#the rest of the dirty i make this week gets packed fuck it man

[totalswag]

okay so rafe x brat!reader with a huge attitude towards everyone around her ??? only rafe could make her calm down n behave omg the dream

attitude attitude - RAFE CAMERON

authors note pretty sure you sent me request before you sent me this one but THANK YOU for this idea. i can definitely see rafe being the only one to calm brat!reader down in these certain circumstances. just the thought of rafe doing this ugh only a girl could dream 😫.

requests are still open so feel free to send them my way. if you click on the bold red font it will take you to my ask box lovies!!!

summary brat!reader has a huge attitude towards everyone and her boyfriend rafe is the only one to calm her down.

warnings drinking, smoking, cursing, possible fight, making out, implied smut

Rafe and you were on our way to a kook party, which had been the talk of Kildcare for quite some time. The traffic lights made the drive take ten minutes. Rafe had his right hand on your thigh and the other on the steering wheel.

Rafe let out a breath, turning his head in your direction as you look out the passenger window, "Y/N before we get to the party, please be on your best behavior tonight," you turn your head around looking at him confused.

"And what if I'm not on my best behavior?" You smirk, tilting your head to the side.

Rafe laughs as he turns the corner toward the house. "You already know what will happen, princess," he says in the tone that just gets you going.

One thing about you have a bad attitude towards everyone around you. You have a short temper and become overstimulated easily. Rafe is the only person who can calm you down and behave in certain situations.

You say what needs to be said and don't care whose feelings get hurt. You have no fear confronting someone that's been talking about you or anyone you care for in a negative way.

If anything, Rafe and you are nearly the same, except you are worse.

The party has undoubtedly been the topic of much discussion during the last week. Outside, music can be heard, as can voices. Rafe held your hand as you two entered the big house, which smelled of weed, alcohol, people making out, and bodies grinding against each other. To move around the house, you have to squeeze.

A few guys recognized Rafe- calling out his name, waving, or dabbing him up.

"The fuck you looking at?" You question a group of girls who give you a filthy look as you walk past them with Rafe.

Rafe squeezed your waist after you snapped at the girls, "remember what I said princess."

You rolled your eyes as you let out a huff at his comment but on the inside you wanted to get on your knees for that man. There's something about the way the word princess rolls off his tongue.

Rafe and you parted ways after spending a majority of time together in the first half n hour. He went to hang out with the guys, while you are with some of your girlfriends. You two trust each other enough to be away from each other at parties like these.

He was out on the balcony which wasn't far from where you were. So if anything were to happen he would be there in a second.

Your girlfriends and you were in the living room, sitting on the couch with drinks in our hands after dancing for thirty minutes in the large crowd to the music which was still packed with sweaty bodies rubbing against one another.

"This party is packed," Olivia, one of your girlfriends, exclaimed while gazing around.

The rest of you are nodding in agreement with Olivia's comment.

"Josh will have a lot to pick up in the morning," you say, taking a sip from your drink, talking about the guy who's hosting the party.

You noticed the group of girls you snapped at earlier walking up to where you and your friends were seated; they stood close enough for you to hear what they were saying.

You tell your friends about the little incident. They all agreed it wasn't that big of a deal. You were wondering why they were giving you a dirty look for no reason.

"Can you believe that bitch came in with her guy earlier? I can't believe Rafe is even with that girl," the girl shouts to her friends, clearly affected by the situation. Her friends all agreed and saying their imput.

Who do these girls think they are? You think.

Thalia's jaw dropped as she heard what the girl said. Thalia rushes to look at you, but she already sees you standing up to confront the group of girls.

"This isn't going to end well, get Rafe right now," Olivia runs towards Thalia, pointing to the balcony.

Thalia sprints to the balcony to grab Rafe and the guys. Olivia looks in your direction with worry- she knows you like the back of her hand.

"Like Rafe can do so much better than that sl-" The girl was cut off when you poked her on the shoulder. She turns around about to see who tapped her but shuts her mouth when it's you.

"You wanna finish what you were gonna say?" You ask in a serious tone, crossing your arms over your chest, "because it's really funny hearing you lame asses talking shit about me over something so minor," you remark with a straight face.

Your blood was boiling.

The girl that was talking the most scoffs, putting her hair over her shoulder. "I said that Rafe can do much better than being with a slut like you" she steps close to your face.

Her little posy agreed and putting in their input.

These bitches sound dumb.

You can't help but laugh: "You sound very insecure, you all do in fact," pointing at them. "Calling me a bitch because I clapped back cause you three were giving me a dirty look when I walked in mind my business with my boyfriend?" The tone in your voice indicated that you were not messing around.

She puts her index finger on your chest, "Oh honey that's not us being insecure it's just us stating facts. Plus you are a bitch" she says giving a fake smile.

The moment her finger laid on your chest everything in you was telling you to rip her face off.

You forcefully swap her hand off your chest, taking her off guard with your strength. She glances at you, slightly afraid, but remains calm. Her friends' eyes almost fell out of their sockets.

Other's around have their phones out and waiting for something to happen. To them this is entertainment.

"Am I a bitch for calling you out for giving me a dirty look? Listen, bitch, I have never met you before in my life. I don't care what comes out of my mouth because I'll say what needs to be said." At this point, you are eating the girl up and she has nothing else to say since she knows you are correct.

After you finish your sentence, she rolls her eyes and extends her arms, pushing you back slightly, taking you by surprise. She glances at you, still wanting more. You aren't the kind to fight, but she put her hands on you first.

Your girlfriends rush over immediately. No matter what happens your girls will always have your back.

Before you swung you felt two strong arms wrap themselves around your waist, pulling you away from the fight that's about to happen.

"What did I tell you princess?" Rafe calmly asks you in your ear. He could feel the tension in your body on a hundred.

The group of girls begin giggling, "Aw, you need your boyfriend to pull you away from that mu-" Rafe instantly hushed her up, "You shut the fuck up!" he said sternly, pointing at her and gazing at her straight-faced.

Others around started laughing.

Rafe halted in front of the host, Josh, and told him to kick the group of girls out of the party. Josh nods and instructs the girls to leave due of the ruckus they created.

Rafe took you upstairs to a room for you to cool down. He knows what to do in situations like these- always gives you reassurance, gives you a cold bottle of water, telling you that everything's going to be okay and to take deep breath's.

When your body is placed on the bed carefully, you let out a frustrated sigh, running your hands through your hair, shaking your head. Ranting about the encounter that happened.

Rafe stands between your open legs, gently grasping your chin with his thumb and pointer finger, and tilting your head back slightly to make eye contact with him.

"Princess you are okay, focus on the sound of my voice, yeah?" He says in a calming tone that relaxes you, placing the front section of your hair behind your ear.

The more Rafe calms you down the more relaxed you feel. Words cannot explain how you appreciated him. You can't imagine how you could get out of this moment without him helping you out of it.

"There you go, just keep repeating that," Rafe says as you take long breathes in and out.

Once you calmed down enough you looked up to Rafe, still standing between your legs, looking at you with his blue eyes.

"Thank you for calming me down- I love you," you say, smiling with your teeth, "of course, anything for my girl. I know how you get in these types of situations and it's my job to calm you down" he says before kissing your lips softly.

When he pulls away you ask him the question, "Are you mad at me?" You asked curiously.

"No, I'm not, but it was really hot seeing you like that," he grins as he plays with the gold necklace he got you with his first initial.

You cover your face with your palm, blushing. Rafe takes your hand away, putting it back on your lap and moving closer to you, causing your back to hit the bed's comforter.

You two look into each other's eyes and then kiss. The sexual tension in the room starts to rise. You both crave each other's touch in the most intimate way.

"I want you Rafe," you moan between kisses, "so bad" dragging out the d, running your hands down his clothed chest.

"I'm all yours."

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[chiriwritesstuff]

The Girl in IT - 7. The All Hands Meeting

A Boss! Joel Miller x IT Specialist F! Reader AU

The LIST │ Series Masterlist

Chapter Rating: E (18+, MDNI)

Chapter Summary: A look into a typical day at Miller Construction Group. Chaos ensues (naturally).

Chapter Warnings and Tags: No outbreak AU, Boss x Employee Relationship, Sugar Daddy Lite, Smut, SO MUCH SMUT, Age Gap, Older Man/Younger woman, So much dirty talk, Office sex, Desk sex, Inappropriate usage of PowerPoint, Tommy fucks around and finds out, No Beta we die like men!

Word Count: 4.4K

A/N: And the hijinks are back! I wanted to try something new this week, and it was the perfect opportunity to showcase all of our fun supporting characters in 'The Girl in IT'! I thought what better way to introduce everyone was to include their commentary, like an episode of 'The Office'! This one is a doozy, and I hope you all enjoy!

#MCG ADMIN 50 members Sarah (HR) Good morning, Team! I hope you're all doing well. I'd like to announce a mandatory All-Hands HR Meeting today at 11 am in Conference Room A, co-facilitated by Tess and me. We'll have a brief presentation, and for those working remotely, please log into Zoom to join the meeting. Following the session, thanks to Bill, we'll have lunch and refreshments provided. Feel free to reach out if you have any questions. Looking forward to seeing all of you soon! Tommy  Sarah, are you gonna bust your Papi's balls in front of everyone for posting that naughty photo? 💀☠️🪦 Frank (Interior Design) Will there be an opportunity for discussion following the presentation? I'm eager to delve into the minds of SlackGate and understand the motivations behind their actions the other day. Connie (Reception) It's clearly because they're fucking, Frank. 🍆🍑🦪 Frank (Interior Design) Who is? Our fearless leader and our shy girl in IT? Until one of them makes it official, it's just hearsay! Is this meeting a hard launch for a new power couple? 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👨 Sarah (HR) Yes, there will be an open-forum discussion after my presentation but NO, we will not be talking about the events of the other day in detail. Connie, this is a professional space and we will conduct ourselves as such. Connie (Reception) Why am I always being singled out?? Frank started it! Frank (Interior Design) Did I not professionally conduct myself? Geez Connie, I'm not the one sending nudes to our Boss when clearly, he has a girlfriend. Wait. Oops? (Sorry Connie 🤡) Bill (Civil) Frank! What do I have to do to get you to behave for once? Frank (Interior Design) Oh, I could think of a few ways... Why don't you come and find out once you're done handling your bratwurst out there? Sarah (HR) I don't get paid enough for this shit.

"Thank you, everyone, for coming together at such short notice. While I'm aware this all-hands meeting was abrupt, recent events in the past few days have made it essential. Tess and I genuinely appreciate your presence as we address these important matters," Sarah says with a bright smile, handing out materials. "Here's an updated Employee Handbook with a few edits. I thought it would be beneficial for us to go through it together. Are there any questions before we begin?"

"Yeah!" Tommy exclaims from the back of the room, his feet casually resting against the edge of the table. "How long until we get to the part of this meeting where we discuss just how much of a bad boy your Daddy was the other day?"

Tommy Look, I love my brother, I do. He's always so serious, so noble, providing for everyone and all that, making sure we have a roof over our heads. Shit, he's gotten me out of a lot of binds in my life- [He looks a bit uncomfortable and clears his throat, nodding.] ... anyway, it's a rare thing to see my brother slip up like that, you know? Didn't think he had it in him, honestly. It's been a few decades since I've seen his twig and berries, but shit, I know he's packing! He's a Miller, for fucks sake!  [he puffs his chest out a little at that, chuckling to himself] But Sugar? She's been a fucking godsend! Never in my life have I seen my big ol brother act a fool, especially over a woman! What can I say? It's great to not be the fuck-up brother for once! I'm gonna milk out SlackGate til the end of time!

"Tommy," Joel warns through his teeth, glaring at his brother. "Cut it out."

Sarah rolls her eyes in response as she fiddles with her laptop, the projector behind her illuminating with her PowerPoint presentation. "Like I was saying, this presentation is just going to go over the changes we have implemented in the last few days, including proper Slack etiquette and conduct. You would think that as grown adults, we would know better than sending inappropriate images and messages through company property and time," she clears her throat, glancing over at Joel, then to Tommy, who winks in her direction knowingly. "...including those who decide to engage and participate in unsanctioned secret channels-"

Frank's hand suddenly shoots up, his face awash in mock outrage. "I'll have you know, the watercooler channel serves a purpose, folks! When I caught wind of this 'secret channel' gossip circulating among the Nosy Nancies in the breakroom, I was appalled! Who would dare to stoop so low—"

"Frank, you invited me to the chat just this morning," Jesse remarks, casually holding up his phone as evidence. "It's titled 'Frank's-secret-slack-chat.' I thought it was some kind of exclusive club or something."

Frank Hi, [waves to you] is this on? Yeah? Hi. I'm Frank.   Listen, Sarah was getting a little too vigilant about monitoring Slack ever since Tommy sent us a little treat last year [he laughs] so I had to do something about it, you know? [It pans out to Frank leaning against his desk chair, typing away on his secret Slack Chat.] The chat started as an open forum for discussion on the everyday going-ons of Miller Construction Group. Do we just so happen to discuss the private lives of our peers? Maybe. Do we mean any harm by it?  [He gives you a wicked smile] Maybe.

"You guys, you know, the longer I keep getting interrupted, the longer we're all going to stay here in this conference room, and the longer we have to wait to eat Bill's food. You know how he is," She looks outside of the window, the smoke from Bill's grill swirls like a plume as he flips over a juicy steak. "He hates it when he has to serve his food cold. As I was saying, it should be obvious that we shouldn't be sending inappropriate images or photos to one another through Slack or e-mail."

"Hey! It was just one time, and it was an accident!" Tommy retorts, "Besides, it was hardly inappropriate, I was just only trying to show Maria this weird rash I got-"

"What does that mean, anyway?" Connie cuts in, casting a glance your way. "Inappropriate photos? And is there a difference between accidentally sending them or doing it on purpose?"

"Yeah," you shoot her a pointed look. "Sending nude photos to someone who doesn't want them is actually considered sexual harassment," you say, raising your voice a bit and turning in your seat. "I mean, you could get arrested for that, Connie," you add with a sing-song tone, a smirk playing on your lips as you glance at her. "You have nothing to worry about though, right?" you challenge, rolling your chair towards Joel, and taking his hand in his. "Not unless you did send naked photos to my boyfriend?"

Connie Look, I didn't know that Mr. Miller and Sugar were boning. I know how this looks- like I don't believe in girl code or something. I am a girls girl! If Sugar was just forthcoming about who gave her those damn hickeys before SlackGate happened, I wouldn't have sent her boyfriend nude photos of myself! A girl's gotta try, you know? I was only trying to shoot my shot! [She looks a bit uncomfortable, picking at a hangnail.] ... but you have to admit, Mr. Miller is H-O-T hot. God. I love me a graying man in flannel. I always thought to myself, there must be a story here. How does a millionaire who looks like that be single all this time? does he have anyone? is it a sugar baby? does he have a secret love child? I mean-  [she looks over her shoulder where Joel is, arms around his chest as he winks at Sugar. There's a hint of jealousy in Connie's eyes.] Is it true, though? Is it really sexual harassment if I send unsolicited photos of myself? Do you think he's gonna press charges? 

"It's true. Sending unsolicited photos of yourself to unsuspecting parties is sexual harassment, Connie. Not to mention creepy," Sarah winces, shooting you an apologetic smile. "So please don't be sending any photos of that nature to anyone that you work with, especially not in the admin group Slack."

"Yeah, Joel!" Tommy chides. "Keep that shlong in your pants, brother!"

Sarah You would think that working for my family is a cakewalk? Please. I've been diagnosed with IBS and GAD since I started working here five years ago. I sometimes take half an edible just to make it to lunchtime.   [Her head rests on her desk, and as the events of SlackGate unfold, an endless barrage of messages from the admin Slack channel floods her monitor. She can't help but groan in response.] Listen. I love my Dad. I've never really had to worry about his behavior at work before, not like how I have to with Uncle Tommy... but what the hell was he thinking? I can't unsee that! What if Ellie was on that chat? Could you imagine the trauma? My trauma?

"Okay, let's turn to page 12, where we'll go over all the recent updates," Sarah announces, clicking through her PowerPoint. A collective gasp echoes in the room as the slide projects onto the screen, revealing an image – the image of Joel. However, where his exposed package would be, an eggplant emoji tastefully takes its place. It resembles one of those generic memes easily made with a phone app, complete with the semi-imposed words 'Keep Calm and Shlong On!' in big bold letters.

"Shit!" she exclaims, hurriedly pressing the ESC button as she tries to close out her PowerPoint. She slams her laptop shut, the tell-tell sound of a crack echoing throughout the conference room. You hear Tess silently scoff in the distance, and Sarah closes her eyes in embarrassment as the room falls silent.

... and then, all hell breaks loose.  

Tommy is beside himself, his face red, and his eyes filled with tears as he doubles over in laughter, clutching at his middle. "Shit, Henry! When I asked you to do this, I honestly didn't think you had the balls to go through with it, but I so owe you, my man!" he exclaims, enthusiastically high-fiving his nephew-in-law. "This is the best fucking day of my life!"

"Henry?!" Sarah exclaims, her face flushed with rage. "This is what you needed to do in the office at 6 am this morning?!"

Henry's expression crumbles as he witnesses his wife's ire, suddenly realizing that he's just dug himself into a deep hole. "Sarah," he stammers, attempting to regain composure. "This isn't what it looks like—"

Henry Yeah, Tommy asked me to put that meme into Sarah's PowerPoint last night. I would have done it at home, but Sarah doesn't like to bring her laptop home, you know, work-life balance? So I had to make an excuse to come to the office this morning. Was it a dumb ass idea? Yeah, probably. Did I kind of want to get back at Sarah's dad for making my life a living hell? [He looks at you awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck.] Honestly, when you're like five beers in, drinking with Tommy- everything seems like a good idea. He dared me, you know? Said that I'm such a simp, trying to always please Joel. Called me a fucking pussy and everything! What else was I supposed to do? Sarah's going to kill me, huh? Do you think that she's gonna ask for a divorce?

"It's a meme. A meme of my Dad's dick pic with AN EGGPLANT EMOJI?!?! ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME??! WHAT DID YOU MEAN FOR IT TO LOOK LIKE?!" she screams, pulling at her hair. "AND YOU, TOMMY MILLER!" she points at her uncle furiously, "WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK??!"

"Baby," Henry replies, his hands raised in an attempt to calm her down. "It's just a harmless prank, look—"

"No, you look, Henry! Does it seem like it's just a harmless prank?" she gestures to the room, her eyes wide. "Don't even think about coming to bed tonight. I can't even look at you! How dare you collaborate with Tommy, do you really want to go this way? Because I see you fucking around, and you're about to find out-"

"Oh come on, Sarah! you know these all-hands meetings are dull as fuck, I don't even know why you even bother, no one ever listens anyway!" Tommy exclaims, looking around the room. "Isn't this fun you guys? Come on, lighten up! It's not like y'all haven't seen my dick before! Your Papi's gonna live another day, I think we should all feel as comfortable as we want, fuck the rules!"

"...but Joel's is much bigger than yours!" someone yells amid the chaos, laughter, and banter echoing through the room. Sarah looks around helplessly in a panic, trying to grasp the situation unfolding.

"Hey! I'll have you know that I ain't small!" Tommy yells in retaliation.

"Do you think that this is helping, Uncle Tommy? I'm beginning to believe that the only reason why people don't take me seriously is because of all of the shit that you pull!" Sarah groans, looking like she's at the end of her rope. "I could mention that Tess is helping me facilitate this meeting to scare everyone but she's just off to the side, pretending to not be drinking under the table!"  

Tess [She is sitting off to the side, smiling to herself as the chaos ensues, shaking her head.] I am drinking, because who else thinks it's appropriate to call an all-hands meeting first thing in the morning? I don't even want to be here. It's so fucking pointless, trying to get these shitheads to conform to a set of rules.   [She witnesses Joel storming up to Tommy, his face full of rage and irritation, finger pointed right at him.] This is the consequence of hiring friends and family, isn't it? I tried to tell them it was a bad idea, but who's listening to me? I get it, everyone thinks I'm a bit of a bitch, and well... yeah, I am. Alright, time to rein this in— [She suddenly stands from her seat and walks over to Sarah, who appears to be disassociating into madness.]

"HEY!" Tess bellows, clapping her hands together. The room abruptly falls silent, Joel's hands frozen mid-grab on Tommy's flannel. Forty-eight pairs of eyes pivot towards Tess, a blend of shock and embarrassment spreading across their faces, reminiscent of children caught sneaking cookies from the jar by their mother. "Okay, that's enough!"

Her eyes are narrowed, hands on her hips. "This is what's going to happen. You're going to stop sending each other dick and tit pics through Slack, because as much as it is amusing," she smirks, winking at you, "I would really rather not have to deal with the fallout that comes with it," she shoots a pointed look at Connie, whose eyebrows shoot up to her hairline.  

"The next time someone tries to fuck around and find out? I'm going to take that dirty photo, print a thousand fucking copies of it and stick that shit all over the office. Every fucking inch, every fucking nook and cranny is just gonna be dick and tit central," she paces around the room, placing a warning hand on Frank's shoulder. "As for this secret Slack chat, I'm going to give you all one chance to come clean. If you don't, and Sugar's report doesn't match who outs themselves right now," She scans the room, a smirk on the corner of her mouth appearing in satisfaction. "Yeah, you didn't think that we were monitoring that shit, huh? Well, I'll throw you all a bone: raise your hands if you are in this secret group chat, and I'll consider not docking your pay for insubordination. Your choice."

Frank [Looking at Tess as she slightly stumbles from where she's standing.] Yeah, she's toast.

The majority of the room begins to raise their hands, except you, Tess, Joel, and surprisingly, Frank.

Tess scoffs. "Really Frank? Really?"

"I have no clue what you're trying to imply, and seriously Tess? Are you really going to play that card? Are you going to dock your pay too?" Frank retorts. "I mean, just last night, you were drunkenly telling me that you heard Joel and Sugar-"

"If you utter another word, I'll fire you on the spot, Frank!" Joel shouts from across the room. "I mean it this time!"

Joel and Sugar [Joel wraps his arm around your waist, leaning in to kiss your forehead while gently pushing a strand of hair behind your ears.] There, that's better. Don't hide your face, Mami; you're too beautiful to be hiding all of that, okay? Right, [he clears his throat.] You would think that people would be a little more professional around here, show me a bit of respect— [His gaze shifts to Tommy, who's engaged in laughter and banter with the team, his chest puffed out in triumph. Joel glares at him, shaking his head.] I'd like to think I try really hard to be a good boss. I pay fairly, I allow remote work, and damn it, I take pride in offering the best employee benefits in all of Austin. We even take a company trip to Hawaii every year, for fucks sake! [You squeeze his hand, pressing a kiss to his temple as he takes a frustrated breath.] Papi, if it means anything, I think you're the best boss any of these folks could ever ask for. They don't deserve you. [Joel nods.] Look, I don't know what to tell you. I got the ride of my life that morning, my sweet Mami riding my cock just right, you know? I would have been okay, going into my meeting with blue balls, just as long as Sugar got hers. Your pleasure is my pleasure... but I was just so fucking horny! I started to work out, yeah? Wanted to keep shit tight for my baby, and fuck, I was... what do they young kids say?   Feeling yourself? [Joel nods again, smiling at you.] Yeah, 'feeling myself' or whatever. Anyway, I was in the meeting, and you messaged me, right? saying that you weren't going to be in for lunch? and I don't know if was the disappointment, or if I was just too horny, but fuck. I quickly excused myself and took a quick dick pic in my bathroom. I thought I was in the right Slack channel... so I sent it, and then the guys at The H Group asked me a whole bunch of questions, and then an hour later- Chaos. The messages kept flooding in! Frank was asking about how long I was, and Connie was sending me nude photos of herself- in my fucking office! Wait, what? [Your gaze meets Connie's, nervously seated as Frank goes on and on beside her. Her hands twitch like a possum that just got run over by an 18-wheeler. Yeah. Squirm for me, you think to yourself.] Yeah! And I just sat there, in shock, you know? Like this is the kind of shit that Tommy pulls, and I couldn't believe that I was so fucking stupid! Can you imagine the kind of therapy Sarah's gonna need? What if Ellie saw this?

"Who's up for some snacks?" Tommy calls out to the team, holding a basket filled with rather sizable cucumbers, bananas, and eggplants. "Help yourselves, compliments of Joel!"

Ellie  [at the job site across town, hard hat fixed crookedly on top of her head.] Yeah, I saw it. There is not enough bleach in this world that could ever erase that image from my existence.   [she glares at Sam, who just shrugs.] Thanks a lot, asshole!

"Alright, you degenerates!" Bill booms, bursting through the conference doors wearing a 'Kiss the Cook' apron, tongs in one hand, and a tray piled high with thickly cut steaks in the other. "This steak isn't going to eat itself!" 

The team swarms Bill like seagulls spotting a tasty piece of bread on the boardwalk. Tommy grabs a t-bone with his bare hands, biting into it with the enthusiasm of a caveman.

"Hey," Joel whispers to you, his shoulder gently bumping yours. "Want to help me with something?" You nod eagerly as Joel swiftly guides you out of the conference room, heading towards the executive offices. You giggle as Joel ushers you into the room, pulling you into a kiss, his foot playfully kicking the door shut.

He moves the both of you over to where Tommy's desk is, pushing aside its contents off the tabletop in one fell swoop, the items clattering onto the floor. "Papi, what are you doing?" you ask cheekily as he bends you over the desk, lifting your skirt.  

Joel growls and shoves you down onto the desk, his hands harshly grabbing onto your hips. Your arms scramble to find purchase as you knock over a framed photo of Tommy and Maria, watching helplessly as the image of their smiling faces falls onto the floor. His palm travels across your back, pinning you in place as he fiddles with his zipper with his other hand. "Line item 6," Joel murmurs as his hands begin to travel across the globes of your ass, squeezing and spreading and slapping them until you're so wet you can feel it dripping down your thighs.  

Joel hums in appreciation. "Thats right Mami, get nice and wet for me, okay?" You can feel him pump his cock against you, notching his head at your entrance. "You gonna make a nice mess for me, baby?" he asks through gritted teeth as he strokes through your folds with his dick.

"Yesss," you moan, pushing your ass back toward him.  

Joel pushes into you to the hilt in one brutal thrust as you cry out, grabbing onto the edge of the desk as he begins to pound into you in earnest, his thrusts so hard and punishing that the desk begins to rattle. You squeeze your eyes shut as Joel gathers your hair in his hand, pulling you back towards him. "Fuck baby, I'm gonna come so fucking hard, fill this pussy up and watch as it drips out of you, maybe fuck you again if we still have time-"

You gasp, taking a deep breath as his thrusts become so erratic it pushes you up the desk, lifting one leg onto the surface as Joel angles himself higher, hitting a spot so deep within you that you bite your lip from crying out, not wanting to attract any unwanted attention. You squeeze around his cock as you chase your high, hoping that Joel can maintain his composure long enough so you both can finish together. "No Mami, stay with me, come with me-"

He leans over you, pressing you onto the desk as he grabs onto your shoulders, pounding into you, his breath hot against your neck as he buries his face into it, huffing from exertion. "I'm so close Mami, I'm gonna... Fuck!" He bites your shoulder as he cums in one last brutal stroke, his hands harshly grasping your thighs as you feel his hot spend flow deep into your belly. You rock your hips onto him as his hand goes to your clit, rubbing until you are weak in the knees, your body trembling beneath his. "Fuck Joel," you say a little breathless as you slump onto the table as Joel pulls out of you, his finger probing into you as he pushes his leaking cum back where it belongs. "Come on, lets clean this up and head back before they notice-"

Joel just snorts as he zips up his jeans. "No," he replies nonchalantly as he catches his breath. 

"No?" you ask as you straighten yourself up, frowning at him.  

"Line item six says I bend you over his desk and leave a little souvenir," he motions to the mess on the floor, pens and papers scattered about.  

"He's going to fucking murder you, Joel," you chuckle, pulling him into a kiss.  

"Yeah? Well, he shouldn't have fucked around, because he's about to find out." He simply replies, taking your hand in his. "Come on, little Mami, quickly now, before he realizes we're gone..."

You share a laugh as he guides you back into the conference room. Bill raises an eyebrow at both of you, handing over a plate with steaming steak, as if he just finished cooking it. "I thought I'd save your lunches for last, figured you guys needed some extra time," he says, clearing his throat and nodding towards Tommy, who seems entirely oblivious to your brief disappearance. "You know Tommy, can't resist a good piece of steak," Bill continues, gesturing at Joel. "It's like everything around him disappears for a moment; you could rob him blind, and he wouldn't even notice," he adds with a small smile, placing a hand on Joel's shoulder and giving him a knowing look. "Enjoy your lunch, you two."

Bill Look, I wouldn't call myself a nosy person, but I am perceptive.   [He glances at Frank whispering and giggling to Connie off to the side, rolling his eyes.] Look at them. They think that they're the eyes and ears of this operation, but what they don't know, is that I. Know. Everything. I am a survivalist. I gather intel on all of my surroundings, even if I am surrounded by absolute morons.   [Bill takes another sip of coffee, subtly glancing around him before making eye contact with you, the reader, once more] So if you want to know the real scoop, the real ins-and-outs of this company, and not have to deal with the lunatics in Frank's not-so-secret shit talk club, come to me, I'll set you on the right path. At least I have snacks.   [He looks off to you and Joel, giving a curt nod as he starts to cut into his own steak.] As much as I respect Tommy, he's not the one signing my checks at the end of the day. If there's anything that I value more than anything, it's loyalty. I don't like to play around, hate it when people bite the hands that feed them. People like that need to be taught a lesson. Joel's a good man, and sometimes, we fuck up... but it's how we handle ourselves after the fact that matters. If that means I help out an old friend, well- [he smiles as Tommy walks towards the conference room doors, heading back to his office. Bill smiles out into the distance.]

Taglist: @sarcasm-theotherwhitemeat @gwendibleywrites @brittmb115 @joeldjarin @drewharrisonwriter

@littlebunnybigheartfics @missladym1981 @auteurdelabre @quicax3 @casa-boiardi

@amyispxnk @untamedheart81 @paleidiot @laurrrra @la-vie-est-une-fleur29

@bbiophiliaa @thewiigers (I apologize if I missed anyone, but if you are looking for any of my fic updates, please feel free to follow my updates blog @chiriwritesstuffnotifs!)

#The Girl in IT #pedro pascal #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel miller x you #pedro pascal fanfiction #joel miller x female reader #joel tlou #joel the last of us #joel miller fan fiction #joel miller smut #joel miller series #joel miller angst #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fandom #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfic #joel miller tlou #tlou fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us hbo #the last of us fic #the last of us #tlou hbo #tlou #hbo the last of us #the last of us fanfic

[bluecollarmcandtf]

Am I Acting Weird?

Part II

I've been jogging on this treadmill for over an hour now. Cardio sucks, and I hate this old unventilated gym! When I joined the football team, I did it for the parties and cheerleaders! I just wanted to drink with the cool guys and get laid. I still do, but I haven't had a drop of alcohol in weeks. I can't even remember the last girl I hooked up with!

I used to think it was weird that I was suddenly working out all the time. It was like my entire personality had changed overnight.

I know it's not weird now. Max, my younger brother, told me so. I have to keep working out until I become the quarterback of the football team. Then I have to bulk up and train even more, so I can become a professional footballer. That's my new goal in life, and I can't wait for my little bro to be able to brag about being related to a pro athlete.

Sure, I never really wanted to play football professionally. If it were up to me, I'd be out drinking with my buds, but it's not up to me.

That's not weird right?

I shake my head and slow my aching legs. Droplets of sweat run down my face as I work to control my breathing. My whole body is sore from the conditioning. It doesn't help that this is my third workout of the day. Between my morning weight session, afternoon field practice, and this, I am totally whipped.

I stagger over to grab my workout gear. My night isn't over. I still have to bulk my stomach up for tomorrow.

With a frustrated sigh, I stomp out of the gym and march directly into the diner next door. I nod to the greasy cook behind the counter. I've become a regular here, so he knows me pretty well.

"The usual?" he grunts with a toothy grin.

I nod and sink into a booth.

Max, my little brother, got tired of me eating at the house. Apparently, it took our father too long to cook my bulking meals. Max has me eat here after my workouts, and I completely agree. Max shouldn't have to share our dad with me. He deserved to have someone at home cooking whenever he wanted to eat.

"Four burgers, fries, and a soda," the cook snickers as he slaps the tray in front of me, "A growing boy needs extra protein."

I grimace and turn away from the chef. His breath alone is enough to make me lose my appetite, but I take a big bite and swallow. I won't gain mass if I'm not consuming mass, and I obviously need to get bigger.

I've broken out into a second sweat by the time I'm done. Forcing myself to up, I have to adjust to my bloated waist. You'd think I'd get used to a packed stomach, but I always feel uncomfortable for the rest of the night.

I let out a belch and carry the dirty dishes to the back. It always feels weird strolling into an employees-only area like this, but it's part of how I get my meals for free. You see, the cook let's is nice as long as I take care of two things.

The dishes are the first thing.

"Leave the dishes," I hear his husky voice behind me, "I never wash 'em anyways."

I drop the dishes and turn the sink off, holding my gut as it growls in pain. My belly might ache, but I've got one more thing to do.

The cook watches me expectantly. He licks his chapped lips, and grabs at the bulge under his apron, between his two trunks of legs. He's already fishing the thing out. I know what he wants, so I drop to the floor. This has become just another part of my daily routine.

It's how I thank the chef.

I don't know how this became a habit, because I absolutely do not enjoy it! The man is filthy, and a man! I'm not gay! I like women, but I have to eat a lot to bulk up and Max liked the idea of me eating for free. It's not weird!

I let him manhandle me a bit, gripping my head and pulling my hair. The cook gets off faster if he roughs me up a little. He usually only lasts a few minutes, but it's the longest few minutes of the day.

It's not sex. It's just a transaction!

"Oh, yeah!" he growls with his eyes squeezed shut, "Yeah, boy! Fuck!"

I whip my head off his hairy crotch and jump to my feet. I spit into a napkin and wipe my mouth quickly. I know from experience that I won't be able to get the taste of sweat and meat out of my mouth until I brush my teeth thoroughly at home.

My part is finally done here, so I just want to leave!

"Can't wait to see you tomorrow morning, jocky boy!" he laughs, but I've already stormed out, marching down the street to my house. I'm trying not to think about how I'll be seeing him in a few hours for breakfast.

"Hey dad," I mumble, stepping inside.

"Boy," he answers dismissively, not even looking up from his work. As usual, he's wearing his home uniform: a suit and white gloves. I have a similar outfit for when I'm hanging around the house, but dad gets a lot more use out of his now that I'm constantly bulking up. Max is really the only one who seems to dress casually around here anymore.

I guess that makes him the weird one.

"What are you doing?" I ask, trying to start up a conversation.

"What's it look like, boy?" he answers gruffly, "I'm cleaning up after Max and his guests. Now, either get your uniform on and help or get out of my way."

His attitude makes me cringe a bit. Dad and I used to be really tight. We used to bond over sports and craft beer, but he doesn't really care about anything besides Max anymore.

I don't think he's gone to any of my games for the last few months. He's always cooking or cleaning for Max. I wish I understood. We used to tease Max all the time together, but now he gets angry anytime I try and bond with him. Like, it's totally normal and right for Max to be his new favorite, but I wish we could still chat every now and then.

"Sorry," I mutter.

My father ignores me and heads off to the kitchen in a rush. He looks erratic, and I can tell he's just as exhausted as I am. He's made it a habit of working extra hours at the office everyday. It's so he can bring home the biggest paycheck he can earn every week, but I know is affecting his sleep.

"Where is Max?" I ask.

My dad frowns, tersely responding, "Max took his guests to a movie in my car. The house needs to be clean and snacks need to be ready for when Max gets back."

"Oh," I sigh, "Are his friends staying over again? I'd stay up with you and help serve them, but Max said I should be getting nine hours of sleep every night."

"Go to bed, boy. I'll handle it," he states firmly, putting the final touches on the silver platter.

With that, my father picks up the tray of assorted snacks and walks them out into the living room. There he takes his place by the door and stands in his usual position. It's where he normally waits to welcome Max home everyday. Father and I know that someone like Max shouldn't have to put their own coat away or take off their own shoes.

"Alright, dad, see you tomorrow."

He doesn't answer. He's already standing still as a statue and probably won't move until Max gets back. Hopefully, my little brother won't keep him up too late.

Sleep won't be hard for me to find. I can barely keep my eyes open, and I pass out as soon as I fall on my bed. The rest of the night is a deep and dreamless void, while my stomach processes all the food I ate.

When I wake up, I find dad like this...

"Dad? Dad!" I give his shoulder a nudge.

He jumps to life, jerking his eyes around the trashed living room.

"Did you fall asleep standing up?"

"Maybe," he answers with shock, "Max had me holding everyone's coats while they enjoyed some beer. They must have moved to the bed while I drifted off."

"Aren't they a little young for beer?"

"Max and his guests are welcome to my alcohol whenever they want it!" he snaps back at me.

"Geez, ok."

"You have a workout you need to get to, boy," he barks, "And I'm going to have to hurry if I'm going to clean up this mess before work."

I stare at my father as he scrambles to clean up the living room once again. He looks even more exhausted and disheveled than last night. Hopefully, he would be able to clean everything up with enough time to shower and shave. I know that all of the household stuff is his responsibility, but sometimes it seems like too much.

With a shrug, I turn and step out of the door. My day is going to be the same miserable routine as the last. I'm not looking forward to any of it, but that's not weird. Like Max said, I'll just keep my head down, and power through.

#hypno story #mind control #gay ai art #servant

[harmonictechnicality]

*wrote this for @vecnuthy's birthday, so here you go babe! i baked you a word cake 🥰🎂* *ao3 link here*

Nobody gets cool shit on their birthday after the age of sixteen - Steve stands by this statement firmly. That year, he got his permit. And by yuppie parent default-mode, he also received his first car.

He almost, almost had a quarter-life crisis on his twenty-fifth birthday. Steve was seconds away from buying a motorcycle. Robin was very dramatic about this decision, kept threatening to order his gravestone if he followed through on an impulse purchase. 

This, however, would’ve nullified his Adults Get Lame Birthday Gifts theory entirely. So Steve apologized to the salesperson, and tucked his credit card back into his wallet. Robin canceled the order on his gravestone as well, thank god.

Gifts have continued to be lackluster every year since then. And his 30th birthday is no exception to this rule.

A gift card from his parents. A pair of athletic socks from Dustin. And a t-shirt from Robin. Essentially, the starter pack of Welcome to Adulthood. 

Except for one minor detail:

The shirt from Robin is exceptionally soft. Bamboo fibers or something, he wasn’t really listening to her description. Even the color is soft. Muted red, almost pink. Everything about it is soft. Airy. 

Touchable.

Okay - that’s not an observation Steve makes upon receiving it. But it’s one that Eddie Munson will never let him forget. 

The first time it happens is a week after Steve’s birthday. The two of them hit up a bar on the outskirts of town. A place Eddie frequents a lot, occasionally dragging Steve along as his Token 9 to 5 Friend.

“Welcome to the Dirty Thirty Club, man!” Eddie crows, already diving into Steve’s atmosphere for a hug. 

“Thanks! Good to see you, Munson.” Steve chokes out, returning the massive hug with a single pat on Eddie's back.

The guy always gives the most suffocating hugs, fucking cages Steve into his arms and steals the breath of out his lungs with one squeeze. Steve has to inhale through his nose, smells the soapy steam rolling off Eddie’s skin.

Shower. Eddie just showered before meeting him here. It’s so fucking clear by the way he feels damp, smells clean.

Steve hates that he notices that. Wishes he didn’t care about Eddie’s hygiene schedule. But the scent of shower gel is addictive, breathing it in fast. Big gulps of fresh air. Lungs extending like they can capture Eddie's atmosphere and keep it there.

Okay, seriously. Steve thought his Eddie Munson Crush had been buried with the rest of his trauma back in 1993.

“Dude. This shirt is so soft, holy shit.” Eddie is rubbing his hand all over the back of Steve’s shirt, fingertips pushing into the fabric.

“Uh yeah. Sure is.”

Eddie must’ve blazed up back at his place, it’s the only reasonable explanation as to why they’re hugging for this long. Gotta be some strong shit too - strong enough to make him sound completely blissed out over a damn shirt.

He’s is humming now, both hands petting Steve’s shoulders, one on each side. Pinching the material, twisting it till it curls around his index finger.

“Gotta get me one of these bad boys.” Eddie chuckles, turns it into a playful growling sound. “Could touch this all day.” 

“I don’t doubt it.” Steve does an awkward wiggle out of the embrace. He looks down at his shoes, cheeks growing warmer as he continues to take Eddie’s words entirely out of context. 

Look, the sensible part of his brain knows that Eddie is talking about the shirt. That’s it. But the insufferably needy and more prominent part of his brain wants Eddie to be talking about himself in general.

That he could touch Steve all day long - shirt or no shirt.

Right. Steve needs a splash of water on his face. Could use a splash of water on his goddamn imagination too. Dilute the delusion for christ’s sake.

It happens again about four months later. Lucas invites the whole crew over to throw a surprise party for Max’s promotion at work.

Of course, Eddie is running late - he didn’t fail senior year twice solely from his shitty GPA. But showing up late to a surprise party? That’s a new level of risky. Not everything has to be a thrill-worthy adventure. Ugh.

“Max should be getting off work right about now.” Lucas explains, peering around the living room. “So everyone should head to your designated hiding spots.”

Nobody budges, just carrying on with their conversation.

“Alright, asshats - you heard Sinclair!” Steve snaps at each of them, glares for good measure. “Find a hiding spot or get the fuck out.” He gives a quick nod to Lucas, who still looks severely stressed, eyes ready to bust out of his skull any minute.

The coach-esque threat does the job. Everyone, ducks into place, voices descending into whispers. Whispers descending into shushes as the minutes draw closer to Max’s arrival. Steve is folded up behind the couch, arms wrapped around his knees. 

There’s a small creak coming from the front door. A few people yell 'surprise.' Steve peaks to the side to see Lucas shaking his head at them.

“No, nobody move.” He instructs, voice caught between a yell and whisper. “I was just letting Eddie inside.”

Instinct takes over. Steve twists around the corner of the couch, needing to see for himself that Eddie is here. That he really came.

Clearly, he didn’t move fast enough. Although he could’ve sworn he moved so embarrassingly fast that the vertebras in his back sound like a bowl of Rice Krispies (post-milk). 

But no one is there. No Eddie. No Lucas. No one.

“What the-” Something grabs the back of Steve’s shirt, pulling at his collar. A few people start aggressively shushing him.

“Chill out, Stevie.” Eddie is right there, meeting Steve’s face with a lopsided smirk. He’s close, way too close. Still holding the collar of Steve’s shirt with one hand, stretching it out. Keeping them close.

“Just trying to check the tag,” He releases Steve just an inch or so. His voice is so hushed, the quietest Steve has ever fucking heard it. “Wanted to see where I might be able to purchase such a godly article of clothing.”

“Ever heard of a thing called boundaries?” Steve hisses, swatting a strand of Eddie’s hair out of his face.

“Doesn’t ring a bell, sorry.”

They haven’t talked much since that night, barely any interaction for four months. But watching Eddie lean in, angling his head lower to study the tag on Steve’s shirt, hot breath on his neck…

It resets the clock. Flips the hourglass on Steve’s feelings for him.

He’s infatuated all over again, and all it took was Eddie invading his personal space. Just like he always does.

“You’ll have to ask Robin.” Steve whispers. Tries not to flinch when Eddie smooths Steve’s shirt collar back into place. “She’s the one that bought it for me.”

“Damn. Buckley has good taste.”

“Sure does.”

No distance is created. Neither of them move away. Eddie’s eyes continue to sketch over every stitch in Steve’s shirt, every hemline. He seems hyper fixated on it, too fixated to notice Steve’s pink-ish cheeks, thank god. 

If it weren’t for the shirt, Steve would assume Eddie is checking him out, looking him up and down with a heavy gaze. Dark pupils, casted darker by the dim lighting.

“Can I?” Eddie raises a hand out to Steve’s shoulder. He pauses, lifts an eyebrow at the end of his question.

Steve’s jaw is too tight to answer or counter back with a joke about how Eddie never asks permission before popping personal bubbles. All he can do is nod a little too eagerly.

Eddie reaches into Steve’s sleeve, rubs the material from the inside. A small grin forms on his face. He looks so pleased, purely amused. That’s enough to untangle Steve’s muscles, relaxing under Eddie’s light touch. 

But that’s the other thing. He’s barely touching Steve. Every now and then, his knuckles roll over Steve’s skin. Really, that’s it, that’s all he’s doing. And god, Steve craves more.

Eventually, Eddie switches it up, pinching the material between the pads of his fingers. He scoots closer to Steve’s side to do so. 

Time feels paused. Time feels rapid. It’s going nowhere and already slipping through his grasp. All Steve can think about is placing his hand underneath Eddie’s chin, bringing his lips up to his own. Kissing him till the clock stops ticking. Till the sand stops running.

“Softest shirt ever.” Eddie gives the material a slight tug. Smiles wider.

Steve gulps. “If you say so.”

“I mean, seriously - it must be made from the glow off an angel’s halo or something, cause damn.”

“You’re a trip, Munson.” 

Steve has to keep telling himself that Eddie is obsessed with touching his clothes - he’s not thinking about taking them off of Steve. No matter how much he wants that to be the reality of the situation. 

It’s not.

They stay like this till the doorknob clicks, turns. Steve almost forgot that he was at a party, surrounded by other people. 

Immediately, all of his senses flip back into Extrovert Autopilot. Everyone jumps out, yells a combination of surprise and congratulations (because they failed to coordinate that apparently).

He stays in this zone for the rest of the party. Talkative and breezy. Charming the pants off Max’s coworkers with silly little anecdotes about her as a kid. 

Steve is damn good at hosting. It’s probably in his white-collar bloodline or some shit. Still, anytime Eddie walks by, he glitches up. Temporarily out of sync.

He doesn’t get a chance to say goodbye. Eddie ducks out early, waving broadly before slipping through the front door.

Time does that weird thing again. Feels paused and rapid all at once as he watches the door shut behind Eddie.

“You okay, man?” Lucas nudges him.

“Yeah.” The gentle gesture returns time back to normal. Brings Steve back into this moment.

“Doing just fine.”

It’s all he thinks about for weeks. Anytime there’s a lull at work or a commercial break on television, Steve drifts. Pictures Eddie is in his shirt, the one he’s so obsessed with.

At first, it’s just that. Basic. Eddie standing in front of him, wearing that muted red, almost pink, shirt. Sometimes smiling, sometimes expectant. Either way, it’s always enough to make Steve’s neck feel flushed, creeping up to his cheeks.

Gradually, it evolves into something more complex. A fantasy, almost dreamlike. He imagines Eddie running his hands all over himself, his torso, his chest. The thin material of the shirt moving and shifting under his palms. His head tipping back, lips plush and red from where he’s gritting down, biting hard. Holding back sounds.

Those images get Steve in trouble. Panting on conference calls and boners at his work desk. 

He’s alone in his apartment when it grows, branches off into darker urges. Desires. Steve glances down at the floor, can’t help but wonder what Eddie might look like down there, staring up at him. Wearing Steve’s clothes. Begging Steve to take them off. Rip them, ruin them.

“That fucking does it.” Steve scolds himself, scolds his dick too. He’s calling Eddie Munson right now - before he has time to overthink it.

His hand is trembling as he picks up the house phone, dials out the number he didn’t even know he had memorized. The trembling thing is kinda embarrassing, but it's still better than sticking it down his pants and jerking off while the Cooking Network plays reruns in the background.

Every ring feels drawn out. Stretching time like taffy. 

Eddie picks up on the fourth taffy-length ring. “Eddie here.”

“Hey, man.” His voice comes out all strained, bone-dry.

“Shit. That really you, Harrington?” 

Apparently his voice comes out unrecognizable too.

“The one and only.”

Eddie snorts loudly into the phone speaker. “Doubt that very much - seems like a common enough name.”

“Yeah yeah, whatever, smartass.” Steve rubs his neck, scratching his skin. Working his way to extracting the words out of his throat. “So um… you busy tonight?”

“Nope.” Eddie answers.

“Cool. Me neither.”

There’s silence after that. Well, almost silence. Just a slight hissing sound from the phone line can be heard. Not enough sound to make things less awkward though.

Steve has no good reason to be so antsy, so wired with anxiety. They’ve been friends since metaphorical shit hit the metaphorical fan back in ‘86. So being outwardly weird around Eddie? It’s too damn fishy. 

“Is that it?” Eddie says. “Did you just want to bond over our empty schedules?” 

Of fucking course, Eddie would call Steve out on his weird bullshit. Doesn’t know subtlety if it bit him in the ass. 

Bad time to think about Eddie’s ass.

“Come over.” Steve blurts out. Needs to say something before a parade of ass-centric images start back up in his mind. “I ordered way too much takeout and there's a stack of movie rentals that I need to binge to minimize those late fees, so yeah… come over.”

No response, even the background hissing from the speaker cuts out. Maybe the phone line went dead. Or maybe Eddie hung up. Wouldn’t be the first time he’s abruptly ended a conversation, perpetually flouncing to whatever is new and shiny. Always distracted. 

“What kind of takeout?” He finally responds.

“The Greek place with the kickass tzatziki sauce.” Steve smirks, already knows the answer before Eddie can utter another word. 

“I’ll be there in an hour.”

Eddie arrives in less than an hour, actually. Knocks on Steve’s door exactly 51 minutes after Steve gets off the phone with him. It’s slightly disturbing that Steve suddenly turns into a math whiz when he’s fawning over someone.

Someone that fawns over his clothes more than him, but who gives a shit about logistics?

“Fucking starving.” Eddie says, slamming the door behind him. 

Steve smiles, motions his head toward the kitchen. “Help yourself, dude.”

The plan is so stupid. Half-baked at best: get Eddie out of his shirt (and jacket), and into Steve’s shirt instead. That’s it. That’s all Steve’s got so far.

But it’s better than nothing. So what the hell? It’s worth a shot.

He waits until Eddie has stuffed his face with a decent amount of spanakopita, fully reclining on Steve’s couch. Looks incredibly comfy, too comfy to move.

Good.

Steve grabs the strawberry sorbet from his freezer, the one Robin forced him to buy after going vegan last spring. He scoops a bowl for himself and a bowl for Eddie. Exhales the last bit of his self-respect before returning to the living room with the most boring dessert option ever.

“Here you go.” Steve says.

Eddie scrunches his nose at it. “The fuck is this?”

“Sorbet.”

“Why am I not surprised that the former rich kid prefers sorbet over ice cream?”

Steve sputters, takes the bowl back before it further offends Eddie somehow. “That’s not… I didn’t… it’s actually-”

“Deep breath, Stevie. I’m just teasing you.” Eddie yanks the bowl back, shovels a brain-freezing amount into his mouth. “Far too easy, by the way. Give me a bit of a challenge next time. Makes it more fun… for one of us, at least.”

“Fun. Sure.”

“The one of us being me.”

“Got that.”

Steve decides to take Eddie’s ‘challenge’ remark as the perfect cue to set his stupid plan into action.

Steve pretends to shift around on the couch cushion, getting situated. Does this until he ‘accidentally’ fumbles the sorbet. Spills it all over Eddie’s clothes, his distressed black shirt, his dark gray sweatpants. All of it. Makes a much bigger mess than he intended to.

Eddie jumps up. “Goddamnit, Harrington!”

“I am so sorry!” No he’s not. If anything, his apology is more smug than sincere.

“This shit is sticky as hell.” 

“Really sorry, man.” Steve hands Eddie a few stray napkins, like that’s going to make a difference.

“Don’t be. It was an accident.”

Except it wasn’t. It was one of the most juvenile tactic that Steve has ever pulled. Truly, it tops the overused movie theater-yawn tactic.

“Here - let me get you a change of clothes.” Steve offers, already heading to his bedroom. He’s walking and talking and fucking fidgeting. Suddenly paranoid that Eddie can see right through him, see all his desperation on display. Splattered everywhere like strawberry sorbet.

He turns back around for a split second. “I’ll throw those in the wash. Have them dry and ready to wear again by the time you head out.”

“Oh…” Eddie keeps patting down his clothes with a sopping napkin, barely listening. “Yeah, sure. Thanks.”

“No problem.”

His acting performance is fucking dismal. Over the top. Porno-level obvious. Must be karma for all of those times he gave Robin and Eddie shit about being in an improv club. Makes a mental note to never mock their nerdy hobbies for the rest of his life.

“Well, it must be my lucky night.” Eddie calls out from the bathroom door, causing Steve to wince at the sheer volume.

“What makes you say that?”

“Bestowing the holy grail of shirts upon me? Allowing me even one hour in downy-soft paradise?” Eddie is using that tone, the one that’s boozy and savory. Borderline mean. Equally hot and annoying. “Possibly the greatest of olive branches you could’ve offered up.”

“Christ, you’re dramatic.” Which is so hypocritical after the stunt he just pulled.

The bathroom door swings open and nothing could’ve prepared Steve for how good Eddie looks in his clothes. The shirt is snug through the sleeves, loose through his chest. Makes Steve realize how differently built they are. The waistband on the athletic shorts is sitting low on his hips, maybe a size too big. If they were any bigger, they’d slip right off. Landing all tousled around his bare feet…

Okay, Steve has got to snap the fuck out of it. He rubs aggressively at his eyes. Needs soap or military-strength detergent to fucking cleanse whatever is going on with him lately. 

“We could watch something.” Steve says, even though that’s exactly what he’s already doing.

Watching.

Eddie shrugs. Leans against the wall. “We could.”

“Or… I don’t know.” Steve can’t rip his gaze away from Eddie’s arms. His pale skin looks even lighter against the reddish tones. The waves and curls of black ink look even darker. Just a splash of color has turned him into a landscape of extremes. 

“You don’t?” 

“Um…” Steve flops, flounders. Scrambling for an idea. A coherent thought. Anything. “Cards. We could play cards.”

Eddie’s forehead wrinkles, then quickly straightens back out. Nodding politely. “Sure, we can do that. If that’s what you want to do.”

Steve mumbles something about grabbing a card deck from the storage closet, although he’s pretty sure it’s unintelligible. Makes a quick escape, jogs at the weirdest tempo known to mankind. 

Flirting with a longtime friend is throwing him for a loop. Many loops actually. Theme park amount of loops. All of his usual ease and charm are being denied access. Not tall enough to ride this ride.

The closet is packed with junk, so finding a deck of cards is obnoxiously difficult. He’s tossing coats into piles and shoving shoes into corners. Between his nerves and his determination, Steve is working up a goddamn sweat.

“Need a hand in here?” Eddie’s voice startles him. Steve jolts backwards, straight into a shelf of puzzles. Tons of pieces go flying, some landing in Steve’s hair. Redecorating the fucking closet with tiny bits of colored cardboard.

Fantastic.

Eddie backs away, arms crossing into his chest. “Jesus, man. You’re freaking me out.” 

“Sorry.” Steve says. Shakes the puzzle pieces out of his hair.

“Is it the shirt?” The question sounds genuine. No jokes, no sarcasm. “Does it look that bad on me?”

“Oh.” Steve doesn’t know how to respond. The shirt looks amazing, that’s not the problem at all. It’s just… “Um, actually-”

“Look, I know I’m not a pastel heartthrob.” Eddie gestures directly to Steve before waving his arms around. He starts pacing in the tiny closet, just ranting away. “And let’s fucking face it. I’m not getting any younger, so I doubt I can pull off this slim-cut style the way I used to… but come on. It can’t be that repulsive, right?”

“Eddie.” Steve frowns. 

“Shit, that bad?” Eddie smacks a hand to the top of his hand. Grabs a fistful of his hair and looks down at the shirt, still rambling. “We’re using first names now? What’s next? Gonna bust out my full legal name? My birth certificate? Then we’ll really mean business.”

Okay, yikes. And Steve thought he was the stressed one. This is going south very, very fast. He needs to curb the self-destruction that’s happening in front of him. Just… reach out. 

“Hey.” And Steve does. Literally. He places a hand on Eddie’s shoulder, sucks in some courage. He waits until Eddie makes eye contact, breathes at a less neurotic speed. Then he exhales all the courage. Turns it into honesty instead. “You look… you look good.”

Eddie scoffs. “Yeah right.”

“No, I mean it. It’s different. But in a good way.” Steve skims his nails against the fabric, drawing shapes into Eddie’s shoulder. “I like it.”

“You do?”

Steve nods. Bites down on his lip, flicks his eyes to Eddie’s mouth. “Like it on you.”

The energy between them is thick, clinging to Steve’s skin. It’s new except it’s not. Steve has felt it before. At the bar, the party, that random Thursday in 1993. He recognizes the flex and curl in his stomach as Eddie takes one step forward, then two. The feeling is familiar and strange combined. Knotted tight.

Eddie raises an eyebrow before taking another step. Like the day behind the couch. Quiet permission, one he doesn’t ask for often. Only when it means something.

Steve lets the hand on Eddie’s shoulder fall slowly. Catching the material at the bottom, tugging it forward. Prays to fucking god that’s all the permission Eddie needs.

“You were right.” Steve lets his hand drift back up, landing in the center of Eddie’s chest. Wrinkling and smoothing the fabric underneath. “It really is soft.”

Eddie’s breath hitches up. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Steve’s voice drops lower, richer. “Could touch this all day.”

Eddie thumbs over Steve’s bottom lip, drifting into the small space between them. He places both hands on Steve's cheeks and kisses him firmly. Steve presses in deeper, breathes out through his nose so that he doesn’t have to break away. 

It’s so good, kissing like they’re teenagers behind the bleachers. So swept away in the heat and hunger that they’d be late for class. Showing up to study hall with blotchy skin and achy lips. They keep kissing just like that. Feeling, exploring. Lingering in all the areas that seem to make the other person hum or gasp.

“Steve.” Eddie whispers. His hands push up into Steve’s hair, combing it back, pulling in down with an edge. Hard enough to make Steve tilt his head, mouth dropping open.

“Yeah?” Steve replies. Barely a question, too lost in the feeling of Eddie’s lips on his neck. 

Eddie rubs his mouth over the edge of Steve’s jaw. “You’re so…” 

The sentence stops right there, never gets finished either. He nuzzles over the wet spots of skin covering Steve’s neck. Marks them all up with a gentle nip, not enough to leave bruises. Just enough to make Steve shiver.

Steve is making so many breathy noises, which should be humiliating. Pathetic for someone who’s had fucking loads of first kisses, even more makeout sessions.

But none of that really matters, his age or experience or slutty track record. Nothing counts when being kissed like this. Nothing can stop Steve from taking this moment, eating up all of the sounds and sensations. 

Fuck, he wants all of it. Wants Eddie closer somehow, on top of him, beneath him, surrounding him.

He can’t stop tugging at Eddie’s shirt, well… his shirt. No doubt that it’s stretching out, close to ripping it. Keeps pulling it anyways - dragging Eddie into him till Steve’s back is pressed up against the wall.

“Come here.” Steve curls a finger under Eddie’s chin, brings his face back up to him. Not nearly done kissing him stupid, square on the lips. His mouth is warmer now, a few degrees hotter from sucking Steve’s neck. Licks into Steve’s mouth, gets him to whine at how good it feels. 

The washing machine timer goes off, buzzing throughout the whole apartment. But Steve can’t let this end, he can’t.

Except for the buzzing won’t let up. Continuously interrupting all the delicious noises that Eddie makes whenever Steve bites over his bottom lip, gets it nice and puffy between his teeth. 

“Should we...?” Eddie smushes his nose into Steve’s before motioning to the door. 

“Yeah probably,” Steve unclaws his hand from Eddie’s waist. Kisses him once more before sliding out of reach.

As he walks down the hallway, heading into he laundry room, he hears it. Eddie’s voice, still inside the closet. Chanting the same phrase over and over again:

‘Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit. Holy fucking shit!’

Steve cracks a smile. Kind of hard to believe his heart is chanting the same damn phrase. So full of adrenaline, fucking crumbling under this wave of raw emotion.

Really, he never thought he’d find himself in this situation. Holding Eddie’s clean clothes in one hand, thumbing over his kiss-bitten lips with his other hand. Impatiently craving to get back to where they left off, hopefully on the couch or bed or floor this time.

“Hurry it up, will ya?” Eddie whistles behind him.

“What’s the rush?” Steve tosses the clothes into the dryer, doesn’t turn around because his self-restraint will be fucked if he does. 

“My lips are getting cold.”

“That’s the best line you got?”

“For now, yeah.” Eddie says. “You sucked out all of my brain cells with your mouth. Can’t expect me to be Swayze-level smooth after something like that.”

No way he’s allowed to be so damn cute comparing himself to Patrick Swayze. As if they're even in the same league. Endearing, really.

“You can head back to the living room. I’ll be there in a minute.” Steve pushes a few buttons on the dryer. The timer starts, another reset on the clock.

Feelings that flip the hourglass once again. 

He really fucking hopes it never runs out this time. 

Eddie is perched on the floor, flipping through the channels on the tv. He's squinting at the harsh light because for some insane reason, he always insists on watching the tv in total darkness.

Even that’s cute now. Annoyingly cute.

Steve joins him on the floor, instantly slouching into Eddie’s arms because he can do that now. Completely allowed to be sweet and gross and smitten. 

“Guess my theory was wrong after all.”

“Hm?” Eddie replies, still mindlessly channel-surfing.

Steve gives Eddie a quick kiss on the cheek (because he can do that now too), and looks at the shirt. Muted red, almost pink. Soft and touchable. “Apparently, you do get cool birthday gifts as an adult.”

“What are you mumbling about?”

This thing between him and Eddie. It feels longer than running sand or ticking timers. Longer than their years of friendship. Maybe not timeless…

“I’ll tell you later, Eddie.”

But pretty damn close.

#steddie #steddie fic #Steve has a really soft shirt and Eddie can't stop touching it #that's it. that's the plot lol.

[gasolineghuleh]

Oh pleeeeease write more Mary stuff!!!

Love the way you write him

The green fairy ist just 🤌🏻

Have some Goore!

“I always get stuck with the fuckin’ short straw, man.” Mary throws his suitcase onto the full sized bed and it springs open, unleashing a week's worth of dirty laundry onto the floor. He groans again, loudly, bending over with an exaggerated motion to pick up the laundry. You can't help a small tinkle of laughter that slips past your lips and you clap your hand over your mouth in an attempt to contain it. Mary whips over to look at you, one finger outstretched. “And you, Miss-I've-never-even-touched-myself-because-I'm-so-godly, can keep your hands to yourself tonight.”

“Don’t worry, don’t worry,” you say with your hands held up, backing away slowly. “My only intention is to sleep. And don’t act like it’s my fuckin’ fault that the hotel has no doubles right now.” Toeing your way out of your shoes and kicking them over to the wall by the television, you and Mary lock eyes. 

The rest of the band, happily sequestered in their own rooms, are oblivious to the quiet love song unfolding between the two of you.

By the time you lay down to go to sleep, both of you feel like static, bodies humming in a way that could only be described as the buzzing of an amplifier cable. You roll onto your side, facing away from him in a demure attempt at vanity. Wearing only a t-shirt and panties to bed is bold, but you didn’t pack any alternatives, expecting to be sleeping alone for the trip. The bed dips behind you as Mary lays down carefully, stretching himself out inch by inch in a blatant attempt to be respectful. 

“Just lay down, Goore. It’s a bed, not a hot tub.”

“Except that I’m gonna be in a hot tub if I fuck up, here.” Mary grumbles some more to himself as he settles down, eventually laying on his back and blowing out a pent up huff of frustration. 

“What.”

“I can’t sleep on my back.” His tone is slightly petulant and you can’t help but giggle a little.

“Then roll over?” you suggest, with an accompanying eye roll.

“I… can’t sleep on my tummy, either.”

“Your tummy?” This time there’s a definite twinge of mockery in your voice. Mary laughs a little at himself and you find your cheeks growing pink— THE Mary Goore, laying next to you and chuckling? It’s enough to affect your own tummy.

“Yeah, my tummy. I can only sleep on my side… on my right side.” 

The room seems to shrink with this admission, the air between you two thick with an unspoken tension. There's an electricity in the atmosphere, like the charged moments before a thunderstorm breaks. Mary's admission, so innocuous and yet so intimate, draws you closer into his orbit, the space in the bed suddenly feeling too vast.

“Well, then,” you say, trying to keep your voice light, “roll onto your right side.” The words hang in the air, a challenge, an invitation.

He hesitates for a moment, his silhouette outlined by the dim glow of the streetlights filtering through the curtains. Then, slowly, he shifts, turning onto his right side, facing your back. You feel the movement of the mattress, the subtle shift in weight as he settles into a more comfortable position. The moment he stops moving, the room falls silent again, save for the soft, rhythmic sound of your breathing.

The silence stretches on, a canvas for the thoughts racing through your mind. You're acutely aware of his presence just inches away, a warmth radiating off him that you can almost feel against your skin. You swallow hard, your throat suddenly dry. Thoughts of his hand landing on your side and skating down to the edge of your panties, pulling them to the side and then-

The bed dips slightly as Mary moves again, and you feel his breath on the nape of your neck. It's a soft, tentative touch, but it sends a jolt of electricity down your spine. You're frozen, caught between the desire to turn around and the fear of what might happen if you do. His body beside yours feels like a live wire, and you’re afraid of making too big of a spark.

“I’m trying not to make this weird,” he mutters, almost to himself. His voice is a low rumble, filled with a restraint that you know is costing him. Mary attempts a laugh but it’s weak, and he readjusts himself on his pillow, trying to settle in and be comfortable.

“You’re not making it weird,” you whisper back, surprising even yourself with the honesty in your voice. There's a pause, and then you feel him inch closer, the gap between you narrowing until there's barely any space left. His breath is steady, a calming contrast to the rapid beat of your heart. You want to turn around, to face him, but something holds you back—a mixture of fear and anticipation.

“Am I weird now?” he asks quietly as his hand comes to rest on your waist. There’s no agenda there, no pressure. A silent acceptance of an odd situation.

“Never.”

“Mm.. how about now?” Mary leans closer, pressing his slightly chapped lips to the nape of your neck and kissing you softly. “Or now?” His arm slides across your form until it’s tucked against your tummy, pulling you gently into his grasp. “I need to hold something to sleep.” 

“Mm, I see. Am I good body pillow, then?” You intend for it to be a joke, but the sudden heavy breathing behind you and the rasped response further shrink the room.

“Better.” Your heart skips a beat at his words. It's a confession, raw and unguarded. Slowly, you turn, facing him. In the dim light, his eyes are deep pools of emotion, reflecting something you've felt but never dared to acknowledge.

The space between you is now nonexistent, your faces just inches apart. You can see the faintest hint of a smile on his lips, a hint of the mischief that first drew you to him. The desire in the room is palpable, a tangible force that wraps around you both.

“Mary,” you start, but the words trail off. What do you say in a moment like this?

He responds not with words, but with action, closing the distance between you. His lips meet yours, gentle at first, then with a growing urgency. The kiss is a storm, a clash of emotions that has been building since the moment you entered the room. It's fear, it's longing, it's the thrill of something forbidden and the comfort of something deeply desired.

Mary’s teeth slip across your lower lip and you gasp, deepening the kiss with one arm slung across his shoulders. He smiles into the kiss, nipping at your lips with a grin before pressing kiss after kiss to your cheeks. When he buries his face in your neck, kissing and nipping as he goes, you hear him say something muffled against your skin.

“What?” you ask, tugging at his hair gently until he comes up for air from the space between your breasts.

“Am I weird now?” 

#fanfiction #the band ghost fanfiction #ghost bc fanfic #lorraine writes #reader x mary goore #mary goore

[arialerendeair]

Hi! 👋🏼 Happy Birthday!! BB!Dreamling prompt:

Hob is a teenage townie and Dream visits his seaside town to stay with his family in their fancy summer house.

Hob works at the country club and Dream is stuck up but fascinated by the boy who (respectfully 😉) doesn’t take Dream's shit (and who has a mouth that looks kissable and whose ass looks criminal in those uniform shorts).

Summer shenanigans and kissing behind the pool shed,,,and talking adulting on the golf course at night.

Thank you for the birthday wishes anon!!

The Dirty Dancing vibes of this particular prompt are immaclate and I love them so much. Hob should be in all of the short shorts, all of the time. Unquestionably. Put that man's hairy thighs on display, he deserves it!

I love the idea that Dream is fascinated by this boy who does not give him everything that he demands/wants the second he asks for it, who tells him no, and then laughs when he is indignant. Who, at first, Dream was disgusted by, how readily he was shirtless and sweaty and sun-kissed, only to, now, after almost three weeks in close proximity, is the leading star in all of his Dream's fantasies. He wants to devour Hob, wants to break him apart, give him another reason to be sweaty and to make him scream loud enough for the entire club to hear it.

It only gets worse when Hob is put on pool duty, and Dream stares hungrily at the bulge in those shorts for a truly inadvisable amount of time. He should be embarassed, but he wants, and he cannot remember the last time that he wanted as fiercely as he wants Hob. Of course, they're not meant to be, and he spends his days at the pool, and his evenings jerking off, thinking of Hob.

It all comes to a head when they are mostly alone at the pool (they are alone, everyone else had gone out drinking and golfing, a far superior way to spend time in their eyes) and Hob had bent over, the shorts puling higher, tighter, all in the name of cleaning the pool, and Dream hadn't been able to muffle the moan that escaped him at the sight.

Hob spins around, looking at him, and Dream is mortified, turned on, and afraid, all at the same time. It's only when Hob continues to stare, and he can see that bulge getting more and more pronounced that Dream realizes Hob might want him back. So he licks his lips and raises an imperious eyebrow. Hob comes closer to, so Dream can see the sweat trailing down his neck and he has to muffle down another noise.

Hob is smirking and Dream wants to wipe away that smirk with the weight of his cock.

"About time, was wondering if you'd ever say something," Hob said, tucking one finger pointedly in the edge of his bathers. "Do you know how many shifts I had to trade for pool duty for more than a week?"

Dream's mouth goes dry at the rapid realizations. Hob is half-hard and growing harder. Hob was here on purpose. Hob was slowly, steadily, tugging the bathers lower and lower, exposing the line of hair going down his navel, and Dream knows that it is obvious how turned on he is, but he can't make himself move.

"If you want your mouth on my cock, and want mine on yours, shut your mouth and follow me to the staff cabins," Hob orders, pulling his suit back up, before striding back across the pool. It takes Dream a precious few seconds to realize that Hob is packing up, and he scrambles to do the same his blood on fire.

Later, when Hob has fucked him boneless (and spends the rest of the week doing so), Dream admits that he wishes they could do this outside the club. That he wants more. That he wants Hob. But their assignations feel stuck here, no matter what he wants more. He isn't expecting Hob to laugh and take his phone to program in his number. Nor is he expecting Hob to promise to take him on a date the following weekend. But that is what happens.

A week later, after dinner, a concert in the park, and desperate kissing against the bark of a tree, Dream brings Hob back to the house that he lives in alone, too big, and too much for one person, and feels it light up with his laughter. It takes surprisingly little to make Hob agree to stay, to come back again and again.

(It takes even less to convince Hob to wear certain parts of his uniform for Dream so he can live out some... recurring fantasies.)

#Aria Posts #Aria Answers #Dreamling #Birthday Prompts #Apparently it is putting Hob in short shorts hours #NO COMPLAINTS #ALWAYS HERE FOR IT

[belphiesgirlfriend]

Judging Obey me! Brothers bedrooms/hcs cause why not

——————————————————————————

Lucifer:

• freakishly neat

• like you know those people that are so perfect/symmetrical that they’re almost scary, that’s his room

• type of guy to say “ah i was just tidying up, this place is such a mess!” and one thing on his desk is moved a centimeter to the left

• satan and belphie definitely come in there sometimes and move everything off by an inch

• it fucking enrages him

• he gets on the brothers asses to clean their rooms

• they don’t listen

• at most, if he’s drunk or had a really long day he might leave his clothes on the floor or his toothbrush out

• he’s such an old man he’d be doing math equations to fold his fucking sheets exactly

• really though, i feel like it’s a total control thing

• i mean my dudes entire life is out of his control, a pride demon, who’s very about control

• his brothers don’t really listen to him, he’s indebted to diavolo, etc.

• i think it probably brings him a lot of comfort to have one controlled space for himself, where he knows where everything is and has everything how he wants it

• sorry got a little deep but yk

• also???? the skeleton dude??????

• like i love him he’s iconic BUT WHY LMAO

• imagine you wake up in the middle of the night AND IT FUCKING MOVES

• nah i’d be packing my bags and staying at purgatory hall for the rest of the week thank you!

• coming back with a bible and some holy water

——————————————————————————

Mammon:

• complete and utter 180

• his room is such a mess it’s a problem

• plates, glasses, ramen cups, wrappers, all over his nightstand and floor

• when the garbage is going out he’ll come down the stairs balancing so much trash he could make a goddamn acrobat jealous😭

• only thing that’s truly spotless is his car

• if you nag him enough he’ll clean up a bit though, though definitely complain

• clothes are a whole other thing, he has an insane amount of clothing, not more than asmo, but a genuinely absurd amount

• because of this, his floor is always covered in clothes

• his room is probably one of the messiest, rivaled only by belphie

• but mammon definitely wins by a long shot

• the biggest reason his rooms a mess is just cause of the pure amount of stuff he has

• bros a grade A hoarder, he’s got stuff in there you didn’t even think existed

• he also just,, isn’t in his room super often

• he likes going out and doing stuff, plus he’s usually working jobs + modeling to fund his spending

• and if he’s not, then he’s probably in mc’s room so it makes sense he doesn’t care as much

• his bathroom though…is surprisingly clean

•on the surface at least

• he’s got a shit ton of skincare and hygiene products, some makeup too (definitelyyy not stolen from asmo)

• he’s a model so he definitely takes good care of himself

• though..i don’t think he’d ever deep clean his bathroom, or know to, if you asked him he’d be like “what no?? the sink cleans itself with the water!”💀

——————————————————————————

Levi:

• his room really isn’t all that dirty

• i mean he’s in there all the time so it’s at the very least habitable

• his biggest issue is really just having a bunch of dirty dishes he’s too “busy” to take down to the kitchen

• his idea of busy is being huddled up in blankets watching season 3 of “I’m a generic anime protagonist who just met a really pretty girl at school but i’m painfully socially awkward and then i find out she’s my childhood friend who moved away???”

• his figures though…

• shockingly well taken care of, like he’s literally the perfect owner he cleans and dusts them obsessively

• if anyone touches them, he knows.

• he has them positioned in a very specific way, he’s able to notice even the slightest discrepancy

• he’s a really good caretaker to the things he cares about

• henry 2.0 for example, his tank is always spotless, he’s well fed and treated very well.

• levi is also very hygienic, he takes good care of himself too generally,

• though he sometimes needs to be reminded to eat, drink, sleep, etc. cause of a new anime or game coming out

•when that happens he’s even more holed up in his room, if he’s close with the mc he might drag them with him, prepare yourself to be trapped in there

• his setup is godly, i don’t know much about pc building but i know he has the good shit

• you’ve seen his room, bro has 4 monitors WHO NEEDS THAT MANY?!?!?!?

• got the mic with the pop filter too you know he’s absolutely violating the other people in the cod lobby

——————————————————————————

Satan:

• messy, but not dirty

• cluttered would probably be the best word

• his main issue is just his INSANE amount of books and cat hair…lots of cat hair.

• when he’s fostering a cat his bed is covered in the stuff it’s horrible

• the cat may be cute but the full sized scarf you can make out of its hair sure isn’t!

• you better hope your mc isn’t allergic cause you literally won’t be able to enter his room if you are

• not to say he doesn’t clean it, cause he does, he has that sticky rolly thingy

•but i swear to god it’s like it’s glitter THERES ALWAYS MORE😭😭

• his books are a fucking hazard

• cause why are the stacks so high and so close to his bed💀

• i know for a fact they’ve collapsed on him while he was sleeping

• multiple times

• he’s learned not to keep any cursed books in the stacks by his bed as a result of this

• also with that fucking candle right there???????

• bro has no self preservation skills apparently

——————————————————————————

Asmo:

• goes without saying, he’s neat

• not a clean freak like lucifer, but he likes to have everything in order to make his life easier

• his makeup and skincare especially, he has a mini fridge for it and all

• an absurd amount of perfume too, his room is like a bath and body works but with more high end stuff

• this extends to his bags too, if your out or at RAD and need perfume he’s gonna pull out like 6 and be like “take your pick!”

• but back to his room, his room smells so fucking good

• it also just has a really calming energy, it’s very comfy

• he’s strict though, no outside clothes on his bed, shoes off at the door, etc. etc.

• there’s usually a lot of bags around from his shopping sprees

• type of dude to have a white noise machine or something when he sleeps just get that vibe from him

• another clutter guy, his room is one of the best with cleanliness, but there’s lots of stuff in his room, it’s cute though, he pulls it off

• i really don’t have any complaints about his room at all, it’s cute and clean so he gets a pass

——————————————————————————

Beel:

•hmmm

•i’m putting beel and belphie’s separate cause i’m criticizing their separate sides

• he’s not overly clean but not overly dirty either

• his room really is a perfect limbo

• except for his bed

• his bed is fucking disgusting

• i just know theres crumbs EVERYWHERE

• you lie in his bed and it makes a fucking crunch sound

• okay joking he’s not that nasty, i’m sure he’d probably change his sheets frequently

• if for no other reason, cause of belphie getting annoyed at him cause his beds uncomfy to lay on

• but with all the midnight snacking he does i would not be surprised if he brought half the fridge back with him at night

• his room itself i’m thinking is pretty clean, probably some clothes on the floor etc, but he never lets it get too bad

• unlike some people (i am staring directly at mammon and belphie)

• when he has his midnight escapades he pretty much always brings the dishes back in the morning so it’s not a huge problem.

——————————————————————————

Belphie:

• clothes everywhere

• him and mammon definitely are the worst offenders

• but listen he probably doesn’t let it get nearly as bad as mammons cause of him trying to be considerate of beel

• but if he was in a room alone…good god

• he just simply doesn’t have the energy to put shit away

• some things will sit on his floor for weeks, months, years, decades, before he moves it

• a lot of the time it winds up being beel who grabs his stuff and puts it where it’s supposed to be

• this is why he’s such a brat, always getting spoiled smh

• his bed though..

• the most comfortable thing you will ever have the privilege of laying on

• there’s so many blankets and a shitload of pillows, it smells good, ur instantly so warm and comfy and the mattress is so soft you literally sink into it

• it feels like you’re literally on a cloud you’ll never find a better sleeping spot

• no wonder he never wants to get up

• i cant help but think that the twins room is a little boring, so it’s hard to give a lot of commentary on it

• i wish there was more personality like with the other bedrooms in the HOL

• seriously though they gave them the 2017 opposite twins sims 4 speedbuild delux😭

——————————————————————————

#omswd #shall we date obey me #obey me boys #leviathan obey me #mammonobeyme #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphie #obey me belphegor #obey me lucifer #obey me asmodeus #asmo obey me #beelzebub obey me #belphegor obey me #obey me mammon #x reader #obey me x mc

[loopspoop]

Here comes chapter three! Had to do hella research for this (if I got anything wrong please let me know since I got my information from medical websites)!

TW: graphic descriptions of a seizure

An hour later, Jigen had managed to find some ramen packs stashed away in a cabinet and some rice. He managed to make a pretty good meal, all things considered. When Fujiko got back they could add to it to make it more filling…and add to the broth for Lupin to get something with some nutrients. He was ready for Lupin to recover…it would be easier to deal with all this complicated robotics stuff with Lupin conscious and able to help..

“Goemon, foods done. I’m going upstairs to get a blanket for Lupin. Go get something to eat.” Jigen walked to the living room, looking at the samurai.

Goemon nodded, standing. “He has been quiet the whole time. I think it should be alright to leave him alone for short periods if the need arises.” At least they could take bathroom and food breaks…

Jigen nodded. “Sounds good.” It was promising at least..

Jigen walked up the stairs, looking through the hall closet for some blankets. Finding nothing but old sheets, he sighed and turned to the bedroom. Jigen walked inside, opening the closet before a large figure slumped out and crashed to the ground in front of him. Shouting in surprise, Jigen drew his gun and aimed-

Wait.

Pops?

Jigen lowered his gun slowly, huffing as he lightly kicked the half awake man with his foot.

“Fucks sake..” he mumbled, shaking his head. “Get the hell up, Pops!” He scared him half to death.

“Wuh-? Mm..?” Zenigata glanced around before jumping to his feet when he noticed Jigen. “Jigen!”

“I heard you yell-!” Goemon dashed into the room, Zantetsuken in his hand before he stopped. “Inspector-?”

“Ha!” Zenigata smirked, taking out his handcuffs as he laughed. “Bet you didn’t expect me to be here, huh? Well, a good inspector always plans ahead!”

“How long were you waiting in that closet for…? We’ve been gone for two weeks.” Jigen raised an eyebrow.

“Ah…two weeks- whatever it isn’t important! You’re all under arrest!” Zenigata shouted, trying and failing to cuff Jigen as he sidestepped the inspector.

Jigen sighed, putting his Magnum away. Of course Zenigata would be here. He probably knew they had a safe house out here and realized this was the least suspicious house…damn his detective skills.. they didn’t need to be hauled in and Lupin most likely wouldn’t want Pops to see him like this but…it probably couldn’t be avoided at this point.

“Look, you need to go.” Jigen frowned, crossing his arms.

“Wha-? No! I will not go! Who do you think you are! I’m here to haul Lupin and the rest of you to jail! Speaking of, where is he?” Zenigata glanced around, holding his handcuffs at the ready as he checked under the bed.

“Please, keep your voice down.” Goemon frowned, sheathing Zantetsuken. “Lupin needs to rest.”

“Rest? Why in the world would he need rest, the man’s like a ball of literal energy!” Zenigata huffed, pushing past them and into the hall as he made his way toward the stairs.

“Zenigata.” Jigen grabbed his arm sternly, his grip tight. “Listen to me and listen good. Do not go down there. Do not disturb Lupin.” He frowned deeply.

Zenigata hesitated. He had been chasing them for years and, while they had had their shootouts and fistfights, they hadn’t butted heads on much in a serious manner. Their game of cat and mouse was usually comical, serious on his end, but never on the gangs.. something was off this time if Jigen looked this serious about it. Had something actually happened? Not much ever went wrong for Lupin but, looking at the two men now, maybe it had? Jigen looked more dirty than he allowed himself to be, his hair tangled and oily and his suit ripped and dirty. Goemon seemed..more tense than normal? Almost worn down…

“What the hell happened to you two..?” Zenigata mumbled, frowning as he looked them over quietly.

Goemon frowned, looking at Jigen. “It may be wise to allow him to help..” Zenigata had been all over the world so maybe he knew how to help, even if only a little…

Jigen frowned, looking to Goemon and then back to Pops before huffing in annoyance. “If we do that he’s just going to try to arrest us!”

“No. There’s nothing fair about catching a man when he’s down.” Zenigata shook his head. “Whatever it is, I’ll do my best to help. And I swear I won’t arrest anyone until there can be a fair chase.” He was a man of honor after all.

Goemon nodded, looking pointedly at Jigen. Something he had learned early on was that he and Zenigata were similar in their respect for honor and the chase. The inspector would not arrest them if they were injured or in danger. At times, he had been known to even make a temporary truce to aid them if they had a common goal. This would be no different, especially with how grave the situation was.

Jigen groaned, rubbing his face before sighing. “Fine. Come downstairs and see for yourself then. But you’re either in or out, old man. And don’t you even think of contacting ICPO or anyone else outside of this house. Try it and you’ll be sorry.” He glared at him before grabbing a blanket for Lupin and heading back downstairs.

Goemon shook his head, following behind Jigen. They could trust the inspector, he knew that much. Zenigata hesitated before quickly following behind them. When he got here two weeks ago, he figured they would show up quickly. He had seen Lupin get sold to that Dr. Mad and figured he would’ve been out in a day…it was weird waiting two weeks but…it made sense now, if Lupin was hurt, for it to take longer. Zenigata watched from the stairs as Jigen draped the blanket on Lupin carefully, his body laying still on the couch. Goemon sat nearby, eating quietly but no doubt keenly observing everything in the room down to the smallest detail. Zenigata cautiously rounded the corner and approached the couch. He expected to find a slightly banged up Lupin, something he had seen plenty of times, maybe even a more-than-slightly injured Lupin with how serious the others made it sound. Looking down at Lupin, Zenigata’s eyes widened.

“What-…what the hell happened to him-?!” Zenigata paled, quickly taking the blanket off of Lupin before he stumbled back in shock. “If this is some prank-!”

“Shut up!” Jigen hissed, grabbing the inspector by the front of his trench coat. “Keep your damn voice down!”

Lupin whined, cringing as he shifted faintly. Zenigata bit down on his lip hard enough to almost draw blood, looking the thief over. His body…what had they done to his body? Taking his limbs and sections of his torso and replacing it with..god it was metal…he was a cyborg. That’s what they sold him for? Something so horrid? Even with the bandages around his wounds, Zenigata could tell there was terrible infection to pair with his condition. If they had given him more money then he could’ve bought Lupin at the auction and thrown him in jail…he could’ve been spared this fate..

“What the hell happened..?” Zenigata breathed, his hands shaking as he looked at Jigen and Goemon. It was almost too much to bare to see his rival in a state like this.

Jigen huffed, letting go of Zenigata roughly as he covered Lupin again carefully. “Dr. Mad is what happened.”

Goemon frowned, putting his bowl down as he regarded the inspector quietly. “He wanted a weapon..that was Lupin’s purpose.”

“That’s where you went for two weeks-? I though you had given me the run around but- damn!” Zenigata hissed angrily. “Two weeks? Where the hell is that Dr. Mad character now?” He would put him in a cell so small he wouldn’t even be able to get up to piss!

“Dead.” Jigen said coldly, sitting beside Lupin as he lit a cigarette. “And hopefully in the deepest pit in hell there is.”

Goemon narrowed his eyes, looking at Lupin silently. It angered him to no end that that bastard had referred to Lupin as a project. Lupin was no project! He was a brave man, a talented thief…a good friend. He stood silently, taking his dishes to the kitchen. It bothered him to think of Lupin being tortured by such a man. He would do the dishes and try to calm down..Lupin needed them calm and not stressed.

Zenigata watched quietly, taking off his hat as he sat down beside Jigen. It was unbelievable…that someone could do something like this to Lupin. He always, always got away! But this time…how could he not have noticed something was wrong when Lupin was absent for too long? Zenigata looked at the carpet, picking pieces of it as he frowned. He arrested all of those responsible for the human trafficking but..that doctor had still gotten away with unthinkable horrors..

Jigen glanced at the inspector, sighing as he held out a cigarette. “Sorry for biting your head off, Pops. This is just..”

Zenigata took the cigarette, lighting it as he shook his head. “You don’t need to apologize, Jigen. I understand, I do.” He looked at him sternly. “It’s hard. And you feel like you let him down but it isn’t your fault. It’s that bastards fault. Not yours, not Goemon, or Lupin’s, or Fujiko. It’s his and his alone because he made the decision to do this to Lupin.”

Jigen bit his lip, looking away quietly. He knew that…deep down he knew it wasn’t anyones fault because none of them knew this would happen. They would’ve gotten out if they did know..but he felt so guilty. He was right down the hall..he was right down the hall and Lupin needed his help and he couldn’t help him. He was supposed to be his right hand man, his partner, what good was he if he couldn’t even do that?!

“Jigen.” Zenigata grabbed his arm gently, frowning. “It isn’t your fault.” He said sternly, squeezing him a little.

“Pops..” Jigen sighed, looking down at the carpet quietly. He couldn’t believe that..even if he wanted to..

Zenigata frowned, holding onto Jigen’s arm as he glanced back at Lupin. He hesitated a bit, letting go of Jigen’s arm as he turned and looked Lupin over closely. The thief had gotten pale, his breathing fast and ragged. Obviously he had some serious infection going on and it seemed like they were treating it but..Lupin wasn’t looking good.

“What have you been giving him for this?” He glanced back at Jigen, feeling Lupin’s cheeks and forehead and frowning at how hot they were.

“We sent Fujiko to get disinfectants and antibiotics about an hour ago.” Jigen frowned, looking back at Lupin. “We cleaned his wounds and Goemon packed sugar in them..”

“Mm..the infection is bad. His fever is high..he doesn’t look good.” Zenigata mumbled, moving the blanket off of Lupin to try to cool him down.

Jigen frowned, standing. He could go get cool water and try to help control Lupin’s fever that way…they just needed to cool him down. Suddenly, Lupin tensed and groaned. He slowly began to turn blue around his lips, gasping faintly against tense chest muscles. What the hell? Why was he doing that?! Jigen looked at Zenigata anxiously, biting his lip when he saw the inspector kick the coffee table away and move Lupin onto the floor. Zenigata quickly took the discarded blanket, sticking it under Lupin’s head as he moved him onto his side. What the hell was going on? Lupin had been fine! Why wasn’t he fine?! Lupin began to convulse after a moment on the ground, body thrashing against the floor. Foam and saliva moved past clenched teeth, as his body jerked and shook without end. Pieces broke off of his limbs, and- Oh god. He wasn’t breathing. He wasn’t breathing! He was dying. Lupin was dying, he was dying, they would lose him-! Goemon ran in when he heard the commotion, paling as his eyes widened. He had never seen anything like this. Why was this happening?!

“Jigen-!” Goemon grabbed his arm tightly, his hands shaking as he watched Lupin with wide eyes. “Jigen, what is happening-?!”

“He’s having a seizure, his fever’s too high.” Zenigata frowned, carefully keeping Lupin in the recovery position so he wouldn’t choke.

“Fuck…fuck, shit, what do we-?” Jigen looked from Lupin to Zenigata, trying to keep himself from getting hysterical.

“We need to cool him down and quickly. Run a bath, make sure the water is slightly warmer than cool. Bring rags too.” Zenigata held Lupin, the thief’s thrashing slowing and becoming less intense. “Go!”

Goemon’s hesitated before running upstairs to fill the tub. They hadn’t dealt with seizures before. Nobody had ever been hurt bad enough for there to be cause for one. It was terrifying to watch, especially with Lupin in that position. They needed Fujiko and actual medication. He should’ve given Lupin something for the fever. He thought that it was low enough it would’ve gone away by now. That obviously wasn’t the case. He continued to fail Lupin…

Lupin stopped seizing soon after Goemon left, his body going slack against Zenigata as he sighed and began to breathe properly. Jigen crouched beside Pops, his hands shaking as he looked Lupin over. He never expected things to get this bad..fuck..he thought they had covered their bases. He thought they would get past the bad shit and things would be okay..

“How the hell did you..how did you know how to handle that-?” Jigen looked at the inspector, taking Lupin’s hand in his own to remind himself that the thief was still there and breathing.

“They teach you all sorts of stuff once you become a public servant.” Zenigata looked at Lupin, carefully wiping the foam from his mouth with the blanket as he sighed. “Stuff like how to handle choking and heart attacks and CPR. Even stuff like this. Guess it’s good I was upstairs…”

Jigen laughed weakly, nodding a little. “Thanks, Pops. Seriously.” He looked at him earnestly, trying to keep it together.

Zenigata hesitated, patting him on the back. “Take it easy. You don’t need to thank me for anything, Jigen. Let’s get him upstairs, alright?”

Jigen nodded, carefully picking Lupin up as he made his way to the stairs with Zenigata. He wasn’t kidding about how high Lupin’s fever had gotten. He was warmer than he should be. They needed to cool him down. They also needed to make sure Goemon wasn’t losing it over the seizure, since he was close to losing it himself. He had a hell of a lot more respect for Pops though, watching the man deal with something like that with seemingly no issue…how much of this had he seen before?

Zenigata walked into the bathroom, looking over at Goemon. The samurai looked beyond frazzled, holding an absurd amount of towels as he watched them anxiously. The inspector gave him a reassuring look, checking the water. Given that Goemon ran the bath, the water was perfect, which was to be expected. Jigen looked at the bath and then at Lupin’s limbs, frowning slightly.

“We need his boxers off but…how are we supposed to do with with the metal bits?” Jigen looked at Zenigata, holding Lupin a bit closer.

“We can keep his legs and arm out. The rest should be alright for water from the looks of it. We need to soak the rags in cool water and put them in specific places that will help cool him faster.” Zenigata nodded, blushing a bit as he carefully slipped off Lupin’s boxers.

Jigen nodded, carefully laying Lupin in the tub. He rolled up his sleeves, doing his best to keep the cybernetics out of the water. He figured Zenigata would’ve never taken Lupin’s pants off in any situation…guess he owed Lupin 50 bucks. Goemon went to the sink, soaking the rags with cool water before going back to Zenigata dutifully. He would do anything he needed to do to help Lupin recover from this..

“Good, good. Help me with the rags. They need to go on either side of his neck, his wrist, and under his armpits if we can manage it.” Zenigata smiled a bit at Goemon, crouching beside the tub.

Goemon nodded, carefully placing the rags with the inspector. He placed a final rag on Lupin’s forehead, carefully stroking his hair. Zenigata watched, glancing to Jigen. The man had a careful grip as he kept Lupin’s delicate cybernetics out of the water and dry. For a group of tough thieves..they were all very gentle with each other when it came down to it. Zenigata looked back at Lupin, frowning as he watched the man shiver in the water. They would need to keep him here until his fever came down but not long enough to make him hypothermic. Infections could make it turn either way and, while a fever wasn’t ideal, hypothermia wasn’t either. Despite all the commotion, he was glad he was there to help them with this. It was obvious that Jigen and Goemon wouldn’t have known what to do about this, and they seemed more than grateful that he had stepped in and helped out. Maybe sticking around wouldn’t be too bad?

#goemon ishikawa xiii #lupin iii #lupin the 3rd #goemon #jigen daisuke #lupin the third #fujiko mine #zenigata #jigen #jigen lupin the third #Midnight Jacket AU #Cyborg!Lupin #tw seizure #pops came out of the closet!

[tropes-and-tales]

No Give

Day 2:  Floor Sex (Benny “Borracho” Magalon x F!Reader)

(For the 2022 Kinktober event offered by @the-purity-pen​​.  The original post and calendar/list can be found here.)

CW:  Light angst (pining idiots); a technical kidnapping; smut (dirty talk; PiV, protected); 18+ only.

Word Count:  9257

AN:  A sequel to this.

Requested by anonymous!

It’s not as if you are ever especially chatty with Borracho—or he chatty with you—so no one really seems to notice when you talk to him less.  After that night when the two of you worked late together, after that moment between you went sour…you interact with him less.

Borracho just feels that same disappointment.  For the briefest moment before the illusion was shattered, he had allowed himself to fall into the fantasy of you wanting him.

For you?  He can guess that you’re embarrassed because you dodge him as much as you can.

Now, for example:  he and Connors are going out to the roof for a smoke break, but you’re already out there.  You don’t smoke, but you told them once that if they get to leave their desks ten times a day to indulge in a lung dart, then you get to leave your desk too.  Usually you go to the roof:  put your earbuds in, listen to some music while you stretch and twist until your back pops.  

You’re on the roof now, and when Connors throws the fire door open with a bang, you turn and see them.  Just like every time now—when you make eye contact with Borracho, your eyes slide away, you grimace slightly.

You take your earbuds out and shove them into your pocket, and you go to leave.

“Stay with us,” Connors says, but you edge past them, mumble something about needing to get back to work.  Your partner watches you go as he shakes out a cigarette from his pack, tamps it, then lights it.

Once you’re gone, he turns to Borracho.  “Something happen between you two?”  He exhales a stream of smoke through his nose.  

Borracho shakes his head.  “Nope.”

Connors studies him, takes another drag of his cigarette.  “She thinks you’re mad at her.”

That makes Borracho raise his eyebrows, you talking to your partner about him.  “Why’d she think that?”

“You tell me.”

Another shake of the head.  “No idea.”  A lie, but Borracho doesn’t want to reopen that evening between the two of you.  If he tells Connors, he’ll tell the other guys, they’ll make an entire thing about it, and the weird vibe between you and Borracho will only get worse.

He thinks the conversation is over; the two of them smoke in silence, watch the skyline in silence.  Connors lights a second cigarette, and he gets halfway through it before he says anything else.

“She asked after you when she first joined Major Crimes, you know.”

Another surprise, another raising of Borracho’s eyebrows.  “Yeah?”

Connors nods.  “Yeah.”  He takes a puff, blows it out.  “Told her not to bother.”

It’s even more surprising, and it makes Borracho’s stomach twist—Connors steering you away from him.

“Why?” Borracho asks.

The other man shakes his head, tosses his cigarette and grinds it out with the heel of his boot.  “Told her she’s not your type.”

Borracho tosses his own cigarette aside, and he jams his hands in his pockets to hide his clenched fists.  “What’s my type then?”

Maybe there’s some edge in his voice, because Connors glances over at him before he finally shrugs.

“I told her.  Hot and crazy, like the rest of us,” he says.  He starts to make his way towards the fire door, and he claps Borracho on the back as he passes him.

“Don’t worry about it,” he adds.  “She’s too much of a Girl Scout and anyways, she’s not looking for a hookup, you know?  Wants the husband and kids and the fucking house in the suburbs.  Not really our thing, bubba.”

Then he’s gone, and Borracho takes a long moment alone to process this new information.  He lays it against that evening all those weeks ago, sees how the new evidence changes the tenor of that moment.  

Maybe it wasn’t playing around as much as he had thought.  Once he is back at his desk, he looks over at you—your chin in your hand, staring at your computer screen—and he wills you to glance over at him.  To give him that small smile you used to give when you made eye contact before.

But you don’t look at him, and Borracho is left to mull it over all alone.

-----

There’s never a good way to broach a conversation with you, and there’s never a good time.  Big Nick still doesn’t pair you up often.

The situation resolves itself without any intervention from him.

In your entire time with Major Crimes, you’ve never joined them for one of their parties.  You obviously never sweat your drug test (Connors calling you a Girl Scout wasn’t that far from the truth), but you also never join them.

The first month after things got weird between you and Borracho, Big Nick tries to persuade you to join them.

“No,” you say flatly.

“Why not?  It’s a fun time—”

You huff in exasperation, cut him off with an unhappy grumble.  You stand up, pull your jacket on.  You sling your messenger bag over across your chest, and you glare at your boss.

“What’s fun about sitting in a hotel room while my coworkers run through bunch of sex workers?” you ask.  “I’d rather sit at home and stare at my wall.”

There’s anger in your voice, and Borracho isn’t the only one who catches it.  Henderson leans forward in his seat, and he glances over at Big Nick, catches his eye, who shrugs at your vitriol.

“We could get you some companionship,” Nick offers with a grin.  “What’s your type?”

You snort and shake your head, and you walk past him.  “Hot and crazy,” you mutter, and you’re out the door before Borracho even registers what you’ve said.

----

The second month after things got weird between you and Borracho, Big Nick pulls rank.  Tells you in no uncertain terms that you’re joining them that night for their usual party.

“Team building,” he says.  He throws an arm around your shoulders, pulls you close.  “We have to feel like we can trust you.”

“How does that build trust, exactly?”

“It just does.”

You shrug out of his hold.  “If anything, it could destroy trust.  If I’m not there to see all the shady shit you boys get up to, then I can’t be questioned if Internal Affairs ever turns their steely gaze onto us.”

Nick chuckles—his patronizing laugh.  He looks around the bullpen at the rest of the guys.

“See?  Turns their steely gaze.  That’s some funny shit.  You’re funny.  You’ll have fun.”

“I’d rather have a root canal.”

“If you need a cavity filled, we can find someone for you.”

You curl your nose at that, frown in disgust.  “Gross.”

-----

In the end, it comes down to a basic kidnapping.  Big Nick and Connors coordinate:  you and Connors go out on a bogus call late in the afternoon.  Connors drives.  After the bogus call, early evening, he drives you straight to the hotel where the party is, and there’s not much you can do, because once he ushers you into the room, Big Nick ambushes you—steals your phone, your wallet.  Locks them in the room safe and tells you that you can have them back in the morning.

Borracho is already posted up on the couch, halfway through a beer, and he smiles to see the absolute shit-fit you throw.  The way you stomp your foot like a put-upon toddler, how your voice cracks in outrage as you threaten to call 9-1-1, to call your union rep, to call the fucking state attorney general’s office.

If you’re a temperamental toddler, then Big Nick is a nonplussed parent.  He ignores your tantrum and strolls over to the mini-bar.  He pours himself a drink, then asks what you want.

“I want to leave!” you shout, and you look at each of the guys—eyes half-accusing, half-pleading.  Henderson snickers, Z shrugs and smiles.  Connors has the good sense to look down at his feet.  

When you look at Borracho, your expression shifts to something else.  There’s dread there, and maybe it’s the half a beer he’s already drank, or maybe it’s just his finely-honed detective’s intuition, but he is suddenly certain of a few things.

One, that whatever nascent interest you had in him when you first came to Major Crimes hasn’t abated, despite Connors misguided discouragement.

Two, that night with the two of you that turned weird?  You weren’t joking around.  Not completely.  Borracho is certain that you were testing the waters.

Three—and this might just be the beer talking—but Borracho is almost completely convinced that the main reason you’ve skipped these events in the past was him.

If you are interested in him, and if Connors told you that you weren’t Borracho’s type….why would you turn up at a party where Borracho would theoretically hook up with other women in front of you?  

But some of the preconceived notions you may have (these parties are raunchy, but the guys also embellish them in the retellings on Monday mornings) are resolved that night.  Henderson calls in the food order for delivery while Z fiddles with the TV, gets to the pay-per-view fight that is on that night.

And Big Nick?  He claps you on the back, hard enough to throw you off your balance.  He jerks his chin over at the couch where Borracho sits.

“Go sit with Borracho,” he tells you.  “I didn’t have time to get you any party favors, so you can stick with him.  He never bothers with the girls anyway, the pussy.”

It proves out Borracho’s third point, the way the dread drains out of your face, the scant bit of hope that seems to replace it.  The way your eyes drift over to him in interest but then look away, as if you realize you’ve revealed too much of yourself.  As if you can see Borracho figuring you out in real-time, right in front of you.

*****

You are furious.  Fuming.  

Furious at Connors, your so-called unofficial partner, who seems to have no actual loyalty to you.

Furious at Big Nick, the swaggering asshole, the coarse leader who can’t say a single sentence without a leer and a smirk.

Furious at their accomplices who sit around the hotel room:  Borracho on the couch, Z and Henderson perched in armchairs and listening to the pre-match commentary of the boxing match.  

Furious at the entire group of them.  Barely more than overgrown boys half the time, set off by innocent words that get spun into innuendos, dirty jokes.  

Of course, the galling little voice in the back of your head points out, reasonably enough, that Borracho typically abstains from that stuff, usually just sits back and shakes his head.  Though now he’s watching you with those dark eyes of his, clocking you as you cross the room to where the booze is.

He’s still mad at you, you figure.  Even after you made an offhand comment to Connors, tried to get your partner’s take on the detective you had a crush on.  An embarrassing crush, made all the more embarrassing by your awful attempt at a half-seduction during that late night months ago when you were so tired that you had the punchy, drunk feeling you sometimes got.

It’s not like you and Borracho are ever especially chatty, but you talk less now.  It’s half you being embarrassed, but half him being so…intensely brooding.  You feel his eyes on you all the time, and when you chance a look at him at work, he never has his usual small smile for you.

He’s always staring at you, his eyes narrowed a little bit, and his mouth is always turned down at the corners in a frown.  

Like now:  you glance out of the corner of your eyes and you see him.  He’s sitting forward on the couch, studying you, and you feel the back of your neck get hot from the attention.

Your feelings are too turbulent—from Connors’ betrayal, from the dread of the coming evening.  If you weren’t so all over the place, if you were your typical cool-headed self, you’d be able to make an educated guess about Borracho:  those dark narrowed eyes, the slight frown.  It’s not anger at all.

It’s the exact same face he makes when he’s figured something out, or is close to it.  If you were just a shade calmer, you’d realize—that night months ago, you became a puzzle to Borracho, and in the past few months, he’s been steadily solving you.

*****

He watches you for a while.

The other guys seem to forget you.  They order food.  They wait for the girls to turn up.  Nick lays out some party favors—coke, weed, decent cigars, condoms.  The commentators on the TV hype up the boxing match to come.

The food arrives.  The girls arrive.  One, a leggy brunette, sits down beside Borracho, and he murmurs a greeting but then he launches himself out of his seat and over to you.

You’ve been standing at the minibar the whole time, studying the bottles one by one.  Connors jokingly calls you a Girl Scout, but it isn’t far from the truth.  In the rare occasion you join them at a bar, you always nurse one mixed drink the entire night, taking painfully small sips until it’s watered down from the melted ice.  

“Need help?” he asks, and it startles you.  You glance at him, then look away, that same guilty expression on your face.

“I’m okay.”

“You been standing here for like half an hour.”

You turn and look at the room behind you, duck your head.  “Nowhere to sit,” you mumble.

“Get a drink, then sort out the seating.”

You mumble something he can’t make out, and he watches as you reach out.  Start to pick up the bottle of whiskey, put it down.  Reach for the gin, falter.  Your hand drops by your side, and Borracho swears he can feel you wilting right beside him, deflating like a balloon.

“Here.”  He reaches past you, snags the bottle of tequila, snags a can of lemon-lime soda.  He mixes you a drink, weak on the alcohol, just enough for a taste.  

When he hands it to you, you glance at him again.  This time, it is paired with a smile—tentative, shaky at the corners.  Ready to fall in an instant, but it’s something.

“C’mon,” he says.  He wants to put his hand on you, on your lower back or between your shoulder blades.  He wants to touch you, just a tame touch, but it’s too early in the evening and you’re skittish.  He hasn’t had a chance to talk to you yet, and he has to play the evening with a deft touch.  With finesse.  Which is why he’s been nursing his own alcohol situation, pacing himself with just beer.

He jerks his head at you, motions for you to follow him.  Back at the couch, he tells the brunette to move over, to make room, and then he settles at one end.  He pats the cushion beside him, putting you between him and her.

You hesitate for a beat, but you sit.  You sit beside him, and it’s the closest he’s ever been to you.  Closer than at the precinct, closer than the times you’ve been in the same car.  Close enough that if he moves a fraction to his left, he’ll brush his arm against yours, touch his knee to yours.

“It’s never as bad as we make it sound,” he tells you.  He takes a sip of his beer and watches as you sip your own drink.

“So not an orgy?” you ask, a wry edge to your voice.

He snorts.  “I can’t speak for what goes on in the bedrooms, but out here in the common area?  Nah.”

“What goes on out here then?” you ask, and yes….he can hear it in your voice, the joking lilt you usually have.  He bites back a smile to hear it.

“Well, we wait for the food, then we eat.  We laugh at Nick’s stupid jokes, watch the boxing match, have some more drinks.  Easy enough.”

“Easy enough,” you echo.

-----

These parties are never an orgy, but they also are fairly explicit.

Nick has no moderation:  he eats a lot, does most of the blow, then takes two women (one of them the brunette) into one of the bedrooms before the boxing match even starts.  Borracho doesn’t need to look at you to see how uncomfortable you are—the walls aren’t soundproof, after all—so he snags the remote and hits the volume until Nick’s coked-out threesome is mostly drowned out.

Zapata, as usual, mainlines tequila and Coronas, takes another girl into the other bedroom, though all anyone hears after five minutes is his snoring, which sounds like a rusty chainsaw and will lead to the usual Monday morning jokes about bringing a CPAP machine to these events instead of drugs.

Henderson takes an edible, eats too many of the wings, then taps out halfway through the evening.  He’s got a handful of girls on rotation since his divorce, and he scrolls through his phone, texting them until one bites.  Then he orders a car and is out the door without a backwards glance.

It leaves you and Borracho and Connors, and two of Nick’s hired women.  One of the hired girls makes a remark that the group is mismatched now, unless someone wants odd-numbered fun.  Borracho can practically read your mind:  you’re thinking you’re the odd one out, and you look pointedly at your partner before you say you’d be willing to leave if you just had your wallet or phone.  Your voice is laced with disdain, and Connors rolls his eyes at you.

“Can’t,” he replies.  “Nick set the code for the safe.  But if you want to go in there—” Here, he jerks his head in the direction of the bedroom where Nick is “—be my guest.  Sounds like they are done.  Might get an eyeful of something you can’t unsee, though.”

“Fuck you.”

Connors only sighs and stands up, stretches.  “No thanks.”  He looks at everyone left in the room—you and Borracho, the two women.

“I’m up for some odd-numbered fun, if you think you and Borracho can play nice without me here to babysit you,” he tells you.

“There’re no beds left,” you point out.  “And if you think I’m going to sit here—”

Connors holds up his palm, silences you.  “Calm down.  Big Nick always books a second room.”  

The two women stand up, expectant, while Connors rifles around on the coffee table for the spare room key.  When he finds it, the three of them turn to leave, and Connors pauses.  Turns back to you and Borracho, and his eyes are bright with interest.

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” he says, and then they are gone—out the door, down the hallway, for some odd-numbered fun.

-----

This is what Benny’s been waiting for.

For months now, since that night and since Connors’ intel, he has wanted a chance to be alone with you.  To talk to you, possibly, but to see how you’d act.  To see what you might say.  What you might offer up to him, unbidden.

“This was stupid,” you finally say after long moments have passed.  You’re facing the television, though the boxing match was over almost as soon as it started, three entire punches with the third being a knock-out.  An overhyped, overpriced match that no one really watched anyway.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”  You scoff, full of disdain.  “Nick sold it as some trust-building, team-building thing, and it was just eating take-out together before everyone split off to go fuck.”  You glance at him and shrug apologetically.  “Sorry you got stuck with babysitting duties.”

Benny is three beers into the night (far less than usual—his nickname isn’t completely off-base), so the careless way you say fuck feels like an opening to him.  

“I wasn’t babysitting you.”  A beat, and he takes a sip of beer.  “You think Connors is gonna dirty-talk those two?”

You snort, say, “I doubt…” and then it dawns on you and you add weakly, “oh, ha ha.”

“We have a second key to that extra room.  Want to go in there and give him some pointers, artiste?”

“I knew you were still pissed at me.”

Another sip of beer.  “Yup.”

You slump a bit on the couch.  If you had any way of escape, Benny knows you’d take it:  snatch up your wallet and phone, out the door in a flash.  But you’re his captive audience and have nowhere to go.

“That’s not why I’m pissed at you, though,” he adds, glances at you out of the corner of his eye.

“Ugh, what else did I do?”

“You got questions about me, you ask me.  Not Connors.”

“I only wanted to see if you were still mad.  I felt so bad, Ben, honestly—"

“Nah, not that.”  He waves you off.  “I’m not mad about that.  I mean, when you started at Major Crimes.  You asked Connors about me then.”

You’re quiet for a moment, clearly casting back in your memory.  Then you say, “oh.”

“Because Connors is a fucking moron.”

You don’t say anything, but you huff out a breath that could be a laugh.

“And because he doesn’t speak for me.  Got it?”

You nod and reply, “okay.”

“If you have questions about me, ask me.”

“Got it.  Okay.”

You don’t sit up, though, and Benny can still feel the tension and humiliation radiating off of you.  Your eyes are fixed somewhere on the carpet in front of you, and he can see the frown on your lips.

“So ask me,” he prods, gently.

“Ask you what?”

“Ask me the question you asked Connors when you first started.”

“I don’t remember—”

“Bullshit,” he says, cutting you off.  “You remember.”

You sigh.  “I think it went, ‘hey Murph, what’s the deal with Magalon?’”

“And what’d he say?”

“He told me I was wasting my time.  Not to bother.”

Benny clucks his tongue in mock-disappointment, and he twists in his seat until he’s facing you.  He reaches out a hand and cups your chin, lifts your head gently and turns it until you’re facing him.  Still, your eyes stay downcast until he tells you to look at him.  When you finally do, he adds, softly, “and that’s why I’m pissed at you.  If you’d asked me back then, I would have told you the truth.”

You breathe out, “which is?”

“That it wouldn’t be a waste of your time.”

The corner of your mouth twitches into a ghost of a smile.  “Really?”

“Really.”

“Even if I’m not hot and crazy?”

“Hot and sane is better anyway.”

“Interesting that you think I’m sane.”

“Maybe just crazy enough,” he amends.  “Like, not crazy enough to slash my tires, but crazy enough to dirty-talk me while digging into phone records.”

The ghost of a smile falls, and you wince against his hold.  “I’m sorry, Ben—”

“Shhh.”  He shifts his hand, lays his thumb over your mouth.  He has to bite back the bolt of desire that runs through him—all this time, never touching you beyond incidental stuff at work.  Now he’s here:  his knee pressed against the side of your thigh, his hand cupping your warm face, his thumb touching your soft lips.

“I was only pissed that night because I liked it,” he confesses quietly.  You stare back at him, unblinking, but your eyes narrow a fraction, studying him.  Weighing the truth of his words.

“Liked hearing you say those things,” he adds.  “Thought you were just teasing me, though.”

He can see the moment his words sink in, and he can see the moment you believe them.  Your eyes go darker, just a shade, and they flit down to his own mouth for a split second before they return to meet his gaze.  

“I’m still pissed at you,” he adds.  “But I think…if you told me more, I could forgive you.”

In his mind, the rest of the night goes like this:  he removes his hand from your mouth, you turn that dirty talk of yours onto him, and then you make out, possibly more.

But the moment he offers forgiveness for a price, your eyes go even darker.  You part your lips underneath his thumb, then pull back a fraction, slip it into your mouth.  You bite down on him lightly, the even edge of your teeth against his knuckle, but your eyes never leave his.  Never blink once.  

It’s the warmth of your mouth, warm and wet, as you engulf his thumb.  You suck against him lightly, and the comparison is obvious, the other parts of him he could slip in your mouth.  Then your tongue flicks out, quick as a snake, against the tip of his thumb before you release him.

“You asshole.  You let me twist in the wind for months,” you say, but you’re smiling at him, dark-eyed, lips parted. “Fuck you, Magalon.”

“Shit, that’s the plan—” he starts to breathe out, but you’re already on him, your hands on his face, hauling his mouth to yours.  Hot and crazy, hot and sane, former Girl Scout or whatever….he’s never been kissed like this in his entire life, never felt so much want in a kiss.  It’s a hundred things at once:  needy and hot and gasping, the way you nip at his lower lip, the way you press your tongue against his, invading his mouth, tasting like lemon-lime soda and faintly of tequila.  

But it’s sweet too.  You somehow manage to make the moment sweet, and Benny can’t remember the last time he’s had a moment tinged with such sweetness.  Your mouth is hot and insistent, but one hand cups his face, and you run the pad of your thumb over his stubbled cheekbone.  The other is on the back of his head.  You run your fingertips through his hair gently, and it makes him break out in goosebumps, the strange intimacy of the gesture set against the urgency of the kiss.  He pulls you onto his lap, you straddling him, your weight welcome on him.

He has to break away, catch his breath.  His head spins, and even though he’s not had enough beer to be drunk, he has that light-headed, light-bodied feeling.  He presses his forehead against yours as he catches his breath, but he murmurs against your mouth, “tell me,” and you understand what he wants.

“I’ve thought about this a lot,” you murmur back, and this time, your voice is low and quiet.  There’s a quality of seduction that wasn’t there before, all those months ago.  “Thought about you a lot.  Fantasized about you.”

“Yeah?”

You kiss him again, more lingering this time.  When you break away, you say, “yeah.”

You shift, kiss the corner of his mouth.  Kiss his stubbled cheek.  The hinge of his jaw, and here, you nip at him lightly.  

“I told you about the work fantasies,” you whisper in his ear, and you nip at him again before you add, “had a few fantasies around these get-togethers too.”

Benny shifts his hands from where they are resting against your waist, reach around to cup your ass, kneading at the soft curves of you.  “Tell me.”

“I always got jealous,” you admit, and your voice loses its husky quality for a moment, goes painfully straightforward.  “Always sat home alone, torturing myself, thinking about you hooking up with one of Nick’s hired girls—”

“Not my thing,” he breaks in.  He gazes at you, nods encouragingly.  “I’m no Boy Scout—” (here, he smiles a little at his own inside joke) “—but this is more Nick’s deal than mine.”

“I know.”  A beat, a returning smile.  “I mean, I know now.  But I was jealous before.”

“So how’d your fantasy go?”

You dip your head again, resume the path you’d been kissing across him.  He feels your lips skate over his neck, against his pulse point.  Another nip, and this time you suck a mark against him, and he’d go feral at it…but again, you tinge the moment with sweetness, soothe the sting with a gentler kiss.  Not even enough to leave a mark, but you soothe it anyway.

“Imagined you leaving one of these parties and coming to my place.”  Your lips ghost over him—his throat, the other side of his neck, the notch at the base of his throat where his collar ends.  “Imagined opening my door to you, and you not even letting me get a word out before you were on me—”

“Should have told me.  I would have come over—”

“Imagined those big hands of yours tearing me out of my clothes—”

“—shit—”

“Imagined not making it to the bedroom, not even to the couch.  Imagined you taking me against the door, and I’d already be ready for you, already wet because I’d been thinking about you all night, thinking about being split open by—”

“Shit,” he repeats, and he cuts you off with a kiss, swallows down the rest of your words.  He’s already hard, straining painfully against his jeans, and you must feel it because you do a little move in his lap, you roll your hips until you’re grinding against him, and now there’s no sweetness to stop him from going feral.

Benny gets his hands under your ass, manages to hoist you off of his lap while he turns you.  Tosses you down along the length of the couch, and he follows you down, stretches over top of you.  You each move, adjust yourselves until you fit together just so:  one of your legs hanging off the edge, foot planted on the floor.  The other bent at the knee, bracketing his hip.  Benny between your legs, bracing himself on one forearm laid alongside your head, and the kissing is desperate again.

More desperate, maybe, because you’ve both clearly wanted each other for longer than you each realized.  

And more desperate because you’ve realized it here, in the dregs of another lackluster team party—Henderson gone, Connors in a room somewhere else in the hotel, but Z and Nick in the two bedrooms on either side of you.  It’s not ideal, but maybe it’s a little hot, having to be quiet, trying not to get caught but too far gone in each other to care much if you do.  

And the two of you are quiet, or as quiet as you can be.  Benny knows he’s biting back his own groans.  He can’t lose himself in the moment as he might if it were completely private, can’t sweet talk you beyond the murmured words he offers.

But as quiet as the two of you try to be, the couch is the loudest.  He’s on top you, rolling his hips against you, grinding against you and drawing the sweetest little whines from you each time, but each roll of his hips pulls a loud squeal of protest from some rusted spring deep in the innards of the couch.

Squeak.  Squeak.

You hear it; after a handful of thrusts with their accompanying squeaks, you break the kiss and giggle.  Benny smiles down at you, but then he thrusts against you again, pulls another squeak from the couch.  It’s a comical sound.  It’s the sound someone would make if they were imitating a squeaky bed, if they were doing a funny imitation of people having sex on a loud bed.

“It’s so loud,” you whisper underneath him.

“It’s fine,” he replies, but he’s not sure.  Z is a heavy sleeper and will stay in a coma until morning.  But Nick did a shit-ton of coke, so who knows what sound might pull him out of his sleep?

“You want to get out of here?” he asks after a moment, but you shake your head.  

“I don’t have my phone or wallet.  My bag and keys are back at the precinct—”

“We could go to my place.”

You’re considering it.  He can see you weighing that option against staying, and after a beat, you ask, “where do you live again?”

He lives about fifteen miles away, which in L.A….on a Friday night…you’d get there on Saturday afternoon.

“C’mon,” he says.  He kisses you, groans into it when he tries to break away and when you stop him, laying a hand on the back of his neck and holding him there.  You release him after a moment, and when he opens his eyes, he catches the way you smile at him.

Benny climbs off you (the couch gives another loud squeak, for good measure), and he holds out a hand to help you sit up.  If he were thinking clearly, he’d realize that there are at least ten better ways to resolve the issue—sit in the chair, call down to the front desk and snag another room—but he’s not thinking clearly.  All of his higher thinking has collapsed down to baser needs…mainly, the way it felt to kiss you, to grind against you.

If he were thinking more clearly, he’d note that a hotel carpet probably is filthy, and it’d be better to chance waking Nick up.  But he’s not thinking clearly at all, so he lies down on the floor, tugs you towards him, and you must not be thinking clearly either because you join him, straddle him, lean down and kiss him again.

Now you’re the one grinding against him, and there’s no squeaking, but there’s also no give.  No mattress, no cushioning to absorb any of the motion, and he has to huff out a heavy breath, tell you to stop for a second.  What a fucking disappointment that’d be, him coming in his jeans like some horny teenager.

“Slow down,” he pants underneath you.  He tugs the hem of your shirt from under your jeans, unbuttons it so it falls open and gives him a view of your cleavage.  He pushes the sides away, pushes it off of your shoulders, and you help him toss it aside.

The bra you’re wearing isn’t explicitly sexy—when you dressed that morning, you probably hadn’t figured this party into your lingerie selection.  It’s just a plain cotton one, light pink, but there’s a little embroidered flower right in the center, over your sternum, and something about it makes his heart twist.

You take his hands in yours, put them on your breasts.  You push against his hold, and it doesn’t help his situation, how he needs to calm a little.  He can feel your nipples through the cotton.  He can feel how they pebble as the slightest bit of pressure from him, how sensitive they must be.

A moment of clearer thought:  he should have taken the effort to get you someplace quieter, more private.  He wants to strip you in a bed, take his time to learn these things about you.

You reach down and fumble with his jeans.  You get the button undone, get the zipper down, and then your hand is on him.  The clearer thought leaves his head, and his universe is centered on all the sensation.  You palming him through his boxers, your breasts in his hands.  The weight of you against his thighs.

And yeah, it goes to his head, the way your eyes widen when you touch him, then the way your lips tilt into a smirk.  

“Shit, Benny,” you whisper.  “I knew you had a perfect cock.”

It’s dirty talk, sure.  It’s filthy words falling out of your mouth, but somehow it’s sweet too, in a way.  

It’s dirty talk but it’s talking him up, boosting his ego, and while Benny doesn’t exactly suffer from low self-esteem, he also has the usual insecurities in bed.  He’s had a fair amount of bad hookups, a few girlfriends who’ve been meaner than necessary, who’ve mocked his performance as mediocre.  And here you are:  smiling down at him in the dim light, stroking him through the cotton of his boxers, talking him up and making him feel like he could conquer the world.

“Can I?” you ask, and he’s not sure what you’re asking, but he nods his head and swallows thickly.  

You release him, twist your hand to reach under his waistband, and then he feels your warm hand, soft, on him.  He chokes out a groan, has to bite back against the sound.  You only grip him lightly, but then you are shifting, moving off of his thighs, working your way down him.  

The look you shoot him is pure sin, and he’d love nothing more than to let you wrap your lips around his cock, but he knows he won’t last.  He needs a condom to help desensitize him, and he’d rather look up at you riding him than down at you swallowing him, at least this time.

This time.  That thought bounces against the inside of his skull, the little licking flame of hope that this isn’t a one-time thing.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he breathes out.  He reaches down, covers himself with his hand, and when you still and give him a confused look, he reaches out to cup your face.

“Not this time,” he explains.  “Some other time.”

You arch an eyebrow at him, but you don’t remark at the some other time.  Instead you ask, “condom?”

Nick always supplies those too along with the drugs and booze and girls, says that the last thing the department needs is three or four detectives coming down with clap all at the same time.  Benny taps you lightly on your shoulder and you clamor off of him.  He sits up, kneels, shuffles over to the coffee table where the little pile of condoms sits, and he tears one off.  He can hear you behind him, the quiet rustle as you shuck your jeans.  When he turns around, you’re undressed, so he takes a moment to strip too.

It takes him another moment to roll the condom onto himself, but it’s a struggle:  even in the dim light of the common area, there’s plenty of light to see you by.  There’s a moment of self-doubt that crosses your mind, he can see:  your face takes on an uncertain cast, and you wrap your arm around your middle.

You’ve talked him up so well.  Benny does the same for you.

“Look at you, sweetheart,” he murmurs, his voice low as he shuffles back over to you.  He reaches down and gently unwinds your arm from your middle, places it on his own shoulder.  “Fucking gorgeous.”

You duck your head at his words, and he dips his head to kiss you.  Waits for your unease to fade, then breaks away and presses his forehead against yours.  Waits for you to open your eyes and look at him.

“Don’t you dare hide from me now,” he says.  “Want you to ride me.  Want to be able to see you when you fuck me.”

You smile, then lean in and kiss him back.  “You dirty talking me now, Magalon?”

“You like it?”

Your smile widens.  “It’s not bad for a beginner.”

He shifts his head, puts his mouth right against your ear so you can hear his words.  

“Want to see you riding me,” he whispers.  “Want to see these perfect tits bouncing as you ride my dick.  Want to see where I’m splitting you open, want to see how wet you get my dick as you—”

“Jesus, Benny—”

“Love it when you say my name like that, sweetheart,” he says, and he does—you usually only call him some variation of his first name in a joking way, calling him Benjamin when you are wheedling him or chastising him at work.  Hearing you say Benny, especially is such a wrecked whisper, harsh in your throat, makes him feel at least three things at once:  his dick twitching at his name, his brain catching his name and turning it over and over.  

And a curious little clench in his chest, almost like indigestion.

“Wanna make you say my name over and over,” he adds, and you dig your fingertips into the meat of his shoulders as his words sink into you  “Think you can be quiet enough, sweetheart?”

You nod against him, your hair tickling his face, the faint scent of your shampoo ticking past his nose.

“Think I might want you to scream it though.  Let all these assholes know how good—”

“Fuck, Benny, shut up.”  You move lightning-fast, whip your head around to kiss him hard, silencing his words.  You slide one hand to the back of his head, gripping his hair almost to the point of pain.  He fumbles at you in turn, manages to steady himself with one arm but gets the other hand on one of your breasts, and you keen at the touch, push against him.

It’s hot how feral you get at his words, and he knows that later, when you are calmer, you’ll give him hell, make him say you were right about dirty talk and it’s power.  He can hardly care at the moment, though, when you’re pushing him onto his back, when you’re straddling him.  The desperate way you reach for him and how you push into his own grasping hands.  

The adorable way you keep whispering, harsh, if this is okay, if he really wants this, can you—

“Shit, yes,” he whispers back.  “Yes, baby, fucking take me already—”

But you don’t.  Not quite yet.  You straddle him, and he can feel the heat of you, but you only slide against him, slicking his cock with your arousal, coating him to make it easier to take him.  You repeat the motion over and over, and he can feel the tip of him bumping against your clit.  When it does, you bite your lip hard, the softness catching against your teeth, and he knows you’re holding back and trying to be quiet.

On one pass, though, he catches at your entrance, slips in just a little.  You gaze down at him and repeat the same question you’d asked him.

“Do you really want this, Benny?”

He does.  He absolutely does.  

He reaches up with a gentle hand and runs his thumb over your ragged lower lip that you’ve been biting.  He cups your face, holds you steady and waits for you to really look at him.

“I really want this, sweetheart.  Want you.”

It’s a filthy moment:  fucking on a filthy hotel room floor while two coworkers sleep nearby, but the smile you gift him when he says he wants you—not this moment, but you—tips the entire thing into that sweet territory.

Benny’s not quite sure if he’s ever had both at the same time:  filth and sweetness.  He wasn’t even sure it was possible before now.  He’s fucked plenty of women senseless, but without an ounce of tenderness.  He’s also had girlfriends who were sweet but had no passion, no fire.  

Funny that he may have found both with you.  The former Girl Scout who rarely even drinks; the woman who says the dirtiest words and is game to fuck him on the floor of a hotel room.

He reaches down and grasps himself.  He holds himself steady so that you can mount him.  You do, and his entire universe collapses onto the feeling of you sliding onto him, a slow, steady movement until his hips are flush against your splayed thighs and every blessed inch of him is buried in your heavenly cunt.

“Look at you,” he breathes out, and he watches your face—your eyes are closed, but your lips are pressed together in a thin line.  Pained?  He doesn’t think so.  He thinks you’re biting back the same groan he is, trying to be quiet, trying to not give the game away.

Then you start to ride him, just a little at first.  Slow movements:  lifting off of him halfway, sinking back onto him.  He puts his hands on your hips but doesn’t hurry you along; he just kneads at your soft curves as you fuck him at a leisurely pace.

You move faster, spurred on by what you’re feeling.  Which…Benny can feel some of it through the condom:  the way you twitch against him, the easy way he slides through you as you get wetter.  You move faster and harder—you rise up until only the tip of him is in you, then you sink down, bouncing at a proper pace, and it’s like he willed this vision in front of him into existence with his words:  you riding him, your tits bouncing, his slicked-up cock disappearing into you.

“Not gonna last long,” he grits out.  “What d’you need?”

“Just touch me,” you pant out, and so he does.  He puts one hand on your breasts, alternating between the two, palming them, testing the sweet heft of them, swiping his calloused thumb along your diamond-hard nipples.  

Then the other hand lower, between your legs where your grasping heat is joined to him.  You’ve made a mess of him (or him of you, depending on one’s perspective):  your arousal slicks up your inner thighs, coats him, pools against his groin and lower belly.  He regrets it again for the briefest second:  he should have done this somewhere more private, where he could have lapped it up or been more tender—cleaned you up afterwards, then coaxed you gently into an encore.

He presses his thumb to the place where he disappears inside you, and your smooth motion stutters at his touch.  You sink down onto him and then still, and you watch him through narrowed eyes as he runs his thumb along that edge.  Where you and he are joined, the blurring point where he ends and you begin, or where you end and he begins.

Something unspoken passes between the two of you then.  You stare at him, and when he manages to tear his eyes away from where you’re nestled in his lap, he locks eyes with you.  No words, no nodding or shaking of your heads.  It’s telepathic, and Benny feels that same curious clench in his chest.

He knows he’s never had this before.  Never had a moment where he was so in sync with a lover; always had to pant out instructions (more, harder) or beg for direction (what do you want, baby?).

Because you stop riding him, and it’s exactly what he wants.  He wants to feel you against every inch of his cock when you come, and you sense it…so you stop riding him, and you set a rocking sort of grinding against him.  You lay one hand low on his stomach but reach the other around to grip the meat of his thigh, and you grind against him.  There’s no fucking give to a hotel room floor either, so you get every single bit of him, as deep as he can go.

There’s no bounce to your tits anymore, and your breathless panting has slowed, but you’re looking right into his eyes, and it’s been months of you avoiding him, months of you ducking away, refusing to meet his gaze.

“Touch me higher, Benny.”  It comes out a whisper.  A whine.  “Just a little higher.”

“Show me.”

You move your hand from where it rests on his belly and take his hand in yours, drawing it up just a bit until you’re both touching your clit, swollen and slippery.  You start to pull away, but he grasps your hand and stills it.

“Show me,” he repeats.  “Show me how you touch yourself when you think about me.”

You do.  The tip of your forefinger and then the pad of his thumb chasing right after it, you both circle your clit, and it has an instantaneous effect—Benny can feel how it hurries you along to your pleasure.  Your breathing gets a harsh edge to it, a hint of groaning, and he can feel you tightening, twitching along his length.

“Like this?” he growls.  “This how you touch yourself?”

“Yes.”  It’s punched-out, breathless.  

“Gonna come for me?”

“…yes.”

“Let me see it.”  He bends his legs and braces his feet on the floor, drives up in to your slow grinding, and it looses a sharp moan from you.  “Let me see you come, gorgeous.”

You do, a beat later, and thank fucking god for it.  Benny’s been so damned close.  He’s hanging on by a thread, but when you come—biting your lower lip, a choked off moan in your throat, and your heavenly pussy rippling along him, trying to pull him deeper—he manages to hold off another moment.  Manages to pull a second, weaker one from you before he feels his own coiling pleasure snap.

*****

Part of you is horrified by your behavior, and a cynical, self-doubting part wonders at first if this was some elaborate revenge on Benny’s part.  That he was that mad about that night months ago, that he’d set you up…but deep down, you know he’s not like that.  That your doubt speaks more to your disastrous past relationships and not him.

That deep down certainty proves to be right:  immediately afterwards, he is his usual Benny Magalon self.  He’s quiet, but solicitous.  Helps you dismount, helps you gather up your wayward clothing.  He points you quietly in the direction of the bathroom so you can clean up.

And after that, he gives you the couch.  It’s not wide enough for two, and the two of you argue over it, hissing at each other in the darkness.  You’re younger by a bit, able to sleep anywhere, but he scoffs and says not to worry about him.  He hesitates a beat, then brushes a kiss against your mouth that feels almost…shy.

“Take the couch, sweetheart,” he whispers.  “Please.”

So you do, and he settles on the floor alongside the couch.  As you’re nodding off—your head spinning, a faint, pleasant ache between your thighs—you hear him rustling around and then feel it.  

He covers you with his jacket, and you bite the inside of your cheek to stop your smile.  It’s the last thing you remember before morning.

-----

It should be easy to escape with the guys none the wiser.  In retrospect, you think you and Benny were quiet enough, certainly quieter than you normally would have been…and neither of you left any visible marks.  The heavy fug of last night’s cigar smoke masks any smells, and the thought makes your face heat up.

Benny is already awake when you wake up, and you wince when you see him twisting, hear the quiet pop of something in his back.  He catches you watching him and gifts you one of his smiles—he’s one of those guys, the type to play the quiet and mysterious thing and rarely smiles too broadly.  

You feel queasy.  In the harsh light of morning, things feel far less certain then they did last night, and embarrassment flares up from the things you said and things you did in the dark with him.  A million questions float to the surface of your mind:  will things be weird with him from now on?  Will you be able to work with him?  

Does he want more or was this a hook-up, a one-time thing?

Will you be able to hide it from the guys?

To the last question, it doesn’t take long for an answer.  Connors rolls back into the room shortly after you wake up, and that brief bit of scrutiny he offered before he left last night is still there.  He glances between you and Benny, studies each of you closely.

“Good night?” he finally asks.  He looks right at you, the bastard.  He knows your poker face is flimsy.

“Terrible.  I slept like shit on this couch.”

“Hmm.”  He turns his gaze to Benny.  “What about you, Borracho?”

“Same.  Floor’s hard.”

Connors hums again, and he looks between the two of you.  He shrugs, then walks over to the safe.  He punches in a number and opens it, and he hands you your wallet and phone.

You glare at him.  “Asshole.  You knew the code?”

He shrugs and doesn’t even bother to look contrite.  “It’s Big Nick.  Safe to guess that it was 1-2-3-4.”  A beat, another studious look at you.  “You didn’t have any fun at all?  Not even a little?”

“Nope.”

“Too bad.”  He glances back over at Borracho, then let’s his eyes fall on the mess on the coffee table.  The few grains of coke that are left, the half-empty packets of weed gummies.  The scatter of condoms.

“Nick can line up anything you want next time,” he offers.  “But if you’re gonna get freaky, bring your own protection.  He likes to poke holes in the condoms.  Calls it a fun version of Russian Roulette.”

It’s the dumbest thing you’ve ever heard…but you’ll think that later.  You’ll kick yourself at falling into such a dumb trap, and you’ll feel especially embarrassed to have been caught out by Connors.

When his words sink in, you feel that queasiness in your stomach double, and you whip your head around to look at Benny, wide-eyed in fear.  You aren’t on any sort of birth control, and fuck’s sake, you don’t even know if he’s clean—

The look on his face isn’t horror, like yours.  The look on his face is a rueful smile, a shake of his head, and then he drops his head to hide his laughter from you, though you can see his shoulders shaking—

“I fucking knew it!” Connors yells.  “I fucking called it!”

He takes the two steps over to Borracho, claps him hard on the back, tells him congratulations…then he comes over to you, does the same.  

“Knew you had it in you, champ,” he tells you.  “Great work.”

“Shut up,” you reply weakly.

“Nope.  Tell me I’m a great detective.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Tell me I’m the best at interrogation.  C’mon, I walked you right into that—”

You feel a hand on your arm, and Benny steers you away.  “Fuck off, Connors.”  There’s no heat to his words; you can hear the smile in his voice, and it makes the queasiness ease up a bit.  If the two of you are found out, he doesn’t seem to be mad…

“I’ll take you back to the precinct to get the rest of your stuff,” he murmurs near your ear.

“Okay…”

He gets you out the door and into the elevator without another word.  The two of you walk into the hotel garage without a word either, but in his truck, before he turns the ignition, he hesitates and glances over at you.

“Kinda hungry.  You up for breakfast?” he asks.

You look at him and see the half-hopeful look on his face.  You offer him a smile and ask, “you buying?”

He smiles back.  “Sure am.  Least I can do, because you’re gonna hear it from the guys for months.”

#tropes-and-tales #tppkinktober2022 #benny magalon #benny borracho magalon #benny magalon x reader #benny magalon x reader #benny magalon headcanon #Borracho Magalon x Reader #borracho magalon x reader #borracho magalon headcanon #borracho magalon #den of thieves

[oldfangirl81]

Brightside, Chapter 1

Fandom: Teen Wolf, 9-1-1: Lone Star

Rating: Mature but don't go beyond canon violence

Relationships: Carlos Reyes/TK Strand, Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski

Summary: One week before Iris goes missing Carlos is assigned a new partner that is a transfer from California. He is a bit of an odd one.

(this will also become a fix it for S4 finale)

Notes: Spoilers for S4 of Lone Star and Teen Wolf Movie in only that Eli Hale exists. I decided Carlos should have some different back-up. And another character to vent my annoyance about Detective Grier through. Derek and Stiles are pre-slash for a while, it is complicated. Stiles knows Eli exists but hasn’t met him, only talked on the phone. And I like magical overpowered Stiles so keep that in mind. Gabriel Reyes was a human born into a pack, he gets tapped by the Texas Rangers when there are supernatural cases. In my world pink wolfsbane is a bit like poison ivy to wolves, irritation and rash causing.

Inspiration: Brightside by Halestorm

Fake a smile, And self-destruct, Count it down, Four, three, two, one, I'm over it, All the bullshit, And this fucked up world, I'm living in, Where everything, I'm choking on, Is supposed to help, And keep me hanging on, Yeah, ain't it fun, So enjoy the ride, 'Cause life's a bitch and then you die

So I keep looking, On the bright side of life, 'Cause it only gets darker, We all need something to keep believing, So I keep looking, On the bright side of life

~

Stiles frowned as he was about to brush his teeth for bed. The protection spell on his new partner Officer Reyes was triggered, it indicated a head injury that could have been fatal without him having tipped the balance. What in the world was the other man up to. He should be at home snuggled up with that hot paramedic fiance of his. Then Stiles sighed realizing that maybe Carlos Reyes was a little less by the book than he’d originally thought. If someone thought a person he cared about was lying Stiles would be investigating in his off time. Stiles was just glad he hadn’t got in pjs yet as he grabbed his keys to go rescue Carlos.

It didn’t take Stiles long for him to arrive at the neighborhood they’d found Iris earlier. Closing his eyes focusing on narrowing down Carlos location. Stiles shouldn’t have been surprised it was the house that looked pretty and perfect. Those houses always did seem to hide the worst sins inside. Knocking on the door Stiles could sense two life signs in the house currently. After a moment he heard steps towards the door and an older woman opened the door. Her eyes widened upon spotting the man’s police uniform.

“Hello, Officer. It is very late. What seems to be the problem? I was just about to go to bed.” The woman was trying to appear calm but Stiles could clearly see signs of anxiety.

“You have two choices, hard or easy.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Oh I’m pretty sure you do. Easy means you quietly let me arrest you and allow me to give aide to my partner. Then we all three wait patiently for the rest of APD to come arrest you and…” Stiles paused for a moment glancing at a picture on the wall behind her. “your son for all your dirty deeds, finally get some justice for his many victims. Or I can do it hard way. You won’t like that.”

“I have no idea what you are talking about. I’m going to have to ask you to leave if you don’t have a warrant.” She swallowed hard not letting this young officer trick her into harming her son.

“See, I don’t need one when an officer is in distress. You took my partner. Both his fiance and I would like him back without further harm. NOW.” Stiles channeled a bit of Sourwolf’s attitude as he stepped into her physical space cause her to back up. Slamming the door behind Stiles threw up perimeter wards so that the killer couldn’t sneak up on him.

“Get out of my house! You are going to upset Darryl.” She tried to open the door to push Stiles back out.

“Oh? That would make my day. I love upsetting killers who target weaker members of society for their prey.”

She tried to physical attack Stiles head on in desperation. It didn’t take him long to slap restraints that had been made with mountain ash just in case.

“That was very dumb.” Stiles pushed her to walk into the kitchen where he felt Carlos showing signs of coming back to consciousness. “What is your name?”

“Trudie. You are very rude.”

“Oh no, a serial killer’s mother thinks I’m rude. My fragile self-esteem will never recover.” Stiles pushed her into a chair and used a bit of magic to keep her stuck there until he released it. Now he felt more comfortable focusing on Carlos who was starting to groan in pain. “Oh good the dumbass who didn’t think to get back up in the form of his partner is alive.”

“Stilinski?” Carlos tried to figure out what was happening. Last he remembered was discovering the tunnel that the person who abducted Iris could have escaped through. “My head is killing me.”

“That is to be expected since Old Mrs Bateman hit you in the head with a shovel at least once before dragging you into the kitchen. I’m not sure how many times she probably knocked your head into the wall too.” Stiles looked over at the woman who didn’t say anything but she was crying silently. Stiles touched Carlos using a bit of magic to heal Carlos enough so that his pain would be less but not enough to raise suspicion of not being injured enough. “I really don’t want to get assigned a new partner. I might not like them as much as you. So in the future...CALL ME FOR BACK UP BEFORE GOING INTO A POTENTIALLY DANGEROUS SITUATION!”

“Uh, sorry?” Carlos was unsure how to react. He didn’t think his new partner liked him much. Stilinski talked a lot but rarely actually said something. And Stilinski was either extremely professional or a sarcastic shit to everyone. Almost everyone. Carlos did over hear a phone call on their first shift where Stiles was genuinely nice to who ever was on the other end.

“Yeah, not good enough. But I’ll let your fiance really lecture you on not risking your life when there is help available.” Stiles grabbed his knife slicing the restraints from Carlos hands and feet. “Stay put because I don’t know what other damage she did.”

“Is she the one who abducted Iris?” Carlos now remembered why he acted so brashly in the first place.

“No, she is just mommy dearest to the killer. And like a good mom she was cleaning up his mess by doing away with you.” Stiles sighed. “I’m calling it in because we’ll need both locations searched because we don’t know how long he has been active. And we know there is at least one body in this house.”

“W-what?” Trudie gasped. She was certain the pantry door was closed at the moment. But that was exactly where the other cop walked over too and opened it. Darryl’s latest victim fell out with a soft thud.

“It is over, lady. I’d stay quiet until you talk to a lawyer at this point if you are just going to keep denying reality. You shouldn’t have fucked with my partner.”

“How rude!”

“Fuck off. You covered up numerous murders and attacked my partner. I don’t give a flying fuck about how my language upsets you.” Stiles glared at her before calling Ranger Reyes directly. “Gabriel, we have a problem.”

Carlos eyebrows climbed up as heard his father’s voice over the phone. How the hell did his new partner know his dad enough to have number programmed into the phone.

“Dad and you can now complain next time about your kids not getting back up and getting abducted.” Stiles held the phone away from his ear as Gabriel yelled.

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN MY SON WAS ABDUCTED!?! HE WASN’T EVEN ON SHIFT TONIGHT!”

“Dude, would I be calling you so casual if he was still in danger? He has a bit of a head injury that might need stitches but I got here before worse happened. On the positive side he did break a serial killer case that APD was dismissing because of the victims. If you can notify the officials channels and send paramedics too. The killer is Darryl Jones. His mother Trudie Jones is the one who abducted Carlos because he was dumb enough to explore a crime scene after hours without backup.”

Carlos cringed at Stiles glared at him while tattling to his dad. It was a good thing he was to old to be grounded.

“Yeah, I’ll call his man. I haven’t yelled much. Figured TK deserves that privilege.” Stiles nodded at something Carlos couldn’t hear before hanging up.

“You know my Dad?” Carlos wonders if he woke up in another reality. Stilinski hadn’t mentioned at all this week knowing Gabriel Reyes.

“Long story I can tell you later when we don’t have an audience. Now what is TK’s number?”

“Who is TK?” asked Trudie sniffling.

“His paramedic fiance.”

“Oh weddings are lovely. I’m sure she is beautiful.”

“TK is a guy. But is hot.” Stiles shrugged at the glare Carlos gave him.

“Oh I do love The Gays.”

Stiles blinked before just shaking his head staring at Carlos who rattled off the number.

“Hello?” The phone had only rang twice before TK picked up.

“TK? This is Officer Stilinski.”

“Oh god. What happened to Carlos? He was supposed to be off already.” It was clearly TK was going through worst case scenarios. It made Stiles want to kick Carlos in the shin hearing the worry but the man was injured enough.

“Deep breath, TK. Your fiance is a certified dumbass but he’ll be okay. I’m just not sure what time he’ll be getting home. It depends how long it takes the Rangers and APD to clear us from the scene. He is injured but not to serious, he might need some stitches.”

“WHAT?! Can I talk to him?” TK was throwing on shoes and grabbing keys planning to head out once he knew where to go.

“He was hit in the head with a shovel at least once. Officer Reyes decided it would be a good idea to investigate where Iris Blake was found without backup.” Stiles handed over the phone to Carlos.

“Babe?”

“Hey TK, look I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have-”

“Carlos, I was upset but I also shouldn’t have gone to see Iris without talking to you first. But Babe, how did you get hurt? And I’m coming to you.”

“TK, no, you don’t need too. I’m not that hurt. And Officer Stilinski is watching me closely until everyone else arrives. He called my Dad.”

“He knows your Dad?”

“I know Owen too.” Stiles commented looking up from examining a cupboard that was making Trudie very anxious. He frowned sensing something with his magic before turning to the older woman. “Seriously? You seriously let your son store his serial killing trophies in your kitchen? Gross.”

“Carlos, did he just say serial killer? YOU WERE ATTACKED BY A SERIAL KILLER?”

“No, I was attacked by a serial killer’s mother. I guess. I’m not fully sure where a serial killer came into this honestly. I was unconscious for a bit. But I’m serious TK, you don’t need to come all the way over here. Just wait until I know which hospital I’m getting dragged too.”

“Too late, I’m already in the car on my way to you. Are you really okay at the moment?”

“Yeah, I promise. I guess I’ll see you in a bit then.”

“Alright, I love you.”

“Love you too.” Carlos handed the phone back to Stiles. “Do you know everyone in Austin?”

“Nah, I met Owen a long time ago in New York. I haven’t talked to him since I arrived.” Just then Stiles felt someone cross his wards. “Did you call your son earlier?”

Trudie pressed her lips together without saying anything.

“Stilinski, talk to me, what is wrong?” Carlos started trying to move but his balance was slightly off.

“Stay. I have this handled.” Then Stiles eyes got even wider. “Wait. Well fuck. So Carlos what do you know anything about your Dad’s family?”

“Is now really the time to ask me ice breaking questions?”

“I mentioned it for a specific reason. I need to know how freaked out you are going to be if I start throwing magic around.”

“Are you sure that you weren’t the one hit with a shovel?”

“Cute. No. But we have a werewolf attempting to sneak past my wards.”

“Werewolves aren’t real. I don’t see you having any silver weapons.”

“Silver comes from a mistranslated text a long time ago. There was a family who became notorious for killing werewolves, their last name meant silver. However I am going to hand you the gun with wolfsbane bullets. Shoot if he gets to close to you.” Stiles could tell Carlos still thought he was delusional.

Trudie gasped when this cop seemed to know what her son was already. He also seemed more than ready to kill or injure her baby. Trudie tried to make a sound to warn her son but found her voice wouldn’t work. She glared at the cop she had heard called Stilinski.

“Oh fuck you, like I thought for a second you wouldn’t warn your demon spawn the moment you had the chance.” Stiles shifted again sensing the man coming in a back window.

“Stilinski, this is crazy. Werewolves and magic aren’t re-”

A roar was heard as the door flew open there stood a man. But he was a bit more than just a normal human man. He had claws, fangs and glowing blue eyes. Carlos had the safety off the gun before he registered what he was doing.

“Hey, Reyes, this is a positive. He isn’t an alpha werewolf, just a pathetic beta.” Stiles knew those words would cause Darryl to snap further.

With a roar the man launched himself at Stiles who had picked up a cast iron skillet. Even Carlos had to wince at the sound it made connecting to the werewolf’s skull.

“Bad doggy, no treats for you.” Stiles brought the frying pan down two more times for good measure knowing how tough wolves could be.

“What the hell,” Carlos couldn’t but whisper.

“As I said our killer was a werewolf.”

“You killed my boy!” Trudie started sobbing able to speak again now that her son was unconscious.

“He isn’t dead. Just unconscious. He’ll recover unless he attacks again. Then he goes down for good.” Stiles growled, his flashing red briefly.

“Are you a werewolf too?” Carlos couldn’t believe he was seriously concede ring that werewolves were real.

“Nope. I’m a Spark.”

Trudie gasped in horror. Oh no, what had she done. Her father always taught her to avoid Sparks but especially avoid angering Sparks.

“What’s a spark?” Carlos asked glancing over at the woman and then Stilinski.

“I am.” Stiles smirked but then his phone rang. Cursing softly he answered the call. “Hey Derek, what’s up?”

“Really?” Derek’s sigh was loud. “Are you okay? I felt you tap into the pack bond a minute ago but it felt more annoyance than fear or anger.”

“I’m fine, Derek. I guess I just wanted a little reassurance when I took down a beta with a frying pan.”

“Are you turning into Flynn Ryder?”

“Derek, serious question but when did you watch Tangled? And why didn’t you watch it with me?”

“Eli made me watch it a couple of years ago. And I didn’t know I was supposed to not watch any movies without you.”

Stiles pouted for a moment before hearing sirens coming closer. “Look, I gotta go. The situation isn’t a code red any longer. I’ll call you later to fill you in, okay?”

“No.”

“What do you mean no?”

“No, you can wait to fill us in when we get to Austin.”

Stiles paled looking more than a bit panicked at that. “What do you mean when ‘we’ get to Austin? Why are you coming to Austin and who is ‘we’?”

“I’ll talk with you in the morning, Stiles. Goodnight.”

“Don’t you. Goddammit he hung up on me. I am sprinkling pink wolfsbane in his underwear drawer.” Stiles made a note in his phone.

“Was that your boyfriend?” Carlos asked waiting for the sirens to finally reach them. “He sounded worried.”

“Not my boyfriend.” Stiles sighs frowning trying to figure out why Derek would come to Austin and who would he bring with him. “It is a very complicated thing.”

“Carlos? Stiles?” Gabriel came running in through the open door with his gun drawn.

“Hey Gabe, you are going to need to take charge of the scene right away. We have a serial killing wolf whose human mother helped cover up his decades long crimes. She is the one who abducted Carlos.”

Gabe paused glancing down at the unconscious killer before giving his son a once over for any serious injuries. He had never really wanted Carlos to become involved in the violent side of the supernatural world. Carlos only ever really had interacted with the mystical side of the Reyes family. Granted Carlos didn’t know they were actual mystical and not just strangely superstitious.

“Hey Dad.”

“Hey Carlitos, I am sure you have questions. I’m sorry this is how you found out about the full spectrum of my job. I never wanted this for you.” Gabriel secured Darryl with werewolf proof cuffs.

“THAT IS MY FIANCE IN THERE AND I AM A PARAMEDIC. I KNOW HE IS INJURED NOW LET ME PAST!” An impressive growl from a human could be heard.

Stiles stuck his out to where the patrol officer was trying to get TK to leave. “Let him in. I don’t know where the ambulance is but he can examine Officer Reyes while we wait. The scene is safe currently.”

TK rushed into the kitchen falling to his knees by Carlos seeing the blood still flowing from the cut on his forehead. “Babe?”

“Hey TK, it really isn’t that bad. You know head injuries look worse than it is.”

Stiles snorted knowing how much worse it could have been without his added protection. He stepped back to fill Gabriel in on what he had discovered since the initial phone call. Now earlier in the day Stiles had not had the pleasure of meeting Detective Grier by a quirk of chance. But her luck had just ended as she walked into the room.

“Oh hell no.” Stiles hauled off and punched her, the nose breaking satisfyingly under his fist.

“WHAT THE HELL OFFICER STILINSKI?” yelled both Carlos and TK.

Trying to stop her nose from bleeding. “Lovely to see you again, Stiles. How is your pup these days?”

“Fuck you. What are you doing working in Austin? The Calveras are not friendly with other hunting families.”

“Stiles?” Gabriel frowned trying to figure out what he missed.

“Her married name is Argent. She is Stefano Argent’s widow and former partner.”

“Detective Grier, is this true?” Gabriel was livid that there was an Argent in Austin that nobody knew about.

“What does it matter to you?” The Detective was frustrated that someone knew her past. She had ignored protocols for entering the terriotory for a reason.

“Maybe because he also thinks a murderous witch like you shouldn’t be on APD?”

“I was protecting people. I followed the code.” She glared at Stiles like he was a cockroach she wished to smash.

“Bullshit. The only Argents that ever followed the code was Alison and Chris. And even that is arguable.”

“We will be talking later, Detective Grier but for now get the hell out of my crime scene and case. I’ll be talking over the serial killer case that you had dismissed.” Gabriel couldn’t help but wonder if Grier had taken Iris seriously if his son wouldn’t have to had to pull such a risky move to prove Iris was telling the truth.

“I take it that it would be pointless to try to press charges for assault?” She glared at Stiles.

“Be my guest. I can always go back to bounty hunting.” He crossed his arms not amused. He would call Danny later and have him do a deep dive because why was she in Austin too.

She let out a huff of annoyance and stormed out of the house.

“Did you really have to punch her?” asked Carlos while TK was trying to clean his head wound with the kit he brought with him.

“Oh trust me, she deserves a hell of a lot more. I know of at least one orphan because of her hand.” Stiles looked at cast iron skillet with longing.

“What in the hell is going on?” TK could tell there was a lot going on that he didn’t have enough of the pieces to make a picture with.

“Focus on taking care of Carlos right now, TK. Then later Stiles and I will come over to your house to explain everything.”

“You should ask Owen to come too. He knows some of it.” Stiles said reluctantly. The problem was once Owen knew then Stile’s Dad would also know which department he is attached to now. They hadn’t talked in over a year after their last fight. Any further discussion was put on hold as paramedics had arrived. So had Gabriel’s special team for the forensics and to take the suspects into custody. It was a busy next couple of hours for everyone. Especially since several couldn’t stop their minds from being focus on other things.

TBC

#my fics #teen wolf #911 lone star #sterek #tarlos #brightside fic #reposting ch1 in full since ao3 is down before posting ch2

[itsnickgalitzine]

Title;;  until you go With;;  nicholas galitzine & taylor zakhar perez ( @therestayzakhar ) Where;;  taylor's california home, on a plane & new york -- december 8th 2024 Summary;;   some old ass thread we just remembered to share about the private couple unable to stop touching each other and seeing sabrina carpenter's show at madison square garden Warnings;;  too much smut and spelling errors Song Inspiration;;  just find a dirty song

Taylor Zakhar Perez: To say he was grateful for Sabrina convincing Nicholas to come to the show as almost an understatement. Taylor was excited to get another day with the man he secretly loved, before he was due back in London. Surely he was homesick, missing England so much but also he was so happy here, the new couple managing to hit their two weeks without issue giving both relief surely after what they went through to make this all happen. Taylor packed himself a bag for a couple days, just in case, as his lowkey boyfriend was packing everything he brought to America with him. Stealing a couple of the taller one's hoodies, surely. Walking up to his boyfriend, a smile on his face before gently turning him around and kissing him. "Ready to catch the flight out to New York, baby?"

𝕟𝕚𝕔𝕙𝕠𝕝𝕒𝕤 𝕘𝕒𝕝𝕚𝕥𝕫𝕚𝕟𝕖: turning around, after dropping the rest of his clothes in his suitcase, turning to face his boyfriend, arms coming to rest around his neck, kissing him back before pulling him close to him. "mmm, i am. i'm going to fuck you so hard on that plane," he said grabbing hard at taylor's shirt, pulling him down a bit to the brit's height before kissing him deeply and passionately, his tongue slipping inside the other's mouth and a low needy moan getting lost in the suddenly heated makeout session. nicholas pushes his body up against taylor's hard, a little thrust of his grion into his boyfriend's letting another moan loose before quickly pulling away, turning back to his luggage. finishing packing, he closed his bags, grabbing them and giving the slight taller man a smirk, "let's go, sweetheart. we'll be late." with that he went with his stuff out of the bedroom, straight out the front door where he felt a slight chill of winter in LA's air over just heat. it tickled his pale skin in a way that was pleasant before he moved towards the vehicle they'd be taking to the airport. one of their team surely, and it left nicholas almost uncaring, as he got his bags in the back of the car and soon climbed into the backseat, making room for taylor to sit next to him.

Taylor Zakhar Perez: The sudden assault of passionate and filth, left Taylor both confused and wanting more, surely his boyfriend's plan as they'd soon be on a plane and could have a quickie in the bathroom. Doing his best to fix himself after Nicholas left before grabbing his own bags, heading out of the bedroom, and straight out the front door, stopping to turn around and lock his home before following his partner out towards the car waiting for him. Walking over to throw his couple backs in the back before shutting it and getting into the backseat with Nicholas before looking to him with a slight smile. "I'm so thanking Sabrina for this time together because I thought I'd be saying goodbye, but I'm embracing this last day as best as I can." Taylor knew he'd miss Nicholas while he was back in London, but he'd never hold him back and wasn't sure he wanted to go back there with him quite yet. Soon, surely. He wanted to wait til after the holidays at least which they spoke and he'd have his lovely British boyfriend back for.

𝕟𝕚𝕔𝕙𝕠𝕝𝕒𝕤 𝕘𝕒𝕝𝕚𝕥𝕫𝕚𝕟𝕖: sitting patiently behind the rental's wheel before looking at the passenger side as taylor climbed inside. moving to get out of the driver side and slipping into the back, gently pulling at taylor's shirt to get him to join. before they went anywhere, he was going to have him in the backseat of the car. enjoying what they could during their last moments together. they did have an event tomorrow they'd go to, but after he was leaving so today they'd have to get in as much love making as humanly possible. "if you don't come here, you'll be listening to the sounds of me touching myself, darling," nicholas promised with a smirk across his lips before gently moving a hand down to the front of his own pants, rubbing his hardness and panting some as he did so before moaning out taylor's name to help convince him to move.

Taylor Zakhar Perez: When his boyfriend moved back, honestly, Taylor was confused by it. Why would he moved back after he got in and was about to buckle up. Feeling the pull on his shirt, he looked back to see Nicholas looking as hot as ever. The words he heard caused his mouth to drop open for a moment and just before he moved seeing the British actor's hand on himself, it was almost like it called to Taylor to come and take care of him. Slipping into the back and getting ontop of his boyfriend, so grateful they had tinted windows before gently pushing him down, pulling both their shirts up just enough to allow this bare chests to touch. He moved a hand down along Nicholas's body until he felt the front of his pants, rubbing him through his pants as he started assaulting his neck with kisses, nibbles and sucking on the skin. He'd never not mark up his boyfriend when he could.

𝕟𝕚𝕔𝕙𝕠𝕝𝕒𝕤 𝕘𝕒𝕝𝕚𝕥𝕫𝕚𝕟𝕖: watching as his boyfriend climbed ontop of him, a grin crossing his lips as taylor's legs on on either side of him, bending down on before he felt everything all at once. their shirts up and bare chests touching, his own hands holding onto the other's back, feeling a firm hand rubbing the front of his pants and the assault on his neck. it all send nicholas into an almost pleasure overdrive for it all to happen so fast, right away. he allows his own head to touch the backseat of the car, hazel green eyes closing, shivering and moaning as he was pleasured by the amazing man he got to call his boyfriend. "mmm, taylor," the brit managed to say, pushing himself into taylor's hand more, bucking his hips some causing nicholas to moan a bit louder. his dull fingernails drag down along the tanned actor's back, not too hard.

Taylor Zakhar Perez: Rubbing harder at the front of his boyfriend's pants, a smirk crossing his lips before he pulled him into a deep kiss. Allowing tongues to touch, teeth to bit lower lips and their bare chests to stay together, no matter what. This was this last moments together and all Taylor knew was he was going to make the best of it all. He was going to have his boyfriend in the back of this car, maybe on the plane and surely sneak things at the concert. He needed this as much as Nicholas did, he craved it. They'd be apart til the 21st after this and while it only a couple weeks, it would surely feel longer. Missing each other and wanting nothing more than to be around each other again. New feelings consuming them.

𝕟𝕚𝕔𝕙𝕠𝕝𝕒𝕤 𝕘𝕒𝕝𝕚𝕥𝕫𝕚𝕟𝕖: moaning louder in the kiss, craving so much more, needing to be touched desparately, rolling his hips into taylor's hand with such need and desire. breaking the kiss just to groan. "please.. i need to feel you more," he almost begged, gently moving close to moan right into his boyfriend's ear to help convince him to touch him or fuck him already. he needed this so badly before they left to catch their plane to new york. now driving was the last he could even think to do. one of his hands moving down to grip at the front of taylor's pants, shoving his hand inside and touching his growing erection through his underwear. "please.. need.." he moaned again right into the other's ear.

Taylor Zakhar Perez: Hearing Nicholas's moan right in his ear made fueled Taylor's desires so much more than anything else. He was mad for this now, only enjoying the hand on him for a moment before pulling off their shoes, pants and underwear just so he could push a finger into his boyfriend, thrusting his index finger in and out of him, slowly at first before gently picking up speed. Before adding a second finger, slowly thrusting in and out again. Using his long fingers to part and scissor inside of the British actor before gently adding a third. Once again going slow with the new addition before picking up speed and pushing his fingers deep inside, to get to his sweet spot despite mostly using his fingers to stretch him. "Do we have condoms and lube?" he asked in a low seductive voice, still fucking Nicholas with his fingers.

𝕟𝕚𝕔𝕙𝕠𝕝𝕒𝕤 𝕘𝕒𝕝𝕚𝕥𝕫𝕚𝕟𝕖: not even caring when taylor took over, removing his hand, all nicholas could think of was how much he wanted, craved, needed his boyfriend to just touch him already at least and then once that moment came it was more than he expected and he moaned as felt that first finger enter in, nice slow and steady. once taylor started moving his long digit in and out of nicholas' hole, he was left needily moaning, ever so gently moving his hips along with that damn skilled finger. the addition of each finger, had him moan louder, adjust and then gently roll his hips, allowing himself to be fucked with taylor's long digits. stretching him and really making him so turned on and crave to feel his dick inside instead. "fuck, taylor" he moaned loudly, feeling his prostate touched, causing a shiver to run through his body as well, not expecting it but going wild for it. it was hard to move, but the brit barely managed, reaching into the pockets of his leather jacket, pulling out a few condoms and some lube and handing them to taylor as he panted.

Taylor Zakhar Perez: The whole time his boyfriend got things out of his jacket, Taylor continued to fuck him with his fingers, loving the sounds of his moan, before gently pulling his fingers out, lubing them up and pushing them right back into Nicholas's hole, fucking him again with them, harder and faster. "Once we have more room - I'll fuck your hole with my tongue," he spoke in a low seductive voice, leaning in close to his partner's ear as he said this before allowing his tongue to play with the British actor's earring some after. A smirk crossed his lips as he pulled away, looking at that beautiful god like face, twisted in pleasure. "Tell me how badly you want me, baby. Tell me how much you want my dick inside of you." Sometimes during sex, Taylor got like this because he knew it was a bit of a kink for Nick and he couldn't deny more ways to drive his boyfriend wild.

𝕟𝕚𝕔𝕙𝕠𝕝𝕒𝕤 𝕘𝕒𝕝𝕚𝕥𝕫𝕚𝕟𝕖: feeling taylor take his fingers out, nicholas opened his eyes and whimpered some, but letting out a shaky moan upon feeling those fingers back inside, cover in lube, slipping in so much easier. given their both at least six feet, being in the backseat of a car for this wasn't easy, but they fit as best they could. most of nicholas' back was on the car door, his legs parted, one on the seat, the other on the ground as if he was supposed to be sitting up right, and his arms rested on the seat supporting his weird position. surely they'd feel a bit sore after all of this, but for now, they were focused on just the pleasure itself. "oh god," the brit moaned out loudly, head gently hitting the car door, gently moving his hips along with taylor's thrusts, feeling him touch that sweet spot deep inside ever now and then gaining another moan in result. "so badly," he struggled to answer. "i need to feel you inside me," he almost yelled feeling his prostate caressed as he spoke. "please, take me."

Taylor Zakhar Perez: Smirking some, he gently pushed his fingers in a few more times, getting to his boyfriend's sweet spot to hear the sounds he made, curling his fingers around inside before pulling them out, pulling his own pants and underwear down just enough to get the lube and condom on before pushing into the smaller British actor. Taylor groaned after he got all the way inside, enjoying it for a moment before he pulled out and thrusted back in hard, wanting to focus on getting the man he loved to make those sweet sounds for him. "Fuck, Nick baby," he moaned out as he kept thrusting into him in a hard rough manner, gaining a bit of speed but mostly focusing on how hard he came in.

𝕟𝕚𝕔𝕙𝕠𝕝𝕒𝕤 𝕘𝕒𝕝𝕚𝕥𝕫𝕚𝕟𝕖: moaning as he felt fingers touch his prostate a couple more time til finally, finally, it was replaced with taylor's member slipping inside in with ease due to the stretch, plus the condom and lube. their very first time together was quite the adventure without all of the prior prep. it all mattered. his legs wrapped around taylor's waist, hips gently moving along with each thrust, leaning him moan, and his back already starting to arch with how hard each thrust was. "don't fuck stop," nicholas moaned, "you feel so good." he was lost in his pleasures already. easily he wouldn't last long, as when taylor came in hard, he really just managed to hit that sweet spot every time and nicholas was left just wanting nothing more than to moan and get so close so fast.

Taylor Zakhar Perez: Nicholas's words as they were tangled together always helped fuel Taylor, pushing into the man he still loved on his own, pushing him into the backseat with each hard rough thrust. Hearing each moan and beautiful word during their sexual antics was something that Taylor started to really love whenever they got to this point which currently was pretty often as they still got used to being together as a couple. Also feeling like when they were apart they had to make up for it. One hand rested on the backseat, the other moved to grab his boyfriend's erection, starting to stroke it in tune with his thrusts. "I'm close, baby, come with me." He moaned as he thrusted in a couple more times before reaching his orgasm, releasing himself inside the condom in his boyfriend, and not pulling out until after his orgasm faded and he quickly put himself back together and climbed to the passenger seat. "Come on, we got a flight to catch," he said as he buckled himself in.

𝕟𝕚𝕔𝕙𝕠𝕝𝕒𝕤 𝕘𝕒𝕝𝕚𝕥𝕫𝕚𝕟𝕖: each thrust send him over the edge, all he could process was himself and taylor in this moment, feeling each deep thrust, hitting that spot inside, touching his prostate and causing to moan with such desire, feeling himself get closer and closer. feeling a strong hand on his dick stroking it along with each hard thrust was everything nicholas needed, hearing taylor was close, he just nodded, moaning along with him, feeling like a dam was close to breaking before a couple more thrusts and it was all over. giving a loud moan, back arching and eyes closed tight as his orgasm consumed him and he came between them, taking a moment after he recovered after what felt like a whole minute to clean himself off before properly dressing again and moving back towards the driver's side. buckling up and starting the car, driving straight for the airport, allowing songs they both enjoyed enough to sing to to play within the car as they drove to the airport. as soon as they arrived, the british actor grabbed his bags and rushed to catch their plane to new york, getting to his seat before eagerly waiting for when he could get up with taylor, slip into the bathroom and go for round two. it'd be two weeks before they were together again, nicholas was going to enjoy every moment they had left together.

Taylor Zakhar Perez: After the drive to the airport, Taylor grabbed his bags and followed Nicholas to catch their plane to New York. Once settled into his seat beside him, he looked around at the other passengers for a moment, glad they didn't stand out, plus they did dress to be a bit hidden so they could enjoy time together out in the public without special treatment all the time. Gently reaching a hand out to grab his boyfriend's without much thinking, hoping it was okay because he really wanted to while he could since they were a bit hidden currently with how they were dressed to get less attention from anyone around them.

𝕟𝕚𝕔𝕙𝕠𝕝𝕒𝕤 𝕘𝕒𝕝𝕚𝕥𝕫𝕚𝕟𝕖: feeling a hand take his, nicholas looked over at taylor, smiling softly as he squeezed his hand. "you're amazing," he said in a low voice to him. easily distracted by just low small talk with his boyfriend til they were finally able to get up. clearing his throat he stood up and made his way over to the bathroom, slipping inside, leaning against the wall as he waited for the other to come join him. the past couple days, just being alone with taylor was like it's own high for him, leaving him lost in nothing but taylor's feelings for him, his own for the other and wanting nothing more than to kiss and allow their nude bodies to tangle together. soon he'd be back in london, away from his boyfriend and really missing all of this. it was new to be left needy like this, being lost in his feelings and knowing that taylor loved him so much. it left nicholas grinning some as he waited, thinking of how amazing and perfect his boyfriend truly was.

Taylor Zakhar Perez: Smiling at Nicholas words, enjoying small talk until his boyfriend got up and walked away, Taylor watched him leave before letting out a sigh as he looked at his watch. Giving a couple minutes before getting up and slipping back into the bathroom to join Nick in the bathroom. "God, who allowed you to always look so perfect? I still can't believe we're together," he said before gently moving forward to pull his true love into a deep passionate kiss. He'd always share how he felt in each kiss, but also right now, they were just having a quickie in the bathroom on the plane, as their main focus was still getting to see their friends for a concert and hangout after. So he was going to get his hands all over Nicholas while he had the chance before he was back in London and Taylor would be left missing him again.

𝕟𝕚𝕔𝕙𝕠𝕝𝕒𝕤 𝕘𝕒𝕝𝕚𝕥𝕫𝕚𝕟𝕖: he didn't hesitate to kiss back, running his fingers through taylor's hair, pulling on his shirt so their bodies touched and allowing himself to rub up against the other some. "we need to make this quick," he uttered in a low voice between kisses before gently pushing their groins together, moaning into the kiss with a desire to just have taylor already. there was no better person he could think of to do this with right now and he couldn't currently get enough of his boyfriend either way so he was going to enjoy him as much as he could. not breaking the kiss, allowing his tongue to slip inside the other's as he unzipped his hoodie, and unbuttoned his button down -- rocking an all black look today, as he grabbed taylor's hand to touch his chest, needing to feel those big hands all over him right now. moaning again into open mouths before briefly breaking the kiss to get his boyfriend's hoodie open, shirt over his head and be able to feel his bare chest as well. "i need you so badly," he said close to his partner's lips before kissing him again, not shying away from slipping his tongue back into the other's mouth and pushing their groins together again, gaining another needy moan from the brit.

Taylor Zakhar Perez឵: Not hesitating too much, Taylor pinned Nicholas against the wall, kissing back in the same manner given. Allowing his boyfriend to get their clothing open so their chests were exposed and he moved to getting them out of their pants enough to engage in their sexual act once again. Breaking the kiss, Taylor pushing Nick against the skin, bending him over it before finding a condom in his hoodie pocket and getting the lube from Nicholas's, putting them on his member before angling himself with his partner's hole and pushing right into it, making sure he was balls deep and found that sweet spot inside of his boyfriend before he started thrusting into him, slowly at first before picking up the speed some.

𝕟𝕚𝕔𝕙𝕠𝕝𝕒𝕤 𝕘𝕒𝕝𝕚𝕥𝕫𝕚𝕟𝕖: once he was pushed into the skin, nicholas grabbed on tightly, waiting til he felt something at his entrance before feeling all of taylor push right into him and the moment his sweet spot was touched, he put some of his hoodie in his mouth and let out a muffled moan. they wanted to both be quick, but also keep it down. one of his hands moved from the skin to the wall, as he felt taylor start to thrust into him. moaning again, still muffled by his hoodie. last time they were like this was on set, between takes, taking a break to just get off quick, also in a bathroom, muffling their sounds and just focusing on getting the pleasured they desired as fast as they could and be ready for the next scene.

Taylor Zakhar Perez: Picking up his speed, and thrusting in faster and rougher before moving a hand forward to grab his boyfriend's erection and start stroking it along with his thrusts. Just remembering they were being sneaking, remembering sneaking just like this on set, it all helped get Taylor close and closer to the edge faster. Also using part of his clothing to muffle his own moans as he thrusted into his boyfriend. Briefly allowing the clothing to fall from his mouth, panting into his Nicholas's ear. "I'm already so close, baby," he said in a loud voice, letting a low moan follow before putting part of his clothing back in his mouth as he continued to thrust hard into slightly smaller, younger man.

𝕟𝕚𝕔𝕙𝕠𝕝𝕒𝕤 𝕘𝕒𝕝𝕚𝕥𝕫𝕚𝕟𝕖: each hard rough thrust, continuously hitting that spot inside, nicholas already started feeling close, especially as taylor started stroking him along with those thrusts. definitely the fastest he's ever gotten off in a while, but they did agree to be quick, not wanting to hog the bathroom. moaning loudly, grateful it was muffled and he almost came right then and there when taylor spoke and moaned in his ear in that low husk seductive tone of his. he knew exactly how that got to nicholas. "harder, taylor.. please.. need," he spoke as proper as he could with something in his mouth. all that crossed his mind was doing this on a private plane, just them, a pilot and any of their team, focusing on other things over caring both of them are fucking to their hearts content inside the plane's bathroom, not needing to muffle or care how loud they were being. this was last minute though, so they had to cover up, muffle and try not to be found out.

Taylor Zakhar Perez: Upon being told, Taylor did just that, pushing into Nicholas harder, allowing his free hand to move forward and graze along his boyfriend's bare chest for a moment before briefly using both his hands to removed the British actor's jacket, hoodie and shirt all in one go, setting them on the closed toilet behind them before pulling his partner up some, allowing his now bare back to touch Taylor's bare chest. Groaning at the feeling of the heat of their bodies touching, as Taylor moved his hand back to stroke Nick's erection, gently placing kissing along the sides and back of his neck in a more gentle manner, despite how hard he was pushing into him.

𝕟𝕚𝕔𝕙𝕠𝕝𝕒𝕤 𝕘𝕒𝕝𝕚𝕥𝕫𝕚𝕟𝕖: letting out a louder muffled moan into his hoodie when taylor pushed in hard, groaning some as he felt a hand all over his bare chest, not even fighting as his torso was exposed, especially when he was rewarded feeling the heat of their bodies touch. nicholas groaned at the feeling alone, enjoying the feeling of the kisses taylor placed on his neck. always managing to find a way to be so sweet and loving, pulling at the brit's heart strings and making him melt, leaving his heart racing and a smile on his face. it was why he always wanted him around and missed when they were apart briefly. it was the worst time of his life but it was good to help him figure out his feelings and get to date someone so truly amazing, who always made him feel special even if they were just sitting together doing nothing but enjoying each other's company. plus at the end of the day, nicholas didn't want anyone else to be with him sexually like taylor. he'd always be the only man to dominate him and make him crave it. no other man could ever compare even if they broke up tomorrow. moaning as he was stroked again, feeling himself starting to get close. "give it to me, taylor," the brit uttered through his pleasures.

Taylor Zakhar Perez: Keeping Nicholas's back close to his bare chest, Taylor thrusted into him harder, kissing and sucking on one side of his neck, leaving marks before doing the same on the other side. As he thrusted in harder, he stroked Nick a bit faster, wanting him to feel each tug on his erection along with each time his prostate got touched. Normally, he'd always love Nicholas to come first, hearing his loud moan, sometimes saying his name and feeling how he closed some around him - but this time Taylor felt so close, he could barely help from just breaking. "I'm gonna come, baby," he said right in his ear, before moaning some into it, then baring his face into his boyfriend's neck as his orgasm took over and he came after a couple more rough thrusts into his partner.

𝕟𝕚𝕔𝕙𝕠𝕝𝕒𝕤 𝕘𝕒𝕝𝕚𝕥𝕫𝕚𝕟𝕖: really wishing he could just loudly moan out his pleasures, nicholas held onto the sink, other hand still against the wall and only letting out muffled moans, not sounding as loud as he normally was. just the feeling of being stroked and feeling that sweet spot inside touched with each thrust, he was going to be coming any second. hearing what taylor said in his ear, the little moan and the feeling as he came inside him, left nicholas following shortly after, allowing his orgasm to consume him, gripping tightly onto the sink before he'd almost fall forward after his orgasm tampered off. pulling away from taylor with a smirk on his lips before pulling him into a kiss just after getting his pants back up, almost wishing they could go again, but he was kinda spent from everything so far. pulling away from the kiss to get the rest of his clothes back on, giving his boyfriend a smile before walking out of the bathroom back to his seat by the window.

Taylor Zakhar Perez: After getting cleaned up, Taylor went to join Nicholas back in their seats on the plane, just focusing on small talk, occasional hand holding and mostly just enjoying the flight to New York the best they could. Passing by time was a bit much, but it wasn't too hard. Before they knew it they were landing and didn't hesitate to get their bags and got off the plane just planning to go straight from there to the hotel they rented for a couple days during their short stay. Probably mostly for Taylor since Nick mentioned leaving after the show, and enjoying a small hang out with their friends first as well. Once they got to the hotel, they went to their room, put their stuff in and made their way to go meet up with Joey and Jacob to see Sabrina's show that night.

𝕟𝕚𝕔𝕙𝕠𝕝𝕒𝕤 𝕘𝕒𝕝𝕚𝕥𝕫𝕚𝕟𝕖: a bit of catching up with their friends, watching the show and soon being backstage, chatting some before nicholas grew a smirk and while their friends were distracted he pulled taylor into sabrina's dressing room, locking the door. there was no way he was passing this up. not the ideal place but his mind was lost to back in the car before getting to the airport and he needed to feel taylor's tongue on such a sensitive spot. "i need you so fucking bad right now," he whispered in a low seductive british accented voice before going to kiss his boyfriend, deeply and passionately. one hand resting on the back of his head, the other on his back, pulling their bodies close together.

Taylor Zakhar Perez: [ lazy fade to black ] Taylor cleaned up and made sure Nicholas looked as before they entered before they exited the dressing room to catch up with their friends again before whispering to his boyfriend. "So when are you leaving again?" Maybe if he could have one more moment with him in the hotel, he'd truly ravish Nick, so he wouldn't forget how it all felt on his way back to London. Also, Taylor was still wanting to spend every moment with Nicholas he could before he had to go back home.

𝕟𝕚𝕔𝕙𝕠𝕝𝕒𝕤 𝕘𝕒𝕝𝕚𝕥𝕫𝕚𝕟𝕖: smiling at their friends til he heard taylor's whisper and mentioned back a party he wanted to attend tomorrow for a friend's kid, so they could enjoy the night together. it was clear they'd probably end up naked and tangled up together again. "after though, i'm going back to london. i am kinda missing home.. as much as i'll also miss you and our time together.. but i'll be back the 21st, just in time for the holidays with you, darling," he said with a warm smile across his lips, giving taylor a quick kiss.

#discord para; until you go ft. taylor zakhar perez #[ maybe we rushed the ending got a new years one to finish now ]

[vampyrsutton]

A Little Overboard

Summary:

Dabi hasn't fed in almost a month so it's up to Hawks to make sure he doesn't go feral.

Ao3 Tags:

Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Alternate Universe - No Quirks, Supernatural Creatures Instead of Quirks, Hunters Instead of Heroes, Vampire Dabi, Hybrid Dabi, Vampires, Vampire Sex, Vampire Bites, League of Villains as Family, Harpy Hawks, Aphrodisiacs, Consensual Aphrodisiacs, Blood, Blood Drinking, Possessive Behavior, Protective Dabi, Dabi Has Daddy Issues, Dabi Has a Big Dick, Dabi Has Genital Piercings, Tongue Piercings, Begging, Anal, Author Putting Their Kinks On Blast, Aftercare, Dirty Talk

Notes:

For Day 7 of DabiHawks Week 2023!

AU: Supernatural Creatures NSFW Prompt: Free Day Author's Choice: Blood Play 😌

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

"Mph! Dabi, what the fuck?" Hawks groans as he's pinned to the wall the second he enters the hideout by what is definitely a borderline feral vampire. "Dabi?"

"The collar hasn't been doing shit, birdie." Dabi snarls, Toga and Compress' hold on his arms probably being the only reason he hasn't physically torn into his mate yet. "Pretty sure they're hunting me harder."

Hawks' eyes widen before he curses. "Dammit. When was the last time you fed?"

"Too long." Toga chimes in, the actual fear in her eyes making Dabi flinch back almost as soon as he bares werewolf-like fangs at her. "Sorry, Dabi, but you need to eat, and I know you keep enough anti-venom if you attack me."

"I thought you could control your venom?" Hawks frowns.

"I can, but it's weird with vampires. Half or not." Dabi mutters, big brother and pack instincts apparently stronger than the vampire ones as he retreats into himself. "Learned that the hard way when Natsuo almost died."

Hawks' eyes widen a fraction more, choosing to ignore the noises coming from the couch. Dabi can deal with his brother's boyfriends later. "We are unpacking that later. Right now, you need to feed." A frown as he looks past the hybrid. "I've been meaning to ask, but couldn't any of you help?"

The rest of the League looks at each other in annoyance from where they're scattered around the living area.

"Doesn't work between vampires." Toga pouts, wishing she could help. "Just creates a hunger loop."

"He also won't let any of us help." Shigaraki rasps from the couch, eyes narrowing in his stare down against Dabi. "I'm the only one that's come close, but that was during the hate fucking and before Spinner and Natsuo."

Hawks frowns, looking back to Dabi who's already getting antsy again. "Why wouldn't you let them help? You have multiple willing donors."

"Literally all of us have offered." Magne huffs from the loveseat. "Unless it’s a failed recruit, he won't risk it."

A blink before his eyes return to Dabi. "Add that to the luggage cart of things to unpack, you have six—well five since Toga can't—five willing donors. Why would you let yourself get to this point?"

Dabi just growls, ready to storm out and risk the Hunters if it means not dealing with emotions. "I have my reasons."

Toga and Spinner, the two in the room with a strong enough sense of smell to call him on bullshit, look at each other knowingly and make Dabi's hackles raise.

"Don't-"

Spinner just holds up one of his boyfriend's hands as a shield, smirking at the smaller man's muttering. "He's worried about hurting us."

"I am not! I could care less!" Dabi snarls, letting his fangs grow more in warning, but not moving closer. He'd rather not fuck with a mate of a child of a decay goddess even if he has no qualms against fucking with the leader himself.

Toga takes advantage of her little sister status to snicker. "That's a lie!" Her nose twitches and she frowns. "Sort of? …Not the whole truth?"

Hawks frowns as he tries to catch Dabi's eyes. "Dabs?"

Dabi mutters something, toeing at the ground, but this time it's Hawks and Toga that hear him instead because Toga squeals as Hawks smiles softly.

"'Cause they don't eat enough as it is, huh?" Hawks hums, just snickering when he gets glared at for saying it out loud. "You guys know you can tell me when you need food, right?"

"Tell that to him. He's ridiculous about not eating enough himself because he's so worried about us." Shigaraki scoffs, taking his hand back from Spinner now to go back to laying against him.

Hawks is back to frowning. "Dabi-"

"Shut up." Dabi huffs, actually slipping past now to take his chances outside. For once, he's grateful for the scarring hiding how his ears burn as he seemingly disappears with a little help from his vampire side.

"Dammit." Hawks curses, taking note of his feathers to see if he can track the hybrid down. "I hate when he does that."

"Don't we all?" Compress sighs, draping himself across a chair. "Got feathers on him?"

"Yeah, I have one in the lining of his collar specifically for when he's being a pain, and ignore it otherwise." Hawks sighs in return. "I'll have him back by morning if you could make a shopping list by then."

"Already on it," Magne calls back, already having a notepad from Compress in hand. "Have fun. Be safe."

"Oh, we will." Hawks snickers, laughing as the others fake gag on his way out.

…

He must be really out of it if he thinks the back streets by Hawks' apartment are the appropriate hunting grounds to avoid the Hunter.

"Alright." Hawks sighs, changing his voice some so the poor fool Dabi's made into dinner doesn't recognize him as he lands around the corner. "Wipe his memory and get inside. I'll take it from here."

Turquoise eyes glare at him from the shadows as the hybrid growls, but he only stalls slightly in clean-up before moving to stomp up the fire escape to Hawks' penthouse. He could let himself be flown up but he doesn't have enough blood in him to afford feeling nauseous and he's feeling petty.

"Any reason you haven't been letting me help you guys?" Hawks asks once Dabi finally reaches his balcony and slinks through his door.

"…I'm still getting used to the fact that you actually want to help without expecting anything in return," Dabi grumbles, eyes flicking around like he still expects an attack. He hated how paranoid he got when he was hungry, but trauma will do that to you. "Anyway, you got blood bags or something? I'm too hungry to be feeding from you directly without some sort of padding and I'm pretty sure the bastard down there was drunk so it's gonna be worse when that finally hits."

Hawks curse, knowing Dabi gets hungrier like that. "I think there's still two in the fridge. How long did you go this time?"

Dabi stays quiet as he b-lines for the fridge before Hawks hears the microwave and the hybrid returns shortly while sucking on the tube part like a creepy Capri-Sun. "I think it's been a month? The bright side of the wolf genes I guess?"

Hawks' eyes widen and he tries to not let his panic out in any way the hybrid senses can pick up. "Wasn't it only a week that one time in the hotel room?" He didn't blame Dabi, knowing he was just out of his mind hungry, but he still had the occasional nightmare about that night no matter how good it ended up.

"Yeah." Dabi nods, chewing on his makeshift straw absently. "Help me find a good enough disguise and I can probably manage a blood bar."

Hawks frowns, half-tempted, but he needs to confirm something. "…Will I need to run clean up after?"

Dabi scowls, but he knows Hawks asks with good reason. "…I don't know."

Hawks nods, having all the information he needs. "Let me get the work grime off of me and I'm all yours. Finish the bags in the fridge in the meantime and if you still think you might go feral, just return control of the collar to me." He shrugs as he starts stripping on the way to the bathroom. "Hunter strength should be enough to keep you back, but you'll probably want the reassurance."

Dabi hates how quickly the birdie has figured him out, but he's also glad he doesn't have to say any of it himself. "That works."

"And quit pouting!" Hawks calls, a smirk obvious in his voice as he shuts the bathroom door.

Dabi just sneers in the direction of the hallway before stomping back into the kitchen. He still had a bag to finish and a plastic sheet to lay down after all.

~~~

"Would- kiss -you stop- nip -using that damn body wash- kiss . I can't fucking smell you." Dabi growls as he reduces his little half-harpy to putty with his mouth alone.

"I-mmng-I had three people bleed on me today-fuck Dabs-I needed it off." Hawks moans into the hybrid's mouth, melting when fangs catch and pull on his lip. "Tryna not need the aphrodisiac spit or something?" He gasps when a warm hand clutches between his wings.

"Oh, I'm still using it, baby bird." Dabi smirks, lip quirking further at how Hawks' pupils pin when the fangs catch the low light. "I just can't help playing with my food a little is all."

This makes Hawks snort. "You are the most clinical fucking feeder I've ever met. You just like making a mess of me."

Dabi just shrugs, leaning back in to start trailing kisses from the Hunter's mouth, down sun-kissed skin to his neck as he lets his venom collect. "Guilty."

"Of many thINGS-FUCK!" Hawks' quip is cut off with a moan as Dabi sinks his fangs into his throat and injects aphrodisiacs directly into his veins that have him desperate in seconds. "Dabiii~!"

"So quick, birdie?" Dabi teases, a lot better already after the two blood bags and now just having fun playing with his mate even if he's still going to need quite a bit.

"Shut up." Hawks groans, light-headed with how fast his blood rushes south. "You did that on purpose."

"Yup." Dabi smirks, crowding just a bit closer to leer over him. "Want me to take care of it?"

"Gods, yes." Hawks nods rapidly, trying to find enough room to get his towel off only to end up cursing when Dabi just moves a deceptively muscular thigh between his for the Hunter to rut against. "Dabi!"

"You didn't specify how." Dabi shrugs, the smirk never leaving his face as he leans back in to get his now venom-free fangs back on the blonde's throat. "Besides." Hawks moans when the hybrid bites down as he switches to thought projection. " Don't you want me in top form to make you cry on my cock ."

Something about the words being pushed into his head makes them even hotter and Hawks shivers. Some logical part of his brain wonders what the hell happened to make Japan's number two Hunter such a blood whore, but the larger part of him is too busy trying to find the words to beg for more to actually care.

"Da-bi-" Hawks groans, head twitching just enough to offer the hybrid more room before he's arching away from the wall with a moan when long fingers find and start torturing his uncovered nipples. This, of course, makes his cock grind against the other's thigh, and fuck does that feel good. Why was he so against that a minute ago? Oh right. Shame. Yeah, no, that's gone. He needs to be touched any way the half-vampire is willing to give him.

" Humping my thigh already? " Dabi chuckles as he drinks, not needing to move his mouth from the Hunter's neck as he takes drag after drag and twists a pretty pink nipple meanly to hear the blonde moan and feel him grind down harder on his thigh. " I didn't even use that much. " A lie.

"Bul-shit-Bullshit!" Hawks hisses through clenched teeth as he tries to not give Dabi the satisfaction of watching him fall apart so easily and utterly failing at it as he continues to hump the hybrid's leg like a desperate mutt. "Fuck, Dabi."

" Forgot a word in there, birdie ." Dabi smirks, growling lightly when blood tries to slip past his quirked lip and he has to break away to lick it up before biting down again. He sends a mean laugh through the link he's opened when Hawks moans loudly at the bite. " Such a fucking slut for it, aren't you? "

Hawks tries to shake his head, but a pinch to one of his nipples makes him yelp and leaves him shaking with arousal. It's both his favorite and least favorite thing about a vampire's bite. Every nerve in his body feels like it's been laid bare and every pleasure receptor in his brain is in overdrive. Things he normally loves almost make him cum on the spot and even things that normally don't do much feel like pure sex. The only downside is his mate is a cocky asshole who knows exactly what those things are and how to use them to play him like a fiddle and make him beg for it.

Even now, Dabi's barely even touched him, and he's getting desperate for more.

" Don't even try lying to me, birdie. I could taste how your arousal spiked when I bit down. " Dabi growls though there's a smirk evident in that voice. " At least your body is honest. "

Then there was that stupid power of being able to project thoughts and read minds that guaranteed no matter how busy he kept the hybrid's mouth, Dabi would still be able to dirty talk him into a pile of desperate goo.

He was an asshole.

Insufferable.

Hawks couldn't get enough.

And his brain was stuck on the momentary feeling of blood running down his skin before a hot tongue lapped it up and what the fuck had the half-vampire done to him to make the thought of more of that so fucking appealing.

Or to make him forget that the hybrid was in his head.

Dabi snorts against his neck in amusement.

" If you wanted to try actual blood play, you could've just said something ." Dabi teases, moving his lips to let more spill before pulling away to flash the half-harpy a blood-stained smirk, and watch his pupils snap between panicked prey and horny . "I could have saved the second bag to lick off of you."

The reaction this time is delayed as Hawks has to figure out if he'd be okay with someone else's blood on him and decides that is a conversation for when he's not high on vampire venom.

His conflict apparently shows on his face because Dabi's eyes glow to sort through the Hunter's fumbling thoughts before nodding. "I can work with just yours, but you're gonna end up really sensitive from making sure nothing goes to waste- you can't even try to hide how horny that makes you can you?" Dabi fake sighs as Hawks' face flames red.

"Just shut up and bite me." Hawks hisses, twisting talons in his shirt to pull him close for a sloppy kiss that's mostly Hawks trying to taste himself on the hybrid's fangs but makes them both moan into it nonetheless.

"Fuck, birdie," Dabi growls when Hawks needs to pull back for air. "Like tasting yourself that much, huh?"

The venom has run its course enough at this point to have Hawks fuzzy-headed and compliant as he nods quickly. "Really hot."

"Guess I'll have to make a real mess of you so there's plenty to taste then, hmm?" Dabi hums as he gently cards his hands through blonde hair to make the Hunter melt and trill before he grips the hair to yank his head and bite the other side of his throat, relishing in the loud moan both actions get from the shorter.

"Shit. Yes, Dabi, please." Hawks whimpers, forgetting his talons as he clings to the hybrid looming over him and moans louder when it makes Dabi bite down harder. "Dabi!"

Dabi groans against the bite, having to remind himself not to swallow all of it so some can slide down the Hunter's neck before he gets impatient and hoists toned thighs around his waist to carry Hawks to the bed and lay him down to get on top of him again and lick up any mess.

"Gonna drive me crazy, birdie." He growls as he trails down to bite into a pec and let blood pool between them as he bites and sucks on a nipple to make the now overly sensitive harpy squirm.

"Dabiiii~" Hawks moans, talons digging into the sheets as he tries not to arch and make the blood slide away. He's barely even been touched and his entire body is already wound tight, ready to snap at the lightest of touch and that's almost what happens when Dabi's hot tongue traces between his pecs multiple times to clean up the mess, making sure to get every last drop. Stupid werewolves running hot, the hybrid's tongue felt like a brand against his skin as every new bite marked him as Dabi's. Sure, they'd be healed by the end of the night—leaving them would be too much of a risk while Hawks is still acting as a double agent for now the League rather than the Commission— but right now, looking down made Hawks' head spin just as much as the venom and blood loss.

He looks owned .

"Fuck, please~" Hawks whimpers, crying out in desperation when Dabi bites into his thigh and sucks hard. "Fuck me. Fuck me, please, Dabi, please~"

Dabi raises an amused eyebrow as he peers at him with glowing turquoise—inching into red— eyes that dart around as they take stock of the half-harpy's state. " I'll need to go hunting for that unless you're okay with me fucking you passed out? " Dabi decides after listening to his heart. " I was just going to suck you off and see about fucking your throat ."

Hawks whines at the prospect of not getting fucked, his entire body demanding it, but knows Dabi knows more about it and knows better than to question him…much.

"Can't you fuck and bite me at the same time?" He whines, pouting at the hybrid's exasperated gaze. "Please?"

Dabi pulls off to let blood start sliding towards the blonde's crotch before licking it up from around his shaft, smirking at how slim hips twitch mindlessly for friction. "You're a fucking mess, aren't you, birdie?"

"Yes, and it's your fault so please !" Hawks snips before throwing his head back in a moan when heat suddenly envelopes his aching cock. "FUCK!"

" If you insist ." Dabi sighs as though put out as he swallows around the head of the Hunter's cock. " Feather over the lu be."

Hawks groans at having to concentrate but does as he's asked, dropping the lube on Dabi's head just to be a brat before moaning out a curse when Dabi does something with his tongue ring that makes him see stars.  "Shit!"

Dabi smirks around the cock in his mouth as bobs his head and gets lube on his fingers to start getting the blonde open. " Act like a brat, see what happens ."

Hawks does his best to glare at the hybrid before his eyes screw shut in pleasure and he moans again when Dabi slips a finger in. He flushes red at the amused look he gets when Dabi can quickly add a second from the prep Hawks did in the shower. "Shut up. Feeding you almost always ends in sex."

" And whose fault is that ." Dabi snorts, hollowing his cheeks on the way up before taking him down his throat and getting a chirp this time. Finally. " There's my pretty bird ."

Hawks' face feels like it's on fire, but so does the rest of him as Dabi quickly works a third finger in and curls them right into Hawks' prostate to make him nearly scream it feels so good.

Dammit, he really did let himself become a vampire's blood whore.

"Fuck, please, Dabi, please, I'm ready, fucking please!" Hawks begs, knowing the stretch is still going to hurt, but wanting the hybrid inside him now . He feels like he'll die if he's not fucked stupid, and he's starting to get desperate.

Dabi hums around the cock in the throat to get another chirp out of the Hunter as he spreads his fingers to check. He’s starting to realize he might have overdone the venom, but he decides it'll do as he pulls off to smirk at him.

"Desperate are we?" Dabi hums as he smears lube over his pierced cock and lines up.

"If I say yes will you fuck me?" Hawks whines, trilling when he feels the Prince Albert at his rim. "Please!"

Dabi chuckles darkly, holding the harpy's hips still and pushing in slowly before the blonde can get more impatient. "Gods, that venom hits you like a truck, doesn’t it?"

"Yes, please, Dabi. Feels like I'm gonna die. Feels so hot. My body is screaming for your cock. Dabi, please." Hawks rambles and yeah, Dabi overdid it if the way his half-open shirt is being used to pull him down into a sloppy, bloody kiss is any indication. "Fuck. Me."

Dabi growls low in his throat, nipping at kiss-swollen lips as he pulls almost all the way out before slamming back in, starting a steady but hard pace right off the bat in hopes of satiating the strung-out bird.

Hawks chirps in surprise before moaning loudly, head thrown back to put his throat on display as he does. "Fuck! DABI!"

"Fuck, birdie, you're gonna be the death of me." Dabi growls, picking up the pace the more Hawks lets him in and cursing when a brush of the blonde's prostate makes him clench around his cock with a needing chirp. "Shit, look at you. A little extra venom and you can't let go of my cock. This was supposed to be just getting me under control but you look so pretty begging for my cock, how can I resist?" He gives another breathy curse as he hits that spot again before he adjusts the angle of his thrusts to keep hitting it. "Fuck, baby, I'm almost done, just a few more mouthfuls."

"Yes, please, fuck, Dabi, please! Please bite me again, please!" Hawks moans, claws shredding the protective sheet as he gets close. "Please, Da-BI!"

Dabi doesn't need much convincing, just waiting for the scent of Hawks' blood to tell him he's close before lunging down and biting slightly off from one of the other marks on Hawks' neck and moaning at the taste as Hawks screams.

It takes all of Hawks' remaining brain power to not accidentally get his throat ripped open and he arches and cums hard between them with a scream, vision whiting out as he spurts rope after rope of cum until his cock aches with it. Even after his body relaxes, he's too out of it to realize Dabi's still drinking and fucking him until a headache starts joining the lightheadedness. "Da-bi-" He whimpers.

Dabi growls but stops drinking at least, using his saliva to seal the wounds around his fangs as he fucks into the blonde, chasing his own release and knowing he's just going to bite again anyway when he cums. " Almost… "

Hawks just whimpers in sensitivity, but lets the hybrid do what he needs to. "Hurry…"

Dabi groans, speeding up to try to grant his birdie some mercy as a growl starts in his throat the closer he gets to the edge. Luckily for Hawks, he was already close, and it's not long before he's filling the blonde with a moan and biting just a little harder.

Hawks groans as heat fills him, but doesn't complain much as it silences the urges begging for more. He's officially glad he's never been bitten in the field. He doesn't even want to know what that's like when the vampire ends up not fucking you. Granted most aren't assholes like his mate.

Speaking of which.

"Went a little overboard there, doncha think?" Hawks mumbles, whimpering as Dabi finally pulls out of both his neck and ass with a snicker.

"Probably, but don't think I haven't noticed you not taking care of yourself either," Dabi smirks before leaning back down to start licking the bite marks so they'll heal. "Now you're guaranteed to sleep and call in for a day off."

"How noble. Is that why you weren’t feeding on me?" Hawks huffs, grimacing when Dabi moving down his body to his pec smears the cum on their stomachs. "Does that mate-enforced self-care include a bath?"

"The amount of fluids you got in my staples?" Dabi snorts, choosing to ignore the first question as he makes a face of his own. "Definitely."

"Then fine by me." The blonde mumbles with a yawn, the blood loss and strenuous activity quickly catching up with him. "Don't let me drown."

"Don't let you- oi!" Dabi scoffs, but it's too late, Hawks has already let himself fall asleep.

Dabi does, in fact, not let him drown, and within the hour, has them burrito-ed in blankets in the Hunter's nest as Dabi quickly joins him in sleep.

As much as he loved doing this, hopefully, next time would include less desperation. 

#dabihawks #hotwings #hotwingz #bnha dabi #bnha hawks #todoroki touya #takami keigo #bnha #dabi #hawks #mha smut #vampire!dabi #harpy!hawks #tw blood #tw blood drinking #dhweek23nsfw #dabihawksweek23

[mahalkitajohnnysuh]

Guilty

Dear. M made me do this. I'm posting the Jaehyun content I have written so far, and I will continue to write more.

For context, this brain fart is part of the main timeline.

There's something about an angry and heartbroken Jay that makes me want to write more...

Anyway, mahal ko kayong lahat! :)

POV: 3rd person

Word count: 890 approx.

Additional notes: I'm glad I could write the other 127 members in, especially Yuta. I'll make it a goal to include the rest of NCT in my stories when applicable.

---

Yuta felt sorry about how Jaehyun turned out after Essie called off their affair.

When Jaehyun came home from his solo project, he smoked and drank consistently after his schedule. Sometimes he drank whiskey in the mornings and decided to have a pack of cigarettes for breakfast. It was unfortunate that he coped in this way. Although it’s one of the many ways people do so, it is destructive in the long run. Yuta had to intervene; hence, he knew everything there was to know about this week-long rendezvous.

While he took it all in stride, he felt uneasy in knowing what would be one of the dirty open secrets the group now has.

As he watched Jaehyun singing his feelings out in the karaoke booth, he glanced at Taeil. The eldest in the group seemed unaffected by the situation as he flipped through the songbook, looking for another song to sing. It was just the three of them this time – Mark was busy as always, and Jungwoo had more hosting gigs these days.

“Fuck this shit,” Jaehyun growled, yanking the collar of his shirt angrily, “why can’t I still get over her?”

“Let it all out, bro,” Taeil said calmly, scanning intently for the number of the song he wanted to sing. “You’ll get over her eventually.”

“You know, Jay,” Yuta started, “Things are going to be different now, especially if Johnny figures out what you did with his girl.”

“I don’t care,” the youngest groaned, throwing himself on the sofa. “This fucking sucks.”

“Both of you are adults who made this choice, so you’ve got to live with it,” Yuta’s tone was firmer this time. “But that was very dumb of you, Jeong Yoonoh. Why did you even propose that idea to Essie?”

The sound of glass shattering on the floor startled the two older guys, and they saw Jaehyun had just flung the glass of water on the wall. He covered his face afterward, hiding the angry tears flowing on his face.

“You little shit,” Taeil grumbled, looking at the mess he made. “You have to pay for that.”

Jaehyun’s actions were getting on Yuta’s nerves, but he didn’t want to make a commotion. He took deep breaths to calm himself down, not wanting to engage in his friend’s bullshit.

A moment of awkward silence ensued before the heartbroken man spoke. “I thought she liked me. I thought she would choose me. I thought once I have her, I’d stop fooling around.”

Taeil and Yuta looked at each other, loss for words on what to say. They weren’t involved, nor would they like to be involved, in Jaehyun’s affairs. Each had their own lives once the cameras were off, and they tried their best not to get entangled in another’s business.

“You know what, Jay?” The eldest said, sporting a wicked grin on his face. “To make up for your shitty behavior tonight, I’d like you to sing this song with all the emotion you have.”

Like an obedient younger brother, Jaehyun stood beside his hyung and put in the numbers of the requested song. Yuta raised an eyebrow at them both, with Taeil holding his laughter.

“What are you up to?” the Japanese guy mouthed to his former roommate as the singer immersed himself in the song he was about to sing.

“As I’ve said earlier, he has to let it all out.”

When the iconic saxophone intro of George Michael’s (formerly of Wham!) infamous song played from the speakers, Yuta rolled his eyes at Taeil’s suggestion.

Jaehyun gave a memorable performance of the song despite his vocals sounding a bit strained due to all the crying and screaming he did for the past few weeks.

It was during the bridge part that he almost lost it.

“We could have been so good together; we could have lived this dance forever. But now who’s gonna dance with me? Please stay,” the tears pooled once again in his eyes.

The memories were still too fresh for him to forget. Fucking Essie felt so good, and he never wanted to be apart from her. They had intimate dances under the stars and by the shore. It felt surreal, but alas, all good things come to an end. It might be good for him, but it shouldn’t be.

Once he was done singing, he kept to himself on the sofa. His hyungs took their turns singing, and he watched them enjoy what they were doing.

From time to time, Yuta checked in on Jaehyun. It was always the same when they went out to karaoke bars: he would stay still, his eyes looking at nothing until the booze hit him and made him fall asleep.

Every so often, he would wake up and not speak a word until they go off in their respective rooms, or they would have to haul his ass back to his apartment.

This was getting tiring, seeing his downward spiral into depression. Yuta, known for his wise words, knew what they did was wrong. They should be held accountable for their actions. He bet both parties are hot messes right now, but he’s more concerned about Johnny. The tall guy might not take it if he learns about this rendezvous.

Everyone knows no one wants to mess with an angry Johnny Suh.

---

FIN

P.S. Did you expect I was going to let him sing Careless Whisper? Feel free to listen to it below! I think Jaehyun can pull this off flawlessly.

#nct drabbles #nct fanfiction #nct fanfic #nct imagines #nct au #nct aus #nct jaehyun #nct 127 au #nct 127 fanfic #nct 127 fanfiction #nct 127 drabbles #nct 127 drama #nct jeong jaehyun #jung jaehyun #jaehyun scenarios #jaehyun smut #jeong jaehyun scenarios #jeong jaehyun imagines #jeong jaehyun #jeong jaehyun smut #jaehyun romance #jaehyun fluff #nct u fics #nct u fanfic #nct u imagines #nct u fanfiction #nct u scenarios #nct angst #nct 127 angst #jaehyun angst

[anaer]

batflash for the ultimate ship meme please?

ULTIMATE SHIP MEME!

Send in two (or more) names and I’ll fill all this out about the ship!

General:

Rate the Ship -   Awful | Ew | No pics pls | I’m not comfortable | Alright | I like it! | Got Pics? | Let’s do it! | Why is this not getting more attention?! | The OTP to rule all other OTPs

How long will they last? Hard to say. They could barely last, or they could last ten years. I don't think they last forever; I don't think Bruce is capable of not self sabotaging enough for that.

How quickly did/will they fall in love? Slowly, because they've known each other for so long, and it wasn't even a consideration for MOST of that. Quickly once they were actually like...thinking about it due to having known each other for so long.

How was their first kiss? Downright dirty disgusting filth, not for the eyes of children, clothes were immediately lost, mouth fucking.

Wedding

Who proposed? Neither. They don't get married. Wally generally doesn't believe in marriage (which is something he came to terms with for Linda, but in this version of events is different), and I don't see Bruce really pushing the wedding thing forward. He's weird about committed relationships in general. (But for the sake of this, Bruce.)

Who is the best man/men? - Bruce and Wally fight over who gets Dick for a best man.

Who did the most planning? - Bruce, 100%. Bruce can't not plan things. Bruce is a control freak.

Who stressed the most? - Bruce, always.

How fancy was the ceremony? - Back of a pickup truck | 2 | 3 | 4 | Normal Church Wedding | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | Kate and William wish they were this big.

Who was specifically not invited to the wedding? John Constantine. There's a story there that no one should ask about.

Sex:

Who is on top? -  Both, but mainly Bruce.

Who is the one to instigate things? - Wally, for sure.

How healthy is their sex life? - Barely touch themselves let alone each other | 2 | 3 | 4 | Once a couple weeks, nothing overboard | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | They are humping each other on the couch right now

How kinky are they? - Straight missionary with the lights off | 2 | 3 | 4 | Might try some butt stuff and toys | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | Don’t go into the sex dungeon without a horse’s head

How long do they normally last? WALLY CAN'T LAST. THIS IS CANONICAL. But he can at least get it up again really fast.

Do they make sure each person gets an equal amount of orgasms? Absolutely impossible. Wally comes way too fast and can orgasm more than the average person. Bruce can generally go once, maybe twice on a good day. 

How rough are they in bed? - Softer than a butterfly on the back of a bunny | 2 | 3 | 4 | The bed’s shaking and squeaking every time | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | Their dirty talk is so vulgar it’d make Dwayne Johnson blush. Also, the wall’s so weak it could collapse the next time they do it.

How much cuddling/snuggling do they do? - No touching after sex | 2 | 3 | 4 | A little spooning at night, or on the couch, but not in public | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | They snuggle and kiss more often than a teen couple on their fifth date to a pillow factory.

Children:

How many children will they have naturally? Zero.

How many children will they adopt? Considering Bruce has already adopted a whole brood--

Who gets stuck with the most diapers? Neither. There are no babies in this equation.

Who is the stricter parent? - Bruce because they're all his kids and the thought of Wally trying to be like "Dick I'm your stepdad now" makes me cackle maniacally, Dick is older than Wally and his best friend, like--

Who stops the kid(s) from doing dangerous stunts after school? - WELL. NO ONE. BRUCE DEFINITELY ENCOURAGES DANGEROUS AFTER SCHOOL STUNTS, AND WALLY AND DICK GOT UP TO MANY DANGEROUS AFTER SCHOOL STUNTS TOGETHER.

Who remembers to pack the lunch(es)? Let's just say Bruce they're all Bruce's kids Wally does zero parenting here for the rest of them.

Who is the more loved parent? -

Who is more likely to attend the PTA meetings?

Who cried the most at graduation? - 

Who is more likely to bail the child(ren) out of trouble with the law? - 

Cooking: 

Who does the most cooking? -  Alfred. I mean...

Who is the most picky in their food choice? -  Bruce. Wally will eat anything.

Who does the grocery shopping? - Alfred, again. Bruce is out here like that "how much does a banana cost, $10?" gif. Wally is a broke ass bitch living off of Bruce's money.

How often do they bake desserts? - Alfred bakes EVERY DAY.

Are they more of a meat lover or a salad eater? -  Why are these the only two options; there is a world of difference between them. Salad is, like, the worst vegetarian option possible.

Who is more likely to surprise the other(s) with an anniversary dinner? - Bruce, definitely.

Who is more likely to suggest going out? -  Wally, for sure. Wally doesn't sit in one place for too long.

Who is more likely to burn the house down accidently while cooking? -  BRUCE, ACTUALLY. ALFRED TRIED AND FAILED TO TEACH HIM TO COOK. WALLY LEARNED TO COOK FROM IRIS. HE JUST HATES DOING IT IT TAKES TOO LONG. BRUCE DOESN'T WANT TO ADMIT HE CAN'T COOK, THAT WOULD BE ADMITTING HE CAN'T DO SOMETHING.

Chores: 

Who cleans the room? -  Alfred.

Who is really against chores? -  Bruce.

Who cleans up after the pets? - Alfred.

Who is more likely to sweep everything under the rug? - Bruce.

Who stresses the most when guests are coming over? - Alfred.

Who found a dollar between the couch cushions while cleaning? - Alfred.

Bruce has a butler, guys. Poor Alfred.

Misc:

Who takes the longer showers/baths? -  Bruce. Wally would, except Wally lives on super speed so he can think he took an hour when he really took like two minutes but got the vibe anyway.

Who takes the dog out for a walk? - Wally takes the dog out for a walk, but does he actually walk the dog? He walks himself while carrying the dog. Not even exaggerating, it's what he did that time he had a dog.

How often do they decorate the room/house for the holidays? - Wally decorates for EVERY holiday. It takes like two minutes for him and he changes it five million times before the season ends. Bruce's manor gives him MORE PLACES TO DECORATE and Bruce is like sigh.

What are their goals for the relationship? I don't think they have goals. I think they're going with the flow.

Who is most likely to sleep till noon? Bruce because he doesn't go to sleep until like five am on a good day and Wally barely needs sleep in comparison.

Who plays the most pranks? Wally, no question. Bruce doesn't prank (except when he does).

#ask me #batflash #bruce wayne #wally west #anon

[221bshrlocked]

Good to Know

Pairing: Marcus Pike x Fem!Reader

Words: 6826

Warnings: Making out. Funny sexy times. Awkward conversations. Marcus not realizing he's packing. Two blowjobs/handjobs. Cum swallowing. Dirty/Sweet Talk. Lots of emotions. Some more awkward commentary. Age Gap Kink. Size Difference Kink.

A/N: This was 100% inspired (loosely) by @mss4msu​ and her experience with the new beau. It was meant to be a quick drabble but I couldn't stop writing and I just kept going because I was cackling the entire time. This is not beta'd at all!!!! Enjoy whatever the fuck this story is and just know that I almost ventured into daddy kink but I held myself back, so be proud of me you guys.

The last thing you expected to happen when you started going out with Marcus was how quickly you would want to break your no-sex-until-the-fourth-date rule. It wasn’t because he was unattractive or anything, far from it. It was just that you thought you wouldn’t mind waiting even longer with someone like him, someone who was a lot older than you. He wasn’t the first guy you dated that was a little over a decade older than you, but you just assumed that he would be like the other assholes who wanted to get in your pants as soon as you shook hands with them. Marcus was far from that though. He was super shy on text, even apologized for sending a kissing emoji after you told him you wanted to kiss him already just for using proper syntax and spelling while texting with you. It was more endearing than weird, and you felt immediately comfortable with him. You told him that it’s been a while since you got back into the dating space and were surprised to hear that it was the same for him. As much as you wished you could ask him how someone so smart and handsome and sweet wasn’t married yet but you thought it best to leave it for now. What caught you off guard, however, was how he said that he was glad he made it in time just to meet someone like you. It wasn’t something people often said after talking for a few days but it did make you smile for the rest of the night. The man was so fucking attractive, not just in the thankfully normal pictures he had on his profile but in the way he carried the conversation as well. It took less than a week for you to tell him that you would like to meet up somewhere, and found it hilarious that he replied half a second later.

He was so sweet and thoughtful on that first date, very respectful of where he could touch you, and not too teasing with the comments about the age gap. You got the sense that he kind of liked how much younger you were than him, not in a creepy way, but in a caring sort of manner, and you filed that for later, knowing that he wasn’t the only one turned on by the years between the two of you. Halfway through that first date, you realized quickly that you wouldn't mind breaking that no-sex rule for him, even though you’d only been talking for a couple of days and saw each other for less than three hours. But ever the gentleman, he dropped you off at home, walked you to your front door, and laid the softest kiss on your cheek before he bid you a good night. You had to hold yourself back from pulling him by his jacket and shoving your mouth against his. You would have done so too, if it weren’t for the fact that he told you how he thought it best to take things slow for both of your sakes.

The second date…fuck. You never knew you could be edged for so many hours just by being near someone. He bought tickets for a horror movie, and you couldn’t help but smile at the time because he remembered what you said about how you used to watch scary movies every Friday night with your family. He shouldn’t have remembered something like that, and yet he did. Unfortunately for Marcus, and perhaps thankfully for you, you didn’t have that same fearless persona as your younger self and for the duration of the movie, you were pretty much hiding in Marcus’ arms. He was laughing the entire time, and when he wasn’t, he would lean down and kiss your forehead before whispering reassurances to you. It shouldn’t have made you ache for him in between your legs, but the whispered promises mixed with the sinful scent of him made you want to straddle him then and there. If Marcus was irritated by your constant touches, he said nothing and even walked closer to you after the movie when you headed to the restaurant. That night, you were positive he would give you a goodnight kiss, but he still pecked you on your cheek and told you to leave a light on in case something scared you. You hated how horny you felt just from the simple touch of his lips against your skin. If this is what it felt like to be kissed so intimately, in a non-sexual way, you were sure he was going to be the death of you when he finally took you to his bed.

The third date was a true test of your resolve and your patience. He took you to his favorite museum, walked with you for hours while explaining to you why he loved the Greco-Roman statues so much. It was intoxicating to listen to him about art, not only because you thought his intelligence was incredibly sexy, but because he was so damn passionate about his job and you always loved when people were in the field they wanted. It made you happy seeing him so happy. When he took you to the garden and bought a small lunch, you decided to test the waters then, see if he was just holding off because of you or because he wasn’t interested. Instead of sitting next to him, you asked him politely if he could widen his legs a bit, and before he could say anything, you slipped down and rested your back against his chest, all the while drinking your juice and telling him that you enjoyed the day. You could tell he didn’t expect that level of intimacy yet, but after a few minutes, he relaxed and slowly slipped his arm around your stomach. You smiled at him and leaned up enough to kiss him on his cheek, hoping that he could see how much you wanted him. The moan he let slip was all you needed to hear to know that he was definitely on the same thought process as you. He apologized almost instantly when he saw you raise your eyebrows at him, telling you that the last thing he wanted was to make you uncomfortable. You shook your head at him and told him that he was more than welcome to show you how much he enjoyed your little kisses. The rest of that day was spent with you nuzzling into him wherever the two of you walked, and Marcus leaning into you every now and then for some reason. He kept on telling you that it was just so he could tell you more about the artworks. You knew for a fact he just wanted an excuse to keep touching you. You didn’t mind it. When he took you home that night, he stepped into your space and wrapped his arms around you, whispering in your ears how much he enjoyed his day with you. But like before, he kissed you on your forehead and told you that he’ll see you in a few days. You wanted to ask him why he was avoiding your lips so much but reminded yourself that it would be worth the wait once he finally took that step with you.

Which is how you found yourself in this predicament. The past few weeks had, hands down, the best dates you’ve ever been on. But they were only that, dates and outings that ended with Marcus being too much of a fucking gentleman. You wanted him, so damn badly. Each night you came back from a date, you’d sprint to your bedroom and touch yourself until you couldn’t cum anymore. You spent hours and hours thinking of how good he’d feel on top of you, fucking you hard and fast, maybe manhandling you a bit to get what he wanted. Marcus was a kind, sweet, lovely man, but you had a feeling that he could definitely get down and dirty if he wanted. In fact, you were relying on this other side of him, and only because you felt like you could trust him enough to move into that kind of space with him.

You weren’t surprised that Marcus was nervous as soon as he walked into your place. He was shocked that you wanted to stay in and watch one of your shows with him. He even told you that he didn’t want you to think he was expecting this kind of thing with you so quickly which made you laugh because he literally used the word “thing” to refer to sex. Thankfully, it didn’t take too much convincing on your part because as soon as you mentioned you’d be making his favorite dessert, he said he’ll get ready right away.

So here you were on your fourth date, sitting next to Marcus and talking to him about how annoyed you were that they still didn’t reveal who the dragon was even though there was only one episode left for this season. He apologized for not being familiar with the show and you told him that it was okay since this was the first time you watched a show without reading the books first. Everything was going great, fantastic even. Marcus was so comfortable around you now, touching you more and more the longer you spent time near him. But he still wasn’t slipping his hands where you really wanted to feel him. You were laying in his arms, laughing at Marcus’ running commentary about how most of the problems could have been avoided if the men in the show weren’t being so fucking stupid.

“Hey, you want more wine?” You leaned up and asked him as he slowly stretched his arms behind you. You couldn’t help but admire his neck as he leaned his head back and groaned as he extended his arms. Fuck, you’d give anything just to kiss him there. As you moved to the side to give him some more space, your eyes roamed down his physique and widened in shock when you saw his shirt ride up his stomach. It took every ounce of control in your body not to gasp when you saw the head of his cock peeking just above the line of his jeans. It was then that you noticed just how hard he was, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d think that he’s been achingly hard for a while now. It was a darker shade of red and you swore you saw a little droplet of pre-cum hanging right at his tip. Your mouth watered almost immediately and you looked away before he could notice you staring at him. You didn’t want him to feel uncomfortable so you slipped from the couch and barely managed to make your way to the kitchen.

“No I think I’m good for now, thanks sweetheart.” Marcus called back at you and you nodded at him as you poured some more wine for yourself.

Looking back at him as he watched the war unfold on the screen, you felt your stomach drop at how thoughtful he was being with you right now. Any other man would have tried to get you to do something but he hasn’t even mentioned it once and ignored it the entire night. Gulping down the glass of wine for some liquid courage, you set it down on the counter before you made your way back towards him. Marcus was still paying attention to the screen when you stood in front of him and stared him down. His arm was hanging behind the couch and his other one was scratching his chest. When you said nothing, the smile on his handsome features dropped and he furrowed his eyebrows at you.

“Is- is something wrong baby?” It annoyed you that he was still checking up on you when you knew for a fact that something was definitely wrong with him. Without missing a beat, you leaned down and grabbed his shoulders as you straddled his lap and made yourself comfortable. Marcus’ hands shot to your waist in an instant and before he can ask you what you were doing, you were throwing yourself at him and molding your lips with his. Marcus didn’t react for a few seconds, but as soon as you shoved your hands in his hair and tugged on it, he moaned against you and parted his lips. The second his tongue swept across your mouth, you melted into him and widened your thighs so you can try to get even closer to him. His hands became bolder as you began to roll your hips across the tent of his jeans and you felt the familiar fire grow in your stomach when he slipped one hand down your back and squeezed your ass. He almost broke the kiss to ask you if this was okay but you shook your head and sought his mouth again. Marcus must have enjoyed your enthusiasm because he dragged his hand up your back and grabbed the back of your neck roughly. The second his fingers combed through your hair and pulled on it, you couldn’t help but break the kiss and moan his name.

“Oh fuck, M-Marcus.” You threw your head back and gasped when you felt him nip and lick your neck.

“Is this okay sweetheart?” He asked in between kisses, chuckling deeply when your response came in the form of a long sigh and a frantic nod.

“Fuck baby, you’re so sweet. So responsive too, and I barely touched you.” He groaned against your skin and lowered down the collar of your shirt just to kiss the skin of your shoulder. When you felt him pull away the strap of your bra, you let go of his shoulders and fisted your hands in the front of his shirt to bring him closer to you.

“Marcus please, I- I need you.” With any other person, you would have never begged so pathetically. But this was Marcus, and he was dragging his scruff across your heated skin like he was marking you.

“You- fuck…believe me when I tell you baby, I want nothing more than to fuck you right now, but-” You don’t give him a chance to say anything, eyes widening immediately and letting go of him as if he’s burned you. Marcus is shocked by the sudden shift in your body language, but he lets go so he doesn’t force you to do anything.

“You- you don’t want me?” The question sounds dumb now that you said it out loud and you manage to calm down as soon as you see Marcus answering you.

“Baby no, that’s not what I- of course I want you. I’ve wanted you ever since that first date, before then even. I’ve thought of nothing else but how- how sweet you’d taste, how fucking beautiful you’d look as I…shit. I didn’t mean to be so crude.” He wipes his hands across his face to try and relax, and you bite into your lower lip when you look down and see his cock still very hard and begging for attention.

“What if I want you to…what if I want you to be crude? Marcus, I’ve been trying to get you to kiss me ever since we met but you- you’re so reluctant and I can’t help but think that you don’t want me. And now that I’m here, literally begging you to fuck me, you’re still…” He cuts you off and caresses your cheeks as lightly as possible, waiting until you looked at him before he said anything else.

“Sweetheart, you- you’ve had too much to drink and I don’t want to take advantage of you.”

“I didn’t. I promise I didn’t, and I- I just want you. I’ve wanted you for so long, especially when I’m sober. I’ve t-touched myself every night to the thought of you Marcus, after every date we went on, wishing it was your hands driving me insane.” You can tell that he didn’t expect you to be so straightforward because his hand shakes a little as you roam your fingers across his chest.

“Fuck…come here baby.” Marcus drags you against him and swallows your surprised moans as he kisses your breath away. You’re reluctant to melt into him again, afraid he’d pull away and not kiss you anymore. But unlike before, Marcus gets rougher with you, and you shudder when you feel his hands slip beneath your shirt and drag across your back. Marcus growls when he senses the way you shiver at his touch, and he breaks the kiss to look at you and make sure that this is what you wanted.

“M-Marcus?” You sigh as he licks his lips and watches you as your eyes glaze over with lust.

“So fucking needy for me, I- I’ve thought of nothing else but how perfect this tight little cunt would feel around me. If I’d known you wanted me this much, I would have brought condoms with me.” You pout at him and begin to push away again but Marcus doesn’t let you and pulls you down to kiss you again. It’s pathetic how easy it is for him to get you to be so pliant but you do, practically purring at the attention as he continues to shower you with kisses.

“I want- no, I need you to know, that I want you so goddamn badly right now. But I really do think we should h-hold off until I get condoms.” You know that what he’s saying is correct, that you should wait until you’re playing it safe, but you can feel him hit against your thighs and whine when he plays with the strap of your bra while he bites your shoulder.

“O-okay,” you whisper in defeat and Marcus apologizes again for not giving you what you want.

“I promise you baby, I’ll take real good care of you next time.” You’re disappointed that he doesn’t want to go down on you right now, and Marcus must be reading your mind because he pulls away and studies you closely as he says the next words.

“I would touch you right now, right here, right where I know you’re so wet for me,” Marcus drags his palm up to your thighs and grabs the crotch of your shorts, swearing beneath his breath when he feels how hot you are against his palm. He rubs you a few times and smiles when you slowly roll your hips against him to get some friction. “But I’m not sure I’ll be able to hold back if I taste you. I- you’re already driving me insane sweetheart, your little moans, those gorgeous lips, how desperate you are for me right now, and if you let me have you…kiss your pussy, lick your sensitive clit, I might just lose it and take you on the floor.” Hearing him describe to you how much he wants you makes you grow even wetter and you swallow the lump in your throat when you finally look at him and see nothing but pure, unadulterated lust swimming in his eyes.

“It’s why I couldn’t bring myself to kiss you all those weeks. I knew, I just fucking knew, if I got you moaning for me from a simple kiss, I would push you right against your door and beg you to let me have you. And I didn’t want to freak you out by how much I want you. And fuck, I want you so much sweetheart. You- you touched yourself after every date? Well, I- I fucked my hands every fucking time you sent me a text asking about how my day went. Had me cumming in seconds just from hearing your giggle in those late-night talks. I- goddamn baby you’re so pretty, so sweet…and so fucking young.” Marcus lets go of you and slowly reaches up to rest his hand across your neck. Your hold on his thigh tightens when his palm applies the smallest of pressure, and as he brings his hand down and cups one of your breasts through your shirt, you can’t help but push yourself against him to let him know that this was okay, that you wanted this.

“Got me so fucking hard just from cuddling with me.” He whispers as feels your nipples harden against his fingers and before he can think about it, he pinches one lightly and smiles when your hands shoot to his chest and grab him. He keeps teasing you, turning his attention from one nipple to the other while whispering to you how good you were being for him.

“I want to see it.” You break your silence and barely manage to open your eyes to look at him.

“Wh-what?” It’s Marcus’ turn to be flustered and he stops moving as soon as he sees you look down at his crotch and lick your lips. His eyes widen in horror when he sees the head of his cock peeking from beneath his shirt and he moves quickly to try and cover himself but you don’t let him.

“Don’t, please. I want to see it. Marcus, if you’re not going to make me cum with your fingers or your mouth, you can at least give me a preview.” You hold onto his wrists to prevent him from hiding his cock, and Marcus’ face flushes a deep shade of red when he sees how adamant you are. You’re about to laugh at your choice in words but hold back when you realize that he might misunderstand you.

“Sweetheart you- you can’t just stay stuff like that and expect me to- to...” His chest is heaving dramatically and you take advantage of the moment and slip out of his lap. Marcus tries to reach for you to get you to come back to him but stops when he sees you kneeling down in between his thighs. You let go of his hands and rest them on top of his thighs, massaging them lightly to try and calm him down.

“I won't push you but…I just really want to see your cock. Please? Let me- let me touch myself tonight knowing how good it’s going to feel when I have you deep inside me. Marcus, baby…will you let me? I want to touch myself to the thought of your cock claiming my pussy?” It’s his undoing, that you’re sure of, because Marcus fists his hands tightly at his sides before he slowly reaches for the button and zipper of his jeans

“If you’re not comfortable, tell me. I- I don’t want to force you. You’ve been so sweet with me, so kind…and caring, and I don’t want to force you to do anything.” You let him know before he unbuttons his jeans, afraid that he might think you’re pushing him too much and leave.

“If- if only you knew what I want to do to you right now.” His voice is hoarse, and you gulp nervously when he smiles at you as he lowers his jeans down his thighs. You lean away to give him room to move, biting into your lower lip when you see how hard he looks through his boxers. He’s about to pull those down as well when you shake your head and grab them instead.

“Please, let me.” You ask him and he nods briefly before he lets go of his boxers and grabs your arms softly, as if he needs to hold onto something while you revealed him to your hungry eyes. As soon as you free his cock, you can’t help but gasp out loud at how thick and large he is. You knew he was well-endowed, but you didn’t know he was that blessed. You can’t look up at him anymore, knowing that if you were to meet his gaze, you might give yourself away. It wasn’t that you were afraid of him now, far from it, it was just that you knew it was going to be a little difficult to get used to his size…his girth. You barely manage to keep your hands on his hips when his cock twitches lightly the more you look at it and you try to think of anything else but how heavy he’d feel against your tongue.

You’re probably quiet for too long to Marcus’ liking because when you say nothing and continue to look at the veins on the underside of his cock, Marcus squeezes your forearms lightly to get your attention.

“Is it…am I- are you…pleased?” His voice is low and unsure, and if you didn't know any better, you’d think that he was self-conscious about his size.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” It’s moments like this that your friends often warned you about, mainly the little outbursts you get when something crazy happens. You squeak at Marcus when you finally meet his eyes and see genuine worry etched across his features. He misunderstands your response and lets go of you, his eyes instantly moving to his painfully hard dick with nothing but disappointment.

“Fuck…no, that didn’t sound right. Marcus, I- I’m just surprised. That’s all. I didn’t mean to-”

“You d-don’t have to lie to me sweetheart, I just hoped that- fuck, if you just give me a chance, I promise I can make you feel good.” You furrow your eyebrows at him and tilt your head to the side in confusion.

“Marcus, I feel like you and I are not on the same page right now. You do realize that you have a very impressive cock…right?” You’re no longer reluctant or shy as you look at him, and you fight back from laughing when you see him gulp down nervously and blink at you in shock.

“What?” The man has the audacity to look at you like a deer caught in headlights, as if he wasn’t walking around with the biggest fucking cock you’ve ever seen on a guy before.

“I mean I knew that you were big, considering the whole BDE thing you got going on and how I saw you earlier today when you were yawning, but baby, you’re packing a dangerous weapon…no pun intended.” Almost on queue, his cock jumps at your words and you look down and smile when you see a droplet of pre-cum sliding down his length.

“I- I am…you’re-”

“I hate to say this but I might actually have a hard time getting used to you. We might need to take things slow as you said…or you know what, if you just train me to take three of your fingers, this might work out.” You’re thinking out loud, rambling on while staring down at his dick as it continued to twitch with every word you said. When you finally look up at him, you grow quiet once you notice how hard he’s blushing.

“You’re joking right? I- I’m not that big darling, I know…don’t try to pretend for my sake.” It’s only when you see how genuine he’s being that you realize he wholeheartedly believed he was average.

“Marcus, I need you to listen to me very clearly. I am pretty sure that if I tried to fuck you right now, you’d probably split me in half. And I am soaking wet at the moment, like…I’ve been wet since I saw the head of your cock peeking from underneath your pants a while ago. I- I don’t think I’ve ever been this ready for anyone before and I know…I know, that I would struggle to fit you. And I feel like you’re only sporting a semi right now which means that we’re really going to try hard to not send me to the ER or something.” You lay your hands across his chest every now and then as you speak, not realizing that Marcus was trying his best not to take his cock and jerk off to you as you ranted about the size difference between the two of you.

“Fuck…please stop saying shit like that. I don’t want to make a fool of myself and cum without you even touching me.” Marcus hides behind his hands and you smile to yourself when you see how hard he’s trying to put himself back in check again. You wait until he stops talking and before you can think of what you’re doing, you lean down and lick the white bead glistening on his skin. Marcus snaps his attention towards you immediately, his hips jutting up unintentionally as soon as you wrap your hands around him and slowly twist your palms across his heated skin.

“Fuck…ah fuck, baby you- you don’t have to…I swear I can…fuck, shit…so good, feel so good. You’re so…I-” Hearing him trip over his words and try to calm down makes your insides twist and you lick your lips before you descend down on him. His eyes snap open and look down at you when you wrap your mouth around the tip of his cock and roll your tongue across his crown. He feels so heavy and hot against your tongue, and you hum in approval when his hand slips into your hair while the other touches your cheek lightly.

“Fuck baby you- your mouth feels so good. I can’t believe you- you want me this much. Shit, you’re going to be the death of me sweetheart, I know it. Oh god, oh fffuck-” You try to remember to tell him later that you really enjoy it when he moans and tells you how good you’re making him feel, but you don’t bother to say anything now, relishing the slide of his soft skin as you take him further down your throat to the best of your abilities. Marcus almost cums as soon as you lower your head down his length even more and he sits up and haunches over you to try and get you to stay there just another second. As soon as he feels you groan in response, with your throat constricting tightly around him and sending vibrations down his cock, he falls back against the couch and cums, filling your mouth with his seed the longer his balls twitch up and release more of his essence on your tongue. He’s crying your name at this point, fingers digging into your arms as you milk him dry and continue to suck on his cock until he’s oversensitive. When he can’t stand the warmth of your mouth, he pushes you away and takes a deep breath before looking into your eyes.

You wait until you have his undivided attention before you part your lips and roll his cum and your saliva around in your mouth. Marcus whines and swears beneath his breath when you make a show of swallowing him down, and without missing a beat, he drags you up to him once more and shoves his tongue in your mouth. You’re shocked by the outburst of emotion but say nothing as he practically fucks your mouth with his tongue. Only when you can’t breathe anymore does Marcus let up and release you, but he doesn’t let go of you just yet, and wraps his arms tighter around you to make sure you aren’t going anywhere.

“You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever laid my eyes on.”

“Aww, you’re only saying that because I just sucked your cock.” You try to joke with him to not focus too much on what he just said but Marcus doesn’t like that and he pulls you back in for another desperate kiss before he pulls away again.

“I’m not joking darling, you really are the prettiest sight in the world…and it has nothing to do with the fact that you gave me the best fucking orgasm in my entire life.” Marcus smiles when you giggle at him and lean down to give him a quick peck on the lips.

“Is that so?” You smirk and fall to the side when he tries to tickle you with the scruff of his beard.

“I swear it, ‘ve never cum this hard before sweetheart. And I promise I last longer than this, it’s just that- it’s…” You watch as he turns away from you and tries to look anywhere else but your eyes.

“What is it? Tell me.” You ask him gently, nudging his nose with your own and kissing the corner of his mouth when he throws his head back and finally meets your gaze again.

“It was really hot seeing how much you wanted me. And considering how I’ve been hard for the better half of the night, it didn’t really take much to make me cum.” He confesses, and you shake your head while you smile down at him, at how genuine he was being with you.

“Hmm, I feel like there’s something else you’re not telling me.” You tease him a bit as you slowly bring your hand in between the two of you and lightly caress his softening dick. Marcus huffs in surprise and relaxes into the couch when you wrap your hand around him and slowly pump his cock. His breathing picks up again and you can tell that he’s having an inner battle between telling you to stop and begging you to keep going.

“I- I’m not…oh god, I’m not hiding anything d-darling.”

“No? So you don’t want to tell me how much you like the age gap between the two of us?” You leave a trail of kisses down his neck and Marcus bucks into your hand as you nip down on his clavicle before licking the reddening skin.

“Fuck- I…I thought that I-”

“That what? That you were hiding it from me. You might be an FBI Agent, but trust me, I could tell how much you’re enjoying this. Want to know how I found out?” You giggle when he nods frantically and barely manages to open his eyes to look at you.

“Please.”

“Well, you do this thing where, when we’re walking or eating out somewhere, you make sure that the person in front of us knows I’m your date. It might be a subconscious thing, but I noticed it. Your hands get a little touchy, and you give me that one look that drives me fucking crazy.” You move away from him and raise a curious eyebrow when Marcus whines at how far you suddenly were. He reaches for your waist and tries to bring you closer but you shake your head and push on his chest as you continue to jerk him off. He looks down for a second and growls when he sees the size difference between your hand and his cock.

“What- what look?” He asks without really paying attention, his eyes never leaving your hand as it continues to bring him pleasure.

“The I-want-to-fuck-you-and-make-you-scream-my-name look…it’s so fucking sexy baby. The fact that you want everyone to know who I belong to, god it makes me so wet.” That last sentiment catches him off guard and he looks up at you again with hope in his eyes, wanting to make sure that he didn’t just imagine you saying that you were his.

“Is-is that what you are darling? You belong to me?”

“I do…fuck, I do. O-only if you want me to be yours though.” You whisper reluctantly, afraid that you were moving too quickly and that you were going to force him to slow down even more.

“Fuck yeah I do, ‘ve wanted you to be mine ever since we spoke.” Marcus responds right away and his back arches against you when you increase pressure around his cock and pump him faster. He’s gotten hard again in no time and even though he feels like he’s about to have a heart attack from how hard he’s breathing, he doesn’t stop you, wanting you to keep touching him until he came again.

“Tell me, tell me…please.” Marcus whines as you pick up the pace, and you move down to the floor again when you see his hips rut against your hands.

“I’m yours, oh god Marcus you look so fucking sexy like that…I’m yours baby, I’m yours.” You are as much of a mess as he is, and Marcus bites into his cheek when he sees you lean down and spit on the head of his cock before you jerk him faster. He sits up and grabs your arms again, digging his nails into your skin as he feels the familiar zap of lightning grow at the base of his spine. He can’t stop looking at your hands, and you can’t stop looking at him as he silently pleads for you to make him cum. Before he can ask though, you move down further and lick at his balls, all the while twisting one hand around his tip while the other moves up and down. He’s growling like a caveman, and you’re sure he’s going to leave bruises across your shoulders, but you don’t care, not when he looks so fucking unhinged. As soon as you let go of his length and massage his balls, Marcus screams his release and looks into your eyes just as you take him in your mouth again. He’s fucking your mouth for a few seconds, shooting his cum down your throat and continuing to shove his cock across your tongue until he could no longer feel anything.

He falls back more dramatically than before and when you let go of his dick with a pop, his eyes flutter open just in time to see you kiss his ball lightly before you swallow him again. You want to ask him how he managed to cum more than before but one look at him makes you realize he might not be able to handle your straightforward questions again.

“You- where have you been all my life darling?” He asks as you pull up his boxers and jeans, knowing that if you were to look at his cock again, you’d beg him to just fuck you then and there.

“Waiting for you obviously.” You smile as you move to the couch and rest your head across his lap. Marcus leans down and kisses your forehead before he takes your lips in a chaste kiss and as he’s about to pull away, you hold him near you and ask him what you’ve wanted to ask him for so long.

“You’re mine too Marcus…right?”

“Yeah sweetheart, I’m yours. ‘Ve been yours ever since I saw your pretty smile.” Marcus confesses as he leans down and wipes the damp sweat away from your hair before he rests his nose against your skin.

“Good…I think you should buy some condoms on your way back home tonight. And I also think we should move our Friday date to tomorrow night.” You saw after a while, earning a laugh from Marcus and a little pinch to your shoulders.

“Now I’m starting to think you just want me for my cock.” He teases and chuckles when you jump up and straddle his lap again.

“Don’t get cocky on me now Agent Pike.” You mean it as a joke but you notice the shift in his eyes when you call him by his title. He gulps down nervously when he realizes that he’s been caught and you decide to not tease him too much about it.

“Good to know…add that to the list I guess.” You throw your arms around him and rest your head on his chest when his arms wrap around you and slowly massage your back.

“What list?”

“The ‘what turns on Marcus Pike’ list. So far, I have ‘size difference,’ ‘age gap,’ ‘swallowing your cum,’ ‘calling you Agent Pike,’ ‘begging you to fuck me,’ ‘telling you how difficult it’s going to be for me to take your cock-”

“I’m pretty sure that last one falls under ‘size difference’?” Marcus cuts you off, only to groan in embarrassment when you move away and stare him down. He hadn’t meant to say anything but he couldn’t stop himself.

“Besides, I’m pretty sure this list doesn’t exist because only one thing turns me on…and that is you. Anything you do baby, makes me want to ravish you.” You can tell that he doesn’t want to discuss that list anymore and you decide to give him a break.

“Good thing I’m here then.” You say as you take hold of his cheeks and bring him towards you. He shuts his eyes and parts his lips for you, sighing in relief when he feels you relax in his arms again and continue to shower him with attention. When you break the kiss, Marcus leans up and kisses your forehead quickly before he brings you back into his embrace.

Maybe he didn’t have to hold back too much with you…or at all by the looks of it.

Pedro Pascal (and any of his characters): 

@pastel-0-princess​ @feelmyroarrrr​ @libbymouse​ @its--fandom--darling​ @spideysimpossiblegirl​ @princess76179​ @cheekygeek05​ @miraclesoflove​  @purple-mango​ @metalarmsandmanbuns​ @acthenerd​ @greeneyedblondie44​ @cannedsoupsucks​ @wordsnwhiskey​ @talesfromtheguild​ @f0rever15elf​ @vibin-hippie​ @onesmokinbabe​ @leaiorganas​ @words-way-of-life​ @kideyz​  @lovesickmadsadpoet​ @niall7inches​ @rosiefridayrogersunday​ @sleep-tight1​ @itsfreeekinbats @cybergroupie​  @marsplsstop​ @ezrasbirdie​ @diogodxlot​ @janebby​ @juletheghoul​ @bii-aan-ckaa​ @nohartandsole-blog​ @djjarins​ @giselatropicana​ @maziken @blackmarketmummy​ @laviipopii​ @ew-erin​ @fan-of-encouragement​ @melody13522​ @clydesducktape​ @planetariumx​ @thirddeadlysin​ @leannawithacapitala​ @fangirl-316​ @thou-creature-of-the-deep @what-iwish-you-knew​ @nabootycall​ @pascalsky​ @pedrostories​ @anaaaispunk​ @monocromaticstaircase​ @severinsnape @elegantduckturtle​ @gothicxbarbie​ @revengeisaconfesionofpain​ @hypnoash​ @pedritopascalito​ @eri16​ @andiesturgss​  @snarwor​ @christina-loves​ @tintinn16​ @persephones-garden​ @sequere-mei-callipygian​ @heykathchuu​ @hotchlover-blog​ @kaumalade​ @mswarriorbabe80​ @nakhudanyx​ @ezras-channel-rat​ @solemnlyswearss​ @thegirlnextdoorssister​ @alpaca-swimsuit​ @elinedjarin​ @yuukiblissthemusicwitch​ @dihra-vesa​ @pscalwhiskey @midwesternwitchery​ @daddymando21​ @letskeepthislo-ki​ @xwalltoast​ @alexxavicry​ @ewoksrus​ @dear-fifi​ @nagassia​ @kirsteng42​ @s-u-t​ @yourdragonsfire​ @girlofchaos​ @thisshipwillsail316​ @squidwell​

Marcus Pike: @evyiione​ @quicksilvermad​

#marcus pike #marcus pike x reader #marcus pike/reader #pedro pascal #the mentalist #age gap kink #size difference kink #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal fanfiction #marus pike smut #marcus pike fanfiction #pedro pascal fluff #marcus pike fluff

[jeezlouiisee]

Good Girl

Peter Parker(TASM)xReader

Warnings: Graphic Content 18+ ONLY, praise kink, web play, dirty talk, light choking, creampie, unprotected sex(wrap it up folks), spidey-sense play. I might’ve missed more. 

This is my first time posting smut on here and i hope you all enjoy! Thank you so much @justnotforbread​ for proofreading this and for submitting this ask! 

Fic under the cut. 

It’s been a week. A week since she found out that her boyfriend, Peter Parker, was Spider-Man. Spider-Man! It was a pretty big shock for her and she hasn’t spoken to him since. Sure she felt bad but she needed time to think about things. Especially the fact he could get hurt or that she was constantly switching between Spider-Man AND Peter during her masturbation sessions. She agreed to see him today though, she could deal with her amazingly sweet and smart boyfriend being a vigilante with superpowers. Right? 

She was currently pacing around her living room just waiting for Peter to show up. She glanced down at her phone, letting out a soft breath of nervousness. He should be here any minute. Instead knocking on the door like he normally did she heard a tapping on her window. She quickly ran over to it, unlocking it before opening it. 

“What are you doing? Why are you coming through the window?” She frowned, taking a step back so he could come in. He quickly hopped in, adjusting his backpack on his shoulder. 

“I wanted to show you how Spider-Man would come to your window.” He said a bit shyly. He was nervous about what she was going to say. Once he was fully inside she closed and then locked the window. Y/N took a deep breath, moving a strand of hair behind her ear.

 “Can I… can I see you in the suit?” She hadn’t seen him in it up close and personal like this and she was excited. Peter gave her a small look of confusion before quickly dropping his pack on the floor.  He shook off his jacket then took his shirt off, before going to unbuckle his pants. She didn’t realize he’d be changing right in front of her but once his shirt was off she saw his suit. He was wearing it underneath his clothes. Once he got the last of his regular clothes and shoes off he grabbed his mask and put it on. Y/N looked at him, smiling a little as she stepped closer to him and put a hand on his chest. 

“I think I’ll be good with dating Spider-Man too.” She teased which caused Peter to quickly take his mask off, giving her a large grin. 

“Yeah? You think so?” Peter wrapped his arms around her. She nodded and wrapped one arm around his neck while the other rested on his chest. Peter leaned down a bit so he could plant a soft kiss on her lips. At first it was sweet and a bit gentle but somewhere along the way one of Peter's hands moved to her neck, gripping it firmly as he slid his tongue into her mouth. There was always something about kissing Peter that got her panties wet so quickly. Peter's hand quickly found its way to tangle in her hair. He gave it a hard yank to get access so he could kiss down her neck. Y/N let out a tiny whimper, clearing her throat to distract Peter away from the noise but Peter knew how much she liked it, not from her sound though. 

“Mm Y/N your pussy is fucking drench Princess, soaking your panties already and all I’ve done is kiss you?” Peter smirked, raising an eyebrow as he slowly moved one hand to cup her center. Y/Ns eyes went wide, she wasn’t used to this Peter. This Peter wasn’t so dirty. She liked it. 

“H-How… How can you tell?” She didn’t understand how he knew, she didn’t think she smelt that bad. Did she?

“I have this… sense. My hearing and sight are heightened. I can sense danger and… I have an amazing sense of smell now. Which you could say makes me amazing.” Peter chuckled as he started to walk her back to the couch. 

“Oh so you’re the Amazing Spider-Man?” Y/N teased before falling back onto the couch. 

“Come show me how amazing you are then.” She said defiantly. Peter raised an eyebrow and quickly moved between her legs, not even bothering to pull her leggings down. He simply ripped them at the seam, he groaned at the sight. 

“I told you my good girl was drenched.” He praised, rubbing his glove-covered thumb gently over her wet spot. Y/N let out a small whimper, one hand gripping the couch. She loved those leggings but this was worth the loss. Peter rubbed right over her clit through her pants, adding a bit of pressure as he looked up at her. 

“Such a good girl you know that? I love how responsive you are.” He praised, leaning down to nip at her leg as he rubbed her clit in circle 8s. She let out a squeak at his bite but her legs twitched when he started rubbing her clit. 

“Try to keep those legs still okay, Y/N?” He looked up at her with stern eyes. She quickly nodded and put her hands on her thighs to hold them apart. This Peter had a dirty mouth on him, plus he was a bit more rougher with her and she adored it. He grinned at how quickly she obeyed him, he snapped her panties off her and immediately slid two fingers into her. He groaned at the feel of her and bent down to lick her clit. The sudden attention caused Y/Ns legs to twitch even more, she tried to hold her legs still but she just couldn’t. Peter let out a small groan of annoyance and pulled away from her but kept his fingers inside her. 

“Alright, Y/N. I warned you.” He sighed and with his free hand used his webs to press her legs into the couch. She jumped a bit at the feel of the wet webs on her skin but found it incredibly hot. 

“I’m sorry.. you just make me feel so good..” She whispered, chewing down on her lip as she watched him curl his fingers inside her. He continued to thrust his fingers into her, smirking as he bent back down to gently such on her clit. Y/N laid her head back as she continued to moan softly at how he was making her feel before she suddenly felt a soft slap to her clit which made her jump and look at him. 

“Peter! What was that for?” She gasped out, definitely liking how that felt. 

“Eyes on me. I want to see that pretty face when I make it cum.” Peter smirked and went back to his ministrations. He continued for a few minutes before Y/N was a withering mess. She let out a loud cry of his name as she came. 

“Peter!”

“Such a good girl, cumming all over my mouth. Do you think you’re ready for my cock, princess?” He tilted his head as slid his fingers that were inside her into his mouth. 

“Fuck you taste so good.” He groaned out as he started to get out of the suit. Once he was out of it and grabbed a knife to gently cut the webs off her thighs before throwing it into the nearest trash can. He quickly pulled her to the edge of the couch, rocking his tip against her clit. 

“Do you want me to fuck you baby?” He asked her as he positioned his tip to her entrance, she nodded quickly, her arms wrapping around his neck. Peter shook his head. 

“I need your words, beautiful.” 

“Please Pe- Spider-Man. I want your cock inside of me so badly.” Y/N begged, pulling gently at the hairs at the base of Peter's neck. He looked down at her, a huge grin plastering his face before sliding his entire length inside of her. She let out a gasp, her hands gripping his hair. 

“Y-You’re always so big..”

“You’re gonna be a good girl for me and take it all anyway right baby?” Y/N quickly nodded, letting out a moan when Peter started to move. He started at an agonizingly slow pace which was torturous for her. She whined and scratched at his back. 

“Peter, baby. Please.. I want it harder.” 

Peter suddenly stood up, taking Y/N with him. He walked over to her wall, taking her hands and placing them above her head. He still had his web shooters on so he quickly covered her hands with webs to keep her still. 

“Hmm does my pretty girl want my cock deep inside that tight cunt?” He put a hand around her throat, adding a bit of pressure but not too hard that she could breath. 

“Yes please, I just want to cum all over your cock.” She didn’t like that he webbed her hands because she loved touching him. She’d just have to deal. He kept one hand around her throat while the other quickly wrapped her legs around his waist before settling on her hip. He gave her a large grin before he started to slam into her at a grueling pace. Y/N could tell he was definitely using his powers. She loved it. She dug her head into the crook of his neck as she tried to rock her hips to meet his thrusts but he was straining her hips so she couldn’t get much movement. 

“Like this? Huh? Taking my cock so well princess. Such a good girl.” Peter whispered in her ear, nipping at the skin behind it. All she could do was simply nod, especially when Peter moved his hips at a different angle and he started to hit that perfect spot. Her eyes started to roll into the back of her head, rutting her hips up quickly trying to get friction to her clit. Of course Peter knew what she wanted, he chuckled and moved his hand from her hip to her clit, rubbing it softly in circles as he tightened the hand around her throat. Y/N’s mouth opened wide but no sound came out of it, her eyes staying rolled back into her head as she came. She clamped around Peter's cock, her legs squeezing his hips. 

“Fuck yes, good girl cum on Spider-Man’s cock. Shit, squeeze me princess.” He hissed out, his hips fluttering a bit as he finished inside her. He kept his hips pressed against hers, making sure to coat deep into her walls. Peter laid his head against her shoulder, chuckling as he breathed heavily, letting go of her neck. 

“Holy shit Peter. That was amazing.” She let out a laugh, pulling on his webs a bit trying to get out but of course she couldn’t. He chuckled himself and used his webs to grab the knife, carefully cutting the webs. He pulled her arms down and picked her up bridal style, carrying her to her room. 

“You were too. Such a good girl for me, you know that?” He muttered and gently set her down on the bed, going to get a warm cloth to clean her up. It was the first time he had ever finished inside her but she was on birth control so they were sure it would be fine. 

“I really like it when you call me that.” When Peter came back and started cleaning her up he grinned. 

“I know. That’s why you’re such a good girl for me.”

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