#he doesn't need a huge he needs to be sick with longing over a hand on his back. you know !!!

[prettyboykatsuki-moved]

touch-starvation needs to be written with emphasis on the starving part. you are hungry to be touched. so hungry that even the very taste of it makes you nauseous. it has been long since anything has ever touched you, ever fed you - that your body has grown more used to that gnawing emptiness more than anything else. it's better for you to be held, to eat but it makes you sick to try. you know

[godmadeaterribleerror]

I Could Have You

Main Masterlist - Dean Masterlist

Read on A03!

Tags: Dean Winchester/Female Reader, Love Confessions, Smut (p in v, oral both receiving), light angst, soulmates, sex pollen, no use of y/n

Summary/Warnings: Dean is hit with a lust spell, and it doesn't seem to only be effecting him. No one's really sure why, and Dean refuses to give in to the curse, so you'll just ride this out.

You'll defiantly be able to just ride this out.

Author's Note: I had a lot of fun with this one, I hope you enjoy it!

Title from Normal Fucking Rockwell by Lana Del Ray

Word Count: 6k

You’re losing your mind.

Your skin is on fire, your back is flat on the cold bathroom floor, and you’re moaning and whining and bucking into the air but nothing is fixing this. Nothing is relieving you, not your fingers or the pillows or the toy a very red-faced Sam had bought you. Nothing is going to save you, because only one, stupid, handsome, selfless idiot can, and he’s suddenly too good to just fuck you.

Hell, that idiot is the only reason this is happening. According to Sam and Bobby, Dean got hit with a sex spell in Colorado, you started whimpering for him in South Dakota, and you’re not allowed to have sex with him for… reasons.

Reasons no one seems willing to fully share with you, but reasons.

You know Dean wants you. You’ve known he wants you. Neither of you have ever been able to do something about that—never going beyond flirting and lingering touches and stares—but you’re certain he feels the same way. Maybe not the exact same way, because you want whatever Dean offers you, his body or mind or heart or very soul, but you know he’s attracted to you. And if the countless little pieces of evidence you’ve hoarded in your brain—winks and smirks and long, apperceive scans of your body—weren’t enough for you to know, this was. You’d heard Dean roar your name from outside Bobby’s cabin as the Impala door slammed. You’d seen the feral, lust-blown expression on his face as he’d charged at you. Sam had tackled him to the ground as you’d grown a little dizzy with need, and Bobby grabbed your wrist, dragging you upstairs. Away from Dean, from the cure, from his big hands and soft mouth and huge-

“You’re gonna need to stay in here.” Bobby had muttered, refusing to meet your eyes as he shuffled out of the room. “Least until we get Dean’s head right, or figure out what the hell is going on.”

It’s been almost a day, and they’ve made almost no progress. From Sam’s last update, all they’re certain of is: Sex spell, you and Dean, no other options except you and Dean.

“What do you mean no other options,” you’d said, leaning up to frown at Sam. “Did Dean-“

“No.” Sam shakes his head, giving you a sheepish expression. “I mean, Bobby and I suggested it, but he said no.”

“Oh,” you’d mumbled, falling back down on the mattress. “Why?”

Sam had shrugged, leaning into your line of vision. “Do you want to have sex with me?”

“No, Sam, what the fuck-“

“That’s why.”

He’d stood up and left, and you hadn’t had a clue what the hell he was talking about. Sure, you didn’t want to have sex with him, but he was like a brother to you. Dean, somehow, wasn’t. Dean was Dean. And it wasn’t like you’d say no to a random, no-strings attached hookup right now-

Something had tugged in your gut, and you’d realized—staggering to the toilet and vomiting up your lunch—that you could not do a random hookup. You wanted Dean. You needed him. You might die if you didn’t get him, and it had to be him, and he must feel it too, but when you’d asked Sam he said no.

“No?!” You’d rolled over on the floor to glare up at him, wishing you could find the strength to surge up and punch him in his stupid, apologetic face. “What do you mean No?!”

“Dean, um,” Sam had sighed again, and if he kept doing that you were going to kick him in the balls. “He made us lock him in the safe room. He won’t come out until we cure him.”

“Why did he-“ You’d cut yourself off as it hit you, another, softer wave of sickness rolling over your body. The sickness lived in your heart. This sickness was made of the tragic reality that Dean might want you, but he didn’t want you. Maybe that was why he’d never made a move. Maybe he was attracted to you physically, but couldn’t see you like that, and didn’t really want to try to.

Maybe Dean was disgusted by the idea. Maybe he hated that his body found you hot, because he thinks of you like you think of Sam.

“Oh,” you’d rolled back onto your stomach, and prayed Sam would leave soon so you could go back to humping the floor. “Okay.”

Sam had said your name, waiting until you hummed an acknowledgment to continue. “We’re going to fix this-“

“I know.” You’d let out a long, slow breath, curling into your own body. “We always do.”

They would fix this. And then you’d have to look Dean in the eyes, and find a way to be okay with his rejection. Teach yourself how to not turn into a pining dumbass, chasing after someone who obviously didn’t want you. You wouldn’t lose him, he was your best friend, but you’d also have to learn to pretend it didn’t feel like your heart hadn’t just been ripped out of your chest and stomped on.

And now you’re here. Hoping Sam and Bobby will fix this soon, crawling into the empty bathtub to try and sleep. The bed is too warm, too intimate, to inviting of fantasies that will never be reality. Daydreams of Dean’s hands on you, trailing over your skin and setting of little sparks as he maps your body. Those same hands pushing open your thighs, two of his fingers teasing over your pussy, his mouth wrapping around your nipple as he started pumping and scissoring and crooking inside you-

There’s a knock on the bathroom door, and you yank your own fingers out of your cunt, wiping them on the towel as you speak, your voice far too hoarse. “Yeah, Sam?”

“Not Sam.” Bobby grumbles, his voice slightly muffled through the door. “You decent?”

You toss a towel over your body, having long abandoned clothing. “Yep, is everything-“

You cut yourself off as Bobby pushes the door open, his face angled up to avoid you.

“I said I’m decent, Bobby, you can look.”

He grunts, and you sit up a little straighter, making your voice a little firmer.

“It’s weirder if you don’t, you know.”

Bobby nods, his gaze slowly dropping to yours as he sits on the toilet, bracing his arms on his knees. “Sorry.” He mutters. “Ain’t tryin’ to make it uncomfortable. Just not lookin’ to see one of my, uh-“

“I know,” you sigh, leaning your head back on the tile. “I get it. Must be weird seeing Dean as well.”

“Eh.” Bobby shrugs. “I’ve walked in on him with lady company before, this ain’t new-“

“But it’s new with me?” You ask, raising your brows, and Bobby glares at you.

“I didn’t help raise you girl. And you’re just as important to me as those boys, but you’re also a girl. I mean, not a girl, but I don’t got those parts-“

“Jesus, Bobby.” You mumble, bringing your knees up to your chest. “I’m teasing. I know what you mean, I promise, just,” you swallow, shaking your head slightly. “Sorry. I’m tired.”

Bobby rolls his eyes, but his voice becomes a little softer, and far less panicked. “That ain’t nice, kid, you’re gonna give an old man a heart attack.”

“You’d be fine. I know CPR.”

He gives you a flat look. “We both know you ain’t in any condition to give me CPR.”

You wave him off. “I’d call Sam.”

“He wouldn’t hear you, he’s down in the panic room with-“

Bobby cuts himself off, and you roll your head to the side, giving him a bored glare.

“You can say his name, Bobby.”

“Fine.” He grunts. “Sam’s down checkin’ on Dean. He,” Bobby frowns at the air. “He still ain’t listenin’ to reason.”

You hum, hoping Bobby doesn’t notice how you’ve moved the towel between your thighs, just for something. “Reason?”

“We don’t have anythin’ to cure this except, uh, that way.” Bobby mutters. “And he’s still insistin’ we keep him chained up.”

“Ah.” You swallow. “Awesome.”

Bobby says your name, and it’s gentle. Like he’s consulting a child who’s had a nightmare, instead of a grown woman who was just finger-fucking herself in a tub. “You don’t gotta pretend this ain’t hurtin’ you.”

“I mean, it doesn’t feel good-“

“Not the spell.” Bobby says, and you frown at him.

“What-“

“Dean. He’s bein’ a fuckin’ dumbass, and you don’t need to act like he’s not.”

Your voice drops to a whisper. “He’s not what?”

“Killin’ you.” Bobby grunts, scanning over your face. “Rippin’ your heart out and take a big fat shit on it.”

You grimace. “That’s gross, Bobby-“

“Truth ain’t always sunshine and glitter-“

“It’s not the truth!” You snap, your voice suddenly harsh as something wilts and twists in his your chest. “I’m fine! I get it! Dean doesn’t want to do that, and that’s not his fault.”

Bobby leans back on the toilet, holding your glare with his own. “Why do you think you and Dean are the only idjits gettin’ hit by this? Why isn’t Sam humpin’ pillows and leavin’ stains on my walls?”

You feel a rush of heat from that thought—the image of Dean fucking into his hand flashing through your mind and leaving a mark between your thighs—and your voice is almost a squeak. “Because Dean’s the one that got hit?”

“Sam says he was in the line of that bitch’s fire too. But only Dean got,” Bobby makes a vague gesture over you. “This.”

“I don’t-“

“And Sam ain’t in love with his fuckin’ brother, so he was safe.”

You flush, gaping at Bobby for a long, wired silence, and when you speak your voice is a squeak.

“I- I’m, I’m not in love with Dean. I mean, maybe I have a crush, or something, but that’s, that’s not love-“

Bobby gives you a flat, disbelieving look. “You feel safer ‘round him?”

“Yeah, but I-“

“You laugh at all his jokes?”

“Maybe, but he can be funny-“

Bobby mutters your name, shaking his head. “I love that boy like a son, and he ain’t half as funny as he thinks he is.”

You frown. “He’s funny-“

“He can be,” Bobby shrugs. “But his jokes ain’t all winners. And you laugh at every single oneof ‘em. And,” he sighs, rubbing his beard. “He laughs at all’a your jokes.”

“Hey.” You scowl. “I’m a riot-“

“Didn’t say you weren’t. But even you can miss, girl. And he never seems to care.”

“So?” You shuffle on the floor, desperate not to starting grinding on the air in front of Bobby, but getting more and more wet from just the mention of Dean. “We’re friends, friends laugh at each other’s jokes-“

“Do friends get connected by sex spells ‘cross state lines?”

“I dunno,” you mumble. “Never been hit by a sex spell before.”

“You weren’t hit by one,” Bobby snaps your name, starting to sound exasperated. “Dean was. And that’s my damn point. Sam and I, we,” he sighs, giving you a long, confusing look. “We got it. We know what’s goin’ on.”

“Fuck,” you sit up, glowering at him. “Why didn’t you lead with that-“

“Cause you ain’t gonna like it.” Bobby grunts. “It’s an old location spell. Back in the day rich assholes would cast it on their highest eldest sons, so he could find his,” Bobby cringes, his last word pushed through his teeth. “Mate.”

“Mate?” You repeat, letting out a dry, huffing laugh. “What are we, fucking dogs-“

“Soulmate.” Bobby mutters, giving you a look that might have been sympathetic, or kind, or pitiful, but you’re suddenly a little dizzy and can’t really think or see.

“That’s not,” you shake your head. “No, Bobby, soulmates aren’t real-“

Bobby says your name, his voice stern. “You should know better than to say somethin’ like that in our line of work. Sam called Cas, and he said they’re real, but population increases or somethin’ made them ‘logistically impossible’, so they aren’t on the shop line no more.”

“But- But wouldn’t we have like, I don’t know, noticed? If that was true?”

“You shoulda.” Bobby shrugs. “Cas seemed pretty shocked you hadn’t. Said he had assumed you knew, because the pull is like a magnet or some shit. Spell’s only an enhancer, to move the train along.”

“So why-“

“You hopped in right after Dean got back from hell.” Bobby mutters. “Dean’s soul mighta been fucked enough not to recognize you. Spell mighta jumpstarted it.”

“Oh.”

“Yep.”

It’s a few minutes before you speak again, and Bobby waits patiently as you spiral. Down, down, down in your head, trying to rationalize how this could possibly be true. It couldn’t be true. There was no way it was true. Sure, you’ve liked Dean since you first met him, from the moment he introduced himself with a cocky grin, smirk, and fake name. You liked him even more when you called him out on his fake name, and he’d just chuckled, figured out you were a hunter, and offered to buy you a drink. You’d liked him when that drink had turned into a long, sleepless night of only conversation, and when you’d joined him and Sam on the road. And you’d kept thinking of him like that, and you thought of him all the time, but that didn’t mean anything. You didn’t love him. It’s not like you feel better when you wake up in a motel bed and he’s next to you, or a smile always tugs at your lips whenever he so much as looks at you, or the thought of him being in alone or pain makes you physically ill. It’s not like, if he grabbed your hand and told you he was done with hunting—the only life you’d ever both known—then asked you to join him in a boring, easy apple pie life you’d immediately say yes and kiss him, because you’ll go wherever he goes and he’s the only person you’ve ever really-

Oh.

You might be in love with Dean.

You might be soulmates with Dean.

“What, um,” you swallow, watching Bobby carefully. “What did Dean think? Of this?”

“We have told him yet.” Bobby’s jaw ticks, holding your gaze. “We ain’t sure he’ll-“

“Yeah.” You whisper, turning your attention back to the ceiling. There’s a little crack on it. Jagged and split through the white paint, easy to stare at and get lost in. Helpful in pretending this doesn’t hurt like a bitch. “Okay.”

Bobby mutters a promise of at least trying to talk some sense into Dean, but you both know his words are empty. Because Dean won’t believe this. It won’t be a matter of you and Dean, it will just be Dean, believing something like a soulmate could never happen to someone like him. He’ll insist they’re lying, or Cas is wrong, or all of this fucking bullshit.

“You ever wondered about aliens?” He’d asked you once, leaning against the Impala as you lay on the hood, watching him from an upside-down angle.

“Just like, in general?”

“Yeah.”

“I guess,” you’d tilted your head at him. “Why?”

“I dunno, just curious.” There had been another moment of silence, then, “You think they’re real?”

“They have to be right?” You’d reached over your head, grabbing his chin and tilting it up, until he was staring at the night sky. “I mean, look at that, De. It’s huge.”

He’d chuckled, swatting your hand away. “Where have I heard that before-“

“Eat me, Winchester.” You’d rolled your eyes, and his shit-eating grin had grown. “No. Shut it.”

He’d raised his hands in surrender. “Didn’t say a thing.”

“Uh huh.” You’d let your own attention trail up, over the vast darkness above you, splattered in infinite stars that you think—if you really tried—you’d be able to grab and hold in your hands. Maybe offer one to Dean. He’d deserve it.

You were silent for a while longer, you watching the sky, Dean waiting for you to come back to earth, and when he’d spoken again his voice was soft.

“You think you’d want to go? If they were?”

You’d looked back to him with a frown, and found him already looking at you. “What, aliens?”

He’d nodded, and you’d furrowed your brow in thought.

“Maybe. I’ve never thought about it before. I kind of like Earth.” You’d rolled onto your stomach, swinging your legs around to rest in Baby’s open window as you looked down at Dean. “What about you?”

“Nah,” he’d held your gaze, pulling himself up to sit at your side. “Not now.”

“Not now?”

“I would’ve when I was younger, if I coulda taken Sammy with me.” Dean had let out a dry chuckle. “But I’m not that lucky.”

He wasn’t that lucky. Dean didn’t get to be abducted by aliens, because he wasn’t lucky. Because saviors and little lights to guide you forward don’t just drop out of the sky.

But you didn’t drop out of the sky. You’d been on the ground, and tangible, and very, very real.

You feel real, to yourself. You didn’t feel like a possibility, or a myth, or a lie.

And you might love Dean.

And you know that, the longer you don’t get to at least see him, touch him, breathe him, the more you go mad. The harder it becomes to speak to Sam and Bobby when they check on you, the less you allow them to even say the word Dean, because it makes you writhe and moan and everyone just gets very uncomfortable.

So if Dean’s too much of a righteous, noble, self-loathing buttface to do something about this, you will.

You wait until the house is dark and quiet. Until you hear Bobby mutter a goodnight through the door—about an hour ago you’d started whining every other breath and fucking the edge of the bathtub, so Bobby wasn’t coming into the room anymore—and Sam walks in backwards to make sure you’re not dead and have enough food and water. Like you’re a caged animal.

You do feel a little like one. You feel like someone’s sucked everything rational and careful out of your brain and replaced it with Dean. Dean, Dean, Dean, you need him or you’ll die. He needs to need you, or something worse than death will happen.

And you’re willing to risk that, that small possibility of Dean looking at you—bare and wet and pleading for him—and still turning you away, because at least you’ll see him.

You need to at least see him.

It’s shocking easy to sneak around the house. For two seasoned, well-respected hunters, neither Sam nor Bobby seem to wake up as you crawl down to Dean, despite the floorboard creaking under you movements and the downright pathetic whimpers that keep escaping your mouth. It takes all your focus to grab the key to Bobby’s panic room, unlock the door, and push it open.

It’s dark. Pitch black. But you know Dean’s in here, because every nerve is trying to fly off your body and into the shadows. To Dean.

“What the hell are you doing,” Dean groans your name from the back of the room, and you feel molten. “You can’t be here-“

“It’s not your panic room, Dean.” You mumble, pushing yourself up on the wall and fiddling around for the light switch. “I can be wherever I want-“

“Not here.” Dean snaps. “Go.”

You shake your head, and the lights blind you as you flip them on. It takes a moment to adjust—blinking and hugging your body in a desperate play to not leap across the room to Dean the moment you see him—and when you do a high whine escapes your mouth.

Dean looks as feral as you feel. He’s just as naked as you are, just as drenched in sweat and flushed, and—if the proud, massive cock between his legs, standing at full attention and twitching as he scans over you, is any sign—just as aroused.

“Dean.” You whisper. “Please.”

“You need to leave.” He grunts, his fists clenched at his sides. “Now.”

“I don’t want to go-“

“Yes, you do.”

You frown. “You don’t get to tell me what I want, Dean. I want to stay-“

“No,” he hisses, and you might come just from him looking at you like that. Primal and wanting, with a gleam in his eyes that feels like a promise. “You don’t know what you want-“

That gets you to scoff. “Fuck off, asshole-“

“See!” He makes a dramatic gesture, then flinches back from himself. “I, I can’t let you do this. You don’t want me,” Dean mutters your name, running a hand over his face. “The spell wants me. Doesn’t count.”

“Yeah, the spell does want you, you idiot!” You take an unsteady step forward, and he steps back. “Because I want you!”

“No, you don’t-“

“Yes, I do! I need you, Dean, and I think you need me-“

“Doesn’t matter what I need.” He grunts, bracing his body and you take another step. “Go back upstairs.”

“Did Bobby talk to you?”

He scowls. “Bobby’s wrong. That’s- No.”

“Because it’s me?”

“Of course not,” he snaps, and it’s too quick. “Because that, that’s not a thing. People would be runnin’ around, selling soulmates in little bottles if they were real. And we’d have known by now-“

“We do know now.” You whisper, swaying slightly in the middle of the room. “And Cas says-“

“Cas is wrong.” Dean mutters. “I don’t, there’s no way that’s true. Not for me.”

His beautiful, deep eyes look so sad. Glossed over and weighted down of years of that being the truth. That things like that, like this, don’t happen for Dean.

You’d really love to be the first exception.

“What about for me?”

“What are you-“

“What about for me, Dean.” You watch his jaw clench, his nostrils flaring. “Does it get to be true for me?”

He doesn’t answer, and you push on.

“If it’s true for me, it’s you.” You talk another step forward, and this time he doesn’t flinch. “Just you.”

“It’s just the spell.” He mutters, and you don’t think he’s convincing himself. Not when his throat bobs and his eyes darken. “You don’t want me, baby, not really.”

You almost fall over from that. From Dean calling you baby, and saying it the exact same way he says your name. Low and rolling and lined with something soft.

“I do.” You hold your ground, raising your chin. “I want you, Dean Winchester. Fix this.”

He shakes his head, barely a jerked movement, and you start to feel a little faint.

“Dean. I need you to look me in the eyes,” your voice starts to rise, growing pleading and frantic. “And tell me you don’t want me. Say that you wanting me is just the spell, and I’ll go. I promise. I just need to you to fucking say it, Dean, just fucking say you don’t want me or need me or love me-“

He moves before you even realize what’s happening. Almost leaping onto you as his mouth crashed into yours, his hands cupping your face as he walks you back, back, back into the wall and growls down your throat. And you’d been wrong. His hand on you don’t feel like small bursts of electricity. They’re like lighting. Dragging something you hadn’t known existed to the surface, and setting off a storm of need in your body.

“Course I want you,” one arm snakes around your waist, pressing your right into his erection. “Always fucking wanted you. You’re smoking hot,” he starts to kiss over your face, his words slightly muffled against your skin as you cling to his body. “Funnier than I am, and smart as hell. You feel like home and smell so good and, fuck, I’ve lost sleep thinkin’ about how it’d feel to get lost in you. I’d have to be fucking blind and dumb not to want you,” Dean grunts your name, returning your mouth to yours with a painfully soft, gentle, featherlight kiss. “But I’m not-“

“If you say good for me,” you mutter, leaning back to glare at him. “I’ll punch you.” He chuckles, and it’s dry and low, rumbling from his chest into yours. “I’m not-“

“You are.” You whisper, offering him a small, slightly broken smile. You need him to get this. You might start crying if he doesn’t. “You’re good for me. And I want you. I love you.” Something flashes in his eyes, and you don’t care if he believes you. He doesn’t have to believe you. He just needs to get it. “No spell, Dean. I’m here, and I’m yours. Take me.”

Your nails dig into his skin—attempting to leave a mark of him if he turns you away—and his breathing is ragged. Heavy and hot, fanning across your face as he stares at you, just stares at you, why is he just staring at you-

“Dean-“

This kiss is brutal It’s teeth and tongue and bruising lips, like he’s trying to move into your body. His hands are everywhere on you, squeezing your ass and palming your tits, rolling your nipple between two fingers before groaning down your throat when you moan.

“Fuck,” Dean mutters your name, his hand on your ass glides onto your pussy, playing with your folds and flicking at your clit once, twice, three times and you feel fucking high- “So wet for me-“

“For you,” you whimper, nodding stupidly as Dean presses him thumb down on that bundle of nerves, rubbing slowly. “Fuck, Dean, all for you-“ 

“Need to taste you,” he growls, pulling his mouth fully back, watching you grind onto his hand with a dark gaze. “You gonna let me taste you, baby? Let me eat that pretty pussy-“ 

You’ve barely nodded before he’s on his knees, one arm still around your waist to support you both as he dives into your cunt. 

Oh.

He’s good at this. Really, really fucking good at this. You can’t really think anything that’s not Dean, or make any noise that’s not a moan kind of good at this. He’s ravenous and starved, his nose bumping and pressing into your clit in an impossibly mind-numbing rhythm, his tongue plunging in and out of your cunt until your squirming above him, desperate for more.

“Dean,” your hand tug at his hair, and you don’t know if you’re trying to push him deeper or pull him away. “Shit, Dean, I’m gonna cum-“

He groans against you, his eyes opening to watch you come apart above him, and you think he might be getting off on this.

“Please,” you whimper. “God, please, I need to cum-“

Dean bites your clit, and your orgasm crashes through you like a tidal wave. It’s all bliss and relief and a high, bright haze of Dean, and then you’re falling down.

Dean’s pulling you down. Onto his lap as he leans back, moving you to straddle over him as his cock throbs between his legs.

You want to touch him.

You push back on him, just enough for his grip to loosen, and take him in your hand. He’s huge. And pretty. Dicks aren’t supposed to be pretty, but Dean’s is, and it might be because every part of Dean is pretty. Every part of him is impossible pretty, from his cock twitching in your hand as you run your thumb over the slit, to his lidded eyes and parted mouth as he watches you with wonder.

“Shit,” he moans your name, and fuck, even that was pretty. “What are you doing to me-“

“Handjob,” you whisper, placing your free hand lightly on his chest in a silent request for him to lay back. “I think.”

Dean huffs a laugh, leaning back with a smirk. “Ya think? You sure you know what you’re doing with that- Fuck-“

You hum around Dean’s cock, your lips wrapped around the base as your tongue swirls around his shaft, and his groans are sinful. The fire in your corse hadn’t lessened by any means from your orgasm, but it grows unbearable as you move Dean’s hand to your hair and let him guide you up and down. Let him set the pace, moaning when his hips jerk and he hits the back of your throat, and squeezing his thighs in silent reassurance that you’re good. You’re really, really good. You’re grinding onto Dean’s knee as he fucks your face, playing with his balls with your free hand and devouring every bit of slightly slurred praise that falls from his mouth.

“Fucking hell, baby, you always been this good at sucking cock? You’re, shit, you look like a wet dream, look like an angel, fuck.” He hisses at your teeth graze over him. “You look so good like this. Mouth stuffed full of cock, desperate and wet for me-“ You roll your hips against him, and Dean tugs you fully up, smirking at your swollen lips and glossy eyes. “Careful,” he warns, sitting up as his thumb swipes a little bit of drool from your cheek. “When I’m cumming tonight, I’m cumming in you, baby, got that?”

“Yes, please,” you whimper. You’re on the pill anyway. “Dean-“

“C’mere.” He tugs you into his lap with careful hands, scanning over you with a small shake of his head. “Son of bitch, you’re gorgeous. You’re sure you-“

“I’m sure.” You grind against his cock, never looking away from him as the head of him bumps your clit. It goes on for too long, Dean just watching you fuck yourself on his lap with his hands bruising your hips, and you start to whine. “Shit, Dean, need you-“

Dean surges forward, kissing you long and deep and slow, and keeps his brow pressed to yours as he looks down to where you’re moving on him.

“Hold on,” he mutters, and you follow the order without a second thought.

Your arms wrap around Dean’s neck just as he lines himself up, and you almost scream when he pushes into you.

“Shit,” he looks back at you, eyes wide. “Are you-“

“Don’t stop,” you moan, burying your face in the crook of his neck. “Fuck, it feels so good, Dean, don’t stop.”

He nods, kissing the side of your head, and slowly moves into your aching pussy until he bottoms out with a long exhale.

“Gonna, fuck-“ He groans as you squeeze around him. “Can’t do that, baby, I won’t last a minute-

“Sorry,” you mumble against him, playing with the short, soft hair at the nape of his neck. “Didn’t meant to-“

“It’s fine.” He grunts, still not moving. “Just, fuck, you feel so good. So warm,” he groans, pressing his face onto the top of your head. “So tight and warm, feel so good-“

“Dean, please-“

You gasp as he gives one, short thrust upward.

“So good,” Dean growls in your ear, making another small, dizzying movement that presses him right up against that spongey spot deep inside of you. “Ready?”

“Ye-“

You squeal as Dean rises to his knees, keeping himself sheathed inside you as he falls forward, his hand splayed on your back and holding you carefully against him. His face is resting between your breasts, his cock angled so deep inside you it might drive you insane if he doesn’t start to fucking move, and his eyes stay yours as you only watch each other for a long moment.

He’s asking permission. Dean’s not pulling away, but he’s also not moving, because he’s offering you one last chance to turn him down. 

You move one hand to hold his face, wrapping your legs around his waist and squirming around him in silent encouragement.

It snaps something in him. Dean grabs your hand, moves it onto the back of his neck, and lowers you fully onto the ground so you’re caged between him and floor. He scans over you for only a second, a small, cocky smirk crawling onto his face, leans down to give you one last, almost sweet kiss.

A soft moan leaves you as Dean traces his tongue over your lips, and his low growl is the only warning you get before he starts to fuck into you like an animal.

It’s sloppy and wet and loud, skin slapping against skin as Dean abuses your cunt, and fuck you’ve never felt better. You feel full, split open on his cock and right where you belong, alive in a way that seeps right into your soul and ignites your blood into a holy fire of Dean. Groaning your name on your skin and touching you with calloused, big, expert hands. Watching you as you unravel beneath him, scraping your nails over his back and making needy sounds that only spur him on.

You’re going to fly out of your body. Dean’s muscles are ripping above and around you as he fucks you into the floor, and his mouth is mold perfectly onto yours. Neither of you seem to care to breathe, or speak, or do anything but nips and suck and lick at each other. Trying to get impossibly closer, to drag the other over the edge so you can fall with them. You grind up into Dean, and Dean bites your lip. Dean rolls his hips as he bottoms out, making your mouth fall open for his tongue to plunge down your throat, and you scrape and claw as his chest until he groans, and you manage to slip one hand down to play with his balls.

He wins he swats your hand away and starts to rub small, firm circles on your clit. He’s unrelenting, and watching you with an affection that feels a little misplaced for the carnal hunger on his handsome features.

“Always want you,” he mutters your name, pressing his thumb flat against you. “Cum for me, baby.”

Your vision blurs as you find release, and it feels like heaven. Like stars and fire and water and light under your skin, in your blood, like a halo around your head that’s all just the pleasure Dean’s is still wringing from your body. Your pussy is fluttering and gushing around his cock, and it sends him over the edge with a roar, his hips slamming home as he paints the walls of your cunt white.

And when you’re both spent and Dean rolls you over—carefully adjusting you to be right on top of him, his body a barrier between you and the now-cold floor—you feel good. Really, really good. Fucked out and high, nothing trying to burst out of your skin or eat at your stomach. You feel better than you might have ever felt in your whole life. The only warmth in your body is heat you’re trading with Dean, and you feel good.

“We, um.” You trace over his tattoo, looking up at him under your eyelashes. “We should probably talk, or something-“

“Or something.” He agrees, grinning down at you. “Don’t feel like it’s a rush though. Sammy and Bobby will find us in the morning. Right now,” Dean kisses your brow, squeezing his arms around your body. “You’re all mine.”

You can be all his. It’ll be really, really easy to be all Dean, because he hasn’t said he loves you, but he does. You know he does. It lives in how he’s still touching and holding you, still talking to you like you’re his best friend and not a mistake, and running his hands through your hair mindlessly.

And you’ll have a lot to talk about later. A lot to fight about, and fuck about, and laugh and cry and scream about.

But right now you just have to be Dean’s.

And that will be really easy.

End Note: Bobby Singer you are fifty times the father John Winchester could ever HOPE to be.

If you like this story, please reblog, share, or leave a comment! <3

Taglist

@artemys-ackles @ambiguous-avery

[zaynesgirlie]

Capitano, the type of man who...

Who closes his eyes with a soft hum when you massage his scalp after he comes home from long missions. He misses your touch so much, and collapsing into your arms after long and hard battles is his favorite pastime.

Who doesn't let anyone else treat his wounds except you. He looks at you with adoration every time you scold him like a little child for being so sloppy and coming home with more and more wounds, but the fact that you still continue to take care of him makes him fall in love with you more and more.

Who loves to draw lazy constellations from your moles, running his cold fingers over every part of your body.

Who adores when you fiddle with his hair. He loves to sit in warm water while your soft fingers help wash his hair.

Who, if you fell asleep on the couch, will carry you to the bedroom, wrapping you in a blanket. He will not sleep for a long time, admiring your sleepy face, and trying to enjoy the quiet pleasant atmosphere with you before another long separation.

Who has a very hard time with separation from you. Before each long mission, he will kiss you on the forehead, promising to write you letters every day.

Who, after each mission, brings you some kind of gift, and if you ask him to bring some trinket, he will buy up the entire store, not being able to choose just one.

Who, when you are sick or just very tired, will help wash off your makeup and change you into pajamas, without a single hint of vulgarity. His eyes will not allow you to look anywhere except your face when you are in this state.

Who will carry you in his arms if your heels are too uncomfortable.

Who has huge hands. He loves to wrap his hand around your thigh, rubbing his thumb over your inner thigh. He enjoys your blush and the quiet sighs you let out every time he barely gets close to your crotch.

Who will be incredibly reserved in his actions for the first time, afraid to hurt you. He thinks he needs to learn to be gentle with you, so don't be afraid to take his hands and put them on your body, showing him that everything is okay.

Who will quietly moan when you sit on top of him, running your fingers over the scars on his bare chest. He will throw his head back with a quiet groan, as soon as you go down from his stomach to the line of his pants.

[crispy-bonnie]

MK1 guys attending the fair with their S/O

(Tomas Vrbada, Bi-Han, Kuai Liang, Johnny Cage, Kung Lao, Raiden, Kenshi Takahashi, Syzoth, Liu Kang)

i just need to write these down because oh my god they've been stuck in my head for too long

this also ignores canon a bit (cough cough lin kuei cough cough) because i'm delusional and refuse to believe anything that bi-han did was canon /lh [lighthearted]

also not proofread and just a bit ooc , just made this outta impulse

• • • 🍟

Tomas likes to go on the rides, specifically the more intense ones. He just finds the thrill of being tossed and turned around fun. He will do his best to comfort you if you don't do well on those kinds of rides and will even bring motion sickness meds just for you. Also please hold him whenever you're scared on those rides because it makes him feel so happy to know that you're willing to cling to him shdbsb

Tomas also enjoys the fair games a lot, the both of you trying and failing miserably to win the games and simply laughing about it. There was only one time he ever won a game, and it was only because he used a bit of his magic to toss the ring around one of the poles. Even so, it was a win in his book.

• • • 🍟

Bi-Han doesn't really care for the fair. He's only there because both you and his brothers dragged him along. However, he seems to lighten up just a tad when he sees you gushing over how adorable one of the prize plushies is. He wastes no time in buying play tickets and making his attempt to win it just to impress you.

He eats shit every attempt that he tries. Eventually runs out of tickets and gets mad so he just uses his cryomancy out of pure rage. The poor guy at the stall is scared shitless and just claims that he won before handing him the huge ass plush out of fear. Bi-Han immediately hands it to you and just smiles tiredly at your giddy behavior as the two of you walk away hauling the big ass stuffy.

• • • 🍟

Kuai Liang has you on a leash because you get lost easily. Either that or he's just worried about losing you in the crowds. The leash is most likely latched to some kind of bag or belt that you might be wearing. Whether or not it's you or him taking the lead, he always makes sure he's got a firm hold on the leash.

If you get distracted or overwhelmed, Kuai Liang will tug lightly at the leash to bring you closer whilst muttering 'C'mere' under his breath. He'll hold your hand to keep you from straying and as a means of comfort. If you're too overstimulated, he'll cradle you to his chest and shield your face from the noise, whispering sweet nothings and reassurances for you to focus on.

• • • 🍟

Syzoth has had very little experience with fairs. Closest thing he's gotten to one is the Sun Do festival, and he's only experienced it once. You'll have to guide him through a lot of the stuff. He doesn't really like the rides (aside from the chill ones) but will do his best not to projectile vomit acid anywhere if you do.

You two are strolling down the place while munching on some fair food when you spot a cute looking prize at one of the game booths. You decide to use some tickets to try and win one, but you don't seem to nail it. Syzoth offers to give it a shot, scarfing down the rest of the turkey leg in his hand (that both of you were supposed to share together) before trying it out. He wins, like- perfectly, managing to win you the prize in one shot while leaving some fairgoers and the vendor stunned.

• • • 🍟

Kung Lao is absolutely destroying all the food at the fucking stalls. It's a wonder how this mf isn't built like a 1x1 lego piece from the sheer amount he powers through. He likes to share portions with you so that you can have a nice taste of whatever high-calorie junk is being served.

Oh my god and don't get me started on the stranger sides of the fair food. Kung Lao would happily order the weirdest shit only to regret it two seconds later. Except for once. There was one time where he tried pickle drink, which is just pickles in Dr Pepper. To your misfortune, he liked it, and now it's something he whips up at home every now and then. I hope you like pickles.

• • • 🍟

Raiden prefers to just have a chill day with you, doesn't want to do anything intense. He just walks around with you, looking at the shops and such while eating some fair food or something. He doesn't go on any of the dizzying type of rides, and will simply watch from the ground if you decide to do so.

Even without all the thrilling shit, Raiden does his best to make it enjoyable, mostly through romantic actions. Like- my dude will get matching stuff for you, stuffed animals or treats with the cheesiest lines ever—it's like you two are on a first date with how he tries to treat you. You find it adorable, especially when he gets flustered after you return the favor.

• • • 🍟

Johnny Cage thinks he's an absolute legend at the fair games. He's really not, but he will always boast about it anyway. He'll most likely drag you towards where most of the games are and use his fuckload of tickets to play. If you point out a prize, he will absolutely fight tooth and nail to win the prize.

He never does and eventually the vendor gets so tired of his attempts that the guy just hands him the prize. Johnny will probably go on about how he totally won that while you simply chuckle and roll your eyes as the two of you move on. He also will be taking an excessive amount of photos during the fair—but that's pretty par for the course on anything with him.

• • • 🍟

Similarly to Raiden, Kenshi isn't very fond of the intense rides, especially the ones that spin a lot. He just likes to stroll around and chill with you. He also doesn't really favor the games all too much, and if he does play, he's probably using Sento to help out.

Kenshi likes to hang around the animal-petting zoos, seeing as it's one of the few things he really can enjoy with his blindness. The two of you like to play this game where you hold an animal out to him or guide his hand towards one, and he has to guess what animal he's touching. The animals also seem to be very fond of him. Especially the fluffier ones.

• • • 🍟

Liu Kang is kind of a mix of Raiden and Syzoth. He doesn't really care as much for the fair than he does your happiness and enjoyment. He'll happily go along with you around the fair or on rides, except for the dizzying ones. He'll gladly try some fair food, play some games, all to see you smile.

While Liu Kang often chooses not to play any of the games, he's actually jacked at this shit. Point out a prize and he'll fuckin slam dunk that game like it's nobody's business before handing you the thing you were eyeing. He doesn't pay mind to the shocked stares around him, content with watching that grin of yours shine as you giggly thank him. He also likes to go on the ferris wheel—he finds it relaxing and it gives him time to just be able to sit in peace with you whilst the fair goes on from below.

• • • 🍟

[karaeilish]

ꪆৎ FREAK SHOW — PT 1

౨ৎ mob!billie x fem!reader

ꪆৎ content — fluff & angst(?)

ꪆৎ summary; one day you won't come home, the next she'll walk over heads until she's finished with everyone who dared to touch you.

ꪆৎ spotify playlist !

ꪆৎ warnings: kidnapping, murder, murder/body parts mention, minor canon violence, sexual content, rodent mention. nothing really creepy or nasty ! NO proofread bc im tired asf

a/n — i know you were waiting <3

ꪆৎ wc — 3,2k

11:56 pm.

the air was especially thick tonight, heavy, making billie click her pen every few minutes with uncharacteristic nervousness. she needed to focus on the upcoming drug delivery that was scheduled for tonight at her ‘freak show’, but she was just distracted almost every moment, thinking about how you were alone.

she didn’t like to let you go without her or extra security, but you just looked at her like she was your whole world, telling her that if you just walked to some boutique where you were looking for a handbag on your own, nothing would happen and you’d return to her safe and sound. and how could she dare refuse her lawful wife?

that’s right, she never refuses you.

but now billie truly regrets not having done so, because her heart is sick and aching when she thinks about you being gone for so long. you would have definitely gone to her first, no matter if she was busy or not. but you're just not there. it's too late. there's no way you could have spent more than two hours going to get that damn bag.

reaching for the cell phone lying on the edge of the table, billie dialed the number of one of her many people responsible for your safety and location. he arrived without delay.

"where is she?" billie's voice echoes throughout the huge room, making her subordinate tense up. he freezes in the middle of the room, leaving at least ten meters between them, but even from that distance billie's eyes burn right through him. a few seconds of silence makes her voice noticeably rise. "i asked. where. is. she?"

the young man shudders, taking a deep breath. fear clouds his mind because he has no idea where you could be and that's really, really bad. "boss, i… i don't—"

but he doesn't get to finish, hearing the vicious sound of her chair rolling away from the table, and billie closes the distance between them in a few long strides, towering over the guy's shaking figure.

"you dare say you don't know where my wife is when this is your only fucking job?" her voice is too quiet. and everyone knows it's always so much worse when she says it like that. "i'll kill you if she's not here in half an hour"

pause. long, languid. "and then i'll send your wife your tongue… and your two sweet daughters your fingers"

this woman knows how to motivate anyone.

she whispers this in his ear as her hand tightens around his neck, causing the boy to cough and almost fall to the floor as she moves away.

"yes boss" but she can't hear him anymore, lost in thoughts of where you could be. you wouldn't dare leave her, would you? you know she's the only one who will keep you safe and love you like no one else could?

"billie" she's brought out of her thoughts by the soft creak of a door and an achingly familiar voice, sounding as calm as ever. "the show's about to start"

she turns on her heels, meeting her brother's gaze. the man they've built this empire with, one that holds too many secrets for even hell itself. "william"

her voice is noticeably more irritated than usual, her gait heavier as her loafers click against the acacia floorboards. it doesn't escape william's notice.

"you look particularly nasty today" he tries to joke, but there's not even a hint of a smile on his face. it might seem strange to anyone, but for the eilish brothers, it was the most ordinary thing. neither of them are eager to give each other loving smiles.

“she was supposed to be back an hour ago,” billie blurts out, walking over to the full-length mirror to straighten his tie. “she’s never late.”

william smirks. “did your sweet wife really just decide to start a normal life, not surrounded by crazy people?”

the words sting a little more than she’d like, but billie maintains a cool facade, not letting a single muscle on her face twitch. she just knows that you’ll never leave her. you’re her most beautiful creation.

“are you saying you’re not crazy?” it’s her turn to smirk before she finally turns around, roughly adjusting her older brother’s collar. her movements are deft, quick, but william doesn’t even move under her sister’s strong arms, looking right through her.

"we're all nuts here, billie. but i'm not the one who tricked an innocent girl into falling in love with me" billie's grip on his shirt immediately tightens as memories of the first time you met wash over her.

"she'll never know what happened that night. or i swear to god i'll burn the whole damn town down" her usually calm voice drips with venom as she sloppily pushes her brother away from her. "now let's go, the show's about to start"

william rolls his eyes but doesn't say a word, deciding not to get on his already irritated sister's nerves.

without looking at his feet, billie pushes the huge door with both hands, stepping out into the main hall of her 'home', though it looks more like a prison. several dozen cells line both sides of the wide hallway, and the sounds coming from the creatures that are there are not human.

their limbs that barely resemble arms and legs try to reach even a scrap of her clothing, but billie doesn’t even pay attention, completely accustomed to the atmosphere of horror that has reigned here for years.

she goes up several floors before she comes out of the underground part of the building, finally finding herself in the circus part itself, already hearing the excited screams of spectators from the stands. under the huge yellow and red tent was a large arena that could accommodate up to a thousand people, so it was always very noisy here, which played into her hands.

“everything ready?” billie stands next to the main organizer, looking forward, where every living soul was bustling about in the last minutes before the show. “yes, boss. clowns, animals…”

she raises her hand up, silently ordering the girl to shut up in the middle of a sentence. her rings reflect the warm light from the spotlights. “that’s not what i’m asking. are they here?”

the firm voice grows a little more excited, billie emphasizes ‘they’ as if it’s the only thing she cares about. her assistant nods, handing her a small piece of paper.

“left sector, tenth row, they’ll be on the edge” at this, billie smiles widely, tucking the scrap of paper into the inside pocket of her jacket and straightening up. blue eyes wander around the vast arena she’ll soon enter. her empire, her beautiful creation. she should be proud of it every second of her existence.

but there’s a but.

her mind keeps drifting to you and the fact that something could have actually happened. because everyone knows who billie really is. and everyone knows that her one and only weakness is you. and so all her energy is spent on protecting you. but what the hell happened today?

“billie” there’s only silence in response.

“billie!” william's voice makes her flinch, looking at him as if she has no idea where she is right now. "your turn."

she blinks a few times, instantly putting on a mask of joy and pleasure, and then takes a few steps until she is in the very center of the arena, greeted by contented hums and whistles. people felt only two emotions for her: fear and admiration. fear leads to obedience, and obedience leads to love. so, in the most twisted way, but she was loved in this rotten city.

"ladies and gentlemen" she greets, giving the several hundred people a friendly smile before giving her signature speech.

"you know that i do not like to waste our guests' precious time" billie takes a few steps back, almost disappearing into the shadows of the curtain. "welcome to my freak show," her face contorts into an almost creepy grimace. "come meet my monsters"

the audience bursts into approving shouts, and billie leaves the arena completely, whispering the rest under her breath; "such a beautiful collection of strange things"

the next few seconds her 'freaks' are brought out into the circus ring and billie smiles as she hears the crowd getting excited. oh, she was proud of her creations.

"keep an eye on the delivery" billie whispers as she passes her brother. usually she likes to keep an eye on things herself, but right now the only thing she cares about is you, and if they've found you.

most of her people are down there, so she has to go down a few floors again until she reaches a small office where only a few of her people are sitting. the rest are probably scouring the city to find you.

"where is she?" billie asks, making everyone in the room feel a lump in their throat. they don't know where you are. they're trying to find you, but it's like there's no trace of you left.

the entire room stops making any sounds at all. fingers hover over the old keyboard, the hum and conversations fade away. billie's eyes light up with anger.

"where's my wife?" she punctuates each word with an imaginary dot, feeling her hands clench into fists at her sides. oh, she's ready to go crazy right now. "i said where's my wife?!"

bilie lets out a scream, instantly pulling her gun out of its holster, taking a clean shot between the legs of one of her subordinates. the man flinches, nearly dropping the laptop from his hands, his shocked gaze fixed on the hole in the floor. they know she doesn't miss.

"i swear, if a hair falls from her head…" she's not even trying to threaten, her voice just always sounds like a threat when she's not with you. and now she's not with you, and because of that, her mind is torn apart by thoughts of what might happen if she doesn't find you soon.

billie takes a few deep breaths, trying to convince herself that she can’t just go and shoot seven people because they’re a bunch of fucking burdens who can’t even find you.

“be thankful she didn’t want me to blow your heads off, motherfuckers.”

billie takes long strides until she reaches her office, grabbing her leather jacket and looking at the picture on her desk; your fifth anniversary. she took you to paris, the city of love. you two sat outside all night long. that’s when she dropped to one knee in front of you, vowing to love and protect you until her dying breath. your lips are pressed against her cheek, and she has the biggest, stupidest smile on her face. she felt so normal in that moment. felt like she deserved to be truly happy, like she wasn’t a monster who only knew how to kill and rule. she felt like a woman.

she knows how to love, feel sorry, understand, be tender and sensual, but this skill only applies to you. at that moment she swore that her heart would love only you.

billie runs a hand through her long dark hair, noticing how her fingers shake as she thinks about how she might never feel your touch again, your lips, or hear your innocent words about how much you love her, your soft breathing while you sleep on her chest, and those adorable sounds you make while her tongue is buried between your soft thighs. each memory sends shivers through her body.

shaking off some of the bad thoughts, she grabs her car keys, jingling them nervously as she walks to the underground parking lot two floors up.

a matte black dodge challenger in the very center, like a trophy reserved for her and you. billie will never be able to count all the times she fucked you in the backseats, in the driver's seat, on the hood of the car, when it was just the two of you. she just enjoyed the view.

"fuck" she moans, going crazy with how quickly her mind is drifting from the most tender and sensual memories to the dirtiest and most obscene. she just needs to get her thoughts together, but it's just so hard when you're not next to her. unreal.

rolling her eyes, billie finally gets into the car, starting the engine. her hands grip the steering wheel too tightly. she tries to look at the road and think about where she's going, but her mind is only about you.

and your mind is bursting with thoughts of billie, and how you miss the way her arms hold you. always so tight, but so gentle. no matter how much shit she did, you always felt so safe around her.

but that wasn't the case now. there were other hands holding you now, rough, male hands wrapping around yours, and you feel like you're going to puke.

the room is filled with a nasty smell of dampness and a mixture of different strong men's colognes. it's quite dark in here, so it was quite difficult for you to see how many people were in the room, but you definitely saw many silhouettes flickering in the shadows, which over time began to disappear. at some point, you thought that you were going crazy and all these people were just a figment of your imagination.

"open your eyes, beautiful" a rather pleasant, surprisingly, voice was heard somewhere from the left side, and you turned your heavy head, noticing how the figure of a tall man delaminates in three due to your dizziness.

you groan, your gaze falls down, to your hands tied to an old wooden chair, on the bend of your elbow there is a noticeable trace of a needle, around which a fresh bruise flaunts. you were drugged with something.

"you can't even give a shot properly" your tongue was loose and your brain was a mess, so you couldn't and didn't want to control what was coming out of your lips until you felt a strong grip on your jaw, forcing you to look up, meeting a face in a clown mask, so that you can only see his brown eyes, in which a dull gleam is barely noticeable.

"watch your tongue before i…" he roughly lets go of you, walking to the other end of the room, and you look at his broad back, simultaneously tugging your hands to check how tight the bonds attaching your wrists to the damp wood are. too tight, the chances of pulling your hands out are rapidly decreasing to zero.

"well, why not, she can show you what that impudent tongue can do" a rougher voice sounds behind you, and a shiver runs down your spine when you realize that there are several of them here. an attempt to escape seems unrealistic in such conditions.

your heart beats faster, and no matter how hard you try to hide the chilling fear inside, your eyes darted around the room, slowly adjusting to the dark light and allowing you to see more:

the walls are stone, moss stretches from the ceiling to the floor from huge cracks, and something similar to vines. thick, flaccid and completely devoid of any signs of living organisms. apart from a chair and a small table, near which the stranger is now grazing, you did not find any furniture.

listening closely, you caught the quiet beeping of mice, which were probably in the genital holes. your face instantly wrinkled at the thought of rodents crawling out and wandering under your feet.

trying to somehow distract yourself from nasty thoughts, you focus on the only thing that always brought you peace — billie. her light touches, her calm breathing, her tender words dedicated only to you. a faint smile appeared on her face.

your heartbeat is almost back to normal until you hear the sound of heavy metal crashing against each other. all efforts to calm down are wasted and fear starts to flow through your veins again.

"time to have some fun, beautiful" a sick smile spreads across the man's face as he walks towards you slowly, unfamiliar objects glittering in his hands. and they clearly do not promise anything pleasant.

" a long-awaited familiar voice interrupts the tense moment, and then two gunshots ring out; two bodies fall to the floor next to you, a few drops of someone else's blood running down your cheek. your eyes are squeezed shut until you feel a familiar warmth and the scent of her perfume fills your sinuses.

"billie…" you open your eyes, looking at her serious face. she instantly cuts the ropes with a butterfly knife, rubbing your wrists before gently lifting you into her arms, holding you close to her chest.

“i’m here, my love,” she kisses your forehead softly, moving slowly until you reach her car and she lays you down in the back, covering you with the warm blanket you insisted she keep in the car. your body is shaking from the cold and fear, and you grab her hand, silently asking her not to go.

“angel, i need to take us home,” her voice is unusually gentle, as are her eyes, looking over your body with genuine concern. you pout slightly, causing billie to smile.

“are we going ‘home’ or home-home?” you ask quietly, knowing that you don’t want to go back to the circus right now, where you spent most of your time. you want to go home. to your usual cozy apartment, where there will be no other soul.

billie gives you another smile before reluctantly letting go of your hand, getting into the driver's seat, your eyes meet in the rearview mirror. "we're going home, my love"

a smile appears on your face and you close your eyes, letting the quiet noise of the engine lull you to sleep. billie periodically glances at you, making sure that you did not drop the blanket in your sleep. her heart is calm again. the storm has died down, but a terrible storm is coming, which she herself will create to find everyone involved in this.

the drive home takes about an hour, and finally the car pulls into the underground parking lot of the multi-story building that was your safe place with her.

despite being very tired, billie slowly lifts you into his arms, carrying first to the elevator, then to the apartment. you slowly wake up, pressing your body against hers, enjoying the warmth.

"sweetheart, are you sure you don't need anything? i can go get some medicine and some sweets and…" you interrupt her with a gentle kiss, raising your eyes to hers. billie immediately falls silent, not noticing that she is instantly lost in the beauty of your irises.

"i wanna take a bath, eat something and sleep in your arms, okay?" you speak quietly, and she can do nothing but nod obediently, but still doesn’t leave you for a second, while you walk into your bedroom, approaching the dressing table. your attention's caught by some small piece of paper, you frown.

"billie, what’s this?" you dont wait for an answer, unfolding the piece of paper. you read a few words written on it, your heart immediately sinks.

"this is just the beginning"

and there is a knock on the door.

[cherrycolaheartss]

Req for a smut fic with Dr House and a patient; on his motorcycle.

pairing: Greg House x patient!reader (fem)

warnings: teasing, unprotected sex, mentions of addiction (mild), spanking

a/n: yessss!! u are a genius and thank u for the req <3 i'm so sorry for being so late, i've had hella issues with school

You chase after House as he leaves the hospital, he's only faster than you because of how high your heels are, and you're slowly running out of breath.

"Please. Just this time. It won't happen again, okay?" Your voice comes out strained, but he doesn't stop walking.

"No. I couldn't give you the pills even if I wanted to, and I definitely don't."

"But you can, House. You get your fucking vicodin all the time, there's barely any difference." He turns around to glare at you before walking away again.

"There's a huge difference. I'm already addicted."

"So we can be junkies together. I just ran out once, I don't understand how it's a problem."

"It's a problem because– get off." You managed to catch up to him and are now sitting on his motorcycle, legs and arms crossed in annoyance.

"Well, no. I need the pills, House. Go get them, and I'll leave."

He sighs dramatically, but he doesn't move. He just leans on his cane and continues to glare. When you don't move, he gets on the bike in front of you.

"I don't know about you, but I'm going home."

Your arms wrapped around his waist as soon as you felt the engine roar beneath your thighs. He drives away with you perched on his back.

"Stop, stop, I need to get off!"

"Me too, but hookers have gotten too expensive."

Before you know it, you're in a dark alley, bent over his bike. He's holding your wrists behind your back with one hand, while the other slips up your dress and reaches into your underwear.

You grind your hips against his hand and you moan when he starts rubbing circles on your clit.

He finally puts two fingers inside your throbbing hole.

"You don't need pills, love. Just this."

You nod in agreement, too dazed to get any words out, and you're just about to cum when you suddenly feel the absence of his fingers.

"What the fu–" Is about all you're able to get out before you're flipped around and bent over the bike, hands still behind you, underwear pulled to the side.

You're desperate for him to just fuck you already, but instead he drags the tip of his cock along your pussy, slowly rubbing it against your clit.

"House, for the love of God, will you get to it?!"

His hand delivers a sharp slap to your ass.

"Not unless you shut up and behave."

You groan in frustration as he continues teasing– torturing, actually your already swollen clit.

"Please. I'll never ask you for pills again just please fuck me." At that, you feel his grip on your wrists tighten, and finally his cock at your entrance.

He's bigger than you expected him to be, and for a moment you struggle to adjust to his size. It's not like he'd given you much of a chance, anyway. Every time you moved even slightly forward he'd pulled you back by your wrists, slapping your ass once again.

Judging by the speed and intensity of his thrusts, he had also gotten sick of the teasing. He was rough in the best way, and you struggled to keep yourself from cumming too quickly.

"I can feel you holding back, you know? If you're that desperate to cum on my cock, you should at least have the balls to actually do it."

Before you can respond, his free hand wraps around your waist to start rubbing your clit once again and you feel yourself growing weaker in the knees. It's not long before you really do cum on his cock, and hard.

You're still seeing stars when you feel him release inside you. House pulls your underwear back to it's original position before zipping up his pants.

"Will you take me home now?" You ask, eyes glassy and lips parted.

"Sure, to my home." He responds before sitting you down on his bike. He places the helmet on your head before sitting down in front of you.

"So, tell me, have you always been such a slut for older men?"

my bestie and tumblr icon helped me: @cinnamongrl2006

also, reqs are open, feel free to send! i'll try and be more active on here...

[lostinlovingrevery]

Soft and Intimacy w/ Logan

Sick, and I need softness with the big bad Canadian man bc I think he's a huge teddy bear with people he loves and is comfortable with

Some nsfw stuff under the cut!

Friends (With Feelings)

When you're just friends with Logan, theres still a a boundary that comes with friends

Logan tends to cross that

Not in a creepy way, or a way to make you uncomfortable. It's more of a thing where maybe you're (or others who are watching) think, "That isn't something just friends do"

Him brushing his hand over yours when reaching across the table

His hand on your arm, his thumb rubbing circles while he takes to you all soft-like

When walking, his hand on your lower back, something protective

He's always checking on you, a very concerned dad ish way where he leans against your doorframe with crossed arms

It becomes more when he walks in and sits next to you, comforting you and saying things you never heard him say to anyone. About how much he admires you and so on

PLATONIC (not really) SNUGGLES

Going into his room after he had a nightmare, you're attempting to soothe him but he pushes you away, but you calm him down, and tell him you're not going to leave him alone

Its a tad awkward at first because you both haven't done it before but you both melt into each others arms and the best sleep you ever had

Putting his hands on your shoulders from behind while you're sitting, and giving you a peck on a cheek as a goodbye or greeting (does this romantically too. just can't help himself)

Randomly getting you your favorite fast food, meals, snacks

Holding his hand in your lap, you softly massage the spaces where his claws come out. It makes him melt like putty

He gets embarrassed and concerned he'll hurt but in the future he'll ask you to do it again (friends or more)

Outside getting some sun, lying in the grass, you notice him falling asleep, so you encourage him to lie his head on your lap.

always looking at the other first when in groups

calling him pretty

Romance <3

Having sex but instead of it being rough or "normal" being super soft and sensual

He puts it in and you're both just kissing softly as you savor this connection between you both

Standing together in a room, with him behind you, chin on your head (if you're shorter, if taller, switch!), arms wrapped around your waist, maybe softly swinging back and forth

Early mornings, you're still asleep and hes watching you, and softly whispers how much he loves you

Being so so so sleepy while on the couch, and whining about getting up to go to bed so he carries you

Feeding each other. You're working on something when he comes in with dinner, and you tell him to set it in the microwave but he's not having it so he sets it on the table and begans cutting up/spooning it to you while you walk. Eventually you just stop and focus on him, but allow him to continue feeding you- and you him!

giggling during kisses. hes' trying to be so sexy but you're just giddy from him touching you

NOSE NUZZLES, i honestly think logan would love those

intertwining fingers when you're making love and not letting go even long after

Cooking together and constantly bumping into each other before finally pulling you in his arms and kissing you cause "apparently you just can't stop touching him"

Walking past him on the couch and he grabs you arm and practically flips you over to pull you on his lap when he buries his face into you neck and presses kisses all over your face.

If you go on missions w him, stopping in chaos to check on each other, quick kisses to reassure the other is okay

Give him massages

Picking you up and placing you on a counter or table so he could fit himself between your legs and kiss you while you're having casual conversations

he's not a dancer, but he'll dance with you every. single. time. without argument (Even though he tells everyone he doesn't dance)

looking at you at a random moment and thinking "yeah, i'm gonna marry them one day"

Dipping you while kissing you (Or dipping him!!!! altho that might be hard if hes got those metal bones of his...)

him getting horny at the worst moments. He's in your ear and pressing up against you quietly. whispering things like "I could get you off right now"

soft reassurances with each other if the other gets jealous. forehead presses, soft touches, sweet smooches letting the other know they're the only one for them

SO SNUGGLY, you think the man wants more space. Once he gets over a fear of hurting you in his sleep (more like you convincing him to sleep together) he is ATTACHED. good luck getting free because those arms are HEAVY AF

Always gotta be touching you but honestly can you complain

playing with his hair, scratching his beard, twirling his chest hair

[ysrjune]

can i please request a sick bf scott barringer x reader, i think he would be so dramatic please 🙏

SICK!WHINY!SCOTT ☕️

"You need to get up, Scott. Jeez! It's already 1 in the afternoon." You tug at his shirt. "Mmm," He groans into a pillow. "I don't wanna! I don't feel good, I already told youu!" He sobs into the pillow. His back was hurting, has a sore throat and a stuffy nose. Usually, he wouldn't be this dramatic, but today was different for some reason.

"Scott. You're over reacting." You cross your arms. "Noooo. I'm not!!" He whines and rolls over on his back to face you. "I'm dying here and you treat me like I'm.. like I'm not!" His voice was raspy and sad. "Baby, come on. Let's just go to the kitchen and I'll make you soup or tea, okay? All you gotta do is get up from bed." But Scott only whined. "Nooo," He drags you down to lie on top of him. "pleaseee just stay here with me." His warm body cages you.

"No, Scott. Come on, get up." You remove his usually strong arms off of you. He could have kept you in his embrace, but he was too tired. "Up, come on sleeping beauty."

"You think im beautiful?" He asks with a dumb smile.

"No, you look more like prince charming from shrek."

"Oh." He purses his lips. "You're so damn mean to me. S'possed to be nice to your ill boyfriend who could drop dead at any second." He complains and throws a shirt on and slides on his slippers. "You're not that sick." You kiss his cheek. "Come on, let's go make you some soup."

—

Scott has always been extra clingy when he doesn't feel well. While you were adding spices and more ingredients to his soup, he was holding you from behind and kissing your neck. "I love love love you, baby." He mutters. "You're so warm." Scott sighs. He was warm too but he felt so cold. "I love you too." You look back at him and he takes the chance to connect your lips for a second.

"I love you more, pretty." He let's go of you and leans over the counter, watching as you stir the pot. "Can we we go back to bed afterwards?" He asks. "No, I was thinking you should take a shower. You smell like sweat."

The blond groans. "I don't smell that bad! I showered last night!"

"It was really hot last night. You slept with your hoodie, sweats and socks. You've been sweating all day and night. You smell."

"Just say you hate me." Scott rolls his eyes and sits at the table. "Pspspspspsps," He catches his cats attention. She meows and walks over to him, then jumps into his lap. "Hi cutie." He pets the cat and smothers her in kisses. He isnt a huge cat person, but he loves how fluffy and sweet his Lola is. He's had her since last year.

You serve him his bowl of hot soup. "It's too hot." He looks up at you. "Thats the point. Eat it while it's stays like that. You won't get better if you let it cool down too long." You take Lola from his lap and hold her, sitting in the seat next to Scott. "Mm," He mumbles and begins to eat.

—

After his shower, he changed into a simple t shirt and a clean pair of sweats. Now he was cuddled up to you, complaining about how bad he felt. "My noseee!" He sobs again. This time with actual tears. "I can't breathe, I can't smell." He buries his face into your cleavage. "I can hardly talk. My throat hurts." He continues complaining.

"Yet all you do is talk." Your hand snakes under his shirt to scratch his back. Scott huffs and moves his head to the side. "I like talking to you." "Do you? Or do you just like the sound of your own voice." You tease him. "Both." He laughs. "Babe, I miss you." He moves his head again and plants lazy kisses on your chest.

You don't say anything. You don't need to. He continues to ramble on and on about how you're so beautifu, how much he loves you, and overall just complimenting.

"my pretty pretty girl."

"you're so soft." he runs his fingers over your cheeks and hands.

"did I tell you that I love you, cause I do. Soo much."

Eventually, he fell asleep.

@bxbyysstuff @anakinstwinklebunny @lovethestarrs @valloos @anisangeldust @xo-yaaaaaasxo @anakinca @dollfilmz @alexlovesysrjune @sockiess @sythethecarrot @speaknow-sw @loveamira @mvst4far

[livelaughloveluffy]

Hi HELP uhm this is my first time um asking but like idk if you do requests but uhm I was wondering if you could do luffy comforting reader on their period,, perchance... if not that totally finee ❤️🤑 I hope you have a great day or night I also enjoy your writings alot they r so sweet and they make me happy ,, okay bye 🥷

comfort - monkey d. luffy

a/n: firstly!! thank you so much for your request!! im so happy you enjoy my writing!! 💗 this was definitely well timed since i was planning something similar to your request!! i hope you like this!!! you have a great day/night as well!!! 💗💗💗

nothing but fluff here! 💗

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when he comforts you:

-luffy is the sweetest boy and the second he picks up on you feeling slightly off, he's all over you. clinging to your body, asking you hundreds of doting questions. the phrase "are you sure?" is something you are destined to hear millions of times because luffy does tend to miss some social cues and he really want to make sure he understands how you're feeling because you mean the world to him 😭

-this baby will do anything and everything to make you smile. silly faces galore, bad puns and jokes, you name it, he's done it. it breaks his heart to see you without a smile, or to not hear the sound of your laughter.

-his simplistic and naive nature unironically makes luffy give the best advice 💀 he doesnt even do it on purpose, he just has a way to instantly comfort and ease you. "everything will work out!!! im here for you!" he'll tell you with the sweetest smile and his signature laugh

-he's a clinger, he'll hold onto you super tight, wrapping his legs around your waist with his arms dangling around your neck giving you constant cuddles. his soft raven hair tickling your cheek as his chin rests on your shoulder, his warm soft skin radiating through your clothes. he doesn't want to leave you alone and physical reassurance is so extremely natural to him.

-luffy is for sure a praiser. you've heard hundreds of thousands of reminders of how amazing, kind, smart, funny, cool, thoughtful, etc. you are. he showers you with words of affirmation as often as possible

-when you're sick, injured, or on your period: he's such a worrier 😭😭😭 he absolutely refuse to leave your side at all, no matter how much you protest and say you're fine. luffy will 100% crawl into your bed, pulling you into his arms, wrapping them two times too many around your waist, holding you close to him. he's always down to get you plenty of snacks, as long as you promise to share, however this often ends up with sanji barging into your room chasing after luffy, with his arms holding half the contents of kitchen pantry. you are his favorite snack buddy after all 😌

when he needs comforting:

-physical touch is a huge comfort to luffy, he will constantly need your hands all over him, your body pressed against him, kisses peppered across his skin, any and all physical contact instantly relieves him.

-he definitely appreciates it when you steal extra food and snacks for him, or sweet-talking sanji into making special desserts that you then pass to luffy.

- luffy does thrive off of hearing praise, so its a great relief to him when he hears you tell him how he's doing a good job, he's a great captain, and other similar sentiments.

---------------------------------------------------------------------

a/n: luffy's my sweet boy and i love him so near and dear to my heart 😭😭😭 i'm thinking about starting a taglist, so if anyone is interested in that just let me know!!

a/n: enjoyed this fic? here's my masterlist!!

[sleep-0-deprived]

I need a harem of yandere sub headoverheels men so bad like wtf. I wanna spoil them give them kisses and fuck them so good. Letting them discus the schedule and stuff, if watching as they argue but taking control when things get too out of control, letting them know who's boss like,,,

Head over heels! Pretty boys who are so in love with you it's not even funny. They're all success men too,,, You being a above average man, working in some sort of high end company. Your daily life is regular, come to work, smile, chat with customers, etc. But your home life? Heh..

CEO!bf who is one of your longest subs, he's been with you since middle school! Practically stuck to the hip. Such a cute boyfriend he is.. So powerful, a strong and charismatic man. He's an amazing guy, an even amazing CEO. The girls in the company or even outsiders love him! You can always hear people saying "gosh is he single..??" "Shit! He's coming do i look good?" "What can i do for just one night.." "You think this aphrodisiac will work on him??" Etc etc, it'd funny really, you try your best not to show pity to them. Especially hard to not show pity when you see the hopeful gaze of his secretaries.

Because you know just how much of a slut he is for you, and you only. Pretty boy won't even eat if you don't allow him to.. Such an obedient man, you make sure to spoil him lots at home, kissing his tears of happiness away, looking at his fucked face, tears slipping down from how happy he is to be with you..

Pretty boy ceo! Bf who tries so hard to please you. He's a confident man. He knows he looks good. Immediately buying that pretty lingerie he saw your eyes trail down on a second too long the other day..Ceo!bf who doesn't mind having to share you! As long as he can be yours!

Ceo! Bf is not a crybaby by any means, he's just so happy, and when you embrace him, you bothering to make time for him between your many boyfriends makes hin really happy he can't help but cry when you fuck him so sweetly, kissing his lips so tenderly.. Spoiling him with handmade cheesy gifts, romantic dates, a delicious meal. Even though he can easily buy those things (and much better quality one can argue) himself but the fact that it's from you makes it priceless. You often go out and buy him things too! He'd try to deny it, saying he feels bad because he can use his own money and doesn't want to be a burden on you but how can he say no when you look so dejected like that...

Taking the gifts and kissing you as thanks, only for you to wake up with money 3x the price of said item in your bank account. Oh boy...

Ceo! Bf who invites you over to his luxurious suite after a hefty argument with the other boyfriends on why he gets to have you for a full week. Surprising you with a romantic candel lit dinner, pouring you the wine that you wanted to try yesterday.. What surprised you most is the fact that he offered to try something new that night, showing you a bottle of something you've never had before and telling you that it might have. Intrigued, you agree, trusting him fully.

He smiled, pouring said drink into both of your wines. Guiding you to the baths with a soft kiss on the back of your hand, putting the dirty dishes on the sink for the servants to deal with.It seems that the drink worked well, perhaps too well on him as it worked faster than he had expected. He could feel himself getting hot and uneasy, his body feels like it's burning.

Looking back at you with glossy eyes he can't help but want to sob when he saw how unaffected you are, just massaging his back as if you didn't know his intention with that drink!

Ceo!bf who couldn't take it anymore when you ask him if he's sick on the bed. He's panting, face red and sweaty with a huge hard on goddamit! How could he resist begging when you're cooing on his ear, telling him to be honest to you.Oh how sweet it was.

Ceo!bf apologized over and over, begging you to touch him. Yet you didn't even need to touch him, telling him to cum and he's already having a dry orgasm! Though, it's not like you can hold yourself back much longer, afterall he gave it to you too. <3

Doctor! Bf who's a renowned doctor for many years, he's a nonchalant man, who smiles warmly giving patient's hope even with the scariest conditions. Everyone loves him dearly, and his skills makes him all the more loveable and amazing. His good looks makes him a trending doctor, making people line up just to see him it's kind of funny. Many people hope to win his heart one day, flirting with him and becoming his regular. Though, like CEO! Bf, he never wavers. He just smiles softly and politely declines. He never bothered on following with their advances.

Doctor!bf who is also your primary physician. Doctor!bf who's especially warm to you, making sure you're comfortable and happy. Kissing the back of your hand whenever he's about to leave or when he meets you again (and if you prefer to keep things a secret he'll happily do it in private for you) And when you're sick at home he makes sure to take care of you, even when he's busy he always makes sure to give proper instructions to the others on what to do so you'll be healthy again. Doctor!bf who sometimes can't get enough sleep because of the demands for him on field. Who still tries to take care of you and make sure you're well even when he's tired. Who lets out soft tears when you kiss him so warmly, kissing his chest, his cheek, his body, everything about him. Who you spoil everytime you can, who you spoil by massaging his body even though he refuses but gives in anyway because he can't say no to you.

Doctor bf! Who can't help but smile when you kiss the back of his hand in return or when you'd let him rest while your hands work it's magic. Who lets you do as you please, surrendering himself to you and letting you do anything you want to him, who will just take it and smile even when you say something like "what if i make you fuck a stranger? Or someone that hates me so much, letting them who wants to hurt me, fuck you. Hm?",, You know he doesn't want to, he only wants you to touch his body but he wants to make you happy. (Not that you'd let just about anyone touch your boyfriends anyway as if. They're your precious.) Still, it's kind of endearing to know that they'll do anything just to make you happy! (He wonders if you'll make him have a toy inside one day while he's at work, though he knows you'll never do that to him when he's working.)

Doctor!bf who is offered a special drink by you at the date you planned for him, a glossy pink-purple mocktail you apparently made with a secret ingredient (one that you apparently got after your week out with Ceo!bf). Saying "cheers, my love" Before he gulps it, complimenting you for it. He's so happy right now.Though that happiness turned into pure want and need when he struggles to stay still in bed, waking up from a wet dream with his body feverishly hot and a very visible hard on. He's not dumb, he immediately could tell what the reason for his condition was.

But still, he couldn't help but think if this is the ingredient that ceo gave you, what did you do with him? Did you softly kiss his neck as your hands tease the male's nipples? Your maybe putting him in a mating press as you fuck him roughly under the effects of lust,,,, ah fuck he came by just the thought of you..

Model!bf extremely pretty and insanely popular and has a high demand. Very picky about who he works with and is bot afraid to reject people (no matter if it's big brands or popular people). He also prefers to ask your opinion on thing, is he too revealing for the photo shoot? Should he tone down his sex appeal? Should he eat this today? Can he meet with x or work with y? He trusts you that you want the best for him!

You're not his manager but he prefers you to take control over his manager anyday, often asking you for things then telling the decision to the manager.Model! Bf is not rude by any means, he's well liked but he's just aloof most times. The thing that makes him care for others is the fact that you care for them, which means if he wahts your affection he has to show you he can be kind like you. So he does just that.

Model!bf who gives you sad puppy eyes. Saying that you've spent your days with the other two and asking you to spend time with him too. who takes you out to a fancy dinner and gets ready for you, inviting you over to his suite one night, only for you to be greeted with your sweet boyfriend in a sexy Lingerie and tied up with silk to the bed frame as soon as you got off the shower. Sex toys layed for you to choose and abuse him with.

Oh how he loves that primal look on your eyes, especially because he knows you can't hold it in much longer. Especially not with the effects of a certain something in your system..

Oh how he's grateful to ceo!bf for telling him this..

I need this sm!~ just imagine each day of the week having a different boyfriend to bend over and use like a toy! Sending the doctor bf a video of how good you were fucking CEO boyfriend just to get him all jelly and pent up at work coming back home in a silent huff actin like he doesn’t even want you….well until you walk out of the shower then he’s all over you he can’t possibly handle seeing how good you fucked CEO boyfriend I mean how could you be so cruel to him? He wants the same treatment too! ₍ᐢ≧ x ≦ᐢ₎

And poor Model boyfriend is just a little pillow princess for you, bent over drooling on himself in a slutty pink thong making a sticky mess (≧▽≦) half pulled aside with his cock pressed to it all hard but you’re far to busy fucking CEO boyfriend to give his slutty hole the cock it craves…how unfair!….his thumbs can’t help but rub and prod his little rose bud squealing in the back stage of one off his shoots, guess he’ll just have to tell his real manager sorry!….whats that white stain on some of the modeling clothes?…oops ᕱ⑅ᕱ

During your week stay with CEO boyfriend you were having this man any and every way you could! If your face wasn’t buried between his two cheeks eating him out like a rabid bunny then what were you truly doin?….maybe even getting some ideas from your Model! Boyfriend and get CEO boyfriend in a cute bunny but plug!.. /(˃ᆺ˂)\ havin him all bent over his desk or pressed up to the window in his own company~ turnin him into a little slut for your cock biting at his neck having your phone conveniently recording on his desk?….gosh he can’t even think what it’s for, tsk~ what a dumb little bunny ain’t he…. ₍ᐢ.‸.⑅ᐢ₎↝

[codename-adler]

the question begs to be asked: what’s your Gordon family like, then?

House of Gordon (lmao)

Jacob Samuel Gordon

Jeremy Saul Gordon

Jude Solomon Gordon

Jessa Susanna Gordon

Jackson Shiloh Gordon

Bryan Seth Gordon

Jonah Simon Gordon

Rebecca and Bryan Gordon are big big big fans of the Duggars (19 Kids and Counting), hence all the J names and all that biblical S nonsense. you know how sometimes people will overcompensate on religion somewhere so that they get a pass for their "sins" (like not going to Church, swearing like a truckload of truckers, preaching hate, etc.); that's what the Gordons did. both parents were raised in the extremely religious South, and perhaps Rebecca was more attached and practicing before, but times wore her down and she couldn't care enough to keep praying and stuff. so it's really all for show and status; only Christian thing you'll find in that household is bigotry of every kind. Seth's name is the exception (because i love him) only because he was supposed to be the last kid they ever had, thus "honor thy father," but then baby Jonah happened and they went right back to tradition.

***CW: All AFTG triggers apply

Jacob (31) he sucks man idk what to tell you. it's impressive just how much he sucks, considering he's the only one who even got to live the Good Years™ of the Gordon household, before Mom and Dad became disillusioned and realized having kids is actually not the solution to your life problems. quite the opposite in fact. still, those somewhat peaceful years gave Jacob an impossible sense of superiority over the rest of his siblings, even Jeremy, who also got to taste a little of "paradise" before he saw it crash and burn. nonetheless, Jeremy is the sibling Jacob tolerates the most, but that's really only because they're born back-to-back. Jacob is big, real big. huge. mighty jacked except for the beginning of beer belly. full of trad tattoos, he's always chewing cinnamon gum, he sports a frankly admirable pornstache, he cuts his own hair with kitchen scissors as soon as it gets past his eyes because otherwise it's gay and going to the barber is also gay, he'll smoke anything, drink anything, shoot up anything, he's never been able to keep a girlfriend but he's also never been in love because that's gay too, he only wears T-shirts with the sleeves cut off, he's always got a shitty cap on, and he's missing teeth; picture him like a younger Ovechkin. he worked at a gas station before he got shot in the arm at 17 and quit to work as a cook in a local diner, where he's been ever since. he was responsible for discipline in the household, meaning he was the threat by default whenever his siblings got too disorderly; he didn't even need to know what happened and would never hear anyone out—if he was sicked on you, you got beat, and that was the end of it. that was Jacob's only involvement in raising his siblings after Bryan fucked off and Rebecca became absent. also, he stinks. deodorant's gay, and all of that. so nasty. he really doesn't love anyone or anything except his Hostess treats. redeeming quality? he perhaps made the right call not to involve himself more in raising his siblings than the rigged UFC matches against the Gordon donkey of the week—which, still. also his grilled-cheeses.

Jeremy (29) he's like Evil Jeremy Knox because i think it's fitting and funny. you know, keeping the balance and all. girl she is viciousssss ooh mama… his area of expertise is Trauma, as in: he hands it out by the dozen. voted most likely to win the presidency via psychological warfare for the class of Never because that garbäge of a man never finished HS either. he’s Mommy's manipulative little psycho. bitch loooooves extortion and hours-long interrogation session as a form of control and parenting. the only physical abuse he'll do is some mind-scarring shit like shaving your head, making you chug liquid soap, poking you with a needle, having you kneel in front of him so he can step on your back. you know, light stuff. usually he prefers Survivor-style methods of corporeal punishment where he doesn't have to put his hands on his siblings; like have you stand barefoot on gravel in the burning Alabama sun holding a rake above your head. wow that got heavy. don't know where that came from. Jeremy likes to use his younger siblings as servants; you will never catch him doing a single chore in the house. only thing he does outside keeping order in the family is errands, because he's the one in charge of the money and buying the things they need. mind you, he's never been able to keep a job to save his life. Jacob's the provider, and Jeremy is only the bookkeep because Jacob wants to avoid anything related to his family unless there's an opportunity to box someone that messed up. Jeremy really makes everyone earn their keep, when in reality he's the laziest and most useless mf of the Gordons (apart from Rebecca, but that's not entirely her fault) favorite food: cocaine. favorite drink: milk. facial hair: nonexistent. phobia: scavenging mammals. what else… oh, god knows how many kids he's fathered himself. boy doesn't believe in any form of contraception whatsoever, nor does he believe in being responsible for what/who he produces (he takes after his father on all counts…) and you best believe that guy is a walking venereal disease, ugh. redeeming quality? he did manage to keep the family from being torn apart by CPS. now would that have been better, who’s to say. also a great dumpster diver.

Jude (27) oh, poor cursed harbinger of hell. once he was born, Bryan and Rebecca were outnumbered for good, and it's all downhill from here. there’s no beating around the bush: Jude’s gay and there was never any chance of hiding it. he wins 1st place in the Designated Punching Bag category, in front of Seth and Jessa. sometimes Bryan blames Rebecca for birthing Jessa so soon after Jude, he says she raised them both like girls to save time. Jude and Jessa were indeed pretty close, their age-gap being the smallest of the bunch, but that only lasted until they were teenagers, when Jessa became distant to avoid bringing Jude’s bullying onto herself as well. it was one of the worst betrayals/moments of Jude’s life, losing his best friend and sister that way. despite Bryan fucking off later on, it didn’t make things easier for him; Jacob and Jeremy were still there to torment him thoroughly. Jude was their scapegoat, they made an example out of him. oftentimes they forced the others to participate in beating the shit out of Jude and in calling him slurs, so that none of them turned out like him and understood what their future would look like if they dared anyway. needless to say, Jude was the first to leave home after his father, at 18, but also the first Gordon to go to college. he hasn’t been in contact with anyone from his family since he fled the state and moved to California. now he’s a makeup artist by day, drag queen by night, and dog sitter on the weekends. he doesn’t have a partner, unfortunately, because despite his horrible upbringing, surviving and getting out of there, he has yet to seek therapy, and let’s just say that he’s very immature when it comes to relationships. he’s got a lotttttt of baggage and lots of prejudice to unlearn, and dogshit self esteem. he did try to parent his younger siblings in a kinder manner than the two eldest, but there’s only so much you can do once Jacob and Jeremy declare you Public Enemy #1 and warn off the others like you’ve somehow got the plague. he wasn’t the most patient either. Jude isn’t as big as Jacob and Jeremy, but he’s not a small man by any means. he rocked a bowl cut for most of his childhood before Jeremy buzzed it all off one day, and filmed it, and posted the video online as punishment for wearing one of Rebecca’s blouses. since then Jude has been afraid of razors and tries to cut it himself, only when absolutely necessary, which has resulted in a sort of curl-ish mousy brown mop (his hair never grew back blonde, smooth and shiny like it was before the traumatic shave) he definitely wasn’t the worst of the Gordon bunch, but he’s also the one who introduced pills into an already very toxic household, so. redeeming quality? he still protected Jessa from a lot, at home or at school, even after she turned her back on him, and we can only pat him on the back because he Tried. also his spot-on impressions.

Jessa (26) i did not spare her. yes, she does the cooking, yes, she does the cleaning, and she even got a ring for that later into adulthood. Jessa may be the 4th child, but she shares many curses with the Eldest Daughter™, probably because she technically is the eldest (and only) daughter of the Gordons. every household chore and duty falls upon her head the day Bryan quits them and Rebecca becomes... some kind of shell. Jessa receives no respect whatsoever though, and she's also subject to the harsh discipline of her two eldest brothers. she has never done drugs, never drank alcohol, which is a huge HUGE feat considering, well, everything, but maybe she should have been on some kind of prescribed medication, for the sake of her mental health. perhaps it could have saved her life as an adult. oh, and she even avoided prostitution. but she did deal drugs at school, and after too. that's how she met Colton Murphy, her ex-husband (they're still legally married, but he's in jail, so) because she was a dealer. that's how she sometimes managed to get her younger brothers Seth and Jackson to obey her: do as you're asked, and you can have a little weed or a little pill after. when she has her own child at 26, she gets an overwhelming and chilling sense of clarity that wow, she fucked up big time, and she gets slapped with years of unsuspected guilt. then again, even if she hadn't done that, with the amount of abuse and drugs inside that house it probably would not have changed things radically. at least that's what she hopes. Jessa never really learned how to become strong, stronger than her parents, brothers, background; she's not weak, but she doesn't have the same anger or drive as everyone else. she goes with the flow and tries to make it the least horrible possible. she has an incredible capacity for love, a big, big heart that often got her taken advantage of, or that even harmed others (see: Jude, Seth, Jackson) because while her heart might be in the right place, her methods aren't necessarily... appropriate or logical. or maybe all of that was also due to her below average smarts? like, she was forced to mature so fast in some areas, that you'll find her critically lacking in some others. she's not particularly good at anything, at least not anything she has tried. she's kind of my loser girl. doomed by the narrative like her brother Seth in canon. a little bit like if Robin Cross never got Andrew and never learned to stand up for herself and fight back. Jessa's biggest strength came from her baby boy. i (kinda) hate that i made Jessa into a sort of Super Mom, considering her past, but here we are. the kid is everything to her in a way her younger brothers never were, an awakening that manages to move her forward and take concrete steps towards improving her life, and his. this won't save her, but it does give her a short reprieve. redeeming quality? she's a great story-teller. also her lack of fear of any animal.

xxx

i'm gonna have to do a part 2 bc i got too too enthusiastic

tag fam: @sapphoherselz @aftgphoenix @blondeandfivefeeteven @minyard-05 @falafels @little2nerdy @kageyama-toastio @ohanthonytomallamadingdong

let me know if you want on/off this wip tag :)

[colourstreakgryffin]

Is there any chance you write for Adam from Hazbin Hotel? This man has a chokehold on me and I love him sm 😭 If not, I completely understand!!

If you do, could it be with a platonic reader? Like, Reader looks up to Adam ( for whatever reason 😨 ) and kinda just follows him around until he just questions them about and they admit they look up to him.

I COULD IMAGINE HE'S JUST LIKE "Ha! I fuckin' rock, so of course you would."

I am so sorry if this doesn't make much sense 😭

Whatever we like about Adam! I am all for this! I can actually see what you mean; You want it kinda like a big brother thing where we admire him and follow him around but then he confronts us about it and probably likes it since ego-play! I hope I mainly get what you’re asking, loves and thank you! And for real, I can just hear Adam’s voice reading out ‘Ha! I fuckin’ rock, so of course, you would’

Adam- Stem of the Apple

Adam has no clue why you’re following him around… yeah, he looks very cool and he is the best man. He is the original, the strongest, the most unique and the most grand but he isn’t sure if he appreciates fangirls following him around like lost clingy puppies

You just showed up in Heaven and you luckily got to see Adam, but you’re already enamoured by him? He is kinda confused but then again, anybody viewing him as superior is good to him

Adam, however, just decides to embrace it… for a little while. If you’re following him, it means you have good tastes and he won’t be against commending that. Though, he doesn’t really keep it to himself forever. Eventually, he just needs to know WHY you’re always right behind him

Adam suspects a good response. He suspects that you compliment or praise him, he deserves it. Give him what he deserves and don’t you dare hold back. So, as he turns to face you and confronts you, after maybe the fourth whole week of you following him around

He asks the big question: “Why are you following me, Bub?”

Adam is both pleased and surprised by your response. Yes, he’s surprised because you’re not romantically interested in him, you view him as a surrogate older sibling? That’s so interesting. He is basically your ancestor, as the first man ever, and yet. You’re assigning him as your brother

Since it’s amusing, Adam decides to entertain this little delusion fantasy idea of yours and proclaims you can follow him, as long as you always praise him. And just like that, you’ve become Adam’s left-hand angel, right beside Lute. You’re the little ‘sibling’ that gets to express how much they look up to him

Adam soaks up the glory and the praise, bringing you close to him and booping your nose. Just proudly claiming that you’re a good little one for admiring and looking up to the right angel in Heaven. He mainly likes you, due to how much you express what you find amazing about him. You’re his little complimentary machine and for that, he’s protective over you and keeps you away from those awful demons

Adam cannot afford losing his most favourite and most open fan. So, you don’t often do as much as work as he does, you’re more there to be given special treatment for expressing awe to him, further feeding his huge ego and it seems you don’t mind how crude or egotistical he is

You know Adam will show off to get praise from you so he’ll play his sick holy guitar at random, waiting for you to openly express how amazed you are at his guitar-playing skills and of course, he gets that as soon as he finishes. He has become quite a fan of playing his guitar and playing songs so his little fan-sibling can idolise him more

Adam will actually give you affection and gifts… conditionally. Only conditionally. If you praise him and give him all the egoistical fuel he requires, he will keep feeding your own admiration for him so the cycle continues

Does Adam view you as a sibling? Kinda… but mainly, he sees you as a way to fuel his greatness and he is kinda manipulating you but he does care about you. You’re a good person and for that, he can’t really bring himself to just push you away

“What’cha thinkin’, dove? Like the song? Yeah. That’s right, I am the best guitarist in this realm after all. Listen to my next work, you’ll love it”

[nadvs]

so sorry for sending so many requests but this just popped into my head. in the swte universe, in their college days, i feel like the reader isn't a huge fan of drinking or she doesn't get as pissed as rafe at least. so what if she gets completely drunk one night, being clingy to rafe, maybe people flirt with her because she's without rafe and he comes to "rescue her"? idk just sth like that🤍🤍🤍🤍

never be sorry, ily and your ideas are always so good 🥹 YES omg rafe has no impulse control so he gets hammered on the reg, whereas she’s not one to get too crazy… most of the time 🤭

i’m a sucker for angst so i just had to make it when they’re fwb and he’s already fallen for her while she still just assumes they’re just friends (and this is the night she starts to think of him as something more) 👀

based on this fic

» au masterlist

she cannot pay attention to the guy talking to her. she’s too dazed. she hasn’t eaten much today. she’s running on only a few hours of sleep. and the coolers she drank were so sugary that she didn’t even realize how much alcohol she was consuming. this is the drunkest she’s been in ages.

this guy’s hitting on her. she can tell by the way his eyes trail down her body every so often, his head tilted as he rambles on about something. what was his name again?

she nods along, trying to follow his words while loud music surrounds them. she doesn’t even remember how they started talking.

rafe moved in to this house with his teammates just last weekend and tonight, they’re hosting their first party. the front room is crowded and stuffy and she’s getting dangerously close to feeling sick.

she’d rather hang out with rafe right now. but when she arrived, he pulled her in a friendly hug and pointed her to the drinks, then continued talking to the girl he was already in conversation with.

he’s probably trying to hook up with her and she doesn’t want to be a shitty friend, cockblocking him simply because she’s craving some familiarity.

“…too much work, you know what i mean?” the guy says.

“yeah,” she says, no idea what she just agreed to. she looks around. “did you see any water around here?”

“we can try the kitchen?” he offers.

rafe spots her crossing through the crowd. the guy who she’s been talking to, so obviously into her that he’s embarrassing himself, is following her. she doesn’t seem all that happy that he’s trailing her.

he’s been talking to this girl to try to get out of the fog that sank over him not that long ago. while he was getting ready tonight, all he could think about was the girl who’s supposed to just be his best friend.

she’s always on his mind. when he wakes up. when he goes to bed. during classes. during practice. it’s so bad that even when he’s with her, he’s dreading her leaving.

rafe turns his attention back to the girl talking his ear off. he needs to distract himself. he’s starting to see his best friend as more than a friend, has been for a while now, and it’s fucking agony. she could not be clearer about not wanting a relationship.

and he doesn’t want one, either. he needs to remind himself of that.

but as they round the corner into the kitchen, he sees the guy’s hand rest on the small of her back. it makes rafe’s blood boil.

she opens the fridge. it’s practically empty.

“this has to be a joke,” she mumbles, dizzy at this point.

she swings the door shut and looks up at the guy who’s been following her. at this point, she just wants to get rid of him and find rafe. she can apologize for cockblocking him later.

thankfully, she doesn’t have to. rafe pays no mind to the guy clearly trying to get in her pants, putting himself between them. he ducks, lowering so he can speak in her ear.

“you alright?” rafe asks.

“a house full of athletes and you don’t have any water?” she slurs.

rafe smirks when her hand drags over his. it’s so damn nice when she touches him, especially when it’s subconscious like this. he pulls back just enough to meet her eyes.

then, he turns to the guy who should be able to tell he’s a third wheel at this point.

“we’re good,” rafe says, cocking his head in a way to dismiss him.

irritation flashes over his face. but he’s not moving.

“can you not take a hint?” rafe snips. “she’s not interested.”

rafe isn’t sure if that last part is true, but he hopes it is. it works. he sighs and steps away, pissed off but likely not about to start a fight with the guy known for his aggression.

he turns his attention back to her. he’s revelling in the fact that her hand is still cupping his. her palm is so nice and soft and it’s making his chest go warm.

“how much did you drink?” he asks, the amused smile on his face returning.

“too much,” she admits.

rafe leans over, opening a cupboard to grab a plastic water bottle, then grips her hand tighter.

“come on,” he says. he leads her upstairs to his bedroom, away from the noise and stuffiness of the crowd.

once he shuts the door behind them, the chaos from downstairs muffled, she already feels less overwhelmed.

she’s been in here once before. they hooked up in this bed a few nights ago. she can still remember the way his mouth felt on her neck.

rafe leads her to his bed, sitting her on the edge while he kneels on the floor in front of her, and she’s overwhelmed all over again because of the way he’s looking at her, concern etched into his features.

she’s too drunk. she’s not thinking straight, because not only is she dizzy as hell, but as her eyes sweep over his face, all she can think about is how handsome he is, how good of a kisser he is, how nice it’d be to spend the rest of the night in his arms, like they’re a couple instead of just two people who hook up sometimes.

he twists the cap off the bottle for her. she takes long, slow sips. rafe settles on the bed beside her, watching her.

she lets out a slow breath once she’s drank enough. when she looks at him, she exhales a chuckle.

“why do you look so worried?” she says. “i’m not gonna die.”

rafe catches himself and glances away. this effect she has on him is insane. he’s never cared this much about anybody.

“just didn’t know you were this bad at holding your alcohol,” he says.

“i hate you,” she laughs. “but thanks for saving me.”

“saving you?”

“that guy would not shut up.” rafe hates how happy he is that she didn’t actually like him.

“about what?”

“i couldn’t tell you a single thing he said to me,” she confesses. he chuckles. “i was just thinking that i’m drunk as hell and want to hang out with you.”

that last part slipped out. she takes another sip of water just to have something to do. she expects him to give her shit for her soppy words. but he doesn’t.

“why didn’t you?” he asks.

“didn’t wanna cockblock. that girl you were talking to is pretty.”

she hopes in her drunkenness, she doesn’t sound jealous. because she realizes maybe, deep down, she is.

how could she not be? rafe turned out to be so much more than she expected. what she thought would be a one-time hook-up led her to her best friend. her best friend who happens to be hot and fun and unlike anyone she knows.

“she wouldn’t shut up, either,” rafe says. she laughs, sinking back across his bed.

“are we both just bad listeners?” she asks.

“i’m not.”

“right. you’re never the problem.”

he looks down at her. his cheeks are starting to ache from smiling.

“we should set them up,” she says, her eyelids heavy, legs hanging off the side of his bed. “they’d never run out of things to talk about.”

rafe thinks about how the same could be said for the two of them. conversations always come so easy.

she shuts her eyes and all he can think about is how cute she is. fuck, this is hard.

“what if i napped right now?” she mumbles. “would you be offended as the host of this party?”

“yeah,” he answers simply, because he’s quite honestly at a loss for words right now.

“okay, i’m gonna offend you then,” she says softly. “sorry.”

he nudges her knee.

“don’t sleep like that,” he says. “come on.”

she shifts to lie down on her side, smelling him on his pillow, feeling him put a cover over her. he’s treating her with such tender care that if she wasn’t so drunk, she’d be teasing him, asking who the hell he’s pretending to be, acting all sweet.

but she’s soaking in the feeling because it’s nice to pretend like this is more. she hopes it’s just the alcohol swimming through her that’s making her think this way.

she nuzzles into his pillow. rafe doesn’t say another word. he shuts off the lights and leaves. throughout the night, he comes back up every so often to check on her.

eventually, she wakes up and comes downstairs, feeling more coherent. the music is just worsening the headache she woke up with and she’s desperate to just get home already. she steps outside and books a ride on her phone.

rafe’s phone buzzes in his pocket. it’s a text from her.

thanks for taking care of me. i ordered a ride home and made your bed so i think we’re even

his heart sinks over the fact that she’s already gone.

he replies: we are not even

she texts back: i’m okay with not agreeing on this. goodnight :)

rafe stares at his screen with a small smile on his face, somewhere between happy and sad, before texting back: goodnight.

[roseytoesy]

Pssst! When you get a chance, do you have any Monster Doey headcannons? Because there are so many things you could do with him in that context pred wise. I know it happens within extreme circumstances and so far it’s Kevin, but what would happen if Matthew, Jack or all three were upset? Any other monster forms you have in mind as well? Just let the boys be selfish and greedy and protective and possessive as a TREAT

OOOOOOOooo! I honestly haven't thought of monster Doey as much due to it usually being a dangerous situation for all involved... But it is really cool to think about! Thanks for letting me ramble, and boy did I ramble.

I would try and draw this but unfortunately I don't have the time right now due to school, but I will add them once I get the time.

Realistically I think that the monster form was the first form Doey ever took, I mean 900 lbs. of dough and 3 young minds in a mess after being torn apart and put together would make something crazy. 

Kevin is usually the one to initiate transformation into monster mode

Mathew has only ever done it once after a cave in and he needed to be bigger to hold up the rocks and debris from crushing everyone. 

Jack doesn't like being the monster and has never wanted to transform.

As for monster shapes and stuff (if Jack ever wanted to for some reason) I have a few ideas to tell who's in control at that moment. And what forms they would choose if they had more control over it/ over time with practice. 

Kevin prefers the original shape, a mangled mass of dough, a huge head where he and his brothers are forced can see what's going on up front and center. 

But over time he morphs more to look like a large ferocious dragon. A longer maw, sharper longer teeth, clawed hands and feet, horns and a tail. The back hands looked more like bat wings with stretched out hands with webbing between the fingers. He can't actually fly but it's “sick as hell.”

Mathew would be next and he would try to make a softer form, something hopefully less intimidating but it's hard at that size. And without experience he can only hide some hands and close the doey mouth and have 3 eyes on the head rather than 3 heads out of the mouth. 

But over time he would try to look like a multi legged Chinese dragon, a symbol of peace and power in many stories and myths, long and sleek, the colors of the three swirling along the long slender body. Long whiskers and 3 eyes like before, yellow on his right, red center, and orange on his left. A tiny set of horns that keep his hat in place. 

Jack would take a few years of convincing to even take control of the larger form, the others helping support him as he doesn't really handle the body when stretching or forming. 

When Jack first takes over it's the usual monster form, very melted though and the back hands just kinda drag on the ground. 

After a few years of practice he found a comfortable form for himself, a unique mix of a bunny and jumping spider. Something to handle the arms and something cute! He likes loafing and dancing in this form.

Though with how you worded stuff if the boys were separate dough fellas and wanted to be monsters it would be:

Jack loves the idea of fairies! So he would give himself little wings. Though that's not much of a monster… maybe a simple slime. One of the ones that has a little angry face. But usually are pretty harmless.

Mathew would likely make himself a satyr, spreading laughter and care. But again not really a monster… so how about Frankenstein, the irony doesn't evade him either, but it's fitting since he is a monster but was more cordial than most of the humans in that story. 

Kevin would choose a minotaur! Something big and strong, yet isolated. Or maybe a really cool werewolf. 

And just because I do want to imagine the boys being protective and greedy. The deeper into the factory or into more feral areas the more protective they become,

Jack tries to have faith in you, but does hover close by at the ready to protect you or catch you should you fall. Noms may happen for protection but more likely he retreats back to let Kevin or Mathew handle it, unless you get hurt, then he will throw a stomping tantrum. Throwing whatever hurt you around until he calms down. Might nom you to soothe himself in that case.

While being greedy he would just be like a kid demanding attention, tugging on your pack or hands or even legs when he wants your attention, he will sulk if you ignore him. If he gets the idea to tuck you away you will be smothered in dough, cuddled and cooed at. He would just happily giggle as you shift around. Might try and sooth you if you try fighting while inside, just apologizing but saying that he just can't help it, and it keeps you safe! You can't blame him for trying to help. You wouldn't do that right? He would say with puppy eyes. 

Kevin becomes like a scary guard dog, and you better not do anything stupid or he will not hesitate to eat you. He tries to scout ahead since he knows that you are fairly capable. But still, as a being made of clay he can do a lot that you can’t, and will smugly open doors for you that you couldn’t. 

If he gets greedy for your attention you're in for a hell of a time, he will be very blunt with it and if you continue to ignore/upset him he will just eat you, squishing you into place and pushing you around and back should you try fighting or pushing out. You're HIS and he's making that clear now. Now sit still or maybe give him a nice belly rub and he’ll go easy on you. Lots of teasing and prodding at you to get reactions, your struggles are amusing and somewhat exhilarating for him. 

Mathew would keep a wary eye out for anything, doing his best to remember any safe places that you passed or might find up ahead with any info around. If there aren't any good hiding spaces he gets more and more worried about keeping you safe, and in those moments he will nom you to keep you safe if something bigger than both of you shows up. 

As for being greedy, it has to be a very very bad day for the poor kid. Where he just doesn’t care so much anymore. He would be more stone faced or even desperate, depending on the situation, and just snatch you up, a few swallows because he forgot about opening his stomach but also to allow himself the guilty pleasure of tasting you and eating you normally. He would apologize for being so snappish, but your presence helps him relax, its grounding. And he needs that right now.

[httpiastri]

jack doohan x female reader, ft one lowkey 18+ joke

"don't you trust me?"

the question burns through jack's chest. the playful smile on your lips tells him that it's all just for fun, but still, there's something stinging about it. he wants to answer with an 'of course', or a 'with my entire life and heart', but he settles for something to match the tone of your voice. "do i have a choice?"

your answer comes in the form of a groan and an eye-roll, settling on the edge of the tub. "just lean back, loverboy."

loverboy. of course. how can he not follow your orders when you talk to him like that?

jack leans back against the wall of the bathtub, tipping his head back to rest his neck against the edge. it's much more uncomfortable than he'd thought, he soon realizes, but he hopes what's about to come is worth the pain.

your best friend has been sick for over a week now, with an annoying fever that seemingly just doesn't want to go down no matter what he tries. when you followed him to the doctors, they said everything looked alright and that he should be getting back to normal in just a few days. you're beginning to believe that that was complete bullshit, though.

you're pretty sure you're wishing for jack's fever to disappear as much as he is himself. not only do you not enjoy seeing him in such a bad state, but he also becomes such a baby when he's sick, as you've recently learned. it's not all that easy to take care of a tall australian manbaby, but someone needs to do it, you suppose. and who better than you?

the other day when you stopped by his apartment to refill his fridge with some necessities and cook him some soup, you just couldn't stop yourself from insulting the greasy hair he was sporting. he answered that he's not got enough energy to wash it properly when he showers, and in a moment of weakness, you found yourself offering to do it for him. so, here you are, showerhead in one hand as the other begins to slowly turn on the water.

you wait for the water to reach a good temperature, not icy but cold enough to hopefully soothe his burning scalp, before shifting to pour the water over his forehead and down over his hair. jack's first reaction is to let out a low hum, eyes fluttering closed at the chillness in comparison to his hot skin.

"you really are an angel, did you know that?" his accent has always had a certain effect on you, though you've always tried to deny it, and your heart skips a beat as he speaks again. "truly someone sent from above."

"shush," you say, shaking your head as you lean over to turn the water off, his hair being completely soaked by now. "just doing another part of my best friend duties."

"just as best-friendly as cooking for me for a week, and tucking me in for my naps, and..." he doesn't need to go on; you know how long the list is.

you reach for his bottle of shampoo – thankfully not a 3-in-1 type with body scrub and car wash included, but still a type that scares you a little – and pour some onto your hands, rubbing them together to spread out the liquid. "i'm just doing what i know you would do for me if i were in your position."

jack's eyes open when you start going through his hair, fingertips working their way across his scalp as you try to reach every inch of hair. he watches you with a thoughtful gaze, studying the concentration on your face intently. suddenly, he's reminded of why he's so goddamn smitten with you in the first place.

you're a total opposite of him – you're so soft. small, too. not just in size, but in personality as well. everything about you is warm and gentle; a huge contrast to his hard, rugged edges.

there's a feeling in his chest again. a tightening, fluttering sensation that feels strangely pleasant. one he's very familiar with by now, one that only appears around you.

it never takes much for your cheeks to grow red around him, and today is no exception. you think you've lasted a long time, though, with the way he's goggling up at you, but it's getting too much. "shut your eyes," you tell him. "you know i can't take it when you stare at me. i can't do my job."

he doesn't answer, and your heart flutters again. your fingers stop moving in his hair.

"i'm going to get shampoo in your eyes, they're going to sting."

"i don't mind."

it isn't until you tug on his hair, enough to go from relaxing to painful (though jack instead finds it quite arousing), that he finally obliges, eyes falling closed and a defeated sigh leaving his lips. "much better."

you begin to wash out the shampoo, and other than the sound of the water now dripping from his hair and onto the floor of the tub again, the room fills up with a hollow silence. he wants to speak up, but can't find any words – which are the right ones when the girl you like takes so much time out of her days to take care of you when you're at your lowest?

jack feels almost strangely... loved. the way that you're doing all of this for him, just because you want to make sure he feels good and clean. in reality, it's such a small gesture, yet it means something.

and a hint of anxiety settles into his chest at the realization that he's actually falling for you.

it's not just the silly little crush that's been brewing inside him for the last twelve months; it's something much more. and much scarier.

"are you kidding me? do you not have any conditioner?" your voice breaks his train of thought and he peeks at you with one eye, still slightly afraid of that whole shampoo-in-his-eyes threat. a grin tugs at the corners of his mouth when he sees the expression on your face, mouth slightly agape and eyebrows raised in pure shock.

"i guess you'll have to go shopping with me to buy a bottle, then."

anything to have a reason to spend more time with you.

[gremlingottoosilly]

very surprised that the lovefool AU didn't have König spanking the reader while making her count every hit in German, starting over everytime she messes up 😵‍💫

GERMAN LESSONS

Your kidnapper decided to refresh your knowledge of German numbers. Unfortunately for you, Konig doesn't appreciate failure. TW and tags: Spanking, non-con, kidnapping, power imbalance, controlling yandere Konig, size difference, fingering

You messed up. 

At this point, you’re not even sure what set König – your kidnapper, as you learned to never forget – off. It might have been some slightly bratty comment, maybe your smile wasn’t cute and girlfriendly enough, maybe you were sleeping a bit too tight and refused to give him hug as he always made you do. It’s hard to predict him, with his mood swings going from almost being a loving boyfriend with an affinity for making you warm and nice for him up to a torturer who wants nothing but to punish your holes as harshly as possible. 

You messed up, and you don’t even remember how – perhaps, this is what made your punishment even worse. König has a desire to make you answer to his every whim, and when you’re as much as resisting even one small thing…

— Fucking brat. I was too soft on you, ja? 

He drags you to his lap, but it’s far from his regular affection. You could have expected kisses, maybe something else soft and pretty, maybe his hands hugging you firmly – but he drops you on his thighs like a dead weight, harsh hand pressing between your shoulder blades to make you lat flat. Ass up in the air, little clothes you had – only his shirt, of course, König fucking hated seeing his little captive girlfriend in actual clothes and not another of his sexual fantasies. 

You sob, you whimper, and you’re trembling because this is the first time he is like this. Violent and cruel in the bedroom – yes, he was kinda beating you up in his basement, but you thought that he wouldn’t drag this to your shared bed. You hoped that the worst punishment you could take is his dick up your ass or a very violent mouth fucking – not this. You hoped for a punishment to be sex, not pain. 

Not his huge hands striking you across your ass like you’re a bratty kid in need of a lesson. 

— I thought you could be a proper girl for me, Schatz. I trusted you. 

You’d say he sounds hurt, but you can recognize the sadistic gleam in his voice. König doesn’t even bother with preparing your skin first, he strikes as hard as he can – and you cry every freaking time because, oh god, it feels horrible, and you’re going to be sick, and you don’t know what to do except for crying your eyes out with every harsh slap across the plush flesh of your ass. Your skin jiggles with every strike, and his cruel laugh almost feels as painful as his hands. 

— I’m sorry! Pl…please, don’t…god…

You whimper, crying, just a dumb girl for big bad König, who has all the power over you now. Giant hands enveloping your asscheeks only to strike harder, to land blows equally on both sides of your ass. There is nothing sexy about it – you only feel a burning sensation and sweet numbness every time they hit lands somewhere new, not tearing already exhausted flesh with new pain. 

It’s like your bottom has been set on fire – he is preparing you for something far worse, you know, not even counting each strike. 

He drags his hand all across the redness of your ass, making you whimper from pain. He chuckles, knowing just how utterly pathetic you look right now – poor girl, can barely even think about getting your mind in place as you can’t even try to think about his hands doing all of this. You want him to fucking stop touching you, but you know that the chances are slim. Non-existing even. 

— Now, Schatz, it wasn’t that bad. Just a preparation. 

If that was a preparation, you don’t want to know what a real one will feel like. You whimper, trying to get up from his lap – maybe, if you cry loud and long enough, he will think about stopping hurting you. Maybe, if you’re pathetic enough, you’ll have the chance for mercy. Maybe, if you’re able to distract him from hurting you, he will think of other options for your body. 

Your hands are trying to reach his crotch – you don’t want to fuck him, but his dick is a far better punishment than his hands. You feel dirty when your hands are trying to hold onto his pants, taking them off as if you’re nothing but a depraved slut in need of a good pounding. Each ounce of dignity gets washed away as your hands softly palm his erection through his pants. Bastard is hard – you knew he was getting off from your pain, but being reminded of this so explicitly…

Only but he is striking you again, harsh palm against already swollen flesh. You yelp. You squirm. You cry. 

Of course, he doesn’t really care. 

— Being a slut won’t help you, dumb thing. 

You sob, hands retracting back to being awkwardly placed in front of your face. Your position on his lap makes your cheeks burn – both of them, which is even more embarrassing. At this point, you aren’t even sure if you’d prefer him cutting your limbs off. Maybe it would at least feel less humiliating. 

— I’m s…sorry, König, I…

He places a hand on your ass again. Softer this time, if only for a bit – your skin still stings as he continues to stroke your aching skin in a feeble attempt at reassuring. His hands are burning, and you don’t want to be touched like this, but even the slight human interaction is probably the only thing that will keep you sane right now. It might be pathetic, but just like a cat, you are crawling to meet the hand that has the power to softly cradle you. Like a domestic pet König made you to be, you hide your claws and present your rear to his touches. Maybe, he had enough. Maybe, this is over. 

His hard-on pressing in your tummy tells you another story. 

— Let’s do it this way, Schatzi. 

His other hand goes to dig in your hair, holding your head high enough to make sure you’re listening. You whimper from pain pulsating in your scalp but don’t make a sound – terrified of making this moment of kindness short-lived. 

— W-what? 

You give him the answer because you’re a good pet, a trained one, because your captor expects nothing but perfect obedience, and you would do anything to make the pain stop. Too bad that your “anything” isn’t even nearly enough. 

— Let’s teach you how to count, ja? 

He tried teaching you German, bit by bit. Dragged you a bunch of kid's books, the simplest expression took you days to learn because every mistake would mean an even rougher round of fucking, and every perfectly pronounced word would mean yet another round of “lovemaking” – soon, you learned to stagger your progress perfectly, being the most mediocre captive student this country has ever saw. You might be dumb, but…ah, no, judging by König’s standards, that’s it. 

You lick your lips, preparing for the worst. He is rubbing your ass softly, gently, but his touches aren’t bringing you relaxation – you can only wait for his to continue, to make you suffer more like he didn’t kiss you like a lover just a few days before, softly cradling your head on his chest and promising to bring you very nice cake if you’d continue to be a good girl and warm his dick with your pussy. 

— For every strike, I expect you to count. If you mess up, we will start over. 

— H…how many times? 

— Let’s start with ten, ja? You don’t look too strong right now, Katzen. 

You never looked strong, this is the sole reason why you’re even here. Not a proper soldier, not actually a fighter, just a fucking domestic girlfriend for a bastard like König, who has nothing but his ego and a rank that made you sick from how much power he had – people like him shouldn’t be in charge, even if he is a merc and not an actual commander. Even if he is nothing but a bloodthirsty hound, he still has way too much power over little ol’ you. 

You nod, but that’s not good enough. You grunt in acknowledgment, but it doesn’t satisfy him either. 

— I…I understand. Sir. 

— What are we saying to be polite, Katzen? 

— Please? S…spank me. Bitte. I promise I will count. 

You can feel his fingers twitching, trembling. He doesn’t like this little game either, it probably feels too artificial and awkward – you’d rather just be beat up by him, but alas, if he needs to take off some steam at the expense of your body…you aren’t exactly fine with that, but it’s not like you really have an opinion on the matter. At least it’s not needles and knives in your sensitive places – just his hands and your sore bottom. 

Then he strikes. 

First time, it felt like the worst pain in the world. Your ass, already sore and bruised, was heated up again – you cut down your scream because you know that he doesn’t want anything but counting. Nothing but your obedience, your pain, you might not want to be a spectacle for someone like König, but you don’t have even an illusion of choice here. You yelp, the only thing you allow yourself to do. 

You start counting. 

— E..ein. 

— Good girl. 

His fingers suddenly slip down to find your pussy, already wet and fucking messy for him. You can’t help it, it felt too wrong and too right at the same time – his hands on your body, his voice praising you like he didn’t just [unished you for as much as fucking existing. You whine, your body trembling with fear as he launches at you again – another harsh smack forcing you to remember all the numbers like your life depended on it. In some way, it really did. 

You lick your lips, biting into soft flesh to suppress your little cries. You can be stronger than this, you need to be stronger than this. 

König strikes your ass quickly, second and third time – you are keeping up as much as you can. Sobbing when he drags his hand lower, his fingers landing somewhere between our cheeks. There is still a lot of clean skin to uncover to reveal new pain – you’re sobbing between rounds, only allowing yourself to breathe when he pushes his fingers down your folds and plays with your core. 

It’s somehow worse than normal spanking. The pain was numbing, allowing you to slip into some other dimension. The pleasure is overweening, fucking with your brain like you should be thanking König for being so nice and stroking your clit between the rounds of punishment. 

You moan as he pushes a finger in, quickly forcing another slap on your already swollen ass. You don’t miss counting, but you do feel like your head is going to explode. Mind isn’t working enough to actually produce something meaningful – only pathetic chants of numbers and his name mixed properly. You feel like you’re going to suffocate. 

König appreciates the view – his darling, precious girlfriend, he never knew you could be any more beautiful but here you are, laying on his lap like a good kitten you are. With his hands bruising you, he should have punished you sooner – you have become so bratty lately, forgetting your place and who is wearing pants around here. He should have brought you across his thighs way sooner, maybe turn this into a regular thing and have you moan his name as you’re pathetically sobbing and begging for him to stop. 

He strikes you a few times more, his other hand two knuckle-deep in the wetness of your cunt. Such a slut for your boyfriend, you shouldn’t get off this kind of punishment – but of course, he can’t really blame his precious girl for being this fucking needy. He appreciated moving you from the basement, it’s much easier to be with his girl when you’re not rotting on some old mattress – yet, he feel that you started to get out of line as he allowed you too much over and over again. 

It’s a good thing he will be able to punish you even more. 

— It’s the fifth one, Liebling. Want a break? 

You consider your options, he can see your adorable face scrunching in, not understanding if he is for real or not. You’re pretty, too pretty to be this alone, small, and scared – he can’t help but lift your head again, hearing you groaning from pain as he strains your hair just so he can press his mask against your forehead. Mockery of a kiss, but he doesn’t want to face you right now. 

This whole fucking thing wasn’t comfortable enough for him. If only he could, he would just make you obedient through less awkward ways – but you’re so fucking bratty, it really is impossible. König smiles, pushing two of his fingers deep into your hole, stroking your folds as gently as possible. He is weak – he can’t stay mad at his favorite girl for long, no matter how much he wants to try and stand his ground this time. God, you’re too fucking adorable to resist.

— Please? You’re so cute, he might as well let you get out of your punishment. It’s not like him to be this soft, but he already turned your ass into a bruised mess, and if he comes any further, you might actually start to bleed – oh well, he doesn’t want this. Oh well, you will pay for this later – on your back, ass high in the air. Maybe he will try your ass today, just so he could have a nice and tight hole around him. A good way to make you shut up, for sure. 

You whimper when he is holding you close, soothing you like a desperate kitten – you cling onto him, all the brattiness going out of your body, just like he intended. So, so pretty for him, he doesn’t know what he will do with you later. 

He spanks you one last time just to hear your precious whimpers. 

God, just how much he fucking adores you.