#please pretend the anatomy is good guys

[chaoticgremlinbrainspace]

the guys

they are vibing

#grem art #pokemon submas #submas #emmet and ingo #pokemon emmet #pokemon ingo #the brothers ever #man hope nothing bad ever happens #please pretend the anatomy is good guys #subway boss emmet #subway boss ingo #heehee

[floralcyanide]

𝐁𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐃𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐫𝐞 ✲ 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐞 𝐖𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐞𝐫

Virgin!Charlie Walker x AFAB!Reader (NSFW)

You go to your friend's party not expecting much from it. Except, while there, you run into Charlie, a guy you've known all your life but have never got to know. One of his secrets is revealed, much to his embarrassment. You go to comfort him, and one thing leads to another. (both Charlie and reader are 18+.)

warnings: smut, nsfw, loss of virginity, mentions of virginity, penetration (p in v), unprotected sex, oral (f receiving), nipple/breast play, hair pulling, overstimulation, mentions of alcohol, drinking alcohol, reader is kinda experienced but just barely, afab!reader, descriptions of female anatomy, Charlie and reader are 18+

word count: 4890 (I'm,,,, yeah)

author's note: hello I cannot believe I typed most of this out today. I was possessed by the writing demon fr. I also can't believe it's as long as it is but ya know,,, I gotta give y'all the Charlie smut you wanted. so here it is. if you enjoy, please reblog/ like (:

masterlist | add yourself to the taglist here

this fic has been cross posted to ao3.

ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ, ʀᴇᴘʀᴏᴅᴜᴄᴇ, ᴏʀ ᴄʟᴀɪᴍ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀs ᴏɴ ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ, ᴀᴏ3, ᴡᴀᴛᴛᴘᴀᴅ, ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏ ᴡᴇʙsɪᴛᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴘᴇʀᴍɪssɪᴏɴ ᴛᴏ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ɪɴ ᴀɪ ɢᴇɴᴇʀᴀᴛᴏʀs ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴅᴏ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀʀᴛɪғɪᴄɪᴀʟ ɪɴᴛᴇʟʟɪɢᴇɴᴄᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴀʏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ᴛᴏ sᴇʟʟ ғᴏʀ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴡɴ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛɪᴏɴ.

Playing truth or dare wasn’t on your list of things to do tonight at this party, but it may as well happen. 

You’re sitting criss cross on the floor of the living room, your back pressed against the front of the couch. Your best friend decided throwing one of their iconic parties before Spring Break would be fun, and they begged you to attend. And, of course, you couldn’t say no to them. So here you are in their living room with a Smirnoff Ice in your hand, waiting for someone to spin the bottle on the floor again. It only landed on you twice, and you picked truth both times. The questions were relatively tame, but the drunker everyone in the circle got and the more people who joined, the rowdier it got. You notice a guy you went to primary school with sitting across from you, with his forearm casually resting on his knee as he sips a beer with his free hand. He pretended to be looking elsewhere whenever a sexual question was brought up. Good old Charlie, the quiet and polite kid who was always good at math and oddly enough, film class. You two had been in school together since Kindergarten, and now you’re in university together and have yet to really talk. Sure, you’ve run into him at some places or have seen him around campus, chatting with him here and there, but nothing has ever broken the surface. You’ve yet to have a meaningful conversation with him. Both of you were partners in science class during your junior year of high school, but you weren’t close by any means. You push away your thoughts when you realize the bottle has now landed on you.

You take a large swig of your drink, “Oh boy.”

Luckily, your best friend is the one who spun the bottle. You hope whatever challenge or question they shoot at you will be tolerable. 

“Alright, Y/N. Truth or dare?”

“Hmm,” you think about this one momentarily and decide on a whim, “Dare.”

Your best friend eyes your still fairly full drink, “You just got iced! I dare you to chug the rest of your drink.”

Getting “iced” means if someone sees you holding a Smirnoff Ice, they can “ice” you by saying you have to chug the rest of your drink no matter how full it is. It’s a trend around campus, and it annoys you to no end as you drink Smirnoff Ice sometimes.

You roll your eyes and sigh, “Fine.”

Taking a deep breath, you begin chugging your drink. Thank god it’s your favorite flavor and not something stronger. Everyone is chanting for you to chug, and you do, trying not to laugh at how embarrassing it is to have all these people watching you. Some of the alcohol dribbles down your chin when you finish the rest of the bottle. The circle cheers, and the people next to you pat you on the back while everyone else gives a thumbs up. You feel a little rush to your head as you carefully place your hand on the bottle in the middle of the group, prepared to spin it. Once it lands, it lands on your other friend Kirby. You’re somewhat surprised she’s even playing truth or dare with you all, but you weren’t going to stop her.

“Truth or dare, Kirb?”

“Dare, of course,” Kirby smiles deviously, a little tipsy from whatever is in her solo cup.

“I dare you to kiss someone in the circle. It can be anyone,” you say after pondering for a moment.

It was a mild dare compared to some of the ones people have created in the group. Someone dared one girl to take off her shirt, and someone else dared your best friend to shotgun from the guy next to them. Now your best friend was buzzed on not only alcohol but some weed as well. So you’re somewhat shocked they didn’t choose a wilder dare for you to do.

Kirby looks surprised you’d choose a dare that consisted of anything intimate, but she shrugs it off before leaning toward Jill. You’re also surprised Jill is in the circle, but she claimed she just wanted to watch people embarrass themselves. Until the bottle landed on her for the first time, now, she’s slightly drunk and in the game. She and Kirby kiss for a few seconds, but you doubt it’s the first time they’ve done so. Kirby pulls away as some guys holler at the sight. She flips them off before spinning the bottle. This time, it lands on Charlie. A part of you fears for him because Kirby can be unpredictable.

“Truth or dare, Charlie?” Kirby asks, tapping her chin excitedly.

“Uh,” Charlie furrows his eyebrows, “Truth?”

Kirby grins like she had been hoping he’d choose truth, “When was the last time you got blown?”

“Blown?” Charlie asks, a little confused.

“Yeah. Blown. Like, a blowjob. When was the last time you got one of those, Charlie?” Kirby asks seriously, and everyone is paying close attention to what Charlie is about to say.

“Oh. I don’t know? I’ve never really,” Charlie clears his throat, “I’ve never really done anything like that.”

“Really?” Kirby asks, shocked, and a few people giggle.

“How about you ask a different question?” Charlie says, shifting around nervously.

“Okay. Are you a virgin?”

More people in the circle laugh, and everyone looks directly at Charlie, making his face go red as he curls into himself.

“That’s enough, Kirb,” you say gently, your eyes flickering between her and Charlie, “Maybe ask something not sexual in nature?”

“Right. Sorry,” Kirby cringes, but Charlie is already moving to get up from where he’s sitting.

You go to say something to him as he steps around you to walk to the kitchen, but he moves too fast.

You pinch the bridge of your nose, “Kirby, I know you like making Charlie squirm, but that was uncalled for.”

“I didn’t mean anything by it. I didn’t know he was a virgin,” Kirby frowns, staring into her drink.

“Maybe you should apologize,” you say, “I’ll go talk to him first and make sure he’s okay.”

“That’s a good idea,” your best friend nods.

You stand up and try to collect yourself for a moment as the alcohol makes your head swim. That Smirnoff was your third tonight, and you can tell that chugging it was a bad idea. But your vision clears, and you begin to walk to the kitchen. There are a few people crowded in there, talking and drinking. But no sight of Charlie. You wander to the patio and spot him sitting on the porch swing outside. You quietly open the sliding door and shut it behind you, walking toward the swing. 

“Hey,” you say, almost inaudible as you sit down next to Charlie.

“Hi,” he says awkwardly, tucking hair behind his ear as his eyes burn into his thighs.

“Are you okay? Sometimes Kirby doesn’t know when to shut up,” you roll your eyes, shaking your head at your friend’s behavior.

“I’m fine. It’s just not something I wanted everyone to know,” Charlie chuckles lightly.

“I understand. If it helps, I didn’t lose my virginity in high school like everyone, either. But I’m glad I waited until adulthood if that makes sense,” you say, trying to relate to Charlie a little.

You were in your sophomore year of college when you had your first serious partner, which led to you, of course, having sex. You were about to be 21, and felt like you had waited forever by that point. But the peer pressure and movies made sex seem totally different from what it actually was. But you were glad that you waited until you were more mature. Not everyone does, and you think that’s okay, just as long as there was consent. 

“Really? You didn’t lose it in high school?” Charlie finally turns to you, his face twisted into confusion.

“I was about twenty on twenty-one. Not long ago, but yeah,” you shrug, pushing your legs so that the swing moves slightly backward, “It’s not all it’s cracked up to be- the sex stuff. Honestly it’s nothing like porn, tv, or the movies. It’s awkward and silly and sometimes uncomfortable.”

Charlie nods slowly, “What is like, then? For someone with female anatomy, anyway.”

“If you're, you know, prepared, it doesn’t hurt. It’s like a feeling of fullness and then when they find the g spot with their fingers or whatever, it’s even better,” you feel your face burning at the thought of it all.

“G spot?”

You dare to look Charlie in the eye, “Yeah it’s a spot inside the vagina that gives you pleasure when it’s caressed or pushed into,” you give him an awkward smile.

“Oh,” Charlie laughs, “Sorry if I’m making you uncomfortable or anything. I just don’t know much. I mean I know the basics, but,” he trails off, looking at your lips for a moment before tearing his eyes away.

“Basics, hmm?” you lean in toward Charlie, letting your knee touch his as you push the swing with your feet, moving it backward again, “What would those be?”

“Like where to touch someone kind of? I mean I’ve seen videos but none of that is real,” Charlie says, his face now slightly red.

The alcohol still burns in your veins, making your brain feel happily cloudy and a little braver than usual.

“And where would you touch someone?” you ask, now letting your thigh completely press against Charlie’s, your bodies now closer in proximity.

Charlie lets his shoulder touch yours, “Well, I know some people like being kissed on their ears,” he turns to you again, tucking some hair behind your ear softly.

“Yes,” you nod, slowly reaching your hand up to the ends of Charlie’s hair, “What about here, Charlie? Know anything about hair and what you can do with it?”

Charlie hesitates, “You can pull hair because some people like that.”

“Do you like it Charlie?” you look up and notice how close your faces are to one another, letting your eyes dart from his lips to his eyes.

“I don’t know, really. I feel like I would,” Charlie nods, trying his best not to stutter as he stares at your lips blatantly.

You let go of Charlie’s hair before sliding a cautious hand through his front bangs and letting your fingers root to his scalp. His breath hitches at the feeling of your touch.

“I feel like I definitely would,” Charlie repeats, clearing his throat as he lets his hand rest on your knee, “Is this okay?”

You chuckle, “Yes. Is it okay that I’m touching your hair?”

“Absolutely,” Charlie answers quickly.

“Do you want to see what it feels like to have it pulled a little?” you ask, your eyes landing on his lips once again.

They look so kissable and biteable. You always have thought Charlie was fairly cute, but never really gave it much thought or acted on it, until now. After all, you’re both a little tipsy and this is a college party you’re at. Why not have a little fun?

“Yes,” Charlie says, closing his eyes and letting his lips finally brush against yours.

You capture his lips with yours softly, lifting your free hand to rest upon Charlie’s jaw. His hand on your knee travels up your thigh until it’s on your hip, squeezing lightly as you deepen the kiss. Charlie places his other hand behind your head, pushing you closer to him as you run your tongue along his bottom lip. He lets you in, letting you take total control of the kiss. Charlie knows how to kiss, and he can kiss well, but he’d rather let you do whatever you wanted. If he’s honest, he would let you do anything to him, and he’s always felt this way. And that weird classmate crush he’s had on you is blossoming further with every second that passes as you kiss. 

Swirling your tongue around Charlie’s, you wait for the perfect moment to tug at his hair. The kiss is growing into a sloppy makeout and you can tell Charlie is getting turned on, You bite at his lip, tugging on it as he lets out a small moan. When he does this, you decide to pull on his hair a little, causing his moan to grow louder.

You pull away from the kiss, trying not to laugh, “Are you okay?”

“I’m- I’m fine,” Charlie whispers, his lips are swollen and red and his pupils are slightly larger than before.

“You sure?” you ask, your hand still on his face as your thumb traces along his jawline, “I know somewhere we can go that’s more private if no one is already in there.”

“Like where?” Charlie asks.

“My best friend has a guest room I usually camp out in when I stay over,” you say, standing up from the swing, offering a hand out to Charlie, “Care to join?”

Charlie looks at you, then your hand, before taking it, “Lead the way.” 

You hold his hand until you get to the sliding door, “I’ll go first, so watch which direction I head to when I get up the stairs. Then whenever you’re ready, come on up.”

“Okay,” Charlie nods, fighting a giddy smile.

“Is everything okay?” your best friend approaches you immediately once you and Charlie walk through the door.

“Yep. We’re all good,” you say.

“Most of the party is gone. You can stay here if you’d like,” your best friend says, looking between you and Charlie nonchalantly.

“Cool. I think I’ll head upstairs, then. Charlie and I are still talking, so,” you trail off, “Don’t mind us.”

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” your best friend winks.

“Yeah, that isn’t very much though,” you joke with them before dragging Charlie upstairs and not bothering to sneak him in.

Once both of you are upstairs and in the room, you shut the door and lock it before turning on the bedside lamp. Charlie sits on the bed, his hands clasped together nervously. You walk over to him, shedding your jacket and tossing it to the end of the bed. Standing directly in front of him, his knees touching yours, you card your hand through his hair again. Charlie’s eyes flutter shut and you climb onto his lap, wrapping your legs around his waist.

“So do you like having your hair pulled now?” you ask, and Charlie looks so nervous that he’s gonna burst.

“Can you remind me of how it feels?” Charlie looks up at you, innocence flashing in his eyes.

You pull Charlie’s hair enough to where his head moves back, exposing his neck to you. He hums in content and you can’t help but start kissing along the side of his throat. You nip a little at his skin, running your tongue over the places you sink your teeth. Enough for him to feel it, but not enough to leave a mark. You squeeze your fingers into an open fist, pulling Charlie’s hair at a different angle. Just as he’s about to let out a noise, you move the top of his shirt down and bite down below his collarbone, sucking at the skin until it’s red. Charlie then lets out an actual moan, which makes your stomach turn. 

“Feel good?” you ask, moving your hand from his hair and to his hip, sliding it up his shirt.

“Yes,” Charlie sighs, “Very.”

“Do you want to keep going? We don’t have to if you don’t want-”

“I do. I want to keep going.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want you to regret your first time,” you say.

“I won’t regret it, especially if it’s with you,” Charlie blushes.

A smile grows on your face, “Really? And you aren’t saying that just to get in my pants?”

“No,” Charlie chuckles, “I”m not just saying it to get in your pants. I like you.”

“Well in that case,” you slide your other hand under Charlie’s shirt, “Where else do you know to touch someone, Charlie?”

Charlie shifts underneath you, unsure what to do with his hands, “Um. Here?” he asks, slowly placing his hands on your thighs and gripping them slightly.

“Yes, good. Where else?”

You’re slowly trailing your fingers up and down Charlie’s torso, sending goosebumps all over his skin as he struggles to speak properly.

“Here,” is all he can choke out, running his shaky hands along your hips and waist.

“Uh-huh,” you slip your hands from under Charlie’s shirt and put them on top of his, “Want me to guide you or do you think you’ve got it?”

“You can guide me if you want to,” Charlie says, biting his lip.

You grab Charlie’s hands and move them under your shirt to your covered breasts, “Sprawl out your fingers and squeeze with them.”

Charlie does as told, and he does it perfectly. It’s probably the most simple way you can touch someone, though. But you don’t mind.

“You can squeeze them all you want either under my shirt or without my shirt,” you run your fingers through the hair on the side of Charlie’s head.

You let go of Charlie’s hands, letting him do as he pleased. He squeezes at your breasts, moving his hands in different ways to elicit moans from you. Before Charlie can decide, you go ahead and strip off your shirt and your binder/bra. Your nipples harden at the sudden exposure to cooler air and Charlie stares at them, unsure of what to do next.

“What do you want to do with them, Charlie? You can suck them, bite them, pull them, whatever you want,” you say, leaning in closer to Charlie’s face.

“Can I do both?” Charlie asks.

“At the same time or?” you ask, and he nods.

“Yes. You can do one thing to one while you do something else to the other if that’s what you want to do.”

Charlie slowly takes one of your nipples into his mouth, experimentally licking at it while rubbing circles on your other. The sensual movements of Charlie’s finger and tongue cause you to moan softly. You continue to card your fingers through his hair as he moves his tongue and finger a little faster than before. He then pulls away from your nipple, a string of saliva still connecting it to his mouth. Charlie then moves to the other nipple and flicks his tongue against it without sucking it between his lips. He heistantly pinches the nipple he just had his mouth on, his spit adding the perfect amount of lubrication. Your hips involuntarily buck forward at the feeling of Charlie’s tongue lapping at the sensitive bud. He then fully takes it into his mouth, lightly running his teeth around it. Charlie holds back a smirk at the high pitched noise you let out at the sensation of teeth. He decides to try holding your nipple with his teeth and then licking it at the same time, just to see how you react. Your hand that’s in Charlie’s hair suddenly grips the dirty blonde locks harshly, and Charlie moans around you, adding vibration to the mix. So you pull his hair again. You feel him grow a tad harder underneath you.

“You like that, don’t you Charlie?” you bite your lip as he looks up at you through his eyelashes, suckling at your breast.

“I do,” he sighs contently, moving back to your left breast and pinching it lightly before massaging you again.

“Do you know where else to touch?” you ask, becoming a little needy at this point.

Charlie’s mouth was so good you can’t possibly imagine how it feels elsewhere. And his long fingers? Why didn’t you think of this sooner?

Charlie looks incredibly nervous now as he moves his hands to your upper thighs.

“Just remember that you don’t have to do it if you don’t want to,” you say gently.

“I want to touch you and make you feel good,” Charlie says, shakily unbuttoning and unzipping your jeans.

“Let me lay down so it’s not as awkward for both of us,” you say, climbing off of Charlie’s lap and onto the bed, “I trust that you know kinda what to do, but take your time. If you need help don’t hesitate to ask.”

Charlie nods, nestling himself between your legs, resting on his stomach and elbows. You push your pants and underwear down your thighs, letting Charlie pull them down the rest of the way. When your clothes are pushed off your feet, Charlie returns to his position and his eyes grow large at the sight of your bare pussy. He’s breathless as he slowly runs a curious finger up your glistening slit, causing you to gasp. He does the movement again, this time applying some more pressure. Charlie is amazed at how wet you are from him playing with your breasts, but he figures you’re probably into that. He knows that when someone is wet, they feel good, so seeing how soaked you are for him makes his confidence skyrocket. You spread your legs further apart, letting Charlie get a full view. He runs his finger over what he thinks may be your clit, but he’s not too sure.

“Move your finger up and you’ll feel it,” you grab Charlie’s hand and guide it upward just a little.

The tip of his finger brushes against the correct spot and you hum in approval, “Right there.”

Charlie circles your clit with his finger slowly, almost tantalizing, “Like this?”

“Just like that,” you say weakly, “God, you’re getting me so wet.”

Charlie leans in and kisses your inner thighs, wanting to bury his face in your arousal, but only with your permission.

You sense his hesitation, “You can lick it if you want. You can do anything you’re comfortable with, Charlie. I promise.”

Charlie gives your clit a tentative lick, and for a moment his licking isn’t pressured enough.

“You can lick harder, you won’t hurt me,” you said brushing some hair from Charlie’s face.

“Okay,” Charlie breathes out, licking from bottom to top in one long stripe, gathering your wetness on his tongue. He figures it’d feel good to you if he had some lubrication on your clit while licking it. And he’s right. As he swirls his tongue around your bundle of nerves, you swivel your hips to the same rhythm. 

“Fuck, Charlie,” you whimper, “Do you want to finger me?”

Charlie nods vigorously, his mouth not leaving you as he continues to lick you up, down, and all around. He was messy with it, but it still felt good to you. You take one of his hands that are gripping your thighs, pressing all his fingers down except the index one, and flipping his palm upward.

“All you have to do is find my entrance and push it in slowly until you’re fully inside, then you can bend it, twist it, or whatever you wanna do with it. When you think I’m ready, you can add a second one.”

Charlie nods wordlessly as he pulls his mouth off you, focusing on gathering the mixture of spit and slick before prodding at you and finding your entrance. He pushes his finger in as slowly as he can, watching you writhe underneath him. Charlie has his finger completely inside of you, and he experimentally curls it upward a little. The tip of his finger touches something spongy.

“Oh god right there,” you gasp, “You found it on the first try holy shit.”

“Found what?” Charlie leans down to play with your clit with his tongue again, curling his finger more forcefully.

“Fuck,” you sigh, throwing your head back momentarily, “Your finger is just the right length to get to my g spot. Keep rubbing it.”

Charlie wonders if licking in circles at the same time he circles his finger would cause a reaction. So he does, and you cry out.

“Keep going,” you say, letting your head relax against the pillows as it feels heavier with each stroke of Charlie’s finger.

He can feel you throb around his finger, and he slides it out before sliding it back in and hitting that spot. You thrust your hips in response, wishing Charlie would add a second finger. He decides now is the perfect time to see if two will fit. And his middle finger easily slides in next to his pointer, both fingertips pressing against your g spot deliciously. You begin to wordlessly pump yourself on Charlie’s fingers. He matches your pace, curling and caressing his fingers with every thrust. Your hands occupy your breasts, rolling your nipples as Charlie continues to suck your clit and finger you simultaneously. You feel like you’re going to explode.

“If you don’t stop I’m gonna cum,” you whine, “And I’m sure you’d like to feel me cum on your cock instead.”

You didn’t mean for something so filthy to leave your mouth so soon, but god, it causes Charlie to pause his movements and gauge what you just said to him. 

“Please,” Charlie gulps, “Only if you’ll let me.”

“I’m on the pill,” you say, hastily pulling at the bottom hem of Charlie’s shirt and tugging it over his head.

Charlie quickly removes his pants and underwear, discarding them somewhere in the room before clambering back to you, “Tell me what to do.”

“It’s just like your fingers,” you say, sliding your hands along Charlie’s chest, “Push into me slowly until you bottom out.”

“Okay,” Charlie says, focusing on lining himself up perfectly. 

Slowly, he pushes his tip into you, and your hands reach out for his upper arms. You grunt as Charlie continues to gently guide himself inside you, the stretch of his size stinging a little. But then he finally bottoms out, and you wiggle your hips to better adjust to him. Charlie is hovering over you, the most pleasured look on his face as his eyes close. He’s never felt something so warm and perfect engulf him like this. No wonder everyone else has done this already, he thinks to himself. 

“You can move, Charlie.”

Charlie pulls out of you just a small amount before sliding back in, testing the waters on how he’s supposed to thrust into you. Gradually, you let him inch closer and closer to pulling all the way out and then thrusting back in. Finally, he pulls out except for his tip, then sheathes himself completely inside of you.

The moan you let out is nearly pornographic as he hits you at just the right angle. This urges Charlie to do the movement again, so he pulls out, then plunges back into you. He does this over and over, faster each time.

“You’re doing so good, Charlie, fuck,” you grip his biceps as you move your hips in time with his.

“Only good for you,” he pants, his fingers digging into your hips for leverage.

You reach a hand down to toy with your clit, but when Charlie notices, he switches your hand for his. He decides to use his thumb since he could access your clit better that way while fucking you. Charlie rubs tight circles on your bundle of nerves as he continues to hit that sweet spot inside you repeatedly. A tight warmth is building in your stomach again.

Charlie leans his face down to yours, immediately capturing you into a kiss. The kiss is hot and messy- you’re both gasping and swirling your tongues together with mouths open as you both desperately chase your highs.

“I’m gonna,” Charlie groans, burying his face in your neck.

“Cum for me, Charlie. Such a good boy for me,” you whimper, rocking your hips into his at a ferocious pace.

Your words send him unraveling, and the sound that erupts from his throat pushes you over the edge as well. You grasp at his arms, riding out your orgasm as Charlie continues to rub your clit lazily. You push his hand away, but at the same time, it feels so good. Charlie brings his hand back to your clit, knowing the sounds you were still making means you like how it feels. After he carefully pulls out of you, he continues his movements. 

“I’m gonna cum again, please,” you messily swivel your hips, grinding your clit onto Charlie’s thumb as hard as you can with your shaking body.

“Fuck,” you cry out, Charlie still rubbing you hard and fast, “I’m-”

Before you can finish your sentence, you cum hard, your arousal seeping out of you and into Charlie’s hand. Your chest heaves as Charlie licks his hand clean before letting his hands rub up and down your body, your orgasm still fizzling out. 

“How did I do?” Charlie asks nervously.

“So good. I can’t imagine how much better you’ll get over time,” you smile as Charlie grabs his shirt for you to clean up with.

“Wanna stick around and find out?” Charlie half jokes, handing you the shirt.

“Only if you want me to,” you say, cleaning yourself up.

“I want you to,” Charlie says softly, “I still have a lot to learn.”

“That you do,” you chuckle before pecking Charlie on the lips.

taglist:

@Spatterpus @wqndasdarkkhold @leilani788

#charlie walker #charlie walker x reader #charlie walker smut #charlie walker x reader smut #charlie walker fanfiction #charlie walker fanfic #charlie walker fic #charlie walker imagine #ghostface #scream #scream 4 #scream fanfiction #scream fanfic #scream fic #scream imagine #ghostface x reader #slasher #slasher x reader #slasher fanficiton #slasher fanfic #slasher fic #slasher imagine #floralcyanide writes

[freelancearsonist]

in shades of gray and candlelight

➔ Marcus Pike x fem!Reader - 7.2k

➔ Nothing good starts in a getaway car, but you sure do have fun delaying the inevitable.

➔ Rated MA for artist!reader my beloved (reader is able-bodied, basic female anatomy and feminine pronouns used, reader is described as having hair that is long enough to be put up but otherwise she’s a blank slate), unprotected p in v sex, cum swallowing, creampie, semi-public sex acts, oral (r + m receiving), handjobs, fingering, very light switchy dom/sub dynamics, a couple spanks, pet names (sweetheart, pretty girl, baby, honey), heavy praise kink, light size kink, consent king!marcus, just like the song it does not end happily [please let me know if i missed any at all :)]

➔ this is my (first 😈) submission to @beskarandblasters Taylor Swift Drabble Challenge! i really did mean for this to be a drabble especially since i didn't know anything about marcus before receiving this prompt but he has my whole fucking heart and mind now 😩 thank you so much for the challenge lovely kel, and special thank u to my baby @fhatbhabie for betaing and screaming with me ily <3 (dividers by the amazing and talented @saradika-graphics)

You meet Marcus Pike on a Friday night and it’s obvious from the start that he’s going to change your life forever.

He looks a little disheveled when he enters the gallery–brown hair ruffled and standing up in places, tie loose, top shirt button undone. There’s an alluring five o’clock shadow burgeoning across his jaw and cheeks. He looks like he’s had a long day, and it’s only going to get longer. It’s all part of the plan, of course. He’s supposed to look like a standard blue collar worker, and he pulls it off with ease.

It’s the exhibition’s opening night, so it’s a little more packed than the gallery normally would be. It works in his favor–he’s able to collect a plastic cup of champagne from the refreshment table and blend seamlessly into the crowd.

His eyes are diligent as they scan the faces that come and go. He tries to commit them all to memory–the tall woman with the slight limp, the short guy wearing the Hawaiian patterned shirt. There’s dozens of people that pass by, and so many of them are forgettable. It’s exhibitions like these that make him dread undercover work.

The art on the walls isn’t exceptional, but it’s not bad. Nothing that seems worth stealing, that’s for sure. But his source is good, and his source said that this place was getting hit tonight. So he keeps his watchful eyes vigilant and pretends to sip the champagne in his hand.

Until he finds your exhibit.

There’s a depth to your art that he’s come to be familiar with–something he sees often in work of high value. Anyone can make abstract art, it’s as simple as flicking paint at a canvas. But few can charge it as emotionally as you have. To convey feeling and passion and heart through abstraction is a separate art form all its own, and it’s one you’ve mastered.

He’s seen original Rothko’s, Van Gogh’s, Kandinsky’s; he’s held their frames in his own two hands. But nothing’s ever made his breath hitch in his throat quite the way yours does.

He stands in front of a canvas simply labeled “Waves In Motion” with your name printed neatly underneath, brow creased with a concentration that seems a little unnecessary given the subject matter of the painting. It’s all shades of blue and violet, swirling together in a way that seems partly sensuous, partly violent. It makes the hair on the back of his neck prickle, and he takes a step closer. That’s when he notices it: a single dot of red paint right in the middle, a focal point of all the swirling cobalts. So small that he wouldn’t notice it if he wasn’t close; so small it could almost be interpreted as a mistake.

But he knows without having to ask that it’s not an answer. He wonders who that dot represents: you, the artist? Most likely.

Without meaning to, he smiles. It’s been a long time, years really, since a piece of art provoked such thought. 

“Hi.”

The voice Marcus hears next to him is soft, dulcet. He doesn’t turn to the noise quickly–from the tone in that word alone he senses a hesitance, as if you’re a fawn that’s lost its mother and you’re bound to run if he makes any sudden movements.

And, truth be told, part of him thinks he might not be able to look away even if he tried right now. There’s something so beautiful about this painting–and underneath, something so ominous. There’s an air about the work that says he might unlock the secrets of the universe if he just keeps looking.

“Hi there.” He keeps his eyes trained on “Waves In Motion” as he responds–playing the game. He’s here to brush shoulders, after all; to be the right amount of forgettable yet memorable. 

“This is my best, I think,” you murmur while taking a step closer. “It took the least time of all of them, surprisingly. But… I think when you know exactly what you’re trying to convey, it just comes to you easily.”

“These are yours?” There’s admiration in his eyes and an air of something akin to disbelief in his voice as he takes in the group of canvases proudly displayed on the plain white gallery walls.

And then he turns and lets himself take you in. More specifically the curling strand of hair that falls out of your updo to frame your face, the deeply plunging neckline of your dress, the way your calf muscles work even standing still in your high-heeled shoes. You’re a work of art in your own right; the most beautiful piece he’s seen in a long time.

“Yeah.” You duck your head–shyly, modestly–and he’s hooked. There’s one thing in this building that deserves awe and reverence more than your painting, and it’s you. “You know, you’re only the second person who’s come over tonight.”

“No way. They’re all just working their way back here,” he whispers before he can calculate a more articulate response.

But it works in his favor–your giggle is gorgeous, if a sound can be described that way. Sweet and syrupy, it seeps over him as if he’s standing under a cracked honeycomb. He hasn’t actually taken a drink of his champagne, and yet he can feel his nervous system tingling. You’re just that intoxicating.

“The gallery closes in half an hour,” you tell him–a little wistfully at that. “In my defense, I don’t have any family or friends in the area. I wasn’t really expecting anyone to show, not with so many other talented artists here.”

It seems so indignantly unfair to Marcus. That you’re shoved into the far back corner of the gallery, that people haven’t come in droves from all over the country to see your work.

“Where are you from?” He asks as his mind finally starts to clear from the haze it’s been in the past few minutes. With only half an hour left on the job, he allows himself a small sip of the drink that he’s been cradling all night.

“New York. This is actually only my second exhibition,” you explain, and you almost sound shy about it; as if you need to be embarrassed about being young and fresh-faced in the art industry, as if you aren’t the most talented artist Marcus has ever met in person.

He hums in response, eyes unconsciously dragging over you once more. “You came a long way for this.”

You smile so prettily up at him, and in that moment he sees something in your eyes. He can’t describe it–maybe it’s something akin to longing. Something incomplete, unexplored. It’s familiar; it’s the red dot from your painting. Solitary amidst the swirling, lost yet not hopeless.

And just like your painting, he finds himself wanting to get lost in your eyes.

“Well, it’s not every day a gallery wants to host you,” you say after another sip of your drink. “Plus, I’ve never been to Texas before, and I needed a change of scenery.”

There’s something so charming, so boyishly intoxicating about the smile he graces you with. “How are you liking it so far?”

“It’s hotter than I’m used to,” you say with a chuckle that he echoes. “And I haven’t been able to do any exploring yet, my flight only got in a couple hours before I had to be here.”

“That’s a shame,” he hums in a tone that reveals deeper meaning. “How long are you here for? Do you have any plans?”

“A week,” you murmur. Subconsciously he leans in closer, on the edge of his proverbial seat. To seal the deal, you lean in too. “And not a damned one.”

There’s no air between you and Marcus. You exist in a vacuum for this moment–unable to breathe, choking on anticipation. He’s so close, yet way too far away. You want to be consumed by him–for him to be swirling blue; and you, a single speck of red in his midst.

The moment shatters with an audible sound–a deep, penetrating voice. “He’s still not here, huh? I don’t think your boyfriend’s coming. If he even exists.” There’s something strange in the raspy voice that drawls these words–something strange enough to immediately put Marcus on the alert.

You flinch at the sudden intrusion into your vacuum, but you recover quickly. You have to, because this intrusive stranger is standing way too close and has way too much alcohol on his breath.

And then something strange happens–you worm your arm around Marcus’s waist and press yourself firmly into his side.

“Actually, he’s right here,” you say. There’s a quality to your voice that wasn’t there before when you were just talking to Marcus–it’s firm, clipped, bordering on hostile. “He just got held up at work. Isn’t that right, babe?”

Thankfully, Marcus has always been one to think quickly on his feet. He wraps his arm around your shoulders and pulls you closer, unconsciously moving an inch or two in front of you. Protecting without really meaning to. “I’m sorry, honey. I got here as soon as I could.”

The man–burly and balding, probably a good twenty years older than you–scoffs. “Unbelievable.”

“Is there a problem here?” Marcus draws up to his full height–towering a good few inches over this strange intruder.

Whoever this guy is, he’s not completely stupid. He senses this isn’t going to be a fight he’ll win, so he backs off. “Not at all, man. Just didn’t want little miss standing here all alone the whole night.”

“Thanks,” you say with bitter reprehension. You wind even closer to Marcus–closer than this sudden farce demands. “But we’re fine now.”

He nods once–curt and unhappy, but seemingly satisfied that he’s not going to get what he wants. “Have a good night, ma’am. Sir.”

Marcus takes a mental inventory of the man as he storms off, committing his physical description and his outfit to memory. He doesn’t look like a casual art viewer, and he doesn’t look like a collector. He’s exactly the type that Marcus came here to look out for.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper as you step out of Marcus’s personal space. “He’s been hovering all night, asking me who I’m going home with and shit.”

“That’s the other guy who came over to talk to you?” It brings a deep frown to his face, a crease forming between his brows. It certainly raises a red flag–if the guy has any eye for value, of course he would be drawn to your exhibit. And if he has an eye for value, he could be the guy Marcus came for.

“Yeah.” You rub the back of your neck awkwardly and avert your gaze, as if you should be embarrassed for drawing that guy’s attention. “It’s not been the greatest night.”

Marcus hates that. He hates that you came all this way to be let down, that this is only your second exhibition and you’ve had such a bad experience with it. More than anything, he hates that he can still see the spark in your eyes when you look up at him, and he can tell that it’s dimmed.

“Gimme just a minute.”

He doesn’t mean to be so abrupt, but he wants to make it quick. He hustles to the single-stall men’s room and tugs the radio out of his inside jacket pocket to call in the man’s description. Then he turns it off, tucks it back into its concealed pocket, and goes over to the sink.

He thought he looked perfect for the part he had to play when he left his house to come here. Now, he’s too disheveled. He wets his fingertips and tries to tame the mess on top of his head; he re-buttons his shirt and tightens his tie. He looks flustered, and he’s not even surprised by it. You’ve got his heart pounding with anticipation in a way he doesn’t think it ever has before.

Butterflies fluttering on in his stomach, he emerges from the restroom to resume his position by your side.

Except you’re not by your exhibit anymore, and the crowd has thinned considerably. He checks his watch and realizes there’s only five minutes before the gallery closes for the night. Maybe you’ve decided to cut your losses and leave early.

He hates the way his gut twists with disappointment, but then he reminds himself that he didn’t come here for you. He’s working, and he needs to stay vigilant. No distractions, no complications.

“You’re still here.”

There’s a wave of relief that washes over him as he hears your voice, and this time he’s not too timid to turn towards you. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Thought I might’ve scared you off.” There’s a fresh cup of champagne in your hand and a hint of vulnerability in your voice, and it makes his heart pick up pace just the slightest bit. You duck your head–that shy, modest gesture again. “I… I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have just done that without permission.”

“Don’t be sorry,” he tells you, more earnestly than he’s ever said anything in his life. “I didn’t mind at all, I swear. Just had to hit the head.”

You look so deeply into his eyes he almost wonders if you aren’t looking through him. But whatever you find, you must like it.

He clears his throat and tries to not show how thoroughly unraveled he is by your gaze. “I’m Marcus, by the way.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Marcus.” You pause for a moment, and he can tell that there’s something else lingering on the tip of your tongue–so he remains silent in hopes of drawing it out.

“Do you have someone to go home to?”

There it is–the invitation he was both dreading and hoping for. He should really lie. He’s here on a job, after all–he’s supposed to avoid complications, and some instinct tells him you’re going to be much more than a simple distraction. But he’s told you the truth so far, and he doesn’t want to stop now.

“No. No, I don’t.”

This is everything that Marcus has never even considered doing. It’s late, it’s dark, it’s a little chilly for spring in Austin. The alley is grimey and drafty–your hair blows in the breeze even as you kneel down before him.

All he can do is stand there, dumbstruck with his back up against the rough brick wall, and stare down at you. 

He’s still breathless from the way you’ve been kissing him–all heat and passion, fire and brimstone. Your hands ran through his hair and undid the effort he put in while in the bathroom, and his hands clutched your waist in a futile attempt to ground himself. Your lips are so soft; he thinks he could kiss you forever and never get tired of it. He was certainly planning on finding out, until you dropped to your knees in front of him.

“You… you don’t have to–”

But the way you look up at him through your lashes makes his throat close up around whatever protest he was going to try.

“I want to,” you assure him–more of a purr than a spoken statement.

And this really isn’t the place. He shouldn’t let you do this here. But he’d be lying if he said the thought didn’t make him harden in his boring gray work slacks.

Marcus has never been about excitement. He’s always strayed to the comfortable and familiar–he falls into the sweet, caring companion role with grace and ease.

And tonight doesn’t have to be that different. If you’re going to suck his dick in a dark, dingey alley, he’ll let you. But he’s going to lay his jacket down on the ground so you don’t scrape up your knees first.

You keen at the thoughtful gesture and grace him with a grateful smile as your adept fingers work his belt open. He’s straining against the seam of his pants now, begging for the attention that your gaze promises him.

If he didn’t know better, he’d think you’re every bit as eager to get his trousers and boxers down as he is.

And Lord help him, he delights in the gasp you emit when his cock springs free from its confines.

“Fuck, Marcus.” Your lips actually part as you freeze for a moment, just taking him in. He’s thick, maybe an inch longer than average, swollen head peeking through uncut skin as if begging for your waiting mouth. He curves to the left just a little bit, and you can almost see his pulse thrumming through the prominent vein that runs along the length of him.

“S’not that impressive,” he mumbles, and you know that he knows that he’s full of shit.

Your fingers almost don’t wrap all the way around him, and suddenly you’re second-guessing this back alley stint, too. You want him in bed. You want him deep inside you, kissing your face as he fucks you, hands all over your body, thrusts hard yet slow. You want it languid, you want it desperate, you want it any way he’ll give it to you. You don’t want to blow him and say goodbye.

He calculates your hesitation as something other than pure unadulterated lust, and he lifts your chin gently with his index and middle fingers.

“Hey, we don’t have to–”

Again, you cut him off–this time, by dragging your tongue from the seam of his balls all the way along his length to swirl messily around his tip. You taste every heady inch of him and then moan at the salty foreshadowing on your tongue when you catch a droplet of precum leaking from his slit.

Your hand springs into action with a long, slow stroke along his cock, and then you sink your mouth around him and he moans. Without caution or pretense, like you’re not in an alley that anyone could walk down at any moment. It’s a little more high-pitched than he’d like for it to be and his head thumps back against the brick wall hard enough to hurt, and even still he’s never felt so overwhelmed with pleasure before in his life.

Your nose meets the neat patch of hair at his base and your free hand comes up to his hip, effectively pinning him against the wall when he tries to buck greedily even further into your mouth.

No one’s ever taken him so relentlessly before. You’re insistent, pressing onward even as you gag on his length, and it makes his balls tighten in a way he’s never felt before. It’s like you’re hungry for him; like you’re doing this more for your own pleasure than for his.

Marcus Pike has been a giver his whole life. Tonight, with you, he finally decides to take.

He’d be embarrassed about how fast he comes if you weren’t so eager for it. You moan around him and push yourself as deep as you can, throat working around him desperately not to choke on the size of him. Before he can warn you he’s spilling into your mouth, maybe more than he’s ever come before, thick and salty but undeniably sweet too. You allow yourself a moment to savor him as he pulses in your mouth, tongue swirling around the sensitive head of him in a way that makes him shiver and whine.

He’s panting, nearly light-headed, when you finally pull off of him and press one last gentle kiss over his slit.

“Holy shit,” he murmurs, because there’s nothing else to say.

You giggle, and he realizes with a strange wistfulness that he would do anything to keep this girl–a girl he’s just met, a girl who’s leaving to go back to her home on the other side of the country in just a week–smiling and laughing the way she is now.

“My hotel is only a couple blocks away,” you tell him as he helps you to your feet. “Would you like a nightcap?”

You pick up his jacket and dust the grime off it–it makes him chuckle. Everything about this encounter has flown in the face of what he’s used to. 

He’s never felt so alive.

“I would love a nightcap.”

Your senses wake up slower than normal.

First it’s your eyes–they tune in on the bright mid-sunrise light streaming through the open balcony blinds on the far wall. It falls in slivers and shards over the rumpled white hotel-standard bedding–the second thing your senses tune into. Everything is so soft and light, but it’s a little cold too. Especially the other side of the bed; there’s no heat remaining there at all.

You push yourself up with a grunt and let the sheets fall away from your bare torso, tired eyes scanning around the room. You notice clothes scattered all over the floor while your ears wake up enough to hear water running in the bathroom, and you can’t help the involuntary smile that spreads over your face. He’s still here.

Marcus lets the too-hot water wash over him in scalding waves, muscles still a little sore after a long night tangled together with you.

He checked his phone first thing this morning, and the gallery was quiet all night. They think the suspect he radioed in was the guy they were looking for, but they weren’t able to apprehend him. The running theory is that he might’ve recognized Marcus and decided low-value art wasn’t worth the hassle, but one guess is as good as the next until they can bait and catch the guy.

It’s the weekend now, and Marcus is thanking his lucky stars. Not only does he have a successful mission to celebrate, but he has the most beautiful woman in the world to celebrate it with.

He emerges after a few minutes, wet hair messily scattered over his forehead and wide hips straining against a low-slung hotel towel. He’s a languid Saturday morning wet dream on two legs.

“G’morning,” he hums with a smile–he doesn’t even try to hide the way his eyes dip down to hungrily take in your naked torso.

“Good morning, Marcus.”

He stalks towards you slowly, eyes darkening with each advancing step. It doesn’t take more than a second to realize he didn’t get his fill of your body last night, but you’re certainly not complaining.

He’s already starting to harden as he drops his towel and crawls over the foot of the bed, surging forward to capture your lips in a sweet kiss. If last night was desperation and passion, this morning is syrupy and sweet. He explores your mouth slowly, tongue sweeping between your lips and tracing every curve and ridge he can–almost like he’s trying to commit you to memory.

There are universes in the depths of his dark eyes. He may not say exactly what he’s thinking, but you can see it playing out in those baby browns of his. There’s something simmering underneath the surface–something more than just lust or desire.

Something dangerous.

You tug him closer and cup his face in your hands, enjoying the gentle scratch of morning stubble underneath your palms. He surges forward and presses you into the pillows as he settles himself comfortably between your spread legs. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs through kisses scattered along the length of your jaw.

You know you probably look like you got run over by a bus–you toss and turn in your sleep, and it always leaves your hair a matted mess. And that’s not even mentioning the slight tremble in your thighs, left over from Marcus’s enthusiastic attention last night. But there’s so much sincerity in his voice; you don’t think he would waste his breath saying it if he didn’t mean it, and that fact alone makes your heart pound with desire.

There’s a syrupy slowness to the way he moves down your body, lips leaving behind heavy wet kisses as he works down your chest and over your stomach.

And it’s almost like he senses the protest working its way up your throat when you feel his hot breath on your thighs, because he looks up at you and there’s sternness in his gaze. You got your fill last night, and now it’s his turn.

“May I?” He looks up at you from the apex of your thighs with big, round puppy eyes that are impossible to refuse–so you nod eagerly and don’t even try.

If you were eager to have him in your mouth last night, he’s desperate.

There’s no hesitation, no build-up. It’s almost aggressive, the way he buries his face in your heat. He laps like a dog at a bowl, hips canting into the mattress involuntarily as your taste floods his mouth.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he growls into your sopping cunt. “You taste incredible.”

You keen at the praise and card your fingers through his hair, tugging slightly at the damp, spiky strands when his tongue laves heavily over your sensitive clit.

Marcus’s greedy hands grip underneath your thighs and push them as far as you can comfortably spread them. You’re still so sensitive after at least three orgasms last night–you lost count after a point–and it serves to wind your nerves tighter than they’ve ever been wound before.

One hand slides to the junction of your thigh and his thumb comes to take over the pressure on your clit as his tongue plunges between your soaked folds. It’s even more overwhelming like this, and there’s not a thing in the world that you want to do more than let him have his fun. Especially when that hand and his tongue switch spots–his lips seal and suck around your clit while he presses two achingly thick fingers into your waiting entrance.

It actually makes your muscles tighten and your back rise off the bed as he curls his fingers just right to find that spot that makes you fall apart for him. 

He can tell you’re getting close–he’s already so intune with the way your muscles twitch, the change of pitch in your moans. You whine and cry for him the tighter he winds the rubberband, and he’s eager to make it snap.

“That’s it, pretty girl,” he says over the overwhelming flutter of his fingers scissoring and curling inside you. “Let me have it.”

You squeeze your eyes shut so tightly as pleasure wracks through your body that you can see constellations. Large hands come to pin your thighs open as his tongue keeps working, lapping and gliding against your cunt with ease as a wave of arousal gushes from your entrance.

You’ve never been so wet in your life, and he’s just getting started.

He trails open-mouthed kisses up your body as you catch your breath–his slick-soaked lips coat your skin with your own arousal as he works his way up to allow you a taste of yourself.

The first wet lick of his tongue into your mouth makes you moan. It’s not the first time you’ve tasted your own slick–you’ve had a moment or two of curiosity–but it’s never been quite as enjoyable as it is on his tongue. It pairs so perfectly with the minty tang of toothpaste left on his breath and makes you hungry for more.

He moves fluidly under your direction as you push him onto his back and roll to straddle his lap all in one graceful movement. It’s perfect like this–he doesn’t have to support his weight so he can run his big meaty hands all over every inch of you, and you can kiss him as deep as you want while you grind down on his aching length.

“Shit, baby,” he pants against your lips. Those aforementioned beefy palms grasp hard at your asscheeks to guide your hips, pulling you into a slow, long grind that bumps the head of his cock against your clit deliciously.

Your pulse thrums with desperation until you’re seeing white–no more teasing, no more preamble. You take his girth in your hand and give him a firm stroke; if you had a little more presence of mind, you might be embarrassed at how wet his dick is simply from grinding against you for a few seconds.

“Go ahead, baby, take it when you’re ready.”

He gasps at the first press of his cockhead against your entrance, head flopping back against the pillows as his hands squeeze your asscheeks with bruising force.

“Shit, you’re tight,” he murmurs, throat working around a thick gulp. “You can take it baby, I know you can. Did so good for me last night.”

You think you would honestly do anything he asks of you so long as he just keeps talking like this.

It takes a moment for you to work your way down his length–he’s so mouth-wateringly thick and the curve of his cock hits the most delicious spot inside you that you didn’t even know existed.

“Atta girl,” he praises breathlessly as your hips settle flush against his. “Just sit there for a minute. So pretty on my dick.”

God, he makes your entire body flush with heat. He turns your blood to molten lava with his words, lighting every inch of skin on fire. You’ve never felt a sensation like this–so overwhelming yet so intoxicating.

You start with slow movements as his hands trace up and down your sides sweetly–it’s more like you’re grinding on him than anything else. His thumbs rub abstract little patterns into your skin as his hands work up to your tits; when he finally takes them in the palms of his hands and squeezes all pretense of soft, sweet morning-after sex flies out the window.

You drop down hard on his cock and it nearly punches the wind out of him. 

“Yes!” He growls darkly. His eyes flash with something dangerous–it’s the only warning you get before his hand slaps the meat of your ass and grabs a greedy handful. “Just like that baby, use my fuckin’ dick.”

And maybe, if he was someone else, you wouldn’t be nearly as eager to follow instructions. But with Marcus, you’re nothing if not obedient.

Last night was exploration and discovery–hours into the early morning spent learning each other’s bodies, finding what makes the other squirm and whine and beg. This morning is in perfect juxtaposition to that sweet, soft, probing sex–you know what drives each other crazy now, and you each use it to your advantage. Aggressively.

He surges up to suck a pert nipple into his mouth as you set a hard pace on him, long fingers pressing into your skin hard enough to leave marks. He lands another sharp smack to your ass when your thighs start to shake–a reward for using his cock exactly how he asked.

”M-Marcus—”

”I know, sweetheart,” he purrs through a guttural moan. He cants his hips up to meet your thrusts at just the right moment—he hits something so devastatingly pleasurable that your vision prickles white around the edges. “I know, it’s so much, isn’t it? It’s okay, you can let go. Come for me.”

There’s a condescending note to his voice that only makes you squeeze harder around his cock, and within seconds you’re hurtling uncontrollably into ecstasy.

He fucks you through the telltale fluttering of your cunt even when your hips stop moving; strong hands hold you in place and work you through the ebbing waves of pleasure that wrack through your entire body.

”M’so close, honey,” he grunts with a particularly sharp thrust upward. One hand comes up to cradle your jaw in his hand, forcing your eyes to meet his. “Where do you want me?”

”I-inside,” you gasp. “Come inside me, Marcus.”

He fills you as soon as he has your instruction—hard thrusts punctuated by breathy moans as he pumps you full of his release.

There’s a long, silent moment where Marcus pulls your bare chest tightly against his own and you pant into the crook of his neck while trying desperately to even-out your breathing. His fingertips dance across your skin-feather-light, soothing.

The sun is higher in the sky now and meets your eyes with blinding rays through the balcony shutters when they finally open again.

”That was amazing, honey,” he murmurs into the crown of your head. He’s caught his own breath now, but he doesn’t make any attempt to let you go. “How’re you so perfect?”

”M’not perfect,” you mumble into his shoulder; but even to your own ears, it sounds half-hearted. The truth is, he’s so earnestly honest that you believe him.

He hums his dissent with a kiss pressed to your hairline. ”You are to me.”

And you so desperately want to believe him that you don’t even try to argue.

You bask in this warm, lovely afterglow for a few moments longer before Marcus gently taps your hip. ”Come on, sweetheart. Let’s get cleaned up and I’ll buy you breakfast.”

You pull off of his softened cock with a whine and try not to get worked up all over again at the feeling of his cum leaking down your thighs. ”Th-there’s a free continental breakfast downstairs.”

”Oh, then I’ll definitely pick up the tab,” he jokes with a smirk—all you want to do is kiss his goofy, stupidly handsome face.

He pulls you into the bathroom and starts the water running to fill the tub—he’s never really been a bath guy, but your legs are a little too shaky to endure a shower. He’s so attentive—from running a damp cloth between your legs to helping lower you into the water. He doesn’t complain in the slightest when you catch his hand and ask him to join you; he just shuffles you forward and slides in behind you like it’s a casual act that he performs with every hookup.

It’s intimate. That’s really the only way to describe it. You sit between his spread legs, back to his chest, head rested back against his shoulder while his fingers ghost idle paths over your skin. You don’t talk; you don’t really need to. Somehow, you fit together like souls who have known each other for years. Like all you’ve been missing is each other.

You drift off in his arms as he traces soap over all the curves and ridge of your body, the steady beat of his heart thumping in your ear.

It breaks his heart a little bit to wake you—the fact that you’re so comfortable with him, that you trust him with such vulnerability, makes his head spin a little bit. But the water’s turning cold, and the last thing he wants is for you to come down sick or something.

He rouses you with gentle, feathery kisses scattered over your rosy-scented shoulders and neck.

”Mmm… what time is it?” You grumble, pressing your sleep-addled face further into the crook of his neck.

”Just after noon,” he whispers into your hair after glancing up at the clock on the wall.

He can feel the way your mouth shifts into a pout. “Shit. We missed breakfast.”

The adorable downward tilt of your frown as you lift your dad to look at him makes his heart flutter. “Let’s go out, then. The first farmer’s market of the season is going on downtown. I’m sure we can find something good for brunch.”

”Kinda sounds like you’re asking me on a date,” you hum with a slight smirk dancing at your lips.

”Maybe I am.” His tone is light, his meaning clear—he knows this goes beyond a one-night stand, and there’s no harm done if you’re not wanting to cross this boundary. He’d understand not wanting to get too serious about someone who lives thousands of miles away from your home, of course. He’d never blame you.

You give him your best appraising look, staring deep into those constellation-filled brown eyes. ”You’re not sick of me yet?”

”I have a feeling I couldn’t get sick of you if I tried.” There’s nothing but sincerity in his tone, in his eyes. He genuinely wants to spend time with you, even if there’s nowhere for this to really go.

You hum thoughtfully. “I do love farmer’s markets.”

You’re with Marcus more often than not over the course of the next week.

He takes you sightseeing to some of his favorite spots around Austin, brings you to his favorite restaurants, shows you his favorite movies. But he multitasks—while teaching you about himself, he learns as much as he can about you and picks activities he knows you’ll love, too. 

He’s a pragmatist; he knows your time together is short, and he wants to make himself unforgettable. If he never sees you again, he wants you to think about him every once in a while and look back on this time fondly.

You spend your days while Marcus is at work painting or drawing or lingering around the gallery, and you fall asleep in his arms every night. With shades of gray moonlight and candlelight cast over your hotel room, it almost feels like this could go on forever.

He tells you to wear something nice before he picks you up on the last night–he wants to celebrate in style, which starts with reservations at an up-scale restaurant. 

He’s so achingly handsome. He’s in a matching gray suit over a white button-up, top two buttons undone and no tie to be seen. His face bears the slightest five o’clock shadow and your eyes gravitate to the curve of his lips–the instant smile that takes over his face when those gorgeous brown eyes of his land on you.

If you never see him again, this is exactly how you want to remember him.

“Wow,” he whispers reverently. “You look amazing.”

It’s not the most impressive dress you own, but he looks at you like you’re wearing something worth millions–like you’re worth millions.

You lean up and kiss him, and everything feels right. His hands rest on your waist and it’s so easy to pretend that you won’t be on the other side of the country twenty-four hours from now.

The restaurant is beautiful. Dimly lit and romantic, tables spaced enough to give you some privacy. He takes your hand on top of the table and holds it the entire meal. The conversation is light and airy–you’re both stubbornly dancing around what really needs to be said.

Dessert is cleared and the wine bottle is empty by the time Marcus finally works up the courage to acknowledge the elephant in the room.

“I don’t want you to go.”

You knew this would be coming, but it doesn’t make it any easier. You avert your gaze, instead focusing on his large hand wrapped around yours and the windshield wiper motion of his thumb tracing back and forth over your palm. No one’s touch has ever sent such electric tingles through your nervous system the way his does.

You don’t know what to say, so you say nothing at all.

“Look, I…” He takes a deep breath and straightens his spine a little bit, hand leaving yours to gently cup your chin. He forces you to look him in the eyes as he breaks your heart. “I think this could really be something, if we gave it a shot.”

You haven’t lied to him yet, and you don’t plan to start now. “I… I think it could, too. If I didn’t have to go back.”

“Don’t go back then.” There’s a firmness to his voice, but it couldn’t be any more obvious that he’s begging if he actually got down on his knees. “Stay here with me. We’ll figure this out. Just… don’t go.”

And here–with his earnest eyes on yours and his gentle, loving touch on your skin–it’s easy to pretend that it’s that simple.

He takes you back to your hotel room and sheds you easily out of your dress. As cliche as it sounds, it’s not just sex this time. Things that it’s too early to say are buried deep within every kiss, every thrust. He hooks your legs over his shoulders and looks deeply into your eyes while he fills you and you’ve never felt so overwhelmingly connected.

The thud of his heartbeat is insistent in your ear as you come down from your high–so calming, so heartbreaking. You lay on his chest while his breathing evens out and soak up these last few moments of bliss. And then, once you’re sure he’s sound asleep, you carefully worm out of his grip. There’s one more thing you have to do before you go back to New York.

Loud, insistent ringing pulls Marcus from the depths of sleep. He tries to ignore it and go back to sleep, but now that his senses are alert, the sound in combination with bright Saturday morning sunlight won’t allow him the luxury. He presses his face deeper into the pillow that he’s somehow wound himself around in his sleep, but that damned ringing won’t stop.

He sits up slowly and tries to rub the sleep from his eyes–and that’s when he notices the empty sheets next to him. Your side of the bed is long cold, and he knows. Before he even sees the note on the dresser and your room key next to it, he knows you’re gone.

He finds his trousers discarded halfway between the bed and the door and pulls his blaring phone out of the pocket.

“The gallery got hit sometime early this morning. They took everything. Every goddamn piece. You need to get here now.”

His body moves on autopilot as he pulls yesterday’s clothes back on, fingers numb to all sensation as they work to button his shirt. This can’t be happening. It can’t be you.

He notices the note on the dresser as he’s threading his belt through the loops of his trousers, and his gut twists with a sickening sense of foreboding.

I really did fall for you, Marcus. But nothing good starts in a getaway car.

He’s not sure if you knew who he was the whole time and this whole thing was calculated, or if you just got lucky. He doesn’t want to believe you’re that cunning and cruel. He wants to believe that this is just a misunderstanding, that you’re out for ice or something and you’ll walk back through the door at any moment.

But you don’t.

The note is enough of a confession for him. He’ll have the power of the FBI on his side to find you–and he will find you. What he’ll do when he does, he’s not sure. He guesses he’ll know when he sees you.

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#marcus pike #marcus pike x reader #marcus pike smut #marcus pike fanfiction #marcus pike one shot #marcus pike x you #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #the mentalist #the mentalist fanfiction #the mentalist one shot #cece writes

[diazsdimples]

Fuck It Friday!

Hi! How are we all doing after the episode? I've had the most insane week of my life last week, and spent around 60 hours at the hospital (I think), with active shooters and emergency caesareans so didn't manage any words until this morning. I think I live in the Grey's Anatomy universe lowkey dsfkdfs. Please enjoy a little bit of Eddie Lore from Frostpunk AU!!

Tagged for FIF by @wikiangela @smilingbuckley @daffi-990, @hippolotamus and @steadfastsaturnsrings, please go check out all their works! Daffi has a new Rivals chapter out and it is INCREDIBLE

It takes a couple of weeks before the doctors think Eddie and Christopher are strong enough to leave the hospital. Christopher recovers fast, much to Eddie’s relief, and he would be allowed to leave the hospital a week before Eddie, but there’s nowhere for him to go, and Eddie doesn’t want him to leave his side. He’s almost lost his son once; he’s not going to let it happen again.

He’s got a feeling Buck is plotting something. The man has been by his and Christopher’s bedside almost every day since they woke up – and, Eddie suspects, every day before they woke up – with a short break to go out on another mission that he’d grumbled no end about. But lately he’s been talking in hushed tones with Hen and Chimney, and even Bobby, before returning to his chair and pretending nothing had happened. It’s suspicious, to say the least.

Eddie’s still not entirely sure why he feels so at ease with Buck. He barely knows the guy, with only the vaguest, blurriest memories of him before the hospital, but he’s started to wonder if the calm, angel-like presence he felt during his coma might be the same as he feels when Buck is nearby. If Buck was his angel.

They talk a lot. There’s not really much else to do, and Buck seems content to sit and listen to Eddie talk about their life back in Sector 126. Eddie tells him about his parents and his sisters, and what it was like growing up with them.

He tells Buck about how Sector 126 was very devout and focused a lot of their laws off the word of God. How his parents raised him as a good, God-fearing boy but he never felt he was entirely there with them about it all. How he met Shannon and they immediately clicked, becoming inseparable as two teenagers, rebelling against their Sector’s laws as often as they could. How Shannon had come to him 5 months into their relationship to say she hadn’t bled in two months and couldn’t stop throwing up. How Eddie had immediately escaped to the Army Warehouse, claiming it was to support him and Shannon so they can move into a tent of their own.

He tells Buck about raising Christopher with cerebral palsy in a Sector that didn’t believe in taking drastic measures, instead believing that God would provide. How he’d had to resuscitate his newborn son because none of the medics would. Buck holds his hand as he gets choked up, and Eddie feels a relief as the weight of the last seven years lifts off his shoulders. Buck listens and listens as Eddie relives the worst moments of his life as he talks about how he and Shannon decided they couldn’t be together, but they also couldn’t stay in Sector 126 with Christopher, because their son needed help they couldn’t provide him.

When he tells Buck about how Shannon had died 3 days into their journey, frozen overnight because she wouldn’t let Eddie hold her in their shelter as they’d had a fight and she was furious with him, Buck holds him while he cries. He lets himself sink into Buck’s arms, tears streaming down his face and eyes listing shut as Buck scratches his fingers through Eddie’s hair and whispers soothing words into his ear.

He'll never forgive himself for what happened to Shannon, but Buck makes him wonder if maybe he could move on. To allow himself to be happy for the first time in his life.

No pressure tagging

@theotherbuckley @watchyourbuck @bidisasterevankinard @neverevan @babybibuck

@aroeddiediaz @spotsandsocks @bibuckbuckgoose @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @nmcggg

@jesuisici33 @loveyouanyway @cal-daisies-and-briars @exhuastedpigeon @epicbuddieficrecs

@kitteneddiediaz @hermscat @worriedbisexual @thekristen999 @slightlyobsessedwitheverything

@actuallyitsellie @idealuk @dangerpronebuddie @underwaterninja13 @rainbow-nerdss

@thewolvesof1998 @loserdiaz @elvensorceress

#james writes #buddie #eddie diaz #evan buckley #911 abc #911 buddie #911 #911 fanfic #eddie x buck #buddie wip #frostpunk au #eddie's had a rough life in this world #but he's gonna get there!

[theflyindutchwoman]

Finishing first with the most hits, fastest time, and tightest grouping… Officer Chen. Congrats. You are the new Mid-Wilshire champ.

| ANATOMY OF A SCENE - CHENFORD EDITION 3.03 - La Fiera

So many good and fun snippets in this scene, starting with Lucy becoming the new Mid-Wilshire shooting champ. She looks so happy and pleased… as she should! Tim is just as proud behind her. His absolute faith in her abilities is already in full display : there's not even an ounce of hesitation when he takes the bet. He knows how good she is. But what makes it even better is how he makes sure to collect the money right in front of her : as if he wants her to know he was willing to bet on her. This is such an understated way of showing her how much he believes in her, instead of simply telling her later… he's a "show you" kind of guy after all. Also, the choice of having Tim or Lucy in the background whenever the focus is on one of them at the shooting range is particularly interesting, as it was something specific to them.

And then, there's all the flirting - that "yes sir" sounded way too coy - and sassing. Lucy gloating and rubbing her win in Tim's face is so precious. Especially since he was hoping he would finally get first place now that Angela was no longer competing. They have this cute rivalry but at the same time, will always bet on the other. It goes right back to their main theme of their unwavering faith in the other and pushing each other to be better. He can pretend to be annoyed all he wants, his face betrays how much he relishes the banter. And the challenge. Just like he may try to make her success about himself, but we know - and so does Lucy - that when push comes to shove, he ensures that she credits her successes - or survival - to herself, and herself only.

#the rookie #chenford #lucy chen #tim bradford #chenfordedit #chenford edit #3.03 #Anatomy of a scene - Chenford Edition

[rose-tea-and-strawberries]

So, Across the Spiderverse has had me in a chokehold since I watched it. Could you imagine a Yuu in the House Mouse au who is not exactly powerless, but her abilities are not magic-based? Welcome to the crossover that nobody asked for, and I'm gonna pretend that secret identities don't exist for a moment and that disrupting canon events from astv don't exist.

Spider!Yuu's spidey senses can tell when danger is afoot. Whenever she's on the clock, there's fewer accidents and just swings by before Goofy trips and tosses all the dishes. She can tell when either Pete or Mortimer are here.The staff can rely on her for cleaning the high ass ceilings because she can climb up walls with no problem. And her webs make the best Halloween decor.

Von Drake and Jumba being so fascinated with Yuu's anatomy and intelligence. Whether has organic webbing or made web shooters of her own, they want so badly to experiment on them (definitely not gonna try to get bit by a radioactive spider too, nope).

Jamil being torn from freaked out to having a crush on a girl with spider powers. Jafar trying to convince him that she's not an actual spider so that his ship could sail

Yuu making a web hammock to calm down the little kids in the club. Next minute she's having a strength competition with Hercules and Gaston because she can lift up to ten tons.

The clubgoers seeing her memories and freaking over the fact that Yuu has been up against so many dangerous foes and life or death situations such as the iconic train scene. It scares them even more than the overblots do.

The Parr family from the Incredible (if they're here in the au), feel so bad because she's doing vigilante work all on her own. Edna mode upgrades Yuu's spider suit to a new level with glee.

Yuu: No capes please. It's disrespectful to my image.

Edna: *sniffle* Would you like to be my daughter?

Okay okay okay first of all I'm going to vent a bit about ATSV because Pavitr my boy, my sunshine, my everything is literally so important to me like hell yeah give me the south asian/brown kid representation (now if only there was an young asian girl with a bob so I can feel better about that Dora the Explorer look my mum forced me to have throught 90% of primary school whilst all of my friends got to grow their own hair out)

Also not going to lie the only reason I'm into ATSV is because I've been a Mayday Parker stan since 2017 - like she is everything (and her backstory is just so sad like PeterMJ didn't deserve that). My favourite spider-people after Peter are his multiversal daughters because girldad Peter is everything (I actually own physical copies of the Renew Your Vows comics that are about Peter and MJ's daughter, Annie-May Parker, and they are so frickin good) but I digress...

Yes but Spider-Girl!Yuu is so cool. Thank you for giving me this idea.

I don't know if I want Yuu to have her own Guy in the Chair back in her universe and for Idia to feel jealous/threatened or for her to have no guy in the chair until she comes to twst and Ortho is like 'my time has come'

Ohh imagine the insane parkour skills she, Ruggie and Aladdin would have.

I know that being insanely smart in science is a Peter Parker thing and doesn't really apply to all Spider-People but I think she would be a science whizz (and joining the science club - making Crewel's already glaringly obvious favouritism skyrocket) and hanging out with all of the scientist characters like Prof Von Drake, Jumba, Yzma etc.

Her and Herc would be training buds. He'd see her and her heroics and superhuman friend and be like 'new best friend :D'. Phil loves the heroic potential she has and wants to train her but Pegasus and Megara are like nope and swoop him away.

Oh but imagine the beastfolk finding out about her enhanced senses and how sometimes they cause sensory overload and helping her out because they grew up like that so they know how to manage it better (I once read a fic that said that Savanaclaw showers have soaps with subtler scents to accommodate their enhanced sense of smell and like yes) whilst she's still getting used to it and has to keep it a secret back in her world.

I'm thinking back to all of the MCU!Peter Parker fics I read and all of the spider DNA tropes that tickled my fancy and I can just imagine the twst/HoM cast reacting to things like her having no thermoregulation (and going into hibernation), her purring, her being allergic/having a poison like reaction to peppermint, her having fangs (her being venomous would be cool as well - like imagine Kaa being all fanboying over her fangs and venom glands) etc..

Okay so I remember having a bunch of ideas about this but I can't recall all of them so here... 😅

#asks #twisted wonderland #twst #twst yuu #fem yuu #house of mouse au

[creative-heart]

"My thoughts will echo your name"| Esteban Kukuriczka

Chapter four: "No one has to know what we do."

Lucia’s notes: First off, I’m so sorry about last chapter, might have been a bit of a downer, but I trust me, it’s gonna get better soon. We’re back to the usual POV now. BTW the playlist “my hot girl revenge era” really exists on Spotify and it’s amazing.

+18 ONLY: If you’re no interested in reading the smutty part, please stop reading at “Whatever you say babygirl”; you can go back to reading at the next cut.

Playlist: 

Bejeweled- Taylor Swift

Wildest dreams- Taylor Swift

Could you love me when I hate myself- Lily McAlpine

Love in the dark- Adele

August- Taylor Swift

Starving- Hailee Steinfeld.

Ready for it- Taylor Swift

Content Warnings: Some not too heavy smut, mainly a makeout session; Social Drinking; mention to smoking.

Word Count: 2.4k

Five days, five whole days had gone by since that night when Y/N had told Lucas to leave the apartment, not one single text or call to check how she was doing, much less him coming home and as much as the hazel eyed woman wanted to pretend like it didn’t hurt her, truth is she had been laying on the couch in her pj’s without moving, just watching Grey’s Anatomy for the fifth time. Y/N was curled up on the couch one evening when she heard the front door but she stayed in the way she was, not enough energy to move to see who it was, coming into her place. “Oh. My. God, babe….nuh, hell no, you need to get your shit together” she heard the voice of her best friend Gabriel coming in from the living room’s threshold as the tall guy made his way to her pulling the blanket off of her and turning the tv off she whined.

“Gabi, nooo. let me, I’m in the best part” Y/N protested pointing at the tv without looking at the arched brow on the black haired guy.

“You know Grey’s by heart, don’t know what this fucker did now, but I’m taking you out, you haven’t answered to my calls or texts in days, come on” as she reluctantly let her friend pick her up from the couch and walk her to the bathroom “also, you smell, and your hair is so greasy I can fry an egg on your head, you’re not this, come on, you take an all in all shower and I’ll make you something to eat, we’re going out tonight bitch” he smiled turning around and going straight to the kitchen after leaving Y/N to stare at her reflection in the bathroom mirror. As she took her image in, she rubbed her face and stepped into the shower letting the steaming water run through her body washing that week off her body, mind and soul; maybe Gabriel was right and going out would be good to her, after all, it was clear that Lucas wasn’t thinking about her, so why should she be sulking over that wanker.

Forty minutes later, she finished blowdrying and styling her hair, her staple beach waves adorning her strawberry blonde locks, she took her makeup bag out and looked at her friend who came into the room with a sandwich just as she said “Alexa, play my hot girl revenge era playlist” as …Ready for it? by Taylor Swift started playing through the speaker Gabriel handed her the plate. “This is my bad bitch bestie!” he smiled turning around to look at the outfit laid out on the bed “damn, red lace top, leather pants and jacket, you going out to eat! I love” Y/N chuckled as she ate her sandwich while doing her makeup. Once they were ready they ordered an Uber and headed out.

“Ok, so…you know how I am obsessed with Andy from La sociedad de la nieve? well, I saw he will be at this club tonight, so, that’s where we’re going, I ain’t asking, just letting ya know mkay?” Y/N chuckled softly nodding knowing that if Andy was there, there was a chance that Esteban would be and she bit the inside of her lip, because why did the thought of kuku being there made her insides flutter and the heat rise in her whole body, she hadn’t told Gabriel about the whole Esteban thing tho, and she decided to keep it that way.

“I’m gonna get so drunk tonight” Y/N chuckled as they got out of the uber before making their way inside with the passes Gabriel had secured for them. As soon as the blonde set foot in the club, she headed to the bar to get herself a drink needing to keep her mind quiet only knowing that way to do it. Y/N rested against the bar looking out into the dancefloor as she downed her mojito, searching for her first victim, determined as she was to two things, get herself drunk, and secure a hot man to make her forget about the fact that the man she had loved for 5 years had all but forgotten about her in the last week. She knew she was the one who had told him to leave, but Y/N never thought he wouldn’t come back after that night, they might be in a horrible spot, but Lucas was still her boyfriend, and in some way she still loved him, or maybe it was just the comfort of knowing what it was like.

As soon as Esteban walked into the club with the guys later that night, he could see Y/N. She was up on a table dancing and immediately a mixture of feelings cursed through his blood. A perfect combination of lust, desire, rage at seeing how the other men around her gawked and touched her legs and protectiveness over the fact that she was clearly intoxicated, the cigarette hanging from her lips quite a sexy sight as she moved to the beat of the music. Without even hesitating about it, he made his way across the dancefloor swiftly, he didn’t give a flying fuck anymore about Lucas, if he wasn’t going to take care of her, he would. When he got up to the table where Y/N was he pushed the men aside and looked at her “Y/N can you please get down from that table?” he held his hand out for her. When Y/N heard that voice over the music she knew exactly who it belonged to, only Esteban’s voice could send a jolt of electricity down her spine straight to her center and she turned around to face him shaking her head moving down just so she was at his level.

“Now…why would I handsome? can’t you see how many gentleman are offering to get me drinks?” she smirked whispering in his ear biting her lower lip as she moved in front of her face stopping just mere inches away from his, staring down into his eyes and kuku swore she could see right into his soul, those Hazel orbs were so deep and entrancing. Before she could get away he picked Y/N up in his arms, his hands resting on the back of her thighs just below her ass cheeks and put her down from the table walking away. “Esteban put me down” the girl said in a tone she hoped to be firm and demanding but that much against her will came out breathy and whiny. Once they were far enough from that table and closer to the rest of the guys the brown eye guy let her down purposefully running his hands up Y/N’s sides which caused a new wave of electricty and goosebumps to course through the younger one’s body.

“Whatever you say babygirl” Esteban said looking straight into Y/N’s eyes his hands resting on the girl’s exposed waist. Her skin is as soft and warm as he had dreamt it would be. His eyes switching between the blonde girl’s eyes and lips as she spoke, not that he could hear what she was really saying all he was really thinking about was how much he wanted to kiss her right now, press her against his body and finally taste her lips. As Y/N kept complaining about what a killjoy he had been for taking her down from the table she found herself quite intoxicated, not only by the booze running thought her bloodstream but also by the taller guy’s perfume flooding her senses, she couldn’t think straight, his hands were still on her waist, her boobs pressed to his chest and she could see how dark his eyes were while looking at her.

Y/N didn’t know if it was the alcohol or the fact that she couldn’t deny anymore how hot Kuku was but she grabbed his shirt in her fists to pull him down to her crushing her lips to his, her eyes fluttered closed and she felt the sigh escape from the eldest lips and she took the chance to deepen the kiss as they started fighting for dominance in the kiss. Esteban’s hands slowly moved around exploring Y/N’s body at the same time as he pulled her closer to him if that was even a possibility, the soft moans escaping the girl’s lips taking his chance to tug on her lip as he pushed her up against a nearby wall her hands wrapping around his neck holding him closer to her as his lips trailed down her jaw to her neck slowly kissing all over, each touch setting a fire on her skin that lingered after he had moved on to the next. When kuku placed a kiss onto the spot right under Y/N’s ear she moaned into his ear closing her eyes as she could feel the smirk on his face right before he bit down on it gently.

Before Y/N could even stop herself she pressed her center to his, eager to feel as much of him as she could without taking their clothes off, but as soon as kuku felt her doing that his hands went back to her hips and he pulled himself apart a bit biting his lip, their breathing heavy and irregular with desire and need. He looked at the girl and leaned in whispering in her ear “as much as this is turning me on, and no matter how much I wanna take you home and fuck you right now, you’re one, quite drunk, and two, still my friend’s girlfriend as far as I know, and no matter how much of a douchebag he may be, I won’t do that” kuku rested his forehead against hers closing his eyes and while Y/N wanted to hit him for cutting of the moment like that, the fact that he was so respectful made whatever she was feeling inside her at the moment for him, grow stronger and she nodded looking at every single one of his freckles.

When Esteban pulled up outside of Y/N’s place he turned around to find her looking at him “wanna come in for a cup of coffee?” she smiled softly, her eyes still slanted from the alcohol pumping through her “I swear I won’t try to jump your bones…not that I don’t want to” she whispered the last part hopefully quiet enough to not be heard by the elder guy, but judging by his smirk, she hadn’t been successful “I just wanna thank you for bringing me home, plus I think you could use the caffeine”.

The brunette nodded getting out of the car with her and locking it before walking into her place as he looked around “so…Lucas isn’t here?” As soon as she had stepped foot into her home Y/N remembered the state of the place and hurriedly picked up around so that it wouldn’t look too messy shaking her head “no….truth is….he hasn’t been here for the past 5 days” she bit her lip hard as admitting it outloud made it all the more real. Once she had thrown everything out of sight she went to start the coffee pot and rested against the countertop looking at kuku, was that a slight smile she saw on his face?

“Have you two…broken up then?” He knew he shouldn’t be this happy over this possibility, a break up is always shitty but he couldn’t help but feel at least hopeful over the chance of things working out for him. He sat down on the kitchen island in front of Y/N.

“Well…not in so many words no, I mean, not officially, but we did have an argument, five days ago, I told him I didn’t wanna see his face around here that night and he left, hasn’t come back, texted or called since then.” She whispered the last part wrapping her arms around her own body and looked down to the floor to try and blink away those stupid tears that shouldn’t even be there in the first place. Kuku frowned seeing her upset and reached out pulling her to him gently making room for her to stand between his knees and hugged her tight kissing her head.

“Honestly….if he doesn’t see the kind of woman he has standing next to him he’s even dumber than I thought, it’s his loss, truly, if I were lucky enough to be in his place…” he mumbled cutting himself short when he realized what he was about to say when he saw Y/N look up at him with glossy eyes. He sighed  gently wiping her tears from her cheeks and took a deep breath before picking up where he left off, there was no use on denying what he felt now, even more so after seeing her cry, he only wanted to protect her and take care of her “If I were lucky enough to be in his place. I’d make sure to show you how important you are to me, I would do anything and everything in my power to help you achieve your dreams, you’re a wonderful person, gorgeous inside an out from what I’ve gotten to know you, and you deserve to have as your partner someone who sees how special you are and helps you shine on your own, who builds your light up, not someone who tries to dim you down.” Y/N kept looking at Esteban, not only could she look at him all night because he was the most gorgeous man she had ever seen, but hearing him say that, not only made her insides burn with desire, it made her heart swell with love.

That night, standing on that kitchen floor between Esteban’s knees, she understood two things, not only she didn’t love Lucas anymore and was determined to officially break things off with him as soon as possible, but she was also falling in love with the man in front of her, she was falling fast, she was falling hard, and she was falling deep in love with him and this was either gonna be the love story she was gonna tell her kids, or the break up that was gonna ruin her life. But either way, she was ready to find out.

Lucia’s notes: I told you all it was gonna get better didn’t I? and you haven’t seen the half of it! If you wanna be tagged in coming posts, please coment below. Also, no comments or likes needed but they are much appreciated. I love hearing what you think!

Credit to @cafekitsune for the MDNI divider and the section divider, they're amazing!!! go follow her if you wanna find amazing resources!

Taglist: @madame-fear  @cyliarys-starlight @castawaycherry @luceracastro @espinasrubi @lastflowrr @koiibiito @candycanes19 @nperoconelcositoarriba @lxdyred @deepinsideyourbeing

#esteban kukuriczka fics #esteban kukuriczka fanfic #esteban kukuriczka smut #esteban kukuriczka x reader #lsdln #lsdln cast #lsdln x reader #lsdln smut #esteban kukuriczka #fanfics #fanfiction

[honeysocksp]

And They Were Flatmates!

Oh my god they were flatmates! 😧

No, I can’t stop drawing scenes from this fanfiction. Why would you even dare ask me?

snatched from thissss please read this fanfiction if you like Lawlu or just appreciate good writing! Spice is crazy good at writing 👍🥚

I kinda suck at anatomy but pretend I don’t please <3

Dunno if I got Luff’s skin colour on point or not— he’s tanned in the fanfiction and also has a lilllll bit of a moustache only a bit though 💀

| Bonus v

While drawing this I kept on getting an ad from “Jason Clark” talking about his real estate business and how he is the best at selling houses. I got really angry with this guy whenever he popped up and while on a call with my friend we started a joke and uh...

True beauty was birthed. Jason Clark x Luffy AKA “Juffy” as dubbed by my friend. I’m sorry but also not to Mr. Clark.

#Jason Clark #Juffy #one piece #bepo as a dog #lawluffy #lawlu #trafalgar law #monkey d. luffy #mugiwara no luffy #i suck at drawing #and drawing hands #true love #but only for juffy

[sunnytastic]

in honor of my premonition, here is my running list of sunny episode ideas:

- the gang does drag

mac has the idea to do a drag night at the bar to make money. frank supports the idea as he's continuing to try to prove that he's "down with the gays." charlie gets surprisingly very into it, mostly because he doesn't understand gender and just has fun dressing up. dee dresses up as a drag king and gets hit on by all the gays (a "you're not gay. you're just really, really vain" situation). and of course, dennis just looks fucking gorgeous and most definitely sends mac into a gay panic ("i've got to get out here. this was a bad idea.")

- grey's anatomy parody

idk how this would work but this is a sitcom and it's the gang so i don't think they would have any reservations about pretending to be hospital staff. (dennis wants to sleep with a hot doctor/nurse, charlie wants to get into the operating room, etc etc) but ultimately it's very soap opera-y and romantic (gang style)

- the gang goes to comic con (meta)

charlie and mac are comic book nerds. but i general, the gang is there to see a panel with the thunder gun express cast which ends up being a metaphor for sunny and the cast

- high school episode with actual teenagers

the gang buys a roller rink doesn't exist in my head. please give me high school episode where i can actually pretend these people are still in high school.

- dennis and dee birthday

it is literally insane that we haven't seen a twins birthday episode because i mean, the possibilities are endless. the twins are harsh and competitive by nature and you can't tell me that wouldn't make for some good fucking comedy

- frank, charlie, and dennis day

enough said really. they should continue the episodes because character centered episodes are always really funny

- new year's eve episode

i always love their holiday episodes but they are running out so i think the next logical choice is new year's eve. the idea of a new year's kiss, obnoxious resolutions, and running a party at the bar.

- mockumentary

making dennis reynolds a murder does not count. that was a fake documentary. i want a parks & rec, what we do in the shadows, the office style mockumentary where the gang does something stupid and then they cut to an interview.

- the gang plays monopoly

i mean the chaos that could ensue. this might be too similar to chardee macdennis in terms of premise but i will say i've had games of monopoly where i felt like i was going to come to blows with my closest friends and family. monopoly has opportunities for alliances, betrayal, and absurd deals, which when done gang style, it'll get insane

- the gang goes to the amusement park

very similar to the gang goes to the water park and gang texts but in a different location

- the gang does shrooms

mostly i just want an episode where the gang is knocked on their asses from being high. it would be such a contrast to how we normally see the gang but being high still gives them the opportunity to be insane (look no further than the gang gets invincible)

if you guys have any ideas of plot points to add on to these episodes, lemme know!

#iasip #its always sunny #it's always sunny in philadelphia #dennis reynolds #mac macdonald #charlie kelly #frank reynolds #dee reynolds #glenn howerton #rob mcelhenney #kaitlin olson #charlie day #danny devito #isa x sunny

[fortheloveofowen]

Luke Patterson College Au

Summary: Just some Luke college! This is more or less if Luke was in college NOW lol IDK if that makes sense, but just pretend it does

Warnings: Man-whore Luke (I eat it up), mentions of sex, mentions of drug use/alcohol use, I'm in love with Luke I'm so delulu

Note: I am literally just working, and I'm bored so typing this on my work computer :) I hope you guys like this one, I've been wanting to make a Luke college au so so badly ;) Also guys I dropped out of college soooo living vicariously through this rn

𓆩♡𓆪𓆩♡𓆪𓆩♡𓆪𓆩♡𓆪𓆩♡𓆪𓆩♡𓆪𓆩♡𓆪𓆩♡𓆪𓆩♡𓆪𓆩♡𓆪𓆩♡𓆪𓆩♡𓆪𓆩♡𓆪𓆩♡𓆪𓆩♡𓆪𓆩♡𓆪𓆩♡𓆪𓆩

Major: Childhood Education

Minor: Music Composition

Was on the hockey team freshman and sophomore year, but quit once his band started getting booked

Can't y'all just see him as the cutest little elementary school music teacher like showing his students his guitar and talking about when he was in a band awww

Luke and Alex definitely have a shared house off-campus and they like throw parties like it's nobody's business

Definitely tried to join Alex's comic book club, but was quickly kicked out because he spilled soda on Reggie's collector's edition of the original Spiderman comics

"Dude, do you know how expensive this was? Like, for real?"

Luke is definitely known as somewhat of a player around campus and pretty much everyone knows who he is. He can usually be found with his tongue down a random girls throat

But, that's what college is about for him duh

He never wanted to go in the first place, but when his parents put that check in his lap to send him to school what else could he do? Especially when his buddy, Bobby, told him about all the hot chicks running around campus

So how do you meet Mr. Luke? Well, you were couped up in the library preparing for this god awful Bio final that has been stressing you to the point of pulling your hair out when you hear some.... children's laughter???

You look to the main double-door entrance and see a gaggle of children that can't be more than 5 or 6 years old barreling through the doors

And what shocked you most was... Luke Patterson leading this wild pack of children into the building??? I guess you had just never taken interest in what his major is or really anything about him, so you couldn't be too sure what his intentions were

A quiet Luke puts up a finger to his lips and begins counting down from 10, attempting to shush the kids he was directing

"Hey guys, can we quiet down please, we can't be too loud in the library! shhhhh"

And you're like is he soft? and good with kids? Definitely not soft (or so you think right now hehe), but he is great with kids

The kids are shuffling around the library, giggling at the pages in the anatomy books while Luke sits at a nearby table

"Are they bothering you? I knew it was a bad idea to bring them here, but I-I-It's about to rain... had no idea where else to take them..."

And you're just like huh? Because one, why is he talking to you, and two, this is not the same douchebag player you thought you knew. But, you end up telling him that they're fine and you continued studying until your roommate, Julie, asked if you wanted to meet up for dinner

You don't end up seeing Luke for a while after the first meet, and you had long let him disappear from your thoughts

That is until your friend Flynn decides to drag you to a party to "celebrate" finals being over (Even though you'd rather be couped up in your room rewatching Scooby Doo if you were being honest)

The house wasn't anything too crazy, donned with LED lights and some old beer cans strewn across the porch

You had been drinking with Flynn for a while, the fresh smell of marijuana and vomit stinging your nose as you waltzed around the house

Your bladder quickly caught up with you, though, as you excused yourself from Flynn for a second to find a pisser because you know you can't hold your pee while you're drunk

So, you're bobbing around sticking your head into pretty much every single room when you finally come across a door at the end of the hallway

You turn the door handle, astonished to find it unlocked, but you let yourself in and...

There's Luke... hands under a tiny blonde girl's shirt as he kissed up and down her neck

"Oh my god, I can... I am so sorry let me just go!"

You shout almost too eager as you swiftly slam the door and make your way back downstairs, ready to tell Flynn the shit you just walked into

But, alas, your friend is sitting on the couch with Reggie, one of Luke's closest friends, you've come to find out so you averted your attention to the kitchen

It was quiet in here, other than the small bits of banter going on around you in the almost empty kitchen

You stared into your cup of whatever concoction Flynn had made you when you're startled by a sudden presence to your left

"Hey, you're the girl from the library right? Sorry about uhhh... the bathroom sitch.... just doing my civil duty haha"

Luke slurred out as he hoisted himself onto the kitchen counter beside you

You nod your head, not really trying to engage with his "type"

"You wanna dance? Everyone else here is so boring..."

You and Luke head out to the living where masses of people were dancing along to whatever rap song was blaring over the speaker

Luke instinctively holds you by the waist as you sway the entire night, especially when you sway to his bedroom and then to his bed and then.... you get the picture

And Luke took care of you that night, kissing your shoulders, looking into your eyes as he kissed up your stomach bro omg I am getting ahead of myself

But, anyways, you wake up and immediately feel TONED HANDSOME arms around your waist and you're like??? because this is definitely not your bed and who is this man?

Your eyes peak out over the covers and you have the biggest "oh fuck" moment of your life because YOU JUST SLEPT WITH LUKE PATTERSON

So, without thinking you swiftly jump up out of bed and search around his room for your clothes, but not before you're interrupted by a groan and a yawn coming from the bed

"Shit..."

You mutter under your breath as Luke peers at you through hooded lids

When did he become so beautiful and why the hell hadn't you realized until now??

"Good morning to you too... You're leaving already? Didn't enjoy the show?"

He wiggles his eyebrows at you are you're like oh... my... god I gotta get out of here so you scurry off without much of a goodbye, but not before Luke puts his number into your phone

This goes on for a while, you sneaking over to his house, sleeping in his bed, waking up in his arms, and then spending the morning talking and eating breakfast. But, no lovely-dovey shit... ever

It had become somewhat of a routine, but for Luke, this wasn't normal

He'd sleep with a girl a few times, but then ditch her before things could get too serious

But now he's got himself a drawer of your clothes, and your smile embedded in his brain

So you're over this one time and you both had woken up rather sleepy due to the events of the prior night hehehehe

And Luke is just staring at you so lovingly and it was different than any way he had looked at you before

And he just instinctively wraps you in his arms and spoons you

You're like

"Luke, didn't we say that cuddling was off the table if we're awake? We're not like together, remember?"

And he freezes and is like

"We're together. We sleep together, we spend the mornings together, we are quite literally the definition of together..."

Aww he just chews on his thumb and looks up at you through his eyelashes and just kisses you

You and Luke are the couple that literally everyone is digusted with

He constantly needs to be touching you and will literally wait outside your classes so he can flash you that geeky smile and chuckle while holding out some food or coffee

He just wants to take care of you in all ways possible

Finally lets you come to one of his band practices and everyone is like

"Wow you're significant other is so cool, Luke!"

And he just gets antsy and is like yeah I know now leave them alone before I get jealous hehehe

Such a jealous boyfriend and sometimes you have to remind him how much you love him and he can get really insecure but he finds that comfort in you

Practically thinks you are gold and literally nothing in this world could compare to you

𓆩♡𓆪𓆩♡𓆪𓆩♡𓆪𓆩♡𓆪𓆩♡𓆪𓆩♡𓆪𓆩♡𓆪𓆩♡𓆪𓆩♡𓆪𓆩♡𓆪𓆩♡𓆪𓆩♡𓆪𓆩♡𓆪𓆩♡𓆪𓆩♡𓆪𓆩♡𓆪𓆩♡𓆪𓆩

Alrighty y'all that is it for now, but I hope you likeeee

#alex mercer #jatp #jatp imagines #julie and the phantoms #julie and the phantoms imagines #luke patterson #luke patterson imagines #reggie peters

[kissingchoso]

I just finished reading the loser choso one and I am ADDICTED PLEASE DO MORE LOSER CHOSO 😏

we’re going to pretend i uploaded this soon after receiving this request 🤭

cw// nothing crazy, just heavy flirting and choso kamo is a ouid smoker! but other than that, reader just trying to pass anatomy & physiology

Imagine loser!Choso Kamo if he still was in college. Somehow, some way, he’s in your Honors Anatomy and Physiology class. He sits in your row, always having the wall seat.

Your professor is pretty tough and offers extra credit unannounced so people have a pretty high attendance rate when it comes to this class. Inevitably, you’re stuck claiming your forever seat in the whole lecture hall, seating yourself directly next to him. You only speak to him to apologize for bumping your leg against his while sitting down but he doesn’t mind, only mumbling a ‘you’re good’ under his breath.

He asks you to form a study buddy system after the second day of class. You look at him, a bit surprised he’s even talking to you in the first place but inevitably agree to it. Who wants to struggle alone in this hellscape class anyway? The two of you exchange numbers, already setting up a schedule to study and review after each lecture and meet up during the weekend. 

The schedule, for the most part, worked.

You’re not sure but by the time the first exam came around, you hardly paid attention to the very unique dynamic between the two of you. His dark, brooding clothes, peculiar face tattoo, even his stoic expression that seems to be default. You were exceptionally smart, had a color palette that you seemed adamant on wearing and was in general such an easy person to talk to. Your classmates knew you two as the interesting pair with girls wanting to be you and the guys thinking Choso bagged the class’ smarty pants.

You were consistently punctual to each study session while he wasn’t. He’d ignore your texts asking where he was and would come to your rented study room smelling heavily of weed and eyes redder than a cherry. When you started complaining, he simply plopped down at the seat next to you, lips forming into a condescending smirk.

“Sorry, sweetheart. Must’ve gotten the time mixed up,” he feigns a pout, mimicking the one you wore currently. “You’ll forgive me right?” 

“The exam is next week dumbass, or did you forget that too?” Your words are icy. “I don’t want to fail this class Choso, but if you don’t want to study, just say that instead of coming in here higher than a fucking kite and disrupting my m-”

You’re cut off when Choso suddenly had your face in a single palm, thumb and pointer finger digging into your cheeks slightly so your lips pout out. He’s suddenly a lot closer than you remember, the scent of weed filling your nostrils even more. It was then you realize you really do hate that smell. 

“I know I’m the big bad wolf whose been messing up my pretty girl’s studying. It’s okay, I’m here now and I’ll be on my best behavior, even if I find it hot when she puts me in my place.”

Your eyes widened at his words, not used to hearing the pet name or seeing the sudden fire hidden behind his gaze.

He releases your cheeks afterwards, adjusting himself in his seat so that he can start to get his items out of his bag. “You gonna keep gawking at me or are we gonna review?” His words are smug and you can see the satisfied curl of his lips as he avoids your gaze.

Asshole.

The next couple of hours are productive…-ish. You work through many flash cards, your study guide you made and even convinced Choso to ask you questions from the material that he knew. Your mood definitely improved since when he first showed up and Choso came to the conclusion he really liked seeing your proud smile. It made his stomach churn in a good way and his cock slightly chubs up in his pants when you give him that proud look

The library closed promptly at 2 in the morning and you two left with just thirty minutes to spare, returning the study room key as well as the other resources you borrowed for the time (hopefully the lingering marijuana smell clears out by the next morning). Choso walks you back to his car, holding both of your bags on one shoulder while his free hand resting against your lower back. It’s nice, having someone see to it you back it back to your apartment safely. Realizing even further that Choso Kamo really isn’t a bad guy. He just makes stupid decisions and he’ll act like he doesn’t care, but you will always see the quirk of his lips when you praise him for getting an answer correct.

When you two reach his 2017 Dodge Challenger, he gets your door open for you first, ensuring you’re safely inside before carefully placing your bags in the back.

`This is such a man car.` you giggle in your head, taking a look at all of the different features his car has to offer. There’s a a small figurine of Luffy hanging from his rearview mirror, the only decoration in his entire vehicle. A lingering smell of weed fills your nostrils but Choso notices this and rolls down the windows for the first part of the drive.

Drives smoothly with his left hand while the other calmly rests on your seat, suspiciously close to your leg. Neither of you decide to comment on it for now. He asks you if you want to get something to eat before returning you to your place but you decline politely. You’re not sure how much longer of sitting in this nice car you can take before exploding.

He pulls into the front of your building easily. Taking his sweet time doing the most perfect reverse parking job and all before he looks at you with a smug smile.

“Thanks for your help again tonight,” you feel his eyes look over you in a heated glance. “I owe you something nice for putting up with my shit.”

“That’s not necessary—“ your voice breaks off when he suddenly leans in closer, supporting his weight by placing his hand on the seat between your thighs. The warmth from his mere presence comes out of him in waves, giving you goosebumps that rise all over your skin.

Black eyes bore into yours, his nose just barely brushing against yours. “You sure? I can be useful if you’ll have me. Anything you want and you can have it.” 

Neither of you move for a moment. His words hang thickly in the air and Choso can see the gears turning in your head. Not wanting to frighten you anymore, he begins to back up in order to give you some space but your lips messily clash onto his and he’s unable to contain a noise of pure surprise when you do. 

It’s clumsy at first but Choso reaches and places a guiding hand on your jaw to steady you. All at once, he’s in control and you’re more than happy about it. 

He’s overwhelming yet gentle at the same time.

His presence weighs down on you as if you’re trapped in gigantic waves, forcing your body to be dragged along against the pull and push that is him. But, the hand that clings onto the bottom half of your face loosens into something a lot softer. Rough pads of his fingers that can expertly roll with any kind of material switches roles in acting like a reminder for you. “That’s it pretty girl.” “Take it slow, there’s no rush.” “Just follow my lead and you’ll be alright.” These are things you can imagine he’s telling you through his touch.

You pull away slightly when you feel him start to tug you closer. Forgetting that you two are reverse parked right outside of your building with your building-mates coming up and down the stairs as they attend their nightly business. Choso looks at you with a hint of amusement in his eyes, but also a bit of curisoity.

“Didn’t think you’d do that.” 

“Me either...” your breath is a bit short. It fans across the slight wetness that is on his lips (some of your lip gloss transferred onto him but he didn’t seemed to care). 

Your classmate hums at your admission, thumb softly stroking across your cheek. It’s as if he’s chasing away all those overwhelming thoughts that may have been crossing your mind. The fact that it was doing wonders made you a little surprised at his simple touch. This guy is human, right?

“Don’t sweat it. I liked kissing my tutor.” His playful wink seemed to snap you out of your momentary stupor. Whatever shy moment you were experiencing was lost as soon as the arrogant air of your study buddy came back out and your face showed it.

“Goodnight, Choso.” You deadpanned, carefully removing his hand off from your face. This sent the man to a fit of chuckles as he watched you gather your belongings and hand reach the handle of his car. 

But before you could go, he caught your elbow carefully. Once he had your attention, he leaned past the console to place a gentle kiss to your cheek. “Text me when you get inside safely.”

#➷｡˚ — mailbox #cw// weed #choso — !! #choso <3 #choso x reader #choso x female reader #loser!choso #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #choso fluff #choso kamo fluff #i’ve been told by taro to post this so here i am #sorry for this request being late too i hate myself dw #anyway we her!!!

[practically-an-x-man]

Here's a prompt for you!

"I don't need you to be perfect! Just please, for once in your life, listen to me!"

Oooh I'm thinking Jasper for this one!!

____ Mama

Word Count: 2.5k Content Warnings: heavy argument, abusive parents, transphobia/deadnaming (NOT by Kyle don't worry there)

____

Jasper did not enjoy visits with his mother.

There were the better sides to it - homecooked meals, the familiarity of the house, visiting his friends and neighbors that were all a hair too far from the city to visit regularly. It wasn't as though he wallowed in misery, on those recesses and holidays he spent away from Tulane.

But he didn't enjoy spending time with his mother. There were a lot of reasons why.

"I was thinking maybe I could take some of Dad's old records back with me," Jasper said, posing the question as casually as he could, "I've got a record player in my dorm."

"We have a record player here." his mother said, without even looking up from her novella. Jasper resisted the urge to sigh.

"I know, but-" he started, chewing the inside of his cheek, "I know you don't listen to them, since it's not your kind of music. But I like it. I think it could be nice to listen to when I study."

"Did I not buy you an iPod a few years ago?" she asked, the words undercut with a shiver of dark annoyance. Jasper felt every ripple of it. His mother raised an eyebrow. "Did you break it?"

"You did. And- no, it works fine. But records, um, records have a better sound, y'know? And they remind me of Dad." he continued, tumbling over his words under the weight of his mother's gaze, "I'll leave the country ones, and the CCR and the other ones you like. I just want the heavy stuff. He's got those Metallica records, the originals, and a whole bunch of Linkin Park, and even some stuff that's even heavier than that and I know you aren't listening to those ones anyway-"

"Jasmine Michelle."

Jasper fought hard to bite back his grimace. It never got easier to hear.

"You are not taking your father's records out of this house." his mother continued, her voice and emotions equally icy, "He left them here, and they'll stay here. This is the last time I'm having this discussion with you. And stop cutting your hair so short. You look ridiculous."

Ironic, considering she was sporting a pageboy cut herself. Jasper's buzz cut wasn't much farther removed from that, he thought. But it was harder to pretend he was still Mama's Little Girl when he refused to let his hair grow out, he figured. He wrung his fingers behind his back, squeezing until it hurt.

"I like it cut like this." he argued, fighting hard to summon his voice, "It's... better for derby."

"Is school going well? You're passing all your classes?"

Breezing on ahead. Like she hadn't even heard him. That, too, never got easier.

"Yes, mom." Jasper sighed, "It's going fine. I got an A on my anatomy midterm. My professor said only two percent of students actually manage to ace that-"

"And you've got friends? A boyfriend?"

Kyle's name sprung to his lips, but he bit it down. He didn't want his mother to know about that. It would only lead to more prying questions, which would lead to her wanting Kyle to visit, which would lead to... God knows what else.

"I've got friends," Jasper agreed - not a lie, but not the full truth, "With derby, and with nursing. There's even a- a guy in my history class who's really nice. We've had a couple study dates."

"Good." his mother replied. Her eyes flicked up and down Jasper's figure, and he realized he was shifting on his feet. Another shiver of cold annoyance wormed its way through his chest. Jasper forced himself to freeze, despite the way his body demanded movement. "Am I keeping you from something, Jasmine?"

"Jasper." he muttered under his breath, regretting it the instant it was past his mouth. The cold only deepened. He wanted to shiver.

"What was that?"

Jasper swallowed hard. It wouldn't get any better if he didn't stand up for himself. His mother had never been outright cruel about matters like this - she just didn't care. She didn't speak badly about him, didn't call him slurs or cast him out, but she also didn't make any effort at his name or pronouns. That was why he hadn't bothered correcting her. But if he started now, maybe she'd start to see how important it was do him. At the very least, he was done being walked over.

"It's my name. Jasper." he repeated, a little more strongly. His mother gave him a strange look. Emotions danced in his chest. He couldn't tell what they were, even which ones were his own.

"Your grandmother gave you that name. It's a family name. It belongs to you."

"It's- it's a beautiful name." he stammered, a bit of his confidence waning, "But it's not my name. My name is Jasper."

He could feel irritation beginning to brew, alongside a nebulous sort of confusion. He didn't know what to make of it. He decided to stand his ground.

"Mom, I-"

"Was I not good enough?" his mother blurted. Jasper blinked, confused at the question. His mother sighed - without his sense, he'd have assumed it was disappointment. And it was disappointment... but not towards him. Jasper's mother pressed her lips together, choosing her words. "Did I not raise you right? Should I have raised you as a boy?"

"You didn't know, Mom, it's- it's okay." he tried, "You didn't know, but now you do, and-"

"I'm sorry I wasn't a perfect mother to you. I'm sorry I did something wrong."

Funny how I'm sorry could sound so little like an apology. His mother had always been awfully good at casting blame. Casting blame, claiming all the sympathy in the room for herself, never letting another person speak their mind. It had taken Jasper a very long time to realize other people's parents weren't like that.

The only thing that kept Jasper from wilting was the anger stiffening his muscles. It didn't even need to be an argument. It didn't need to be about her. All it was was his fucking name. Basic decency. He'd thought she could look past her ego for that much.

"I don't need you to be perfect!" he blurted, though he winced at the way his voice cracked. He felt tears rising behind his eyes. "Just- please, for once in your life, listen to me!"

"I just want to understand what happened to my daughter!"

"I'm not your daughter!" he shouted, unable to help himself. Something sharp and surprised, verging on painful, darted through his chest. He could see it written all over his mother's face. Regret flooded him so intensely he almost couldn't breathe. "Mom, that's- that's not what I meant. I'm your child, I'll always be your kid, but I'm- I'm not your daughter."

He didn't know how a simple conversation about his dad's old records had spiraled out of control so fast. His heart beat so heavily he could hear the blood rushing in his ears.

His mother didn't speak. It was worse when she didn't. Finally, she let out a long-suffering sigh.

"Jasmine..."

"Jasper."

"Jasper." she echoed, with something like disdain coloring her voice, "What do you want me to say?"

"I don't..." Jasper mumbled, "I don't know."

Without another word, he turned and left the room.

With tears now freely streaming down his face, Jasper ducked into his dad's old office and sat down on the floor. Boxes of weathered LPs surrounded him, and dust motes caught the sunlight that streamed in from the windows.

He let out a shaking sigh, flipping through the records and watching the album art blur into smears of color past his tears. Really, he knew it was going to end like that. It was how his mother treated a lot of things - anything that didn't perfectly align with how she wanted the world to run, he thought. He'd known from the beginning that there were only two options for that conversation to end: she'd brush it aside, refuse to care, or she would flip it into a plea for sympathy.

But knowing and hoping were never really the same. He wanted things to have turned out right.

As if on some cosmic cue, Jasper's phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out, his glimmer of annoyance melting into something a little softer when he saw Kyle's name on the screen.

How's the visit with your mom? Received 3:44 PM

Jasper huffed out a sharp breath, swiping a hand angrily across his eyes.

Bad Delivered 4:16 PM

Kyle's response came in hardly a moment later, accompanied by a brief flicker of concern behind Jasper's heart.

Want to talk abt it? Received 4:16 PM

No Delivered 4:16 PM

Just wish I was there with you Delivered 4:17 PM

Me too Received 4:17 PM

Jasper's fingers hovered over the keyboard, but he couldn't figure out what to say. Eventually he sighed and gave up, tucking his phone back into his pocket. It buzzed only a minute or two later.

He opened the message and found a picture of a dog - a puppy, either an Australian shepherd or something similar, snapping at a cluster of fallen leaves dropped by a hand just barely in frame. It succeeded in coaxing a smile from him, albeit a faint one.

Neighbors got a new puppy Received 4:19 PM

His name is Ferdinand Received 4:19 PM

The texts were closely followed by a video, slightly warped and blurry from being sent over text, but still clear enough. It showed Ferdinand prancing after a tossed Frisbee, moving in that rambunctious but not-quite-graceful puppy way. Kyle wasn't in the frame, but his voice cheered out from behind the camera.

He's really cute Delivered 4:21 PM

Kyle responded with another picture, this one clearly a flub of what was supposed to be a posed shot. Kyle was crouched beside the dog, one arm around its fluffy back- but Ferdinand had jumped up onto his knee and was stretching to lick his face. The picture showed Kyle mid-laugh, both of them slightly blurry. It got a wider smile from Jasper, and his fingers danced across his phone screen.

Not as cute as you are though Delivered 4:22 PM

He felt a flicker of soda-pop amusement bubble through his chest, accompanied by something warm and comforting. He'd always been grateful for his odd little link with Kyle, but now more than ever. At least he had someone on his side - someone who'd never doubted, never faltered, never questioned even when he still didn't understand.

Jasper let out a low sigh, forcing himself to exhale his lingering emotions. His fingers itched for movement, and he found himself flipping again through the box of old records. He'd seen them all before, knew his well-worn favorites and those he always skipped past. But this time he paused, stalling on the image of a night sky overlaid by a silver longsword. Despite everything, it made him smile. He reached for his phone and snagged a quick picture.

Look what i found in my dad's old records Delivered 4:25 PM

Kyle responded almost immediately, a bloom of warmth filling Jasper's chest just as the message went through.

Toto!! Received 4:25 PM

Give it a listen for me :) Received 4:25 PM

Jasper managed a fragment of a smile. Broken, shattered, but... almost there.

I will Delivered 4:26 PM

He blew dust off the record, flipped it over and scanned the list of songs, anything to occupy his hands or his mind. Jasper briefly glanced at the record player on the bookshelf, just as worn and dusty as the record itself.

No. He'd do one better.

He was taking this one with him. Not all of them, not even the heavy rock he'd promised, just this one. His mother wouldn't even notice the loss. There had to be a hundred records in his dad's collection. Even Jasper couldn't list them all.

She wouldn't even notice it was gone. And Jasper would hang onto a little piece of his dad's heart.

Before he even realized it, his fingers were dancing across his phone again.

Would it be easier if I was a girl? Delivered 4:33 PM

Brief pause. Uncertainty, mild confusion, swirled through Jasper's chest like bubbles in a lava lamp.

Would what be easier? Received 4:33 PM

Us Delivered 4:34 PM

Idk Delivered 4:34 PM

Dating me Delivered 4:34 PM

Another brief pause. Another uneasy drift of confusion, this one tinged with cool blue concern. There was something else there too, something Jasper had learned to identify as longing. Kyle wished he was there, that they could talk face-to-face, that he could mend whatever wrongs he could clearly sense that Jasper was struggling with.

The response went through a moment later.

Are you a girl right now? Received 4:35 PM

No Delivered 4:35 PM

Then no Received 4:35 PM

I like you better when you're being yourself Received 4:35 PM

Jasper almost sighed with relief. There was no waver in Kyle's sincerity. Not that there ever really was. It made things better, though doubt and hatred still prickled across his skin.

But would it be easier Delivered 4:37 PM

There was a longer pause, like Kyle was choosing how to respond. Jasper hardly moved, staring at the phone in his hands and the album in his lap.

Maybe Received 4:39 PM

Technically I guess Received 4:39 PM

But I don't want it to be easier like that. I want you to be happy w who you are. Even if it means we have to deal with bible belt bullshit sometimes. I love you Jazz Received 4:40 PM

Jasper's fingers twitched across the little keyboard, typing out another message.

Are you sure?

But he shook his head and deleted it. He knew Kyle was sure. He could sense it as well and clearly as he could feel his own heartbeat. He couldn't have doubted Kyle if he tried. Sometimes his sense really was a lovely thing.

In the silence that followed as Jasper failed to respond, his phone buzzed again in his hand. He glanced down at it.

And hey just think next year we'll have our own apartment. Won't have to leave on the breaks Received 4:42 PM

Eight more months Jazz Received 4:42 PM

Hang in there Received 4:42 PM

Love you <3 Received 4:43 PM

Jasper forced himself to take in a long breath and let it out, nearly coughing as he inhaled more dust than air. Kyle was right. Just a few more months of this, and then they'd have their own place in the city. A safe place. No more judgement, no more invasive questions, no more abuses of privacy and hands where they didn't belong. They'd both be safe.

Eight more months. A few more weekends, one more holiday break, one more summer. Then it would be just him and Kyle. Then... all of this would be a little easier.

He could make it through eight more months.

I know Delivered 4:45 PM

Hanging in there Delivered 4:45 PM

Love you too <3 Delivered 4:45 PM

#fun fact mama is both an mcr song (for jasper) and a song on toto's first album ;) #my friends!!! #answered asks #my ocs #jasper wilson #my writing #oneshot #ficlet #angst #tw transphobes #tw homophobia #ahs coven #kyle spencer #oc x canon

[babythe67]

HELLO

Meet the writer !

LETS START OFF EASY

I’m Chevy or Colton, you can call me Cole, Colby, Chev, or Chevs. Please don’t call me impala or baby I know my name is similar to the car but please it makes me insane 🙏 Colt is fine too, just use it sparingly. 

MY PRONOUNS ARE HE HIM

2. Listen I understand wOAH MALE FANFIC WIRTER- yOu mUst bE aGiRl- please shut up PLEASE PLEASE LAST TIME I CHECKED I GOT BELLS AND THE TREE. MERRY CHRISTMAS.  

IM 19 

3. Guys. Let’s have a talk. 18 and over to interact. Listen. I was 16 once sobbing ab my Sam Winchester x readers and I know I physically cannot stop you, it’s the internet. Fuck can I do, reach through and smack your hand? No. But for my sake at least try to stay incognito or at least try to pretend good. I will be checkin accounts, if you’re under 18 I’ll straight up block you 💀 idgaf ab views or notes or reshares Im in it for just having a visual diary to put my writing. 

IM A MEXICAN MAN

4. guys please. PLEASE. MY ENGLISH IS AS GOID AS IT CAN BE. AND YES I MIGHT FORGET A WORD AND TYPE IT IN SPANISH. IM SORRY. AND SOME POSTS MIGHT BE IN SPANISH MY BAD. also I write from Mexican perspective so again MY B A D 

WHO DO I WRITE FOR

5. LISTEN listen guys. My list is long but this is just for spn atm. You want my other writing check out my other accs THELTGHOST or Calahansdrabbles

Cals has a mix writing. It’s like. Everything.  Ltghost is mainly cod.  Here you Can find; Sam Winchester  Dean Winchester  Castiel Novak  G A R T H  Charlie Bradburry  Crowley Lucifer  Etc etc  Dick Roman if you ask nicely. 

WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU COLT.

6. HI. It’s Colby here. Im a tall nerdy Mexican, probably on the chubby side. I wear glasses and have black shaggy hair. I cosplay ghost and konig and castiel- some other mfs too.  No I DONT wanna show my face bruh then you’ll find my TIKTOK and HARASS ME FOR THE FOUL THINGS I WRITE. Uh. Im pretty cool I’d say. And I love interacting and taking requests. Like yes baby let me write you your slow burn destiel fic you’ve been itching for. 

WHERE ARE YOU FROM?

7. MEXICOOO BABY. VIVA MEXICO HUEVONES. uhhh no but fr I’m from Jalisco Mexico but now live in California bordering TJ. 

WHAT FANDOMS??

8. UHHHH This acc is mainly spn cause I want Dean to suck my dick. Uhhhh though I do enjoy a lot of different shit. This includes good omens, cod, overwatch, greys anatomy, adventure time, yadda yadda

Uh that’s kinda all I guess. Stream vampire by Olivia Rodrigo. And Stay with me by Ghost.  

That’s all folks. ♡

#dean winchester #sam winchester x reader #castiel x reader #spn #castiel #deancas #supernatural #the winchesters #jared paladecki #jensen ackles #supernatural x readers

[unsleepingtales]

Finale Time. I have food, I have a drink, let’s do this.

Three whole hours <3

Somehow I forgot about the outfits.

Former emo kid Murph is so dear to me

Lipstick by Rick Perry!

$217 at hot topic would not buy six outfits I hate to break it to you.

They all look great, but. Zac looks really good.

Mazey’s mini looks so cool!

Like some kind of fucked up pokemon

Naur

That was spinning for so long oh my god

18 D10????

Holy shit!!!

You’re saying that the shatter stars were parasitically possessing the rat grinders. That’s what you’re telling me right now. PLEASE bad kids hear and process what that means. Please.

Noooo Mazey

Oop

You’re telling me Buddy Dawn isn’t absurdly charismatic? Wild.

Fuck!

FUCK YOU MAN

Oh my god

I’m gonna throw up

Oh my fucking god if Gorgug perma dies I’m gonna. Be upset.

Excuse me?? Is that what he says??

He’s lying girl!!!

OOOOOHHH

Oh god

:( bye kipperlilly

Devastating!

No.

FUCK.

Oh god the hat.

I love the skeleton hand over Siobhan’s pink glove I think that’s fun

FUCK the failed death saves are so bad

God what an incredible turn from Adaine

Someone please incorporate Jace calling Porter ‘Boss’ into their Starbreaker fic

Did not like that sound at the start of Jace’s turn

It really is circus hours you’re so right Ally

Cool hand :)

(Brennan mimics Bigby’s Hand jiggling impotently) god

THANK GOD

I will admit that Zac’s casual ‘well that’s fun because I rolled a 33’ was hot. It was.

Awww the song from the first episode <3

That was a sick move.

I’m so stressed guys

Don’t do this to me don’t do this to me actually I don’t care :(

Yeah making the minis kiss is d&d. That’s what d&d is about

ITS SQUEEM WITH A STEEL CHAIR SIX CORTADOS

And Balthazar!

Mass healing word cast via cortados 😭😭

Awww Fabian’s version of German Shepherd mode!

Kisses and a girlfriend!!

It’s great that you’re wearing a black lip while you’re doing this Lou. It’s great

Oh you’re fucking kidding me

Oh christ

Oh my god

This is what a lot of dms look like yeah

I do love that apparently the big difference is really that K2 lives in a world dmed by Zac Oyama

HER PARENTS GOT DIVORCED?????????

I’m gonna lose it

I really hope Brennan gets to take a minute

Cotton candy lung?????

(Murph cackling in slo mo)

Some god is having so much fun with Brennan right now

Oh my god

OH MY GOD????

K2 is on earth right now. In England. In Austin. Somewhere.

Oh that’s so upsetting. Brennan is really going through it.

THATS HER VAPE

K2 is granted true life. K2 is now a human cleric who has a memory of Kristen’s life but in England.

Just mirrors that anatomy just in a British way.

I’m gonna lose my goddamn mind.

THANK YOU ADAINE <3 Kristen already has sisters!!

Hi Cassandra! Are you just. Back now?

AND THEN SHE BOWS

MLADY

Somehow I don’t think it was Porter saying ‘enough’

We never followed up with them

Oh noooooo

I do not appreciate the paladin hate! Just because this paladin was evil does not mean that the entire class is bad! Fig is also a paladin!

God I’m stressed and there’s still an hour and a half left

Sandra Lynn!! Jawbone!! Lydia!! Ragh!!

YOU DO PLUR WITH BALTHAZAR?????

AGENT CLARK????????

One: why does he count as an ally Two: this really is so unhinged at this point

Fuck

She has faith in her friends and maybe that’s enough <3

Oh that’s so smart. Siobhan Thompson you’re so incredibly smart.

New Gorgug ability!!!

Thank you for not letting k2 get this one

That’s not justice

Love a (potentially unintentional) callback to Fig pretending to be a bouncer in freshman year

God Ankarna is so beautiful

I really love all the mini shots

Oh Emily found her camera for that one

Oh god okay we actually get some emotions thank you

My potential is mine. And I can do with it what I want to do with it.

Goddammit Ally Beardsley. You’re really good at this.

Ohhh god Gorgug and Kristen are the first to find each other. Hold on that’s gotta be its own post.

You don’t wanna kill your mom and get your inheritance though?

Riz Gukgak you kill me dead. Riz Gukgak I can’t.

Oh god if they cry I’m gonna cry

Emily Axford the person you are.

Friends can hurt each other so deeply and it’s so painful.

Please. Let him understand. Let her help him understand.

Oh my god. Maybe this is the one that gets me. The release from parental expectation.

Oh god okay thank you Cassandra’s back that was what I needed.

Now go away. Literally forever.

You crack a cortado???

The purple hair really brings out Beardsley’s eyes. I’m listening to them and what they’re saying and it’s beautiful but also their eyes are lovely.

Rebellion without hope for a dawn is cynical

God they’re mirroring the painting.

They’re married! They’re back together and they’re going to rest

Is SQUEEM Ankarna’s familiar 😭

Wait so who are you bringing back

Arthur Aguefort driving a station wagon

AYDA!!!!!

Well dang.

That’s some narc shit 💀💀

President Applebees.

Lucy’s back? Lucy’s back!!!

Okay so they are bringing the rat grinders back. Okay.

Zac Oyama….. hiiii

Hey WHAT.

WHAT

I LIKE TO SIT DOWN?????? THAT’S THE MOVE??????

What are you Talking about

The world does not rest on what college you go to. It just doesn’t.

Bitchy sisters my beloveds <3

Uncle Ray!!!!!!!! I love this I love this for him

OOF

Why is Telemaine there

CATHILDA ART!!!!!!

Yesssssss

The odds are quite literally one in one hundred Brennan.

They’re comedians!!!! They’re so good at comedy!

Josh???

The child???

Josh get ready for warrrrr Josh

Awwww yayyyy

Yesss get Riz student gov on his resume!!

Oh Trackerbees. They know each other better than most people and they have love for each other.

Nooooo Kristennnnn

Okay that was an unreasonable expectation

I will not understand this for years 😭😭

Hmm. Feeling weird about Trackerbees but what else is new.

Gorgug made Fig an effects pedal. Oh god.

Why are you giving her THAT BENCH

Ooooh Gorgug teaching would be fun

Hey WHAT

Tip top! [and he turns into birds]

Oh Fig and Sandra Lynn. Oh god.

Aguefort never holds podcasts against anyone

Oh boy oh boy!

KALINA!!!!!

What a show. What a time. It’s been an honor to spend the past five months with everybody here on d20 tumblr, and I’ll see you at Basrar’s 💜💜

#fantasy high junior year #reactions #verbal component #fhjy spoilers

[hwsforeignrelations]

Unfinished USUK Twilight AU (2022)

-------

Forks, Washington, USA

It was a damp, drizzling Monday morning at Forks, Washington when Fork’s High School English and Biology teacher exchanged snide greetings at the staff meeting.

“Dismal morning, Mr Jones.”

“I don’t have the energy to pretend to like you today, Artie.”

“It’s okay if you don’t like me. Not everyone has good taste.”

President Williams coughed to get their attention, smiling with resilient tolerance, “Are we done?”

“...”

“Yep.”

“Good. Great. Sorry Toris, please continue.”

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

Alfred cringed as he sent the new student, Isabella Swan, daughter of Ford’s police chief, to the seat next to Edward Cullen. That guy was an oddball, not the sort you wanted to make a first Forks impression. Swan might be misled to believe there’s more depth to this town. Don’t build unreasonable expectations, bud, Alfred thought.

Cullen glared at him.

Ek. To be honest with himself, which he tried to do, Alfred had a suspicion that Cullen could read his mind. It could be coincidental, but everytime he approached an experimental recipe (typically including at least one pound of beef, concentrated soda syrup and doughnuts) during brainless lecturing Cullen turned a vague shade of green. Whatever.

Alfred began today’s lecture on cellular anatomy, wiping his eyes as inconspicuously as possible when Cullen not-so-inconspicuously sniffed Ms Swan (what the fuck), made a face (haha), and leaned as far away from his partner (HA!), on the verge of toppling his chair. I guess the sunny essence of Phoenix doesn’t sit well with emos.

When the bell rang for next period Alfred was hardly breathing, twitching from the effort to not burst out laughing. The last student filtered out and Alfred rushed to his office to muffle gasping cries into a jacket.

Alfred was still shaking when he jerkily lowered the jacket– and promptly brought it back up for a second round of belly aching laughter. It was just– their faces. Swan on the edge of tears, Cullen with shoulders touching his ears and this look of revulsion.

—----------------------------------

When hysterics dissolved to the occasional cough someone knocked the office door and he jumped.

“Ah-hem,” the Biology teacher cleared his throat and straightened his frazzled appearance. “Come in!”

In walked Arthur Kirkland with a Dunkin’ pastry bag, coffee and tea in hand. He set all three on the desk and appraised Alfred, “Dissecting onions, Jones?”

Jones’ glasses slid down his nose when shook his head ‘no’, “That’s next Monday.”

#hetalia #usuk #fanfic #hws america #hws england

[inklore]

down on luck.

premise: you win a bet that eddie is more than happy to lose.

pairing: eddie munson x (f)reader

word count: 1.9k

warnings: eighteen+ content, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, illusions to sex, barest amount of dirty talk.

etc: just a disclaimer i only know the bare minimum of d&d therefore there’s the bare minimum of mentioning of it in here, which means if i got the verbiage wrong pretend you didn’t see it ok thanks lmao.

i do not give anyone permission to translate or repost my work, please be respectful — if you enjoyed please comment or reblog!

His hair is always softer than it looks; like strands of silk running through your fingers, tickling the insides of your thighs, falling around you when his body is pressed to yours, even when it’s sweat slicked and stuck to his forehead. His hair was perfect, even with a lackluster shampooing routine. It had been one of the first things you had noticed about him, his hair. The second was how perfect his smile was. A grin so contagious that even if what was coming out of those sweetly spread lips was foolery or theaterics. He had the perfect sense of tone. The countless times you had seen him perform with his band, or watched him strum his guitar at the end of his bed mindlessly, proving so.

You know you could fill a whole notepad with all of the perfections you thought he had. To some they’d seem like moot examples, only added to the list due to your deep affections for the outcast. But it wouldn’t make them any less true. Eddie was more than the surface leveled nerdy reject the town had labeled him as.

If your mind wasn’t completely fuddled right now, your brain trying to remind you to breathe, to slow the movements of your hips, to savor what you’ve earned; comprehension would be there. But lust and anatomy—and the silk of Eddie’s hair between your fingers as you pull it softly, his lips wrapped around your clit as his fingers pressed up inside of you, the cool feel of his rings on your wet folds a welcome relief from the heat that’s burning you from the outside in.

If comprehension was there: this, the way he’s fucking you with his fingers and his tongue rolling along your clit in that perfect pattern, would be at the top of his list of perfections.

You can feel the stabbing of a game piece digging into the back of your skull as it presses onto the table, your head thrown back, a string of moans spewing from your lungs to fill the air. You hadn’t expected the night to play out like this. Had more than expected the roles to be reversed. Having rarely earned bragging rights to winning any of the cheeky bets the two of you would place against each other—tonight’s being: the loser of the campaign gives the winner head. A bet you were fully ready, and happily, willing to lose. Expecting to have grooves from the hard floor lingering on the skin of your knees for the rest of the night, as you swallowed Eddie's cock.

You didn’t need an excuse to smile around his girth as you watched him wither and beg to come in your mouth. So losing would have been just as pleasing as a win. But when the dice had been rolled and you had won, the slow up turn of a smirk on his lips, and the rush to get the guys to leave faster than normal; all but throwing you onto your back on the table, hooking his arms around your thighs to pull your ass forward so it hung off of the edge, his knees already bending to meet the floor to pull your panties to the side and move his head between your legs—your surprise at your victory settling in at the same time his tongue lapped over your folds.

Losing was more your forte, but with how good Eddie’s mouth felt right now, with the small vibrations against your clit each time your back bowed and a curse fell from your lips as you pulled his hair; you’re thanking whatever D&D gods were on your side tonight.

It’s almost suspicious how easily you had won. How there was no banter, no teasing, no playful showmanship of being a poor sport that usually came with him losing, or winning. There had been little surprise on his face when the die landed in your favor, the other boys hooting and hollering; and he was uncharacteristicly silent.

Licking your lips, pulling your head from the table—and away from the game piece shockingly not imbedded into your skull—you try to keep your eyes open, try to look down at him, try to gear yourself up to form words, to speak, to ignore his tongue and fingers for one damn second so you can comprehend a single action that wasn’t rolling your hips into his mouth.

"Did you lose on purpose?"

There’s a loud sucking noise that fills the air as he pulls off of your clit and a smile spreads across his wet lips, his eyes meeting yours. "Me? Cheat?” He makes a face, one that reads I'm appalled you would even ask such a thing. But there’s amusement in it—and he’s still fingering you, still has two fingers fucking into you, the sounds of the wet squelch of your pussy around them enough to make your cheeks burn and your lids waver to stay open. “What a scandalous accusation,” he teases. You would believe him, as serious as he takes this game, his campaigns, but there’s a glint of mischief in his eye. Something that’s telling you his words are anything but the truth.

And with his eyes still upturned towards you his tongue dips in between your wetness, runs the flat of it from your opening to your clit. Your wetness gathering on his taste buds, coating them in such a filthy way that it has your legs shaking. “It would be unjust of me to rig the game in your favor, all so I could have an excuse to eat this pretty pussy and have you coming on my tongue.” He presses a soft kiss to your mound, “doesn’t sound like something I would do.”

“Eddie, you–“ a gasp replaces your argument. The scold dies in your lungs and is quickly forgotten when the wet heat of his swollen lips wrap around your clit once more. The suction singes your nerve endings, your lower belly burning, sinking sinking sinking until that nipping feeling of being close to coming is at your heels. The back of your head finding the table again as your back arches, your hips rolling steadily at the same time his fingers pull out and fuck back into you. Everything in perfect rhythm. Every service of your outsides burning through to the inside with a pleasure that feels so fucking good.

Your wrist hurts from all the tugging and twitching your hand keeps doing, there’s going to be a raw inprint of the table etched on your ass when you stand you’re sure. The thought of traces of your wetness getting on the game board an afterthought—should make you feel some type of way, self conscious? Annoyed that things will have to be replaced? Perhaps. But all it does is make you wetter, makes you whimper and tremble at knowing that Eddie doesn’t care.

He could have waited until all the pieces were picked up and packed away. Could have waited until you were in his bed and his stereo was drowning out your moans so the neighbors couldn’t hear.

But he didn’t. He wanted you right here and now, no waiting, no hesitation, no worry about the arousal running down your asscheeks and potiently ruining the board. Or a bat of an eye when the others had given him weird looks when he pushed them out of the door. Clarity honing in on the fact that he had gone as far as rigging the game—something you try to be at least a little annoyed with—so he could get you like this, so he could push your skirt up and lose himself in the taste of you.

“Fuck,” you loved him.

His fingers crook up at just the right angle, touching just the right spot, intune with the rotation of his tongue, a combination that leaves you breathless. Your thighs closing in on his head, that burn in your belly turning into something scalding and over sensitive as you come on his tongue. A chorus of swears and his name panted out of you. The soft muffled groan of “that’s it” between your thighs as languid sucks, and licks from his mouth coax you through it, enough to make your body jerk and tremble.

Even once his mouth has left you, there’s still heat from him down there. Hot puffs of air on your still scorching skin as you come down. The gentle clenching of your cunt around his fingers that are still slowly moving inside your sensitive walls, making you ache for something thicker.

That was the thing with fucking Eddie. It was never just once; once a day, once a night. He was never satisfied with making you come only once. Always pulled you back into his bed when you were leaving, rolling on top of you to convince you to stay with his mouth pressed to your lips, vows of love and pleasurable torment against them, and his cock growing hard between your legs; your determination to leave his trailer, and his bed, losing its fire when a different blaze starts up when he slips inside of you. A wince of swollen pleasure from being fucked earlier that night swallowed down by his tongue in your mouth.

You guess tonight was the night of role reversals, because even as your breathing goes back to normal. As your heart stops pounding and your cheeks cool; as he rights your underwear and stands from the floor, there’s still that ache to be filled as you sit up—a pitter patter in your stomach relighting those embers of desire when you look down and see the bulge in his jeans.

Eddie grins at you, moves between your open legs to lean down and cup your cheeks in his palms. All you can taste when he kisses you is your arousal, the sweet slick of you on him. It’s that, and the heat of his body now touching the parts of you he hadn’t earlier, the parts that craved for his palms to reach up and cup, squeeze, flick. Making you crave him—again, more.

Your fingers come to the top of his jeans, having done this blindly enough in dark rooms, cars, and forests that you know where the buttons are. Know how to have them unbuttoned and your hand pushing into his boxers in no time.

Your palm feels cold against his throbbing cock. Your fingers moving along the protruding veins as you try to jerk him off as best as you can within the tight material. A low hiss breathed against your lips.

"You’re going against the rules." His chuckle is low and lacking authority. Pushing down the top of his jeans just enough to pull his cock free, to finally wrap your palm around his girth without struggle, you grin up at him.

“Fuck the rules. I want you.”

Eddie’s lips quirk up, runs his fingers down to your chin to play with your bottom lip. A fleeting touch that has you leaning into his hand before it’s gone, and moving across your hand that’s loosely wrapped around his cock. His fingers wrapping around yours, his other hand moving your skirt back up your thighs. The cool air on your still soaked lips as your underwear gets pushed to the side again, sending a shiver up your spine—that turns into a tremor when the tip of his cock moves between the wetness. “Never pleased is she? Always wanting more of me.”

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