the door if an intruder somehow sneaks in (unlikely).
poly!geto and gojo who like to do home improvement projects within your apartment while you’re away at work, but always make more of a mess than what they started with.
one day you came home to your two lovers in the living room, satoru standing on a ladder and suguru supervising from the floor. satoru was fiddling with the white metal air conditioning vent that was now hanging loosely from the ceiling. (not how it was when you left for work in the morning)
“what are you doing?” you can’t help the words that spill from your mouth, worried that this is going to be another expensive call to the handyman.
“weeeeeell,” satoru starts, “the vent looked a little crooked so suguru and I decided (a subtle protest came from the floor “no satoru decided”) to try and straighten it out, but I accidentally ripped it out of the wall” he says this with a bashful smile with a faint blush on his cheeks.
a sigh mixed with a laugh filters through your lips as you look at suguru. his eyes twinkle with adoration toward satoru, neither of you immune to his antics. he so desperately wanted to be the person that could do it all.
“I already called the handyman, he’ll be here in an hour.” your inky haired boyfriend laughs.
poly!geto and gojo who show their affection in different ways. satoru is touchy feely, always hanging off of you when he’s near. a hand on your thigh, arm resting on your shoulders, arms laced around your waist, somehow someway he’s going to be touching you. suguru likes to show his affection in subtle acts of service and gifts. he’ll buy a case of your favorite soda when he’s grocery shopping (even though he’s been trying to wean you and satoru off the sugar), wash the dishes even though it’s your turn, or let you have the remote when you’re watching tv on the couch.
poly!geto and gojo who are kept up throughout the misty late nights, twilight darkness outside of your windows, whispering over your sleeping form in hushed tones about their fears of protecting you. the title of the strongest duo attracted many dangers and who better to target to injure them deep into the core of their souls than you? you had attended jujutsu high with them, become a sorcerer and continued missions, but didn’t show anything close to the promise that either man did. you were a grade 2, and you were okay with that. your lovers were too, understanding that you had no desire to move up in the ranks. however, they couldn’t stop the visions of fallen comrades, substituted for your face, flashing through their closed eyes after a rough day. those nights, your boys held you extra tight.
I’m absolutely making this a series, this was so fun to write ( ˘ ³˘)♥
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luxaofhesperides · 15 days
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Ghostlight prompt: Danny and Duke being childhood friends, but Danny tells Duke the moment the accident happens and such cause he trusts him, only for Danny to go radio silent when giw decide to block the town communications in senior year.
So Duke-does he tell Danny he's Signal or not? Up to you-gets worried the longer no contact goes by.
Maybe the away game thing seen in other posts where the sports team still does away games and Danny gets enough good will with star or dash maybe and they send a message to Duke that's some coded phrase and Duke knows shits going down?
(yourlocalcorviddad, it's a side blog so didn't want to send from main sorry)
Danny is not someone who is on his mind a lot, these days. It’s to be expected, considering how distance and their double lives eat up all the time they have to talk. Really, it’s a miracle that they were able to speak enough to learn about their own individual vigilante work, especially with Duke bouncing around foster homes for a good portion of that time. 
They haven’t spoke in months but that’s normal for them.
Duke thinks he can be forgiven for not knowing something was wrong. He still won’t forgive himself for it.
“Danny’s gone?” he repeats, feeling numb. There’s static ringing in his ears, his entire world hollowing out.
The guy in front of him looks grim, unable to meet Duke’s eyes. Did he introduce himself? Duke can’t remember, can’t keep his spiraling thoughts straight in his head. “He’s gone. His entire family is gone and we haven’t been able to call for help because… well…”
“It’s those guys, right? The ones in white?”
“You know about them?”
“Danny told me. Danny told me a lot about what he did in Amity Park.”
The guy lets out a slow, relieved breath. “Good, then I don’t have to explain. Sorry, it’s just that it’s not something we talk about, especially out in the open. After the last few months, things got really bad. We know the GIW took the Fentons, but we can’t find out how or why and they’ve got us on a tight lockdown.”
“Then how did you get out?” Duke asks. Another arguably more important question pops into his mind a second later. “Actually, how do you know about Danny and… you know. The other things.”
The grimness on the guy’s expression fades away some beneath the sudden shame and embarrassment. “Oh, that. Well, I dunno how much he told you about his, like, daily life, but, um. I’m Dash. Baxter. I bullied him?”
Dash. 
Dash. That’s a name he recognizes. 
Danny’s complained about Dash a lot in the past. Since they were in middle school, really. Duke would always get mad on Danny’s behalf about how terribly he’s being treated, how no one would stop such obvious bullying. And every time, Danny would laugh it off and say in that soft voice of his, It’s alright, Duke, really. Having you care is more than enough for me.
It never stopped the bullying, though, but the way Danny talked about Dash changed when they both entered high school. He was still annoyed about everything Dash did, but there were less insults about him, less venting about every little thing that pissed Danny off about him, as if he just didn’t care anymore.
And there is, of course, the most memorable time Danny called Duke about Dash over the summer.
Hey, Danny, Duke had began, only to be cut off by Danny yelling, I kissed Dash?! Or he kissed me?! What am I supposed to do now!
And Duke, despite the jealousy he felt at hearing that Danny and Dash kissed, laughed so hard he cried while Danny yelled at him to be helpful. 
There wasn’t any discussion on Dash since, beyond a comment here and there about a funny fanboying thing Dash had said about Phantom. The focus of their conversations shifted towards how hard it was to be heroes or vigilantes, quiet reassurances that they’re both doing the best they can, tips traded about best ways to patch themselves up and get through the night. Sometimes, it felt like Danny was the only person in the world to really know Duke; all his pain and promises, his dreams, everything he was Before and who he became in the After.
He’s missed Danny, but the last message Danny sent him told him that things were getting rough in Amity Park, and to not call or contact him until he reached out first.
So Duke trusted in Danny and focused his attention in Gotham, putting his all into becoming a better hero, someone people can rely on. 
He thinks that maybe he should have fallen into the Bats’ bad habits of invading privacy to make sure Danny’s okay. 
Too late for that now, though.
“I know you,” Duke says after a long moment. “He talked about you sometimes. Come with me, we have a lot to discuss.”
Dash looks appropriately nervous, but he doesn’t argue. 
It’s a tense, quiet walk to the library where Barbara works. She’s stationed at the front desk when he arrives and greets him with a smile, eyes flicking towards Dash in question.
“Hey, Babs, got a private study room open?”
Her gaze sharpens and Duke can’t help the feeling of relief that flows through him, knowing that Oracle is ready to look out for him. “Let me check,” she says, turning towards the computer to click around a few pages. “Study room 8 is open.”
That’s the study room with a working lock and soundproofing. It also has cameras and a mic inside, but all the other study rooms have one too, just for safety purposes. Things could always go terribly wrong when people are locked together in a small room, and having video and audio evidence of what happened has assisted in more than a few cases. 
He leads them up to the second floor, past the students studying and the group of young children in the back corner of the library listening intently to a read aloud. 
The only occupied study rooms are those up front, closer to the stairs. The back rooms are empty and quiet, the perfect place for a little impromptu interrogation.
“So,” Duke says as he closes the door to study room 8 behind them. Dash sits down as if this is just a casual conversation, but the way his foot taps against the floor betrays his nerves. “Danny’s gone. And somehow, that lead you to me.”
Dash glance around, then leans closer to drop his voice into a harsh whisper. “The Guys In White got some insane upgrades a few months ago and forced every citizen of Amity Park into a surveillance state. The entire Fenton family is gone, but we all know it’s really because they want Danny.”
“Explain the situation in Amity Park some more.”
“Well. It’s like this: we didn’t take them seriously, so they upped their moves and got us trapped. No one goes in or out of Amity Park without good, verifiable reason. We have a curfew and we can be randomly stopped and searched for ectoplasm or exposure to ghosts. Most of the ghosts have left, but a few of the stronger ones hang around to cause trouble to get the GIW off our backs for a bit.”
“So how did you end up in Gotham?”
“I was invited to tour the college. And since outsiders were expecting me, the GIW let me go. But there’s definitely some that tailed me to Gotham, but I can’t find them at all. Even talking to you now is a huge risk for me.”
Which means they don’t have much time to talk before someone comes looking for Dash. His words, paired with everything Duke’s heard from Danny, paint a deeply unpleasant picture in his mind. “Are you going to be in trouble?”
“Nah, I’ll be fine. It’s Danny we’re all worried about. He told me before he got caught that if anything happened to him, I should find you. Tucker helped us narrow down where exactly you are and sent you that text to get you to where we met.”
“What do you think I can do?”
“I don’t know,” Dash admits. “But Danny trusts you, and he needs your help.”
Duke was never going to say no to this request to begin with, but damn if those words don’t make him want to run to Amity Park without waiting for anyone else.
“Okay,” he says. “Okay. I’ll help rescue him and bring down the GIW. You should go now, before they get too suspicious.”
“What are you planning?”
“I got a couple of friends who are good at destroying government property. Trust me, you’ll see what we’re up, we’re pretty noticeable if we’re pissed off enough.”
“Don’t take too long then,” Dash says, standing up, “I expect a good show from you. See you around, man.”
And with that, Dash pats Duke’s shoulder and leaves the study room. Duke doesn’t follow after him.  He’s got a rescue to start planning, and the less time he wastes, the better.
In the end, it’s pretty simple. It’s not a hard mission at all when the time comes for them to act, but the amount of data they gather and have to shift through is daunting. But that’s more Tim and Barbara’s forte, so he trusts them to handle it. 
Together with Red Robin, Spoiler, and Black Bat, they hit Amity Park hard and fast. 
One night was spent learning the lay of the land and every station and lab set up by the GIW. The second night was spent burning it all down and tossing open cages full of green blob ghosts and a few transparent, weakly glowing human ghosts. Stronger ghosts, glowing brightly, joined them in a few places with battle cries and maniacal laughter.
They split up and took down all the bases and patrol stations on their own, sweeping through the city like vengeful shadows. 
By dawn, the GIW were in shambles, without any bases or equipment, and rounded up for arrest. 
Cass was the one to find Danny and his family; his parents were forced to create weapons for the GIW under threat of Danny and Jazz’s torture. Danny was locked up like an animal and studied. Jazz had restraints on, including a muzzle, and a bloodthirsty rage in her eyes. Apparently, she had put up the most fight and, while being studied for repeated exposure to ectoplasm and radiation, started biting people.
The Fentons are big names in this conflict. Tim makes the executive decision to burn one of his out-of-state safehouses so they can hide and recover in peace, then promptly moves them into it as soon as the EMTs give them the all clear. They’re gone by the time the sun is rising over the horizon, and the curious Amity Parkers that have gathered behind the blockade of police cars have to be reassured that the Fentons have been taken away for their protection, not for further abuses. Even then, tensions are high and the locals are clearly prepared to start rioting now that they have a chance to fight back.
As vigilantes, they’re not meant to interact with cops much. Perhaps it’s simply their experiences in Gotham that keep them at a distance, disappearing into the neighborhood the moment attention shifts off of them. Either way, Duke is hurrying out of Amity Park with the rest of the team on his heels, eager to return to Gotham and follow up on their own leads to make sure the GIW is properly gutted and dismantled. 
Duke heads off for the Hatch as soon as they reach Gotham, hoping to shed the suit and finally be able to call Danny. The guilt of not noticing how bad things had gotten rolls through his stomach, and more than that, he’s missed hearing Danny’s voice. 
The first few calls go straight to voicemail. Duke leaves a quick message asking Danny to let him know how he’s doing as soon as he can talk. 
Then he goes for a shower and to change into civilian clothes, prepared to make his way to Wayne Manor to let Bruce know how everything went. And hopefully distract him from his Disappointed Father/Leader Lecture about taking on missions behind his back, as if Duke can’t handle himself. And also because Bruce has no leg to stand on when it comes to this. He’s fully prepared to throw that entire lecture back into his face at a moment’s notice.
The post-mission exhaustion is hitting him hard and fast. Duke has to brace himself against the wall once he’s out of the shower, resisting the urge to just lie on the floor and sleep there until he starts feeling more human. 
Somehow, he gets himself into some sweatpants and a plain shirt, pulls on a pair of mismatched socks, and begins gathering his things so he can get to the Batcave. 
He’s in no state to be driving. Maybe someone would be willing to take him there?
Just as he reaches for his phone to thumb through his contacts and see who he can bother, it buzzes in his hand. Duke blames the way he jumps on his exhaustion, then blinks his tired eyes to squint at the name that pops up onto the screen.
Danny.
All at once, his exhaustion fades away. A rush of adrenaline runs through him as he scrambles to accept the call, already pacing around the room so he doesn’t fall asleep. 
“Hello?”
There’s a moment of silence, then the exhale of a breath that turns to static over the call. “Duke,” Danny’s tired voice says. “Duke…”
“You doing okay? I couldn’t get to you before you and your family had to leave and go into hiding, but I’ve been worried about you, man.”
“I’m good. We’re all fine, now. Fentons are strong, you know? We’ll bounce back in no time.”
From what he’s heard about Danny’s family, that’s most definitely true. He’s seen the pictures of walls Jack Fenton has burst through with his body. It’ still hard to believe that no one in the family is a meta, outside of Danny.
“You need anything? I can get it to you, just say the word. Anything at all.”
Danny hums, then asks with a playful note in his voice, “Anything?”
“Anything.”
“I need you. How fast can you come meet me? I’ll even pay for express delivery.”
Duke laughs, so relieved at hearing the lightness return to Danny’s voice that he feels weak in the knees. “It’ll be at least two days. I gotta sleep and debrief with Batman before I can see you. It’s gonna take some time to get out of Gotham again.”
“Maybe I can go to you, instead,” Danny suggests. “Fly over and be there is less than an hour.”
“Are you in any shape to be flying right now?”
“I’m fine! Already healing and everything,” Danny insists.
“It might be dangerous if any rogue GIW agents go after you.”
“Well,” Danny says, “That’s why I need to get to my knight in shining armor sooner rather than later, right?”
Duke bites his lip to fight back a smile, blinking his eyes forcefully to keep them from closing under the heavy weight of exhaustion. “Does that make you a damsel in distress?”
“I mean, I did need rescuing, so I guess? I’m not much of a damsel, but I could put on a pretty dress for you. It’ll be like playing pretend when we were kids.”
“Oh, man, I kinda miss those poofy dresses. I think I could still rock on, put it on top of the armor when I go out for patrol.”
Danny snickers. “Signal: the most well dressed vigilante in Gotham.”
“That’s me, baby!”
The last of the agonizing fear that’s choked him since he first talked to Dash finally melts away. Danny’s fine now. Everything’s okay; the GIW are done for and there’s plenty of people willing to look out for the Fentons. This will never happen again.
“Hey,” Danny says, voice suddenly turing more serious. “Send me your location. I wasn’t joking when I said I could fly over to you. And before you say anything! I do need it; Jazz and my parents are smothering me and I just need to get away from everything and pretend all of this never happened.”
The admission softens Duke, makes him shove away everything that tells him this is a bad idea, that Danny needs more rest first, that having Danny fly over alone and without warning any of the Bats fills Duke with anxiety. 
He does miss Danny. More than he can put into words.
“Yeah, okay,” he says at last. “Come meet me, Danny.”
He texts Danny the location of the Hatch before common sense tells him to be more careful with his base of operations. Not that it matters, anyways; if there’s anyone in the world he trusts with everything, it’s Danny. 
Then he sends the Bats a quick text saying he’s crashing in the Hatch and to not bother him until the sun is fully up two days from now. Oracle gives him a thumbs up emoji, which is a good guarantee that she will personally see to it that no non-emergency messages interrupt his rest and recovery time.
Duke has no idea how long it will take Danny to get to the Hatch, so he putters around, cleaning up the space and straightening it out in an attempt to keep busy enough that he doesn’t crash. Travel really takes it out of him. It’s one of the cons of being born and raised in Gotham: he doesn’t have the stamina to travel outside of it, especially when they were there and back in less than three days.
Thank god for Tim’s many motorcycles and his tendency to see the speed limit as a weak suggestion that can be ignored while on a mission.
Ultimately, the call of sleep is too strong to resist. 
One moment, Duke is sorting through files on the Hatch’s computer, and the next moment, he’s face down on a bed with his face shoved into a pillow. 
Blearly, he manages to pull his phone out of his pocket and send Danny a typo-ridden text that hopefully gets across the message of might be asleep so just come in, don’t wait for me to answer the door.
He’s out like a light as soon as it sends. The last thing Duke registers is his phone dropping out of his hand and falling against the mattress with a little bounce.
When he begins to wake up, something’s changed. As much as he wants to go back to sleep, awareness comes back to him slowly and Duke forces himself to claw his way out of unconsciousness to figure out what, exactly, is bothering him so much. Until he figures out what’s changed in the room, he won’t be able to sleep because he’ll be worried about someone breaking in.
His mind comes back online long before his body does. It’s only when he tries to move that Duke realizes he’s no longer alone on the bed; there’s someone wrapped up in his arms, body temperature a little too cool to be a normal human.
Blinking open his eyes, Duke looks down at the head of messy black hair and feels Danny’s soft breath ghost across his chest. 
“Danny?” he manages to say, voice rough with sleep. 
Danny hums and doesn’t move.
“Hey, look up. Let me see if you’re really alright.”
“Mmm, no,” Danny mumbles, burrowing his face into Duke’s chest some more. “‘m sleepy.”
A good argument. Duke is also sleepy. 
“Fine,” he says, “Check in the morning, then. G’night, Danny.”
“Night, Duke. Thanks for saving me.”
He tightens his grip on Danny, contentment burning warm in his chest. “Always, Danny. I’ll always save you.”
That’s why he’s a hero, after all. To save others, to reach a hand out to everyone the way he needed when he was younger. To keep the people he loves safe. To make sure Danny always finds a way back to him. 
This is what makes all the pain of this lifestyle worth it.
Danny makes everything worth it.
(@yourlocalcorviddad tagging to make sure you see this!)
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mvltisstuff · 8 months
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Heyyy I was wondering if you can do a very jealous jeremiah fisher? Which turns into a angry confession and makeout session🙏🏻
false prophets - j.f
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summary: request
jeremiah fisher x reader
every day that jeremiah wakes up and hears y/n talks about some guy is another day that he wants to drown in the ocean. he’s sick and tired of waking up feeling like she’ll never want him, and that he’ll never be good enough for her. all the years she’s been coming to the beach house have been perfect, besides his burning affection toward her.
his dreams, day and night, consist of her, and then she haunts him the next morning. he hopes his acting skill are good enough to hide the feelings behind his fraudulent smile. unfortunately for him, it’s almost clear to everyone. everyone but y/n. he vents to steven almost daily, and conrad knows his brother like the back of his hand. jeremiah is hard to read sometimes, but when it comes to y/n, he’s like glass.
y/n is the furthest thing from oblivion, but everyone is completely confused as to how she hasn’t seen jeremiah’s feelings for her. it feels so one sided to her. their thoughts mirror each other. she’s a strong believer that jeremiah would never want her. he goes for people completely different, and the self-hatred just bounces back when she sees him with another. all of her friends know they’re going to end up together one way or another, but their stubbornness is the wall between them.
their interactions have become painfully awkward as jeremiah just feels sick when she talks about someone else. it’s the same with her, just wanting to run away when he talks about another girl he met at a party. and when the other gets their heart broken, they know the other could mend it back together.
the time was getting later and later, and jeremiah watched y/n empty another drink. he took turns dancing with random people, hoping to maybe get her eyes on him. he only thought about her when he was with another girl. when his hands connected with someone else, he pictured y/n.
y/n was practically torturing herself by eyeing him the whole night. it was hell, the mix of blaring music and neon lighting. when her eyes landed on a new person with him, she just grabbed yet another drink. something about the sight made her blood boil up. it was only her and jeremiah in the room at this point. everyone else was just for decoration as she stared him down.
she looked over at a boy in the corner, immediately recognizing him as someone jeremiah hates. it’s not clear why, but jeremiah gets so irked by this guy. y/n knows it’s a perfect opportunity to retort back at jeremiah. so, she walks over with the can in her hand, dripping condensation onto her knuckles.
it doesn’t take very long for jeremiah to notice the flirty language. she’s basically leaning on him, giggling and batting her lashes the way guys around cousins enjoy. the smirk on the guys face made that obvious, and his hand on her side made jeremiah shiver. jeremiah hated seeing him touching her in all the places he wishes he could.
it felt like someone had be lit, ready to explode. he couldn’t stop himself from storming over, grabbing y/n’s hand and pulling her away. he saw the annoyed look on her face, but somehow she didn’t look angry. some part of her face came across as if she had accomplished something.
“what the hell?” she complains and jeremiah can hear the drunkenness in her words.
“y/n, you can’t possible have been interested in him,” he rolls his eyes.
“the world doesn’t revolve around you and your likes, jere,” she says. “you don’t control my life.”
“well, maybe i should! i know he’s not good for you and i don’t know why you’re so blind to realize it.”
“are you serious?” y/n laughs sarcastically. “i’m the blind one?”
“you’re drunk,” he speaks the two words harshly, leaving y/n’s nose to scrunch.
“so what? i was having a decent night for once and you pulled me away from a guy.”
“yeah, why do you think i did that?” he shouts. “i couldn’t stand watching him run his hands all over you and i hate this fucking act i have.”
y/n tries to focus her blurry eyes on him, absorbing each word he said to her. “what act?”
the powder keg exploded inside of jeremiah, y/n being the spark. he took broad steps toward her, grabbing her head gently and pulling her lips against his. he immediately was confronted with the taste of alcohol on her lips, then more on her tongue. the way her hands moved up to his arm sent electricity through his veins. the loads of perfume she put on hit his nose as it mixed with the smell of his cologne. he wishes he could see her beautiful face, but with his eyes shut, he takes in the glory of kissing her.
when he pulls away, y/n sighs lightly. she didn’t want it to stop. “that act,” he tells her. “i’ve been in love with you for years and if i waited any more it would’ve killed me.”
in response, y/n just starts kissing him again, their tongues against each other and light huffing from them. jeremiah barely knew what to do with his hands. he’s dreamt about being in this position for as long as he can remember, but he hardly recalls anything from the distraction of y/n.
her lips were soft on his, but her grip on him was aggressive and claiming. her hands floated up to his scalp without stopping the kiss. jeremiah gently guided them to his car, leaning her against the door as he took in every moment that y/n was giving him. when she’s the next to pull away, she smiles at him, gazing into his blue irises. “i’ve only had eyes for you, jeremiah.”
“good,” he grins. “i’m still pissed that you were hitting on the worst person i know.”
he leans in again to kiss her, making y/n chuckle into the air. “stay mad,” she jokes.
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darby-rowe · 3 months
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maybe could we do a sub!coryo getting pegged by dom!reader and shes going super hard on him like spanking him,grabbing his hair and pulling him back against her cock? could we add some mommy kink in there too 🤭🤭
im so sorry i keep leaving my asks in the dust akskfks i write so slow im so sorry 😩
but anon this is such a hot idea. as a society we need to acknowledge the fact that coryo more than likely has a mommy kink
18+ | nsfw | mdni
cw mommy kink
coryo has a major attitude problem due to his unresolved trauma, and a common outlet he uses to vent his frustrations and express his emotions is letting you fuck the absolute shit out of him.
you can't recall how it happened the first time, but after coryo finally let you peg him, cooing in his face and calling him a good boy, he became obsessed with your silicone dick. and now you use this newfound kink as a way to 'tame' him when he's being exceptionally bratty.
you'd go out shopping in public, and you'd have to withstand coryo's complaining on how hot/cold it is outside, or how it's too crowded, or blah blah blah, etc. and by god did it get on your last nerve. was there anything in this world that coryo didn't complain about?
the last straw came and went whenever you wanted to try on a few dresses and coryo just let out the bitchiest sigh you ever heard. he didn't even say anything, and yet it made your blood absolutely boil.
so now fast forward and you have coryo on his knees in between your legs as you fuck his throat with your strap, watching his pretty blue eyes well up with tears as he gargles and gags on your silicone cock.
"that's it, baby," you purr, tangling your fingers in his soft blonde curls and guiding him back and forth on your dick. "such a nice little cocksucker, aren't ya? i guess those pretty lips are good for something else other than being a fucking brat,"
you softly wipe his tears away before plunging your cock down his throat, groaning at how hard he grips your thighs before letting him come up for air. and those wet baby blues of his never fail to get you going.
“say you love sucking my cock, brat,” you command, gripping tightly onto his hair. the whimper that emits from his throat has your knees feeling like water.
“i love…” he pants, gulping down saliva. “i love sucking your cock, mommy,”
absolutely delicious.
and one thing about coryo is that he is loud; especially when you have your cock balls-deep inside his ass, pulling him back by the hair and thrusting with everything you have. your pelvis smacks against the flesh of his ass, and he is nearly in tears from how rough you are. but it feels so, so good.
“mommy, please,” coryo babbles incoherently how good your cock feels inside him, or how you’re being too rough. his whimpers and mewls sound so fucking good coming from his swollen, spit-covered lips. “please, slow down. you’re so big. so deep. i can’t take it, mommy,”
“no, baby, you’re gonna take this cock like a good boy,” you pant, planting a hard smack! against the pale flesh of coryo’s ass. he lets out another whimper. “if you want me to slow down and be nicer, you’re gonna have to learn to not be such a fucking pompous brat. in the meantime, you’re gonna take my cock, and you’re gonna cum as many times as i see fit,”
and so you proceed to fuck him until he’s so dumb and blissed out that you can barely understand a word he’s saying — until he’s only repeating, “mommy, i can’t stop cumming”, and “my ass feels so good”, and “thank you, mommy”.
at the end of the night, you of course bring him the absolute best aftercare you can muster. you run him a bath, give him sweet kisses all over his pretty, tear-stained face, and make sure you tell him how much you really love him.
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sansaorgana · 1 year
Text
— HAVING CHILDREN WITH PRINCE AEMOND TARGARYEN (HEADCANONS)
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PAIRING — Prince Aemond Targaryen x fem!Reader
AUTHOR’S NOTE — I was discussing with my friend what kind of father Aemond would be and then I thought “hey, actually, I have to write headcanons like that”, so here we are. Recently I can’t stop writing for this man, I swear to Gods. 🙈🙉
WORD COUNT — 1,890
ENGLISH IS MY SECOND LANGUAGE.
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• Aemond was still very young, so he was a bit scared at first. He knew that marrying you for political reasons had been his duty and that having children with you was a part of that. In fact, he didn’t intend to complain about having to fulfill his duties because he was willing to serve his family and his country this way – just like his mother always had. To be honest, he was kind of excited about the idea of having children. It was just that fear that he might be too young and too unprepared that was sometimes taking the joy out of him.
• He didn’t want to be like his father in any way and he had always been treating you with nothing but respect and gentleness that seemed to be so unlike him. However, the moment he found out you would be his betrothed, he became very protective and soft around you and you were grateful for that.
• When you got pregnant, he smiled at you and nodded his head before putting one of his hands on your abdomen. “That is good news, my lady,” he only said but that was enough for you. To be honest, you were prepared for a man not even half as good as Prince Aemond was to you.
• Most of your pregnancy you spent with Queen Alicent and Princess Helaena but Aemond was often checking on you to make sure you were alright and if you needed anything, he would be the first one to get it for you.
• One time his heart froze in his chest when he saw you hurrying to him while he was at the training grounds. He was sure that something bad had to happen and he watched with terror as you were approaching him. Only while you were finally standing face-to-face, he noticed a big grin on your face. “Feel it, my Prince,” you put his hand on your bump. “The baby’s kicking,” you announced and he sighed with relief before giving you a smile so wide and sincere like you had never seen him smiling before. And in that moment you knew that he would be the best father for your child that you could wish for.
• The thing you feared the most was giving birth. You were young as well and you didn’t want to die yet. At the end of your pregnancy, you were spending most of the time in bed and Aemond was visiting you twice a day. Most of the time you were sitting there in silence since he had never been a man of many words. But sometimes you would vent to him about your fears and anxieties. “Maybe it is greedy of me, I know that my duty is to give you a child. A son. And nothing else matters, not really. Because even my duty to teach him can be easily taken over by the maesters and septas. However, I wish I was granted some time with my child. I wish I was granted to hold him, kiss him, show him the world, hold his hand, hear him laugh. If I die giving birth, I will never experience that,” you confessed the other day and Aemond froze for a second. “That is not greedy, my Lady,” he assured you as he squeezed your hand. “And I want to assure you that I will do whatever it takes for you to come out of it alive.”
• Thankfully, the labor went quite smoothly with only a few minor complications that were easily dealt with. And you were soon holding your newborn baby in your arms. A daughter.
• Her hair was very light on her tiny head and it was silver. You pressed her closer to your chest and took a deep breath in. You were proud of yourself and you loved your baby girl but you were also quite anxious about Aemond’s reaction. You knew that most men wanted boys.
• Aemond was already blaming himself that he hadn’t been brave enough to be with you during childbirth. That he had left you alone just like his father had always been leaving his mother, just like Aegon had left Helaena. So when he opened the door to your chambers and saw you on the bed, all sweaty and exhausted, with a little baby in your arms, he froze at first to stare at you in awe. And then he hurried to your side.
• “It’s a girl, Aemond,” you handed her to him when he sat on the edge of the bed. He looked like he was too scared to touch her but he held the child anyway and rocked her carefully in his arms. “She’s got your hair,” you pointed out.
• “The Targaryen blood is strong,” Aemond smiled very subtly.
• “Don’t you wish she was a boy?” you swallowed thickly while asking the question.
• “No,” was all he said, staring at the baby girl with the most loving expression you had ever witnessed on his face. You held his hand and smiled to yourself. You didn’t need him to say anything more.
• “How do you want to name her?” you asked because you knew that he would want to give her some Valyrian name and you weren’t familiar with them. However, you wanted to propose something yourself to show him how much of a Targaryen you now were as well. “How about Visenya? To honor Vhagar’s most famous dragonrider?”
• “No,” Aemond shook his head, his eye still focused on the baby girl. “Visenya was a warrior. I don’t want to name my daughter after her. Let’s name her something new. Daenerys?” he proposed and you looked at the girl with a smile.
• “Sounds perfect,” you caressed his hand.
• At first, Aemond mostly watched you and the baby. He watched you laying in bed with her for the first few weeks. He watched Daenerys sleeping on your chest peacefully. He watched you feeding her and he admired the fact that you decided to do it yourself instead of hiring someone like most ladies did. You were coming from a mother who had always kept her children close and you wanted to be like her. You wanted to spend all the time with your daughter and to build a strong relationship between you two. While her father watched and only occasionally carried her around the chamber while staring at her in awe.
• When Daenerys was becoming bigger, it was hard to only watch when she was extending her hands towards him or crawling on the carpet to tug on his clothes. Aemond would sit his daughter on his lap and watch her with fascination as she was giggling at him and catching the strands of his silver hair in her little fist. After a few moments like that she would often fall asleep on his lap with her cheek pressed to his chest and he was placing a hand on her back to keep her secure. It became his favorite activity in the evening to sit in front of the fireplace with his little girl napping on him like that.
• Aemond didn’t know much about showing affection so when Daenerys started to give him hugs and kisses on the cheek, he was quite petrified at first. After watching you for some time and seeing you interacting with the girl, he began to copy you – he started to tickle his daughter a little and kiss her forehead like you would always do.
• He also began to teach her how to talk – especially High Valyrian – and he was telling her stories about history and geography while showing her the maps. Daenerys was fascinated by those classes and she was treating them like fairy tales that were feeding her imagination.
• When you became pregnant again, Aemond wasn’t scared that much this time and he already knew what you would need and when. He was also more often spending time with you than when you had been pregnant with Daenerys. However, your fear of the labor came back and you could see that he was stressed, too. After all, he would become a single dad if anything happened to you.
• The second birth didn’t go as smoothly but in the end everyone was healthy and that mattered the most. You gave birth to a boy and his father named him Aerys. To everyone’s surprise, the boy inherited your hair color.
• Aemond didn’t even mention that at first, too happy and proud of his son. When you asked him about it, he only told you that “it is a blessing when boys are as beautiful as their mothers.”
• This time around he knew much better how to take care of a newborn baby and then a toddler. He was trying to help you more with the baby and Daenerys was following him around like a puppy since you had been spending most days in bed for some time after birth. It was quite a funny sight – Aemond was as stoic and observing as always, brooding even, meanwhile she was a ray of sunshine skipping alongside him and talking to him about girly nonsense. He would rarely engage in those conversations but he was smiling from time to time at her.
• And that would be the essence of Aemond as a father. He isn’t absent – in fact, his children are clinging to him and he is surrounded by them almost everywhere. He also often teaches them himself instead of maesters or septas. He trains Aerys with a sword and reads history books to Daenerys who sits next to him and tries to embroider. At the same time, he isn’t as affectionate as some parents because he simply doesn’t know how to be. He holds his children’s hands and when they need a hug, he is the first one to give it to them but he is not the one for piggyback rides, silly jokes or ruffling hair. Aemond isn’t very talkative either and most of the time he only listens and observes but your children don’t mind that at all. After all, this is all they have been knowing with him anyway. They adore their dad just the way he is and look up to him in many ways.
• Just like his quiet and a bit odd nature is nothing unusual for your children, the same you could say about his scar. Aerys and Daenerys are used to seeing their father without an eye patch and they weren’t even asking many questions about it once they finally realized it was not normal for most men to lack an eye. Aemond is grateful for having his little family he can be comfortable with, so he doesn’t have to wear the eye patch all the time and no one around is looking at him the wrong way.
• He doesn’t talk often about his emotions but his children are the blessing he had never been expecting to happen to him. Without him having to say anything, you can see that Aemond’s relationship with your children is a healing process for him as they are helping him to accept his painful past and move forward.
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MASTERLIST || TAG LIST IN THE COMMENTS
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himbocoups · 2 years
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˗ˋˏ YUCK! ˎˊ˗ | 18+ Only (Part One)
synopsis: how can you remain friends with benefits with someone who turns his plushies around during sex, pouts when you don't kiss him goodbye, and spends his time occupying your mind?
pairing: lsm x yn (gn afab)
genre: fluff, romance | m, smut
tags: food, character is drunk in a flashback, cursing, domesticity, fwb, sexual innuendos, university au | car sex, degradation/dumbification, dirty talk, exhibitionism, fingering, games, pet names, switch dk/reader, spitting, pnv, unprotected sex
wc: 7.62k
a/n: some grumpy x sunshine dynamics inspired by my favorite song off charli's crash album. deciding to drop this fic in 2 parts instead of one bc the length of this vs my old laptop is e***** my a**. I literally had to delete the sims 😔 kind of excited and scared bc this is my first fic on this blog so comments are deeply appreciated -nu ♡
yuck! - part two
lipglossjun's masterlist
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Bare legs intertwined and arms wrapped around each other, DK brings his head closer to yours so that your noses are only a few centimeters apart. He whispers good morning and gently kisses you on the forehead. However, instead of greeting him back, you decide to ruin an otherwise sweet and heartfelt moment by reaching above your head for the closest thing you can find and slamming it onto his body.
“Stop being cheesy. You can’t ‘Good Morning’ me after sex,” you grumble, turning your body away from his.
DK’s large and deformed bumblebee plush he frequently uses as a backrest bounces off his body and plops onto the cold tiled floor where it joins a menagerie of different plushies and discarded clothing items. DK doesn’t do anything in retaliation and only snuggles into your back, wraps his arm around your side, and pulls you closer to him.
“Fuck aftercare. I’m still horny,” he mumbles into your neck while leaving warm kisses on your shoulder. He moves his right arm to your hips and massages your waist with his thumb, pressing deeply and drawing circles into your skin.
The action is enough to make you think about going another round with him, but the scattered sounds of metal doors opening and closing in the distance tell you that it’s almost time for your morning class. You reach to the side to grab your phone from his nightstand to double-check the time. There’s a text from your friend who lets you know he has your lab coat. There’s a follow-up text from him telling you to stop fucking DK so that you don’t get a grade docked for missing lab. As much as you want to laze in bed with DK, you detangle yourself from him and sit up. He whines at the lack of warmth, but you ignore him and make your way to his private bathroom where your overnight bag hangs on one of the metal door hooks.
You can still hear him whining about his horniness as your hand reaches for the toilet paper roll beside you. Not wanting him to continue complaining, you tell him very loudly that you are peeing. You hope it’s enough to get him to leave you alone. At the same time, you hope your voice doesn’t travel through the bathroom vent duct to the other dormitory restrooms.
His whining stops.
You think he’s starting his usual clean-up routine, plugging in his white shell-shaped socket air freshener – the same linen scented one he bought once and then over and over again simply because you complimented it once in passing. He would pick up all of the fallen stuffed animals he’s collected over the years, probably apologizing to them one by one for dropping them and for having sex in front of them. It’s just who he is, and you never understood how you became friends with someone like him in the first place.
You’re blunt, a no-bullshit kind of person. If Eeyore and Squidward had a baby, that baby would be you. So, usually, people like Dokyeom would piss you off. Dokyeom is the type of person who wakes up as refreshed as the type of people in those instant coffee commercials after they have had their morning cup of dark roast. He’s bright and bubbly and too kind for his own good. He’s stopped many roommate disputes simply by tearing up while listening to his “children” – as he likes to refer to them – argue in front of him. He can’t walk to class without waving at or bumping into somebody he knows. Hanging out with people like DK sucks the energy out of you, but DK's miraculously somehow your friend.
Also, part of you knows you lucked out when you became friends with benefits with a dormitory resident advisor a few months ago. It’s convenient for the both of you – because of his single bed and bath suite, you always have a place to stay if you are still on campus late at night. Both of you two never need to worry about being too loud because his room is basically soundproof. However, that luck also meant having a partner who doesn’t understand his boundaries, has an overtly positive mindset, and treats and takes care of you like you are one of his Freshman residents.
“I swear if I get a UTI…” you mumble to yourself while you lock your phone and place it on the sink counter before you wipe. You make a mental note that you still have a few minutes before you have to head to your morning class or else you would be way too late.
When you leave his bathroom, you see he’s making his bed. The resident advisor is fully dressed and happily fluffs his pillows as if you didn’t use them to stifle his moans while riding him just a few minutes ago – not because he was too loud, but because it was seven in the morning and all you wanted to do was fuck. As you predicted, his stuffed animals are all back in place, including the ones that toppled onto his floor. The air freshener is plugged into the socket with its intensity on the highest setting. His curtains are pulled open, and the calm morning breeze gently brushes against the bright green string of pearls plant sitting on his windowsill. In his trashcan under his desk is the tied and disposed of used condom tastefully covered by empty snack wrappers and dirty lint roller sheets. It’s like he lives a double life – one that only you know and one that only his residents know.
You find a small water bottle and a granola bar on your backpack that you left on his desk chair when you arrived last night. Confused, you point at the items and turn to the man sitting on his bed. There is a big dumb smile plastered on his face despite you looking at him with a blank expression.
“What’s this?” you move the water and snack onto his desk so you can swing your backpack over your shoulder. You lean over his wooden desk to double-check and fix your hair in his table mirror.
“Some snacks,” he sings while reaching over to pull a stuffed animal onto his lap. It’s the one he often hugs when he sleeps alone. “You didn’t eat this morning,” he pouts.
“What did I say about not needing to be taken care of?” You frown while grabbing the water bottle and hesitate while looking at the bar you put on his tidy desk. “I hate granola,” you grumble, but you decide to pocket the bar before leaving.
He grabs the paw of the large brown bear he’s cuddling and uses it to wave goodbye, “Study hard.”
You flip him off before closing his large metal dormitory door behind you. His keypad whirs and clicks its automatic lock into place, and you make your way to the hallway elevators.
With each navy blue carpeted step you take towards the dormitory elevator, the wrapped granola bar crinkles annoyingly in your sweats pocket. The more you’re aware of the crinkling, the louder it rings in your ear – and it’s driving you insane. You hate the awful bright green dormitory doors, the sound of the foil wrapper, and the way DK tries to take care of you when all you want is sex. Sure, you can’t say you’re not attracted to him. You’re not the type to be friends with benefits with somebody you don’t have an emotional connection with. Yet, the man doesn’t even have a car. How can he take care of you if he can’t even drive on the freeway? To you, friends with benefits is like a drive-thru – you enter, you exchange for goods, and you exit. For a man without a car, the concept of his drive-thru just seems abstruse.
Even more annoying is DK’s stupid laminated smiling face stapled onto his large classroom bulletin board. DK’s face stares you down front and center while you wait for the elevator to stop on your floor. Below his face are hand-cut expensive cardstock letters shaped in a wavy curve spelling out A Baa-ginner’s Guide to Sleep. Under the title are several large sheep with sleeping facts glued to their centers that leap across a fence in a green pasture. You doubt anybody really pays attention to his bulletin board, but you quickly read through the facts on each sheep to pass the time while you wait for the elevator to arrive on your floor.
On the right side of the bulletin board is a tiny suggestion box nailed to the wall with a washable marker attached to the side of the box. You decide to uncap the black marker and quickly draw facial hair on DK’s face. You think he wouldn’t mind the hair – it’s nothing compared to the number of phallic pictures he had to erase on the whiteboard on his door the first month of school. If anything, he could wipe it off whenever he wanted. You cap the marker and look at his fresh goatee. The corner of your lips turns upwards and then quickly falls back to its resting position.
Your phone in your other pocket coincidentally buzzes when the elevator dings. You pull out your phone while stepping into the empty elevator and press the elevator button for the first floor. You see it’s a text from DK. He sent you a selfie of him and the same brown bear plush he was cuddling earlier. He wants you to know he’s still horny, but he misses you. A lot.
You sigh and unhook your backpack from your shoulder so you can access the front pocket of your backpack. The elevator stops at the floor below you, and you make your way to the side to let other students onto the elevator.
The weather is finally nice outside after a week of consistent fog and overcast skies, so you thought it would be a great idea to study together under the sun. However, about half an hour into studying, Jun is about twenty chapters into a webcomic on his phone, Chan is busy flicking stray ants off the thin bedsheet, and you are about to resort to using ideas from your 2014 costume party Pinterest board you archived into the depths of hell a few years ago.
“It’s giving either pick me or middle school boy whose entire personality is him being a class clown,” Chan says while laying back down on the makeshift picnic blanket you made from an old yellow bedsheet you pulled from your closet. He crosses his arms under his head for support.
Jun grabs the laptop from Chan’s lap and clicks through the options you’ve opened in your different tabs. He squints his eyes at the screen and winces at every single one while he drags his finger across your touchpad, wishing he never saw your options. He shakes his head and pushes your laptop back to you, immediately going back to scrolling on his phone.
You take back your laptop from Jun and frown while clicking on your different open tabs to peruse your options again. You thought it would be funny if you wore the themed costume you were currently going for, but your friends think it’s the stupidest thing you’ve ever come up with – and you’ve come up with a ton of stupid ideas in the past. But you couldn’t see how this simple costume gives off a “pick me” vibe.
“I just think it’d be funny,” you grumble while closing your current tabs to look for more options.
You’ve noticed that you’ve been hanging out with DK more than usual. Sometimes it wasn’t even to hook up with him. You would stay at his place to study for midterms, and the two of you would often end up having dinner or breakfast together. You’ve been in the dorms for so long that his residents often mistake you for another resident. But it’s true, DK is only a friend – albeit one who’s starting to grow on you – but he’s only a friend. What’s the use in trying to find a costume that he would laugh at anyway?
“What did I tell you? You can’t just be friends with benefits with somebody like DK. People like him want long relationships. They like holding hands while walking. They like sending goodnight texts with a cute moving sticker from a sticker pack they paid for attached to it. They consider taking you home to their parents as a date,” Chan quickly sits up to try to see your laptop screen, but immediately lays back down when his vision gets blurry. He uses it as an excuse to skip the gym today.
“You, on the other hand,” Chan turns to his side so he can see you more clearly, “just want his dick in you.”
The other friend tries to stifle his laughter after hearing the word “dick.” You groan and push Chan’s chest, causing him to fall flat on his back again. Although you have to admit, you don’t disagree with him. Getting dicked down by your friend after meeting up with him to try new dessert places he found on Instagram is an amazing experience. You could taste the remnants of his frozen yogurt flavor on his tongue while he kisses you after eating you out. Visiting new places and hooking up afterward? It’s like an extended BOGO deal that doesn’t seem to have an expiry date.
“You say that like wanting dick is a bad thing,” the other friend, Jun, who swapped his phone for your backpack, opens the front pocket to look for something fun to play with or eat that would better interest him.
He pulls out the granola bar you shoved in your backpack that sat untouched since DK gave it to you. He quickly reads the label to look at the flavor and decides to pocket the bar.
“No,” you tell him when you hear the familiar crinkle of the foil wrapper. You reach over to snatch your backpack and your granola bar back from your friend. “It’s mine,” you emphasized.
“You don’t even like those,” Jun grumbles while leaning his elbow on his knee. He huffs very loudly, making it very obvious he is sad he wasn’t able to take the snack for himself.
You roll your eyes and launch the granola bar straight at his chest. It hits him with a hollow-sounding thunk and lands on his lap. Bullseye.
“Jesus,” Chan exclaims, now sitting up. He points at the poor boy who is rubbing the sore spot on his chest with a smile on his face, “What’s with you and chests?”
You shrug, your face void of any expression. You were more of an arm person.
“But going back to Yn and DK, I honestly don’t see anything wrong with them. They’re just friends who hook up,” Jun, who is completely fine, tears the corner of the foil wrapper and pulls it downwards. He moves the remaining end that covers the sticky bar to the side, revealing the snack that lost its original shape after being tumbled and bumped in your backpack. “My last friends with benefits hated my guts. We had absolutely nothing in common too. I literally had to fuck in silence because if we talked, we would only fight. But it only lasted a while because they were only visiting the area, but damn, I definitely wouldn’t do it again.”
He takes a bite of his granola bar.
“Hate fucking can make you grow stress acne,” he casually adds while his mouth is full.
The two of you turn to him in surprise, never knowing about his revelation despite years of being friends. Jun shrugs, unbothered by your expressions, and continues to snack.
“What? I like getting my dick sucked,” he nonchalantly tells the two of you. A tiny piece of oat flies out of his mouth and onto the blanket. You flick it away before the ants can get to it, but Jun doesn’t seem to notice and continues to talk, “You gotta do what you gotta do.”
Crumbs fall out of his mouth while he speaks with his mouth full. Only after he finishes his sentence does he take time to swallow his mouthful and shove the remainder of the bar into his mouth. He swats the crumbs off the blanket and his clothes and crumples the wrapper, looking around for the nearest trashcan.
His eyes land on a group of people moving carts and setting up for an event in the distance. He could recognize the outfits anywhere from the navy blue polo with the university crest embroidered on the left chest to the regulated sand-colored khakis every worker has to wear. He’s seen someone wear that uniform more often than he would have liked. Every time he complains about how ugly the polyester polos look, his friend who regularly wears the uniform only laughs at him and waves goodbye. 
Why would RA’s need to wear sports wick fabric? Jun thinks to himself. Do they get sweaty from doing dormitory checks at midnight? 
You notice Jun silently frowning at something in the distance instead of getting up to throw away his trash. You turn your body to look at who he’s frowning at, and you see a bunch of students setting up for some university event later in the afternoon. Your eyes land on a familiar silhouette who carries a clipboard in his left hand while pointing at different places to tell his coworkers where to place the different banners and tables. You know it’s him from the crisp khaki pants he refuses to stain to the way he carries himself – the bounce in his step and the way his open hand always falls onto the shoulder of the person next to him to use as support while he’s laughing.
He’s the same person who’s too kind for his own good. You think about the time you went shopping at the mall with him and how he couldn’t bring himself to decline the offer of getting a free scrub from the skincare kiosk. You had to stare down the man into applying the product on the back of DK’s arm, but even then, DK spent the next week rubbing medical-grade hydrocortisone cream on his rash without complaining. DK still wonders about where the man is every time he visits the mall to this day. On the other hand, you would never admit to secretly taking matters into your own hand by writing angrily worded reviews on their Google page under Chan’s abandoned elementary school email he uses to sign up for free trials.
“You’re drooling for a man in khakis,” Chan suddenly disrupts your thoughts. “Check yourself.”
You blink your eyes and look around you. Jun is already long gone, Jun's trash tossed in a trashcan. Now, he’s leaning against a tree while chatting up a poor girl who wanted to read her novel in peace. The funny thing is, he seems to be doing pretty well.
Chan, who doesn’t want both you and Jun to go to the party with a date, excuses himself so he could leave to annoy and embarrass Jun. He thinks if he has to go to the party alone, then he’s dragging one of you down with him. In this case, it’s Jun.
Your mind wanders back to the costume party. You can’t do a couple’s costume because one, you and DK are not a couple; and two, DK always shows up as a slutty fireman. It was his thing. He would show up to parties already a little tipsy from pregaming. He would hug a liter bottle of chase in one arm and have a coiled prop hose hanging from his shoulder on the opposite side. His firefighter costume would hang from his waist while DK walks around dapping up his friends in a white sleeveless cotton tank with streaks of grey ash. And the drunker he gets, the more lopsided his firefighter helmet sits on his head, eventually falling off when he crashes on the couch.
To Jun, dressing up as a firefighter is probably one of the sluttiest things DK could ever do. The first is respecting women. You’re number six on Jun’s list.
Someone comes up behind you from where you’re sitting and holds a cold water bottle in front of your face. He turns it upside down and quickly flicks it upright so the water inside the bottle whirls around in a whirlpool.
“Water tornado,” DK laughs while twisting open the white cap and handing the plastic bottle to you.  
His lame party trick makes you snort. Instead of complaining about already having your own iced water, you gladly accept his water. You put the cap back on and put it on top of your backpack knowing very well that his booth would be selling refreshments for triple its wholesale value.
He sits next to you on the bedsheet that’s slightly damp from touching the grass. He stretches his legs across the blanket and makes himself comfortable by laying on his back. He asks you where Chan and Jun are, and you point at the two of them pushing each other in front of the girl. You stare at them in defeat.
“Poor girl,” he tsks.
He moves his head onto your lap and you hover your hand over his eyes to shield them from the sun. He quietly stares at you while you use your other hand to open your university login page on your laptop, not really paying attention to him.
Just then, someone calls for DK from the event area. DK immediately sits up but accidentally slams his forehead into your palm. You let out a soft laugh, and he playfully glares at you.
How dumb.
“Just saying ‘hi’ to a friend,” he yells back.
A friend.
“Give me a kiss before I leave?”
“No,” you frown at him while looking away. You were trying to get him to go back to work. It also wasn’t like you called him over. Albeit there is a part of you that is the tiniest bit of upset after hearing DK call you his friend so easily. How dumb of you.
He pouts but gently squeezes your shoulder before he jogs back to where he was setting up.
In the distance, Jun and Chan sigh while they pull out their phones to transfer money into the hammock girl’s bank account. Hammock girl bet that he wouldn’t kiss you even if nobody was near the two of you. She was right. Although, the three of them could agree that a shoulder squeeze is just sad.
He giggles when he sees your face contort in disgust after he holds the body wash under your nose, squeezing it gently so you can smell the scent. He takes it back and flips the cap closed before putting it back on the store shelf. He takes the bottle from your hand when it’s your turn to pass him your pick, but he quickly passes it back to you after he smells the scent. He shakes his head “no.”
“You don’t like this one?” you cap the bottle and place it back where it belongs. You thought the scent was fine with you.
“It’s too sweet,” DK reads the label on another product, “I feel like it would attract ants.” He shudders at the idea of a line of ants trailing in his bathroom but continues to swing his shopping basket by his side while he browses the bath products aisle.
You don’t know how DK managed to convince you to drive him to the retail store and help him with his next bulletin board design. You think it’s because he knows you drew the mustache on his face, but he suggested you shop with him for a body wash that you would also prefer using because you’ve been staying over at his place more often. You were going to decline his suggestion, but you remembered you were almost out of trash bags and condoms for your place. Because there were only so many times you could visit the health center free condom bowl without becoming one of their regulars, you agreed to his request.
Yet here you are, trailing closely behind DK under the bright fluorescent store lights where the first bottle on mostly every shelf is just a little crooked. The two of you have spent the last few minutes trying to find a scent that works for both of you. To be honest, you couldn’t care less about the fragrance he chooses, but he insists on finding the perfect one – stressing the “t” in “perfect” to the point where it came out of his mouth in a clicking sound. You were more or less focused on how his bicep bulges the heavier his basket gets – practically drooling when his rolled shirt sleeve pushes up just a little whenever his arm automatically flexes every time he adds an item to his basket. You hope he thinks you’re staying quiet because your nose is congested from smelling all of the products and not because you’ve been staring at his arms the entire time.
He taps you on your shoulder when you’re skimming the ingredient list of a 3-in-1, and you look over to see him smiling widely at you as he holds a slim opaque bottle in his hand. 
When you smell the body wash he holds under your nose, you give him a tiny nod in agreement. He immediately caps the bottle, drops it in his basket, and heads toward his next destination. The bottle rolls over in the red basket, and you briefly see the scent name while you trail behind its future owner. Its scent fits the man humming in front of you perfectly, and you can’t deny that you’re quite fond of it yourself. You decide to grab one for your place before catching up to him.
.
About half an hour later, you’re still staring at his arms while he reaches up the grab the hood of your car trunk to slam it shut after helping load the shopping bags. He seems to notice you staring as he wastes time by looking into his tote bag, pretending to look for something.
You hate him, that little minx. Of course, he knows you’re staring at him. He knows exactly how you’re feeling. He didn’t purposely press against you while reaching up for items on higher shelves for nothing. The t-shirt he’s wearing? It’s a size too small, but by god do you think it fits so tightly and so well around his body.
Between stressing about midterms and working on top of taking classes with a full-time course load, your sex drive has been out of sync with how it used to be. You and DK haven’t had proper sex in a while, and you’ve been caught thinking about sex during geology lab (out of all places). Jun was pretty sure you were harder than all of the rocks on the lab table. If one more sex scenario came into your mind, you were pretty sure a diamond would fall out of you the next time you open your legs.
DK knows how to push your buttons and rile you up – subtly and in multiplicities. But in your favorite retail store? Where you go to de-stress and bask in the free air conditioning? The same one that welcomes you with the scent of fresh buttery popcorn when you walk through its large revolving doors? Leave it to DK to ruin the one good thing you had going for you, but if you’re going to fuck DK in your car, then you are going to make him pay for it in the process.
When you shut your car door, the hanging pine tree shaped air freshener clacks with the acrylic figurine keychain Chan brought back for you when he visited Japan during the winter. DK is sitting in the middle seat in the backseat of your manual, already visibly hard and palming himself. He grabs your hand while you move towards him to straddle his lap. Your knees sink into the cushions on the sides of his thighs, and you grind yourself on his arousal, feeling him grow harder and harder under you – days of pent up stress immediately leaving your body. He places his hands on your hips, guiding your movements, groaning when you find your pace – feeling the pool of arousal between your legs leak onto his crotch.
You grab his chin, thumb stroking the stubble along his jaw. He looks back at you with his big dark eyes, and your head dips so your lips can meet his. Your lips are hard and impatient as yours collides against his over and over – mouths working in tandem as he matches your pace and fervor as you continue to grind against him, digging your hips deeper into him when your back arches. You can’t help but smile against his lips and he moans in response, against your mouth. You fill the tiny opening by taking his bottom lip between your teeth, tugging and running your tongue against his lip.
However, he pulls back to catch his breath. His hands have traveled to your ass, and he asks you in the most innocent tone while kneading them between his fingers, “But what about the cars waiting for us?”
You roll your eyes and verbally scoff at him. You point his chin upwards so he’s looking up at you. He gulps while you stare at him, your eyes burning holes into his eyes. He knows you’re mad. But his dick twitches in excitement just thinking about how you’re going to punish him.
“Don’t play dumb with me fucking slut,” the way you jeer at him sends shivers down his spine. He looks up at you with glassy eyes, staying silent while you continue to berate him. “What? Purposely riling me up and then playing innocent when you think about a car waiting for us?”
He continues to stay silent while his breathing gets harder. He can feel his pre-cum leaking out of his dick, wanting desperately for you to sink down on him.
You tilt his chin to the side so you can whisper in his ear, “I’m going to make them watch you fall apart under me until they forget why they’re waiting for us in the first place. You understand?”
He nods his head quickly, thinking about how hot you look at that moment. You reach down to stroke his arousal with your other hand still secured around his chin. He whimpers at the feeling of your hand around him, eager to do anything you tell him to.
“What was the theme that you came up with for your bulletin board?” you pout at him, faking innocence. Of course you knew his theme. It’s all he’s been talking about since you picked him up from school. The concept is a little abstract, but you don’t push him because it’s not your board in the first place. You remove your hand from his chin and slowly trace it down his chest while looking at him with playful eyes.
“S-Simon says,” he hiccups as you unbutton his pants. He bites his lip when you reach his hard-on.
You see he’s red, hard, and throbbing in the palm of your hand. There’s enough pre-cum to drip down the sides of your fingers. You languidly stroke him, relieving some of the tension built up in his stomach. He hisses in response, closing his eyes and leaning his head back against the headrest.
“Simon says to tell me what you’re thinking.”
DK draws in an unsteady breath and groans while you continue stroking him up and down, slowly adding speed. “I’ve been so horny,” he breathes. “I think about you at night. How you’ll kneel in front of me, naked, and in between my legs. How you’ll slowly kiss up my thighs, leaving wet kisses the way I like them while spreading my thighs apart because you always treat me s-so well no matter how b-bad I’ve been,” he babbles while gripping onto your shoulders, anything that he can grip onto his vicinity.
You rub your thumb over his smooth head while he spreads his thighs a little wider in his seat. You feel your core begin to throb when you hear him shamelessly groan, the sound alone stimulating you further. However, you try to keep your composure while he’s literally in the palm of your hand. 
“And…” he trails off for a bit, turning his head and not meeting your eyes. You see the tips of his ears glow bright red as he tries to avoid your stare. “I had wet dreams about you spitting in my mouth,” he mumbles while trying to hide from you despite the fact that you’re still sitting on his lap. 
The mere thought of spitting into Dokyeom’s mouth continues to feed the flame burning inside of you, so you decide to continue your game with him.
“What was that hmm?” you dip your head so that you’re hovering right above his lips. He has nowhere to turn except to face you. And when he does, you can tell his eyes are frantically darting between your eyes and your lips. You’re close enough to him to feel his breath on your lips, how his breath hitches as you continue to build his high. “What did you want me to do to you?”
He quickly shakes his head and looks up at you as if to tell you he’s being a good boy by playing the game by the rules. You didn’t say “Simon Says” before your last question. You smile and nod at him while slowly pulling your shorts and panties down, placing yourself on top of his dick. He whimpers upon contact.
You trace him along the inside of your soaked folds, and he immediately bucks under your lap. He’s sweating and very close to becoming overstimulated at this point, but he’s surprisingly enjoying it.
“Simon Says to tell you what you want Simon to do to you,” you taunt him calmly. You align him at your entrance while keeping eye contact with him.
“Please...” he mewls, so desperate that he can’t even properly tell you what he wants. It’s frustrating, and he’s frustrated. He throws a mini fit by huffing after pleading. 
“Please what?” you kiss along his jawline while he tries rutting up into you. “Did my dumb slut forget how to speak?”
You frown at his action and lift yourself higher so he can’t reach you. You cock an eyebrow at him, trying to get him to tell you want he wants you to do to him. Because, fuck, even you were getting desperate at this point (even though it is mostly your fault for prolonging it for so long).
He finally fesses, “P-Please fuck me so hard that your car ah–”
So caught up with everything, you forget about his size, and loudly moan while you bottom out on him, immediately clinging onto him while you bury your face in his neck. He doesn’t even get to finish his sentence, but he lets out a choked scream as he feels you take all of him so well and so quickly. He feels so tight, so full in you. It reminds you about how much you needed him in you these past few days. He curses under his breath, automatically pulling you into him. He kisses you with so much ardor, running his tongue around yours, that you temporarily forget that you’re only friends.
His large hands find their way to your ass again, sizing you up and guiding it up and down over and over again, making you bounce up and down on him. He groans out loud while he drowns in the feeling of him stretching you open and you clenching tightly around him, hearing the sounds of your ass slapping against his thighs. You feel so good around him, a lot tighter than usual that he has to stop himself from coming immediately. His lips temporarily leave yours with a thin line of saliva still webbed between your mouths when he breaks your kiss. You take the chance to tell him to open his mouth wide, and he quickly obeys. You grab a fistful of his hair and pull it backward. His eyes roll to the back of his head, and you spit on his extended tongue, watching the transparent liquid slowly slide down his tongue. He swallows it and sticks his tongue out again, begging for more.
“Aww,” you coo at him while he tugs on your shirt, a little habit of his when he’s needy but too fucked out to verbally beg. “Dumb baby. Did you forget you’re still being punished?”
You lift yourself from him so that only his tip remains in you. He tries angling his hips so he can be in you again, but you only shake your head at him while trapping his waist between your knees. At this point, he can only whine your name. Your name escapes his mouth in a high-pitched rasp, slowly removing one of his hands from your ass to knead himself. He slowly rolls his balls between his fingers, tugging and releasing the prettiest moans while you watch him slowly get off by himself.
“Fine. Go ahead,” you remove yourself from his lap when you realize what he’s doing. You sit on the seat beside him while you watch him touch himself despite your pussy aching without his touch. “I was going to ask you to choose between me spitting in my dumb whore’s mouth again or ride him to completion, but it seems like he doesn’t need me anymore.”
He pauses what he’s doing to look at you with big glossy eyes. His face is hot and flushed, and you can still smell his musky scent from where you’re sitting. You almost cave when you see him look at you, your heart fluttering a little. No matter how much you love playing with DK, you will have to admit that you have such a soft spot for him. He reaches over to tug your shirt sleeve, but you only shake him off. You can’t allow yourself to swallow your pride no matter how much you want to baby him.
You think he’s going to beg for you to forgive him, but he does the complete opposite. He takes matters into his own hands by leaning over you despite the cramped space. He spreads your legs while he leans in between them.
“What are you doing?” you gulp.
He hovers his hand over your core and looks at you. You immediately nod, and he rubs your nub with his thumb, slowly inserting his ring finger in your cunt. He hooks it at the right spot, immediately making you buck against his hand in response.
“A- Ah. Baby please,” you mewl at him, begging for him to pump his finger. When he only stares at you, enjoying watching you beg underneath him as you fuck yourself on his finger repeatedly, your pride thrown out the window.
“I’m not even moving my finger and I can feel you creaming around it,” he smirks while tapping the inside of you by hooking and unhooking his finger, causing the coil in you to snap as you wail his name while riding out your orgasm.
Now it’s his turn to cock his head in amusement while he watches you desperately cling onto his arm as you continue to come on his single finger. Your eyes are squeezed shut, and your mouth can’t help but hang open while he inserts another long finger into you while you’re trembling under his touch. He continues to rub your nub in figure eights while he slowly scissors your aching and swollen cunt, knowing you’re about to cum again based on how tightly you’re clenched around his fingers, calling out and mindlessly babbling his name over and over again like it’s the only word in your vocabulary.
He feels your juices leak onto his fingers and he pulls them out of you just before your climax hits, holding it up to the large rearview window to see them well-coated with your slick and glistening in the sun. He brings the same fingers into his mouth and licks them clean when he sees a customer walking past the car. He shoves them into your mouth before you can complain, and you close your lips around his fingers, sucking on them and running your tongue around each digit.
“I’m fine with playing Simon Says,” he sighs at you while you continue sucking on his fingers while looking into his eyes. “But if you say you want to fuck me so hard that other people will see, then fucking do it right Yn,” he sneers.
He realigns himself at your entrance, slowly pushing into you. His new angle allows him to drive himself so deep into your cunt that you wail out a choked sob. There are no agonizingly slow strokes as he repeatedly pounds into you, hard, giving you no time to adjust. He ruts himself into you like you’re his toy and grunts while allowing the nastiest words to come out of his mouth, making up for all the time you lost between studying up until that moment. He’s so deep in you that you can feel him in your throat so that you can’t even utter a word, incoherent, as the springs of your car squeak to the rhythm of him relentlessly pounding in you. You’re so cock-drunk that you don’t even notice you’ve came again, this time sopping wet and onto your leather seats. You wail while struggling to keep your lips around his fingers. But they slip out of your mouth with a trail of your saliva and latch around your throat. He’s intoxicating, and you can't seem get him out of your mind.
.
“Was that too much?” you ask DK while you trace a heart around a plastic stencil he borrowed from the RA from the floor below his.
The two of you are sitting on the white tiled floor of his dormitory room, tracing letters and shapes on the construction paper he picked up at the store. Pop music plays from his laptop speakers, and he has his Pinterest board pulled up on his phone. After much brainstorming and a much-needed shower, the two of you finally came up with a new bulletin theme after scrapping the last one.
“It was the first time you called me ‘baby,’” there is a certain playfulness to his voice.
He proudly holds up the four-leaf clover he made by tracing four hearts on his green construction paper for you to see.
“I’m sorry,” you apologize to him.
Your hand accidentally slips while tracing the figure when DK crawls over to your side to look at your progress, creating a jagged line around the stencil.
“Did that cross the line?” your voice soft yet uneasy. You’re not sure if DK enjoyed the experience in the car. Maybe it was too much, you think to yourself. Maybe, it would’ve been better if you waited until the two of you got to his dorm.
“No…” he sits down on the space next to you and hugs his knees loosely. He thinks about it for a while. “It wasn’t what I expected, but don’t think I hated it,” he confesses while looking at you.
He takes a stray pencil on the floor and fixes the uneven line of the heart that you stenciled. You lean over to pick up his finished clover to compare it to yours. You frown at your crooked stenciled heart, but DK pats your head and reassures you that it’s fine the way it looks. Still, you think you should’ve volunteered to help him type his bulletin board information instead of volunteering to help him do something artistic like stenciling. 
“Thanks for helping me with my board today,” he tilts his head to his side while beaming at you. You can smell his new body wash on his skin and the ocean-scented laundry softener beads he uses for his clothes.
It’s your turn to bow your head to avoid his eyes. “I told you I’d help you today,” you mumble while tracing another heart. “And I kind of ruined your original plan.”
“Yn, it’s okay. It didn’t make sense anyway,” he leans over to quickly peck your cheek. He smiles at you and lightly pinches your nose between his thumb and index finger. “Did I ever tell you that you make me the happiest?”
Someone knocks on his door, and he immediately gets up from his spot to greet his resident. You’re left sitting cross-legged on his floor, trying not to make yourself known as the resident advisor talks to the freshman with his door open. You don’t even know why you try to hide yourself. You keep reminding yourself that you’re only his friend and that there’s no shame in being his friend.
But feeling of his lips against your skin lingers a little longer than it should. It’s just a simple peck on your cheek, but it feels like your skin is burning. And for the first time in your life, you don’t complain about his kiss.
###
part two
3K notes · View notes
vanderilnde · 1 month
Text
a toxic ghoap wip i had in my drafts from months ago but will no longer be continuing. i just wanna dump it here lol
cw for misogyny, smut, (internalized) homophobia, hedonism, sacrilege, prostitution mention, ghost is an ass
pls heed all tags, this was a vent fic, and also bare in mind im never gonna finish this lmao
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Johnny's world is asymmetrical.
His world. His beginning and his end. Humvees and Dauphin 2 helis and deployments around the globe. Undercover operations, saving women and children, the comforting carbon steel of a rifle in his hands. 
It’s an unspoken stigma, but it’s there. Materialising as insults while his lads take the piss out of each other, and in the form of dishonourable discharges. 
The stigma has always been there. It has no start and no finish, so Johnny can’t remember where it came from, but he knows it was there since primary, where boys would kick girls at the bends of their knees and yank on their pigtails, squatting to the floor to get a look-see up their chequered skirts and cackle, all while Johnny stood off to the side, overtly uncomfortable. 
Mum’s complained. Teacher’s were involved. Dad’s simply said, “Boys will be boys,” and the situation was brushed under the carpet.
The stigma tailed Johnny into secondary school. His older cousin lent him a suit for formal, which prompted Johnny awkwardly standing on his doorstep with his date—a pretty lass named Rory—as his mam snapped a spate of photos. 
Johnny’s disposition was a grave juxtaposition to Rory’s. She was all grins and giggles, cantered into Johnny’s arm, while he was inelastically poised with tight lips. 
His mam wouldn’t stop pinching his supple cheeks, trying to shepherd a smile out of him. She gave up, throwing her hands in the air and wheedling them off the porch, tacking on an ornate, “Have fun, kiddos!” as they pooled into Johnny’s scrap metal car. 
Johnny felt as if he was lacking something. As if his wings had been clipped by the world a little too soon. It’s always been like that. A piece of him plucked from his wracking ribs and stolen, ever since he was a little boy. So in a lapse of judgement, in order to prove himself, to shatter the bubbling stigma, Johnny sought out the most masculine thing to offset his failure: follow in the steps of his cousin, and enlist. 
It was a rashly undertaken decision, but a decision he stuck with, because, for the first time in forever, Johnny’s old man clasped his shoulder in pride. 
But stigma was an incessant little thing. Because even in military school, it followed him closely. As Johnny’s school brothers had Playboy rafts and pin-up girls folded into their pillow cases, he would blunder upon being asked, “Who’d ye shag?” by his mate. 
In boot camp, he was a lowly private, whose hands would jade and cramp from cleaning rifles. They gave him blisters. And so his bunkmate—a nice lad from Glasgow with a crooked nose—would tend to his fingers during their lunch routine. Hidden somewhere in the corner, making jokes about their Drill Instructor. Callum, was his name. He’d swathe Johnny’s hands in gauze and garnish it with a lopsided smiley face. It always sucked, fell apart half way, but he did it anyway. 
That’s when Johnny started blistering his hands on purpose. 
Wedging his thumb in the dip of a garand and not pulling it out until it was swollen. Then he’d snivel, seeking Callum out in their barracks. There was a pull in Johnny’s stomach, half of an ebb that finished Callum’s flow. It would give him rashly undertaken ideas—such as fixing his hand in the lid of an armoury shell—for Callum to fix up. Johnny would find him among their other friends, beseeching with his cobalt eyes, holding out a hand.
In enlistment, his confusion ripened into a gravely miscalculated realisation. That it wasn't an affinity for men Johnny wanted to be—to attract ladies with his chest candy and the brandished title of military man—no, it reared its ugly head when Johnny finally became his own private. Grinning, at the time, clean-shaven and giddy as his mother snapped a spate of photos of him saluting in his new uniform, plaintively whining when she reached out to adjust his garrison cap because “It’s lopsided, pumpkin!” To which Johnny, under the searing gaze of his fellow privates, would clip, “‘Cos it’s meant to be like tha’, ma!”
Johnny didn’t know when it started. He just remembered realising how good Callum looked one day at the range—sweat sluicing down his pale neck, disappearing behind his lapels, ass filling out the space of his pants as he would squat to the ground and aim for the faraway target. Before he knew it, Johnny was seizing lights out. Using the time to sneak off to the bathrooms and cramp a fist around his leaking cock, beating his dick to the thought of him. Him, him, him. 
Johnny’s sordid thoughts didn’t emulate what his granny had planned for him—to pass down her old wedding stack once he “Found the right lass,” to bring home to her; it wasn’t what the Orthodox spiels of sermons and hymns and praise on Sunday’s drilled into him; it wasn’t what his uncle was anticipating—“Got a girlfrien’ yet, Johnny-boy? Ah, why’re ye frowning! Soon enough, ye will.”
His fantasies rivalled those of his squadmates. Because on his first tour, a summer ten years ago in the chilly expanse of Northern Ireland was a woman that approached them. Denim skirt and a mulberry red halter top. Kitten heels, sunglasses. Shiny lipgloss. She tried to ply them by batting her eyes, offering her services. She was smart. Military men always paid. It’s the desperation that got to them most of the time, a tinge of worry, and a hint of entitlement. They took the bait. Rode her back to camp and took their turns with her.
When it was Johnny’s turn, he listlessly declined and hung his head. He said he had a lass waiting for him back home—Rory—that’s the first name that popped in his head. His secondary school girlfriend in which he sobbed on when he tried kissing her. Johnny said he had a bird, just like all his other lads, with pictures of their wives and girlfriends pinned to the massive cork board in the middle of their camp. But they had no problem indulging themselves. 
They were shoving him around, calling him all sorts of names, bullying him into following them. And that’s when Johnny caved. A cacophony of hollers flared out around him as he ducked into the tent where the woman lay, thin bed sheets hiked up to her collarbones, her previous lipgloss smeared over her chin.
Johnny said, “Hi, how are you?” Because that’s what his mother taught him. She softly giggled. 
Not at him, but with his overdue respect.
Johnny shucked off his uniform with trembling hands, mounting her with his dick flaccid and stomach flipping. He remembers ruminating, “Why don’t you like it? You should like it. Love it,” but his heart leapt to his throat and his navel twisted, heart seized as the head of his cock kept slipping around her messy opening, poking her thigh. His throat constricted, dry, then slackened. A muffled sob wracked through him. Barely concealed by the threshold of his thin lips. He pushed his tongue into the roof of his mouth and buried his face in the crook of her neck, collapsing into her bare chest, furiously wiping his tears into the inflatable mattress.
Then, the body beneath him quivered. Johnny hoisted himself up, a spiel of apologies curling off of his tongue, when he realised she was crying too. The same type as him—wrung out, jaded, tired. She blindly reached out for him and pulled him close. Not reaching for his dick nor biting sensual whispers into his ear. They held each other for a little while, coalescing as their cries muffled into each other’s skin. Then, she pushed him off. Slid off the mattress and snaked her into her clothes. 
They both left the tent shaking. She was still sniffling. His lads cheered as she walked away and clapped him on the back. 
That’s when Johnny realised there wasn't a place for him in his world. Johnny shrunk himself, half the light he used to be, pushing himself into a little box as his world around him clipped off his wings. 
Now, Johnny’s world consists of something a little different. 
Something sinewy and rough around the edges. Gruff, but tactical. Calm, akin to the placid sea, but could flip a switch and emulate its choppy waters if he wanted to, too. Big, striking, with eyes that could kill a sailor. A deep timbre mandated by Manchester. Wide-set shoulders but a willowy waist, hips that sway as he walks. A macabre mask and skeletal gloves—ones that have Johnny wrapped tightly around his fingers.
Johnny grew into himself between serving in the parachute regiment to selection for the SAS. He got rougher. Learned how to hide himself better. Perfectly fit himself within the Task Force, around men who would become his best friends and brothers. He’s otherwise your normal guy. Goes to the bar with the team when they’re able. Shooting darts with Gaz (“You’ve got a Marksman badge but can’t score more than two points? C’mon, mate…”); pool with Price; and drinks with Ghost.
Beer always sloshes over the lip of Ghost’s glass when they clink their drinks. It crashes up and over the Brit’s fingers, dripping down his hands, between his thick fingers. Johnny always resists the urge to lean in close and lick the wash of alcohol glistening Ghost’s knuckles. 
But they’re just friends. Apparently. Because friends don’t fuck.
It started way down in Chicago’s heart, after another op. Gaz—ever the exploiter of his puppy eyes—managed to ply Price into stopping at a bar instead of heading straight back to base for paperwork. So they stopped at a little hole-in-the-wall, still rife with adrenaline, spreading out and all doing their own thing.
Johnny and Ghost were sat around a rickety table with wobbly legs. A spread of peanut shells around them and sticky rings of alcohol from their glasses glossing the surface. Ghost raised an arm to wipe his eyes, knocking over Johnny’s beer in the process. An expletive crossed the Brit’s tongue and he apologised, grasping a fistful of napkins and scrubbing it over Johnny’s soaked shirt. 
It ebbed and flowed in long, rough strokes. Ghost’s hand gliding over Johnny’s legs, Ghost’s middle finger and thumb snapped around Johnny’s thigh, his grasp cutting into the sinews. 
It wasn’t that different from suturing a teammate up after a mission. But with the unsaid admiration Johnny had for him, tempered by the hint of alcohol on the roof of his mouth and the hazel canopy of Ghost’s lashes, over his focused eyes, arousal quickly seized Johnny.
Ghost’s hand brushed over a tent on Johnny’s jeans. One that hadn’t been there before. He cut his next stroke from the root, pausing, and blinked up at his friend. 
The Scotsman felt a wound up spring in his stomach. He turned away, smacking Ghost’s hand, and ran a hand through his black tuft of hair, slapping both sides of his shaved heads. He felt his lungs betray him—squeezing like dried fruit and refusing to expand—to yield to his sudden heavy breathing and quick succession of heartbeats.
Johnny shook his head. Sputtering. “Lad, y’know, sometimes we can’t control ‘em–” 
The words died on his tongue when Ghost flattened hand against the bend of his knee. He was testing the waters. 
Johnny looked back, gulping, and took the bait. He inched his knee closer, until it met with Ghost’s thick leg. It’s something he’s done so many times. When he was starved for friction but couldn’t make it overtly obvious—grazing Ghost’s hand passing him a flare; knocking his foot under the table during debrief (“Sorry, lad,”); applying extra gauze to a slice in his torso just to feel Ghost’s chest throb below his fingers a little more.
But this is different. Something Johnny’s chased for so long. A tangible ghost on his tongue for a flavour he’s longed for with just fantasies while he fucked his fist late into the night. 
Ghost tightened his hold on Johnny’s thigh. “Sons of bitches, ain’t they?” 
His voice was taut. As was the muscle between Johnny’s shoulders.
They exchanged a glance. Soundless, but not wordless. Then Ghost slunk his hand down and wrapped it around Johnny’s swelling cock. 
The feeling of it—a sensation so foreign, so yearned for—penetrated Johnny’s core. It made him yelp and jerk his knee into the table, sending more beer spilling over the rim of his glass and onto his pants. 
Ghost hummed, shook his head. “C’mon, Johnny, let’s get you cleaned up, yeah?” And he inclined his head towards the bathroom in the back. 
Johnny blindly nodded, yielding to Ghost’s hold as he hoisted him from his seat. Ghost directed them through the sea of gyrating bodies and towards the toilets. They bursted inside, and the Brit pulled Johnny into the last stall. A seedy little thing, with graffiti and the ash of cigarette butts welded into its walls. 
The succeeding acts were a blip in the streamline of Johnny’s memory. He remembers Ghost shucking his pants down, then settling himself behind him. He remembers Ghost’s gloveless hand reaching around and working over his drooling cock. He remembers a voice in his ear, “What the fuck are we doing,” and a bulbous cockhead poking his ass. He remembers the shrill rattle of the stall hinges as he withered against it, trembling under Ghost’s deft hands, the finger that swept over the slit of his cock and slipped down to fondle his balls. 
Before white-hot pleasure seared his vision, Johnny remembers emptying his come into the crotch of his denims, shaking, as it dampened his pants and as Ghost commanded him to pull it back up. 
They left the bar alongside each other, meeting everyone else on the pavement. Johnny’s lips were popped open and swollen. Peeling, from how his teeth had sunk into them. His eyes were glossy and his hair was tousled in the middle of his head. He had a wet patch on his jeans.
“Oh, you are pissed, mate,” Gaz exclaimed, “I– that’s pee?”
“Spilled some water,” Ghost lied to the other teammates, “had to sort him out.”
They made it back to base within hours, signing off to their quarters. 
The next day, Johnny didn’t see him at all. 
The day after that, too; Ghost didn’t even spare him a glance.
He tried reassuring himself. Ghost hadn’t talked about men before—not in this calibre—so Johnny told himself it’s because he was digesting what rashly happened in Chicago. 
That was, until, he was paged one night. A command from Ghost to meet him in his quarters. The message was succinct: one sentence, leaving no lines to be read between. Johnny walked ambled to his room with his heart in his stomach and his blood rushing to his ears. Nudging the door open, Ghost was on the edge of his bed, legs parted, smarting denim-washed jeans and a black pullover. A simple, soft gauze balaclava. 
His eyes slid upwards first. Then the rest of his head. Ghost pinned Johnny under his smouldering gaze, then beckoned him forward with the tilt of his head. No words were swapped. Ghost simply tugged Johnny forward, between his thick thighs, and bullied the Scotsman to his knees with a hand splayed over his half-shaved head. 
Johnny’s eyes widened. He popped his lips open to speak—lips Ghost whispers his thumb over to seal shut, uprooting his words from its step. Ghost shook his head, undid his belt with a single hand, and shucked down his jeans. He palmed himself for a while, watching Johnny’s eyes sheen over, before pushing his boxer-briefs scarcely over his meaty thighs, pinching the head of his cock. 
Ghost didn’t even bother pulling his balls out. Just his dick—long, thick, a comely vein running beneath it—better than anything Johnny’s ever wanted. Better than the images he’s fucked his fist to, memories of Ghost, freshly out of the shower after sparring, his thin towel outlining the barest hint of his dick. 
Johnny reaches out, but Ghost swipes it back. He tuts and softly smacks his cock against Johnny’s ruddy cheek, watching as a string of his precum connects to Johnny’s face. 
“How bad do ya wan’ it, Johnny?” Ghost had prompted, swiping his cockhead over the Scotsmans lips, then pulling it back whenever his jaw readily slacked. 
“Real… real bad, Lt.” He breathed. 
Ghost tapped his cheek again. “Open.”
And so Johnny did. Like it was second nature, like he’s been wanting for so long. Waiting for so fucking long. 
Johnny’s lips popped open and closed around Ghost’s wet tip. He swirled his tongue around it, clumsy in his movements, teeth grazing Ghost’s skin.
He winced. “Easy…”
Johnny blinked in a rapid succession, nodding, sucking him in a little deeper, mindful of hollowing out his cheeks and relaxing his jaw. Ghost’s eye twitched, hands digging into his tuft, hanging his head back, softly bucking his hips up into Johnny’s mouth. 
“Atta boy, Johnny, fuck– where the fuck’d you learn this, eh?”
Johnny replied with a gargled purl of precum and saliva coalescing in his mouth, gagging over the wide girth splitting his jaw open. Ghost laughed, his gloved hand settling on the scruff of Johnny’s neck, pulling him a little closer; sinking his cock a little deeper, rutting his pelvis into his squadmate's pliable mouth.
Ghost cums. Johnny laps it all up. And in an undertaken lapse of judgement, rises to his feet, puckering his frosted lips, ready to hike Ghost’s balaclava above his nose and share his taste with him. But Ghost set a hand to Johnny’s face, shaking his head. He tucked his softening cock back into his pants.
That was the first instance Johnny disregarded. One he ignored in favour of indulging himself in something he yearned after for years. He didn’t realise his grave digging began there—when he witlessly nodded in response. 
And from there, it became a cycle. It was always on Ghost’s call. Never Johnny’s. When Ghost wanted his dick sucked; when Ghost wanted a wet and tight hole wrapped around his cock. Johnny knew better. He knew he was being shepherded into something bad, but he couldn’t help himself.
Trembling under Ghost, his whole world encompassed by the Brit’s towering stature, was all that mattered to him. Getting spread over a cock he’s wanted for so long, a long ways from the taboo fantasies that’s collected cobwebs in his thoughts for so long.
Johnny was less of a teammate, more of an outlet for Ghost to exhaust his frustrations into. Even then, it was a pill Ghost had trouble swallowing. As if he’ll acknowledge it, and a relationship will materialise. So he stays still—fucks Johnny like a dirty little secret then turns the other way. 
Johnny tries talking to him. Tries telling him he struggled with the same thing. That he isn’t alone and that he belongs here. That there’s no shame in it. 
Simon collapses Johnny’s pleads with a final, resolute bark. “I ain’t gay, mate. You’re a friend helping a friend.”
-
basically it ends with Simon shepherding Johnny into some hedonistic, one-sided relationship. Johnny just accepts it bc if Simon wont love him, he’ll do it by proxy, because hes all fucked out and desperate for him🖤🖤
157 notes · View notes
ch-4-eri · 9 months
Note
i’ve annoyingly developed a deeper love for aaron taylor-johnson, and that means james potter too since he is the best fancast
could you please write a little james fluff? nothing in particular, just in dire need of a cute james moment 🫶🏻
Pairing: James Potter X fem!reader
Summary: James breaking his glasses after a rough day and he’s a big big mad baby.
Warnings: James yelling at reader, small fight, cussing, fluffy fluff.
“Oh no!” You heard your boyfriend in the other room, his gasping followed afterwards.
You stopped reading, looking up. “James?” You called for him as he walked in the living room, broken glasses in hand. “Jamie, what did you do?”
“I was laying down without them and I went to turn and there they were, under my back, ah fuck me!” James exasperated as he threw them on the table and went back to your shared bedroom, slamming the door shut.
James broke numerous glasses, whether it’s at quidditch practices, the running he does, at the gym.
Yet he never reacts this badly, he usually laughs it off and stays without them, squinting until he’s got free time for you both to go pick up a new set with his prescription at the ready.
You frowned and got up, placing your book on the table, knocking at the door just in case it’s his ‘stay away from me’ time.
“Jamie? Can I come in?” You asked, the other side of the door completely silent, you decided to just walk in as you saw James with a hand over his forehead, his eyes closed. “Baby, what’s wrong? Is it the glasses?” You mumbled, walking in and closing the door behind you.
Climbing on bed, his dark eyebrows furrowed together in a frown as he shook his head. “No, but they surely made me feel worse.” James rubbed his eyes, knowing he couldn’t see you well.
“Awh babe, what’s wrong?”
“Shitty practice, it was god awful.. and I had to break my glasses so I can be blind for the next two days, I’m so crabby.” James grumbled, shoving his face back into his pillow. “Come on, no.. tell me, come on Jamie get up.”
You put your hands on his strong shoulders, trying to move him up to talk to you but you had zero physical strength to deal with James or his shoulders. So you smacked it instead. “Get up, and talk to me.. what’s with practice? You know you’re the best there so what’s gotta ruin your mood that badly?”
James sighed and flipped to look at you, the bed creaking Beneath you, his eyes looking more tired without his glasses but you liked how you can see his hazel eyes so clearly, he usually never cleaned his glasses.
“The team is a bunch of idiots who can’t do shit.” James cussed as you gasped. “Oh, now that’s bad.”
“Don’t mock me.” James angrily stated, his eyes shooting daggers at you and you realised just how crabby he was.
“I’m not, I’m sorry.. come on babe, I’m sure you’ll deal with it.”
“Of course I’d deal with it, can’t I talk to my fucking girlfriend about it? Am I not allowed to complain? I don’t want to be happy James that actually can see all the time, this is what you’ve got right now so deal with it.” James spat as your eyes widened.
“Woah woah woah, let’s take a step back, relax—“ you started before James interrupted you. “No offence, but I really don’t care.”
“Fine, I’m leaving, vent to the stupid pillows, it’s my fault I wanted to make you feel better.” You jumped off the bed before James smacked you with a pillow, you knew he was messing with you so in return you messed his hair up, really aggressively as he held your waist to get you away.
“Stop!”
“You’re being a bitch, rot in your own sadness until you’re ready to talk.” You spat as he pushed you gently away from his hair, you rolled your tongue out at him, going back to your spot in the living room.
You scrolled through your book for another hour before you saw James, out of the bedroom and coming your way, a pout on his beautiful tanned cheeks as he went on his knees and hugged your waist, his head against your tummy.
“I’m sorry.” He mumbled, his hands holding you closer to him. “So, are you ready to talk?” You asked, moving a hand in his hair gently as he relaxed against you.
“Yes, I’m sorry baby.. I do care, I care about you so much.” He looked up at you, your heart ached at how adorable he looked, and how tired and hazel his eyes looked, more green than brown as you leaned in and kissed him.
James kissed you back with a strong hand holding your face and the other around your waist. “You’re sure you’re not in a foul mood anymore?”
James chuckled, his face reddened before he shook his head, his curls bouncing as you moved your hands in them. “No, I’m fine.. just a little bit annoyed that I can’t see you properly.”
You laughed, ruffling his hair gently, making him laugh. “We’ll get you new ones tomorrow, is that good?”
“We better.” James chuckled before he sat next to you, moving you back by the shoulder so you lay on the couch and he’s a big baby, laying his head on your boobs.
“Jamie, you know I need them not to pop, okay?”
“Shush.”
633 notes · View notes
xcherricutie · 3 months
Text
➤ Messy
Vegeta x F!Reader
Warnings: None
Word Count - 1.5k
Summary - Vegeta is a clean freak with anger issues and pent up emotions, and decides to take it out on you for fun.
Notes: This is my first time posting here. I am from Wattpad, so I don't know tumblr etiquette, apologies.
“Your habits are disgusting and you’re a mess.”
He would follow you around and criticize you for what felt like hours on end. It was enough to drive anyone mad, and he did it to you on purpose. He was a man on a mission, out to make your life as miserable as possible. That’s just how it was, being acquainted with the prince of all saiyans. It didn’t matter if you tried to avoid him, he would find you, and he would let you know of every flaw in your life. Almost as if he took a sick satisfaction in seeing you wallow in your own misery and insecurities. 
“Vegeta, her house is none of your business,” Bulma scolded with a harsh glare, slapping your discarded napkin out of his hand. You hadn’t had the time to clean up your living space before Bulma and Vegeta dropped by, unannounced. You didn’t mind surprise visitors, but Vegeta was an exception. Every single time he came by, which had become noticeably more frequent, you made absolutely sure that he could not find a single reason to complain or nitpick. You were simply thankful Bulma was there to keep her dog on his leash. 
“Sorry for the mess,” you forced through grit teeth with a smile, before your face relaxed as your eyes landed on Bulma. “What brings you here? You’re not one for random visits.” 
“Right, sorry,” Bulma chuckled, brushing some strands of her azure hair behind her ear, glancing over at Vegeta as he tip-toed through the specks of dirt in your carpet. Bulma rolled her eyes at the dramatic saiyan, sighing. “I need you to keep an eye on him. I don’t really trust him to be alone at Capsule Corp., and my mom and dad are out on vacation. I’ve got a big workload on my hands and can’t deal with him right now. I’ll pay you good, I promise.” 
You wanted to say no. You wanted to tell both of them to get out of your house and never come back. Babysitting Vegeta could have perhaps been Bulma’s most unreasonable request for you. He had not been on Earth for long, and yet had antagonized you more than anyone. You rarely even showed your face at Capsule Corp. anymore because of the man. And Bulma was your best friend that you visited nearly daily for years. She knew how much you hated Vegeta. 
And yet, when she pulled the wad of cash out of her pocket, you immediately found yourself agreeing to the impossible task. Bulma’s payments were usually unreasonable amounts, as if the stack of paper zenni she handed to you was less than allowance money for her. It felt wrong to take, but what could you say? You were living independently in the city - you needed any cash you could get. Even if it meant spending a day with the most annoying being in the universe. 
As soon as Bulma had left, it was not long before Vegeta started to act up. He almost acted like a prepubescent boy at times, unable to properly convey his feelings, resorting to anger to vent. You had even made a point to clean up around the house so he wouldn’t feel so uncomfortable, but some of the things he complained about were unreasonable. 
“The geometry of your living space is poorly designed, woman,” Vegeta commented as he stood in the midst of your living room, looking around at the furniture. You rolled your eyes as you vacuumed the carpet, tuning his voice out. 
“Nobody is stopping you from just leaving. You hate all of us, I don’t understand why you continue to torture yourself on this planet,” you muttered, unsure if he heard you over the vacuum. You didn’t care much if he did or not, barely having the energy to speak to or at him. 
“I’m waiting for Kakarot to come back to this miserable planet. But I’m starting to doubt he will,” Vegeta said as he placed his hands on his hips, searching for more things in your house to nitpick about. You had done a pretty good job hiding things for him to complain about. 
“Maybe he’s avoiding you,” you said with a smirk at the idea. You would not blame Goku one bit if he was avoiding the entire Earth because of Vegeta’s presence. Vegeta did not find your comment very funny as his head whipped to your direction, glaring harshly. 
“Then I would track him down and drag him to this miserable planet to humiliate him in front of his loved ones,” Vegeta sneered, lip raised in a slight snarl, as if the mere assumption were the most offensive thing he’d ever heard. 
“Is it really that hard to accept that somebody doesn’t like you and doesn’t want to see you? I really don’t understand you, Vegeta,” you stood up straight as you turned off the vacuum, turning to glare at him. “You antagonize people on purpose, and then get mad when everyone leaves. What do you want from us? Why won’t you just leave?” 
“My business is none of your concern, woman. I suggest you close your mouth and not utter a single sound from now on, unless you really want to see what antagonistic looks like. I could put you through a world of misery with words alone, I haven’t done anything to you yet.” Vegeta’s harsh eyes stared into your soul, as if knowing you weren’t going to listen. He had been here less than a year, and yet knew you would not stand for such nonsense. 
“This is my house! I suggest you shut up if you know what’s good for you, asshole!” You yelled, leaning closer to his face. His warm breath hit your face as he scoffed, looking down at you as if he were so high and mighty. He was barely three inches taller than you.
“I could destroy you, and this house, and this whole planet in a matter of seconds if I wished. Your empty threats mean nothing to me, human.” Vegeta smirked down at you. That was your breaking point as your hand moved on its own. Even Vegeta found himself shocked by your sudden movement as your hand left its mark across his cheek, its shape searing into his cheek. Head turned from the sudden force, Vegeta stared at you with wide eyes, as if to let his brain process the attack on him. You expected him to blow up. You needed to gain control, fast. You would rather your house remained intact by the time Bulma returned. 
“Wh-What’s with the surprised look? Didn’t think a girl could hit you? Bet you’re completely smitten, huh?” Your face lit up like a lightbulb, cheeks burning as you smirked, watching his every muscle movement. You didn’t even mean for the words to escape your lips, but as they did, you knew you were dead. “You want to kiss me so bad, huh, Vegeta?” 
You saw the blush bloom across his cheek, making your hand mark burn ever brighter. That was the first time you had ever seen an emotion other than anger or pride on his face. But the view did not last long, as you suddenly found your vision obscured, his large frame right in your face, his lips connected to yours. This was an unexpected development, to say the least. 
His touch sent lightning through your nerves as his hands uncharacteristically gently slid up your arms, gloved fingers brushing over your cheeks. His kiss was soft, as if to show you everything he had been unable to get across before, many emotions flowing through one small touch. That one small touch, however, began to grow more desperate as Vegeta grabbed your shoulders, firmly pressing his lips to yours. Your scent was intoxicating, and every little jolt of electricity to his nerves sent him spiraling through his pent-up emotions even more. 
It wasn’t until your palms were pressed to his chest, trying to push him off, that he broke from his much-needed kiss. You stared up at Vegeta in surprise, watching many emotions flow through his dark pupils, before he finally came to his senses. You were pushed away, although much softer than you would have expected, his warmth pulling away from you as he left you standing there. He plopped down onto the sofa, sinking into the cushions as he crossed his arms, avoiding meeting your gaze. Your eyes stayed glued to him for a moment longer, before you let out a silent scoff, smiling in amusement. 
Vegeta had not uttered so much as a word after that. No more comments on her habits or appearance, no more jabs at her life and home. He had sat silently at her side, stealing glances at her every once in a while as she read her book in peace. And perhaps it was the cleaner environment, or just something in him beginning to bloom, but you looked much better than when he had shown up. 
And you weren’t sure if it was just the sunlight hitting him at just the right spot, or if he just looked like this when he wasn’t constantly raging, but Vegeta had a different look about him, almost a glow. Perhaps he wasn’t as bad as you had originally thought.
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rhettabbotts · 1 year
Note
Lavender Haze smut 8 and 71 with Bob! Congratulations btw! ❤️
i touch myself - bob floyd
pairing: bob floyd x fiancée!reader
summary: being away from bob is hard, even if it is just for a couple of weeks.
w/c: 1.3k
warnings: 18+ only. smut. afab reader. phone sex. dirty talk. masturbation. a little dash of subby bob.
prompts: “i can’t sleep without you here.” “y-you’re not.... w-wearing anything under that are you?”
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When Bob had to travel home for what was supposed to be a few days, you thought you could handle it. Those few days turned into nearly two weeks and you missed him terribly. You wanted to go with him, you really did, but you couldn’t afford to miss work and you were still house training your new puppy.
You spoke to Bob every night. He would call and listen to you vent about work, humming every now and then. He would complain about his aunt Ruth, how she still pinched his cheeks even though he was nearly 30. You smiled lightly, thinking about how it doesn’t bother Bob at all when you do the same.
It was a few nights before Bob was due home. You were nearly itching to be in his embrace. Your phone started ringing as you were rubbing lotion up and down your legs after your shower, signaling that you had an incoming FaceTime. Bob’s photo and name lit up your screen and you couldn’t hide the grin that erupted on your face.
“There’s my pretty wife,” Bob exclaimed, the apples of his cheeks flushed pink.
“Not your wife yet, Bobby,” you uttered matter-of-factly but your heart fluttered at the sentiment.
“Gonna be my wife soon, though.”
His hair was a little disheveled and his eyes were hooded, a telltale sign he’s been drinking. You knew he had been out with some childhood friends that night and you knew how Bob handled his alcohol. A couple shots of tequila and he was a goner. You set the phone up on the bathroom counter to finish your nighttime routine.
Bob rambled on about his time at home, mentioned several times how much he missed you and Apollo. His glasses were slightly askew and you knew he was laying in his childhood bedroom. The Star Wars posters were a dead giveaway. You loved listening to Bob talk. His slight accent was stronger since he had been home and you couldn’t stop the heat that coursed through your veins.
You braced your elbows on the counter and Bob stuttered, stopping mid-sentence. He had a perfect view of your breasts from your robe dipping and your lips quirked up in a grin at the way his eyes widened.
“You okay, baby?” You asked, knowing the answer.
“Y-you’re not.... w-wearing anything under that, are you?”
God, he was adorable. You shook your head and stood up straight, playing with the silk tie of the robe. He moved up in his bed, clearing his throat and straightening his glasses. You loved the effect you had on him.
“I miss you so much, Bobby,” you whispered, pressing your back against the bathroom wall and letting your fingertips graze down the column of your neck. “Do you miss me?”
“More than you know,” his voice was pinched, a roughness to it.
Oh, you were going to have so much fun with him.
Your fingertips made their way down your chest, brushing them over your hardened nipples through the soft material. The sensation causes your eyes to flutter shut and a whimper to slip from your throat. You could hear Bob’s labored breathing through the phone and when you opened your eyes, his gaze pinning you in your spot. You weren’t sure if it was residual heat from the shower or the way he was looking at you, but you felt dizzy.
“You know what I’m thinking about right now? I’m thinking about how good your hands feel. God, baby… Just wish you were here.”
The shoulder of the robe fell, exposing your right breast and you heard Bob inhale deeply. Bob loved every part of you but he always paid special attention to your chest. He loved getting his hands on them and you knew this was sweet torture for him.
“Here’s what’s gonna happen, Bob. I’m gonna touch myself while you watch. And that’s all you can do is watch. I don’t want you to come until you’re home and inside me. Is that alright?”
You weren’t dominant or demanding often. It wasn’t something you were used to but sometimes… sometimes the feeling just overtook you. Especially when Bob sounded so pretty when he whimpered and whined.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Good boy.”
Hastily untying the belt and letting the scrap of fabric fall to the bathroom tile, you stood bare in front of your fiancé. The blacks of his pupils swallowed the cerulean blue entirely. His thin bottom lip was tucked tight beneath his teeth. You would never go a day feeling like you weren’t beautiful when Bob always looked at you like he was now.
You moved your hands to your breasts again, pinching the stuff peaks of your nipples until your back was bowing away from the wall. You wanted to close your eyes but Bob’s gaze kept you locked in on him. He had taken his glasses off at this point, and had moved higher against the headboard. He was enjoying the show.
You could feel the wetness pooling between your thighs as you continued your ministrations on your chest. You ached to touch your wet heat but you wanted to drag this out, wanted Bob nearly begging to see you.
“I love when you play with my tits, baby boy. You just love getting your mouth on them, don’t you?” You asked, smirking at the sound of his punched out moan. He was gripping the headboard railing to keep his hands off himself.
“Love it so much, sweetheart.”
“Oh, I know you do, baby. M’so wet for you, Bob. Should I touch myself? Show you how turned on I am?”
He whimpered loudly, chewing on his bottom lip harder and nodding eagerly.
Your fingers slowly slid down your sternum, tickling your lower stomach, before settling between your thighs. The first touch to your wet cunt made you jolt, a low moan escaping you without warning. Your index finger traced lazy circles around your clit, collecting the wetness and displaying them to Bob. His chest was heaving, mouth agape. His tongue slipped out, licking his lips and whispering your name.
“You want a taste so bad. I can tell, baby boy. Can’t wait until you’re home so I can ride your face. You always look so pretty between my thighs.”
You were clenching around nothing, your body begging you to fill your hole. The angle was awkward but when you worked two fingers inside, you melted against the wall. You thrust them in and out, curling them to brush over that spot that made you weak in the knees. You stayed silent for a while, letting out moans every now and then. Your eyes never left Bob’s. He looked like he was in near tears from how turned on he was.
His intense gaze and breathy whines led you to reach down with your other hand to rub your bundle of nerves once more. You were close and Bob knew that.
“Sweetheart, please. Please cum for me. Wanna see you.” His voice was gruff, laced with lust.
“Bobby, baby. Oh- oh god!”
Your orgasm washed over you in a wave of ecstasy. It took everything in you to stay upright, your legs turning to jelly as you came down from your high. As you opened your eyes again, you felt chills run down your spine at the look in Bob’s cobalt eyes.
You cleaned yourself up in silence, slipping the robe back on and moving to the bed to get settled for the night.
“I really do miss you. I can’t sleep without you here.”
“I know, my love. It’s just a few more days though. And then you’ll be begging to get rid of me again,” Bob said, smiling sweetly at you.
“Never. I’m never gonna let you go. Love you, Bobby.”
“Love you forever, my sweetheart.”
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roryzlittles1ut · 2 months
Text
Euronymous head canons (again) and ofc it’s Rory Culkin 🧍‍♀️
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SFW:
He walks around with his hair tied up (omfg). Literally most of the time he has his hair up in a ponytail or a messy bun as he wears his corpse face paint.
Blasts his eardrums with loud metal music. Half of the times, he complains how his ears hurt in a whiny but deep voice.
“What did you say?! I can’t hear, sweetheart! N-no I didn’t. I didn’t..maybe? Fine, I did maybe loose my hearing.”
He loves cuddling you while watching a horror movie (which is canon bc he did it in the goddamn movie). He thinks you’d get scared easily, so he holds you close.
Idk if I said this in the first one, but he takes you to his concerts. As he’s playing his guitar, he wouldn’t look at anyone but you. He’d smirk and wink at you, making a little sexual hand gesture.
He tells you how much he misses Pelle (Dead). He doesn’t like telling his friends or band members how he actually feels, so sometimes he just vents to you.
Matching Halloween costumes (guys I need this so bad). One Halloween, you guys would go as two skeletons as you guys just go to a bar and make out most of the time.
He might walk around the house shirtless (idk if I said this). But he just might walk around shirtless and stares at you with a tiny smirk.
He gives you quick cheek kisses just randomly. He always wants you to know he loves you, so he’d just kiss you on the cheek.
NSFW:
He definitely takes photos of you guys having sex, especially when he cums on you. He loves looking at the photos over and over again. He knows he won you when he looks at his cum all over you.
Public sex. There could be a day where you guys are at a bar and he gets really horny, so he grabs you and takes off his belt, and takes out his dick. He slowly pulls down your bottom (whatever you wanna wear) and fucks you. He doesn’t do it rough, since he doesn’t want it to be obvious.
“Fuck, baby. No no no, shh..stay quiet. Stay quiet. I don’t want anyone seeing or hearing us..”
After you guys fucked, he won’t stop talking about it to his band members, especially Varg since he gets all the pussy in his opinion. He won’t ever let it go.
He just might buy you lingerie, just because he loves your body, and he loves how sweet and petite you look. He doesn’t even take it off half the time when he fucks you, he just moves the panties so your pussy/cock/asshole is exposed and fucks you from there.
Did I say he fucks you with his corpse face paint on? Idk I think I did but I just had to mention it. When you guys are making out, the face paint smudges onto your face, and he thinks it’s so hot.
He probably sends you dick pictures, expecting explicit photos from you. He really wants to see you, and tease you too.
Aftercare! He gives you a nice, long shower and tells you how good you were for him. Sometimes, you guys just sit in the shower or tub and just cuddle. He falls asleep in the bath, since he’s so exhausted from that intense moment with you.
“You did so good. God, that was so much fun. I didn’t..fuck you dumb, right? Not too hard? No? Good.”
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konniesreality · 8 months
Note
Hi, okay, I just have to complain a bit. And if you have some tips to me, like for example “try doing this”, “or this”, or “take a break, you silly goose”; I am quite open to those.
Okay, I know for a fact that the void is real. I know that entering is easy, however.
I’m actually getting frustrated that it feels like I’m procrastinating like this. Like, I’m not really procrastinating, since I’m trying, but I could put in more work.
The dumb thing is that I have this feeling I can enter the void any minute now. I guess what’s stopping me is the feeling of not being confident in the sleep methods, because my ego can’t find it normal to command the subconscious to yeet me into this meditative state. Awake methods at night gives me super dry eyes- my tear canals just says “bye” and leaves. Hurts like a butt cheek on a stick, and it’s just overall an inconvenience to me.
I feel like a failure.
Oof, I’m sorry for venting to you about this. I just don’t really know what to do, and you’re my comfort blogger, so yk. Idk
It’s okay, and I’m glad you find me as your comfort blogger. The truth is, even if you deny it, you guys have over complicated this WAY to much. I understand there are certain things that are hard to believe, and I understand the procrastination thing. I want you to get off of tumblr and read this. Take the information and GO
1. Lay in a comfortable position.
2. Breathe in and fill your belly with air, then breathe out at your own pace, continue until there are no thoughts.
3. Affirm “I AM” do not condition this awareness just affirm I AM.
4. Then you’ll be in the Holy Nothing. It should take 10 minutes or less. Don’t focus on time, or symptoms.
5. Affirm and come back
See? It’s easy and simple. Just relaxing, so stop procrastinating, get your dream life honey I’m rooting for you 💗
You can get into the void with open eyes, put a sleeping mask over them (idk what you mean by dry eyes)
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in1-nutshell · 4 months
Note
Okay… I have a request..
Beast wars waspinator finding a sparkling in an abandoned escape pod. I just like the idea of waspinator as a dad and his sparkling just adores him.
Waspinator has to be one of my favorite Predacon's in the show! I'm glad someone remembers him!
Hope you enjoy some good sparkling and Waspinator antics!
Waspinator finding an abandoned sparkling
SFW, Familial, Cybertronian/ Bot reader
Beast Wars
Sparkling bean’s beast mode is a fuzzy moth.
Waspinator has a history of having bad luck thrown upon him.
He just can’t seem to catch a break from the blaster shots from the Maximals or the constant feeling of being overlooked and being mistreated by the Predacons.
When he comes across the abandoned pod, the scan had been completed. The pod had opened with a hiss. Waspinator had raised his blaster in case whatever in the pod decided to attack him.
All he heard was soft cooing. Slowly he approaches the pod and looks inside. A little sparkling with large optics looked at him.
They were so cute!
“Wazzpinator confused. Why zzzo cute?”--Waspinator
Giggly bean noises
Waspinator is melting inside at the cute little giggles. He couldn’t leave the little guy out here. What if someone else got him? What if the Maximal’s got them?! He wouldn’t be able to shoot the little thing!
Now he is making his way to the Predacon base with his new companion. He knows that the base isn’t exactly the best place for the sparkling, but maybe this is his ticket for proper recognition by Megatron!
“Okay little Buddy. Being good for Wazzpinator. Wazzpinator needs this.”--Waspinator
Giggly sparkling noises
Turns out Megatron just acknowledged that found something to give the Predacons an edge over the Maximals and ordered Terrorsaur to bring the sparkling to the lab for Tarantulas to take a look at it.
Waspinator did not like this idea at all. Not at all. He didn’t want Little Fuzzy Buddy anywhere near that Spider! What if Tarantulas decided to dissect them? Or worse, eat them!
But they were orders… so he hesitantly gave the sparkling to Terrorsaur. The sparkling made some little clicking and whirling sounds, almost mimicking a whine. Terrorsaur made them face him.
“Such a small little pest.”--Terrorsaur
“…”--Sparkling
“Why are you looking at me like that?” --Terrorsaur
“WWWWWAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!”--Sparkling
To everyone’s surprise the sparkling started Shrieking bloody murder when they were in Terrorsaurs arms. Waspinator could bear it, and quickly took them back. As if a switch were flipped they stopped screaming and giggled looking at him.
Giggly sparkling noises
“What is the All Spark was that?!”--Terrorsaur
“Wazzpinator don’t know.”--Waspinator
“Never mind that. Scorponok, get the sparkling, yes.”--Megatron
“All right Megatron. Come here little guy.”--Scorponok
“WWWWAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!!”--Sparkling
“Never mind take them back!”--Scorponok
Once again, they started screaming until Waspinator held them again. After everyone regained their hearing again, Megatron appointed Waspinator to oversee the sparkling. He doesn’t fight or complain about his new job, in fact he gets a bit happy that Little Fuzzy Buddy isn’t going to leave him.
Now that Waspinator is overseeing the sparkling, he is going to do his best for this sparkling.
Constantly keeping an eye on them. He knows that the Predacons should not be trusted and doesn’t want the sparkling to grow up with them being their top influence.
“Buddy! Buddy! NO DO NOT GOT INTO THE VENT!!”--Waspinator
“Buddy eats fuel please? Please for Wazpinator?”--Waspinator
“Wazpinator is taking Buddy out of base for a bit today.”--Waspinator
He does try to get them out of the base from time to time. Usually saying that he was teaching them the ways of the Predacons.
“Yes. At least their someone here that still believes in the Predacons cause. Yes, the future is bright.”--Megatron
Meanwhile Waspinator and Buddy are bird watching out in the fields.
He works hard to make sure he has enough time to give to the growing sparkling. Especially when the sparkling made their first transformation into a fuzzy moth.
“Yes! Yes! Yes! My baby izzz flying!”--Waspinator
Sudden realization that he has become a parent hits.
He hates going on patrol and leaving them behind in the base. Yes, there are other Predacons that look after them when he is gone, but that still doesn’t make him feel any better. Honestly would rather have the Maximals looking after them. And has considered it.
Lucky for him though after the first 3 times of the others looking ab=after the sparkling, it was decided that Waspinator not leave the sparkling until they grew out of the habit of screaming.
“Oh thank the Primes the screaming has stopped!”--Tarantulas
“Wazzpinator here!”--Waspinator
“Take it! Take the spawn of Unicron out of here!”--Terrorsaur
“Well, thatz not very nice thing to say to Fuzzy Buddy.”—Waspinator
The sparkling had reigned down their terrifying shrieks on any unsuspecting Predacon within a 10 feet radius.
As the sparkling gets a bit older and Megatron slowly becomes more deranged, he does eventually come across a crossroad. To stay in the Predacon ranks, continuing to live in fear and pass that on to his kid. To become neutral and risk both sides to fire on him, or worse his sparkling. Or to defect over to the Maximals.
Waspinator knocking on the door of the Maximal base with Buddy in one of those baby straps.
Optimus Primal opening the door.
“Wazzpinator creator now. Wazzpinator wants to be a Maximal now.”--Waspinator
“What?”--Optimus
Waspinator moving inside.
“Where Wazzpinator put bags?”--Waspinator
Confused Gorilla noises
It ends up with him defecting to the Maximals. Dinobot had vouched for his former teammate and bought his sob story and wanted a better life for his kid. While everyone was weary of him at first, thinking this being a trick, they eventually relaxed and got to know their new teammates. This makes Waspinator very happy.
Finally, a place that he knows this sparkling won’t be in danger every minute.
He still can’t believe that once upon a time he didn’t have them in his life. Counts his lucky stars to being able to have them here.
Maybe this was a way the universe was apologizing to Waspinator for all the years being in the Predacon ranks.
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Text
Jealous
A/N- Got high. Wrote a fic. Here you go. I also want to try and make this a two parter to give myself some more practice with smut, but the second part probably won’t be out for a while 😅
You can read part 2 here 🖤
Summary- Eddie complains about a girl at school who absolutely will not stop bothering him. It was cute at first, but as it’s gone on it’s just gotten more and more creepy and annoying rather than a little schoolgirl crush. She decides to stop at the trailer for a ‘surprise visit’ while you’re over hanging out and decide to help Eddie by getting rid of her. And it makes him want you so much more.
Genre- Fluff, eventual smut
Warnings- Stalker-ish actions from a side character
Tag List- @imagine-all-the-imagines @hellfirewh0re @paola-carter @whiplaaaaaaaaash @ladyapplejackdnd @thatlonelypieceoftoast @efvyqrs @tayhar811 @wistfulwisteriawitch (if you’d like to be added please let me know 🖤)
Words- 2.0k
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“Ugh! She just doesn’t stop!” Eddie groaned as he leaned his head back over the couch, his hands covering his eyes in frustration.
“I mean don’t get me wrong i kind of liked it at first, and it’s not like she’s not attractive or anything, but she’s just so. Fucking. Annoying.”
You giggled as you sat back on the other side of the living room sofa, the movie you two planned on watching was playing on in the background as Eddie moved the conversation to telling you about his newest problem.
Her name was Kimberly.
“Why don’t you just tell her to leave you alone?”
“I’ve tried! She just keeps coming back, i think she just assumes i’m playing hard to get or something but i don’t understand how she can’t just get the hint.”
It was funny to see how frustrated she made him, and he looked pretty cute when he was this angry, but you could tell how fed up he was with this girl continuing to try and weasel her way into his life.
You’d noticed little things here and there around school, and you had to admit you found her pretty annoying too.
She’d walk right up to your table during lunch, interrupting whatever conversation you and the boys were having to push you to the side and sit herself next to Eddie and ramble on about whatever nonsense she came up with for that day. Of course all while ignoring the dirty looks she got from you and the other Hellfire boys.
She’d try and stay after on Fridays just in case there was a chance that she could sit in on Hellfire, no matter how many times you’d hear her say how the game was ‘stupid’ or ‘childish’ around her friends, but it would be a whole different story if she got to be near Eddie.
Typically you and the guys would make fun of Eddie for having his own little ‘groupie’ follow him around like a lost puppy, but hearing him vent to you about her was something completely different. He didn’t think it was funny or cute when she would interrupt his conversations or try and get in the way of you or the other guys, or when she started walking around with him to his classes during the passing periods, or even when she decided it would be a great idea to act like the two of them had some kind of relationship so any time he talked to you or any other girls she would step right in the way and be all over him. It was creepy, it was weird, and definitely crossed the line when she decided to start showing up at the trailer unannounced.
“Fuck, it’s gotten that bad?”
The whole scenario made you feel bad for him. If it was a guy doing things like that to a girl they’d be called out immediately but of course when it’s the other way around people think it’s just a funny joke.
“Yep.” Eddie sighed and shook his head, “I had to start telling Wayne to answer the door and tell her i’m not home just so she’ll go away but she still comes back! I honestly don’t know what to do (y/n)…”
You could see how her actions were affecting him, and it hurt to see that this girl just couldn’t take the hint and leave your best friend alone after hearing countless times that he doesn’t want anything to do with her. And then you started thinking back on all the times Eddie helped you when guys were giving you the same creepy ‘affection’. He’d see some guy talking you up and making you uncomfortable and he’d immediately rush over with his arm around you, pretending he was your boyfriend and threaten them off if they kept their act up. It was finally time for you to repay that favor.
“You think she’ll show up today?”
“Probably! It’s like clockwork, she’ll show up every other day in the afternoon and just knock and call for me for like 15 minutes! I usually just ignore her.”
“Why don’t you let me take care of it if she shows up.”
“How are you going to do that?”
Both of your attention was turned to the front door of the trailer, hearing a few rapid knocks on the door before a high pitched voice called out,
“Eddie!”
He groaned but tried to stay quiet to not alert her of his presence,
“Speak of the fucking devil.”
“Eddie, open up!” Her squeals we’re like nails on chalkboard, “Your van is out front so i know you’re home!”
“Don’t worry, i’ll take care of her, give me your shirt.”
Eddie looked at you a bit shocked,
“What?”
“Your shirt! Give me your shirt and go wait in your room.”
He rolled his eyes but he quickly pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it to you before quickly making his way into his bedroom.
You pulled your own shirt off and replaced it with his, quickly undoing your bra and tossing it onto the couch. You shed your jeans and tossed all your clothes behind the couch so she couldn’t spot them before smudging your makeup and messing up your hair, taking a deep breath as you prepared yourself to open the door to the she-beast named Kimberly.
As you opened the door, her quick knocks ceased and her eyes went wide.
“Can i help you?” You asked her, your eyes darting up and down at her.
“Who are you?” She looked at you up and down as you did to her, dodging your question completely.
“I’m (y/n), i’m Eddie’s…” You paused for a moment, “friend. You are?”
“Kimberly. Where is he?” She stood on her tip goes to try and see over your head into the trailer, and you moved your body to lean against the door frame.
“He’s…” You turned to look down the hall into Eddie’s room, seeing him poke his head out to see if you’d gotten her to leave yet, “a little preoccupied at the moment.” You leaned in a bit closer to her and whispered, “He was feeling a little tired…”
You crossed your arms over your chest and she fully took in your outfit. Panties, Eddie’s shirt, and she could tell you weren’t wearing a bra from the gentle outline of your nipples through the shirt. She crossed her arms over her chest to try and seem a bit more intimidating to you but it didn’t phase you. You knew that deep down she was angry, jealous even of seeing you in such a state, knowing what could’ve possibly been happening moments before you answered the door.
“Can i at least come in and talk to him?”
“I don’t think so, he usually doesn’t like to be bothered right now.”
“How would you know that?” Her tone became angrier and snottier to you, knowing your plan was working perfectly.
“Well, usually he’ll ask me to come over and help him with a little problem he has every now and then.” You giggled to yourself, “Or i guess you could call it a big problem.”
She was growing more and more jealous by the second, having to hear you talk about how easy it was for you to get what she’s been wanting from Eddie for so long.
She huffed and you looked back down the hall, seeing Eddie smiling has his head poked out his doorway. He was hearing your whole conversation and he could tell that it was finally getting through to this girl that he wanted nothing to do with her. And though he loved hearing you finally tell this girl off, he loved watching you do it too.
Seeing you standing there in his oversized shirt and panties, and his eyes widened once he noticed your bra hidden behind the couch. The thought of your bare chest being covered up by his shirt was enough to make him need to adjust himself in his jeans.
He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about you like this before, i mean everyone thinks about fucking their best friend every now and then right? There’s nothing wrong with it. At least to him there wasn’t anything wrong with wanting it.
He could hear how impatient Kimberly was getting at the door, and he was hoping you were able to finally get her off his case once and for all.
“Well i don’t think he’d mind if i just came in to say hi-“ Kimberly said as she tried to shove her way past you to try and get inside the trailer, but you put your arm up to block her from getting any closer.
“I think he would mind, actually.”
She gave you the dirtiest look she could muster and Eddie figured now would be the perfect time to step in and get her to finally leave the two of you alone.
“(y/n)!” He called out from his bedroom, making you and Kimberly turn your attention to down the hall, “Who’s at the door?”
“No one!” You called back to him, a sly smile on your face directed right at Kimberly.
“Well then hurry up and come back to bed!”
You bit your lip and giggled, trying your best not to burst out laughing. Kimberly stood there and she let out a hurt gasp, almost like Eddie had betrayed whatever trust she thought she had earned from him.
“Sorry, i guess i’m needed elsewhere.” You turned your attention back to Kimberly, “Nice meeting you though!”
You quickly shut the door and watched through the window as she finally left in a huff. Your lips curled into a smile and you could feel a gentle warmth behind you, a gentle tickle on your neck,
“Is she gone?” Eddie said from close behind you, his chest pressed up against your back, and though you couldn’t tell if it was intentional or not you could feel the slight bulge in his jeans pressed up against your ass.
“Yep. Hopefully for good now.”
You let out a surprised squeal as Eddie picked you up into his arms, squeezing you tightly against him and gently shaking you around as he hugged you, and you couldn’t help but giggle.
“Finally! Ugh, fuck i could kiss you right now (y/n).”
“Hey! Just cause i’m wearing your shirt doesn’t mean you get to kiss me, i like to be treated like a lady first, and you should have the decency to act like a gentleman.”
“Yeah i guess you’re right,” He finally set you down into his lap as he sat back down onto the couch, “i suppose i owe you that much. Friday?”
You smiled and furrowed your eyebrows at him,
“Are you asking me out?”
“Sure am. Come on, it’ll be fun, i’ll cancel Hellfire and you and me can do something. Just us.” He smiled at you as he saw your blushing cheeks.
You wrapped your arms around his neck,
“Yeah, why not,” You placed your hand onto his cheek and brought him closer to kiss the other side of his face, “i’d like to see how much of a gentleman you can be.” You said, pinching his cheek.
You laughed with one another before quickly realizing the position you were in.
Eddie was still shirtless, you still had no pants on, your arms were wrapped around his neck and his were around your waist. Needless to say, it was the closest the two of you had ever been before, but it was nice to be this close. He was warm, comforting even, and though his arms were only at your waist he kept you so close to him like you were going to fall.
“Hey, um…” He paused for a moment, and you thought you could see the faintest tinge of pink on his cheeks, “Can we stay like this for a little bit? It’s nice…” His thumb moved back and forth on your hip and you smiled up at him, quickly placing another kiss onto his cheek.
“Yeah… I’d like that. On one condition though,” You loosened your grip around his neck and pulled one of the blankets across the end of the couch over the two of you to keep yourselves warm, “i get to pick the next movie.”
He smiled and pulled you in close to him, placing a kiss to your temple,
“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
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