Submissive Tops Are Underrated. Teasing A Boy While You Ride Him? Scolding Him When He Gets Too Impatient

submissive tops are underrated. teasing a boy while you ride him? scolding him when he gets too impatient and thrusts into you? watching him get all blushy and do what you say?

that’s good shit.

Pick Up Line — Hobie x Reader

Notes: I wrote this before going to sleep 🫡 it is not proofread (I might do that tomorrow) writing this was so much fun, I only knew what I wanted to write in the beginning, and then I just let everything unfold on it’s own. I didn’t have a title for this until I finished it. I hope you like it!!

Man I have so many requests I’m sorry for posting one thing and then disappearing for months 😭 anyways, here’s the fic:

What About Hobie Dragging The Reader To Their Apartment After A Party And They're Babbling And Drunkenly

“No! Put me down! I have a boyfriend!” You groaned with a breathless sigh, feeling the heaviness of the booze weighting down on your body, most of all your mind.

Hobie chuckled as he carried you back to your apartment after one of those self destructive parties the darker alternative scene liked to throw every now and then.

“Oh, you do?” He chuckled with a cheeky tone as you hummed.

“Uh-huh. I do, and he’s the most handsomest, coolest motherfucker…” You replied and let your head fall onto his shoulder as he was carrying you as if you weighted nothing on his arms, with an arm holding your back and on the other your legs. “He’d kick your ass,”

“Oh, would he?” Hobie teased, raising an eyebrow, thinking it was insanely adorable how even on your state you talked so highly and proudly of him in your own way.

“Yup, certified badass shit,” You groaned. “I love him,”

He let out a deep chuckle as he gazed at you and turned on the corner, spotting your flat building a couple of blocks down.

“I’m pretty sure I could kick his ass,” Hobie said, trying to see how you’d react.

“In your dreams,” You sighed deeply.

As he approached your flat building and got inside, in your drunken state probably it would be best to avoid using his Spider-Man skills. You’d either puke, or start yelling that he’s Spider-Man and he wouldn’t risk it. On the bright side, you lived on the third floor.

As he stopped by your door, he gazed at you. “Can hold yourself up for a couple of seconds while I open the door, darlin’?” He asked you, as you giggled.

“Darlin’…” You giggled as you nodded and tried hopping off his arms as he let you down, and you leaned against the wall.

As you patted the pockets of your jacket, you found your keys and took them out as he gently took them off your hands and unlocked your apartment.

In your drunken haze, you started at him with a soft smile, taking in the details. The door squeaking open went unnoticed, your mind was too taken away by Hobie.

“Hey there handsome,” You sighed and closed your eyes. “What are you doing in my apartment?”

“You’re never gonna believe this,” He chucked as he gently grabbed your hand and pulled you in with him. “But I basically live here as well,” he chuckled.

It was partially true. He had his sailboat docked not far from there, but your apartment was wider, and every excuse to spend time with you, he’d take it right away. At this point he spent more nights crashing at your apartment than staying in his sailboat.

“God! What a small world!” You whispered as you let him guide you to your room.

“Isnt it?” He chuckled and as you got to your room, you let yourself collapse on the bed.

“Do you have a phone number I can borrow?” You asked with a cheeky tone, as Hobie chuckled and gazed at you as he looked in your wardrobe for your pyjamas.

Something in his chest squeezing with a sweet nostalgic feeling. It had been the exact same awful pick up line you’d used on him when you’d met him a couple of years ago. The rest was history, and now you were drunk in your apartment with your boyfriend taking care of you.

“What about your badass boyfriend?” He teased as he grabbed your pajama pants and sat on the edge of the bed and helped you take off your shoes.

“God, he’s so badass…I love him,” You sighed sleepily as you closed your eyes, as you slowly came to the realisation that he was taking off your shoes. “What are you doing? Buy me some coffee first,” you giggled with a soft snort.

“It’s too late to find a coffee shop open at this time, luv,” He chuckled and then took off your belt and undid your trousers.

At this point you were more asleep than awake and you let him take your pants off as you kept whining with playful banter. Both hitting on him and telling him about your badass boyfriend. As he managed to get you to put on your pyjama pants and remove everything last bit of uncomfortable accessories or clothes, he helped you get under the bedsheets.

He grabbed some water, aspirins and left them ready on the nightstand besides the bed, knowing the killer hangover you’d be having tomorrow. He then took off his boots, his vest, accessories and got on the bed with you in just his boxers and his t-shirt. By the time he did you were already lost in some dreamland and he simply snugged besides you and wrapped an arm around you before joining you in a deep sleep.

The next morning, he woke up to the sounds of your painful groaning and your husky voice saying:

“I’m never drinking that much ever again…I’m never drinking again, period…”

He opened his eyes, blinking several times before he finally processed your words He chuckled. “You always say that, luv…” He sighed and stared at you.

“Leave me alone…” You whined with a playful voice as you gulped down the water and the aspirins before collapsing on the bed again. “The last thing I remember is Karl and his boyfriend convincing me to do shots with them…”

“That was your mistake, you should know by this point those guys can drink their weight in booze,” He teased.

“I didn’t do anything stupid, did I?”

“You were about to let Mattea dye your hair in the bathroom in the middle of the party,” He explained, “and then ran off to the closest convenience store to try and buy bleach and hair dye…”

“Ah, fuck,”

“That’s when I thought maybe it was time to take you to bed,” He laughed softly. “So I brought you back,”

“Thanks, baby…” You whispered with a sheepish voice and kissed his skinny shoulder.

“You bragged to me the entire time about your boyfriend, by the way,” He teased.

“What?” You asked confused.

“And the proceeds to flirt with me and ask for my number…”

“Bullshit,” You groaned as you blushed softly, starting to remember some things about him carrying you back.

“You pulled out the same terrible pickup line you used the first time we met,” He giggled and looked at you from the corner of his eye.

“Oh my god…” You gasped, burying your face against the pillow in embarrassment. And after a brief silence you said: “did it work, though?” Your questions make Hobie laugh softly as he rolled to his side and looked at you, running his long slender fingers up your spine over the short.

“I’m here, am I not?” He replied with a soft velvet whisper.

303 notes View Post

rubberducki20

2 months ago

⋆·˚ ༘ * PAUL LAHOTE HEADCANNONS 𐚁̸.ᐟ

𐙚 childhood friends to lovers with paul

you were always his.

paul lahote has known you his entire life.

even as kids, he gravitated toward you, like some invisible force was always pulling him in your direction.

“you’re my best friend,” he told you when you were both seven, shoving a slightly crushed flower into your hands with a determined look. “forever.”

he didn’t know back then that he loved you—but he did. even before he understood what love was.

as you both grew up, paul started to notice things about you in ways that made his stomach tighten and his heart ache.

the way your hair caught the sunlight, the way your laugh echoed in his ribs, the way you touched his arm when you talked—fuck, it made his chest burn.

but you never looked at him the way he looked at you, and that killed him.

he forced himself to act normal, to hide the way his hands itched to touch you, the way his gaze lingered when you weren’t looking.

he would have given anything to be the one you turned to with soft, love-drunk eyes.

paul had to watch you date other guys. it nearly drove him insane.

he always put on a front—smirking, teasing you, acting like it didn’t gut him every time you mentioned some guy’s name.

“so, you and that asshole from school, huh?” he said one night, tossing a rock into the ocean, his jaw clenched so tight it ached. “didn’t think you had such bad taste.”

“shut up, paul,” you laughed, nudging him playfully. but he didn’t laugh.

because it wasn’t funny to him. it was hell.

but he stayed quiet. because what if telling you the truth meant losing you completely?

he could have kept his feelings buried forever if it weren’t for the night he saw you crying over some idiot who didn’t deserve you.

you had come to his house, eyes red, voice shaky, looking so fucking sad, and something in him just snapped.

“tell me who it is,” he said, voice dark and dangerous. “i’ll kill him.”

“paul—”

“tell me.”

you shook your head, wiping your eyes. “it doesn’t matter.”

didn’t matter? no, fuck that. it mattered more than anything.

he exhaled hard, running a hand over his face before muttering, “you deserve better.”

you huffed a watery laugh. “yeah? like who? you?”

his jaw locked. “yeah,” he said quietly, his hands shaking. “like me.”

it happened fast.

one second, you were teasing him, and the next, he was cracking open in front of you.

“do you even know how fucking hard it is?” he burst out suddenly, voice raw, desperate. “loving you like this?”

your breath hitched. “paul—”

“no.” he shook his head, stepping closer. “you don’t get it. i’ve loved you since we were kids. and every single day, i’ve had to watch you, knowing i’m not the one you want.”

his hands balled into fists, his breathing uneven. “i thought i could live with that. thought i could be okay just being your friend. but i can’t, y/n, i fucking can’t.”

his voice broke on the last word, and suddenly, you realized—he wasn’t just frustrated. he was in agony.

you hadn’t realized how much you needed to hear it until that moment.

until you saw the way he was looking at you—like he’d die if you didn’t love him back.

“say something,” he whispered, voice barely holding together.

you swallowed hard. “i—i don’t know what to say.”

his breath shuddered. “then let me.”

and then his hands were on your face, gentle but desperate, pulling you in as if he had been starving for you his whole life.

the second your lips touched, it was over—all the years of yearning, all the nights spent lying awake thinking about what it would feel like to have you, hold you, be yours.

“god, finally” he groaned against your mouth, fingers gripping you like he’d never let go.

and he never would.

the kiss changed everything.

one second, paul was your best friend, and the next, he was your paul.

he didn’t let you go for a long time after that.

he held you so tight, like he was afraid you’d slip through his fingers if he loosened his grip even a little.

when you finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breathing uneven.

“you have no idea how long i’ve wanted that,” he whispered, his fingers still tangled in your hair.

you let out a soft laugh, breathless. “i think i have some idea.”

“not funny.” his lips brushed yours again, barely there, but full of something achingly desperate. “i thought i was gonna go crazy wanting you like that.”

he didn’t let go of your hand for the rest of the night.

everything was the same, but also not.

paul still teased you like he always did, still tossed popcorn at you during movie nights, still wrestled you onto the couch playfully—

but now, when he pinned you down, his hands lingered. his lips brushed over your cheek before he let you go.

his eyes devoured you like he couldn’t believe he was allowed to look at you like this.

and, oh, god, the touches—

he was constantly touching you.

his hand on your thigh when you sat together. his fingers tracing your knuckles. his arms pulling you into his chest like it was second nature.

one night, you caught him just staring at you, jaw clenched, hands curled into fists.

“what?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

he exhaled hard, rubbing a hand over his face. “nothing.”

“paul.”

his eyes flicked to your lips, his entire body tensed, and then—

“i just really wanna kiss you again.”

paul had always been overprotective, but now? ten times worse.

if you so much as stumbled, he was there, hands gripping your arms, eyes full of pure panic.

“i’m fine, paul.”

“you almost died.”

“i tripped over a rock.”

“exactly.”

he hated the thought of anything happening to you. even the idea of losing you sent him into a downward spiral of pure terror.

one night, after a particularly bad nightmare, he woke up shaking, his arms around you too tight.

you stirred, sieepy. “paul?”

“just—just go back to sleep, baby,” he murmured, voice hoarse.

but you didn’t miss the way his breath shuddered against your neck.

the next morning, he wouldn’t let you out of his sight. when you finally pushed him on it, he sighed, rubbing his face.

“had a dream you were gone,” he admitted, voice quiet.

you softened instantly, reaching for him. he immediately pulled you in, burying his face in your neck.

“i can’t lose you,” he murmured, voice raw.

“you won’t.”

“promise me.” his grip on you tightened. “just—just promise me.”

paul was obsessed with you in a way he never tried to hide.

he could spend hours just watching you talk, completely mesmerized by every little thing you did.

“paul,” you teased one day. “you’re staring.”

“yeah?” his lips twitched. “and?”

“and it’s weird.”

he just grinned, reaching over to pull you onto his lap. “mm, you’ll get used to it, baby.”

he also loved reminding you that you were his.

if anyone so much as looked at you the wrong way, paul was right there, an arm around your waist, pulling you against him.

“something you need?” he’d ask, voice low, deadly.

the guy would immediately back off, and paul would just smirk, satisfied, pressing a slow kiss to your neck.

“mine,” he’d murmur. “all mine.”

one night, you were lying on the beach together, his arms wrapped around you, the waves crashing in the distance.

you sighed, content. “crazy to think we were just kids running around here not that long ago.”

paul hummed, his fingers brushing over your arm absentmindedly. “not that crazy.”

“why?”

he exhaled softly, pressing a kiss to the side of your head. “because i think i’ve been loving you since then.”

your heart stuttered. “paul—”

“no, i mean it.” he tightened his grip on you, his voice softer than usual. “i think… i think i’ve always been yours.”

you turned in his arms, looking up at him, your heart full.

“good,” you whispered, tracing a hand along his jaw. “because i’ve always been yours too.”

and paul just melted, pulling you into a slow, aching kiss—one that held years of longing, years of desperate, unspoken love finally set free.

paul isn’t subtle about how much he wants you to be his forever.

“you ever think about getting married?” he asks one night, his fingers tracing absent patterns over your skin.

“i—what?” you blink up at him, caught off guard.

his lips twitch, but his eyes are serious. “just wondering.”

you swallow hard. “do you?”

his jaw clenches for a second, like he’s fighting something deep.

“i think about you,” he says finally. “every day. every fucking second.”

he exhales softly, leaning in. “and i want all of it, y/n. i want you. forever.”

there was nothing that felt more natural than the way the universe had put you two together. and paul feels that every single every day.

so it’s not surprise he can’t hide his wish to be by your side.

it’s late, and paul is standing in the kitchen, watching you move around his space like you belong there.

and suddenly, he can’t take it anymore.

“move in with me.”

you freeze, blinking. “paul—”

“i mean it.” his voice is soft, but there’s something urgent underneath. “you already spend all your time here. just… stay.”

he steps forward, hands cradling your face. “stay with me,” he murmurs.

how could you say no to that?

paul lahote doesn’t just love you. he owns the feeling—deep in his bones, in every breath, in every look, in every single second he spends with you.

360 notes View Post

rubberducki20

2 months ago

Mickey milkovich x M!Reader

◇Car sex

◇Mickey tops for once, reader rides him

◇Sex with plot?

Mickey did not want to be here at this shitty party his sister was throwing. He only came here cause you said you'd be here, and he might've also been feeling a hit possessive with the fact that you said Mandy was trying to find your ass a man.

You looked hot, and Ian teasing his ass wasn't helping. "Jesus, Mick. Keep staring and I won't be able to tell who's drooling. Your mouth or your dick." The remarks got Ian a harsh shove from Ian

"Oh fuck off, Gallagher."

Meanwhile, you were only here in an attempt to hope Mickey would finally be open about liking you. It's not like you didn't know. The staring, the fact that he was okay with you occasionally touching him where he'd hit or shove others off from it. His sister seen it, Ian seen it, and so did you. Unfortunately for Mick and his stubborn ass, refused too.

"Just go, dipshit." Ian shoved him a little. They might've been exes, but they were close. "Yeah..yeah.." Mickey sighed before actually getting the balls to go up to you.

You smiled as he finally stood beside you, "Hey, Cariño. Been waiting for you." Mickey's heart skipped a beat as you called him cariño again. Thats all you've ever called him, and you also refused to tell him what it meant. It was like a jolt of electricity shooting through him every time you used that term of endearment.

He cleared his throat, trying to keep a cool exterior. "Yeah? Been waiting for me?" He responded, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "Yeah. I'm gay, but not gay enough to listen to your sister and her girls about matching panties." You remarked, which made both of you laughed. "Yeah, that doesn't sound fun at all." Mickey agreed. "You have much to drink?" Mick asked, trying to act nonchalant, but deep down he might be a rain drop of worried. "This is my first, and probably only." You smiled at him, and he nodded a flash of relief in his eyes.

"Tryna stay sober or some?" He only asked to keep this weak ass conversation going, so you obliged "More like I want to remember tonight and not hookup with a random person."

Mickey's smirk faltered for a moment as he heard your words. The idea of you going home with someone else was something he didn't want to think about, but he tried to keep his cool and not show any signs of jealousy. He raised an eyebrow and asked, "So you don't plan on hooking up with anyone tonight?"

You nodded, agreeing with his words. "I might live in the SouthSide, but I'm not the Southside." Which he didn't understand but wasn't going to ask. You also added, "Don't really like hookups, or flings. I just don't like it."

Which he was kinda surprised by. It was the SouthSide, if your friends hadn't all slept with the same person, it wasn't the southside. So what made you different? You were a pretty boy. Kept hair, decent clothes. "So if you don't hookup or one nights, what the fuck do you do?" Mickey asked. "Uh committed relationships." You laughed. "Oh." Was all he could manage to get out his mouth. He wasn't the type for relationships..nit committed ones...but maybe?

"Huh. Committed relationships?" He repeated after sipping his beer. You smiled, "Yeah, Cariño."

He groaned, "You're killing me with that god damn nickname." You smirked, "Yeah?"

"Yeah." Mickey smirked, his face only inches away from yours. He was close enough to feel your breath on his face. His heart was pounding faster and faster with each passing second, and his mind was racing with thoughts of how badly he wanted to just kiss you right then and there. If you both ever had a moment that yall connected, it was now "Car?" You both ask at the same time and laughed.

Soon, you were dragging the sweet but asshole of a man out to your car in the street. "Nice ass, papí." You swatted one of his Jean covered asscheeks as he went into the back of your car first. "Don't call me that, dipshit." He groaned, already having his pants tight, and you calling him daddy in Spanish was not helping.

You huffed, going into your glove box for lube, cause dry anal hurt. We all know that. Once you got into the back of the car, both of yall were rushing to get at least pants and boxers off. You waisted no time to straddle his lap, and coat his strained cock in lube to take into you. You both moaned out, Mickeys hands gripping your hips to help you sink down better and yours at his shoulders. You rolled your hips, grunting at the pain and pleasure. Mickey was panting, being the typical ass of not making noise besides the soft puffs of hair or barely audible groans. Asshole.

You, thank god, found a good rhythm as you rode Mickeys cock, one of his hands wrapping around your throat which cause your eyes to roll back, "Oh papí. Your cock feels so damn good."

The compliment made his gently squeeze your throat, "Say it again. Keep saying it."

"Yes, papí." You whined, grinding your hips down before going back to bouncing. Your movements and repetition of calling him daddy in Spanish was getting his vocal aspect to come out, and damn did you relish in it. It was all too much, he was losing his god damn mind. Mickey was so unbelievably overwhelmed by you, all he wanted was more, more of you, more of this feeling. He couldn't form words anymore, all he could do was pant and moan, each curse word that escaped his lips was like a prayer.

He leaned forward, smashing his lips against yours, the kiss was desperate and rough, full of need. You were the only thing on his mind, you were the only thing he needed. You were his lifeline, the air he needed to breathe, the water he needed to stay alive. Without you, he was nothing. He was drowning, but the sweet embrace of you gave him the breath he needed to keep standing. You moaned against his lips, "Fuck, papí. I'm close."

"God...me too." He managed to gasp out, his hips bucking involuntarily to meet your movements. He was on the edge, hanging by a thread, but god he didn't want this to end. Unfortunately neither of you could warn eachother when your orgasms hit, yours going over his and your own shirt, his going deep into you. The sight of you, the sound of your moans, it drove him crazy, and he was completely lost in the moment. He was panting, trying to catch his breath, his body trembling as he came down from the high. He looked at you with a mixture of amazement and awe, still trying to wrap his mind around what had just happened.

Sadly, the sirens and lights if cop cars ended that bliss a little too fast.

"Fuck!" Both of you groaned.