#these prompts drive me crazy in a good way

[weird-an]

Angel!Argyle dominates Demon!Billy :3

tw: Billy is missing one wing

Billy has been tempting humans for centuries now. To be honest, it's fucking boring. He'll bat his eyelashes, play with a curl of his blond hair and get them to do everything he wants - or rather, has to.

At least he doesn't have to do stupid crossroad deals anymore. These are boring and lonely. Being able to roam San Diego is lovely. Even if it sometimes means sucking it up to businessmen who are so greedy they'd end up in hell either way. To be honest Billy gets them a "skip the line" ticket.

"Thank you," the guy says, after he sealed his fate with a handshake and the nudge he needed to betray his company and leave the country. "You're a real angel."

"I've been called that." Billy grins, showing all his teeth, ignoring the shiver the word sends down his spine. It's not even a lie - thought that had been ages ago and he can't remember heaven, just a fleeting feeling of light and feeling out of place.

He watches the business suit leaving and decides that this is enough work for at least a month. Neil will hate his report either way, so fuck him. Time to get drunk.

"You shouldn't let him call you an angel," a warm voice behind him says.

Billy sighs. Of course, once he decided to carpe the fucking diem, one of heaven's killjoys shows up.

"Why? You're going to tell the big guy upstairs on me?" Billy sticks his tongue out. He has never met this angel. But he knows one when he sees one.

He's pretty. Black hair nearly reaching his hips and a smile so bright it's like Billy can see his halo.

"No," the angel grins. "But I don't like lies."

"Lying comes with the job - and you should mind your own business," Billy sneers. It's exhausting. Hell wants this, heaven wants that and Billy just wants a fucking break.

The angel steps closer. A knowing look on his face - and Billy isn't quite sure, what he knows.

They are in the middle of a bar and no one looks at them. It's disturbing. Billy needs to be looked at or hell will swallow him whole and never spit him out again.

There's an herby smell surrounding the guy, almost like - Billy frowns. There's a joint tugged behind the angel's ear.

"What kind of angel smokes weed?" he blurts out.

"What kind of demon likes to be called angel?" the angel retorts. He puts his hand on Billy's shoulder, thumb stroking the pulse Billy has learned to control after he crashed down to earth - but that now is running wild.

"I don't like it," he says. It sounds meek, even in his own ears. Neil would sent him to the pit for it.

"I don't like lies," the angel repeats, voice still warm and weirdly friendly. "It's not natural for me."

It's not natural for Billy either. It's a second skin that hurts every day, one he needs to survive, one he loathes.

His hand leaves Billy's shoulder, cupping his cheek. A touch that doesn't hurt, a touch that's soaked in mercy and goodness and all the things that aren't for Billy. It burns and Billy wants more.

"Fuck," Billy groans. Shame burns next to longing, for something he can't quite put his finger on. An angel of all possible beings seeing right through him.

"What's your name?"

"Billy," he says. He isn't William, he has never been William, no matter how many times heaven and then later Neil wanted him to be.

"My name is Argyle," the angel says. "Can you try to be good for me?"

Billy wants. It's what sent him away, what made him an outcast even in hell. It's what he has never been allowed to.

"I can't." Argyle's other hand is on his throat, not choking, giving only a slight squeeze. The stars Billy has watched for aeons dance before his eyes. "You know I can't."

He's a demon and even before he wasn't enough. He is all but good.

The bar around them fades and they are in a cabin, hell know where, lush plants, soft pillows and vibrant colors everywhere. It must be Argyle's place. Tension bleeds out of Billy's shoulders.

"I think you can." Argyle's hand stops caressing his cheek and grips Billy's curls. Tugs them, so hard pain starts blooming, but soft enough that it's sweet.

"You're an angel" he says, because there's a heat beginning to boil in his lower belly, searing hot. "You shouldn't..."

"Find joy?" Argyle asks. "Make you feel good?"

His dark eyes finds Billy's. "Can I make you feel good?"

"Yeah," Billy breathes, the first confession he has spoken in years. He needs to be, he wants to be and Argyle is so different - from all the other entities Billy ever met before. He's more human, but that doesn't make him less ethereal.

Argyle's mouth is on his, a kiss first tender, more a question than an answer. Billy can't remember if he ever kissed like this. Their tongues meet, swirling and hungrier the longer the kiss lasts.

Argyle pushes him - slightly. They end up in the midst of a pile of pillows and the world around Billy is a blur of red, blue and green.

Argyle's hands stroke his skin, undressing him, fingers wandering from his chest to his belly and there are tears prickling in Billy's eyes.

"Open up," Argyle whispers and it's the first order, maybe ever, Billy wanted to follow. There's still a voice in his mind, sounding like Neil, that he's listening to one of them, to an angel, but Argyle's lips are on his again and it's just so easy to let go.

He spreads his legs. Argyle rubs a finger against his hole.

"Good," he smiles. He moves and his fingers press into Billy. Two at once, scissoring inside him, rubbing against a spot Billy didn't know was there.

Pleasure is no stranger, but for the first time Billy wants more. He moves his hips forward.

"Behave," Argyle says, slapping his ass. It burns, but in a way that turns the pleasure hotter.

"I'm not a fucking -"

Argyle grabs his chin. "You want to be good, don't you?"

There's this stupid word again, that makes Billy's cock throb.

Argyle's dick brushes against his hole, pulls Billy down to sit on it and Billy keens, dizzy from what's happening and what's about to come.

He breaches him and it's like Billy is on fire, but not the way he's used to. One thrust and he's groaning.

Argyle fucks into him. Clearly not a stranger to pleasure. He's hitting Billy's prostate hard. Billy forgets to breath. He doesn't need it. He only needs the arms around him and that warm smile that is still there.

He's leaking precome, his aching dick trapped between their bellies.

"See? You can be very good, Billy."

Argyle laughs in his ear, a song Billy wants to remember for centuries.

The world blurs and Billy only halfway registers that Argyle's wings spread out, nearly reaching the ceiling. He knows his own is there, too, but he's so high on pleasure, he doesn't care.

Argyle pants, thrusts again and suddenly Billy's vision blanks, all white joy exploding inside him. He comes, whole body trembling and the world around him shaking.

Argyle whispers in his ear, tells him he's doing well, that he's proud and all Billy can do is whine, his skin tingling. Argyle follows shortly after with groan getting tangled with a laugh, the happiest noise Billy ever heard.

Argyle still has his arms around Billy. He strokes his black feathers, carefully.

Billy's heart flutters like his wing can't anymore. He knows what's left is charred and ugly.

"You're beautiful," Argyle whispers - like Billy's wings aren't the proof he isn't. "A real angel."

Billy knows lies, can see them and taste them from miles around - but this isn't one. Tears burn in his eyes. He bites his tongue. This is embarrassing.

Argyle wraps his wings around them. Billy's limbs are tired. Argyle's hand is still buried in his feathers. No one has held him like that. It's calming, it feels safe. He buries his face in the nape of Argyle's neck and pretends he isn't crying.

#this turned way sweeter than planned #billy just wants to be a good boy #these prompts drive me crazy in a good way #i have to make up whole AUs in my mind before they can do it - but it's A LOT OF FUN! #also to the person that suggested the hero/villain prompt for harringrove my mind is going crazy about that! #argilly #billy hargrove #billy hargrove ficlet #billy hargrove x argyle #billy hargrove deserves better #argyle and billy #argyle

[luveline]

𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐈 𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 | 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

Spencer calls you drunk and in need of rescue. You confess a few secrets to him while he won’t remember them (or so you think). 3k, fem

cw drunk!spencer, mentioned past drug use, confident/bombshell!reader, flirting, spencer getting some well deserved comfort, a handful of his drunken compliments, insecurity, intense mutual pining

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

You’re blissfully sleeping in the arms of a REM cycle when your phone rings. It pulls you by the chest, a punch of shock and expectancy at once. It’ll be someone calling you into work, Hotch himself if you’re lucky. 

You search blindly for your phone. If you’re even luckier, it’ll be a wrong number. Your fingers curl around the little body of your phone and you bring it to your ear without checking the number, frazzled. “Hello?” you ask hoarsely. 

Total quiet. 

“Hello?” You pull the screen away. The caller reads: SPENCER. You pull it back rather than hang up. “Hey, Spencer. Are you there?” 

“Hello.” He laughs. “Hello, are you there?” 

“I’m here, Spencer, where are you?” 

“That’s an interesting question, actually, and I’m sure there’s a great answer, but…” 

“But what?” You sit up quickly, your throat aching with sleep. Your room is black as coal pitch. “Spencer, what time is it, my love?” 

“You shouldn’t call me stuff like that.” 

“Stop being weird and tell me where you are.” 

He laughs like a hyena. You can see it in your mind, his smile and all his pearly perfect teeth. You love it when he smiles like that and he rarely ever does. “I’m somewhere and I need your help getting home!” he says with another funny laugh. 

“Are you alright? You sound…” He sounds inebriated. 

Spencer struggled with his drug problem for so long before you found out. You just hadn’t been around enough, and when you were he’d gotten good at hiding it. You can still remember how furious you’d been with everyone, including him, because you could’ve helped, would’ve done anything to support him through it. If he’s hurting now and hasn’t told you, you love him, but you’ll be insanely angry. 

“Spencer?” you ask quietly. 

“I went for drinks with a girl but she didn’t like me and I may have drowned my sorrows too much,” he admits. “Um. Did you know gin is very strong?” 

“Aw, baby. You’re cheating on me?” 

“I’m afraid so,” he says, and hiccups. 

“Where are you?” 

After some hassle wherein you persuade Spencer to give the phone to someone else in the bar for a slightly less drunk interrogation, you dress and gather your bearings for the drive. You zip a hoodie up over your pyjamas, stuff your feet into some old converse, and set out into the dark to find him. 

He calls you again as you’re parking. “Hello,” he says as soon as you answered. “I need you to come and get me.” 

Spencer called you twice to save him. Even if he doesn’t remember, he’s called you to come and get him when he knows he needs help, and that realisation is hard to ignore. “Spencer, I’m two minutes away, I’m parking. You’re still where you were?” 

“Where was I?” 

“At the bar, sweetheart. Are you still there?” It’s scarily dark out and you didn’t grab any sort of defensive measure before you came, which you regret now, climbing out of your car to walk the dimly lit road. The bar glows like a beacon to be followed. 

“Still where?” 

“Did you hit your head?” 

“Not to my knowledge. Though I’m not sure I have much right now. I feel like I’m forgetting everything I’ve ever read, and I’ve read a lot. You know I can read about eighty average length novels in one hour on an e-reader? The buttons make it faster.” 

“You haven’t told me that before.” You shiver against the nighttime winds, footsteps heavy on the grey sidewalk. 

“I’m trying to be more conversational. Emily says it’s not working.” 

“You’re conversational. Isn’t the only condition of being conversational to prompt a conversation? We’re always talking.” 

“…What?” 

You laugh like crazy. “Spencer, you don’t need to change the way you talk.” 

“I annoy people.” 

“You don’t annoy me.” 

You approach the door of the bar, a ramshackle sheet of plywood over what looks to be a glass door. The bar building seems in similar dessaray, with modern features wrecked by scratches and smashed panes. It’s a real dive. Spencer couldn’t have meant to come here. 

You war with both hands to open the door and find yourself faced with a long and empty corridor leading to another door. Worried you’re going to get kidnapped, you bring the phone back to your ear, Spencer’s chatting an immediate greeting. “…telling me I’m doing something wrong without telling me what it is, it’s impossible.”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart, can you come to the door?” 

“I don’t think I have control of my legs,” he says without inflection. 

“It’s definitely the building with the smashed door?” 

“Yesssss. Are you here?” he asks excitedly. 

“I better not get murdered, Spencer Reid.” 

“Am I in trouble?” 

“How are you even keeping the phone to your ear right now?” 

“I’m on speaker phone. Milly showed me how to do it. Say hi, Milly.” 

“Hi Milly,” a new voice says. 

You rub your eyes with one hand and square your shoulders, prepared to defend yourself if the creepy door leads to a creepier room. 

Spencer is immediately visible from the get go. You open the door on to a rather cosy looking bar, which you’re thinking might be the whole point; wretched exterior, secret attraction. Warm orange light ebbs into the space from sconces and a faux fireplace, while a wrestling match playing from the small TV behind the bar casts brighter light down onto Spencer’s shoulders. He looks out of place, dressed in a white oxford shirt and a suit jacket, his tie loosened and hanging from either side of his neck, compared to the lingering patrons who sit dotted around the room in booths and on barstools. One such patron sits in a plaid shirt and a trucker hat, her hair to her back, thick and dark. 

You hang up the call and put your phone in your pocket. Spencer gasps like he’s been smacked and picks his own phone up from the bar, clicking at buttons with clumsy fingers. “No,” he hums sadly. 

“Spencer,” you say, not wanting to disturb the people spending their sorry-looking night here. “Spencer. Hey, Spence!” 

His phone tips between his fingers. The woman you assume to be Milly catches it and offers it back without looking too far from her beer. 

“Hey,” you say gently, crossing a wide empty space to meet him. The room itself is shaped like a horseshoe, the bar taking up a surprising amount in the centre, and booths and tables placed around it. Spencer’s off of his barstool as you approach, eyes like puppy dog’s, arms extended. “You okay?” you ask. 

You can feel eyes on you both from every angle, but it doesn’t matter, not when Spencer’s falling into your arms (or on to them —he’s surprisingly tall when you aren’t wearing heels). “You alright?” you ask again. 

“You don’t have to be worried, I’m fine.” 

He’s less coordinated in real life than he’d sounded over the phone, his slurring unmissable, his hands like jumping fish as he tries to hug you. It’s weird and straining to take his weight but you do it without complaint. He smells the same, at least, only his cedary cologne is sharpened by the tang of gin on his breath. 

“Thank god you’re here,” he whispers. 

“Why?” you ask, pulling away to check for danger. 

“I missed you.” 

“I missed you too, handsome,” you say, genuine but laying it on thick simultaneously as you ease his head back to cup his cheek. You can’t help yourself. He’s the prettiest man you’ve ever met, and it gets worse every year. 

He frowns at you deeply. “I don’t like first dates.” 

“Then don’t go on them,” you suggest, “you don’t need to until you’re ready.” 

“I’m ready for love,” he says. You pull your lips into a flattened line, unsure of what to say, how to explain that it’s waiting for him, but his chin dips towards his neck and his eyes lock onto your face. “You’re not wearing makeup. God, you’re so pretty.” 

You flinch away from him. “Fuck, Spencer.”

“I’m sorry! It’s not that you don’t look pretty with makeup, but I never see you without it!” 

You’d forgotten you weren’t wearing any. Makeup isn’t a shield, exactly, but you like putting your best foot forward, so to speak. You’ve no clue what you look like tonight, hadn’t managed to look in the mirror, you’d been focused on getting to Spencer before he got lost. You can imagine the puffiness.

Spencer touches your cheek. You let him turn you mostly because he’s surprised you, his eyes roving up and down your face with a fawning curiosity. 

“You’re beautiful. You know that already, but people don’t tell you enough,” he says, his hand falling from your cheek. 

“Spencer,” you say softly, “let’s get you home.” 

You thank Milly for her help and grab Spencer’s bag from the floor to hang on your shoulder. You’d make a joke about how heavy it was if you didn’t think he’d take it from you, and, considering how drunk he is, topple over from the imbalance it provides. His shirt is clammy where you push your hand through his arm to link them, his footsteps wobbly. 

“I didn’t want to go on a date,” he says. 

“Then why did you go?” you ask, helping him over the door jam into the long hallway. 

“I don’t want to be alone forever.” 

“Spencer, you won’t be.” It doesn’t feel like the best time to bring up how much you like him. You’re sure he thinks you’re kidding, doesn’t everybody? Don’t torture him, they say. Don’t toy with him. Every time you flirt with him the team acts like you can’t mean it, and for a while it worked for you; you weren’t in love with Spencer. You weren’t playing with his feelings, but you didn’t love him, and then you joined the team and got to know him, watched him fluster at every comment you made or under any soft looking and realised you could love him. It was easy to fall for him. You liked doing it. But now he’s determined to write your affection off as a joke and going on dates? 

In the morning, when he’s sober, you’ll have to tell him how you feel. Or you could let him find someone more like him… ugh. It’s such a mess. 

You grapple with the size of your feelings for him as he hums and laughs his way down the hall to the glass door. On the street, he squints and straightens his back, fighting to regain his arm from your hold to cover your shoulder instead. “It’s cold,” he says in surprise. “You okay?” 

“I’m fine, I got my jacket. It’s a short walk, come on.”

His arm stops acting as protection and starts to use you for support. “I didn’t mean to drink so much.” 

“Drowning your sorrows is always a terrible idea because it tends to work,” you lament, less scared of the dark with him at your hip, though what protection he might offer is negated by the alcohol. 

“She kind of looked like you.” 

You squeeze your eyes together quickly. “Oh.” 

“I didn’t know she was going to. But she didn’t– she didn’t– it’s hard to talk. She didn’t listen like you do,” he says, lightly slurring, “she just stared at me like everyone used to in high school. Like she could tell there’s something wrong with me.” 

“Spencer, there’s nothing wrong with you.”

“I know,” he says. 

“Do you?” 

“Yes.” He frowns. “No, I don’t know. I don’t feel like there’s something wrong with me,” —his voice turns to a nearly indistinguishable mumble— “but everyone else always does.” 

“I don’t think there’s anything wrong with you.” 

“Is that why you make all your jokes?” 

“What jokes, babe?” 

“Like that! Like babe. It’s funny ‘cos you’d never date me.” 

You’d slow if he weren’t already walking at a snail's pace. “That’s not true. Let’s talk about it in the morning, okay?” 

“I won’t remember to ask you in the morning.” 

“Spencer, you remember everything.” 

He drags his feet. “I wish I wasn’t so weird,” he whines. It’s playful at the forefront but desperate otherwise, and it gives you pause. “I wish I was normal, and you could like me normal.” 

You look down at your hands, panicking, a flash of Is this a good idea? like an alarm in your head as you turn on the sidewalk to face him. He’s looking at you like he’s begging you to disagree with him. 

You’re happy to. 

“Spencer, I like you like this,” you insist loudly. His eyes and all his sweet lashes track the movement of your hand as you touch your chest, and your neck. “You’re not normal, I’m not normal. Do you know how many times I’ve been rejected? Just for being me? I’m too bossy, too outspoken, too– too high maintenance. I've had friends with good intentions tell me I need to lower my standards, need to relax, because otherwise I’m going to end up alone for the rest of my life. I feel alone all the time.”

“But you’re perfect,” he says, puzzled. 

“To you. And you’re perfect to me.” Your hand crawls to the base of your throat. “So don’t say you’re weird like it’s ugly, honey. And don’t think I don’t like you, ‘cos I do. You think I’d come and get anybody else in the middle of the night dressed like this?” you ask him, gesturing to your ratty pyjamas and your dingy converse. 

“You look so cute,” he says mournfully. 

You roll your eyes. He’s too wasted for this conversation. “Come on, sweetheart. You can think about this too much in the morning. Let’s just get home in one piece.” Physically and emotionally. 

“Can I come home with you?” he asks. 

That had always been the plan. “Ask me nicely and I’ll consider it on the way.” 

— — 

Spencer shuts his eyes, hands itching to clap over his ears as you scratch the head of a spatula across your frying pan. “Is three eggs too many? People usually have two but that’s never enough for me.” 

“I think…” Oh my god the metal screeching is so loud. “You should have as many as you want. You know your body. There’s this study on intuitive eating…” I'm too hungover for this. “Three eggs is better than two.” 

“So you want three?” 

He cannot eat right now. “Yes. Please.” 

Spencer’s half sick with dehydration and half grief. He stayed at your house last night and he was too drunk to be nosy. He slept in your bed. He slept in your bed. He woke up to you at your vanity doing your hair, the nutty smell of hair oil mixed with the heat of the hair tool on high and realised with a start that he’d missed something he thought about all the time. 

You’d tipped your head back to smile at him. “There’s my boy. Sweet dreams?” 

He didn’t dream, but if he had, it would’ve been another agonising wish where you were his girlfriend, or his wife, or just there looking at him with love. He wakes up feeling sick because it isn’t true. And now you’re making him breakfast, humming a tune under your breath, sourdough sizzling under the grill and a shoddily blended avocado sitting in the bowl in front of him. 

You asked him for one thing. He picks up the fork and starts to mash the avocado again. He can’t fight the foreignness of sitting in your kitchen, a gap in his memory. 

He knows he told you about his date, how she looked like you, how she didn’t seem to like him much, but he’s struggling to collect the finer details. Why had you picked him up? He must’ve called you, but you could’ve said no. He remembers thinking you looked beautiful, but he always thinks that. 

The avocado is making him feel sick. 

“Here,” you say, sliding a plate of toast in front of him. “Do you want butter?” 

“I think I'm gonna throw up.” 

“You’re okay.”

“I can’t believe how I acted,” he says, pressing his palms to the hollows of his eyes. 

You turn off the hob. Fat bubbles and pops until it’s cooled. The clock on the wall by the refrigerator ticks incessantly. His slept-in shirt feels too tight despite the undone button. 

“Hey…” You round the island but don’t touch him, your voice gentle. “You didn’t do anything wrong.” 

He drags his hands down his face. “I can barely remember what I said.” 

“You were really nice to me… told me I looked pretty without my makeup, n’ that I was perfect. You were really nice.” 

Your tone is off. No flirtatiousness, no endless confidence, you sound wistful, like you’re glad he said it. You take the bowl of avocado he’s made a mess with and put it aside with the toast, resting your arm on the counter, and leaning into his space. “Spencer, last night? You didn’t do anything to be embarrassed of. You were nice, and kind. You tried to open the car door for me and you almost lost your eye, but you were fine. You don’t have anything to be worried about, really.”

“But it’s you.” 

“Gonna touch your hair,” you say, giving him enough time to move away as you reach out and rake back his fringe. His heart leaps into his mouth. “You said something last night like that, you know? Do you remember that? You said if you were normal.” You grace the skin beside his eye with the tip of your thumb, your perfume floating his way as you move. “And I said–”

“I’m not normal,” he says, remembering now. 

You’re not normal, I’m not normal, you’d said.

But you’re perfect, he’d said. 

To you. And you’re perfect to me.

“Right. We’re not normal, Spencer Reid, so forget that girl. She didn’t deserve you anyways,” you say. 

You draw a short, silken line down his cheek with the side of your pinky. To be touched so lightly has his stomach in knots —he’s not shocked by the swiftness with which your affection can make a bad situation good again. 

You turn away. “Now we should eat before everything goes cold.” 

He watches your shoulders move, and he remembers one last detail. So don’t say you’re weird like it’s ugly, honey. And don’t think I don’t like you, ‘cos I do. 

The way you’d said it… you couldn’t really mean…

“How’s your appetite? Still feeling sick?” you ask. 

Spencer smiles to himself, the ghost of your touch glowing warm on his cheek. “I’m feeling a lot better, actually.” 

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

thank you for reading!!! please like/reblog or comment if you enjoyed, i appreciate anything and it always inspires me to write more<3!! my requests are pretty much always open for bombshell!reader (even though this one strays a bit from their usual story haha) so if you wanna see more let me know❤️

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction

[poguesprincess]

♱ ‧₊˚ just dirty, gross, messy kisses with rafe.

currently not on speaking terms, you eye rafe from across the room. the party you’re at is dark, save for a few strobe lights obnoxiously blaring in your corner vision. rafe blames them for his lack of, say— decorum. but who could blame him? when they made you look so good, variegated colours painting your dancing body in just the right way, reds and blues and purples cascading against your soft skin— that soft skin— he nearly forgets why he’s even mad at you, and he needs to get his hands on you, or he felt as if he might implode. the lights, they make him impulsive. desperate. unlike himself.

by the time he reaches you, he gives you no time to recuperate, rough hands exploring your hips, his pelvis pressed shamelessly against yours as he backed you out of sight, mouth desperate in search of yours. one thing about rafe, is he didn’t waste any time.

his tongue slides its way into your mouth same as his fingers slot themselves into the waistband of your shorts, toying with the string of your thong in amusement. you can’t get a word out, he’s so assertive, and it’s dizzying. it only makes the whole ordeal more maddening. he’s ignored you for a week now— is this his way of apologizing? luckily, you’re more patient than he is (which is why the two of you work so well together, despite what he says), and your hands find their way to his face, forcing him away from you— partially to take a breath, partially to try and get a word in. his lips chase yours as you move him away, parted and swollen and glossy. “what exactly—“ he’s moved to your neck now, impatient, “—prompted this, cameron?”

he was never good with words. he couldn’t express clearly enough that you just looked too fucking good, it was driving him crazy. he couldn’t express that he couldn’t give a fuck about why he was mad at you anymore, or how he suddenly felt like he didn’t care about your so called “attitude”. he couldn’t explain the lights. so instead, he resorted to sucking onto your neck, hands delving deeper into your waistline and pulling you closer to him, bodies pressed together, sweaty, frantic. “don’t get to walk in here like you own the place.” he mumbles, a bit too harshly, as he sinks his teeth into the newly formed bruise he’s made on your neck. his pants tent when you let out a whine.

desperate and drunk, you tug at his waistband, soliciting a groan from the tall boy that allows you to reinsert your mouth onto his. it was a pathetic sight, the two of you: drooling, tongues shoved down each other’s throats, hands wandering.

“the lights,” he starts, in between kisses, and your brows furrow, small smile forming as you wait for him to continue, “make you look so, fucking good,” kiss, “couldn’t let—“ kiss, “anybody else see you”, kiss, kiss, “had to take what’s mine.” kiss. he growls this, in a way that makes you shiver, thighs pressing harder against his own.

“think you’re the shit, huh? actin’ like i cant see you eyeing me. shit pisses me off. need to put you in your place.” every word he says is in one ear and out the other, you’re too entranced by the gravely way he spits his words at you, voice reverberating into your core. i’m sorry, rafe, you mumble— not entirely sure he can even hear. the gesture is received, all the same, when you let him drag you into the bathroom around the corner.

the lights, he thinks. thank god for the lights.

#εïз rafe prompt ! #rafe cameron prompt #rafe cameron #rafe x reader #rafe cameron x reader

[rafeysdoll]

omg ur rafe x reader arguing drabble had me thinking what would happen if reader (keyword) TRIED to break up with him or take a break?

hehe thank you for requesting sorry this took sooo long, thanks to the lovely @hewwokitti3 for helping me with this request and @oceandriveab and @rafecameroninterlude for proof reading <3

you shut rafe’s truck door, quickly running back inside tannyhill and climbing up the stairs, heart beating so fast you thought it could explode.

you burst in rafe’s and yours shared bedroom, him sitting on the edge bed with his phone, looking up at your shaking figure. “you good?”

your manicured nails that have the initial ‘R’ on them claw harshly at rafe’s chest, tears now streaming down your cheek. “fuck you!” you yell, fist slamming at his chest. “we’re over!” you cry, turning to the closet and grabbing whatever bag and starting to shove whatever belongings you own.

“hey, the hell is the matter with you?!” rafe spits, snatching your bag from your hands and throwing it across the room, eyebrows furrowed as he grabs at your shoulders tightly, scanning you. “i know you’re cheating on me! i-im not stupid!” you scream, bottom lip wobbling as you thrash against his hold.

“cheat.. cheating on you? where the fuck did you get that idea from? huh?” rafe replies, tightening his grip. “i saw with my own eyes, rafe!”

“well.. well you’re fucking blind then.” he retaliates, slightly pushing you to the closest wall— taking a big breath as he tries to calm down. “n-need you.. to tell me what the hell you think you saw so i can correct it, a’ight? breathe with me?”

you sniffle, looking down at the ground as your chest heaves— snot running down your nose. “you need to calm down. breathe.”

you close your eyes tightly, taking a deep inhale as you try to slowly regain a steady breathing rhythm, rafe taking a small step back, hand on hip.

when you feel ready enough to speak, you peek back at him, shoulders shaking. “i-i.. went to get my eyelash curler from your truck and.. and the passenger seat was down! all the way down! my seat rafe, mine!” you confess, voice cracking slightly.

he rolls his eyes, hand moving up to rub at his temple, tonguing his cheek. “that’s why you… you threw a fucking tantrum? that was wheezie messing around with my shit.. had to drive her to the store cause she wanted fucking snacks yesterday, not because i’m screwing some chick behind your back.”

your cheeks heat up, embarrassment creeping up your spine. “oh.”

“yeah, oh.. you feel ashamed of yourself now? driving yourself crazy like that, fighting me and shit. why.. why don’t you c’mere, gonna teach you to control yourself.” he prompts, sitting back on the bed, patting his lap.

you whimper, knowing your fate was decided for you now— slowly walking up towards your boyfriend. “some time today,” he urges, grabbing your arm when it’s in reach and laying you flat on his lap, ass up.

“want you to remember this when you think of freaking out on me before talking to me like an adult again, alright?”

#anon #rafe ౨ৎ #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron smut #rafe obx #rafe x reader #rafe x you #rafe outer banks #rafe smut #rafe imagine #outerbanks rafe #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe fanfic #rafe fic #rafe cameron fic #drew starkey #drew starkey x reader #drew starkey smut #drew starkey imagine #drew starkey fanfic #drew starkey fanfiction #outerbanks smut #outerbanks imagine #outerbanks x reader #outerbanks fic #rafe cameron thoughts

[surftrips]

luke x daughter of aphrodite!! maybe a super cute fluff where they help luke show percy around and just their experience with percy!

-🥽 anon

stop this prompt is soo cute ! thanks for sending it in &lt;3

"You okay?" Luke asked the newest camper in his cabin.

"Super."

"We all have them, you know." Luke clicked his tongue. "Intense, recurring nightmares. That's normal here. For the first time in your life, you're just like everyone else."

"So are you also... Do you not know who your..." the blonde boy began to ask.

"Am I unclaimed?" Luke shook his head. "No, Hermes is my father. That doesn't matter though, we're all on the same team here."

"Why is it okay they ignore some of us?"

"Spend too much time figuring out what the gods do whatever it is they do, you'll drive yourself crazy. Sooner you can stop worrying about that, the sooner you can enjoy what this place actually does offer."

"And what's that?"

Luke smiled, guiding Percy out the door to show him the rest of camp.

The two boys ran into Clarisse and the Ares kids first. Luke explained to Percy that the Ares kids were always confrontational and brutally honest, but he had nothing to worry about, as long as he was around.

"Come on, let's go figure out what you're good at."

After crossing off archery and metalworking, and dodging several near death experiences, they sat down for lunch.

"Is there a Greek god of disappointment?" Percy sighed.

"We're gonna find the thing you're good at, I know it," Luke reassured him. "We should try-"

Before he could finish his sentence, Luke's eyes lit up and a smile crossed his face, causing Percy to turn around.

A girl came over to Luke's side of the table and kissed the top of his head. "Hi, love."

Luke beamed, turning toward Percy. "Y/N, this is Percy, I'm giving him the tour. Percy, Y/N. She's in Aphrodite."

That much he could tell, Percy thought she was one of the most beautiful girls he had ever seen.

"Ah, bonjour! Comment ça va?" she asked him.

Percy looked confused, only recognizing the first part of the sentence. "Uhhh... hello?"

Y/N smiled softly, "Guess he's not in Aphrodite then. Any luck finding out your skill, Percy?"

"No, unforunately," Percy grumbled.

"Aw, don't worry. Soon enough you'll be like Luke here," she had moved to sit in his lap by now, one of his arms curled around her waist. "Did you know he's the best swordsman at camp?"

She looked at Luke proudly, Percy swore he saw hearts instead of pupils in her eyes.

"I think it's come up once or twice," Percy responded.

The Aphrodite girl smiled again, "Have you shown Percy the lake yet?" she asked Luke.

"No, not yet. Do you want to come with us?"

"You mean, do I want to show him the place where we met? Is that even a question?"

The trio finished up their food and headed back outside. Y/N led the way, her presence enough to clear a path in the group of campers idling outside. Luke and Percy followed a few feet behind her.

"So... how long have you two been...?" Percy asked shyly.

"Three years. Since we were 16," Luke responded. Though Percy had only known Luke for about a day at this point, he couldn't help but notice how Luke's entire demeanor had changed since Y/N's arrival.

"Oh, wow. That's a long time."

"I got really lucky."

"What do you mean?"

"Before I got here, I had nobody. I mean, there was Annabeth and Thalia, but they're like my sisters. Y/N was the one that showed me what love is."

"Is that what you meant earlier? About enjoying what this place has to offer?"

He smiled. "You might be surprised, Percy."

"Are you boys coming or not?" Y/N called back toward them.

"Yes, ma'am!" Luke yelled back, jogging up to where she was. They were almost at the lake by then.

"So, Percy, anyone at camp catch your eye yet?" Y/N asked, her hand wrapped around Luke's arm.

"Babe, he just got here." Luke said.

"So? I knew I liked you the second we met."

Luke blushed, caught off guard by her sincerity. That was one thing he wasn't sure he would ever get over, her ability to express her emotions so unabashedly. It was something he still struggled with from time to time, but for her, he would let down all of his walls.

"I wouldn't say I have a crush on her or anything- she kinda just scares me but she did catch my attention," Percy interrupted Luke's thoughts.

"What's her name?" Y/N asked.

"Annabeth, I think."

Y/N nodded knowingly, looking over at Luke. "Well, I guess we'll just see if anything special blooms there. Anyway, we're here!"

The sun was beginning to set over the horizon now, painting the sky in beautiful hues of purple and pink. A gentle breeze accompanied the three as they sat down by the water.

Y/N leaned against Luke's body, savoring the warmth he offered. He absent-mindedly twirled a piece of her hair.

"Three years ago, I was sitting right here, when I saw someone a few feet away from me. He was throwing rocks into the lake and disturbing my peace," Y/N began. "When I looked over to see who it was-"

"You saw the most gorgeous man you've ever laid your eyes on," Luke cut in.

"Hey!" Y/N playfulled smacked his shoulder. "I know you've heard this story one hundred times but Percy hasn't yet."

"Yeah, I haven't yet!" Percy backed her up.

The two older campers laughed. "Thank you, Percy. Now, where was I? Oh, yes, I saw this boy with curly dark hair and soft brown eyes, and I thought that's him. He's the one. This was before I was claimed by Aphrodite, but I just had a feeling, you know?"

Percy nodded, even though he wasn't sure he had experienced that feeling yet.

"But anyway, this boy looked kind of sad, so I decided to sit next to him."

"I think that's why he was throwing rocks into the water," Percy broke in.

Y/N giggled and Luke nudged her shoulder to continue.

"You're right, Percy, I had the same thought. When I sat next to him, I sensed that he was annoyed."

"Okay, love, let me finish from here." Luke softly kissed her shoulder and she buried her head in the crook of his neck.

"I wasn't annoyed-" he clarified. "At least, not at you. I had just been claimed by my father, but I was still frustrated with the whole idea of gods having children and just ignoring them. Then, this angel sat next to me and for the first time, I felt seen."

Y/N looked up at her boyfriend, her face full of nothing but admiration. No matter how many times she heard this part of the story, she still couldn't believe how she got quite so lucky.

"Percy, our parents may never redeem themselves for their wrongdoings, but I thank the gods every day they sent me Y/N." With that, Luke gently placed his hand on her cheek and leaned in to kiss her.

"Hello! As lovely as this story is, still a minor here!" Percy waved his hand in front of their faces enthusiastically, causing all three of them to burst into laughter.

#🥽 anon #luke castellan prompt #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan #percy jackson series #percy jackson #pjo #charlie bushnell #charlie bushnell x reader #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan x you

[tinyluvs]

spencer reid cockwarming headcannons?!!! - 💫 anon

you read my mind i was just thinking about this *mdni!!*

he takes his work so seriously but you're all whiny and clingy so he considers it a comprise of sorts, pushing your panties to the side without taking his eyes off of his paperwork

"y'wanna sit on it?" and "jus' keep it warm angel"

keeps an arm wrapped around your waist, guiding you downwards until he’s deep inside of you, barely even flinching when you instinctively tighten around him

he gives you a look, a warning, when you do try to move, hand pushing down on your thighs to keep you still

he is surprisingly good at ignoring your whimpers and whines, soft noises you make against his jaw that usually send him crazy

pretending to get comfy !! bucking his hips up and groaning while he stretches his neck, only wanting to watch the way your face changes and the soft gasps tumble past your lips

"keeping me so warm honey, thank you"

kisses on your neck and collarbone that could pass as sweet and caring if he wasn't smiling against your skin when you moan quietly

he pulls you up off of him, turning you around so your back is against his chest, dropping you down on him with a slight grunt

one arm resting against your thigh holding some paperwork he's reading and his free hand dragging up and down the inside of your other thigh, dangerously close to your cunt

“just a little longer sweetheart, you can take it"

he retaliates to you clenching around him by flexing, the slightest movements driving his cock deeper into you, the tip bumping your walls every single time

he finishes his work but doesn't tell you, pretending to continue reading something while he drops his hand to your clit rubbing soft gentle circles

“nearly there" he hums when you lean forward, hands planted on his desk and your thighs attempting to shut around his arm

it's just a lot of teasing honestly and he loves it

when he does decide to finish his work he's loud about it, gathering up papers and shutting books with a loud thud to build anticipation

his eyebrows raise when your eyes track his movements and your breathing speeds up, your wet cunt leaking faster around him

"did so good pretty girl," hands finding their place on your hips, "go on baby, take it, take what you need, been so good for me"

more often than not you don't get far before he's turning you back around and leaning back in his seat, watching your tits bounce as you ride him

thanks for reading! remember to like! reblog! and comment! i’ll give you a smooch if you do, ily ! send prompts to my ask box!

❥ spencer reid masterlist !!

#❥ my works #spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid fic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x fem!reader smut #criminal minds #criminal minds smut #❥ spencer reid #❥ spencer reid fic rec #❥ spencer reid headcanons #❥ my spencer works

[maysileeewrites]

Don’t Want You Like A Best Friend

17+ content; mdni!

Part I | series masterlist | my Coryo masterlist

summary: You and Coriolanus have been best friends ever since you can remember. You've always thought of him as the protective older brother you’ve never had, but lately, your feelings towards him have changed - not quite so pure and innocent anymore ...

chapter tags/warnings: some best friends to lovers angst and emotional confusion, lots of fluff, slightly ooc Coryo (don't worry, the possessive jealousy borderline crazy obsessive behavior will come in later parts!), a lil smutty treat at the end of the chapter

word count: 5,7k (it’s worth it, I promise!!)

You and Coriolanus have been best friends ever since you can remember. 

You’ve grown up together, experienced everything together, with your family living just across the street from Coroy’s family’s apartment. 

You’ve been there for each other during the dark days of the war, when both his parents and your father died. You’ve attended the academy together for years. 

You’re planning on going to University together as well, though that is still in the future, seeing as it will be a few more months until you’ll both finally graduate the academy. 

Really, Coriolanus is such a constant, important aspect in your life, you can’t imagine life without him. 

He’s always there for you - whether it be to laugh over a silly joke one of you two made or to hug and console you after a bad day or to look out for you and protect you. 

You’re inseparable, really, spending almost every moment together. 

Before, you’ve always thought of him as the protective older brother you’ve never had, but lately, your feelings towards him have changed - they’re not quite so pure and innocent anymore.

Lately, you’ve caught yourself staring at Coriolanus more and more often, gaze lingering on his bright blue eyes, his mischievous smirk, his blond curls or his toned, muscled arms or chest. 

When he hugs you, you can’t help but notice how good it feels to be pressed against his toned chest, feeling his heartbeat against your skin. 

When he reaches out a hand to brush a stray strand of hair from your face, you have to fight the urge to close your eyes and lean into his warm, comforting touch. 

When he reaches out to draw you closer, his hand settling possessively on your waist, the first thought in your head is that this - this feels right. You and Coryo together, as close as possible. 

And you can’t help but want, no, crave, more of it. 

More of Coryo, more of you two together, more of that dizzying, heady feeling you get whenever he touches you that sends your thoughts spiraling and makes your heartbeat go haywire. 

You’ve started to crave his touch more and more, always trying to come up with ways to inconspicuously touch him - letting your hand brush against his, laying a hand on his arm to steady yourself or reaching out a hand to brush a stray curl from his forehead. 

You feel yourself starting to get addicted to him more and more - and you have no idea how to stop it. 

Though, if you’re honest with yourself- you don’t want to stop it. 

You want to get lost in this snow storm of feelings. 

“Let’s go through this one more time”, Coryo says from his place at your desk, prompting a sigh from you. 

“Coryo”, you say, whining, “we’ve been going through this this whole afternoon. I think you’ve got it. Besides, the test is not until next Monday, you’ve got the whole weekend to continue studying - not that you need it.” 

“You know that I can’t afford to get anything other than an A on this test, right?”, Coryo replies, sighing. 

“And you know that you’ll get an A, even without studying, Coryo”, you reply, finally sitting up from your sprawled-out position on your bed. 

You can see Coryo shaking his head, about to say something else, so you hastily add: “Please, Coryo. I know how much you worry about your grades - I get it, I really do. But, you’ve slowly been driving me insane this afternoon, I can’t go through this stuff yet again, at least not right now.” 

When Coryo doesn’t reply immediately, you nervously bite down on your lower lip. You didn’t want to sound so mean, but the truth is that he has been driving you crazy this afternoon. You’ve already gone through all your notes of ancient history three times and you really don’t want to go all through 18 pages - front and back, in Coryo’s small, neat handwriting no less - of notes yet again. 

Coryo sighs frustratedly. 

You look up, only to find his intense gaze fixed on you, his blue eyes boring into yours. “I’m sorry, you’re right”, he says, sighing again and running a hand through his blond curls. “Maybe I just need to take a break-“ 

“That sounds wonderful”, you say, cutting him off before he has the chance to add a but to his suggestion. 

You get up from your bed, walking over to your desk and grab both of Coryo’s hands, trying to get him to get up, but Coryo doesn’t cooperate, becoming a dead weight to you. 

“Coryo, come on”, you plead, huffing a sigh of frustration, when he still makes no move to get up. 

You take another step closer to him, putting even more strength into the motion of your arms - just when Coryo smirks up at you, before tugging hard on your hands, causing you to stumble forward; right into his lap. 

“Asshole!”, you exclaim, pushing against his chest with your hands, but Coryo doesn’t budge. 

He just looks up at you with a triumphant smirk, a daring expression in his blue eyes. Daring you to do what exactly, you’re not quite sure. You just know that you’re trapped in his gaze, unable to do anything but look at him and get lost in his blue, blue eyes. 

And - this isn’t the first time that something like this has happened lately. In fact, lately you’ve found Coryo’s eyes lingering on you more and more often, his intense gaze seemingly burning you. 

And it should frighten you, how much you’ve come to crave the feeling of his eyes on you. And it does, but there’s something else there as well - a yearning for his attention that hasn’t been there before. 

The soft sound of Coryo chuckling at your scowling expression draws you out of your thoughts. 

“Need some help?”, he asks you, smirking. 

You huff a sigh of frustration, trying to push against his chest again - at the same time that Coryo tugs on your arms again, causing you to shift even more forward in his lap, until you’re pressed flush against his strong, muscular chest. 

Flustered, you feel your cheeks warming, your heartbeat quickening. Coryo is so, so close to you, you can feel his breath on your skin, his heartbeat under your hands. 

And - well, you’re sitting right in his lap, and once you’ve worked through your initial confusion at his sudden closeness, you can feel something else as well. Something hard pressed against your stomach- 

Coryo clears his throat then, gently pushing you away. You stumble, disoriented from the sudden motion, but then Coryo’s hand is there on your waist, steadying you. 

He leans in even closer towards you, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. He smiles softly, as if nothing has just happened. “You were saying something about taking a break?” 

You swallow, trying to calm your still erratic heartbeat and forcing a smile onto your face. “Sure. How about a snack and some hot chocolate?” 

“Finally satisfied with all the torture you’ve put me through today?”, you say, yawning, when you see Coriolanus finally closing his folder - you feel like you’ve been studying for ages and you never want to see his ancient history notes ever again. 

He laughs softly, the sound reverberating against your back. You don’t quite know how you’ve ended up in this position - both of you on your bed, Coryo sitting behind you, you sitting between his legs, your head leaning against his chest. 

It shouldn’t feel so good, being this close to him, especially after that incident earlier this afternoon- that still has your mind reeling and your cheeks heating up whenever you think about it -, but it does. 

In fact, now that you’ve got a taste of it, you don’t ever want it to stop. 

You bite down hard on your lip, trying - and failing - to stop this dangerous line of thinking. Because allowing yourself to let your thoughts spiral like this, allowing yourself to feel this nervous, heated energy that’s coursing through your veins, instead of suppressing it, like you’ve done until now - is dangerous. 

It will only lead you down a road of heartbreak. Yet you can’t seem to find it in you to hit the brakes and stop. 

„Torture?“, Coryo now says, drawing you out of your thoughts. „You seem to be in an awfully good mood for suffering through a whole afternoon of torture.“

You can’t help but smile at his words, though you’re glad that Coryo isn’t able to see it - he’d just call you out and tease you for smiling like an idiot to yourself. 

„Yes, well, going through eighteen pages of notes - front and back - four times is torture-“, your words are cut off by a surprised, startled yelp, when suddenly, Coryo starts tickling you. 

„No - Coryo, please!“, you manage to get out, but he’s unrelenting, only tickling you harder despite your protests. 

Both his hands are wrapped around your waist and your back is pressed flush against his broad chest. And even though you’re still giggling, trying to fight him off, you can also feel that nervous, heady feeling that sends your thoughts and heartbeat haywire again. 

You give up trying to fight him off, then, which Coryo immediately notices. He laughs softly, before finally ending his tickling attack and resting his head on the crook of your neck. „Enough torture for today?“, he asks and you can hear the smirk in his voice. 

You try to turn around to face him then, but both his hands are still on your waist, trapping you in place. „You’re a jerk, you know that, right?“, you say, though your voice doesn’t sound quite as steady and dry as you’d intended it to. 

Coriolanus just laughs, the sensation of his warm breath ghosting over your skin causing you to shiver involuntarily. „You’ve never complained before.“ 

You huff, rolling your eyes. „Well, you’ve never bothered to acknowledge it.“ 

„Mhm, that’s probably for the best …“ 

You roll your eyes again - his answer is just so typically Coryo. 

„What, no witty retort?“, Coriolanus asks, but you only shake your head, yawning.

„We both know that you can be quite the jerk, ’s nothing new … besides, it’s late …“, you mumble, trying to suppress another yawn and leaning back against his chest again. It is late - already way past eleven, the street outside your window already dark, safe for the streetlights. 

You close your eyes, wishing that you could just stay like this, wrapped in Coryo’s comforting embrace, if only for a short moment longer.

„You’re right, it’s late“, Coriolanus now says. „I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have held you up so long, I should get going …“ 

„Or you could stay.“ 

The words are out of your mouth before you’ve thought them through and you can feel yourself flushing again. Now, you’re really glad that you’re still facing away from Coriolanus - you feel like you’d die from embarrassment if he could see your face going beet-red. 

„I could …“, he says, his voice uncertain. 

„Yes … you, uh, could …“, you say, feeling your cheeks heat up. You’re glad that Coriolanus isn’t able to see it - really, you’re just glad that he hasn’t noticed how weird you’ve been acting around him lately, your heartbeat picking up, your cheeks flushing, your hands getting sweaty when being around him; sometimes just from a single touch or a lingering look from Coryo. 

It’s not like you’ve never done this before, like this has never happened before. This wouldn’t be the first time that Coriolanus sleeps over at your place. In fact, he used to do so a lot when you were younger, right after his parents died and he was plagued with nightmares. It stopped happening as often when you both got older, and now, it hasn’t happened in years. 

And somehow him sleeping over at your place now seems to be something totally different than him sleeping over at your place when you were both little kids. 

You’re not little kids anymore - you’ve changed. You both have. Your friendship has changed, evolved as well. 

Coriolanus is still your best friend, the one person you wouldn’t want to live without; but somehow, he’s not just that. He means something more to you as well, something else, something much less innocent than friendship-

„Yes, I could - I mean, only if that’s alright with you and your mother-“

„Sure“, you interrupt him, your voice sounding incredibly high and nervous. Fuck, you think, running a hand through your hair, and trying to calm your erratic heartbeat. „I mean, it’s no big deal …“ 

Lie. 

It is a big deal, but it’s probably for the best that Coriolanus doesn’t know that the thought of falling asleep right next to him excites you way more than it probably should. 

Coriolanus laughs softly. „Great … Should we get ready for bed then? It’s quite late and you always take ages getting ready for bed-“

„Just admit that you need your beauty sleep“, you interrupt him, teasing him back. You don’t need to turn around to know that he’s rolling his eyes at your remark. 

„Exactly“, he says, dryly, before gently losing his embrace and getting up. 

You follow him to the bathroom, your mind still spiraling. Just minutes earlier, you were complaining about going through Coryo’s ancient history notes four times; now, you’re following your best friend to the bathroom that’s connected to your room, to get ready for bed - with your best friend who’s sleeping over. 

In your bathroom, you hand Coriolanus a spare toothbrush, a comb and a towel, trying to ignore the tingly feeling in your fingertips when your hands brush against his. But then, he draws you closer with one hand, his hand resting on your waist for just a moment too long and you’re blushing again, the thought that you shouldn’t feel so excited and nervous about your best friend sleeping over already forgotten again. 

It takes you quite some time to get ready for bed. Not, as Coriolanus keeps insisting, because of your way too long and time consuming evening routine; but because of him distracting you with his lingering touches and stolen glances - messing your hair up again right after you’ve combed through it; catching your gaze in the mirror over the sink again and again while you’re brushing your teeth; drawing you closer just when you’re about to reach for your night cream. 

It’s way past midnight when you’re finally laying down in bed - right next to Coriolanus, who turns to look at you with a soft smile on his face after you’ve reached for the bedsheets, drawing them over you both. 

He scoots closer to you, before wrapping an arm around your waist, bringing you even closer to him, your back flush against his chest - the gesture so casual and natural, as if it doesn’t make your heartbeat go haywire. 

„Good night“, he whispers, before resting his head on the crook of your neck. 

Your heart skips a beat then. 

„Good- good night, Coryo“, you manage to get out, your voice wobbly. 

You close your eyes, though you already know that actually falling asleep will be almost impossible - how are you supposed to just fall asleep with Coriolanus right there, your back pressed against his chest, his hand on your waist, his head resting on the crook of your neck? 

No - you probably won’t even catch a single second of sleep this night. 

But somehow, that doesn’t sound too bad. (Not when you get to spend the night like this, with your best friend wrapped around you.) 

The next morning, you’re the first one awake. 

Coriolanus is still soundly asleep, his even breath ghosting over your skin, causing you to shiver. You’re in almost the same position as you were when you fell asleep, with Coriolanus’s hand on your stomach, his head resting on your shoulder. 

You were right, you think, yawning, you didn’t get much sleep. It took you ages to fall asleep, your mind still reeling from Coriolanus’s overwhelming closeness. You must have fallen asleep at some point though, because you distinctly remember waking from Coriolanus tightening his hold on you and muttering some unintelligible. 

You yawn again, carefully turning around to face Coriolanus. 

He’s still asleep. 

You can’t help but let your gaze linger on him, study his face - as if you haven’t already memorized every single one of his features. He looks so calm and peaceful when he sleeps, his expression soft and open. 

Without thinking, you reach up with one hand and brush a stray blond curl from his forehead. The motion seems to wake Coriolanus though, because his eyes flutter open, and then he’s looking at you - his blue gaze still a bit disoriented, but you feel caught up in his gaze nonetheless. 

„Hey“, he says, his voice still a bit sleepy, „sleep well?“ 

You quickly withdraw your hand, forcing a smile onto your face. „Well, could’ve been better if you hadn’t snored so loudly“, you say, trying to sound nonchalant. 

Coriolanus just scoffs. „I do not snore“, he says, indignant. 

No, you think, but you still kept me awake all night long, just by having your hand splayed across my stomach, your head resting on my shoulder. 

Still, you force yourself to shrug. „Easy for you to say.“ 

Coriolanus just scoffs again. But even though he’s annoyed by your comment, shooting you another indignant look, you can’t help but think that you want to spend every single morning just like this. 

You want to wake up right next to Coriolanus every morning - something you shouldn’t even be thinking about, but something that you still desperately crave nonetheless.  

It becomes a habit, then - Coryo sleeping over at your place.

At first, he only does it after one of your study sessions, once or twice a week. But then, it starts happening more and more often - him sleeping over after a movie night (considering that it took you a lot of convincing to get him to finally agree to a movie night, he seems to be enjoying himself quite a lot, cuddling up to you on your living room couch, resting his head on the crook of your neck, sending your heartbeat haywire) or after an evening of cooking together or after a long evening spent together at the Academy’s library, finishing an assignment for Professor Sickle.

At first, you don’t really think anything of it. 

But then, one Sunday morning you’re going through your clothes (for once, Coryo didn’t sleep over at your place, because he and Tigris promised the Grandm’am an early breakfast before helping her out with her roses) and suddenly,  you realize that there’s a whole stack of Coryo’s clothes in your closet. Dress shirts, plain shirts, pants, even one of his favorite shirts - it’s all here, in your closet. 

Without allowing yourself to think too much about it, you grab a simple long-sleeved grey shirt from the stack with Coryo’s clothes and put it on. (It’s oversized, the sleeves way too long, but you don’t care, the shirt is so soft and comfortable. And besides - it still smells like Coryo, like roses and powder and something else, something that’s entirely him.) 

After throwing on some simple, comfortable pants as well, you walk over to your bathroom - and startle when you see the box with Coryo’s things on one side of the big, marble sink. A toothbrush, a comb, even a small tube of Tigris’s face cream that he secretly uses - you’re the only one who knows and he’d made you swear not to tell a single living soul that fact. 

You smile at the memory, absentmindedly running a hand through your hair and letting your eyes wander through the bathroom. 

But everywhere you look, you see Coriolanus. Everything seems to somehow remind you of him. 

That towel on the sink, which is lying neatly folded right next to the box with Coryo’s stuff. It’s one of your own towels, nothing special in your opinion - you’ve got lot of other towels and really, a towel is just a towel - but Coryo insists that it’s softer than your other towels and feels better on his skin. 

That old butterfly-shaped hairpin of yours, lying abandoned on the windowsill. You only have to look at it to be taken back to Thursday night when you were getting ready for bed, brushing your hair in front of the great mirror over the sink, when suddenly Coryo walked into your bathroom, your old hairpin in hand. 

„That’s the hairpin you got for your tenth birthday, isn’t it?“, he asked, smiling to himself. 

You nodded. „Yes, I thought about giving it away, maybe gifting it to my little cousin, because I don’t really think that it suits me anymore.“ 

Coryo’s smile seemed to freeze at your words. „Really? I still think it looks great, look“, he said, drawing you closer with one hand whilst reaching up with his other hand to place to pin in your hair. 

„See?“, he said, smiling. 

You laughed, shaking your head. „I mean, yes, it’s beautiful, but I’m not ten anymore, Coryo.“ 

You wanted to put the hairpin away, but Coriolanus insisted on you keeping it just a little longer - maybe you’d change your mind about it. 

You reach for that hairpin now, absentmindedly running your fingers over it. Coriolanus is right, the pin is beautiful, even though it looks a bit worn down after years of usage. 

You decide to keep the pin, then. Not because you think that you’ll wear it again, but as another reminder of Coryo. 

It is in this moment that you realize that your feelings towards your best friend have changed - you no longer view him as just your best friend. 

You no longer want him like a best friend. 

You don’t want to be just his best friend anymore - you want so much more than that. You want - no need - his attention, want his lingering eyes on you, want his warm, comforting touch before falling asleep, want to wake up next to him, want to feel his lips on yours. 

You tighten your grip on the hairpin, until you feel it starting to dig uncomfortably in your skin, but the pain still can’t distract you from your thoughts and the heavy, crushing feeling in your chest. 

Because no matter how much you might want to be more than Coryo’s best friend - to him, you’ll never be anything else. He’ll never see you as anything other than his best friend. 

It somehow becomes both easier and harder to be around Coryo after your realization. 

Easier, because it means that you still get to be around him, get to talk with him, fall asleep with him at your side, ly next to on your bed while he’s motivating you to study. 

Harder, because it means that you still get to be around him - all the time. Looking at him, laughing with him, touching him; fantasizing about him in ways that you definitely shouldn’t think about your best friend. 

His presence is almost like a drug to you; addicting and intoxicating, leaving you craving more of it, even though you know that it’s not good for you - in the end it’ll be your heart that’ll be broken. 

„Something on your mind?“, Coryo’s soft voice draws you out of your thoughts, his hand absentmindedly drawing circles on your back. 

It’s already late evening and you’re lying together in your bed - you wearing one of his shirts, which he noticed with a satisfied smirk earlier, over your nightdress. 

You shake your head, thankful that Coriolanus can’t see your face, seeing as he’s spooning you from behind. „Not really, no … just all these papers we’ll have to hand in during the next two weeks …“ 

„Well, if it’s nothing else …“, Coriolanus says, laughing softly, his warm breath tickling against your skin, but something tells you that he doesn’t quite believe your words. 

„Nope“, you say, trying to sound nonchalant, before freeing yourself from Coriolanus’s grip, taking off his shirt, so that you’re left in only your lacy, red nightdress. 

The distraction works - Coriolanus’s swallows, the expression in his eyes darkening. „Won’t you - uhm, freeze? If you’re only sleeping in that, I mean, it doesn’t look very warm …“, he stutters - actually stutters. 

„Freeze?“, you ask, grinning, „with you right next to me?“ 

Coriolanus just scoffs, rolling his eyes. It’s a discussion you’ve had quite often these last few weeks - with you convinced that his body temperature is too high, and him convinced that yours is running too low. 

Though maybe Coryo does have a point and you always feeling so hot when you’re being embraced by him has more to do with your heartbeat quickening and your palms turning sweaty from being so near to him and less with his body temperature. 

Suddenly, Coriolanus sits up, leaning in towards you, before closing both his arms around you, caging you in his embrace. Both of his hands are splayed possessively over your stomach, though one feels dangerously close to your chest. 

Though - maybe that is just your imagination running wild with you again.  

„Warm enough for you?“, Coriolanus asks, resting his head on the crook of your neck, his warm breath tickling your skin. 

You laugh, trying not to squirm - you’re insanely ticklish, something Coriolanus very much know. „Yes, Coryo, more than enough …“ 

„Hm …“, he laughs softly. „Can’t have you freezing now, can I?“, he adds, reaching for your blanket and draping it around you both. 

„Hm ...“, you hum, closing your eyes and leaning your head back against his chest. You feel so warm and content, being so close to Coryo. It’s so easy to get lost in your imagination like that, to pretend that you can actually have this with him, to pretend that this is not just your best friend messing around with you - to pretend that he feels the same way you do. 

You stay like that for a moment - Coryo holding you in his arms, bodies pressed flush together. 

Then, after a while - you can’t tell whether it’s been only a few minutes or a few hours; time always seems to either stop or pass you by in a blur whenever you’re with Coriolanus - he clears his throat, breaking his embrace. 

„It’s late, we should probably try to get some sleep …“, he says, trying to suppress a yawn. 

You nod, forcing a smile onto your face. „Sure … can’t have your mind in a foggy, exhausted state when you want to make a good impression in Sickle’s class tomorrow morning …“ 

Coriolanus scoffs, laying down on your bed. 

The moment you’ve lain down as well, he scoots closer to you, enclosing you in his arms. Something he does every night when he sleeps over, though your heart still skips a beat at the action. 

This is dangerous, you think. You can’t keep thinking about your best friend like that, can’t keep falling and falling for him- 

„Good night“, Coriolanus says - and then he does something he’s never done before: he leans in closer towards you, pressing a gentle, soft kiss to your hairline. 

Your heartbeat quickens and you can only hope that Coryo won’t be able to pick up on it. 

„Good - good night, Coryo“, you say, your voice shaky, barely being able to get the words out. 

Coriolanus laughs, before resting his head on the crook of your neck again. 

You swallow, trying not to shiver. 

This night, it takes you a long time to fall asleep. 

When you wake up, Coriolanus has wrapped himself around you, caging you in between his arms, one of his hands splayed possessively across your stomach, his other hand dangerously close to the hem of your admittedly quite short night dress. (You may have decided on deliberately wearing this particular lacy red night dress, seeing as it has made Coriolanus look at you with a dark expression in his eyes when he’d seen you wearing it once before.)

His strong, muscled chest is pressed flush against your back - though that’s not the only thing pressed against your back. 

You feel your cheeks heat up when you realize what this means. This has only happened two times before, and both times Coriolanus was quick to embarresedly scoot away from you when he woke up, realizing that his erection had been pressed against your back. 

Now, though, Coriolanus seems to be asleep and in no hurry to move away from you. In fact, he suddenly makes a low muffled noise, his grip on you tightening, his hand at the hem of your night dress moving up even higher until you can feel his fingertips brush over the soft skin of your inner thighs. 

You can’t help the surprised noise that escapes you then - even though all of this should feel so wrong; it doesn’t. 

It doesn’t feel wrong at all. In fact, you want - no, crave even more of this, of you and Coryo pressed so closely together that not even a single leaf could fit between you, Coriolanus’s hands on you, his face pressed into the crook of your neck. 

You’re pulled out of your thoughts when Coriolanus suddenly says your name, his lips brushing against your skin, causing you to shiver. 

„Cory?“, you ask, trying to turn around, but his grip on you is too tight, keeping you in place. 

Then - your name falling from his lips again, followed by a loud, coarse moan. 

„Yes, right there - fuck, so good, so good“, Coriolanus moans, one hand suddenly finding its way under the skirt of your night dress, his fingers moving up higher and higher on your thighs, coming dangerously close to the hem of your panties-

„Fuck!“ Another loud moan, followed by Coriolanus’s hips moving against yours, his erection pressing against you. 

Oh, you think, cheeks impossibly warm, biting down hard on your lip to keep yourself from making any sound. 

Besides your imagination running wild these last few weeks, one dirty fantasy of you and your best friend chasing the other, this has never happened to you. You thought that it never would happen to you - at least not with Coryo. 

Though he’s only caught up in a dream of his own, you try to remind yourself, when his hips move against yours again. 

It’s only a dream. But why is it your name that he’s moaning then, not any other? But maybe it’s just a coincide-

Every single thought is wiped from your head, when Coriolanus’s fingers brush over your panties, teasing your clit though the thin fabric. 

You can’t help the moan that escapes you then - not when this feels so good, Coriolanus’s fingers teasing over your clit, his hips moving against yours, his lips pressed to the skin of your neck, his other hand still splayed across your stomach. 

Coriolanus moans your name again then, his fingers cupping your cunt through the thin fabric of your panties, and you find yourself moving your hips against his, driven by pure instinct. 

The low, coarse groan that escapes Coriolanus then has you wanting to squeeze your thighs together, but his fingers are still there, still teasing over your clit. 

Suddenly, his fingers start to move, drawing teasing circles over your clit, and it’s all too much for you. Overwhelmed by all the different emotions coursing through you, you tear yourself away from his grip, getting up on shaky feet and walking over to the bathroom that’s connected to your bedroom. 

Your head is still spinning when you find yourself leaning against the cold, marble walls of the bathroom, your core still aching, yearning for Coriolanus’s touch. 

You shiver, even though you feel too hot, your skin feeling like it’s been set on fire. Coriolanus touched you. Your best friend’s fingers were almost inside you and- 

Fuck. 

Fuck, you’ll never able to look your best friend in the eyes again, even though all you want is to be as close to him as you were moments ago. 

Acting on pure instinct, you shimmy out of your nightdress, letting it fall to the floor, before stepping inside the shower. Maybe a good, cold shower, will help, you think, turning on the shower. 

You step back, letting the cold water hit your body. But even though the cold water feels like needles prickling against your skin, you still feel as if your entire body was set on fire, your core still aching and empty. 

Almost on their own accord, your fingers find their way to your clit. You bite down hard on your lip, trying to blink back the tears in your eyes that are suddenly threatening to spill. 

Still, you can’t help the low moan that escapes you when your fingers find their way between your folds. 

You close your eyes, letting your head fall back - letting pure instinct take over, as you fuck yourself on your fingers, wishing that it were Coryo’s fingers filling you up instead. 

When you come, it’s with a desperate, breathless cry and images of Coriolanus pressed against you playing over and over again in your mind.

What you don’t know, though, is that Coriolanus has been awake all this time - every single touch was a deliberate, strategic move on his part and you’d reacted even better than he could have imagined. He followed you to the bathroom when you got up from bed, and now he’s watching you come undone from his position behind the door that you forgot to properly lock in your haste.

He feels like he’s going crazy, crawling out of his skin as he watches you screw your eyes shut, throwing your head back. Your breathless whimpers and moans are all that he can hear, echoing through his mind. 

Wracked with shame, guilt and desire coursing through him, he shoves one hand into his pants, his eyes still fixated on you. 

It only takes a few strokes over his already achingly hard length until he comes undone as well. 

And when he unravels, it is with your breathless moans echoing through his mind, his eyes on you, and your name like a bittersweet, deadly poison that he just can’t get enough of on his lips. 

sooo ...? please, please lmk what you think, I'm so excited to hear your thoughts!

taglist:

@asapkyndall @slitsphilia @ravenclawprincess33 @mckennah123 @serving-targaryen-realness @mentallyyy-unstable @mizuki80 @snows-wife @prettyinsatiable @ashcosmo @generally-awqward @snowflxke @nallasstuff @ajs-222 @spiritofbuddha @notyourwildestdream @earthangel-111 @bhdem @toogardenheart @iheartinkonpaper @daisiesformylove @ebsmind @dominqueeekk @cherrybomb8484 @dangelnleif @minmin1328 @scarletttargaryen

tumblr won’t let me tag some of you guys, please check your settings (settings —> general —> mentions —> anyone) whether anyone can tag you in posts! :)

comment if you want to be added to the taglist!

#coriolanus x reader #coriolanus snow #coriolanus smut #coriolanus x you #coriolanus imagine #coriolanus x y/n #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow smut #coriolanus snow x you #coryo snow x reader #tom blyth #tom blyth x reader #thg #tbosas #x reader #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #the hunger games #don't want you like a best friend #maysileeewrites

[angelltheninth]

5 and/or 11 from the recent writing prompt list for gojo, please, if you don't mind? 👀

You know I don't mind writing for my bae Gojo.

Pairing: Gojo Satoru x Fem!Reader

Tags: nsfw, smut, established relationship, grinding, clothed sex, making out, reunion kiss, flirting

Word count: 0.6k

A/N: Bit of angst here but nothing too bad, mostly smut.

11. Hands desperately clutching at one another, gasping into each other’s mouths as if you were starved of one another.

Almost a month. That's how long you and Gojo has been apart. You ran through the hall frantically, rushing to open that door and fall into his arms. More like crash against him this time but that didn't matter nearly as much as kissing him.

You pulled each other close, his hands scrambling to lock the door as best as he could with him being so occupied. After a few failed attempts he succeeded, following it up with grabbing your thighs and helping you wrap them around his lower back.

This freed his hands to travel across your body, groping and squeezing your breasts through your clothes, reaching back to your ass and guiding it down to grind against his pulsing bulge.

"Gojo, missed you." You moaned into his mouth, barely getting a word in between your tongues fighting for dominance. "I need you so bad right now."

"I missed you too babe. Felt like I was gonna go crazy without you there." It was a hard decision to split you two for missions but it was made after you got into way too many distractions which resulted in you nearly losing track of the demon. You were a new couple, very much in your horny honeymoon phase. Just so happened that you were also a very strong duo. Taking you off this mission made it take longer. "Shit. I won't last long. I couldn't touch myself for the whole week, my cock's about to fucking explode if I don't get all this cum out."

Gojo rarely complained like this, mostly because you had a very active sex life. Neither of you went neglected, all your needs met. "Come for me then." You grunted against his lips while rolling your hips and grabbing at his belt. Undoing his pants provided him some relief but it wasn't enough, it only made the stickiness between your thighs harder to ignore.

Neither of you had the self control to say quiet about your make out session, moaning and gasping into each other's mouth while Gojo's hips pick up speed, his cock now fully straining in his pants and leaving a dark spot on them.

"'Bout to come. Watch me come for you." Gojo moved you against the wall where you could lean back and enjoy the show he was putting on. His hands pushed your skirt up, smirking at how wet your underwear was. "Close too?"

You didn't trust your words so you nodded quickly, grabbing at the roots of his hair and pulling him close, lips so close but not touching, feeling each other getting closer to your inevitable release. Gojo let out one last strained groan as his cum dirtied his boxers, and moments later your hand as you stroked the last of his cum onto your hand.

He watched as that same hand pushed past your underwear and you rolled your hips against it, spreading the cum around your pussy and clit until your body shook against his. Gojo pulled you close, holding you through your high, "We have to make them let us go on missions again. This will drive me mad, I can't keep edging like this every time."

"I don't know, you get pretty wild when you're on edge." Your sadistic smile caused his cock to twitch again but his face was far from happy. "Oh relax! I'm kidding. I want to go on more missions with you too. But I don't think two new Sorcerer's will change anyone's mind."

That was the sad truth of your current position. After you got more field experience the decision might change. For now at least you'd have to learn to keep your hands to yourselves. It might be good for you to have some time apart if this frantic make out and dry humping session was any indication.

#jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jjk imagines #gojo satoru imagine #gojo imagine #jujutsu kaisen headcanons #jjk headcanons #gojo satoru headcanons #gojo headcanons #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk smut #gojo satoru smut #gojo smut #jujutsu kaisen drabbles #jjk drabbles #gojo satoru drabble #gojo drabbles #gojo x reader smut #x female reader

[mypoisonedvine]

100 random dialogue prompts

truly random, there's a mix of angsty and smutty and fluffy in here. as a result it's nsfw and 18+ :)

"who did this to you?"

"where are you going dressed like that?"

"this isn't enough anymore. I need more of you-- all of you."

"I'm not angry, I just get tired of watching you get hurt."

"don't say stuff like that, it gets me all... confused."

"just lie to me, okay? just this once."

"I never said I didn't feel the same way."

"you should go... before someone sees."

"I hate how you make it impossible to hate you."

"too good for you? don't be ridiculous-- they don't deserve you."

"fuck, do that again... please."

"you promise you're going to behave this time?"

"oh please, you knew what you were doing... you wanted to drive me crazy."

"no, it's not over. it's never over."

"so you're saying even if we were the last people on Earth--?" "nope."

"sooo... is everything supposed to just go back to normal after that?"

"you can't ignore me. not anymore."

"it's not what it looks like!" "is that a picture of me?!"

"you really didn't notice that I was falling in love with you?"

"is this really the last time?"

"I'm sorry, I swear I tried, but I just can't get over you."

"do you really think that toy can replace me?"

"don't tell me how to feel."

"forgive me, but I'm not feeling very patient right now."

"you could do so much better than me."

"what would they think if they saw you right now?"

"I didn't know you could be so obedient."

"you can take it."

"you were never my fallback-- I always wanted you."

"yeah, I want to, but... wouldn't it be weird?"

"don't act like you never thought about it before."

"I wish they could all know about us."

"you're the best mistake I ever made."

"no, I don't hate you... I'm angry, but I don't think I could ever really hate you."

"let's just stop now before anybody's feelings get hurt."

"don't get my hopes up if you're just gonna leave like everyone else."

"I can't let it end like this."

"if you do what you're told, you'll get a reward."

"what's gotten into you? you're being so... naughty."

"I think we're on a first name basis by now."

"don't do that... don't act like you don't feel this too."

"it was never just sex."

"I wish I'd met you sooner."

"you can tell me anything."

"why do we have to get out of bed again?"

"I think this is my favorite way to wake up."

"I was already yours."

"there's no way that was just a one-night thing."

"if you can look me in the eye and tell me you want me to go, I'll go."

"has anybody else ever made you feel like this?"

"it feels like we were made for each other."

"I just wanted to say I'm sorry, and I miss you."

"I have an idea to make them jealous."

"just one more kiss?"

"do you really expect me to believe this is what you want?"

"if you say you're happy with them, I'll believe you. or at least I'll try to."

"I can think of a more fun way you can thank me."

"no, I'm in charge tonight, remember?"

"if you keep doing that, this might end a little too soon."

"hey, you lost the bet, fair and square."

"stop imagining it!" "I'm sorry, but I can't get it out of my head!"

"it's too bad we never did. we would've been great together."

"I never thought I'd hear you talk like that."

"oh, fuck me--" "okay." "what? it's just a figure of speech..."

"were you joking? I wasn't joking."

"admit it: you had a crush on me!"

"I just need you to hold me right now."

"friends can cuddle, right?"

"I wouldn't have picked this for movie night if I'd known it had so many sex scenes..."

"they're great but... they're not you."

"I always thought it would be me and you in the end."

"you're not actually trying to convince me that was a friendly kiss, are you?"

"if you hate me so much, how come you keep coming back?"

"do you remember getting drunk and calling me last night?"

"I'm free tonight if you still need a date for that thing you're going to."

"I'd do anything for you."

"I think I finally get what all those love songs are about."

"it's weird being here again... so many memories."

"I wish you'd give me a chance."

"I never meant to hurt you."

"just come to dinner with me. it doesn't have to be weird."

"seeing you with them made me realize you should be with me."

"just ask yourself for once: what do you want?"

"okay, okay, I'll leave-- as soon as I can find my pants."

"we need to be more careful next time."

"wait, why are you in my bed? did we...?"

"I took you for granted, I know. but I want to treat you right this time."

"kiss me like you mean it."

"keep the lights on, I want to see you."

"is it just me, or does your celebrity crush look a lot like me?"

"we promised we wouldn't let this affect our friendship."

"no, don't cry-- if you start crying, I'll start crying!"

"I want to see my marks on you tomorrow."

"don't act innocent, it's not going to work with me."

"is this really turning you on? I'm not even doing anything."

"come look at the stars with me."

"I lov--" "no, don't say anything. you'll kill the moment."

"what happens next in your fantasy?"

"I probably shouldn't tell you this but... you were in my dream last night."

"why do you still wear the hoodie I left at your place?"

#fic prompt #writing prompt #dialogue prompt

[aft3rhrs]

— hangman ღ

number: unknown. pt 2.

pairing: jungkook x reader

genre: strangers to lovers

warnings: dead dove, yandere, smoking, manipulation, corruption, allusions to depression and anxiety, allusions to past familial abuse, kidnapping, drugging, hints of fear kink (mind games, mentions & threats of snuff and necrophilia), allusions to cnc, mentions of stalking, angst, obsession, dub con, humiliation, praise, choking, possessiveness, outdoor sex, rough sex, dirty talk, use of triggering words in an erotic and degrading manner* (listed under the cut), creampie, mindbreak (??? a tiny bit), aftercare, mentions of murder and corpses, revenge themes, softer towards the end

*use of the word “rapist”.

masterlist

It's been three weeks since Jungkook has started seeing you in clubs. Five weeks of silence since the last phone call. It didn't take too long for you to let your guard down, a tempting invitation for a predator like him. Were you passing time drinking, hoping he would finally come around and see where you've been hiding? Terrified of the moment fantasy bleeds into reality, but unable to resist its pull?

He didn't have to wait long to find out.

He caught when you were walking home, heart throbbing the moment he finally felt your warmth. The thick shadows of the alley concealed your bodies, and if anyone were to walk by, they'd see nothing but a pair of lovers embracing in the dark.

No one would notice the cloth damp from chloroform pressed into your mouth, or the way his voice made your frightened form soften in his arms.

"It's okay," he shushed. "It's just me, baby..."

A monster familiar was better than a beast unknown.

"I'm sorry, I just need you to take a nap. I'll take care of you. I promise."

He pressed his lips into your forehead, stroking your hair as you limped in his hold, less conscious by the minute. A kiss goodnight, marking your departure to the empty dreamland that swallowed you whole.

Jungkook scooped you up, carried you to his car, then laid you down at the back before starting the engine.

The drive was smooth, the roads long and dark, inky outlines of trees thickening as they stretched forward. The little dress you wore barely covered your legs, prompting Jungkook to turn the heating on; even if his jacket already kept you warm.

Two hours later, you began to stir.

Your eyes opened, hazy from sleep and the drug still running through your system. Your consciousness fluttered awake slowly, along with all of your senses. You registered the feeling of Jungkook's heat blanketing you, his arm tight around your waist, keeping you tucked into his chest. You registered the weight of his hand cradling your cheek, and the smell of his cologne, mingling with leather.

"Had a good nap?" He murmured, his breath tickling your lips.

You blinked a few times, taking in the dimness of his car, and then the hooded eyes staring right into yours.

As if the reality of the situation just dawned on you, you startled, an incomprehensible protest fleeing your mouth. Your body seemed too weak to fight, however, and your mind wasn't in a much better place.

Jungkook buried his face in your neck when you jumped, brushing his nose along the smooth skin.

"Sorry, baby. I know you're tired, and we haven't seen each other in so long—" he whispered. "I've been going crazy without you."

You shivered promptly, your brain still muddled and heart thumping in your chest. You had no idea what was going on, and you were afraid to find out. Pride out the window, there was no denying that fact.

"But that's why tonight's a special occasion," Jungkook continued, still whispering. He lifted his head, the tip of his nose bumping into yours. "You know I'd do anything for you. Tonight I need you to do something for me."

You swallowed thickly. You wished you had the energy to slap him, kick him, bite him; but you felt too heavy.

"Go to hell," was all you managed, raspy and weak.

Jungkook chuckled. The sound made your blood boil. Fighting back only ever seemed to encourage his depraved nature, and it was humiliating, somehow, if not utterly discouraging.

"Hell is wherever I have to live without you," he mumbled into your cheek, "and trust me when I tell you, baby, you're never getting away from me again."

Your stomach sank, reaching depths you had no idea were possible. You watched him slip away from you to get out of the car, and the cold air that poured in wasn't the only reason your legs started shaking.

Like a gentleman, he reached for your hand and helped you out, most likely aware of how weak your knees felt. He steadied you against the door, letting you take in the dense woods surrounding you, the grim sight of empty branches twisting into the autumn sky.

You tried not to let the worst scenarios flood your head, yet it was a difficult wave to hold off; and impossible to run from.

"Where are we?"

Jungkook reached into his pocket.

"Out of town, little doe."

A glimmer of silver among the dark scenery caught your attention. You found yourself going rigid, staring at the shovel laying on the damp ground.

A click had your head snapping down. The barrel of a gun brushed against your hip, tender, like a lover's touch.

"Wanna get to work?"

The world tilted off its axis, your blood running cold, ice as blue as your veins.

You were going to die.

There was a small part of you that seemed to crack at the thought, prompting tears to burn your eyes. It wanted you to cry, plead him to stop and just take you home, to bed, so you could sleep it all away.

Yet a bigger part of you felt somewhat betrayed. He touched something dark inside of you, fed it until it bloomed, and now that you were so damaged he wanted you six feet under?

Jungkook bit his lip, a meek attempt at holding back a smile.

"Don't look at me like that. Not every girl gets to dig her own grave, you know. I even bought you flowers."

Still and silent as a statue, you didn't answer. The lump in your throat was too thick, the static in your head growing louder.

Jungkook leaned in, his gun languidly caressing your hip and plush lips teasing your ear.

"Here's your noose, baby. Are you ready for it?"

Your noose...

Were you supposed to trust him with it?

You were walking forward before you realized it, fists clenched and steps unsteady. You could have spent hours running through the woods, and you still wouldn't be able to escape him. Whether this was a sick game or your last night breathing, there was no denying that fact, either.

"You know what?" you snapped, grabbing the shovel, "I would rather die than spend another minute here with you."

You still tried to blink your tears away, refusing to give him the satisfaction, the last shreds of your dignity. You shoved the sharp edge of the tool into the earth, your vision blurred.

"I would rather die than ever see you again."

You were too busy throwing away the dirt, then digging in to gather more, to notice the way Jungkook's jaw tensed.

"I would rather be in the ground, than be around a psycho freak like you!"

The louder your voice rose, the more your throat ached, tears spilling over despite all your efforts. You continued to dig, completely disregarding seeing Jungkook walking towards you.

"Wow. I would watch your mouth if I were you, honey," he warned lowly, stopping a few inches behind you.

The shovel struck the earth again, a chill crawling down your spine.

"Ever gotten off to snuff porn?"

You froze, wide eyes staring into the ruined ground before you.

Jungkook ran his finger down your back, making you shiver.

"Well, I haven't. But I might start soon, with my personal little movie star, if you're not gonna be a good fucking girl."

The implication had your mouth instantly shut. You couldn't bear to turn around and look at him, or even run. Rooted to the place you stood in, withering away, like the trees that trapped you.

Jungkook snaked his arms around your waist, the gun still in his hand, flat against your abdomen.

"I don't like it when you lie, baby," he muttered, placing a kiss on your neck.

Your head was spinning strangely, shallow breaths leaving your lungs.

"Bet your pussy's wet. Probably been wet since I grabbed you. Bet it's clenching right now and you can't stand it, so you choose to be a fucking bitch... As always."

He kissed your neck once more, hot and breathy against your skin. Your knees almost buckled.

"You're so fucking dirty. Do you want me to snuff you out? Hmm?"

It was disgusting, the filth he spouted, the way he pressed himself closer to you, hard beneath his jeans. The way your tummy churned was worse, heat radiating on your skin despite the insistent brushes of the frigid wind.

"Want me to fuck you into that grave?"

You couldn't stop the tears, silent and hot, flowing in tandem with the slick sticking to your underwear. You still felt drugged out, your outburst doing nothing but leaving you hollow. Tiredness was beginning to take over, numbness spreading through your bones.

Maybe Jungkook was right. You were no better than him; aggression remaining your only self defense when you were left vulnerable. But now that it has faded, a quiet, devastating acceptance was starting to settle in.

You hated him — because you hated yourself. You wanted to be normal, to heal from the things that broke you. And every attempt ended in failure. Instead of encouraging you to try again, or critizing, Jungkook was the only person who wanted you as you were. In pieces.

He didn't mind getting cut on the shards. In fact, it seemed he'd be ecstatic to bleed for you, offer you everything he had. Toxic and twisted, no end to his devotion.

"Keep digging," he said hoarsely, then took a step back.

Like he was trying to stay in control.

You obeyed, sniffling quietly as you bent down to pick up the shovel.

He told you once that not everyone was made for this world; and you clearly weren't, but that was okay... because you were made for him. That you could keep trying to fit in and keep failing if you wanted — or let him in.

You didn't, and he crept inside anyway; a tender violence.

At this point, you didn't care much if you died or not. At least everything would be over. In the end, you didn't have much to wake up for.

Jungkook lit up a cigarette. He drank in the sight of sweat shining on your skin in the dim light of the moon, the shift in your demeanor as you continued digging.

"Easy," he called, blowing out smoke. "Don't hurt yourself, darling. That's my job. It doesn't need to be that deep."

You ignored him, no longer in the mood to talk. Or to provoke him any further, for that matter. Your arms almost trembled as the hole in the ground grew deeper, whether from strain or nerves, it was hard to tell. The thought of your body laying in the dirt, cold and forgotten, felt both unsettling and peaceful. As though nothing mattered anymore.

Jungkook watched you struggle, fingers stiff around the shovel, and yet you kept going, the scattered pile of dirt behind you increasing. He was pissed off, but finishing his cigarette soothed the fire, while noting how pale you've begun to turn put it out altogether.

He threw the bud away and jumped off the hood of his car to make his way towards you. His hand settled on your waist, pulling you up, while the other took a hold of the shovel.

"That's enough," he murmured, dropping it aside with a small thump. "Good girl."

You let yourself melt into death's arms.

Your head lolled to the side, exposing the expanse of your neck, unconsciously giving Jungkook the access he wanted. He kissed the tender flesh, squeezing your hips, still hard and hot beneath his jeans.

"The end is always a new beginning, baby."

You sighed, mascara wet and heavy on your lashes. Gently, Jungkook turned you around to face him, wiping the dark streaks from your face.

"I love you so much," he breathed into your lips.

His body was solid against yours. Your only source of warmth. Dizzy, you barely had the chance to glance up at him before he kissed you, swallowing your shaky exhale.

You let out a mellow squeal when his hands traveled down your legs, gripping your thighs to lift you with ease. For the first time you found yourself clinging to him, kissing him back with equal hunger instead of denial. You wanted to forget the world around you, the grave you've dug for yourself, much earlier than tonight.

Jungkook took a step, then another, before giving up entirely and lowering you down beside it, disconnecting your lips from his only the moment he hovered above you.

Pupils blown out, inky hair messy, he cupped your cheek, his heart thumping right against yours.

"Are you scared?" He asked softly, his thumb still wiping at your tears.

You stared up at him, trying to hold on to reality, but as always, your grip was slipping, and he was the only lifeline you had left. He stirred up the muddy waters in your heart, agitated the unbridled, starving things within their depths.

"Is this a punishment?" you found yourself uttering, barely a whisper.

Jungkook cocked his head to the side, his gaze flicking between your eyes and your lips.

"Mm, not really. Just a little game, to end all the others. And start something new."

You didn't know what to think or feel anymore, your hair splayed out on the ground, so cold beneath you, Jungkook's heat bleeding into your skin from above, and the world spinning.

You smacked his arm when he dipped down to mouth at your neck again; drained, the distorted hands under the water still reaching to pull him under with the remnants of your anger. He laughed, as though he found it adorable, immediately grabbing your face to kiss you again.

He didn't hesitate for a second, unzipping his jeans with one hand, and you could feel your core quiver against your better judgement. It was surprising to find that there was still some clarity left in you; or maybe it was easier to make peace with death than with the fact that you were your own traitor.

"Want me to fuck you in it?" Jungkook breathed, forcing your thighs apart.

You couldn't help the way your gaze fell down to his inked hand, wrapped around his cock. He tapped it against your inner thigh impatiently, precum wetting your skin. You clenched around thin air, spine tingling.

"The grave," he clarified, smirking.

The words finally hit you, and you shook your head, your hands frantically pushing at his chest.

"No!" you cried out, nails almost slashing the skin of his neck.

Jungkook grunted, pushing back, leaning his entire weight on you to put an end on your antics. Your breath hitched when you felt his fingers dip inside your underwear, pulling it aside abruptly. He didn't comment on how drenched the flimsy material was. The moment you were exposed, he was pushing inside you, incapable of focusing on anything but the warmth of your cunt.

The small hole stretched so nicely to accommodate him, fluttering around his cock. He groaned into your mouth, and your thighs shuddered around him, a restless heat boiling deep in your gut.

"You're so wet," he moaned, pulling back to feel the ring of muscles clench against his flushed tip, trying to suck him back in.

He shivered at the feeling, then proceeded to fuck himself in and out of you like he needed; like you both did. Hard.

"You're a filthy fucking minx, I shouldn't ask you anything unless I'm inside you. Your pussy won't lie to me, hm?"

Despite the whines he coaxed out of your throat, you shook your head, every wet slap of his cock thrusting in and out echoing through the woods. Imprinting on your brain.

"Oh yeah? How about we rewind a little, baby?"

He fucked you faster, angling his hips to find that little spot that made your mouth fall open. He wasn't going to go easy on it, or on you, chasing the high.

"What's gotten you so soaked?" He managed, panting. "Did you like the thought of me snuffing you out?"

Cheeks aflame, a choked out protest; and yet your pussy was getting tighter, soaking the thick grith pounding into it.

Jungkook let out a sound akin to a whimper, eyebrows scrunching.

"Fuck, I know you did," he leaned his forehead on yours, feeling his cock throb. "I know how much you want my cum, screaming or dead or asleep. And if I could live without you, baby, I'd do it for you, keep you so full of me."

A revolting insinuation; but you couldn't tell the difference between nausea and an approaching orgasm making your stomach twist.

Jungkook's lips inched towards yours, a deep groan rumbling out.

"That's it. Let it go. Let it all go, angel."

This was the way he wanted you to fall apart; on his big cock, tasting the kind of euphoria nothing and no one but him could offer. He felt his balls tighten, heavy as they slammed against you, almost ready to spill everything he had.

"Mm—" a sigh, a pause, hips grinding as his hand clutched your neck, feeling your pulse jump. "Yeah."

A drop of sweat slipped down his temple. Beautiful, with a mouth that dripped depravity, he might as well have had two horns growing out of his head, a forked tongue hidden under the illusion of humanity.

He resumed his ruthless pace, unwilling to let you look away, dissociate from him. In fact, the way you squirmed under him, succumbing to the rush, pliant and loud as you cried, had him choking you harder, crushing the rest of your pride.

"Close?" He bit down on your lower lip, pulling on it. "What do you think your friends would say if they saw you like this?" He husked, his hand crawling up your chest. "Getting fucked out in the woods... by your stalker. Do you think they would be surprised?"

He fondled you over the soft material of the dress, focused on nothing but pumping you full of him. You felt like heaven, and your tight little cunt responded to his words, even if you didn't want to, fluttering and releasing more slick.

"They shouldn't be," he swallowed harshly, watching your eyes fall closed. "They don't know you at all. Don't know how much you like this cock forcing you open."

For the first time that night, it was clear that your thighs weren't trembling from fear. That greedy pussy wasn't letting him go, and Jungkook was tipping towards the edge, no filter on his thoughts anymore.

"But I know," his head fell into your neck, a hot mumble striking your skin. "You're such a good girl, such a good fucking girl, and such a dirty fucking whore, just for me— aaahhh, fuck."

There it was; his favorite way of getting to you. Kissing, biting and licking at your monsters until they'd submit, recognizing him as one of their own. His cock liked it too, the way you fell to pieces under him, back arched and hands digging into his shoulders.

"I feel you, baby," he groaned, "knew you'd cream my cock. That's all you can think about, isn't it?"

You whimpered, delirious, though it still sounded like a 'no', a cute, little lie to ward off your guilt. For some reason, it turned Jungkook on more. He lifted his head and sucked at your lower lip, rutted into you harder.

"Go on, baby," he breathed, "cream it. No need to be shy, you're already mine."

A trail of sloppy, possessive kisses marked your neck, electricity trickling through your spine.

"My prettiest baby, my only girl," Jungkook babbled drunkenly. "Go on, do it for me. Yeah..."

Eyes dark, locking on yours, his voice lowering to a shaky whisper.

"Come on your rapist's cock."

You unraveled like his word was holy, clamping down on him and ripping a hoarse moan out of his throat. He fucked you through it anyway, too close to the edge to stop his own fall; his cock throbbed, long spurts of hot cum filling your ruined hole, so deep and so good his eyes rolled back.

He swore filthily, knees like cotton and his hand digging into your throat, staking his claim, the rush too sweet not to let it linger. It flowed through his entire body, pulsing and warm, like the sun. It flowed through yours too, imploding, and wiping out the rest of existence. As far as you were aware, Jungkook was all that was left.

You didn't feel anything else; not the passage of time, nor the cold air grazing your arms. Only his lips, leaving kiss after kiss on your face, muttering praises you could barely make out with your mind numbed out.

You weren't sure how long you've spent laying there, his cum leaking out of you, bones like jelly and skin sticky. At last floating in the dark, like fog, and still being kissed all over, your flesh existing only where his lips touched.

By the time he pulled you up, you didn't have the capacity to wonder what was going to happen next.

So why were you crying again?

You even didn't notice until Jungkook sat you on the hood of his car, cupping your cheeks.

"No more, baby," he pleaded. "Relax. I've got you."

You were so tired.

You wished you could lie down and sleep, but Jungkook reached for the hem of your dress, inching it up.

"I'm gonna need this."

Your heart flipped. Still, you were too out of it to protest or ask why.

Goosebumps flooded your skin as he took the clothing off you, gently, leaving you in nothing but your underwear.

As if shutting down, you stayed there; once again, unmoving. You listened to the trunk pop open, stuck on the odd rustling sound that followed. A loud thud came, making you flinch.

Then, more rustling.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Jungkook dragging something towards you, a faint, unpleasant smell of blood reaching your nose.

Your stomach turned.

You stared at the bag, and he stared at you, unceremoniously dropping your dress on the wrapped up corpse.

Perhaps it was the way you gasped that had him reaching out, the same hands that took a life massaging your bare sides to comfort you.

"Close your eyes for the next part, baby," he whispered.

His nose brushed against yours. You felt your lower lip tremble, but still did as he asked.

"Good girl," he praised.

Frowning, you attempted to make some sense of what was happening, attempted to keep your heart from jumping to your throat.

It did anyway.

Sensing your distress, Jungkook kissed your lips.

"Remember a girl called Jia?"

No more pounding, or skipping beats. Everything seemed to come to a halt, including your heart.

Jungkook squeezed your waist. His voice remained quiet, a ghost in the wind.

"Not a pretty sight."

Inhale.

Exhale.

He took a hold of your trembling hand, leaving a loving kiss on each knuckle.

"Tonight, you die, baby," he murmured, the next kiss landing on your temple. "And nothing bad will ever happen to you again. Just you and me, yeah?"

The tears that fell were different now. Something broke. But it felt like release.

The soothing warmth of his hands vanished, and you kept your eyes closed. Even as the bag rustled and the stench got worse, even as another thud echoed through the empty woods.

How did he know?

Somehow, it still surprised you. Somehow, you couldn't bear to disobey him as he filled the grave you dug up, burying the biggest nightmare of your past. The so called family that had torn your life and soul apart.

There was no doubt in your mind that if he found her, he found him, too.

You listened to the metal dig into the earth again, dirt gathering on top of her corpse. Clad in your dress, butchered, rendering her unrecognizable. Teeth, face, hands — ruined. Jungkook had thought of everything, it seemed. A perfect crime.

The only traces of DNA left? Yours. Whatever still lingered on that little black dress.

As of tonight...

You were were dead.

Jungkook threw the shovel away, huffing, then made his way back towards the car. He heaved a sigh and pulled you in, held you close, sheltering you from the rest of the world.

Your fingers wrapped around the fabric of his sleeve, squeezing.

He acknowledged the gesture by kissing the top of your head, eyes closed. There was no rush, really, besides the longing to finally take you home and get into bed to sleep.

No more games. No more pain.

The end was always a new beginning.

taglist 💌: @baalsgurl1913 @httpsbts @hoseokshobagi @pynkgothicka @ar14dna @sweetempathprunetree @blueberryarchive @messyjk @themochiverse @minyoongiboongi @chimmisbae @crisle19 @bangtans-momma @get-that-brain-working @babycandy111 @mother2monsters @whipwhoops @svnbangtansworld @ane102 @stellalovesstarss @jksteponme @httpjeonlicious

#dead dove #yandere bts #jungkook x reader #bts x reader #bts reactions #bts smut #bts imagines #bts scenarios #jungkook smut

[steveseddie]

love is stored in a can of hairspray

rating: t | cw: none apply | word count: 3,189

tags: eddie munson has a crush on steve harrington, eddie munson is a sweetheart, steve has a bad hair week and eddie comes to the rescue, fluff, soft boys, first kiss, getting together

for the @steddielovemonth prompt “love is going out of your way to do something you know will make them happy” by @forgottenkanji

a/n: i'm a day late for this one but in my defense i had a wedding yesterday and it was a crazy day! enjoy!

click here to read on ao3

***

There’s a reason why Steve Harrington was dubbed “The Hair” of Hawkins.

In all the years Eddie has known Steve or known of Steve, he’s never seen him have a bad hair day.

It doesn’t matter if it’s rainy or sunny, if he’s wearing a Scoops Ahoy sailor hat or if he’s walking down the halls of Hawkins High or if he’s fighting Demobats in the Upside Down after taking a dive in Lover’s Lake, Steve Harrington’s hair always looked great. Eddie doesn’t know how he does it. Well. He kinda does ‘cause Henderson is a blabbermouth who let Steve’s secret about the Farrah Fawcett hairspray slip one time, but Eddie still doesn’t understand how Steve always makes his hair look like that. He thinks there’s got to be magic involved, a deal with the devil so that Steve’s hair never looks bad.

That is until today.

Eddie arrives at the Wheeler residence and announces himself by ringing the bell three times just to be annoying. He waits for someone to come open the door for him, and in the meantime, crouches down to tie his Converse. The door opens while Eddie is still on the floor and the first thing he sees is a pristine pair of white Nikes that he could recognize anywhere.

“Well, well, well,” he says, tightening the laces and springing to his feet. “If it isn’t my favorite guy in all of Hawkins, I didn’t know you’d be- Jesus H. Christ, dude! What happened to your hair?” He blurts out the last part when his eyes land on Steve’s head. Or the thick untidy mass where his perfect hair should be, with strands matted on his forehead above his furrowed brow.

“Fuck you, man,” Steve grumbles and crosses his arms over his chest.

Eddie feels a little bad, but his mouth-to-brain already leaves so much to be desired around Steve on a good day-

Not that Steve looks bad. Eddie is convinced that he couldn’t look bad if he tried, but right now he certainly doesn’t look like The Hair of Hawkins.

“Sorry, it’s just-” He waves vaguely at Steve’s head. “What’s up with that?”

Steve groans loudly. “A bunch of my products are sold out at every fucking store in Hawkins,” he explains for what seems to be not for the first time today. “Been meaning to drive to the next town over to get them, but I’ve been picking up so many extra shifts at Family Video that I haven’t had the time.”

Eddie nods. Steve told him he was trying to save up money to move out of his parents’ house, but it was slow going, so he started working more shifts recently to speed up the process. He’s been seeing less of Steve because of that, which Eddie hates, but he understands the urge to get out of that house.

“That sucks, man.”

Steve pouts, pink bottom lip jutting out. “Tell me about it, I look-” he gestures at his head and trails off with a huff.

“It’s not that bad,” Eddie says, but Steve raises an eyebrow at him.

“Wheeler asked if a hamster died on my head,” he deadpans.

Fucking Wheeler. He’s gonna make him regret it during tonight’s campaign.

“Please, those kids wouldn’t know a good haircut if it bit them in the ass,” Eddie says, and Steve smiles a little. “Sure, it’s- different. Not what we’re all used to, but you still look-” Handsome, hot, beautiful. “You still look good, Harrington.”

Steve’s cheeks pink up slightly. “Thanks, Munson, but I don’t feel good, I don’t know. It’s just hair and it’s stupid, but I feel off.” He groans in frustration. “Whatever, I’ll just have to wait two weeks and then-”

“Two weeks?”

“That’s when I finally get a day off.”

Eddie blows out a puff of air. “Jesus, Steve.”

“Apartments aren’t cheap, man,” Steve says with a shrug. “But I think Keith might make me manager by the end of the month. That would bump up my pay a bit, I just have to, you know, show him I can do it.”

“You got this, Stevie,” Eddie says, patting Steve’s cheek. “No one rewinds and restocks like you do.”

Steve rolls his eyes, but his lips twitch up into a smile.

“If you two are done, we have a campaign to start!” Dustin says, appearing behind Steve and giving them both an exasperated look.

They exchange one themselves at Dustin’s tone, which they agree that he still needs to get in check.

“Yeah, yeah, we’re coming,” Steve says and Eddie tries not to jump in excitement when he realizes Steve is staying instead of just dropping off the kiddos. He’s been hanging around more and more during Hellfire meetings recently, even if he still doesn’t want to play. Eddie can’t complain about the last part, he likes just having him there.

He steps inside and Steve closes the door.

Dustin stares at Steve’s head.

“Quit staring, Henderson!” Steve protests and Dustin holds his hands up in defense.

“Sorry, sorry, it’s just bad, dude.”

These fucking kids.

Eddie whacks Dustin upside the head. “Just for that, I’m making you roll with disadvantage for every attack you make tonight .”

Dustin’s eyes bulge out. “What! That’s not fair!” He protests loudly as they walk towards the basement.

Eddie suspects that Steve doesn’t know necessarily what that means, but he still gives him a grateful smile.

***

Eddie stares at the bag of hair products in his passenger seat.

He’s always been a whatever shampoo Wayne picks up from the store kind of guy, he’s never really spent money on hair products. Until now. And they’re not even for him.

He just spent a stupid amount of money on them, mostly because, even if he remembers how some of the bottles and hairspray cans Steve uses look like from using his bathroom when he stays over, he wasn’t sure which are the ones that Steve needs. So he bought a bunch of them.

In that moment, he wasn’t thinking about the money or how it might look to Steve that he knew what hair products he uses or that he drove to another town to get them. He was only thinking about Steve’s defeated look every time someone stared at his hair or commented on it, how he self-consciously tried to fix it at work every time a customer came in, how when they hung out at his house he would hide his hair under the hood of a sweater.

But now, parked in front of Steve’s house an hour before their movie night, Eddie does think about what he did- and he seriously considers leaving the bag on Steve’s doorstep and fleeing. It’s too much. It’s too ‘I have a big crush on you and I want you to be happy so bad that I drove to another town and raided the Hair and Beauty section at a store just so you can stop walking around looking like a kicked puppy’.

But at the same time, he did this so he could see Steve smile and it would be a shame to miss it. He just hopes that Steve is too distracted by having his beloved hair products that he won’t think too hard about what Eddie did, or what it might mean.

With a short prayer to whoever’s listening so that Steve doesn’t figure out his crush today and rejects him, Eddie grabs the bag and walks up the driveway.

He knocks on the door before he can talk himself out of it, and bounces from foot to foot while he waits, hiding the bag behind him.

Steve opens the door and when he sees Eddie his eyebrows shoot up in his face, disappearing behind the few hairs that hang over his forehead. Over the last week, Steve experimented with other products, and while he managed to make his hair look a little less like something died up there, it’s still not the same. “Eddie?”

“Hey, Stevie.”

He checks his watch. “You’re early. Actually no, you’re always late so being on time is early for you, you’re like, really fucking early.”

Eddie snorts. “First of all, I’m never late, I arrive precisely when I have to.” Steve rolls his eyes. “But today I’m really fucking early, as you so eloquently put it, because I had to do some shopping first and then I drove straight here. In fact, I come bearing gifts,” he says, hands shaking a little with anticipation.

Steve eyes him curiously. “For the kids?”

“For you, my King,” Eddie says, finally allowing Steve to see the bag and presenting it to him in the most dramatic way. Hinging at the waist, holding the bag over his head, the works.

“Eddie, what are you- wait, is that- oh.” Steve goes silent when realization hits and Eddie starts spiraling. He tries to make light of it. “I humbly present to you the magic potions for your characteristic luscious hair, your Majesty.”

But when he glances up at Steve through his lashes, he looks like he’s close to crying. For a moment, he worries that he fucked up- bought all the wrong hairsprays and shampoos and now Steve is mad at him-

But then Steve is grabbing Eddie’s shoulders and yanking him up for a hug where the bag ends up squished between them.

“Christ, Eddie, thank you,” he says against his shoulder, and Eddie feels a sense of accomplishment wash over him, as well as butterflies flying in his stomach from Steve holding him like this.

One of Eddie’s arms wraps around Steve’s waist. “I don’t know if I got all the right ones ‘cause I have shit memory, but I recognized some of the bottles from your bathroom and the lady at the store helped me find your famous Farrah Fawcett spray-”

He trails off when Steve squeezes him tighter. “I can’t believe you’d do this,” he murmurs, almost to himself, but Eddie hears it anyway.

“I had some shopping to do,” Eddie says casually, but it’s like Steve is squeezing the words out of him with his arms because he keeps talking. “And you’ve been walking around with your head low and those sad puppy eyes all week, and I couldn’t take it anymore.”

Steve pulls back and Eddie braces himself for Steve calling him out for overstepping or something, but instead he looks shyly at Eddie.

“I know it’s stupid like, it’s just hair and it shouldn’t matter that much, but it’s just- it’s important to me. I might not like “the Hair” thing but I am like, proud of my hair and this week I just haven’t felt like myself and people keep making comments and-” He shakes his head, a few rebellious strands falling on his forehead. “Anyway just, this means a lot, Eds, thank you.”

“Of course, Steve,” Eddie says with a smile. They stare at each other for a little too long, and Eddie starts fidgeting. “Now aren’t you happy that I got here so early? Gives you just enough time to get through your hair routine before everyone else gets here.”

Steve chuckles. “You don’t mind waiting while I fix this?” He gestures at his head, and Eddie shakes his.

“I can entertain myself just fine,” Eddie says, stepping inside when Steve sweeps his arm over the entrance.

“Okay, I’ll be back soon.”

Eddie grins. “Yeah, go doll up for me, sweetheart,” he teases and hears the way Steve’s breath catches, his eyes widening slightly and his cheeks tinting pink.

Then Steve moves in and places a quick kiss on Eddie’s cheek. “Thanks again, Eds,” he says and then he’s running upstairs.

Eddie stands there for at least ten minutes, red in the face, before he can make himself move.

***

Steve still hasn’t come downstairs by the time the doorbell rings so Eddie answers it.

Dustin is at the head of the arriving party and he raises an eyebrow at him when he sees him. “You’re on time,” he says, perplexed.

“And you’re a butthead,” Eddie replies and the other kids snigger behind Dustin. “Are you gonna come in or what?”

With an eye roll that is pure Steve, Dustin walks in followed by Wheeler, Sinclair and Max, and finally Robin and Nancy, who drove them all there.

Buckley narrows his eyes at him as she walks in. “Why are you on time?” She asks. “Unless you got here early so you and Steve could hang out alooone?” The way she says “alone” makes Eddie flush, which doesn’t help deny what she’s implying, even if it isn’t true.

Luckily, at that moment, Steve comes down the stairs and everyone’s attention turns to him.

“Dude, you got rid of the dead hamster finally!” Mike says and Max flicks him in the ear. Eddie smirks, that’s why she’s his favorite.

“He’s back!” Dustin cheers as soon as Steve’s hair is visible. Eddie smiles at the familiar look, but mostly at the way Steve smiles and holds himself, the slouch and the sad puppy eyes gone.

“There’s my handsome best friend,” Robin hoots and Nancy puts her thumb and index finger in her mouth and lets out an impressive whistle.

“Okay, okay,” Steve says, waving off their compliments and reactions as he reaches the ground floor. “Yes, the hair is back, we can move on now. There are movies to watch.”

He starts to usher them in the direction of the living room to get their movie night started now that they’re all here.

“Dude, I thought it would be two weeks before you could buy your hair things,” Lucas says, looking at Steve over his shoulder.

Steve freezes, his eyes darting to Eddie before he just shrugs at Sinclair, who probably doesn’t care that much about it because he just accepts that as a reasonable answer and follows the others to the couch.

The same can’t be said about Buckley.

“How did you get your hair products, Steve? ‘Cause I know you didn’t have them yesterday and you were working all day today.”

Their eyes meet again and Eddie gives a small shrug. They both know Buckley won’t drop it until she knows the truth.

“Eddie got them for me,” Steve says, mouth curling up in a smile that he directs at Eddie.

Buckley’s head snaps in his direction too, but she’s smirking, her eyes sparkling. “Oh did he?”

“Uh, yeah, I did.”

“You drove to another town, spent time and money on gas, and then spent more money just to get Steve his hair products?”

“Yup,” he says, popping the ‘p’, trying to be casual, but he can feel the heat on his cheeks.

“How generous of you,” she says but it sounds a lot like, ‘I see you and your big gay crush on my best friend’.

Eddie’s eyes dart to Steve. With their platonic bond it sometimes feels like they can read each other’s minds and Eddie wonders if Steve can see what she sees. He flushes brighter at the thought.

“Come on, Nance, let’s get started with the popcorn,” she says, hooking her arm with Nancy’s and dragging her away, leaving Steve and Eddie alone in the hallway.

“I’m sorry about her,” Steve says with a light chuckle. “And listen I can pay you- for the gas and for the products.”

Eddie shakes his head. “You don’t have to, I told you, they’re gifts.”

Steve ducks his head shyly and a strand of hair falls on his forehead with the movement. On impulse, Eddie reaches out to tuck it back into place. There, now Steve’s hair is perfectly styled again. He smiles. “Besides, it was worth it.”

“Oh.” Steve licks his lips a little nervously and Eddie can’t help but track the movement with his eyes. “You- you must really like my hair,” he whispers, eyes wide and expectant.

Eddie considers taking the out, making some joke about having always admired “the Hair” or something like that, but he finds that he doesn’t want to. Not with Steve looking at him like he would like hearing the truth.

So, Eddie takes a deep breath and hopes that he’s reading this right.

“I do, I really like it, but it’s not just that. You could walk around with a hamster on your head or get a buzz cut like El, and I’d still like it. I just. I like you.”

A slow grin appears on Steve’s face. “You really think I would look good with a buzz cut?”

A nervous laugh tumbles over Eddie’s lips. “Out of everything I said that’s what you-”

Steve shakes his head, cupping Eddie’s jaw with one hand and effectively shutting him up. “No, I- I like you too, Eddie.”

He sighs in relief. “Oh, thank God.”

And then, he grabs a handful of Steve’s shirt and pulls him towards him, crashing their lips together.

The moment they touch, Eddie lets out a low whine before he remembers that the kiddos are in the next room and Buckley and Wheeler could walk out of the kitchen any minute. So he tries to keep it down as he licks into Steve’s mouth, even if Steve kissing back just as passionately should be enough to drag more noises out of him.

It’s not until Eddie’s hands start moving from his shoulder to his neck on the way to his hair that Steve stops him, his fingers grabbing a hold of Eddie’s wrist and pulling away just enough to speak against Eddie’s lips.

Eddie chases after Steve’s mouth with another whine.

“Jesus,” Steve gasps. “We probably should- If this week proved anything is that out friends are overly invested in my hair so they’ll notice if you mess it up with your hands.” Eddie makes a disgruntled sound. Steve’s fingers catch one of Eddie’s curls, twirling it around it. “But if you want, after everyone leaves you can stay and I can, you know, pay you back for this.” He gestures at his hair.

Eddie’s brain must be melting out of his ears from kissing Steve because he dumbly says, “I told you that you don’t have to-” before he understands the meaning behind the words when he sees Steve’s smirk. “Oh. Yeah. I can think of a few ways you can do that.”

The way he waggles his eyebrows makes Steve giggle adorably, but before Eddie can kiss him about it, Robin pops her head out of the kitchen, making them jump.

“If you two are done giggling like teenagers, come help with the popcorn before the actual teenagers start a riot.”

“Aye, Captain Buckley,” Eddie says with a two-fingered salute. This time Steve muffles his giggle behind his hand.

With the other, he grabs hold of Eddie’s and starts dragging him to the kitchen. The whole time, Eddie feels like he’s floating.

He’s happy he made the trip, he’s happy he got Steve his hair products, he’s happy his hair are back to normal.

And he’s even more happy that he gets to mess it up later when he kisses Steve again after everyone leaves.

#steddielovemonth #day 29 #i wasn't planning on writing more of these prompts but this idea came to me yesterday and i ended up loving it! #steddie #stranger things #stranger things fic #eddie munson #steve harrington #monse writes

[clovestreet]

don’t stop- peeta mellark

summary: a heated make out turns into something more🤭

warnings: SMUT (16+)⚠️ heavy making out, dry humping

authors note: first time writing for peeta so please be kind:) this is one of my fav kind of smut prompts to read and there is absolutely no peeta smut anywhere😓😓i hope you guys enjoy:)

Something had come over you.

It was very rare that you felt so incredibly desperate for your boyfriend, but today that overwhelming feeling hit you like a freight train.

You didn’t know what had made you feel this way. It could have been the way his strong arms looked this morning when he was moving furniture for Haymitch, so perfectly toned and sculpted. Or it could have been the way he held you in his arms this morning and kissed you until your lips were flushed and swollen. Or maybe it was the way his towel hung so lowly around his hips when he stepped out of the shower this afternoon with water droplets still clinging to his abs.

That boy had been driving you crazy all day and you simply could not focus on anything. He consumed your every thought and all you wanted to do was touch him. You found your mind drifting toward the dirtiest thoughts and tried to squeeze you legs together to suppress the frustrated ache building between your legs.

But lucky for you, that same boy was now pinned underneath you in nothing but his boxers with his hands up your shirt groaning everytime you moved above him.

What had started as gentle and loving makeout session escalated to something far more needy and passionate.

Peeta looked so beautiful underneath you, his blonde hair still damp from his shower messily laid across his forehead, his tan chest flexing underneath your touch, his lips glistening with your saliva.

You were straddled on his lap, thighs on either side of his with your hands moving back and forth from his shoulders to his hair. He had one hand on your waist, pulling you closer to his chest and one hand under your shirt, toying with the waistband of your underwear.

Neither of you had come up for air. You were both so desperate for eachother and so obsessed with the other you couldn’t stop. Every kiss was so intense it felt like it could be your last.

After being lost in your own thoughts for a moment, you broke the kiss and shifted your focus to Peeta’s neck, which you knew would drive him absolutely insane. You began to gently suck and bite his neck and then swipe over the spot with your toungue.

Peeta was loving every moment of it.

His gasps and hums quickly turned into groans as his hands left your hips and went straight to gripping your ass.

“You’re so good baby” he groaned into your hair.

You wanted more, you wanted to make him a mess underneath you. You needed it. And you knew exactly how to do it.

While still sucking on his neck, you began to grind your hips onto Peeta. You knew exactly how to roll your hips into Peeta's; a way that would make his eyes roll back into his skull and make his jaw fall slack.

"Oh my god babe" he gasped into your ear.

His fingers tugged the messy hair at the nape of your neck and pulled your closer. You thought you couldn't be any more intertwined with Peeta.

You were wrong.

You felt the obvious bulge in his boxers growing underneath you which only made you grind onto him harder. You wanted nothing more than to hear his sweet moans and feel his fingers leave delicious bruises on your hips.

"Baby if you keep going, I'm gonna come." he breathed into your neck.

"Fine by me" you whispered with a cheeky grin pasted on your face.

You moved your leg farther up his body, your kneecap resting against his ribs. You kept grinding on him, the new angle impossibly more intense than before.

Peeta's groans turned throatier and deeper. His eyes were screwed shut as his beautiful sounds were lost in your neck and your collarbone. He wrapped his arm under your leg and pulled you even tighter on him and started to use his hands to grind you onto him even harder. He was getting desperate now.

"It's so good babe, I can-"

His praise was interrupted by a shaky moan. You could tell he was on the edge.

"Come on Peeta, let go babe." you whispered sinfully into his ear.

You started to bounce slightly on him and you could feel him everywhere. You pressed your lips under the base of his ear, making small breathy moans into his ear.

One last roll of your hips and Peeta was coming undone. His groans echoed the room and he came hard. His biceps caged around your and held you on his warm and glistening chest as he grinded his hips into you to ride out his high.

He was so beautiful when he was like this, and the fact that you were the only one who got to see him in this state turned you on more than you could even begin to describe.

After coming back from the heaven you had sent him to, you leaned down to kiss him softly.

"I can't believe you just made me come in my boxers." he laughed into your lips.

"I'm pretty good huh?"

"I think your a little better than good baby."

You smiled back into his mouth and began to roll off of him. But before you had the chance, he was pulling you back and under him.

"Not so fast babe. Gotta make you feel good too." he murmured into your lips.

Before you knew it, he was hovering over you with his knee between your legs and your heart was racing.

Part 2?

#peeta mellark #peeta mellark smut #peeta x reader #hunger games #peeta smut #peeta supremacy

[hungharrington]

jayy!! lately i’ve been thinking that steve really really likes it when you ride him. like yeah, he loves to see you on top but i feel like he loves the idea of you using him to get off yknow?? like he just wants to be your boy toy. doesn’t even care if he doesn’t cum, but gets SO WHINY and blushy when he does cause he just feels so so lucky to have you jump his bones🙌

UGH i need him like i need to BREATHE. need him to whine in my ears 24/7

-🍒

oh lawd. this one…. brain goes BRRRRRRR what did you PUT in this ask cherry…. does this fit the prompt? maybe 🤪 but it was written at work so have mercy on me

Of all the things Steve loves in the world, making you feel good? Top of the list.

That much is a given— with the fervor in which he’ll bury his face between your thighs, moans that vibrate against your cunt just right, his fingers digging into your thighs as his hips rut against the bed.

When he’s determined to pull an orgasm out of you with his hands, his darkened hazel eyes drinking in every moan, desperately flicking between your blissed out expression and his fingers pumping into your cunt, covered in your slick— all of it shows in the ache in his pants, in the breathy noises he makes when you tip over the edge.

So, you’re not at all surprised at what he says to you that night — take what you want.

You’re both tangled together, haphazardly draped across the bed— too entranced in the hot press of each others mouth to think about letting go, even as you had both staggered up the stairs and into the bedroom. It had been one charged dinner date, with one hand far too comfortable sneaking up your skirt go tease you.

Now, Steve lies beneath you and when you break away, panting, to work on the buttons of his dress shirt, he’s a fucking sight to behold. Chest heaving, face flushed so much it crawls down his neck, his eyes fix on you with such an intenseness that it makes you shiver.

His shirt has been driving you crazy all dinner, undone just enough to show a flash of chest hair. Now you work it open quickly, each button revealing a little more of his glorious tanned chest, sprinkled with hair. Lust drools through you. You rake one hand down it, fingernails pressing into his skin lightly and Steve groans.

“Okay, you need to get naked, like, right now,” His hands pair with his words, finding the edge of your shirt. He’s tugging it up and your arms go up to let him pull it from your frame. His insistance makes your grin.

“Funny how you can say that when you’re still wearing pants.” You bicker back, using your now free hands to work on his belt buckle.

Steve watches you for a moment, his tummy clenches when you palm at his bulge for a moment and his head rolling back onto the duvet. He makes a pained noise. His hands form fists at his sides — just for a moment, before he’s sliding them up your thighs.

They creep beneath your skirt, finding the elastic of your panties — then one of his hands shift forward, cupping your heat tightly. You moan at the same time Steve does, his hand pressing up against your clit perfectly. He shakes his head on the bed, his hair messing up against the sheets.

“I take it back,” He whines. His hands shoot down to overtake yours, shucking his pants down his thighs as best he can. Just the thin material of his boxers remains. “I don’t think I can wait, honey, I need— you can just- please,”

“Hey, hey, I got it, I got you,” You push his hands away and Steve melts. He grows still, only his hands twitching and his neck craned up to watch as you tug his boxers down.

His cock must be aching with the way it looks, all pretty and flushed in the head, crying just for you. You can’t help yourself, giving it a quick pump, rubbing the head with your thumb.

Steve keens loudly, his body growing taut, his head thrown back. A strangled whimper tears from his throat. “Ngh- please, oh fuck, pleasepleaseplease—“

You release his cock and Steve deflates a bit, panting loudly. Your skirt takes only a second to remove and it takes another to push your panties to the side, your knees straddling across his hips. Your core burns hotly, clenching in anticipation of being filled.

You make sure Steve is watching as you hold his cock, prepped to sink down — and he is. His face, still flushed with his eyes bright, is intent on watch your own.

It makes the heat in your gut flare hotter. Hot lust sparks beneath your skin as he keeps his gaze on you for as long as he can — your hot, wet cunt sinking down on him finally forcing his eyes closed.

“Fuck, fuck— shit, don’t move just yet,” The words pour from Steve’s mouth, his eyes screwed up and head thrown back. Your hands shift forward, planting on his chest and you give him a minute— revelling in the delicious stretch his cock gives you. Fuck, it never gets old.

You lean down and kiss the closest skin you can find, his collarbone. Steve smiles, eyes still closed. His hands shift off the sheets, trailing from your thighs, your hips, up your ticklish sides, until he finds your face. His thumbs stroke over your cheeks delicately and when he pulls you closer, you follow without hesitance.

He kisses your lips, soft and sweet, and then murmurs against them. “Take what you want, baby.”

A little whine creeps out your mouth at his words and your hips follow without thinking, beginning to rock gently. A dose of lust licks up your spine and you sigh prettily.

Steve’s face shudders, pleasure rippling across his features and his eyes slip shut. His mouth drops open a little bit, the smallest noise escaping, his cheeks almost as pink as his lips. His eyes crinkle open, watching you closely.

“Ye- yeah, that’s it.” Steve manages to murmur. His hands haven’t left your face, still gently holding either side as you roll your hips back, slow and sensual. “Good girl.”

A gasp pushes past your lips and this time when you rock back, it’s a little more desperate. Steve moans, voice drenched in desire, and his hands fall from your face to grip the sheets. You lean on his chest further, your thighs aching deliciously as you fuck yourself on his cock— up and down, faster and faster.

“Steve,” you mewl out. It’s instinct to reach for him, to call out for him and in response, you feel the buck of his hips, pressing him deeper within you. Steve whimpers.

“You got it, honey,” He assures, voice more and more breathy. “Doing so good.”

There’s a soft squelch as you work yourself down on him, a coil of pleasure beginning to tighten up in your tummy. You feel a fiery warmth beneath your skin that spikes with every movement you make.

One of Steve’s hands comes up to cover your own, holding it tight to his chest — right over his heart and he lets the other nudge your face back to facing him. You hadn’t realised how it had begun to tilt forward, lost in your own pleasure.

“Mhm, fu- fuck, that’s my girl,” Steve whispers. You shift up to change the angle and when you fuck back down, you moan loudly — Steve writhing beneath you to contain himself from fucking up into you. You, however, show him no mercy.

“God,” Steve whines loudly. His breathes are coming out with little whimpers now. “That’s—that’s it— just fuckin’ take what you need. Take it, take it from me, baby.”

Your cunt gushes and you whimper — and you do just that.

#i didn’t make him as subby as requested i’m sorry 😭 #he IS such a ‘take what u want from me’ bf cos he’s just happy to be making you feel good #GOD do i feel rusty with smut #i have no been in the mood 😭 life is too freaking busy 😭 and scary 😭 #but! can’t say… i don’t try <3 #steve harrington x reader #steve x reader #steve harrington #jay writes #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x reader smut #steve smut #cherry anon

[spiteless-xo]

Prompt #66 with Reiner or Jean if you feel like it...

reiner! my love, my heart, my world 🥰 literally the reason why i got into writing/reading aot fan fiction!! ty so much for the request!

also sorry in advance! not only did i get carried away with this, but i feel like i cut it off right at the good part 💀

masterlist

╰┈➤ smut prompts - 66. “Please, let me taste you.”

ft. reiner/fem!reader cw. unedited, not proofread, explicit sexual content (fingering, spit, dirty talk, loss of innocence, mild corruption kink), explicit language. 2,800 words.

When you tell Reiner that he's your first boyfriend, he's shocked.

You're easily the most beautiful girl he's ever met in his life. And you're funny and smart. You're the complete package -- how is he the first?

"I was just always so busy with school," you explained with a shrug, but he still couldn't believe it.

"So, when I kissed you, was that...?" he trailed off when you started to nod.

"That was my first kiss."

Since then, Reiner has been very careful to take things slow with you. Despite wanting to touch you -- to spoil you -- to ruin you... if this is your first time experiencing all of these things, he wants to make sure the experience is memorable.

But you're impatient.

He can feel your desire every time you kiss him from the way your fingers dig into his skin. You urge yourself forward, pressing your soft body against his hard muscles, pulling him tight against you as you whine into his mouth.

It drives him fucking crazy.

He desperately wants to do the right thing and be gentle with you, but when you're grinding your clothed pussy along the muscle of his thigh, all he can think of is ripping the denim off your body and filling you again and again and again and --

Just like every other time, he grabs your upper arms firmly, pulling away from the kiss at the same moment that he pushes you back. He's having trouble finding his voice as he looks at you, perched so prettily on his lap with swollen lips, but he manages to speak.

"It's getting late," he says, and he has to clear his throat when he hears how ragged his voice is. "I should probably go home."

"But you just got here," you whine, jutting your lower lip out into an adorable pout that somehow makes Reiner's cock throb against his leg.

"I know, but --"

"You're tired from work today. You need to be up early tomorrow. You still have stuff to do at home," you sigh, shifting off of his lap onto the couch beside him. Reiner's heart aches from how dejected you look as you curl your legs up against your chest, avoiding his gaze. "I know, I know. There's always some excuse."

"It's not an excuse," he starts, reaching out to gently rub your arm with one hand while he rests the other against his cock -- willing it to relax.

"Is there something wrong with me?" you whisper, and Reiner immediately sits up straight.

"What?"

"I just mean..." you keep avoiding his eyes, even when you lift your head. "I feel like you're not attracted to me."

His brows furrow, watching you closely as you sigh. You bury your face in your hands and shrug Reiner's hand off of your shoulder while he looks at you in confusion.

"I am extremely attracted to you," he says, voice filled with indignation. "Why would you think that I'm not?"

You groan in frustration, throwing your hands up into the air as you speak, finally rounding your fiery gaze onto him. "You never want to touch me!"

"Of course I want to touch you," Reiner insists, shaking his head in confusion. "What do you --"

"Then why do you always push me away?" you ask, brows pitching up in the centre of your forehead. "Whenever I try to... when I try to go further... you always reject me."

He blinks at you and suddenly, like some sort of twisted highlight reel, he replays every moment that he tried to be noble and protect your innocent back in his mind.

But from your prespective, his actions don't seem noble at all. Through your eyes he sees the way that he shuts you down every time you try to reach down between his legs, every time you try to guide his hands up to your breasts, every time he throws you off of him to leave in a sudden, angry huff.

"No," he says, and your frown deepens. "No, that's not -- that's not what I'm doing. I'm trying to be a gentleman."

"What?"

"You're a virgin," he says, like that's supposed to explain things, but when you roll your eyes at him, he feels compelled to elaborate. "I don't want your first time to be --" he gestures around the room "-- in the living room of your apartment."

"Ok?" you say, obviously unconvinced. "What about the times when we were in my room?"

"There weren't any candles," he says, realizing as he's speaking how ridiculous he sounds. "Or rose petals or... there just wasn't any romance."

Your frown finally cracks into a smile, even as you cross your arms over your chest. "Romance? Why does there need to be romance?"

"Your first time should be romantic," he says, but he doubts it's convincing from the way his face burns in embarrassment. "I just want to make sure I treat you right."

"You do," you insist, leaning forward and cupping his face in your hands. He sighs, resting his head against your touch as he reaches forward to place his palms on your hips. "I don't need romance, Reiner -- I need you."

"I just want to make sure it's a good experience for you," he says, mentally kicking himself for his insistence on cockblocking himself.

You've already told him what you want. You've spent the past month thinking that Reiner wasn't attracted to you because he didn't want to fuck you. And yet here he is, still pushing you away.

"I trust you," you say, and somehow that puts him at ease. "I know you'll take care of me. Reiner, I want to lose my virginity to you."

He lets out a long, ragged breath, fingers gripping your hips a little tighter as he desperately holds himself back from ravaging you right here.

"It might hurt," he warns.

He pulls head head out from your grasp and reaches out to press the palm of his hand against yours. Your hand looks comically small against his, his fingertips easily curling over your own and swallowing your hand in his grip.

"I'm so much bigger than you," he says, and he watches you take a slow, trembling breath.

"Show me."

Reiner has to bite his tongue to stop from moaning as your gaze darkens on him. Instead, he swallows thickly and pulls you back into his lap. He rolls you along his cock and the denim of your jeans is far too thick for you to really feel anything, and he groans in frustration.

"Do you believe me now?" he asks. "Feel how hard I get for you?"

You whimper at him, lower lip pressed between your teeth as your hips jerk against him, desperate for more contact. He knows you're already soaking your panties for him -- your pretty little pussy desperate to be filled by something you've never felt before.

And the fact that it's him? That it's Reiner making you feel this way -- needy and desperate and cockdrunk -- only drives him further away from his noble ideals as he pictures you stretched open on his cock.

He lifts you then, hands cupped against your ass as your legs wrap around his waist. Your nails dig into his shoulders as you hold on tight, allowing Reiner to carry you down the hall and into your bedroom.

He kicks the door shut behind him, blindly reaching out to flick on the light before walking you toward the bed. Reiner tosses you like you weigh nothing and you fly in the air for a brief moment before landing on your back on the mattress, bouncing slightly before you sit yourself up on your forearms to watch Reiner tug his shirt off of his body.

"Let's start with my fingers," he decides, chucking his shirt off to the side as he reaches out to grab your ankles. He tugs you along the bed until you fall onto your back with your legs hanging off the edge of the bed.

He gets down on his knees between your legs and runs his large, warm palms up your shin -- up your thighs -- before settling on the waistband of your jeans.

His eyes flick up to your face and you're already breathing so hard, your hips keening up against his touch. "Can I take these --"

"Yes!" you say quickly, and he has to bite back a grin from your enthusiasm.

But his excitement is palpable, too. From the way his hands shake as they reach for the button of your jeans to how roughly he tugs on your pants until they're in a discarded heap on the floor.

Reiner lets out a shakey breath, pressing his thumbs into your inner thighs as he spreads your legs open for him. He can see the dark wet spot on the crotch of your panties and suddenly he can feel the weight of his tongue in his mouth.

Oh, how he wants to devour you.

He resists the urge to press his nose against your pussy, to smell the sweet scent of your cunt as he laps at the slick gathering on the cotton of your panties. And instead, he reaches his hand up your thigh, sprawling his fingers across your hipbone as his thumb gently rubs against the small bow on the front of your underwear.

"Do you touch yourself?" he asks, voice raw with arousal as your legs tremble on either side of him.

"When I think of you."

Reiner has to squeeze his eyes shut for a moment. He focuses on calming his breathing -- and not the strain of his cock against his pants.

When he blinks his eyes back open, he moves his hand to your inner thigh, allowing his thumb to brush down the side of your pussy before sliding back up between your folds.

You moan loudly just from one faint touch and buck your hips against his hand, forcing his thumb to press against your entrance, restained by the fabric of your underwear.

Although he wants to take things slow and keep teasing you, he's running out of blood in his brain, so his hands move without thinking. His thumb hooks around the crotch of your panties, tugging it to the side and exposing your glistening, wet cunt to him.

You're so wet. You're covered in slick and Reiner can see your swollen clit -- desperate for attention.

Your hands fist at the sheets, back arching off the mattress as you whimper above him. "Please," you beg -- do you even know what you're begging for?

Reiner can't speak as he moves his hand toward your cunt, palm facing the ceiling as he tries to decide which of his fingers to plunge into you first. He presses the pad of his middle finger against your entrance and he can immediately feel your hole clenching around him, practically sucking him in.

He moans at the feeling, gently rubbing his finger against the slippery juices gathered there. Reiner moves to rub his thumb against the slick, dragging it up through your folds before swirling it around your clit -- not quite touching it directly.

He has to hold your hips down with his other hand, pressing you firmly against the mattress despite the way you twitch and jerk beneath him.

"Reiner, please -- please," you beg.

And so he complies.

He pushes his finger into you -- just up to the first knuckle -- and the sounds you make as you writhe on the bed will forever be imprinted in his memory. You're tight around his finger -- so fucking tight -- and you just keep squeezing him tighter in small pulses as your body tries to accommodate his size.

"'S'it hurt?" he slurs, mouth watering as he watches your cunt swallow his digit.

"Moremoremoremore," comes your babbled response, and Reiner feels like he might cum from the sound of your ragged voice -- untouched with just the tip of his finger in your pussy.

He takes another slow, calming breath before he starts to gently work the digit deeper into you. Each press in as slick dripping from around him, and each pull out is accompanied by the wet squelch of your cunt and your desperate moaning.

Reiner wants to remind you that this is just one finger. That he still has so, so much more to give you. But he's practically drooling at the sight of you and he wants nothing more than to clean up the mess you're making of his hand.

"I --" he gasps as he slips his entire finger into you, like he's shocked that you're able to take him. You squeeze him so tight, and then even tighter when he starts to gently run his thumb across your clit.

"Oh, fuck," you groan.

He keeps fucking you with his finger, curling it up toward the front wall of your cunt until he finds that spot that has you twitching and squeezing around him. When he feels like you've loosened up for him, he presses a second finger against your entrance.

This time, despite how wet you are, he's met with some resistance. But he pushes into you, stretching you open on his thick fingers as you squirm and gasp from the intrusion.

"Fuck," you moan, clawing at the sheets as he pushes in to the knuckle. "It's so much, Reiner -- fuck."

"I know," he says, his voice low and raspy. "Need to stretch you open for me."

He feels you squeeze hard around him from his words and he groans, eyes rolling back into his head as he imagines you doing this to his cock.

Reiner hooks his free hand around your thigh, pulling you closer to him so he can look down at your pussy as he fucks you with his fingers.

"Lemme see this pussy cum for me," he grunts, breathing hot air against your clit.

From this angle, he can smell you. He can hear clearly every lewd squelch of your cunt as he stuffs you full of his fingers, pumping harder and faster until the heel of his hand bumps against your clit and the slick of your arousal coats his palm.

You babble out his name, rocking your hips against his hand and fucking yourself on his fingers. You're breathing hard, chest heaving with every breath as your legs tremble on each side of him. You're close -- really close.

He can't help himself from spitting onto your clit, adding to the mess between your thighs as he shifts his thumb back to rub quick, tight circles around the swollen nub.

"You're gonna cum for me," he says, eyes flicking up to your face to watch you nod furiously. Your eyes are scrunched shut but he can see the tears leaking down the side of your face -- he makes his chest swell and his cock throb with pride. If this is how you get from just two of his fingers, how will you react when he fills you with his cock?

Your legs try to snap shut but Reiner's broad shoulders hold you open. Your cries turn into quick, staccato moans and your back arches so hard off the mattress that your face is obscured by your heaving chest and tightened nipples.

Reiner groans at the feeling of your pussy squeezing his fingers, pulsing around him rhythmically as he pushes against the warm, tight walls of your pussy. He doesn't know where to look -- which part of you he wants to commit to memory -- but he settles on your drooling cunt as it twitches around his digits.

He watches you cum on his fingers, helping draw it out for as long as he can until your hands frantically reach down for his wrist -- stilling him. "'S too much," you slur, and Reiner notes that even your hands are shaking.

He swallows thickly, keeping his fingers half-buried in your cunt while his other hand rubs soft, soothing circles on your hip.

"You're ok," he says quietly, waiting with you until your breathing returns to normal and your grip on his wrist loosens.

When he pulls his fingers out, your whole body trembles. He takes a moment to look at his hand, covered in you, and he moves to take his fingers into his mouth to taste you on his tongue.

"Do you want to keep going?" he asks after slipping his fingers from his mouth with a quiet pop!

You brush your thumb across the tendons in the back of his hand, craning your head up from its place on the bed so you can see him. "Yeah," you say softly, and your voice is raw from moaning. "I want to keep going."

"Good," Reiner admits, slipping his hands to your thighs before hoisting them up onto his shoulders, "because now I want to taste you."

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[mcflymemes]

PROMPTS FOR LOTS AND LOTS OF FLIRTING ♡ *  assorted dialogue, adjust as necessary

what did you think after our first kiss?

what did i do to deserve you?

what are you craving right now?

i can't stop thinking about you.

you can't do that and expect me not to kiss you!

i never believed in true love until i met you.

sometimes i can't get enough of you.

my days get brighter when i think of you.

don't get mad if i fall asleep on you.

will you be mine?

you make my head spin and my knees shake.

i like it when we hold hands.

i want to grow old with you.

how do i look in your shirt?

that was really adorable.

let's skip the small talk and go straight to flirting.

i've been thinking about you all morning.

what did you think of our first date?

i could stare into your eyes forever.

come here. let me hold you for a while.

sorry, i got lost in your eyes. can you say that again?

i love your laugh.

i had a dream about you last night.

i want to spend the rest of my life by your side.

are you in the mood to have some fun?

how much skin is too much skin to show on our date tonight?

can i take you on a date?

do that again. that was really cute.

was it good for you?

you're really hot. just thought you should know.

how can you resist this face?

want to be my little spoon?

nobody understands me like you do.

i'm trying to flirt with you, but clearly it's not working.

you're so cute.

you don't know what you do to me.

i don't know what i'd do without you.

when can i see you again?

my bed smells like you.

i hope you feel the same way.

how about we take this to the bedroom?

you drive me crazy.

are you wearing my shirt? it looks good on you.

let me give you a nice, long massage.

you mean a lot to me.

you're pretty irresistable.

have you been flirting this whole time?

i thought about your smile today.

why don't you come sit with me? there's plenty of room.

it's okay if you fall asleep on me.

stay close to me.

you make everything brighter.

it's you. it's only ever going to be you.

you're cute when you blush.

i don't want to share you with anyone.

i wish i could wake up next to you every morning.

you make it hard to focus.

hey, i'm not the one with the cute smile! you are!

want to try that again?

you are my whole world.

i miss the taste of your kiss.

want to make them jealous?

i was counting down the minutes until i saw you.

you're my favorite type of distraction.

i think i'm addicted to you.

don't worry, i make a great pillow.

you're a great hugger.

you make all my dreams come true.

i can't stop thinking about last night.

i never want to know a world without you.

ever since i met you... i haven't stopped thinking about you.

you're more than enough.

let me get a good look at you.

i love everything about you.

you're a very special person.

you have amazing hands.

i promise you a weekend you'll never forget.

i have something special planned for tonight.

you're cute when you get like that.

oh no. not the puppy dog pout. you know i can't resist that.

i saw this and thought of you, so i had to get it.

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[roosterforme]

How Could I Forget? | Rooster x Reader

Summary: When Bradley met you in a dive bar in Virginia, he just knew he wasn't going to be able to stop thinking about you. Even a year later, he still remembers your laugh and the way you kissed him.

Warnings: Fluff, drinking and swearing

Length: 2800 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

I wrote this for the 'Its not the prompt. It's the creator' challenge from @tgm-all4one. Check out my masterlist for more!

Bradley flipped through the options in the ancient jukebox while he sipped a cheap beer. This had to be the shittiest bar he'd ever been inside, and that was really saying something, since he was a University of Virginia alumni. 

"Let's see..." he muttered. "Danger Zone? No. Take My Breath Away? Nah. Slow Ride? Absolutely not."

He finally selected Great Balls of Fire and turned to check where his cousins had disappeared off to. But the bar was packed with locals waiting for the fireworks to start over the Chesapeake Bay, and he couldn't spot any of them. 

If they ditched him in this sticky little hellhole on the outskirts of Norfolk, Virginia, he was going to be so pissed. He scanned the bar once more as the song started playing, and his eyes settled on the cutest thing he had seen in a long time. 

You were holding your beer bottle like a microphone and aggressively lip syncing along with Jerry Lee Lewis as his voice blasted from the jukebox. 

Bradley smiled. You were right in the middle of the crowded bar, but nobody else had seemed to notice how you were shimmying along to the song, looking adorable in your own little world. Your eyes were squeezed shut as you mouthed Come on baby, you drive me crazy! Goodness, gracious, great balls of fire!

When Bradley laughed, you opened your eyes, and they met his immediately. You pressed your lips together, suddenly looking shy at being caught rocking out. You covered your mouth with your hand in embarrassment as your eyes went wider while Bradley tried to squeeze through the crowd to get to you. 

He was afraid you were going to try to sneak off, but you didn't. You were just nonchalantly drinking your beer when he reached you. 

"That was quite a performance," he said, and you looked up at him, clearly amused. 

"I don't know what you're talking about," you replied, but your smirk said otherwise. 

"That was my song," he said, nodding toward the jukebox.

"What do you mean?" you asked, pressing the bottle to your lips, and drawing Bradley's eyes down to watch the way you took a sip, the bottle lingering on your bottom lip for a beat.

"I selected it. On the jukebox," he grunted, and you laughed at him. 

"No, you didn't. I did."

Bradley scoffed as you squared your shoulders and jutted out your chin in playful defiance. "I chose it like three minutes ago," Bradley insisted. 

"I picked it like five minutes ago!" Your laugh was infectious, and Bradley just wanted to keep it going.

He shook his head solemnly. "It's still my song."

And you shook your head, imitating him. "If anything, it's Jerry Lee Lewis's song."

"Well, I can't argue with that. I did love your cover version though."

"Thanks." God, your smile was adorable. And your lips on that bottle had him thinking some scandalous things about your mouth. 

He cleared his throat. "Are you from Norfolk?"

You sighed deeply. "Unfortunately. You?"

"Virginia Beach."

You crinkled your nose and made a face that had him laughing again. "That might be even worse. You still live there?"

"For now," he replied. "I'm waiting on a new work assignment."

"Can I tell you a secret?" you asked, and when Bradley nodded, you coaxed him closer with your finger. Gorgeous. You were so pretty, Bradley was afraid he wouldn't be able to comprehend your words this close to your eyelashes and your mouth. "I escaped. I live in San Diego now."

"Bravo," he whispered, but he knew you could still hear him over the jukebox as it played Slow Ride. "What's it like to escape Virginia? I've only ever read about it in works of fiction. I've never met anyone who actually managed to do it."

You laughed again, and Bradley had to fight the urge to kiss you. He didn't even know your fucking name, but he was dying to feel your lips on his. 

"It wasn't easy," you promised. "Oh, no, my friend, it was not easy. My whole family still lives here, in Norfolk. My brother is in the damn Navy, if you can believe that. What a waste of a career, right?" you said with a massive eye roll. Bradley opened his mouth to respond, but you added, "Today is his birthday. Born on the Fourth of July, in the military, model citizen. I come home for his birthday every year and end up in this shitty bar every year." 

Bradley couldn't contain his smile. "I'm in the Navy."

Your eyes went wide. "Oh, shit. The Navy is the best!" you said brightly. "Oh boy, do I ever wish I had joined the Navy!"

Bradley tipped his head back and laughed harder. "I like you. You're brutally honest," he said, still laughing as you bit your lip, unable to stop smiling. 

"I'm so sorry," you said, trying not to laugh. "Come here. Let me buy you another beer to make up for the fact that you're in the Navy, you poor thing."

Bradley just shook his head, but then you took his hand in yours and gently led him to the bar. And you kept your hand linked with his while you ordered two drinks. But when you started to reach into your pocket to pay, Bradley took both of your hands in his larger one, and you looked up at him, surprised. 

"I've got it," he told you, pulling some cash out of his own pocket. "It's not every day you meet a celebrity."

"Celebrity?" you asked, and he pulled you closer by both hands. 

"You escaped Virginia! Buying you a drink would have to give me good karma! Who knows, maybe I'll even get stationed somewhere new." 

Bradley released your hands when the beers arrived, but you didn't move away from him. "Where do you want to get stationed?" you asked, and Bradley couldn't look away from the curve of your lips as you took the first sip from the bottle. 

"Somewhere warm," he told you. "But I guess I could learn how to brave some cold weather if I had to."

When the woman behind you bumped into you, Bradley could feel the warmth from your body through his clothes. You were that close. He wanted you closer. And then you were snug up against the front of him. "Well, I think you're brave," you told him with wide, teasing eyes.

"Because I'm in the Navy?" he asked, taking a sip of his beer as you shook your head. 

"No," you told him with a soft laugh. "Because you dare to sport a mustache. Almost nobody can pull that off." Now you were giggling as he ran his fingers along his facial hair. 

"I think you're having a lot of fun at my expense here tonight," he told you. "I think you like me."

You were quiet for a few seconds, and Bradley's heart beat a little faster when you said, "I think you like me, too."

"What's not to like?" he whispered, and your eyes fluttered closed as he ran his fingers along your cheek. "You stole my song. You hate my job. You made fun of my facial hair. And you managed to hijack my escape from this state, because surely the odds of two of us getting out are just too high."

And then you kissed him. Just a soft brush of your lips to his. But it was perfect. And then the fireworks started outside, but you stayed right there with him, your hand coming to rest on his chest. 

Everyone else rushed out to the deck or down along the water to watch the colorful display, even the bartender. But you didn't move an inch, and now Bradley was setting down his beer. This time he kissed you, and you nibbled on his lower lip as your other hand tangled in his hair. Bradley's hands went to your waist, as he tasted you. Beer and something kind of sweet. 

"What's your name?" Bradley asked between kisses, and when you told him, the sound of it echoed through his mind. He whispered it back to you, against your lips as you dragged your fingernails along his scalp. "I'm Bradley."

"Hi, Bradley," you said with a smile between kisses. "I'm sorry I stole your song. And I actually think your mustache is cute."

He was smiling so much against your neck as he kissed you there. "I'm really happy I came to this shitty bar tonight."

"Me too," you gasped as he sucked on you there before returning his lips to yours. These hurried, needy kisses turned more languid as they slowed down. You had pushed Bradley back onto an empty stool, your palms on his splayed thighs as he stroked your neck and face while you kissed. Every little moan and gasp had him coaxing you closer, and then the fireworks ended. The other patrons started trickling back into the bar as your lips nudged his in one final kiss. 

You pulled away from him, smiling and sliding your hands down to his knees. He leaned a little close to your face, ready to beg for one more kiss as he said, "Please, let me have your phone number."

You leaned in and kissed the corner or his lips before you backed away. Bradley was up out of the stool, chasing the warmth of your body, but you shook your head.

"That's not a good idea," you told him, gently pressing your palm to his chest, and it took you a few beats to meet his eyes. "And make you pine for me from afar?" you asked with a soft, teasing smile. "I couldn't live with that."

Bradley whispered your name about a dozen times in a row until your eyes closed. He kissed you softly and said, "I'm pretty sure I'll be doing that anyway. Pining for you."

You looked up at him, gaze darting between his lips and his eyes, almost like you were about to cave. But you shook your head and said, "You'll forget all about me by tomorrow."

Then someone called your name from the other side of the bar and stole your attention from him. And Bradley felt all the perfect flirtation and banter and kisses slipping through his grasp. 

"I need to go," you told him, and you looked so sad. "I hope you escape Virginia."

He nodded slightly, running his thumb across your soft cheek one more time. "I know this sounds weird, but I'm going to miss you."

And then you kissed him again, as if you understood exactly what he meant. And then you were gone. 

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

Bradley thought about you a lot. Sometimes he let your name grace his tongue with the sweet feel of it. Sometimes he would daydream about your laugh. But the moment he opened his mail in late August and read the line detailing the location of his new station, a slew of obscenities flew out of his mouth. 

San Diego. He was going to be stationed in San Diego. 

And he had no idea how to reach you. He only knew your first name. But he spent his first few months there hopeful that he would run into you somewhere. So he visited different grocery stores. He took different running tails. He went to the mall across town once. And each time he did one of those things, he felt ridiculous. Stupid. Idiotic. Until he remembered your smile and the way you made him feel so good while also poking fun at him. 

As the months wore on, he went on dates and kissed other girls, but he still thought about you sometimes. When he listened to Jerry Lee Lewis, he pictured you singing into your beer bottle. When he drank a cheap beer, he could almost hear your laugh. 

You had told him that you go to that same shitty bar every year on your brother's birthday. But just as Bradley purchased tickets for a roundtrip flight from San Diego to Norfolk, he realized you probably didn't even remember him. What was he going to do? Walk into that bar and tell you he missed you? You'd look at him like he was insane. Or worse, like you had no fucking clue who he was. 

He thought about not going. Just letting the tickets go to waste. But at the very least, he would be able to visit his cousins for the night. At the very least, he might just be able to see you again, just for a minute. 

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

You sat at the bar, across the room from your brother. You didn't know why you still bothered to come home for the weekend every year, but here you were. In Norfolk. Again. 

As politely as you could, you turned down the red headed guy who tried to buy you a drink. And you did the same thing to the blond, too. Because now you associated this shithole bar with wavy, sandy brown hair and big, brown puppy eyes. And you weren't about to override your memories from one year ago with some random loser who wanted to buy you a can of Miller Lite. 

You hoped Bradley was currently stationed somewhere warm, near a beach. It always made you smile to picture him with his feet in the sand, drinking a beer.

Your head swiveled to the jukebox as soon as you heard the opening piano chords of Great Balls of Fire playing, but there was just an older woman standing there snapping her fingers. 

Your heart sank a bit as you settled back into your stool and sipped your beer. It would have been too good to be true, and you were ridiculous for even entertaining the thought. But then that raspy voice was behind you, saying your name and making goosebumps break out all across your skin.

When you turned and met his warm eyes, your mouth fell open. He was here. And he looked so handsome and nervous. And your heart was hammering too hard, making it difficult to talk. 

"I don't know if you remember me," he said softly, looking at your face like you were the most precious thing he had ever seen. "But-"

"Bradley! How could I forget?" you breathed, and you watched his smile grow. "I was hoping you'd escape Virginia."

He laughed, and you wanted to kiss his mustache again. "I did. And I've been looking for you for ten months."

You leaned in a little closer and grinned. "Well I've been in San Diego."

"Me too," he said, and you tilted your head in question, but he just smiled more. "That's where I've been stationed since September."

"Oh!" you gasped. "You escaped to my city!"

"Mmhmm. And you made me come all the way back to shitty Norfolk, Virginia to find you."

You laughed. "You came back here for me?"

He nodded and stroked his fingers across your cheek just the way you remembered. "Yes. All I could think about was the way you told me you come here every year on this day. So I've been waiting months for the chance to try to see you again."

"That's really romantic," you told him, letting your palm come to rest on his chest. 

He covered it with his as he said, "My full name is Bradley Bradshaw. I live in Coronado, California on Pomona Avenue. And if you're single, I'm not leaving here without your phone number."

You were clamoring off your stool before he even finished talking, and he welcomed you into his arms. And then you kissed him, just like you had a year ago, his body warm and perfect against yours. You told him your full name between kisses, running your fingers through his hair and melting into him. "And yes, you can have my phone number, Bradley Bradshaw." 

He sighed against your cheek. "Even though I've been pining for you from afar?"

You laughed, remembering what you'd told him last year. "Apparently you've been pining for me from nearby. And that just won't do. Because I've thought about you... about the guy with the cute mustache who acted like he owns Jerry Lee Lewis's music catalog. About the only guy I ever kissed in the middle of a dive bar before I even knew his name," you whispered.

And then Bradley was kissing you again before he ended up sitting on the bar stool with you perched on his leg. He gave you his phone so you could save your number for him, and you sat like that until last call, just talking and laughing and occasionally kissing with the promise of more to come. 

When you got back to your parents' house with your brother, your phone illuminated with a new text message. 

Bradley Bradshaw: Meet me in San Diego.

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

They were both pining from afar! Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls for putting up with me.

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