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lachatalovematcha · 1 month

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⋆｡˚ ✧ ˚ ༘ ⋆｡⭐🌸˚ * . °•★|•°∵ ∵°•|☆•° . *🌸⭐ ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ ⋆｡˚ ✧ ˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚ * . °•★|•°∵ ∵⭐🌸°•|☆•° . * ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○⭐🌸◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ ⋆｡˚ ✧ ˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚ * . °•★|•🌸⭐°∵ ∵° . * ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ ⋆｡˚ ⭐🌸✧ ˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚ * .

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thedisablednaturalist · 8 months

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If you have issues with cr**pyp*sta/scre*mers please be warning the newest 3 scary games, the third game includes several jumpscares of j*ff the k*ller along with screams

I know it's supposed to have scary stuff in the video but I've always felt safe watching Markipliers videos as all the jumpscares are usually made by mark or his editor outside of the games, and the games never have jumpscares in their menu or when they boot up. Usually it's pretty obvious when a jumpscare is coming and they're also stuff I don't have a traumatic history with

#jumpscare warning #markiplier #three scary games #im lucky ive been in therapy and processed a lot of my fear and im on meds now #but my psychotic episodes were directly triggered by jtk #and i try to avoid cr**pyp*sta #words are censored to make sure tumblr doesnt start reccomending me that stuff

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milkchuu · 8 months

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its so funny how every time i have even the slightest problem, it just gets resolved like 5 minutes later

i don't even get to worry anymore, it's just "let's see how this fixes itself"

divine plot armor

#loablr #affirmyourreality #delusional girl #lucky girl syndrome #manifestation #affirmations #i am #loa #loassumption #stas #states of consciousness #ideal everything #subliminal maker #subliminals #i have plot armor #grateful

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munson-blurbs · 13 days

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Summary: Your lab partner, Eddie Munson, might be the most irritating person in your life. But when he unexpectedly comes to your rescue at a party, his chivalry is too hard to resist.

A collaboration with the absurdly talented @corroded-hellfire 🥰

WC: 3.8k

Warnings: smut (18+ only, minors DNI), fem!Reader, enemies-to-lovers, drinking, Billy Hargrove being a douche, fighting, blood, praise, fingering, accidental voyeurism if you squint, unprotected p in v, fluff because Red & I are some corny motherfuckers

Thank you @blueywrites for your idea that upped the spice 🌶️🌶️ Divider credit to @saradika

“Okay, so we need to mix the magnesium with hydrochloric acid,” you start, carefully measuring each substance and pouring them into a test tube, “and then we light the splint and see if it creates a squeaking noise.”

“Right,” Eddie says, not bothering to hide his disinterest. “And, uh, why are we doing this, exactly?”

You clench your jaw and exhale through your nose. Eddie getting under your skin is bad enough, but if he knew how much he annoyed you, he’d likely double down.

“We’re testing for the presence of oxygen,” you say with as much patience as you can muster. “And you need to wear safety goggles.”

He rolls his eyes and mimics you in a high-pitched and highly unflattering tone. “You need to wear safety goggles.”

He reaches for the matches, but you pull them away before he can grab them.

“I’m serious.”

Eddie scoffs. “Please. We’re not even blowing shit up. Besides, I have a gig tonight, and I’m not getting on stage with goggle marks on my face.”

Now it’s your turn to roll your eyes. “Yeah, I’m sure that’ll be the difference between your shitty band getting a record deal or not.”

“Whatever.” But he begrudgingly snaps on the protective gear, and you hand over the matchbox and the splint.

“So just li—seriously?” You watch, dumbfounded, as Eddie strikes a match and uses it to light the cigarette perched between his lips. Where had he kept it this whole time?

“What?” He asks with a smirk. “There’s, like, a million of these left. I’ll use the next one for the experiment thingy.”

He doesn’t get that far; Ms. O’Donnell marches over and yanks out the cigarette, snuffs it in the tray, and orders him to the principal’s office.

Leaving you to complete your work alone. Again.

Last week, it was because he’d kicked his feet up on the table and took a swig of Mountain Dew from a beaker. The week before, he’d blown up a rubber glove like a balloon and popped it right in Jason Carver’s ear, causing him to shatter a test tube on the ground.

You often felt more like a babysitter than a lab partner.

What you needed was a night out, so the party Steve Harrington was throwing tonight could not come any sooner. It wasn’t your usual scene, but all of your friends were going, and it certainly beat raiding your parents’ liquor cabinet alone.

Music blasts from an overpriced stereo system as you pull up to Steve’s house. Barely audible over the reverberating bass is the sound of drunken cheering as someone does a kegstand. You sigh, plaster a smile on your face, and make a beeline for the punch bowl.

Heather Holloway ladles jungle juice into an already pink-stained cup; you’re grateful for at least one kind face in a sea of Hawkins High students and recent graduates.

“Heather, hi!” You smile at her, plucking a new cup from the stack and filling it nearly to the brim. “How’s college?”

Heather takes a sip, wrinkling her nose at the vodka’s pungency. “Way better than high school,” she says with a laugh. “I’m taking an intro to biochem, and my lab partner actually shows up.”

You raise your glass in a mock toast. “Maybe you could take mine. He’s more trouble than he’s worth.”

She laughs. “Can’t be worse than when I was stuck with The Freak last year. He never showed up to class.”

“Really?”

“Mhm. And Ginny Anderson was his lab partner during his first senior year, and he pulled the same shit.”

Lucky them, you think wryly. Guess he decided to be a star student for his third go-around.

Frat boy-style cheering echoes from behind you and when you spin around you see Billy Hargrove strutting through the crowd, towards the kitchen. He throws a wink to a few girls and slaps five to one of the guys on the basketball team. If he’s coming into the kitchen, it’s the last place you want to be.

The living room is smoky and loud, but it beats getting stuck next to the booze with a jackass like Hargrove. Every thump of the bass has the little sips of alcohol you’ve taken sloshing around in your stomach. It’s hard to tell where you’re going or even what direction you’re going with so many people, so you just keep wading through groups until finally you come upon some space to breathe.

Unfortunately, this space brings you right back to where you began: in front of the kitchen. Just in time for Billy to sidle up next to you, the scent of whiskey and tangy cologne wafting off of him in waves.

“Where have you been all my life?” he asks, as if it’s supposed to be charming instead of nausea-inducing.

“Was better a second ago,” you mumble, not caring if he hears you or not. But when you move to step away from the blonde, the smarmy look slips from his too-pretty face and is replaced with a mask of set determination.

Strong fingers curl around your wrist, just tight enough to cause the barest amount of pain. The audacity and possessiveness are what piss you off the most, though.

A gentle tug of your arm does nothing to free it from his grip, so you try a little harder. Still nothing.

“Let go,” you seethe. The words are biting, but you’re a chihuahua up against a doberman.

Somehow, above your pulse pounding in your ears and the music thumping throughout the large house, you hear the distinct clang of a metal lunchbox snap shut and heavy boots on polished wood floors headed in your direction.

You sense Eddie over your shoulder before he appears in your peripheral vision. A moment hangs in the air where he and Billy stare at one another, and you watch them both, unsure of what is about to happen.

Eddie steels his jaw, unmoving. “Let her go,” he says, a slight rasp in his tone.

The jock remains unfazed, unthreatened. “Shouldn’t you be worshiping Satan’s asshole, Freak?”

“Shouldn’t you be worshiping Tommy’s? Or does he only worship yours?”

A cacophony of laughter stirs up an anger inside of Billy. He grabs Eddie by the jacket collar and slams him against the counter. “If you don’t fuck off in the next three seconds, I’ll kick you ass so hard that your uncle won’t even be able to identify your body.”

Eddie smirks. “One…two—”

Billy’s fist crashes into Eddie’s cheek with a sickening crack. Eddie returns with a punch to Billy’s abdomen, but not before his face sustains a few more hits.

Shock loosens its grasp on you and you call out for help, knowing it’s no use getting in the middle of their brawl. Someone—Tommy H, maybe—is chanting “fight!” and it takes all of your willpower not to clock him yourself.

Billy finally lets up when Eddie falls to the floor, clutching his stomach in agony. “Maybe next time, you’ll mind your fucking business,” he spits through his split lip—one of the few punches Eddie managed to land.

His smarminess is enough to provoke a reflexive response in you. As he gloats, you deliver a swift kick square to his crotch. A choked whine slips from Billy’s parted lips as he doubles over. You snort a laugh to yourself thinking about how the dumbbell is probably going to spin this story so he doesn’t seem like any less than the King of Hawkins High in front of his fellow party-goers. He’ll never be able to take away your satisfaction at using a pair of your nicest shoes to crush Billy’s balls though.

Eddie is still on the ground, wiping blood that’s trickled out of his right nostril onto the back of his sleeve. Turning your back to Billy, you bend down and offer your hand to Eddie. He accepts it with a weak smile and you help him to his feet.

“Are you okay?” you ask.

“Nothing I can’t handle,” Eddie says with a shrug and a sad smile that knots your stomach. He’s been hurt worse than this?

Unable to follow that train of thought, you reach out and slip your hand into Eddie’s. You give a small tug and he readily follows you down the hall of the Harrington home, the thumping beat of the bass becoming softer the further you walk.

In the back corner of the house you manage to find a bathroom that’s not occupied by someone puking the mixture of alcohol they’ve consumed or a couple hooking up, going at it like wild animals. This one looks like it’s been hardly touched all night and you click the lock into place once you and Eddie are inside.

Eddie takes a seat on the closed toilet lid, his calloused fingers coming up to gently touch the gash right across his chin. He winces at the tenderness of the wound while you crouch down and look in the cabinets underneath the sink for a first aid kit.

“Ah, here we are,” you announce as you pull out the small white box with the red cross on it. On your knees, you shuffle over towards Eddie and slide the kit along with you. “It’s not so bad,” you tell Eddie as you dab some rubbing alcohol on a small swath of gauze. “The face just bleeds more because—”

“Because the blood vessels in the face are so close to the skin,” Eddie finishes for you.

“Wow,” you say, raising your eyebrows at him. “I’m impressed.”

“We are in the same science class, you know,” Eddie teases with a playful smirk. It quickly turns to a grimace though as you begin to dab at his wounds.

“I thought I recognized you from the seat next to mine,” you joke back. There’s silence for a few moments while you clean off all the excess blood and bandage up the open cuts. “Why are you suddenly interested in science this year? I mean, I was talking to Heather before and she said you never showed up when you were her lab partner. So, what? Renewed attempt to graduate?”

“Uh,” Eddie says with an awkward chuckle. He avoids your eyes and rubs his hand along the back of his neck. “Something like that.”

“Got the hots for O’Donnell?”

He belly laughs at that thought, grimacing at the pain it causes. “Fuck, no!” He shakes his head. “She looks like a walrus and a naked mole rat had some sort of freaky baby.”

You wrinkle your nose. “Ew.”

“You were the one who suggested I’m into her,” Eddie rebutted, and fairly so.

“I didn’t make you compare her to a—”

A loud crash stops you mid-sentence, followed by someone drunkenly lamenting, “not the punch!”

“We’re probably safer hiding out in here for a bit,” Eddie says softly, “unless you want to volunteer to clean up whatever mess they made.”

“I think cleaning up your mess is more than enough for tonight.” To punctuate your point, you swipe a clean piece of gauze over a small cut you’d previously missed. “Besides, I wanna know what’s suddenly got you showing up to class.”

Eddie’s eyes roam your body far more conspicuously than he’d like, but the attention fills you with a newfound warmth. “You.” He snorts out a little laugh, startling you slightly. “Fuck, I’m drunker than I thought.”

“W-Wait.” You fight off the embarrassment that accompanies your stuttered words. “I’m the reason …?”

He noticed your reaction, mistaking disbelief for discomfort. “Does that make things…does that make you feel weird?” Nerves marr whatever joking tone he was trying to convey.

All you can do is shake your head. “No. It makes things…good.” Good insufficiently describes your reaction, though part of you waits for the other shoe to drop. It’s a prank, his way of getting back at you for—

A hooked finger in the belt loop of your jeans snags your attention, Eddie gently tugging you closer to him. “And now?”

“Still good. Better, actually.” Resting one hand on his sore chest, you lean in and add, “will it hurt if I kiss you?”

“Don’t care.”

Despite him not caring, you certainly care if you’re going to hurt him or not. Your mouth moves slowly towards his, lips just barely brushing against each other as your breaths co-mingle. It’s not enough for Eddie though, and he presses his lips against yours with more force, stealing the air from your lungs as your body melts against his. The back bathroom at the Harrington household is not something you would’ve considered romantic before, but right now it’s the only place you want to be. Tucked away in the corner with Eddie, trading explorative kisses as your hands roam each other's bodies.

Your body buzzes when Eddie’s tongue sweeps against yours, heat immediately pooling between your legs.

Instinctively, gingerly, you press your torso to his, one trembling finger hooking into his belt loop. A moan escapes you, soft but saturated with need. Eddie clocks it immediately.

“Mhm.” His smile threatens to break the kiss. “That’s it.”

You feel the button of your jeans unfasten, the sound of unzipping music to your ears. His hand slips between the denim and the newly exposed lace of your panties, grin widening when it reaches the damp patch.

Eddie’s hardness strains against the confines of his own pants, and you rush to relieve that ache. His exhale when you touch him—over his boxers, but not as gently as he touches you—makes you even wetter.

“Gotta have you.” He toys with your waistband but doesn’t explore further until he hears your ‘yes,’ pathetic and whimpering but consent nonetheless. “Good girl,” he growls, sending a shiver coursing through you.

The pads of his fingertips find your clit without struggle, rubbing precise circles over it that have you groaning his name. “Every time you say my name from now on,” he murmurs, “I’m gonna think about this.”

“Eddie, Eddie, Eddie.” It’s part taunt and part truth; only his name is on your mind. Your back arches against the sink, porcelain digging into your skin, but you barely notice.

One strong hand reaches for the strap of your tank top, pulling it down so harshly that the fabric tears. He mutters a soft swear, tugs the rest of the shirt down until your bra is completely visible.

“Fuckin’ perfect.” Eddie kisses your chest, groaning when the sensation of his lips causes you to squeeze his throbbing cock. “Careful, or I’ll—”

He’s interrupted by the door swinging wide open, Billy and Heather wrapped around each other in drunken lust. Billy’s eyes widen, their blueness dulled from the liquor, when he sees that the bathroom is currently occupied—and by whom.

The intrusion startles you as well, but you’re much quicker at recovering than the inebriated asshole gaping at you from the doorway.

“Get the fuck out!” you hiss.

Heather turns her head to look in your direction, as if she hadn't been aware there was anyone else in the bathroom until you’d spoken up. It’s clear she’s had quite a few more drinks since you’d seen her in the kitchen.

Whether it’s the alcohol, the shock, or his own stupidity, Billy doesn’t make a move towards leaving, let alone tug Heather along with him. The blonde shakes a few curls out of his eyes, causing Heather to reach up and twirl one around her finger.

“Jesus Christ, is this douche even capable of hearing a woman if she isn’t moaning his name?” Eddie mutters to you before rounding on the drunken pair and raising his voice. “The lady said out. Now.”

Something finally snaps Billy out of his dazed state and he curls his lip, giving the two of you a half-hearted sneer. He pulls Heather out of the doorway so quickly that it looks like she gets whiplash as he slams the door closed behind them.

Eddie leans over and locks the door, giving the knob a twist for good measure. “Do me a favor, honey?” His voice is a ribbon of silk down your spine. “Turn around so you’re facing the mirror.”

You do as he says, hands planted on the sink ledge. Your shirt is torn, make-up smudged, and you’re out of breath from the impromptu make out session. Ducking your head, you’re determined to avoid your reflection until tobacco-scented words tickle your ear from behind.

“Be a good girl and look at yourself while I fuck you.” Eddie moves your thong over, exposing your pussy, and exhales with a tremble. His middle finger glides over your folds before pushing into you slowly. “You got wetter when I called you a good girl, didn’t you?”

“Mhm,” you manage, stifling a moan as his ring finger joins his middle.

A teasing pout graces Eddie’s lips. “Such a good girl. And only for me.”

“Only for you,” you echo.

He taps the head of his cock on your bare ass, leaving drops of pre-cum in his wake. “Gotta be inside you,” he growls. “Gotta fuckin’ feel what a good girl you are.”

The sensation of his cock dragging down along your folds mixed with him knowing just what to say to get you squirming has you dropping your head forward with a soft whimper. A strong, calloused hand quickly finds its way up to your throat though, and presses with just enough pressure to remind you that you’re supposed to be looking at yourself in the mirror.

When you lift your head, you’re greeted by the sight of a smirking Eddie behind you in the mirror.

“Atta girl,” he praises.

At a torturously slow pace, Eddie begins to push inside of you. A guttural groan slips past your gritted teeth as he stretches your walls, the pleasure causing you to curl your toes inside your shoes.

“Fuck,” Eddie breathes out before pulling his hips back. “Pussy’s even tighter than I imagined.”

The mental image of Eddie laying in bed with his hand wrapped around his cock, thinking of you is enough to make your knees weak. They can’t buckle too much; Eddie has one hand gripping you tight and the other trailing down to your clit. Each deliberate circle is punctuated by a thrust, pleasure from every angle.

He kisses your shoulder blade, groaning when you tighten around him. “Look at yourself,” he growls his reminder. “Look how beautiful you are, all fucked out like this.”

You catch another glimpse; this time, you see Eddie’s lust-filled expression along with your own. He’s even further gone than you are, so focused on burying himself within you to care about the sweat matting his bangs to his forehead or the way his teeth dig into his lower lip.

“Say it.” His voice is half-commanding, half-pleading.

“S-Say what?” Each word is a struggle, your orgasm building to a peak you’d never before reached.

“That you’re beautiful.” He tugs you even closer to him, and there’s no mistaking his dominance for anything else. “So—goddamn—beautiful.”

You follow his order without a second thought. “I’m b-beautiful, all fucked out like th-this.”

Eddie’s hips snap against the plush of your ass at a frenetic pace. “That’s it; that’s my good girl.” Not a good girl, you note. His good girl.

One hand atop his, desperate for as much contact as possible, you moan: “your good girl.”

“Oh, fuck.” Everything is you—you and him together, and it drives him to the edge. “You…you gotta…’m so close,” he rambles.

“Me, too.” Panting breaths mingle with his groans, your walls tightening around him as you come. It’s so much, so intense, and tears cloud your vision resulting from the overwhelming bliss. “Eddie, oh, Eddie.”

He spills into you with a cry of your name. “H-ohmygod, holy fuckin’ shit.” His thrusts don’t stop until every last drop of his cum is inside you.

Eddie’s chest presses against your back, but he’s careful not to put all his weight on you. The feeling of him so solid and warm behind lulls you from pure ecstasy to warm contentment, not wanting to move out from beneath him.

A few silent moments pass before Eddie pulls out of you, both of you disappointed by the loss of contact. But Eddie’s hands refuse to let you go entirely, gently running over your hips and up your sides. The touch is featherlight and sends a comforting tingle throughout your limbs.

“You with me?” Eddie’s worn-out voice asks you.

“Mhmm,” you hum in acknowledgment. “Don’t wanna move.”

Eddie gives a husky chuckle in reply before he stands up, reluctantly taking a step away from you. Your own muscles whine in protest as you stand straight, the tell-tale signs of a good fucking already settling in.

The two of you begin to clean up, each slipping back into articles of clothing along the way. One question prickles the back of your mind in the quiet room and you know your brain won’t be able to rest until it has an answer.

“Uh, Eddie?” you ask once you’ve cleaned up your smeared lipstick.

“Yeah?”

“Are you still going to come to class? Or, you know, now that you’ve had me you won’t have a reason to anymore?” You try to hide the insecurity in your tone but there was no mistaking the slight edge your words had.

Eddie pauses mid-buckling his belt and gives you a frown.

“Sweetheart,” Eddie says and the nickname alone already has your engine revving for a round two. “I wouldn’t sit through O’Donnell’s class for someone I only wanted to fuck. If I’m gonna listen to that hag drone on and on then there’s a damn good reason I’m sitting my ass in that classroom.” With a sigh, Eddie steps closer to you and after a moment’s hesitation, cups your face in his hands. “Can I take you out? Do things, ya know, the right way?”

A little trill of a giggle bursts out of you, which makes Eddie frown. But you’re quick to let him in on what you found amusing.

“You mean having sex in a bathroom at Steve Harrington’s house isn’t the typical way romances start?”

A grin slowly slides across Eddie’s mouth and you swear it’s one of the most beautiful things you’ve ever seen. All you want to do is keep that smile on his handsome face as much as you possibly can.

“A romance, huh?” He clicks his tongue. “If I’d known that’s what this was, I would’ve at least fucked you in a guest room.”

You let your fingers brush over the fly of his jeans, feeling a gentle twitch from behind the zipper. “How about for round two?”

Eddie holds your face in his hands as he kisses you deeply, only breaking it to smile and murmur:

“You read my mind, Beautiful.”

#eddie x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x you #fanfic #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things #smut #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x fem!reader smut

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lucyrose191 · 5 months

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LOOKING AT HER| S.VETTEL

Author’s note; fuck off Amy.

Pairing; Sebastian Vettel x shy!girlfriend!reader

Summary; Reader has grown to love the feeling of Sebastian’s eyes on her but not everyone understands.

Warnings; fluff, suggestive towards the end, Amy’s a bitch.

F1 Master List

Sebastian always had a habit of looking at her, he just couldn't help himself, he found her so beautiful that it was impossible not to admire her. He didn't understand how he was so lucky to have someone so special as his girlfriend.

It had taken a while for Y/N to get used to his gaze, at first it had made her self conscious, she thought there was something about her appearance or her outfit which had caught his attention but every time she asked he always responded the same way.

"I’m just admiring how beautiful my girl is"

She eventually found herself being used to having his eyes on her, in fact she had grown to like it. It made her feel safe and secure knowing he was there and keeping an eye on her. It was like a comfort blanket to her now.

She did feel nervous under his gaze though, the good kind of nervous. Sebastian was always one for eye contact and his gaze was... intense. It was constantly making her flustered, she'd end up forgetting everything, her words, what she was meant to be doing, everything vanished for her when he was around, all she could think about was him.

Sebastian and Y/N were currently out for dinner with some of Y/N's friends, although the pair of them had been official for over 2 years now Seb hadn't really had the chance to meet her friends properly due to him travelling all the time and when he wasn't they were too caught up in making up for lost time to make plans.

Her friends had been shocked when Y/N who was known to be extremely shy and famous for keeping to herself announced that she had a boyfriend, they had already been dating for nearly a year when she had finally told them.

Imagine their surprise when their incredibly private friend revealed just who her boyfriend was; an extremely famous, successful and rich formula one racing driver.

Y/N was currently in the middle of a conversation with her 'best-friend' Amy when she felt her boyfriends beautiful eyes tracing over her body.

Sebastian thought she looked so beautiful, she has dressed up tonight into a long dress and heels. Obviously she looked beautiful all the time but that dress was really doing something.

It didn't take long for Y/N to get flustered, her cheeks had turned a blush pink and she looked down at the table as she tried to remember her words.

Sebastian smiled, he loved the effect he had on her, knowing that he could get her all riled up just from a simple glance was a huge ego booster.

"Why do you keep looking at her like that? Can't you see it's making her uncomfortable" The table went silent as everyone turned to look at Amy who had purposely made sure everyone heard her.

Sebastian was speechless when he saw that she was staring him down. Making her uncomfortable? He looked at Y/N who was in just as much disbelief as he was, staring at her friend, wide-eyed because she hadn't been uncomfortable at all and she really didn't appreciate her rude tone towards the man she loved.

"Excuse me?" Sebastian almost laughed at the ridiculousness of her accusation.

"You've been staring her down for the past 10 minutes and it's creepy, can you not see how awkward she feels? She's literally shifting around in her seat"

"Amy-" Y/N tried to protest, she usually wasn't one to speak up, preferring to keep out of drama but the way the girl in front of her was looking at Sebastian like he was a piece of shit wasn't sitting right with her at all, especially because he was quite literally the sweetest human she had ever met.

The table watched in tense silence as Amy continued to run her loud mouth which was making everyone feel uncomfortable.

"...Just because you're some rich bloke that drives around in fancy cars doesn't mean you have the right to stare at a woman like she's a piece of meat" Seb couldn't believe the audacity of the woman, she knew absolutely nothing about him.

It seemed Y/N was thinking the same thing because she slammed her hand down on the table "Shut up! You know absolutely nothing about Seb or me, clearly, so stop acting like you have the right to comment on him, his job or his actions"

She then turned to her boyfriend who's eyes were filled with pride "Can we go? I don't want to stay here with someone who had no respect for others"

Sebastian nodded, immediately standing from his seat, placing a couple bank notes down on the table to pay for their meal before grabbing his jacket and holding out his hand for her to take.

He ignored Amy's muttering of "Oh so you need to ask his permission to do what you want as well"

He said a polite goodbye to the rest of the table before the pair of them walked out of the restaurant.

Sebastian briefly glanced away from the the road and over to the passenger seat for the fifth time since they had gotten into the car, Y/N hadn't said anything since leaving the restaurant and it was starting to worry him.

She had sort of curled herself up into a ball, her knees pulled up to her chest with her feet resting on the edge of the seat as she stared blankly out of the window.

Sebastian wanted to tell her to sit up straight for her own safety but his worry for what she was thinking was a bigger priority to him at the moment.

"Liebling?" She only hummed in response which increased the worry he initially felt, she always responded properly to show he had her full attention, believing it was rude otherwise.

He hadn't been too bothered about Amy's words in the restaurant but with how quiet his girlfriend was being, he was starting to think that maybe Y/N agreed with her and maybe he did make her feel uncomfortable.

"Are you okay, schatz?" He asked. Y/N heaved out a heavy sigh as she sat up properly before turning to face him.

"I just hate how rude she was to you, she had no reason to speak to you like that and to do it in front of everyone in a public was just wrong, I'm sorry"

"Why are you apologising to me? You didn't do anything wrong, you handled it brilliantly" Sebastian reached over to grab her hand and link their fingers together, his thumb stroking along her hand hoping to provide some comfort.

"I know you went through the trouble to make sure you were free so we could go to dinner with them and now it's just wasted"

Sebastian shook his head "I didn't make sure I was free for the dinner, Y/N. I made sure I was free for you, you're more important to me than any interview or meeting"

Y/N smiled at his words, tightening her hold on his hand, he really was the perfect man.

"Can I ask you a question though?" He asked, seeing Y/N nodding her head out of the corner of his eye "Was she right?"

"What!?" Y/N couldn't believe the absurdity of his question "Not at all"

Sebastian bit his lip, not quite sure if she was just saying that so she wouldn't hurt his feeling "Are you sure? I'd hate to make you feel uncomfortable"

She couldn't help but giggle, nothing he did could ever make her uncomfortable, he was perfect. "You have never made me feel uncomfortable, Seb. I like feeling your eyes on me" she admitted.

Sebastian looked at her with a small smirk "yeah?"

Y/N nodded "Makes me feel sexy" she sheepishly said, turning back to the window to try and hide the blush on her cheeks.

"Oh, really?" She heard to teasing tone in his voice and internally rolled her eyes knowing he wouldn't let her live this down.

His ego had just grown about three times the size from her confession. It felt great knowing that he was able to make her feel so good without really doing anything. "Don't go all shy on me now, come on" he told her, tugging on her hand slightly.

"You're just going to hold it over my head now" she groaned but turned back to him as he wished.

"I promise I won't, I like that I make you feel good by something so simple" he said. The last part was true but he was totally going to hold it over her head.

"You always make me feel good" she whispered, tracing a finger over the veins on the back of his hand.

Sebastian heard her even though she spoke so quietly and felt like he could melt. What man didn't like hearing those words?

"How about I make you feel good when we get back home?" He asked, his tone suggesting anything but innocence.

Y/N's breath hitched knowing exactly what he was talking about. "Absolutely"

Sebastian smirked, turning his attention back to the road but he subtly pressed down on the accelerator.

He couldn't wait to get home.

#formula one #fluff #motorsport #sebastian vettel x reader #seb5 #seb vettel #sebastian vettel #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fanfiction #f1 #f1 fanfic #formula one x you #formula one x reader #sebastian vettel x you #formula 1 #sebastian vettel imagine

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clbrq · 4 months

Text

YOU’VE DONE IT NOW—C. BROCK

warnings: ANGSTY, cussing, disloyalty, crying, anger, alcohol consumption. im in the mood to get mad and cry so while i write for wannabe have this. inspiration from @sucker4colby <3

-/-

“Look, don’t stress, I’m sure everything’s fine.” Katrina’s comforting voice spoke from next to in front of you, a concerned look on her face, contradicting her words.

“Yeah, right.” You huffed, pacing back and forth around your room, your phone clenched tightly in your hand as the endless sound of ringing blared out into the room.

No answer, again.

“I swear I’m gonna kill him.”

Katrina sighed, raising from the bed to walk over to you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders, “While we wait for a reply, let’s go back down to your party. It’s your night, remember, fuck Colby.”

Agreeing with her half-heartedly, you followed aimlessly behind her as she led you back downstairs to the bustling party at your boyfriend’s house. It was the launch of your new brand, something you had been working on for years, but also your birthday. You had been lucky enough to share the day with two important things and got to spend it with your loved ones.

Except the one who pushed you to have a huge party in the first place.

Colby never missed your special moments. Whether it was hitting a milestone of followers on your social media, or even getting out of bed on a hard day—he was there. But, today, of all days, your ‘so-called boyfriend’, was a no-show. He hadn’t messaged you all day, and wasn’t next to you when you woke up—leaving you confused and suspicious as to where he was.

And you were rageful.

Making your way into the kitchen, full of your drunk friends, laughing and having a good time—you couldn’t help but feel jealous. This was supposed to be a great night, but you were riddled with anger and sadness. But, you knew the cure.

Finding yourself a small shot glass and a bottle of vodka, you knocked back as many shots as you could handle before a warm hand and a chuckle pulled you from your binging.

“Girl, slow down.” Kris’ smiling face regurgitated one onto yours as she spoke, “You’re gonna black out.”

“That’s exactly what I’m trying to do.” You replied, a cheeky, drunken grin plastered on your face, sparking another giggle from Kris’ lips.

“Hey, where’s Colby at? I haven’t seen him all night.” Kris questioned, her eyebrows furrowing towards you.

“Neither,” You laughed in disbelief, “You wanna dance?”

Attempting to query your words, she failed as you dragged her towards a crowd of dancing people, all enjoying the music and the drinks. Your body instantly fell into the beat of the music as you swayed your hips to the beat, screaming the lyrics as loud as you could. Finally, you were forgetting about your M.I.A boyfriend.

Oh, that wouldn’t last.

Just as you were beginning to have fun, a rough arm dragged you from your drunken dancing frenzy and into a quiet room. Sam and Katrina stood in before you, worried and shocked locks on their faces.

Your heart dropped.

“What?” You demanded, sensing something was wrong.

Not saying a word, Sam handed you his phone which portrayed a picture that sent chills down your spine and caused your stomach to drop. Tears welled up in your eyes as you shook with anger.

Colby, shirtless, with his arm loosely hung around Stas’ shoulders—both of them posing in a mirror at her house, smiling and standing extremely close.

Shoving Sam’s phone back towards him, you stormed out of the room and towards the bathroom, slamming the door behind you. Gripping the counter, tears fell from your eyes swiftly as the anger bubbled deeply inside your stomach as picture of your boyfriend with another woman on your special night flashed in your mind.

Releasing a shaken breath, you ran a hand through your hair as your chest heaved quickly—you’d never felt rage like this before. How dare he, so much for a being a good boyfriend.

Loud knocking on the bathroom door followed by a worried voice soon arrived, “Yo, are you okay? Open the door.” Sam.

Swinging the door open, you were met with the blonde boy’s concerned face standing before you, “Are you alright?”

“Do I look it?” You snapped, the fury inside you begging to be released, “I’m sorry, I’m fine. Just get me a drink and don’t let me near my phone.”

Realising he couldn’t convince you otherwise, Sam nodded as you brushed past him and towards the kitchen once more.

And that’s how you spent your special night. Drinking and on the verge of tears, sat by yourself and wallowing in your jealousy and despair on your birthday.

When bedtime arrived and everybody had gone home, you curled up in Colby’s bed, tears slipping freely from your eyes as your disloyal boyfriend never left your brain. Jealousy burned in your chest as the thought of them kissing or flirting etched itself into your mind even while you dreamt. You never wanted to speak to either of them again.

The next morning, your chest hurt. You woke up with a heavy heart, feeling nothing but depressed and pitiful at what you’d witnessed. You didn’t want to do anything, or see anyone—you just wanted to wallow in your sadness all day. But, you knew your friends wouldn’t let you do that.

Rising from your bed, empty still, you slowly made your way down the stairs, your head pounding due to the many drinks you consumed last night. You looked tired and sullen as you walked into the kitchen, not caring about your appearance due to your state of mind.

Just as you approached the room, rage bubbled inside you as Sam and Katrina sat at the kitchen island with the two people that ruined your night. Stas and Colby.

“Oh my god, that was the funniest part of the night, I swear.” Stas giggled as she looked at Colby, a bright smile on her face.

Rolling your eyes, you wondered towards the cabinets for some painkillers to cure your headache, when suddenly your presence was made known.

“Oh, hey, girl.” Katrina’s voice was heard as you knocked back the pill with some water, “How you feeling?”

“Amazing!” You replied sarcastically, faking a smile as the room fell silent while you grabbed your breakfast.

As you turned around to walk back up the stairs, Colby rose from his seat and walked towards you, “Baby, can we tal—“

“Sit the fuck down, Brock, don’t even try it.”

Your words shocked him as you walked past him like he was nothing, not even looking him in the eyes. But, before you could make it very far, a strong grasp stopped you from moving.

“Don’t talk to him like that!” Stas’ irritated expression filled your vision as she spoke.

A laugh rumbled from your chest, “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” She snapped, “He was only trying to fix things.”

“Yeah, fix things that got ruined because of you.” You spat, trying your hardest to contain the anger inside you but it was becoming unbearable.

“Oh, please, Y/N. It was one night, grow up.”

That was it.

Slamming your plate aggressively on the counter top, you swiftly tied your hair up as you prepared yourself, “Say that again.” You pushed, advancing towards her.

Your friends quickly jumped up in shock, “Woah, woah, woah, let’s just calm down.” Colby panicked, placing a hand on your arm to move you backwards.

“Get your fucking hands off me.” You growled, seething beneath him.

“Y/N, please calm down, and let’s just talk please.” Colby pleaded as Katrina moved Stas into another room.

“Okay, let’s talk!” You started, condescendingly, “So, how was your night with another woman? On my birthday, and the big launch of my brand. At the party you practically forced me to have.”

Silence.

“Still wanna talk?” You pressed further, making direct, intimidating eye contact with Colby as he stated back at you, worriedly, “That’s what I thought.”

“Y/N..” He whispered, his eyes practically begging you to forgive him.

“Shut up.” You snarled, “I’ll pack my stuff, and I’ll be out by midday. So, go enjoy your time with Stas over there, and I’ll consider coming back when her brand launches.”

“B-But, she doesn’t have a brand?” Colby spluttered, looking like a child who had been told off.

“Oh, what a shame for you then.”

—

heyyyyyyy

finally one where you don’t forgive him:)

sorry it’s been a while i’ve been having trouble with my phone so all my apps deleted LMAO

merry christmas to those who celebrate it! hope all of your days, xmas or not, are going amazing!

love you all :)

@cam1ly

@samandcolby-ownme

@paymal7

@morchilluv

@iwanttoberich420

@peachhiz

@reem6806

@lovely-red2

@ilymusic27

@nanascupid

@xosugardoll

@m-maxie-ie

@theyloveniqueeeee

@whicked-hazlatwhore

@camille-1019

@mattheoriddlemarcuslopez (sorry couldn’t find your other account)

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strawbeerossi · 6 months

Text

Sweet Boy

Pairing: Fem!Reader x Spencer Reid

Description: Whenever Spencer asks you for help, you are more than willing to assist.

Content/Warnings: Dom!Reader, Sub!Reid, masturbation (m), mommy kink, blowjob, slight oral fixation.

Word Count: 0.9K

Anon Request: I need more Sub!Spencer fics, riding him into dumbificaton or giving him a bj. Whiny spencer too🥴

Navigation || Criminal Minds Masterlist || Request

Alright, my honeys. I’ll miss all of you but I promise I’ll be back to writing and posting regularly in January! I love you all and thank you for all your love and support!! 🫶🏻

🏷️ @kr-1-sta @iluvreid @nervousmoongiver @multifandom-on-the-side @ferrjulie @lov1ngreid @sobbingcryingattsizzles @doriantomybasil @thegluesong @rosiehale23 @queermaxwooo @smallgayandnotokay @rubyatarah @Princesskuzimu

Spencer hardly asked for anything on nights after your shifts. He knew you’d be exhausted from a long shift of being on your feet, being yelled at, and being understaffed. He normally always had a bath ready for you if he got home before you did, even setting out some comfy clothes. He didn’t have a case today, so he was lucky enough to get home right after work.

Tonight, you got home after a tiring double, kicking off your shoes by the front door. “Spencer?” You called, shrugging off your coat. “I was hoping that we could maybe order takeout for dinner?” Silence. Not too strange, maybe he’s catching up on much needed sleep, his schedule being just as crazy as yours.

“Good talk.” You muttered sarcastically as you were heading to your shared bedroom. As your hand was moving to the doorknob, your movements stalled when you heard noises on the other side of the door. It mostly sounded like whines. Maybe Spencer was having a bad dream? As you gently pushed the door open, you were pleasantly surprised to see him wide awake, hand on his hard cock as he was making an effort to relieve himself.

He was too enthralled with his efforts to cum that he didn’t realize you came into the room. He must’ve been at it for a while, the tip of his cock an angry red as beads of precum were working as a generous amount of lube for his aching sex.

As much as you liked the show, you knew what you had to do. “Spencer.” You spoke up, making the male nearly jump out of his skin as his hand was dropping from his cock. “You scared me!” He squeaked as he stared at you, face flushed as he let his mouth fall open. It wasn’t like you two hadn’t been intimate before. He just felt.. Embarrassed after getting caught like this.

“Sweet boy..” You sighed, jutting out your lower lip as you were approaching his bedside. “You couldn’t have waited for me to get home?” You asked, your knuckles caressing the smooth skin of his face. “N-no. It just got to be too much! It hurts so bad.” His pitiful whines only made you smile in satisfaction. “Let me help you then, hmm? I don’t want my sweet boy to hurt. Want some relief?” Spencer’s head was nodding rapidly, leaning into your touch as he stared up at you with those wide doe eyes. “Y-yes! I really need it. Need you. Please.” He begged softly.

Normally you’d give him a hard time, however you weren’t in the mood to waste time tonight. “Lay back and let me take care of you then. Okay?” You purred, his head nodding. “Y-yes ma’am.” He whispered, body laying back in the mountain of pillows as he propped himself up with them.

You let your eyes trace over his cock that was standing at full attention, just begging to be touched and worshipped the way it deserved. You were sitting on the edge of the bed, leaning down to let your tongue run over his sensitive slit, the soft whimper escaping his lips urging you on. You let your hand gently grip his throbbing shaft, thumb running along the vein of the underside of his cock. Just the smallest touch had Spencer squirming.

“Mommy, please.” He whined, frustration setting in as he was licking over his lower lip. Rewarding him with the relief he so desperately needed, you were spitting on his cock, hand slowly beginning to pump along his sex. Just from the way he twitched in your hand, you knew he needed this.

“M-mouth.” He stuttered, face flushed and chest rising and falling. “What do you say?” You asked, slowing your movements. “Manners, Spencer.” You huffed. With yet another pathetic little whine, the male was looking up at you. “P-please let me have your mouth. I really want it. Please. I need it. Mommy, please.” His begs were enough to urge you forward, your tongue licking over his slit again before your lips closed around his tip.

Nimble fingers were soon tangling in your hair as you were bobbing your head along his shaft, Spencer letting out a series of whimpers, whines, and begs for more. “Ah~” His back arched off the bed as you had slowly swallowed his cock, nose brushing against his pubic bone as you stayed put for a moment, your tight and warm throat making Spencer practically spasm.

With your head slowly moving again, you couldn't help yourself as you were picking up your pace, eyes fluttered shut as you savored the musky taste of his cock in your mouth. The room was filled with sinful sounds of your sucking as well as Spencer’s cries of pleasure, your hand having to hold his hips down to remain in control.

“M’gonna-” He slurred, cock twitching in your mouth and telling you all you needed to know, your tongue tracing over one of the veins along his desperate cock, the sensitivity turning Spencer into a whining and whimpering mess.

With the familiar fire in his belly, it wasn’t long until Spencer was hitting his orgasm. His body was covered in a thin layer of sweat, hair a dishevelled mess as he was letting go of your hair and crossing his arm over his face. As you swallowed the warm seed, you were pulling off with a ‘pop’. “Better?” You asked, tongue licking up any remaining cum still on his softening shaft.

“Much.”

#spencer reid #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid fandom #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid smut #doctor spencer reid #dr spencer reid #spencer reid blurb #spencer reid scenario #reid

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lvvvyi · 11 months

Text

08 : Miguel O'Hara ✧

C.W : dom!bottom!reader ; oral (afab + amab!reader receiving) ; body worship for like a bit

Cond. Notice : couldn't resist the urge and look where I am. writing another miguel work bc I can't get enough of him🫡

Miguel O'Hara may be a dangerous man, but oh does he love the way you manhandle and drag him around. All he wants is to pleasure you, and he’ll do anything to hear your sweet moans.

“Use me however you want, hermosa/o,” He’ll whisper to you, before leaving little kisses all over your neck. You did feel stressed today, and what better way to relax is with your partner in between your legs.

Making your decision, you grab his collar and angle his lips to yours, kissing him roughly. As you deepen the kiss, he groans loudly, almost pulling away. Slipping the other hand to his shirt, you begin unbuttoning and grazing your fingers all over his chest. This lasts for a few minutes, since he pulls away abruptly, making you look at him in confusion.

“No, no, tonight is about you.” Miguel explains, while moving your hand on his chest to his neck. “Well, every night is always about you, but today, you really need to sit back.”

“Huh, really?” You question him, before sitting down at a nearby chair. Upon hearing a quiet “Por favor”, you spread your legs, allowing Miguel to help you with the clothes.

You watch curiously, as he kneels in between your legs. Instead of going straight to pleasuring you, he takes his time leaving kisses and small bites over legs, thighs, whatever’s in reach. Miguel even leans forwards to whisper sweet nothings all over your stomach. You can barely make out what his lips ghost to your skin, but the occasional “I’m so lucky to be with you” and “fuck you’re so gorgeous/handsome”. This really is soothing, and you bathe in his overall satisfaction of being in your presence. Though, you both know what will be even more relaxing.

“You going to get to it then?” You ask breathily, dragging him by the hair towards your main sweet spot.

AFAB!READER

Miguel wastes no time into digging his face into your pussy, licking your folds. His tongue flats out against your labia, earning a deep groan from you. With a strong grip on your thighs, he licks further into your folds, taking into note what sounds returned from certain areas. You lean back and sigh in relief.

His face is glued in between your thighs. It’s a little act from the both of you, where his whole body leans him into your folds and you push your hips to his mouth. Miguel wanted to continue whispering sweet love to you, but hearing you like this nudges him to not ruin the moment.

All on his mind is making you cum, he doesn’t care if his cock is straining against his boxers, or that his own orgasm is building up by the minute. Licking a longer stripe, you grind into Miguel’s face, pressing him right to your clit. His own groans vibrate through your body, as you pull at his hair to that right fucking spot. You don’t let him up, as the pleasure rises in you.

Miguel pulls away, as your orgasm runs through, but he latches his lips back to clean you up. All while looking the most adoringly at you. He follows the hand on his hair for his next move, be it to kiss you or work your pussy to another orgasm.

AMAB!READER

Miguel takes your cock into his mouth fully, till his nose hits your pelvis. To this you moan out loudly, feeling the absolute heat from his work. His tongue glides along the inside of your shaft as he works your balls with his hand. His cheeks bulge as he works his mouth down your shaft, taking in as much of you as he can. You push his head down, your grip tightening on his hair as you feel his nose scrape along the base of your shaft. As the tip of your dick slides and slides against his throat, you let out airy groans.

Grasping your thighs, he soon forgets about his own pulsing cock, as he pushes you towards your orgasm. You’re always the highlight of your session, meaning Miguel will always place your pleasure before his. So, he starts quickening his actions. At this, you push into his throat and he whines into your cock as he sucks.

Feeling less stressed by the minute, you lean back into your chair, and watch Miguel working his mouth up and down your shaft. The way his face contorts, eyes squeezed shut and all, when you slip into his throat and how he angles you through his mouth, desperate to avoid his fangs, turns you on even more. So much more, that you're starting to get close, so you reach down and pull his head forwards for a final thrust.

Moaning loudly, your orgasm bursts through you. Jerking your hips, you groan and your cock spurts semen into Miguel’s mouth. He swallows it all down, and his eyes flutter open. Staring up longingly, he waits for your next move on him, whether it's for a kiss, or another round.

[ 842 km away ]

#.lvvvyi #sub miguel #sub miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara smut #sub spiderman #spiderman x reader #dom reader #gn reader #fem reader #male reader #stn. 🕷️

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2knightt · 1 month

Note

CANT HOLD IT IN ANY LONGER!!! i’m utterly obsessed with the curtis brothers.

idk if u do this, but if u can, the curtis brothers with a reader who’s super down bad for them? they make it so clear, too. constantly doing everything for them, making food, buying snacks, just utterly everything. compliments, holding their hand religiously … yk.

୧ ׅ𖥔 ۫ you know i’m a fool for you. ⋄ 𓍯

…IN WHICH! you think the curtis brothers are the only men on the planet.

tags/warnings: swearing(on my end/once during dialogue.) reader being slightly overprotective or insane, mentions of reader getting hit on, mentions of reader leaving lip stick stains, me not knowing what to write for darry.

ೃauthor notes⁀➷ i’m using ny other accounts layout bc i can’t be bothered rn. also i’m here to feed y’all i’ve noticed the outsiders x reader tag is lowkey dry asl.

Ponyboy Curtis:

WOAH HE CAN’T HANDLE ALLAT😭

like actually. he is TWEAKING AT ALL TIMES! when you first like started complimenting him, showering him in kisses, giggling n’ shit—he thought it was a one time thing.

ponyboy just thought he’d have to thug that shit out once a week or something. he was, in-fact, pleasantly surprised when you continued to do it.

“you’re so-mwah-cute! i wish-mwah-i could-mwah-hold you forever!”

“y/n…😣”

he’s so flustered omfg like actually he’s beet red LMFAOOO. if you were to put your fingers to his forehead it’d be so hot. like ponyboy’s avoiding eye contact, his lips are tightened, etc.

if he were to stay the night at your place—you make him all types of food. like, food he’d never heard of. or food he’d dream about after eating bologna for a week,

“for me? …really?”

“mhm! c’mon, don’t let it get cold now.”

ponyboy is DIGGING RIGHT THE FUCK IN. okay he is SCARFING THAT DOWN. after he’d be a little embarrassed of how quickly he ate but like you just took it as a good thing.

thinks you’re the best cook ever tbh. gordan ramsey has nothing on you type levels.

going on a walk with him to go grocery shopping for the curtis house with your hands intertwined and letting ponyboy ramble about this annoying substitute he had!!! IT’S REAL!!! ALL OF IT!!!

“n’ then he tried to tell me my answer was wrong when i studied last night—I EVEN ASKED MY FRIENDS. so, i know it was right. i just think mr. johnson had a personal vendetta against me.”

“smh…i could do slash his tires if you’d like♡!”

“what”

“nothing.”

AWHHH PONYBOY FOLLOWING YOU AROUND THE STORE LIKE A LOST PUPPY BECAUSE HE DOESN’T KNOW WHAT TO BUY LMFAO

he’d like holding your sleeve or the hem of your shirt as you walk around, looking more awkward above all else.

uwahh showering ponyboy in compliments late at night when it’s just the two of you, twirling his hair as you hold him closer!!!

“you’re hair is so pretty. it’s so soft…i dunno why you put grease in it. if i was you—i’d never let anyone touch it.”

“i don’t. i only let you.”

“…REALLY??🥰🥰😚😚”

ur friends are soooo sick of you talking about ponyboy LMFAOOOO like actually. every time you go, ‘omfg did i tell you guys, he-‘ they know to just let you mindlessly ramble.

“and then ponyboy read to me ‘til i fell asleep! he’s so sweet—i dunno how he’s real!”

“i dunno how you’re so whipped.”

“he must be the funniest motherfucker on the planet if y/n’s this obsessed.”

Sodapop Curtis

OHHH Y’ALL ARE AT A CONSTANT WAR TO SEE WHO’S GONNA BEAT THE OTHER AT BEING THE BETTER PARTNER LMFAOOO

HE’S usually the whipped one in the relationship…he felt both extremely lucky and threatened when you started attacking him with kisses…

“you’re so handsome. i’m just the luckiest person on earth—ain’t i?”

“…yeah…🤨”

“why’d you say it like that?😞”

“cause I’M the luckiest person on the earth…I’M supposed to be tellin’ you this…”

but as time goes on—he does take the loss and accepts you’re better at him. for now. it’s only a matter of seconds until sodapop thinks of something insane to show his love for you.

anyways! IMAGINE COOKING WITH HIM OHHHH NY GODDDDD /?:&$:&: he just mainly stands there and looks pretty as he asks what you’re doing but SHHH. HE’S MORAL SUPPORT.

“…what?”

“i’m chopping onions for the flavour, honey.”

“you don’t like onions, though?”

“i don’t like the crunch rather than the flavou—YOU REMEMBERED I DON’T LIKE ONIONS??☹️☹️”

“of course i would!”

gladly holds ur hand 24/7. i’m not kidding. you two are like super magnets. HEHEHE IMAGINE HIM DRIVING WITH ONE HAND ON THE WHEEL AND HIS OTHER HAND HOLDING YOURS!!/!2!

you do take him grocery shopping. only sometimes, though. he only buys junk food rather than actual food.

“can i get these? please?”

“you already have two bags of chips in the cart, soda.”

“okay..😣”

“SIGH…get them.”

“HURRAY!”

knows you can’t say no to him and that’s like the only time he uses it to his advantage.

soc’s do hit on you under the premise of ‘showing you how a real man is supposed to spoil a lady like you.’ HOWEVER, you look at them like they’re aliens.

“hey, baby. what’re you doin’ around here?”

“…EW.”

“???”

they’re shocked above all else as they see you turn away from them and quickly walk away without looking back. AND WOOO SODA IS SO PROUD.

Darry Curtis

the gang acts like you two are constantly fighting whenever you start to look at darry with that sparkle in your eyes.

“guys, PLEASE! YOU’RE BREAKING UP THE FAMILY! STOP ARGUING!”

“what the hell are you on about, soda?”

“you’re scaring pony!” “don’t bring me into this.”

“mind you’re own business, soda.”

AJDIEHJR DARRY HAVING A HAND AROUND YOUR WAIST AS YOU MUTTER SWEET NOTHINGS BETWEEN KISSINGS>>>

you two are a POWER COUPLE IN THE GROCERY STORE! EVEN IF YOU REFUSE TO LET HIM PAY AND HE GETS POUTTY! EVEN IF HE DOESN’T TAKE COMPLIMENTS WELL!

“y/n, please. these are for my house.”

“so?? my wallet was out first.”

“that doesn’t mean anything. baby, i’m telling you, i’m paying.”

“too late, i already handed the cashier the money.”

you cook and clean for the curtis’ to take something off of darry’s back out of the kindness in your heart and totally not because you want him to pay more attention to you!! NEVER!!

but you do enjoy the fact that darry has more time to sit down and pay attention to you! and darry really likes the extra time he has!!

“you didn’t have to.”

“yes i did! you’ve been so stressed out, it’s the least i could do for you.”

“you’re such a treat, y’know.”

“mh. only f’you.”

you FORCE him to hold your hand. sometimes he forgets that he’s supposed to hold your hand in public so do NOT BE AFRAID TO GRAB IT YOURSELF.

but once you do, darry is the last person to let go. maybe to wrap an arm around your hip—BUT THAT’S IT.

teehee leaving lipstick stains on his white t-shirt accidentally🫶🫶!! it’s all so real to me!! sure, darry’s a little annoyed but it’s okay! he can never be mad at you!

#2knightt #the outsiders #the outsiders x reader #ponyboy curtis x reader #ponyboy x reader #ponyboy curtis blurb #ponyboy curtis imagine #sodapop x reader #sodapop curtis x reader #sodapop curtis blurb #sodapop curtis imagine #darry curtis x reader #darry curtis blurb #darry curtis imagine

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hysteria-things · 1 month

Text

FIVE

ʚ♡ɞ 𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓 | 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 | 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 | 𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐓 ʚ♡ɞ

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: chris x reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: you and your former best friend chris sturniolo hang out for the first time in a long time.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: swearing

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 822

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: i added a promise? tag to make it easier to navigate!

nick is editing the recently recorded video when chris opens his door without knocking. nick lets out a yelp and aggressively takes off his headphones, staring up at his brother with horror and anger in his eyes. “for fuck sake!”

“stop yelling, it’s just me. have you heard from y/n?”

he gives him a look that looks like disgust, but his facial expressions are so similar that chris doesn’t know which emotion is which anymore. “not since the afternoon. why?”

“just curious,” he says, closing the door.

chris’s phone is on the kitchen island facing upwards. he taps the screen to see if there are any notifications, but there aren’t. he groans. it’s almost midnight, she has to be home by now.

as matt is walking into the kitchen, his phone goes off making him lunge across the island to grab it. matt stops in his tracks and looks at chris with wide eyes. “i’m confused.”

“keep on walking, lover boy,” chris says, holding up his hand in a shooing gesture. the boy rolls his eyes and opens the fridge. he stays hunched over the island, a smile appearing on his face when he sees it.

y/n l/n is typing…

he didn’t bother waiting for you to finish typing when he opened up snapchat. your bitmoji is on the bottom left corner above the keyboard, the three dots in the thought bubble moving from side to side as you type. a breath of relief was released from him when your message popped up.

Y/N

| i made it home

| see?

| fine you win

| thank you for keeping your promise :)

Y/N

| as always (unlike you😒)

| I SAID I WAS SORRY

Y/N

| i know i know i’m just kidding

| you're lucky claudia kept throwing up or i would’ve stayed there for wayyyy longer

| LMAO

| that must’ve been fun to witness😍

Y/N

| for sure

| are you free tomorrow?

Y/N

| i have no life

| so yes!

| cool!

| do you want to hang out?

| like the good old days🥹

Y/N

| sure why not?

| BET

| i’m going to text you to plan i hate using snapchat

| see you tomorrow :)

matt approaches next to chris. he’s sipping a root beer he got from the fridge a few minutes ago. “you’re going to hang out with y/n tomorrow?”

chris hides his phone by bringing it to his chest. he stares at him with a look of annoyance. “can you not snoop at my private conversations?”

he shrugs. “i wasn’t snooping. it just so happened to be in my eyesight.”

“get out of here, lover boy.”

you’ve been writing in your journal more frequently than you have anticipated. you’ve had this journal for a while but stopped for no apparent reason, but ever since the triplets, it’s been a number one priority in your eyes.

your brain moves faster than your hands, so you write down whatever your scrambled thoughts are telling you to. half the time you don’t even know what you’re writing.

that’s when you remember you’re supposed to hang out with chris today, so you place your pen into the crack of the book and start texting.

you get up from the bed and take a shower. after that, you find a decent outfit and throw it on. by descent you mean a black long-sleeve shirt and gray sweatpants. you’re basic like that.

walking to your parent’s room, your mother sits at her vanity putting the final touches on herself. you knock on the doorway, and she looks at you through the mirror and smiles. “hi, sweetie.”

“hey.” you reply. “so… just letting you know chris is coming over soon, even though you guys are going out anyway.”

“your father is in the car waiting.” she says, getting up and grabbing her purse. she grabs your shoulder lightly. “i’m glad you guys are starting to talk again.”

she kisses you on the head, exiting the room.

there is a knock at the front door, causing you to spring up from the couch.

you stand there for a beat before opening it. chris stands there with his hands in his pockets, lifting his head when he hears you. you look behind his shoulder and lift a brow. “your clones aren’t joining you today?

he laughs and shakes his head. “no. you didn’t ask for them.” you open the door wider for him to step in.

he looks around. “still feels like my second home.”

the heart inside your body flutters at the comment, but you clear your throat to distract yourself. “do you want anything? a drink or something?”

“i’m good, thanks.” he looks down at you, a grin plastered on his face. “i just want to hang out with you.”

biting your lip, you smile. “ask and you shall receive.”

𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

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delopsia · 6 months

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Please [Rewrite] | Rhett Abbott x Reader

Word Count: 9,000 Cross Posted on AO3 Warnings & Notes: 18+, AFAB!Reader, begging, handjobs, teasing, grinding in public, riding, unprotected sex, surprise orgasms. Cock warming and edging if you squint. Brief Summary: Getting Rhett to beg isn't as easy as it's cracked up to be.

It's not easy to break down a man like Rhett Abbott.

The kind of blue-collar man who has only ever known one way of life, maybe two, if he's lucky. Expected to be tough from the moment he took his first breath; raised to forget emotion in favor of building up a mountainous, rocky exterior that does not give way when the west wind blows. Thick-skinned and with a backbone made of steel, the kind of man who can roll with the punches but carries just enough humanity to avoid coming off as soulless or dull.

So strong, yet so afraid of the word 'weak'. His power, his dominance, clutched tight in an iron fist, never to be let go of, even for a second. Too used to this one way of life that he fears the slightest hint of an unknown, of losing control, getting himself hurt, and being stripped of the precious title of being a man.

And it's small towns like Wabang that will forever cry about such nonsensical ways of living for the sake of tradition. A place trained to think that change—that weakness is always a bad thing.

So many generations of passing along crippling expectations have led you to this.

Here. Gazing into the wide, frightened eyes of a cowboy who has long since tucked himself into the far side of your couch like a cornered animal.

"Absolutely fuckin' not," you wonder if he knows how pitchy his voice has grown within the past thirty seconds. "I ain't...that's—what kind of man do y' take me for?"

A man who's too horny to be so vanilla, but that's neither here nor there.

Your eyes dart to your laptop screen, still paused on the video that sent him into this downward spiral in the first place, then back up to his pale face. "It's not that bad in the grand scheme of things." And you're about to follow that up with a list of worse suggestions, but he doesn't give you the chance to.

"I ain't beggin' to cum," he blurts it like he won't be able to say no if he doesn't get it out of his mouth quick enough.

Curious, your head tilts to the side. "Not even once?"

"No. That's..." hesitating. Hasn't gotten to think that far, gears twisting and turning in his head as he searches for the words he wants to say, "It's demeanin'. That's what it is."

You suppose you can guess what his reaction to toy handcuffs would be.

The conversation drops just as quickly as it was started with closing up your laptop and pressing play on the movie that you've long since forgotten about. Resuming that same steamy scene, the main character grinning at the way her love interest's face contorts as she squeezes him at his base, denying him what she's just worked him up to.

"Say please," she whispers, so eloquently and feather-light that it sticks in your head.

But you can hardly pay attention because, in the corner of your eye, you've caught him.

Those ocean-blue eyes have long since fixated on the screen. Shameless. Doesn't realize you've caught the way his cock twitches in his sweats, hand curling into a shaky fist. Clinging to a composure that you've only seen him lose when he's had one too many at the bar.

...so that's how it's going to be.

Alright, two can play this game.

Or maybe you're the only one who's playing because Rhett seems to forget the conversation before the night is over. Blissfully unaware of the plan that's formulating in the back of your mind. Bits and pieces of thoughts and memories coming together to build a grand scheme so elaborate that you catch yourself taking notes on your phone.

And so what if you let him bend you over the kitchen counter when you know full well that your plan explicitly involves denying him sex out of hopes of him getting desperate? You needed the refresher on what makes him tick.

Starting out slow is the key to flying below Rhett's radar. Observant to a fault, so sensitive to change that he notices the tiny, inconspicuous things, like that time your thermostat was set a degree higher than normal. All you had done was accidentally hit the button one too many times, but there he came, kissing up the back of your neck as he asked if you were cold.

So it's a fine line that you straddle when you begin to take up extra shifts at work. Offhandedly telling him that one of your co-workers is pregnant and needs the help. It's not a total lie. You just...happen to be leaving out the fact that she's only three months along.

And so what if you start spending more time with your friends? Always seeming to be wrapped up in a new outing that leaves you too sleepy to entertain the sweet cowboy who grinds up against your ass. His lips peppering across every inch of exposed skin he can find, three-day-old scruff tickling you.

"You sure you're feelin' alright?" He murmurs, and you can't see him, but you can feel the way his eyebrows furrow, laced with a concern that you've seen too many times recently. "Y've been tired all week."

Oh, oh, oh, you shouldn't have looked down.

Had only been meaning to avoid meeting his eye in the mirror, but now you've found yourself fixated on the forearms that have long since wrapped around your waist. Rippling muscles and protruding veins, putting on a mouth-watering show, all for you.

"Haven't been sleeping well, I suppose," your weight shifts, leaning back into that familiar, firm chest, tilting your head until your cheek bumps into his.

The entire point of this plan is to string him out until he's desperate. So worked up and needy that rationality and higher thinking go out the window, too focused on getting what he's craving that he doesn't care about how. The same kind of tunnel vision that he gets when he climbs on the back of a bull fixated on the title, the infamy, the belt buckle that comes with winning the Amelia County Finals.

But God, settling for toys after he leaves your house just isn't the same as the real thing.

And maybe that's why you don't stop yourself from pressing your ass against him.

Can't stop.

A soft grinding backward that has him twitching up into you, hard cock straining against the thin material of his sweats. Firm. Dripping. All for you to feel and gasp at. Giving in to him one time can't hurt.

Yeah...yeah, one time isn't all that bad.

"Thought y' were tired," that sinful, hot mouth presses wet kisses at the juncture of your jaw, where it meets your neck. Has long since figured out that it'll make your knees wobble if he does it right. "Not that 'm complainin'."

Your socks slip against the tile floor as you spin in his arms. Noses bumping into one another. So close that you can spot the vague constellations of freckles hidden along his pale face. Not quite as expansive as the ones on his shoulders, but just as marvelous.

The open palm of your hand flattens against him, blatantly cupping him through his sweats, "I guess it's up to you to keep me from falling asleep then."

Those long eyelashes flutter. Each pass over his iris leaves them a shade darker, shifting like a mood ring. The corner of his lip rises, a chipped canine tooth glinting in the light, "think I can help y' with that."

You don't make it to the bedroom, finding yourself bent over the arm of the couch as your oversized cowboy fucks you from behind. His thighs trembling against yours, grunting into your ear. So, so sensitive from your lack of rendezvous. You're getting somewhere with him. Making progress. Grinding him down to a neediness that overrides the thoughts drilled into his pretty head.

But oh, is it difficult.

Getting out of bed the next morning had might as well be the worst thing you've ever done. Because as soon as you turn around, toothbrush in your mouth as you peek into the bedroom, you meet a pair of sweet blue eyes. Big hands open, fingers wiggling as he tries to lure you back into his arms, tucked up against his naked body.

"Come back," he whines, squinting to see you through the blinding bathroom light, "'m cold."

You've still got to get yourself dressed and ready to go out; you've got festival plans and friends that will badger you to no end if you cancel on them for the second year in a row. But your sweet cowboy provides such a convincing argument when a yawn breaks across his face, still trying to beckon you back into bed.

"I promised I wouldn't cancel this year," you don't know if you're justifying it to yourself or him, maybe both. "I'm sorry."

The corners of his eyes fall, almost pouting. Like a puppy who's just been kicked, those big eyes drop down to the bed. Only to flicker back up at you, some insistent spark of hope glinting across his face, "five more minutes?"

...oh, what the hell.

"Five more minutes," you repeat, and this time, you know you're directing them toward yourself.

Because Rhett Abbott's arms are like velcro. Nearly impossible to escape once he's curled them around you, securing you to his broad chest as he subjects you to a flurry of thank-you kisses peppered across your cheeks. So soft and ticklish, the kind that has you squirming and dodging his incessant mouth.

As quickly as it starts, it ends. Settling into a comfortable silence as Rhett nuzzles his cold nose against your forehead, absolutely determined to steal your body heat away from you. His icy fingers dancing up and down your back, tracing idle shapes into the skin there. Any colder, and you think he might start getting icicles in his hair.

And it's only October. Winter isn't even in full swing yet.

"You're so busy anymore," he whispers, not quite meeting your eye, "ain't got to cuddle in forever."

Your hand tangles through his hair, unable to avoid acknowledging the way he nudges into your touch, "I'm sorry."

On its own, your mind wanders. Unleashed, free to roam the possibilities and what ifs. Whether this whole shtick of yours is even worth it or not. If sitting him down and getting to the bottom of his fear is what you should actually be doing. If he would even listen or if he would fly into another stonewalled panic.

And then there are your plans. You've been jittering over the thought of this festival for weeks, but you've missed these arms, this man, even more. Him, the sweet kiss he's pressing to your forehead and the muscles that ripple as he pulls you closer. Like he'll be able to keep you here forever if he tries hard enough.

"Do you want to come with us?" You mutter, after a moment, or twelve.

His eyebrows rise, forehead wrinkling with it. "Hm?"

"To the festival, I mean," you're pretty sure you can already hear the answer; he's never been much for these types of events. Not the type to peruse through shops and look at things that you don't technically need.

Blue eyes dart across your face, searching for something. Or maybe he's thinking, considering. "Well, I ain't got nothin' else planned," he says after a moment.

Inviting him goes against every bit of meticulous planning you've done these past few weeks. Completely uproots the purpose of your scheme and turns it on its head. But for some reason, you can't bring yourself to be worried about it in the slightest. Holding his big hand as you walk out to your car like it was always meant to work out this way.

Even as you settle behind the steering wheel, fumbling with your keys, the only thing you feel is giddy.

The car shakes as Rhett all but falls into the passenger seat. Knees knocking into the dash.

"Holy shit," he swears, legs awkwardly propped against the glove compartment. The seat far too far forward for his stature, quite nearly folding him in half. "Was your last passenger a gnome?"

Over his shoulder, you think you can see his hat sitting on the ground. Knocked clean off his head.

"How many times are you gonna do this before you learn to quit falling into my car?" Your eyes roll on their own accord, twisting the key in the ignition. You've long since lost count of how many times he's done this, foolishly tossing himself into the seat without bothering to check if he's big enough to fit.

"Dunno," the seat groans as Rhett pushes it as far back as it'll go, freeing himself of his self-made prison. "How many more times are you fixin' to be a gnome chauffeur?"

At least your car doesn't have a busted side mirror from a bar fight, but you'll be saving that comment for another time.

A part of you isn't entirely sure why Rhett agreed to come to this festival. He said he didn't have anything else to do, sure, but if that's the case, then he would have tagged along to a lot, lot more invitations. So what gives? Is he lonely? Longing for the tranquility of being by your side?

Or did he just want to stare at your ass this entire time?

You can feel him. Heated gaze locked onto your backside as you meander through booth after booth like he'll miss something crucial if he tears his gaze away for too long. Thick arms crossed in front of his chest, biceps straining against his white t-shirt, and chewing on the inside of his cheek. Looks like he just walked out of a damn magazine.

But he always looks like he just walked out of a magazine, and he's looked you over with that hungry gaze so many times that it shouldn't make your knees wobble. Weakened just by his sheer presence, and it's not fair.

This wasn't a part of your plan at all. He's the one who's supposed to be so eager and desperate that he throws reason out the window. But instead, it's you who is considering pushing him up against the trunk of this Oak tree, dropping to your knees, and sucking him off right in the middle of this festival. Uncaring of the greedy eyes and unwitting ears who may become witness to it.

You don't quite recall picking up this knick-knack, a ceramic cow, pink and white in color, and missing one of her legs. It's cold in your palm, just enough to draw you from your stupor, brushing away the heated clouds fogging your thoughts.

If you're aching, then surely he is, too. His sex drive has always been a smidgen higher than your own, raring to go at the drop of a hat. So if you're weak in the knees over his sheer presence, then he must be even worse.

Your head turns; fully prepared and ready for what darkened gaze you may find.

...except he's not looking.

No, he's got something small in the palm of his hand, grinning down at it like it's some great discovery. His warm eyes flick up to meet your face, setting your cheeks alight.

"Found the fella you've been drivin' 'round," he chirps, holding the little thing out for you to see. A three-inch tall gnome with a tall orange hat, oversized nose poking out the bottom. Fits perfectly in his grasp, fluffy, unruly white beard waving in the breeze. "Think I should grow a beard like that?"

"Only if you wear the funny hat," you wink, just for extra measure.

The last thing you're expecting is for him to buy it. Carrying the little thing about like it's a faithful companion, only putting it down to fight with you over who is paying for your things because he might just die if you pay for that t-shirt with your own money. Unaware that you'll just stick the cash in his wallet when he's asleep tonight.

You've been foiled by a two-dollar gnome.

Takes a good two days for you to get ahold of yourself, fighting urges that aren't helped by the cowboy who keeps reminding you that he's feeling it, too. The both of you dangling by a single thread, waiting to see who breaks first.

And it's almost you.

God, it's almost you.

Because Sunday rolls around with a vengeance that torments you from the moment your eyes open in the morning, overcome with a heat so strong that it ought to burn you alive. Biting at an invisible bit, getting yourself off in pure silence while Rhett bustles about in the living room. Mere yards away, one call of his name and you know he'd be on his knees in an instant, eager to taste you on his tongue, but your plan. You can't abandon your plan.

But it's nothing compared to the rodeo. The adrenaline that leaves your hands shaking even after Rhett has fallen off the bull and stumbled out of the arena. Trembling like the leaves in the brutal autumn breeze, crisp but with a sinister bite that you recognize as the beginnings of winter.

It's the kind of sharpness that almost manages to distract you from the chapped lips kissing up the back of your neck. The vibrations of a cowboy's voice as he murmurs your name over and over like an incantation. A spell thats got you leaning into him, feeling the way he strains against his tattered jeans, pressing into the curve of your ass.

"Darlin'," blazing breath tickles your ear, his teeth grazing the shell of it, "what d' ya say we got outta here, hm?"

The edges of your composure are crumbling faster than you can glue them back together. Rhyme and reason whisked away by the wind, and suddenly, you can't remember all the reasons why you've been holding out on him. No longer caught up in the possibilities of what Rhett must sound like when he begs.

All you can think of is this. Now. The oversized hands dragging up your sides and the gentle suction at the soft spot of your neck. This man and the faint remnants of his leathery cologne, and how you're going to make it to the truck without getting—

"Rhett!" A familiar voice calls out, spurs echoing down the empty walkway. "Rhett!"

All of a sudden, your backside is cold as Rhett steps away. Mere seconds before the familiar, gruff face of his best friend comes around the corner. How did he know to look for you behind the concession stands?

"The fuck y' doin' out 'ere?" It's dark, but you can still see the way Archie's hands fly up, only to fall back down and smack against his thighs.

"Fixin' to go home?" Rhett grumbles it like a question, his head tilting to the side.

Archie's silence is...deafening. His shadowy figure is still as can be, and it's not directed at you at all, but even you can feel the daggers he's staring into Rhett's forehead. You don't recall any post-rodeo bonfire being scheduled for tonight, and it's far too quiet for the rodeo to be still going.

But right as you're beginning to think that the vicious wind has frozen Archie solid, his mouth opens. "Y' done fuckin' forgot 'bout th' paper comin' t' take pictures t'night."

Pictures.

That's right, the Amelia County newspaper was planning to put the bull riders on the front page. How did you manage to forget about that?

To say that you were saved by the skin of your teeth is an understatement. By the time they let Rhett and the other riders go home for the night, adrenaline has worn off, leaving behind a yawning husk of a man who can hardly keep his eyes open. Struggling to stand upright in the shower as you rinse the shampoo from his hair, too tired to bend you over the nearest surface and break you down.

He's cracking.

You're cracking.

Getting up for work in the morning is harder than you ever remember it being, and those extra hours drag by slower than a snail race. You want to go home. Fuck, you want to snuggle up to Rhett on the couch and let his chaste kisses devolve into sloppy ones that trail down your naked chest. But giving up now means all of this was for nothing.

So you keep drowning yourself in work. Turning down every too-heated kiss and stepping out of his arms before they can start to test the waters. Getting up early to walk back into the gates of hell, away from the heaven that is Rhett Abbott.

Until once again, your week is over, and Sunday has rolled around with the same vigor as it did before.

This week's rodeo is different, about two hours away from home, on the border of Wyoming and Idaho. Some tiny town you've never heard of, the kind of place that only recently got two stoplights installed. Home to a whopping three hundred, with incredible landmarks such as a mom-and-pop gas station and a bank that's been set up on the first floor of someone's townhouse.

The hotel is a floor above the only bar in town. It's not much, just enough space for a queen-sized bed, a television stand, and a bathroom so small Rhett can hardly turn around in it. Still better than driving an hour to a motel whose Google reviews promise a complimentary inclusion of bed bugs.

By some catastrophe, the rodeo grounds are far too small for the amount of people traveling to see the event. Already flooded with locals by the time you get there, a sea of fold-out chairs taking up every bit of free space that can be found. Even Cecelia's been outwitted, forced to dig her stash of chairs from the back of Royal's truck. She's brought just enough to seat all of you.

At least, she did.

"You're in my seat," you grumble, squinting down at the cowboy who has already locked his eyes on the cheese fries you've got in your hand. The fruit of your efforts for standing in line for thirty minutes.

"I know it," Rhett's big hand pats his thigh, inviting you into what is certainly a trap.

But all you can think about is how he's supposed to be over by the chutes, warming up for a ride. Your head twists to look over at the empty side of the arena, then back to his stupid, smug face.

"We got delayed," he continues, seems to have heard your question without you needing to voice it, "Somethin' 'bout technical difficulties."

You're going to have technical difficulties.

Sitting in his lap isn't anything new. Not by a long shot. But there's something about doing it now. When you're still hanging on to your composure by a singular thread, nearly set off by the wrinkles of his jeans against your thighs.

A part of you only means to readjust yourself. To squirm a little further backward so that you can comfortably lean against his chest. You don't intend to push your ass into his half-hard cock, but you do, and it's got him choking around the fry he's stolen.

"Oops" is all you can be bothered to provide because, though it wasn't on purpose, you certainly intend on doing it again.

It's not hard to disguise. Not when Cecelia covers the two of you in a blanket, fussing over your choice of a short-sleeved shirt, saying that just the sight of you is making her cold. Unintentionally handing you the perfect shield, blocking the view of your hips as they begin to squirm. Subtly grinding down into that rapidly growing bulge, basking in the way his breath hitches, a strong arm curling across your waist.

"Y'd better not be tryin' t' get me all riled up, sweetheart," he murmurs, that low tone of his tickling down your sensitive spine. Only serves to spur you on more, squirming against his cock like it'll kill you to stop. And those arms are growing tighter around you, drawing away every bit of that precious wiggle room, but he's shamelessly twitching against you. A soft noise falling from his lips as you fully settle into him now.

Your head tilts, peering at him through your peripheral. "What're you gonna do about it if I am?"

If he had a response conjured up, then he must have forgotten how to speak because he doesn't say anything. Just dips his head down and rests against your shoulder, helpless. So needy for something that he has no choice but to lean against you and take what you give him. Grunting under his breath, eyelashes fluttering against your exposed neck.

The muscles in your neck strain as you crane your head back, "Not gonna stop me?" Your lips brush the lobe of his ear, a visible shiver rolling down his spine.

Just as quickly as his head dropped, it rises, blank blue eyes staring back at you. Not a thought behind them. "Nuh-uh."

"Rhett!" Archie's voice slices through the evening air like a knife through butter. His hat waves through the air like a flag. "Get yer ass up outta that chair! We're on!"

Rhett's head buries back into the juncture of your collar and neck. Unshaven jaw scratching the delicate skin there as he hugs you tight, grumbling. Hardly wants to let you step out of his lap, never mind letting you escape from his wandering arms. But you're getting up anyway. Because the rodeo waits for no one, and he didn't spend the past eight years of his life chasing this dream just to give it up now.

...that doesn't mean he won't sulk as he walks away. Broad shoulders drooping, hardly has the forethought to readjust himself in his jeans.

Your chair feels too big now that you're alone in it. Still warm from where he once sat, and if you focus hard enough, you can almost convince yourself that you can catch the sweet notes of his cologne lingering in the breeze. Wrapping around your senses like a hug on the last day of autumn.

Or maybe that's because he's tearing through the crowd. On a one-way path back to you.

"Rhett?" You're already rising to your feet; did he forget something? Is the rodeo being called off again? So many questions, and yet you can hardly get anything off your tongue. "What...?"

But you're only met with the chime of his spurs. Darkened eyes anchor you in place, leaving you standing in the grass like a deer in headlights. Helpless to do anything but watch as he stalks closer and closer, not a word leaving his mouth, until, until—

It's the sudden gust of wind that carries those two muttered words to your ears, "forgot somethin'."

And then his mouth is on yours, and it's the sweetest thing you've felt all afternoon. A mere chaste peck on the lips that steals your breath from your lungs and the thoughts from your brain.

The bumping of your noses is the only thing to shake you from your stupor. "Still needing that good luck kiss, huh?"

A cowboy like Rhett shouldn't have the audacity to let his gaze drop to his feet, the corners of his eyes wrinkling with his million-dollar grin. But he does it anyway. Shyly peering back at you through those thick lashes. You know it's merely from the stadium lights, but that doesn't stop you from fooling yourself into believing that his eyes sparkle at the sight of you.

"Can I have 'nother?" He whispers it like a secret, only meant to be shared between the two of you.

You would consider denying him if you hadn't already lost the ability to do that. Already reaching to curl your hands around his cheeks, drawing him in for just one more. Then you're tilting his head down and pressing another kiss to his forehead.

"For extra measure," justifying it to yourself more than anything.

And oh, the things you would give to stop time, just to have him a little longer.

It feels like entire days pass before you hear his name echo from the speakers. An announcer crowing at the top of his lungs as the chute opens, and Rhett bursts out of it. His right hand held high as he clings to the back of that raging bull. Two thousand pounds of muscle threatening to throw him off. Spiraling clockwise. Never seems to have more than two feet on the ground at once.

He's sliding. Fuck, fuck, fuck he's starting to lose his grip. But he's still on. Clinging to that thin rope. Numbers rising on the billboard.

Five seconds.

Six. His hat flies off. You're too frozen to look and see where it went.

Seven. Perry jumps out of his seat. Shoulders blocking your view. Fucking—move!

A shrill buzz soars through the air. So loud and abrupt that you jump at the sound of it. But Rhett's on his feet already, and so are you. Those eyes are already looking your way, full of something that you can see from all the way over here. A sparkling want, a need, spurred by the adrenaline of a ride.

A ride that's put him further into the finals. Another advancement that'll take you further away from home.

But you can't think about that right now. After all, it's hard to worry about whether or not you'll be able to join him for next week's rodeo when you're tearing through a crowd in an unfamiliar arena. Dodging groups, twisting past couples, and squeezing between lines that extend to the parking lot. Your head tilting. Turning. Fighting to remember where that damn riders-only entrance was.

There he is.

Between the stand-by ambulance and the parking lot. Rubbing the juncture of his left shoulder as he stands on his top-toes, trying to pinpoint you in the crowd. There's a group of girls next to him, dressed their best as they chatter, greedy gazes looking Rhett up and down like he's a tall drink of water in the middle of a desert.

They're pretty, the kind of girls who can pull just about anyone they want in an event like this, but Rhett's only looking at you. An oversized grin breaks across his face as he darts forward, untamed hair flowing in the breeze, all but slamming into you.

"D'you know what y' do to me?" That deep voice rumbles into your ear. So ready, so eager that he's speaking before he's pulled you off to some place private. And he's got just enough of your leg between his that he can press that aching bulge against you. Shameless.

"I have a little bit of an idea," and you had a follow-up to that statement, but Rhett's gotten ahold of your wrist.

Downright hauling you toward that forbidden riders-only section, past the sign declaring that the general public isn't allowed inside, and beyond. Through crowds and past the chutes, your feet nearly tangling as you try to keep up. Until Rhett's spinning and your back is thumping against a wall before you can realize you're moving backward.

"Someone's got it bad," you're giggling; oh, the lips on your jaw tickle. A desperate frenzy that you aren't warmed up for and can't squirm out of.

"Yeah, wonder why," but you can feel the way he smiles through his words, so big that he can hardly press another kiss to your skin. Working his way up, up, up, until his chapped lips cover your own.

Unyielding, his rough stubble scratching against your chin as his hand slides across your cheek. A gentle cradle of your jaw that holds you still. Doesn't let you squirm away from the other arm that wraps around your waist, drawing you near until you're chest to chest. So close that you think you can feel the drum of his heart.

Maybe that's what gets you moving. Your arms rising to wrap around his shoulders, hands tangling in his messy hair, as you lean into the kiss. Lips parting as he hungrily licks into your mouth, such a dizzyingly hot feeling that sends your head spinning. Every bit as strong and commanding as he's ever been.

And yet, as your hand drops to cup him through those too-tight jeans, he jumps.

"Fuck," he inhales so sharply that you can feel it against your lips. And it's been so, so long since you last heard that sweet sound. Since the last time you watched his head tilt back, swollen lips glistening under the twinkling lights set up for a collection of booths. Selling knick-knacks, homemade signs, and everything in between. Some little thing for after the rodeo—

shit.

As quickly as it pressed against him, your hand falls away, returning to dangle limply at your side.

"Wh—" His eyes flash open, lashes fluttering like butterflies. Confused. "Huh?"

"I forgot," your head nods toward the unoccupied booths as you speak; their surfaces undecorated for the time being, but the moment the rodeo begins to wane, they'll be packed full of more items than you can possibly think of. "We agreed to see the sales booths with your mom, remember?"

"We really gotta stay 'n buy useless junk with my momma?" The corners of his lips turn downward, a perfect pout that you'd like to kiss until it rises back into a smile.

You try. God, you try. Have already found yourself leaning in to press one, two, three chaste kisses to those perfectly thin lips. But it doesn't disappear, not even a little bit. "But you bought a useless gnome. the other week."

"He ain't useless!" Rhett sputters against your mouth. A little too loud. His voice carrying farther than it should have. "He keeps my cupholder warm."

"It's just another hour, cowboy," smoothing your hands against his chest as you speak in that slow sort of fashion that he once told you he liked.

"But..." trailing off, his eyes darting down to his feet. Gaze too heavy for him to look at you. A wayward boot kicks at the gravel, stirring up a small plume of dust. "Please?"

So faint. So quiet that you don't know if you've made it up in your head or not. "I'm sorry?"

Rhett's shoulders stiffen, his breath catching in his throat. It's dark back here, but it's hard to miss the way he peeks up at you, a hint of red lingering in the tips of his ears.

"Please?" Barely audible. A tiny noise that's carried away with the wind, but you've heard it. You know you've heard it because his Adam's apple is bobbing, and he's fully turning his head away from you now. "I'll...that, that thing you wanted...we can try—I want..."

It's shaky. Uncertain. Hardly sounds real. But it's there.

There's something about the wait that's made this all the more sweet.

A mouth-watering expanse of pale skin and rippling muscle, defined from a lifetime of manual labor, so rarely put on display like this. That thin sheen of sweat glistening as his hips squirm against this wine-red hotel comforter. The same one that he's clutching between white knuckles, clinging to it like he's seconds away from floating up to the ceiling.

"Does that feel good?" You ask, hand tightening around his pretty, leaking shaft. So wet that he hardly needed you to drizzle that packet of lubricant over him, leaving him with a glide so slick that every pass of your hand squelches.

Untamed locks of hair bounce with his nod, "uhuh."

The toned muscles of his stomach flex as he bucks up into your touch, chasing the sweetness of your touch. A whine rolls off his tongue, long and drawn out; you're not moving fast enough for his liking, but the hand that's gingerly rolling his balls in your palm is just enough to keep him from fussing.

"Feels good," he rushes out, in between breaths, "fuck, it feels good."

He's yet to tell you, but you can already tell that he's close. Know it in the way that his jaw has slackened and in the way he's forgotten to blink. Too focused on the feeling to think of anything else.

"Do you wanna cum?" Cooing in the softest voice you can muster, temporarily allowing your eyes to dart back to the mess that lies between his legs. Where his cock head has long since flushed a shade of ruby red, raging and desperate for a relief that has yet to come. "Talk to me, cowboy."

"Uhuh," if he hadn't just spoken a moment ago, you'd think he forgot how to talk.

But 'uhuh' isn't what you're looking for. No, no, no, you haven't spent the past weeks in sexual misery just for a huffed noise.

"What do you say?" You're fighting to keep that smug grin at bay, the corners of your lips wobbling. The throbbing length in your hand feels too real to be a dream, but the edges of your vision have that trademark fuzziness that comes with the subconscious wanderings of your mind.

This is too perfect to be true.

But the widening of Rhett's eyes is so him. A detail that your wildest dreams could never capture. Always missing the fragments of uncertainty, the waver in his breath, and the anxious tongue that pokes out to wet his chapped lips. "I..."

Your hand stops firm at his base. Squeezing. Unmoving even as his hips jerk upward, seeking more of a touch that he doesn't receive.

"Baby," he grunts, voice suddenly so worn and ragged that you hardly recognize it.

Curious, you tilt your head, "hm?"

"'s fuckin' mean," that weak chuckle vibrates all the way down his belly and up into your hand, but despite the back-and-forth rocking of his head, he refuses to crack fully. Taping himself back together at the seams, clinging for that little bit of power that he was so desperate to hand over earlier.

"All you gotta do is say please," you whisper, thumb swiping up to collect a bead of precum rolling down the underside of him.

His Adam's apple bobs.

...maybe this will convince him.

Your grip slips off his cock, letting it audibly slap against his belly as one of your hands reach for that forgotten bottle of lube, the other taking hold of his wrist. He doesn't fight when you drizzle some of it over his fingers, even idly rubs them together to spread the fluid before it begins to drip into his palm. Makes it so, so easy for you to scoot further up until you're comfortably straddling his belly, able to guide those perfectly shaped digits between your legs.

He doesn't need any further help. Dipping his fingertips between your folds, stroking down to circle around your entrance. The delicate pressure of them punches a gasp from your lips, that aching stretch so dizzyingly perfect.

"So tight," he muses, absolutely fixated on the way his index finger disappears into you. So, so much thicker than your own, and not one of your toys can curl to stroke against your walls like Rhett does. Rubbing past a spongey bundle of nerves that has your thighs tightening around him, only for him to slip out and nudge two back into you.

The palms of your hands settle on his chest, just about the only thing you can do to brace your weight as he pumps those fingers into your cunt. Shamelessly paced, trying his damndest to work you up just as quickly as you did to him, and fuck is it working. Rough pads of his fingers swirl around sensitive nerves while his thumb rises to nudge against your clit. A touch that doesn't fully make contact but sends you jumping as if it did.

"Rhett," whimpering high in your throat, oh, you've missed this feeling.

On its own, the corner of his lip rises. Smug. "Can feel y' pulsin' 'round my fingers, darlin'."

And you can feel a heat bubbling up in your lower belly. Arising with a certain kind of fury that has you growing wetter around him. Only makes it easier for him to quicken his pace, fucking those thick fingers into your pussy with a fervor that makes your heart skip a beat.

"Hold on, hold on," you sputter, and as abrupt as it is, Rhett freezes. Letting you drag his hand out from between your legs in favor of you reaching for his neglected cock. Has long since leaked a small puddle of precum onto his belly, still just as red and angry as it was when you last touched him.

You don't know if Rhett's the first to gasp or if it's you, but that first nudge of his cock head against your dripping sex is enough to have both of your mouths opening. Sensitive. So, so sensitive.

God, sinking down on him is even worse. Because there's an aching stretch that comes with the fat head of his cock, already splitting you wide and setting a tremble in your thighs. Only worsened by the calloused palms that smooth across them on their way up to settle on your hips.

Rhett's always been big, not obscenely so, but thick in all the right places. Enough to have you shivering but not enough to have you struggling to take him. But fuck is it a tremendous task to keep yourself steady whilst you sink down on him. Forced to take it slow, to feel the way he twitches inside of you, blunt tip pushing deeper and deeper and deeper.

The hands resting on your hips rise, sliding behind your naked back until familiar, warm arms can comfortably curl around you. "C'mere," Rhett whispers, and it doesn't take much more for you to lean down.

Your forearms brace against his broad chest as your mouths meet. Lazy. More of a clash of lips than anything else, too focused on chasing a breath that neither of you can catch. Your head spinning from the lack of oxygen as he slides further into you. That coil winding tighter and tighter—

"Fuck," you breathe as your hips come flush together. So full of him that it aches. "Rhett..."

It's only when you lean back onto your haunches that you realize how his eyes have glazed over, caught in a hazy trance that shatters when you involuntarily clench around him. His hips jerking upward, jostling himself inside of you. So eager for you to start moving.

But that's not what you were going for at all.

"What are...?" Rhett's question evaporates as you guide his still-wet fingers back between your legs, "What're y' doin'?"

Confused about your intentions. Yet his thumb presses to your clit all the same, almost eager to feel it throbbing under the pad of his finger. Gradually gaining confidence on its own, doesn't need your guidance for him to start toying with the little button in earnest. A gentle sort of pressure that has you clenching around his cock, sends him into a twitching spasm that nudges against your walls just right.

"Y' ain't movin'," he observes aloud. Like it's something you haven't noticed.

"I know," wriggling from side to side, if only to selfishly chase the sensation of him moving inside of you. "And I'm not planning to."

Eyelashes flutter. Incredulous. "Huh?"

"Not until you say please," because you didn't work this long and hard to give up now, but God, you've been craving the stretch of him. The ache that comes with having his cock wedged so deeply in your cunt, taking up every bit of space you have to offer and then some.

Those eyebrows furrow in the same fashion as when he climbs onto the back of an angry bull. The kind of reckless determination that glues him to the back of that thousand-pound animal, ready to win or go down trying.

You recognize that look so well that you're hardly surprised when his thumb aggressively changes gears. Working your clit with a fervor you haven't seen in weeks, massaging exactly how you like it. Not too direct but just enough to have your thighs clamping around his hips, head tilting backward.

But you're not moving.

Fuck, you can't. Not when all you want is to chase the feeling, pushing further against his hand, unable to even think about drawing yourself away from it. Your vision is blurring, nearly makes you miss the way Rhett's lips part, whining at the way your pussy spasms around him. A perfect hell.

And then you hear it, the whisper of an ever-so-faint, "please."

"What did you say?" You can feel how your eyebrows raise, blinking away that blurriness to get a better look at his face.

"Really?" Rhett's squint dissolves the moment you shift on top of him, his eyelashes fluttering once more. "Okay—fine."

His head rolls against the pillow, gaze skittering around the room like he's searching for something. A hidden camera. An escape. Something to save him. But he doesn't find it. Has no choice but to look back up at you, a sudden wateriness in his eye, as he whispers.

"Please fuck me."

Not another word needs to be said.

Finally, finally, you draw yourself upward, teeth sinking into your lower lip, and the cowboy beneath you just about squeaks. A choked-off noise that rips out of his throat when you pull halfway off of him. Sends you sinking back down on him quicker than you should. Such a sudden thing that it makes your head spin, only worsened when you repeat it, weakly searching for the only rhythm that you can handle.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," Rhett's sputtering, in his own little world, unfocused eyes rolling.

If the image in your head had been a work of art, then you have no idea what to call this. The thick veins of his neck protruding, sweat running down his chest as his back arches up from the bed. Desperately chasing your every thrust, keening high in his throat, uncaring of who may hear or how far it may travel into the hotel hallway.

"Is this what you wanted?" Your question punctuated by the lewd slap of skin on skin. God, you don't know if it was you who was being tortured or him.

Brown curls bounce against the pillow as his head nods, mouth moving, but only a garbled cry comes out. Something torn between a "please" and a whimper.

He's got no right to be hitting the little bundle of nerves within your walls, rubbing against them with every rise and fall of your hips. An indirect massage that has you biting back a noise. If Rhett wanted his control back, he could take it right here and now because your head is floating higher and higher into the clouds. Only able to focus on this, this, this.

But he doesn't.

"Wanna cum," he croaks, lucid if only for a moment, "'m gonna—I wanna..."

There's a tremble in your arms that wasn't there before, the kind of shaking that works its way through your entire body. Thighs shivering, weakened by the drag of his plush cock head inside you. And his thumb is still working around your clit, in those same frantic spirals, and it's too much, it's so, so...

You don't know how it happens.

One moment you're being greeted by his hip bones against your ass, and the next, you're clamping down around him like a vice. Mouth falling open with a silent cry as you cum around his cock. The edges of your vision go white. A ringing blooms in your ears that nearly covers up the wail beneath you.

The cry of a cowboy who doesn't quite know what to do. Brought so, so close to the edge by the involuntary spasming of your pussy, but not quite enough to give him what he wants. Forced to lay beneath you and whimper until you can pry your eyes open once more.

"Please." He pants, cheeks so red that he matches the comforter.

But what's meant to be a one-word plea devolves before you can comprehend what he was trying to say. "Please, please, please let me cum," he babbles, his head rocking back and forth, the hand on your hip squeezing tight. "Please, I need it, I need it, I want, please, I—"

You're not ready to move, but you're pulling yourself off him anyway. Downright collapsing next to him, mattress springs squealing at the sudden weight. It feels like ice has formed in the joints of your hand, struggling to wrap your fingers around the flushed length lying against his belly. So heavy that you can feel the way he throbs.

"Darlin'..." there's more to Rhett's sentence, but it never comes out. His heaving chest effectively revoking his ability to speak.

"I've got you," delicate, your hand begins to move. Stroking him in that loose, lazy sort of way that doesn't overwhelm him too quickly. Drawing that pretty whimper right out of him, so beyond the point of trying to swallow his noises down.

It's the kind of loud, unmistakable noise that you've spent months coaxing out of him. One of your favorite sounds of his, selfishly proud that it's you who is able to draw it out of him. Not the girls who bat their lashes at him at the rodeos. Not the girl who has had her eyes on him ever since she came back from college.

Only you.

Nobody else gets to lay him back and make him beg to cum. You're the only one who gets to hear the way he cries out when your palm runs over his sensitive tip. Only your eyes get to watch how he jerks up into your fist, too impatient to wait. So close that his jaw trembles with it.

Large fingers wrap around your other hand, fumbling with it until he can hold it. Squeezing. Like you'll leave if he doesn't keep you grounded here, with him. "I'm..."

"It's okay," you soothe, wrist flicking a little quicker, in the way you know he does to himself. His jaw falls open, another one of those whimpers gracing your ears. Back arching up off the bed, the muscles in his thighs trembling. Jerking up into your touch like its the only thing he's ever wanted.

"Wanna—I'm..." he's rattling on, muttering little things that don't quite meet your ear. A red flush spreading down his neck and into his chest, the hand in yours squeezing tight.

Your grip tightens by a mere fraction. "Cum for me, Rhett."

Blue eyes roll backward. His mouth agape as he tips off the edge, a dizzying melody of whines rattling out of his throat as thick ropes of white paint his belly. Coating your hand, unintentionally spreading it down his throbbing cock, creates some sickly wet noise that seems to echo through the room.

And for a moment, that's the only sound in the room. Your wet hand works his softening cock as he comes down from his high, drawing those soft whimpers out of him like it's your job. Shuddered breaths soar through the air, suddenly so sensitive that he's squirming up the bed to escape your grasp.

His bicep flexes as he pulls your laced hands toward himself, drawing you into him. Soft blue eyes still glazed over as he rolls onto his side, rubbing his nose against your arm. Yet his hand doesn't let go of yours, even as you try to pull it away in favor of wiping away the stray tear that's run down his flushed cheek. The back of your cum covered hand will have to do because he's not letting go.

"You still with me?" You ask, your voice soft as you lean in to press a kiss to his sweaty forehead. Lazy, his head nods, the corner of his lip rising. Not a full smile, but it's a start. "Will you let me get a cloth to clean us up?"

As quickly as his lip rose, it falls into a pout.

But his hand unlaces with yours, freeing you to drag your exhausted frame off the bed and to the bathroom. Only takes you a minute to run a cloth beneath warm water, but it had might as well take an entire hour because Rhett's already reaching for you. Hand lazily waving in your direction, falling to the mattress with an audible thump.

"I'm here," you whisper, running the cloth across his belly, "I'm here,"

It's only when the wet material runs over his messy cock that you get a noise out of him. A soft little "ah" accompanied by the unhappy wriggle of his hips. So oversensitive that he can hardly stand it when you rub the inside of his thighs, chasing off remnants of lube.

You can't be done quickly enough. Settling for tossing the cloth into the sink because there's a cowboy who needs your attention more. He's already squirmed under the sheets, his big, needy arms opening up to welcome you in. Eagerly wraps them around you and pulls you as close as he can get, cold nose nuzzling against yours.

"Are you alright?" You murmur, stroking his hair out of his face. In the back of your mind, you already know he's okay. He would have used his safe word if he wasn't, but you're asking anyway.

Humming, he leans in to steal a chaste peck from your lips, then another, and another, until he's stolen a total of six of them, "'m alright, doll."

"Was it as bad as you thought it would be?" It's too easy to comb your fingers through his hair, a tangled mess from tonight's escapades. Will surely be a bitch to brush out in the morning, but you'll worry about that when you get there.

For a moment, he's quiet, and then, "I...think I liked it?"

"Yeah?" You can't help the giggle that bubbles out of you as he nuzzles his face into your neck. Determined to fit himself into the small space and disappear completely. "Maybe we'll have to give it a second try then."

"Mm 'kay." And that's the last thing you get out of him before his eyes flutter shut.

There's no doubt that he'll ultimately get you back for this. Use all of this pent-up desperation to wring you dry and remind you of just how competitive he can be. You haven't a doubt that you'll soon be waking up to lips kissing down your naked chest, eager to give you a taste of your own medicine.

And that's alright.

Because it's not easy for you to break a man like Rhett Abbott.

But oh, when you do.

#rhett abbott x reader #rhett abbott #oneshot #OC: Archie Morton #rhett abbott smut #outer range #rhett abbott imagine #rhett abbott x you #x reader

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d3m0nicdream · 5 months

Text

Safety Net: Sam and Colby

Fem!Reader x Sam and Colby

Tags: Fluff, Semi-Abusive bf

****************************************************

"Hey, babe. Sam and Colby are having a party tonight." You yell from the bathroom.

"Cool, you're not going." He yells back as he screams at his game a second later.

"What do you mean I'm not going? I'm getting ready as we speak." You scoff as you stand in the doorway with your eyeliner in hand.

"Cuz I said so, now come sit and watch me play." He stares contently at the screen as the images of war flash on and off.

"No, I'm going to the party." You spat before turning around and finishing your liner. You double check one more time before walking out of the bathroom.

"Okay, well you're dressed like a slut so you're not going." He takes off one side of his headphone and looks you up and down. You were super confused. You were wearing jeans and a cute crop top. You wore this kind of thing everyday. Today was no different.

"You're crazy. I'm leaving." You grab your jacket and keys while heading out the door. You hear yelling behind you but you don't care. You were going to the party.

***********************************************

You knock on the door after Colby nor Sam were answering their texts. You knew they were going to tell you to just walk in but you didn't do that sort of thing. The door opens and Sam smiles.

"Y/N! Glad you could make it. You know you could have just walked in, right?" You laugh and he smiles. He leads you through a crowd of people. Most of them you didn't know, but you saw a few familiar faces. Jake and Corey. Kat and Stas. Nate and Seth. They were all living it up. You see Colby in the kitchen. You and him make quick eye contact and he smiles at you.

"Look who decided to show up! I thought you weren't going to come." He hands you a shot and you down it in one swig.

"Damn, Boyfriend got you worked up?" Colby looks at you concerned. You never drank like this on a normal day, nor so eager to take a shot like that.

"I don't wanna talk about it. I'll be lucky if I have a boyfriend by the end of the night." You say as Colby hands you one more shot and you take it.

"More like he will be lucky if he has a girlfriend. I know you don't want to hear it but he treats you like shit." Colby is blunt with his words but you don't expect anything less from one of your best friends. They have been through every boyfriend you have ever had and they tell you the same thing everytime.

"Yeah, your taste in men is awful." Stas walks in at the butt of the conversation grabbing a drink from the fridge behind Colby. He then points at her and looks at you knowingly.

"See, she gets it. We just want to see you happy and he definitely doesn't make you happy, Bun." Colby casually pulls out the nickname him and Sam gave you so long ago. That's how you know he was serious. You sigh and turn to walk away before you face drops. Your eyes meet your pissed off boyfriends from across the room and you quickly try to maneuver away. You were almost in the clear but then you feel his hand grip your arm roughly.

"Didn't I tell you to stay home?" He yells.

"Let go, you're hurting me." You wince and try to break his grip but he was much stronger than you.

"Lets go, we are going home. Unless you would like to stay and fuck these guys. Your clothes scream how desperate you are." He pulls you toward the door and the crowd of people start to stare. The music stops and you are now center of attention. You guys come to a halt as you feel another hand on your other arm, pulling you in the opposite direction.

"You can let her go now. She's not going with you." Sam smiles at your boyfriend and now they are looking at each other. Colby comes up from behind your boyfriend and grabs the wrist of the hand on your arm. He doesn't say a word as your boyfriend lets go.

"You can have the slut. We are done here." He tsks and leaves the house with a slamming of the door. You rub the spot where his fingers dug in. There were definitely going to be marks left behind. You sit on the couch and breath out a sigh. Colby sits next to you while Sam makes sure the guy leaves.

"Sorry about that. So embarrassing." You speak up to Colby. You hated bringing unnecessary attention to yourself, especially in front of your friends. Colby places a hand on your shoulder.

"It's okay. You can stay here as long as you want. We can go your stuff when you're ready." Sam walks back over to you two and states that he has indeed left the property. You just wanted to be alone right now.

"Hey, I'm gonna go sit in your room. I'll be back out a little later." You look at Colby and he nods. You take your leave and head upstairs. Once behind the door, the tears you had been holding back pierce through. They are warm and rush quickly down your cheeks. You had no idea why you were even crying. Stas was right, he didn't treat you well at all. The constant belittling and insults were a clear sign of that. So why were you so sad about it?

Some time passes and you sit on the couch in Colby's room watching something on the t.v. Your eyes are getting heavy and eventually you welcome sleep. You are awoken by someone behind you trying to be quiet and failing. You look behind you to see Colby looking at you as he rummages through his drawer.

"I was trying to grab you some sleeping clothes but I dropped something. I'm sorry if I woke you up." You giggle at his explanation. You get up and walk over to him, looking at the clothes he had laid out for you. You thank him, grab the pile and head to the bathroom to change. You come back out and Colby had also changed his clothes.

"You can sleep in the bed, I'll sleep on the couch here." You nod and lay in the bed. You nestle into the blankets and Colby turns the lights off. The only ambient light is his LED strips set to red. After about ten minutes, you just lay there. You couldn't sleep.

"Colby?" You whisper, not sure if he was still awake or not.

"Yeah?" He whispers back. He was still awake.

"Would you come lay with me?" You don't look in his direction but you can hear him shuffle over to the bed, crawling next to you.

"You okay? We haven't done this in awhile." Colby looks over at you. You guys used to do this alot way before you got with your boyfriend. Sam and Colby both. They were your best friends. The best support system you had was with them. You know they would look out for you, no matter what.

"Yeah, just sad." You say softly and you feel Colby shift, moving his arm around your shoulders and pulling you in to him. He smelt good all the time and right now was no different. You lay your head on his shoulder and sigh. He presses a small kiss on the top of your head. You hum in content.

"He didn't deserve you, Bun. It's better this way. You can stay as long as you need." You were thankful for Sam and Colby, They were the perfect safety net. Colby's body warmth was beginning to lull you to sleep when you both hear a small knock on the door. Sam peeks his head into the room.

"We are having a cuddle session without me." Sam closes the door and acts offended. He was already in his sleeping clothes. He runs and jumps into the bed with you and Colby.

"Come oooon, share Colby. She's my friend too." Sam laughs as Colby tries to push Sam off the bed, laughing as the two basically fight over space in the bed. Once everything calms down, you are sandwiched between the two guys. Sam places a kiss on your cheek and wraps his arms around you from the other side, snuggling you close.

"Goodnight, Bun." Their combined warmth puts you to sleep almost immediately.

****************************************************

#sam and colby #colby brock #sam golbach #colby brock imagine #colby brock x reader #colby brock fanfic #colby brock x y/n #sam golbach x colby brock #sam golbach x reader

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elisperlova · 5 months

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Every new answer for russian Duckverse ask is getting harder and harder to draw. Idk why but I have hobby complicating my life. Anyway, this idea came to me as the first Jim`s headcanon about 3-4 years ago. I even made sketch when!

Yes, it is sketch of the art above. Seriously. Heading Jim after becoming Negaduck made friends with crocodiles in the sewerage. It`s the great mystery how he hadn`t been eated yet. Crocs seem to have a lot of patience For a long time croc Frank was the only friend. He named after Frank Angones. But on the 6th of Nov ago my bf offered to make brother in unhappiness for Frank. That`s how William was born. Named after stikers in VK. And there is the third croc Monty but he hadn`t been drawn. I see no need to tell who Monty was named after Frank is angry but patient (or maybe Jim is lucky). Mr Starling bugging him A LOT. William is dummy and just staing near looking for a company. Monty is antisocial, that`s why he swimming far away

#darkwing duck #ducktales 2017 #dt17 #ducktales #dwd #jim starling #elis perlova drawing

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bowandcurtsey · 1 year

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Hello could I ask for headcanons of kuroo, sakusa and suna with an absolutely drop dead gorgeous s/o ?

Absolutely love Haikyuu requests (≧◡≦) The boys are all so cute and dorky ♡

Characters: Kuroo | Sakusa | Suna x f! reader TW: unchecked works

Kuroo Tetsuro

He calls you all the pretty names in the dictionary and beyond.

"Hello stunning flower of the galaxy”

Stares at you so much and smiles to himself wondering how is he so lucky.

When someone else stares at you, he’ll pull an arm around you and smirk at whoever’s staring, expression telling them I know, but she’s mine.

When you dress up and look extra pretty for him on date nights, he gets excited and tells you, “can’t wait to come home already~”

Also tells you he cant wait to have pretty babies with you. “Ahh I hope our kids take all your genes, cause you’re perfect”

He upkeeps himself well for you to, making sure he stays in shape and takes care of his skin.

Sometimes you laugh a little at him doing his brows. Once in awhile you’ll whine for him to accompany you awhile more and skip the gym.

“Baby, not everyone is effortlessly perfect like you” he pecks you on the lips.

Feels slightly in secure at random times. Especially when he’s stressed with other things.

But you remind him that “beauty is just something that is on the outside, it’s what inside that matters, Tetsu”

Stroke his hair, he’ll be ok in no time.

Sometimes YOU get insecure too, cause “what happens when I get old and I’m not longer pretty?”

Kuroo always has a brow lifted at you whenever you ask that question, “thank god, then I won’t have that much competitors anymore”

Sakusa Kiyoomi

He didnt like you because you were pretty in the first place. I feel like Sakusa would be the type of person that’s immune to looks.

He thinks you’re gorgeous because he’s madly in love with you.

It was only until he realise men staring at you or men asking for your number whenever you’re out, that he started to feel annoyed.

He’ll walk up to you and pull you flush to his body, giving the death stare to them.

“Don’t want any germs and viruses on you babe.”

If you’re there watching his games, and he catches people staring, he’ll be more annoyed. His spikes are harder and deadlier.

But he feels better when he hears you shout and cheer for him. He feels proud knowing that the most beautiful girl in the room only has eyes for him.

Likes it when you wear his jersey or anything shirt that shows his name to his game and he’ll try to get you vip seats so that you don’t have to squeeze with the crowd.

Well, this man doesn’t really care about what anyone else thinks so comments like “beauty and the beast” or “she is better off with” don’t really affect him. He wouldn’t have dated you if you were the type that only cared about looks.

Whether you were all dolled up or in your pjs he always found you drop dead gorgeous anyway.

Once in awhile he’ll say things like “not sure why do you bother to doll up when you’re already beautiful.”

He’s just a sweetheart.

Suna Rintaro

Can’t deny that the first time he saw you he was shocked. You really caught his attention with your beauty.

But as time went by he realised that you were not only pretty on the outside but even more beautiful on the inside.

He never really believed that you would fall for him since he felt he wasn’t really that good looking compared to others on his team but it seems that he had you falling head over heels for him.

He wasn’t bothered by people staring at you because he takes pride in watching those people’s faces when they realise this pretty girl belongs to him.

He loooooves it when you show him physical affection in public like holding onto his arms, hugging him, running towards him. He doesn’t show it on his face but the thrill he gets when he looks at other people’s face gets him on.

Of course when he sees that you’re being harrassed by other guys for like a picture or your number, he’ll just stroll up to you and pull you away.

He’s lazy to start an argument with dumb people but if really necessary you can expect the most sarcastic remarks from him.

Likes it when you wear a hoodie so he can pull the hood over your head so that “you don’t attract so much attention from those flies.” Gives you eskimo kisses when you’re in your hood hehe.

When you dress up for an occasion he blushes a little at how fucking beautiful you are and how lucky he is to have you.

Takes random photos of you and posts them with no caption.

You can never feel insecure about “what if I grow old and wrinkly and am no longer pretty” when you’re with Suna.

“Good lord I dont have to protect you from those pesky dudes anymore.”