bluemerakis-recs

[bluemerakis-recs]

"cigarettes"

synopsis: sitting on his lap smoking word count: 835 warnings: +18 minors dni! not inappropriate but does contain language!

you don’t even like smoking; loathed the taste, especially when the smell sticks to your hair and hurts your throat. but you do like watching him do it—joel, leaning against the porch railing, one hand holding the cigarette between two thick tan fingers, the other tucked into the pocket of his worn jeans. forearms flexed just enough, hazy smoke curling slowly from his mouth.

and the way he talks when he’s got one between his lips—lazy, low, like the whole world can wait while he exhales. fuck!

you were perched on the arm of the porch chair next to him, legs bare, sundress brushing high on your thighs, while pretending not to stare at him. trying not to show how your stomach doesn’t do a flip every time he lifts that cigarette to his mouth.

he glances over at you, with a slight smile. “you keep lookin’ at me like that, i’m gonna start thinkin’ you want one.”

you tilt your head up, a smile forming on your lips. “maybe i do.”

joel raises a brow, taps ash off the tip with a little flick.“pretty girls like you don’t smoke.”

you scoff, playfully. “what, like i’m gonna shrivel up and die if i take one drag?”

“no,” he says, drawing out the word, “you’re gonna cough your lungs up and look real cute doin’ it, that’s all.”

you stick your tongue out at him, and he just chuckles, the sound vibrating through the warm summer air. he leans back in the chair, knees spread wide, cigarette dangling loose in his fingers.

“you wanna try it that bad, then c’mere.”

you glance down at the empty space between his thighs, then back up at his face.“seriously?”

he shrugs, casually; like it’s no big deal, but it is one..

“closer this way. easier to show you.”

you hesitate for half a second, then slide off the arm of the chair and into his lap. his hands settle on your waist automatically, fingers wide and hot. he smells like sun-warmed cotton, sweat, and tobacco; and you feel so stupidly small like this, straddling him, knees on either side of his thighs, your palms resting on his shoulders like you might fall.

he holds the cigarette up between you, tilting it toward your mouth.

“alright,” he says, voice low, eyes flicking from your lips to your eyes and back again. “wrap your lips around it, but don’t suck too hard.”

your breath stutters, your not so innocent mind is thinking of sucking something else. you narrow your eyes at him. “you’re enjoying this.”

he grins, doesn’t deny it. “not every day a girl as pretty as you climbs in my lap and begs to smoke my good cigarettes.”

you roll your eyes, try to hide the way your cheeks go hot. you lean forward, mouth closing around the cigarette like he said, and take a careful pull. the smoke hits your throat like sandpaper and you instantly cough, hand coming up to cover your mouth.

joel’s laugh is smug as hell. he takes the cigarette back and leans in, brushing his thumb over your lips, wiping away imaginary ash.

“told you.”

you glare at him through watery eyes. “you didn’t tell me it’d taste like dirt and battery acid.”

he shrugs. “you get used to it.”

you reach for the cigarette again, stubborn. he lets you take it, but his hands stay firm on your hips, keeping you close. you take a slower drag this time, more cautious, and manage to exhale without dying.

he watches you, seemingly memorizing your plush lips wrapping around the small cancer stick.

“look at you,” he murmurs. “gonna have all the boys in town thinkin’ you’re a badass now.”

you smirk, passing it back. “maybe i don’t want the boys in town. maybe i want the one who taught me.”

joel stills, for a second, while his jaw flexes, eyes darken with pure lust. “you don’t know what you’re askin’ for, baby.”

you lean in, really close, until your nose brushes his.

“don’t i?”

he drags in a breath, smoke curling from his lips as he does. “you keep sittin’ on me like that, talkin’ with that mouth, i’m not gonna stay polite.”

you tilt your head, a wicked yet so soft smile is plastered on your face. “who said i wanted you to be polite?”

his hands tighten on your waist, then takes one last drag, snuffs the cigarette out in the tray beside the chair, and turns back to you.

“you’re trouble,” he says.

you nod. “and?”

his fingers slip beneath the hem of your dress, thumbs brushing your hot thighs. “don’t blame me when your daddy finds out i’ve been teachin’ you things he sure as hell wouldn’t approve of.”

you shrug. “he shouldn’t have left me alone with his best friend, then.”

joel’s mouth curves into a small smirk. “guess not.”

he kisses you deeply and passionately, and the funny thing is you don’t even think about the cigarette again.

special tags: @inbred-eater , @wintfleur , @lowrisemiller, @bluemerakis

[bluemerakis-recs]

just got to properly reading this and im giggling and kicking my feet like a giddy school girl 😛

kiss me when you’re sober.

negan smith x fem!reader

word count. 5.9k

summary. feelings slip to the surface and shenanigans ensue when negan’s had one too many drinks.

notes. college!roommates!au (no apocalypse), idiots in love, mentions of alcohol, silly drunken behaviour, soft!negan (no bc he’s actually so pookie wdym), fluff ‘n banter, love confessions

gif by pedrospascaled & divider by enchanthings

A heavy irritation settled in your chest, a sensation that gnawed at you with every growing moment. You briefly clenched your hands into fists over the steering wheel before releasing them, trying to keep your muscles awake, but you could still feel your body thick with the thought of sleep, the bleariness etched onto your eyes.

Darkness enveloped your surroundings, save for the glow of traffic lights and a few open windows of shophouses, along with rows of street lamps illuminating the sidewalks. The asphalt road stretched before you, the car’s headlights paving the way towards the campus. The roads were occupied with minimal activity at this ungodly hour, and the full moon gleaming above acted as your only companion throughout the drive.

You let out a grumble once more, allowing it to fill the silence of the vehicle.

The week had been particularly grueling—consecutive, hour-long lectures that drained the energy out of you as assignments only piled up one after another, contributing to the never-ending workload. Not to mention, you had started extending your shifts at work in an effort to keep up with the daily expenses, and by the time you had finished, your legs would be aching from standing all day, your head throbbing faintly from having to deal with the various personalities of customers.

So when Friday rolled around, the weight of your accumulated exhaustion had come crashing down in full force. Resolved to get a good night’s rest, you had already hit the sheets by 10PM, hoping to start the weekend with a fresh mind.

That was, until the loud vibration of your phone woke you abruptly in the middle of your sleep.

At first, you had only stirred in your bed, shifting away from the nightstand as you tried to ignore the buzzing sound. When it didn’t seem to stop, you grabbed the edges of your pillow, pressing down against your ears. The attempt was futile. The sound was incessant. Eventually, you pried open your weary eyes, a scowl etched onto your features as you begrudgingly rolled over to the other side.

You turned on the lamp, taking a brief moment to adjust to the sudden beam of light. The glaringly red numbers ‘1:12AM’ read on your digital clock. A torrent of anger rippled through your body. Who the fuck would be calling you at this hour?

Beside your clock, your phone continued to drone against the wooden surface, a bright, intrusive glow hovering over the screen. You leaned forward, squinting your eyes. The contact name read ‘Doofus’, the large letters engraved in bold. You let out an almost theatrical groan, slumping back into the bedsheets.

Negan.

You should’ve known. Who else would disrupt you from your sleep? He certainly had a gift of becoming the constant subject of your exasperation, a talent of getting on your nerves, a knack for acting like a complete nuisance of a roommate.

When you had first decided to move out of your college dorm and into a more spacious apartment off-campus, you weren’t expecting the package to come with an obnoxious, loud-mouthed, and overly flirtatious roommate who had thought of the same idea. You only shared one class with Negan, and had seen him a couple of times around campus, but it was mostly word of mouth that cemented your image of him as one of those insufferable frat boys who indulged in extravagant partying nearing the weekends.

And quite frankly, being able to see a domestic side of him—an unpublicised aspect of his character that was only displayed within the confines of your shared apartment—wasn’t even close to dispelling your judgement or changing your unimpressed view of him.

The first few months were the worst. Dishes would pile up in the sink, and heaps of dirty clothes failed to be loaded in the washing machine by the end of the day. You had chewed him out over and over again for not following the chore chart you had created and stuck to the fridge, but he always had the same lame excuse lying around, that it simply “slipped his mind”, but you knew he was just too caught up playing video games with Simon.

There were also the occasional dates he would bring over to spend the night with, which you wouldn’t have minded if your walls weren’t so thin, and if he would just give you a quick heads-up beforehand. It wasn’t a pretty sight stumbling upon a complete stranger using your shower in the morning. And in response to your rightful complaint over the lack of a restful night, he’d only reply with that infuriating smirk of his—

“Can’t help it. Ladies love screaming my name.”

But you supposed these days his presence had grown slightly more tolerable. His intrusive guests were noticeably less frequent, and six out of ten times he would stick to his end of household duties. He still had that annoying habit of drinking straight from the juice carton, though. And despite his irreverent and childish sense of humour, you couldn’t help but find yourself a little amused sometimes, your small conversations enough to elicit a sound somewhere in between a scoff and a short chuckle.

But at this moment, the sentiments you held towards your roommate were completely negative. You didn’t understand why he had to be calling you at this hour, and disturb your precious sleep at that. You knew Negan was always out late on Fridays, but he’d never call while he was attending one of his parties.

A faint spark of curiosity swirled in your irritated mind. With your body still attached to your bed, you extended your arm, grabbing the phone in one sharp, resentful movement.

“What?”

Your tone was clipped. Dryness etched onto the back of your throat.

On the other side of the call, a familiar, aggravating voice instantly prickled your skin. “Heeeey,” Negan drawled. There was a thick, raspy quality to his voice, more prominent than usual. Alcohol’s doing. “Took you long enough.”

Your words came out emphatic and impatient. “What do you want?”

“Can you…” Loud beats of music pulsed in your ear, drowning out his speech entirely. “Pick—”

You begrudgingly sat up, letting out a sharp exhale. “I can’t hear you, dumbass.” 

“...Sorry, one sec.”

You huffed out a sigh of exasperation. Your head fell against the bed board, allowing your gaze to wander nowhere in particular around your dimly-lit room. There was a scuffle of movement. You heard his breathing grow ragged, followed by the sound of heavy footsteps against stairs and the loud click of a door. The music became muffled in the background. Then, after what felt like an eternity, his drunken voice stirred once more, his words sounding almost child-like.

“Listen—can you, um, pick me up?”

His request sent a jolt of anger through your body. If you weren’t so weighed down by exhaustion, you might’ve even shot fully awake. Why on earth would you crawl out of bed at this hour just to fetch him? It wasn’t like he hadn’t come home from parties on his own before. The way back to your apartment was still within a walkable distance. Plus, he had said it himself—he could hold his liquor. Or at least, he managed to get into his own bed.

There were a few occasions where you had caught a glimpse of his return, when you were slouched over the coffee table, burning the midnight oil to catch up on your assignments. You’d hear the loud fumble of keys, lasting longer than a beat. The door would push open with more force than necessary. Then, he’d shoot you a heavy-eyed grin, steps slow and unfocused as he stumbled towards his room.

You couldn’t be bothered to wonder why this time was any different.

“No. Walk home yourself. Or call an Uber.”

A snort came through the phone. “Nah—’s past midnight. Prices are fuckin’ stingy.”

“Not my problem,” you retorted, raising your voice to the microphone. “Bye.”

“Wait, don’t—” An edge of panic rushed to his voice. You clicked your tongue, pausing before your thumb could land on the button. Negan whinged through his words, sounding almost comical. “Look—I really don’t want to walk. I can’t. Just drive me back, alright?”

Your tone sharpened immediately. “No. I’m sleeping.”

There was a tinge of disbelief. “Pfft. You sleepin’ that early?”

You rolled your eyes, the teasing edge of his voice only aggravating you further. “I’m fucking tired, Negan. I’m not driving you back.”

“Oh, c’mon,” he slurred. “I’ll make it up to you. Promise. Do whatever y’want.”

You huffed out a dry laugh. “Yeah, right. You won’t even remember having this conversation.” The thought made you pull your eyebrows together. You dragged a hand down your face, slipping out a question. “How much have you had to drink?”

“Well, a lot—I dunno.” Negan chuckled, as if he was found guilty of something.

You only grumbled in response, imperceptible to his ears.

Then, his voice suddenly picked up energy, like the gears of his head were turning despite the intoxication muddling his state. “Actually—the guys spent some sweet cash on booze, ‘n we got this new beer pong table. It’s fuckin’ awesome. ‘S not too late, y’know. Maybe you wanna come over and—”

You cut through his words, curt and irritated. “Don’t want to. G’night.”

And so the call ended just like that. You plopped your phone onto the mattress, quickly turning off the lamp and sinking into the bedsheets. Your cashmere blanket snugly enveloped your body as you settled back into the darkness, allowing your mind to quieten down to the low hum of the air conditioning.

Except your mind wouldn’t quieten down. Easing yourself back to sleep would require some great effort. You simply couldn’t find yourself able to relax, not when a certain someone had so effortlessly worn your patience thin within a span of minutes. You let out a frustrated groan. 

You truly didn’t care about the usual debauchery Negan got himself into. You didn’t want to hear about his antics, and you certainly didn’t want to participate in them. The last thing you needed were distractions.

He’d be fine on his own, right?

And yet, something uneasy crept up your skin. It wasn’t outright discomfort or the strongest strong sense of concern—just a dull, misplaced feeling of unease. But it latched onto your thoughts, and with each moment that passed by slowly, your mind still refusing to succumb to sleep despite your exhaustion, the feeling wouldn’t budge. So you weighed your options. 

If something did end up happening to him, who would you split the rent with?

And before you knew it, you were throwing yourself out of bed, slipping out of your sleepwear and into a plain set of clothes, too tired to fully bother about your messy appearance. You grabbed your car keys and stepped out of the apartment.

Which led you to where you were currently, rounding a corner to the frat house.

Even from a distance, a bass pulsed through your ears, permeating the quiet of the night and killing off the much-appreciated silence in your car. The music only grew louder as you rolled to a stop in front of the house, drowning out the shut of the vehicle door as you stepped onto the sidewalk. 

You frowned. The building was two-storeys high, large enough to house a few groups of people. You always wondered why Negan couldn’t just live here instead, seeing as he so frequently partook in whatever went on in the place.

A bunch of plastic red cups were haphazardly discarded on the grass. You passed by a few party attendees as you neared the house, some chatting idly among their own circles, while others had their arms slung around one another, stumbling along the pavement with a clumsy gait. 

As you approached the porch, neon lights rotated and flashed through the front windows, creating silhouettes that danced on the inner walls. A set of Greek letters stuck above the door, as if only meant to be decrypted by those in the fraternity, though you swore nobody in the house was currently upholding the virtuous motto.

The door appeared unlocked, the cacophony of noise and raging lights all threatening to spill over the tiny gap. You took in a slow, controlled breath, trying to calm the ever-growing impatience that hovered over you like a cloud. Then, your grip tightened around the knob, and you let yourself in.

The overwhelming stench of alcohol and musk assaulted your senses almost immediately, making your nose twitch in repulsion and sending you wide awake. The air felt humid and sticky, the cool breeze that endowed the night suddenly replaced by a thick heat that pressed against your body. You nearly wanted to recoil.

As your eyes were left with no choice but to adjust to the dim corridors, you peered into the nearest room, where a mass was gathered. Bodies pressed against bodies as music blasted in your ears, punctuated by the sound of raucous, drunken cheers.

Your jaw ticked. This was a mistake. Maybe you should’ve just stayed in bed. It was infinitely far better than searching for your troublesome roommate at one in the morning, in a foreign house that stank of sweat and liquor. How the hell were you going to find Negan in all these rooms full of people?

“Woah! Look who decided to join the party.”

Definitely a mistake.

You could barely register the sound of his voice over the speakers, but it was distinct enough to make you scowl instantly. You turned behind, pushing away from the door frame only to meet Simon’s wide grin, although the rest of his features were a blur under the strobing lights. He had his arms opened wide, as if in some grand, dramatic gesture, and his drink sloshed in his cup.

“Did mention it was invite only, though,” he added as an afterthought, though it was loud enough for you to hear. “I guess no one’s keepin’ track anymore. But hey—there’s plenty of room for everyone.”

You exhaled sharply through your nose, folding your arms across your chest. You raised your voice in an attempt to be heard over the music. “I’m not here for your stupid party, Si. Where’s Negan?”

“Ah,” he simply said, casually indifferent to your impatience practically shooting through the roof. He whipped his head back to glance at the room behind, the same revelling scene raging across. His hand moved to scratch the back of his neck. “Well, um—dunno, actually. Got myself a refill, then I came back and just couldn’t find him at all.” 

There was a sharp click of your tongue as your gaze darted to the corridors.

Then, his eyebrows raised almost suggestively, and a sudden lilt came forth in his voice. “Why you askin’? What’s the cause for concern?”

“He called me to pick him up,” you stated matter-of-factly, not in the mood to entertain his perpetual habit of teasing. An accusatory tone sliced through the humid air. “You should’ve known better than to leave him on his own. He sounded wasted as fuck.”

Simon only scoffed, raising his hands in defense. “The man can drink as much as he wants. What am I, his mother or somethin’?”

You bit through your words. “No, you’re his best friend.”

He snorted in response, a gleam of amusement in his eyes as the next words rolled from his tongue. “And who are you supposed to be, his girlfriend?”

You glared at the audacity. “You—”

“Chill out, I’m kidding!” He chuckled, reaching to pat the side of your arm, oblivious to the way it made your body tense up all the more. “Though it’s real cute how much you pretend not to care ‘bout him.”

You only scoffed, as if it suddenly seemed more exhausting to fight against Simon’s words than to just let them hang indignantly in the air. Don’t get yourself wrong, though—the notion was ridiculous. Completely ridiculous. Even if a tiny, misplaced, meaningless fraction of concern you had for your roommate somehow managed to get you to where you were. 

Tiredness seeped through your voice instead. “Just help me find him, alright?”

“Sure,” Simon replied, returning you a lazy smile. “But let’s get you a drink first. You look like you’re in desperate need of some booze.”

“No th—”

You couldn’t even reply in full before his arm wrapped around your shoulders, pulling you flush against the side of his body as he dragged you into the room he had come from. Your protests fell on deaf ears, muted by the jarring party beat. You squeezed past the crowd, trying to endure the stench punching through the air as the strobing lights seared your vision.

The music dampened as Simon led you to the kitchen, and you were at least relieved to see fewer people crowding around, all talking amongst themselves. The kitchen was incongruously well-lit, almost unsuspecting unlike the rest of the party scene. You pushed away from Simon’s hold, swatting him in the shoulder before he moved around the kitchen island.

He motioned to a row of alcoholic beverages strewn across the counter, shooting you a grin. “So, what’cha fancy? Whiskey? Rum? Vodka?”

“Aspirin,” you muttered under your breath, feeling a headache brewing in the back of your head if you stayed in the house any longer. You began to speak, “Simon, I don’t have time for this. Can you please—”

Without warning, a pair of strong arms wrapped around your shoulders. Your balance nearly faltered as your back was suddenly pulled against a toned chest. A warmth enveloped you from behind, but it wasn’t the same, intrusive, discomforting body heat that pervaded the air—in fact, it felt almost tolerable. Then, just for a mere second, a set of soft lips pressed against your cheek. Your entire body froze in an instant.

Shit, did he just—

“You came,” Negan slurred, settling himself into the unsolicited embrace, as if you had wordlessly agreed upon this newfound intimacy. His throaty chuckle sent a vibration down your spine. “Oh, I knew y’would.”

You flinched away when you felt his hot breath ghost over the side of your neck, tickling your collarbone. His back immediately found the counter as he leaned on his elbows for support, his head slack on his shoulders. You took a good look at Negan under the steady light. His skin was flushed, the alcohol tinting his cheeks a bright red, and his dark curls were more disheveled than usual. He sported a stupid, close-eyed grin, like he was caught in the middle of a dreamlike state.

You uttered the first two words that came to your mind. “You idiot.”

Something aggravated you just seeing him this disoriented and blur. You moved closer, jabbing a finger at the centre of his chest. “This is gonna cost you laundry duty for the next two weeks.”

Negan peeked his eyes open then. “No,” he murmured, eyebrows pulling together as he dragged a hand over his mouth. “Are you fuckin’ for real? That’s bullshit.” He glanced over the counter, hastily reaching to grab an unattended red Solo cup.

“Enough of that—” You yanked the cup away before he could tilt it to his lips. The contents nearly spilled over as you propped the cup back down hard on the counter. “You said you’d do whatever I want.”

The corners of his mouth twitched upwards. “Yeah, but I was thinkin’ more of—“

“Doesn’t matter what you think,” you dismissed, letting out a sharp exhale as your words cut through the air like a whip. “Look—we’ll talk about this in the morning. Let’s just go.”

“But y’came all this way. At least stay for a drink.”

“I came all this way to pick your ass up. As requested. Now c’mon.”

Itching to get out of the house, you turned on your heel, moving across the room in quick, measured strides. Unfortunately, you hadn’t made it past the door frame before you got a sense that Negan wasn’t trailing behind, making you stop in your tracks. You looked back, only to find that he had remained stationary in his spot, a hand hovering over his forehead as he rubbed at his temples.

You crossed your arms, features settling into a deadpan expression while your voice carried a mock intonation, as if you already knew the answer to your own question. “Can you walk?”

Negan squeezed his eyes shut. “Yeah. Maybe. Hang on, I just—might need a moment.”

You sighed in resignation, shifting on your feet. Tapping a finger along the side of your arm, you waited for him to get a hold of his balance. Progress seemed to be moving impossibly slow. Then, your gaze drifted to the corners of the kitchen, not missing the fact that Simon had been lingering near the cabinets, like he had been quietly watching a spectacle unfold all along.

He took a long, purposeful sip of his drink, returning your gaze as his eyes glinted with amusement over the rim of his cup. After what felt like forever, he set his drink down, the familiar, teasing edge of his voice carrying across the room. “You lovebirds in a rush to leave so soon?”

You only frowned. “Just help me get him to the car.”

Things moved by in an uneventful fashion, mostly because you wanted it to. You went through the motions, walking ahead of the both of them as you manoeuvred past the noisy partygoers once more, before stepping out of the house, finally managing to get a breath of fresh air. Your mind was only focused on one task—getting home. Once Negan was propped in the front passenger seat, you quickly said your goodbyes to Simon, though you appreciated his effort of having to practically drag Negan to the car. You drove off the campus in silence, letting only the steady hum of the engine softly roar through the vehicle.

Traffic lights haloed the night as you drove onto the main road, street lamps bathing the town buildings in a dim, yellow glow. When you came to a stop at a traffic junction, you glanced to the side, where Negan was slumped in his seat. The quiet had lulled him, and the slight drop of his head denoted he was dozing off already.

You rather appreciated moments like these where your roommate wasn’t running his mouth, which were incredibly rare, but unfortunately you’d be in for a tougher time in the next five minutes once you reached your apartment.

You broke the silence, your voice sharp and unavoidable. “I swear I’ll leave you in the car until morning if you fall asleep.”

That managed to stir him then, and he shifted in his position, rubbing the weariness out of his eyes. He took a long moment before responding, his voice thick and rough. “You fuckin’ wouldn’t.”

”Oh, I would,” you challenged, not missing a beat.

You heard him huff out a short laugh. The traffic light flicked to green, prompting your gaze back onto the road as you drove on. When another round of silence followed, you didn’t need to throw another glance to know that Negan’s eyes were still on you, the feeling persisting even through the nearly pitch-black confines of your car. His gaze was steady and intent, though you couldn’t quite put your finger on it. Something unfamiliar shifted in your chest.

Then, his hand moved over to the dash stereo.

“If you like piña coladas, 

and gettin’ caught in the rain…”

Just as fast as he had turned on the radio, you switched it back off, abruptly severing the classic tune of Rupert Holmes. Yacht rock was not exactly the defining genre for the current mood. You clicked your tongue, shooting Negan an irritated look. “Don’t touch that.”

“Why not?”

“Just don’t.”

He gave you a blank expression. “Car’s mine s’much as it’s yours.” And with that, he turned the radio back on.

“If you like making love at midnight…”

Your hand flew to shut off the music again, bringing it to a swift and forceful end. “Quit it,” you snapped, words biting through the cool air.

Negan let out an exaggerated sigh. “How the hell am I supposed to stay awake, then?”

With your eyes still fixed on the road, you reached for the glove compartment, pulling out a small box of breath mints and handing it to him. “Here. Take one.”

“What for?”

“Just take one,” you insisted curtly. Negan took the box, and you brought your hand back to the steering wheel. “Should help you stay awake ‘til we get back. Plus, you’re stinking up the whole car.”

He snorted in response, amusement laced beneath his voice as he popped a mint into his mouth. “That bad?” 

“Oh, yeah,” you replied. He did reek of alcohol—you had caught a strong whiff of it during the embrace, the way his breath mingled with the smell of flat beer. But with an air of exaggeration, you couldn’t help but add, “You’d need a whole bar of soap in your mouth, but this’ll have to do.”

Negan let out a chuckle then, and eventually you followed after. Your eyes flickered to him, noticing the way the ribbon of street lights caught onto the edges of his features, the way his eyes crinkled and the dimples appeared in his cheeks. It sent a strange flutter in your stomach, making you look away within seconds.

There was a short pause before you heard him speak again. “Y’know, you’re real fun to be with. Dunno why you act like y’not half the time.”

That made you furrow your eyebrows. “Well, I’m sorry,” you replied, tone thick with sarcasm. “Maybe you’re fine with living in a dumpster truck, but I’m not. It’s a shared space, Negan.”

You heard him scoff, though his voice was noticeably softer. “I do my part.”

“You do the bare minimum. Which you think is fine, considering your standards.”

As the car turned into a corner, the apartment building came into view. You took his silence as room to continue. “You know, if you’re so bogged down by responsibilities, why don’t you just live at the frat house instead? I mean, you can party as much as you want, drink as much as you want, hook up with whoever you—” 

“Nah. ‘S nice livin’ with you.” Negan allowed his body to fall back limply against his seat, his head tilting towards you as a small grin formed on his lips. “…I really like livin’ with you. Even when you get mad sometimes.”

For a moment, the words were caught in your throat. The mood suddenly seemed to soften, but something wasn’t allowing you to return his gaze. Your thumbs twitched restlessly over the steering wheel as you entered the parking lot.

“…Thanks,” you eventually managed to say. The word hung awkwardly in the air. Your voice grew quiet, low enough to be interpreted as an afterthought. “I guess you’re not as bad as you were months ago.”

You let Negan trail behind you quietly, glancing back every so often to make sure he hadn’t tripped on his own feet. He mostly clinged to the handrails as he trudged up the front steps, a shoulder wedged against the walls as he walked along the hallways and stepped into the lift. His pace was excruciatingly slow, and yet, your impatience that had been running throughout the night had somehow disappeared. Or maybe you had grown too tired to care. You didn’t dwell too much on the matter.

Eventually, you both reached the apartment door, the smooth click of your key welcoming you home into the quiet space of your living room. The area had been somewhat cluttered for weeks, since you had been too busy to tidy up properly—books and whatnot strewn across the coffee table, jackets draped over the armchairs, pillows rumpled on the small couch—to the point where it almost had a cozy feel, and the slight mess had become a normalised sight.

“Go change. Get some sleep,” you ordered, mechanically moving towards the kitchen. A low hum of acknowledgement followed from behind, along with a heavy pad of footsteps as Negan retreated to his room.

You took a jug of water, pouring it into a glass. Reaching for the cabinets, you fished out a small box of painkillers. Then, with both items in hand, you made your way towards his room, pushing open the door with your elbow. 

The dim glow of the bedside lamp barely outlined his figure. Negan stood beside the closet, his head cast downwards, eyebrows drawn together as he fumbled with the buttons of his shirt.

He looked up when you entered, exasperation flickering across his features. “Can’t get this damn thing to—” He sighed wearily, his brown eyes looking at you almost expectantly.

Your lips pressed into a thin line, shooting him an unimpressed look. But you moved without a second thought, setting down the glass and painkillers on the nightstand before closing the distance from where he stood. Your hands latched onto the two small buttons, the gentle tug pulling him slightly forward as your nimble fingers made quick work of unfastening them. 

You couldn’t help but notice it again. The way he’s just staring at you. It didn’t help that your faces were merely inches apart. That same, strange feeling stirred in your chest. You swallowed, deliberately training your eyes on the buttons.

You remembered that very first night, when you had made it crystal clear you weren’t interested in him at all. It didn’t stop Negan from throwing playful innuendos every now and then, but he never once overstepped your boundaries, and you figured all the flirting was just part of his nature. So you brushed it off without much thought.

But nothing had suddenly made you question everything until now, under the weight of his steady gaze. No crude remarks, no sensual touches—just a simple, intense look in the eyes. You could question what happened earlier at the house, but that had been nothing more than a drunken embrace. Actually, maybe the alcohol was to blame for everything. Of course, what else would it be?

Shaking the thoughts out in your head, you removed your hands when you realised they had been hovering over the opened buttons for a little too long. 

You pulled away momentarily, reaching for the white t-shirt he had thrown onto his messy bed, handing it to him. “Here,” you said, your voice suddenly reduced to a soft whisper. 

You caught the way his throat bobbed, but he neither responded nor moved. You thrusted the shirt into his chest, but when he still didn’t take it, you narrowed your eyes, giving him a slight look of confusion. “Negan? You alr—”

It was as if time stopped registering. It barely processed with the way it happened so fast. Your cheeks were held in the crevice of his hands, sending a warmth that instantly tingled your skin. Then, his mouth pressed against yours. Your eyes automatically shut, and your fingers involuntarily released hold of the white t-shirt when a pool of lightness rushed to your head.

The kiss was soft, and his lips parted against yours gently. Something in you didn’t want to pull away from his touch. You wanted to remain. And before you knew it, you were kissing him back.

But it only lasted for a few seconds—when his tongue brushed over the seam of your lips, throwing you back into reality. The taste of mint and alcohol made for a distasteful combination. Your mouth drew back from the kiss. You forced your eyes open.

“You—” Your resolve was weak against the tenderness of his palms still cupping your cheeks. “You dumbass,” you blurted softly, slightly furrowing your eyebrows. “You’re drunk.”

“You’ve no idea how long I’ve wanted to kiss you,” Negan only slurred, his half-lidded eyes still staring down at your lips. “None.”

You freeze, unsure of how to respond to the alcohol talking.

“D’you want me?” he continued, leaning forward to rest his forehead against yours, noses nudging against each other. A breathy whisper feathered over your jaw. “Like I want you?”

“I…” Your voice grew thick, as if the words were becoming stuck. A dry laugh escaped from your throat. “Negan, you don’t know what you’re saying. You don’t know what you’re doing.”

As if you knew what you were doing either. You had just kissed your roommate back, for goodness sake. The same roommate who was a thorn in your side, who annoyed you to no end.

“Course I fuckin’ do,” he replied quietly, searching your eyes. His thumbs glided back and forth over your cheekbones. “I want you. I always have.”

The words sent a pang in your heart, and you wondered if he was consciously making his voice low and rough, despite knowing how wasted he was. That would explain why your knees had suddenly become weak.

Still, the skepticism was evident in your tone. “You act like this with all the girls you bring back?” you tried to joke, your voice wavering, though you didn't realise the slight resentment attached to your words until it was said out loud.

You were surprised with how Negan caught onto it almost immediately. “They… they don’t matter.” His eyes bore into yours, a sincerity etched to his words. “Darlin’, I swear—’s only ever been you. M’sorry if I hurt you like that.”

You made a light attempt to scoff. “I’m not hurt—”

“You are.”

“I’m not.”

“You are. ‘S written all over your pretty face.” The corners of his lips twitched upwards, before they fell after a beat. “But ‘m serious, I—”

“Look—” You reached for his wrists, gently guiding his hands away from your cheeks and letting them fall to your sides. “You should sleep it off, really,” you said, motioning your head to the nightstand. “Take the painkillers when you wake up.”

“But I…” His fingers loosely curled around yours, as if not wanting to let go of you just yet. “I need to know. If you feel what I feel.”

“Like you’ll even remember,” you murmured in response, scrunching your eyebrows. Then, you let out a soft sigh. “I’ll… tell you in the morning if you do, alright?”

You saw him give a slight nod, as he slowly released your hand, though you could tell he wasn’t satisfied with your answer.

It was simple, really—he was drunk. He wasn’t thinking straight. Not that he really ever has.

A thick silence stretched between you two, until you realised all else had been said, or at least the things you weren’t afraid to address. You eventually exchanged a soft ‘good night’, barely managing to say the words before you promptly left his room.

Truth was, you didn’t have a concrete answer. Or maybe you just didn’t want to answer it—knowing that you nearly melted into a puddle under his touch, and that you didn’t pull away the moment he kissed you. You didn’t think he would even remember the bulk of your conversation. Yet, a small part of you wanted him to remember. A small part of you wanted him to kiss you once he was sober.

And as you crawled back into the comfort of your own bed, the thought of him continued to leave you awake all night, much to your dismay. You knew Negan would never cease to infuriate you, disturbing your sleep at that, but something had definitely changed.

notes. i personally had sm fun writing this, so i hope this translates to something a little enjoyable for you! my academic year started mid-april so i sadly have less time on my hands to write, but i’m always up for writing soft and silly scenarios for negan bc i think he deserves more fluff, canon/au’s whichever 💓 thank you for reading as always!

[bluemerakis-recs]

is his nickname ghost or is a ghost what i’ll be when we’re done up in here????

thank fig @bruisedfig, mera @bluemerakis, and anissa @stargirlrchive for getting me back into my simon riley/cod phase <3 if i could i’d take him and mr. john price too 😫😫 #zaddies !!

there’s something about the way simon holds you that always leaves you breathless, pinned beneath him, his body pressed flush against yours, every inch of him demanding, relentless.

you feel the weight of him, the heat of his skin even through your clothes, and you know—he’s never gentle, not with you, not when he’s like this. his hands, rough from years of training and war, slide along your sides, fingers digging into your hips before they find their favorite place: your breasts.

he groans, low and guttural, every time his palms cup you, squeeze you, like he’s claiming you all over again.

you arch back into him, the angle perfect, all sensation and friction, and he takes advantage, thrusting harder, faster, the slap of his hips against yours echoing in the dark.

his breath is hot on your ear, his words filthy, praising, telling you how good you feel, how much he loves the way your body molds to his. his grip never falters, strong and possessive, thumbs brushing your nipples, making you whimper, making you crave more.

you lose yourself in the rhythm, in the way he moves, in the way he worships your body with every rough, hungry touch, and you know—this is where you belong, with him, completely undone.

[bluemerakis-recs]

they’d have to kill me to keep it a secret bc if i bagged this fine shyt they’re gonna know

POV: Secretly dating Obi-Wan Kenobi

[bluemerakis-recs]

PUSSY STAINS ON MY STAFF

quick little drabble thing cus i’m having these thoughts n feelings and i really just need to get them out there..

warnings: pure smutty filth, porn without plot, sub!dean, puppyboy!dean, dom!fem!reader, mommy kink, bouncing on it, jackin each others shit, rubbing things together n gettin it all sticky, thigh riding, nipple sucking (f & m receiving), pet names (mommy, puppy, pretty boy, etc.), not proof read cus they never are, uhh i think thats all but idk my brain is Soo soupy rn

all work is mine, please do not steal/plagiarize, repost anywhere, or translate without my permission. likes and reblogs are welcome and appreciated!!!

18+ CONTENT, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, VIEWER DISCRETION ADVISED!

you desperately held back your own moans, just so that you could hear dean’s pretty whimpers as you rode him into the sun.

his big hands scrambling for purchase, touching you anywhere he could reach; your hips, your ass, your thighs, your breasts.

but you could hold back anymore as he surged forward, sucking one of your hard nipples into his mouth. it always made your brain go fuzzy, turned you into just as much of a mess as he was.

an idea sparked as your fingers threaded through his short locks. where you were normally grip on and shove him harder into your chest, this time you pulled him away, looking down at him with dark, heavy lidded eyes as a smirk pulled at your lips.

“mommy, please, let me-“ dean began begging, but you cut him off. “i wanna try somethin’ new,” you said, slowing down in your movements. “that okay?”

he just nodded in response, like an eager little puppy, so desperate to please.

you fully stilled your hips, slowly rising off his dick with a groan and letting it slip out of your sloppy cunt. his whines of protest filled your ears.

“shhh, s’okay, puppy.” you cooed softly, “‘m gonna make you feel so good. can you lay back f’me?” he immediately obliged, shifting slightly to lay comfortably against the pillows.

you moved once he was in position, one knee going between his legs while the other stayed beside his hip, leaning down and pressing soft, wet kisses up his tummy, to his chest, his neck, before going back down, all the while he was squirming underneath you.

“stay still, pup.” you command gently, warm breath fanning over his slick skin as your lips moved across his chest, stopping at one of his nipples.

you glanced up at him through your lashes, a grinch-like smirk gracing your face before you stuck your tongue out, and began laving at his pink, puffy nipple, watching his reaction; the way his eyebrows furrowed, and his mouth fell open — it told you all you needed to know.

dean was enjoying this.

you licked rougher, more insistently, nipping gently at the sensitive flesh and sucking it onto your mouth, listening to him gasp and whimper.

his pleasure had always been your pleasure, so hearing and seeing how he reacted to what you were doing made your stomach flutter.

you sucked harder, hips dropped down on top of his thigh as you moaned around his skin, grinding against him without even realizing it. this was just too good. you couldn’t get enough.

“mommy,” dean whined, one of his hands finding its way into your hair and grasping at the long locks. you simply moaned back in response, your eyes fluttered shut as you got lost in all the different sensations, rubbing your wet folds all over his plush thigh and making a mess.

soon you moved over, giving the same attention to the other nipple. and dean was absolutely losing his mind — head thrown back, eyes rolled to the back of his head, back arching slightly.

one of your hands drifted down between your bodies, fingers wrapping around his still hard cock and beginning to slowly jerk him off, feeling him twitch in your hand as his body shuddered.

“wanna make you feel good, too.” you heard him murmur, and seconds later his hands were gripping tightly onto your hips, lifting them up off his thigh before slipping two thick fingers between your soaking folds.

your head lolled to the side, mouth coming off his chest as you let out a loud moan, hips twitching into his hand as he pressed down on your swollen clit, making fast circles. that made your hand move quicker on him in return.

“pretty boy,” you crooned, “feels s’good — you always make mommy feel so good. my good boy, perfect little puppy.” you babbled on in praises that you knew were sure to get him to release faster, still making it a point to take care of him, prioritizing his pleasure.

you went on and on that way, kissing, nipping and sucking at every piece of skin you could reach, murmuring soft praises in his ears, and moving your hand swiftly over his cock until you felt it start to twitch and pulse more persistently against your soft palm.

“you gonna cum, pup?”

“yeah,” dean whimpered, his hips canting up, chasing down his orgasm.

“c’mon, cum for mommy — all over my hand like a good boy.” you murmured against his stubbled jaw, pressing kiss after kiss to his skin. “cum for me, puppy.”

that really did him in. hips stuttering and his body tensing up, eyes fluttering and face scrunched up in bliss, back arching as he let out a loud, whiny groan, thick ropes of sticky white shooting out from the tip and dripping onto your hand, getting all over his tummy, and a bit on yours.

and his undoing was your own. shifting your position so that you were straddling him fully again, slotting his sloppy dick through your slick folds and grinding into him, creating the most sinful sounds. your clit bumped against his tip over and over again, breathy moans spilling out of your parted lips, going after your own high.

dean let out another loud whine, “i know. i know, pup.” it was clear he was becoming overstimulated. “jus’ a lil’ bit more. you want mommy’s cum, too, don’t you?” seeing him nod eagerly through your bleary gaze, and whine again.

a huffy groan of frustration left you, lifting your hips and lining him back up with your entrance, quickly skinning down and bouncing at a rough pace. planting one hand behind you and arching back as you moved, your other fingers found your clit and rubbed in tight circles, that familiar heat making itself known, low in your belly.

your own orgasm crashed over you faster than anticipated, body going rigid while that coil snapped, your walls clenching, before you gushed around dean, a loud, gasping moan tearing out of your throat.

it was always pure ecstasy with him.

falling into his chest once you finish, dean wrapped his strong arms around your waist, hugging you tightly to him as he pressed a kiss to your hairline, while you kissed all over his cheek, the corner of his eye, his temple.

“you did so good.” you praised softly against his skin, wrapping your own arms around him, nose nuzzling the side of his head. his hands ran slowly up and down your back, laying there silently in the aftermath for a moment.

“so, we found out two things today…” he mused, voice raspy from all the noise he’d been making.

a confused hum came from you in response.

“you, like sucking nipples…and i, like having my nipples sucked — apparently.” he said in a slightly sardonic, teasing tone, pulling you into a fit of giggles.

my first actual fic in A MILLION YEARS.. hEllOOO😧🔥

also my first time myself writing like FULLLLL smut.. SO PLEASEEEEE don’t crucify me if it’s really bad like AT LEASTTT I TRIEDD😭

꩜ tags: @soldiersgirl @jasvtsc @deanswidow @titsout4jackles @jensenacklesballsack @bluemerakis @dirtylittlesinkrat @callsignwidow 🎀 comment to be removed from the taglist, or here to be added !!!

[bluemerakis-recs]

🌾DBF!BEAU ARLEN… lookbook

DBF!BEAU who helps you take care of the animals at your family’s ranch

DBF!BEAU who sends you the best dad selfies to ever exist

DBF!BEAU and the way you cut his photos out of those that your father was in

DBF!BEAU who sends you pics from the ranch while you’re out of town (that man ain’t afraid of doing long distance‼️)

DBF!BEAU who’s now proud of his gray hair after you complimented it so much

DBF!BEAU who told you the crazy stories of his tattoos and who rocks them off duty in white t-shirts

DBF!BEAU who’s the dilfiest dilf to ever dilf in the history of dilfism

༄♡ tags: @beausling @deanswidow @deansbeer @soldiersgirl @bruisedfig @titsout4jackles @daylighted @honeyyxxbee @bluemerakis @deanstubble @animelucky

comment to be added/removed from the taglist !!

[bluemerakis-recs]

[bluemerakis-recs]

⭒birthday boy.

sum. its sam's birthday and you made him breakfast.

cw. fluff . est. relationship . not proofread!! .

"sam. when are you gonna get out of that damn car?" you huffed. you were stood next to the driver's seat of the impala, arms crossed and foot tapping on the pavement.

sam was sitting on the phone with dean, having been let the day off for his birthday. which dean wasn't too keen on doing, considering you three were actively on a case, but you threatened convinced him as he had done the same on his own birthday.

so dean took on today's research of the case alone. without his car. because he wouldn't have let sam go back to you.

sam glanced up at you, lips twitching into a smile at your impatience. "dean, just go check out the morgue then see if there were any other witnesses. local, but not bar local." he told his brother after turning off the impala.

you reached through the window and grabbed sam's phone. "you're in your thirties, dean, you can figure it out." you grumbled before hanging up, half of the older winchester's excuse being cut off.

you tossed your boyfriend's phone back into his lap, "c'mon!" you rushed to the motel door. sam chuckled at your childish excitement. he quickly grabbed the keys and stuffed his phone into his pocket as he got out of the car and followed you. the aroma of . . . waffles? filled his nose.

he closed the door as you walked out with heart-shaped waffles on a plate, already topped with syrup and the minimal amount of butter he liked, because he's always careful with what he eats. a single candle was poked into the stack, freshly lit.

"ta-da! happy birthday, babe!" you grinned as you held the plate out to him, watching him physically stutter before blowing the flame out. you set the plate on the table that you moved near the beds. you took the candle out and discarded it in the kitchen, coming back to a frozen sam by the door.

"what's wrong? are you okay?" your voice was full of worry. did you do something wrong?

sam blinked rapidly and shook his head. "no, uh, nothing's wrong, baby. just-" he huffed a smile, "just didn't think you'd do this for me? how'd you even-"

"don't look in the kitchen." you cut his question off, making him put his pointing finger down from the direction of his breakfast.

"okay, baby," he laughed. he pulled you into a hug, his arms completely swallowing you. he was warm. so warm. and you smiled into his chest, snuggling your face into him. you then pulled your head away. "let's eat before they get cold, yeah?" you spoke softly, looking up at him as your chin rested against his chest.

"yeah," he nodded. his voice was somehow softer than yours, his eyes matching his tone. he just couldn't believe you were real. that you had done this for him. truly, he was in absolute awe of you.

the two of you sat down to eat, the tv being turned on towards the end of your meal so you could watch some of his childhood-favorite cartoons. you cleaned everything up, insisting on it despite his adamancy. once the table was moved back and the kitchen was rid of most of your chaos, you sat next to him on the bed.

you brushed the fallen strands of his hair out of his face as he admired you. "you didn't have to do this for me," he whispered. "yes i did," you countered. "you deserve it." you leaned up to kiss the angle of his jaw. "do you want your present now or later?" you questioned, breath fanning on his ear.

sam practically quirked up. "now. now, please." he said quickly. you laughed at his eagerness before pressing your lips to his, gentle and sweet, yet still filled with passion.

his hands landed on your waist, pulling you closer and onto his lap. his lips were different than yours, moving with intensity. yet they still slotted against yours perfectly. nearly like puzzel pieces.

best. birthday. ever.

gabs yaps. happy sammy day!! cooked this up super quick bc i wanted to do something for him, i hope yall liked it :3 if there's any mistakes, no there isn't.

tags. @starzify @sunsbaby @bejeweledinterludes @soldiersgirl @deansbeer @titsout4jackles @daylighted @bruisedfig @littlesoulshine @bluemerakis @ultravi0lence14 @legalmente-loca @sacr1ficialang3l @j2archives @mahi-wayy @emeraldcrs @liiiilsss @s4samwinchesterswife

dm me or send an ask to be added to/taken off my taglist !!

⭒divider by me!!⭒

[bluemerakis-recs]

twirling hair 🫦 yes i am

cw: smut drabble.ᐟ soft ben.ᐟ praise kink.ᐟ daddy kink .ᐟ pet names [perfect girl, baby, daddy's girl].ᐟ 18+

wc: 495

۫ ꣑ৎ bee yaps: what is this randomness you may ask? well im not entirely sure because its midnight and ovulation days are killing me here. I know not everyone likes daddy kink stuff so i didn't really go too hard on it. i just wanna be held by ben while he praises me so... anyways here we are! ok byeeeee

your breath hitches as your hips falter, trembling burning thighs no longer able to carry the rhythm. you’re slumped forward, chest pressed to his, lips parted with a soft, broken whimper. ben brushes the damp hair from your forehead, rough thumb trailing gentle over your temple as he scans your face.

you’re the best kinda mess. flushed, glistening with sweat, and utterly wrecked. but he’s ever seen anything prettier.

“look at you” he murmurs, voice low and sticky-sweet “tryin’ so hard for me, huh?”

you nod, barely, eyes fluttering shut like you’re too far gone to even hold them open.

ben presses a kiss to your hairline, letting his big hands span your back as he holds you steady. then, with a soft grunt, he plants his feet on the bed. muscles in his thighs flexing beneath you and thrusts up, hard.

a strangled gasp falls from your strained voice, jolting forwards in his arms. eliciting a deep groans from bens chest, the sound vibrating through your whole body as he starts rocking up into you, taking over with slow, punishing rolls of his hips.

“shh shhh” he coos through grit teeth, “just relax for me baby. y’already did all the work, lemme fuck the rest right outta you”.

you always did so well for ben, and he knows it. he knows how hard you tried to please him, how you always do. it makes something possessive simmer beneath his skin.

makes him wanna craddle you from the world and ruin you at the same time.

your breath stutters, fingernails biting crescent moons into the solid planes of his chest. he’s so warm under you. radiating heat, sweat-dampened, muscles flexing with every controlled movement.

you can’t help the choked moan that slips from your dry lips, your head falling forward against the crook of his neck as he picks up the rhythm.

“my perfect girl” he murmurs, voice softer now, something tender threading through the gravel. “so fuckin’ sweet for me. you always are.”

his free hand strokes down your spine, soothing you even as he thrusts up again, filling you deep. uncontrollably whining and out, and he kisses your temple.

“lemme take care of you, baby. lemme fill this pretty pussy up, yea?”

and when you’re both done, spent to the point of passing out? he doesn’t rush you. just lets you collapse there, cradled in the heat of his body, arms locking around you like you’re the most precious thing he’s ever got to hold.

he breathes you in like he’s trying to memorize ever little detail. “did so good for me” he murmurs, voice rough from groaning, but so damn tender now it makes your throat ache.

you hum in response, half-asleep already, cheek pressed against the thump of his heartbeat. he rocks you gently, like you’re something delicate and precious. “i always take care of you” he adds, barely audible now, more of a promise than a statement. “daddy’s girl”.

𓍯𓂃𓏧♡𓏧𓂃𓍯

tags: @tinas111 @fancyhideoutpeach @kimxwinchester @soldiersgirl @lanasgirlfr @unfortunate-brat @bruisedfig @angelically-yours @winchestersbgirl @spnaquakindgdom @plasticflowersinahistorycemetery @pieandflannel @bejeweledinterludes @deanstubble

[bluemerakis-recs]

MY SHAYLAAAAA 😭

hyperspecific thoughts i have about ben!!!

I do not take responsibility for the emotional damage you suffer 🫡🫡

¹Ben the strongest supe with no fears and defeat ever but also the Ben who panicked the moment his nose picked up that gas.

²Ben who fought tooth and nail with whatever strength that was left in him after that blast but ultimately scumbed to that damn gas.

³Ben who's weirdly used to tight dark spaces where breathing is a little tough because he used hide in closest when his father was in particular bad moods.

⁴Ben who was internally conflicted about finding out his son, who wanted to take time with the decision but couldn't bcz he had a promise to keep.

⁵Ben who has nightmares running on loop when he's "put away for good"

⁶Ben who gets triggered when someone gets too close, tensing and ready to attack bcz he's still a little boy scared of his father.

⁷Ben who was overwhelmed when his ears started hearing everything clearer and louder after compound V but didn't say a word.

⁸Ben who has panic attack in his room after his father gave him a lecture on easy way out, who covered his mouth with one hand bcz his dad hated a man crying.

⁹Ben who had a narcissistic mother who made him felt guilty about feeling resentment for his father.

¹⁰Ben who doesn't remember who he wanted to be before his father wanted a "man" as his son.

tags : @bluemerakis @deansbeer @daylighted @soldiersgirl @h8aaz @titsout4jackles @bejeweledinterludes @littlesoulshine @mostlymarvelgirl @jmoonk @yawnzshit let me know if I forgot you or you want to be added or removed!!

[bluemerakis-recs]

cw: smut drabble.ᐟ rockstar!jensen.ᐟ estab. relationship.ᐟ sweaty messy desperate sex [p in v].ᐟ pet name [angel].ᐟ bit of a power trip in this one. 18+

wc: 850

۫ ꣑ৎ bee yaps: I never got a chance to jump on the rockstar!jensen trend so here we are with a lil drabble. and @bejeweledinterludes you now owe me $3 lmaoo.

jensens still holding the bass guitar by the neck, calloused fingers flexing unconsciously around it, the pick dangling loose between his teeth. his brown suede jacket’s half-off his shoulders, his hair a brown messy halo.

you walk backstage as they pause for a break. barely getting a breath before his hands plant against your sides.

"you hear all that fuckin' love they throw at me?" he smiles, teeth catching your bottom lip in a bruising bite.

you barely had time to gasp before his mouth crashed onto yours, hot and desperate, all sweat, booze, leather and frantic hunger.

his guitar hung crooked over his back and half-forgotten, thudding lightly against the wall as he fumbled one hand to shove it off.

"not a single one of 'em matters angel, just you." he presses his forehead to yours, the waste of whiskey and faint tobacco now on your tongue too.

"c'mon needa fuck it outta me, baby. breaks over in 10" he pants against your neck.

and were you gonna say no to that? abso-fuckin-luetly not.

the second the door slammed behind you, jensen had you pinned.

outside, the crowd was still a drunken, chanting mob. their voices echoed against the thin walls of the dressing room, chanting his name like a god damn prayer.

 jensen. jensen. jensen.

"y'hear that—?" he rasped against your mouth, his voice wrecked from singing, his breath ragged. his rough hands were already under your shirt, like he couldn't get enough. "they want me back out there".

his hips ground into yours, and you whimpered into his kiss, clawing at his jacket to get him closer. to keep him closer as long as you could.

"but you, angel" he groaned, sucking a bruise into the soft spot under your jaw, "you're the only god damn thing i need right now".

you barely managed a breathless, half-choked "please" before he spun you around, bending you over some ratty old couch. god knows what the surface of that thing has seen in it's day, but that didn't matter right now.

jensens hands yanked at your jeans with brutal urgency, and you kicked them down as fast as you could, moaning when you felt the blunt, hot weight of him pressing against you.

"tell me you want it—" he growled, teeth gritted, voice low. "tell me you want it more than every other fuckin' person out there wishin' they were you right now".

"i want it, please" you squirmed bent over the edge of the couch.

he let out a low chuckle, one hand smoothing down your ass before giving it a sharp smack that made you jolt, skin stinging under his calloused palm.

he gripped his fat cock, the heavy length slapping wetly against your ass, smearing this pre-cum around like a damn painting.

"feel that, angel?" he murmued, dragging the swollen head slowly between your ass cheeks, catching right where your soaking for him, just to hear you whimper. "gonna fuck you so good, forget the whole goddamn world’s still beggin’ for me out there".

he guided his cock to the absolute hilt in one brutal thrust, knocking the air out of your lungs, and you keened his name loud enough you swore the crew members definitely heard you.

he loved watching your lungs stutter up thighs twitch and tighten, muscles flexing round him.

jensen. jensen. jensen.

the chant outside blurred into your moans, into the filthy slap of skin on skin. into the desperate, broken sounds he wrenched out of you with every bruising thrust.

“no thoughts in this pretty head, huh? nothin’ but my fucking cock in this cunt. s’how it should be"

he fisted a hand in your hair, dragging your head back in a growl "say. my. name".

"jensen" you sobbed, clenching helplessly around him, spit glistening down your chin.

he cursed at that, filthy praise, driving into you impossibly harder. sweat dripped from his temple onto your shoulder. moaning his name in time with the chanting rowdy crowd.

the noise from the crowd kept building and building. a crescendo of adoration he completely ignored in the moment. his whole world narrowed to you. your heat, your voice, your body breaking apart around him.

when he finally groaned your name and spilled inside you, it hit right as the crowd outside roared his name louder than before. and for a split second, there was only the two of you.

wrecked. shaking, covered in sweat and each others cum.

jensen leaned over your back, his mouth brushing your ear, and let out a low, cocky chuckle.

"guess they'll have to wait another second" he panted. his hand slid down to squeeze your hip possessively. "rockstar's a little busy"

you were completely ruined, aching and smiling like a sinner. it wasn't the first time he'd fucked you dumb between songs. and you wouldn't have it any other way.

tags: @tinas111 @fancyhideoutpeach @kimxwinchester @soldiersgirl @lanasgirlfr @unfortunate-brat @bruisedfig @angelically-yours @winchestersbgirl @spnaquakindgdom @plasticflowersinahistorycemetery @pieandflannel @bejeweledinterludes

if you want to be added / removed from the taglist please let me know!

[bluemerakis-recs]

“you were light, she was dark. together, you eclipsed into something so beautiful that it was dangerous.”

I WAS GAGGED BY THIS BEAUTIFUL LINE

SCARY STORIES IN THE DARK · . · ¨ : ` · . . · ‘

𐂂 . ݁ ₊ ⊹ . ݁ ˖ . ݁ㅤ LOTTIE MATTHEWS x QUEEN BEE ! READER

the tale ㅤ queen bee tells lottie scary stories around a campfire, and deluded imaginations run rampant beneath the safety of the trees ㅤ the warning signs ㅤ deluded thoughts, lost, pretty girls cuddling in the nighttime, the darkness sets them freeㅤ sit down and listen for ㅤ 1.1k words

it has not yet dawned on you that your life is over. the world has come to a standstill in time, awaiting for your return back to the mainland. the clocks have paused. for now, it is just you and the trees, and the team you love so dearly.

they are furious with you. coach is dead, panic is a heavy deadweight over the shoulders of every surviving member, and you are feet away, weaving the stems of dandelions into rings.

"this is for you," you say when darkness covers the world in a blanket. it settles in between the leaves and branches and nestles itself into the minds of your teammates, letting them drift off to sleep as it lifts their worries into its hands.

you and lottie were always close. she would invite you over to stay with her family, and in between the dosages of her medicine, when the lines between herself and the more acceptable version of herself were so thin you could look into the depths of her eyes and see every inch, she would whisper to you that you reminded her of herself.

you were light, she was dark. together, you eclipsed into something so beautiful that it was dangerous. must have been, with the way the others steer clear of you now that you are the only company each other has.

lottie stays, though. attached to your hip, and now attached to you — she puts your dandelion ring on and admires it in the flickering campfire. "pretty."

she is not looking at the ring, but at you. the log she sits on is too empty, but you are comfortable closer to the earth, where you can brush your fingers across the grass and feel the tickle of dewdrops and flower petals.

you do not notice her lingering eyes, playing with a thick blade of grass. you do notice, though, when she whispers your nickname like a prayer into the listening dark. "queen bee."

and you smile, because how lovely was it to be a queen? you even had the embellishments. a dandelion ring on every finger, and blades of grass woven into the ring finger ones — and into lottie's. you don't tell her this, though, either.

"yes?" you whisper back to her, glancing up from the dark to look into the eyes of the stars. she is pretty, isn't she? her curls are frizzy from the day's humidity and frame her face like they encapsulate gold within their borders.

sometimes you thought lottie could hear into your mind. you used to test it, at soccer practice, to see if she heard your commands. as most queen bees tended to do, whether she heard you or not, you influence her actions and end up in possession of the ball. you were connected; of course she gave offerings to you like a deity.

but she smiles now, like she can hear into your mind, and how high on a pedestal you've put her, too. "what's your head sound like right now?"

it is something she asked you often. while hers had been quieted by the medication, yours was a wild array of colors and music. she loved the way imagination looked in your eyes and told you as much.

"music," you breathe the word as lottie breathes your name — reverently, lovingly, "songs."

"what do they sound like?"

you were not a singer, and she knows this. she knows everything about you, and you know everything about her. the sun and the moon, eclipsed once more.

so you scream.

the sound echoes through the trees and every person asleep in the grass startles awake, some more panicked than others. you do not notice. the blades of grass were startled, too, and you had to calm them with a soothing touch to their surface.

"that's a beautiful song," lottie says over the cacophony of curses and protests in your direction.

it's no time for your psychotics, bee! but you were not crazy.

what the fuck, bee? don't they hear the music in the wind? the hums that leave the queen's lips, pretty stories just for the surviving women of the wood?

"it is haunting," you say to her, finally looking up to meet her through the curve of your eyelashes. "the antler queen haunts me."

lottie's eyes brighten at the sound of her name. she is the favorite character amongst your fairytales. how couldn't she be? she was a fair maiden and a fairer ruler.

"come here." lottie slips down to sit in the grass with you, her legs open for you to sit between. you slot in easily. you were handmade to be her missing piece. "i'll protect you from her cries."

you shake your head, slipping another grass ring around your finger. atop the ring one to match lottie's, as if you'd married her in the glow of the campfire. "she does not cry tonight," you tell her, a gentle correction, "she is very happy with us."

lottie hums thoughtfully, twisting a strand of your hair around her finger. her chin rests on your shoulder, free arm wrapped around your waist to tug your spine into the press of her chest. "what is story and what is true?"

that question tends to lose you a little. what was made up to help you cope, and what was fact? you couldn't tell, not even back on the mainland. thank goodness that the world was on pause, because you would truly be lost if soon, the team returned, and you had to catch up. maybe the antler queen would keep the hourglass on its side forever, so that time could never drain away in the form of sand grains.

"it is all true, now," you tilt your head back to meet her eyes, a little smile playing on your lips. nature called to the yellowjackets so desperately that it grabbed a fistful of your plane and tugged it into the ground, and took a blood sacrifice for the time it took for all of you to arrive. the antler queen was fair and just. she gave, and she took.

lottie's hand traces reassuringly along your ribcage, leaving sparkling shivers in its wake. maybe she presses a kiss into your skin through the worn fabric of your shirt. maybe it is the antler queen reinstating your words with her own physical evidence. maybe, as you have always thought, in the crevices of your mind, lottie and the antler queen are one in the same.

"the antler queen will guide the way. she must. we belong to her, now."

notes this was so fun to write i hope it's not too cuckoo bananas for everyone HAHAHA little queen bee is just a lady with questionable coping mechanisms that accidentally fuel another mentally ill girl's delusions !! you can't blame them !!!

tags @h8aaz @bluemerakis @briisbananass @bloodofswans @funkycoloured @rositaslabyrinth @bldgutsnlove @ultravi0lence14 @stereotypicalbarbie @artificialroux

[bluemerakis-recs]

nutted in my pants

presenting ╱ mess made for me.

featuring ദ soldier boy ⨯ fem!reader.

RATED R. minors look away.

caution ! smut porn with no plot. dom!ben. spanking. rough sex. manhandling. overstimulation. dirty talk. ben's obsessed. light degradation. praising kink. peepaw takes control. possessiveness.

notepad ! this is not proofread … so i'm gonna post and dip <3 it feels like centuries ago since i wrote for the handsome old feller :') bc he is. idc tho i love me a man decades older than me. a true fact. anyways. gniteee i'm soooo sleepy <3 ilysm muaaah !

he leans back against the headboard, legs spread wide, arms behind his head like he's got all the time in the world. the cocky smirk on his face only grows when you straddle him, your thighs already trembling from how many times he's made you come tonight.

"c'mon, sweetheart," he drawls, green eyes glinting under the low light. "show me how much you fuckin' missed me."

you grip his broad shoulders for leverage and start to ride him, slow at first, the thick stretch of him making you whimper every time you sink down. he's big — bigger than anyone you've ever had — and he knows it, the bastard. knows exactly how good he stuffs you full, how you can barely take him without working yourself open first.

you move, hips rolling sloppily, and he watches you like a man starved, tongue swiping over his bottom lip. the sound of your slick, the wet little plop every time you drop down onto his cock, fills the room, obscene and raw.

"fuck," he growls, one hand sliding down to grip your ass, giving it a sharp slap that makes you jolt and clench around him. "you hear that, doll? hear how fuckin' wet you are for me?"

you whimper, nodding, trying to keep up the pace, but your thighs are shaking, muscles burning with exhaustion. you're so tired, so wrecked, but you don't want to stop — not when he's looking at you like that, like you're the only thing in the goddamn world that matters.

"s'tired," you breathe, forehead dropping to his shoulder.

he chuckles low, the sound rumbling through his chest. without warning, he grabs your hips in his big hands and starts bouncing you on his cock himself, using your body like it's nothing, like you weigh less than air.

"poor baby," he says mockingly, voice thick with lust. "thought you could tap out on me? nah. you wanted this — now you’re fuckin' takin' it."

you moan, high and broken, nails digging into his shoulders as he moves you up and down, up and down, the slick sounds getting louder, wetter, filthier. every time you drop, you make that little plop noise he's addicted to, and every time, he groans like he's hearing it for the first time.

"that’s it," he grunts. "fuckin' music to my ears."

his hands leave bruises on your hips, holding you tight, forcing you to take every thick inch of him. he doesn't slow down, doesn't let you catch your breath, just uses you until you're nothing but a crying, whimpering mess on his cock.

"look at you," he growls, tilting his hips up to fuck into you harder, deeper. "bouncin’ on my cock like a good little slut. you love this shit, don't you?"

you nod frantically, tears pricking at your eyes from the overwhelming pleasure. your whole body's tingling, every nerve ending lit up like fireworks.

"say it," he demands, giving your ass another hard slap that makes you cry out. "say who fuckin' owns you."

"you," you gasp, voice cracking. "you do, ben—"

"damn right," he snarls, slamming you down harder, groaning when your pussy clenches around him like a vice. "my good fuckin' girl."

your orgasm hits you like a freight train, your body locking up, mouth falling open in a silent scream. he feels it, feels the way you clamp down on him, and it pushes him right over the edge too. he curses under his breath, hips stuttering as he spills inside you, filling you up so deep it’s almost too much.

for a moment, the only sounds are your ragged breathing and the faint, wet noises of your bodies still tangled together. his hands soften against your skin, rubbing slow circles into your hips like he’s grounding you, pulling you back from the edge.

you slump against him, boneless and fucked-out, and he wraps his arms around you, holding you tight against his chest.

your body's buzzing, twitching little aftershocks still running up your spine as you lay slumped on his chest, too wrecked to move. you're half convinced you might just sleep there, with him still inside you, but ben's already muttering under his breath, shifting you gently off him.

"jesus fuckin' christ," he grumbles, sitting up, reaching for a rag from the nightstand without even bothering to pull his boxers back on. "can't even take a good dicking without tappin' out like a rookie."

you whine weakly in protest, but he just huffs a laugh, grabbing your hips and flipping you onto your back like you're weightless. you can feel his spend dripping out of you, hot and messy against your thighs, and it makes the back of your neck flush.

"look at this shit," he says, wiping at the mess between your legs with rough but careful hands. "fucked you so full you’re leaking all over the goddamn bed."

he's not even mad — not really. you can hear the smugness dripping from every word, can feel it in the way his fingers linger a little too long, wiping you up slow, almost lazy, like he's savoring it.

"told you to stretch," he mutters, tossing the dirty rag onto the floor and grabbing another. "but nooo, you wanted to be a big girl."

you glare at him half-heartedly through your haze, and he smirks, leaning down to kiss your forehead like it'll erase the absolute filth coming out of his mouth.

"don’t gimme that look," he says. "you loved every second."

he's not wrong. you did. you still do, even as he manhandles you like you're made of paper, even as he wipes you clean with way too much attitude.

"next time," he says, tossing the second rag aside and pulling the covers over you like it's a peace offering, "you're gonna be beggin’ me to take it easy."

you snort, voice rough. "no 'm not."

he grins, all teeth, sliding into bed next to you and dragging you against his chest again, like he needs you there, needs to feel your skin on his.

"we'll see, sweetheart," he murmurs against your hair, voice already gone thick with sleep. "we'll fuckin’ see."

and you know he's right.

✸ stamped. @soldiersgirl @titsout4jackles @bluemerakis @daylighted @beausling @deanswidow @jensenacklesballsack @bejeweledinterludes @blossomingorchids @tinas111 @h8aaz @acaibcwl @faiszt @bluestrd @bruisedfig @deanswifeyy @blue-d @dollyfiles @cupidzbunny @sl33pylilbunny @kamisobsessed @pieandflannel @angelicjackles @samslovebug @fuckedupfate @thesevnthseal @ultravi0lence14 @starzify @honeyyxxbee @lanasgirlfr @suckitands33 @plasticflowersinahistorycemetery @pinkitty97 @americanvenom13 ╱ a kissie 𖬺 a warm hug .ᐟ

[bluemerakis-recs]

Fanfiction writers be like:

"here's the immensely time consuming 100K word novel-length passion project I'm working on between my real life job and family! It eats up hundreds of hours of my one and only life, causes me emotional harm, and I gain basically nothing from it! Also I put it on the internet for free so anyone can read if they want. Hope you love it!" :)

[bluemerakis-recs]

“just wanna stay up all night n kiss me” WELL YES so let’s bring back kissing lessonz 😛

baby's first kiss! — dean winchester x baby!reader

summary dean finally kisses baby, really kisses her, and now she thinks it's the only thing she wants to do for the rest of her life — find baby's timeline here!

after so long of having you around, it slipped from dean's mind that things could still be new for you. a truly shitty motel room once had a box tv that your mind couldn't wrap around the concept of, you'd been truly baffled by the sight of a real ticking clock and not the digital one on dean's phone, and you'd never been kissed.

never been kissed. what kind of guy was dean, being so sweet on you, and never having kissed you to show it?

it'd been a simple little thing. a peck before bed in a dimly lit bedroom, your face illuminated by the soft glow of the lamp beside his bed. you had your own room in the bunker, but you didn't sleep well without him, and he was never capable of denying you when you gave him that look.

the look you gave him right before he leaned in. big glossy eyes, a sleepy pout drooping your lips, love and adoration melting the expression right into your features.

dean just... leaned in, and planted a kiss right on the curve of your lips, with nothing but a, "goodnight, pretty girl." he reaches behind him to pull the string on his lamp, casting the room into darkness, and then further into the dark when his eyes closed.

he thought that was it. donezo. over. a short story with a happy ending, prepping the both of you for another night of you completely entangled in his arms.

the weight of your body settling on top of him forces his eyes open, a little oof leaving his lips on an exhale. he blinks once, twice, three times to focus in the dark, and no, he'd been right with his first assessment: your face was nose-to-nose with him.

"what was that?" you ask, the innocence in your voice another thing that never failed to make his heart swell in his chest.

dean blinked once more time for good measure. "that was the lamp turning off."

your hand collides with his chest, just hard enough for him to feel it through his t-shirt. the corner of his mouth quirks in amusement. "no. the other thing. where you put your mouth on me."

now, he's fully smirking. he had no right to take advantage of your innocence like this, even if it was just to chuckle a little at your wording, but he couldn't help himself. he was sleepy, you were on top of him, and dean was nothing but a man, in the end.

"you want me to do it again?" he asks, tilting his head to mimic the confused stance of your own.

"no," you huff, in that unconvincing way that told him without being able to see that you were blushing. his fingers come up to pinch one of your cheeks and, sure enough, it was warm beneath his fingertips. "i wanna know what it was."

dean tilts his head up enough to brush his mouth against yours, his eyes searching the both of yours for any indication of hesitation. as usual, all he finds is the deep curiosity that makes him feel like putty. putty in your hands for you to play with, and you do. always do.

"that was a goodnight kiss," he whispers, just lightly enough against your mouth to feel his lips tingle at the slight pressure. "it's something you do when you love someone."

your hands cup his face before he can process they've moved, squishing his cheeks between your palms. "should i kiss you goodnight?"

yes, dean's head screams it at the top of its lungs, god, yes. but he's behaved, and civil, and honestly? if this was something you wanted to explore, he wasn't going to rush it. you were probably the one person who'd ever gotten dean to take a moment and slow down. "do you want to?"

"yes." dean could have wept. "and then i will go kiss sam goodnight."

dean could have wept — for a different reason. "no. don't do that."

"but i love him." he can hear the defiance in your tone, the fierce irritation that the conclusion you'd drawn from his words was wrong. your fingers curl into his shirt, your nose firmly pressed to his, and dean wished with all of his being that he had the strength to entertain your confusion better than this, but he's a little distracted by the feel of your legs framing his ribs and your lips tickling his with each word.

"different type of love," he tries to explain, even though his voice is a little strained and more than a little muffled through the smush of his cheeks in your hands. "the kind of love that makes you feel like you're gonna die."

you blink, taken aback. for a second, your hands on his face loosen, but then they're right back, puckering his lips like a fish with nothing but your little hands' strength. "like i'm gonna die?"

he lifts a hand between the both of you, tapping your chest. "heart races, thoughts full of the person, can't breathe." he tries to smile, and he must look ridiculous, because you laugh like the sun lives within you. "symptoms of being in love."

slowly, your smile mimics what his would look like if you weren't holding his face captive. it's bright and radiant, lighting up your face in gold. "i am in love."

"i know you are," he carefully extracts your hands from his face with a gentle grip, his eyes downturned to watch your mouth, so close but so far away, on the precipice of kissing him but not quite there yet, "and i love you."

the words leave his mouth in a breath. he doesn't know how long that thought has been trapped in his mind, begging to be set free, but now that it was out, he'd never been more sure of something. he loved you, and it set him free.

your head tilts down just enough to meet his lips, kissing him slowly but surely, with all the confidence of a girl who's done this before, even though he knows you haven't. you're attached to his hip, his arm, his life — you had no time to kiss anyone but him, he knew it, so where this skill came from was beyond him. but dean wasn't going to argue with it, not when you were warm, sat on his lap and holding his hands on his chest.

you break apart like you don't really want to, a huff being the first thing to leave your mouth, as if he personally had been the one extricating you away from him. "i like it." for the first time in your life as his personal little (pretty) leech, you sound small and uncertain, a confession whispered to the wind in hopes that the words don't get crushed by his fists.

"yeah?" he shifts a little beneath you, just so he can sit up and reach you a little better. "i like it, too."

"do we have to go to sleep now?" you ask, just as tentative, and all dean wants to do is sweep you into his arms and poke at your sides until you laugh and smile again, just to see his baby back, but this shyer version of you is beginning to capture his heart as much as the typical you does.

dean cocks an eyebrow. "you don't want to go to sleep? i mean, that's fine n' all, but..."

"you said it's a goodnight kiss." the authority is back in your voice, those beautiful lips in an aggravated pout. "so do we have to sleep?"

dean huffs out a laugh, shaking his head. "you can kiss for fun, baby. doesn't have to be for goodnight. that's just... a variation of kisses."

"i wanna learn all of the variations." and by god, even if he wanted to, you spoke so strongly that dean took it not as a wish but as a command.

he's breathless, now, even though he's trying very hard to be the all-knowing instructor god you've always seemed to think he was. "you don't want to sleep." a question said as a statement.

"i already said it twice now." an answer said as an argument.

"just wanna stay up all night n' kiss me, is that it?"

you roll your eyes, another little gesture that makes him grin. you've always pulled his smile out of him like you had them in your back pocket, so easy to access. "is it not obvious?"

dean can't help it this time. he huffs out a bout of laughter, his hands closing around your thighs, and takes your top lip between his in a quick kiss. "god yes," he breathes into your mouth, and any exhaustion is gone and forgotten in the wind as your lips properly connect with his once again.

notes. this was long overdue!! hope you guys like it teehehe it was very fun to write. i hope the baby!reader hype has not fully died & u guys will still love this </3

tags. @titsout4jackles @deansbeer @ultravi0lence14 @bruisedfig @theosaurous @stereotypicalbarbie @whyyouegg @rositaslabyrinth @rubyvhs @samslovebug @sunsbaby @bluemerakis @jollyhunter @angelblqde @unfortunate-brat @funkycoloured @chevroletdean @chiierful @cowboysandcigarettes @bitchykittenconnoisseur @beausling @soldiersgirl @nperoconelcositoarriba @bejeweledinterludes @pieandflannel @pearlsvie @viluren @h8aaz @yulianie @angelicjackles @lanasgirlfr @veyveyx @itszarinaig @tinas111 @briisbananass @spiritkissin @skyfaeriex @deanswidow @aurevina @jensenacklesballsack @honeyroots @angelicp0etry @blossomingorchids @idk6505 @irecalllatenovember1 @mahi-wayy @k-slla @lilyyyjcb @maeji-may @rositaslabyrinth

[bluemerakis-recs]

────── ⌇ welcome .ᐟ ⋆ ˚ ࿔ °･

fic rec acc to @bluemerakis

[bluemerakis-recs]

just trying to be woken up like this gawddamn 😭

“You think you deserve to cum on my cock, sweetheart?” The rough, low tone broke into the sound of slapping skin and the springs of the mattress squeaking below you two as Ben had you pinned down on your stomach, your face pressed firmly against the pillows while his relentless thrusts moved in and out of your slick heat.

You couldn’t even reply, the only sounds that came from you was desperate whines- the hazy dumbness in your noises making Ben chuckle, a harsh crack of his palm against the flesh of your ass, a loud whine falling from your mouth as he buried himself deeper.

“Answer me…” he grumbled, his thick fingers threading through your hair to lift your head up from amongst the pillows. “Cmon girl, use your words.” He listened as he heard your shallow breaths; the silken, wet walls of your cunt squeezing around him, a soft huff hitting the shell of your ear.

“I-I do… I do.” You managed to form some words, Albeit barely enough to comprehend in Ben’s ears.

He hummed in your ear, pausing his thrusts momentarily. “See? was that so hard? Cant even form proper words from how good I’m fucking you?” Ben taunted, resuming his merciless pounding with a low grunt, biting down on your shoulder harshly.

“You’re lucky that you have good pussy, Whore…”

A/N: hi I had inspo at like 6am this morning so here yall go xxx

Tags: @bluemerakis